Samuel McKewon English 445b Dr. Kalenda Eaton 12 September 2006 Use of Humor in William Wells Brown’s Clotel, Or The President’s Daughter “Come, Jack, give us something to laugh at,” the master commands his slave after celebrating, with a small glass of whiskey, “the finest crop of cotton that’s been seen in these parts for many a day.” (Brown 145). Author William Wells Brown writes that Jack is the “cleverest and most witty slave on the farm” and “being made the hero of the occasion” Jack takes the moment seriously, pondering a suitable proclamation. His four-line poem is “funny” - not so much for its joke content, but how it turns the master’s command on its head:
“The big bee flies high,
The little bee makes the honey;
The black folks makes the cotton,
And the white folks gets the money.” (145)
Though it is not necessarily one of the key stylistic devices Brown leans on in Clotel Or The President’s Daughter, the author’s effective use of absurd humor and irony clearly underlines several of Brown’s arguments and is found at several junctures in the novel. And considering this was the first fiction work to examine the relationship between African-American slaves and their white masters from the perspective of an African-American, Brown is a pioneer in using quick turns of phrase or clever characterization to further underline the tragedy of slavery beyond pastiche, or realism, or the fierce political statements and calls to action made near the end of the novel. Clotel is not a satire, but it contains a few of the ridiculous, yet real, characters and situations that make satires. Brown shows himself to be a wit ahead of his time in several passages.
Much of Brown’s humor does not involve the title character, whom around melodrama and tragedy swirls throughout her life - but he does present a tragicomic scene at Clotel’s sale by placing his description of why Clotel’s price shoots up every time the auctioneer barks out another virtue after the scene itself. Brown pulls the scene to a moment where the auctioneer has read all the advertisements on his paper, and he reaches a “dead stand.” (87). He begins to make up his own virtues for the Clotel that build up her chastity, absurd because he builds up what he’d just as soon spit upon, were Clotel not of financial value to him. Brown shifts from this ridiculous moment straight into a political and religious critique that ends with the anonymous poem that admonishes “Blush Christian blush!” (88.
Brown actually places most of his humor upon the Southern, slave-owning family of the Parson Peck and his abolitionist daughter Georgiana, who receive a visitor from the Connecticut in Carlton, whom Brown describes “an old school-fellow” on page 106. Peck is a satirical character, a Christian pastor who intends, on one hand, to share the Gospel to his slaves - yet has “searched in vain” for any Biblical passage that suggests slaves should be free. Though Brown doesn’t mention it, it would seem Peck has overlooked entire portions of the Old Testament, including all of Exodus, to say nothing of the New Testament. Peck then tells Carlton “Why, is it not better that Christian men should hold slaves than unbelievers? We know how to value the bread of life, and will not keep it from our slaves.” (108.
Then there is Hontz Snyder, who speaks to the slaves in Carlton’s presence under an apple tree. His sermon is chilling in its directness to the slaves, focusing very little on the Gospel and Jesus, and mostly on obeying Peck - or paying a severe cost. Part of Snyder’s sermon addresses punishments; he manages to justify them as suffering that glorifies God. Here Brown establishes three tiers of received punishment: deserved, undeserved for this particular offense yet deserved for something else and, well, really, really underserved. Finally, Snyder ends with his most absurd assertion, which would be read a pure satire (or mania) were it said by someone today, and a tragicomic commentary then: “Your fathers were poor, ignorant and barbarous creatures in Africa, and the whites fitted out ships at great trouble and expense and brought you from that benighted land to Christian America, where you can sit under your own vine and fig tree and no one molest or make you afraid. Oh, my dear black brothers and sisters, you are indeed a fortunate and blessed people.” (113)
How have the servants responded to this sermon? Brown humorously undercuts Snyder’s talk with a quick scan of the gathered crowd. “Four or five were fast asleep, leaning against trees; as many more were nodding, while not a few were stealthily cracking and eating hazelnuts.” (114). In dialogue on page 115, Brown uses the servant’s conversation as a pointed, humorous critique that predates Mark Twain:
“I think de people dat made de Bible was great fools,” said Ned “Why?” Uncle Simon.
“Cause dey made such a great big book and put nuttin in it, but servants obey yer masters.” Brown later reveals, on pages 141 and 142, just how little of the Bible the slaves understand in a chat with Carlton. Carlton asks one servant who “made” him. “De overseer told us last night who made us, but indeed I forgot the gentmun’s name,” he responds. (141) Carlton turns to a man who seems “more intelligent” and asks if he serves the Lord. “No, sir,” the servant responds, “I don’t serve anybody but Mr. Jones.” When a female servant mistakes John The Baptist for a John she knew in “Old Kentuck,” Carlton’s “gravity here gave way, and he looked at the plant and laughed right out.” Later Mr. Jones, the master, apologizes to Carlton: “You did not get hold of the bright ones,” continued the planter.
“So it seems,” remarked Carlton.” (142)
It’s not necessarily comfortable humor, but it’s an effective, ironic way of having the apparent “fool” unmask what Brown considers the truly misguided master. Repeatedly Brown skewers his character Peck - the name itself seems a criticism - even taking the opportunity, before Carlton reads Peck’s poem “My Little Nig” to refer to the parson’s writing skill as a “rare specimen of poetical genius.” The poem itself is an appalling piece of paternalism and racism, yet warped in its cutesy imagery and rhyme scheme as envisions a boy not old enough to be a servant daydreaming in the warm corner of the yard and fighting like a politician for his share of food (134). The depths to which some of Brown’s white characters sink, and ways in which some of their servants undercut them, makes for pointed “second story” to central tale of Clotel’s purchase, mistress life, second sale, escape and death. This story does not quite find its end at the death of the parson, but Brown brings back a sarcastic, celebratory song to gut whatever legacy he thought he had left with his servants. Sam, his ruffled shirt, typically dutiful servant, the “good scholar,” as Georgiana calls him, is the lead singer of a song that calls to “take down the fiddle and bow” (Brown 154) to celebrate, among other things, the following:
“He no more will hang our children on the tree, To be ate by the carrion crow;
He no more will send our wives to Tennessee For he’s gone where the slaveholders go.” (Brown 154.
The song earns a smile for revealing the servants to be more keenly aware of their situation and disdainful of it that previously shown on this farm. Again Brown backs up this strange levity with a piece of commentary from Georgiana that speaks to Sam’s duplicity as a faithful servant, and angry servant. Sam, in general, is a built of a trick character who looks and acts one way, and seems to feel that way to some extent as well, until this song, which unearths buried emotions. Like a lot of well-placed humor and wit, there is sadness underneath, and while Sam singing “hang up the shovel and hoe” strikes us as a grin-worthy line, one must only read again “hang our children on the tree” to see that amidst temporary joys are experiences beyond awful. In conclusion, effective use of humor takes more than writing talent. It takes setup, timing, and the right choice of words. Brown achieves irony and satire frequently throughout “Clotel,” which not only counterbalances some of the straighter, more melodramatic scenes, but helps establish the characters beyond Brown’s inserted, rhetorical arguments. There are many characters and many moving parts with the novel - it’s a remarkably busy work for a singular topic - and while it never falls into broad humor or punchy one-liners - or would have passed as one-liners back then - it deserves a mention and has a function within the text.
Works Cited Wells Brown, William. Clotel or The President’s Daughter. Ed. Robert S. Levine. New York: Bedford/St. Martens, 2000