NOTES

Chapter One: Diaspora and Empire

1. That there is a problem with assuming a clean separation of American from British literature is born out in the confused way that American universities have institutionalized research and teaching in the areas of American literature, history, and culture. American literature tends to be nestled within departments of English literature. American history, on the other hand, is housed in history departments, along with other national histories, and requires entirely different training from a specialization in European history. A number of universities have created programs and departments of American Studies devoted to the cultural, ethnic, and social history of the United States—but not its literary traditions. English departments teach survey courses that assume the two literatures were separate and distinct at least from the late seventeenth century on. Indeed, the major literary anthologies in the field reflect this division. Thus in present-day institutional terms, American literature, in contrast with American history, is both separate from, and yet somehow still attached to, British literature. It is this peculiar relationship that I mean to explore.

2. Among the growing tradition of scholarship that addresses transatlantic literary relations are Paul Giles, Transatlantic Insurrections: British Culture and the Formation of American Literature, 1730–1860 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001); Julie Ellison, Cato’s Tears and the Making of Anglo-American Emotion (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999); Steven Fink and Susan S. Williams, eds., Reciprocal Influences: Literary Production, Distribution and Consumption in America, (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1999); David Shields, Oracles of Empire: Poetry, Politics, and Commerce in British America, 1690–1750 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990); Michael Kraus, The North Atlantic Civilization (Princeton: Van Noostrand, 1957); William L. Sachse, The Colonial American in Britain (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1956); and Clarence Gohdes, American Literature in Nineteenth-Century England (New York: Columbia University Press, 1944).

3. A Literature of Their Own: British Women Novelists from Bronte¨ to Lessing (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1977).

4. Or so Philip Gura saw the field when he surveyed two decades of scholarship. He made the point then that while historians had by the mid-1980s abandoned that notion of exceptionalism, literary scholars still clung to it. The overwhelming tendency today is to read colonial American literature as if it were sui generis and to look for an unbroken line of development within a field constituted only by American texts. Philip F. Gura, “The Study of Colonial American Literature, 1966–1987: A Vade Mecum,” William and Mary Quarterly, 3d ser., 45 (1988): 309.

5. See William C. Spengemann, A New World of Words: Redefining Early American Literature (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994), and A Mirror for Americanists: Reflections on the Idea of American Literature (Hanover, N.H.: Published for Dartmouth College by The University Press of New England, 1989).

6. This nomenclature is admittedly and significantly confusing, but I am not using the terms “English” and “British” interchangeably. As I explain in this and the following chapter, a number of Britons outside of England wanted to emulate what they understood English taste and English writing to be. At the same time, a number of Englishmen back in England were unwilling to be lumped together with the Scots, the Welsh, and other British subjects. Where Eighteenth-century Englishmen would have used the word “British” to describe those in Great Britain who were not born in England, Americans tended to use the word “English” to describe various British folkways, cultural practices, and writing. Linda Colley discusses the resistance on the part of many eighteenth-century Englishman to have “England” and “English” give way to “Great Britain” and “British” in Britons: Forging the Nation 1707–1837 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992). This situation looks ahead to the formation of a Celtic periphery in the early nineteenth century. As Catherine Hall points out, during the early nineteenth century, “Englishness marginalizes other identities,” particularly the Scots, the Welsh, and the Irish. “In constructing what it meant to be English,” Hall writes, “a further claim was constantly being made—that Englishness was British, whereas those on the margins could never claim the right to speak for the whole . . . an English identity could claim to provide the norm for the whole of the United Kingdom, and indeed the Empire” (Hall, White,Male and Middle Class, Exploration in Feminism and History [New York: Routledge, 1992], 206). I use “English” in two senses, then: to refer to the idea of Englishness produced in the colonies by the diaspora, as well as to those Englishmen who were indeed native to England and remained English citizens. “British” or “Briton” refers to those from the English periphery, and those who emigrated from the British Isles to British North America or their offspring who claimed British identity.

7. Franklin to Lord Kames, January 3, 1760, Papers of Benjamin B. Franklin, ed. Leonard W. Larabee (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1966), 9:6–7. Max Savelle, “Nationalism and Other Loyalties in the American Revolution,” American Historical Review 67 (1962): 901–23. In his “Observations Concerning the Increase of Man-kind, Peopling of Countries, etc.” (1755), Franklin predicted that within a hundred years, the population of the English-speaking colonies in America would exceed that of Great Britain and that the largest number of Englishmen in the world would be in America. Papers of Benjamin B. Franklin, ed. Leonard W. Larabee (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1961), 4:227–34, esp. 233.

8. John Adams, “Dissertation on the Canon and Feudal Law,” in The Works of John Adams, ed. Charles Francis Adams (Boston: Charles C. Little and James Brown, 1851), 3:461. Jack P. Greene makes a strong case for an antinationalist position on the grounds that there are few signs of a national consciousness emerging before the 1780s. Peripheries and Centers: Constitutional Development in the Extended Polities of the British Empire and the United States, 1607–1788 (New York: Norton and Company, 1990), 153–80.

9. T. H. Breen, “Ideology and Nationalism on the Eve of the American Revolution: Revisions Once More in Need of Revising,” Journal of American History, 84 (1997): 13– 39, discusses the confusing and contradictory perceptions of national identity within the empire held by Americans during the years running up to the Revolution. He asks, “Did being ‘British’ mean that one was also ‘English,’ or that people who did not happen to live in England could confidently claim equality with the English within the larger empire?” (23).

10. Michael Zuckerman, “Identity in British America: Unease in Eden,” Colonial Identity in the Atlantic World, 1500–1800, eds. Nicholas Canny and Anthony Pagden (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1987), 157. Before the 1770s, Jack P. Greene writes, “The central cultural impulse among the colonists was . . . [to] think of themselves and their societies—and be thought of by people in Britain itself—as demonstrably British,” (Greene, Pursuits of Happiness: The Social Development of Early Modern British Colonies and the Formation of American Culture [Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1988], 175). See also Colley, Britons: Forging the Nation, 1707– 1837, 132–45 and Colin Kidd, British Identities Before Nationalism: Ethnicity and Nationhood in the Atlantic World, 1600–1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 261–79.

11. On the use of postcolonial theory to describe the culture of the new republic, see Malini Johar Schueller and Edward Watts, “Introduction: Theorizing Early American Studies and Postcoloniality,” in Messy Beginnings: Postcoloniality and Early American Studies, ed. Malini Johar Schueller and Edward Watts (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 2003), 1–28; Lawrence Buell, “Postcolonial Anxiety in Classic U.S. Literature,” in Postcolonial Theory and the United States: Race, Ethnicity, and Literature, ed. Amritjit Singh and Peter Schmidt (Jackson: University of Mississippi Press, 2000), 196–219, as well as his “American Literary Emergence as a Postcolonial Phenomenon,” American Literary History 4 (1992): 411–42; Richard King, ed. Postcolonial America (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2000); and Edward Watts, Writing and Post-colonialism in the Early Republic (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1998).

12. Because I am interested in literature and other imaginative cultural products, the concept of creolization fails to describe the phenomena I wish to address. For an account that uses the notion of creolization to explain the persistence of British practices in colonial Maryland, see Trevor Burnard, Creole Gentlemen: The Maryland Elite 1691–1776 (New York: Routledge, 2002).

13. For the debate over the definition of the concept of diaspora, seeWilliam Safran, “Diasporas in modern Societies: Myths of Homeland and Return,” Diaspora 1 (1991): 83–99; James Clifford, “Diasporas,” Cultural Anthropology 9 (1994): 302–38; Robin Cohen, “Diasporas and the Nation-State: From Victims to Challengers,” International Affairs 72 (1996): 507–20; Khachig To¨lo¨lyan, “Rethinking Diaspora(s): Stateless Power in the Transnational Moment,” Diaspora 5 (1996): 3–36; Vijay Mishra, “The Diasporic Imaginary: Theorizing the Indian Diaspora,” Textual Practice 10 (1996): 421–47; Steven Vertovec, “Three Meanings of ‘Diaspora,’ Exemplified Among South Asian Religions,” Diaspora 6 (1997): 277–99; Dominique Schnapper, “From the Nation-State to the TransnationalWorld: On theMeaning and Usefulness of Diaspora as a Concept,” Diaspora 8 (1999): 225–54; KimButler, “Defining Diaspora, Refining a Discourse,” Diaspora 10 (2001): 189–219.

14. CottonMather, “Introduction,”Magnalia Christi Americana, or The Ecclesiastical History of New-England, from First Planting in the Year 1620, unto the Year of our Lord, 1698 (London: Thomas Parkhurst, 1702), 1:4.

15. “What’s Colonial about Colonial America?” Possible Pasts, Becoming Colonial in Early America, ed. Robert Blair St. George (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2000), 65.

16. Nancy Armstrong, “Why Daughters Die,” Yale Journal of Criticism 7 (1994): 1–24.

17. Jonathan Boyarim and Daniel Boyarim, The Powers of Diaspora: Two Essays on the Relevance of Jewish Culture (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2002), 11.

18. The Black Atlantic,Modernity and Double Consciousness (Cambridge,Mass.:Harvard University Press, 1993). All references are to this edition and have been included in the text. Gilroy has been criticized for marginalizing modern Africa and African intellectuals in the process of showing how a generic homeland displaces the actual place of origin. See, for example, Yogita Goyal, “Theorizing Africa in Black Diaspora Studies: Caryl Phillips’ Crossing the River,” Diaspora 12 (2003): 5–38.

19. Rowlandson writes. “I saw a place where English Cattle had been. That was comfort to me, such as it was. Quickly after that we came to an English path which so took with me that I thought I could have freely laid down and died” (Rowlandson, The Soveraignty and Goodness of God, fromPuritans Among the Indians: Accounts of Captivity and Redemption, 1676–1724, ed. Alden T. Vaughn and EdwardW. Clark [Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1981], 45).

20. T. H. Breen, “An Empire of Goods: the Anglicization of Colonial America,” Journal of British Studies 25 (1986): 467–99. In The Marketplace of Revolution: How Consumer Politics Shaped American Independence (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), Breen writes that the major cities of colonial America “contained many men and women who defined taste as English taste, fashion as English fashion, and polite conversation as but a provincial echo of the learned and witty talk they believed regularly occurred in cosmopolitan centers. The shopkeepers who advertised in the colonial newspapers appreciated the allure of Britishness” (166–67).

21. As Colin Kidd explains, differences among colonists were coming to matter less because of this process of re-Anglicization: “Only in the eighteenth century did a process of Anglicising homogenisation” draw together “the shared interests of Englishmen in America” (Kidd, British Identities Before Nationalism, 263).

22. Partly in response to a generation of critics who argued that American literature came into its own with the American Renaissance, for more than two decades scholars have examined American literature for signs of growing cultural independence and autonomy. Emory Eliott, for instance, announces quite self-consciously that his would be one of the first books to show that Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Melville were indebted “of their precursors: those unsung poets and novelists of the late eighteenth century such as Joel Barlow, Hugh Henry Brackenridge, Charles Brockden Brown, Timothy Dwight, and Philip Freneau” (Eliott, Revolutionary Writers: Literature and Authority in the New Republic, 1725–1810 [New York: Oxford University Press, 1982], 6).

23. James Raven, London Booksellers and American Customers: Transatlantic Literary Community and the Charleston Library Society, 1748–1811 (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2002), 6.

24. I am indebted to Peter Stallybrass and James N. Green for this observation and for allowing me to consult a portion of their forthcoming book on Benjamin Franklin as printer.

25. David D. Hall and Hugh Amory, “Afterword,” in The History of the Book in America: The Colonial Book in the Atlantic World, ed. Hugh Amory and David D. Hall (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 482.

26. James Raven, “The Importation of Books in the Eighteenth Century,” in The History of the Book in America: The Colonial Book in the Atlantic World, 183.

27. Raven, “The Importation of Books,” 196.

28. James N. Green writes that in the 1760s those who began to emigrate from Britain “were more likely to be master printers or even booksellers, and many were from Scotland and Ireland, bred to the trade of reprinting English books” (Green, “English Books and Printing in the Age of Franklin,” in The History of the Book in America, 283).

29. CalhounWinton, “The Southern Book Trade in the Eighteenth Century,” in The History of the Book in America, 233.

30. Richard Beale Davis, A Colonial Southern Bookshelf: Reading in the Eighteenth Century (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1979), 14. See also his Intellectual Life in Jefferson’s Virginia, 1793–1830 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1964), 71–84, and his, “Books, Libraries, Reading, and Printing,” in Intellectual Life in the Colonial South, 1585–1763 (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1978), 2: 491–626.

31. James N. Green, “English Books and Printing in the Age of Franklin,” 282.

32. Reilly and Hall, “Customers and the Market for Books,” 389.

33. David D. Hall and Hugh Amory, “Afterword,” 482.

34. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (London: Verso, 1983).

35. Raymond Williams, Marxism and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977), 108–14

36. It is for this reason, I suspect, that we rarely find England explicitly mentioned as “ a site of nostalgia or of reactionary longing” in early American novels. See Cathy N. Davidson, Revolution and the Word: The Rise of the Novel in America, 2nd ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 22.

37. Ernst Robert Curtius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages, trans. Willard R. Trask (New York: Pantheon, 1953), 28–30.

38. See, for example, Suvir Kaul, Poems of Nation, Anthems of Empire: English Verse in the Long Eighteenth Century (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2000), 77– 97; William Levine, “Collins, Thomson, and the Whig Progress of Liberty,” Studies in English Literature 34 (1994): 553–77.

39. Alexander Pope, Poetical Works, ed. Herbert Davis (London: Oxford University Press, 1966), lines 683–84.

40. George Berkeley, “Verses by the Author on the Prospect of Planting Arts and Learning in America,” in A Miscellany Containing Several Tracts on Several Subjects (London: J. and R. Tonson and S. Draper, 1752), 186–87.

41. See, for example,William C. Dowling, Poetry and Ideology in Revolutionary Connecticut (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1990), 56–68; Robert Weisbuch, Atlantic Double-Cross: American Literature and the British Influence in the Age of Emerson (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986), 71–72; Elliott, Revolutionary Writers, 29–30; and Lewis P. Simpson, “Introduction,” in The Federalist Literary Mind (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1962), 32–34.

42. Leo Lemay crosslists translatio studii with nationalism in his Calendar of American Poetry (see 346). James Kirkpatrick’s The Sea Piece (1750) and James Sterling’s poem to Arthur Dobbs (1752) championing his efforts to find a northwest passage is not nationalist in any conventional sense; Sterling identifies himself as a gentleman writing from America but who is first and foremost a British subject. For a discussion of the volume and an excellent discussion of Francis Bernard’s “Epilogus,” see John C. Shields, The American Aeneas: Classical Origins of the American Self (Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press, 2001), 89–95. As Shields notes, before the 1770s there are few if any poets who fantasize that political independence would produce a national culture superior to any found in Europe (95).

43. In Cato’s Tears, 142–47, Julie Ellison discusses the differences between the two versions of Freneau’s The Rising Glory of America.

44. Arguing from quite different evidence, Gordon Wood has made the claim that the colonists were behaving like a British Diaspora: “During the first half of the eighteenth century the growth and consolidation of a colonial elite . . . had led to an increas-ing imitation of English manners and customs. By 1760, the American colonies were more English in their culture than at any time since the first settlements; in fact, to some observers the Americans seemed more English than the English themselves” (Wood, ed. The Rising Glory of America 1760–1820, rev. ed. [Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1990], 2). See also Michael Zuckerman, “Identity in British America,” Colonial Identity in the Atlantic World, 1500–1800, 115–57.

45. The Works of George Berkeley Bishop of Cloyne, ed. A. A. Luce and T. E. Jessop (London: Thomas Nelson and Sons, 1956), 8:152. He claimed with the false modesty common among members of a coterie in the letter of February 10, 1725/26 that the poem was “written by a friend,” and should be “shown to none but your family.” Berkeley acknowledged his authorship of the poem when he published the revised version in his Miscellany Containing Several Tracts (1752).

46. The Works of George Berkeley Bishop of Cloyne 7:345.

47. Anthony Pagden observes that Berkeley’s claim was made “with a degree of cynicism rare even among seventeenth-century Anglican divines” (Pagden, Lords of All the World: Ideologies of Empire in Spain, Britain and France, c. 1500–1800 [New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1995], 204).

48. “American Liberty,” in The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution, ed. Fred Lewis Pattee (Princeton, N.J.: The University Library, 1901), 1:145. Citations of Freneau’s poems are to this edition.

49. New Travels Through North America in a Series of Letters (Philadelphia: Robert Bell, 1783).

50. Timothy Dwight, TheMajor Poems of Timothy Dwight, 1752–1817, ed.William J. McTaggart and William K. Bottorff (Gainesville, Fl.: Scholars’ Facsimiles and Reprints, 1969), lines 49–55.

51. “Oration, Delivered July 4th, 1783,” (Boston, Mass.: John Gill, 1783), 19.

52. Although it was important for the Americans to disavow the practice of conquest and forced conversion because it resembled those of “the rapacious Spanish,” as Reginald Horsman notes, “In the years immediately following the Revolution the Americans assumed that they could secure Indian lands simply as a result of their victory over the British” (Horsman, Expansion and American Indian Policy, 1783–1812 [Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1992: East Lansing, Michigan State University Press, 1967], 5). This, despite the fact that many native peoples either were allies of the Americans or sought to remain neutral. While Washington’s Indian policy formulated by Henry Knox recognized the Indian right of soil, Horsman writes, the Indians were expected to abandon their cultures and adopt “the lifestyle of American pioneer farmers” (Horsman, “The Indian Policy of an ‘Empire for Liberty,’ ” in Native Americans and the Early Republic, ed. Frederick E. Hoxie, Ronald Hoffman, and Peter J. Albert[Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1999], 45). These policies, however, were largely ignored by backcountry settlers who poured into Indian territories to seize land and drive off the native peoples. See Colin G. Galloway, The American Revolution in Indian Country: Crisis and Diversity in Native American Communities (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995)

53. “A Poem on the Future Glory of the United States of America,” in The Miscellaneous Works of David Humphreys (1804) (Gainesville, Fla.: Scholars, Facsimile and Reprints, 1968), lines 555–56. Citations of Humphreys’s poems are to this edition.

54. “An Oration in Commemoration of the Independence of the United States of America,” in Political Sermons of the Founding Era, 1730–1805, ed. Ellis Sandoz (Indianapolis, In.: Liberty Press, 1991), 1181.

Chapter Two: Writing English in America

1. Although this position is most forcefully argued in postcolonial theory and criticism, its assumptions find their way into many discussions of American post– Revolutionary War culture. The unstated assumption is that postcolonial theory, which developed to account for the political, economic, and cultural conditions of twentieth-century cultures emerging into a world of transnational capitalism, can be transposed onto the relationship between first- and second-world cultures in the eighteenth century.

2. Nancy Armstrong and Leonard Tennenhouse, The Imaginary Puritan: Literature, Intellectual Labor, and the Origins of Personal Life (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992), 47–50, review eighteenth-century theories of revolution. For an extended discussion of the term “revolution” in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century historical writing, see R. C. Richardson, The Debate on the English Revolution Revisited (London: Routledge, 1989), 65–86.

3. David Simpson, The Politics of American English, 1776–1850 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), 46–47. Throughout this chapter, I am indebted to Simpson’s groundbreaking study of the language debate in America.

4. Raymond Williams, The Long Revolution (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961), 180–81.

5. Michael Warner, The Letters of the Republic: Publication and the Public Sphere in Eighteenth-Century America (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1990), 32.

6. Simpson, Politics of the American English, notes, “Except for Samuel Johnson, no one in 1776, on either side of the ocean, seems to show much concern for a standard spelling practice, whether in personal drafts or printed texts” (23).

7. Donald Greene, ed., The Oxford Authors: Samuel Johnson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984), 307; hereafter cited parenthetically in the text.

8. Noah Webster, Dissertations on the English Language, 1789 (Menston [Yorks.]: Scolar Press, 1967), 36–37.

9. John Howe, Language and Political Meaning in Revolutionary America (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2004), 80–81

10. Thomas Gustafson, Representative Words: Politics, Literature, and the American Language 1776–1865 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 21–60, discusses the debate in America about the relationship between representative government and representation in language.

11. Stephen Gill, ed., The Oxford Authors: William Wordsworth, ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984), 591; hereafter cited parenthetically in the text.

12. William Keach, “Poetry, after 1740,” in The Cambridge History of Literary Criticism, ed. H. B. Nisbet and Claude Rawson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 4: 117–66, reminds us that “Wordsworth was not alone in his effort to derive from the primitivist, emotivist and nativist strands characteristic of so much mid- and late-eighteenth-century critical theory a new agenda for poetic language. A series of essays that appeared in the 1796 Monthly Magazine, signed ‘The Enquirer’ and written by William Enfield, cites Hugh Blair’s Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres and various French (rather than German) theorists in claiming that poetry has its origins in a ‘rude state of nature’ when language was inherently ‘bold and figurative’.” (139).

13. Joel Barlow, The Vision of Columbus; A Poem in Nine Books (Hartford: Hudson and Goodwin, 1787), vii; hereafter cited parenthetically in the text.

14. Oliver Goldsmith, The CollectedWorks of Oliver Goldsmith, ed. Arthur Friedman, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966), 4: 287, lines 1–4; hereafter cited parenthetically in the text.

15. Timothy Dwight, The Major Poems of Timothy Dwight (1752–1817) (Gainesville, Fla.: Scholars’ Facsimiles & Reprints, 1969), lines 1–4; hereafter cited parenthetically in the text.

16. Hugh Henry Brackenridge, Modern Chivalry, ed. Claude M. Newlin (New York: Hafner, 1962), 3; hereafter cited parenthetically in the text.

17. Even as he calls for a simple American style, the narrator of Modern Chivalry brandishes examples from Greek, Latin, French, or English literature, along with American examples. Because he also describes what he is doing as pure nonsense, playful satire, and adventure, one should not be surprised to find Brackenridge ultimately claiming for the book almost as many purposes as the various dialects, spoken and written, it includes. As Cathy Davidson observes, “In effect, the narrative, like the hero, is a farrago, a hodgepodge, an adventure in discourse on a whole range of political opinions regarding the operations of democracy and the failures and the triumphs of the new Republic, and all bound up in one continuous, shape-shifting saga” (Davidson, Revolution and the Word: The Rise of the Novel in America, 2d ed. [New York: Oxford University Press, 1986], 265–66).

18. Although neither makes the specific argument of this chapter, Grantland Rice in The Transformation of Authorship in America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997), 125–43, describes Brackenridge’s deployment of dialects as a way of criticizing an implicit trust in print, while Christopher Looby, Voicing America: Language, Literary Form, and the Origins of the United States (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 202–65, sees the novel the matizing the very linguistic diversity and attempting to establish “a monolingual standard to aid in [America’s] . . . self-constitution” (204).

19. John Locke, “An Essay Concerning the True Original, Extent and End of Civil Government,” in Two Treatises of Government, ed. Peter Laslett (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990), V.49; hereafter cited parenthetically in the text.

20. John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, ed. Peter H. Nidditch (New York: Oxford University Press, 1979), III.x.34; hereafter cited parenthetically in the text.

21. Sandra M. Gustafson, Eloquence is Power: Oratory and Performance in Early America (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2000), 140–71.

22. An Inquiry Into the Original of Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue in Two Treatises, ed. Wolfgang Leidhold (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 2004), 19; hereafter cited parenthetically in the text.

23. Francis Hutcheson, An Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions and Affections with Illustrations on the Moral Sense, ed. Aaron Garrett (Indianapolis: Liberty Fund, 2002), 12; hereafter cited parenthetically in the text.

24. Norman Fiering, Moral Philosophy at Seventeenth-Century Harvard: a Discipline in Transition (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1981), 5 and 198–206. See also Franklin E. Court, “The Early Impact of Scottish Literary Teaching in North America,” in The Scottish Invention of English Literature, ed. Robert Crawford (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 134–63.

25. John Witherspoon, “Lectures in Moral Philosophy,” in The Selected Writings of John Witherspoon, ed. Thomas Miller (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1990), 159. All citations of the text are to this edition.

26. Although he does not cite Locke here, Witherspoon is making a distinction that is quite compatible with the way Locke describes the difference between passive and active power; see An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, II.21.

27. George Puttenham’s The Arte of English Poesie (1589), for example, insisted that copiousness was the means by which the courtier succeeded at court. For discussions of the importance of rhetoric to the courtier’s success and the figure of allegory and copiousness to the role of the courtier, see Daniel Javitch, Poetry and Courtliness in Renaissance England (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1978), and Frank Whigham, Ambition and Privilege: the Social Tropes of Elizabethan Courtesy Theory (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984).

28. Witherspoon, “Lectures in Moral Philosophy,” 251. See, also, Sandra Gustafson, Eloquence is Power, 251.

29. Jay Fliegelman, Declaring Independence: Jefferson, Natural Language and The Culture Of Performance (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1993), 34.

30. In a different context, Jay Fliegelman notes, “Writing in the 1750’s and 1760’s, a host of rhetoricians, all of whom were widely read in America—James Burgh, Thomas Sheridan, and John Rice among them—proposed a redefinition of the very function and nature of rhetoric, of oratory, and of language itself” (Declaring Independence, 29– 30). Of the three, Burgh was a Scot trained at St. Andrews and Sheridan was an Irishman who lectured in Dublin and Edinburgh as well as Oxford and Cambridge. Thus even some of those rhetoricians who became famous in England would more accurately have been seen as British. Indeed, Sheridan’s first book on oratory was entitled British Education (1756).

31. There were more than fifty-six American printings between 1802 and 1827 of Blair’s Lectures, at least two dozen of which were abridged editions. As for Campbell’s Philosophy of Rhetoric, Winifred Bryan Horner and Shelley Aley write, that between 1800 and 1825, it “was the second most commonly adopted textbook in American colleges, surpassed only by Hugh Blair’s popular Lectures” (“George Campbell,” Eighteenth Century British and American Rhetorics and Rhetoricians: Critical Studies and Sources, ed. Michael G. Moran [Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1994], 52).

32. According to Bernard Bailyn, Voyagers to the West: A Passage in the Peopling of America on the Eve of the Revolution (New York: Vintage, 1986), between 1760 and 1775 “over 55,000 Protestant Irish emigrated to America; approximately 40,000 Scots, and over 30,000 Englishmen.” The number of Scots was equivalent to 3 percent of the population of Scotland in 1760 (26).

33. Robert Crawford, Devolving English Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 199), 22.

34. Clifford Siskin, The Work of Writing: Literature and Social Change in Britain, 1700–1830 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998), 79–99. Howard D. Weinbrot argues in Britannia’s Issue: The Rise of British Literature From Dryden to Ossian (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993) that from the mid-1660s to the 1760s “the nai¨ve view of Anglo-Saxon heritage polished by expanding Rome is modified to include Scottish Celtic and Hebrew Jewish cultures” (1).

35. Janet Sorensen, The Grammar of Empire in Eighteenth Century British Writing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000).

36. See Crawford, Devolving English Literature, 36–38, on William Barron’s summary account of the Scots’ view.

37. Horner and Aley, ”George Campbell,” 52.

38. David Foxon, Pope and the Early Eighteenth-Century Book Trade, rev. ed., ed. James McLaverty (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), 18–23, 42, and 52.

39. For an account of the publication and sale of Pope’s An Essay onMan in America, see Agnes Marie Sibley, Alexander Pope’s Prestige in America, 1725–1835 (New York: King’s Crown, 1949), 22–56 and 137–43.

40. Richard L. Bushman, “Caricature and Satire in Old and New England before the American Revolution,” Massachusetts Historical Society Proceedings 88 (1976): 19–34.

41. Lewis P. Simpson, “Introduction,” in The Federalist Literary Mind: Selection from the Monthly Anthology and Boston Review, 1803–1811 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1962), 38.

42. William C. Dowling, Poetry and Ideology in Revolutionary Connecticut (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1990), 57.

43. Kenneth Silverman, Timothy Dwight (New York: Twayne, 1969), 22.

44. Sibley, Alexander Pope’s Prestige in America, 25.

45. Ibid., 58.

46. Quoted in ibid., 62.

47. Douglas Sloan, The Scottish Enlightenment and the American College Ideal (New York: Teachers College Press, 1971), 80–81.

48. This particular American edition is one-third the length of the edition published in London by William Strahan in 1783. Hugh Blair, Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres (Philadelphia and Richmond: Jacob Johnson, 1808), 245.

49. E´ tienne Balibar, “Subject and Subjectivation,” in Supposing the Subject, ed. Joan Copjec (London: Verso, 1994), 1–15.

50. David Humphreys, The Miscellaneous Works of David Humphreys, ed. William Bottroff (Gainesville, Fla.: Scholars’ Facsimile and Reprints, 1968), 122.

51. Laurence Buell, New England Literary Culture: From Revolution to Renaissance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 90.

52. Paul Giles, Transatlantic Insurrections: British Culture and the Formation of American Literature, 1730–1850 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001), 29.

53. “The Midnight Consultations or a Trip to Boston,” in The Poems of Philip Freneau, Poet of the American Revolution, ed. Fred Lewis Pattee (Princeton, N.J.: University Library, 1901), lines 71–74; hereafter citations of Freneau’s poetry are to this edition.

54. Lewis Leary has written that the marginalia in the two volumes of Pope that Freneau used at Princeton “help create . . . vividly the picture of an apprentice, serious-minded and reverential, sitting before a master” (Leary, That Rascal Freneau: a Study in Literary Failure [New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1941], 23).

Chapter Three: The Sentimental Libertine

1. See, for example, the essays in Shirley Samuels, ed., The Culture of Sentiment: Race, Gender, and Sentimentality in Nineteenth-Century America (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), particularly Laura Wexler’s, “Tender Violence: Literary Eaves-dropping, Domestic Fiction, and Educational Reform,” 9–38; Elizabeth Barnes, States of Sympathy: Seduction and Democracy in the American Novel (New York: Columbia University Press, 1997); Julia A. Stern, The Plight of Feeling: Sympathy and Dissent in the Early American Novel (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997); Dana D. Nelson, The Word in Black and White: Reading “Race” in American Literature, 1638–1867 (New York : Oxford University Press, 1992), 66–86; and Jane Tompkins, Sensational Designs: The Cultural Work of American Fiction, 1790–1860 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985).

2. This account draws from Nancy Armstrong, Desire and Domestic Fiction: A Political History of the Novel (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987).

3. Bernard Bailyn notes that of the emigrants from Britain in 1773–76 period, “By far the largest category—over two-thirds of the entire emigration—is that of emigrants traveling alone” (Bailyn, Voyagers to the West: A Passage in the Peopling of America on the Eve of the Revolution [New York: Knopf, 1986], 134).

4. Cathy N. Davidson, Revolution and the Word: The Rise of the Novel in America, 2d ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 215.

5. Amelia: or the Faithless Briton. An Original Novel, Founded Upon Recent Facts, for example, was serialized in part or in whole in the following magazines: Columbian Magazine 1 (October 1787): 667–82 and 877–80; Massachusetts Magazine 1 (October– December 1789): 649–51, 645–51 [mispaginated], and 750–54; New York Magazine or Literary Repository 6 (October–December 1795): 627–32, 652–56, and 715–20; Philadelphia Minerva 3 (June–July 1795): 125–30; and The New-York Weekly Magazine 3 (August 1797): 53–54 and 61–62 [excerpted text].

6. A Hollywood film such as Stephen Spielberg’s E. T. is a case in point.

7. John Locke, “An Essay Concerning the True Original Extent, and End of Civil Government,” in Two Treatises of Government, ed. Peter Laslett, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), II.vi.65.

8. “Lothario: or, The Accomplished Villain,” Massachusetts Magazine 1 (July 1789): 443–45. This story is signed “Chrisiphanes” and originally appeared under the title “Instance of the Deadly Consequences of Cruelty and Lust,” in The London Magazine 38 (April 1769): 171–73. See EdwardW. R. Pitcher, Fiction in AmericanMagazines Before 1800 (Schenectady, N.Y.: Union College Press, 1993), entry A1571.

9. “Innocent Simplicity Betrayed. The Story of Sir Edward and Louisa,” Massachusetts Magazine 1 ( August–September 1789): 470–73 and 539–42. By Henry Mackenzie, this story first appeared in 1780 in the Mirror and was also reprinted as “The Story of Louisa Venoni,” in the Boston Magazine 1(November–December 1784): 562–65 and 611–13; as “The Story of Sir Edward and Louisa,” in the New York Magazine or Literary Repository 1(October 1790): 597–602 and in the Literary Miscellany 1 (1795): 3–14.

10. Both “A Copy of a Letter From a Young Lady to her Seducer” and “The Melancholy Effects of Seduction” attribute the heroine’s seduction to a gullibility stemming from her lack of education. “Melancholy Effects of Seduction. A Letter from a Gentle-man to his Friend, Relating the Melancholy Effects of Seduction,” Massachusetts Magazine 7 (1795): 467–73. “Copy of a letter from a Young Lady to her Seducer” was particularly popular in America. It was first published in the London Town Magazine 3 (April 1771): 181–82, under the title of “Miss P. of M___, Somersetshire to the Honorable Mr.___.” It was then reprinted as “From a Late London Paper. Miss L___ to Mr.___” in Pennsylvania Chronicle and Advertiser 5 (1771): 140. Subsequently, it was published under various titles including: “A Copy of a Letter From a Young Lady to Her Once Pretended Admirer,” New Haven Gazette 2 (1785): 58, and “Copy of a Letter From a Young Lady to Her Seducer,” Massachusetts Magazine 3 (1791): 678–79. Two years later, this version was reprinted in Impartial Gazetteer, and Saturday Evening Post 5 (January 26, 1793): 246. It then appeared as an “Animated Letter, From the Hon. Miss B___ to Sir Richard P___. From an English Paper,” New York Weekly Magazine 2 (21 December 1796): 193, and as “A Letter From a Once Celebrated Juliet to the Honorable Mr___ of Somerset,” Thespian Oracle; or Monthly Mirror 1 (1798): 17–20.

11. In “The Story of Edward and Maria,” Massachusetts Magazine 3 (March 1791): 146–47, the heroine is soon seduced even though her father “bestowed” an education on her “superior to her humble situation” (147). Indeed, she labels her father’s desire to educate her as the cause for the vanity that made her vulnerable to seduction: “I fell a victim to my own vanity, the foundation of which was innocently laid by my poor father” (147).

12. “The Duellist and the Libertine Reclaimed,” in Massachusetts Magazine 1 (April 1789): 205. This story was reprinted from the London Lady’s Magazine 14 (March 1783): 180–83.

13. Hugh Kelley, “The Babbler No. V: The Sentimental Libertine; a Story Founded Upon Fact,” in Massachusetts Magazine 2 (1790): 173–74.

14. William S. Kable summarizes the various claims to the first American novel in his introduction to The Power of Sympathy (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1969), xi–xv. Cathy N. Davidson offers a particularly useful account of the problem in Revolution and the Word, 143–73.

15. William Hill Brown, The Power of Sympathy, and Hannah Webster Foster, The Coquette, ed. CarlaMulford (New York: Penguin, 1996), 11. See Philip Gould, Covenant and Republic: Historical Romance and the Politics of Puritanism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996) for an account of why this formof republican masculinity might at first strike Harrington as repugnant (27). See also Jan Lewis, “The Republican Wife: Virtue and Seduction in the Early Republic,” William and Mary Quarterly 44 (1987): 689–721.

16. The transformation from a British to an American model of the family can be seen in the change from the captivity narrative of a Mary Rowlandson to one like that of Mary Jemison. For accounts of this transformation, see Ezra Tawil, “Domestic Frontier Romance, or, How the Sentimental Heroine Became White,” Novel 32 (1998): 99–124, and Nancy Armstrong and Leonard Tennenhouse, The Imaginary Puritan: Literature, Intellectual Labor, and the Origins of Personal Life (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992).

17. Several scholars have noted the extensive use of the libertine as a figure in Early American Letters. Bryce Traister, “Libertinism and Authorship in America’s Early Re-public,” American Literature 72 (2000): 1–30, argues that this figure “embodied the political anxieties of the age; libertinism negotiated the tensions between republican and liberal visions of the United States” (8). My argument is concerned with the qualities of affect that the libertine produced rather than those feelings that sought expression in the populace. I do not disagree with the argument that the libertine may have created anxiety in the reader as he violated the law of the father. I will insist, however, that the libertine also relieved anxiety by violating the law of the father.

18. Foster, The Coquette, 131.

19. In 1798, Malthus was appalled at American disregard for the more economically sensible British kinship rules. According to Malthus, this indiscriminate breeding had not yet brought misery to the English in America, where the food supply seemed boundless, but bring misery it surely would—in proportion to the appetites uncurbed by economic exigency. See Thomas Malthus, An Essay on The Principles of Population (1798), ed. Philip Appleman (New York: Norton, 1976).

20. For discussions of the figure of the libertine in the French literary tradition, see Marcel He´naff, Sade: The Invention of the Libertine Body, trans. Xavier Callahan (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1999); Pierre Saint-Amand, The Libertine’s Progress: Seduction in the Eighteenth-Century French Novel, trans. Jennifer Curtis Gage (Hanover, N.H.: University of New England Press, 1994); Peter Cryle, Geometry in the Boudoir: Configurations of French Erotic Narrative (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1994); and Joan DeJean, Libertine Strategies: Freedom and the Novel in Seventeenth- Century France (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1981).

21. As Michel Feher notes, in the introduction to The Libertine Reader: Eroticism and Enlightenment in Eighteenth-Century France (New York: Zone, 1997), it is a given in French libertine literature that marriage is the means by which church and state first delay, and then dissipate, desire (10).

22. Samuel Johnson, A Dictionary of the English Language: In Which the Words are Deduced from their Originals (London: W. Strahan, 1755; New York: AMS, 1967), s.v. “Libertine.”

23. Gordon Wood, The Radicalism of the American Revolution (New York: Knopf, 1992), 112 .

24. The publication information that follows, except where noted, is drawn from Charles Evans, American Bibliography, 14 vols. (Chicago: Blakely, 1903–1959), and Clifford K. Shipton [and] James E. Mooney, National Index of American Imprints Through 1800, 2 vols. (Worcester, Mass.: American Antiquarian Society, 1969). I list those texts I have seen and do not include the bibliographical ghosts in Evans that were identified by Shipton and Mooney.

25. William Merritt Sale Jr. finds that the American editions of Richardson’s novels published after 1786 “were all written with an eye very closely fixed on the edition of The Paths of Virtue, 1756” (Sale, Samuel Richardson: A Bibliographical Record ofhis Literary Career with Historical Notes [New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1936], 134).

26. Remarks on flyleaves of several of the copies I have examined indicate the ages of some owners. The inside cover of a 1795 edition of Clarissa in the John Carter Brown Library indicates that the owner was eighteen. Samuel Pickering Jr. argues in “The ‘Ambiguous Circumstances of a Pamela’: Early Children’s Books and the Attitude To-wards Pamela,” Journal of Narrative Technique 14 (1984): 153–71, that a text such as “The History of Little Goody Two Shoes” must have been indebted to something like the abridged version of Pamela and both were intended for the same audience. It may well be that Richardson’s text inspired many a moral tale, but the form peculiar to the abridgment popular in the United States suggests that this text was quite different from the sort of children’s book Pickering has studied.

27. James Raven, Judging NewWealth: Popular Publishing and Responses to Commerce in England, 1750–1800 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), 38, and James Raven, “The Publication of Fiction in Britain and Ireland, 1750–70,” Publishing History 24 (1988): 30–47.

28. Mary M. Pollard, Dublin’s Trade in Books 1550–1800 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), 135–53.

29. See Victor Neuburg, “Chapbooks in America: Reconstructing the Popular Reading of Early America,” in Reading in America, ed. Cathy N. Davidson (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989), 81–113.

30. Jay Fliegelman, Prodigals and Pilgrims: The American Revolution Against Patriarchal Authority, 1750–1800 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 79–83.

31. The locus classicus is Leslie Fiedler’s comment: “It is the nature of American scriptures to be vulgarizations of the holy texts from which they take their cues; and just as The Book of Mormon caricatures the Bible unawares, so Charlotte Temple is an unwitting travesty of Clarissa Harlowe” (Fiedler, Love and Death in the American Novel [New York: Anchor, 1966], 97).

32. Ian P.Watt, Rise of the Novel: Studies in Defoe, Richardson, and Fielding (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1957).

33. Nancy Armstrong, “Why Daughters Die: The Racial Logic of American Sentimentalism,” Yale Journal of Criticism 7 (1994): 10.

34. Annette Weiner, Inalienable Possessions: The Paradox of Keeping-While-Giving (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992).

35. Armstrong, “Why Daughters Die,” 11.

36. James E. Seaver, A Narrative of the Life of Mrs. Mary Jemison, ed. June Namias (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1992). Jemison’s capture occurred in the late eighteenth century; her story was recorded in 1824.

37. Armstrong, “Why Daughters Die,” 12.

38. Samuel Richardson, Clarissa or the History of a Young Lady (Boston: Samuel Hall, 1795), 28.

39. Samuel Richardson, Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, ed. William Merritt Sale Jr. (New York: Norton, 1958), 245.

40. [Samuel Richardson], The Pleasing History of Pamela (Boston: Samuel Hall, 1793), 20. No author is listed on the title page. The edition entitled The History of Pamela or, Virtue Rewarded (Philadelphia: William Gibbons, 1794) does not reproduce the scene in which Mr. B dresses up as a serving girl as a ruse by which to make his way undetected into Pamela’s bed.

41. For example, the abridged editions do not reproduce any of the letters, but rather describe briefly what influence her writing had on her master: “Mr. B. being extremely moved at her description of her distress, behaved with more tenderness and respect” (Richardson, The History of Pamela or, Virtue Rewarded [Philadelphia: William Gibbons, 1794], 62).

42. [Richardson], The Pleasing History of Pamela (Boston, 1793), 1.

43. In the unabridged text, Richardson printed Letter 261, Paper X, as a seemingly random assemblage of scraps of verse, several stanzas of which are set askew and in a haphazard fashion. By this typographical device, he manages to call attention to the effect of the rape on the writing subject, while saying not a word about her physical condition.

44. Richardson, Clarissa (Boston, 1795), 80–81.

45. Samuel Richardson, Clarissa, or The History of a Young Woman, ed. Angus Ross (London: Penguin, 1985), 1011.

46. Moll Flanders may be regarded as the exception that proves the rule, in that she must go to the colonies in order to transform herself from a promiscuous woman into a member of the respectable classes.

47. Susannah Rowson, Charlotte Temple, ed. Cathy N. Davidson (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), 118.

48. Richardson, Clarissa (Boston, 1795), 112.

49. Charlotte was tutored by a French woman who later betrayed the girl and was instrumental in her corruption. In that Charlotte came under this French influence, she could be regarded as less English, in American terms, than her daughter will turn out to be as a result of the young girl’s English upbringing.

50. Wood, The Radicalism of the American Revolution, 222.

51. Doris Sommer, Foundational Fictions: The National Romances of Latin America (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), 77–78.

52. Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom’s Cabin or Life Among the Lowly, ed. Ann Douglas (New York: Penguin, 1986), 512; hereafter, citations in the text are to this edition.

53. Nathaniel Hawthorne, The House of the Seven Gables, in Nathaniel Hawthorne: Novels, ed. Millicent Bell (New York: Library of America, 1983), 515; hereafter, citations in the text are to this edition.

Chapter Four: The Heart of Masculinity

1. Mackenzie’s Man of Feeling, for instance, went through nearly forty editions in the eighteenth century. See the appendix in Harold W. Thompson, The Scottish Man of Feeling (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1931), 417–18.

2. My interest is specifically in how American literature revised the figure of the man of feeling. Most studies of American sentiment and masculinity do not address the problem. Of those I have found particularly useful are Julie Ellison, Cato’s Tears and the Making of Anglo-American Emotion (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999); Sentimental Men: Masculinity and the Politics of Affect in American Culture, ed. Mary Chapman and Glenn Hendler ( Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999); and Dana D. Nelson, National Manhod: Capitalist Citizenship and the Imagined Fraternity of White Men (Durham: Duke Universtiy Press, 1998).

3. In an insightful reading of the novel, Bruce Burgett has pointed out that “Brown’s naming of his protagonist Hartley alludes to Mackenzie’s Harley” (Burgett, Sentimental Bodies: Sex, Gender, and Citizenship in the Early Republic [Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1998], 193n.20). Burgett goes on to read this novel as an account of male masochism. In addition to Burgett’s discussion of Brockden Brown’s borrowings from Mackenzie, I would also note that near the end of Clara Howard, Brockden Brown invents a benefactor named Sedley—the same name Mackenzie assigned a similar character in one of the last episodes of his novel.

4. Dorothy Blakely, The Minerva Press, 1790–1820 (London: Bibliographical Society at the University Press, 1939 [1935]). Mackenzie’s narrator alerts us from the outset that he thinks ofHarley’s memoirs as something on the order of Pamela when he writes, “had the name Marmontel, or a Richardson, been on the titlepage—’tis odds that I should have wept” (Henry Mackenzie, The Man of Feeling, intro by Kenneth C. Slagle [New York: Norton, 1958], xv). Citations of the text are to this edition.

5. Henri Petter has speculated that “Edward Hartley may have been rejected as unsuitable for a title because of its resemblance to Edgar Huntly” (Petter, The Early American Novel [Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1971], 184). If that were the case, why change the title from Clara Howard?

6. G. J. Barker-Benfield, The Culture of Sensibility: Sex and Society in Eighteenth-Century Britain (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1996), 141. For the Samuel Richardson, quote see his A Collection of the Moral and Instructive Sentiments, Maxims, Cautions, and Reflections Contained in the Histories of “Pamela,” “Clarissa,” and “Sir Charles Grandison” (1755) (Delmar, N.Y.: Scholars’ Facsimiles and Reprints, 1980), 204–5.

7. John Locke, “Of Paternal Power,” in Two Treatises of Government, ed. Peter Laslett (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), II. iv.

8. Ian Watt, The Rise of the Novel, Studies in Defoe, Richardson, and Fielding (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1957).

9. Anna Laetitia Barbauld, British Novelists with an Essay and Prefaces Biographical and Critical (1810) consisted of fifty volumes and Sir Walter Scott’s Ballantyne’s Novelist’s Library (1821–24) was a collection of fourteen authors in ten volumes. For a discussion of the importance of these two collections in establishing the canon of the English novel, see Homer O. Brown, Institutions of the Novel (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1997), 181–84.

10. Mackenzie’s own essays on novel writing in The Lounger 1785–86—specifically no. 20, June 18, 1785 and no. 100, December 30, 1786—make clear that the symbolic capital acquired through novel reading enhances one’s business and induces the virtues of justice, prudence, economy, benevolence, and compassion. John Mullen notes that eighteenth-century readers were surprised to discover the industrious Henry Mackenzie was himself not at all like the pensive Harley; see Mullen, Sentiment and Sociability: The Language of Feeling in the Eighteenth Century (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), 118.

11. For a discussion of this problem, see Donald J. Ringe, “The Historical Essay,” in Charles Brockden Brown, Clara Howard in A Series of Letters and Jane Talbot, A Novel: The Novels and Related Works of Charles Brockden Brown, ed. Sydney J. Krause, S. W. Reid, and Donald J. Ringe (Kent, Ohio: Kent State University Press, 1986), 5:433–36; hereafter citations of the text are to this edition.

12. Benjamin Franklin, “Information to Those Who Would Remove to America,” in The Autobiography and Other Writings on Politics, Economics, and Virtue, ed. Alan Houston (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 341–48.

13. Gillian Brown, The Consent of the Governed: The Lockean Legacy in Early American Culture (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2001) discusses the feminizing of consent in America.

14. William Godwin, Fleetwood: Or, the New Man of Feeling, ed. Arnold A. Markley and Gary Handwerk (Toronto: Broadview Press, 2000), 73; hereafter citations of the text are to this edition.

15. Hannah More’s “Sensibility: An Epistle to the Honourable Mrs. Boscawen” (1782), for example, warns specifically against confusing sensibility with mere feeling, an error that critics so deplored in Fleetwood.

16. Blakely, The Minerva Press, 21.

17. Ibid., 57, 69.

18. I have not discussed the problem of masculinity in Emma, because Claudia L. Johnson has covered the topic so well and in a manner that is compatible with my argument; see Johnson, Equivocal Beings: Politics, Gender, and Sentimentality in the 1790s: Wollstonecraft, Radcliffe, Burney, and Austen (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), 191–203.

19. Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility, ed. Claudia L. Johnson (New York: Norton, 2002), 27; hereafter citations of the text are to this edition.

20. Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, ed. Donald Gray (New York: Norton, 2001), 8; hereafter citations of the text are to this edition.

21. Jane Austen, Persuasion, ed. Patricia Meyer Spacks (New York: Norton, 1995), 2; hereafter citations of the text are to this edition.

22. James Fenimore Cooper, The Pathfinder, or The Inland Sea, ed. Richard Dilworth and intro. by Kay Seymour House (New York: Penguin, 1989), 48; hereafter citations of the text are to this edition.

23. Doris Sommer, Foundational Fictions: The National Romances of Latin America (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 52–82.

Chapter Five: The Gothic in Diaspora

1. Leslie Fiedler, Love and Death in the American Novel (New York: Anchor, 1992), 28.

2. Toni Morrison, Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination (New York: Vintage, 1993), 33.

3. Philip Fisher, Hard Facts: Setting and Form in the American Novel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), 22–86. See also Rene´e L. Bergland, The National Uncanny: Indian Ghosts and American Subjects (Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England, 2000).

4. Chris Baldick and RobertMighall offer an excellent review of the literary criticism of gothic fiction and sum up the situation of the last seventy-five years this way: “The collapse of history into universal psychology has been a consistent feature of Gothic Criticism since at least the 1930s” (Baldick and Mighalla, “Gothic Criticism,” in A Companion to the Gothic, ed. David Punter [Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 2005], 218).

5. There is a tradition of looking at the European gothic as a political language for either the excesses of revolution or the monstrosity of the ancien regime. See, for example, Ronald Paulson, Representations of Revolution, 1789–1820 (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1983). For a critique of that allegorical reading of the gothic, see David H. Richter, The Progress of Romance, Literary Historiography and the Gothic Novel (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1996), 53–65.

6. Donald Ringe, American Gothic: Imagination and Reason in Nineteenth-Century Fiction (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1982), 13–35. I amindebted to Ringe’s discussion in this section.

7. From August to November of 1795 New-York Weekly Magazine published Friedrich von Schiller’s The GhostSeer in serialized form. The magazine then ran the serialization of Cajetan Tschink’s The Victim of Magical Delusion, which appeared in seventy-two parts from December 2, 1795 to April 12, 1797.

8. Thus, for example, “The Castle of Costanzo” appeared originally in the Universal Magazine in August 1784, then in Boston Magazine in 1785, the Impartial Gazeteer, and Saturday Evening Post in 1795, and Philadelphia Minerva in 1796 and 1798 while the ”Origin of the Priory of the Two Lovers” was first published in the Universal Magazine in February 1784 and appeared in Massachusetts Magazine in 1792, New York Magazine or Literary Repository in 1795, and Philadelphia Minerva in 1796.

9. Among German novels were such titles as Christiane Naubert’s Herman of Unna (1794), Schiller’s The Ghost-Seer (1795) and Cajetan Tschink’s The Victim of Magical Delusion (1795).

10. RobertMiles, “The 1790s: the Effulgence of Gothic,” in The Cambridge Companion to Gothic Fiction, ed. Jerrold E. Hogle (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 41–62.

11. The gothic novel participated in what Max Weber, borrowing from Frederick Schiller, called “the disenchantment of the world.” While Weber is more interested in how empirical science stripped the magic and the supernatural from material objects, I would argue that the novel did more to make the process of disenchantment seem only normal and rational. See From Max Weber: Essays on Sociology, trans. and ed. H. H. Gerth and C. Wright Mills (New York: Oxford University Press, 1946), 155.

12. See Samuel Johnson, Rambler 4 (March 31, 1775) on the new realistic novel that appeals to British readers Johnson, The Major Works, ed. Donald Greene. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 175–78. In his review of Jane Austen’s Emma, SirWalter Scott contrasts the fantastic writings of the gothic that he equates with the older style of novel to the realism of Austen, which interests a more modern and mature reader. See “Review of Emma by Jane Austen,” in Sir Walter Scott on Novelists and Fiction, ed. Ioan Williams (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1968), 225–36.

13. Horace Walpole, The Castle of Otranto, ed. W. S. Lewis with an intro. by E. J. Clery (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), 5. The names Onuphrio Muralto and William Marshall are mentioned only on the title page of the first edition.

14. Although Walpole was attempting something new in fiction, he knew well enough that his own contemporaries took considerable interest in apparitions, as suggested by the persistence of apparition narratives throughout the eighteenth century. See Jayne E. Lewis, “Spectral Currencies in the Air of Reality: A Journal of the Plague Year and the History of Apparitions,” Representations 87 (2004): 82–101.

15. For discussions of association of the gothic and Whig politics, see Colin Kidd, British Identities Before Nationalism, Ethnicity and Nationhood in the Atlantic World: 1600–1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 75–98; Christine Gerrard, The Patriot Opposition to Walpole: Politics, Poetry, and National Myth, 1725–1742 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994); R. J. Smith, The Gothic Bequest: Medieval Institutions in British Thought, 1688–1863 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985); J.G.A. Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment: Florentine Political Thought and the Atlantic Republican Tradition (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1975); and Samuel Kliger, The Goths in England: a Study of Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century Thought (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1952).

16. Following Tacitus, Whig politicians insisted on their right to remove a king based on the ancient, or “Gothic” constitution, a right they claimed their Germanic forebears, the Saxons, introduced into Britain. When used to describe architecture, “Gothic” meant something barbaric and wild, but it was also an honorific term in a protonationalist climate where an indigenous style was aesthetically preferable to the classical model.

17. Charles Brockden Brown, Three Gothic Novels: Wieland, or, The Transformation; Arthur Mervyn or, Memoirs of the Year 1793; Edgar Huntly or, Memoirs of a Sleep-Walker ed. Sydney J. Krause (New York: Library of America, 1998), 641.

18. Ringe, American Gothic, 102–27 shows that although a handful of American writers of the 1820s and 1830s tried to use one or two European gothic conventions, most “drew on sources closer to home” (102).

19. Isaac Mitchell, The Asylum; or, Alonzo and Melissa: An American Tale, Founded on Fact (Poughkeepsie, N.Y.: Joseph Nelson, 1811) 2:58–59.

20. Despite the fact that it was one of the most popular Gothic novels in the nineteenth century, most critics either ignore it altogether in their discussions of the gothic in American literature or mention it only derisively to note the use of the castle. See, for example, Alexander Cowie, The Rise of the American Novel (New York: American, 1948), 107–8.

21. Cathy N. Davidson, Revolution and the Word: The Rise of the Novel in America, 2d ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 322.

22. Leonard Tennenhouse and Nancy Armstrong, “The American Origins of the English Novel,” American Literary History 4 (Fall, 1992): 386–410. See also Nancy Armstrong, “Why Daughters Die: The Racial Logic of American Sentimentalism,” Yale Journal of Criticism 7 (1994): 1–24.

23. Robert Miles discusses these cues in “The 1790s, the Effulgence of Gothic,” 41–42.

24. In a country of immigrants, it was presumably not always possible to recognize kin. Moll Flanders, for example, discovers only accidentally that she had mistakenly married her own brother in America.

25. Reprinted from the British Westminster Magazine 6 (September–October 1778): 465–66, 521–23, the story of Martin Guerre was reported in “Two Husbands to oneWife,” Impartial Gazetteer, and Saturday Evening Post, 9 (July 16, 1796): 420. Stories of Thomas Hoag had been in magazines in 1797 and 1805.

26. At the conclusion of The Mysteries of Udolpho, Radcliffe describes the moment when the protagonist, returned from his lengthy detour, bursts into the room and reunites with the heroine in similarly auditory terms: “[His] features were veiled in the obscurity of twilight; but his voice could not be concealed for it was the voice of Valencourt! At the sound, never heard by Emily without emotion, she started, in terror, astonishment and doubtful pleasure . . . [and] sunk into a seat, overcome by the various emotions” (Ann Radcliffe, The Mysteries of Udolpho, ed. Bonamy Dobre´e [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998], 667).

27. In her still illuminating analysis of the veiled figure, Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick argues for its centrality in gothic fiction on grounds that this figure perfectly captures the paradox of the novel form itself: “[T]he human face and body always insist on being recognized as such. But at the same time the fascination with the code [of human identity] in Gothic novels is so full and imperious that it weakens the verbal supports for the fiction of presence” (159). Is this not what happens when Melissa moves her veil aside? Sedgwick’s conclusion is not all that different from my own, though cast in different terms: “The issue of what constitutes the character—what internecine superposition of the length of words, the image of a body, a name, and, on the countenance, an authenticating graphic stamp—had never before the Gothic been confronted so energetically in those terms” (Kosofsky Sedgwick, The Coherence of Gothic Conventions [New York: Methuen, 1980], 170).

28. Adam Smith, The Theory of Moral Sentiments (Amherst: Prometheus, 2000), 4; emphasis mine.

29. William Godwin’s model of the philosophical novel Brockden Brown imitated has been discussed by a number of scholars. See, for example, Pamela Clemit, The Godwinian Novel: The Rational Fictions of Godwin, Brockden Brown, and Mary Shelley (Oxford: Clarendon, 1993); Robert Miles, “What Is a Romantic Novel?” Novel 34 (2001): 180–201; and Jon Klancher, “Godwin and Republican Romance,” in Eighteenth-Century Literary History: An MLQ Reader, ed. Marshall Brown (Durham, N.S.: Duke University Press, 1999), 68–86.

30. The prospectus was published in the Weekly Magazine 1 (March 17, 1798): 202.

31. John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, ed. Peter H. Nidditch (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1979), II.i.11. Citations in the text are to this edition.

32. Nathaniel Hawthorne, Tales and Sketches, Including Twice-Told Tales,Mosses from an Old Manse, and The Snow-Image, notes by Roy Harvey Pearce (New York: Library of America, 1996), 68. Citations in the text are to this edition.

33. For a discussion of this concept in American literature, see Amanda Emerson, “From Equivalence to Equity: the Management of an American Myth,” differences 14 (2003): 78–105.

34. Although one might think that Ichabod Crane, Irving’s famously bookish schoolmaster, would have mastered the local history, his ignorance of whom is intended to marry whom makes him the butt of a joke that drives him quite literally from the community.

35. See Franklin E. Court, The Scottish Connection: the Rise of English Literary Study in Early America (Syracuse, N.Y.: University of Syracuse Press, 2001); Terence Martin, The Instructed Vision: Scottish Common Sense Philosophy and the Origins of American Fiction (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1961); Roy Harvey Pearce, The Savages of America: A Study of the Indian and the Idea of Civilization (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1953), 88–89.

36. In The Black Atlantic, Modernity and Double Consciousness (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1993), 11–15, Paul Gilroy speaks directly to the problem of disparate and broken histories in discussing the relationship between the histories produced by the African diaspora and the nationalist histories of Great Britain and the United States. As a result of this relationship, he contends the narratives of Black Britons and African Americans are broken up and woven into the larger fabric of a cosmopolitan history.

37. Edgar Allan Poe, Poetry, Tales, and Selected Essays, notes by Patrick F. Quinn and G. R. Thompson (New York: Library of America, 1996), 329; hereafter citations in the text are to this edition.

Afterword: From Cosmopolitanism to Hegemony

1. Referring to Cereno as a Castilian Rothschild makes him a diasporic figure twice over: first as a kind of mercantile Jew whose sojourn in Spain was as a member of the Diaspora, and after 1492, as a member of the community that either fled Spain or remained and submitted to conversion. Many new Christians, or conversos, relocated to the Americas where they were less likely to come under the scrutiny of the Inquisition while secretly practicing Judaism; hereafter citations of the text are to HermanMelville, Benito Cereno, The Piazza Tales and Other Prose Pieces 1839–1860: The Writings of HermanMelville, with a Historical Note by Merton J. Sealts (Evanston and Chicago: North-western University Press and the Newberry Library, 1987), 9:47–117.

2. Sarah Robbins makes the case that Melville assumed that his readers would read his story in relation to Stowe’s novel because Putnam’s was running editorials attacking Stowe’s style during the same time it was serializing Benito Cereno. See Robbins, “Gendering the History of the Antislavery Narrative: Juxtaposing Uncle Tom’s Cabin and Benito Cereno, Beloved and Middle Passage,” American Quarterly 49 (1997): 531–73. For an important discussion of Melville’s criticism of Stowe’s racialism, see Ezra Tawil, The Making of Racial Sentiment: Slavery and the Birth of the Frontier Romance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 191–208.

3. The German legal theorist Carl Schmitt was particularly fond of Melville’s story and signed a letter on his birthday in 1938 as Benito Cereno. Since the novella, according to Tracy Strong, was widely read and discussed in Germany with specific attention to the contemporary situation, there has been much speculation as to what this famous theorist of sovereignty intended by that self-designation. Did he want others to think of him as the unwilling participant in the Nazi legal apparatus or even their helpless victim? At the very least, we can say that Schmitt seems to have ignored the fact that the various narrative traditions cancel each other out, and he instead reads the novella as a captivity narrative, in which the plight of the captive Cereno should arouse one’s moral and sympathetic identification. See Tracy B. Strong’s foreword, “The Sovereign and the Exception: Carl Schmitt, Politics, Theology, and Leadership,” in Carl Schmitt, Political Theology, Four Chapters on the Concept of Sovereignty, trans. George Schwab (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2005), vii–xi.

4. Secret History: or, the Horrors of St. Domingo, in a Series of Letters Written by a Lady at Cape Francois, to Colonel Burr, Late Vice-President of the United States, Principally during the Command of General Rochambeau (Philadelphia: Bradford and Inskeep, 1808). Eric Sundquist reminds us that “in changing the name of Benito Cereno’s ship from the Tryal to the San Dominick,Melville gave to Babo’s slave revolt a specific character that has often been identified” (Sundquist, To Wake the Nations: Race in the Making of American Literature [Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1993], 140). For a discussion of Melville’s views on slave revolts, see Carolyn Karcher, Shadow of the Promised Land: Slavery, Race, and Violence in Melville’s America (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1980).

5. In Barbaric Traffic: Commerce and Antislavery in the Eighteenth-Century Atlantic World (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2003), 43–85, Philip Gould discusses how the trope of degeneracy is used in abolitionist writing.

6. I have argued elsewhere that during the colonial period the gothic and the captivity narrative worked hand in glove. See Nancy Armstrong and Leonard Tennenhouse, The Imaginary Puritan: Literature, Intellectual Labor, and the Origins of Personal Life (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992), 196–216.

7. Melville is ironically appropriating the tactic of role reversal found in antislavery writing. As Gould explains, “In order to preserve the logic of the humanitarian argument,” antislavery writing “called upon readers to ‘see’ themselves as African slaves” (Barbaric Traffic, 48–49).

8. Immanuel Kant, “Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Sketch,” in Kant, Selections, ed. and trans. Lewis White Beck (Englewood, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1988), 439.

9. In The Emergence of American Literary Narrative 1820–1860 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2005), 219, Jonathan Arac has called attention to the use of gothic rhetoric in Melville’s story.

10. Even Kant’s model of universal hospitality unwittingly performs one act of exclusion. To imagine universal tolerance, Kant implicitly excludes those who cannot tolerate certain cultural differences.

11. Georg Simmel, Conflict and The Web of Group-Affiliation, trans. Kurt H. Wolff and Reinhard Bendix (New York: The Free Press, 1964), 20.

12. A number of critics have argued that in maintaining slavery, the American Constitution and legal apparatus was itself a formidable impediment to freedom. Taking a different view, Deak Nabers has shown that in such a novel as Clotel, William Wells Brown, however critical of “law’s role in limiting natural rights,” is “fundamentally committed to pursuing those rights through legal activities” (Nabers,“The Problem of Revolution in the Age of Slavery: Clotel, Fiction, and the Government of Man,” Representations 91 [2005]: 86–87). Brown presumably understood that despite the limitations of the law, freedom came from conflicts waged within the law.

13. Raymond Williams, Marxism and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977), 110.

14. The historical Amasa Delano apparently went on to include an accurate translation in his account. He calls the court translator “a bad linguist,” complaining that “the Spanish captain’s deposition, together with Mr. Luther’s and my own, [had to be] translated into English again” (825). It is clearly a matter of some importance to make the text both conform to the legal proceedings and yet put those documents into perfectly legible English.

15. Harold H. Scudder, “Melville’s Benito Cereno and Captain Delano’s Voyages,” PMLA 43 (1928): 502–32. See alsoMerton J. Sealts, “Historical Note,” in Benito Cereno, The Piazza Tales and Other Prose Pieces 1839–1860, 9:511.