EDIT: Okay so when I posted large portions of this text are unreadable unless you highlight them... I do not know why.
The Democratization of the Written Word:
The Significance of Literacy and Epistolarity within The Power of Sympathy
It has always been somewhat of a dubious honor to be considered “the first” of something, and William Hill Brown’s The Power of Sympathy—frequently cited as “the first American novel—is no exception. Published in 1789, it contains no grand treatises of freedom and democracy, nor any stirring depictions of revolution, instead capitalizing on the popular genre of its day: the seduction novel. Offhandedly referred to by some as the “first and worst” of American fiction (Davidson, “Power” 14), it would be disingenuous to claim that the book resides in the top tier of American fiction. However, The Power of Sympathy remains of great interest to the modern—and postmodern—reader, as it is one of the most unabashedly self-conscious literary works of its day. Brown mines the popularity of letter-writing, the rising literacy rate, and the emergence of a new literary form, presenting them as ambiguous entities—forces as suspicious and dangerous as seduction itself. It is through this method that Brown elevates the material above other seduction novels, earning its rightful place in the American literary canon.
Ages before television and the internet, the great American pastime of the eighteenth century for the literate was letter-writing. Such was the demand to know the proper etiquette and form of these letters, that manuals—previously only catered to the wealthy and elite—began to become available to the general public by the end of the seventeenth century (Bannet 16). The emerging significance of letters and letter-writing in this period undoubtedly influenced the development of one of the first popular forms of the novel—the epistolary. With a unique sense of voyeurism, the epistolary provided its readers with the correspondence of its characters, creating a “union of writer and reader” in which interpretation can be broad and unaided by authorial interference (Forcey 228). The Power of Sympathy resides in the polylogic epistolary genre, that is, a form in which the letters that make up the work are between more than two writers. This serves to create suspense, as it is likely (as in the case of Brown’s work) that a letter-writer will share something to another that is unknown to other characters in the novel. What is interesting to note about Brown’s work in relation to other epistolary novels of its day is the negative influence that letters and letter-writing seems to take throughout the work. For example, characters such as Worthy are portrayed as willfully obtuse, utilizing the social constructs of the letters yet failing to provide proper guidance to Harrington. Thus, Worthy is unable—or unwilling—to step beyond the confines of his correspondence and make proper efforts to relieve Harrington’s depression and prevent his subsequent suicide.
The inefficiency of letter-writing is plain to see in Harrington’s frenzied letters to Worthy following the death of his beloved. Letters LII to LVII are written purely from Harrington to Worthy—it is unknown if Brown merely skips over Worthy’s replies to Harrington’s frantic pleas for advice, or if Worthy simply does not respond at all. Whatever the case, in his belated reply Worthy rejects Harrington’s arguments, providing long flowery digressions of the nature of happiness, stating that Harrington’s letters are “predicated in the most erroneous principles” (Brown, 133; vol. II). The collision of Harrington’s lovesick ravings and Worthy’s cool reason provide a satirical edge to Brown’s work that other epistolary novels of the day seem to lack. In her book Revolution and the Word, Cathy Davidson refers to Worthy as the “moral spokesperson” of the novel, yet his patronizing tone and emotional removal cause him to be one of the least sympathetic characters in the novel (Davidson, Revolution 177). Harrington’s suicide imitates Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther—significantly, another epistolary work. Thus it seems fitting that having failed to receive help from Worthy’s own ineffectual correspondence, that Harrington be helped by another letter—albeit a fictional one.
As representatives of a polylogic epistolary narrative, the sixty-five letters found in The Power of Sympathy, according to Davidson, transcend “any mechanical one-to-one relationship between a letter and its reply,” utilizing a myriad of authorial devices absent from other, simpler epistolary novels (Davidson, “Power” 19). For example, characters frequently show different sides of themselves depending on the person they’re conversing with—Harriot is simultaneously presented as an innocent virgin and a temptress, telling Myra that she has “bewitched a new lover” (Brown, 18; vol. I). Most importantly, Brown pays close attention to the two great enemies of letter-writing: time and the postal service. Throughout the novel, the inefficiencies of letters are particularly apparent, especially in the time it takes for one to arrive. Letters are portrayed as cumbersome, overly formal, and often insincere, yet it is the delayed time of arrival that ultimately leads to major complications. Brown takes this into account by having a response from a writer paying no heed to the previous letter—as if that letter has not yet arrived. As Harrington is in the throes of despair, the lack of quick responses from Worthy only serve to deepen his depression and isolation from the world at large. “The step must not be taken in rashness,” Harrington writes (Brown, 128; vol. II). Admittedly, he does give time enough to read Worthy’s pompous response and write a final letter before dramatically ending his life. One wonders if poor Harrington’s life could have been saved by the lightning speed of e-mail and instant messages. If letters cannot arrive in time to comfort a friend in need, the work suggests, is this form of communication then dangerous?
In addition to their marked incompetence when tasked with preventing lovesick suicides, letters themselves become the very center of conflict in the novel. Davidson observes that humor is brought out in
Yet epistolarity and letter-writing are not the only things Brown skewers in The Power of Sympathy. In order for books to be sold, it is a common prerequisite that the populace be able to read it, and Brown’s novel was no exception. Luckily for Brown and his publisher, literacy rates in eighteenth-century
However, whereas most authors would probably use their works to promote a burgeoning form like the novel, Brown fascinatingly lambastes it for a large section of the text. For example, Letter XXIX contains Mrs. Holmes’ sending of a work entitled “A Lady of Quality’s Advice to Her Children” to
Perhaps the most interesting section of Brown’s work is Letter XI from Mrs. Holmes to
“Most of the novels,” interrupted my father, “with which our female
libraries are overrun, are built on a foundation not always placed on
morality, and in the pursuit of objects not always probable or praiseworthy.
—Novels, not regulated on the chaste principals of true friendship,
rational love, and connubial duty, appear to me totally unfit to form
the minds of women, of friends, or of wives.” (Brown, 41-42; vol. I)
This passage conveys a sly, almost postmodern self-awareness. The reader of Brown’s novel—most likely a young female—is confronted with the very arguments her parents possibly used to prevent her from reading the book in the first place. So, one must ask, has Brown gotten away with an almost masochistic idea that literacy and the reading of novels—even his own novel—are a bad thing? Says Mr. Holmes:
“This confirms what I say of Novels,” cried Mr. Holmes, addressing
Worthy in a jocular manner, “just calculated to kill time—to attract
the attention of the reader for an hour, but leave not one idea on the
mind.” (43)
After this mind-blowing assertion, Brown brings in Worthy to defend the novel and the benefits that can be provided to young readers. However, in the middle of his thought, Worthy backtracks and says that any book is a burden to the mind:
“…Now I grant some Novels have a bad tendency, yet there are many
which contain excellent sentiments—let these receive their deserved
reward—let those be discountenanced….—But, as Mrs. Bourn observes,
most young persons read; I will therefore recommend to those who wish
to mingle instruction with entertainment, method and regularity in reading.
To dip into any book burdens the mind with unnecessary lumber, and
may rather be called a disadvantage, than a benefit…” (43-44)
By the time Mrs. Holmes’ father-in-law throws his hat into the ring to call the mind a “plain” and compare books to floodwater, one must wonder why William Hill Brown wanted to work in such a despised medium in the first place. Yet it is precisely this point that reveals the true satire embedded in the novel. Brown has refused to completely separate the novel from the time it was written, and instead uses it to provide a sly wink at the readership, who are well aware of the scrutiny that the novel resides under at this time.
It is an obvious statement that those who want to read The Power of Sympathy must be literate. However, in arguing against novels and education for aspiring readers, he simultaneously demands it. Brown fills his book with “frequent and frequently obscure literary allusions of writers ranging from
As if to prove this point, Brown inundates the text with layers—letters within letters, stories within stories, and long digressions on the nature of love and happiness. An important early use of metafiction occurs through Brown’s use of the story of Ophelia. A thinly veiled fictionalization of an actual scandal, Brown describes at length the tragic seduction of Ophelia, using it as an interesting counterpoint to the events of the novel. However, the events of Ophelia appear to be almost a parody of other seduction novels of the day. The character of Ophelia is immediately characterized as a victim, an innocent young woman held at the mercy of her seducer (Davidson, Revolution 175). Yet can there be considered a true villain in The Power of Sympathy? True, the obligatory role of villainous seducer is taken by Harrington’s father, yet one would be hard-pressed to argue that Harriot and Harrington are victims of more than just tragic circumstance. Brown thus pushes the story of the Hon. Harrington’s seduction of an innocent into a backstory, aiming to create a sort of “Romeo & Juliet of Incest” in his tragic protagonists. However, Brown does not completely do away with the conventions of the seduction novel, as Harrington’s father—as eighteenth century morality demands—pays the price for his past sins by the deaths of his children.
It is precisely this marriage of convention and experimentation that enables The Power of Sympathy to rise above other literature of its day. Brown’s skillful weaving of history, literary technique, and popular culture enable the twenty-first century reader to appreciate what may otherwise have been a dry, assembly-line seduction novel. Though largely forgotten by today’s scholars, The Power of Sympathy contributes a plethora of ideas and techniques to the literary landscape. Some, like the novel’s self-consciousness, satire, and traces of metafiction appear decidedly modern in a genre filled with clichés and stock form. This “first and worst” of American literature provides a myriad of options for examination. Far from being a useless relic of history, The Power of Sympathy is—though not as acclaimed as other early American works—nevertheless relevant and thought-provoking; an important forgotten piece of our literary heritage.
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