"Perspectives of Power and Privilege in Rebecca Harding Davis’s 'Life in the Iron Mills'" by Charlie Dorlon

Perspectives of Power and Privilege in Rebecca Harding Davis’s

"Life in the Iron Mills"

Charlie Dorlon, Chatham University

Abstract: Henry David Thoreau says in "Civil Disobedience" to "[l]et your life be a counter friction to stop the machine" (Thoreau 951). These poetic, famous words, however, are more easily said than done. Thoreau occupied a position of privilege, which enabled him to speak boldly of both protest and resistance without much fear of the consequences, communicating his transcendental school of thought and philosophy of civil disobedience in the face of injustice. Using Thoreau's address as a comparative lens, this paper will analyze how Kirby, Doctor May, and Mitchell in Rebecca Harding Davis's story "Life in the Iron Mills" allegorically represent different schools of thought: an indifferent and apolitical viewpoint, an idealistic view of the American Dream, and an eloquent yet harsh pessimism, respectively. Looking at these three men allows for the examination of the impact of privilege and positions of power on issues that Thoreau speaks on, such as class, labor, and civic engagement. The unnamed narrator in this story represents a fourth perspective. It is essential to view this narrator as separate from the author, as they provide an emotionally invested direct telling of the events to the audience. This essay will argue for the possibility of the narrator as Deborah (Deb), as evidenced by her personal knowledge of and emotional investment in the events that she relates to the audience. Her actions demonstrate Thoreau's belief in the independent human spirit, and yet the drastically different consequences faced by her and Wolfe in contrast to Thoreau’s night in jail gesture towards the unjust capitalist and judicial systems in America. Furthermore, Deb, as the narrator, provides a context that is necessary to contrast that of the wealthy, educated men in the story.

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Introduction

Rebecca Harding Davis’s story, “Life in the Iron Mills,” uses the characters Kirby, Doctor May, and Mitchell to allegorically represent a triad of transcendentalist era viewpoints regarding both stagnation within working-class spaces and power dynamics of intermingling classes within those spaces. Davis’s work is informed and shaped by transcendentalism, as the writings of Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Margaret Fuller, and other social reformers of the time made the literary movement incredibly influential to writers in the nineteenth century (Belasco and Johnson 730). This essay foregrounds Davis's story with Thoreau's address, "Civil Disobedience," contextualizing the piece and establishing the political environment of the nineteenth century.. Using Thoreau as a comparative lens, this paper will analyze how the three upper-class men in "Life in the Iron Mills" represent Thoreau’s concept of “patrons of virtue” in failing to be “virtuous [men]” (Thoreau 948). Furthermore, the unnamed narrator of this piece represents a fourth perspective that critiques Thoreau’s own perspective and provides a necessary contrast to him. This essay will argue for the possibility of the narrator as Deborah (Deb), as evidenced by her personal relationship to the main character, Wolfe, which gives her an intimate knowledge of and emotional investment in the events that a distant, unnamed narrator lacks. 

The Men

Davis’s “Life in the Iron Mills” opens with an omniscient narrator observing the landscape of the iron mills, then follows Wolfe into the mills with his cousin, Deborah (Deb). While there, three upper-class men visit: Kirby, a mill-owner’s son, May, a doctor, and Mitchell, a scholar. Wolfe is immediately captivated by these men, questioning the great class divide between them. Likewise, the three men are drawn to a statue of a woman that Wolfe has carved out of korl, a statue that Wolfe describes as “hungry [for something] to make her live... like [them]” (Davis 33). This hunger reflects Wolfe’s own drive to live like these men, with comforts and the freedom to pursue his whims, which are, in his case, sculpting. Davis draws attention to this statue, which is as starkly out of place as the men are. It is a thing of beauty in a place described as “a street in Hell” (Davis 20). The distance separating Wolfe and the mills from the statue and the men represents the complexities of class discourse: while focused on the lower class, it is generally discussed in isolation from the lower class. Indeed, the men bring class discourse to the mills with them. What separates Wolfe from “this mysterious class that [shines] down on him” is the “mystery of his life,” and one that Wolfe does not fully realize until after he steals money from these men and is sent to prison (Davis 27). Each man has a unique reaction to the statue and Wolfe’s talent as a sculptor. These men can be contextualized with Thoreau’s reflections on class relations and can be analyzed to each allegorically represent a different school of thought. 

1. Kirby

Davis portrays, through Kirby, a hands-off, indifferent approach to social issues. When the men encounter Wolfe and the korl woman in the factory, Kirby is the most unbothered. He does not care to learn who made the statue, nor to claim any sort of responsibility for the workers in his factory. His personal philosophy is to “wash [his] hands of all social problems,” which bears a curiously similar resemblance to Thoreau’s philosophy in “Civil Disobedience” (Davis 35). Thoreau, in fact, uses the same exact phrase: “it is [man’s] duty, at least, to wash his hands of it” (Thoreau 949). The “it” which he refers to is, in his view, what is wrong with society. Namely, Thoreau highlights the injustices of slavery and the Mexican War, which his night in jail was in protest of (Belasco and Johnson 950). Patrick Dooley examines Thoreau’s position in “Thoreau on Civil Disobedience: From Pacifism to Violence,” claiming that “Thoreau's general attitude is very much that of a recluse, non-conformist who wanted to tell society what he thinks of it and then return to his own affairs” (Dooley 181). Davis’s “Life in the Iron Mills” works to critique this attitude—readers are not supposed to agree with Kirby, as evidenced by the narrator’s sarcasm and irony invoked throughout the piece. The readers are addressed directly, in a sharp tone intended to elicit sympathy for Wolfe. 

Through Kirby, Davis depicts what Thoreau critiques as an “innocent” and apathetic approach to social issues. Kirby claims innocence and denies responsibility for Wolfe or any other workers. Using his logic, the workers’ inability to escape the factory and the working class is through no fault of Kirby’s. Davis uses Mitchell’s cynicism to criticize this, calling out and embarrassing Kirby by alluding to the Biblical Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor who gave the order to crucify Jesus (Belasco and Johnson 1316). Pilate did not know “what evil” he had done, but because the people wanted him killed, he “washed his hands before the multitude, saying [he was] innocent of the blood of this just person” (King James Bible, Matthew 27:24). Like Pilate towards Jesus, Kirby bears no personal ill will towards Wolfe, as evidenced by the way he “[speaks] kindly” to him (Davis 38). Mitchell’s reference, however, demonstrates that Kirby’s intentions are irrelevant. Inaction is still action. Pilate’s position of power meant that he could have stepped in to prevent Jesus’ crucifixion, much like Kirby could have helped Wolfe financially and pursued his passion for sculpting—Kirby’s hands are not clean. In this way, Davis criticizes the indifferent attempt at innocence which Thoreau shares. 

2. Doctor May

Doctor May is the most hopeful of the three men, embodying both the American Dream and transcendental values more generally. Historian James Truslow Adams first defined the American Dream as “[a] dream of a social order in which each man and each woman shall be able to attain the fullest stature of which they are innately capable” (Adams 404). May’s beliefs in the class system as “a ladder which any man can scale” reflect this well-known concept. (Davis 34). In some ways, Thoreau shares this when he writes that every man can take action to change the system; furthermore, he encourages every man to “hire or squat somewhere, and […] live within yourself, and depend upon yourself” (Thoreau 953). These transcendental values of success and self-sufficiency fall short in “Life in the Iron Mills,” where Wolfe does not have the means to quit his job and become a sculptor. He has to work. He cannot depend upon himself. But while Thoreau is optimistic and sees change on the horizon, May sees change in the system. Thoreau believes that action is required to make this change possible, and thus reproaches men such as May: 

There are thousands who are in opinion opposed to slavery and to the war, who yet in effect do nothing to put an end to them; who, esteeming themselves children of Washington and Franklin, sit down with their hands in their pockets, and say that they know not what to do […] but they do nothing in earnest and with effect. They will wait, well disposed, for others to remedy the evil. (Thoreau 948)

Indeed, May does nothing and sits with his hands in his pockets. Kirk Curnutt writes

 in “Direct Addresses, Narrative Authority, and Gender in Rebecca Harding Davis’s “Life in the Iron Mills” that May “[symbolizes] the heart of the world, [practicing] a condescending form of sympathy,” (Curnutt 153). Davis shows this again through the narrator’s use of sarcasm, illustrating how May “glowed at heart, recognizing an accomplished duty” when he prayed for the “degraded souls” (Davis 39). May offers Wolfe kind but ultimately empty words, believing that the American Dream can lift Wolfe into a position of financial freedom if he chooses to pursue it, and he is satisfied with that. Readers, however, should not be—as both Thoreau and Davis emphasize.  

3. Mitchell

Mitchell’s character stands out the most. Rude, mocking, and cynical, Mitchell’s sharp remarks (his comparison of Kirby to Pontius Pilate, for instance) are just as cutting as the narrator’s. Mitchell is cast as “a man who sucked the essence out of a science or philosophy in an indifferent, gentlemanly way,” a description which highlights the mocking tone that the narrator uses throughout the piece (Davis 13). He foils Wolfe and can be understood to represent the failings of transcendentalism. 

Cathryn McIntyre, a Thoreau scholar, describes in “Transcendentalism: A Belief in Spirit” the fundamental belief of transcendentalism as an understanding of humans as “part of a divine energy source” which “permeates all aspects” of life, “help[ing] us […] face life’s most difficult times” (McIntyre 2). Transcendentalism is painted in an optimistic light. Everything that one needs is inside themself, connecting them to nature and to others. In “The Terrible Question of “Life in the Iron-Mills,”” Jean Pfaelzer examines how Davis’s piece appraises transcendentalism, claiming that Davis interprets it as “a philosophy of masculine egotism and imploded spiritualism” (Pfaelzer 25).  As a “dilettante” scholar, Mitchell embodies the educated privilege of Thoreau and the “masculine egotism” of transcendentalism which Davis rejects (Davis 13, Pfaelzer 25). Mitchell’s casual approach to academic studies strongly contradicts Wolfe, who has a deep hunger to pursue fine arts and education but does not have the means of acquiring it. He is acutely aware of the class structures which restrict Wolfe and capable of taking Wolfe under his wing and providing him with the financial freedom to pursue the arts, as May encourages (Davis 39). However, Mitchell believes that individuals must reform themselves, and he will not help Wolfe financially because, in his words, “[r]eform is born of need, not pity” (Davis 39). Mitchell’s nihilism is indicative of his inaction; if he were to support Wolfe, another worker would just take his place. His action would not create change. Davis demonstrates how Mitchell—like May, like Kirby—represents a philosophical outlook that fails in the face of actual class and labor struggles. 

The Narrator

Davis rejects transcendentalist ideals in her story as detrimental to both the environment and the lower class. The narrator vividly paints a picture of “black, slimy pools on the muddy streets” and “a dirty canary [chirping] desolately in a cage […] [whose] dreams of green fields and sunshine [are] very old [and] almost worn out” (Davis 11-12). Davis’s narrator works to communicate to readers the negative effects of industrialism on the landscape using tone. Her narrator acts as her spokesperson and provides a necessary contrast to Kirby, May, and Mitchell by clearly criticizing their actions. The narration combines the hard facts of reality with romanticized language that stirs up sympathy in the readers for Wolfe. Although some could argue that the narrator is simply an extension of Davis herself, the narrator’s emotional investment in the story and intimate knowledge of the events make it logical to argue that the narrator is, in fact, Deb. 

The question of the narrator’s gender is unanswered and one that scholarship does not agree on. Curnutt summarizes the discussion, saying, “[m]ost contemporary critics assume that the narrator is a woman,” and points to one scholar’s belief that “Davis conveys autobiographical frustrations with limited opportunities for women’s work” through the narrator, while “many in Davis’s original audience […] assumed that the author must be a man” (Curnutt 150). But at no point in the story does the narrator either claim womanhood or manhood. 

The autobiographical nature of the narrator is probable and a notable trend in other writing at the time. Tillie Olson provides context on Davis’s childhood, illustrating that Davis’s attention to detail in the factory landscape indicates that she wrote in “absolute identification” with the “factories and mills [that] darkened with [waste]; the throngs and traffic in the streets, thickening; and always, night and morning, the workers on their way to or from the mills” (Olson 69, 81). Davis herself, however, was of the “privileged class,” writes Olson, and thus created the persona of the narrator to engage with the environment of the iron mills (Olson 69). Thus, it becomes crucial to separate our author from our narrator and consider the possibility of this persona being Deb. 

An important counterargument to this is that of Deb’s education. Her speech is notably marked by a Welsh dialect, which is missing from the eloquent narration. However, when Deb is taken in by the Quaker woman at the end of the story, it could be inferred that she would be educated by them. The narrator writes, “I end my story here… There is no need to tire you with the long years of sunshine, and fresh air, and slow, patient Christ-love, needed to make healthy and hopeful this impure body and soul” (Davis 63). “This” is in reference to Deb, but the pronoun could also be used as a gesture to one’s own body and soul. The above quote then serves not only as evidence of Deb’s eventual education, but also as another point of connection between Deb and the narrator. 

The narrator identifies several times with the working class, specifically with Deb and Wolfe. When describing the carved statue of the woman, the narrator writes, “[k]orl we call it here,” with a familiarity of the mineral that the three outsiders do not share (Davis 24; emphasis added). Kirby, for example, asks one of the lower overseers if it is marble, thus demonstrating that this is a specialized knowledge related to the working class (Davis 31). The narrator’s usage of “we” indicates not only a membership with the working class but a purposeful claiming of that position and a confirmation of belonging. Pfaelzer writes of the narrator, “she identifies with the oppression of the “stifling” atmosphere of the life outside, frequently mumbling “I know” and “thereby sympathizes with the emotional suffocation and the creative rebellion of the working poor” (Pfaelzer 28). This claim serves as evidence supporting Deb as the narrator. Furthermore, a second meaning reveals itself if one considers Deb’s role in the story. “We” indicates, quite literally, Deb’s presence in this scene and in the mills, and the narrator’s mumblings of “I know” also become literal because Deb would know—she was there. Moreover, the narrator occupies an abstract space within the working class as well as a physical space in the Wolfe home. Readers are given no explanation as to how she came to occupy the home or possess the statue—yet it becomes obvious if the narrator is Deb.    

In addition to this, the narrator’s evident compassion for Wolfe can be further understood as an extension of Deb’s love for him. And Deb does love him—she walks through the cold city at night for him, simply to bring him his meal (Davis 20). Her love is patient, uncomplaining, and done without being asked. Paralleling this, the narrator commands the audience to “come down and look at this Wolfe […] Be just […] see him as he is” (Davis 25). In the scene immediately following, our narrative returns to the present: “Wolfe, while Deborah watched him…” (Davis 26). This scene, which begins with an intense reflection on Wolfe, is concluded with an emphasis on Deb. While this does not prove anything, it certainly indicates a connection between Deb and the narrator—both of whom are paying careful attention to Wolfe. The heavy urgency of emotional language in the narration would make sense as another form of Deb’s love for him. Furthermore, her position as the storyteller functions as a way of preserving his memory. 

Finally, Deb, as the narrator, explains how the narrator knows so much of Wolfe’s story. The readers begin with her, then follow her to the mills. While there is a brief time in which Deb and Wolfe part, this section of the story is somewhat convoluted—as it would be if Deb were weaving together Wolfe’s solo wanderings through the night. But Deb is there in the prison with him, at the end, and her position as the narrator, having truly understood the unjust slant of the American judicial system, brings an important context to the story, especially in contrast to Thoreau. 

Conclusion

Thoreau’s philosophy is represented in “Life in the Iron Mills” through Kirby, Doctor May, and Mitchell. The critiquing of these men by the narrator of the story, whom I argue is Deb, allows for the examination of the impact of privilege and positions of power on class, labor, and civic engagement. Deb’s personal knowledge of and emotional investment in the events provide a crucial contrast to their perspectives. 

While Wolfe succumbs to the fractured illusion of the American Dream, Deb relies, throughout the story, on her intuition and sentiment. She loves Wolfe, so she brings him dinner. She loves Wolfe, so she, as the narrator, tells his story. When she “rises above,” it is the direct result of the kindness of the Quaker woman who took her in. If we understand Deb as the narrator, having “risen above,” does this reduce the impact of the story because Wolfe does not? While this paper does not have the breadth to examine this question, the idea remains for further analysis. 

Works Cited

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Davis, Rebecca Harding, and Tillie Olsen. Life in the Iron Mills by Rebecca Harding Davis; Edited and with a Biographical Interpretation by Tillie Olsen. The Feminist Press, 2020. 

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Pfaelzer, Jean. “The Terrible Question of ‘Life in the Iron-Mills.’” Parlor Radical: Rebecca Harding Davis and the Origins of American Social Realism, University of Pittsburgh Press, 1996, pp. 24–53. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/jj.3177133.5. Accessed 11 Dec. 2024. 

 Thoreau, Henry David. "Resistance to Civil Government." Bedford Anthology of American Literature: Volume 1. Edited by Susan Belasco and Linck Johnson. Bedford St. Martins, 2014: 943-960.