Huckleberry Finn: Lecture Three
In a novel
of this sort, one which explores the growth of a young protagonist towards some
final and significant state of being, we expect there to be stops and turns and
reversals in the process. But we do expect that the accumulation of experiences
will lead to lasting changes, epiphanies or awakenings from which there is no
going back. I mentioned that in the opening chapters, those prior to the
discovery of Jim on the island, Huck seemed passively adaptable, carried along
by the powerful personalities in his life: the Widow and Miss Watson; Tom
Sawyer; Pap. For as long as the novel stays on shore - in civilization or in
ignorance - Huck makes no real progress, the changes he undergoes motivated
either by a desire for comfort or survival.
Under
Jim's tutelage, we have seen at least one major epiphany, one major
restructuring of his paradigm: the decision to not betray Jim and the resulting
conviction that, morally, he is a lost soul.
In the second and third stages of the raft portion of the novel, there
are further irreversible accumulations, and the question that begins to emerge
is what kind of self-image and what view of society as a whole will Huck have
acquired by the end.
In
chapters 17 and 18, Twain's satire is never gentle; indeed the bitterness of
the author seems nowhere more evident than it does here. The Grangerford - Shepherdson
feud is a damning picture of moral corruption - stagnation aimed directly at
what Huck calls "the quality" - the social elite of white society
that sprawls along the banks of the great river.
When Huck
is finally admitted to the house, he seems to have entered a picture-perfect
model of civilized society, materially and spiritually secure. "It was a
mighty nice family", Huck tells us, "and a mighty nice house,
too." (93) And indeed there are rag rugs, brass knobs, beautiful clocks,
an illustrated family bible, beautiful curtains, and "just bushels"
of grand cooking.
But there
are flaws in the picture of the handsome-featured beautifully dressed family,
so well mannered that they stand when the older generation enters the room. One
is quite humorous, the ever mournful happily deceased - we assume - Emmeline
Grangerford, who created hilariously bad verse about each and every departed
soul, rushing, poem in hand, to get to the body before the undertaker. The
other flaws, however, are less humourous. Young Buck is disappointed at not
having had a chance to kill a Shepherdson, and we fancy his chagrin is about as
deep as his dislike of having to "comb up" on a Sunday. The elder
Colonel Grangerford is indeed a "gentlemen all over"- in aspect -
with his tall slim build, his dazzlingly white suit, and his clean-shaven,
darkish paly complexion. But he also has "the blackest kind of eyes, sunk
so deep back that they seemed like they was looking out of caverns at you"
(97), a description that reminds us of Pap's face when he emerges in Huck's
room. And while the family does go to church, where they listen to sermons
"all about brotherly love", but, we are told, "The men took
their guns along." (101) Twain's attitude to this hypocrisy is clear when
he has Huck tell us about the pigs who go into the church to keep cool:
"If you notice, most folks don't go to church only when they've got to;
but a hog is different." (101)
When the
focus shifts to the feud itself, satire drops from the page, and the picture that
emerges is nightmare. Buck, Huck's age, has no idea what caused the feud, yet
tries to shoot a young man on it's account. His scornful question to Huck,
whom, he discovers, does not know what a feud is, is "Why, where was you
raised?" (99) as if the idea of killing others for no particular reason
other than their name should be part of any "quality" upbringing. The
image of an elder Shepherdson, "white hair a-flying in the wind"
(100) riding down an unarmed fourteen year old and shooting him down is grotesque,
made more so by Buck's inability to see this, as Huck does, as a cowardly act.
But nothing matches our final view of the feud, in which Buck and another young
man are surrounded by Shepherdsons singing out "Kill them, kill
them." Clearly, the bodies of the two youngsters are mutilated, for Huck,
who eventually buries the two, can never get the image out of his mind:
"it would make me sick again if I was to do that. I wished I hadn't ever
come ashore that night, to see such things. I ain't ever going to get shut of
them - lots of times I dream about them." (106)
Huck,
then, is powerfully affected by his witness of the cruelty that man inflicts on
man, and it sends him fleeing back to the raft - and Jim, whose voice reassures
him - "nothing ever sounded so good before" (106) - and who has yet
again prepared a home by repairing the raft. Huck is anxious to leave the moral
corruption behind - and its manifested violence, which he thinks he has caused
by abetting the Romeo and Juliet romance that takes place between a Grangerford
and a Shepherdson:
I never felt easy til the raft was two mile below there and out in
the middle of the Mississippi. ... We said there warn't no home like a raft,
after all. Other places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft don't.
You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft. (107)
It is
worth noting that Jim, as befits his near spiritual role, has always been on
the shore, waiting for Huck to return. Jim is once again set outside of the
society that Huck has momentarily entered, not merely because it would be
dangerous for him to be seen, but because his role demands it. His gentle
humanity continues to serve as a stark contrast to the corruption in white
society. In chapter 23, for example, Jim remembers his own cruelty towards his
daughter, who, unknown to Jim has been rendered deaf and dumb by scarlet fever,
and who becomes a mutely innocent victim of his parental anger. Jim describes
his reaction when the knowledge of what he had done hits him:
Oh, Huck, I bust out cryin' en grab her up in my arms, en say,
"Oh, de po' little thing! de Lord God almighty fogive po' ole Jim, kaze he
never gwyne to fogive hisself as long's he live." Oh, she was plumb deef
en dumb, Huck, plumb deef and dumb - en Id been a-treat'n her so!" (142)
The
contrast between Jim's heartbroken self-damnation of his treatment of the child
affects the reader vividly, for we recall Pap, the Grangerfords and the
Sheperdsons, the Widow and Miss Watson, and all the other grotesque parental
figures who have raised up children so warped that one of them can look at the
cold-blooded murder of a child and see in it an act of courage on the part of
the killer.
Chapters
17 to 31 bring us to the end of the raft journey. This section too will
conclude with a decision by Huck. The main difference between this section and
the one immediately preceding is that now, the corruption on the shore comes to
the raft, and stays there, pushing Huck and Jim out of their home, making them
outsiders in their own world.
A point
worth noting - and many have noted it, particularly those who wish to see a
homosexual dimension to the novel - is that through much of their time on the
river, Huck and Jim are naked. Whether this is an indication that there might
be more to their story than I have thus far suggested, or whether this fact has
a more logical place within the established imagery of the novel I will leave
to you to decide. Also of interest is their account of the origin of the stars.
The King
and the Duke are themselves venal, and through his account of their actions,
Twain makes it evident that there is very little moral difference between them
and those who will become their victims, the exception being the three Wilks
sisters. Appearing first as ragged individuals clearly being chased by someone,
they are soon portrayed in a way that allows Twain to once again launch an
attack on all the signs and symbols of American civilization. The younger one
is a "snake oil" specialist, an actor, and a fortuneteller. The older
one runs a little "temperance revival" here and there, and rounds out
his income with faith healing, preaching, and missionary work. The royal titles
are clearly efforts on their parts to get out of having to do any work on the
raft. One assumes an English title; the other a French, announcing that he is
the "late" (dead) Dauphin.
Huck sees
through the charade quickly, but in another example of the passivity many
critics make a great deal of, he accepts it for the sake of peace in the
family. How far Twain wishes the reader to take the implications of these
"titles" is also debated. Does the hint of European aristocracy
suggest that the entrenched class divisions of Europe have invaded and had a
hand in the corruption of the new world? Is Twain's intent more local, designed
to help us see the ease with which Huck and Jim, masters of their free raft
world, are shoved back into virtual slavery? Certainly the name
"Bilgewater", which refers to the stinking water found stagnating in
the bottom of a ship, is Twain's deliberate irony, as was the name
"Shepherdson", suggesting "son of the shepherd" - Christ!
We first
see the two rascals in action in the religious camp meeting in Pokeville. The
"King", seeing an opportunity, announces to the crowd that he had
once been a pirate, but thanks to the intensity of their Christian feelings, he
had seen the light and emerged a new man:
He was glad of it, it was the blessedest thing that ever happened
to him, because he was a changed man now, and happy for the first time in his
life; and poor as he was, he was going to start right off and work his way back
to the Indian Ocean and put in the rest of his life trying to turn the pirates
on to the true path; for he could do it better than anybody else, being
acquainted with all the pirate crews in that ocean; and though it would take
him a long time to get there without money, he would get there anyway, and
every time he convinced a pirate he would say to him, Don't you thank me, don't
you give me no credit, it all belongs to them dear people in Pokeville camp
meeting, natural brothers and benefactors of the race. (121)
The
gullibility, the ignorance, the hysteria of the townspeople who promptly shower
the King with money and kisses and tears leaves no doubt that Twain is
attacking the same traits that he feels lie beneath the power of religion., and
demonstrating his apparent belief that organized religion is one large
travelling con show, turning its followers into victims and building for itself
tremendous material wealth.
The King
and the Duke work their way down the river on the raft, stopping to bilk one
town after another with their inventive cons, but it is their attempted swindle
of the Wilkes sisters that forces Huck towards the first of two moral
decisions, each prompted by his moral disgust at what is taking place around
him.
The
clothing imagery at work through the novel again emerges as the King dresses to
prepare himself for whatever Providence may provide. Huck looks at the transformation
and is amazed:
The king's duds was all black, and he did look real swell and
starchy. I never knowed how clothes could change a body before. Why before, he
looked like the orneriest old rip that ever was; but now, when he'd take off
his new white beaver and make a bow and do a smile, he looked that grand and
good and pious that you'd say he had walked right out of the Ark, and maybe was
old Leviticus himself. (144)
But the
man remains the same, and a new set of children, the Wilks sisters, take their
turn as victims of the corrupt forces that dominate the shore world. Armed with the wealth of detail scavenged
from an unsuspecting young preacher, the King and the Duke impersonate the
relatives of a wealthy and recently deceased man, setting up a wail and letting
loose floods of tears when they are told that they missed seeing him alive.
Huck responds by telling the reader, 'Well, if ever I struck anything like it,
I'm a nigger. It was enough to make a body ashamed of the human race." (148)
With
Huck's words, it is worth remembering that the people living along the river
contribute to their own deception, responding to a person's dress, race, or
accent, and ignoring what lies so obviously just beneath the surface. While not
as foolish or bestial as the people of Pokevill or Brickville, the people
surrounding the Wilks sisters, with the exception of the Doctor, whose warnings
they ignore, are willingly swept into the net cast by the two outrageous con
men. Huck says he had never seen anything so disgusting as the display of tears
created by the Duke and the King as they stood over the body of their
"brother", but he notes that when the hymn begins to play,
"everybody joined in with all their might, and it just warmed you up and made
you feel as good as church letting out. Music is a good thing, and after all
that soul-butter and hogwash, I never see it freshen things up so, and sound so
honest and bully. (150)
As the con
proceeds, Huck becomes more and more aware of the evil that is being done. Once
again, he has been dragged into a world not of his making, and once again,
under a new name, he is playing a role in that world. He is no great liar on
this occasion, and one of the girls trips him up several times as he tries to
describe his life in England, but the truly good Mary Jane saves him,
castigating her sister with the truly Christian command: "The thing is for
you to treat him kind, and not be saying things to make him remember he ain't
in his own country and amongst his own folks." (159) Confronted with her
example of true goodness, a goodness that we see several times, when she weeps
at the plight of her former slaves, sold by the Duke and the King, and when she
weeps over the body of the deceased, alone, with no-one about to approve or be
impressed, Huck is forced into action. He decides, "there ain't no good
way but one. I got to steal that money, somehow; and I got to steal it some way
that they won't suspicion that I done it." (160)
Here we
see one of the most significant and most subtle ironies of the novel Whenever
Huck sets out to do good, true good, a good that modern readers would approve,
he must commit what to him is an immoral act. To save Jim, he must lie. To save
the girls from the King and the Duke, he must lie. In order to help Jim achieve
his freedom, he must lie, and betray, and countenance theft. So corrupt is the
world around him that the only way a moral deed can be done is via an action
that the doer must see as immoral. Huck is constantly haunted by his own apparent
evil, and it tortures him until the end of the novel. Indeed, when Mary Jane
tells him she will pray for him, he thinks "if she knowed me she'd take a
job that was more nearer her size." (173) He sees himself as corrupt, and
as unworthy of or beyond her efforts.
Huck must
move cautiously as he sets about undermining his two companions, for he must
keep in mind the safety of Jim, still back at the raft. But the carefully laid
plan put together by he and Mary Jane is shattered by the arrival of the real brothers
of the dead man, and by the efforts of the townspeople to discover who is who.
It is only in the lightning illuminated and chaotic darkness around the grave
site that the discovery of the gold allows Huck to escape, and once he does so,
he "fairly flew" back to Jim and the concealed raft.
There are
those who suggest that the disappearance of Jim from the action of the novel
for such a long interval is a weakness in the book's structure. But I think it
is worth noting that during the long interval, Huck is never far from thoughts
of Jim, and that the lesson taught by Jim about not casting dirt on those who
treat you kindly is precisely the motive for Huck's actions on behalf of both
the Wilks sisters and Jim. If a teacher's lessons are to be seen to have had an
impact, the test must take place in the absence of the teacher. If anything, I
would suggest that Jim's prolonged separation from Huck - made quite literally
necessary by his race - is thematically necessary if we are to see Jim as an
effective spiritual force which is having a meaningful impact on the adolescent
protagonist.
Their
reunion is joyful, but limited by the need to get away. But the raft will fail
them this time. While Huck quite literally dances for joy at being "free
again and all by ourselves on the big river and nobody to bother us,"
(184) the King and the Duke emerge from the darkness, having escaped the
vengeful crowd. Huck collapses inwardly at the sight, telling us "it was
all I could do to keep from crying." (185)
Why does
Twain not allow our two heroes to escape and continue down the river, looking
all the while for a way of getting back up the river to the free states they
passed that night in the fog? There are two answers. First, the King and the
Duke have brought the corruption of the shore society to the isolated raft, and
have dragged Huck back, captive to their plots. His participation in those
plots does not corrupt him, but he has seen too much of the pain and the
suffering that goes on to ever achieve the freedom he once had. Of equal
importance is the necessity of a truly heroic act by Huck on behalf of Jim.
This we have not yet seen. True, the white lie told back in chapter 16 keeps
the slave hunters away from the raft, but Jim had already taken steps to protect
himself, and had the men boarded the raft, they would not have found Jim. We
need to see Huck save Jim in the same way Jim has saved Huck, by pulling him
out of the traps society sets. Or we need to see him fail to do so.
The need
for this heroic action is brought about by the King and the Duke, who sell Jim
back into slavery for forty dollars, thereby presenting Huck with the
opportunity to assume the Judas role to counter Jim's Christ like status. The
scene in which Huck makes his decision is agonizing. He is outraged at the
trick the men pulled on Jim, but then considers that Jim might be happier back
with his family, albeit as a slave. This rationalization does not work. He then
shifts to self defense, thinking that if he acts for Jim, "It would get
all around that Huck Finn helped a nigger to get his freedom" (191) and
the shame of this wrongful act would never depart.
At that
moment, Huck has a false epiphany:
And at last, when it hit me all of a sudden that here was the plain hand of Providence slapping me in the face and letting me know my wickedness was being watched all the time from up there in heaven, while I was stealing a poor woman's nigger that hadn't ever done me no harm ... I most dropped in my tracks I was so scared. (192)
The values
of the white society he grew up beside come flooding back, convincing him of
the evil of his actions on behalf of Jim, and assuring him that "people
that acts as I'd been doing about that nigger goes to everlasting fire."
(192) Huck is astounded and relieved by evidence of this all knowing
Providence, and is convinced he will now be able to pray. But he cannot. His
private morality, gained with the assistance of Jim, and strengthened by his
revulsion at the things he has seen on shore, forces him to consider the other
side of the moral dilemma:
And got to thinking over our trip down the river, and I see Jim before me, all the time, in the day, and in the nighttime, sometimes moonlight, sometimes storms, and we a floating along, talking, and singing, and laughing. But somehow I couldn't see no places to harden me against him, but only the other kind. I'd see him standing my watch on top of his'n, so I could go on sleeping; and see him how glad he was when I come back out of the fog; and when I come to him again in the swamp, up there where the feud was; and such like times; and would always call me honey, and pet me, and do everything he could think of for me, and how good he always was. (193)
The
thoughts of Jim's constant protective and nurturing presence overwhelm the
voice of Providence, and Huck cannot act in what he sees as the moral way.
Unable to see the surrounding society as itself corrupt, and his acts against
that corruption as essentially heroic and good, Huck must make what he sees as
a bargain with the devil, determining to save Jim, and accepting with awful
fatalism, 'All right, then, I'll go to hell." With these words Huck enters
the last stage of his journey, away from the river, and deep within the land
itself.