way out for art and the artist.
– Jack London (1911)
Not surprisingly, given the United States ’ radical birth, American literary fi gures
have long exploited fi ction ’ s power to convey messages of social change, deploying
both novels and short stories, the latter peculiarly suited to the task as they are, in
Poe ’ s phrase, “ terse … well - timed, and … readily diffused ” (qtd. in Levy 17). The
two major eras of the short story parallel the two great upsurges of American reform
impulses: the mid - nineteenth century, which saw the rapid growth of the temperance,
abolitionist, and women ’ s rights movements, as well as the multiplication of utopian
communities such as Brook Farm, Oneida, and Amana, and the late nineteenth and
early twentieth centuries, during which Progressivism, Populism, and many other
reform movements, large and small, appeared, including socialism, suffragism, modern
hygiene reform, labor reform, anti - imperialism, and trade unionism, among others.
Not coincidentally, these eras are also the major periods of the American magazine ’ s
development, in which reformist non - fi ction and fi ction frequently appear side by side
in such publications as Harper ’ s , Century Magazine , the Atlantic Monthly , and Everybody ’ s
Magazine . Between 1820 and 1860, the number of magazines grew from under 100
to nearly 600. 1 Subsequently, from 1885 to 1905, the number grew from 3,300 to
over 6,000. 2
188
Andrew J. Furer
In the following pages, we will see the ways in which American short fi ction
between 1830 and 1920 engages with issues central to nineteenth
-
and early
twentieth - century reform movements, and the manner in which tropes of domestic
infl uence that dominate earlier reform fi ction begin, in the Progressive Era, to be
supplemented – or in some cases, supplanted – by masculinist ones such as those of
battle and direct resistance, on the one hand, and feminist anti - domestic tropes, on
the other. 3
Temperance was one of the largest mid - nineteenth - century reform movements; in
1835, the American Temperance Society had a membership of 1.5 million, 10 percent
of the free population (Young 4). The results of this crusade were also impressive:
between 1830 and 1850 per capita consumption of alcohol declined by a factor of
four. This movement was one of the fi rst in which men and women appear to have
participated in equal numbers – in the 1820s and 1830s, women, active in both mixed
and all - female societies, constituted approximately 50 percent of all those engaged in
the crusade against alcohol (Mattingly 4). 4 Indeed, this movement can be seen as one
of the fi rst through which women took a public, social role, albeit behind a mask of
domestic concerns.
Writers such as Lucius Marcellus Sargent (whose
“
My Mother
’
s Gold Ring
”
[1833] was among the most popular temperance stories), Lydia Howard Huntley
Sigourney, Caroline Hyde Butler (Laing), Harriet Beecher Stowe, Elizabeth Cady
Stanton, Louisa May Alcott, and many others published powerful temperance stories
in both general interest and temperance magazines, as well as in the popular temper-
ance gift books. 5
Women writers, such as Sigourney, often described their stories against drink as
“ water drops ” (Mattingly xi), of which her “ The Intemperate ” (1833) – fi rst published
in pamphlet form, and then in 1834 in a gift book – provides a paradigmatic early
example. The protagonist, Jane Harwood, enters her marriage with high hopes, but
soon fi nds herself in a horrifi c, precarious situation in which her husband may become
violent at any time, putting the family at risk, a situation that eventually leads to
her son ’ s death: “ Harshness, and the agitation of fear, deepened the disease which
might else have yielded. The timid boy, in fear of his natural protector, withered away
like a blighted fl ower ” (Sigourney 40). Such sentimental, overwrought language is
typical of temperance fi ction, and more generally, of course, of that produced by
Hawthorne ’ s “ hordes of scribbling women, ” who wrote most of the era ’ s bestsellers.
“ The Intemperate ” aptly illustrates the adage that absolute power corrupts absolutely,
as well as the increased danger to dipsomaniacal husbands ’ wives who move away from
friends and extended family, a not uncommon event in the age of Manifest Destiny.
Jane emerges as both victim and heroine, nobly bearing up under the despotism of
her husband, a frequent theme in women ’ s temperance fi ction, one much appreciated
by its predominantly female readership. Ultimately, however, she is left with a life-
long “ sacred and deep - rooted sorrow – the memory of her erring husband and the
miseries of unreclaimed intemperance, ” a sorrow the author hopes will be burned into
her reader
’
s memories (Sigourney 45), provoking them to fi ght this social evil
themselves.
Short Fiction and Social Change
189
Butler ’ s “ Emma Alton ” (1850) , fi rst published in a gift book, tells an even more
tragic story, that of a young bride and newborn babe destroyed by an intemperate
husband, who is subsequently jailed for murdering another man (though not for
abusing his family). Along the way, while a few pity Emma, many “ [point] the fi nger
at the drunkard ’ s wife , ” even though she is, as Butler declares, “ the innocent sufferer
of her husband ’ s vices! ” (Butler 25). The narrator closes the story by attempting to
lead the reader to join her in her sorrow, declaring, after witnessing Emma ’ s funeral,
“ as the hot tears gathered, [that] ‘ thou art yet another victim at the shrine of intem-
perance! ’ ” (30). It is worth noting that although most victims of intemperance were
working - class, most characters in temperance fi ction are middle - or lower middle -
class, a clear attempt by these writers to engage their predominantly bourgeois audi-
ence through the hoary rhetorical strategy of appealing to their self
- interest and
instinct of self - preservation – the implied motif of “ this could happen to you! ” runs
through many such stories.
Whereas Sigourney ’ s and Butler ’ s stories show the destruction of the husband as
well as the suffering of the wife and children, Sargent ’ s “ My Mother ’ s Gold Ring ”
illustrates the salvation of both husband and wife, the former being inspired by others
who have “ taken the pledge, ” though initially, in place of the pledge, the husband
uses a ring. In this story husband and wife share equally in the triumph over intem-
perance, perhaps a refl ection of the author ’ s gender. That is to say, both male and
female agency prevail here, not merely the latter. Speaking to an abstemious neighbor,
the husband declares:
“ For fi ve months, instead of the pledge, I have in every trial and temptation – and a
drinking man knows well the force and meaning of those words – I have relied upon
this gold ring, to renew my strength, and remind me of my duty to God, to my wife,<
br />
to my children, and to society. … [The ring] … has proved, thus far, the life - boat of a
drowning man. ” (Sargent 23)
Here a symbol of domestic attachments, its rhetorical force doubled by referencing
both wife and mother, rescues the intemperate, another recurring temperance theme.
Sargent attempts to extend the reach of his domestic theme by urging his readers to
convey the story beyond the realm of the family, not merely within it. He prefaces
his story by urging the reader, “ When you have read it, if, among all your connexions
[ sic ] and friends, you can think of no one, whom its perusal may possibly benefi t – and
it will be strange if you cannot – do me the favor to present it to the fi rst little boy
that you meet. He will, no doubt, take it home to his father and mother. If you will
not do this, throw it in the street, as near to some dram - seller ’ s door, as you ever
venture to go ” (Sargent iii – iv). His intent is clear: speed the message of temperance
by any means necessary.
One of the best
-
known mid
-
nineteenth
-
century fi ction writers was, of course,
Harriet Beecher Stowe. Most readers, however, are probably unaware that she fi rst
used domestic tropes in temperance fi ction before famously applying them nearly a
decade later in the cause of abolition in Uncle Tom ’ s Cabin (1852). For example, in
“ The Coral Ring ” (1843) – fi rst published in a gift book, and later reprinted in Godey ’ s
190
Andrew J. Furer
Lady Book – she demonstrates the power of women to achieve social change through
domestic infl uence, though in this case, between cousins:
It was not more than a week before the news was circulated that even George Elliot had
signed the pledge of temperance. There was much wondering at this sudden turn among
those who had known his utter repugnance to any measure of the kind, and the extent
to which he had yielded to temptation; but few knew how fi ne and delicate had been
the touch to which his pride had yielded. (Stowe 217)
This is the same “ fi ne and delicate ” touch wielded by the Senator ’ s wife in Uncle Tom ’ s
Cabin, and the wife - narrator in Sargent ’ s “ My Mother ’ s Gold Ring, ” though extended
slightly beyond immediate family. The implication in such stories is clear: if every
female relative, close or distant, were to wield this delicate weapon of hearth and
home, intemperance would be rapidly wiped out.
Temperance fi ction, while highly popular in antebellum America, did not lose its
appeal after the war, as evidenced by Louisa May Alcott ’ s “ Silver Pitchers ” (1876 ),
published shortly after the establishment of the Woman
’
s Christian Temperance
Union, an organization for which Alcott later served as her local chapter ’ s correspond-
ing secretary (Mattingly 218
–
19).
6 Here, Alcott echoes Stowe ’ s emphasis on the
effi cacy of women ’ s domestic power to achieve social change through the tale of a
close - knit group of girls (friends rather than sisters, as in Little Women [1868]), who
come to the conclusion that young women should “ use our youth, our beauty, our
infl uence for something nobler than merely pleasing men ’ s eyes, or playing with their
hearts ” (Alcott 241). As Priscilla, one of the girls, notes, speaking directly to this
theme: “ We [girls] can ’ t preach and pray in streets and bar - rooms, but we may at
home, and in our own little world show that we want to use our infl uence for good ”
(Alcott 222), a power that saves several men and, by implication, their families. 7 By
showing the infl uence of a group of women – the “ Silver Pitchers ” society, meant to
symbolize a pitcher of water – on their families and friends, rather than focusing on
a single family, Alcott not only brings her readers inside homes similar to their own,
like Sigourney and Butler, but also presents a compelling case for the effi cacy of
temperance societies. Alcott and Stowe, like other temperance writers, relying heavily
on the trope of female domestic infl uence, provide a variation on the theme of “ the
hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. ”
The effects of reform texts are, of course, manifestations of what Jane Tompkins in
Sensational Designs calls their cultural work. Often, as just illustrated, a gentle female
hand achieves such work. While the ameliorating effect of domestic infl uence is one
of the most widely used strategies of mid - nineteenth - century reform fi ction, it is less
frequently and less sentimentally used in later reform stories of social change, as we
shall see below in Jack London ’ s socialist fi ction and Jacob Riis ’ s tenement stories,
among other examples.
One notable feature of the major mid - nineteenth - century reform movements is
the degree to which they overlap, particularly in the case of women, who were not
Short Fiction and Social Change
191
only a major part of the temperance crusade, but were also signifi cant participants
in abolitionism. Although much major abolitionist writing was non - fi ction, such as
the works of Frederick Douglass, Harriet Jacobs, William Lloyd Garrison, Theodore
Weld, and Wendell Phillips, there was also a steady stream of abolitionist novels
and stories, of which Uncle Tom ’ s Cabin is merely the best known. While male abo-
litionist leaders such as Garrison or Weld founded or edited many of the major
abolitionist periodicals, in 1841 one of the most prolifi c reform writers of the era,
Lydia Maria Child, became editor of the
Antislavery Standard . 8
Child wrote both
fi ction and non - fi ction addressing issues relating to all three major reform move-
ments (though her main interests were in women ’ s rights and abolitionism), as well
as less popular ones, such as Native American rights. 9 As Carolyn L. Karcher notes,
Child was a household name in her time, as well known to Americans as her Thanks-
giving song, “ Over the river, and through the wood, / To grandfather ’ s house we
go ” ( A Lydia 1).
“ Slavery ’ s Pleasant Homes ” (1843) is one of Child ’ s most powerful anti - slavery
stories. Drenched in irony, a common technique in reform fi ction, this text, among
other horrors, features a scene in which a fragile, beautiful pregnant woman is fl ogged
to death. Having disobeyed her jealous master, and continued to see her slave
lover, Rosa
exasperated their master beyond endurance. He swore he would overcome her obstinacy,
or kill her; and one severe fl ogging succeeded another, till the tenderly - nurtured slave
fainted under the cruel infl iction, which was rendered doubly dangerous by the delicate
state of her health. Maternal pains came on prematurely, and she died a few hours after.
( “ SPH ” 241)
Child, like Stowe, Alcott, and others discussed above, uses the domestic and maternal
to tug at readers ’ heartstrings, in this case compelling them to identify with the racial
Other.
This story further rouses our outrage by dramatizing the sexual exploitation
of slave
women by their masters, and slavery ’ s destruction of all human ties. George, her slave
lover, asks her: “ ‘ Rosa, where were you last night? ’ … ‘ Oh … ’ said she with bitter
anguish, ‘ what can I do? I am his slave ’ ” (240). She subsequently attempts to avoid
her master, but the result is that her lover is sent away and they are forbidden to see
each other, “ under penalty of severe punishment ” (240). Child closes her narrative
with heavy irony. After George confesses to killing his master, the newspapers
announce a “ ‘ Fiend - like murder. Frederic Dalcho, one of our most wealthy and respected
citizens, was robbed and murdered last week, by one of his slaves ’ ” (242). Of course,
the real “ Fiend - like murder ” is Dalcho ’ s heartless destruction of Rosa and her unborn
child, an act sure to raise abolitionist sympathies in her readers. 10
Deploying a somewhat more elegant form of irony, Stowe, in “ The Two Altars; or,
Two Pictures in One ” (1851) , published a year before Uncle Tom ’ s Cabin , and, like the
longer work, a response to the Fugitive Slave Law, juxtaposes two vignettes. The fi rst
192
Andrew J. Furer
shows a white family ’ s sacrifi ces in 1776 in support of soldiers fi ghting the British,
while the second portrays a black family destroyed by enforcement of the new law.
The story concludes: “ the man is bid off, and the hammer falls with a last crash on
his heart, his hopes, his manhood, and he lies a bleeding wreck on the altar of Liberty!
Such was the altar in 1776; such is the altar in 1850! ” (Stowe, “ Two Altars ” 182).
Stowe shows us a retrograde movement in politics and morality, a decline from Revo-
lutionary ideals, implicitly urging us to recapture them.
Clearly, women were deeply invested in anti - slavery and abolitionism, partly, it
seems, because many, such as Child and the Grimk é sisters, saw that black slaves and
women had much in common, since women ’ s rights were nearly as limited in this
period as those of slaves. 11 Until they were married, nineteenth - century women were
under the “ protection ” of their fathers and/or brothers. In nearly every state, women,
after marriage, were subject to coverture laws, derived from English Common Law.
A Companion to the American Short Story Page 42