One of the most important tools Chaucer utilizes to present his theme is his poem’s form. “Truth” is divided into four stanzas of seven lines each, including the envoy, with each stanza having a rhyme scheme of ABABBCC. The rhyme scheme adds a cadence to the poem that not only keeps readers’ attention, but acts as a link for the poems first seventeen lines that are otherwise unrelated to one another; “flee fro the prees, and dwelle with soothfastnesse” and “for hord hath hate, and climbing tikelnesse” are two pieces of advice that individually have nothing to do with one another, however the poem’s rhyme scheme reminds readers that they are connected in addressing the poem’s overall goal of personal improvement (1, 3). Similarly, Chaucer also ends each stanza with a series of couplets that accomplish the same goal of unifying two separate thoughts to relate to a larger theme. The speaker also utilizes a refrain at the end of each stanza to bring readers back full circle, and remind them what the speaker is ultimately addressing. “And trouthe shal delivere, it is no drede” concludes each stanza by not only reminding the recipient that the truth will set him free, but also ties each stanza back to the poem’s title by being the only lines that mention the word “truth” (7, 14, 21, 28). Chaucer utilizes both the poem’s rhyme scheme and its refrain to keep a series of unrelated lines fluid and cohesive in navigating the reader to the poem’s central theme of truth and eternal life.

A large portion of “Truth’s” content can be found in the wise sayings that make up the first seventeen lines. Chaucer notes that his poem could alternatively be known as “Balade de bon conseyl” because of its focus on advising its readers. Within his structured form, Chaucer uses a specific rhetoric when stating his lessons; While a poem that titles itself after “good counsel” would be expected to provide thorough advice on how to reach an intended goal, Chaucer takes the opposite approach and instead advises the recipient on what not to do. “Savour no more than thee bihove shal” is advice that gives readers no direction other than to not eat too much (5). Aside from being uninspiring and unoriginal, the advice also makes no attempt to point the person receiving the poem in the right direction. If Chaucer demonstrated typical characteristics of advice, he would instead focus on informing what should be eaten to reach a goal, rather than providing a cautionary generality. The poem’s speaker opens the second stanza with the same form of frustrating abstraction, stating readers should “tempest three nought al crooked to redresse” (8). While the line advises against trying to put things right in the world, it also provides no deducible advice towards achieving the poem’s goal of bettering oneself eternally. The trend found within the sayings presents readers with the impression that Chaucer felt you could improve yourself simply by not practicing negative habits, while proactive and positive practices played no role the pursuit of eternal happiness.

After Chaucer provides his advice on what not to do, he changes his strategy of persuasion by creating a metaphor of mortal life as an untamed wilderness. After addressing the world in the previous line, the speaker states that “here is noon hoom, here nis but wildernesse,” directly establishing that “here” (earth) is wilderness (17). Chaucer builds on this metaphor by referring to the recipient as a “beste” and advising him to go forth “out of thy stal” (18). The extended metaphor informs the recipient that not only is the earth uncivilized wilderness, but that he is a part of it as a beast contained by the conventions of the world, needing to break free. Chaucer last touches upon the metaphor when he addresses the poem’s recipient as Vache, the French word for cow. By following his advice to not contribute to the mortal world with trivial things, and create the perception that the mortal world is nothing more than untamed wilderness, Chaucer instills that the only way to become civilized or more than a beast, is to focus on the eternal aspects of life.

Following his series of advice on what not to do, Chaucer shifts the tone of the poem entirely. Up until line eighteen the poem consists of declarative phrases that give no indication as to who they are written for. In line 18 however Chaucer’s tone becomes more personal as he directly addresses the poem’s recipient, who is thought to be one of his acquaintances, Sir Philip de la Vache. The shift can be seen immediately in the speaker’s directions for the reader to go “forth” (18). The line marks the first instance of direct instruction that is soon followed by pro-active religious counsel as opposed to the previously used instructions on what not to do. The speaker implores that the reader should “look up, thank God of al” and “crye him mercy” (19, 23). There is a distinct contrast between the first half of Chaucer’s poem that uses negative phrasing to give advice regarding the mortal and temporary world and the positive and directive phrasing regarding eternal topics found at the poem’s conclusion.

One of the most prevalent conventions shared by both Avatar and The Sovereignty and Goodness of God is the stories’ tendencies to cast the natives in a negative light to benefit the appearance of the colonizers. Despite encroaching on the Native American’s land, at the opening of Rowlandson’s text she is amazed when her town is under siege. She describes the Indians as “murtherous wretches,” “bloody heathen” and “merciless heathen” as they “went on, burning and destroying before them” (68-69). Rowlandson’s account neglects to consider the Indians’ motivation in attacking, and rather she assumes the attack is unprovoked by the “barbarous creatures” (70). She continues labeling as she makes a point to emphasize when the Natives are being discussed in her text by italicizing the word “Indian” whenever she refers to them, as if she were vocally saying the word with disgust. In doing so, she distinguishes the Indians not as people, but rather as “them” which creates a contrast between white people and natives as “them” and “us”, a tool used to distinguish good and evil. After labeling the savages as antagonists and Rowlandson’s captivity continues, the Indians begin to show her kindness and signs of humanity, often times “[meeting her] with favour” (85). Despite their efforts however, Rowlandson’s opinions remain unshaken; immediately after being given horse liver to eat, she still ironically refers to them as “merciless enemies” (81). Regardless of the humanization Rowlandson or her readers witness, she continues to overlook their goodness because of her innate opinions of superiority.

Cameron similarly displays the natives as “others” in an attempt to romanticize the colonists as protagonists. In addition to their blue skin that clearly distinguishes them, the Navi are displayed in a primitive manner through their simple weapons and scarce clothing; the basic lifestyles establish a clear contrast with the humans who come to them through advanced technology. One officer encompasses the humans’ perceptions by referring to the Navi as “blue monkeys.” The label, similar to Rowlandson’s use of italics, contrasts the Navi not only for their skin color, but also comments on their primitiveness by calling them monkeys, an animal widely thought to be a less-evolved human. While most of the humans from Earth share these views of the Navi, Colonel Quaritch reflects Rowlandson’s animosity as he continuously comments on the tenacity and ferociousness of the Navi. Like Rowlandson, Quaritch fails to ever shift his perceptions despite being presented evidence that the Navi are peaceful. The first half of the film clearly draws from the conventions of early American writing, as Cameron depicts the arrogant and superior perspective of the humans who look down upon the Navi to glorify themselves as great explorers and opportunists.

Both storytellers also utilize the early American conventional perception of religion and faith; Rowlandson holds her Christian faith in such high regard that she is unable to understand the religious and spiritual practices of the Indians, deciding that they are merely “a company of hell-hounds, roaring and singing” (70). Rowlandson’s description is hypocritical at best, as she often time reminisces on being able to go to church on the Sabbath and praise her own God. Because Rowlandson relies heavily on a faith that the Indians do not share, she concludes they are godless savages who act only for personal and worldly gain. Despite modern common knowledge that Native Americans are very in tune with nature and have deep spirituality, Rowlandson is certain there is a “vast difference between the lovely faces of Christians and the found looks of [those] heathens” (94). While their skin color and technology are the predominant factors in determining the Natives worth, lack of a Christian faith also plays a large role for Rowlandson and her fellow settlers.

The spiritual practices of the Navi are also cast aside, as Quaritch attacks their sacred tree of life, and overlooks their connection to nature. While Christianity is never directly addressed in Cameron’s film, because of the Navi’s primitive technology their beliefs are also thought to be as such by the humans. Quaritch disregards the Navi’s claimed deep connection to nature and their praise of the nature spirits, as he feels nature is no match for his artillery. Like early American literature, Cameron’s plot capitalizes on the religious convention of blindly following one’s faith to the degree of underestimating another’s.

While Cameron’s film Avatar shares many of the conventions found in early works such as Mary Rowlandson’s The Sovereignty and Goodness of God, he gradually subverts these conventions and highlights the flawed bias of early American literature. When the story’s hero Jake Sully begins being integrated into the Navi society, his views of the “savage” race begin to shift; he witnesses compassion and humanity within a race that has been labeled as ferocious. As Sully continues his journey through the Navi culture, he exposes viewers to the goodness of the race that had been ignored early on by Quaritch and other humans. While the humanity of the Navi is slowly uncovered, the validity in their faith is shown to Sully and the audience as well; the Navi demonstrate the beauty of nature and the power of their connection to it by being able to physically connect to creatures and land. At the film’s climax the viewers join Sully as he and the Navi utilize their primitive technology and relationship with nature to overthrow the ruthlessness of the invading humans. The event marks a shift in Cameron’s narrative, as he no longer relies on the utilized conventions to support the humans’ causes, but rather flips them to justify the efforts of the indigenous Navi. While Cameron begins his film with a common convention of casting the natives as savages to illuminate the actions of colonists, he does so to subsequently demonstrate the absurdity and tyranny of such views, ultimately undermining the bias and narrow-minded perceptions of most early American literature.

Mrs. Bennet instigates most of the Bennet family’s marital talks through her obsession with social escalation. She immediately opens the novel by informing her husband “a young man of large fortune” has moved into the neighborhood, and she insists he introduce himself, as it is “a fine thing for [their] girls” (3). When Mr. Bennet questions the benefits for his daughters, Mrs. Bennet declares that “it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them,” thus allowing them to inherit his fortune (3). Mrs. Bennet’s justification is hopeful at best, as one can obviously not force anyone to fall in love. Her statement quickly reveals to readers she neglects realism by using optimistic words such as “likely” and “may” that give her statements little validity. Mr. Bennet confirms this by mocking her logic, and insisting that she is “over scrupulous” (4). Mrs. Bennet later displays her absurdity by plotting that Jane travel to Mr. Bingley’s by horseback, knowing that a storm was approaching and she would be “obligated” to stay the night at Netherfield. In this instance Austen uses circumstances to highlight the ignorance of Mrs. Bennet: While her plan works and Jane is forced to stay the night with Mr. Bingley, she becomes soaked on the ride over and becomes so ill she is bed ridden. The series of events demonstrates Mrs. Bennet’s careless thought process that only seeks personal benefit and pays very little attention to the harm or expense of others (as later seen in her careless embarrassment of her daughters). Mr. Bennet again sarcastically mocks his wife’s frivolous chase of social advancement by stating “if [their] daughter should…die, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley” (22). Mr. Bennet’s sarcasm reminds readers that the unnecessary risk Jane undertook was for the sole purpose of pursuing an advantageous courtship, at the request of Mrs. Bennet. Even the narrator takes the opportunity to criticize Mrs. Bennet’s practices, stating she was so proud of her idea it was “as if the credit of making it rain were all her own” (22). The narrator’s comment provides a final piece to Mrs. Bennet’s repertoire of absurdity that already includes skepticism from her husband as well as circumstantial follies with her selfish plots. While her intentions are pure and she ultimately wants what’s best for her daughters, her inability to adequately rationalize situations creates a poor depiction of wealth-seeking mothers during the 18^th century.

One of the narratives’ first descriptions of Mr. Collins insists that he “was not a sensible man” (48). He lacks the intelligence to impress the likes of Mr. Bennet, and possesses enough arrogance regarding his own social standing to hardly notice criticism directed towards him. After being described in the narrative as less than intelligent, and amusing Mr. Bennet only by being as “absurd as he had hoped,” Mr. Collins quickly establishes his lackluster intellect (47). As the second “absurd” character introduced by Austen, that uncoincidentally shares the beliefs of Mrs. Bennet regarding marriage, Mr. Collins’ character acts as re-enforcement regarding Austen’s own opinion towards 18^th century marriage. True to the story’s opening line, Collins is in search of a wife to share his wealth with and he quickly deduces that Elizabeth Bennet is his best option (but only after hearing that Jane is unavailable). After Elizabeth declines his offer, he quickly settles on Charlotte Lucas and proposes. Charlotte accepts, but the narrator is quick to imply it is “solely from the pure and disinterested desire of an establishment” (83). By demonstrating little thought in his selection of a spouse, and being accepted by someone who demonstrates similar selfish interests, Mr. Collins continues his representation of the high opinion that “a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Furthermore, by depicting him as an unintelligent bachelor who has few requirements for his suitor, Austen extends her representation of those who support class-elevating marriage to encompass a second “absurd” character.

While both Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Collins represent the ideals of advantageous marriage in a society Austen felt gave unfair advantage to men (Mr. Collins’ inheritance of the Bennet’s estate) and left few options for women, their characterization acts as a means of undermining their represented values. The satire contained within each character coincides perfectly with the satire contained in Pride and Prejudice’s opening lines; while much of the novel demonstrates aristocratic relationships and shallow marriages for personal gain, Austen ultimately uses humor and subtle wit contained within each character to impair society’s overall views on what was then a social norm.

Towards the end of Twain’s career, he published a short article entitled “How to Tell a Story” that essentially reveals his formula for satire. Twain opens by stating “there are several kinds of stories, but only one difficult kind – the humorous” (HTTS). Right away Twain establishes the complexities behind a form that presents itself with multiple layers: “the comic story and the witty story upon the matter” (HTTS) Twain notes that while the humorous story develops upon a topic of something silly or exaggerated, it is founded on a serious issue that is worthwhile to deliver. Much of the success in delivery relies on the relationship between the teller and his or her audience, and their ability to captivate the audience enough to nonchalantly address the issue. In Twain’s case, that issue was often criticism of government, politics, religion or the general attitudes of the common people.

While the process of creating such a story might be complex, Twain’s recipe is simple, with the first part relying solely on the story’s teller. The story must be “told gravely,” with the storyteller “doing his best to conceal the fact that he even dimly suspects that there is anything funny about it” (HTTS). In the case of Twain’s writings, all three of the selected stories are told form a serious, third person perspective, and in the case of “The Notorious Jumping Frog” and “Cannibalism,” readers are introduced to story tellers who descriptively maintain serious demeanors when delivering their stories. Twain notes, “the humorous story may be spun out to great length, and may wander around as much as it pleases, and arrive nowhere in particular” (HTTS). His own works support this as he focuses his stories on jumping frogs, overly religious boys, and cannibals that all stretch the boundaries of people’s expectations and imaginations when digesting a story as truth. The final element to Twain’s humorous formula is that the story “finishes with a nub, point, or whatever” that the storyteller will drop in a “carefully casual and indifferent way, with the pretence that he does not know it is a rub” (HTTS). If executed successfully, Twain’s formula for a humorous story leaves readers unexpectedly finishing the tale with a newfound lesson or “nub,” while writing off its delivery as unintentional because of the story’s exaggeration and the narrator’s serious delivery. This blueprint for story telling is largely responsible for Twain’s ability to share his blunt and offensive “nubs” with the public while keeping his writing from being blacklisted.

One of Twain’s first stories utilizing his rules of humor was “The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County,” a short story about a gambling-addict man named Jim Smiley that ran in the New York Saturday Press in 1865. The story’s narrator is seeking a man named Leonidas W. Smiley for a friend of his in the east, and is instructed to inquire with an old man named Simon Wheeler. Wheeler backs the narrator into a corner and having heard him mistakenly, begins telling him the story of Jim Smiley. Twain’s narrator notes that while telling his story, Wheeler “never changed his voice from the … initial sentence” and “all through the interminable narrative there ran a vein of impressive earnestness and sincerity, which showed [the narrator] plainly that…he regarded it as a really important matter” (NJFCC). Twain meets the first of his criteria early, with his storyteller (Wheeler) seemingly delivering an entirely serious account of Jim Smiley to the story’s narrator. The narrator acts as a mediator between Twain’s story and his audience, as he assures readers that Wheeler’s delivery was sincere, and for the time being they should listen to his story. To ensure that the narrator’s reaction to the story doesn’t influence the audience’s reactions, Twain has the narrator make careful note that he “let [Wheeler] go on in his own way, and never interrupted him once,” giving readers the opportunity to catch the story’s “rub” without it being influenced in one way or another by the narrator  (NJFCC). Because in his own delivery the narrator seriously claims that the storyteller is sincere, Twain creates a story within a story that has both narrators abiding to his rules for presenting a humorous tale, ultimately adding another degree of separation (and protection) between Twain and his insults.

Wheeler’s tall tale discusses a man named Jim Smiley from the west who has an addiction to gambling. Wheeler notes “he was always ready and laying for a chance” to bet on anything, even the most absurd things you could think of; “if there was two birds setting on a fence, he would bet you which one would fly first” (NJFCC). Wheeler begins to stretch the story and create the tall tale by insisting that Smiley would follow a bug to Mexico to settle where it was going, or by insisting that Smiley bet against the healthy recovery of Parson Walker’s wife, stating he’d “risk two- and-a-half that she don’t [get well]” (NJFCC). Twain knows very few people would be so rude as to bet against the health of another, or as crazy as to follow a bug to Mexico, and because of this he has established his exaggeration and can begin involving a greater significance. The story goes on to tell that eventually Smiley had a mare he would bet on, and then a ferocious fighting-dog named Andrew Jackson, followed by a frog named Dan’l Webster that he taught to jump. J.J. Krause notes in his article “The Art and Satire of Twain’s ‘Jumping Frog’” that “Twain employs an order of increasing detail and of ascending absurdity and fantasy” that creates a mask for him to unleash his satire and deliver his criticism behind (Krause 565). Smiley continues capitalizing on people’s gullibility, and swindles them out of their money as they try to bet against his trained animals.

With the absurdity in place Twain begins to employ his “rub,” in this case a negative commentary of western society. The narrator hints that he is from the east, as that is where his friend wrote him from. Establishing that the narrator is from the east creates a contrast between the narrator and the people he is associated with in the story, in this case Wheeler and Smiley. Twain’s criticism of western society is the common people’s overoptimistic outlook and reliance on luck as they aggressively embarked on the Western Frontier. Jim Smiley embodies this through his “uncommonly lucky” nature (NJFCC). Smiley meets a visitor and bets him that his frog can jump higher than any other frog. The traveler takes him up on his bet, and Smiley eagerly goes to find another frog to compete against, leaving Dan’l with the stranger who feeds him shots and weighs him down, resulting in him losing to the untrained frog. Krause notes that Smiley “had the perennial optimism of the gambler, which was the optimism of the west itself,” so when Smiley is tricked out of his money by playing his own optimism against him, Twain is essentially commenting on the overconfidence and gullibility found within American western civilization (Krause 567). The lesson presented by Twain is “that of a moral satire in the classical mode,” presenting to readers a man who is overconfident and dependant upon luck, who is beaten only by his own game. After Smiley loses, Wheeler is interrupted by someone outside and the narrator jumps at the opportunity to get away from “a continuation of the history of the enterprising vagabond” that held no real value to him (NJFCC). With that both Wheeler and the narrator conclude their individual stories, each without any implications of an underlying significance: allowing Twain to publish a story that becomes seen as a popular tall tale rather than its true satire and scrutiny of American western civilization.

Following “The Notorious Frog” Twain published another short story in 1870 that scolded American society and religion for misleading the country’s youth through parables and news stories. Twain’s “Disgraceful Persecution of a Boy,” is a story about a young boy being jailed for stoning a Chinaman on his way to Sunday school. The story is told from a third person narrator who uses thick sarcasm and cynicism to scoff the hypocrisies of racism and politics, yet leads the reader through a series of exaggerated events and thoughts that illogically land the boy in jail, acting as Twain’s “tall tale.” Twain begins by openly questioning “what a commentary is this upon human justice,” that a young Christian boy would be jailed for killing an immigrant (DPB). Sarcasm rings loudly through the question, as justice would obviously be served to anyone for killing, but the stage is set for a humorous progression of thoughts as Twain continues to sarcastically explain the “injustice” of jailing a child for murder.

The narrator makes many uneducated assumptions that add little validity to the story and merely act as a way for Twain to provide his own social commentary on how a boy would ideally be led to such an extreme action. The narrator notes that the boy was “well-dressed,” which means we can assume his parents were intelligent, which means we can assume they were “well-to-do people,” meaning they probably had “just enough natural villainy in their composition to make them yearn after the daily papers and enjoy them” (DPB). The assumptions continue further, with the boy learning about unlawful mining taxes through these papers, which taught him about racial perceptions among other white men, eventually leading him to conclude several paragraphs later that America was “an asylum for the poor and the oppressed” and that “Chinaman had no right that any man was bound to respect” (DPB). Twain’s series of connections and progressions from wearing nice school clothes to the stoning of a Chinaman heavily criticizes the manner in which Americans quickly and hypocritically justify their own acts of racism culturally and within the law. The narrator insists, “everything conspired to teach him that it was a high and holy thing to stone a Chinaman, and yet he no sooner attempts to do his duty than he is punished for it” (DPB). The most pertinent word being “duty” in that society corrupted the boy to think it is his obligation, as an American and a Christian to act violently towards the Chinamen and put him in his place. In this short story, Mark Twian’s criticism rings a little louder than before as it hides behind a much weaker comedy.

In 1868 Mark Twain published a short story that attempted to capitalize on society’s recent fears by creating a tall tale out of it. Several years after news began to spread about the Donnor Party and their acts of cannibalism for survival, Twain wrote “Cannibalism in the Cars,” a story that needed little stretching or exaggerating because of people’s established fears surrounding the brutality of the act. Adam Brooke Davis and Gerd Herm assert in their article “At the Margins of Taste and the Center of Modernity” that what lies behind Twain’s story is “not a particular source” for his tall tale, “but an environment of socially and culturally amorphous anxieties” (Davis & Herm 52). Because of this Twain’s story is not satire hiding behind the unbelievable and absurd that people disregard, but rather it is hiding behind the unbearable that people are struggling not to believe (with a little absurdity to top it off). The final effect is the same, in that Twain’s audience will want to disregard the situation at the story’s conclusion, allowing Twain to present whatever social commentary he’d like.

“Cannibalism in the Cars” has many narrative similarities to “The Notorious Jumping Frog.” Readers are introduced to a narrator who is traveling west and encounters an intriguing gentleman at a train station in St. Louis. The two talk for some time about various subjects, however upon hearing someone mention the name “Harris” the man is reminded of a story he wishes to share with the narrator. Similar to how Wheeler begins Jim Smiley’s story after being asked about Leonadas W. Smiley, the man had no intention of sharing his tale with the narrator until the name Harris is overheard. By depicting the story’s inspiration as accidental and unintentional, in both stories Twain strengthens his comedic formula by insuring readers that the storyteller has no intention of delivering a deep significance, and is just casually talking. Also similar to the narrator of “Frogs,” this narrator also agrees to not interrupt the tale, once again allowing readers to be receptive of the story’s nubs without being influenced. Davis and Herm note that “the narrative frame certainly enables the ‘deadpan delivery’ which Twain thought essential…which gives the reader or auditor the pleasure of analytic exercise, realization and discovery” when receiving the story (Davis & Herm 52). The readers are so captivated with the man’s story that they most likely will fail to entirely notice the criticism presented by Twain.

“Cannibalism in the Cars” unfolds as a Donnor-esque scenario in which the men aboard a train become stranded in snow and are forced to eat each other to survive. The gentlemen take it upon themselves to establish a system of voting and procedures to determine who the fairest candidate is to sacrifice his life at the expense of the others’ appetities. While the story satirically jests at the most absurd cases politicians would hold their policies to, “the story is not just about politicians, but about a general cultural tendency to ‘politicize’ crisis as a way of evading or reinterpreting it” (Davis & Herm 55). The criticism touches just one more facet of American society, but is still just as deceptively delivered as Twain’s previous critiques.

While Twain’s opinions were often times masked, his satire and tall tales weren’t able to prevent everyone from reading through to his criticism, and as a result his writing was met with much conflict in public eyes. Arthur Vogelback notes that after many years of publishing, “he was looked upon for the most part as a literary comedian, a prankster in prose, an any attempt of his to say something serious…was regarded as a joke in disguise” (Vogelback 111). It was said after his first many years writing, “only a small portion of his writing has any place as literature, the rest being nothing more than jokes and gimmicks (Phelps 541). Fortunately if the public was interpreting Twain as merely a prankster because of his tall tales, they most likely didn’t understand the depths of them to begin with as Twain was more than capable of addressing serious issues – proving his methods to be successful. The New York Tribune called Twain “not only a wit, but a shrewd and accurate observer” who presented “not merely food for laughter, but subjects for reflection” (Vogelback 111).  Reflection indeed, as Twain more often then not used his tall tales to show a condition of American society, be it religion, media or politics that wasn’t always the most pleasing. Despite his negative feedback from many, Twain was ultimately viewed as “more than a buffoon… he was a writer of considerable descriptive and stylistic power with marked gifts as a critic of his time” (Vogelback 111).

It has been said that Mark Twain’s humor is “purely American;” ironically enough, the same humor in which he criticizes, scrutinizes and critiques America with only a portion of his immediate readers ever noticing (Phelps 543). Twain represents more than just a humorist however, as he started a breed of writers who are “continually quarrelling with their culture…[finding] fault with conditions that most Americans are relatively quite content to life with” (McCullough 591). Through his tall tales and exaggerations, Twain is able to take some of the edge off his sharp opinions that he felt were necessarily to deliver to the public. And while the literary masks didn’t prevent everyone from noticing what he was trying to say, they did give him a scapegoat to use to protect his writings as a whole. One of the most important elements in Twain’s humorous stories is the relationship between the storyteller and the audience; While it is meant to be the text’s storyteller, Twain demonstrates that his ability to generate a story and present it to the public for open interpretation is just as crucial.

Works Cited

Davis, Adam B., and Gerd Hurm. “At the Margins of Tast and the Center of Modernity: Mark Twain’s “Cannibalism in the Cars”" New Literary History 29.1: 47-65. JSTOR. Web. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/20057467>.

Krause, S.J. “The Art and Satire of Twain’s “Jumping Frog” Story.” American Quarterly 16.4 (1964): 562-76. JSTOR. Web. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/2711148>.

McCullough, Joseph. “Mark Twain and Journalistic Humor Today.” The English Journal 60.5 (1971): 591-95. JSTOR. Web. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/813068>.

Twain, Mark. “Cannibalism in the Cars.” 1868.

Twain, Mark. “Disgraceful Persecution of a Boy.” Galaxy. 1870.

Twain, Mark. “How to Tell a Story.” 1897.

Twain, Mark. “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County.” The New York Saturday Press 1865. Print.

Phelps, William Lyon. “Mark Twain.” The North American Review 185.618 (1907): 540-48. JSTOR. Web. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/25105927>.

Vogelback, Arthur. “Mark Twain: Newspaper Contributor.” American Literature 20.2 (1948): 111-28. JSTOR. Web. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/2921376>.

The first eleven years of Harry’s life are spent persevering his upbringing by Muggle aunt and uncle in an unhealthy, abusive environment. The Dursleys essentially treat Harry like a slave, displaying directly and indirectly their desire to live without him and forcing him to carry out many of the household chores that would stereotypically be assigned to someone of a lesser class. While the situation could be perceived that Harry should merely be grateful to have anywhere to live, because the Dursley’s spoil their son Dudley a direct comparison is made between the two boys that clearly distinguishes the abuse Harry endures. Despite having an extra room in the house, Harry is forced to sleep in the closet under the cupboard, and the house itself “held no sign at all that [a second child] lived” there (18). Harry is not just treated as the unfavored child, but the lacking evidence of his presence in the house demonstrates the Durselys’ open opinion that he is an obligation they want nothing to do with. In addition to having a closet for a bedroom, “all [Harry] had to wear were old clothes of Dudley’s” (20). While the gesture could be seen as simple sibling hand-me-downs, the clothes were unreasonably too large for Harry and simply reflected the Dursley’s desire to do as little as necessary for their nephew in light of their spoiling Dudley. While the Dursley’s actions clearly reflected their opinions regarding Harry, their words did as well “often [speaking] about Harry…as though he wasn’t there” (22). While the Dursley’s verbally omit Harry’s presence, they also directly engage him as well, informing Dudley to “poke him with [his] smelting stick” or telling him his magical heritage is “nothing a good beating wouldn’t cure” (33,56). Rowlings makes a connection between Harry’s treatmeant and slaves, who were often whipped and beaten to force them to act as the master wished.

The Dursley’s actions towards Harry can be attributed to their perception and opinions regarding witches and wizards. The night before Harry is brought to the Dursleys, Vernon states that “the Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind” (8). “Their kind” implies a direct distinction that Vernon makes between himself and the Potters’ “crowd,” a distinction he uses to place himself in a higher regard (7). Vernon’s views towards the Potters stems from a lack of understanding, as he and Petunia viewed them as simply “freaks” and “weirdoes” (53, 56). Often times people are most afraid of what is different and unfamiliar to them and the Dursleys affirm that they were not necessarily threatened by the possibility of magic, but rather that they simply wished to be as far away as they could from the “abnormal” who performed “magic tricks” (53,59). As a result when the family acquired Harry to their inconvenience, they “swore [they’d] stamp it out of him” and spent the rest of his childhood degrading and working him into the ground (53). The Dursleys provide a perfect example of how fear of the unfamiliar regarding race or culture easily leads to unfair treatment of those affected.

The stereotyping and unfair judgment between magical people and Muggles goes both ways however. Professor McGonagall opens the book by establishing that the Dursleys “will never understand [Harry]” and that “you couldn’t find two people who are less like [magic users]” (13). McGonagall quickly establishes that Muggles were viewed as essentially inferior beings to those in the magic world, and that leaving a magic baby among them would cause nothing but trouble. Hagrid later reiterates this by telling Harry that it’s “[his] bad luck [he] grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles [he] ever laid eyes on” (53). In this instance Hagrid refers to the Dursley’s as the “biggest Muggles” because they were not merely non-magical, but took their evasiveness to an extreme level of avoiding magic at all costs. Hagrid also lays a precedence that growing up among Muggles when you’re from a magic background is viewed as a negative and possibly debilitating situation by referring to it as “bad luck.” While McGonagall and Hagrid express a negative opinion towards Muggles, Ron later demonstrates that not all Muggles are viewed negatively when he tells Harry he “thinks [his mom’s] got a second cousin who’s an accountant, but [they] never talk about him” (99). Ron’s description simply displays indifference regarding Muggles and no animosity. The magic user’s view towards Muggles is similar in demonstrating a dislike of something not entirely understood, however it more-so derives from a sense of superiority of people who are not capable of performing magic.

While a racist exists between Muggles and Non-Muggles within Rowling’s text, a select group of old fashioned Wizards demonstrate racism within the magic world as well. Upon buying school robes, Harry encounters a boy later revealed as Draco Malfoy. Malfoy begins by asking Harry if his parent’s were in fact “their kind,” quickly emphasizing the importance of being magical (78). Malfoy continues to say that he really “[doesn’t] think they should let the other sort in…They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know [their] ways” (78). Malfoy touches upon the issue of being magical from a non-magical family and still being allowed admittance to Hogwarts, a situation that closely resembles historical issues surrounding hierarchical bloodlines and racial school segregations. There is limited logic behind Malfoy’s comments, as the “other sort” aren’t any less magical or talented. Rather the comments are a discriminatory effort to keep the school exclusive to “old wizarding families” (78). Ron later confirms this by informing Harry “there’s loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough” (100). It is revealed throughout the story that like Malfoy, many others from the Slytherin house share these negative and discriminatory views regarding Muggle born wizards, and as a result develop a racist and close-minded reputation among Harry and his peers.

Harry’s progression and maturation as a young man and wizard begins to occur when he avoids falling into the same tendencies of stereotyping that his peers engage in. After his initial encounter with Draco Malfoy and later learning that Voldemort was also a member of the Slytherin house, Harry begins to assume that all Slytherin share their beliefs and genuinely evil demeanor; none are more supportive of this idea then Professor Snape, the head of the Slytherin house who makes a point to act cold and unfair to the students. Harry spends much of his first year despising him and assuming he is behind the evil plot, only to learn that Snape had in fact been “trying to save [him]” throughout the book (289). Dumbledore also attests that Snape had in fact “worked hard to protect [Harry] this year” (300). Snape fighting for Harry is valuable in that he is a key icon in Harry and readers’ stereotype of the Slytherin house; because Snape, the head of house, has demonstrated a level of goodness it begins to break the perceptions held that all Slytherin are the same and share the same ideals. When Harry later makes eye contact with Snape, he realizes he isn’t a terrible person but similarly that he isn’t necessarily a nice person and coming to that conclusion “didn’t worry Harry” (307). The ability to accept someone for who they are and not based on where they come from is a crucial lesson in The Sorcerer’s Stone that Harry seems to accept towards the novel’s conclusion.

Harry is quickly exposed to more than just a new world and culture when Hagrid informs him of his magical heritage; he is introduced to a new world that introduces new cross cultural and racial issues that he must begin to understand and cope with. Harry demonstrates at the book’s conclusion he has not only matured above making stereotypes within the wizarding world, but also in his relationship with Muggles. While Harry doesn’t like how he is treated with the Dursleys, he now understands why they treat him as they do and is accepting of returning to them for several months. The journey that Harry takes in his exposure to race and stereotyping in The Sorcerer’s Stone is a lesson regarding acceptance that everyone can learn from.

Works Cited

Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Scholastics, New York NY. 1997

Charles Perrault’s “Little Red Riding Hood” acts as a foundation for the later adaptations. The story incorporates no intervention or warning from society towards danger, and focuses independence entirely as overcoming one’s own naivety. The storyteller makes sure to inform readers that the title character is in fact a “little girl,” a necessary detail for the tale’s moral to be applicable (Perrault 33). Upon her departure to her grandmother’s house, Little Red receives no warning of danger or reminder of caution from her mother, despite her established role as a child on a journey to “the next village,” a description that implies a decent length travel (33). After Little Red departs, she encounters a wolf on the path who asks her destination. The young girl “did not know how dangerous it is to chatter away to wolves” and tells the wolf exactly where she is going (34). In this instance Little Red demonstrates her ultimate naivety, not knowing of a danger that is seemingly common sense or instinctual to most. While many would be quick to attribute the lack of knowledge to poor parenting, Perrault neglects to fault or mention anyone other that Little Red, continuing his trend of independence with oneself rather than from someone else. Little Red then foolishly listens to the wolf’s instructions to take the longer path, and arrives at her grandmother’s after the wolf. She “heard the hoarse voice of the wolf and thought that her grandmother must have caught a cold,” demonstrating childlike ignorance when faced with a situation that would otherwise alert someone of potential intrusion (34). Little Red fails to notice anything alarming about the disguised wolf moments before she is eaten, even as she lists off unrecognizable features about her grandmother. The story concludes with a moral insisting that if children are “foolish enough” to talk to strangers, they will be eaten (35). By describing children’s behavior as “foolish” outside of the story itself, Perrault solidifies his opinion that accountability is placed solely on the intelligence and maturity of the individual in question and all other influences and factors are irrelevant in determining their fate.

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm’s “Little Red Cap” acts as more of a transitional story that begins to incorporate societal influence in the journey for independence, while still leaving personal naivety as a large contributor. Like “Little Red Riding Hood,” the story also acknowledges the importance in initially establishing Little Red as a “little girl,” maintaining the naivety that is central to the lesson (Grimm 35). The first distinction from the previous story comes from her mother’s instructions; In the preceding tale Little Red was informed that she needed to take things to her grandmother, however in “Red Cap” her mother also advises her to leave before it gets too hot, to “walk properly…and [not] leave the path” (35). The warning from Little Red’s mother is a new element in the stories of Little Red Riding Hood, as she wasn’t given anyone’s opinion but her own in the preceding version. Despite her mother’s advice however, Little Red still “didn’t know what a wicked beast” the wolf was when encountering him, demonstrating that the Grimm’s version maintains the battle of personal independence and awareness, while also beginning to incorporate outside influence (36). Little Red supports this claim of mixed independence within the text by stating “I’ll do everything right,” a broad phrase that neglects to specify whether she is referring to her mother’s instructions or insisting she will do the right things based on her own judgment (36).  She demonstrates the same lack of judgment seen in the first version as she tells the wolf her destination and allows herself to be coerced off the path by him. Upon entering her grandmother’s she makes an almost identical statement attributing to her naivety that she is “usually so glad to see grandmother. Why [was she] frightened today?” (36). Unlike the first version, the Grimm’s version doesn’t end with Little Red being eaten and a moral, instead she is saved from the belly of the wolf and upon her re-entry to the world she declares “never again will I leave the path and run off into the woods when my mother tells me not to” (37). Despite prior evidence that her mistakes were results of her own ignorance, Little Red states her turmoil came as a result of not listening to her mother, a line that completes the Grimms’ transition of the story from independence through personal growth to a story of independence from societal rules and advice. Rather than finish with a blatant moral, the Grimms’ end by letting readers know that the next time Little Red was walking and encountered a wolf, “she was on her guard” (37). Though the Grimms’ moral is that you should listen to the warnings given to you, they also hint that if you don’t you will receive second chances much like the rules in current society.

Angela Carter’s “The Company of Wolves” moves distinctly away from children having a lack of knowledge and attributes their mistakes purely to ignoring warnings given by society. The first half of Carter’s story gives a detailed account of the cultural lore of wolves and their ongoing threat to humans, describing them as “cunning” and “ferocious” (Carter 47). Similar to how the previous two authors found it necessary to establish the youth of Little Red to make their moral effective, Carter too quickly lays a foundation; the children of the villages “always carry knives with them when they go out…half as big as they are” and “the blades are sharpened daily” (47-48). By noting the importance of knives among even children, Carter notes that there is no excuse for pleading ignorance to the dangers of the wolves, as “children do not stay young for long in this savage country” (50).  The character of Little Red is described as a teenager coming into her sexuality who “does not know how to shiver” and is “afraid of nothing” (50). While her description could be interpreted as childhood naivety, it is rather a developing independence through sexuality. Little Red precedes through the forest, even though her father would never have allowed it, and upon hearing noise “her practiced hand sprang to the handle of her knife,” indicating that she was well aware of the dangers within the forest and traveled in spite of them (50). The noise turned out to be a “handsome young” hunter who quickly won the heart of Little Red on their journey through the forest (50). The hunter places a bet with her that he can make it to her grandmother’s house before her, similar to the bet placed by the wolves in previous stories. Little Red does her best to remember the warnings given to her by committing herself to the safer path, however gives into her evolving sexuality by entertaining the idea to bring a handsome stranger to her grandmothers in the first place. The huntsman beats her to her grandmother’s house and reveals that he is in fact a wolf by feasting on the grandmother. When Little Red arrives she quickly realizes she has ignored the warnings and fallen for the wolf’s trap. In this instance, she acknowledges her only way of survival is to utilize her developing sexuality to appeal to the beast, so she may eventually sleep “sweet and sound…between the paws of the tender wolf” (55). The decision made by Little Red in Carter’s story demonstrates the ultimate quest for independence: she ignores the warnings of society, demonstrates she is aware of the dangers and falls into a trap that can only be fixed by suffering personal consequences for her personal bad decision. Carter’s “The Company of Wolves” gives no consideration towards naivety and establishes societal rules for the heroine to stray from to make her independence that much more prominent to readers.

The incorporation of societal influence allows for Little Red’s acts of independence to be that much more distinguishable. And while the story continues to remain the same, the overall message does not. The progression of independence within the three stories moves from self-based independence to independence from society, ultimately developing over hundreds of years to be less about not talking to strangers, and more about being sure to do what your mother and society tells you.

Works Cited

Carter, Angela. “The Company of Wolves.” Folk & Fairy Tales: 4^th Addition. Broadview Press, 2009.

Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm. “Little Red Cap.” Folk & Fairy Tales: 4^th Addition. Broadview Press, 2009.

Perrault, Charles. “Little Red Riding Hood.” Folk & Fairy Tales: 4^th Addition. Broadview Press, 2009.

It is easy for critics to examine John Brown as insane when evaluating the raid on Harper’s Ferry and his previous actions. After proslavery supporters attacked an anti-slavery settlement, Brown led men into a proslavery camp that was unaffiliated with the first raid and mercilessly “hacked to death five of them” (156). The lack of logic in selecting a target for retribution, as well as the brutality involved in the attack are both blatant signs of lacking sanity. Even without sanity in question, the act was without regard to morality and was viewed by both sides as a heinous crime. It is noted by many that after the raid on Pottawatomie Creek, “Brown had been mentally deranged” (156). Brown’s sanity only comes further into question with his raid on Harper’s Ferry; surely he considered the numbers were not in his favor and the possibility of no support from slaves. In addition to the raid being a failure with ten of the sixteen men dead and no local support, Brown testified he had no intention of an insurrection, a statement that could have potentially deflated the motivation sparked by his initial actions. John Garraty, who was one of the first analysts to examine Brown’s sanity, described him as “deranged” and noted “it would have been far wiser…to have committed him to an asylum” rather than execute him (154). Even Brown’s biographer Stephen Oats agreed that Brown wasn’t “normal” (154). Many other analysts who later examined Brown shared Garraty’s opinion and were also intent on declaring him as insane.

While Brown gives critics significant evidence towards insanity, he also leaves evidence of logic as well. It is important to note that modern scholars have taken the initiative in narrowing down the examination of Brown by stating that the term “insanity” is “too unspecific to have definite meaning” when examining historical figures (159). Though deep research of public opinion reveals a “pronounced pattern of insanity in the Brown family,” there is a lack of evidence presented to demonstrate anything other than varying problems from one family member to the next (154). However, Brown’s history does reveal certain motivations towards his future actions. Upon reviewing his journal at the age of twelve, Brown revealed he was “shocked by the cruel treatment of his young black friend,” a disposition towards slavery that continued through out his life (166). Oats later pointed out the significance of his childhood feelings by declaring that calling Brown insane “is to ignore the tremendous sympathy he felt for the black man in America” (154). By revealing that there was a previous motivation towards his cause, Brown exemplifies logic and as a result, sanity when planning his actions. Regarding the raid on Harper’s Ferry itself, Brown had completely thought through his actions and was sane to hope “the gesture would so divide the nation…leading to the destruction of slavery” (152). Because there is a logical motivation and an understanding of the implications of actions on the part of Brown, surely he was sane enough to understand the effects of what he was doing. Even after the event occurred, Brown furthered the evidence towards sanity when he told his wife that being executed would “do vastly more toward advancing the cause [he had] earnestly endeavored to promote” (153). While Brown demonstrated both tendencies of insanity and logical action, he was neither exclusively insane nor a religious extremist; David King summarizes it best when he states that “on the subject of slavery, [Brown] was crazy” (157). Brown was a combination of the two traits who demonstrated that often times you need to be somewhat insane to be an extremist who is able to react to their current times and step outside of the societal norms.

Unlike Brown who arguably showed a constant state of mentality throughout his life, Robert Matthews’ mentality progressively deteriorated. Matthews’ life is more of an example of an insane person looking to change things rather than someone looking to change things who is slightly insane. After both of his parents died at a young age, Matthews was met with economic hardship and struggle for much of his life. He eventually loses his job as a carpenter as a result of his religious beliefs; after trying to discourage his coworkers from drinking, they dubbed him “jumping Jesus” and eventually had him fired (59). Early on Matthias’ dedication towards his faith brings him negative reactions from others. His gradual deterioration of mental health continues as it was revealed he lost his temper and beat his sister-in-law (59). Eventually three of Matthews’ children tragically died. The loss was such an emotional blow for Matthews that he began to completely lose his faith along with his sanity. His wife recalled, “[Matthews] would complain that his mind was very confused, that it seemed as if he should lose his senses” (63). Already Matthews began to question his mental stability that eventually led him to claim himself as a prophet and descendant of Jesus. His lack of sanity led towards an increased lack in religion and religious speakers, so much the he eventually began to only trust himself and his ideas a religious figure (something that coincided with his progressive insanity). At one point after beating his wife profusely, he claimed “a bad spirit had entered the woman… a spirit that traveled out from her to others and opposed him at every turn” (71). While beating was a common practice for husbands among wives who “misbehaved,” Matthews’ wife does note his lashings were much more excessive then necessary. Matthews claim that a spirit was following him and entering everyone who opposed him seems like an insane logic created by someone who is unable to see that the problem is in them, not within everyone else. Eventually this mental breakdown leads Matthias to his practice as a cult leader and con man, however by evaluating his history and the tragedy that struck him, it is easy to follow a gradual mental breakdown.

John Brown and Robert Matthews were both insane and religious extremists. Robert Matthews was a man who showed insanity and as a result, strived to make change and preach for something different. Brown was someone who had been intent on change from as early as twelve years old, and it merely took a little insanity for him to achieve it; The author notes that “[Brown’s] act of violence was appropriate to what Oates described as ‘the violent, irrational and paradoxical times in which he lived” (172). Both men were insane to an extent, however that didn’t make them exclusively extremists.

Works Cited

Davidson, James West. Lytle, Mark Hamilton. “After the Fact: The Art of Historical

Detection.” Mcgraw-Hill. 2005.

Johnson, Paul E. Wilentz, Sean. “The Kingdom of Matthias.” Oxford University. 1994.

At the age of 12 Franklin signed a contract as a newspaper apprentice with his older brother, giving him his first bit of exposure to his future with public spheres. After a short time, he began anonymously submitting articles to his brother’s paper and was speculated by the staff to be someone of “character…for Learning and Ingenuity” (19). Early on Franklin’s prowess as a writer is acknowledged by his superiors who reinforce his ability and further encourage him by comparing him to modern scholars. After leaving his brother, Franklin’s experience with newspapers and his potential in public spheres is encouraged even more by Pennsylvania governor William Keith, who after reading one of Franklin’s letters declared he “appear’d a young man of promising parts” (28). Again Franklin was encouraged by a superior who acknowledged his ability as a writer and challenged him to further himself as a public voice; Keith agreed to fund a new newspaper company for Franklin, eventually leading to the formation and mass publication of the Philadelphia Gazette. This specific public sphere allowed Franklin to not only present the common people with beneficial and insightful news, but also to develop as a writer and share his own political philosophies as well as ideas on self improvement and virtue. Later on the Gazette became a crucial part in Franklin’s political role as he used the paper to explore new issues with the colonies that influenced the revolution.

After being in Philadelphia for some time and not quite having the credibility he needed with his paper yet, Franklin began to look for a more public way of discussing virtues, morality and other topics of personal development. He came up with the idea of starting a group geared specifically towards the discussion of such things, referring to it as a “club for mutual improvement” (59). The club was named “Junto,” and its members met every Friday night to debate and discuss “queries on any point of morals, politics or natural philosophy” (59). The group was made up philosophers, mathematicians, writers and many more of Franklin’s friends, who all shared a common interest in the discussion of such topics. Junto lasted for over forty years, and had so much success that several other chapters were opened through out the country. Franklin described their debates as being conducted in “spirit of inquiry after truth, without fondness for dispute or desire of victory,” a conduct that allowed scholars to focus more on learning and understanding rather than merely being right in their assortments. Junto was a shining example of how Benjamin Franklin’s drive for the learning of virtue pushed his excellence with public spheres even more; after some time of being in the club the members decided on setting up a common place where everyone could share their texts with each other, as to increase common knowledge and improve the quality of debates. Franklin took the idea and ran with it, creating the nation’s first subscription library, referring to it as his “first project of public nature” (69).  Philadelphia’s public library “improved the general conversations of the Americans,” according to Franklin who further demonstrates his stride towards education and teaching results in the further development of public spheres.

The last example of Franklin using the teaching of virtue as a means towards an improved public sphere can be witnessed in his autobiography as a whole. The book’s original intention is to teach Franklin’s son of his life, however the second part of his book reveals two letters written to Franklin describing how his book should be used as a tool to better society as a whole. Mr. Abel James assures Franklin he should not “leave his friends and the world so deprived of so pleasing a profitable a work,” encouraging him to continue writing his autobiography and focusing it on some of the previously mentioned virtues (70). Benjamin Vaughn also assured Franklin that “the influence of writing under [the class of virtues]” has a very good affect on the minds of youth, insisting that he continue his autobiography if only to use it as a teaching tool where his life would be used as an example (71). Vaughn is also smart enough to recognize the relationship between the teaching of virtue and Franklin’s autobiography, as he informed Franklin that “his former writings and measures would secure attention to your biography and Art of Virtue, and your biography and Art of Virtue in return would secure attention to them” (74). Essentially Vaughn makes clear the importance of Franklin’s public spheres in bringing attention to his greater works, such as his political papers and scientific experiments.

While Benjamin Franklin took pride in his pursuit of virtue, it was the actual pursuit that developed the world’s public spheres that helped his rise to success. Through the newspapers, Junto and its resulting library, and his autobiography Franklin was able to use the increasing technology and interest in public sphere to present his own original ideas.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper” portrays naturalism’s effects on women in the most direct manner possible, through the patriarchal foundations of marriage and medicine during the nineteenth century. The story is told through the first person narrative of a woman married to a physician named John. John has diagnosed his wife with a “hysterical tendency” that he feels should be treated through isolation and rest (Gilman 808). As a result he decides the best thing to do is rent a summer house, a “colonial mansion,” for the two of them to stay in over the summer where the narrator can focus on not working too hard and recovering (Gilman 808). Over the course of the summer her husband confines her within a room at the top of the house that’s walls are covered in yellow wallpaper. While it would appear that the solitary confinement is what leads to the narrator’s eventual insanity, the uncontrollable forces of male patriarchy within the institutions of marriage and medicine during the 1890’s that the narrator are her real captors.

Before any movements for women’s rights, women were considered slaves within the institution of marriage that essentially gave husbands complete legal control over their spouses. Within the first few paragraphs of the story the narrator establishes the condition of her marriage with John, commenting, “[he] laughs at me…but one expects that in marriage” (Gilman 808). The narrator’s expectations of how she should be treated by her husband are minimal and indicate that there is little respect given to her in their relationship. Laughter often demonstrates dominance over the person being mocked, and the narrator openly admits that she expects to be placed in such a submissive place in conversation with her husband. The relationship inadvertently oppresses the narrator and is a perfect representation of an uncontrollable social condition that directly affects the status of women.

While the narrator gives initial evidence she is confined within a less than ideal marriage, her husband’s profession within that marriage establishes a male subordinance on multiple fronts. Because John is her doctor in addition to husband he is able to enforce whatever decision he wants by using both positions as his incentive; when the narrator makes a reasonable case for herself to leave the house John is able to persuade her with his medical opinion, and when the narrator persists he takes advantage of his position as her husband to persuade her to follow his medical instructions. Paula Treichler notes that upon the couple’s departure to their summer estate, “husband and wife have come as physician and patient to this solitary summer mansion” (Treichler 63). The narrator notes that John “hardly lets [her] stir without special direction,” disclosing to readers that his influence in what she does is constant and great (Gilman 809). Upon the narrator mentioning to her husband she felt something strange about the house, a concern that is hardly medically related, John informs his wife that “what [she] felt was a draught” and he proceeded to shut the window (Gilman 809). In this instance John demonstrates his tendency to completely disregard his wife’s concerns and take it a step further by then telling her what she is actually feeling, as if it were medically pertinent. This exact situation amplifies when the narrator expresses concerns over her medical condition and John simple assures her “I am a doctor dear, and I know” (Gilman 814). The dominance of John’s profession paired with the control he has through his marriage creates an amplified patriarchal relationship between he and his wife that ultimately leaves her unable to make any decisions for herself, a point that is supported by Treichler who comments that “the diagnostic language of the physician is coupled with the paternalistic language of the husband to create a formidable array of controls over her behavior” (Treichler 65).

Outside of her two directly patriarchal relationships, the narrator is surrounded by other factors that are sure to enforce her place in society. Karen Ford assures readers “there can be no doubt that the narrator dwells in the middle of Patriarchy” (Ford 309). In addition to her husband being a physician, her brother is also a physician who “says the same thing” as John in regards to the narrator’s medical diagnosis (Gilman 808). While there is relevance in both doctors being male, the real significance lies in that her brother agrees with John’s diagnosis, completely removing the narrator’s ability to question her husband. Treichler notes that “once pronounced, and reinforced by the second opinion of the narrator’s brother, this diagnosis…has considerable power of what….reality is now” for the narrator (Treichler 65). Treichler’s statement is true in that once the narrator’s brother confirms John’s diagnosis, she is forever labeled as hysteric and her assessed ability to think and analyze is at the mercy of her husband/physician. Ford presents other elements that enforce Gilman’s portrayed patriarchal reality, stating “many details, like the narrator’s lack of name, argue against her individuality, and similarly the primer-like names of her husband and sister-in-law…suggest they are merely representatives” for the ideal husband and in-laws (Ford 309). Lastly, the narrator’s deep obsession with wallpaper is one that can simply be attested to a stereotypical woman’s interest in household décor if readers are to believe that she is in fact not crazy.

The end of Gilman’s story reveals her personal opinion towards the patriarchal institutions of marriage and medicine that hold the narrator of her story captive. Failing to see the narrator’s newly found obsession with the wallpaper as a result of his own overconfidence in his diagnosis, John is blindly “pleased to see [her] improve” (Gilman 816). Despite his reputable medical opinion however, John’s misdiagnosis and treatment lead to the eventual insanity of his wife that directly threatens the patriarchal authority he holds. Upon seeing his insane wife, John falls over and faints, an action that is symbolic of Gilman’s view towards the downfall of men in their dominant roles over women. In the story’s context, the downfall is only temporary however, because upon John’s awakening he will regain his authority both martially and medically and lovingly seek further help for his wife. The narrator’s story within “The Yellow Wallpaper” adequately addresses the state of women during the 1890s by presenting their state in a naturalistic way; the narrator or any other woman during that time period has very little control over the social expectations of marriage, as well as medical diagnosis or treatment and as a result they are at its mercy.

Similar to Gilman’s “Yellow Wallpaper,” Stephen Crane’s novel Maggie: A Girl of the Streets also depicts the life of a girl subjected to oppression as a result of circumstances outside of her control. The story focuses on Jimmie and Maggie, two siblings who grow up in the slums. Both Maggie and Jimmie are exposed to severe poverty and abuse through their family as they grow up, and both circumstances play significant roles in defining them as young adults. Their father is an alcoholic who leaves nightly to get drunk, only to return home and fight with their mother. He dies early on in the novel, an experience that surely affects the siblings in one-way or another. Their mother Mary is the most influential role in their lives; she spends much of the novel intoxicated and furious, severely beating the children and shattering furniture. As the children grow older Maggie eventually falls in love with a bartender named Pete, who among other things represents a brighter future for Maggie. Crane’s novel Maggie: A Girl on the Streets represents naturalisms effects on women in a more indirect manner than “Wallpaper,” focusing on how Maggie’s life circumstances have subjected her to hardships rather than a direct relationship with the circumstance as seen with John.

The most significant circumstance affecting Maggie is the living conditions in which she is subjected to. Crane’s novel places Maggie in the “slums” where there is little opportunity for economic or social progress. The scene is described as being “a dark region where…doorways gave up loads of babies to the street” and “withered persons, in curious postures of submission…sat smoking pipes” (Crane 959). Maggie’s household is victim to this poverty and has little to offer Maggie or Jimmie in terms of money or clothing. In addition to having no money, the children were both verbally and physically abused by their mother. The siblings came home and lived their lives in fear, worrying that if they made any mistakes they’d “all get a poundin.’” (Crane 960). The physical and verbal abuse is constant from Mary, and remains present during Maggie’s young adult life where the second half of the novel takes place. The naturalistic element utilized by Crane is that Maggie at no point could ever have any control of the situation growing up, regardless however, it heavily shaped her life and left an imprint on the person she was to be.

Upon reaching an age where she could work and attempt to live a better life, Maggie does so. The narrator notes that “none of the dirt of Rum Alley seemed to be in her veins,” a testament to Maggie’s resilience despite her circumstances (Crane 967). In addition to her kind nature, she “grew to be a most rare and wonderful production of a tenement district, a pretty girl” (Crane 967). In addition to resisting the character and physical flaws of being subjected to hardships, Maggie also demonstrates determination to get herself out the situation entirely, taking “a position in an establishment where they made collars and cuffs” and dreaming of living a better life (Crane 967). Maggie eventually meets Pete, who “[takes] note of [her]” and treats her with respect (Crane 969). To Maggie, Pete acts as a way out of the slum she has lived in and a way to reach her fantasized “far away lands where…the little hills sing together in the morning” (Crane 968). After sleeping with Maggie however, Pete falls for another woman and leaves Maggie within her poor lifestyle.

The deterioration of Maggie’s life after Pete is the essence of Crane’s novel. Her family disowns her for her loss of innocence and she gradually falls to a life of prostitution that leads to her eventual ambiguous death. Stephen Crane’s message that “we can’t escape who we are and how our lives have shaped us” rings incredibly clear as just chapters after Maggie has reached her pursuit of happiness, it is quickly swept away from her and readers are once again reminded of the circumstances Maggie was raised with. Keith Gandal places much of the blame on Mary, believing that “Maggie’s moral illiteracy is due to the fact that the ethics of character and purity…have not been passed on” (Gandal 768). While Maggie’s mother is almost entirely to blame for the situations she is subjected to in life, the lack of taught morals is not the most prevalent issue; Maggie demonstrates early on she is smart enough to make good decisions and has a sense of moral correctness. The issue lies within the living conditions Maggie was raised with; poverty that left little chances for social or economic mobility and abuse that left little confidence for Jimmie or Maggie. While Maggie appears to have conquered these circumstances, the loss of Pete in her life removes whatever confidence she had gained and reminds her as well as readers of the reality she lives in. Katrine Irving argues that “Maggie’s suicide at the end is not, as some critics have argued, proof of the impossibility of the ghetto dwellers’ attempt to escape their environment” and that rather it is a statement that “she can only ever redeem herself…by ceasing to be” (Irving 40). While there is evidence that Maggie’s loss of innocence and eventual immoral lifestyle play a role in her death, it is more likely then not that her suicide was a result of her life as a whole and the conditions she realized she would never be able to escape from.

Both Stephen Crane’s Maggie: A Girl of the Streets and Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper” deliver naturalistic stories. While “The Yellow Wallpaper’s” narrator is directly subjected to the patriarchal institutions of marriage and medicine that keep her from being able to make decisions for herself, let alone asses her own life, Maggie is indirectly affected to the same extent by the living circumstances her parents have created for her. Both circumstances are completely out of the women’s control and present an accurate account of how women were treated and oppressed during the late 19^th century.

Works Cited

Crane, Stephen. “Maggie: A Girl of the Streets.” 1893. The Norton Anthology of American Literature, Volume C. New York, NY: 2007.

Ford, Karen. “The Yellow Wallpaper and Women’s Discourse.” Tulsa Studies in Women’s Literature 4.2 (1985): 309-314

Gandal, Keith. “Stephen Crane’s Maggie and the Modern Soul. ELH 60.3 (1993): 759-785

Gilman, Charlotte Perkins. “The Yellow Wallpaper.” 1891. The Norton Anthology of American Literature, Volume C. New York, NY: 2007.

Irving, Katrina. “Gendered Space, Racialized Space: Nativism, the Immigrant Woman, and Stephen Crane’s Maggie.” College Literature 20.3 (1993): 30-43

Treichler, Paula A. “Escaping the Sentence: Diagnosis and Discourse in The Yellow Wallpaper.” Tulsa Studies in Women’s Literature 3.5 (1984): 61-77