In reading Sarah Orne Jewett’s “A White Heron,” I found myself wondering if the titular bird does not symbolize the innocence – I’d even go so far as to suggest the virginity – of young Sylvia. When she first encounters the young man in the woods, she is alarmed to hear “a boy’s whistle, determined, and somewhat aggressive.” She immediately identifies him as assertive and forward – Sylvia seems afraid of him, as though she herself is the prey he hunts. The man evidently evokes some shamefulness or fear in the girl, as Sylvia “did not dare to look boldly at the tall young man.” From the get-go, Sylvia seems somehow ashamed to have even “invited” this young man’s attention: “Would not her grandmother consider her much to blame?” The tone surrounding the first meeting is one of apprehension, timidness, and shame — which seems attributable to what Sylvia perceives as her grandmother’s expectations of her. One might quite easily translate these emotions into those surrounding a young girl’s early discoveries of or introductions to sexuality.
Perhaps I am reading too much into it, but the young man’s immediate demand for milk upon his arrival at the farmhouse seems specific and intentional: could the milk further imply his “hunt” for a “fertile” young woman?
The guest’s “eager interest” in Sylvia and her potential knowledge of (in his words) the “tall white bird with soft feathers and long thin legs” might carry similar connotations. This description of the bird is human-like, feminine, and even mildly sexual. Sylvia’s “heart” gives a “wild beat” in response – she is excited, in some way, by the mention of this rare bird. In her description of her encounter with the creature, one detects a sense of danger or sensuality: “the sunshine always seemed strangely yellow and hot;” “her grandmother had warned her that she might sink in the soft black mud;” Sylvia “dreamed about” the salt marshes beyond this space, but she “had never seen” them. Sylvia knows the bird is there – she’s seen it, heard it – but the mystery and intrigue remains; there is much she has not yet explored.
Soon Sylvia is captivated by the young man, whom she describes as “charming and delightful; the woman’s heart, asleep in the child, was vaguely thrilled by a dream of love.” In the woods, the young man leads the way, and Sylvia follows him. This maintains a dynamic of ‘experienced’ versus ‘inexperienced.’
In her knowledge of the bird, Sylvia has power – she has something the guest wants. The issue at hand is whether or not she should give the stranger access to the bird. However, once she has climbed the tree and spotted the white heron, Sylvia wishes to keep the “secret” of “the wild, light, slender bird,” for to do so would be to “give its life away.” While Sylvia is tempted by the young man’s promises of money, as well as her desire to please him in light of her newfound affection for him, she finds herself bound to her morals and her obligation to nature — her obligation to innocence, perhaps. Jewett’s introduction remarks that her stories negotiate between a young woman’s “conception of herself in nature and to the world of men.” Of course, Sylvia is very young. But does the story suggest a woman to be effectively impure or sinful upon giving up her “secret” to a man? Are men inherently corrupting?
I love this interpretation of “White Heron.” It offers a truly interesting perspective on the character of Sylvie, who should be just a little girl, but instead has these obscene ideals of perfection and purity placed upon her by the world. Wise of your question, I’m unsure if she would be impure for giving her secret, but rather, her secret represents her virginity. It is something sacred to her, just as she was likely taught about her virginity, a mythical object that was likely compared to a flower or a jewel. The man ruins her purity by stealing her innocence, which he would succesfuly have done if he’s killed a friend of hers, the heron. So no, I don’t believe that women would have been considered impure for sharing a secret of theres, especially if the secret held no malicious intent. However, the secret in a sense represent her virginity causing for the theme of a loss of innocence to be attributed to it.
I would however agree that men would be viewed as inherently corrupting. Not any interaction would be corrupting, but they would pose a far greater risk to corruption than another woman would and would cause desires that would pave the way for further corruption.
Hi Tessa! Your blog post was very interesting, and I wanted to consider your question “are men inherently corrupting?” I think the man feels some entitlement over the information Sylvie has. When he suspects that Sylvie knows about the location of the bird, he believes “she must really be persuaded to tell.” The man looks straight at Sylvie with “kind appealing eyes” as he waits for him to tell her the information that he knows. When Sylvie does not give the man access to the bird, he soon leaves. Sylvie questions “were the birds better friends than their hunter might have been?” She does not know for sure if the man would have remained after she had given him access to the knowledge she has. I believe that Sylvie is inherently cautious of the man even when he shows her his affection. It is uncertain if she had given him what he was hunting after, if he would have remained.
Hi Tessa and Erin! This point is such an interesting contrast to Editha, where the gender roles are switched and the woman is the one doing the “corrupting”. It is Editha who feels entitled to seeing George as her hero, and pushes him to go to war, and unlike Sylvie, George does not resist.
It is also interesting how both Editha and Sylvie choose their ideals over romance, Editha prioritizing her country and Sylvie prioritizing the life of the heron. Editha is forced to face consequences of her actions while Sylvie seems happy with her decision. Perhaps the reason for this difference in outcomes is that it is life that should be prioritized, not a particular ideal.