Joni Thrasher

February 28, 2005

Rebellion in American Romanticism

Whether conscious or unconscious, private or public, and through speech or action, rebellion is part of the spirit of American Romanticism and appears in many forms. In Charlotte Temple, Charlotte’s surfaces both in action and silent inaction, in The Declaration of Independence, Jefferson’s materializes in speech and action; and in The Last of the Mohicans, Cora’s emerges at birth and in speech and action. Charlotte seems unaware of her rebellion, yet rebel she does. Jefferson, involved in the ultimate revolt, is well aware and is bursting with energetic rebellion. Cora’s rebellion is found in specific acts and in her nature. Rebelling against established order and determined to make their own choices, a naïve schoolgirl, a dynamic statesman, and a plucky woman all represent the rebellious spirit in American Romanticism, an era of significant cultural change.

            In Susanna Rowson’s Charlotte Temple, a young naïve girl rebels against her parents, though her rebellion is depicted as being essentially accidental. The narrator revealing the hope that the story will “save one hapless fair one from the errors which ruined poor Charlotte” (1) suggests that Charlotte is responsible for her actions and is certainly not admired for being true to herself or for choosing her own path. Instead, her act of rebellion is seen as exemplifying evil. 

Although Charlotte is portrayed as being so naïve that she is nearly unaware of her actions, causing her elopement to seem accidental, she still does ultimately leave England, heading to America with the hope and promise of marrying Montraville. Regardless of her innocence and her seeming lack of disobedient intentions, because she acts in a rebellious manner, both when she sneaks out to meet Montraville and when she runs away with the “monster of seduction,” her actions may be construed as rebellious in nature.

From Charlotte’s first meeting with Montraville until she leaves with him, the reader, sympathetic because of her extreme vulnerability, is hesitant to blame her for her actions. She is never told the truth about any situation that later causes her problems and lacks the savvy to perceive the hidden reality. Mademoiselle repeatedly tricks her, lying without hesitation in order to selfishly get what she wants. Montraville persuades her by proclaiming that he literally cannot live without her, which, of course, proves to be untrue, since he later abandons her.

Besides the outsiders’ deceptions and betrayals, Charlotte deceives and betrays herself, which ultimately leads to rebellion, regardless of the fact that she does not admit it until much later. She decides to quit seeing Montraville, but her “treacherous heart betrayed her,” and she “was unable to resist” (8). In effect, she relinquishes responsibility by blaming her heart. Again, she rebels against herself, seen in her comment to Mademoiselle, “Indeed I do repent […] from my soul: but while discretion points out the impropriety of my conduct, inclination urges me on to ruin” (10). In other words, she releases herself from responsibility. As Caroline Garner states in her midterm, “Another way to view Charlotte’s rebellion has to do with resisting her own conscience. She constantly tells herself she will ’never repeat the indiscretion’ (381), but she does so time and time again” (Garner). Charlotte’s actions never match her words: she says one thing and then does another. The reader can only surmise that the tantalizing lure of an adventure across the ocean to a new, unknown land with a handsome man appeals to her romantic sensibilities. After firmly deciding to “sacrifice love to duty,” she allows herself to be literally, physically picked up and put in the chaise (11, 12). She never explicitly says she will rebel against her parents and upbringing, yet rebel she does when she gives up her voice and her will to act and when she repeatedly rebels against her better self. Only after she is living in America and has a child does she finally take responsibility for her actions, seen when she refers to her child as “the offspring of disobedience” (12).

On the other hand, Charlotte has been groomed to comply with the wishes of others, in an effort to please them. She has been trained to obey, with little or no voice of her own, which leaves her vulnerable to the schemes of people who do not have her best interest at heart. She has not been taught to think for herself and to decide what is best for her. She has been trained to do exactly what she does—feel and show empathy for others and do whatever is in her power to help, even if it is at her own expense. Putting others first would seem natural to a dutiful daughter like Charlotte. Viewing her situation from this perspective suggests the possibility that she does operate within the established order when she allows herself to be taken to America. After her first meeting with Montraville, she reveals a key aspect of her upbringing—decorum: “The levity of the gentlemen and the freedom of their conversation disgusted her” (1). Yet despite the disgust, she continues to see him. Perhaps her need to please and help others overrides her revulsion and her better judgment.

            While Charlotte silently rebels, seemingly unaware of the oppressive environment she defies, the whole world watches Thomas Jefferson’s rebellion and is intensely aware of his perception of being oppressed. On behalf of his fellow Americans, Jefferson writes The Declaration of Independence; thus, his rebellion takes place on the world’s stage. With an energetic, rebellious tone, Jefferson seems to nearly explode with a catalog of overwhelming restraints, restrictions, and limitations. His language, his careful choice of words, creates a vivid image of tyranny. 

            The overall theme of The Declaration of Independence is rebellion, asserting that Americans, determining their own future, have decided to sever ties with Great Britain. A rejection of ideas and control, the rebellion is ultimately revealed both in speech and in action. This romantic notion – a new country being formed by a people who demand to choose their own way– becomes the beginning of a journey to freedom. Once declared, in true Romantic style, these men journeyed on single-mindedly until their goal was realized.

Speaking out against Great Britain, and specifically King George III, Jefferson offers a full explanation, openly expressing the rebellion. He begins by discussing the inherent right to rebel and the responsibility to explain the reasons (337). He argues that humans have the right “to alter or to abolish” a government, especially one with “a long train of abuses and usurpations” (338). Using terms to describe the oppression, such as “absolute despotism” and “absolute tyranny,” he unapologetically announces the intention to break ties. Using straightforward, energetic language, he lists grievances and abuses of power, including issues such as unfair laws, immigration issues, court injustices, and the destruction of “the lives of our people” (338-41). The Declaration is the quintessential romantic ideal. Emphatically stated, Americans revolted, demanding the right to self-determination.

The spirit of rebellion converges in James Fenimore Cooper’s forest romance, The Last of the Mohicans, which presents rebellion on many levels. Several characters, including Magua, Hawkeye, and Cora, as well as the Indians, rebel against oppression, established order, and social rules. One character in particular, Cora, seems to exemplify rebellion because it is found not only in her speech and actions but also seems to be present in her very being.

For Cora, rebellion is automatic and involuntary, as if predetermined at birth. Revealing no self-consciousness about her rebellion and displaying no mulling over her decisions, she simply instinctively speaks and acts. She does not search for insight in order to discover more about her identity, which further strengthens the idea that her rebellion is automatic. Furthermore, her basic character does not change throughout the tale.

            Cora is a descendent, on her maternal side, of a black woman from the West Indies. Munro, her father, in the same speech in which this fact is revealed, also makes it clear that he, unlike most others at the time, does not consider one race to be inferior to another. He says to Major Heyward, “[. . .] you are yourself born at the south, where these unfortunate beings are considered of a race inferior to your own!’” (159). In her own home anyway, we can surmise that Munro has raised her with the idea that her mixed blood is not a disadvantage in any way.

Unlike the typical image of early American women, Cora’s speech and actions illustrate a brave, outspoken nature, which can be construed as rebellious. For example, immediately after the Huron “dashed the head of the infant against a rock” and “drove his tomahawk into [the mother’s] own brain,” Magua “raised the fatal and appalling whoop,” summoning the Indians to fight, and “more than two thousand raging savages broke from the forest at the signal,” ultimately killing “between five and fifteen hundred” (176, 179). In the midst of this terrifying scene, when Magua invites Cora in the wigwam, she declines, and then courageously exclaims, “Monster! There is blood, upon thy soul; thy spirit has moved this scene” (178). He asks again, and she responds, “Never! strike if thou wilt, and complete thy revenge” (178). While hundreds are being slaughtered, Cora responds to Magua with tremendous courage, especially for a young woman in the forest in early America.

A revealing scene in The Mohicans regarding Cora includes the mourning and the conversation at her funeral, which is a combination of an Indian ritual and a Christian burial. Several of the mourners’ conversations at her funeral reveal much about her character and her place amongst them. The maidens dance all around the topic of Uncas and Cora being meant for each other, and both sides seem to accept it, or at least no one interrupts in disagreement. After singing of Cora’s need for a protector in the afterlife, the Indian maidens sing of Uncas’ attributes, hinting at the idea that Uncas will be her warrior in the afterlife. The maidens even address the potential problem of their different races in the afterlife: “They advised her to [. . .] never forget the distinction which the Manitto had so wisely established between them” (343). Only Hawkeye acknowledges a problem with the idea, though done silently: “when they spoke of the future prospects of Cora and Uncas, he shook his head, like one who knew the error of their simple creed” (344). The narrator reveals that Heyward and Munro “knew not the meaning of the wild sounds they heard” (344). The maidens appealed to the Great Spirit, presenting the case that although Cora lacked Indian “arts,” her “matchless beauty,” “noble resolution,” and “superior excellence” “should prove more than equivalent for any little imperfections in her education” (342).  In other words, she was accepted to the extent that the Indians appeal to their god to view her as one of their own. 

            Everything about Cora paints her as a rebel, whether by choice or not. A mixed-blood woman who shows unflinching courage while facing death, and one who hints at having feelings for an Indian all portray Cora as a unique character. That she is admired by other characters, in spite of, or perhaps because of, her differences is in itself a rebellious idea.

            If Charlotte Temple would have been in the group traveling through the forest in The Mohicans, she would resemble Alice, helpless, defenseless, and vulnerable. Unlike Cora, Charlotte never has the opportunity to develop internal resources and inner strengths. On the other hand, like Charlotte, perhaps Cora might have wished for Uncas to physically pick her up and carry her away. However, the image of an Indian whisking a ‘white’ woman away from her people implies a different story altogether, which is the point. At a time when Americans knew of captivity narratives, the very idea of a white woman willingly departing with an Indian was unthinkable. This is the image of an idea whose time had not yet come. Cora seems to have sufficient confidence and certainly finds the voice to confront Magua but not the confidence and voice to reveal feelings for Uncas (if indeed she has feelings for him). Perhaps she would have found the voice to demand self-determination if she had been able to command the powerful voice of Jefferson, one who showed no qualms about demanding what he wanted. But that idea was also one whose time had not yet come. Future cultural rebellions would allow such previously unthinkable ideas to flourish.

Works Cited

Cooper, James Fenimore. The Last of the Mohicans. (1826). New York: Penguin, 2001.

Garner, Caroline. “The Rebellious Spirit of Romanticism.” UHCL American Romanticism, Fall 2000.

Jefferson, Thomas. “The Declaration of Independence.” The Norton Anthology of American Literature.  Shorter 6^th edition.  New York: Norton, 2003. 336-41.

Rowson, Susanna. Charlotte Temple. (1791). Handout. UHCL American Romanticism, Spring 2005.