THE (NOT-SO-PILLARLY) PILLARS OF DIGNITY AND IDENTITY IN MARY ROWLANDSON AND JAMES SMITH’S CAPTIVITY NARRATIVE
... Tecaughtretenego burns his tobacco, Smith can’t withhold a snicker, as the sacrifice seems funny to him. The whole ordeal causes “a kind of merriment” to bubble in Smith because he believes Tecaughtretenego is foolish in “expecting to appease the Deity, and procure his favor, by burning a little tobacco” (312). He uses this example in the narrative to show how Indians, “unaided by revelation” (310) are inferior to puritans, and thus not worth his complete allegiance. Smith’s argument in favor of Christianity is undermined however, when he advocates for Christians to behave more like Indians. According to Smith, the Indians “have neither church or state erected as money-making machines” (340), which of course, is a swipe at Anglo-Christian society, which it is implied does have greedy churches and states. The church then, goes from being the cornerstone of Smith’s colonial identity, to a joke. Furthermore, with their generally peaceable, loving, high-spirited attitude, Smith describes how in many regards the Indians “shame those who profess Christianity” (287). Again, Smith demonstrates his ambivalence towards the pillars of his of colonial identity, asserting that white settlers are more spiritually enlightened than their Indian counterparts, yet contradicting himself by stating the direct opposite. Perhaps the best example of Smith’s sponsorship of Indian spirituality is when he glorifies and even submits to Tecaughretanego’s religious perspective. This takes place after Tecaughretanego prophesizes, during a period of extreme hunger: “Brother, Be assured that you will be supplied with food, and that just in the right time; but you must continue diligent in the use of means—go to sleep, and rise early in the morning and go a hunting—be strong and exert yourself like a man, and the great spirit will direct your way” (309). Smith dismisses this prophecy and heads off with the intention of escaping east, until he comes across a herd of buffalo. After killing one of the buffalo and eating the meat almost raw, Smith observes “how remarkably the old man’s speech had been verified in our providentially obtaining a supply” (310). Upon returning to camp with the meat for his starving dependents, he notes how the kid eats his meat almost way, “as I had done” (310) while Tecaughretanego tells Smith to cook the meat longer in “ as patient and unconcerned a manner as if he had not wanted a single meal” (310). Tecaughretanego then gives a pious speech about thankfulness and the Great Spirit. In this depiction of the stoically spiritual Indian, “Smith verges on portraying Tecaughretanego as usurping the authority of his bibliocentric religion” (Newman, 43). The reverence Smith expresses for Tecaughtrenago’s faith is therefore indicative of how spirituality is the simultaneous cause for Smith’s loyalty to colonial culture and also that of the Indians. Mary Rowlandson, like James Smith, is very property conscious, as she uses ideas of personal property and industry to maintain her sense of puritan pride, although sometimes her strong commitment to monetary ideals work against her attempts at dignity. Throughout the narrative, beginning in the 8th remove, Rowlandson takes care to note how she conducted business with the Indians, and was thus able to stand tall amidst oppressive forces in captivity. Phillip spake to me to make a shirt for his boy, which I did, for which he gave me a shilling: I offered the money to my master, but he bade me keep it: and with it I bought a piece of horse flesh…There was a squaw who spake to me to make shirt for her sannup, for which she gave me a piece of bear (150). By knitting caps, shirts and the like for her captors, she procures food, money and gifts, which enable her feel more in charge of her situation with the Indians. In one instance, after receiving a healthy portion of food in return for her knitting services, she proudly describes how she “invited my master and mistress to dinner” (150). This is significant because here, Rowlandson plays the role of host, which entitles her to feelings of authority. Thus, she achieves a semblance of dignity in the same manner Smith achieves a sense of identity, by invoking the ideals of entrepreneurship and enterprise. Another example where her consciousness of industry and property allow her to feel above the Indians, is when she makes a shirt for an Indian who then refuses to pay. Rowlandson describes this particular man as “a sorry Indian” (151) and explains that: When I had done it, he would pay me nothing. But he living by the riverside, where I often went to fetch water, I would often be putting of him in mind, and calling for my pay. Anyone unfamiliar with Rowlandson’s story would, reading this excerpt, have a hard time guessing it comes from her captivity narrative, in which she is at the complete mercy of the Indians. The authority she exerts here is a clear example of how she uses the idea of property and industry to maintain a sense of dignity in her captivity. The connection between Rowlandson’s self-worth and property can again be seen in her negations with the Indians. When she is asked to name a price for her redemption by the Indians, she gives the figure, after serious deliberation, of 20 pounds. Although the text makes it appear as if this is a modest figure, scholars assert that “it was actually rather high-certainly higher than that of any of the other captives” (Toulouse, 368). It’s also important to note that Rowlandson “desired them to take less” (164), because it implies that her price is grounded less on financial reasoning (she also points out “all we had was destroyed” and she “knew not where [the money] would be procured” (164)) and based more so on a monetary self-evaluation. By naming such a high price in the face of logic that would urge her to do otherwise, it’s evident how Rowlandson uses her ransom price as a means to assert her dignity and high self-worth. The consequence of Rowlandson acting with regard to entitlement and acquisition of property is not always dignity however, as there are times when this behavior make her appear childish and greedy. One such instance is in the 13th remove when Phillip’s maid asks for a piece of Rowlandson’s apron to make a flap for a baby. Rowlandson stubbornly refuses however, I told her I would not: then my mistress bade me give it, but still I said no: the maid told me if I would not give her a piece, she would tear a piece off it: I told her I would tear her coat then (156). Eventually, Rowlandson concedes the apron, although she is first chased around by a stick-wielding mistress. This scene reads like an incident from kindergarten, with a stubborn child unexplainably refusing to share something of hers. The incident becomes a clearer example of Rowlandson trying to establish her dignity, when we realize that her mistress is Weetamoo, one of the most powerful and feared women in Indian society. Rowlandson’s proud refusal to concede control of her personal property then, is exemplary of how “Even as the thrice-royal squaw-sachem, Weetamoo is consistently narrated as a failure by which Rowlandson can affirm her own privileged status and identity, even in her entirely disempowered state” (Potter, 163). Although she is trying to show the failure of Weetamoo by refusing her request, in this instance she is the failure, submitting to the superior strength and will of her mistress. While scholars agree it is largely due to her “bartering and sewing skills” that “enables her to come out of the wilderness ordeal with her self and sanity preserved” (Henwood, 367), in this instance with the apron, it’s apparent that her bartering skills are the cause of her undignified behavior. Throughout his narrative, Smith, like Rowlandson, continually invokes property-based, agrarian ideals, yet he consistently glorifies the Indians’ subsistence way of life, illustrating his inconsistent attitude towards the pillars of his colonial identity. As he travels the northeast as an adopted Indian, Smith frequently remarks about the potential of the land. Sounding like a real estate developer, Smith makes note of sites with “tolerably fertile soil,” that he believes, “would produce timber were it only kept from fire” (306), and swamps that “if drained, would make excellent meadow” (275). As his narrative is basically a slightly embellished string of journal entries, it’s safe to assume Smith is writing these observations as he passes through the respective lands. This first hand account of the land quality in North Eastern United States is in fact, one of the primary selling points of the narrative, as the introduction markets the book as partly “a description of the Soil, Timber and Waters, where he traveled with the Indians” (262). By noting the potential of his surroundings then, Smith is looking ahead to an Anglo audience and making note what they might want to hear. This habit is obviously a sign of Smith distancing himself from Indian society and aligning himself with his Anglo-Saxon heritage. Additionally, he attacks the Indians’ custom of sharing all provisions equally on the basis that it “strik[es] at the root of industry; as industrious persons ought to be rewarded, and the lazy suffer for their indolence” (340). Smith however, is not consistent in his condemnation of the Indians’ provisional lifestyle, as he lauds the Indians for the day-to-day mentality and laissez fair attitude. For example, when he notices that the hunters become lazy during a particularly well provisioned period, he doesn’t scold them, but rather praises how “they appeared to be fulfilling the scriptures beyond those who profess to believe in them, in that of taking no thought of tomorrow; and also living in love, peace and friendship together, without disputes” (287). While previously he states that the lazy should suffer for their indolence, here Smith glorifies the hunters’ laziness and the community’s equal distribution of wealth, as sacred. This demonstrates the inconsistency of Smith’s colonial identity, and reveals how the pillars of that identity are challenged and often outdone by qualities inherent to Indian culture. Book learning continues the ambivalence in Rowlandson’s narrative, providing the basis for her self-worth while also acting against her case for superiority. The primary enabler of Rowlandson’s dignity via literacy is the Bible as she often looks to scriptures to regain her dignity. An example of this reliance on text for self-respect can be seen in the 18th remove, where she takes half-chewed food from a hungry child and eats it herself. Directly following this humiliating behavior, she invokes the scripture, saying: “Then I may say of Job 6.7 The things that my soul refused to touch, are as my sorrowful meat” (160). Thus, Rowlandson translates her degraded condition and completely savage ways into a scriptural context, which enable her to retain a sense of personal dignity. It is this dignity that allows her, directly proceeding this compromising incident to proudly rebuke master and mistress’ scolding of her beggarly ways: They told me I disgraced my master with begging, and if I did so any more, they would knock me in the head: I told them, they had as good knock me in the head as starve me to death (162). Even though it’s clear she’s acting in a base manner, Rowlandson is able to stand tall, because her actions are textually justified. As Dawn Henwood states: “Her memory of the sacred songs and hymns of civilization plays a key role in restoring her sense of self” (Henwood, 182). While the sacred songs and hymns of civilization specifically refer to the Psalms, they can still be seen as an embodiment of the entire Biblical text. Thus, Henwood’s statement supports to how Rowlandson uses literature “in restoring her sense of self.” Another way Rowlandson uses textuality to attain a sense of dignity is by using biblical texts as a medium through which to express her un-lady like emotions. In Writing a Woman's Life, a discussion of the female tradition of autobiography, Carolyn Heilbrun asserts, "above all other prohibitions, what has been forbidden to women [writers] is anger" (Heilbrun, 13). For Rowlandson then, it is undignified for her to express passionate emotions in her narrative, but she is able to circumnavigate this taboo with the textual aid of the Bible. When she fumes “And the Lord thy God will put these curses upon thine enemies, and on them which hate thee, which persecuted thee” (174), Rowlandson illustrates how she ornaments her forbidden emotions with scriptural texts, so that what might otherwise be deemed coarse and uncivilized, is socially acceptable. Her literacy then, provides her not just with comforting scriptures, but also with an “arsenal of curses against her enemies” (Henwood, 174), that in turn allow her to maintain a sense of righteous indignation and cultural ego during her captivity. Rowlandson’s obvious anxiety over the literacy of particular Indians, testifies again to the importance of book learning in her sense of cultural superiority, and also to the importance of that same bookishness in uncharacteristic, rash behavior. After noticing during negotiations with her captors, that “it was a praying Indian who wrote their letter for them” (164), Rowlandson delves into an impulsive, disparaging tirade detailing her experience with a number of praying Indians. There was another Praying Indian, who told me, that he had a brother that would not eat horse: his conscience was so tender and scrupulous (though as large as hell, for the destruction of poor Christians). Then he said, he read that scripture to him 2 Kings, 6.25 There was a famine in Samaria, and behold they besiegbed it, until an ass’s head was sold for fourscore pieces ...