The Clare Spark Blog

October 15, 2011

Philip Weiss channels Hawthorne at Arrowhead, 1997

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[This posting may seem frivolous to those new to my website, but since Captain Ahab has come to signify imperialist Amerikkka, what people today say about him has resonance beyond the apparent silliness of this event. To be clear, Adrienne Metcalf is the great-great granddaughter of Herman Melville, and her father Paul Metcalf, was his great grandson, and a poet of some note, also a close friend of Charles Olson, author of Call Me Ishmael, which is still read, and which is still interesting. My mini-biography of Olson in my book, shows his transition from Ahab fan to Ahab opponent, as he climbed the academic ladder.  CS, 10-17-11]

What follows is an excerpt from the Appendix to Hunting Captain Ahab: Psychological Warfare and the Melville Revival ( Kent, Ohio: Kent State UP, 2001, 2006). Weiss’s NYT article supported the rumor that Melville had abused his wife and sons. This rumor had been floating around since the 1920s, but was unsupported by documents from family members and descendants. But discrediting Herman Melville (a stand-in for Captain Ahab) was a major project for the conservative liberals who controlled literary scholarship in the early-mid-20th century.

Philip Weiss, as shown on the Uprooted Palestinians website

[Philip Weiss, author of “Herman-Neutics,” NYT Magazine, 15 Dec. 1996, interrogates the ghost of Herman Melville as channeled through a descendant at Arrowhead, 1 Aug. 1997:] “…My father is a big scientist. As a boy I was sent to science school, taught to shun my grandmother’s superstitions, and packed off to Harvard. Still, all that rationalism hadn’t helped me to get at my true interests. Or as Melville put it: “Science explains it. Bides no less/ The true innate mysteriousness.”

…[Adrienne Metcalf] had artistic ambition, but struggled with the shadow of an ancestor who had “crashed and burned.” Melville’s lesson was that if you followed your passions, you risked madness.   We went to dinner at a tavern, and [Josh Schwartzbach , Adrienne’s companion] said that Melville’s unhappy energy was still in the world, fucking people up. If we channeled Herman we might be able to “heal” him. [The channeling follows: Melville speaks through Adrienne, Ezekiel through Schwartzbach, Weiss pretends he is Hawthorne]:

“Oh lighten up, you old fart,” Ezekiel said.

Suddenly she spoke in a deeper voice.

“Yes well—you are a sonofabitch!”

It was very loud. I was afraid they could hear us back at the house. She pointed at me.

“We don’t want to talk to him!”

“All right well, will you speak with us?” Ezekiel said.

“You are a sonofabitch too!”

“We never had a mother, thank you.”

“Do you think we wanted this?”

“Yes, absolutely,” he said. “Herman , aren’t you ready to give this up?”

“Then die?” she said in a stern crotchety voice.

“Then live. You’re already dead.”

“Well, it has had its perverse pleasures.”

“Yes, certainly so—and admit it, those were the only pleasures that you allowed yourself, the perverse ones.”

“You sting,” she said.

“And we love you.”

“Such is this love—that stings! It is real then is it not.” [sic?]

   Metcalf’s face looked different, more masculine, contorted with anger. She spoke in a weird Englishy old American accent. I couldn’t tell if we were playacting or something was really happening, that Melville was flooding through her. In a way I didn’t care. I had a wash of impressions: How immature Melville was! He was a two-year old, with a two-year old pettishness and playfulness and sulks, something I’d never fully understood from reading him but that now made perfect sense. Then, too, I was slightly horrified at the connection I’d made with Adrienne. I’d met this woman once, now we were virtually confessing love. Was I
connected to her for life? Were we supposed to have sex? Would she hang around my neck? I wanted to get out of there before she overwhelmed me…. When Melville’s waves of atheistical horniness crashed over him, Hawthorne surely had similar feelings and split….

  “You know, Adrienne, I think that Hawthorne compromised himself because of the cerebral judgmental aspect. His art is never as interesting as Melville’s.”….  …I followed their car into Lenox and we had
turkey sandwiches and talked it over. Schwartzbach said that by channeling the energy and healing it, we had changed Melville forever. No longer was Melville an angry betrayed energy. Yes, the love and betrayal had happened between Melville and Hawthorne, but now it was healed it could stop being an urgent emotional reality for us, and became a fable. We could move on.[i]

[i]               59. The report extracted here is taken from the original version of Weiss’ shorter article in the New York Observer; it was sent to Joshua Schwartzbach by e-mail, 20 Aug. 1997 and sent to me by Paul Metcalf, with a note, 5 Sept. 1997, advising “Make of it what you will.” Hershel Parker suspected that I had invented the whole thing. Not true.

May 20, 2011

The Mentalist, Melville, Blake, and Israel

Simon Baker as The Mentalist

SPOILER ALERT. The popular CBS show The Mentalist had a razzle-dazzle finale ending its third season. Not only was Captain Ahab mentioned, and the Blake poem that had ended the second season reiterated, but Patrick Jane confronted his White Whale, Red John, and shot him point blank in a shopping mall. (It turned out to be a bad man, but not Red John.)

Melville’s Moby-Dick has come up several times in this series, as has the problem of vengeance, and it is the question of “vengeance” and the problem of evil (the dark side of humanity) that is being talked about today on the internet.  As I wrote in my prior blog on The Mentalist, the Blake poem, The Tyger* was written in 1794, and whatever religious resonances it contained, it also clearly referred to the Reign of Terror as perpetrated by the Jacobins. (See Today’s undereducated television audience is probably more attuned to the Devil or fallen flesh (our purported dark interior) than it is to specific historical provocations that stir a poet, so today’s blog will try to pull together some themes that question the morality of “vengeance.”**

If there is an archetype for humanity seeking to stamp out evil, it is the Promethean Captain Ahab, his leg torn away by “Moby Dick.” His detractors (Ishmael, Starbuck, and the majority of Melville scholars, including those on the Left) have seen him engaged on a vindictive, futile, hubristic, and suicidal quest to abolish evil. If one understands that Melville wrote his masterpiece after decades of antislavery agitation that threatened to sunder the Union, one must concede that Melville had a very specific evil in mind, and that was the Slavocracy, as Charles Sumner and other antislavery men termed the national government as controlled by Southern slaveholders.

It is not irrelevant that Melville was sometimes read as “Jew” or “Hebraic” and identified with Ahab, or that David Herbert Donald, Sumner’s biographer, hinted that he was driven by Jewish blood through his mother (See Vol.1 of Donald’s biography, published 1960; the tone abruptly changed in Vol.2, published 1970, possibly because of the civil rights movement.)

The Mentalist is no New Age mystic, indeed is not a psychic as some viewers would like to think. He is rather something very like Captain Ahab: a “fighting  Quaker,” a materialist, a loner, and a shrewd mapper of his environment and the correlation of forces arrayed against his individuality. He sees corruption in high places, and cannot count on the legal system to catch the serial killer who murdered his wife and child; indeed, the legal system is hand-in-glove, he thinks, with evildoers, and is compromised by procedures at best. Thus the analogy I am making here with Melville as moralist, horrified by the institution of slavery, but also constrained by his family’s connections to take a public stand against it, except through indirection in his novels.

Consider now the hatred directed against the Jews of Western Europe after their emancipation in the 19th century. The polarizing Dreyfus case was only one example of the failure of a civilized government to enact justice. It was from this crucible that the journalist and playwright Theodore Herzl conceived the daring mission to create a Jewish state.  What role did the civilized nations play in the accelerating events that led to the horrors of the 20th century, and that threaten the Jewish state as I write this? The “Christianized” West was either complicit or indifferent to the murder of the Jews, and continued their indifference when the war was concluded, notwithstanding the supposed U.S. or U.N. support for the Jewish state. It was the willingness of Jews to take casualties in 1948 (plus arms supplied by a briefly friendly Soviet Union with its own agenda) that made the State of Israel possible, not helpful Western intervention. Writing in the early 1940s, Harvard’s star sociologist Talcott Parsons, whose “structural functionalism” still rules in academe, and who was cited favorably by David H. Donald, in Sumner Vol.2,  described the Jewish national character as reflective of a vindictive, savage God. One wonders how many liberal Jews today are fleeing from that archetype, joining in the anti-Ahab chorus as they imagine themselves to be assimilating and therefore acceptable to the American ruling class, those “moderate men” who hold to “virtuous expediency” (as Melville would have derisively put it).

Which brings me back to the higher law. John Locke wrote of the right to resist authority when the constituted government breaks its contract with the people. What makes Patrick Jane such an interesting character to me, is his uniqueness in popular television crime shows (with the possible exception of Bobbie Goren). You don’t see many apparent atheists depicted as the hero of a series, by necessity taking the law into his own hands, appealing to rough justice, or perhaps the higher law of Truth and Justice, as Sumner would have seen it. (Compare this series with Blue Bloods, frankly Irish Catholic in its sympathies, and where everything is done “by the book.”)

What do we mean, then, by “vengeance,” and who defines its legality?  And is the unforgiving Bruno Heller/Patrick Jane a writer who is running ahead of public opinion, indeed running ahead of his own authorial instincts? Melville, insofar as he identified with his mad Captain Ahab, surely was.

*Tyger Tyger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright.
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye.
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

** On 6-2-11, CBS replayed the episode “Red Moon” that ended with a serial killer, set on fire by a guard, reciting some lines from “The Tyger” as he is dying. This episode was written by Bruno Heller and directed by Simon Baker. After the poem is heard, “Patrick Jane” looks extremely disturbed. I suspect that both actor and author are more interested in “the dark [Satanic/vengeful] side” of our species than in exploring the moral dilemma of a man seeking justice in a society where the law is unevenly applied. See recap here: To sum it up: without religion, the hounds of hell are released. “The mentalist” is an anti-hero, not meant to be an exemplar, and he is often read that way by viewers, as Red John himself. But as a regular viewer of the show, I prefer to think that both Heller and Baker know what they are doing, and that their view of [Ahab] coincides with mine.

January 4, 2011

Railroading Ayn Rand/Alissa Rosenbaum/Dagny Taggart

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This blog is about my reaction to the essays in Feminist Interpretations of Ayn Rand, ed. Mimi Reisel Gladstein and Chris Matthew Sciabarra (Penn State UP, 1999). Here is an anthology that encapsulates everything I find discouraging about those feminists have become acceptable in journalism and academe. With the exception of Barbara Branden’s lead essay, I doubt that the other contributors were able to read Rand with the understanding her important and pathbreaking work deserves. But if the contributors were short on the major themes in her fiction, they were long (but boring and uninformative) on the subjects of sex and gender. They are not alone in this preoccupation.

Having lived through (and “acted out” in) the 1970s, and having publicized feminists in the art world on my radio program and in slide shows (on sex and violence in the art of women artists and photographers), and having known many of the radicals who later became academic celebrities, I can attest to the emphasis placed on sexual liberation during those years. It broke up marriages, belittled the psychological meanings and consequences of sexuality, and provoked a right-wing Christian backlash against the threat to the family and to the status of women. When I returned to school to get my doctorate in history (specifically the response of the humanities to Herman Melville between the wars), I noticed that the academic stars were frequently, either as Foucauldians or as pro-gay activists, writing about sex and pornography, and with a strong libertarian slant, even though they were either Marxists or social democrats, and one would think, would be rather preoccupied with the condition of the working class and labor in general.

Hence, it is not surprising that “feminists” would pounce on Ayn Rand’s depiction of sexuality in her major novels to the exclusion of other themes, conceivably of greater importance to the author—themes such as her assaults on fascism, communism, bureaucratic collectivism, irrationalism and all the mechanics of reaction that she observed since her arrival on U.S. soil in 1926. But more, why did none of the contributors notice that Atlas Shrugged took us deeply into the engineering feats and industrial expansion associated with the introduction of railroads? I would guess because 1. It doesn’t fit into the subject matter of “Women’s Studies” or “women’s issues” and 2. They were not aware of the railroad as chief symbol of ever-innovating modernity; the railroad as facilitator of rootless cosmopolitanism, industrial expansion, the stupendous improvement in the standard of living for all, and the broadening of the mind that travel made possible. The new steam engine and the discombobulating speediness (Rand’s shocking use of amphetamines!?) that trains introduced disturbed numerous artists and writers, from Turner to Hawthorne (see The House of the Seven Gables) to Magritte.

Turner’s “Rain, Steam, Speed”

Magritte’s steam locomotive

I am suggesting that Ayn Rand’s selection of the railroad as Dagny Taggart’s chief area of expertise and her leading preoccupation was no shot in the dark; rather, she continued an important Promethean line in the literature of the West. To illustrate that lineage, and some organic conservative opposition to the railroad, I offer a few paragraphs from my essay on Melville and his imagined Robert E. Lee (

[essay excerpt:] …Melville’s Captain Ahab was associated with railroads by “Ishmael” and numerous literary scholars, taking railroading Ahab to be the essential American type, spawned by self-fashioning Puritan New Englanders (the Chosen People), and mowing down everything “spiritual” in its path.[1] [Compare the uproar directed against Alissa Rosenbaum’s/Ayn Rand’s atheism, a refusal of Jesus so typical of secular Jews or, for many Christians, all Jews.]

Supporting the Iowa Railroad Bill of 1852, the fledgling Senator from Massachusetts had looked upon ever-enlarging democratic vistas: “It would be difficult to exaggerate the influence of roads as means of civilization…where roads are not, civilization cannot be…Under God, the road and the schoolmaster are two chief agents of human improvement. The education begun by the schoolmaster is expanded, liberalized, and completed by intercourse with the world; and this intercourse finds new opportunities and inducements in every road that is built.”[2] Now, twenty-four years later, comes Melville’s most unbeloved character, the “geologic Jew” Margoth of Clarel, a hammer-swinging little man, and, like Sumner, another liberal avatar of capital, expanding markets, and common sense.[3] Margoth, like Ahab or Sumner, recalls Milton’s rebel angel Mammon, “the least erected spirit”; declining the reverential glance upward,[4] Margoth is “…earthward bent, [who] would pry and pore.” Addressing pilgrims touring the environs of Jerusalem, he obnoxiously desecrates the Holy Land:

The bread of wisdom here to break,

Margoth holds forth: the gossip tells

Of things the prophets left unsaid—

With master-key unlocks the spells

And mysteries of the world unmade;

Then mentions Salem: “Stale is she!

Lay flat the walls, let in the air,

That folk no more may sicken there!

Wake up the dead; and let there be

Rails, wires, from Olivet to the sea,

With station in Gethsemane.” (Clarel, 2.21, 84-94)

Margoth goes off to “explore a rift”–a worrisome idea for Melville as conciliator of unhappily riven natural families of upper-class white people, persons who were, as Margoth’s parting glance would imply, “in decline.” (2.21, 105-111) In his unfinished tome, “The Philosophy of Politics”, Woodrow Wilson too would be fretting over deracinating modern inventions: “What effect may railroads (all the instrumentalities which make populations movable and detach from local connections and attachments) be expected to have on local self-govt., and in producing nationality?” In the same projected work, he defined “Political Liberty” as “Obedience to the laws of the social organism.” As his biographer explained, the Whole, not rule of the many, constituted the Nation. (Quoting Wilson) “It is for this that we love democracy: for the emphasis it puts on character; for its tendencies to exalt the purposes of the average man to some high level of endeavor; for its principle of common assent in matters in which all are interested; for its ideals of duty and its sense of brotherhood.”

Deploying biological metaphors in his description of “industrial development,” Wilson invigorated his prose and his wilting class with the concept of an inexorable life process tending onward and upward; but liberty (including the right to dissent) as a human right had disappeared, along with the concept of the liberal nation: in its place, consensus instructed by the empathic leader, attuned to different points of view. [5]  [end, excerpt from “Margoth v. Robert E. Lee”]

I have suggested that the theme of Promethean man and woman, so evident in the oeuvre of Ayn Rand, is a missing element in the writings of feminists. Moreover, that she continues a crucial line in the history of the modern West. That academic feminists and journalist celebrities can look at her work without emphasizing the symbol of the railroad is a symptom of the decline of reading since the New Left entered Parnassus.

[Added 1-11-2011:] I am reading We The Living and the importance of railroads to Ayn Rand should be obvious. One can see her later work as not only prefigured in this first novel, but the devotion she lavishes on Dagny Taggart’s repairs of her family railroad can be seen as a repair for the trauma that Rand experienced as a dispossessed haute bourgeois and then the brutality of life in the Soviet Union before, during, and after the Russian Revolution. Every detail in this early novel brings me back to the Stalinist or Stalinoid  mentality I experienced at Pacifica and then later in graduate school. It was almost that repressive, and I can only be thankful that I finally escaped, as she did in 1925-26.

[1] The identification of Ahab with railroads occurs at the close of the chapter 37, “Sunset”: “Swerve me? The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run. Over unsounded gorges, through the rifled hearts of mountains, under torrents’ beds, unerringly I rush! Naught’s an obstacle, naught’s an angle to the iron way!” That Ahab’s railroad image is tied to the civilizing process is borne out in Starbuck’s soliloquy in the following chapter, “Dusk.” “[Complaining about Ahab’s tyranny:] Oh, life! ‘tis an hour like this, with soul beat down and held to knowledge,–as wild, untutored things are forced to feed—“

Compare to Donald Davidson, “Expedients Versus Principles–Cross Purposes in the South,” Southern Review Vol.2 (1936-37), 651. Decrying the habit of South-bashing in Northern newspapers, Davidson complained, “Denunciations of the older Klan disguised the working alliance of Radical Republicans and the Robber Barons. ¼”Urban-industrialized society” demolishes “whatever stands in its path.” The claim of collusion between the radicals and crooked capitalists is challenged in Stanley Coben, “Northeastern Business and Radical Reconstruction: a Re-examination,” Mississippi Valley Historical Review, XLVI (June 1959).

See also David Herbert Donald, Charles Sumner (New York: Da Capo Press, 1996), for epithets directed against Sumner, e.g. footnote, pp.4-5. Based on the belief that Sumner’s mother, Relief Jacob “’was probably of Jewish descent,’” Frank Preston Stearns (1905) attacked “’the Hebrew element in Sumner’s nature; the inflexibility of purpose, the absolute self-devotion, and even the prophetic forecast.’ Such a theory of inherited racial traits is, of course, highly unscientific. But in any case, the Jewish strain in Sumner’s ancestry is dubious. At no point in his career, when virtually every other possible weapon was used against him, were anti-Semitic charges raised.” On the same page, Donald reports that Esther Holmes, the mother of Sumner’s father (who had been born out of wedlock) was rumored to have had some “Indian or negro blood.” Donald presents Sumner as having covered up his genealogy. Having denied that antisemitic charges were made, on p. 239 (second volume), Donald, while comparing Sumner (who wished to bar all ex-Confederates from government) to the more flexible Thaddeus Stevens, states “He announced principles, as from on Mount Sinai, and deplored the compromises needed to transform ideals into legislative reality.” Opposite p.228 (second volume), in a chapter entitled “Very Like Robespierre,” a cartoon “Free Soil Her” (1864) is shown in which Sumner is kissing an ape-like black woman, with the rhyme: “In vain you’ve preached your precepts round,/ Throughout this whole great Yankee nation;/ I think that you should prove them first,/ And early try amalgamation.” See also caricature opposite p.197, “I’m Not to Blame for Being White, Sir!” Sumner gives alms to a black child, while turning away from a white urchin.

David Donald’s antipathy to Sumner is well known, but his criticisms were preceded, almost to the letter, in Anna Laurens Dawes, Charles Sumner (N.Y.: Dodd, Mead, 1892); Dawes viewed Sumner as archetypal Puritan/American, a prophet and our greatest orator, but not a statesman. Harold M. Hyman countered Donald’s statement that Sumner was “a man inflexibly committed to a set of moral ideas as basic principles,” observing that “in wartime matters Sumner was an immensely effective and intensely practical politician. As a combination, zeal and expertness are hard to beat.” In The Radical Republicans and Reconstruction, 1861-1870 (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1967): 103.

Also, on “bloody Jacobins,” see Patrick Riddleberger, 1866: The Critical Year Revisited (Carbondale, Ill: Southern Illinois UP, 1979): 225, for the Herald’s characterization of the Radical’s campaign in the elections of 1866. They were provoking another “reign of terror” in which Northerners would be fighting each other, were they to win.

The sub-text of the animus against Sumner is two-fold; first, as part of a historiographic trend claiming that extremists provoked the Civil War [see Hyman, “Introduction,” Radical Republicans]; and second, as an attack on laissez-faire by the progressive movement. The latter is summed up by Hardin Craig, Woodrow Wilson at Princeton (Norman, OK: U. of Oklahoma P., 1960): 14. “[Wilson believed] that universities should devote themselves always, regardless of other obligations, to the wise and proper service of the state, a belief that runs all through his university career.” Or, “’The chief end of life” is “to discipline men to serve the state, religiously, loyally.’” (10). “Order” for Wilson means “a sense of unity in human existence and in the universe itself.” (11) Leadership should make it clear that “Democracy is not a natural instinct of men–quite the contrary–and the doctrine of laissez-faire is its ruin.” (19). But the national government is not the chief focus of loyalty. Referring to Wilson’s article, “The Study of Administration,” (1887), Craig comments: “This article seems to suggest in education, as in all great social undertakings, a confederation of parts rather than a centralization of power, and a wide union of tolerated divisions of prerogatives in pursuit of common purposes ‘in honorable equality and honorable subordination.’ In other words, educational institutions should assume a form and operation not unlike his idea of the American system of government.” (22-23). Contrast this deified state and its “confederation of parts” to Sumner’s concept of the supreme central government as protector of individual development, and enforcer of “absolute equality before the law” in the states.

[2] Quoted in Jeremiah Chaplin and J.D. Chaplin, Life of Charles Sumner (Boston, 1874), 183-184.

[3] Herman Melville, Clarel, 2.22, 14; 1.24, 27-48. All references from Northwestern/Newberry edition.

[4] See Woodrow Wilson, “Princeton in the Nation’s Service,” below, p.  . For the explicit linking of Margoth to the rebel angels, see Clarel, 2.28, 9-10, 30-32. Margoth plucks a “fetid” fruit: “Pippins of Sodom? They’ve declined!” Then Margoth is viewed disapprovingly by the other pilgrims “raking their the land./ Some minerals of noisome kind/ He found and straight to the pouch consigned.”

[5] Henry Wilkinson Bragdon, Woodrow Wilson: The Academic Years (Cambridge: Harvard Belknap Press, 1967), 257, 258, 259. The idealist intellectual tradition defended by relativists in cultural studies, etc. is plainly illustrated in the communitarian thought of Woodrow Wilson. Note the pseudo-materialism of his approach to history and the Burkean foundation of his approach to authority. See Mere Literature and other Essays, 1896, and republished in the Houghton, Mifflin Riverside Press edition of 1924. Except for his new piece on Edmund Burke, they had previously appeared in Atlantic Monthly, Century Magazine, and Forum. The Wilson essays follow to the letter the frontier thesis of Frederick Jackson Turner, and illustrate the post-Civil War blood-and-soil organic conservatives co-option of the idea of progress. Organic conservatives were now democrats; they contrasted the ostensibly atomized, hence selfish, individual (the “mad scientist,” a synecdoche for Jacobins, in the tory discourse) with the individual-in-community. [for mad scientist, read Margoth]

In “The Course of American History,” 213-247, Wilson adjusts the prior materialist formulation of American history as a (sectional) battle between [Hebraic] Puritans and Southern slaveholders to control the labor system in the Western territories. This domineering (i.e., Whiggish) narrative, Wilson claims, was a creation of New Englanders who dominate the writing of history. Following his former student, Fredrick Jackson Turner, he shifts the axis from North versus South to East versus West, with the ever- receding frontier shaping American character. And East and West are not in conflict, but interact upon each other, staving off both decadence and overly Jacksonian political styles and objectives (i.e., the negative State).

Wilson emphasizes the importance of the middle states, ostensibly neglected by the New Englanders (aka “the chosen people”). What makes Lincoln the greatest American President and “supreme American” is 1. his ability to synthesize the conservative East and vigorous West; and 2. to understand and appreciate the point of view of all Americans, including most importantly, the South; moreover Lincoln is the great autodidact, bringing harmony instead of endless conflict into his (unfinished) life (206-208). (Autodidacts had been the object of horrified scrutiny since the invention of the printing press, and as materialists had been characterized as archetypal assassins.) Lincoln is contrasted to Thomas Jefferson, an example of “mixed breed” (187) because he had imbibed the French revolutionary spirit, and was hence, in Wilson’s words, “un-American.” (198) Jefferson, like other troublemakers, was impractical and given to abstractions. (196-199). What was at stake here? Supporting Burke, Wilson eschewed “government by contract” in favor of “government by habit.” (155)

“The history of a nation is only the history of its villages writ large.” (214). Wilson’s advocacy of local history (the “vital” kind) is of a piece with his progressivism, also localist, in contrast to the big Leviathan state that increasingly characterized the New Deal in the late 1930s. Literary historians as well as historians of science should read the Wilson essays in tandem with the pro-fascist writers of American Review, edited by Seward Collins in the mid-1930s that attempted to unite the English Distributists, New Humanists, Southern Agrarians, and Neo-Thomists in a revolutionary conservative synthesis. The empiricism of St. Thomas Aquinas was constantly praised, along with the classical notion of the rooted individual as it had existed in the High Middle Ages. It is out of this intellectual tradition, I believe, that the cultural approach to history (to use Carolyn Ware’s phrase) was derived, setting itself against the dangers of “scientific” history that could lead the investigator, Ahabishly, god-knows-where. Such are the wondrous ways of the moderate men, and it seems to me to be the way of those who aspire to activism as historians; that is, their reforms entail non-structural adjustments (ethnopluralism and inter-racial understanding, for instance) that presume harmony as the outcome.

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