Divergent Paths: The Revolutionary Generations of Slavery in America, Berlin Part III

In Part I of his book Many Thousands Gone: The First Two Centuries of Slavery in North America, Ira Berlin discussed the ways Atlantic Creoles, highly cultured peoples of mixed race, shaped the charter generations of African slaves in mainland North America. Part II moved forward chronologically and focused on the Creoles’ successors: the plantation generations, which spread and led to the degradation of black life across North America. Part III, the final section in Berlin’s book, discussed what he referred to as the revolutionary generations. Berlin’s argument focused on the third transformation in the lives of black people in the mainland North America. Seizing the ideas of equality, slaves challenged their masters’ authority, though often unsuccessfully. Berlin claimed that this transformation differed according to the various situations in each region. Freedom only succeeded in the North, and even that was slow and imperfect. Slaves in the Upper South fought hard, but slavery did not crack. The planters of the Lower South clamped down very hard, crushing any thoughts or musings of abolition. The Lower Mississippi Valley emerged with a sharp division between the degraded plantation slaves and the flourishing urban Creoles. Berlin’s organization in this book was impeccable when compared with another book from our class by Edward Gray.

            The great democratic revolutions of the eighteenth century—the French, the American, and the Haitian—set the stage for the third transformation for black people in North America. As mentioned above, slaves took hold of the “egalitarian ideal” and pushed against their masters’ control. They fought to remake themselves and often demanded freedom. The American Revolutionary War offered new leverage and opportunity to challenge both the institution of chattel bondage and structure of white supremacy. Some planters offered their slaves freedom in exchange for military service. The planters’ concessions slowly chipped away at their position within the slave society.[1]

            The context and rhetoric of universal equality permeated the American Colonies during this period. Slavery did not mesh with this emerging rhetoric and further strengthened slaves’ hands. An evangelical upsurge, focused on universal equality before God, accompanied the socio-political focus on the same. Slaves’ physical liberation became intertwined with their spiritual liberation. The brutal slave society of Saint Domingue caught wind of the revolutionary changes in France, and a dispute between free people soon escalated into a full-fledged slave insurrection. By the time the French could get to the island, a free Haiti had emerged. The events of Saint Domingue resonated throughout North America. Free people—slaveholders and non-slaveholders alike—were terrified at such a possibility. Slaves pressed for more control over their own lives, while slave owners smothered the slaves’ expectations and increased their control.[2]

            Berlin Argued that freedom progressed very slowly and unevenly. Only a very small fraction of slaves were actually liberated during this period. In fact, there were more people in bondage after the revolutionary generations than before. Planters fought to reopen the slave trade, a fight which they eventually won. Slave owners pondered the implications of the Declaration of Independence on the Peculiar Institution. This led to a dangerous and twisted reading of the Declaration: if indeed all men were created equal, then perhaps those slaves who remained in their degraded state were not men at all. Thus, the document that set in motion the freedom of many thousands of people led to the repression of thousands more.[3]

            The Age of Revolution, as Berlin referred to it, set in motion two “profoundly different, overlapping, and sometimes conflicting reconstructions.”[4] Liberated people redefined freedom, and enslaved people redefined slavery. As bondmen became free they took on new names, jobs, and residences. They created families, and those families came together to form new communities. Those communities created institutions such as churches, schools, and political caucuses, which white people did not like. Slaves, at the same time, pushed for what advantages they could obtain, such as matters of labor discipline, cultural independence, and institutional independence. Over time, distinctions between free Blacks and slaves became very pronounced. Slaves moved westward toward new plantation lands, while free Blacks moved toward the city. By the end of the revolutionary generations, this divergence led to legal status becoming the most important distinction among Black people in North America.[5]

            Berlin began his assessment of each region with the only example of freedom winning out: the northern states. Nowhere, he argued, did the ideas of the American Revolution hit black society harder than in the North. Revolutionary ideals moved northern slavery backward, first eliminating the remnants of slave society, replacing them with a society with slaves, and eventually transforming it into a free society. This was, however, a very slow and “torturous process.” New York and New Jersey implemented gradual emancipation, locking some slaves into bondage until death and others’ children into bondage for decades. Even after slaves were freed, they remained in a degraded state plagued by discriminatory laws and practices that were aimed at keeping black people dependent.[6]

            Despite the difficult position freed slaves in the North found themselves in, they worked hard and quickly to give meaning to their new status. Freedmen changed their names in an attempt to take control. Moving into new residences, free Blacks found their own jobs and pursued new careers. Freedmen created new communities to build strength and identity as a group, and these new communities created institutions. Churches, schools, and fraternal societies were common among these new Black communities, and offered new opportunities for growth within the larger, white society. A new leadership class emerged and worked hard to maintain unity within these African-American societies. But with new solidarity came new division. Legal, cultural, and racial status became sources of hot contention within the new societies: slaves against former slaves, rural cultures against urban cultures, blacks against people of mixed race. In tragically ironic fashion, once slaves were freed from the oppression and discrimination of slavery, they created new forms of the same amongst themselves.[7]

            Berlin transitioned his argument from the Northern colonies to the Upper South. Previously in his book, Berlin referred to this region as the Chesapeake, which created a more pronounced division between the colonies of Maryland and Virginia and the colonies of the Deep South. It was perhaps a rhetorical gesture to start using the name Upper South in this section, because this period distanced the Chesapeake colonies farther from the North and pulled them closer to the Deep South. As in the Northern colonies, slaves hammered hard against the institution of slavery. Unlike in the in Northern colonies, the institution did not budge. The republicanism and evangelical focus on equality battered the social and political rhetoric that flourished during this period. Yet amongst all the rhetoric, the colonies of the Upper South barely faltered.[8]

            Despite its core dependency on slavery, some areas on the periphery devolved into societies with slaves. This was perhaps mostly a result of declining economic need for slavery in these few areas. Many slaves in these areas were freed, and there began to emerge a simultaneous expansion of black slavery and freedom that redefined black life in the Upper South. These two groups did not strictly diverge among cultural and economic lines as similar groups did in the North. In the Upper South, slave and free blacks united, and occupied the same families, churches, communities, and workplaces. A two-caste system emerged in the region that placed the stark boundary between whites and blacks that would define this region throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.[9]

            The Revolutionary rhetoric that made such changes in the North and the Upper South echoed much differently in the Lower South. Though the American Revolution disrupted slavery, the victory over the British affirmed planters’ power. These slave owners obtained new tools with which to both maintain and expand slavery. There was no abolition as there was in North; there were no musings of emancipation as there were in the Upper South. The Lower South maintained its slave society to the fullest extent. They reopened the Atlantic slave trade and reaffirmed their commitment to the institution and expansion of slavery.[10]

             The restoration and growth of slavery in the Lower South redefined life for African-
Americans. The black majority on the plantation, along with the increased importation of African slaves deepened the connection between Africa and America. The relatively small number of free blacks joined slaves in urban areas to expand their liberty. They dared not use the language of the Declaration of Independence, for the planters in the Lower South took any egalitarian rhetoric as inciting insurrection. Much like the black communities in the North, the small number of free blacks separated themselves from the bondmen and left them to fend for themselves. There was no unity between black people of different legal status or racial composition. A three-caste system emerged within the Lower South: white on the top, brown in the middle, and black on the bottom.[11]

            The last region Berlin focused on was the lower Mississippi Valley, which experienced a very sharp division between slaves on the plantation and Creoles in the cities. The Revolution benefitted free blacks in the cities as they were relied on to join the military in case of invasion. These Creoles looked to the American-European world to establish their roots. The free black population grew dramatically in urban areas, and their communities pressed for full equality as they grew in wealth. Plantation slaves, on the other hand, experienced rapid growth that surpassed any other region in North America. Sugar and cotton shot to the center of the plantation world, which placed the lower Mississippi Valley in the center with them. Spanish authorities reopened the slave trade and transformed the Valley into a slave society. Expansion and “reafricanization” further separated urban free blacks from their plantation counterparts, creating a three-caste system similar to that of the Lower South.[12]

            Berlin presented his argument immaculately throughout the book. He organized each of the three parts meticulously to provide a clear flow within and between sub-arguments. His organization was much easier to navigate than the other textbook from our class, Colonial America: A History in Documents by Edward G. Gray. Gray’s organization was adequate at best. There were times throughout the book when it was hard to pinpoint his argument. It seemed as though Gray compiled a random assortment of primary documents and tried to jam them together into one book. Berlin, on the other hand, had a clear argument with very clear sub-arguments in every part and every chapter of his book.

            The Age of Revolution had a wide variety of effects on slavery in the individual regions of North America. Slaves in the North experienced slow but eventual emancipation. Slaves in the Upper South rarely experienced freedom, but they were closely tied to free blacks. Plantation slaves in the Lower South experienced a tightened grip by their masters, while slaves of the lower Mississippi Valley experienced this tightening perhaps even more than in any other region. Berlin’s organization, unlike Gray’s, made it very easy to navigate and understand his argument. Overall his argument succeeded. He progressed through the three parts of his book clearly and portrayed the consistencies and differences in a well constructed manner. Berlin masterfully conquered this topic in a powerful and enticing way.

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[1] Ira Berlin, Many Thousands Gone: The First Two Centuries of Slavery in North America, (Cambridge: Harvard U.P., 1998), 219.

[2] Berlin, 220-223.

[3] Berlin, 223-224.

[4] Berlin, 224.

[5] Berlin, 224-227.

[6] Berlin, 228.

[7] Berlin, 229.

[8] Berlin, 256.

[9] Berlin, 256, 289.

[10] Berlin, 290.

[11] Berlin, 291.

[12] Berlin, 325-26.

Plantations and Degradation: Slave Societies in North America, Berlin Part II

In Part I of his book Many Thousands Gone: The First Two Centuries of Slavery in North America, Ira Berlin discussed the ways Atlantic Creoles, highly cultured peoples of mixed race, shaped the first generation of African slaves in mainland North America. Part II moved forward chronologically and focused on the Creoles’ successors: the plantation generation. Berlin argued that the plantation institution spread and led to the degradation of black life in North America. Berlin’s argument focused on the transition from what he termed societies with slaves into slave societies. He claimed that this transition differed according to individual situations, and was perhaps most pronounced in the Chesapeake region and the Lowcountry of South Carolina, followed by a unique transition in the North. The Lower Mississippi Valley, according to Berlin, moved in the opposite direction from the other regions: from a slave society back to a society with slaves. The various forms this transition embodied, in connection with individual situations, were comparable to the various effects of the Glorious Revolution on the different colonies.

            Atlantic Creoles permeated societies with slaves, which Berlin defined as societies that utilize slavery but are not economically and socially dependent upon it as an institution. Creoles were able to use their social and cultural experience to better their situation, some to the point of freedom. Their successors were not so lucky. The next generation worked harder and died earlier. Family life was nearly non-existent and they were unable to connect to or understand Christianity, the dominant religion of the white society they found themselves in. The new generation had little opportunity for their own economic interests, a privilege common to their Creole predecessors. All of these indicators of social degradation were reflected in the names they were given by their Planter or Master.[1]

            Planters transformed the society with slaves into a slave society. Slave societies, according to Berlin, are societies that rely heavily upon slavery for the stability of its economic and social structures. These Planters defined race by social status to a greater extent than had ever been done before. They changed the landscape, social classes and relationships, and centers of financial stability. At first, the Planters did not care much about who they enslaved. It was only as Europeans moved Native American tribes farther and farther inland that slavery began to focus solely on Africans. Soon the term “Negro” became synonymous with “slave.” What set apart plantations was its peculiar social order. Nearly one-hundred percent of the gains went to the Planter and nothing went to the slaves. Masters ran their plantations according to the “art of domination.” Slaves had to be in awe of their “metaphorical father,” who incited that awe with systematic and relentless force.[2]

            The Tobacco Revolution brought about the transition into a slave society in the Chesapeake region of Virginia and Maryland. Following Nathaniel Bacon’s rebellion, Planters consolidated their control throughout the region. They instigated slave codes that made slave status hereditary and restricted slaves’ freedoms and prerogatives. The codes created a “mudsill,” which refers to a hypothetical barrier placing any white person above any black person in any and every situation. There was little room for ambition, and the once-vital slave economy withered. Planters imported high numbers of male slaves and stripped them of their identity, constantly increasing the “apparatus of coercion” to demoralize the workers. Slaves who worked in Chesapeake plantations experienced harder work regimens, more days, longer hours, and closer supervision than their Creole Predecessors.[3]

            The Rice Revolution in the lowlands of South Carolina and Georgia was only a small step behind the Tobacco Revolution of the Chesapeake. Similar to the situation in Chesapeake plantations, a rapid increase in demand for rice and indigo led to increased importation of slaves from the Inland of Africa. Increased importation led to massive degradation, both of which far surpassed that of the Chesapeake. The slave society overtook the society with slaves. The lowlands had a black majority: roughly two-to-one in most areas and as high as three-to-one in others. Slaves lived in large units and worked the brutal and tedious cycle of rice and indigo production. Much like their counterparts in the Chesapeake, slaves in the lowlands lost their identities on the plantation.[4] Unlike the North, Chesapeake, and the Lower Mississippi Valley regions, Africanization in the lowlands—the combination of African cultures into the established culture of the plantation—was not a short generation, but lasted a full century.[5]

            The North, according to Berlin, did not experience a plantation revolution akin to those of the Chesapeake and the lowlands. The North transformed rather slowly and unevenly. The transition was much less complete than in the South, and it took place mostly in the urban centers of the Middle Colonies. The number of indentured servants arriving from Europe decreased, thus increasing the importance of the slave labor force.[6] Both the urban elite and the middling sorts held slaves in the North. Slaves transitioned from household tasks artisanry. This important transformation changed the face of slavery in the North. Similar to their southern counterparts, northern slaves became indispensable to the economy. Slave families were unlikely, as mortality rates rose sharply and fertility dropped significantly. Berlin noted that though it was not quite a slave society, it was no longer merely a society with slaves either, leaving the North in a very unique position.[7]

            Berlin claimed that the plantation revolution barely affected the Lower Mississippi Valley. The Louisiana colony already attempted to establish a plantation regime that was at this point coming unraveled. Importation of slaves stopped and the colony devolved from a slave society to a society with slaves. As the plantation economy failed, the slave economy flourished. Slaves inched up the social ladder. Planters knew they needed indigenous population growth for the economy to survive, and the harsh regime mellowed. Slaves built connections through economic and social pursuits that would make life easier at the moment, and their own in the future. Plantation slaves reverted back to the Creole traditions of the charter generation.[8]

            The various ways in which the plantation revolution affected the colonies according to individual circumstances were comparable to the colonies’ various reactions to the news of the Glorious Revolution in Britain. After Prince William of Orange took the throne from the Catholic King James II, British colonies in America each reacted differently. In Maryland Catholics had been supported, though they were a minority. The majority protested, and the colony became a Royal Colony with the Anglican Church as the established religion. In Massachusetts, a mob imprisoned King James’ royal governor along with twenty-five other men and re-established its old form of representative government, though their beloved “Holy Experiment” was over. In New York, after hearing the news of the Dutch Prince William coming to the throne, a Dutchman organized a militia and took over the government. He clamped down very hard on the people before making a very poor decision to attack another colony. The Dutchman was tried and executed by a royal representative. Each of these reactions to the news of revolution was very different because of the social, political, and religious differences among them.[9]

            The colonies’ transitions to slave societies and their reactions to the Glorious Revolution took different forms from one another, largely due to social, economic, and religious variation among and within them. The plantation generation made a major impact on the Chesapeake region and Lowlands of South Carolina, while only affecting the slave society of the North indirectly. Slave societies in the Lower Mississippi Valley devolved in the exact opposite direction from the Chesapeake and the Lowlands. Berlin argued that the common thread throughout each region was the general degradation of slave life that accompanied the transition from a society with slaves to a slave society.  Though the Creole societies faded behind the plantation, they would not be forgotten. The tools used by the charter generations would again be employed as slave societies transformed into free societies.

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[1] Ira Berlin, Many Thousands Gone: The First Two Centuries of Slavery in North America, (Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1998), 95-96.

[2] Berlin, 96-98.

[3] Berlin, 109-117.

[4] Berlin, 142-152.

[5] Berlin, 171.

[6] Berlin, 177-178.

[7] Berlin, 179-187.

[8] Berlin, 195-207.

[9] Class discussion, 11/7/11.

Atlantic Creoles and Charter Generations: Berlin Part I

African slavery played a significant role in the history of North America throughout the period of European colonization. In his book Many Thousands Gone: The First Two Centuries of Slavery in North America, Ira Berlin documented and analyzed the development and change of slavery in that continent during that period. Part I of the book argued that African Creoles, highly cultured peoples of mixed race, shaped the first generation of African slaves in mainland North America, through cultivation and use of relationships. He claimed that this was perhaps most pronounced in the Chesapeake region and colonies in the North, while least pronounced in the Deep South and the Lower Mississippi Valley. The Creoles’ ability to use relationships for profit is paralleled by that of Native Americans in the North.

Berlin introduced his analysis of societies with slaves with a description of Atlantic Creoles. Creoles were central characters in these charter generations. Though they had genealogical ties to Africa, Europe, and the Americas they were not strictly from any one of these places. They began as mediators between African and European slave traders on the west coast of Africa. Their business was trade. As the importance of the slave trade and the needs of the Europeans expanded, Creoles found themselves in a volatile position great for bargaining, but lacking a solid identity. Their lack of identity allowed slave traders to use them as scapegoats, and, in some cases enslave them. Slave traders and owners saw Creoles as dangerous because of their proficiency in cultures and languages. For this reason few ended up on plantations in the West Indies, but were taken to marginal slave societies on mainland North America.[1]

Olaudah Equiano, famous example of an Atlantic Creole

            Berlin argued that Creoles shaped the charter generation of slaves in the Chesapeake region. Blacks and whites often worked side by side on tobacco plantations in Virginia and Maryland. At this point no law defined the boundaries of slavery. Many planters allowed or required self-subsistence for their slaves. As a result, slaves often had better food and a better lifestyle. Masters kept a cautious eye while slaves developed their own economic interests, including planting crops and raising cattle and pigs. Slaves would be allowed to make money off their own work and, most importantly, develop social networks. These networks provided an avenue for social mobility, and Creoles used them with proficiency. As long as the line between black and white, free and slave remained blurred, black slavery would only be one labor system among many. Creoles were well acquainted with ethnically diverse economies, and Virginia had exactly that. These individuals climbed the social ladder, many gaining freedom and owning plantations and slaves themselves.[2]

            In the North, slaves were few in number and only marginal to the success of the economy. The slaves that ended up in the North were often unsalable, or “refuse,” which referred to their being unsuited for heavy labor on a plantation.[3] Northerners preferred that their slaves came from the West Indies because of their extensive experience with a wide variety of cultures. For the most part, slaves came to the North individually or in small groups. New Amsterdam and its focus on trade was a haven for Creole slaves. Similar to their Chesapeake counterparts, Northern Creoles developed relationships that would help them improve their station. Rural slaves became jacks-of all trades, while urban slaves worked the wharves and socialized with their white co-workers.[4]

            Charter generations of slaves in the Deep South varied widely due to economic and governmental differences. In South Carolina, rice production led to rapid growth toward a plantation system, and thus the charter generation was quite short. Plantations employed a diverse work force, including Natives, Africans, and Europeans. Slaves set their own work standards, and were required to provision themselves. Masters often provided slaves with a day during the week completely to themselves. Though some laws established strict boundaries between slave and master, these laws were rarely followed or enforced. Florida, a colony claimed as a part of New Spain, proclaimed freedom for all black individuals within their boundaries and refuge for any slaves fleeing the woes of bondage elsewhere. Many runaway slaves from South Carolina made it to Florida and joined the militia, fighting directly against their former masters. Throughout the Deep South, the societies and cultures of Europeans and Africans paralleled and overlapped one another during their first years.[5]

            The charter generation in the Lower Mississippi Valley moved precisely backward from the other charter generations Berlin covered up to this point. It began as a slave society and developed into a society with slaves. Most of the slaves brought into the region were from the interior of Africa. Early efforts to establish a staple-producing colony utterly failed. European colonists, African Creoles, and Native Americans lived together and relied upon one another. Greedy European planters demanded that the French government send them a new workforce or they would desert the colony altogether. France sent roughly six-thousand African slaves to the region in response. Plantations were established, life expectancy was very short, and Creoles did not fit in. Many Creoles fled, taking refuge with the Natives. “Retreat—geographic, social, and physical—slowly liquidated the charter generations.”[6]

             The charter generations of African slaves in North America, as outlined by Berlin, were similar to early civilizations of Native Americans. According to Dr. Kyle Bulthuis, everything for early Native Americans was a relationship; relationships needed to be established whenever new peoples arrived.[7] Native Americans often used trade, like the Creoles, to establish relationships with other tribes and European colonies. This pattern was especially true in the region surrounding New Netherlands and New England. Before Europeans settled in the area, there were multiple tribes speaking similar languages. As they communicated with one another, they realized the economic and social benefits of forming connections. They established a strong bond, and eventually became known as the Five Nations Iroquois. These relationships provided these peoples with power—physically, economically, and culturally.[8] Similarly, some of the Creoles who began their lives in North America as slaves established and nurtured relationships that would provide them with power derived from freedom and land ownership.

             Relationships became a powerful tool for both groups of peoples, who were in fact viewed by the dominant society as savages. Those groups and individuals, seen as uncultured and unintelligent, made some of the most pronounced uses of cultural and linguistic proficiency in colonial history. Previous trade experience with a variety of cultural groups provided these peoples with powerful tools they could, and did, use for social growth. Berlin argued in Part I of his book that Creole relationships, and their ability to foster them, characterized the first generation of black peoples in North America. Evidence suggests that Native peoples used similar tactics to gain political and economic favor in certain situations. The social dynamic of each of the regions Berlin analyzed, specifically the Chesapeake, the North, the Deep South, and the Lower Mississippi Valley, was greatly influenced by the Creoles’ ability to conform to and use the society and culture to their advantage.

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[1] Ira Berlin, Many Thousands Gone: The First Two Centuries of Slavery in North America, (Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1998), 17-27.

[2] Berlin, 29-45.

[3] Berlin, 47.

[4] Berlin, 47-62.

[5] Berlin, 64-76.

[6] Berlin, 77-92.

[7] Kyle Bulthuis, HIST 3720, 7 Sept. 2011.

[8] Kyle Bulthuis, HIST 3720, 23 Sept. 2011.

Individual to Collective: The Vision of American Nature Writing

American nature writers left a vision of fantastic beards and superfluous descriptions in my mind. Transcendentalists during the early nineteenth century practiced nature writing through individual experience and observation of nature, seeking a spiritual connection therein. Postmodern America of the late twentieth century bred a new generation of nature writers, studying the connection between the way we think about nature and the health and preservation of the natural world. A close analysis of traditional nature writers from the perspective of these new ecocritics, as they have been termed, reveals the interdependence of humans and nature.

The literal and metaphorical vision employed by American nature writers—through which humanity gains experience and understanding of its interdependence with nature—has changed. Early in the tradition, the vision of Transcendentalist nature writers was focused on each person’s individual experience with the sublimity of nature. Individual experience was central to the writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson and John Muir. Over the span of one-hundred and fifty years, nature writing has moved from a focus on individual experience to a focus on collective experience and influence. Ecocritics have set the foundation for the social and political focus that is, and must be the future of American nature writing, exemplified so well by Terry Tempest Williams.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

            Ralph Waldo Emerson was one of the key figures in the Transcendentalist literary movement in the early nineteenth century. Observation and vision were central to his literary and environmental theory. Truly seeing nature as an individual was the best way to experience the divine. Few people, according to Emerson, can actually see nature. Theirs is but a “superficial seeing,” merely scratching the surface of what can and should be observed (7). According to Emerson, “the eye is the best of artists” (13). The art of which he spoke was explained by one critic through Emerson’s pattern of observation. Both he and his good friend Henry David Thoreau bounced between “local observations” and “visionary exaltation,” creating a distinct rhythm (Elder vii). Emerson’s vision stretched beyond what he simply gathered with his eye. “Man is an analogist,” Emerson said, who constantly views the world and makes connections in order to understand their relation (24).

            Viewing Emerson’s vision through the lens of contemporary ecocritics reveals nature’s human inception in his writings. William Cronon, a Rhodes Scholar and environmental historian, said that wilderness is a “human creation,” and a “product of civilization” (69). Wilderness was historically negative, depicting a deserted, savage, and dangerous land. Biblical references made wilderness out to be harsh, and a place of trial and famine. Slowly the common vision of wilderness changed. What was once “Satan’s home” was now “God’s own temple” (Cronon 70-71, Nash xii). Wilderness became not only a place for religious renewal, but for national renewal. As the frontier “closed,” Americans needed a place to turn for relief from the woes of civilization, and that place became the “wilderness” (Cronon 76).

A well-to-do Ralph Waldo Emerson turned his eye toward the wilderness, and the wilderness was defined by how he saw it (Cronon 79). By rightly seeing the objects of nature, however, new faculties of the soul are also unlocked (Emerson 31). Emerson emphasized sight, insisting that each individual “witness” the spectacle around them for themselves, for by so doing they would define both nature and themselves (Elder x-xi). Emerson was convinced that when man opens his eyes properly to view the world around him, he is able to see into the heart of nature, and therefore the heart and mind of God. As he takes a small moment in time, Emerson, works it up with grandiose rhetoric in a production of Transcendental vision (Elder viii-ix). Emerson’s observations and elaborations are an attempt to see and point out the true position of nature in relation to man, because this view is the most desirable to the mind (Emerson 43, 51-52).

Much of Emerson’s maxim on vision was based on where to focus. By focusing on the science behind nature, “the end is lost sight of in attention to the means” (Emerson 61). To use another analogy, by paying too much attention to the pieces of a puzzle, the entire picture cannot be understood and the purpose of piecing the puzzle together is lost. Emerson understood that wildness was not just large amounts of unsettled land, but “a quality of awareness” (Elder xvi). What an individual sees in nature is a direct result of his vision. If man sees ruins or blankness in nature, it is because of his own eye. His “axis of vision,” according to Emerson, needs to be in line with the “axis of things,” otherwise they become “opaque” and impossible to understand. Individuals must then look at the world in the mode of Emerson. If they do, they will do so “with new eyes,” because “what we are, that only can we see” (64, 66).

John Muir

If Emerson was the perfect example of the visionary man, John Muir was the perfect example of the rugged individual, wilderness loving American man. After having immigrated to the United States from Scotland as a young man, Muir grew up on a farm in central Wisconsin where his father placed him within strict boundaries. His creativity could not be contained, however, and Muir left home to attend college at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. While at school, Muir studied hard in chemistry and built bizarre contraptions in his apartment. After a few years of course work, Muir left the University of Wisconsin for “the University of the Wilderness” (Muir 21).

Following his time at the University, Muir hiked to many places throughout the continental United States and Alaska with nothing but a small pack including a change of clothing and a couple of books. Muir foolishly risked his life as a “Transcendental mystic who over-rhapsodized the sublime beauty of the wilderness” (White ix). Muir’s insatiable need for knowledge and experience almost put him in the ground on multiple occasions. He had a number of near-death experiences, including one on a road in Florida where he was luckily found by a man who took him in and revitalized him, and a near slip on a sheer rock wall hundreds of feet up from the ground in the Sierra Nevada Mountains (Muir 30-34, 46-49). Despite these hair-raising experiences, or perhaps because of them, Muir was able to utilize his education and fuse his poetic, geologic, and botanic visions together. He viewed nature as “infused with spirit.” He was neither scientific nor literary, but “a fusion of both,” creating a very unique product resultant of his return to primitivism (White ix, xi, xiv).

Muir not only exemplified the wild man, but did so with profound vision. Everywhere he went he recognized and noted every piece of flora and fauna he came across. Muir’s was not a “superficial seeing,” but a truly Emersonian ability to see into and through nature in a way that embodied one of his favorite words: sublime. After his brush with death in the Sierra Nevadas, Muir stood atop the peak and gazed across the landscape in every direction. His senses had been intensified during his experience, and now he could see what was really there, and it was truly “glorious” (48). In a letter he wrote to his long-time friend Mrs. Jeanne Carr, Muir said, “All depends upon the goodness of one’s eyes,” and Muir’s own were able to see the glorious and sublime all too well. In perfect synthesis of his wildness and vision, Muir understood that he could not remain uprooted from the earth for long without “losing [his] sense of what it means to be fully alive” (White xiv, xx).

Over time, the sublime-individualistic vision of Emerson and Muir evolved into a study of humanity’s influence on the natural world. Lawrence Buell, a renowned Professor of American Literature, is a pioneer in the field of environmental criticism. Also referred to as “ecocriticism,” this emerging field is the study of the relationship between literature and the physical environment (Buell 11). During the last three decades of the twentieth century, the environment moved into the forefront of American discourse and was the subject of many books and articles (Buell 4). The surge of conversation and rhetoric about nature was largely a result of a growing awareness that humans had a profound influence on the state of nature around them. Until this point in time “setting” had been seen as simply a backdrop, a building block for good literature. Ecocritics saw setting and nature as so much more than that. Similar to Transcendentalist nature writers, early ecocritics focused largely on experiencing and understanding personal orientation with nature. Reading and living personal experiences with the environment was central to their goal. Over time, a second wave of ecocritics emerged, focusing on social and political implications of the environment (Buell 8)

            One thing that set the second wave, or second generation, of ecocritics apart from the first was their focus on vision. “Vision, value, culture, and imagination,” according to Buell, were just as important to second-generation ecocritics as science, technology, or legislation (Buell 5). There were some major issues regarding the destruction of the American environment that these new nature writers were trying to change, or at least make known. Nature writers branched out and ecocriticism became interdisciplinary, greatly broadening the study, view, and influence of their rhetoric (Buell 7). This “wide-open movement” gathered momentum and grew very rapidly (Buell 28). The aim of these environmental writers, Buell said, was to change American status quo thinking about the environment (24). This allegedly flawed thinking was a result of long established cultural sentiments about what defined wilderness.

Roderick Nash

            In his book Wilderness and the American Mind, Roderick Nash claimed that wilderness “was the basic ingredient of American civilization” (xi). The word “wilderness” was likely derived from the root word “will,” as in willful, but eventually became defined as large tracts of uncultivated and undeveloped land. Despite the apparent etymology of the word, “wild” has proved an elusive term to define. It has been consistently subjective within American culture, with many interpretations and meanings depending on situation and context. Nash cited one common definition of wild: that which is outside the control of mankind (xiii-5).

            Nash moved from defining the terms wild and wilderness to outlining their social and cultural implications. Over time “wilderness” transitioned from a negative word associated with desolation and pestilence to a positive word associated with freedom and happiness. This was especially true in America, where there had been a physical frontier to which people could turn for social or financial redress. As that line slowly moved west and disappeared, Americans looked to wilderness as their new frontier, where man’s degeneration to the primitive would free him from social constraints (Nash 48). Nash cited Benjamin Rush, a signatory of the Declaration of Independence, in claiming that man is a wild animal, and will never be happy or at home until he is back in the wilderness (56). This sentiment became commonplace across America, especially with the help of Emerson and other Transcendentalists.

Terry Tempest Williams

            As we move from a study of the classic nature writers and Transcendentalists to modern nature writers, it is important to note that vision has become more important than ever. In her article “One Patriot,” Terry Tempest Williams uses the example of one individual to invoke vision leading to social and political action by the masses. Quoting Proverbs 29:18, Williams states that “where there is no vision, the people perish.” According to Williams, America does have people with vision, and therefore has the ability to both understand the issues surrounding nature and act on them. Unfortunately, Williams says, the “pages of abuse on the American landscape still lie unread” (39-40).

            Williams uses the example of one woman named Rachel Carson to help open the eyes of the American public. Rachel Carson had vision. In her book Silent Spring, Carson chronicles nature’s destruction and death caused by certain pesticides. Despite heavy opposition from chemical companies and their representatives Carson stayed the course. Though at the time they called her a fanatic and a fool, her observations were true. Many of the pesticides were not only killing local fauna, but were getting into the local food and drinking water. Carson’s objective was to open the eyes of the American public to the horrible effects of these chemicals so they will take a stand against them (Williams 39-41).

            Williams’ agenda was similar to Carson’s. It is unfortunate, but Americans’ visions are blurred by corporations and their myths about what is good and what is not good for nature. They cannot see that their lives are knit closely together with other life forms on the earth, fauna and flora. It is a fact, according to Williams, and opening the eyes of the American people has become a major objective of contemporary nature writers and ecocritics. It is likely that as was the case for Carson, the vision needed to pursue environmental change and protection will blur or fade, and both ecocritics and the American population will lose sight of it. When it flashes again, it is important for them to try to hold on to it and “keep the vision before [their] eyes” (Williams 41-42). As Carson said, if there are dangerous and potentially damaging things happening to the environment, “we should look around and see what other course is open to us” (quoted in Williams 51, italics added). Though Carson suffered through cancer for much of her life, she “never lost ‘the vision splendid’ before her eyes,” and Williams argues that we cannot lose it either (Williams 53).

            If nature writing is going to continue in the future, it must perpetuate the Williams vision. Ideas and goals will change according to the issues of the times, but nature writers will need to focus on political and social activism. Since its inception the general American trend has paralleled that of nature writing. The movement from individualism to, for lack of a better word, collectivism outlines this need. Broadening the discipline will inspire more writers and broaden its influence.

           Vision’s progression through the tradition of nature writing began largely with the man who could, along with Walt Whitman, be considered the father of the genre. Emerson described vision as essential to the understanding of nature and its implications on the individual human soul. The Emersonian vision was central to the wildness of Muir’s own understanding of the glorious and sublime. Modern ecocritics such as Buell, Cronon, and Nash have brought vision to the forefront of contemporary environmental writing, as evidenced in Williams’ piece. A study of this wide variety of styles and pieces reveals that in general, American nature writers argue that man’s interdependence to nature is understood and experienced through vision, both literal and figurative. It is only as man truly opens his eyes that he can see the world around him. It is only as man begins to truly see the world around him that he can see and understand himself.

Works Cited

Buell, Lawrence. “The Emergence of Environmental Criticism.” The Future of Environmental Criticism: Environmental Crisis and Literary Imagination. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2005. 1-28.

Cronon, William. “The Trouble with Wilderness; or, Getting Back to the Wrong Nature.” Uncommon Ground: Toward Reinventing Nature. New York, NY: W.W. Norton & Co., 1995. 69-90.

Elder, John. “Introduction: Sauntering Toward the Holy Land.” Nature and Walking. Boston, MA: Beacon, 1992. vii-xviii.

Emerson, Ralph Waldo. Nature. in Nature and Walking. Boston, MA: Beacon, 1992. 3-67.

Nash, Roderick. Wilderness and the American Mind. New Haven, CT: Yale U.P., 1982.

Muir, John. Essential Muir: A Selection of John Muir’s Best Writings. ed. Fred D. White. Santa Clara, CA: Santa Clara U.P., 2006.

White, Fred D. “Introduction.” Essential Muir: A Selection of John Muir’s Best Writings. ed. Fred D. White. Santa Clara, CA: Santa Clara U.P., 2006. ix-xx.

Williams, Terry Tempest. “One Patriot.” Patriotism and the American Land. Great Barrington, MA: The Orion Society, 2002. 37-57.