A Novel Class
As a cultural historian, Cathy Davidson address the issues of beliefs, social forms, and material traits as well as the shared attitudes, values, goals, and practices of the early American Republic in The Revolution and the Word Davidson, an English professor, aptly chose to examine early American novels in order to describe American culture. Like Bernard Bailyn, who examined pamphlets from pre-revolutionary times to describe an ideology, due to their wide circulation and easy access, Davidson did something similar. She asserts that novels were widely circulated among the lower classes. Yes, the lower classes, which included slaves, indentured servants, and Davidson’s main focus: women. Novels became the way in which feelings of inequality and class structure were expressed as well as the exclusivity of the supposed egalitarian government exposed. In short and contrary to the liberal and republican consensus, Davidson displays an un-American ideology that gave rise to inequality and class structure that opposed the Revolutionary ideal.
Davidson argues for a history of texts that defines the conditions that the work was written in versus the conditions that it is read in such that as the conditions change, so does the reading of the texts.
[1] Davidson dispelled the misconceptions that there were not many American novels produced and of the ones that were, they were plagiarized.
[2] Rather, American writers were trying to define themselves as independent from Europe. Novels, in turn, were read by many people because of their accessibility. However, the publication of novels was quite a taxing enterprise as Davidson described. Novels continued to be published, though, because of the ability to combine sensational plots with relative problems. The novel, then, contained the struggle over the path the new nation was to take.
The American Revolutionary myth is that, according to Jefferson, is that “all men were created equal.”
[3] The problem was that the Federalists had created an exclusive elite government that the republican party would later fight against. The problem was, according to Davidson, what Lukac’s described as the bourgeoisie process of nascent empowerment.
[4] In refuting the Federalists with an egalitarian argument, the republicans gained power. Once there, they had the choice of continuing equality or masking their exclusive government in egalitarian rhetoric, which Davidson says they did. This approach is not new.
Where Davidson contributes to American Revolutionary historiography is her assertion that the American novel was “ideally positioned to evaluate American society and to provide a critique of what was sorely missing in the exuberant postrevolutionary rhetoric of republicanism and, conversely but simultaneously, what was most dubious about an elite’s jeremiands against an increasingly heterogeneous social order.”
[5] The novel, therefore, was the expression of a new democracy in which the excluded classes gained a voice and exposed the American myth as well as a democratization of mind, in the words of Gordon S. Wood used by Davidson.
Novels were so powerful because of their combination of their use of dialogue that connected the reader with the protagonist. Davidson showed that the connection was so powerful that many readers believed the story to be true, as in the instance of the grave of Charlotte Temple.
[6] All three genre’s of novels that Davidson described, sentimental, picaresque, and gothic, attacked the American patriarchal society but never offered a solution; that was left for the readers. Left without a solution, Davidson believes that ““America” has existed as a self-contradictory and self-perpetuating symbolic construct right from its formative years, and American novelists, like other citizens of the new Republic, early debated, but did not resolve, the meaning of the “legacy America”-what it was, what it meant.”
[7] That unresolved conflict was evident in “The Anarchiad” and Monima, or the Beggar Girl in which the elite history of the first overshadows the history of the poor in the second. As in Monima the capitalistic society keeps her, a woman, in a degenerate occupation with a salary that will just allow her sustenance. She is perpetually kept in the lowest class by the elites who use her services.
[8] That same capitalistic economy still exists and one has to wonder, thanks to Davidson, whether American’s egocentric view of capitalism and our way of life perpetuates a society of class in an American society ingrained with an idea of classlessness.
This leads to another question that Davidson elicits as she says, “no document can simply be “read” as if they were objective, scientific data produced or preserved as some pure product of a people and the abiding record of their times.”
[9] While Davidson appears to be a cultural historian, might she also be a predecessor to the Post Modernism movement of the 1990s. As a English and literary professor first, it seems that Davidson is questioning the integrity of history by subjecting the reading of historical texts, such as “The Anarchiad” and Monima, to mere historical interpretation based upon “how what we read shapes how we read.”
[10] Therefore, Davidson is reducing history to mere story making.
[11] If so, Davidson missed the historical footnote, or rather the reliance upon other historians through footnotes. Footnotes incorporate the work of others and build a historiography. Davidson constantly refers to others’ work but seems to mask a contradiction, much like the one she exposed in the republican party through her literary analysis of novels. She fails to see that it is impossible for one historian to cover all angles of the same issue: hence “The Anarchiad” and Monima. This is my only qualm and I really enjoyed, understood, followed, and believed her argument for class through the novel.
[1] Cathy Davidson, Revolution and the Word, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), x.
[2] Ibid., 3.
[3] Ibid., 117.
[4] Ibid., 313.
[5] Ibid., 313.
[6] Ibid. 365.
[7] Ibid., 241.
[8] Ibid., 362.
[9] Ibid., 360.
[10] Ibid., 358.
[11] Ibid., 124.