Not only was Brockden Brown the first American man-of-letters
proper,--one writing for a living before we had any real literature of
our own,--but his work possessed a genuine power and originality which
gives it some claim to remembrance for its own sake. And it is fair
always to remember that a given product from a pioneer indicates a far
greater endowment than the same from one of a group in a more developed
age. The forerunner lacks not one thing only, but many things, which
help his successors. He lacks the mental friction from, the emulation
of, the competition with, other writers; he lacks the stimulus and
comfort of sympathetic companionship; he lacks an audience to spur him
on, and a market to work for; lacks labor-saving conventions, training,
and an environment that heartens him instead of merely tolerating him.
Like Robinson Crusoe, he must make his tools before he can use them. A
meagre result may therefore be a proof of great abilities.
[Illustration: CHARLES B. BROWN]
The United States in 1800 was mentally and morally a colony of Great
Britain still. A few hundred thousand white families scattered over
about as many square miles of territory, much of it refractory
wilderness with more refractory inhabitants; with no cities of any size,
and no communication save by wretched roads or by sailing vessels; no
rich old universities for centres of culture, and no rich leisured
society to enjoy it; the energies of the people perforce absorbed in
subduing material obstacles, or solidifying a political experiment
disbelieved in by the very men who organized it;--neither time nor
materials existed then for an independent literary life, which is the
growth of security and comfort and leisure if it embraces a whole
society, or of endowed college foundations and an aristocracy if it is
only of the few. Hence American society took its literary meals at the
common table of the English-speaking race, with little or no effort at a
separate establishment. There was much writing, but mostly polemic or
journalistic. When real literature was attempted, it consisted in
general of imitations of British essays, or fiction, or poetry; and in
the last two cases not even imitations of the best models in either. The
essays were modeled on Addison; the poetry on the heavy imitators of
Pope's heroics; the fiction either on the effusive sentimentalists who
followed Richardson, or on the pseudo-Orientalists like Walpole and
Lewis, or on the pseudo-mediævalists like Mrs. Roche and Mrs. Radcliffe.
This sort of work filled the few literary periodicals of the day, but
was not read enough to make such publications profitable even then, and
is pretty much all unreadable now.
Charles Brockden Brown stands in marked contrast to these second-hand
weaklings, not only by his work but still more by his method and temper.
In actual achievement he did not quite fulfill the promise of his early
books, and cannot be set high among his craft. He was an inferior
artist; and though he achieved naturalism of matter, he clung to the
theatrical artificiality of style which was in vogue. But if he had
broken away from all traditions, he could have gained no hearing
whatever; he died young--twenty years more might have left him a much
greater figure; and he wrought in disheartening loneliness of spirit.
His accomplishment was that of a pioneer. He was the first American
author to see that the true field for his fellows was America and not
Europe. He realized, as the genius of Châteaubriand realized at almost
the same moment, the artistic richness of the material which lay to hand
in the silent forest vastnesses, with their unfamiliar life of man and
beast, and their possibilities of mystery enough to satisfy the most
craving. He was not the equal of the author of 'The Natchez' and
'Atala'; but he had a fresh and daring mind. He turned away from both
the emotional orgasms and the stage claptrap of his time, to break
ground for all future American novelists. He antedated Cooper in the
field of Indian life and character; and he entered the regions of mystic
supernaturalism and the disordered human brain in advance of
Hawthorne and Poe.
That his choice of material was neither chance nor blind instinct, but
deliberate judgment and insight, is shown by the preface to 'Edgar
Huntly,' in which he sets forth his views:--
"America has opened new views to the naturalist and
politician, but has seldom furnished themes to the
moral-pointer. That new springs of action and new motives of
curiosity should operate, that the field of investigation
opened to us by our own country should differ essentially
from those which exist in Europe, may be readily conceived.
The sources of amusement to the fancy and instruction to the
heart that are peculiar to ourselves are equally numerous and
inexhaustible. It is the purpose of this work to profit by
some of these sources, to exhibit a series of adventures
growing out of the conditions of our country, and connected
with one of the most common and wonderful diseases of the
human frame. Puerile superstition and exploded manners,
Gothic castles and chimeras, are the materials usually
employed for this end. The incidents of Indian hostility and
the perils of the Western wilderness are far more suitable,
and for a native of America to overlook these would admit of
no apology. These therefore are in part the ingredients of
this tale."
Brown's was an uneventful career. He was much given to solitary rambles
and musings, varied by social intercourse with a few congenial friends
and the companionship of his affectionate family, and later, many hours
spent at his writing-desk or in an editorial chair.
He was born January 17th, 1771, in Philadelphia, of good Quaker stock. A
delicate boyhood, keeping him away from the more active life of youths
of his own age, fostered, a love for solitude and a taste for reading.
He received a good classical education; but poor health prevented him
from pursuing his studies at college. At his family's wish he entered a
law office instead; but the literary instinct was strong within him.
Literature at this time was scarcely considered a profession. Magazine
circulations were too limited for publishers to pay for contributions,
and all an author usually got or expected to get was some copies to
distribute among his friends. To please his prudent home circle, Brown
dallied for a while with the law; but a visit to New York, where he was
cordially received by the members of the "Friendly Club," opened up
avenues of literary work to him, and he removed to New York in 1796 to
devote himself to it.
The first important work he produced was 'Wieland: or the
Transformation' (1798). It shows at the outset Brown's characteristic
traits--independence of British materials and methods. It is in
substance a powerful tale of ventriloquism operating on an unbalanced
and superstitious mind. Its psychology is acute and searching; the
characterization realistic and effective. His second book, 'Ormond: or
the Secret Witness' (1799), does not reach the level of 'Wieland.' It is
more conventional, and not entirely independent of foreign models,
especially Godwin, whom Brown greatly admired. A rapid writer, he soon
had the MS. of his next novel in the hands of the publisher. The first
part of 'Arthur Mervyn: or Memoirs of the Year 1793' came out in 1799,
and the second part in 1800. It is the best known of his six novels.
Though the scene is laid in Philadelphia, Brown embodied in it his
experience of the yellow fever which raged in New York in 1799. The
passage describing this epidemic can stand beside Defoe's or Poe's or
Manzoni's similar descriptions, for power in setting forth the horrors
of the plague.
In the same year with the first volume of 'Arthur Mervyn' appeared
'Edgar Huntly: or Memoirs of a Sleep-Walker.' Here he deals with the
wild life of nature, the rugged solitudes, and the redskins, the field
in which he was followed by Cooper. A thrilling scene in which a
panther is chief actor was long familiar to American children in their
school reading-books.
In 1801 came out his last two novels, 'Clara Howard: In a Series of
Letters,' and 'Jane Talbot.' They are a departure from his previous
work: instead of dealing with uncanny subjects they treat of quiet
domestic and social life. They show also a great advance on his previous
books in constructive art. In 1799 Brown became editor of the Monthly
Magazine and American Review, and contributed largely to it.
In the autumn of 1801 he returned to Philadelphia, to assume the
editorship of Conrad's Literary Magazine and American Review. The duties
of this office suspended his own creative work, and he did not live to
take up again the novelist's stylus. In 1806 he became editor of the
Annual Register. His genuine literary force is best proved by the fact
that whatever periodical he took in charge, he raised its standard of
quality and made it a success for the time.
He died in February, 1810. The work to which he had given the greater
part of his time and strength, especially toward the end of his life,
was in its nature not only transitory, but not of a sort to keep his
name alive. The magazines were children of a day, and the editor's
repute as such could hardly survive them long. The fame which belongs to
Charles Brockden Brown, grudgingly accorded by a country that can ill
afford to neglect one of its earliest, most devoted, and most original
workers, rests on his novels. Judged by standards of the present day,
these are far from faultless. The facts are not very coherent, the
diction is artificial in the fashion of the day. But when all is said,
Brown was a rare story-teller; he interested his readers by the novelty
of his material, and he was quite objective in its treatment, never
obtruding his own personality. 'Wieland,' 'Edgar Huntly,' and 'Arthur
Mervyn,' the trilogy of his best novels, are not to be contemned; and he
has the distinction of being in very truth the pioneer of
_American_ letters.