SOURCE: "Dreiser's Ant Tragedy: The Revision of The Shining Slave Makers'," in Studies in Short Fiction, Vol. 14, No. 1, Winter, 1977, pp. 41-8.

[In the following essay, Graham compares two versions of "The Shining Slave Makers" and notes how Dreiser stressed the struggle for life and "humanistic" values in the latter version.]

In 1900 Theodore Dreiser wrote a long letter to Robert Underwood Johnson, the associate editor of the Century, protesting his decision not to publish Dreiser's "ant tragedy," a short story titled "The Shining Slave Makers" [Letters of Theodore Dreiser, 1959]. The letter championed imagination and emotional power over rigid adherence to scientific fact. Far from overturning Johnson's decision, Dreiser was obliged, upon receiving a second letter from Johnson, to apologize for his charge that no literary editor had read the story [Letters]. Sometime later, Ainslee's Magazine accepted the work and published it in June, 1901.

The "allegory" that Johnson disliked and refused to publish begins with a frame opening in which a man named Robert McEwen, sitting beneath a tree on a hot summer day, discovers an ant on his trousers, looks for others, and kills one on the walk. Fixing his attention then on an ant moving erratically to and fro, McEwen feels himself suddenly amidst a new world where, as he gradually realizes, he is an ant himself. A series of encounters with other ants ensues. One ant alludes to the coming war with the Sanguineae and predicts a famine. A second, Ermi, refuses to share some bread with the now ravenously hungry McEwen. A third, also hunting for food, angrily refuses to offer McEwen aid. Then McEwen comes upon the third ant again, who, dying from a wound inflicted by a falling boulder, offers his bread to him. After eating and resting, McEwen watches as four enemy warriors attack Ermi. He rushes into the fray on Ermi's behalf, and together they defeat the enemy. The comrades-in-arms return to Ermi's home where McEwen observes the ants' daily life and is caught up in their plans for war. He participates in a raid on a weaker tribe, the Fuscae, and exults in the fighting. In the next fight, an all-out battle with the Sanguineae, McEwen does not fare well however. Wounded to the point of death, he closes his eyes to die, only to awaken, in the frame conclusion, back in the place where the revery began and restored to his former human status.

When Dreiser put together his first collection of short fiction, Free and Other Stories (1918), he included the 1901 story under the title "McEwen of the Shining Slave Makers." He made other changes as well. The Free text contains approximately 169 instances of revision, including changes in punctuation, diction, syntax, and the addition of passages, some of which are over 150 words in length. Although many of these revisions are primarily stylistic modifications with little substantive effect, the added passages are of a different order and have important consequences for the conceptual movement of the story. The new material, which contains Dreiser's discursive commentaries and amplifications and which perforce affects both characterization and theme, makes comparison of the two versions a necessary act of criticism.

Comparison also helps resolve an interpretational conflict regarding the meaning of "The Shining Slave Makers." The question of whether the story presents a positive or negative vision of experience has led critics to opposite conclusions. According to Robert Elias, for example, "The Shining Slave Makers" expresses Dreiser's social Darwinism: "an allegory of life, in which the struggle to survive is carried on blindly, uncritically, and in which strength rather than notions of good and evil determines one's fate" [Theodore Dreiser, Apostle of Nature, 1970]. Ellen Moers, however, reads the story quite differently: "'The Shining Slave Makers' is a celebration of the capacity for feeling in humble creatures—their sensitivity being perhaps more highly developed than that of the man who coldly observes and carelessly destroys them [Two Dreisers, 1969]. Elias' view, as Moers demonstrates and as he confirmed to her, is but half of a satisfactory interpretation. From the Ainslee text one can array a quantity of evidence supporting a social-Darwinist reading and at least an equal quantity supporting an anti-social-Darwinist reading—that is, in the first view the ants are warriors; in the second, they are brothers. Moers' interpretation is a necessary corrective of Elias', but it seems clear that what she says of "The Shining Slave Makers" exaggerates the story's commitment to the positive values discovered among the ants. In fact, when she seeks to prove that McEwen "awakens at the end . . . to marvel at the oneness of life," she quotes from the Free text which, as she points out in a note, "underline[s] the mood of melancholy wonder with which Dreiser always surveyed parallels between man and the simplest organisms." Precisely, except that Dreiser in 1918 was more inclined to write of melancholy wonder than he was in 1899. Conflating the two texts blurs their essential differences in meaning: in the second Dreiser kept and even intensified the degree of struggle necessary for survival (Elias) and clarified, emphasized, and made unmistakable the degree of "humanistic" values observable among the ants (Moers). The added material clearly reveals this pattern emerging.

The first addition to the Ainslee text occurs in the seventh paragraph. Up to this point in both versions we know that Robert McEwen, lolling on a summer day, has observed some ants; has casually killed one; and has suddenly found himself in an "unknown world, strange in every detail." The paragraph in the Ainslee text concludes with "Only the hot sun streaming down and a sky of faultness blue betokened a familiar world," whereupon the story moves directly to McEwen's next act: "Then McEwen set out and presently came to a broad plain, so wide that his eye could scarce command more than what seemed an immediate portion of it." But the Free text contains new commentary between the "familiar world" and the movement to the plain. Dreiser has added:

In regard to himself McEwen felt peculiar and yet familiar. What was it that made these surroundings and himself seem odd and yet usual? He could not tell. His three pairs of limbs and his vigorous mandibles seemed natural enough. The fact that he sensed rather than saw things was natural and yet odd. Forthwith moved by a sense of duty, necessity, and a kind of tribal obligation which he more felt than understood, he set out in search of food and prey and presently came to a broad plain, so wide that his eye could scarce command more than what seemed an immediate portion of it.

This passage seems almost to be a response to the Century reader of eighteen years before who had complained about the handling of the transformation from man to ant, arguing that Dreiser should have made the ant female and dropped the human name McEwen. Dreiser replied by wondering about the archetypal audience in Indiana: "What, pray, does the Elkhart, Indiana, reader care whether McEwen was a male or a female so long as he fulfilled the dramatic requirements of the situation and held his interest?" [Letters]. In the revision Dreiser underscores the odd and unusual metamorphosis while at the same time he tries to ground the miraculous change in something more concrete than the fanciful prerogatives of allegory. He tries, in fact, to give McEwen a more credible psychology.

The key phrase in the new passage is tribal obligation, a concept which becomes the focus of the altered psychological presentation of the man-ant. The concept works perfectly in expressing necessity in a positive way. Under the pull of tribal obligation McEwen learns to act for the benefit of others. Several lengthy additions develop this growing understanding of McEwen's ant-hood in relation to tribal identity. In one new passage, for instance, McEwen, hearing a dying ant pronounce the word tribe, remembers a past in which he himself was a member of a "colony or tribe" governed by "the powerful and revered ant mother" (Free). This knowledge leads him to gather food for other ants and to merge his individualism with the common good. On another occasion the death of a fellow ant produces in McEwen an atavistic memory of having seen "so many die that way" (Free). His tribal identity receives climactic force in his effort to save the life of his friend Ermi. The Ainslee text conveys the action swiftly and without attributing motive: "McEwen gazed, excited and sympathetic. In a moment he sprang forward and rushing upon the group, landed upon the back of 0g, at whose neck he began to saw." The Free text, however, contains an intervening explanation which stresses motive: ". . . but a moment later [he] decided to come to his friend's rescue, a feeling of tribal relationship which was overwhelming coming over him."

Part of McEwen's new psychology is a more intensified capacity for violence and war. Tribal loyalty means not only peaceful support but martial defense as well. In the last and fiercest battle of the story, the one which results in McEwen's "death," he is shown in the revised version to share the group excitement in a way that he does not in the original. The Ainslee text reads:

Ever and anon new lines formed, and strange hosts of friends or enemies came up, but McEwen thought nothing of it. He was alone now—lost in a tossing sea of war, and terror forsook him. But he was very calm.

And the Free text:

Ever and anon new lines were formed, and strange hosts of friends or enemies came up, falling upon the combatants of both sides with murderous enthusiasm. McEwen, in a strange daze and lust of death, seemed to think nothing of it. He was alone now—lost in a tossing sea of war, and terror seemed to have forsaken him. It was wonderful, he thought, mysterious—.

Here one sees a participatory interaction between McEwen and the warring ants and an important individual perception by McEwen alone: "It was wonderful, he thought, mysterious."

This sense of wonder and mystery emphasizes a motif that is one of the most characteristic touches of Dreiser in 1918. He added such speculative notes to several stories in the Free volume. The vague suggestiveness of impenetrable philosophical meaning evident in such lines as the final one of the quotation above, becomes the dominant mood of the story's close. The frame at the end, which returns McEwen to his human state, combines philosophical bewilderment with the now familiar psychological fluidity of McEwen's mental processes. The Ainslee frame begins with a brief paragraph restoring McEwen to the human city:

McEwen opened his eyes. He was looking out upon jingling carriages and loitering passersby. He shut his eyes again, wishing to regain a lost scene. A longing filled his heart.

The Free text expands this paragraph into three:

McEwen opened his eyes. Strangely enough he was looking out upon jingling carriages and loitering passersby in the great city park. It was all so strange, by comparison with that which he had so recently seen, the tall buildings in the distance, instead of the sword trees, the trees, the flowers. He jumped to his feet in astonishment, then sank back again in equal amaze, a passerby eyeing him curiously the while.

"I have been asleep," he said in a troubled way. "I have been dreaming. And what a dream!"

He shut his eyes again, wishing, for some strange reason—charm, sympathy, strangeness—to regain the lost scene. An odd longing filled his heart, a sense of comradeship lost, of some friends he knew missing. When he opened his eyes again he seemed to realize something more of what had been happening, but it was fading, fading.

Three kinds of detail have been added. One simply amplifies the contrast between the urban setting and the miniature jungle of grass where McEwen formerly was. A second kind stresses psychological verisimilitude by revealing McEwen's confusion and rational attempt to explain his previous dreaming state. The third amplification contains another familiar motif, the value that McEwen discovered among the ants—comradeship and friendship.

The second and closing paragraph of the frame incorporates another lengthy addition which illustrates in both method and content Dreiser's process of revision. The Ainslee text reads:

At his feet lay the plain and the ants. He gazed upon it, searching for the details of an under-world. Only a few feet away in the parched grass, lay an arid spot, overrun with insects. He approached it, and stooping, saw thousands and thousands engaged in a terrific battle. Looking close, he could see where lines were drawn, how in places, the forces raged in confusion, and the field was cluttered with dead. A mad enthusiasm lay hold of him, and he looked for the advantage of the Shining Slave Makers, but finding it not he stood gazing. Then came reason, and with it sorrow—a vague, sad something out of far-off things.

The Free version reads:

At his feet lay the plain and the ants with whom he had recently been—or so he thought. Yes, there, only a few feet away in the parched grass, was an arid spot, overrun with insects. He gazed upon it, in amazement, searching for the details of a lost world. Now, as he saw, coming closer, a giant battle was in progress, such a one, for instance, as that in which he had been engaged in his dream. The ground was strewn with dead ants. Thousands upon thousands were sawing and striking at each other quite in the manner in which he had dreamed. What was this?—a relevation of the spirit and significance of a lesser life or of his own—or what? And what was life if the strange passions, moods and necessities which conditioned him here could condition those there on so minute a plane?

"Why, I was there," he said dazedly and a little dreamfully, "a little while ago. I died there—or as well died there—in my dream. At least I woke out of it into this or sank from that into this."

Stooping closer he could see where lines were drawn, how in places the forces raged in confusion, and the field was cluttered with the dead. At one moment an odd mad enthusiasm such as he had experienced in his dream-world lay hold of him, and he looked for the advantage of the Shining Slave Makers—the blacks—as he thought of the two warring hosts as against the reds. But finding it not, the mood passed, and he stood gazing, lost in wonder. What a strange world! he thought. What worlds within worlds, all apparently full of necessity, contention, binding emotions, and unities—and all with sorrow, their sorrow—a vague, sad something out of far-off things which had been there, and was here in this strong bright city day, had been there and would be here until this odd, strange thing called life had ended.

The revised version is a microcosm of Dreiser's techniques and themes. We observe him making inner-sentence modifications and adding new passages. In the first paragraph he changes the unfortunate "under-world" of Ainslee's to "lost world," which better conveys the emotion and avoids the connotation of hell or inferiority. Familiar detail about the number of warriors and ferocity of battle recalls McEwen's war experience among the ants. Further, McEwen is moved to philosophical speculation by what he sees. Typically, the speculation is ambiguously unresolved. A series of questions poses the essential problems of (1) which, if either, existence has significance and (2) what life is if ants and men are equally under the sign of passional necessity and conditioning.

The second paragraph also recapitulates the revised characterization of McEwen, as we see him confounded once more as to whether he dreamed the ant life and death or not. His final observation balances the ambiguity nicely: "At least I woke out of it into this or sank from that into this." We can say for certain that McEwen of the Free version takes a great deal longer to wake up than he does in the Ainslee text and that the dream will remain with him appreciably longer. In the first version McEwen has had a dream; in the second, his dream, its import, and the very process of dreaming become symbolic of ail existence.

The third paragraph substantiates the "mad enthusiasm" of the Ainslee text by inferentially connecting the present slaughter with the carnage McEwen has witnessed in his ant-life. After exhibiting McEwen's inability to determine whether his tribe is winning, the revised paragraph extends his reaction far beyond the quick return of "reason" and the "vague, sad something" of the Ainslee text. McEwen is "lost in wonder," one of the prototypical stances of the Dreiserian hero. What is true of the ants on their darkling plain, McEwen is convinced, is true of his human sphere. When Dreiser modifies the "vague, sad something out of far-off things" of the Ainslee text with this crucial clause—"which had been there and was here in this strong bright city day, had been there and would be here until this odd, strange thing called life had ended"—he is insisting upon a continum between ants and human beings. The Ainslee text, in toto, is a dream allegory that leaves its hero finally quite distant from the content of the dream; the Free text is a study in psychological verisimilitude and evolutionary correspondences that involves the hero more deeply and more permanently in the content of the dream. Thus the change in title reflects what textual comparison shows: the focus shifts from the ants to McEwen of the ants.

Along with "Nigger Jeff" and "The Cruise of the 'Idlewild'" Dreiser's ant tragedy is one of those stories in Free that repays close attention. To understand Dreiser's social thought, his fictional use of science, and his sense of craft, it is imperative to study the process of revision. What his story said at the turn of the century may not in fact be what it is saying in 1918; and, as we have seen, its manner may not be the same either.