Hi.
It’s Dr. Bernstein, and this video is the first in a series on Charles Brockden Brown’s
novel Wieland; or the Transformation, an American Tale, which was first published in 1798.
Brown is often considered the Father of the American Novel because he was the first native-born
American author to make a living by writing fiction.
He was born and raised in Philadelphia, and if you happen to read Benjamin Franklin’s
autobiography, you’ll notice that he’s mentioned in a couple of places.
Brown was being groomed to become a lawyer, but found himself captivated by the writings
of Rousseau and Samuel Richardson and decided to pursue a literary career.
Even though he’s considered the Father of American Literature, I want to point out that
Wieland was not, in fact, the first novel published by an American.
William Hill Brown’s The Power of Sympathy—a moralistic tale of seduction—preceded the
publication of Wieland by about ten years.
Also, Susanna Rowson published Charlotte: A Tale of Truth, another moralistic tale of
seduction, about seven years before Wieland.
It’s really in the 18th century that the novel begins to emerge as a distinct and popular
literary genre.
. .although it’s not until the 19th century that it starts to truly flourish.
Early and prominent British novelists include Daniel Defoe, author of Robinson Crusoe (1719)
& Moll Flanders (1722) and Samuel Richardson, author of Pamela; or Virtue Rewarded.
These novels were published about 70 years before the first American novels were.
Both early British and American novels often sought to reform the morals and manners of
readers.
In the preface to Charlotte: A Tale of Truth, Rowson, for instance, explained that her tale
is designed for “the perusal of the young and thoughtless of the fair sex.”
She doesn’t want readers to consider the novel “merely the effusion of Fancy, but
as a reality” and hopes it will be “of service to some who are so unfortunate as
to have neither friends to advise, or understanding to direct them, through the various and unexpected
evils that attend a young and unprotected woman in her first entrance into life.
If the following tale should save one hapless fair one from the errors which ruined poor
Charlotte, or rescue from impending misery the heart of one anxious parent, I shall feel
a much higher gratification in reflecting on this trifling performance, than could possibly
result from the applause which might attend the most elegant finished piece of literature
whose tendency might deprave the heart or mislead the understanding” (880-881).
Now, if you’re in one of my early American literature classes, you know that there’s
a strong strain of didacticism in American literature.
(designed to teach) Well, this strain remains but takes on a slightly different cast in
the 18th century.
The didactic and moralistic emphasis in early novels has something to do with the fear that
the genre was polluting the imaginations of women.
As Jay Fliegelman, a scholar who wrote an excellent
introduction to the Penguin classics edition of Brown’s Wieland points out, the power
of the novel as a genre “derived from its ability to encourage identification.
Given that the villain may enchant and the heroine disgust, the novelist cannot ensure
identification with the `right’ character’” (xxiv).
So writers would do what Rowson did: intervene in the narrative and offer moral commentary
in order to avoid misidentification.
In some ways, Brown seems to
work within this tradition.
First of all, as Michael Gilmore notes “Brown’s accent on the novel’s societal obligation
leads him to minimize his inventiveness as an artist.
The fiction writer is a purveyor of truths, not a contriver of ingenious incidents that
flaunt his creativity” (645).
So once again, we’re confronted with this ambivalence about creativity for the sake
of creativity; creativity has to be in the service of truth—although, as you’re going
to see, his novel calls into question about ability to perceive
the truth.
Secondly, Brown has didactic concerns.
In his advertisement for the novel, he explains that “his purpose. . .aims at the illustration
of some important branches of the moral constitution of man” (3).
So while you’re reading, you should think about what the narrative is illustrating about
man’s moral constitution.
Clara, the narrator of the novel, tells us that she’s telling the tale because she
wants to “contribute what little [she] can to the benefit of mankind” by “inculcat[ing]
the duty of avoiding deceit” and “exemplify[ing] the force of early impressions and show[ing]
the immeasurable evils that flow from an erroneous or imperfect discipline” (5).
So when you’re reading, you should also think about issues of honesty and deceit and
how the characters’ upbringing influences their perceptions and lives.
There is one main thing that distinguishes Charles Brockden Brown’s Wieland from the
work of his British and American predecessors.
Wieland is not a tale of seduction in the traditional sense.
It’s not about a young woman who’s subjected to a form of sexual seduction that results
in her downfall and the abandonment of her virtue.
Of course, as you’ll see the element of romance is not absent from Brown’s novel.
Brown’s novel is about the perils of mental and sensory seduction.
The seduction in Wieland is an epistemological seduction.
So when you’re reading, I want you to consider how the characters make decisions and what
evidence they use to support their claims.
Also, think about how and when they get carried away—and seduced.
Okay, that’s it for now.
I’ll see you in the next video.
Oh. . . .one last thing.
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