| Episodes |
Sally's Subtle Strength
Stephanie DeLuca
[1] How does Ferris Bueller put it? "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." This is a worthwhile life lesson on taking a deep breath, slowing down, and giving every aspect of your surroundings and experiences the attention and reflection they deserve. Such is the case with Barbara Chase-Riboud's characterization of Sally in Sally Hemings: A Novel (1979). Sally's strength is not a product of her own glorification or Jefferson's degradation. Instead, Chase-Riboud intentionally presents Sally as a "full blown, complex, intelligent, highly conflicted woman--a tragic heroine who [was] trapped in the slave society that was the United States at its birth" and is delicately and gradually lifted up to Jefferson. In other representations (specifically the visual representations in Jefferson in Paris and Sally Hemings: An American Scandal), Sally's strength is at opposite ends of the spectrum. She either wrongfully (and offensively) plays the role of prostitute with conniving strength or is represented as an intellectual superior to Jefferson with a sense of arrogant strength--both representations at opposite ends of the spectrum but extremely over the top and unbelievable. Chase-Riboud, bearing in mind the obvious social conventions and constraints of the eighteenth century, presents Sally with a believable, honorable strength that is subtle but effective--so long as you slow down and give it the reflection it deserves.
[2] Specifics of occupation and race aside, the Jefferson and Hemings relationship is one that has attributes that were (and still stand as) ordinary. He is significantly older than she and a successful man in the workforce. Although private, quiet, and articulate, he is very passionate about his work, family, and beliefs. She stays at home and tends to their home and property. Surrounded by an equally loving family, she is quite young and beautiful. Knowledgeable of her craft and always fulfilling the duties assigned to her, she is much like the man--educated to the best of her ability, focused, determined, and full of life and love. Most importantly--both are human beings, intrinsically capable of emotion and thought. These two personalities, struggling to find a balance between their head and heart, struggle equally as hard to make their relationship work. I'm not boggled by people's inability to accept this. I'm angry.
[3] Many people cannot put specifics of occupation and race aside. Once we throw social convention into the mix, there's even more of a struggle. Perhaps this is why people refuse any sort of loving representation between the third president of the United States and a quadroon slave. Feeble-minded people cannot move past and accept even the remote possibility that the Jefferson and Hemings relationship was a loving one. People become preoccupied by these roles and instead of actually looking at the relationship itself and what it means to each person, they allow social convention and expectation to render it impossible. Chase-Riboud gives us a glimpse of Sally's superior (yet subtle) recognition of this ridiculous social convention when she was in Paris, already pregnant, about to make the voyage back to Monticello: "the looks directed my way were polite and curious until it was discovered that I was maid to Master Jefferson's daughters. Then the looks ceased to be those directed at a living person and became the looks one fastens on a crate or a sack of meal" (150). Help me out here. If you have an explanation for why this is so, even as it pertains to the twenty-first century, please enlighten me.
[4] That being said, there are typical occurrences in all romantic relationships. Although some unfortunately mistaken trivial, what people fail to realize is that life isn't always about the big events; the small events strung together make up the sum of our relationships. Additionally, there are a series of milestones that typically occur within any romantic relationship: argument, negotiation, personal and external problems (how they deal with them individually and collectively), infidelity (emotional or physical), making love, children, separation (how they deal with it), and finally how they maintain a spark.
[5] Let's take a look at two of these common occurrences in romantic relationships, specifically negotiation and consummation, to shed light on Chase-Riboud's Sally.
Part I. Negotiation
[6] The Prosser Rebellion is coined as the "First Major Slave Insurrection" in American history. In 1800, it appeared to a man named Gabriel Prosser that society was becoming too comfortable with the white and black, master and servant relationship. Angered and frustrated, he was determined to show the American public that not all African Americans were satisfied with a life of servitude. A twenty-something Prosser articulated plans for a slave uprising in the spring and summer of 1800. As self-proclaimed king of an independent black state carved out of Virginia, he and his troops planned to seize and murder all of the white people with slaves except those "friendly to liberty": the Quakers, Methodists, and Frenchmen. Had a heavy rainstorm not put a hold on their plan and flooded Brook Swamp, a black informer almost certainly would not have had the time to reveal the strategy to white authorities. Upon orders from Governor James Monroe, the state militia rounded up suspected slaves and put them on trial. Prosser and many of his followers were convicted and hanged.
[7] The story of the Prosser Rebellion is introduced in Chase-Riboud's novel by a letter from James T. Callender, a man we have all become acquainted with in our studies of Sally Hemings and Jefferson, titled The Richmond Jail on September 13, 1800. Its eloquence and language hold true to Callender's arrogant fashion: "wives who should refuse to accompany their husbands were to have been butchered along with the rest, an idea truly worthy of any African heart" (221). Although his historiography is quite interesting, Chase-Riboud's audience is generally knowledgeable of who Callender is and what role he played in the story of Jefferson and Hemings. What the audience is also capable of is reflection on two hundred years of history: the obstacles faced by America to put an end to racial profiling, the lives lost to end slavery, the outcome and effect of this revolt, etc.
[8] And upon reflection, the audience would also recognize the fact that this rebellion lead to many new regulations that greatly curtailed slaves' freedom of movement, and many states enacted laws that made educating slaves illegal. The discrepancy here as twenty-first century readers is that we are aware that Sally Hemings, a slave, was given more than just a basic education by some of the finest instructors: she "read through the rest of the letter which dealt with general political opinions" and when she was done, handed the letter [her] master had asked [her] to read back to him" (221). A recollection of one of the first slave revolts restricting education and movement of those within African American servitude read by an African American woman in servitude. This isn't just a commentary on Sally's strength; it's a testament to those who fell victim to the slave revolt that their efforts still remain alive in the twenty-first century.
[9] The introduction of this historical event through the words of this scandalous man in the history of Jefferson and Hemings is intentional and has a purpose behind it. Chase-Riboud allows him the power to tell his perspective but does not forfeit it, nor give him the final say as he did in our history books. Instead, she has Sally speak Callender's words and ultimately gives her the final say and the power of rebuttal. Sally may have remained silent on matters in the 1800s, especially Callender's malicious commentary on her and Jefferson's relationship, but Chase-Riboud was not going to allow her own Sally to stand in the shadows of history.
[10] Sally's mental toughness is impressive as well. Her emotional strength and maturity is demonstrated in these moments of negotiation (at this time, she would have been twenty-seven-years-old). Given her position in the debate about the revolt, she brilliantly argues that those involved are "not felons or common malefactors, but persons guilty of what our society obliges us to treat as crime" (223). Her ability to retrieve and process information is also commendable. Although the letter addressed to Jefferson was meant to be informative, Sally is already conscious of the uprising. Jefferson is slightly aware that she has the information but not to what extent: "I suppose you already know about this," he says (221). Mentally, Sally responds that "indeed, the slave intelligence had brought the news long before now, and the story of Gabriel Prosser was already legend." And after the story is recounted by Sally, even Jefferson is surprised and taken aback by the extent of her knowledge. Jefferson seems to be uncomfortable with the level of comprehension Sally possesses; he "looked at her with surprise . . . he turned toward [her] but did not approach. He was afraid of [her]" (223). And rightfully so. She was far from ordinary.
[11] James Monroe wrote to Thomas Jefferson asking his advice about the execution of the Negro leaders. Mr. Jefferson replied: "The other states & the world at large will forever condemn us if we indulge a principle of revenge, or go one step beyond absolute necessity. They cannot lose sight of the rights of the two parties, & the object of the unsuccessful one" (Letter dated Monticello, September 30, 1800 in P.L.Ford ed., The Writings of Thomas Jefferson, 10 vols., N.Y., 1903, VII, pp 457-58). Chase-Riboud's Sally recalls a very similar event: "Master Monroe was writing to Thomas Jefferson for advice. How to stop the hangings. More than thirty-five had gone to the gallows, and the Richmond jails were groaning with prisoners. They had suspended the trials. If they hanged everybody, they would annihilate the blacks in that part of the country."
[12] The letter quoted above was in fact written by Jefferson in September of 1800, and Hemings and Jefferson's conversation regarding the rebellion was noted by Chase-Riboud in October of 1800. Sally was correct to say that Prosser was already dead (he was hanged on October 6, 1800), but Jefferson would have already sent the letter, with his mind made up, to Monroe by October. Even with incorrect chronology, does this change Sally's influence on Jefferson's decision? Quite the contrary. It is safe to assume that Sally's effect on and love for Jefferson in real life was great enough to strengthen his moral compass and encourage him to write those words before having such a conversation with her. After all, Chase-Riboud's intention was to present their relationship as "ambivalent and complex and not given to stereotypes either black or white," and "if Jefferson kept Hemings beside him in defiance of all convention and legality (miscegenation was punishable by fine and imprisonment and he was President), then [she] had to consider that [Sally] must have been exceptional herself."
[13] And she most certainly was--mentally and emotionally, as we see in this section and physically as we see in the next.
Part II. Consummation
[14] How do you picture Jefferson and Sally's first intimate moment that marked the beginning of a thirty-eight year courtship? Do you picture Sally as a young woman, willing but apprehensive? Is she a young girl or a child? Is she confused? Firm? Do you imagine Jefferson to use brute force? Was Sally submissive to this force? Was he animalistic? Affectionate? Were there candles? What was Sally thinking, feeling? What was Jefferson thinking and feeling? Was Marvin Gaye playing softy in the background?
[15] Aside from the last, Chase-Riboud answers these questions in less than four pages and brings the experience to life in ways that no one before her had ever dared. Lacking explicit content and giving the perspective of Sally Hemings (the following chapter recalls the morning after from Jefferson's point of view), Chase-Riboud constructs their consummation in a way that offers plot but calls for serious reflection. It is March of 1788 in Paris. At this point, Sally's brother James is well aware that slavery is outlawed in France and vainly attempts to educate her on the concept of freedom. To Sally, freedom was "a vague, glimmering place no one ever returned from to prove it really existed" (89). Sally Hemings transforms in front of our very eyes from a child to a beautiful, educated, and determined young woman, impressively observant of the French culture and undeniably eager to be a part of it. Both James and Petit begin to notice Jefferson's affection for Sally; to them, consummation almost seems the logical next step.
[16] Noted critic Suzette Spencer, although offering a different perspective on the relationship than Chase-Riboud, admits that Chase-Riboud's representation of the consummation is an "interesting one" and "very ambiguous" (742-43). Indeed it is. If we pay attention to minor details and accept the larger ones as distractions to Chase-Riboud's overall intention, we will see Sally's strength shine through. The first sex is literally broken up into two distinct parts where the chasm, as Spencer puts it, is there to "hurdle across" and invite Chase-Riboud's readers "to think about this scene in multiple ways" (743). Part I repeatedly emits an impending sense of doom and uncertainty. Immediately following the chasm, Part II continues with the uncertainty and confusion found in Part I but includes an element of physical and emotional turmoil. Woven into the mix is Sally's defining moment.
[17] After reading Part I, Chase-Riboud leaves us with a feeling of fatality: "There was fire after fire on the outskirts of the city as entire shantytowns went up in smoke," so much so that "even the famous Paris rats disappeared" (99). Conditions inside the mansion were far from ideal as well. Although a freeze confined everyone to the mansion, she felt extremely disconnected and alone. Sally found it impossible to confide in James, considering he always reprimanded her beliefs. With nowhere to turn, she waited for better days. Spring came, the weather brightened, and it was time for Jefferson to leave. A homesick, secluded, and lonely Sally makes Jefferson promise that he will miss her. This is not done to show Sally's weakness; rather, it shows that she is intrinsically human and responsive to the conditions around her. This seclusion, homesickness, and isolation are all a part of the rising plot to build up to the moment when Sally takes back control of her mind, body, and soul.
[18] Also found in Part I, fifteen-year-old Sally notes that she "had always known that [Jefferson] would claim [her]" and that she "could hasten or delay the moment, but felt powerless to prevent it" (99). This potentially shows two things: she does not consider herself an object of affection but only an object to be claimed (succumbing to the role eighteenth-century society has given her) and, feeling incapable of controlling what happens to her body, does not consider herself the rightful owner of herself. (This is fitting because she will have an out-of-body experience in Part II.) And although freedom in France was fact in the eighteenth century, the concept was not alluring enough to captivate the young Sally Hemings; when considering what her life would be like with James if she was free, she "knew as sure as death that [she] belonged to Thomas Jefferson" (99).
[19] The set-up in Part I of the consummation by Chase-Riboud is intended to appear inevitable, not anticipatory or welcoming, and threatening of her happiness in Paris: Sally's first nine months in Paris had been "happy ones, and now [she] tried to prolong that happiness" by focusing on her studies, allowing her to forget "the sword that hung over [her] head" (99). Again, the impending sense of doom is unavoidable: there is nowhere to turn. There is sheer terror. The reins are not in Sally's hands--until Part II, when she overcomes the fear and uncertainty and takes control.
[20] When Jefferson approached Sally for the first time, she "had no idea how long he had been standing there [but] now that he had come, [she] felt no fear, only an overwhelming tenderness." She was no longer enraptured by fear and the threat of her happiness. Why? Because "his presence for [her] was command enough; [she] took control of him. [She] bent forward and pressed a kiss on the trembling hands that encompassed [hers]" (102). Until this moment, the audience has not been given any glimpse of the wavering character of Jefferson. We do not know what he is feeling; we are only given the perspective of Sally. And if Sally is so afraid and weak, we assume that Jefferson must be strong. Since Sally does not have control over her own body and soul, we automatically assume that Jefferson does.
[21] Until now. In all of Part I, the impending sense of doom made Sally extremely vulnerable. But in Part II we are reminded by Jefferson's shaky hands that he is human and just as vulnerable as Sally. Jefferson is just as anxious and tense about their first intimacy. He is exposed, and in that exposure he becomes uncomfortable. Through this subtlety, Chase-Riboud reminds us that this is not the relationship of a master and slave but rather a man and a woman. Jefferson is lifted out of the role of president, no longer the glorified third president. Sally's kiss on his "trembling hands" is an act of solace to Jefferson, and in this moment of comfort, she takes back control of her body and soul. Sally and Jefferson then honorably consummate their relationship.
Conclusion
[22] The storm of controversy still rages on about the nature of the Jefferson and Hemings relationship. Did Jefferson father Sally Hemings's children? Did he respect their relationship? As long as these questions are asked, the storm rages on. Representations of the relationship will continue to be produced--some more biased than others. In an effort to play nice, Chase-Riboud beautifully sketches out the intention of this novel: "I had wanted to illuminate our overweening and irrational obsession with race and color in this country. I would do it through the man who almost single-handedly invented our national identity, and through the woman who was the emblematic incarnation of the forbidden, the outcast --who was the rejection of that identity" (350). The political and social implications of such a book are so great it is hard to believe how daring Chase-Riboud truly was, especially knowing that her book would be read by a large audience.
[23] But the point that I find to be unarguable is that Chase-Riboud's representation goes to great lengths to demonstrate the strength of both Sally and Jefferson. Never glorifying one at the expense of the other, Chase-Riboud's devotion to characterization elevates the book above much historical fiction and narrative. Chase-Riboud lets the love do the talking. The love story between Jefferson and Sally, in the end, told the story of what it was like to be a human being caught in limbo. Head versus heart? Do you succumb to social pressure or follow your heart? Both Jefferson and Hemings have triumphs. Both have failures. These triumphs and failures are constant reminders that human beings are vulnerable, regardless of social status. The reader becomes blinded by their love enough to want them to overcome such issues of black and white, rich and poor, master and slave, and the fact that there is a gap of three decades between their ages. The language used to describe this affair is very balanced and gives a well-rounded testament to how many people were touched by Jefferson's life. It also helps present-day Americans revaluate how we view Jefferson's politics and the true meaning of the Declaration of Independence.
[24] It is difficult for me to believe that it is possible for someone to read Sally Hemings without being changed somehow. How can you say no to such a love story? If historical aspects or discrepancies of the novel serve as distractions, surely the human dimension of the novel is enough to captivate you.
