A Manual of American Literature

by Unknown

The close of the war marked the beginning of a new era in American fiction. As Mr. Morse points out, people no longer cared for stories about the Indians and about the Revolution. The Indians had retreated into that world of romance with which the modern world, ignorant of “Nick of the Woods,” associates them; the Revolution was ancient history by the side of the more terrible conflict just ended, and a quarter of a century must elapse before the earlier war would make a background for fiction. Romance, which, as we have seen, had already begun to lose favour, must now yield to realism; there must be pictures of life at home, in the market-place, in the fields, in the teeming cities; there must be greater skill in handling the narrative so as to make it a transcript from daily life. The lover of romance will doubtless deplore this tendency; but it was inevitable, and it has dictated the path of fiction almost to the present day.

Oliver Wendell Holmes.—The many-sided activity of Dr. Holmes extended to the writing of three novels—“medicated novels” they have been called, but the term does not apply to all equally well. Certainly they all belong to the large and increasing group of “problem novels.” The first, “Elsie Venner: a Romance of Destiny” (1861), published when the author had passed the half-century mark, made its first appearance as “The Professor’s Story” in The Atlantic Monthly. The mother of Elsie Venner, a short time before giving birth to her child, was fatally bitten by a crotalus or rattlesnake, and from birth the child is partially endowed with a serpent nature, which enables her to exercise a peculiar influence over those with whom she is brought into contact, especially the sensitive schoolmistress Helen Darley. “The real aim of the story,” says Dr. Holmes himself, “was to test the doctrine of ‘original sin’ and human responsibility for the disordered volition coming under that technical denomination. Was Elsie Venner, poisoned by the venom of a crotalus before she was born, morally responsible for the ‘volitional’ aberrations which, translated into acts, become what is known as sin, and, it may be, what is punished as crime? If, on presentation of the evidence, she becomes by the verdict of the human conscience a proper object of divine pity and not of divine wrath, as a subject of moral poisoning, wherein lies the difference between her position at the bar of judgment, human or divine, and that of the unfortunate victim who received a moral poison from a remote ancestor before he drew his first breath?” It will thus be seen that what the author intended was nothing less than an onslaught upon one of the great fundamental dogmas of orthodox theology. Fifty years ago, this was a bold undertaking indeed. The intensely tragic motive of the novel is relieved by some chapters of pure comedy, in which figure the mean, calculating, money-making Silas Peckham, the vulgar splurging Sprowles, and a varied group of other minor characters. “The Guardian Angel” (1867) forms a natural sequel to “Elsie Venner”; it deals with some of the problems of heredity, attempting “to show the successive evolution of some inherited qualities in the character of Myrtle Hazard,” the heroine. Less tragic than the earlier tale, “The Guardian Angel” is more pleasant to read, and a more artistic creation. An interesting plot is skilfully worked out and the characterisation is subtle and true. In his third novel, “A Mortal Antipathy” (1885), Dr. Holmes at seventy-six plainly showed that he had passed his creative period. He yielded, to a much greater degree than in the other stories, to the rambling propensity which, charming and natural enough in “The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table,” seriously mars the continuity of a novel in which plot-interest is intended to figure. In this the author deals with the influence on a man’s after-life of an antipathy (toward womankind) arising from a severe shock received in early childhood—an antipathy which is happily removed when the hero, helpless on a sick-bed in a burning house, is borne out by a brave and athletic girl. In spite of its “medicated” character, the story is full of delightful gossip, amusing descriptions and characterisation, and thoughtful speculation over miscellaneous matters connected with the healing art. If, as some contend, Dr. Holmes has in these books emphasised the moral issue at the expense of artistic perfection, they still have great value as records of personality. In Mr. Noble’s words, the author “is a man whose temperament makes him intensely interested in human nature, and whose bent of mind gives him a special interest in any development of human nature which, by exhibiting exceptional possibilities or limitations, casts some strange side-light upon its more ordinary and normal conditions.”

Mrs. Elizabeth Barstow Stoddard.—Mrs. Elizabeth Barstow Stoddard (1823–1902), wife of the poet Richard Henry Stoddard, wrote three novels remarkable in their day, “The Morgesons” (1862), “Two Men” (1865), and “Temple House” (1867), which found few readers in their time and are now almost forgotten, but which evinced careful observation of life and customs, and decided if not eccentric individuality. Republished in 1888 and again in 1901, “The Morgesons” was praised by such judicious critics as Mr. Stedman, Mr. Julian Hawthorne, and Professor Beers (who declared he had read it four times); but it again failed of popular favour; it had become old-fashioned.

Edmund Kirke.—Under this pen name, James Roberts Gilmore (1822–1903) was for many years a well known writer. In 1857 he retired from business with a competency, and thereafter devoted himself mainly (except 1873–83) to literature. His earlier novels, “Among the Pines” (1862), “My Southern Friends” (1862), “Among the Guerillas” (1863), “Down in Tennessee” (1863), “Adrift in Dixie” (1863), and “On the Border” (1864), were concerned with the Southern life with which he became acquainted in war-time. In later life, he wrote “The Last of the Thorndikes” (1889) and “A Mountain-White Heroine” (1889). His earlier stories were popular and did much to acquaint readers with slavery.

Thomas Bailey Aldrich.—Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836–1907) began his career as a novelist in 1862 with the publication in The Atlantic Monthly (June) of a little romance, “Père Antoine’s Date Palm,” which secured sympathetic recognition from Hawthorne. In the same year, he also published “Out of His Head, a Romance in Prose,” a collection of six short stories; but these remained his sole efforts in fiction until 1869, when he published his largely autobiographical “Story of a Bad Boy.” The hero of this little idyl of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, Tom Bailey, who is after all “not a very bad boy,” has become a classic character in the fiction of boyhood. “Marjorie Daw, and Other Stories” (1873) are ingenious tales, in the first of which a surprising hoax is managed with consummate skill. “Prudence Palfrey” (1874) is an old-fashioned novel of incident in which a well-nigh impossible plot is made plausible. “The Queen of Sheba” (1877) is perhaps the most skilfully done of all his stories; the action takes place in New Hampshire and Switzerland, and the story is full of humour. “The Stillwater Tragedy” (1880) is a realistic portrayal of life in a New England manufacturing village, the motif being the detection of a murderer, and the sombreness of the situation being relieved by a love story. “Two Bites at a Cherry, and Other Tales,” subtle, amusing, ingenious, appeared in 1893. Probably most of us will agree with Mr. Howells when he says that Aldrich was a worker in the novel with the instinct of a romancer, and was at his best in the romantic parts of his stories. Of his prose works his short stories will probably endure longest.

Mrs. Adeline D. T. Whitney.—Mrs. Adeline D. T. Whitney (born in 1824), a native of Boston and sister of the eccentric George Francis Train, wrote a number of stories for young people, beginning with “Boys at Chequasset” (1862) and “Faith Gartney’s Girlhood” (1863) and including also “The Gayworthys” (1865), which ranks among the best of New England novels, “A Summer in Leslie Goldthwaite’s Life” (1866), “Patience Strong’s Outings” (1868), “Hitherto” (1869), “We Girls” (1870), “Bonnyborough” (1885), and “Ascutney Street” (1888). To some critics the didactic tone of her stories has seemed so prominent as to impair their artistic value; others, like Mrs. Stowe, defend her from the charge of being “preachy.” A vein of mysticism runs through her stories. Her style is effective and her creations are real and lifelike.

Bayard Taylor.—The writing of novels did not play a great part in the life of Bayard Taylor, who felt himself to be first of all a poet; but his four novels are not without interest. Taylor had already tried his hand at writing stories for The Atlantic Monthly when he began in 1861 the writing of a novel. Before he left America for Russia he had written seven chapters. He finished the book in St. Petersburg and published it in 1863 under the title of “Hannah Thurston, a Story of American Life.” Although the scene is nominally laid in central New York, the life is essentially that of Chester County, Pennsylvania. The plot is similar to that of Tennyson’s “Princess.” It is, however, of secondary importance; the author’s main purpose apparently was to satirise the more or less superficial reforms of the time—abolition, total abstinence, spiritualism, vegetarianism, and the like. The homely and commonplace village life of his time Taylor described vividly and truthfully; but it cannot be said that his characters, amusing as many of them are, are distinctly individualised. Even so, the book was received with favour. It was promptly translated into German, Swedish, and Russian. Its success encouraged Taylor to further efforts. “John Godfrey’s Fortunes, Related by Himself” appeared late in 1864. This is a story of life in Pennsylvania and in New York City. A good plot is worked out, and some of the characters are interesting, though for the most part they are too obviously good or bad. John Godfrey in a sense was Taylor himself, but the book can hardly be called an autobiography. In 1866 appeared “The Story of Kennett,” in some respects the best of Taylor’s novels. For it he drew largely upon his memories of Chester County, and most of the characters were drawn from life. The scene at the funeral of Abiah Barton, where the hero discovers his worthless and cowardly father, has been sharply censured; but Taylor contended that, because of the vein of superstition in Mary Potter, it was the most justifiable chapter in the book. “Joseph and His Friend: a Story of Pennsylvania,” the last of Taylor’s novels, appeared serially in The Atlantic, and was published in book form in 1870. It is a disagreeable story of duplicity, in Bismarck’s view of which many have shared, that the villain gets off too easily. To the above should be added a volume of shorter stories issued under the title of “Beauty and the Beast.” In general, Taylor’s novels exhibit skilful workmanship and sympathetic and often vivid delineations of character.

Louisa May Alcott.—Louisa May Alcott (1832–88), daughter of Amos Bronson Alcott, became well known as a writer of wholesome fiction, especially for young readers. She began life as a teacher and during the Civil War was an army nurse. “Moods” (1864), her first novel, was widely read, and contains passages of strength. “Little Women” (1868–69), written as a girls’ book, remains her best. A kind of sequel to it was “Little Men; Life at Plumfield with Jo’s Boys” (1871), followed in its turn by “Jo’s Boys and How They Turned Out” (1886). Other similar stories were “An Old-Fashioned Girl” (1870), “Work, a Story of Experience” (1873), partly autobiographical, “Eight Cousins” (1875) and its sequel, “Rose in Bloom” (1876), and “A Modern Mephistopheles” (1877), a disagreeable but vigorous and imaginative study of moral deterioration. Her stories continue to be popular with the young, though the newer juvenile fiction will in time supersede them.

Richard Malcolm Johnston.—Richard Malcolm Johnston (1822–98) was one of the most popular of the Southern writers of his time. The son of a Georgia planter and Baptist clergyman, he in time became a Roman Catholic. Graduating from Mercer University, Georgia, in 1841, he practised law for some years, in 1857 declining a judgeship to become professor of belles-lettres in the University of Georgia. From 1861 till 1882, he was engaged in conducting a boys’ boarding-school, first at Sparta, Georgia, then near Baltimore. In 1864 he published, as “Georgia Sketches,” four stories of life in Georgia. To these, others were added in 1874 under the title of “Dukesborough Tales,” his best book. He afterward wrote “Old Mark Langston” (1884), “Mr. Absalom Billingslea and Other Georgia Folk” (1888), “Ogeechee Cross-Firings” (1889), “The Primes and Their Neighbours” (1891), “Mr. Billy Downs and His Likes” (1892), “Mr. Fortner’s Marital Claims, and Other Stories” (1892), “Widow Guthrie” (1893), “Little Ike Templin, and Other Stories” (1894), “Old Times in Middle Georgia” (1897), and “Pearce Amerson’s Will” (1898). In all he published more than eighty stories. He was not a master of plot, and the structure of his tales is loose and faulty in sequence; but his characters have the magic touch of reality, and his descriptions of ante-bellum Georgia days cannot be neglected.

William Mumford Baker.—William Mumford Baker (1825–83), a Princeton graduate and Presbyterian clergyman, was once popular but is now little read. From 1850 till 1865 he was minister of a church in Austin, Texas, where he had many of the experiences utilised in his stories. His most important fiction was “Inside, a Chronicle of Secession,” which was written secretly during the war, ran as a serial in Harper’s Weekly, and appeared in book form in 1866; it gives a vivid picture of Southern life and feeling. Some of his later books were “Oak Mot” (1868), “The New Timothy” (1870), “Mose Evans” (1874), “Carter Quarterman” (1876), “A Year Worth Living” (1878), “Colonel Dunwoodie” (1878), “His Majesty Myself” (1879), and “Blessed Saint Certainty” (1881). While not striking their roots very deeply into life and character, his books are marked by sincerity and intense earnestness.