The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

The blackened horseman hoisting his pumpkin head above his headless body is perhaps one of the most iconic and well recognized literary images of Halloween. It is as synonymous with the holiday as is candy or costumes. Of course, this is in large part attributed to the fact that the short story it arose from, “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” by Washington Irving, is a perfect example of an intricate tale complete with all the supernatural mystery one would want on Halloween. Yet, like the best stories, it follows that after reading, one is left with a myriad of questions all dying for answers. What truly happened to Ichabod Crane on that fateful night? How much does Brom Brones really know of what transpired? What should one make of Mr. Knickerbocker’s subsequent postscript with its complicated moral? How can the reader even begin to answer any of these questions without getting completely lost in speculation or conjecture? The following is my best attempt at trying to “hammer out” logical and adequate explanations for each of the proposed questions.

First, it does well to clearly state that nowhere does Irving decisively state Ichabod’s end, opting instead to only provide clues which remain entirely subject to the reader’s interpretation. Now would be the best time to consider the role of Brom Brones in this whole affair. True, the evidence against him is not damning, but considering he “was observed to look exceedingly knowing whenever the story of Ichabod was related, and always burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the pumpkin,” moves me to believe Ichabod’s ordeal was the result of a prank and not some supernatural specter (984). Furthermore, turning to accounts like that of the old farmer who speaks of seeing him alive in New York, consequently leads the logical side of me to be strongly convinced that the headless horseman is more myth than material.

Shifting from Ichabod’s fate to Mr. Knickerbocker’s postscript, I will admit, I was at a loss as to what it all meant or to what I was supposed to gather from its given lesson:

     That there is no situation in life but has its advantages and pleasures, provided we will but take a joke as we find it:
     That, therefore, he that runs races with goblin troopers, is likely to have rough riding of it:
     Ergo, for a country schoolmaster to be refused the hand of a Dutch heiress, is a certain step to high preferment in the state. (985)

Only after much mulling and pondering was I able to come to some decision regarding a decisive meaning:

1. Every situation in life as its advantages, provided one can take a joke
   
2. Becoming mixed up in the race to capture the heart of a “coquette” like Katrina Van Tassel would inevitably be “rough riding,” especially if one considers the eventual prank of Brom Bones (“a goblin trooper”)
   
3. Therefore, for a schoolmaster like Ichabod to be denied the hand of the heiress was not such a misfortune as it ultimately lead him to his promoted life in New York

Ultimately, I see the narrator’s syllogistic argument as an affirmation of my previous thoughts regarding Ichabod’s fate. Still, for all the proof I would try and find that Ichabod’s story was entirely within the realm of reason, there lingers a nagging feeling that wants to steer logic in the other direction. Maybe Ichabod was “spirited away by supernatural means” (984). After all, they say the old school house is haunted by Ichabod’s unfortunate ghost, and that the plough boy can still hear his voice “chanting a melancholy psalm tune among the tranquil solitudes of Sleepy Hollow” (984).

Washington, Irving. "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." The Norton Anthology of American Literature Vol. B. 7th ed. Ed. Nina Baym. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2007. 965-985.

The Better and More Believable Bradstreet

While discussing the poetry of Anne Bradstreet, thoughts of Mary Rowlandson kept floating into my consciousness, but what would bring about such an impromptu association? Perhaps it was because, on the surface, these are two extremely similar authors, both coming from the same time, place, and faith. Alternatively, it may have been the relevant popularity of their work, as both pieces garnered a wide audience and much acclaim. Maybe it is the fact that to this point, these are the only women authors the course has covered. Still, mulling over the possibilities gave me the feeling that for all the reasons they are the same, it is more likely their differences which caused me to think of Rowlandson in midst of Bradstreet’s poems. Conceivably, what follows is an inevitable comparison of the two, with everything—from their intended audience, to each woman’s purpose, to their overall tone—formulating a strong case for Bradstreet as the genuine, and arguably more believable, author.

The most forthright difference of these two is their intended audience, and the consequences of that readership on their work. It is evident that Rowlandson’s captivity narrative was meant to be published, and was therefore a planned and carefully considered story. It had definite goals like promoting the faith, strengthening current believers, or calling lost ones back. Knowing her purpose was faith endorsement causes skepticism in the reader, since events or facts may have been manipulated to fit said end. Conversely, the introduction to Bradstreet’s poetry prefaces her intentions stating, “Quite unknown to her, her brother-in-law, John Woodbridge...brought with him to London a manuscript collection of her poetry and had it printed there in 1650” (Franklin 187). Unlike Rowlandson, Bradstreet did not mean for her work to be viewed by the general public, and consequently, it was written more for her own sake than for others. For that reason, I feel as though Bradstreet has a more sincere (and arguably more authentic) tone in her work. She was not trying to call others to Puritanism like Rowlandson, but rather, was chronicling her inner thoughts on the faith, seeking to reason through the trials of life. Because it was meant only for her and possibly a few close friends, Bradstreet’s poetry is not “tainted” by ulterior motives, and is easier to read as an honest mediation on the qualities of the Puritan life.

Another major distinction between these women is the previously mentioned “amount of authenticity” in their words. To elaborate, this is to mean that where Rowlandson would have the reader believe she never questioned her belief or doubted God, Bradstreet more credibly struggles with the demands of the faith. Moreover, Bradstreet expertly details the conflict between the desires of the body and the will of the mind (after all, that is a large part of what being human is all about). In her poem, “The Flesh and the Spirit,” Bradstreet uses the image of two dueling sisters to show how the Spirit must constantly work to silence the tempting Flesh:

Spirit: Be still thou unregenerate part,
Disturb no more my settled heart,
For I have vowed (and so will do)
Thee as a foe still to pursue.
And combat with thee will and must,
Until I see thee laid in th’ dust. (37-42)

Her scenario perfectly illustrates the reality of the constant internal conflict many Puritans (and indeed herself ) found themselves subject too. Such a battle is absent from Rowlandson’s story, as her defining quality was relentless devotion which never wavered under any circumstance. Because Bradstreet never claims to be immune from her human condition, she is able to better relate with readers who would also recognize themselves as more human than saint. Ultimately, the personal nature of her work makes it the more plausible piece, and likewise, her awareness of humanness offers a certain air of authenticity Rowlandson’s self-professed flawless faith lacks.

Bradstreet, Anne. "The Flesh and the Spirit." The Norton Anthology of American Literature Vol. A. 7th ed. Ed. Nina Baym. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2007. 202-204.

Franklin, Wayne, Philip F. Gura, and Arnold Krupat. “Anne Bradstreet (ca. 1612-1672).” The Norton Anthology of American Literature Vol. A. 7th ed. Ed. Nina Baym. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2007. 187-188.

What To Make of Wheatley's Words

To be surprised that an African-American is capable of authorship is of course an extremely dated and embarrassing thought to have today. Rewind time, and as deplorable as it might seem, such a thought becomes commonplace—the literacy of an African-American, especially one forced into slavery, is considered an oddity. In fact, it is so miraculous, that Whites must bear witness to the authenticity of their work. After all, it was only when they had been examined, that authors like Phillis Wheatley were deemed qualified enough to have been the writer of their own poems and letters. Still, the story is not her authorship, but rather, the unexpected, yet perceptive, content of her remarkable works.

The text’s introduction prefaces her collection by stating, “…It is no exaggeration to say that she has never been better understood than at the present….reconsideration shows Wheatley to be a bold and canny spokesperson for her faith and her politics” (Franklin 752). It does help to keep that in mind while reading, as it is true, in Wheatley’s words one can clearly see her support for American independence and the abolition of slavery. However, the problem is not recognizing where she stands on the issues, but discerning where exactly these beliefs are coming from, and asking if the modern mind really does understand her point of view?

To say her poem, “On Being Brought from Africa to America,” is conflicting is an understatement. She writes of her homeland and her life before slavery in not the most flattering light saying, “’Twas mercy brought me from my pagan land, / Taught my benighted soul to understand / That there’s a God, that there’s a Savior too” (1-3). Classifying the actions of slave dealers (who abducted children and took others hostage) as an act of mercy seems an incongruously absurd idea. What’s more, before her sale into slavery, Wheatley classifies her soul as benighted, meaning it to be unenlightened intellectually, socially, or morally. This idea would also seem contradictory given the fact that modern thought would lead one to think it was the enslaver’s soul, not the enslaved, which would be darkened and in dire need of the redeeming Savior.

Perhaps more confusing than her opening lines are Wheatley’s closing sentiments: “Remember, Christians, Negroes, black as Cain, / May be refined, and join the angelic train” (7-8). To remark to anyone in the year 2008 that there is hope for African-Americans because they can be refined enough to “join the angelic train” is complete nonsense suitable only to those who would agree with Hitler. Then again, I do not believe that is what Wheatley meant, given she was writing to a much different audience and time. To start making sense of her poem, my attention returns to the previously stated questions: Where are her beliefs coming from, and does modern thought better understand her intentions?

Foremost, given she was a child when sold into slavery, and was accordingly raised by the white, Christian Wheatleys, I feel as though her work is completely influenced by that subsequent upbringing. Of course, it is not a far stretch to surmise that she may have believed her soul was in the dark until by the grace of God she was taught to read and write. Also, it should be mentioned that a large part of her work centers on the undeniable feeling all humans have for Freedom. Thus, when she says those “black as Cain” can become refined, I feel as though she is trying to dispel the untrue belief held by many Whites of the time: namely that Blacks were unable to be educated, making them something less than human and more akin to property. Indeed, those sentiments are cause enough to see why people demanded verification of her work. The time and people she was writing to are starkly different from those now, and for that reason, I do not believe judging her works by today’s standards is advisable. The reader needs to remove themselves from their time and be cognizant of hers, but maybe that is what the introduction meant when it theorized that recent critics have “provided a context in which her work can best be read and her life understood” (Franklin 752).

Franklin, Wayne, Philip F. Gura, and Arnold Krupat. “Phillis Wheatley (ca. 1753-1784).” The Norton Anthology of American Literature Vol. A. Ed. Nina Baym. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2007. 751-752.

Wheatley, Phillis. "On Being Brought from Africa to America." The Norton Anthology of American Literature Vol. A. Ed. Nina Baym. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2007. 752-753.

The Federalist, No. 10

It has been over 200 years since the publication of The Federalist Letters, but are their authors’ arguments still applicable today? The answer of course would be a resounding “yes,” since in their words are outlined many of the fundamentals the country was built on. In particular, works like, “The Federalist, No. 10” by James Madison convincingly detailed the benefits of a republic over a direct democracy, but what he could not predict was how with time, a new, less commendable government has taken shape.

Rightly, Madison grounded his arguments in an astute observation regarding human nature. He recognized that inevitably there will always be a “zeal for different opinions concerning religion, concerning government and many other points” which will divide “mankind into parties, [inflame] them with mutual animosity, and [render] them much more disposed to vex and oppress each other than to cooperate for their common good” (670). Examples of his assertion are everywhere. There are conservative people who would think less of another simply because they agree with liberal ideals (and vice versa). Looking at newspapers, the “talking heads” on television, and radio broadcasters, it seems everyone has an opinion, and of course, it is the right one. Simply think back to the last time you witnessed a yelling match erupt between two supposedly professional journalist on a cable news network, and then it becomes not hard to understand what Madison was up against.

What remedy is offered for this unavoidable predicament built into human nature? Madison says a representational government, or republic, is the answer, but is it truly the cure he proclaims it to be? Obviously, others agreed, for it is how the country is run today, but what consequences have befallen us? Madison theorized that with a republic “it may well happen that the public voice pronounced by the representatives of the people will be more consonant to the public good than if pronounced by the people themselves…” (672). The only safety net he offers is to surmise that because of the greater number of citizens in a large republic, there is a greater probability of candidates being of “the right choice,” since “it will be more difficult for unworthy candidates to practice with success the vicious arts” (672). Essentially, he is relying on the masses to be so drawn to the common good, that they will effectively quell those small factions who work only to further their own unscrupulous ends. True, if everyone where to be involved in every decision, the public would be voting daily, and nothing else could ever be accomplished. However, Madison’s hope that good will prevail fails to consider just how powerful and influential some special interest groups or individuals can be (especially those with money). Oftentimes, these powers corrupt the political process, making legislation more about what will benefit them instead of what will be better for the people. This is easily scene in the many tax breaks afforded to large oil companies (It has not been until recently that congress repealed the 18 billion dollar exemptions afforded these companies, but that was only because gas was climbing over the $4 mark. If prices had not skyrocketed, would these companies still be reaping the benefits their lobbyists worked hard to create?) .

Another problem comes from one outcome of the republic Madison does not seem to provide for: the factions of the representatives themselves. He surmises that the republic’s security lies in “a greater variety of parties and interests” making it less probable that a majority will become organized enough to act on what might be “a common motive” (673). Unfortunately, it seems people have defied his predictions and mobilized behind two distinct, dueling parties. It is not the majority controlling the minority that Madison worried about, but it is a likewise unfavorable condition as the country is arguably split between two sizable groups. When a program or policy fails, Democrats and Republicans become more concerned over blaming their rival rather than finding a solution. To vote outside of one’s party lines makes the individual cause for suspect as they “cannot be trusted” anymore. Certainly, it is a wonder anything ever gets done given the amount of separation present within a single government. Besides, the “variety of parties” meant to keep these groups in check and the republic healthy arguably does not exist anymore (Especially if one considers how the Independent party’s candidate is not even invited to debate).

Madison, James. "The Federalist, No. 10" The Norton Anthology of American Literature Vol. A. Ed. Nina Baym. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2007. 669-674.