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MRS. E.D.E.N. SOUTHWORTH
AND SOUTHERN MYTHIC SOCIETY

BY

Arthur Martin Silverblatt

A DISSERTATION

Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

Department of English

1980

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ABSTRACT
Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth
and Southern Mythic Society
by

Arthur Silverblatt

This study examines the popular novels of Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth,
in order to identify the mythic society of the South. P0pular fiction
is a viable reflection of cultural history. The reciprocity between
a successful artist and the audience forms a delicate system of commun-
ication that serves to reflect and reinforce cultural values. The wide-
spread success of Mrs. Southworth's novels indicates the degree to which
her audience enjoyed and approved of her conception of Southern culture.

The South, as depicted in Mrs. Southworth's fiction, is an aristo-
cratic society based on an absolute and external value system that serves
as a microcosm of the moral structure of the universe; indeed, Southern
society is regarded as the vehicle through which perfect earthly happi-
ness can be attained. A definite system of societal precepts can be
traced through Southworth's novels, which defines the values operating

in the mythic Southern structure.

© Copyright by
Arthur Martin Silverblatt

1980

DED ICATION

To Babette Freund Silverblatt

iii

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

I would like to gratefully acknowledge Dr. Russell B. Nye, whose
support and guidance has made this a truly educational experience. I
also wish to thank Gussie Mae Silverblatt, Pat Garrison, and Gary A.

Tobin for their help and encouragement.

iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter 1: Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth and the Tradition

of the Domestic Novel. .

Chapter 2: Mrs. Southworth and the Southern Mythic Culture.

Chapter 3: Cultural Heritage of the Mythic South. . . .

Chapter 4: Values and Structure in Mrs. Southworth's

Mythic South . . . . . .
Chapter 5: Characterization in Mrs.
Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . .

Southwoth's Novels.

Page

36

67

96

131

169

170

INTRODUCTION

This study examines the novels of Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth as a
means of identifying the popular conception of Southern society. Pop-
ular literature is a valuable resource for cultural historians, as the
popularity of a work reflects the prevailing attitudes and beliefs of the
public. Louis Rubin declares,

Literature can instruct us about society in ways that
nothing else can. . .Between the work of literature
and the society there can be an intense and creative
relationship. The writer's effort to perceive order
and meaning in life through language, his attempt at
representation of reality, takes its form and its
meaning from the institutions, artifacts, attitudes,
and concerns of the life that he has known, which
means that to the extent that the writer is part of
and a product of his society, the stories and poems
that he writes will draw on the nature of that
society for their human image.

Chapter 1 investigates the life and career of Mrs. E.D.E.N.
Southworth, an enormously prolific and influential Southern regional
author during the latter half of the nineteenth century. As William
Veeder observes,

(P0pular literature) mirrors and confirms the norms
of society. That Victorian popular fiction did

indeed mirror its readers' attitudes is established
convincingly by the sales of Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth.2

 

1Louis D. Rubin ed.. Southern Literary Study: Problems and Possib-
ilities (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1975), p. 4.

2William Veeder, HenrykJames-fThe Lessons of the Master: POpular
Fiction and Personal Style in the Nineteenth Century (Chicago and London:
The University of Chicago Press, 1975) p. 7.

The chapter considers the emergence of the domestic novel, tracing the
growth of the genre, its conventions, Mrs. Southworth's contemporaries
and major influences.

Chapter 2 discusses the concept of cultural mythology, identifying
the social functions of myth. This section traces the evolution of the
Southern myth, its characteristics, and fallacies. This chapter also
considers the fundamental attraction of the Southern myth and its effect
on that region, as well as on the country as a whole. Finally, the
prominent characters of the Southern myth are examined in terms of the
universal Jungean archetypes.

Chapter 3 investigates the cultural heritage of the Southern myth,
which is derived from the Classical and English cultural traditions. The
Southerner regarded himself as a descendent of these established cultures,
so that an examination of the Graeco-Roman and English cultures can pro-
vide insight into the framework and values of the mythic South.

Chapter 4 considers the values that operate in the mythic South, as
depicted in the novels of Mrs. Southworth. An overview of axiology, or
value theory, reveals that an absolute value system appears in the South
reflecting the order of heaven. A morphological analysis of the plots
of Mrs. Southworth's novels reveals the fundamental structure of Southern
myth.

Finally, the various character types that appear in Mrs.Southworth's
novels are identified in Chapter 5. These character types correspond
with the strict social delineation in the mythic South: the male figures,

the females, and the black slaves.

CHAPTER 1
Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth and the Tradition of the

Domestic Novel

The novels of Mrs. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth, though
obscure today, were enormously influential during the nineteenth
century. Her career, which formally began in 1849 with her first

novel, Retribution, spanned nearly 40 years, so that her influence

 

extended over a complete generation of readers. Mrs. Southworth
maintained a rigorous writing schedule, producing 12 full-length
novels from 1849 to 1856 alone. In addition to the traditional

book form, these works were serialized in magazines, first in the

National Era, and then in the Saturday Evening Post, which exposed

 

 

a more diverse audience to Mrs. Southworth's novels.
The leading periodicals of the day promoted Mrs. Southworth as an

important novelist who should be read by the public. The New York Mirror

 

announced, "Mrs. Southworth is considered the finest authoress in the
country. . .one of the very first female writers of the age."1 The

Saturday Visiter saluted her second novel, The Deserted Wife as "The

 

 

very best story now in course of publication in this country written by
the very best writer this country claims."2 And finally, the Saturday

Evening Post elevated Mrs. Southworth to literary immortality, declaring

 

 

1Helen Waite Papashvily, All the Happy Endings (N.Y.: Harper and
Brothers, 1956). p. 114.

 

2Ibid., p. 113.

that their contributor was "Equal to Dickens and superior to Emily Bronte,
reminded one of Shakespere."3
The public response to the novels of Mrs. Southworth raised her to a
literary figure of the first magnitude. Imitators flattered Mrs.
Southworth by copying her style and format. One particularly clever
counterfeiter adopted the pen name E.D.E.M. Southworth in hopes of
attracting some of Mrs. Southworth's nearsighted readers. Helen Waite

Papashivily notes that the serialization of the Southworth novels in the_

Saturday Evening Post generated an increase in the magazine's circulation.4

 

The popularity of her third novel, The Mother-in-Law, compelled the

 

Saturday Evening Post to reprint earlier chapters with the current

 

segment of the serial to satisfy new subscribers. The Curse of Clifton,

 

written in 1852, joined such notables as Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin and

 

Dickens' Bleak House on the best seller list.

 

Capitola, or The Hidden Hand, not only was a commercial success, but

 

transcended literary bounds to become part of the national consciousness.
Papashvily observes, "WOmen wore Capitola hats and suits in honor of the
heroine. Towns, boots and hotels appropriated her magic name."5 Over 40
dramatic adaptations of the novel were produced, one or more of which
played in almost every city in the United States. In fact, three London
theatres presented versions of Capitola simultaneously. Thus, Mrs.
Southworth was not only read in book and serial form, but was enjoyed

internationally in dramatic presentations, further widening her sphere of

 

3Ibid., p. 114.

41bid., p. 113.

51bid., p. 126.

influence. The novel joined Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities, Eliot's Adam

 

Bede, and Thackeray's The Virginians as one of 1859's four best-selling

 

titles. And finally, one of Southworth's post-Civil War novels,

Self-Raised, realized such a level of popularity that it became one of

 

the ten best-selling novels of the nineteenth century.

As a writer of domestic fiction, Mrs. Southworth acquainted her
audiences with her own experience, both personal and cultural. Mrs.
Southworth was herself a part of the aristocratic tradition that figures
so prominently in her novels. Dorothy Eliza Nevitte was born on
December 26, 1819, a descendent of one of the old Cavalier families that
settled in Maryland and Virginia. Her ancestors were among the number of
Roman Catholics who traveled to the New World in 1632 and settled in
St. Mary's, where the family remained for two hundred years. Emma could
count among her forebearers prominent figures in provincial government,
as well as military men who distinguished themselves during the American
Revolution.

Emma was the eldest daughter of Captain Charles Le Compte Nevitte,
whose progenitors were members of the French nobility. Emma's mother,
who was Charles Nevitte's second wife, was a descendent of Sir Thomas
Grenfeldt, a knight during the rein of James I. Charles was an importing
merchant from Alexandria, Virginia, who suffered personal misfortune and
loss during the War of 1812. As a prosperous owner of a rather large
number of ships, Nevitte placed his entire fleet at the disposal of the
government and lost them all. Further, serving as a captain of a
military company, he suffered a disabling wound from which he never fully
recovered.

Although critics soon dismissed Mrs. Southworth as a sentimental

 

author,6 she asserts that the material for her novels is drawn from her
own experience. She declares, "Everyone of my books was based on incidents
in life that I saw, even the most improbable of them. I could tell you
stories--true ones--that I never dared put in my books."7 In an auto-
biographical sketch, Mrs. Southworth recounts the incidents of her early
life which later became a fundamental source of material for her novels:

Here (in Washington, D.C.) I was born, on the 26th
of December, 1818, in the very chamber once tenanted by
General Washington. I was a child of sorrow from the
very first year of my life. Thin and dark, I had no
beauty except a pair of large, wild eyes--but even this
was destined to be tarnished. At twelve months I was
attacked with an inflammation of the eyes, that ended
in total, though happily temporary, blindness; thus my
first view of life was through a dim mysterious cathedral
light, in which every object in the world looked larger,
vaguer, and more distant and imposing than it really was.
Among the friends around me, the imposing form and
benignant face of my dear grandmother made the deepest
impression. At three years of age my sight began to
clear. About this time my only ppp_sister was born.

She was a very beautiful child, with.fair and rounded
form, rosy complexion, soft-blue eyes, and golden hair,
that in after years became of a bright chestnut. She was
of a lively, social, loving nature, and, as she grew, won
all hearts around her--parents, cousins, nurses, servants,
and all who had been wearied to death with two years'
attendance on such a weird little elf as myself--yes, and
who made me feel it too.

I was wildly, passionately attached to my father, and
even his partiality in favor of my younger sister--his
'dove-eyed darling,‘ as he called her, did not affect my
love for him. But he was often from home for months at a
time, and all my life was then divided into two periods--
when he was at home, and when he was gone: and every event
dated from one of two epochs-—joyfully, 'since father came
home:' sadly, 'since father went away.’ But at last my

 

 

6Montrose J. Moses declared, "Writers like Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth
whose appeal did not rise above the level of the New York Ledger,
exhibited no special trait; they were marked by inane purpose and
misdirected sensation." Montrose J. Moses, The Literature of the
South (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell and Company, 1910), p. 337.

7Regis Louise Boyle, Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth: Novelist
(Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1939),
p. 26.

 

 

 

father, who had never recovered from the effects of his
wound, got a cold, which fell upon his lungs. His health
declined rapidly. My joys and sorrows now took these
forms--'Father is able to walk about!‘, 'Father is sick
in bed!’

My father was a Roman Cathloic, my mother an
Episcopalian. This accounts for what occurred about this
time. One day my sister and myself were dressed and taken
into my father's room. We found all the family assembled,
with several neighbors, around our father's bed. The
priest was there in his sacred vestments. He had come to
administer the last consolations of the church to our
father, and was now about to Christen myself and my sister
by his dying bed. After these rites of baptism were over,
we were taken from the room, but not before our father had
laid his dying hands upon us and blessed us. I do not know
how long it was after this, or where we were standing when
someone--I know not who-- came and said, "Emma, your father
is dead." I remember I felt as if I had received a sudden,
stunning blow upon the brow. I reeled back from the blow
an instant, unable to meet it, and then, with an impulse
to escape from the calamity, turned and f1ed--fled with
exhausted, insensible. That is all I remember, except the
dark pageantry of the funeral, which seemed to me like a
hideous dream. I was then about four years old, my sister
about one year old. For months, and even years after, I
ruminated on life, death, heaven, and hell, with a painful
intensity of thought impossible to describe.

After my father's death, my grandmother and mother
were in very straitened circumstances, and found it
extremely difficult to keep up the style of living to
which they had been accustomed. My grandmother had some
property that brought her a modest income; they had besides
the house leased, and for that day, very sumptuously
furnished. My grandmother yielded to the advice of her
friends, and received a few very select boarders. But she
was a lady of the lofty old school, and never could bear to
present a bill; so the end of it was she gave it up in a
year.

At the age of six, I was a little thin, dark, wild-eyed
elf, shy, awkward, and unattractive, and in consequence,
very much--let alone. I spent much time in solitude, revery,
or mischief: took to attics, cellars, and cocklofts,
consorting with cats and pigeons, or with the old negroes in
the kitchen, listening with open ears and mind to ghost
stories, old legends, and tales of the times when 'ole
mist'ress was rich and say lots of grand company-- very
happy when I could get my little sister to share my queer
pleasures: but 'Lotty' was a parlor favorite, and was better
pleased with the happy faces of our young country cousins,
some of whom.were always with us on long visits. The
brightest lights of those days were the frequent visits we
would make down into St. Mary's County, sometimes sailing

 

down the majestic Potomac as far as St. Clement's Isle and

Bay, where we generally landed, and sometimes going in the

old family carriage through the grand old forest between

the District of Columbia and the shores of the Chesapeake.

We often received visits also from our country kinfolk--

visits of months' and even of years' duration.

At this time of my life, rejoicing in the light and

liberty of nature, I should have been very happy also in the

love of my friends and relations, if they had permitted it;

but no matter! Year after year, from my eighth to my

sixteenth year, I grew more lonely, retired more into myself,

until notwithstanding a strong, ardent, demonstrative

temperament, I became cold, reserved, and abstracted, even

to absence of mind--even to apparent insensibility.

Thus,Many of the improbable events that appear in Mrs. Southworth's
fiction were actually a part of her past, including hysterical blindness,
abandonment, poverty, melancholia, brain fever, and death.

Emma's father, whom she idolized, served as the model for the
paternal male figure who appears throughout her fiction. Despite her
strong attachment to Captain Nevitte, young Emma was rejected in favor of
her more beautiful sister. Emma was rather plain in appearance, as
witnessed by the absence of those photographs of the author which
customarily accompanied popular novels. This rather tenuous relationship
with her father is reflected throughout Southworth's fiction; the father,
an ideal figure, rejects a daughter whose love for him is pure and

absolute. At times the heroine is physically cast out of the home, as in

The Discarded Daughter. At other times, she is merely unable to convey

 

her deep commitment to her father. In this sense, the reader of
Mrs. Southworth's novels functions as a surrogate father-figure who
ultimately becomes aware of the devoted daughter's love and accepts her.

The differences between father and daughter are reconciled at the

 

8Mary Forrest, WOmen of the South Distinguished in Literature
(New York: Charles B. Richardson, 1866), pp. 217-219.

 

conclusion of each novel, thus working out Mrs. Southworth's unfulfilled
desire for a resolution with her father.

According to her autobiographical sketch, Mrs. Southworth adapted
to being the neglected daughter: her role in the family was not unlike
the subordinate slave position depicted in her novels. That she
subsequently suffered what would be classified in modern parlance as
two nervous breakdowns would indicate that she was never fully able
to adjust to this family caste structure. The heroines featured in her
novels are all derived from her memories of her sister, "the dove-eyed
darling", with whom young Emma experienced a love-hate relationship.
According to Regis Boyle, Mrs. Southworth was admittedly jealous of
her sister who was her father's favorite because of her beauty.9
Although all of her heroines are beautiful and virtuous like her sister,

Mrs. Southworth also includes a category of evil women, like Juliette

in Retribution, who use their physical appearance to gain social

 

acceptance. Mrs. Southworth is merciless with these villainesses, and
they are all ultimately punished for exploiting their divine gifts of
beauty.
According to Mrs. Southworth, she was always a withdrawn child,

isolated from her father, her other relatives, and life itself.

During her temporary blindness, Emma was removed from the family as an
active participant and from the visual world as well. She admits that
this experience altered her perception of reality, as the world
appeared larger and more imposing when she finally regained her sight.

After receiving the news of her father's death, Emma fled, unable to

 

9Boyle, Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth: Novelist, p. 4.

 

10

confront this devastating news and yet continually haunted by its
presence. The romantic tales told by the old Negroes in the kitchen
served as a comfort and shelter against the harsh world which seemed
to exclude her. Significantly, included in these stories were tales
of her ancestors who, according to the kitchen servants, lived in
much the grand manner of the aristocrats who later appeards in
Mrs. Southworth's novels. Thus, Mrs. Southworth's assertion that all
her material derived from her experience has some validity. While some
of the fiction is a direct translation of her own life, other elements
stem from a different kind of experience--her imagination. Romanticizing
a life different and grander than her own was a part of Emma's daily
existence as a means of survival. She too was a product of the Southern
romantic tradition, which she learned as a child and enjoyed as an
attractive vision of the world.

In 1840 Emma married Frederick Hamilton Southworth, an inventor
from Utica, New York. The couple moved to Prairie du Chein, Wisconsin,
where Emma helped to support her husband and two children as a teacher.
At this point, accounts of Emma's marital life begin to differ. Boyle
declares that Mr. Southworth deserted his wife, migrating to California.10
Fred Lewis Pattee states, however, that Mrs. Southworth was twice
married: she was subsequently divorced by her first husband and
then deserted by her second.11 In any event, her married life was

unquestionably tragic. As Mrs. Southworth's own married life was a

 

10Ibid., p. 5.

11Fred Lewis Pattee, The Feminine Fifties (New York: London:

D. Appleton-Century Company, 1940). P- 121.

 

11

failure, her books are filled with women who are subjected to the same
pressures that she faced. Papashvily declares,

Most important for many of these women (writers),
somewhere, sometime, someplace, in her past some man--
a father, a brother, a husband, a guardian—-had proved
unweighy of the trust and confidence that she placed in
him.

In light of her personal experience, Southworth's depiction of marriage
as a fixed union that ultimately survives all trials can be regarded as
a romanticized version of that institution which satisfies the author's
(and reader's) longing for harmony and stability in a rapidly changing
society.

In 1844, Mrs. Southworth and her children returned to Washington,
D.C., where she found employment as an assistant teacher, earning only
two hundred and fifty dollars per year. Though she eventually rose to
the position of principal, her struggle to support her family provided
the motivation to submit stories to magazines. Mrs. Southworth recalls,

Let me pass over in silence the stormy and
disastrous days of my wretched girlhood and
womanhood--days that stamped upon my brow of youth
the furrows of fifty years--let me come at once to
the time when I found myself broken in spirit, health,
and purse--a widow in fate, but not in fact—-with my
babes looking up to me for a support I could not give
them. It was in these dearest days of my woman's life
that my author's life commenced. I wrote and published
"Retribution", my first novel, under the following
circumstances:

In January, 1849, I had been appointed teacher of
the Fourth District Primary School. The school was kept
in the two largest rooms of my house, those upon the
ground floor. I had eighty pupils. A few months
previous to this, I had written a few short tales and

 

12Papashvily, All The Happy Endings, p. xvi.

 

12

sketches for the "National Era."13 It was while I

was organizing my new school, that Dr. Bailey applied

to me for another story. I promised one that should

go through two papers. I called up several subjects of

a profoundly moral and philosophical nature, upon which
the very trials and sufferings of my own life had led me
to reflect and from among them selected moral retribution,
as I understood it. I designed to illustrate the idea by
a short tale. I commenced, and somehow or other, my head
and heart were teeming with thought and emotion, and the
idea that had at first but glimmered faintly upon my
perceptions, blazed into a perfect glory of light, but
which I fear I have not been able to transmit to others
with the brightness with which it shows upon myself. No,
it was dimmed by the dullness of the medium. My story
.grew into a volume. Every week I would supply a portion
to the paper, until weeks grew into months, and months
into quarters, before it was finished.

The circumstances under which this, my first novel,
was written, and the success which afterward attended its
publication, is a remarkable instance of 'sowing in tears
and reaping in joy;' for in addition to that bittersweet
sorrow with which I may not make you acquainted--that
great life sorrowb-I had many minor troubles. My small
salary was inadequate for our comfortable support. My
school numbered eighty pupils, boys and girls, and I had
the whole charge of them. Added to this, my little boy
fell dangerously ill, and was confined to his bed in
perfect helplessness until June. He would suffer no one
to move him but myself; in fact no one else could do so
without putting him in pain. Thus my time was passed
between my housekeeping, my schoolkeeping, my child's
sick-bed, and my literary labors. The time devoted to
writing was the hours that should have been given to
sleep or to fresh air. It was too much for me. It was
too much for any human being. My health broke down. I
was attacked with frequent hemmorhage of the lungs. Still
I persevered. I did my best by my house, my school, my
sick child, and my publisher. Yet neither child, nor
school, nor publisher received justice. The child
suffered and complained, the patrons of the school grew
dissatisfied, annoying, and sometimes insulting me, and
as for the publisher, he would reject whole pages of that
manuscript, which was written amid grief, and pain, and
toil that he knew nothing of--pages, by the way, that were

 

 

l3Ganaliel Bailey's National Era was an important and influential
literary magazine during the nineteenth century. John Greenleaf Whittier
served as corresponding editor for a period, and such works as Uncle Tom's
Cabin were serialized in the periodical.

 

 

l3

restored in the republication.

This was indeed the very melee of the 'Battle of Life.‘
I was forced to keep up, struggling, when I only wished for
death and for rest.

But look you how it terminated. That night of storm
and darkness came to an end, and morning broke on me at last--
a bright, glad morning, pioneering a new happy day of life.
First of all, it was in this very tempest of trouble that
my 'life sorrow' was, as it were, carried away, or I was
carried away from brooding over it. Next my child, contrary
to my own opinion and doctor's, got well. Then, my book,
written in so much pain, published beside in a newspaper,
and withal, being the first work of an obscure and penniless
author, was, contrary to all probabilities, accepted by the
first publishing house in America, was published, and
subsequently notices with high favor, even by the cautious
English reviews. Friends crowded around me, offers for
contributions poured in upon me. And I, who six months
before had been poor, ill, forsaken, slandered, killed by
sorrow, privation, toil, and friendlessness, found myself
born, as it were, into a new life; found independence,
sympathy, friendship, and honor, and an occupation in which
I could delight. All this came very suddenly, as after a
terrible storm, a sun-burst.14

Mrs. Southworth worked under conditions that obviously influenced
the type and quality of writing that she was able to produce. Emma

composed Retribution before and after school hours and at her sick child's

 

bedside, so that her time to write was severly restricted. As Emma points
out, she was compelled to write out of economic necessity rather than from
an abstract, artistic inspiration.

writing from her personal experience, Mrs. Southworth was able to
reach a popular audience which was forced to contend with the same ordeals
in their lives, though generally to a less intense and dramatic degree.
Mrs. Southworth's philosophy of life, which extends into her novels, may
be termed the Doctrine of Suffering. She notes, "I am almost tempted to

believe that the evil destinies had received permission to test the full

 

14Forrest, Women of the South, pp. 219-221.

 

14

strength of my human heart."15 However, through faith and submission to
God's will, her own destiny took its course, leading to a happy and
prosperous conclusion. Thus, Mrs. Southworth's own personal salvation--
which was realized through the popularity of her stories--in turn provided
hope for those who were themselves immersed in similar tribulations.

The fiction of Mrs. Southworth was first published in serial form
in some extremely prominent and influential popular weekly periodicals.

The New York Ledger, Saturday Evening Post, the National Era, and

 

 

Baltimore Saturday Visiter carried Mrs. Southworth, and the London

 

Journal featured fourteen of her stories. Mrs. Southworth was so in
demand that in 1847, 1849, 1850, 1859, and 1860, three of her novels were
serialized per year. Some of Mrs. Southworth's more popular works were
republished: for example, Self-Made was re-issued eleven years after its
first appearance in the Ledger. While most of the stories were converted
into novels immediately after their publication in the weeklies, this was

not always the case; for instance, The Hidden Hand was published in the

 

Ledger three times (1858, 1868, and 1883) before being introduced to the
public in novel form.

The format of the popular periodical also affected the structure and
style of Mrs. Southworth's fiction. The stories were serialized, so that,

for instance, The Missing Bride was broken into thirty five installments.

 

Although Retribution required "only" fourteen issues for completion, the

 

story still spanned a four month period, from January 3, 1849 to April 12,
1849. Because of the fragmented nature of the format, the stories

contained a good deal of repetition in order to remind the established

 

15Boyle, Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth: Novelist, p. 23.

 

15

audience of past events and to acquaint the new reader with what had
transpired to that point. The stories appear as a series of incidents
that build to a dramatic climax at the conclusion of each episode and
then fall to a low ebb at the beginning of the next installment. This
dramatic structure is, then, rather uneven when considered as a complete
novel. This structural flaw is characteristic of serialized works of
the time, including the fiction of Dickens and Thackery. Mrs. Southworth
was also compelled to use stylistic devices designed to capture the
attention of the mass audience. A Southworth novel features a series of
dramatic turns of events that suddenly (and often for no apparent reason)
alter the course of the plot. In Southworth's fiction, external forces
characteristically test the internal fortitude and moral strength of the
protagonists. It might be argued, indeed, that these external events
reflect internal states of consciousness; for instance, in the initial

scene of The Doom of Deville, the confused and beaten young hero is forced

 

to contend with a chaotic and destructive storm of vast proportions. In
any event, the mass audience responded to those stories in which dramatic
action predominated over ponderous, psychological narratives.

Mrs. Southworth also rather skillfully manipulated the plot in order
to maintain the interest of her following. At the beginning of the tale
she frequently concocted a mystery which would unfold as the weeks slipped
by. This is an old convention, characteristic of melodrama as well as the
novel. Many of her stories involved the issue of identity: in Capitola,
for example, a young woman is mysteriously kidnapped as a child and
struggles throughout the story to discover her heritage, to the consternation

and delight of the audience. Another convention which appears throughout

 

l6

fiction, including Shakespeare, features several seemingly unrelated
subplots which slowly but surely intertwine, resolving the dilemmas that
beset each subplot. This technique reinforces Mrs. Southworth's theme of
a Grand Design which ultimately transcends man's shortsighted, daily
trials and can lead to a perfect state of harmony in heaven. The author
characteristically plants a clue at the beginning of the tale so that the
reader can take advantage of the interval between installments to solve
the mystery.

The language employed by Mrs. Southworth is likewise most dramatic;
the narrator often addressed the reader personally, putting the events of
the story into perspective:

And, Lionel no, I cannot! accustomed as I have
been to see and describe suffering, my mind now shrinks

from detailing the particulars of that wild, wild woe!
(The Doom of Deville, p. 155)

 

The dialogue is similarly histrionic, with the characters frequently
invoking the heavens and inflating their situations to universal dimensions:

'Oh, Heaven! oh, Heaven! WOuld to the Lord I had
never been born!‘, cried Herman Brudenell, in a voice of
such utter woe that Ishmael raised his head and struggled
hard to subdue the storm of passion that was raging in
his bosom. 'Or would that I had died the day I met Nora,
and before I had entailed all this anguish on you!‘
continued Herman Brudenell, amid groans and sighs.
(Self-Raised, p. 15)

 

The author's use of punctuation, liberally sprinkling exclamation marks
throughout the narrative, is yet another method intended to excite the
imaginations of her readers. Again, this is a convention that appears
frequently in the novel and drama. Indeed, Mrs. Southworth's theatrical
approach to her fiction, which was necessitated by the demands of the

popular art form, made her work easily converted into drama, so that

 

17

adaptions of her novels ran quite successfully--not only in the United
States, but in England as well.

Mrs. Southworth was also restricted by the rigorous publishing schedule
of the periodicals, which compelled the author to meet a deadline, even
if the quality of her work suffered as a result. During the writing of

Shannondale, in 1851, she began experiencing renewed difficulties with

 

her vision; nevertheless, she succeeded in submitting her installments
to the editors on schedule, even though this effort resulted in
irreparable damage to her eyes. Because of these considerations,
Mrs. Southworth had minimal time for revision and was compelled to rely
upon old formulas and conventions such as stereotypical characterization
and repetition of theme and plot in order to fulfill her weekly
obligations. Those stories that were republished in the periodicals
were often revised by the author, reflecting her dissatisfaction with
the constraints which the popular format imposed on her work.

Weekly periodicals also afforded the opportunity for the author to
cultivate a uniquely intimate relationship with her audience. Boyle
declares, "(Southworth's) contemporaries did not seem to share such a

"15 Mrs. Southworth occasionally

close relationship with their readers.
took her readers into her confidence, printing personal messages which

were included in her stories. One entry, published on November 3, 1855

in the Saturday Evening Post, contained an apology and explanation for

 

her tardiness in the beginning of her latest novel, Vivia:

The dark season drew to a close-~the sick got well--
and time reconciled us to those bitter separations by
death and by absence. God gave us more patience under

 

l6Boyle, Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth: Novelist, p. 12.

 

18

wrongs, and more faith in His final justice. My

long task also approached its end. The last chapter
was written, and certain 'promissory note' appended--
and then--utterly gave way-—beneath the burden. I could
not have believed that the spirit which had done and
borne so much could suffer such a total defeat... But
Providence is a perfect Father--and nature is a wise
and good mother. Even this coerced submission to their
laws was fraught with incalcuable benefit to their
exhausted child. In this enforced idleness of several
months (the first rest I have had in several years)
health and inspiration have tided back to heart and
brain, and, Providence permitting, the best life of
both shall go forth to my friends and readers in the
beginning of the New Year.

The periodicals for which Mrs. Southworth wrote included sections
devoted to letters from readers, which often contained comments
concerning specific stories. The author thus received immediate
feedback which was useful in preparing her next work. Several of her

stories, notably The Hidden Hand and Capitola's Plight, were written

 

 

as sequels to her more popular efforts in response to popular demand.
In 1853, Mrs. Southworth moved her family to Prospect Cottage,

which overlooks the Potomac River. As Mary Forrest describes the

setting, Mrs. Southworth appears quite as a character from one of her

own novels:

Having thus, by her indefeatable efforts, achieved
fame and competence, Mrs. Southworth removed, in 1853, to
a charming villa on the Potomac Heights, at the west end
of Georgetown. Here, for six years, she resided with her
children; her home, especially during the sessions of
Congress, being the resort of distinguished people from
all parts of the Union. With these social privileges,
the culture of her children, and her literary labors, in
which she has ever found her true vocation--with rides,
drives, and rambles through the romantic country which
surrounded her, and occasional excursions to the seashore,
the mountains, and our larger northern cities, the years

 

17Ibid., p. 12.

l9

glided by in strong contrast with the dark days that
preceded them.18

Thus, the life that Mrs. Southworth retired to was one of Southern
aristocratic splendor, not unlike the plantation utopias depicted in
her novels.

In 1859, Mrs. Southworth and her children traveled to England,
where they remained until 1862. During this period, Emma wrote The Doom

of Deville, Love's Labour Won, Rose Elmer, Eudora, or The False Princess,

 

 

Captain Rock's Pet, and Astrea, or The Bridal Day. Mrs. Southworth took

 

 

the trip in the interest of her personal health and in order to promote
her sales in England. She apparently was quite comfortable in English
society, making the acquaintance of, among others, Lady Byron. Mrs.
Southworth felt a particular closeness with England due to her ancestral
roots. In addition, she sensed a cultural kinship between English
society and the South, a topic which will be further examined later.
This was a most productive period in Emma's writing career and, judging
from the titles alone, these stories were particularly influenced by her
exposure to English culture.

During the Civil War, Mrs. Southworth worked actively for the
Northern cause. Boyle states:

(Mrs. Southworth) nailed the stars and stripes over

her front gate, saying: 'Whoever comes to my door must

pass under that.‘ With patriotic zeal she nursed the sick

and wounded in camp and hospital until she herself became

a victim to the small-pox. With true philosophy she said:

'I cannot prevent the soldiers from taking the disease, but
I can suffer with them; there is some comfort in that.’19

 

18Forrest, Women of the South, p. 223.

19Boyle, Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth: Novelist, p. 15.

 

 

20

Boyle notes that one of Mrs. Southworth's most cherished possessions was
a heavy walnut bed that President Lincoln occupied for three nights during
the course of the war. Mrs. Southworth provided food and shelter for
Union soldiers who passed through Washington on their way home. Public
reaction to Mrs. Southworth's political stance was unfavorable in the
South. Boyle cites one vehement account, which he contends is an
exaggeration of the true public sentiment:

(Confederate sympathizers) never forgave her loyalty and

probably never will, and while Mrs. Southworth has lived

a life of perfect chastity, yet her fate is that of every

other woman who rises above the common place or above her

first station in life--more or less slander, and envy at

her heels.

It is perhaps significant that this criticism is directed not only at
Southworth's political position, but also at Emma, a woman, overstepping
her social role and taking any social stand at all.

Emma's support of the Union cause is in part a reaction against any
form of revolution. Like the slaves in her novels, her work reflects
her faith in God's will, with hope for an eternal peace in heaven. In
addition, Mrs. Southworth was opposed to slavery, although, as we shall

see, she subscribed to many of the social and racial myths that lay

behind the institution. In Retribution, which was published in 1849,

 

the heroine, Hester Grey, discloses a plan by which her father had
emancipated his slaves. The black people were given their freedom and
were provided with a fair wage in exchange for their labor. While this
project is indeed progressive, the assumptions that insure the success

of the plan are not. Hester's father reassured her that there would be no

shortage of laborers in this new economic system:

...Your people will not leave the farm, unless you drive
them off. The animal affections are all stronger in the

 

21

African than in us; and among the strongest is their
attachment to the soil upon which they were born and
have been brought. (Retribution, p. 25.)

Even in her post-Civil War novels, in which the slaves have been freed,
the social system of the South remains intact. The black people remain
on the plantation, presumably receiving a small salary, and maintain
their old loyalties and sense of duty to the family. Indeed, in Mrs.
Southworth's novels, the slaves themselves angrily deny that the war has
in any way altered their loyalties. In Ruth, The Faithful Bride,
published in 1869, the devoted slave Aunt Adah declares,

'Yes, honey, fai'ful! assented the old creature.
'Dat's me, fai'fu1--fai'ful froo fick and fin, froo
good 'port and ebil 'port, fai'ful fer ninety-nine
years las' Can'lemas Day. I didn' 'mancipate de
plantashun to go off to Cong'ess like so many ob dem
riff-raff, low-life brack niggers did! No, sah! Aunt
Adah Mungummery hab too much 'spect for herse'f, let
alone 'spect fer de ole famberly ob de Tudors, to
'grace hers'f dat way! 'Sides w'ich, young marster,
to tell the bressed trufe, I wouldn' a lef' my log
house in de piney woods 'cross de crik, wid my good
pine-know fire in de winter time, an' my cool spring
ob water outside de do', no not fer all de Cong'ess
in de whole worl'! 'Deed, 'fo de law, it's de trufe!

The narrator then explains,

At no age would (Aunt Adah) have left the home and the

family to whom she was so strongly attached. Her

bondage was that of LOVE, from which no act of Congress

could emancipate her. (Ruth, The Faithful Bride, pp. 8-9.)

Mrs. Southworth died on June 30, 1899. The Ledger's obituary
notice refers to the author's intimate relationship with her readers,

declaring that the public "(has) lost a friend whose place can never be

filled."21

 

21Boyle, Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth: Novelist, pp. 20—21.

22

Mrs. Southworth was part of a tradition of women writers who
dominated the American literary market from approximately 1830-1865.
The industrial revolution in America gave rise to a series of social
changes that produced a considerably larger, heterogeneous reading
audience. Technological advances in printing made books less expensive
and more readily available to the masses. Public education became more
widespread, creating a relatively literate society which for the first
time included women. The industrial revolution also altered the work
pattern, shifting the center of production from the home to the
factory; this change removed the male as the center of the household,
and women assumed a more active role in domestic decision making. Yet
another manifestation of the industrial revolution was what Papashvily
refers to as a leisured middle class. She states,

When wealth no longer took the form of castles and granaries,
sweeping fields and wide timberlands, flocks and herds, men needed

other symbols to indicate their prosperity. The first and most
important sign of success became the idle; woman in the household.

22
These women, who suddenly had the time and education, held specific
expectations about what they wanted to read. Papashvily declares,
...Once they conquered the mystery of the printed page, (women)
demanded that it reflect and extend experience--disclose and
resolve the contradictions of the outer and inner worlds--
clarify, inform, and most important, amuse. These tasks, 3
traditionally performed by the folk tale, fiction now assumed.
This new genre of fiction was labeled "domestic", focusing on the
everyday experience of the audience, who were most notably women.
These novels were directed expressly at women, reflecting their concerns

and preoccupations. The plots generally center around the plight of a

heroine who is confronted with seemingly endless hardships. The home

 

22Papashvily, All The Happy Endings, p. 18.

23Ibid., pp. 38—39.

23

plays a vital role in these novels, and the male characters appear in
each work only insofar as they are involved in the household. Thus,
while the professions of the male characters are mentioned in the novels,
the domestic tale is primarily concerned with the male in relation to the
lives of the women. And, because this role was most often confined to
romantic interaction and that of the family during the nineteenth
century, the male figure is rather limited within the scope of the
domestic novel.

These novels were intended not only as entertainment, but also as
instruction in matters of morality and proper conduct in the everyday
world. The domestic novel may be considered as a forerunner of the
modern soap opera. These works were sensational, relying upon drama of
an external nature to maintain the interest of the reader. Thus, the
experience depicted by the domestic novel is by no means commonplace.
Reality is intensified for dramatic purposes. The problems confronting
the main characters are severe and inexorable, so that the faith and
endurance of the heroine (and the reader as well) are severely tested
before relief finally arrives at the conclusion of the novel. The
characters are stereotypical, which provides immediate cues for the
audience regarding how and where to direct their sympathies; this device
is particularly important in this genre, which depends upon an emotional
participation and involvement on the part of the audience.

The growth of domestic fiction resulted in an increase in the number
of women authors; as Papashvily observes, "Reading, it seemed, incited

24

writing." Women writers were seemingly more sensitive to the unique

 

24Ibid., p. 40.

24

problems and pressures confronting members of their sex than were their
male counterparts, and were thus better able to reach their audience.
Writing proved to be a profitable profession for the successful author,
so that many women, like Mrs. Southworth, were motivated to pursue
literary careers for economic reasons. In addition, writing was one of
the few acceptable vocations for women, whereas a career in the arts was
generally considered an effeminate occupation for a man.

Mrs. Southworth was part of a literary tradition that originated
in England. The literary format employed by the author, as well as the
presentation of Southern society, was influenced by the English domestic
novel. This genre can be traced to Fanny Burney, whose first work,
Evelina, was published in 1778.

The parallel between the lives of Mrs. Southworth and Fanny Burney
is striking. The Burney family possessed a considerable estate but was
reduced to relative poverty and obscurity two generations before Fanny's
birth. Annie Raine Ellis explains,

James Macburney was born about 1653. He had an

estate in Great Hanwood, in Shropshire, and a house in

Whitehall...When nineteen he married Rebecca Ellis, a

girl of sixteen, who is said to have acted at Goodman's

Fields Theatre. Thereupon, his father disinherited him,

and himself married his own cook, whose son, Joseph, ran

through the property.25
Although Fanny was left without significant material advantage, she clung
to the Macburney heritage as an essential part of her identity. She was
particularly attached to Chesington Hall in Surrey, the estate inhabited

by Samuel Crisp, author and lifelong friend of the Burney family. She

refers to this manor in her journal as "a place of peace, ease, freedom,

 

25Raine Ellis ed., The Early Diary of Frances Burney, 1768-1778
(London: George Bell and Sons, 1907), xvi.

 

25

and cheerfulness."26

Like Mrs. Southworth, Fanny was shy and withdrawn as a child. In

her Memoirs of Dr. Burney, Fanny wryly describes herself as others had

 

perceived her:

Frances, the second daughter of Dr. Burney, was
during her childhood the most backward of all his
family in the faculty of receiving instructions. At
eight years of age she was ignorant of the letters of
the alphabet; though, at ten she began scribbling almost
incessantly, little works of invention, but always in
private; andjxrscrawling characters illegible, save to
herself.27

Thus Fanny, a romantic girl, saw writing as an opportunity to voice her
feelings, which were ignored by those around her. This avenue of
expression became central to her career as a writer and indeed provides
insight into the fiction that she later produced. Fanny's role as
observer had its impact on her literary style, as she essentially recorded
behavior without examining the motivation which prompted it. MacCarthy
observes,
(Fanny's) shyness in company left her the freer to

look on, and caused the people and incidents before her

to imprint themselves vividly upon...her brain. She never

tried to imagine what went on in the minds of those by whom

she was surrounded. Like a child, her interest was caught

and held by what the senses could percieve. She never

looked beyond externals...and because she has no key to

human character, she saw life always as a pageant or a
masquerade.28

 

261bid., p. lviii.

27Antoinette Arnold Overman, An Investigation into the Character of
Fanny Burney (Amsterdam: H.J. Paris, 1933), pp. 11-12.

 

28MacCarthy, B.G., The Female Pen: Later WOmen Novelists (Oxford:
B.H. Blackwell, Ltd., 1947), pp. 94-95.

26

In her preface to Evelina, Fanny declares that her intention is to
"Draw characters from nature, though not from life."29 This distinction,
which is also an essential element in the work of Mrs. Southworth, has
several implications. Both authors find their inspiration in the
imagination as opposed to the reality of life that seemed to exclude
them in childhood. They are both concerned with the world of society and
manners as opposed to the depiction of primal nature. And, both derive
character and plot from art and the established conventions of
literature, rather than from the unique figures and situations that
appear in the course of life's experiences.

The journal of Fanny Burney also reveals an obsession with order
which extends into her everyday conduct. Her entry of July 17, 1768
records her schedule as follows:

Breakfast always at 10 (Rise as much before as we please)

Dine precisely at 2

Drink tea about 6

Sup exactly at 930
Fanny's concern with self-control extends to a rigid denial of pleasure:

I make a kind of rule, never to indulge myself in

my two most favorite pursuits, reading and writing, in

the morning--no, like a very good girl I give that up

wholly, accidental occasions and preventions excepted,

to needlework, by which means my reading and writing in

the afternoon is a pleasure I cannot be blamed for by my
mother.3

 

29Frances Burney, Evelina or The History of a Young Lady's Entrance
Into the World (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1930), p. ix. By distinguishing
between nature and life, Burney is presumably referring to a neo-classic,
external concept of nature, associated with order, regularity, and
universality, as opposed to the romantic, irregular notion of nature.

30Ellis, Early Diary of Fanny Burney, p. 15.

 

 

 

311bid., p. 15.

27

In her entry of July 17, 1768, Fanny responds to Dr. Johnson's Rasselas,
providing further insight into the fundamental structure of the domestic
novel:
0, how dreadful, how terrible it is to be told by

a man of (Dr. Johnson's) genius and knowledge in so

affectingly probable a manner, that true, real, happiness

is ever unattainable in this world! Thro' all the scenes,

public or private, domestic or solitary...rea1 felicity

eludes their pursuit and mocks their solitude. In high

life, superiority, envy and haughtiness baffle the power

of preferment, favour and greatness--and, with or without

them, all is animosity, suspicion, apprehension, and

misery! in private families, disagreement, jealousy and

partiality, destroy all domestic felicities and all social

cheerfulness, and all is peevishness, contradiction, ill-

will, and wretchedness.
Fanny is distressed by Dr. Johnson's depiction of chaos in the world,
which to some extent reinforces her own personal experience. For Miss
Burney, the means by which she was able to draw the disparities of her
life into a state of harmony was her imagination. This approach typifies
the domestic novel, as these stories present characters who are immersed
in seemingly irreconcilable circumstances. The domestic novel serves as
an arena in which the travails of the characters are resolved; through
the author's imagination, the forces of virtue operate to restore order to
the world of the novel. The conclusion is critical to the reader's
experience; they identify with the plight of the characters, experiencing
a catharsis of sorts at the satisfying resolution of the novel.

Miss Burney's first novel, Evelina, was an immediate sensation in
England, even drawing the praise of the eminent Dr. Johnson. The plot is

a dramatic, loosely autobiographical tale that reflects the author's own

ambiguous feelings for a social system that, though attractive, has

 

321bid., p. 16.

28

rejected her:

As the obscure ward of a country parson, (Evelina) was
safe and happy enough, although her life was shadowed by the
slur of illegitimacy. But, if she were ever to make her
entrance into the outer world, it seems inevitable that she
should suffer for the social inequity of her ancestors. She
stood between two worlds-—the exclusive society in which, as
her father's daughter, she had a right to move; and the lower
world of petty tradesmen, in which she had relations through
her vulgar grandmother, Madame Duval. But society,
unsupported by her father, and her indeterminate background
and her isolation caused her to be ignored and slighted.

In Burney's novel, manners provide necessary order, separate the classes,
and differentiate between the heroes and the villans within the upper
class. Evelina remarks,
Lordship---how extraordinary! that a nobelman,
accustomed, in all probability, to the first rank of
company in the kingdom, from his earliest infancy,

can possibly be deficient in good manners, however
faulty in morals and principles!!!"‘1

 

Proper deportment can thus regulate man's impulses and distinguish good
from evil. This emphasis on restraint and decorum represents another
innovation in the genre of the novel. Muriel Masefield declares,
Fanny Burney brought about a literary revolution:

the novel was freed from the reproach of courseness

(hitherto considered a practically necessary ingredient

of humor) and the natural story of life and manners came

into its kingdom.
Evelina contains considerable moral instruction, as the felicity and success

of the characters is measured against the standards of behavior that were

established in the courtesy literature of the period. Hemlow notes that

 

33MacCarthy, The Female Pen, p. 38.

 

34Burney, Evelina, p. 133.

35 . . .
Muriel Masefield, Woman Novelists: From Fanny Burney to George
Eliot (Freeport, New York: Books for Libraries Press, Inc., 1934), p. 23.

29

Fanny was familiar with Edward Moore's Fables for the Female Sex, which

 

was published in 1741 and included lessons of conduct and sentiments.
The framework of manners and morality for the genteel(and in the novel,
heroic) member of society is well defined:

Spirits... The spirits should be ever under the domain
of the understanding.

Unenviousness...

Honesty...

Visiting... To be well timed and of proper length should
be chiefly considered. When discourse flags,
before it fails, company should separate.

Good Manners... Should be uninterruptedly cultivated. They
chiefly consist of softness and attention. Their
influence is universal--dispe11ing or banishing
mauvaise honte, grosseness, personal reflections,
absence of mind and all observance; humility; and
the art of pleasing.

Delicacy...

Instruction... To hear Good Council, to read Moral Lessons...36

The plot of Evelina is to a large degree a materialization of the abstract
principles of the courtesy literature, as the fate of the individual
characters is determined by the particular values they epitomize. Hemlow
states,
The forwarding action was felicitious behavior on the part

of the heroine-~modesty, delicacy, sensibility, charity,

prudence, fortitude, and all coquetry, affectation, singulagity,

artifice, levity, imprudence, and other courtesy-book sins.
Evelina is concerned with the life of the English aristocracy; major
characters include Lady Howard, the Reverend Mr. Villars, and Captain
Mirvan. The only vocations that appear in this novel at all are positions

in the military and the church; otherwise, the chief pursuit of the

characters is leisure. The plot features the heroine's search for identity

 

36Joyce Hemlow, The History of Fanny Burney (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1958) I p. 210

37
Ibid., p. 225

 

30

a theme which recurs throughout the genre of the domestic novel. Evelina
is removed from herpast, her family heritage, and even her family name;
she gradually discovers her identity, both as a woman and as a person in
relation to her world. Though her identity remains concealed through much
of the novel, Evelina displays the natural beauty and gentility that is
her birthright. Burney's novel reinforces the societal belief in a
correspondence between class and heredity, which holds that the upper
class, unless corrupted, possesses moral superiority which is demonstrated
in their ability to govern--not only others, but their own passions as
well. The estate plays a large role in the novel, even in its absence.
Evelina regards Howard Grove as a slice of heaven: "This house seems to
be the house of joy; every face wears a smile, and a laugh is at everybody's

“38 However, Evelina immediately leaves the order and sanctity

service.
of the estate to travel to London, where the pace and excitement of the
city throws her world into chaos. The trip to London serves as an allegory
for the uncertain moral journey in which Evelina's moral order is
threatened. Maesfield notes, "We are forced to the conclusion that London
was a dangerous and unpleasant place for the woman who was not carefully

"39 In urban life, the pace and excitement are seemingly

protected...
out of the control and certainly beyond the understanding of the heroine.
The fixed order of morality breaks down in London, as members of the

aristocracy behave in an unexpectedly rude and destructive fashion, much

to the consternation of Evelina's concerned parental figure, the Reverend

Mr. Villars.

 

38Burney, Evelina, p. 28.

39Masefield, Woman Novelists, p. 28.

 

31

Miss Burney's second novel, Cecelia, also offers insight into the
domestic life of the aristocracy, which offered satisfaction to those
readers who were not of the privileged class. Again, Burney is
concerned with the theme of dissipation, as characters are consumed by
the parties and excitement of the social life in London. Overman notes,

Shocked by the behavior of Mr. Harrel and tired of the never

ceasing parties, Cecelia tries to find happiness in solitude,

and satisfaction in charity.40
It is precisely her reliance on the absolute system of mores that enables
the genteel Cecelia to transcend the temptations of everyday life. At
the conclusion of the novel, she and her lover are wed, a new
beginning which presumably establishes a permanent state of harmony
in her world. The unwritten chapters after the conclusion are an
important feature of the domestic novels, as the protagonists will enjoy

an idyllic existence free of the cares that had beset them throughout the

story.

The first domestic novelist in America is generally considered to be

Miss Catherine Marie Sedgwick, who wrote A New England Tale in 1822, and

 

Redwood in 1824. These tales were primarily concerned with how the
heroine endured life's trials, such as marriage and poverty. In 1837

Sedgwick wrote A Poor Rich Man and a Rich Poor Man, in which according to

 

Papashvily, the heroine, Susan May,

showed how simple and satisfying it is to support a large
family, dispense charity and educate children on meager

 

#—

40Overman, Investigation Into the Character of Fanny Burney, p. 49.

 

32

wages, a pleasure denied those fortunate enough to be
wealthy.4

Because the setting of each novel was so critical to the domestic
novel, this genre of fiction was distinctly regional in nature; Sedgwick
and Susan Warner, for instance, are representative of New England
domestic fiction. By the 1840's, a Southern regional domestic fiction
flourished. Jay Hubbell notes,

The number of Southern women who took to writing in

the forties and fifties is very considerable. In

fact, there were at this time more women than men

among Southern writers who could be classed as

professional.

Next to Mrs. Southworth, Caroline Lee Hentz stands as the most
prominent and influential Southern regional author of her time. Mrs. Hentz
was born in New England in 1800. Soon after her marriage to a French
historian, they moved to Chapel Hill, North Carolina. From there they
moved to a succession of cities, all located in the South. Her
perspective as a transplanted Northerner appears throughout her work. An
examination of the career of Caroline Hentz reveals a striking number of‘
similarities between Mrs. Hentz and Mrs. Southworth. The Hentz'
established a school for girls in five of the cities where they lived.
Like Mrs. Southworth, Caroline was responsible for educating her young
pupils and preparing them to conduct themselves properly in society. In
the same manner, the novels of both authors served as texts for the

instruction of young women. Mary Forrest describes the work of Mrs. Hentz

in Women of the South, a piece of sentimental criticism which was published

 

41Papashvily, All The Happy Endings, p. 43.

 

2
Jay B. Hubbell, The South in American Literature, 1607-1900
(U.s.: Duke University Press, 1954), p. 603.

 

33

in 1866:

The sensibilities, which gave to her a power of
enjoyment, and were, at the same time, alive to 'an
angel's scope of agony,‘ quiver in her works as truly
as they once played upon her face or throbbed in her
pulses--equally apparent on every page are the vigor
and vivacity, the moral perception, the religious
faith, which marked her life and conversation.

Like Mrs. Southworth, much of Mrs. Hentz's work is autobiographical;

in fact, her last work, Ernest Linwood, which was published in 1856, is

 

subtitled The Inner Life of the Author. This work deals with the trials

 

of marriage and the strain on the institution brought about by woman's
expanded interests and acquaintances. Certainly the success of Mrs.
Hentz produced tension in the Hentz household that ultimately affected
her husband's emotional and physical health. Papashvily notes,

Life in the shadow of a brilliant, accomplished,

attractive wife intensified certain insecurities, self

doubts he possessed. Certainly, as the years passed,

Professor Hentz grew more and more to resemble the

creature of his wife's imagination (Ernest Linwood) until

finally he became what his eldest son, a physician, called

'a miserable hypochrondriac--unfit for work.‘

Mrs. Hentz began writing for magazines in 1838 with a story entitled
"Lowell's Folly"; a collection of these tales first appeared in book form
in 1846. Like Mrs. Southworth, Caroline Hentz was driven to serious
literary endeavors through economic necessity. As her husband's health
began to decline, Mrs. Hentz was compelled to write in order to survive.
The impending dangers of everyday life bacame a focus of Mrs. Hentz, as

her characters struggle against these very conditions in order to attain a

measure of ideal happiness. Ironically, these tales of characters who

 

43Forrest, Women of the South, p. 268.

 

44Papashvily, All The Happy Endings, p. 94.

34

triumph over the pressures of living reflects her own efforts to attain
fame and economic independence. However, unlike her contemporary,
Caroline Hentz wrote several short stories that contained instances of
social revolution, in which the rich fall from power and the deserving
poor are rewarded in society for their virtue.

The novels of Mrs. Hentz are most notorious for their eloquent
defense of the institutions of the South, particularly slavery. Her
fiction was regarded by the critics and audiences of the period as a

literary response to Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. The

 

Planter's Northern Bride appeared in 1854, and, according to Mrs. Forrest,

"took rank at once among our best novels;"45

this novel was consciously
directed against the abolitionist view expressed by Stowe. The preface
to the novel asserts that,
Our national honor is tarnished when a portion of our
country is held up to public disgrace and foreign insult by
those,.too, whom every feeling of patriotism should lead to
defend it.46

Significantly, the plot of The Planter's Northern Bride reflects

 

Caroline Hentz' own personal experience, as she was transplanted to the
South and came to recognize the Christain framework behind the institution

of slavery.

Thus, Southern domestic writers like Mrs. Southworth contributed to the
formation of a distinct Southern cultural identity. As a writer of domestic

fiction, Mrs. Southworth acquainted her audience not only with her personal

 

45Forrest, women of the South, p. 268.

 

46Papashvily, All The Happy Endings, p. 85.

 

35

circumstances but with her cultural experience as well. The widespread
success of these novels indicates the degree to which her audience
enjoyed and approved of Southworth's conception of Southern culture.
Entertainment which is positively received demands a degree of
participation on the part of the reader. Audience involvement in a
popular medium enriches the experience, so that the reader absorbs and
then reinvests meaning to increase his enjoyment. This reciprocity
between the audience and popular art forms a delicate system of
communication which serves to reinforce cultural values. Mrs. Southworth
capitalized on an attractive conception of Southern life already in
existence in order to insure commercial success, which in turn served to

reinforce these previously accepted notions about the South.

CHAPTER 2

Mrs. Southworth and the Southern Mythic Culture

Mrs. Southworth's fiction does not correspond exactly with an
objective, historically accurate picture of Southern life but instead
reflects a Southern myth, which reveals the self-concept of the
Southern culture: how the Southerner thought of himself and how he
preferred others to perceive him. Myth was generally considered as the
product of primitive cultures and regarded as fantasy by early scholars.

Richard Chase declares,

We find no general theory of myth beyond the
assumption that myth is the kind of falsehood which
has always satisfied the feeble understanding of
mankind which has been an age-old weapon of oppression
in the hands of scheming priests and legislators.
Myth is undeniably a valuable source of entertainment in a culture. In
this sense, myth provides vicarious experiences for people who are
disappointed in what they must endure in the course of their everyday
existence. As fantasy, myth also reaffirms the possible in life. John
Creed observes,
And perhaps even more important than the belief

that these particular things happened is the belief
that things of this kind can easily happen.

 

 

1Richard Chase, ggest for Myth (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State
University Press, 1949), p. 10.

2John Creed, "Uses of Classical Mythology," in The Theory of Myth:
Six Studies, ed. by Adrian Cunningham (London: Sheed and Ward, 1973),
p. 3.

 

 

 

36

37

Myth thus has a therapeutic effect, compensating for the burdens of the
real world and providing a necessary release from the frustrations
accompanying everyday living. This is particularly true for the
post-Civil War South; living amid the ruin of the Confederacy and the
social upheaval of reconstruction, they clung all the more tenaciously
to the Southern myth.

In his survey of mythology, Richard Chase identifies what might be
termed the preternatural function of myth. The seventeenth—century
Italian scholar Vico first pointed out that myth, which relies heavily
upon the use of metaphor, was interpreted differently in ancient times.
Chase comments,

(Vico) thinks it a mistake to suppose (metaphors)

to be artifice or decoration. . . In early times the

metaphor meant exactly what it said: it was not, in

other words, thought to be a metaphor; it was language

perfectly fused with reality.3
There was thus a time when myth, which appears to the modern sensibility

as fantastic and preposterous, was regarded as within the realm of man's

experience. Chase carefully distinguishes between the supernatural, which

 

is the intervention of the gods in the affairs of men, and the preternatural,

 

which he defines as the existence of the wonderous and extraordinary in the

world. Myth, then, reinforces man's belief in the unexpected and the

improbable. In his view,

Any narrative or poem which reaffirms the dynamism and
vibrancy of the world, which fortifies the ego with the
impression that here is a magically potent brilliancy or
dramatic force in the world, may be called a myth.4

 

3Chase, Quest for Myth, pp. 25-26.

4Ibid., p. 81.

 

38

This explanation of the preternatural can to some degree account
for the sensational elements in Mrs. Southworth's novels when considered
as cultural myth. Southworth's fiction reflects a belief in the
preternatural, which is presented as real within the context of the
story. This sensationalism, which is regarded by literary scholars as a

clumsy device to arouse interest,5

actually contributed to the popularity
of the stories. Keeping alive a belief in a preternatural world is a key
to the success of Southworth's novels, and the romantic or sentimental
literary genre as a whole. Chase declares,
Myths may be regarded. . . as the aesthetic exercise

which preserves and reaffirms the magic fusion; myths keep

the ma ician's world--and the poet's world--from falling

apart.
Many of the plot contrivances in her novels that seem ludicrous to the
modern critic--the emphasis on coincidence, or "fate", and the merging of
subplots which resolves all mysteries--reflect her faith in a mystical,
transcendant Goodness which ultimately restores peace and harmony to the
deserving. And, while one cannot in reality rely on the timeliness of

circumstances to solve life's problems, such events dp_occur in the lives

of men. As Southworth observes in Ruth, The Faithful Bride,

 

It was very curious that he should have done so, Ruth
thought; but, then, experience shows us many curious
coincidences in life. (Ruth, The Faithful Bride, p. 152;)
Southworth strongly believes in fate, which controls the destiny of the

individuals in the novels. The protagonists seem to be guided by a divine

providence which, within the context of the novel itself, is the author,

 

SSee Montrose J. Moses, The Literature of the South (New York:
Thomas Y. Crowell & Co., 1910). p. 337.

 

6
gbage, Queét.for Myth, p. 81.

39

who constructs plots that will eventually enable the heroes to prevail
over misfortune.

The preternatural also refers to those powers that are beyond the
conventional understanding and control of man. As Ernest Cassirer
observes, "The world of myth is a dramatic world--the world of actions,
of forces, of conflicting powers."7 Mrs. Southworth's work features a
continuing struggle between the forces of good and evil; these forces
exist in the novels as independent and external entities that test man's
moral fortitude. In this sense, there are no truly evil characters in
Southworth novels--only weak ones. The plots generally move from an
edenistic state of bliss to a series of trials that threatens the
protagonists. Those who have succumbed to evil temptations are
ultimately punished, while the characters who have the moral strength to
endure life's ordeals find a happy resolution to their problems.

The conflicts which appear in Southworth's fiction also correspond
to the tension between what may be termed a rational and emotional
understanding of the world. This opposition represents what has
traditionally been considered the masculine versus the feminine

sensibility. For instance, Tudor Hereworth in Ruth, The Faithful Bride is

 

puniShed for ignoring his better instincts and casting out his wife for
infidelity on the basis of circumstantial evidence. In rejecting his

wife, Tudor is also repudiating his emotional, or feminine, self. After
discovering that his wife is innocent of all charges of adultery, Tudor

collapses, as his weak emotional nature is unable to bear the strain.

 

7Ernest Cassier, "The Power of Metaphor," in Mythology, ed. by

Pierre Miranda (Middlesex, England: Penguin Books, 1972), p. 80.

40

At the end of the story, the repentant husband embraces his wife (and
the feminine sensibility she represents) and refuses to listen to her
very rational explanation about the events leading to their misunderstanding.

Myth also serves what Chase refers to as a Promethean function,
dramatizing man's attempt to deal with his own fallibility and struggle to
reach perfection. Chase declares,

Myth dramatizes in poetic form the disharmonies,

the deep neurotic disturbances which may be occasioned

by this clash of inward and outward forces, and. . . by

reconciling the opposing forces, by making them interact

coercively toward a common end, myth performs a profoundly

beneficial and life-giving act.

As myth-maker, Mrs. Southworth satisfies the public's need for a complete
and satisfying resolution of all the seemingly chaotic and destructive
elements of life. The story, then, serves as a ritual in which the
sanctity of the mythic structure is threatened, only to emerge at the
conclusion as whole, harmonious, and renewed.

Although myth may be historically inaccurate, it does nevertheless
depict a particular kind of experience within a culture. A pervasive
cultural myth, as Will Wright points out, determines to a great extent
how individuals define themselves and relate to others. Myth reflects
"the classifications, interpretations, and inconsistencies that a
particular society imposes on the individual's understanding of the world."9
Myth fulfills many functions within a culture. William R. Bascom notes,

Folklore, like language, is a mirror of culture

and incorporates descriptions of the details of
ceremonies, institutions, and technology, as well as

 

8Chase, guest for Myth, p. 85.

 

9Will Wright, Six Guns and Society (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1975). P. 12.

41

the expression of beliefs and attitudes. . . (It)
may provide a means of getting at esoteric features
of a sulture which cannot.he approached in any other
1
way.
Through myth, man is able to discover significance in his own experience.

According to the Euhemeristic theory,11

the origin of myth is essentially
human, as celebrated men were elevated into gods, and their exploits

were magnified to grand proportions. As a result, the tales of the gods
may be regarded as a form of cultural history. In addition, by
worshiping the gods of myth, man is in essence glorifying his past. The
South, particularly during the nineteenth century, was preoccupied with
its past, identifying itself with a tradition that extended into
classical times. This glorification of the past generated a pride and

a resistance to change which characterized the South. Myth thus fulfills
the legitimate historical function of defining the cultural origins of a
society. Andrew Lang, a major contributor to the anthropological
approach to the study.of mythology, regarded myth as a form of cultural
history. Lang, Chase notes, "thought that a great number of myths were
invented to explain the origin and function of the totemic social system."12
Cultural mythology defines the social structure, influencing people's
perceptions of their experience. In addition, the structure of myth

contains practical guidelines which regulate man's behavior; a myth

establishes a pattern of responses to highly dramatized problems that occur

 

10William R. Bascom, "Four Functions of Myth," in The Study of
Folklore, ed., by Alan Dundes (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall,
Inc., 1965), p.284.

11Euhemerus the Messenian (c. 330-c. 260 B.C.) held that gods are in
reality deified men and that myth is actually the history of the exploits
of these men, altered over time by storytellers.

12
Chase, guest for Myth, p. 61.

 

 

42

in the life of the audience, which in turn provide cues for acceptable
forms of conduct. Myth expresses social approval of those who conform,
as mythical characters are ultimately rewarded or punished on the basis
of their adherence to the values prized by the society. As a result,
the Southerner demonstrated restraint at all times in conformance with
the code of Southern gentility.

th only does myth define the past and dictate the present, but it
influences man's perception of the future as well. Myth provides clues
concerning the future of the soul and the means by which a person can be
saved from perdition. Being a part of a mythic tradition which has
endured over a long period of time also insures the individual of a
measure of immortality, as the tradition will continue in all probability
beyond his death.

Finally, myth fulfills an overlooked but essential socio-political
function in society. Joseph Fontenrose observes that a myth is not
merely an explanatory tale, but has a justifying or validating function in
society:

A myth narrates the primeval event which set the

precedent for an institution. . . It may be a social,

political, or economic institution; it may be a natural

'institution', a process or phenomenon important to a

society's economy.13
In terms of Fontenrose's theory, the myth of a Southern aristocratic
culture--which explains the existence of slavery, as a part of its
philosophical framework--rationa1izes the implementation of an economic

institution which might otherwise be difficult for a genteel and "civilized"

people to live with. Thus, the myth of the antebellum South was a

 

l3Joseph Fontenrose, The Ritual Theory of Myth (Berkeley,Los Angeles,
London: University of California Press, 1971), p. 57.

 

43

convenient construct that enabled the Southerner to justify the existence
of an economic system as a social institution.

The characteristics of the Southern myth have been eloquently outlined
by Patrick Gerster and Nicholas Cords:

The antebellum or pre-Civil War South is made to appear
a nearly perfect society. This Southern utopia is supposed
to have been one of luxuriant landscapes, occasionally graced
by spacious white-columned mansions caressed by the intoxicating
firagrances of magnolia blossoms. The legendary picture of when
'things were different down there' reveals the principal
inhabitant of this earthly paradise to be an aristocratic
'colonel', either busily at the gentlemanly task of raising
thoroughbred horses and cotton or, in courtly style, sipping
mint juleps in the restful shade of a splendid portico.
Close by his side sits a Southern matron with auburn hair,
delicate features, and a distinctly refined quality about her.
She offers the perfect portrait of true womanhood--properly
reserved, dressed in her ruffled hoop-skirt, and reading the
latest novel then fashionable in polite society, most likely
Sir Walter Scott's Ivanhoe. The scene also includes a self-
effacing black butler who knows his place and is happy to be
there. The conduct of the day-to-day affairs of the big
house, of course, hinge on the loyalty and devotion of the
black mammy who. . .governs the 'chilluns' while her own barefoot
youngsters sit out behind the shanty in the black quarters eating
watermelon and singing spirituals. The entire scene is one of
serenity and security. . .Briefly here one has, in full bloom,
the plantation legend.14

The plantation plays a large role in the Southern myth. The plantation
was a complete society which included a comprehensive social network. This
model social order was self-sufficient, as the plantation was not only an
autonomous economic entity but also an independent social unit,
encompassing all classes. Tradition was the foundation of Southern society.
The plantation provided a vital sense of continuity for the Southerner.
Francis Pendleton Gaines comments,

(The plantation house) is a storehouse of memories,
a conservatory of spiritual heritage. No tradition is ever

 

l4Patrick Gerster and Nicholas Cords, Myth in American History
(Encino, California: Glencoe Press, 1977), pp. 116-117.

 

44

quite complete without it, for it gives an ultimate
tone.

Inheritance and the proper disposition of property was essential to the
continuence of the social order. Marriage was arranged on the basis of
lineage and was regarded as the primary method of adding to the power
and prestige of the plantation family.

The mythic South was a utopian civilization of enlightened
aristocrats. The manners and general decorum of the elite reflected a
perfect society. The plantation society was centered around a strong
partiarchal character, and the members of the plantation, including the
slaves, were members of a family unit. The plantation owners were charged
with the responsibility of maintaining the system. This patriarch was
benevolent, and the slave "children" were grateful for his protection and
kindness.

Like all myths, the Southern framework does contain a certain degree
of truth. Gaines declares,

The student of actual plantation conditions discovers
unmistakable evidence which points to the existence of an

order of life in a few limited localities which approximates

in real social charm the traditional social charm of the

romances. In a few limited localities, be it rememberedtnjfirs

order existed.16
There are on record a number of large, flourishing plantations which formed
the model of the Southern mythic society; however, these rather limited

instances were misconstrued as forming the entire Southern culture. The

plantation owner was dominant in Southern society, both socially,

 

15Francis Pendleton Gaines, The Southern Plantation: A study in the

Development and Accuracy of a Tradition (Gloucester, Mass: Peter Smith,
1962), p. 166-

16

 

Ibid., pp. 143-144.

45

economically, and politically and as such was highly visible in the
culture. This aristocratic gentleman, who made up a small minority

of the Southern population, served as the ideal which dominated the
popular conception of Southern life. This ideal was imitated by the
lower classes, particularly by the small number of merchants and
professional men who lived near the Southern cities. Southern life thus
to a certain extent became a parody of the popular conception of the
region.

Significantly, one fallacy of the Southern plantation myth lies not
in exaggeration but in understanding its true significance in Southern
culture. As Edmund S. Morgan observes, the great house of the plantation
served as the symbol of the family, "dominating its environs as the
gentleman who lived in it dominated his family."17 The plantation house
was designed to display the owner's position in society and his
aristocratic style of living. The manor house was also the center of
family life, another aspect of the Southern life that, if anything, has
not been emphasized enough in the mythic history of the South. Gaines
declares,

...Family life had a power, a persistence of influence:

almost a sacredness, not often suggested by the tradition of

groaning tables and shuffling feet. . .This quality is not in

the frivilous tradition.

The Southerner was not so much identified as an individual as he was a

member of his family, which provides insight into the provincialism of the

South. Social, political, and economic life centered around the family.

 

l7Edmund S. Morgan, Virginians at Home: Family Life in the Eighteenth
Centppy (Williamsburg, Virginia: Colonial Williamsburg, 1952), p. 75.

18Gaines, The Southern Plantation, p. 170.

 

46

Social position was carefully cultivated through marriage, so that if at
all possible, the plantation was kept in the family. Slaves were
regarded as part of the household, as the planter liked to think of the
slave as not merely property but as a contributing member of the family.

However, there are several important distinctions between myth and
reality. The notion of the South as a European-style closed aristocracy
overlooks two important factors--the frontier and the element of time.
Gerster states,

Since the fundamental fact of life in the antebellum

South was the frontier, conditions were not at all ripe for

the growth of an aristocracy. Beyond this, the word

'aristocrat' implies that one's position of economic and

social privilege has been acquired over time and that more

than likely at least a portion of the wealth and prestige

which goes with it has been inherited. When it is under-

stood that prior to the American Revolution no cotton of any

great quantity was even grown in America, the notion of a

Southern cotton aristocracy of long-standing wealth and

prestige having emerged by the eve of the Civil war must be

dismissed as a historical impossibility.19
The myth of affluence in the South was exaggerated, even in respect to the
elite planters. Few, if any, plantations achieved economic self-sufficiency
and most had to rely upon the importation of industrial goods from the
North. Gaines notes,

The illusion of sectional affluence was sometimes

achieved by patricians who resorted to the simple deyace

of excluding them in the items of per capita wealth.
Even the myth of vast holdings of land was delusive, as most large planters

held a considerable amount of acreage that had been worn out by overplanting

and had to be abandoned.

 

19Gerster, Myth in American History, p. 118.

 

20
Gaines, The Southern Planter, p. 150.

 

47

The romanticized portrait of the institution of slavery is also
filled with fallacies. In contrast with the picture of harmony and
contentment presented in myth, in which the happy slave not only tolerated
but was actively involved in the welfare of the plantation system, evidence
suggests that there was widespread discontent among the slaves. Gerster
points out that slave songs, for example, are filled with melancholy
lyrics about escape to heaven, depicted as a sanctuary from the "cares"
of this world-~namely the plantation. That the slaves were alienated
from the plantation society is evident from the recorded incidents of work
slowdowns, the breaking of tools, feigning sickness, and various other
forms of nonviolent protest and rebellion . . .21 These non-violent
demonstrations gave rise to the myth that the black man is lazy. However,
Gerster declares that "On average (the black slave) was harderworking and
more efficient than his white counterpart."22

According to the myth, the black slaves were not only conscious of
their inferiority, but maintained their own standards, distinguishing
between dark and light skinned blacks and acknowledging caste system of
the house and field slave. Actually, according to Gerster, considerable
movement occurred between the fields and the plantation house. Gerster
also deflates other notions regarding the childlike nature of the black
slave. The black man was not relegated to menial duties; 25% of all
adult male slaves were craftsmen, managers, professionals, or semi-skilled

workers. The housing of the black man was generally on a level with that

of his neighbors, with the exception of the owners of the grand plantation

 

21Gerster, Myth in American History, p. 121.

 

22
Ibid., p. 113.

48

manors. Another historical fact not accounted for by the myth is that
250,000 free blacks lived in the South in 1860. These people worked to
support themselves, holding responsible positions in society.

Another discrepancy between image and reality involves the role of
the woman in the antebellum South. Even in the plantation setting, the
majority of Southern women spent their days clearing the land, laboring
in the fields, preserving fruits and vegetables, sewing, making soap, and
raising their children. Even the greatest of the plantation ladies was
not free to enjoy a life of leisure:

Though she might have all the servants she could

ask for, most of them would be unwilling workers,

indentured servants who looked forward only to the day

when they would be free, or slaves who had nothing to

gain by their service. To manage a large mansion with

such a crew was no small task in itself.

In addition to her considerable everyday duties, the Southern woman
was compelled to maintain the appearance of a leisurely existence. women
were further limited by the unwritten code of Southern chivalry, which
minimized their capabilities and dictated their behavior, preventing them
from finding personal fulfillment outside of their prescribed role. WOmen
were victimized by the Southern myth; the ideal code actually served as an
oppressive form of slavery, pressuring the woman to maintain the aura of
an aristocratic lifestyle in what was essentially a frontier setting. Ann
Firor Scott contends that

women, along with children and slaves, were expected

to recognize their proper and subordinate place and to be

obedient to the head of the family. Any tendency on the part

of the members of the system to assert themselves against the

master threatened the whole, and therefore slavery itself. It
was no accident that the most articulate spokesmen for slavery

 

23Ibid., p. 42.

49

were alsoziloquent exponents of the subordinate role
of women.

So pervasive was the Southern myth, that it presented many dangers
to the members of Southern society, distorting their sense of reality and
proportion. The Southerner felt that he was defending a tradition,
regarding Southern culture as an entity more sacred than any national
boundary. The Southerner's loyalties were regional rather than national
in scope, and the gentleman was protective of his "family," including his
slaves. The self-sufficiency that characterized the South was in fact a
self-imposed isolationalism.which prevented the Southerner from
participating in the growth of a national consciousness. Gaines comments,

In plantation legends, this (provincialism) is

associated with a 'splendid isolation' resulting in

conservatism of delightfully archaic flavor, in the

flaming love of liberty. . .As a matter of cold fact,

this condition of life is responsible for a stubborn

pride, which sometimes took the form of self-praise...25

The Southerner was also motivated by what Clement Eaton refers to as "an

exaggerated sense of honor,"26

which dictated both personal and political
conduct. The Southern gentleman regarded the political issues preceding
the Civil War as an affront to his honor.

Because of its belief in tradition, the South was a conservative
community which was opposed to change. For example, South Carolina was the

only state in the Union that did not permit divorce. The South was also

characterized by an intense religious orthodoxy, which became a part of

 

24Ann Firor Scott, The Southern Lady: From Pedestal to Politics

(Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1970), p. 17.

5 . .
Gaines, The Southern Plantation, p. 157.

26Clement Eaton, The Civilization of the Old South (Lexington, Ky.:

University of Kentucky Press, 1968), p. 304.

50

its social and economic framework. Issues like slavery assumed a
spiritual flavor; the Southern gentry regarded themselves as missionaries
who were educating the slaves about the Christian life. The South
staunchly refused to admit economic innovations to infiltrate their;
culture. Cities remained small, and industry remained a Northern
commodity. The South was thus a static culture which was intolerant of
new thoughts and ideas that might threaten their society.

Indeed, Southern mythic history was so influential that it had a
decided impact upon the course of events leading to the Civil War.
Gerster notes,

Americans, and many historians specifically, have

generally accepted the idea that the Civil war was a

conflict which could not have been avoided because of

the fundamental differences between the regions and their

ways of life.
Even more than a political struggle, the Civil War was a cultural conflict.
The South's attempt to secede was not dissimilar to America's revolution
against Mother England; in both cases a region which had developed a
distinct cultural identity demanded the right to govern themselves.
Southerners regarded the issues of slavery, the tariff, and the role of the
federal government in the affairs of the individual states as a direct
attack upon their way of life. As a result, the Southerner approached the
War Between the States with a fervor that extended far beyond mere
political issues. The Southern aristocrat considered himself inherently
superior to the predominantly middle-class Northerner and felt that his

military tradition and moral strength would dispatch the industrialists with

minimal effort. The South regarded this conflict as a modern crusade, with

 

27Gerster, Myth in American History, p. 115.

 

51

the Southern guardian of Christian civilization pitted against the
barbaric, pagan North. Indeed, the pagentry and zeal that accompanied
the South's preparations for war were analogous to the celebration
accompanying King Richard's march against the Moors. Significantly, the
defeat of the rebels served only to solidify the Southern myth. The
Southern mystique was preserved as a part of its tradition, transcending
the actual breakdown of the order. Gerster comments,
And Confederate frustration, despair, and defeat
during the war years only served to reinforce the

South's already obvious tendency to allow fictions to
serve in lieu of facts.

The cultural division of the North and South began as early as the
American Revolution and became a part of the national consciousness by the
early 19th century. Gerster observes, "The general agreement among
historians. . .is that the South became self-consciously aware of its
distinct characteristics about 1830."29 Several factors contributed to
the establishment of a distinct Southern culture. The vast distances,
coupled with a poor system of roads, isolated the South, making it in effect
a separate culture. The temperate climate and fertile soil of this region
produced an agrarian society that, with the free labor provided by slaves,
was economically sound. Unlike the North, the South remained a rural
society which discouraged immigrants from settling in this region. R.S.
Cotterill observes,

At the time of the eighth census the people of the
South were as much a rural people and as much given to

 

281bid., p. 115.

291bid., P. 111.

52

agriculture as they were when the first census was
taken. Cities were still small and few.30

As a result, the South was a relatively homogenous society; after the
first wave, the majority of immigrants traveled to the North, which had
use for the cheap labor in the factories. Because Southern culture was
land-oriented, most of the acreage was quickly taken, leaving little
opportunity for newcomers unless they not only had ambition but capital
as well. This agrarian society produced a different, more "elevated"
attitude toward work than existed in the mind of the Northern businessman.
Eaton remarks,

Many Southerners had a high sense of pride in

regard to money matters; they did not wish to appear

petty or mean in financial transactions. Horace Holly,

who came from Boston to be president of Transylvania

University, observed in 1832 that the people of Kentucky

and Tennessee were influenced in the manners and character

by slavery and the subtle forces of an agricultural

interior. 'Commerce,‘ he remarked, 'makes a different

sort of population from agriculture.‘31 '

In this fixed social system, the criteria for success differed from
those of the North. What was chiefly valued was how deeply one was rooted
in the social traditions of the South; one's name, family, and property
holdings were highly regarded, while business acumen and ambition, which
enabled people to rise in Northern society, were not considered important

in the South. Further, the economic system of the South remained fixed,

in contrast with the sweeping changes that characterized the North.

 

3oR.S. Cotterill, The Old South: The Geographic, Economic, Social,
Political, and Cultural Expansion, Institutions, and Nationalism of the
Antebellum South (Glendale, California: The Arthur H. Clark Company,
1936), p. 262.

31Eaton, The Civilization of the Old South, pp. 283-284.

53

Cotterill states,
The quantity of the Old South increased tremendously

from 1789 to 1860 but its quality remained much the same

through the seventy years. Slavery, the plantation system,

and the production of staple cro s were characteristic of

it in 1860 as they were in 1789.

As a result, this culture appeared to resist the radical economic and
social changes of the industrial North, creating a sense of timelessness
that became a part of the Southern myth.

The mythic conception of the South was not merely a product of that
region but was cultivated in the North as well. This picture assumed a
nostalgic flavor in the North as the lifestyle of America began to alter.
Institutions such as the church and the family were being undermined by
the pressures of industrialization, a faith in science, and the social
problems that resulted from the growth of big cities. The absolute
system of morality was replaced by a more subjective, pragmatic approach
to individual conduct, as reflected in the business ethics of the
Rockefellers. Even the old conceptions of time and space altered
drastically; time was no longer fixed but was replaced by rapid change,
and lesiure became an expensive commodity. With the introduction of the
railroad and the telegraph, as well as the growth of the cities, space was
reduced, depriving the American of the privacy and isolation he valued. As
Gerster notes, sacrificing so much in the name of progress, "Post-Civil War
America seemed exceedingly vulgar and venal compared to the south of

Antebellum times."33

The Southern myth is tied to the pastoral tradition, an attractive

 

32Cotterill, The Old South, p. 261.

 

33
Gerster, Myth in American History, p. 124.

 

54

concept for a country fast evolving into an industrial age. The English
settlers who initially founded the colonies carried with them a mission--
to establish a heaven on earth in the New World. Michael Cass declares,
The myth proposed that America was the new Garden of

Eden, where mankind had a second chance to escape history.

Civilized Europe had failed, but in the New World, in the

new Garden, man as a new Adam would begin again. This was

the errand into the wilderness: the gnostic idea of the

New World as redemptive garden. The myth was pastoral, in

that it emphasized the garden or the wilderness, and it was

a myth of innocence, in that the settlers regarded themselves

as God's chosen people.34
What Gaines refers to as "the American embodiment of the golden age"35 is
in part a response to the absence of a cultural tradition in America.
Young America found a convenient and satisfying identity through the
pastoral ideal, with its connection to a vague and timeless past.

HOwever, economic factors soon threatened this pastoral ideal. The
development of cotton as the principal cash crop brought with it a modern
imperial market which altered the economic structure of the South. The
heavy demand for manual labor necessitated the importation of slaves,
which hardly fit the conception of the South as a land of innocence, a free
and equalitarian paradise. The Southerner, who had a fear of being
corrupted by the pressures of the modern world, clung to the innocence of
the pastoral ideal. Thus, the South incorporated its reality into the
pastoral myth. Louis Simpson notes that the entrance of the South into the

modern industrial world created a uniquely reactionary community. This

concept of the slave-cotton South as agrarian paradise was also in part a

 

34Lewis P. Simpson, The Dispossessed Garden: Pastoral History in

Southern Literature (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1975), p. ix.

35

 

 

Gaines, The Southern Planter, p. 4.

 

55

reaction against growing anti-slavery sentiment in the North and in
Europe. The South became in essence a "paradise improved" by slavery;
society was regarded as a patriarchal garden in which the plantation owner
functioned as a benevolent Lord responsible for the moral welfare of his
charges. The slaves were regarded as the gardeners in the garden,
allowing the plantation to remain a heaven on earth.

Another aspect of the pastoral tradition which was conveniently
absorbed by the myth was the analogy of the Garden of the Mind; according
to western tradition, Arcadia was also an intellectual community which
served as a symbolic place of the mind and spirit. The head of the
plantation assumed this role of patriarch-philosopher who protected and
guided his inferior black children. Thus,cultural myths appear,only to
become more firmly established through contact with the pressures of the
real world.

The Southern myth also appeals to America's innate love of feudalism.
Gaines declares,

Our imaginative interests are keenly appreciative

of social gradations and our romantic hunger is satisfied

by some allegory of aristocracy...The antebellum Southern

estate is rich in both the pageantry and the psychology of

Feudalism.36
Despite the Americans' professed love of democracy, the predetermined caste
system of the feudal society remains an attractive conception. William R.
Taylor notes that popular authors like John Pendleton Kennedy capitalized

on the popular conception of the South as a feudal state. He states,

(Kennedy) catered to the prevailing popularity of the
chivalric romance and to the sentimental attachment that

 

361bid., p. 2-3.

56

Americans had come to feel for the Middle Ages; he

indulged them in their desire to see continuity

between their own social world and the social world

of Europe.
The American sensibility is keenly aware of social distinctions, and
indeed, the democratic ideal may be regarded as not so much a freedom
for all as the opportunity for an enterprising person to attain an upper-
class status, often at the expense of others in the free-enterprise
marketplace. The romantic conception of the feudal lord is a celebrated
figure and in many ways embodies the American ideal of the self-sufficient
individualist who holds and governs his property. The aristocrat is also
eminently successful. He is wealthy; besides an inexhaustible store of
money, which is itself an American dream, the feudal lord is a cultured
personage. He is knowledgable about the social graces, is educated, and
has cultivated the highest state of intellect, manners, and aesthetic
appreciation.

The feudal lord has another commodity which Americans covet-—power.
The structure of the feudal society includes a lower class whose function
is to serve the master of the estate. Beyond any specific services that
the serf can render, the very presence of the lower class insures the
superiority of the aristocracy. The feudal lord is the object of respect
and adulation; as the celebrity of the social system, he is the object of
absolute attention, which contributes to an influxed sense of importance.
In this position, the aristocrat is free of the everyday cares that plague
the common man; he is irresponsible in the sense that all others are

responsible to him.

 

37William R. Taylor, Cavalier and Yankee: The Old South and American
National Character (New York: George Braziller, 1961), p. 185.

 

 

57

Finally, the feudal lord is a majestic figure, larger than life. His
lands are vast, his home palatial, his wealth immense, his wife beautiful.
It is no wonder, then, that this romantic myth co-exists with the common-
man ideal, since this story is in a sense the story of a man (Abraham
Lincoln, Andrew Jackson) who, because of his innately aristocratic
qualities, rises to an elite position which roughly corresponds to aristocracy.
Gerster suggests that one factor behind the cultivation of the Southern myth
in the 19th century lay in the trauma that resulted when America actually
began to democratize in the 1830's:

Yet another reason why the plantation legend enjoyed

a sustained vitality in the North related to the anxiety

found in the decade of the 1830's...There were some

Americans...who viewed democracy as a threat to their elite

positions..To them, this European—style aristocracy had

apparently discovered a way of assuring stability and

cultivating a sense of gentility and honor, yet at the same

time had maintained a commitment to the public good under a

republican form of government.38

Until Andrew Jackson was elected president, power was in the hands of a

relatively few people. The Education of Henry Adams is a testimony to the

 

aristocratic nature of the United States during its first forty years of
existence. Adams' autobiography recounts the identity crisis he
experienced due to the fact that Henry's father and grandfather both served
as presidents of the United States. With the election of Jackson, power
was taken away from the governing elite, and Henry Adams, among others, was
forced to make his way in the world as a common citizen. The romantic
conception of an aristocratic South, where birthright was important, was
obviously an attractive myth for those who lost their privileges as America

finally fulfilled its democratic prophesy.

 

38Gerster, Myth in American History, pp. 123—124.

 

58

Part of the appeal of the Southern myth is the archetype nature of
its makeup. Carl Jung developed the theory of the archetype, a collective
or universal unconscious which is to some degree a part of every man's
psychological self. Jung defines archetypes as "complexes of experience"
which originate in the inner sensibilities of man in his most primitive

and fundamental state. Jung explains,

An archetype in its quiescent, unprojected state has
no exactly determinable form but is in itself an indefinite
structure which can assume definite forms only in projection.

According to the psychologist, archetype appears as a projection of man's

collective unconscious:

Primitive man...has an imperative...need to
assimilate all outer sense experiences to inner, psychic
events...All of the mythological processes of nature...
are symbolic expressions of the inner, unconscious drama
of the psyche which becomes accessible to man's
consciousness by way of projection.

These archetypes, which recur throughout human history, thus exist as a
reflection of man's universal experience. Bascom observes, "Archetypes are

E priori and given, so that primitive mentality does not invent myths, it

experiences them."41

Jolande Jacobi identifies what he considers particularly significant

Jungean archetypal figures:

Among the symbols of the individuation process there are
a few particularly significant ones, which appear in human or
sometimes in subhuman form, and which may be classified
according to a series of types, 'the chief of the being...the
shadow, the Wise Old Man, the child (including the child hero),
the mother ('Primordial Mother' and 'Earth Mother') as a

 

39C.G. Jung, The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, Vol. 9,
Part I of The Collected Works of C.G. Jung (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1968), p. 70.

40Ibid., p. 6

41Bascom, "Four Functions of Myth," p. 291.

59

supraordinate personality ('daemonic' because supraordinate),

and her counterpart the maiden, and lastly the anima in man

and the animus in woman,‘ each of these representing a

different sector of the psyche, and finally, the 'unitin

symbols,‘ the symbols of the 'psychic center,‘ the self.

The Southern mythic structure corresponds with the delineation of these
major Jungean archetypal characters who in turn reflect the various
dimensions of the individual human personality. The Wise Old Man, who
appears in the form of the patriarchalt plantation owner, represents
the aspect of man which is in supreme authority. Jung observes,

The superior master and teacher, the archetype of

the spirit symbolifigs the pre-existent meaning hidden in

the chaos of life.

Without apparent weakness, the wise old man is an ideal figure, the
prototype of order and rationality.

The anima, according to Jung, represents the feminine and chthonic
part of the soul, and is analogous to the Southern Belle in this American
version of the archetype. Jung's description indeed seems tailored to the
woman of the genteel tradition:

The anima is a factor of the utmost importance in the
psychology of a man wherever emotions and affects are at work.

She intensifies, exaggerates, falsifies, and mythologizes all

emotional relations with his work and with other people of both

sexes. The resultant fantasies and entanglements are all her
doing. When the anima is strongly constellated,she softens

man's character and makes him touchy, irritable, moody, jealous,
vain, and unadjusted.44 ,

Thus, while the anima is in many respects attractive, she is not to be

trusted. The charm of this belle-figure obscures a fundamental weakness of

 

42Jolande Jacobi: Complex/Archetype/Symbol in the Psychology of C.G.
Jung, trans. by Ralph Manheim (N.Y.: Pantheon Books, 1959). p. 114,

 

3
Jung, Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, p. 35.

 

44Ibid., pp. 70-71.

60

character and lack of stability. However, the permanent loss of the anima
within the individual is equally threatening, according to Jung,
resulting in

...a diminution of vitality, of flexibility, and of

human kindness. The result, as a rule, is premature

rigidity, crustiness, stereotype, fanatical one-

sidedness, obstinancy, pedantry, or else resignation,

weariness, slopiness, irresponsibility, and finally a

childish ramollissement with a tendance to alcohol.45

These characteristics frequently appear in characters in Mrs. Southworth's

fiction, such as Squire Waugh in The Missing Bride, who is widowed and

 

has hard-heartedly rejected his daughter because of her love for someone
beneath her station. He is depicted as a drunken, sloppy, indolent man
who demonstrates one of the few instances of slave-abuse in all of
Southworth's fiction. His ultimate regeneration is tied to a reconciliation
with his daughter and, in Jungian terms, with the gpim§_within himself.

Thus,while 22292.13 essential to the integration of both the individual
and the legendary Southern society as a whole, it is at the same time
perceived as dangerous to man's development. Jung states,

The growing youth must be able to free himself from

the anima fascination of his mother...T22 important thing

at this stage 18 for a man to be a man.
Man must thus consciously separate himself from gpimg, which provides a
clue to the oppression of women in legendary Southern culture. Woman is
kept at a distance--not merely for her protection, but also for the welfare
of the Southern gentleman, who harbors fears concerning the anima within

him. The social framework of the legendary South serves to check this vital

though threatening archetype of man's own personality; the Southern structure

 

451bid., p. 71.

46
Ibid., p. 71.

61

is filled with extremes of masculine and feminine characteristics, as the
members of the society can only deal with the conflicting emotions within
themselves by assigning prescribed sex roles to the various external
archetypes of the myth.

The third character in the Jungian framework is the Mother Archetype,
who represents fertility and fruitfulness. Jung declares,

The qualities associated with (the mother archetype) are

maternal solicitude and sympathy; the magic authority of the

female; the wisdom and spiritual exaltation that transcend

reason; any helpful instinct or impulse; all that is benign,

and all that cherishes and sustains, that fosters growth and

fertility...0n the negative side the mother archetype may

connote anything secret, hidden, dark; the abyss, the world

of the dead, anything that devours, seduces, and poisons,

that is terrifying and inescapable like fate.47
What is significant about this archetype is its absence in the concept of
the legendary Southern belle, who, within the context of Mrs. Southworth's
fiction remains young and virginal, relinquishing the care of her children
to the black mammy; it is instead this figure who is established in the
tradition of the old South as the representation of fertility. The mammy
is typically large (protective) and large breasted (nurturing) and is
unquestioningly loyal to the white children, to the point of neglecting her
own offspring.

According to Jung, this condition, in which the mother archetype has
been displaced, typically produces a mother-complex in the male, in which
"(The man) unconsciously seeks his mother [who is not there] in every

woman he meets."48 This psychological state creates a personality that

provides insight into the Southern plantation aristocrat of popular myth:

 

47Ibid., P. 92.

48Ibid., p. 85.

62

(The mother-complex) gives him a great capacity for
friendship, which often creates ties of astonishing
tenderness between men and may even rescue friendship
between the sexes from the limbo of the impossible. He
may have good taste and an aesthetic sense which are
fostered by the presence of a feminine streak...He is
likely to have a feeling for history, and to be conservative
in the best sense and cherish the values of the past. Often
he is endowed with a wealth of religious feelings, which
help to bring the ecclesia spiritualatis into reality; and
a spiritual receptivity which makes him responsive to
revelation.

 

Characteristics which are regarded as weaknesses in the Jungian archetype
also appear in the heroes of Southworth's novels:

...What is in its negative aspect in Don Juanism can
appear positively as bold and resolute manliness; ambitious
striving after the highest goals; opposition to all stupidity,
narrOWbmindedness, injustice, and laziness; willingness to
make sacrifices for what is regarded as right, sometimes
bordering on heroism; perserverence, inflexibility and
toughness of will; a curiosity that does not shrink even
from the riddles of the universe; and, finally, a
revolutionary spirit which strives to put a new face upon
the world.

Finally, the figure of the Trickster, or Shadow figure, represents the
defects of man's conscious personality. Jung declares,

(The shadow) represent(s) counter—tendencies in the
unconscious, and certain cases by a sort of second
personality, of a purile and inferior character...(They)
cause all those ineffably childish phenomena so typical
of poltergeists.

According to Richard Dorson, one broad category of slave folktales consists
of stories in which a slave, whom Dorson has labeled "trickster John",

deceives Old Marster.52

 

49Ibid., p. 87.

SOIbid., p. 87.

511bid., p. 262.

52Richard M. Dorson, American Negro Folktales (Greenwich, Ct: Fawcett
Publications, 1968), p. 124.-.1.

 

63

In discussing the psychology behind the slave steroetype of the ante-
bellum South, Gaines points out the universality of this figure;
The p1antation...furnishes through the person of the

genuine darkey, essentially the most conspicuous figure of

the tradition, the closest native approximation to a type

almost as old as history, proverbially dear to the masses,

as opposed to the literati: the folk figure of a simple,

somewhat rustic, character, instinctively humorous,

irrationally credulous, gifted in song and dance, interesting

in spontaneous frolic, endowed with artless philosophy.
Jung notes that this aspect of man's personality is so disagreeable to him
that it must be repressed into the unconscious and projected onto an
external figure such as the black slave. Jung comments,

Like many other myths, (the shadow) was supposed to

have a therapeutic effect. It holds the earlier low

intellectual and moral level before the eyes of the more

highly developed individual, 0 that he shall not forget

how things looked yesterday.
This psychological process is most in evidence in the mythic South through
the institution of slavery. The white man represses, or rather, oppresses
the black slave, who represents the inferior, puerile side of his
personality. Once the characteristics of the shadow have been firmly
implanted on the black slave, the white man can assume the role of the
superior member of society; thus, the slave's inferior nature provides a
necessary antithesis for the mature plantation head and sophisticated lady
of the household.

Like all archetypes, however, the shadow is not an absolute figure, but

embodies characteristics that are attractive, though threatening, to the

white male:

 

53Gaines, The Southern Plantation, pp. 3-4.

 

54Jung, Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, p. 267.

 

64

He is both subhuman and superhuman, a bestial and divine

being, whose chief and most alarming characteristic is his

unconsciousness. Because of it he is deserted by his

(evidently human) companions, which seems to indicate that he

has fallen below their level of consciousness. He is so

unconscious of himself that his body is not a unity, and his

two hands fight each other...Even his sex is optional; despite

its phallic penis he makes all kinds of useful plants. This

is a reference to his original nature as a creator, for the

world is made from the body of a god...The trickster is a

primitive cosmic being of divine-animal nature, on the one

hand superior to man because of his superhuman qualities,

and on the other hand inferior to him because of his unreason

and unconsciousness.
Within the Southern mythic structure, the black man is a supremely sexual
animal. His sexual appetite poses a threat to the Southern gentleman who
controls all of his emotions, including his passionate nature. By
constructing a society that is set apart from nature, the white man is out
of touch with the procreative urge and thus with life itself. The white
man's feelings of racism contain elements of contempt and jealousy; he is
to a certain extent envious of the black man's uninhibited nature, with its
repressed sexuality. In contrast with the virile black, the white aristocrat
appears as an effeminate, if not emasculated figure; the white man thus
asserts his masculinity by controlling his slaves. The white man is both
fascinated and threatened by the black, who is the projection of his own
repressed sexuality and testifies to the superiority of the impulses.

The black male also presents a menace to the white female. In all of
Mrs. Southworth's fiction, the virile black man is conspicuous through his
absence; the slaves are either old men or young children, so that the

Southern belle is not threatened (or attracted) by the sexuality of the

shadow figure.

 

551bid., p. 264.

65

The stereotypical figures of the ante bellum South, then, correspond
to Jung's archetypal model; as a result, the Southern Myth serves as a
projection of what Jung refers to as the "inner, unconscious drama of

"56 which satisfies man's most primitive fears and needs.

universal psyche
Writers like Mrs. Southworth retold the myth over and over in their

stories; thus, the very predictability of these tales was reason for their
popularity, as these stories reflected the universal archetypal experience

of the audience. Indeed, Mrs. Southworth's fiction served as a ritual in

which the reader could formally work through his own personal experience.

Literature such as the novels of Mrs. Southworth can be examined as
cultural mythology. Chase regards myth as a form of artistic expression.
He declares,

The word 'myth' means story: a myth is a tale, a

narrative, or a poem; myth is literature and must be

considered a§7an aesthetic creation of the human

imagination.
After considering the work of a number of literary figures, including
Donne, Wordsworth, and Yeats, Chase concludes that these writers are in a
sense creating myth, employing metaphor to preserve a preternatural vision
of the world. The entire structure of literature is centered around what
Chase refers to as myth. He states,

The problem of the poet is how to discover in the
given situation the energy and order of a coherent poetic
statement. The poet needs an incandescent focus around

which to consolidate and realize his discursive thoughts
and more or less random emotions. In short, he needs a

 

56Ibid., p. 6.

57Chase, Quest for Myth, p. 73.

 

65

myth. The myth must rise out of the necessity of the
poem, for it cannot be any myth that occurs to the poet.58

Chase contends that literature fulfills many of the functions of myth that
have been identified by the various scholars through the ages. Literature
celebrates the preternatural vision of the world, employing various types
of figurative language to amplify man's experience. Literature also
features resolutions of conflicting forces, both internal and external,

and can be interpreted as a cultural map. He thus advocates what he refers

to as a "mythical method"59

as a new, fertile, and productive approach
to literary criticism.

Authors such as Mrs. Southworth took advantage of a conception of
Southern life that already flourished in the consciousness of the public.
This attractive picture of the antebellum South, while not originated by
popular writers, soon became a part of a distinct literary tradition that

further solidified its hold on the American public. This tradition, which

began in the 1830's with John Pendelton Kennedy's Swallow Barn and James

 

Kirk Paulding's Westward Ho!, responded; to public demand for regional color

 

and to the timeless attraction of the myth itself. Other considerations
were distinctly social and political in nature, which is characteristic of
popular art. Gaines notes,

In the decade of the thirties there were at least three
developments which sharply give re-direction to (literaryic‘
history. The first of these facts was political in effect,
however moral in origin; the rise of a vigorous abolitionism
which, to the Southerner was fraught with such possibilities
as the Nat Turner insurrection. The second was economic: the
increasing agricultural opportunity of the lower South which
produced a new type of plantation and greatly modified
plantation policy in the older states. The third was both

 

581bid., p. 120.

59Ibid., p. 131.

66

political and economic and something more: the
assumption of the South of a definitely defensive
attitude marked by a solidification of political
action if not of thought, by the death of pronounced
emancipation sentiment which had previously been
considerable...by the rapid growth of intense
sectional consciousness. 0

Thus, fiction like Mrs. Southworth's can be examined as a form of

cultural mythology which reveals the values, attitudes, and preoccupations

of Southern society.

 

6OGaines, The Southern Planter, p. 19.

CHAPTER 3

Cultural Heritage of the Mythic South

The purveyors of the Southern myth regarded themselves as
descendents of the Classical and English cultural tradition. Gaines
declares,

More ambitious romancers have claimed for this

social order the philosophic tone of Greece, the

dominant political energy of Rome, and the beauty of

chivalry softened by the spiritual quality of

Christainity.l
This sense of cultural identification was of considerable importance to
the South. As Simpson explains, "The imperative quest of the south was
for a basis on which firmly to establish itself as a novel civilization."2
The South, which was essentially in a stage of cultural adolescence in the
nineteenth century, yearned for the security and definition supplied by
its association with these established civilizations. The cultural

heritage of the South also provided a necessary sense of continuity, giving

this region a historical sense of belonging. In Southworth's The Missing

 

Bride, Thurston Willcoxen presents a lecture on "The Progress of
Civilization", which traces the cultural roots of the South:

...the patriarchs, the architecture and ruder manners
that succeeded; next, Egypt, in her haughty days; Greece in
her glory and her degradation; Rome in her rise and progress,
and decline and fall; the feudal times; the Crusades, the
Reformation; the settlement of the New World. (The Missing
Bride, p. 45.)

 

 

lGaines, The Southern Planter, p. 155.

 

2Simpson, The Dispossessed Garden, p. 36.

 

67

68

Man's sense of personal identity is deeply rooted in a society's quest
for a cultural heritage, supplying the individual with a past and a

sense of ancestry that affects self-concept and relationships with
others. Significantly, Mrs. Southworth became a believer in spiritualism
in her later years and according to Boyle, felt that "certain classic

3 The

writers of the early Italian School, gathered to comfort her."
author felt secure through her attachment to the Classic writers and,
indeed, her work reflects her close identification with the Classic and
English cultural tradition.

The Southern gentleman, who regarded himself as a part of these
established cultural traditions, embraced those aspects of Classicaliand
English life which best served his own society. It must be noted that the
Classical and English civilizations that provide the basis of the
Southern culture are also mythic conceptions and represent a romanticized
view of these societies. Eaton observes,

In the struggle between the classic tradition and the

romantic spirit for supremacy over the southern mind, the

victory went decidedly to romanticism; even classical

culture was viewed in a romantic and unhistorical light...

The antebellum South was filled with new-classic architecture,

Greek Revival colonades decorated courthouses, churches, banks,

theatres, and mansions. Yet behind the imposing facades

there was little to suggest the classic tradition.

The Southerner had an enormous regard for the past, reflected in his
approach to education. Latin and Greek was considered the foundation of all
learning, even through the nineteenth century. Both boys and girls were

given intensive training in the arts, particularly in music and dance. The

young Southern boy was trained to live according to the values and traditions

 

3Boyle, Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworthz' Novelist, p. 20.

4Eaton, The Civilization of the Old South, p. 294.

 

69

of his ancestors and to be unconcerned with the conditions and demands
of the nineteenth century. This attitude was picked up by popular

novelists like Mrs. Southworth. In The Missing Bride, the author

 

comments,

Now you ask whether the men of the family never were
forced into the world of business, or if the youths never
were sent to college, and so learned to modify their
exaggerated exotism of their race, I answer pp, The head
of the family usually affected his sales and made his
purchases through his agent, a shrewd, long-headed trader,
who did business with several important mercantile houses
in Baltimore, and was little likely to cross the self-
conceit of his most profitable patron. And as for the young
men of the house they never went farther into the world for
their education than the neighboring academy of C "’ .
an old and well established classical and mathematical
school, founded by the planters for the benefit of their
sons--even there the boys of Luckenough assumed to be lords
paramound of their schoolmaster. (The Missing Bride, pp. 27-28.)

This emulation of the Classic culture also appears in the neoclassical
architecture of the plantation manor. The Southerner attempted to live in
much the same manner as the old Greeks and Romans, to the point of residing
in houses modeled after the Classic tradition. In The Missing Bride,
Southworth's description of the Luckenough mansion is designed to create a
romanticized conception of the Graeco-Roman civilization:

The house fronts north. It is built of the darkest
red bricks, and is three stories high, with a very steep
roof, broken into three gables front and back, and one at
each end--an old—fashioned, fantastical style of architecture
highly favorable to leakages, as the attic and the upper
chambers of Luckenough can testify...The principal entrance
occupies the center of the front of the house. Above it is a
stone scroll, built into the wall, and bearing in old English
characters, half-effaced, this inscription: 'A.K., 1644.
Will is Fate.‘ By which you may know this time the old
house has stood the storms of two hundred winters. (TEE
Missing Bride, p. 7.)

 

As Kenneth Clark observes, the architectural language of this type of

edifice conveys a message about a civilization. In this case, the

 

7O

Graeco-Roman mode of architecture expressed an ideal of perfection--
"Reason, justice,,physical beauty, all of them in equilibrium."5 The
pillars in Southworth's mansions, in effect, join Southern society with
heaven. The arches and columns that appear through Southworth's stories
also symbolize the material and moral support that the plantation owner
provides for the other members of society. The mansions are strongly
constructed, so that the plantation house also functions as a bastion of
civilization. Southworth observes,
So isolated, indeed, was the manor, that for generations
the owners seemed to consider it the very center of things
created--the capital of civilization, and to sneer at all

beyond the forest as mere 'outside barbarians.‘ (The Missing
Bride, p. 8.)

 

Architecture thus not only provides an important link to the past,
establishing a sense of continuity between the Graeco-Roman culture and
Southern society, but it conveys a sense of timeless constancy; while two
hundred years is negligible in terms of European civilization, the
Luckenough manor dates from the very origins of this country, providing a
historical framework that adds significance to the story. As stated earlier,
the descriptive scenes of nature that characteristically begin one of
Southworth's tales is very much in the pastoral mode; nature is rich and

lush, a picture of harmony and innocence. In The Missing Bride, the

 

narrator comments, "It is not in Arcadia, or before a castle of Indolence,

but upon a Maryland plantation, that you stand." (The Missipg Bride, p. 7.)

 

At the same time, however, nature is consciously kept at a distance in
Southworth's novels, an attitude which also reflects a Classical perspective.

This conscious separation from nature stems from the Greek insistance upon

 

5Kenneth Clark, Civilization (New York and Evanston: Harper and Row,
1969) I p. 30

 

71

restraint and balance. According to John B. Harrison and Richard
Sullivan, "Nothing was worse than excess in any shape or form in Greek
culture."6 Nature is separated from man in Southworth's novels; after
the introduction, nature is disassociated from the characters and is
regarded as something to be seen from a carriage. For example, in 322.

Discarded Daughter, Elsie flees to the forest; she takes refuge in a log

 

cabin which, although simple, has ample room and someone to serve her.
In the world of Mrs. Southworth, nature is associated with passion, chaos,
and ultimate death, representing a grave threat to mankind. For instance,
in The Doom of Deville, a storm at the beginning of the novel resembles
the biblical description of the Judgment Day:
Just at that instance, a blinding glare of lightning

seemed to set the whole heavens and earth in flames, and

a deafening peal of thunder broke and rolled crashing down

the abyss of space, followed by a sudden darkness that

seemed to have swallowed up all nature in original night
and chaos. (The Doom of Deville, p. 8.)

 

Although the slave (ironically named Nero) is frightened, Lieutenant
Orville Deville retains his self-control; he is not only master of his own
nature, but as a consequence, of the forces of the external world as well.
No harm comes either to him or his servant. Thus, the South embraces the
innocence and plentitude of the pastoral ideal while also rejecting the
unbridled passions of nature. The societal structure of the Graeco-Roman
and Southern cultures--in which the labor is handled primarily by slaves--
can thus be regarded as a means by which the upper class could separate
itself from nature and instead cultivate a higher sensibility through a

life of leisure.

 

6John B. Harrison and Richard E. Sullivan, A Short History of Western
Civilization (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1968), p. 89.

 

 

72

Classical philosophy also plays a fundamental role in the Southern
cultural framework. Socrates held that an objective Truth did exist, and
that man was prevented from discovering it by his own ignorance. Society
serves as a primary vehicle through which man can discover Absolute
Truth. The assumption that an objective Truth which can be realized does
exist is an essential part of the Southern cultural tradition, legitimizing
the institutions and class structure of Southern society. This school of
thought firmly committed the Southerner to his convictions since, if he
is right in his beliefs, others must be wrong in theirs.

Greek philosophy also sought rational answers to fundamental questions
of the nature of the universe. Protagoras (485-410 B.C.), a principal
member of the sophist school of philosophy, contended that human reason can
be utilized to understand and discover the kinds of knowledge that would be
useful to man. Reason was thus regarded as the means through which man
might be elevated to god-like stature. As reason was considered a divine
faculty, the emotions were regarded as that part of man that kept him at a
bestial level; as a result, the emotional side of man's personality was
discounted by Greek culture.

Roman culture was also vital to the Southern heritage. Though Roman
culture was chiefly borrowed from the Greeks, the intensity of the imitation
was a characteristic that later became fundamental to the Southern tradition.
The Romans felt a keen responsibility to maintain social order; and their
sense of duty, responsibility, discipline, and obedience enabled them to
transmit their culture throughout the world. The Romans held a belief in
the historical importance of Rome; Southern culture shared this missionary
sense, as witnessed by their conscious association with such cultures as

Greece and Rome. The South felt that it was not merely struggling for its

 

73

own survival, but for the preservation of the civilized world. Thus, the
strong devotion to duty that characterized the Southern gentry was to a
large extent acquired from their Roman models.

The South, as depicted in Southworth's fiction, was a republican

society, a concept derived in part, at least, from Plato. In The Republic,

 

Plato begins by defining Justice. Harrison and Sullivan observe:

(Plato) concludes that justice consists in each man's
doing that for which he is best fitted. The ideal state is
the one in which every man holds that station and does the
job for which he is qualified. Such a state...must be ruled
by a philosopher-king who will be wise enough to know and
recognize the talents of his subjects and put these talents
to work. The philosopher-king must train the lower classes
to do their jobs and must keep them from learning those
things that will distract them from their jobs...An economy
controlled by the wise king must be instituted so that each
will be rewarded according to his merits and so that competition
and greed can be eliminated from society.7

Translated into the framework of the antebellum South, the ideal philosopher-
king is the plantation owner, who assesses the potential of his subjects and
puts these talents to their most appropriate use in order to achieve a
state of ideal justice. The Classical conception of republicanism is central
to the pro-slavery argument of Southern culture. The South utilized those
elements in Graeco-Roman civilization that justified the social and
political existence of what was primarily an economic institution. Eaton
comments,
The interest in ancient history and the classics might

very well have been a liberating force on the Southern mind.

Instead of emulating the liberal side of the classical

tradition, however, Southerners of the ante-bellum period

were attracted to the conservative elements. From the

examples of Greek and Roman society, Southerners drew some
of their strongest arguments for justifying slavery. They

 

7Ibid., p. 88.

74

regarded their own society as an extension of a Greek
type of democracy, which had been based on slavery.8

The South believed that the elite, privileged class must be free of the
constraints of the everyday world, so that its members might perform the
duties for which they alone are qualified. Hubbell explains,

In all social systems there must be a class to do the

menial duties, to perform the drudgery of life...It

constitutes the very mudsill of society and of political

government, and you might as well attempt to build a house

in the air as to build either the one or the other, except

on his mudsill. 9
Ideally, this concept is democratic in nature, in that each man is
permitted to fulfill his own potential; however, in reality, many were
denied the opportunity to overcome caste barriers and fulfill themselves
as individuals.

The fiction of Mrs. Southworth reflects this Southern version of
republicanism, which recognizes that natural virtue which has elevated the
gentleman-to his elite status. This natural aristocracy is endowed with
the capability to lead and provide guidance for the society at large.10
Many of the characters who appear in Southworth's fiction are of the

classic mold, displaying the innate virtue and nobility of form and bearing

of a Roman patrician. For instance, in The Doom of Deville, the protagonist,

 

Lieutenant Orville Deville, is described in terms of a Roman statue:

 

8Eaton, The Civilization of the Old South, pp. 292-293.

9Jay B. Hubbell, Southern Life in Fiction (Athens, Ga.: University

of Georgia Press, 1960), p. 45.

 

 

10William Taylor notes that Thomas Jefferson believed in a "Natural
Aristocracy" which was based not on wealth, position, or heritage, but on
natural aptitude and ability. By the 1850's, however, the South accused
Jefferson's views of being corrupted by French republicanism.

75

His figure was tall and finely proportioned; his
features were cast in the purest classic mold...This
really beautiful countenance was saved from the slightest
suspicion of effeminacy by the whole character of its
expression--by the flash of the falcon eyes, the curve of
the eagle nose, the curl of the short upper lip, the
upward protrusion of the well-turned chin, the stately
carriage of the head, the erect position of the body, and,
in short, by the general and unmistakable air of conscious
strength, invincible courage, and almost insufferable
arrogance, that distinguished his whole bearing. (The Doom
of Deville, p. 5.)

Although this innate nobility is generally associated with members of the
upper class in Mrs. Southworth's novels, the natural aristocrat is at
times enmeshed in the lower class. Indeed, in The Curse of Clifton, the
hero describes his mother, who appears to be very much like Mrs. Southworth
herself:
She is the only true republican I know in this whole
Republic. Sprung, herself, from an ancient, noble, and

haughty race, she yet honors talent and virtue, when met
with in the lowest ranks. (The Curse of Clifton, p. 33.)

 

One common plot convention in Southworth's fiction which will be examined
later involves the issue of identity; an instinctively noble person who
belongs to the lower class discovers that he is indeed a member of the
aristocracy. In Ishmael, for example, the hero, who is actually the son
of an influential landholder, astonishes those who regard him as a mere
commoner:

'Who is he?‘ asked Dr. Jarvis.

'The nephew of my overseer, Reuban Gray. That is

absolutely all I know about it.’

'The nephew of Gray? Can it be so? Why, Gray is but an

ignorant boor, while this youth has the manner and education

of a gentleman--a polished gentleman.‘

'It is true, and I can make nothing of it,’ said Judge Merlin,

shaking his head. (Ishmael, p. 145.)

Thus, heredity marks Ishmael as an aristocrat despite the caprices of

environment; high birth is detectable, so that the republican ethic

 

76

prevails, and the protagonist is ultimately restored to his rightful
position in society.

Cases do occur in Southworth's fiction in which members of the
aristocracy are rendered unfit for their station because of moral
weakness, just as a few members of the lower classes are elevated to a
privileged position in society through a natural goodness and nobility.

In The Curse of Clifton, Clifton's mother exclaims,

 

Archer, you will find more moral worth, more mental
worth, among the so-called lower classes than among the
higher. Look at some of their brows, of Shakespearian
height and breadth and I tell you, with all their
disadvantages, the lower classes will give to our republic
the greatest of her future great men. (The Curse of
Clifton, p. 226.) ‘

 

However, although lower members of society do occasionally transcend their
class boundaries to join the elite, the odds are against them:

A highly-gifted man of low birth must have
extraordinary talents to elevate himself above his
condition--for a girl such a case is impossible.
(The Curse of Clifton, p. 30.)

 

Significantly, those exceptions who demonstrate a nature far superior to
their classes are generally absorbed into the system. For instance, in

Lost Heiress, a talented youth, Falconer O'Leary, at first rebels against

 

the rigid aristocratic system. He cries,

(The upper class) is all of a piece, renegade republicans!
Upstart aristocrats!...Let them sun themselves in the glare of
foreign courts! (Lost Heiress, p. 99.)

 

In the course of the story, however, Falconer proves himself to be of such
a high moral caliber that he merits admission into the elite upper class.
Falconer marries the daughter of Daniel and Lady Augusta Hunter and
becomes legal heir of all of Hunter‘s wealth and lands. Thus, while

Southworth's work conveys the impression of a democratic ideal, she is a

 

77

thorough republican; characters like Falconer are absorbed into the
aristocracy rather than broadening the democratic base of the common

people.

Southern mythic history was also influenced by the English cultural
tradition. The antebellum South was regarded as a reflection of the
English social structure, and the Southern gentleman considered himself
a cultural descendent of the British aristocrat. Hubbell delcares,

The Virginia planter families prided themselves in

being of gentle blood. The influence of their Cavalier

blood, when they inherited any, may be disregarded; but

their belief in their aristocratic heritage was profoundly

influential. They had an ideal to live up to.11

The degree to which the Southern culture identified with the English
aristocratic tradition is reflected in the Southern educational system.
Throughout the eighteenth century, boys from wealthy families were sent
to England for a proper education in order to mold them into gentlemen
and equip them for their moral, social, and political duties in society.
In the eighteenth century, English schools were widely advertised in
America; as one such notice for the Academy at Leeds which appeared in the
Southern newspapers in 1789, declared, "Due regard is paid to the
Gentleman's health, morals, and behavior."12 In the latter half of the

eighteenth century, Southern gentlemen often resorted to the practice of

hiring private tutors who resided on the plantation. Morgan observes that the

 

11Hubbell, Southern Life in Fiction, pp. 44-45. The Cavalier myth

had no basis in fact, as studies of Virginia society have shown.

 

12Morgan, Virginians at Home, p. 10.

 

78

tutor "should be a gentleman, for he would take dinner with the family
and participate in family activities almost as a social equal."13

The English literary tradition was also a large part of the artistic
heritage of the South. The novels of Sir Walter Scott were extremely
popular during the Southern antebellum period, and his romantic fiction
became a model for popular writers such as Mrs. Southworth. Indeed, in
The Curse of Clifton, Mrs. Southworth refers to Scott as "Our greatest

poet." (The Curse of Clifton, p. 93.). Taylor notes,

 

From English portrayals of Squire and manor house
Southerners learned to edge their characterizations of
the planter with irony. From Scott's form of the
historical romance they learned to deal in cultural
contrasts between aristocrat and plebian, gentleman
and commoner...l

American novels that had an English flavor held a distinct advantage in
the literary marketplace. Taylor declares,
American readers as a whole continued through the

(19th) century to prefer European and English books to

native writing. When they did read books by Americans,

their own cultural insecurity led them to prefer those

American books which bore some obvious similarity to the

literature they were familiar with.15

Mrs. Southworth's fiction was often compared to her English counterparts

by literary critics; for instance, The New York Literary World declared

 

that the characters in Southworth's The Deserted Wife were copies of

 

English contemporary works, specifically Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre.

 

Mrs. Southworth's fiction reflected the Southern cultural allegiance

to England. For example, The Curse of Clifton contains a brief epigram

 

 

13Ibid., p. 13.

14Taylor, Cavalier and Yankee, p. 178.

 

lsIbid., p. 186.

79

preceding each chapter by poets like Shakespeare, Tennyson, Keats, and
Byron, which puts the subsequent action of the novel into proper

perspective. In The Doom of Deville, a young woman who had been raised

 

in the wilderness was provided with a number of books which her father
considered imperative to the proper upbringing of any young lady; this

collection consisted of Rippon's History of England, as well as works by

 

Chaucer, Spenser, and Shakespeare. These few volumes were intended to
direct all of her natural experience into a proper framework; as a result,
her very perception of reality was colored by the English interpretation
of history, as well as the views of notable English authors. Lionne's
counterpart in the novel, Orville Deville, was educated in a more formal
manner, for his mother, Lady Elizabeth, "in compliance with the will of
her late husband, conveyed her son to England to be educated." (The Doom

of Deville, p. 35.) Young Deville was enrolled at Eaton, since only in

 

England could he receive the type of instruction that would enable him to
assume the responsibilities of lord of his plantation. Significantly,
later in the book Orville became the heir to an estate in Scotland, where
he then traveled in the company of his wife. Although the scene shifts
from the sunny South to an iron gray castle in Scotland, the story is
strikingly unaffected by the change in scenery; the couple function,inp
this new setting without the awkwardness that often accompanies a shift in
cultures. Of course, since Orville had received his formal training in the
British Isles, his journey to Scotland is in a sense a return home--
culturally, as well as literally.

The parallels between the English cultural traditions and the mythic

South are striking. In a speech on the Irish Land Bill in 1870, British

 

80

Prime Minister William Gladstone described the English country gentleman,
a portrait that also characterizes the plantation owner of Southern myth:
...A Position marked by residence, by personal familiarity,

and by sympathy with the people among whom they live; by long

traditional connection handed on from generation to generation,

and marked by constant discharge of duty in every form that can

be suggested--be it as to the administration of justice, be it

as to the defense of the country, be it as to the supply of

social, or spiritual, or moral, or educational wants, be it for

any purpose whether that is recognized as good or beneficial in

a civilized society.
As Gladstone notes, the possession of land was of critical importance to
the English gentry. Each estate was a miniature kingdom; well into the
nineteenth century the poor condition of the roads isolated the individual
manors,which strengthened local loyalties and traditions. According to
this romanticized notion of the English gentry, the estate existed in a
splendid isolation, with the members of the community remaining uneducated
and ignorant of matters beyond the sphere of the estate. As Sir George
Sitwell observes, "From the busy world outside one entered a little haven
of peace and rest within the gates."17 The proper English gentleman was a
benevolent guardian over the interests of his subordinates, providing
support and assistance in time of need. The landlord while growing up
played among the other children on the estate and, as a result, took a
personal interest in the welfare of his dependents. Kebbell declares,

The tenants and labourers on this gentleman's estate
would probably in those days have done anything he wanted
them to do. But he never abused his power over them, was

...an indulgent landlord, and, what perhaps was the great
secret of all, lived and died among his people. All his

 

l6
T.E. Kebbell, The Old and the New (Edinburgh and London: William

Blackwood and Sons, 1891), p. 40.
17Sir George Sitwell, Country Life in the Seventeenth Century
(Scarborough: Printed by the author at his private press, 1901), p. 14.

81

pleasures, all his cares, all his ambitions were centered
in that one spot.

This local aspect of the English societal order enabled the gentleman to
fully appreciate the problems of his underlings, so that he was more
capable than an outsider of representing the interests of his district.
Kebbell observes,
(The country gentleman) comes to understand their

language, and their peculiar modes;'of expressing themselves.

He grows up in real sympathy with them; and in after-life his

charities and his benighties lose all the eleemosynary or

patronising element which is sometimes imparted to such

favors, in the savour of personal affection and 'ault lang

syne' which still clings to them.
This romantic version of the English life has its counterpart in popular
Southern literature. The plantation order is depicted as a family, and the
Southern gentleman is regarded as a paternal figure who is deeply involved
in the lives of his subordinates. As such, he was (according to popular
myth) infinitely preferable to outside intruders during the Civil War, even
though the Yankees were ostensibly fighting in the interest of the slaves.

The Southern plantation was modeled after the English estate of the
sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Hubbell declares, "The Virginia
planters, whether or not of gentle blood, tried as best they could to live
on their farms like the country gentlemen of rural England."20 Significantly,
the names of the plantations in Southworth's novels are distinctly English
in derivation--including the Dell, Oak Grove, and Shannondale. Sitwell's

description of the Renshaw Estates is strikingly similar to many of Mrs.

Southworth's introductory portraits of Southern plantations:

 

18Kebbell, The Old and the New, pp. 52-53.

 

19Ibid., pp. 45-46.

20Hubbell, The South in American Literature, p. 41.

82

It stood...on the summit of a rocky hill projecting
into the vale of Rother, which narrows here to two or
three hundred yards, and commanding fine views toward the
north and south. On the latter side, a richly cultivated
country, out up into innumerable enclosures by hedgerows
and scattered with forest trees forming a pleasing contrast
to the wild and rugged moorland by which Eckington was
approached, and beyond it, to the south and southwest, rose
that beautiful ridge upon which Barlborough, Bolsover Castle,
and Hardwick stand...

The river below the house was crossed by a highway
described in a letter of 1663 as a 'great road from the
West parts of Yorkshire towards London.‘ Approaching from
the London side, a traveler would catch his first glimpse
of Renshaw from the point where the manors of Barlborough
and Eckington meet. The building was three storied and of
stone, with a four-gabled front facing the east, and towards
the south, a battlemented hall between two projecting wings,
of which the nearer was furnished with a great bow window.
It was surrounded with orchards and walled gardens, and
behind it a plantation of ancient trees formed an impressive
background.2

Now consider Southworth's description of a Southern plantation:

The river ________4 taking its rise in the Allegheny
Mountains, flows through the valley of Virginia, and, passing
through a defile of the Blue Ridge Mountains, falls, roaring
and rebounding, from a rocky precipice, and boils howling on,
over and between the jagged and pointed rocks sticking up or
piled up in its channel...The northern division of this isle
of beauty had been left in all the wild loveliness of nature.
The southern division had been cleared up, and laid out in
groves, lawns, terraces, gardens, and conservatories. Upon
the highest point of this southern division of the isle stood
an elegant mansion, built of white free-stone, and surrounded
by piazzas, both above and below, and running all around the
house. Below these came a terrace covered with green turn,
and diversified by shade-trees and by parterres of beautiful
flowers. From this, marble steps descended to the lawn.

This lawn was traversed by serpentine walks, which,

winding over the turf between borders of bright flowers and
rows of pine-trees, by the side of a singing brooklet, beneath
the shadow of an old oak or elm, around the margin of a clear
pond, over the swell of a green hill, or under the shadow of

 

21Sitwell, Country Life in the Seventeenth Century, pp. 12-13.

 

83

a gray rock, would terminate at some rustic seat, some
tasteful arbor...(The Mother-In-Law, pp. 5-6.)

 

From these passages, it would appear that both the English and
Southern cultures were indebted to the Graeco-Roman tradition. Each
portrait begins with a panoramic view of nature, finally focusing on
the house as a compliment to the scene. The descriptions emphasize the
size, stability, and enduring quality of the architecture, which withstands
'the powerful, often relentless forces of nature. In both cultures, then,
the estate is presented as a bastion of order in a beautiful though
chaotic world.

Until the close of the nineteenth century, the English social”.
system revolved primarily around the estate as an economic resource, which
was the basis for the romantic conception of the English cultural tradition.
Dorothy Marshall observes,

But though rural society contained both non-

landowners and landowners or land users of varied

economic and legal standing, in most areas...this

society was held together and dominated by the Big

House...in many districts it was the wealthy squire

to whom unchallenged homage was paid. In part it was

a tribute to his economic power: many rented land from

him or received wages or enjoyed his patronage, many of

the young people were employed as his servants. To

oppose the lord of the manor was to court economic

ostracism and to be a dangerous man to know.

The English estate not only provided employment for the house servants but
for the entire community surrounding the manor. The squires and baronets
created jobs for such tradesmen .as saddlers, cutlers, ironmongers, builders,

and brewers; in the parlance of the times, the estate "kept up the country."

The aristocrat also performed important political functions in English

 

22Dorothy Marshall, English People in the Eighteenth Century (London:

Longmans, Green and Co., 1956), pp. 45-46.

 

84

society. The landlord gentleman represented his district in Parliament
and, as a result, symbolized the majesty of English law to his subjects.
In addition to his legislative obligations, the gentleman handled the
executive duties of the estate. The English aristocrat assumed
responsibility for the security of his lands and the surrounding area,
providing protection for all those who fell within his jurisdiction.

The landowner was alsozcharged'with maintaining the financial balance of
the community. Sitwell remarks,

Amongst his poor neighbors (the landed gentryman) acted
the part of a little providence, arbitrating upon their
disputes so as to save them the expense of law, advising them
in their difficulties, arranging for the education or
apprenticeship of their children, and often at their request,
taking charge of their title deeds or making investment of
their little savings.23

The English gentleman was also the judicial branch of local government. As
a landholder, he served as justice of the peace, maintaining the order as
he interpreted it. Kebbell regards this office as particularly well suited
for the landed gentry:

When a prisoner is brought up before the bench, the
squire or the patron can tell at a glance to what section
of the country people he belongs, and calculate the
antecedent probabilities of his guilt or innocence with
considerable accuracy. They will understand the full
significance of many apparent trifles which would escape
less experienced observers, and the triviality of many
incidents which for others might appear to be important.
More than this, they can tell better than anybody else could
whether the offense committed by any particular prisoner is
a specifically bad one of its class, and bespeaks criminal
propensities in the perpetrator, or whether the extenuating
circumstances which may be alleged in mitigation of it are
really deserving of consideration. No criminal judge, a stranger
of the people, could tell this so easily as a country gentleman.

 

23Sitwell, Country Life in the Seventeenth Century, p. 50.

 

24
Kebbell, The Old and the New, pp. 59-60.

 

85

Thus, the country gentleman exercised complete political power over his
dominion, performing the executive, legislative, and judicial offices for
the state. The political role of the gentry was also in operation in the
Southern culture, as in England. Cotterill observes,
(The planter) was commonly a justice of the peace and

dealt out the high, low, and middle justice. He was often

a member of his state legislature or of the national congress.

His place in society was secure and so was that of his family.

In Southworth's novels, the protagonists are either plantation owners,

lawgivers, or soldiers. Indeed, the management of the estate is regarded

as a particularly noble calling; in The Discarded Daughter, General Garnet

 

declares, "Well, I do not know a more earnest purpose, or a more useful
life, than that lived through in the proper administration of a large

estate." (The Discarded Daughter, p. 57.) No industrialists or members of

 

the middle class appear as heroes in Mrs. Southworth's fiction, with the
exception of stories like The Missing Bride, in which a young tutor

elopes with the daughter of the squire. However, he is quickly assimilated
into plantation society, after voluntarily giving up his identification
with the middle class and its values.

In the course of time, the English aristocracy assumed the responsibility
of maintaining the order of society, which, not surprisingly, was also
centered around the estate. Jean Holdsworth explains,

Their great estates were family businesses...The English
gentleman's love of his land was a phenomenon which enabled

him to maintain the harmony which existed between master and
man, and the upkeep of a complicated class system.26

 

25Cotterill, The Old South, p. 271.

 

26Jean Holdsworth, Mango: The Life and Times of Squire John Mytton
of Halston (London: Dennis Dobson, 1972), p. 15.

 

86

Because their existence depended upon the acquiesence of the masses, the
English gentry became the guardians of the social system. The gentry
assumed the spiritual leadership of the community, often holding office

in the church-—either as reverend, vicar, or curate. Religion was mixed
with social and political life; the gentry generally held a family pew

in the front of the church, with the servants of the estate arranged
behind them. After the service, the family would customarily entertain
the more prominent members of the community at the manor. As the chief
representatives of English society, the privileged class embodied its most
beloved virtues. Sitwell notes, "Truthfulness he considered to be the

first duty of a gentleman and courtesy the second."27

As guardians of the
status quo, the privileged class epitomized the morality of the church.
Sitwell describes the gentleman, using the analogy of the household of the
manor:
In housekeeping, his servants yielded him a blind

obedience; he had preferred his porter discretion to be

usher of the Hall; Hospitality was his housekeeper,

Charity, his treasurer, Prudence his steward, Loyalty

and Chastity were waiting women, and Piety the mistress

of the house in whose eyes was a charming modest and

compassionate air...
According to the romantic ideal, this moral framework supports and sustains
the aristocrat and enables him to govern wisely and well. The English
commoner supported the aristocracy since, according to the myth, the all-

powerful gentry was careful not to abuse their privileges. Holdsworth

observes,

 

27Sitwell, Country Life in the Seventeenth Century, p. 39.

 

281bid., pp. 45-46.

87

The average Englishman of that time was not against
wealth or its privileges, for with few exceptions the rich
and powerful were taught from childhood to respect truth,
honor, and integrity. 'Gentlemen are, or ought to be, the
pride and glory of every civilization', wrote Thomas Bewick
the Radical. 'Without their countenance arts and sciences
must languish, industry be paralyzed, and barbarism rear
its ugly head.‘ And indeed the squires, until the
Industrial Revolution, were the backbone of society,
basking in the reflected glory of a handful of great
families who traditionally held the choicest court and
state appointments, and drawing their strength from an
order rooted in pastoral security.29

Eventually, the relationship between the English gentry and the peasantry
became an accepted institution. The rationale behind the dominance of
the aristocracy was inverted, so that the strong moral framework of the
gentry somehow justified their continued economic superiority. Marshall
declares,
(The lord of the manor) also owed something to

tradition: that tradition that looked to the local

gentry as the leaders of the countryside. Long habit

had made it natural for rural communities to turn to

the manor house for guidance in local affairs.30

This sensibility lent itself to the myth of the superiority of the
aristocratic class, which held that the English gentry ruled because they
were best suited to the task; further, their cultivated sense of morality,
initially employed to maintain the status quo, came to be regarded as an
inherent part of the aristocratic character and justified the gentry's
continued dominance of English society, including its economic resources.
This belief in the preeminence of the English aristocratic class was a

fundamental part of the Southern cultural tradition. For example, in

The Missing Bride, Southworth declares,

 

 

29Holdsworth, Mango, pp. lS-l6.

30Marshall, English People in the Eighteenth Century, p. 46.

 

88

Miss Nancy piqued herself upon her own and her
nephews' red hair and freckles—-they were the signs,
she said, of the very purest saxon blood--none of
your celtic, or other inferior races, ever freckled
or had red} hair. (The Missing Bride, p. 80)

 

The Southern aristocrat inherited this notion of the moral superiority
of the Southern elite. Cotterill observes,
To the Southern planter nothing was more evident

than that the Lord had looked down upon him as the
choicest work of His hands and had pronounced him goo

d.3l
Because of this emphasis on race and status, one's family ties were
of considerable importance. Significantly, many of the characters in

Southworth's books claim members of the English aristocracy as ancestors.

For instance, in The Curse of Clifton, the protagonists are all descendents

 

of the European elite. Fairfax is a relative of Lord Fairfax of Greenway
Courthouse, while Clifton's mother was a descendent of Cromwell. English
aristocratic trappings are consistently kept alive in Southworth's fiction;

the heroine of Lost Heiress is referred to throughout the novel as

 

"Lady Augusta", and the plantation owner in The Missing Bride is given

 

the title of "Squire Gaylord".
The English gentry also owed a great deal to tradition as a means of
institutionalizing their place in society. Marshall states,
...Tradition...looked to the local gentry as the
leaders of the countryside. Long habit had made it
natural for rural communities to turn to the manor
house for guidance in local affairs.32

The lower class derived some satisfaction from the continuity provided by

the traditional social order. According to popular myth, the tenant took

 

31Cotterill, The Old South, p. 271.

 

32Marshall, English People in the Eighteenth Century, p. 46.

 

89

pride in belonging to an aristocratic tradition, if only in a subordinate
position.

At the same time, however, the upper class was supposedly restricted
by the very traditions that established its position in society. The
heavy responsibility of governing and maintaining the social order
conflicted with individual freedom, interests and inclinations. Kebbel
observes,

The path of duty lies through worse things sometimes

than thorns and flints--through dreary wastes of noisome

swamps, and among creeping things innumerable. But it

may be the path of glory for all that.

The role of the privileged class was thus regarded as a burden of sorts;
the English gentleman was charged with the responsibility of preserving
the system and the well-being of its members.

One such responsibility involved the transmission of the order
through lineage. In compliance with the myth of hereditary superiority,

the Englishman derived his identity through his family roots. For

instance, the notable British publication, Burke's Landed Gentry still

 

lists the members of England's elite in terms of their line of descent:
"John Collins of Betterton, had a grant of arms and crest to himself
and his issue May, 1692..."34 The transmission of the order not only
preserved the continuity of the family but of society as well. The
landed gentry was duty-bound to produce a male heir, for a breakdown

in lineage would produce a state of social chaos that was destructive

to all classes.

 

33Kebbel, The Old and the New, pp. 67-68.

 

34Peter Townend, ed., Burke's Genealogical and Heraldic History
of the Landed Gentry (London: Burke's Peerage Limited, MCMLXIX), p. 111.

 

 

90

Family history was also critical to the Southern social structure.
Cotterill declares, "As a rule a planter's culture and refinement would
depend on how long he had been a planter and on where he lived."35
Family tradition serves as a form of immortality, in that the fortune
of the family transcends the fate of any individual. Thus, characters
in Southworth's novels who sever ties with their families are rejecting
tradition and, as a result, their own identity. The abrupt termination

of the line of succession marks the end of an aristocratic order, so

that the daughter in The Missing Bride is literally “killing the father"

 

by running off with her lower class tutor. This notion of transmission
of order through lineage explains the importance of arranging marriages
among proper families, even at the expense of personal fulfillment.

The lifestyle of the aristocracy did much to support the myth of
inherent superiority. From childhood, the English gentleman was trained
for a life of leisure and politics. English education emphasized
classical learning, including a mastery of Greek and Latin. Marshall
states,

Though not utilitarian, such a training was eminently

suitable for developing the critical faculties and literary

appreciation of the man of leisure.36
Thus, the world view of the gentry assumed a broader perspective than that
of the lower classes. The elite lived in a fixed, isolated world,
impervious to the demands and requirements of everyday life; they lived

on a majestic scale that elevated them beyond the experience of the

common man .

 

35Cotterill, The Old South, p. 270.

36Marshall, English People in the Eighteenth Century, p. 79.

 

 

91

The South's avoidance of any connection with industry was motivated
by a determination to separate itself from the middle class North; as
aristocratic Southerners they were instead involved with the broader
concerns of society as a whole. Southern aristocracy served as the
center of culture and refinement, as in English society. The privileged
class assumed the role of celebrities, who were the focus of all societal
attention. The privileged class, who gained all the benefits of wealth
and breeding, were rewarded for innate superiority and goodness. The
aristocracy, for its part, strived to maintain distance between itself
and the lower classes, perhaps in order to nurture the myth of innate
difference between the two classes. The gentry's complicated set of
manners and strict code of behavior was, among other things, a means
of excluding the commoner and identifying its own members. Devoid of
education, culture, and sense of decorum, the middle class was acutely
aware of its ignorance and inferiority to the gentleman.

Despite the glamour associated with the life of the aristocracy,
the daily existence of the privileged class was apparently devoted to
routine, which is not surprising considering the gentry's concern with
order and a fixed manner of living. Sitwell comments on English life:

During much of the year when Mr. Sitwell and his

youngest son were alone, life at Renishaw was quiet and

orderly enough, and one day passed very much the same

as another. At about seven o'clock they breakfasted

upon beer, cold meat, Westphalia ham or neat's tongue,

oarcakes, and white bread and butter. After breakfast,

William walked down to pursue his studies at the Rectory,

and his father rode out with starkeye, to inspect his

farms and iron furnaces, or to attend the parochial and

country business in which he interested himself. At

eleven o'clock the servants, headed by the housekeeper,

Mrs. Heays, filed in to family prayer in the hall, and

immediately prayers were over, the butler laid the table

with its cloth of homespun linen...for the noonday
dinner...After dinner Mr. Sitwell wrote letters in

 

92

his study and read the gazettes and newsletters which
his cousin forwarded by every post from London: a
little later in the afternoon he played bowles on the
green, walked through the folds, looked at the horses,
foals and oxen, and strolled across the grounds to
watch the mowers or harvest fold at work. Supper,

the second 'state meal' of the day, must have been
early too, and after a pipe of tobacco, a tankard of
ale, and a game of cards or shovelboard in the Great
Parlour, the evening finished with family prayer.3

This emphasis on order and restraint in everyday life is an extension
of the Graeco-Roman cultural tradition. The aristocrat considered it
his duty to maintain order, both on a personal and societal level.
Andrew Lang declares,

(The gentleman) had no vague desires, no vain
regrets: he lived in his work and in his home,
undisturbed, as it were, by the passions. .....

A gentleman' 5 command of animals was admired in
English society; displays of discipline and control
over horses parallels the aristocrat's ability to
maintain control over the social order. While the
lower classes were primarily motivated by their
passions, the English gentleman was expected to

exert proper control over these bestial impulses.
Inherited wealth, of course, afforded an independence
frem life's most basic and immediate concerns, such as
food, clothing, and shelter. Because the gentry was
untouched by the demands for immediate gratification,
they were free to follow proper forms of conduct; even
though the rules of decorum were often indirect and
time consuming, the privileged class had the leisure
to devote their full attention to matters of social
etiquette.

The fiction of Mrs. Southworth reveals the fascination of the popular
imagination with the leisured lifestyle and trappings of the English
aristocratic culture, as copied in Southern life. In The Three Beauties,

the author establishes the Southern social and legal connections to England:

 

37Sitwell, Country Life in the Seventeenth Century, pp. 23— 24.

38Andrew Lang, Life, Letters, and Diaries of Sir Stafford Northcote,
First Earl of Iddisleigh (Edinburgh.and London: William Blackwood and
Sons, DCCCXCI), p. xxi.

93

The reader will recollect that the laws governing
the social and domestic relations of Virginia are founded,
wherever difference of position permits, upon those of
England. (The Three Beauties, p. 77)

 

In this novel, an entire English community has somehow been transplanted
to Virginia. Viola declares, "So here we are, deal Harold--your tenants,

your friends, and your wife." (The Three Beauties, p. 10) Thus, this

 

tale is essentially an English romantic novel, with a minimal adjustment
to convert it to an American setting.

In The Missing Bride, the drama revolves around the romantic

 

attachments of Edith, the eldest daughter of the Waugh family. As the
heiress of the Luckenough plantation, Edith is restricted in her choice
of husbands. Edith's father (who is given the title of Commodore) and
his wife adopt a lifestyle patterned after the English aristocracy.
Southworth writes,
Commodore and Mrs. Waugh entered the family carriage,

which they pretty well filled up. Mrs. Waugh's woman sat

upon the box behind, and the commodore's man drove the

coach. (The Missing Bride, p. 16)
The frontier, slave society of the South has been transformed into the
genteel tradition of the English estate. The commodore's nephews have
been given the rather exalted names of Cloudsley Mornington and
Thurston Wilcoxen. Further, the black slaves are presented in the
novel as English servants; Edith is attended by a maid named Jenny
and by Oliver the groom.

In the course of the novel, the Waugh family travels to Bentley
Springs, a fashionable "watering place", for the purpose of restoring
the health of Jacquelina, the commodore's independent and high-spirited

niece. There they participate in "mock tournament" and masked ball, in

which "the splendid spectacle of the tenth century was revived in the

 

94

nineteenth." (The Missing Bride, p. 159) In this obvious celebration

 

of their English heritage, the characters dress in armor and assume

the identity of heroic English figures like Richard Coeur-de-lion, the
Knight of Malta, Hotspur, and the Black Prince. The knights participate
in a joust, in which the victor is "entitled to the honor of crowning the
lady of his fealty Queen of Beauty and Love". ( The Missing Bride, p. 162)
This tournament includes many of the trappings of the courtly tradition,
including trumpets, minstrels, and fair damsels who are courted by the
knights.39 In this scene, Jacquelina demonstrates her strong will,
disguising herself as a knight and participating in the joust with the
men. The commodore, outraged by this violation of the strict chivalric
code of femininity, threatens to send his niece to a nunnery--an old
English convention dating back to medieval literature.

The Haunted Homestead is yet another novel that features an

 

episode borrowed from the English cultural tradition. The heroine,
Mathilde Legare, falls in love with Frank Howard, in whom she sees
noble qualities. She declares,

...He does dance well! and let me tell you that
very few men can do so! he strikes the nice balance
between le grand and 1a frivole in his manner! And
then his name-~Howard--la creme de la creme of aristo-
cratic names. Don't you remember Le Lion blanc of the
house of Howard? (The Haunted Homestead, p. 11)

 

 

 

Unfortunately, Frank is a lowly mechanic and is in disfavor with
Mr. Legare. However, a mystery that surrounds the Legare's estate

provides an opportunity for Howard to demonstrate his innate nobility

 

39In Cavalier and Yankee, Taylor notes that real-life associations
of Southern Knights, such as the Knights of the Golden Circle, actually
did exist in the South during the 1850's. These groups staged mock
tournaments not unlike what Mrs. Southworth presented.

9S

and worth. Mr. Legare confesses his perplexity about the mysterious
and seemingly supernatural occurances at Wolfbrake Lodge. The
narrator, an old schoolmate of the heroine, immediately manipulates
the situation to the advantage of her friend. Mr. Legare exclaims
in jest, "'That half of my kingdom' to the knight that shall deliver
my castle from this dragon."

The narrator responds,

Oh! your majesty! Never offer the half of your

kingdom! None but a mercenary wretch would undertake

the enterprise for such a bribe! Offer the hand of

your princess, and a thousand lances shall be laid in

rest for such a prize! (The Haunted Homestead, p. 63)

Legare replies, "Agreed! the hand of my princess to the brave
knight who shall deliver me from this plague!" This burlesque of the
court tradition actually is of key structural significance to the
novel; Howard proceeds to unravel the mystery, winning the daughter
and becoming a part of the "royal" family.

Thus, the Classical and English cultural traditions served as
models for the mythic Southern society, as presented in the popular
novels of Mrs. Southworth. This association provided a recognizable
identity for the ante-bellum South which was essential to the

self-concept of that region and affected the way in which they

were regarded by outsiders.

r...

CHAPTER 4
Values and Structure in

Mrs. Southworth's Mythic South

Popular literature is an overlooked, but valuable and productive
vehicle for the study of cultural history. Authors create a comprehensive
world of art, comprised of a distinct system of values that determine how
characters function within the novel. The nineteenth century Southern
regional novels of Mrs. Southworth reveal values that identify the
Southern myth in America. An extremely popular authoress,

Mrs. Southworth's pre-Civil War work reflects the pervasive conception
of the South as an aristocratic society charged with upholding the moral
harmony of the universe.

Southern myth has been imparted through popular literature, as the
novel is a complete world in which values are materialized through
characterization, theme and plot. The characters in the novel are
essentially collections of values which determine their status as hero
or villain. The novels present these characters in the process of
making choices on the basis of cultural values, which ultimately
determine their fate in the stories. As a result, Mrs. Southworth's
fiction also serves as a model which reinforces the myth by introducing
young readers to the popular conception of Southern society, but also
derives insight into its heritage and values through an entertainment
medium--Mrs. Southworth's novels.

The values of the South, as depicted in Mrs. Southworth's fiction,

are defined in terms of an absolute order of the universe. In Critigue

 

96

97

of Practical Reason, published in 1778, Immanuel Kant examined the
nature of values and value judgments. Risieri Frondizi asserts that
this work "Established the relationship between knowledge and moral,
aesthetic and religious values that has remained the focal point of
modern value theory".1 In this essay, which is critical to the study
of axiology, or value theory, Kant states that:
There exists a knowledge altogether independent

of experience, and even of all sensuous impressions.

Knowledge of this kind is called §_priori...We do

possess and exercise a faculty of pure 3_priori

cognition and, secondly, with having pointed out the

proper tests of such cognition, namely universality

and necessity.
According to the philosopher, things have an intrinsic merit or
significance; values are proper and important, and, indeed, mirror
God. These values are nomothetical, so that

The locus of values is in the external world,

and...values are transmitted to the human organism

as always, normative, obligatory, and legitimate.
These absolute values are prescriptive, operating independently of
man. Because these values are external, personal good is equated
with a universal good, so that man's happiness depends upon his
ability to meet these standards. Thus, it is possible to identify
and rank nomothetical values through deductive reasoning or by some

type of objective measurement. Values are formed through society

and culture rather than from individual experience. Risieri declares,

 

1Risieri Frondizi, What is Value? An Introduction to Axiology,
translated by Solomon Lipp (LaSalle, Illinois: Open Court, 1963), p. 42.

 

2Immanuel Kant, "Critique of Pure Reason," in Man and Spirit: The
Speculative Philosophers, ed. by Saxe Cummins and Robert N. Linscott
(New York: Random House, 1947), p. 424,426.

3Ibid., p. 29.

 

 

98

"Duty cannot be derived from experience, so that duty, or awareness
of ethical law, precedes value."4 Since the successful upper class
responds to the standards of societal value, the absolute value system
is tied to the social class structure.

In the world of Mrs. Southworth's novels, it is up to the individual
to discover the external value system and adapt his nature to this

universal framework. The Lost Heiress, for example, is essentially

 

an initiation novel, in which a young man, Falconer O'Leary, matures
by growing to accept the established value system. This nomothetical
system of values has a religious flavor, as it appears in perfect
harmony and peace in heaven. Love, Justice, Truth, Beauty and Faith
are mentioned throughout Southworth's novels as the values constituting
the ideal framework of heaven. Like the Christian concept of God, these
values are dimensions of one good, so that these abstract principles are
interrelated and interchangeable. In The Discarded Daughter, Southworth
remarks;
"...If the contest were simply between ambition
and love, ambition would triumph in a high, proud

nature like hers; but, justice sides with love, and
together they are invincible." (The Discarded

Daughter, p. 207)

The characters in Southworth‘s novels are conscious of the heavenly
order of values, and the heroes work toward the realization of this
perfection. For instance, Dr. Hugh Hutton, in The Discarded Daughter
appeals to his beloved to relinquish her tainted inheritance by pleading:

"Oh, believe me, dear Garnet, to say nothing of the

sublime beauty of faith [italics mine] displayed in the
sacrifice of earthly interests to heavenly prospects--of

 

 

lRisieri, What is Value, p. 44.

 

99

temporal pleasures to eternal joys-~there is great
good in seeking 'first the Kingdom of God and His
righteousness'...Life, dear Garnet, is a journey to
the Judgment Seat." (The Discarded Daughter, p. 116)

 

The term "Kingdom of God" is a critical one, establishing a model that
the Southern society attempts to emulate on earth. In Southworth's
world, society is regarded as the vehicle through which perfect earthly

happiness can be attained. Elsie, the heroine of The Discarded Daughter

 

declares, "I am a firm believer in perfect earthly happiness; I am so

near it myself." (The Discarded Daughter, p. 196) For the heroes of

 

Southworth novels, it is a short step from earthly paradise to eternal
fulfillment. Southern society guides and prepares its members for

ultimate ascension to heaven. As Frank Howard states in The Haunted

 

Homestead, "May Heaven deal with me as I with her!" (The Haunted

 

Homestead, p. 70) This correspondence between society and heaven is
significant, too, in that the ethic of Christian forbearance also
operates within the mythic society of the South. Those who submit

to the inequities of life through the middle portion of the novel are

frequently rewarded at its conclusion. In Ruth, the Faithful Bride,

 

the heroine, who has suffered through seemingly endless torment and
humiliation at the hands of her husband, is at last rewarded for her
faith; Ruth returns home and is accorded the respect and adoration by
her husband that her readers, long before, had recognized that she
deserved.

Southern society, then, serves as a microcosm of heaven and is
responsible for maintaining God's ideal order on earth. The absolute
value system and the conception of God as the protector of the heavenly

order are duplicated in the aristocratic social structure of the South,

 

100

through which man can realize earthly happiness. These values can be
linked to distinct levels of society, which roughly correspond to the

celestial hierarchy of God-Angel-Man. In The Three Beauties, the

 

slave, Nerve, reminds her master of his moral responsibility to his
subordinates:

"Listen to me now: You 'pends upon your 'vine
Iord to make you happy--other people 'pends upon you
to make them happy. You won't never be no happier
yourself till you tries for to make them as 'pends
on you for happiness happy." (The Three Beauties,
p. 253)

 

The material rewards reaped by the hero and heroine reflect their
moral triumphs. In fact, the worldly success of the protagonists
demonstrates that the ideal principle of justice is in operation,

a concept vaguely reminiscent of Puritan doctrine; those who adhere
to the universal values earn a just reward on earth as a foreshadowing
of their ultimate eternal bliss.

In addition to the universal value system, Southworth's Southern
mythic framework contains a code of societal precepts that maintains
the ideal equilibrium of Justice, Love, Truth, Beauty and Faith. These
precepts correspond loosely with the Ten Commandments, which provide
concrete guidelines so that man can preserve a harmony with God. In
the same sense, the societal code in Southworth's Southern myth governs
man's behavior so that these ideal values can be maintained on earth.

The first societal precept can be classified as Obedience to the
Lord--the male authority figure. The first two commandments, "I am the
Lord thy God...", and "Thou shalt have no other Gods before me" are
reduced in scope to apply to Southern society. These positive male

figures generally appear as omniscient. For example, Daniel Hunter

 

101

in The Lost Heiress knows what is beneficial for his protege,
Falconer O'Leary and tolerates Falconer's rebellious behavior until
the youth recognizes his benefactor's wisdom. Plantation owners are
certainly omnipotent within the confines of their estates. This mortal
counterpart to the Lord rules absolutely over his domain, including the
fate of his slaves. Since the master reflects the highest plane of
earthly spirituality, the male authority figure commands respect and
obedience in recognition of his supremacy in society. In Retribution,
Hester avows her obedience to her guardian, Col. Dent, declaring, "His
slightest intimation has for me a devine authority; it is happiness,
enthusiasm, religion to obey it." (Retribution, p. 25) Disobedience
to the Lord is regarded as a moral transgression with distinctly religious
overtones:

"Boy and girl, you have in your prOper selves

sinned against the sin of our first parents! You

have in your proper persons incurred again the curse!

Son- of Adam! In taking this child from her parent's

bosom thou has plucked again the forbidden fruit.

Ardenne, in pain of body, in anxiety of mind, in

failure of strength and disappointment of heart,

shall thou expiate thy sin! And Winny! Boy, she

has incurred the sorrows that wait on filial impiety,

disobedience and rebellion." (The Three Beauties,

pp. 28-29)

The second societal guide-line might be categorized as Duty to the
society. The Fourth Commandment, "Observe the Sabbath Day and keep it
holy" illustrates the moral nature of the concept of Duty. For it is
the observance of religious dogma that preserves the holiness of all
moral law. The individual has a responsibility to observe the Sabbath

as a reaffirmation of the sanctity of God's law. In the same sense,

each member of the plantation has a moral obligation to contribute

 

102

to his or her society. This guideline of Duty, which maintains the

order of society, requires the safeguarding of the rigid class bounds.
Every station has its particular duty to the society at large which is
essential for the moral as well as the practical welfare of the community.
Each class assumes an amount of responsibility proportionate to its moral
capacity. Southworth's slaves, then, are best able to contribute to the
moral stability of the plantation as subordinates. In Southworth‘s
Southern myth, blacks are not restricted by their condition, but rather
can fully realize their limited moral potential through their position

in society. Duty is also regarded as a means by which members of society,
particularly women, might transcend their unhappy condition in life. In

The Discarded Daughter, Alice is persuaded by her friends to desert her

 

evil husband General Garnet. However, the narrator declares,

But, simultaneously with this suggestion, arose the
instinct of the wife and the inspiration of the Christian
teaching her that scorned and outraged as she had been,
her only post of duty, as of hope, was her husband's home.

Yes, amid all the gloom and terror, she caught this one

glimpse of Heaven. (The Discarded Daughter, p. 262)

The primary duty of the aristocratic class is to nurture the sense
of duty in others and enforce the class distinctions. Mr. Legare, in
The Haunted Homestead, reflects:

"...The comfort remains that a patrician by birth
is still a patrician, no matter how low his worldly
fortunes; a plebian is still a plebian, even though
accident or caprice may constitute him a legislator."

(The Haunted Homestead, p. 15)

Of course, the protection of this order in society has a personal
significance to aristocrats like Legare; for, a fixed society assures

them of their social and economic status. However, their rationalization

of this, not unlike the Divine Right of royalty, is that wealth and

 

103

position are but reflections of moral worth.
There are exceptions to this fixed societal order in Southworth's
fiction; in fact, a recurring theme involves a member of the lower

class, such as The Haunted Homestead's Frank Howard, marrying into an

 

aristocratic family like Legare's. It is important to note, however,
that these characters do not rise Ebgye_the social order. Once these
figures demonstrate their moral acceptability, the society absorbs
them without difficulty. These "natural aristocrats" then assume the
duty of protecting the established order against disruption.

Deportment is another societal guideline reflected in the Third
and Ninth Commandments--"Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy
God in vain...", and "Neither shalt thou bear false witness...". Behavior
reflects beliefs, both in the Old Testament and in Southern culture. A
rigid system of conduct is established in Southworth novels, in that the
characters formally acknowledge an external, predominant set of values.
Such signs, then, are not merely superficial trappings but indicate an
implicit acceptance of established social values.

The system of deportment also serves as a code of interaction which
insures the continuance of cultural values. For instance, the authoress
comments, "The Virginians have rigid notions of propriety. It is not
proper for a young lady to take a solitary walk or ride." (The Three
Beauties, p. 13) This rule of decorum preserves the culture's conception
of women as fragile and childlike, thus reinforcing the role of women by
promoting female dependence on man. By discouraging a woman's private
contact with nature, the female was encouraged to remain pure and virginal,

above the world of natural law and possibly above natural impulses.

 

104

The concept of honor applies to those gentlemen who exemplify the
standards of social respectability, a sacred trust of the elite class.
Hence, the characters' obsession with reserving the external manifestations
of societal values is a serious and weighty matter for men of honor, which
often calls for severe measures. Archer Clifton declares;

"That foolish jest of Cabell's has annoyed me.

It is diabolical! Such light words, in which a young

girl's fair fame is laughed and jested away, should

be punished with death."

"You; feel this bitterly!"
"I do! For her name has been used! Frank, if

a word of disrespect were to be breathed by any man

against my mother, I would lay that man dead at my

feet!"

“Yes, I thoroughly believe that."
"And, if anyone were but to look an insult to

Catherine, it would rouse all the ferocity of the

demon in me." (The Curse of Clifton, p. 52)

Finally, these polite signs of society function as an elaborate
system of communication which helps to preserve the exclusiveness of
the elite class. The subtle and complex code of decorum often seems
to interpret experience which lies behind surface appearance:

"Clifton approached and with an air of gallantry,

kneeled upon one knee and kissed her hand. She drew

it coldly away--but that was the custom of the 'proud

ladies' and did not surprise her lover." (The Curse

of Clifton, p. 55)

This aristocratic ritual effectively excludes the uninitiated, thereby
guarding the values of the aristocratic class.

Closely related to deportment is the fourth precept, restraint.

Characters in Southworth's novels are compelled to govern their impulses

in order to align their natures with the structure of society.

 

105

Equivalent to Old Testament guidelines are commandments prohibiting
acts of passion such as coveting others' possessions, stealing, and
murder. In Mrs. Southworth's fiction, society is the vehicle for
elevating characters above the common state. Judgments are predicated
on the basis of abstract principles that consider the general welfare
rather than shortsighted personal gratification. Thus, terms like
"disinterested goodness" and "unimpassioned nature" are employed to
describe heroic figures.

"Restraint" also refers to the patience that enables characters
to contend with misfortune. This involves an implicit faith in a
morally just universe that ultimately rewards goodness, in heaven if
not on earth. Thus, positive figures do not succumb to circumstances
or act out of panic. Zulieme, in The Curse of Clifton, remains a
cultured young lady even though she is temporarily exiled from her
aristocratic surroundings. Her trial only increases her perseverance,
so that she is eventually able to regain her former station in society.

Finally, the holiness of the institution of marriage constitutes
the fifth societal guideline. The marriage ceremony traditionally joins
two natures in harmony, reflecting the unity of the universe. Alice Garnet
exclaims, "Oh! if heaven gave me one idea purer and higher than all the
rest, it was that of the beauty and holiness of marriage." (Th2

Discarded Daughter, p. 138) Man thus mirrors heaven's love through

 

marriage.
Marriage is presented in Mrs. Southworth's fiction as a sacred pact
which must not be corrupted. Those marriages that are secret, induced,

confused, or strictly in the interest of worldly gain have disastrous

 

106

consequences. These weddings generally take place early in the novel,
so that Mrs. Southworth can trace the evils that arise from such unions.

Even in novels such as The Lost Heiress, the young couple who elope are

 

doomed to suffer hardship and deprivation because their marriage was not
properly sanctioned by the heiress' aristocratic parents.

Weddings also insure the continuance of the social order. Because
Southern society is centered around the tradition of the estate, marriage
ties the present to past, and the legacy of the plantation and the family
name are assured into the future. The Seventh Commandment, "Neither
shalt thou commit adultery" emphasizes the sanctity and finality of the
marriage institution. Alice Garnet remains with her husband despite his
many transgressions. She explains;

"...As time passed, I learned to love you. Because

you were my husband and the father of my child and

because it was the greatest necessity of my nature to

love, I loved you. God knows, I think there was no

other reason." (The Discarded Daughter, p. 138)

Vladimir Propp's morphology, or structural analysis,of the folktale,
can provide further insight into the fundamental nature of Southern myth.
Propp dissected the fairy tale, divesting it of its individual embellish-
ments in order to determine its skeletal formulae. He then traced the
sequence of elements in a story in order to discover the basic structure
common to this genre of tales. A morphology reveals the shared elements
of a nation's tales as well as those differences that distinguish them
from stories from other cultures. Propp declares,

We are undertaking a comparison of the themes of

these (fairy) tales. For the sake of comparison we

shall separate the component parts of fairy tales by

special methods; and then, we shall make a comparison

of tales according to their components. The result
will be a morphology (i.e.. a description of the tales

 

107

according to its component parts and the relationship
of these components to each other and to the whole).

Propp's basic findings are that: l) The number of structural
elements, or "functions" known to the fairy tale is limited and complete,
2) The sequence of functions is always identical, and 3) All fairy tales
are of this one type in regard to their structure. Each general category,
or function, contains a number of possible forms of expression. For
example, Function VI is entitled "The Villain Attempts to Deceive His
Victim in Order to Take Possession of Him or of His Belongings".

However, three general plot alternatives are available under this
general heading:

1) The Villain Proceeds to Act by the Direct Application of
Magical Means.

2) The Villain uses Persuasion.

3) The Villain Employs Other Means of Deception or Coercion.

What defines a character in a morphological structure is not
individual attributes but rather how he or she functions in the tale.
Propp states,

Both constants and variables are present (when

comparing components of tales)...The names of the

dramatic personae change (as well as the attributes

of each), but neither their actions nor functions

change. From this we can draw the inference that

a tale often attributes identical actions to various

personages. This makes possible the study of the

tale according to the functions of its dramatic
personae.6

 

5Vladimir Propp, Morphology of the Folktale (Austin, Texas and
London: University of Texas Press, 1968), p. 20.

'GIbid., p. 20.

fl

108

These functions are defined in terms of consequence of action rather
than through investigation of motivation. The general functions are
also subject to some degree of variation within the structure. Some
functions may be omitted from a tale, while the order of the other
functions remains the same. At times the sequence of a tale is
inverted. And, interpolated episodes are occasionally inserted in
the middle of a tale, which complicates the plot. Propp explains,

All...plots will reflect the basic scheme,
while they themselves may not resemble one another.
In order to create a tale artificially, one may
take any A, then one of the possible B's, then a
C, followed by absolutely any D, etc...In doing
this, any elements may be dropped...or repeated
three times, or repeated in various forms.7

Propp's methodology produces a singular framework which is distinct from
the original fairy tale format. However, this essential formulae also
contains a limited, easily remembered set of functions which reveals the

essential properties of the Southern mythic structure.

Morphology

I. Description--Harmony
A. Nature
. Plantation
. Family History
. Characters
1. Lord of Plantation
2. Wife of Lord of Plantation
3. Daughter--Heiress
4. Son--Heir
5. Romantic Interest
a) Male
b) Female
6. Slaves

DOW

 

'7Ibid., p. 111.

109

II. Disharmony
A. Mystery
1. Estate
a) Proper Heir
b) Supernatural Events
2. Identity
a) Of Character
b) Of Family
B. Transgression
l. Moral Transgression--Values in Opposition
a) Universal Values vs. Worldly Concerns
b) Social Precepts vs. Worldly Concerns
c) Value Conflicts
1. Universal Values vs. Social Precepts
2. Social Precepts vs. Social Precepts
3. Universal Values vs. Universal Values

2. Crime
a) Murder
b) Bigamy

c) Illegal Possession of Plantation
C. Characters Outside the Plantation
1. Selfless Women
2. Companion to Heiress
3. Tutor
4. Villain
D. Class Conflict
E. Death
F. Reversal of Fortunes
l. Inheritance
2. Disinheritance--Break with Plantation
3. Dramatic, External Event
a) Circumstance
b) Providence
c) Social Function
G. Reaction to Reversal of Fortunes
l. Suffering
2. Illness
3. Poverty--Destitution
4. Fall to Lower Class
5. Danger to Life
6. Death

III. Resolution--Return to State of Harmony
A. Restoration of Plantation
B. Mysteries Resolved
C. Regeneration of Protagonists
D. Marriage
E. Justice Prevails--Villains Punished
F. Providential Help
G. Death

 

110

Function I consists of the establishment of the state of harmony in
the society of the South. As stated previously, the equilibrium of the
universal order (justice, love, truth, beauty, faith) is maintained by
societal guidelines (obedience to the Lord, duty, deportment, restraint
and holiness of marriage). This universal order is represented in society
by the estate. The plantation is the center of every Southworth plot.

Novels like The Discarded Daughter focus on the cycle of generations;

 

individual members of the family come and go, with the plantation itself
serving as the only constant. The plantation can thus be regarded as
the chief protagonist, which goes through many changes in the course of
the story before prevailing at the conclusion. The narrator typically
opens the novel with a description of the plantation, which is enjoying

a state of prosperity and harmony with its surroundings. The Discarded

 

Daughter, for example, immediately establishes an association between
nature and the estate. The introductory chapter begins;

"The scenes of our story lie along the western
shore of Maryland, near the mouth of the Potomac River
and among islets of the Chesapeake Bay.

Nothing can be more beautiful, grand and inspiring
than the scenery of this region..." (The Discarded

Daughter, p. l.)

 

Chapter One then provides a physical introduction to the estate itself
in similar terms;

"Let me introduce you to Mount Clam, the seat of
General Aaron Garnet. Even from the bay you can see
the mansion house, with its broad, white front as it
crowns the highest of a distant range of hills. After
passing through the village of Hutton and going up and
down the grassy hills that rise one above the other
beyond it, you enter a deep hollow, thickly grown
with woods, and passing through it, begin to ascend,
by a heavily shaded forest road, the last and highest
hill of the range--Mount Calm." (The Discarded

Daughter, p. 8.)

 

 

111

Mrs. Southworth then provides the history of each of her fictional
plantations to establish the estate as immutable, both in time and

space. At the conclusion of chapter One of The Three Beauties, Southworth

 

declares, "And this is the tradition of the early settlement of the

Vale of Shannondale." (The Three Beauties, p. 11.) The characters

in the novel are introduced to the reader in relation to the plantation;
the various classes--including master and mistress, young children, and
the slaves--are established in terms of their roles on the estate. These
figures are depicted as content and in harmony with one another and with.
their world.

However, the initial balance of the universal order and the
plantation is soon disturbed in the Southworth novels, as seen in
Function II, Disharmony. Mrs. Southworth's novels function as an
arena for societal value conflicts, which provides the tension for
the plots in the novels. Characters challenge the nomothetical value
system, temporarily throwing the structure into chaos. This violation
always carries severe and widespread consequences. The narrator warns:

"There are intangible crimes carrying in themselves

the seeds of their own most bitter punishment--the

punishment being nothing apart from or opposed to this

sin, but simply the evil principle itself, in its final

stages of development. In these instances, no law may

be able to touch the guilty--no upbraidings of

conscience torment himr-no visible judgment of heaven

fall upon him--yet as surely as the plant is produced

from the seed will the punishment be evolved from the
sin." (Retribution, p. 40.)

 

This tension between values forms the basis for the plot conflicts in
Mrs. Southworth's fiction. Values are clearly defined through contrast,
which is perhaps the only way of putting abstract principles into
perspective. The effect of the conflicts is explained by Mrs. Southworth

in terms of two angels warring for ultimate good:

 

112

"The angel of gladness is there; but the angel of
affiliction is there too, and both alike are for good.
May the angel of gladness visit us; I pray for it.

But, that angel of affliction;--What shall we say to
that? Shall we not say, 'come thou, too, when our
father willeth; with saddened'brow and pitying eye,

come, and take us on thy wings and bear us up to hope,
to happiness. to heaven..." (Retribution, pp. 136-137.)

Evil is thus presented as a trial that ultimately reaffirms the harmony
of the cultural order. Without evil, there can be no understanding of
good. Novels like The Hidden Hand are structured around the Adam and
Eve story; Marah Rocke provides a clue when she exclaims,

Ah! this is just what he used to say to me in

the old, happy times--the time in Paradise, before
the serpent entered. (The Hidden Hand, p. 85.)

 

Mrs. Southworth's novels consist of three stages: the harmony of
the plantation, a fall from grace because of some form of transgression,
and the resolution, in which the victims of the fortunate fall come to
a happy recognition of their condition and dedicate themselves to a new
covenant with God and society. Southworth's novels are often parables
which illustrate a moral or religious lesson. Indeed, in many of
Southworth's novels, one passage often outlines the basic moral promise

that the plot serves to elucidate. In The Doom of Deville, Southworth

 

declares,

It is impossible to define the boundary line that
separates extravagant emotions from.absolute madness.
Evil passions lose themselves by fine gradation in the
dark shadows of insanity. (The Doom of Deville, p. 200.)

 

The author examines the evils of emotional excess through the actions of
several characters simultaneously. Deville's passion leads to bigamy, a
crime against society and God. The novel examines the "power of that

fatal passion" (The Doom of Deville, p. 121), which robs the young man

 

of his judgment and control and makes him susceptible to circumstances.

 

113

Lionne also exceeds the bounds of self-control, so that in the course of
the novel she is transformed from heroine to villainess.
The conflicts between values serve to assert the supremacy of

universal values. In The Three Beauties, the villain Sina Hinton makes

 

a distinction between virtues which places them in proper perspective:

"Prudence is a questionable virtue; it is
incompatible, oftentimes, with truth, courage, faith,
love--everything that is loveliestaandfmost beautiful.
[italics mine.] I observe that bad people have vastly
more of that worldly commodity than good people. I
wonder how it ever came to be enrolled among the
virtues." (The Three Beauties, p. 34.)

 

 

 

Three fundamental plot variations characterized by distinct
conceptual oppositions appear in Southworth novels, which define the
cultural values of Southern society. The first pattern emerges when
the villains corrupt universal values to satisfy their personal ambition.

Thus, a woman like Juliette Summers in Retribution exploits her beauty

 

to realize her personal aspirations. Juliette is presented as a
calculating schemer who connives to win the devotion of Col. Dent, the
influential husband of her best friend and benefactor. Hester Dent, a
plain but selfless wife, eventually dies from lack of attention and
love, freeing her unscrupulous companion to marry the weak-willed
Colonel.

The Haunted Homestead, a gothic tale, contains a legend that further

 

dramatizes the conflict between worldly concerns and ideal virtues.

Madeline Van Der Vaugh, according to the story, is a woman whose goal
was to restore her plantation to its former affluent state. Since the
estate represents a microcosm of the universal order, the intention is
honorable. However, the lady's obsession actually subverts the ideal

values. "...Everything--money, health, peace, conscience, life itself

 

114

was sacrificed to her monomania." (The Haunted Homestead, p. 62.)

 

Ironically, the restoration of the estate is accomplished at the expense
of the universal equilibrium. Her husband remains to work the plantation
against his will and is eventually ruined by his wife's obsession. The
conflict created by the transgressions against a husband's love defines
the domain of the universal order. Madame Van Der Vaughn's exploitation
of ideal values for personal gratification soon returns to haunt her.
The mistress of WOlfbrake dies in the ruins of the estate; however, her
spirit reflects this chaotic condition, so that her ghost is compelled
to revisit her home every evening in search of peace. It is only when
the new, young mistress chooses love over ambition that the soul of "the
late proud lady of Wblfbrake" is put to rest, and peace is restored to
the plantation.

The second plot construct occurs as societal precepts are corrupted
by worldly concerns, which disturb the symmetry of the universal-societal
arrangement. For example, the sacred trust of parental authority is often
betrayed for reasons of personal gratification. General Garnet in Th3

Discarded Daughter is a man who, unconsciously perhaps, misuses his

 

authority for the sake of his commercial interests. Southworth remarks:

"...And what a position was hers when that devinely
appointed parental authority--that protective and
beneficient power--was perverted by pride, ambition and
selfishness into an engine of mighty torture, inflicting
a fatal and lifelong calamity.

Yet the father verily believed that he was
disinterestedly serving his daughter's best interests.
There is no more profoundly mournful illustration of
the ruined arch-angel, than that of any perverted
love." (The Discarded Daughter, p. 20.)

First, the General marries Alice Chester in order to acquire her property,

even though she is in love with another man. Then, once his daughter

 

115

Elsie has matured, he promises her to cousin Magnus Hardcastle to
facilitate the merger of the two neighboring estates. Fortunately,
the couple are already in love, so that the stratum of Ideal Values
(love)—-Precepts (holiness of marriage)--Worldly Interests remain
in agreement. However, circumstances always arise in Southworth's
fiction that require the characters to make choices, revealing their
own values and priorities. Magnus' brother Lionel Hardcastle, who
had been presumed dead, suddenly reappears as the legal heir to
Point Pleasant. General Garnet then coldly withdraws the original
engagement and proposes a new match between his daughter and the
smarmy Lionel. This act subverts the societal guidelines of the
holiness of marriage and throws the entire order into chaos.

Garnet is eventually punished for his transgression; his death is
a fitting recompense for the pandemonium he caused. The general's fall
exposes the emptiness of using worldly concerns as societal precepts,
as his plans for happiness are as finite as his own life. Garnet's
demise makes way for the regeneration of the harmonious design, with
the marriage of Elsie and Magnus. Thus, the resolution of the tension
between worldly concerns and societal precepts defines the limits of
personal ambition and reestablishes the heirarchy of values within
the Southern mythic structure.

The third and most complex plot structure involves a conflict
between two positive values, in which a character challenges one

guideline in order to realize another. In The Three Beauties, Winny

 

defies her father, Squire Darling, and elopes with Edgar, her indigent
tutor. In opting for marriage as the holy and proper channel for her

affection, Winny reinforces the ideal of Love; however, this action

 

116

also disrupts the social order by disobeying her lord. This moral
dilemma introduces an intriguing dimension to Southworth's work,
since these choices are neither clearcut or painless for the heroes.
Although Squire Darling is clearly wrong for exploiting his daughter
as a commodity, Elsie also commits a sin by defying her father. For
this crime, Elsie enters a state of purgatory lasting through the
middle of the novel, in which she suffers the consequences of her
wrongdoing. She and Edgar are cast out of the paradise of the
plantation like Adam and Eve and must survive without the protection
of society and its laws. After a great deal of suffering, Edgar
ultimately redeems the pair by sacrificing himself for Elsie. He
abandons his wife, so that she will be free to return to Shannondale.
As in Milton's Paradise Lost, the protagonist proves his worth by
accepting his subordinate position. This selfless act restores the
balance of order and contributes to the reform of the Squire, who
finally realizes that happiness can only be attained by selflessly
allowing the universal values to direct his societal choices. As a
result, he accepts Edgar into the family, where his moral fitness
qualifies him to carry on the aristocratic tradition as master of
the estate.

The Discarded Daughter is concerned with the value conflict between
love and duty; however, in this case, the opposition concerns a woman
who is the victim of a bad marriage and her struggle to resist her
feelings for another man. Not surprisingly, Alice,after a brief period
of indecision, decides to remain with.her husband. Southworth declares,

But Divine Providence is kind, and nature is full

of remedial power. We have all strength given as
according to our need. If our joys are greater in

 

117

anticipation than in realization, so certainly are
our sorrows.

Alice, in the terrible storm of passion that
had temporarily dethroned her reason, believed
that she could not outlive her marriage; yet
she had lived twelve years and was comparatively
happy...and her prayers and struggles had produced
this happy effect. The image of Sinclair had faded
away with the brightest visions of her girlhood.
And now that that typhoon of youthful passion had
long passed, even its memory had almost faded away,
her general, affectionate, religious nature made
her happy. With such a nature Alice could not live
without forming attachments to those around her.
(The Discarded Daughter, p. 40.)

Duty, which involves an attachment and commitment to society, provides
Alice with rewards that compensate for her lack of romantic fulfillment.
Alice thus derives her identification through this societal precept
rather than through self-realization. Interestingly enough, however,
the narrator follows these remarks with an important qualification:

Yet, had the Angel of Destiny whispered to her
heart this alternative: 'Your daughter! Two fates
await her--to die in childhood, or live to be an
unwilling bride-choose for her!‘ Alice would have
answered without a moment's hesitation: Let her die
in her childhood rather. Let her die now, rather.
And to have saved her from the misery of wedding one
she could not love, Alice would have been content to
lay down her only heart's treasure, her idealized
child in her grave. (The Discarded Daughter, p. 41.)

 

This passage reflects Mrs. Southworth's own ambivalence about the world
about which she is writing. While she can put love in perspective as a
mere sentiment, she also affimms it as a necessity; and it is interesting
that she cannot fully resolve this conflict even in her fiction.
Southworth's novels often revolve around a mystery which is resolved
in the course of the story. The assumption, of course, is that the
mystery 222 be cleared up, although it is initially beyond the power

of man to discover the solution. The issue of identity recurs throughout

 

118

Mrs. Southworth's fiction. Identity is of structural importance to
Mrs. Southworth's world, as origin establishes a definitive set of
characteristics which determines the Southerner's relationship to his

world and those around him. In The Hidden Hand, for instance, a birth

 

marks the beginning of the story. Capitola is brought into the world
under some strange and nebulous circumstances; in the course of the
story both the heroine and the reader are involved in a quest to
discover her parentage. This theme of identity is compounded by the
heroine's circumstances when she is forced to struggle for survival
in the streets of New York City. In order to protect herself,
Capitola dons boy's clothing, so that not only her family but her
sex is concealed from the other characters. Thus, Capitola is in
essence striving to reclaim her past, which indicates the essential
role of tradition in defining Southern character. The plot moves
backward toward a reaffirmation of the character, based upon a
prescribed set of family lines and sexual roles, rather than toward
individual growth on the part of the heroine. Once Capitola's identity
has been revealed, she returns to the plantation and adopts a life style
in accordance with her social position.

Several of Mrs. Southworth's novels contain gothic elements;

for instance, The Haunted Homestead is structured around a mystery in

 

connection with Wolfbrake Lodge. Strange sounds and sights eminate from
the old mansion which are explained by the legend of Madame Van Der Vaugh.
The mystery is presented as a supernatural phenomenon; the past, as the
ghost of the late mistress of the house, is very much a part of the
present, frightening the current occupants of the mansion. The heroine

Mathilde declares,

 

119

Our home contains as inexplicable a mystery
as ever frightened human habitants away, and doomed
a dwelling-place to desolation and decay, and this
haunting presence infests a house in a neighborhood,
as yet innocent of spiriterappings, table-tippings,
and 'sich like diviltires... (The Haunted Homestead,
p. 15.)

In conformance with the gothic genre, the supernatural events are
ultimately found to have a rational explanation, which is supplied
by the mechanic, Frank Howard:

There was no deception-there is none! It is a
purely mechanical phenomenon! But, listen! Spiritual
powers reside in mechanical forces. Every year we
live elucidates this mystery, though none but the
deepest thinkers see this truth in all its importance.
Look you! A savage thinks that there is a diabolism
in the self-action of a watch--in the reflection of
a looking-glass. We think both mysteries to be simple
mechanical combinations! Pray look at the look before
us. I observe that is Harmon's patent. Poor Harmon,
a demented mechanist, scarcely knew what he would be
at, and so undertook to make an invaluable improvement
in the common door-lock. This is one of his; its
'the fantastic tricks before high heaven' that these
rooms have witnessed! I am about to take off the
lock, to prove what I have stated, as well as to
remedy the evil. (The Haunted Homestead, p. 65.)

Reflecting on the incident, the narrator shares Howard's lament that the
mysteries of life are so readily explainable:

I was almost sorry that my ghostly mysteries had
found so commonplace a solution--a mechanical defect
taking the place of the phantom key, and an optical
illusion explaining my midnight vision! (The Haunted
Homestead, p. 71.)

 

Despite their romantic reveries, the mythic South remains a society
in which mystery is equated with a state of chaos, usually stemming
from faulty value choices but also (in gothic stories) from delusive
appearances. Once order is restored to the household, Mathilde is free

to marry Frank, and the novel moves to a happy and harmonious conclusion.

 

120

Class conflicts constitute another structural element centered
on the important issue of lineage, identifying the proper heir to the
plantation. In Ishmael, the young hero, who is presumably a member
of the lower class, is in love with the well-born Claudia. The author
makes use of a biblical allusion in this novel. Ishmael was the son
of Abraham by Sarah's handmaid, Hagar, and was an outcast; similarly,
Southworth's character is a social outcast, as he is not only a member
of the lower class but is accused of being illegitimate as well--this
marks him as unfit for the company of gentlemen or, of course,
gentlewomen. Although Ishmael demonstrates a heroic and noble nature
throughout the novel, this difference in status prevents him from
approaching his beloved. Ishmael reflects,

'Oh, this will never, never do! It is weakness,

folly, madness! What have I to do with Miss Merlin

that she takes possession of my whole being in this

manner! I must, I will conquer this passion!‘ he

exclaimed, at last, starting up, throwing aside his

book, and pacing the floor. (Ishmael, p. 125.)

Ishmael's ability to restrain his emotions is regarded as definitive
evidence that he indeed possesses a noble and virtuous nature. Claudia,
on her part, is repulsed by the stain on Ishmael's background, despite
her considerable affection for the young man. In the course of the
story Ishmael bravely rescues Claudia from danger, at the risk of his
own life. As he lies in a coma, the protagonist unconsciously reveals
his feelings for Claudia, much to her consternation:

During the excitement and terror of the day,

while the extent of Ishmael's injuries was still

unknown and his life seemed in extreme danger,

Claudia had not had leisure to receive the fact

of Ishmael's love, much less to reflect upon its

consequences. But, now that all was known and
suspense over, now in the silence and solitude

 

121

of her bed-chamber, the images and impressions of

the day returned to her with all their revelations

and tendencies and filled the mind of Claudia with

astonishment and consternation! That Ishmael WOrth

should be capable of loving her seemed to Miss Merlin

as miraculous as it would be for Fido to be capable

of talking to her! And in the wonder of the affair

she almost lost sight of its presumption! (Ishmael,

p. 226.)
Of course, in reality Ishmael is the son of Mr. Herman Brudenell and is
heir to his estate. Ishmael is the product of a secret marriage between
the young Herman and Nora Worth, a union that remained secret throughout
most of the novel. Throughout Ishmael's trials, he is championed by
Claudia's cousin Beatrice, who has faith in Ishmael's elevated
sensibility. The narrator declares,

But though Claudia, whom he adored, was his

watchful patroness, Bea, whom he only loved, was

his truest friend. Claudia would warn him against

danger; but Bea would silently save him from it.

(Ishmael, p. 167.)
Bea is able to see through appearances and recognize the inherent
nobility of the young protagonist, which of course, is there all along.
In time, Ishmael is also able to see through appearances and realize
his true affection for Bea, which is based not solely on beauty but

on the unselfish quality of her devotion and love.

The Hidden Hand presents this same class conflict, with a slight

 

twist. Traverse Rocke falls in love with a woman who actually is
above his social station. No one is more aware of the hopelessness
of this situation than is Traverse's mother. She explains to Clara's
father, Dr. Day,
If Clara's mother were living, sir, she would
probably tell you that young ladies should never

associate with any except their equals of the
opposite sex. (The Hidden Hand, p. 164.)

 

 

122

As a responsible parent, it is Mrs. Rocke's duty to discourage her son
from entertaining such high aspirations, even though the doctor himself
is impressed with the noble nature of Traverse. Marah Rocke declares,

(The doctor) does not see! His great benevolence
blinds him! In his wish to serve he exposes Traverse
to the most dreadful misfortune--the misfortune of
becoming hopelessly attached to one far above him in
station, whom he can never expect to possess! (Thg_
Hidden Hand, p. 165.)

 

Again, the inherent nobility of the young hero will not permit him to
declare his love for Clara. The narrator observes,
To feel how deeply and hopelessly he loved the

doctor's sweet daughter--to feel sure that she

perceived and returned his dumb, despairing love--and

to know that duty, gratitude, honor commanded him to

be silent, to tear himself away from her and make no

sign, was a trial almost too great for the young heart's

integrity. (The Hidden Hand, p. 202.)
Doctor Day, who regards Traverse as a son, trains the boy to become a
doctor, which will elevate him in social status. At the conclusion of
the novel, the doctor sends his young graduate to the west, with the
understanding that once he has established himself in a practice he can
return to his home and take the hand of his daughter. This is one of
the infrequent cases of upward social mobility in Mrs. Southworth's
fiction; however, it is significant that the expected resolution through
marriage does not take place in the novel, but instead takes the form
merely of the promise of a marriage. The young man must serve a term
in exile, further proving himself worthy and prosperous before he can
reap the rewards of admission to the upper class.

Another important element of Function II (Disharmony) involves the

Reversal of Fortune that accompanies the sudden breakup of the social

order. This shift often appears in the form of dramatic events which,

 

123

according to Boyle, "Are brought about by external circumstances rather
than by characters initiating these moments themselves."8 However, it
is chiefly those characters who violate the strict aristocratic moral

code who become susceptible to circumstance. For example, in The Doom

of Deville, the hero, who has committed bigamy, is suddenly exposed to

 

a world of chaos beyond his control and understanding. The narrator
declares.
Orville Deville felt as though he has lost all

power over his own fate, and was being drifted he
knew not where. (The Doom of Deville, p. 64.)

 

Those who do transgress must repent, or they are damned, both in a
religious and a societal sense. Southworth states,

Remorse, not tempered into repentence toward God
only hardens the heart and sours the temper...(Adelaide)
wept over (Deville's) decline of moral strength...She
loved him as devotedly as ever, the only difference
being that she loved him in fear and sorrow instead
of pride and joy. (The Doom of Deville, p. 180.)

 

Thus, the reversal of Fortune is a state of social purgatory in which
characters who violate the social order suffer the consequences of their
moral choices. This period of trial corresponds to Southworth's personal
Doctrine of Suffering, in that characters who rededicate themselves to
the values of society ultimately prevail in the novels.

One of the most frequent devices employed by the author is the
sudden disinheritance of a character. Again, the locus of power and
identity is the plantation, so that punishment takes the form of

exclusion from the estate and the family. In The Three Beauties,

 

the heroine chooses to marry her lover in the face of her father's

objections; for this she is cast out of her father's home and is

 

8Boyle, Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth: Novelist, p. 104.

124

forced to scramble for survival in a rude hut in the forest. Characters
like Winny who have suddenly lost control of their social position are
relegated to the lower class. Violations against the nomothetical value
system are equated with loss of power, so that Winny comes to realize how
difficult life is without the support systems of the Southern aristocratic
tradition. Slaves and the other subservient figures in Southworth's
novels are also totally without control; their lives are ruled by
circumstances which are to a certain extent determined by the Southern
gentry.

Another category of Reversal of Fortune is the sudden inheritance
of a plantation. This acquisition of power is presented as a recompense
for a previous injustice which has occurred at the beginning of the novel.

In The Hidden Hahd, Capitola is suddenly transformed from a street gamin

 

into a polished young lady; her metamorphosis is swift and complete, due
to her naturally enlightened sensibilities and impeccable dialect. The
novel focuses on the young heiress testing and defining her rights and
privileges in Southern society.

Social functions are often employed by Mrs. Southworth as critical
moments for dramatic turns of events. Ceremonies such as the christening
of children, the reading of wills, weddings, elections celebrations,
dinners, and parties celebrate the society and epitomize order and
harmony. Because morality is rewarded or punished through one's status
in society, it is fitting that these ceremonies commemorating the order
of society be chosen as pivitol points of the novel. In The Doom of
Deville, the hero is repeatedly confronted with his crime of bigamy in
public. For example, in the course of the novel, Orville inherits an

estate in Scotland and travels to his new home to participate in

 

125

ceremonies honoring him as the next Earl. Deville's wronged wife Lionne
appears at the festivities, as she recognizes "in that incident her best
opportunity to break 'the good meeting with the most admired disorder.'"

(The Doom of Deville, p. 206.) Lionne's disruption of the ceremony

 

reflects Deville's transgressions, which have already destroyed the
social order. Southworth declares,

The fate of Mr. Deville was that of Tantalus.
Than Orville Deville there never lived a man with a
greater thirst of ambition, and here was the spring
of wealth, rank, and honor within his reach, even at
his lips, yet he might not drink of its water, guarded
as they were by an awful Nemesis, whose avenging arm
would be raised to hurl him down to the deep dishonor
of detected crime.

Called Earl of Glen Lennark, with no apparent
bar to his right, he might not retain his title
or enjoy his estate, yet unwilling formally and
finally to renounce his claim, he took the middle
course of quietly leaving Scotland, ostensibly
traveling for the benefit of his wife's health.
(The Doom of Deville, p. 192.)

 

Lionne's revenge frustrates Deville's ambitions, so that his own lack of
moral strength effectively prevents him from achieving worldly success.
Illness is another function which appears in response to adverse
circumstances in Mrs. Southworth's fiction. The physical breakdown of
the body is often representative of a deteriorartion of a person's moral

state. In Ruth, the Faithful Bride, Dr. Kerr declares, "The body and

 

mind are so nearly connected that when one is weakened or diseased, the

other is apt to be so, too." (Ruth, the Faithful Bride, p. 18.) This

 

correspondence between physical and spiritual health is a common
convention in nineteenth-century literature. Such illnesses as brain
fever and melancholia were regarded as diseases of the nervous system,

finely attuned to external stimuli. When the harmony of Southern society

 

126

is disrupted and the world of the character is thrown into chaos, the

nvervous system becomes unsettled and illness results.' Thus, illness

in Mrs. Southworth's fiction symbolizes the collapse of the social order.
Infirmity most often strikes Southworth's female characters, whose

fragile sensibilities cannot withstand the agitation caused by the

breakup of the social order. WOmen are presented as victims, with

sickness serving as their only response to conditions which are out

of their control. In The Missinngride, Edith, who has just learned

 

of the murder of her husband, immediately becomes insensible. Her
friend and confidante Mrs. Waugh declares, "She breathes--it is better
to leave her to nature for awhile--too much attention worries her—-she

is very weak." (The Missing Bride, p. 80.) It is precisely because

 

of this reaction to adversity that women in Southworth's novels must
be protected. Edith is a delicate creature whose nature can hardly
withstand the terrible strain caused by a break in the shell of society.
Unconsciousness, or even death is preferable to life when the Southern
mythic society falls into ruin.

However, there are also cases in which a male figure is felled by
illness, often following some grievous violation of the moral framework.

In Ruth, the Faithful Bride, Tudor Hereward is incapacitated following

 

his unjust repudiation of his devoted wife. Hereward's illness is
described as a disease of the soul. Southworth remarks,

Tb his sick soul, as to the diseased mind of
another, the beauty of the earth and the glory of
the heavens were but 'A foul and pestilent congre-
gation of vapours,‘ for all the pleasure he could
take in them...His mental suffering was not now
sharp. He was much too weak to feel acutely. His
sorrow had settled into a dull despair--a cold and
lifeless misery. (Ruth, the Faithful Bride, p. 6.)

 

127

Hereward's breech of gentlemanly conduct emasculates him, as he has
lost the vigor and independence that mark the Southern gentleman.
The narrator states,

Physicians and friends alike ascribed his illness
to nervous shock upon a system already run down after
the long-continued pressure of work and worry. He was
convalescent now, yet he seemed the mere shadow of his
former vigorous manhood. (Ruth, the Faithful Bride, p. 5.)

 

The social structure of the South is in essence responsible for defining
the masculine ideal. Having violated the absolute value system, Hereward,
like a Southworthian female, cannot contend with the pressures caused by
his unjust treatment of his wife, and becomes a passive convalescent.
Death is also significant as a response to the Reversal of Fortunes.

Six deaths occur in The Discarded Daughter, and no fewer than ten

 

characters are eliminated by the author in The Haunted Homestead. When

it appears as part of Function II (Disharmony), death serves the purpose
of removing characters from the novel whose continued presence would
impede the ultimate resolution of the plot. Certain characters in

Mrs. Southworth's stories must be sacrificed--not only for the convenience
of the author, but for the good of the world of the novel.

Mrs. Southworth's Southern society seems to demand the selfless sacrifice
of an individual in order to insure the well-being of the culture as a
whole. In this case, death is regarded as a transcendent rather than a

tragic act. In The Discarded Daughter, Hugh Hutton mourns the loss of

 

his mother and is comforted by his beloved, Garnet:

'Dead! really dead. Dead four days!‘ he exclaimed,
burying his face in his hands.

'No, not dead--living in heaven! You know that--try
to feel it also,’ (Garnet) said tenderly. (The Discarded

Daughter, p. 250.)

 

 

128

In the same novel, Agnes interferes with her evil husband's plans to
force his step-daughter to marry against her will. She cries,

So, pirate! we meet again at last! We meet
upon the spot of the outrage which first separated
me from home and country, friends and kindred,
holiness and heaven! We meet upon this spot that
you would again desecrate with crime! We meet in
an hour of retribution! For this have I lived!
For now that at last I see my mortal foe, never
will I lose sight of you again, until I have put
you in the hands of justice!‘ Never will I cease
to pursue you, until I hunt you to the scaffold!
Never can I die, until I see you dead before me
by the death of a felon! ‘(The Discarded Daughter,
p. 235.)

 

The two antagonists struggle, and the gun which the General is holding
goes off, killing him. Although the demise of the General is presented
as just retribution for his previous crimes, Agnes remains guilty of
murder. The novelist solves this difficulty by permitting Agnes to
swoon into a coma from which she never recovers. Garnet comforts Agnes'
son, explaining,

Ah! do not mourn so! believe me, it is far
better as it is. There are some living so wronged,
so broken, that nothing but death can set them right.
Such a life was hers. There are some sorrows so
deep that nothing but heaven can cure them. Such
sorrows were hers. Oh! believe me, by all the
loving-kindness of the Father, it is better as it
is. (The Discarded Daughter, p. 251.)

 

Function III in the morphology of Mrs. Southworth's fiction is the
Resolution, in which the world returns to its former harmonious state.
The mysteries that permeate the novel are all divulged at the end of the
novel; identities are revealed, and what before was ambiguous and
seemingly subjective is established as clear and absolute, in keeping
with the value system of the mythic South. Mrs. Southworth's novels

contain a series of seemingly unrelated subplots which converge in the

 

129

conclusion. This fusion reflects the author's faith in a grand and
unified design which governs Southern society. Providence plays a major

role in the resolution of the novels. The Hidden Hand contains three

 

hard-luck stories which are apparently independent of one another; as
if by divine plan, the fates of Herbert, Traverse, and Capitola are
joined, so that the audience gradually recognizes the interrelatedness
of the characters and the world they inhabit.

Order is restored to the plantation, and the family tradition is

re-established. At the conclusion of The Discarded Daughter, the heroine

 

Garnet returns the title of the plantation to Elsie, its rightful heir.
Garnet's act of generosity enables her to achieve "moral greatness"

(The Discarded Daughter, p. 261), so that restoration of the plantation

 

is tied to regeneration of the protagonists in the novel. Marriages
abound, suggesting that the conclusion of the novel is actually the

rebirth of the social order. The Lost Heiress concludes,

 

"And, at this moment, Howlett Hall is the elegant
seat of refined hospitality; the honored shrine of
genius; and the favored abode of domestic love and
bliss." (The Lost Heiress, p. 263.)

 

Other Southworth novels end with a convocation in which the characters
dedicate themselves to gsaqiety: and its values;

"...Oh, God! How shall I thank Thee? Hear
me: I consecrate my whole future life to Thy
service, in acknowledgement of this, Thy gift."
(The Curse of Clifton, p. 318.)

 

As part of the restoration of the universal order, the villains in
Mrs. Southworth's fiction are properly chastised for their sins at the
conclusion of each novel. Death is regarded as the ultimate form of

retribution; this punishment confirms the Old Testament sense of justice,

 

130

in which the villain must pay for his crime. As the author observes,

"Death was the only rectifier of some lives." (The Discarded Daughter,

 

p. 254.) Mrs. Southworth has little compassion for the fate of these
characters. Upon the demise of the villainess Sina Hinton, the author
simply states, without comment, "One hour after this, Sina Hinton

died...Her funeral took place the third day..." (The Three Beauties,

 

p. 204.) These deaths generally occur at the conclusion of the novel,
as accounts are settled and the social structure is restored to a state
of peace and harmony.

Thus, the Southern mythic society as revealed through the popular
novels of Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth is an aristocratic system concerned
with maintaining the moral order of the universe. Each Southworth plot
serves as a ritual which reestablishes a positive system of values. The
syncretism in the novels clearly defines each value in relation to others,
which are then communicated to the audience. This portrait has become
familiar to the public to the extent that the stereotype of Southern
culture is easily recognized and accepted. Popular artists like
Mrs. Southworth do, then, contribute to the inculcation of a cultural

identity, an ideal containing vast social and historical implications.

CHAPTER 5

Characterization in Mrs. Southworth's Novels

One of Mrs. Southworth's most obvious limitations as a novelist
is her flat, predictable characterizations. Boyle observes, “Similarity
exists among the various novels...with regard to character's names and
occupations (and) situations."1 The characters, which are drawn from
the popular conception of the ante—bellum South, are admittedly
stereotypical. However, in spite of its literary shortcomings,
Mrs. Southworth's characterization is valuable in terms of cultural
mythology, reinforcing previously accepted notions about the South and
its inhabitants. Readers enjoyed the very predictability of these
characters; because popular art relies upon the expectation of the
audience, the reader's familiarity enhances their enjoyment and under-
standing of the subject matter. Popular art can thus be regarded as a
ritual in which the audience become active participants; because the
characters in a novel are fully identifiable, the allegiances of the
audiences are clearcut. As a result, the reader becomes involved in
the story, and the world of the novel takes life and in a sense becomes
real.

Little development takes place within the characters depicted in
Mrs. Southworth's fiction. The figures are fixed, much like Southern
society itself as presented in Mrs. Southworth's novels. Three distinct

character types appear in her work, 'reflecting their different roles in

 

1Boyle, Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth: Novelist, p. 123.

 

131

132

the mythic Southern society: the male figure, the women, and the black
slaves.

The male heroic figure who appears in Southworth's fiction is
generally described in aristocratic terms. Referring to her young
suitor, Cloudesley Mornington, Edith Waugh declares,

I do not know how princes ought to look,
or how they dg look...yet I have but one word
to convey my impression of this gentleman's

appearances.and address-~both were—-princely.
(The Missing Bride, p. 190.)

 

This nobility appears as an inherited characteristic handed down from
generation to generation, along with the title to property. So visible
is this aristocratic countenance that it is apparent even in those
characters who have been temporarily removed from their rightful
station in life. In Ishmael, the young protagonist, who is unjustly
accused of being illegitimate, dramatically saves the life of the young
heiress Claudia; his deed is described by the narrator as, "A simple act
of instinctive gallantry that any man, worthy of the name, would have
performed". (Ishmael, p. 111.)

The plantation owner literally functions as the lord of his estate,
providing not only for the material comfort but also for the moral
welfare of his subjects. The master of the estate is presented in a
manner similar to the traditional Old Testament presentation of God.

The lord has created his slaves, defining their character, role and
existence on the plantation. He serves as a father to his subjects,
especially since black slaves are portrayed as children who lack a
sense of identity and responsibility apart from their role on the

plantation. The master also acts as judge within his estate. There

 

133

are no explicit scenes of punishment in Southworth novels, primarily
because the slaves are always obedient to the master's laws, and
therefore do not require chastisement.

Although he is the master, the plantation owner is ultimately

subject to the laws of heaven. Frank Howard declares in The Haunted

 

 

Homestead, "May Heaven deal with me as I with thee." (The Haunted
Homestead, p. 70.) Like the Arch-Angel Satan, those masters who

defy the higher authority of Justice, Love, Truth, Beauty and Faith

are soon deposed. These characters, incidentally, provide the few
instances of slave abuse in Mrs. Southworth's fiction. Commodore Waugh,

in The Three Beauties, expresses his displeasure by hurling an object

 

at a slave, nearly blinding him. The Commodore is referred to by the
slaves as "Old Nick", since his behavior violates the universal moral
order and is in effect a rebellion against God. However, the system
of justice ultimately prevails, as this same disregard for the moral
framework disrupt's Waugh's world and casts him into a chaotic state
of unhappiness. He eventually repents, learning through the selfless
example of a young woman, Harriet Joy, that true fulfillment lies in
the submission of the individual to the moral order. He exclaims:
"...She has taught me by example and

experience a true lesson-—to be happy myself

I must try to make others happy--blessed be

God!“ (The Three Beauties, p. 267.)

Thus, in this aristocratic world, it is submission to society
rather than to the individual will that insures personal fulfillment.
Providence replaces the democratic ideal, as the external order

provides for the moral welfare of all of the people. A system of

justice operates within Southern society that makes slave revolts

 

134

unnecessary, since harmony and happiness are always restored at the
end of the novel. The exemplary plantation owner supports and

maintains this universal order. In The Lost Heiress, the protagonist,

 

Daniel Hunter, exercises great restraint and wisdom in permitting
rebellious Falconer O'Leary to mature into society at his own rate.
Mrs. Hunter proclaims;
"I feel such faith in Daniel Hunter, that

I am sure he will convert and redeem...Fa1coner

and make him worthy to be his son." (The Lost

Heiress, p. 194.)
In fact, Daniel Hunter, as an archetype of the moral aristocrat, personifies
the harmony of ideal values throughout the novel. His daughter Maude

declares, "...Father, my dear Father--oh, your patience is like the

patience of our Lord." (The Lost Heiress, p. 187.)

 

The Southworth aristocrat combines courtesy of manner with a
definite sense of honor. A good man cherishes, inspires, and supports
his women and guides them toward the universal good. However, while
man serves as protector, it is not without sacrifice. Honoria declares
to her mother, Lady Augusta:

'You look twenty years younger than papa.

You have no grey hairs. Your head is as raven

black as ever.‘
'No," said Augusta with emotion, 'because

he has sheltered it so well. His hair is bleached

by the storms of life that have beaten on his head;

and mine is unfaded, because he has leaned over me,

and sheltered me with himself; because, notwith-

standing all the trials and sorrows and casualties

of life, he has made me so content.' (The lost

Heiress, p. 161.)

The male is thus accountable for the well-being and happiness of society,

a responsibility that no one but a noble character would dare to undertake.

Significantly, the role of the father and the role of the husband are

 

135

indistinguishable in Mrs. Southworth's fiction. In both cases, the
male figure is regarded as lord and is worshipped accordingly. In

Ruth, the Faithful Bride, Ruth declares,

 

I do not remember the time when I did not
love Tudor Hereward as I love my Lord. It was
my religion to love him. I was brought up to
worship God, and to adore Tudor Hereward.
Under the Almighty, he was my lord, my
law-giver. (Ruth, the Faithful Bride, p. 114.)

 

This passage is reminiscent of Alice's attitude toward her father,
Colonel Chester:

She had been taught to love and venerate
her father above all earthly beings, and next
to God...She had been taught how to bow with
implicit and reverential obedience to his will.
(The Discarded Daughter, p. 19.)

 

Southworth's South was thus a paternal system, with the male character
assuming the role of guardian and protector of society. In The Three

Beauties, the slave Old Uncle Kill laments the disastrous fate befallen
his owner, Squire Darling, crying, "My own master--as I loved nex' bes'

to God." (The Three Beauties, p. 202.) This attitude is indicative of

 

the absolutist nature of the society, in which the aristocrat is
universally regarded as a father figure, a societal Almighty.

Because he is so committed to the proper regulation of social norms
and values, Southworth's male characters are obsessed with controlling
their own natures as well. Excess of emotion is associated with weakness
and, indeed, is so threatening to the masculinity of the Southern male
that he ironically loses his composure over this very issue. Old Hurricane
explodes,

'Emotion! Demmy, sir, what do you mean by
emotion? Am I a man to give way to emotion?

Demmy, sir, mind what you say!’ roared the old

lion, getting up and shaking himself free of
all weakness. (The Hidden Hand, p. 82.)

 

 

136

Considering this obsession with restraint, it is not surprising that
Southworth's male characters never exhibit any sexual drive to speak

of. In The Discarded Daughter, Hugh Hutton is more interested in the

 

sea than his newly-wedded wife. So excited is young Hugh by his forth-
coming voyage that he neglects to consummate his marriage. The narrator
remarks,

As he looked upon this scene (of the sea),
Hugh's eyes kindled, blazed. He did not see
how sad was the brow of his young bride. No!
the sea-king had already risen above the lover.
(The Discarded Daughter, p. 33.)

 

After a brief word to his bride's guardian to "be kind to my little Agnes",
Hugh sprang into his boat and struck out to sea. Strangely, Agnes' chief
regret is that Hugh has neglected his nourishment. She laments,
I wish he had only stayed to breakfast with
us! I could have parted with him better then,

if I had known he had eaten a good, warm breakfast.
(The Discarded Daughter, p. 33.)

 

Southworth appears to be conscious of this incongruity, at least on some
level. The governess, Miss Joe, observes,

Well, I declare to man, if it is not
wonderful! All them Hutton's had never seemed
to value woman's love--have every one of them
always got more than they deserved. (Egg;
Discarded Daughter, p. 34.)

 

Bound as they are by convention, the chivalric code, and their sense
of decorum, the male character offers little in the way of the unexpected
in Mrs. Southworth's novels. The male protagonist exhibits an
inflexibility in the novels which.ref1ects the fixed value system
of Southworth's mythic South; he is unable to deal with appearances

that run contrary to the reality they represent. In Ruthyythe Faithful

 

Bride, Tudor Hereward is confronted with circumstantial evidence of his

 

137

wife's unfaithfulness. When faced with the choice of belief in the
absolute value system or in his wife, Tudor places his faith in the
value system. He denounces Ruth with a malediction which is repeated
throughout the story:
I never loved you! I married you only to
please my dying father. In a very few hours I
shall leave this house, never to return while

you desecrate it with your presence! (Ruth,
the Faithful Bride, p. 67.)

 

This rigid attitude is perhaps one of the greatest distinctions between
the male and female characters in Mrs. Southworth's work. The male is
committed to the rational and to the system, rather than toward the
emotional and a faith in the individual. As the title of the novel
indicates, Ruth is at all times a devoted bride, maintaining her belief
in her husband despite his insensitivity. Ruth leaves the sanctity of
the plantation--not in rebellion, but as a loving act--to spare him the
trial of living with a woman he did not love.
Often, too, the hero's attention to the external value system

distorts his perception and undermines his ability to deal with the

complexities of the real world. In The Doom of Deville, young Orville

 

first secretly weds Lionne, only to remember he has been bethrothed
from childhood to Adelaide. Such complications confuse Deville to

the extent that he deserts the pregnant Lionne. He then commits
himself to the fair Adelaide, whom he grows to love and appreciate

in a manner not unlike his dutiful attitude toward society. Deville
discovers that sacrificing his immediate gratification in the interest
of society leads to ultimate personal fulfillment. Significantly,
Deville, who is a bigamist and wife-deserter, is not presented as

a villain by the author. Although he suffers the personal torment

 

138
that accompanies the ruination of Lionne, he remains unpunished by the
law for his transgressions. Instead, Mrs. Southworth focuses on the
vindictive reaction of Lionne, who proves unworthy to have been Deville's
wife in the first place. Appropriately, Deville finds the solution to
his confused personal affairs through the social structure. The
protagonist learns to love his wife Adelaide and adopts the daughter
of his marriage with Lionne, so that he is in effect making one family
out of his two marriages. Because young Perdita strongly resembles
her mother, Lionne is thus indirectly incorporated into the family
as well.

One male character who differs from the fixed and controlled
personna of the aristocrat is the young man who is struggling to realize
his manhood. Falconer O'Leary is described as "Young, firey, headstrong,
self-willed. He has always not only really been his own master." (Th3

Lost Heiress, p. 146.) What distinguishes a boy from a man in these

 

tales is that the youth is unable to exert self-control, which is the
first step toward assuming responsibility for the society as a whole.
Even manly virtues become faults if not moderated by restraint and
refinement, the key ingredients in the maturation process. Describing
young Hugh Hutton, Mrs. Southworth declares,
Honest, brave and frank, even to rashness,
generous even to extravagance, unselfish to the

degree that the worldly-wise would call fatuity...“
(The Discarded Daughter, p. 29.)

 

Hugh disappears early in the book, to return only after he has attained
the self-control that transforms him into a dependable and responsible

man.

 

139

Theyoung male initiate who lacks the iron-will and resolute
masculine constitution of the mature man is depicted as a nearly
feminine figure. He is free to entertain excesses of emotion, and
it is no coincidence that the courting scenes generally feature a
young lover who is as filled with emotion as his sweetheart. In

The Three Beauties, Edgar cries, "Care for you, Winny! Care for you!

 

I love you! love you more than my life, my soul, Heaven, God!" (The

Three Beauties, p. 37.) Even the excesses in punctuation, which are

 

generally reserved for the female and black characters, are testimony
to the relationship between restraint and masculinity. Edgar's
priorities are inverted, as the man is generally the recipient of all
rapt attention. Edgar appears as a selfless figure who is anxious to
sacrifice himself for his lover. He states, "I am proving that bodily
pain and fatigue, without moral suffering, endured for a loved one, is

a deep religious joy." (The Three Beauties, p. 85.) However, the

 

mature man is more committed to society and God than to any woman,
which is a lesson that Edgar must learn as he grows into manhood.

The villains who appear in Mrs. Southworth's fiction are presented
as demonic counterparts to Southworth's aristocrats-as-lord analogy.

The most dastardly villains, like General Garnet in The Discarded

 

Daughter, repudiate their responsibilities and abuse their power as
gentlemen. General Garnet is a solitary figure, isolated from the
community of man. He is an inflexible character who exploits the law,
which is intended for the welfare of the whole society, in order to
satisfy his personal ambition. The General is a violator without
principle. He marries Alice against her will, in order to add to his

land holdings. While property and lineage are important considerations

 

140

in marriage, there is ideally in Southworth's world a harmony between
love and worldly concerns which Garnet violates. The General then
attempts to perpetrate the same crime upon his daughter, arranging a
marriage between herself and Magnus, the young heir of a neighboring
plantation. The narrator asserts,

General Garnet's heart was set on the marriage

of those two joining plantations. If Magnus had

backed out, he would have shot him like a dog. If

Elsie would have retreated, he would have turned

her out of doors. If both had broken off, by mutual

consent, he would have-~Satan knows what he would

have done. (The Discarded Daughter, p. 78.)

In the climactic scene of the novel, the General places the heroine,
Garnet Seabright, in his power in order to force the young woman to marry
against her will. The General is a satanic figure whose attack on
womankind threatens the social framework of the South. Indeed, the

villain appears to be invoking the Evil One with each speech:

In the fiend's name, young woman, what do

you mean?
*

By all the demons, girl! I wonder that you
should give breath to that fear!

*

By Satan, Miss Seabright, I am thunderstruck
by your audacity. (The Discarded Daughter, p. 233.)

 

Garnet is able to resist his attack because of the very societal and
heavenly laws which the General has determined to violate. She declares,

I am under the protection of God and of the
laws...by Heaven, I do defy you! Under the protection
of Heaven, in the name of Heaven, I do defy you!

(The Discarded Daughter, pp. 232-234.)

 

Mrs. Southworth has no mercy with rascals like General Garnet, and he

meets a violent and just end.

 

141

One villainous type who is treated rather comically by the author
is the irascible old gentleman who, although harmless, raises a
commotion in response to all types of experience. Old Hurricane in

The Hidden Hand, is described as possessing "A noble nature, but it

 

was often obscured by violent passions." (The Hidden Hand, p. 54.)

 

Old Hurricane is buffeted by the social structure, in the form of
understanding servants, relatives, and, of course, the affluence to
rectify his errors. However lightly he is depicted by Mrs. Southworth,
however, the beginning of the novel explains that in the past he not
only ignored his poor sister and nephew, but deserted his wife and
daughter. The story traces his attempt to correct the situation, so
that characters who have been misled into celebrating theirighome

comforts" (The Hidden Hand, p. 6) at the expense of spiritual well-being

 

can be redeemed. Old Hurricane is portrayed in a rather patronizing
manner by the author as an overgrown, petulant child; this attitude

is consistent with Southworth's philosophy, for Old Hurricane has not
matured into the ideal of restrained and responsible manhood that would
entitle him to the reader's respect. Old Hurricane's behavior and
judgment are confused by his sudden and irrational emotions, which also
makes him easy prey for the charming though manipulating manner of his
niece, Capitola. As a result, the young heiress has her way with the
old man throughout the novel; it requires the strong hand of a
determined suitor to tame her spirit and mold her into a proper

and ultimately more fulfilled woman.

The heroine of Southworth's ante-bellum South was the ideal of

beauty, femininity, and grace which characterized such traditions as

 

142

. the Elizabethan woman. Gaines observes "The true heroine of plantation
romance is...a crystallization of all legends of fair women, perfect and
peerless.."2 These women are portrayed as aristocratic figures. In

The Three Beauties, for example, Mrs. Summerfield is described as having

"A queenlike air of majesty and graciousness." (The Three Beauties,

 

p. S.) In The Lost Heiress, Lady Augusta is described as possessing

 

"...a queenly turn of head and neck...graceful, gracious, noble air

and expression..." (The Lost Heiress, p. 85.) Southworth consciously

 

draws this analogy to royalty to the attention of her audience. She
declares, "(Lady Augusta) stood like an outraged Empress, her imperial
form drawn up to its haughtiest height..." (The Lost Heiress, p. 105.)
The superiority of the heroine's nature is an innate quality which cannot

be disguised by either appearance or circumstances. In The Hidden Hand,

 

for instance, Capitola is abandoned as a child and must forage for her
living in the streets of New York. The only clue to her real identity
was a birthmark. The author observes, "In themiddle of her left palm
is the perfect image of a crimson hand, about half an inch in length."

(The Hidden Hand, p. 28.) It is of some significance that this sign

 

was "perfect"; for, the deprivation into which young Capitola fell
contrasted with the lasting and indelible perfection of her nature.
The circumstances of real life which threatened her existence on earth
could not conceal what she was: an essentially ideal figure.

Considerable attention is devoted in Mrs. Southworth's work to the
physical attributes of the heroine. The female protagonist is, of course,

beautiful, presented as an ideal of feminine pulchritude. She generally

 

2Gaines, The Southern Plantation, 174.

 

143

is fair in complexion, which distinguishes her from the dark villainess
and the blacks on the plantation. The rather formulaic accounts of the
heroine's lovely eyes, with their long lashes, and even, white teeth,
establishes an ideal of beauty that reflects the perfection of Heaven.
Physical attributes in Mrs. Southworth are but a reflection of internal
virtue, so that the female figure is spiritually pure. Gaines observes,
There are in the presentation of the Southern
girl many spiritual qualities, certain hints of
idealism which are not suggested in the character-
ization of the masculine world.3
Because the South is depicted as a glamorous society, Mrs. Southworth
pays considerable attention to describing the dress of the female
characters. Gaines states,
The belle is usually credited with lavish
costumes; thus she concentrates in herself much
of the tradition of social splendor, for the
sheen of wealth in a social order is most
glittering in the attire of its womanhood.
The heroine is generally extremely young, often just entering into
womanhood at the outset of the novel. Youth is equated with an innocence
that is an essential quality of the Southern belle. This simplicity of
character may be regarded as a flaw in Southworth's literary technique,
but it also reinforces her conception of woman as a pure, almost childlike
creature. The woman is certainly treated as a child, as she is dependent
on the male in both a legal and social sense. Southworth declares,
No woman is at the same time under bonds to both
father and husband; she passes from the protection of
the former to that of the latter. You left your father

for me-—Now new duties invest you; now you no longer
belong to him, but to one, your husband, who proudly

 

3Ibid., p. 176.

4Ibid., p. 174.

144

claims all your love and duty and holds himself
in all things responsible for you. (The Doom of
Deville, p. 33.)

 

The ideal female has thus lived very little in the real world, having
been protected from the cares of everyday life.

The slave structure of the mythic Southern culture is not restricted
to blacks but extends to women as well. The heroic female in Southworth's
fiction is devoted to her man and, like the black slave, is grateful for

the opportunity to serve him. In The Curse of Clifton, Ardenne declares,

 

It shall be I who will work for you. I will
be your servant--your slave; and, if fatigue comes,
if privation comes, oh! it will be passing sweet
when borne for you! Ah! If pain comes, it will
bring ectasy--no agony! Ah, I knew it! It is
wonderful—-it is beautifu1-—it is divine--it is
true! Every pain endured for a beloved one is
no longer a pain, but an exquisite pleasure!--the
deepest, strongest joy known in life! a silent,
hidden, profound ecastatic trance of the soul,
that brings Heaven down! Oh, my archangel! may
God give me the heaven of toiling and suffering
for you! (The Three Beauties, p. 38.)

 

Throughout Mrs. Southworth's fiction, the female protagonist displays
forbearance and acceptance of her position, no matter how unjust. The
heroine epitomizes perfect Faith and Trust in God through her obedience
to the social precepts and norms of the social system. Female characters
are frequently victimized by the male-oriented society. In Ruth, the

Faithful Bride, the heroine is accused of infidelity and forced to flee

 

the plantation. Ruth experiences poverty and deprivation before she is
cleared of suspicion. Yet, the heroine freely forgives her husband,
demonstrating far more generosity than her inflexible master. Many of
Southworth's stories explore the depths of torment that a woman would
gladly subject herself to as an expression of her love. Indeed, the

extreme suffering of some of Southworth's selfless women borders on

 

145

masochism. In The Three Beauties, Winny exclaims,
'Oh, it would be such a heaven to share that

poverty! Oh, it would be a divine joy to work

and bear pain for Edgar!‘ said Winny, clasping

her little white hands in a sort of ecstasy.

(The Three Beauties, p. 44.)

To which the villainess Sinai Hinton responds (and not without reason),
"The inconceivable little idiot!" That these women felt they had to
express their devotion in this particular manner is a reflection of
Southworth's conception of men and of how life operated in her mythic
South. From a literary point of view, however, it is more understandable;
the more insensitive the hero appears and the more terrible the trial for
the woman, the more the audience respects and admires the heroine and the
depth of her devotion.

Among the female characters who appear in Southworth's fiction are
those women whose entire existence is devoted to the service of others.
In The curse of Clifton, Catherine is a lowborn nurse who sacrifices her
personal happiness in order to uphold her society. The author notes,

Catherine lived only for the good of others.

She had grown to believe that there was no individual

happiness for herself, except in the service of

others...Behold, the handmaid of the Lord. (The
Curse of Clifton, p. 199.)

 

The welfare of the male aristocrat is dependent upon the sacrifices of

not only black slaves, but of women as well. In Ruth, the Faithful Bride,

 

the heroine loves to be useful to her husband. She devotes her days to
copying his letters—-a small part of his life, which makes up her total
existence. Southworth's personal Doctrine of Suffering seems to be in
operation here, as women must derive their personal fulfillment through
a higher, societal good. Thus, the religious analogy to the Divine Lord

has its counterpart for women in Southern society.

 

146

That this social system would require such sacrifices on the part
of women raises questions about its justice; however, this issue is
never directly addressed by Mrs. Southworth. However, occasional
references to the oppressed state of women do appear in Southworth's
novels. In Ishmael, the hero unjustly wins custody of his wife's
children, property, earnings, and alimony in a divorce settlement.
The narrator states,

WOman--woman, loving, feeble, and oppressed

from the beginning of time--WOman, hardly dealt

with by nature in the first place, and by the

laws, made by her natural lover and protector,

man, in the second place. (Ishmael, p. 190.)

Southworth admits that women are occasionally victimized by this

male-dominated society. In The Doom of Deville, she comments,

 

It was not the first or the last time that
a good, wise woman has been forced from her
better judgment by a foolish, bad and tyrannical
man. (The Doom of Deville, p. 243.)

 

However, the tragedy, in Southworth's view, is not that the woman is
subordinate, but that the man should take advantage of his superior
position. The role of the woman, according to the author, is to bring

out the best qualities in man. In The Hidden Hand, for instance, Old

 

Hurricane is a male figure whose temper often flies out of control. He
needs to be tamed by the good influence of a woman, in this case Capitola.
Thus, while woman assumes a subordinate position in Southworth's Southern
society, like the slaves, she actually contributes to her greatest
capacity.

One character that often appears in Southworth's fiction is the
poor widow or country spinster, who performs selfless acts. In huth

the Faithful Bride, for instance, Aunt Sophie takes in the homeless

 

 

147

Ruth and provides her with shelter when it appears that the heroine is
without hope. Characters like Aunt Sophie represent a quality in life
that seems to be sadly lacking in the male world--Charity. Aunt Sophie
is a warm, emotional woman who can see beyond appearance. Unlike Ruth's
suspicious husband, Aunt Sophie senses that the heroine is a good woman
and puts her faith in her instincts. Aunt Sophie is a maternal figure
who nurtures Ruth back to health. Significantly, this type of character
is free of the influence of a husband and thus can follow her intuition.
In addition, she is essentially an asexual figure, so that her emotional
nature remains pure and clear to the reader.

Wbman's submission is presented as a moral issue which is, not
surprisingly, tied to the surrender of her legal rights. In The Lost
Heiress, Maude voluntarily gives up the title of Howlet Hall to her
husband, Falconer, even though they will both share it in marriage.

She explains,
'"Oh!' said Maude, hiding her blushing face in

his bosom and speaking in the soft, low tones of shy

devotion, 'You do not know a woman's fond, doting

heart. She does so delight to depend upon her

husband, to owe all things to his love; to receive

everything from his hand! This is the way with her.
God has made her so!‘ (The Lost Heiress, p. 260.)

 

While Southworth's women characters demonstrate a highly defined
nature, they have only limited intellectual capacity. The female is
concerned with domestic economy and social graces rather than the more
arduous intellectual tasks which are suitable for males. Gaines notes,

High intellectual power of either native
capacity or of extended mental training is not
in the tradition...The social attainments of
the young ladies were, however, considerable.
Poise of manner, resourcefulness and ease of
conversation, sparkling vivacity, refinement

 

148

of judgment, to say nothing of graceful supervision
of entertainment, these faculties seemed instinctive.

Occasionally Southworth's female characters demonstrate capabilities

that exceed her prescribed role in society. In The Hidden Hand, Capitola

 

is forced to wear boy's clothes in order to survive in the streets of
New York; she is successful until her true sex is discovered, making her
dependent upon her newly-discovered family. Capitola laments, "I felt
bitter against Fate for not making me a boy." (The Hidden Hand, p. 44.)
Strength in women is frowned upon except for a spiritual strength that
enables her to endure what she hasn't the power to change. One male
character remarks, "I hate to see strength in women! It don't belong
to them, nor grace them anyhow." (The Curse of Clifton, p. 17.)
Spiritual strength is also essential in subduing a female's emotional
nature, since an unrestrained emotional self is regarded as dangerous
to life itself. Mrs. Southworth declares, "And she sank upon his bosom,
pale, faint, with excess of joy." (The Discarded'Daug‘hter, p. 148.)
Earthly love must be a reflection of spiritual devotion:
I know, I feel, that if I should ever love at

211/ I should love intensely--that my whole soul

would be absorbed in the passion--that the highest

affections, hopes, and aspirations, that should

seek a home in Heaven and an enjoyment in God,

would settle upon earth; and earth would be my
Heaven. (Retribution, p. 14.)

 

As a result, the heroines of Mrs. Southworth's fiction are out
of touch with their own sexuality, so that all romantic involvement
is purely spiritual. Gaines declares,

The chastity of Southern womanhood is almost

axiomatic, a spotlessness of thought and act...an
accentuated whiteness of soul by very reason of

 

5Ibid., p. 175.

149

the contrast with the deeply colored civilization
in which these women lived.

However, the issue of woman's sexuality is taken up rather

tentatively in some of Southworth's novels. In The Hidden Hand, Capitola

 

is presented as a wild, untamed creature of nature, described as a "wild
bird". (The Hidden Hand, p. 171.) The novel follows her ultimate taming,
as her wild spirit is cultivated once she has been reclaimed from the
chaotic and degenerate existence of the New York streets. Excess of
emotion is presented as a menace to women which can lead to eventual

destruction. The Doom of Deville offers an interesting insight into

 

the dangers of a woman's unrepressed sexuality and man's response to it.
The story traces Orville Deville's involvement with two women. Lionne

is a wild and free creature, as close to a sexual being as Mrs. Southworth
can manage. Orville falls passionately in love with this woman, who as a
resident of the forest is a product of nature; Lionne is described as

"a solitary child of nature and the wilds." (The Doom of Deville, p. 22.)

 

Carried away by his strong attraction to Lionne, Orville conveniently
forgets that he has been since birth bethrothed to Adelaide, a blonde
beauty who is the epitome of the feminine ideal. Describing Adelaide
in conversation with his mother, Orville states,

'She is the most beautiful, the most graceful,
and the most charming maiden I ever saw. She is
fair, sweet and bright as a poet's vision of an
angel; and yet that does not do her full justice.
She is more than all I have described. I want one
comprehensive word--'

'Well, that word that describes Adelaide--what
is it?‘ she asked.

 

61bid., p. 176.

150

'Lovely! Yes, that's it. Other girls may be
beautiful, graceful, fascinating; Adelaide is all
that, and in addition to that, she is lovely.

'Aye; for loveliness in women includes all
excellencies--beauty, wisdom, goodness!‘ (The
Doom of Deville, p. 55.)

 

Thus, despite his appreciation for this cultivated, pure "angel", Deville
feels an intense desire for Lionne. However, Orville recognizes his duty
and abandons Lionne to live with Adelaide. The passionate Lionne,
however, is unwilling to postpone her gratification, as her selfless
rival has succeeded in doing. She commits herself to revenging her
dishonor and crops up at strategic moments to destroy Orville's
happiness. Her response thus provides the solution to Southworth's
plot conflict and resolves the dilemma of the hero's divided loyalties.
Orville admires Adelaide but passionately loves Lionne; together, they
represent the two sides of woman's nature. By yielding to her passions,
Lionne is transformed into an animal, losing her femininity, and as a
result, Orville's love. Instead he turns to the wife who is recognized
legally by society; he ultimately cultivates a finer, purer, and more
lasting love than would have ever been possible with purely sexual
Lionne. Adelaide has maintained a selfless, patient attitude, more
endearing and enduring than the short-spent, intense, passion of Lionne,
which could (and did) turn to hate.

Through a series of literary acrobatics, the daughter of the
marriage of Orville and Lionne is adopted by Adelaide and Orville:
her identity is, of course, unknown until the conclusion of the novel.
Significantly, Lady Adelaide cautions Deville that Perdita's wild,
passionate, and obviously sexual nature must be controlled for her

own well-being:

 

151

She is already too ardent, too impassioned, too
excitable! Her heart, and fancy, and imagination are
too impressible, too impetuous, too enthusiastic!
They need repressing, not stimulating! (The Doom
of Deville, p. 243.)

This excess of passion constitutes a critical flaw of women,
according to Southworth, which can mark them as villainesses. In

Ruth, the Faithful Bride, Madame Von Bruyin is spoiled and willful,

 

qualities which run contrary to the ideal of woman as selfless and
subordinate to men. In The Curse of Clifton, Georgia is also willing
to sacrifice her morality for her more immediate gratification. Georgia

admits,

I am not scrupulous. I am one who will do, dare,
or suffer anything! I ask no leave of earth or heaven!
I do what I will and take the consequences. There is
no pain or loss that I weigh with the loss of my love!
And not for the fear of eternal perdition--not for the
hope of everlasting salvation, will I forego the joy
of my mortal love! (The Curse of Clifton, p. 208.)

Georgia, referred to as "the dark lady", is guilty of making her passion
for a man more important than her sense of morality. She cries,

I, too, love Clifton! I loved him the first hour
I ever saw him. I have loved him ever since, more
madly for every obstacle dividing us! I have schemed,
dared, sinned for him! Twice he has been snatched from
me by fate...If there be any power in my own soul, on
earth, or in hell to help me, I will enlist it to give
me this one desire of my heart, this man's love! I
have lived for nothing else! Oh! angels and devils!
how we have suffered for him...NoW hear me! If you
dare to come between me and my love, I will find a
way to kill you! (The Curse of Clifton, p. 208.)

Georgia is thus guilty of worshipping false idols—-man instead of God.
Georgia is juxtaposed in the novel to Catherine, whose love for

Archer Clifton is expressed through selfless devotion, even at the

expense of her personal fulfillment. Catherine's love for Clifton is

primarily spiritual, and she loves him as she loves her God. She loves

 

152

him through her sense of morality, as opposed to the dichotomy expressed
by Georgia. She delcares,

He does not even notice me now. Yet I would
like to live with him, to serve him--myself unknown,
unnoticed. You are not the only one who has missed
earthly happiness I think it must be written in
the book of fate that we may not have those whom
we love too deeply——that we may not have idols. It
would make us too happy, in an existence designed'
chiefly for trial and probation...If we may not
have joy, there remain the peace and cheerfulness
found in duty. (The Curse of Clifton, pp. 210-211.)

 

Another type of villainess is the woman who exploits her beauty,
which is regarded as not only a gift of Heaven, but a reflection of

Heavenly grace. Juliette Summers, in Retribution, is a dark-haired

 

beauty whose exact background is obscure, an important issue in the
lineage conscious mythic South. She is befriended by good, though plain,
Hester Gray. Though Juliette's physical attributes are compelling, she
is described as dark and sinister:

As Miss Summers joined the young ladies in the
recreation room upon the evening of the day of her
arrival, she appeared a superb beauty, with the air
and manner of a princess. She was a tall and finely
formed brunette. Her small and classic head sat
proudly above a chest and shoulders of unequaled
grace and luxuriant beauty. Her abundant and
shining black hair was grained to droop in large,
smooth, glossy ringlets on each side of a face
whose richness of complexion could only have come
from Italy. But the glory of that matchless face
were the large, black eyes, with their long, black
fringes, so dusky and brooding one instant, so
melting and suffused the next, and suddenly so
resplendent with light and soul, and upon occasion,
so fierce and flaming in anger. There was a
mesmoric spell in those eyes. Indeed, the sinister
and inviting coquette had once, in an unguarded
hour, asserted that she had 'only to look into the
eyes of a man to make him love' her. (Retribution,
p. 35.)

 

 

153

This story is in some respects an Adam.and Eve parable, with Juliette
serving as temptress. Men are depicted as essentially weak creatures
who can be manipulated through their passions. As a result, the chief
issue in the novel is the morality of sexuality. Hester cautions
Juliette,

Ah! Juliette, love, you are right in thanking
Heaven for your gift of beauty. I do not agree with
the old saws that would have us disparage it. It is
a gift of high value, this 'mere physical beauty',
as it is sometime Contemptuously called. Like all
other blessings--of wealth, talent, or station-—it
involves a serious responsibility. (Retribution,

p. 17.)

 

Characters like Juliette Summers commit a moral sin by using their
sexuality to help them win social prominence and acceptance. In the
course of the novel, the unscrupulous Juliette bedazzles Hester's
guardian, Colonel Dent, to whom Hester is devoted. Juliette exploits
her beauty in order to win social approval for herself and the Colonel,
who lapses into a state of passivity that leads to his eventual downfall.
Juliette is drawn as a satanic figure who commits herself to the pagan
rites of passion without love. Such total abandonment of soul to one's
sexuality, while temporarily heightening experience, is actually too
intense for man's moral sensibilities and is self-destructive:
What enthusiasm, what inspiration, glows through

the being who has cast down reason and crowned Passion

in her stead; what high festival, what insane revelry,

what a jubilee, a carnival, she keeps up on the palace

of the soul, until, consumed by her own excesses, she
perishes in her own fires. (Retribution, p. 185.)

 

In Southworth's world, such moral sins are not left unpunished.
Juliette and her unethical husband are left in a state of purgatory,

in which their love is undermined by jealousy and mistrust:

 

154

There was no lasting peace or happiness for
them. A love sown in treason could not possibly
flourish in trust. Sin is its own retributor.
"God is his own interpreter." (Retribution,
pp. 184—185.)

 

Thus, the couple's attachment is transitory and impermanent in a world
in which ideal love is constant and everlasting. Juliette's ultimate
retribution is that she remains unfulfilled as a woman. Like Sisiphus,
she is doomed to forever flirt with those gentlemen who can be of use
to her. Southworth comments,

I had intended to have reviewed and analyzed
this woman's character and life, to have traced
from its germ the development of evil in her soul.
to have shown how she began by a dalliance with
sinful thoughts; how the entertaining of sinful
thoughts generated wrong desires, which grew to
evil passions; how the indulgences of these evil
passions became an inveterate habit; and how,
with all this, it had cost this sinner as much
of struggle, resistance, perseverance, to become
the demon she was, so ever it cost a Christian to
become a saint. Life is and must be a struggle.
The wrong-doer is as great a wrestler as the
right-doer, with this difference--that the saint
struggles against his worse nature, and the sinner
against his better nature. (Retribution, pp. 230-231.)

 

One other interesting villainess appears in the novels of

Mrs. Southworth. In The Three Beauties, Sinai Hinton is a Jewess who

 

serves as a companion to the heroine Winny. Beauty is a reflection of
spiritual grace in the world of Mrs. Southworth; conversely, Sinai's
appearance is a sign that she is not in harmony with this Christian
world. The author recounts a conversation between the young Sinai
and her mother:
'You go out alone, Sina! you have only your
cleverness to carve your fortune with; but you

can do it!‘

'If I were beautiful I could,‘ said Sina

 

155

'A woman with a fine pair of eyes can produce
the effect of beauty, or she can manufacture any
other beauty."

'What can a girl do with such a nose as I
have?‘ (The Three Beauties, pp. 13-14.)

 

The old Jewish sterotype appears as evidence of the absence of the
spiritual grace that appears in Sinai's counterpart, the blond Winny.
Sinai is portrayed as a godless creature who is more closely
related to the bestial side of man than his divine nature; this is

distinctly tied to the evolution of her race:

If there be any truth.in the old heathen
idea of the transmigration of souls--Sinai or
Sina Hinton's soul had ascended the scale of
creation, first through the subtle narcotic
poisons, then through the snake, the jay bird,
the cat, and had at last reached its most
powerful development in--Sinai Hinton. (Ehg
Three Beauties, p. 13.)

 

The struggle between good and evil appears as an internal conflict within
Sinai. She admits,

This is the truth, There was in me, as in
you, and in us all, originally, an angel and a
devil striving for pre-eminence. They kept up
in my soul such an eternal war that I had no
peace between them; so I just strangled and
cast out the angel, and the fiend has quiet
possession. (The Three Beauties, p. 59.)

Mrs. Southworth is consciously drawing an analogy with the Adam and Eve
story. Sina obviously lacks the spiritual strength to resist the
temptation of evil, which is the basis of Southworth's anti-semitism.
As a result, the villainess is susceptable to worldly, base, bestial
feelings. Southworth declares,
When Sina Hinton arrived at Oak Grove, the
fine old hall, the wealth of the estate, every
description, excited her admiration and envy--

envy of its heiress. Such a set of feelings
could not arise in a subtle and unprincipled

 

156

nature like hers without becoming the master
motives of her actions. She watched the
favorable points of her position. 'Why should
this silly, simpering little fool have all this
great plantation, and I, her cousin, have none?‘
(The Three Beauties, p. 59.)

 

Because of her undisciplined nature, Sinai is unwilling to accept her
unjust social position, which is ironically reinforced by the racist
portrait of the Jews in this very novel. Although Sinai's anger may be
justified, the true Christian in the mythic South accepts inequality.
Indeed, this forbearance designates them as angels rather than devils
in Southworth's eyes. Significantly, Sinai is guilty of envy, which
was the flaw of the serpent in the Adam and Eve story. The snake was
an instrument of Satan, rebellious against his inferior status in the
social heirarchy. In the course of the novel, Sinai likewise attempts
to undermine Winny's position in the plantation, much as Satan attemped
to overthrow God's ascendent position in Heaven. However, Winny
ultimately prevails and succeeds in casting Sinai out of the Southern

paradise, reestablishing her own position in society.

Black slaves are the chief source of humor in the novels of
Mrs. Southworth, a function which has served to perpetuate the racist
sterotype in the imagination of the American audience. Gaines explains,

The tradition insists that the plantation

black is intrinsically a clown...This quality

is all—pervasive; religion, superstition, music,

are frequently turned to ultimate ludicrous

effects.7

The use of the black character as comedic figure is an old convention

in American popular art, perhaps most visible in the minstrel shows.

 

7Ibid., p. 198.

157

Gaines observes,
These spectacles present over and over again the

sterotyped devices long fixed in popular conception.

The common 'sets' are the cabin by the cotton patch,

the levee by the river side...and sometimes a grave-

yard for the effects of superstition. Comedy is the

principal objective.8
Humor involves a process in which the audience is able to distance
itself from the essentially human foibles presented on stage. The black
characters behave in ways that the audience recognizes as laughable; and
this sense of superiority, which is an essential element of humor, is
fundamental to racism as well.

Mrs. Southworth's utilization of black characters for comic relief,
like her attitude toward racism and the institution of slavery, is not
consciously malevolent. Her aim is the accurate depiction of the Negro
character. She comments,

Jenny...a source of ever fresh entertainment to

the English girl, to whom negro character, not as it

is falsely presnted in books or comic songs, but as

it really exists in the South, full of indestructible

self-esteem, disinterested affections, and audacious

wit and humor, was entirely new, quaint, and piquant.
(The Missing Bride, p. 137.)

 

However in the very next sentence the author provides an illustration
of the childlike naivete which is the source of the slaves' audacity:

Not the least amusing to Marian was the air
of perfect kindness and sincerity with which Jenny
approved and patronized hgr, telling her that--the
English were 'Jes as good as white people when they
'haved themselves.‘ (The Missing Bride, p. 137.)

 

It is the black person's ignorance, then, that provides much of the
comedy in Southworth's novels; Jenny is unconscious of the incongruity

of her remark, so that the joke is esSentially shared by the white

 

8Ibid., p. 6.

158

characters in the book, as well as by members of the audience. Much of
the humor derives from Jenny's pretensions of understanding her world
(imagine a black woman approving and patronizing a white perSonl),

much like a little child playing grown-up. Humor is thus employed

to deflate the concerns of the black man by making him the object of
ridicule. The effect is to reduce him in status so that the reader
does not take the plight of the black man seriously. The humorous
treatment of the black works in other ways to undermine the audience's
respect for the black. Southworth includes in every novel long humorous
passages that attempt to duplicate the dialect of the slave. These
narratives are difficult to read, being filled with misspellings and
mispronounciations.

Well, Mars Tudor, I tole yer all dat; but I
didn't fink of tellin of yer all de little trivles
w'ich 'peared no 'count--sich as he makin' ob her
dress herse'f in her close to go 'long ob him--dose
berry close wot Miss Rufe gib her--dat warm cashy
gown, an' de little hat--all wot was tied up in de
bundle--did he make her take out an' put on to go
'long ob him genteel. No, I didn't tell yer dat;
nor likewise as how she 'beyed him in 'spect of
de close, but 'posed him when he tuk ebberyfin'
out'n de house an' lef' me nuffin. An' dey bofe
went 'way quarrelin'--quarrelin' werry bitter, an'
I yeard 'em at it till dey got out of yearin'--an'
next minit I heerd an awful screech, an' den anoder
an' anoder. An' I say: "Dere now," I say, "he's
beatin; of her, de brute!" An' den dere was silence.
An' I nebber t'ought no wass ob it, dan it war bad
'nuff, but not so uncommon as to keep ne 'wake.
(Ruth, the Faithful Bride, p. 13.)

 

Passages like these question the intellectual capacity of the black man.
The language is very childlike, as the slaves are incapable of pronouncing
particular consonant sounds like the letter "f" and the "TH" sound. That
these passages are so difficult to understand makes the black man appear

dense and incomprehensible. The narratives of the slaves generally

 

159

include long digressions that intentionally slow the plot. The slaves
simply cannot keep to the point, which reflects their lack of discipline.
Frequently it is the confused and overwhelmed slave who must impart
critical information in the novel; this irony is intended to provide the

humorous interludes in the novels. In The Doom of Deville, Old Nero is

 

called upon to describe his master's brush with death at the hands of
the Indians:

Here (Deville) was interrupted by his host,
who said, with a genial smile:

'Will my guest do me a favor? Will he let
this original genius, who is described as your
servant, come forward and relate his own and
his master's adventures? for I know,‘ he added
gracefully, 'that my young soldier will scarcely
do himself justice in his own narrative.‘

Deville bowed with a smile, and Old Nero,
who felt much reassured by the stately and kindly
presence of the master of the house, approached
and stood hat in hand.

'Well, you see, ole marse, when we fuss fell
in long 0' de amber-scalps--shades, I mean--de bushes
was so thick and 'structing dat Marse Awful--'

'He means Orville, my Christian name,‘ put in
the young officer.

'Awful or Offal, it's all de same, ole, marse,
only ef you dem keeps puttin' me out, you'll make
me forget to remember all about it, and now I shall
have to go back to the beginnin'!‘ said Old Nero,
in high dedgeon.

'Well, go on, you shall not be interrupted
again,‘ said the smiling host. (The Doom of
Deville, pp. 15-16.)

 

Old Nero's perception is distorted, as he cannot judge what is important
and What is not. Further, Nero's faulty logic dramatizes the deficient
sense of reason of the black man. He is filled with superstition,

feeling that the attack of the Indians was "de debbil's work". and

 

160

exaggerates the incidents all out of proportion. Like a child, the
black has only a limited understanding of this world.

The blacks occupy the lower stratum of society because in
Mrs. Southworth's novels they also reflect a lower moral order.
Blacks are portrayed as good-natured creatures who, unfortunately,
were not blessed with the virtues that could be rewarded socially.
Maude puts the prejudice in proper Southern perspective, remarking:

...I ask myself in fear and trembling, 'My

God! Who has made me to differ!...How I realize

that it is no merit of mine, that I am not one of

theme-as it is no fault of theirs that they are

poor and ignorant and diseased and hideous--as it

is not fault of mine that I am rich and intelligent
and fair and healthy. (The Lost Heiress, p. 195.)

 

God has, indeed, made Maude a morally disciplined soul, endowed with
refined taste and social position. The blacks, on the other hand,
are defined as children whose lack of restraint presumably prevents

them from attaining higher status. In The Missing Bride, the heroine

 

remains to defend her plantation against British invasion with two
slaves. Although Edith is a young, delicate and helpless maiden, she
still possesses a spiritual strength that makes her, in effect, the
parent of the two considerably older Negroes.
"Oh, Miss Edy! If you would please-~if you
would please to let we—dem sleep close by your
door dis ebenin!" pleaded Jenny. "Certainly,

if that will make your sleep the quieter," smiled
Edith. (The Missing Bride, p. 21.)

 

The black characters thus function as a humorous foil for the white
race. The cowardly slaves help to dramatize the courage of the young

white heiress. And, in The Doom of Deville, the chaos personified by

 

the befuddled slave Old Nero only emphasizes the perfect order and

rationality of the white protagonist. As a "chosen people", the white

 

161

race has a resevoir of moral strength which sustains them in times
of trial. Just before the invasion of the British, Old Oliver asks,

"But, oh, Miss Edy!...for Marster in Heaven's
sake, what'll 'come 0' you?" Edy replies, "What
the Master in Heaven wills." (The Missihg Bride,
p. 39.)

 

Of course, in Southworth's world, the Master in Heaven wills that
the white race prosper after enough of a trial to test its mettle.
As Oliver notes, somewhat ironically, the black race is held in
considerably lower esteem:
An' if de British do come and burn de house,
and heave we-dem into de fire jes' out of wanton,

it'll only be two poor, ole, unvaluable niggers
burned up. (The Missing Bride, p. 39.)

 

Because their spiritual faculties are undeveloped, blacks are
regarded as somehow subhuman and described almost like a specie of
animal. Southworth reflects;

"The animal affections are all stronger in
the Africans than in us; and among the strongest

is their attachment to the soil upon which they
have been brought up." (Retribution, p. 17.)

 

The slaves in Southworth's novels have a dim understanding of their
moral laxity and, as a result, accept their position in society.
Angels, a black slave, notes in conversation;
"...But, I haves to walk arter them there
lazy niggers from mornin' till night. I wish
I was their mistress."

"Miss Summerfield is merciful."

"T'aint no massy to spile a raft o' lazy
niggers!"

"You must bear your cross cheerfully."
"I do. I totes my crosses as strong as

anybody does, only I get tired and mad sometimes."
(The Three Beauties, p. 55.)

 

 

162

In The Missing Bride, which is set during the War of 1812, the black

 

slaves refer to the unscrupulous British invaders as "white niggers".

In other words, the enemy's excesses and abuses of the universal morality,
which involved burning plantations and molesting the women, reduced them
to sub-human status. These British "niggers" were contemptible to the
slaves because as white men they could discipline their natures; the
soldiers chose not to, however, and so were depraved and evil. It is
imperative to remind ourselves that this is how the hyhh_presents the
self-concept of the black slaves; and this discrepancy contributed to
some errors in judgment on the part of the Confederates during the Civil
War.

This irresponsible but cheerful disposition of the slaves in
Southern myth enables them to support the aristocratic system of the
South. While white people are charged with the duty of maintaining
the societal values, the childlike slave is free of those shackles.

Southworth notes, "The African race are constitutionally happy; they

will be happy under the most depressing circumstances." (Retribution,

 

p. 18.) The author at times seems to envy the simple, natural and
untroubled existence of the slave. "...Stella, with her head thrown
back over her chair, was sleeping the profound, deathlike sleep only

enjoyed by the child of Africa." (The Lost Heiress, p. 39.)

 

The slaves in Southworth's fiction are anxious to lead a moral
life, providing that they receive the guidance of their masters. The
author notes, "The Negroes are strongly inclined to worship, ready to

cooperate in anything of that sacred character." (The Curse of Clifton,

 

p. 268.) The slaves believe in a hereafter in which they will be taken

care of--a vision in conformity with the ideal of the Southern mythic

 

163

structure. However, the slaves are also superstitious, believing in a
world of spirits beyond the realm of Christian doctrine. Gaines observes,
Superstition is associated with paganism,

which is frowned upon in the Christian society

of the aristocratic South. In addition, these

superstitions are ludicrous to the white characters

and the audience; belief in these superstitions

is regarded as childish and humorous, as well as

barbarous. The fact that the slaves are in touch

with the supernatural world indicates that they

are not quite human.9
No matter how devoutly the slaves behave in the course of the novels, it
is always apparent that they have been converted to Christianity; in other
words, they have been led to the right path, rather than finding it
themselves, or, better yet, having been born to it. In the Christian
hierarchy, the black slave is a newcomer, carrying with him the remnants
of a savage and pagan past. In Southworth's novels, the fully realized
white characters subscribe to a fixed world which is without mystery. In
contrast, the black believe in a supernatural world that does not exist
(at least in the "civilized" world), thus appearing ludicrous to the
other characters in the novel and to the audience as well. Despite his
resolve to lead a moral and Christian life, the black slave is
incorrigible and seemingly cannot resist the minor transgressions
that keep him a sinner. Gaines remarks,

The darkey of romance is lazy, takes no

thought for the morrow, lies, steals...Various

other themes, such as ignorance and unchastity,

have reinforced the popular conviction that the

old-time Negro is cheerfully but irredeemably
outside the pale of moral accountability.10

 

9Ibid., p. 245.

loIbid., pp. 200-201.

164

In Southworth's Southern mythic society, the blacks participate in the
system and support the established societal roles. Southworth observes;

"...Poor, old Jenny had passed so much of’
her life in the family with 'the white folks'
that all her sympathies went with them-—and on
the state of their spiritual atmosphere depended
all her cheerfulness and comfort." (The Missing
Bride, p. 73.)

 

The slaves are not only devoted to their masters but are protective

of them as well. In The Hidden Hand, Old Hurricane's servant Wool

 

is 'grieved and indignant' when his master departs on'a long journey

without him:

Who's gwine to make his punch and warm his
bed and put his slippers on the hearth and hang
his gown to de fire?...They don't know his ways!"
(The Hidden Hand, p. 30.)

 

According to Mrs. Southworth, the slaves are intensely involved in the
dynamics of the household. The author explains,

Henrietta's matrimonial admonition had been
administered with all due privacy and discretion.
Yet what is there that transpires in a house full
of servants, especially old family servants, who
have an interest beyond mere curiosity in knowing
everything that happens, that is not discovered
and discussed? (The Missing Bride, p. 133.)

 

The blacks are not merely regarded as property, but as members of
the plantation family and as such have many more rights (freedom of
expression, for one) than would be expected in a slave state. "Old

Kill", a slave in The Three Beauties, considers himself a member of

 

the "first family of Virginia". And indeed, the darky is an integral
part of the social system, even in a subordinate position. Old Kill
is even a bit of a snob and is indignant that his mistress Winny eloped

with her impoverished tutor. He declares:

 

165

"That eber I should lib to see the day as Winny

'ould go and fetch a 'sgrace on top 0' wedem (us all)

by takin up long 0' a poor white herrin!" (The Three

Beauties, p. 71.)

The blacks assumed the last names of their masters so that they were
incorporated into the family of the plantation. The black characters
are supportive of the institution of slavery and, in Southworth's
post-Civil War novels, it is chiefly the blacks who have difficulty
adjusting to the emancipation proclamation, since it in effect makes
them homeless orphans.

Despite their animal natures, the black males of Mrs. Southworth's
novels are essentially asexual. One way in which the author handles
this rather delicate issue is to remove young, virile black men from
sight. All one sees in Mrs. Southworth's South are either very young
or harmless old black men; presumably all of the healthy, virile black

men are working the fields during the course of the plantation dramas.

In The Missing Bride, Old Oliver the slave requests permission to sleep

 

in the same vicinity as Edy; however, Oliver has been so affected by
age, servitude, and his submissive nature that the reader is not
offended by this violation of social taboo. Indeed, the black slave
has been almost entirely deprived of his manhood. All of those noble
qualities of courage and strangth are absent in the black man, and he
must seek protection from even the young white women. Old Pontius

Pilate, the faithful black slave in The Discarded Daughter, is far

 

more frightened by the events of the novel than are the white women.
Pontius is far less concerned with solving the mystery of the
ransacking of the plantation than he is relieved that he and his

white "family" were absent:

 

166

...I does werily b'lieve how de Britishers
is a been a landin' ag'in, or else Bonnypart.
Chris' de Lor' be praised, ole mist', dat I an'
you wa'n't home when dey came. (The Discarded

Daughter, p. 62.)

 

Pontius' cowardice is most evident in this passage; for, despite his
regard for his mistress, he puts himself first when thinking of safety,
which would be inconceivable in the white gentleman. Indeed, the black
slave who has been emasculated and reduced to the domestic care of his
master, is not unlike the unliberated female presented in Southworth's
fiction. He is temperamental, fussy, and extremely possessive of his
rights in taking care of his master. Slaves appear in the role of butler,
driver, cook, and household servant; the subordinate role of the black in
romanticized Southern culture is a reflection of the limited intellectual,
emotional, and spiritual capacity of the black man. Southworth declares,
To be the personal attendant of Mr. Orville Deville,

lieutenant in his majesty's provincial corps and heir

to Riverview of Maryland, (the slave Nero) considered

just the greatest honor that could be enjoyed by a

person of his color. In fact, Nero seemed to consider

that there was but one greater man than his master's

servant, and that was his master's self. (The Doom
of Deville, p. 6.)

 

References are also made to the various classes of slaves in
Mrs. Southworth's novels, namely the field and house slaves. Boyle
declares that, "Apparently, Mrs. Southworth was one of the first to
portray in fiction this marked distinction."11 The field hands are
mere physical presences around the plantation and are employed for

the physical aptitude rather than for any other qualities. It is

no coincidence that in The Missing Bride the field laborer's name

 

is Stupe. Southworth declares,

 

llBoyle, Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth: NoVelist, p. 89.

167

All the field laborers, except for Stupe, had
also gone to church. This last named individual
was a sort of nondescript functionary about the
premises--useful in nothing but implicit and
literal obedience." (The Missing Bride, p. 156.)

 

The black women in Mrs. Southworth's novels are, as previously
noted, portrayed as maternal figures who raise the white children on
the plantation and serve as nurses in times of need. Gaines observes,

Related to her whites in the capacity of nurse,

she is the most affectionately regarded. She is,

in fact, the subject of many rich metaphors. Her

devotion surely passes all description...This

fullness of love is usually only implicitly in

the tradition.12
Even though their intellectual capabilities are stunted, it is significant
that these black "mammies" exhibit a rich emotional nature that exceeds
that of white women. Of course, without the intellectual and moral
capacity to govern these feelings, the black women are simultaneously

both maternal and comic figures.

Old Jenny in The Missing Bride is the epitome of the good hearted,

 

nurturing mother figure; at the same time, however, she is a misdirected,
rambling woman who has only a limited understanding of the events that
shape her and the others in the novel. Jenny is described as "excessively

social and loquacious, like all her race". (The Missihg Bride, p. 124.)

 

She regards all of the other characters in the novel, regardless of race
or station, as her "chillun", and shamelessly mothers them all. Both the
characters and the author accept this mothering with good humor, as this
is her legitimate function. The black women ruled those sectors of the
plantation house which corresponded with their abilities and capabilities.

Nancy, a mulatto wet nurse in The Hidden Hand, was in charge of the

 

 

12Gaines, The Southern Plantation, p. 191.

 

bedroom where the young heroine lay ill; here she reigns supreme,
ordering even Old Hurricane out of the sick chambers until her patient
is completely recovered. The kitchen is another room where the black
woman predominates. There is a notable absence of scenes that take
place in this area, since it is so much the province of the black
woman that there is little reason for the white folks to intrude.
However, in Southworth's Southern society, the traditional womanly
duties which involve routine and drudgery, as well as the strong

emotional foundation, are furnished by the black woman.

168

CONCLUS ION

Thus, the popular fiction of Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth depicts
a mythic society which was widely accepted as an accurate picture of
Southern culture. The novels of Mrs. Southworth portray the South as
an aristocratic society founded on a republican class structure. This
mythic culture is based upon an absolute value system which mirrors
the harmonious order of heaven.

Popular culture is a pervasive influence in society, not only
reflecting the prevailing attitudes and beliefs of the public but also
serving to inculcate values in young audiences. Popular art reduces
the distance between art and life, so that the public frequently regards
a popular image as an accurate historical account. As a result, it is
important that scholars seriously consider popular literature, such as
the novels of Mrs. Southworth, as a means of understanding the attitudes

and values that shape and define a culture.

169

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