Abandoned Classic.
Some years ago I bailed out this 1962 survey when I realized that Wilson
was not going to cover Frederick Douglass despite the power of Douglass' post-war speeches and My
Bondage and My Freedom. Older now, I think ideally a writer can write about what they wish without having always to be
inclusive. I’m down with it if James Baldwin wants to write about white guys
named David and Giovanni or William Styron wants to write about a slave named
Nat. Sorry my examples date me; I do hear that Twittter regularly explodes with
outraged people telling writers what subjects they can and cannot write about.,
Patriotic Gore:
Studies in the Literature of the American Civil War – Edmund Wilson
Edmund Wilson was a critic for various high-prestige
periodicals from the Thirties to the Seventies. This book is a collection of
long pieces he wrote for The New Yorker. He comments upon a broad array of
writings by such figures as Harriet Beecher Stowe, Abraham Lincoln, Ulysses S.
Grant, William T. Sherman, Frederick Law Olmsted, Colonel Wentworth Higginson,
Mary Chestnut, Robert E. Lee, and Hinton Helper. He also examines Southern
apologists such as George Fitzhugh and Alexander Stephens. Perhaps as an
indicator of how forgotten figures such as Sojourner Truth, Harriet Jacobs, and
William Wells Brown were at the time, absent are pieces by the slave, the
escaped slave, and the free Negro.
Another thing I rather despised about the book is Wilson’s
sympathy for the Old South. Honor, good manners, style. Yadda Yadda Yadda. Ole
Massa and Missy and dere minority culture victimized by dat tyrant Linkum and
hiz guldang fedral gubmint. It was those triggered Abolitionists, those ur-SJW’s,
that carried the ideological water for the North’s greedy drive for expansion.
Wilson has the problem of many journalists and critics:
he bases sweeping generalizations on what the reader suspects is not much
evidence. One is often nagged by wondering what other critics have opined on
the subject and whether Wilson is not citing sources that he ought to be. I work at a university so maybe I'm sensitive to niceties like giving credit.
On the other hand, I don’t where else I would have read
about Harriet Beecher Stowe’s husband Calvin who wrote her mean letters that have to be read to be believed. In the context of another
marriage, Wilson tells the story of the conflict Sherman had with his wife
Ellen when their son became a Jesuit priest. He blamed the son’s decision on Ellen, who said, “You knew when you married me that I was a Catholic”,
to which Sherman replied, “Of course I did, but I didn’t know you would get
worse every year.”
To wrap up, I would recommend this collection of essays
to people interested in American Literature, intellectual history, and of
course the American Civil War. Wilson short biographies and overviews of the
writers’ work are concise and interesting.
Note: David Blight's brilliant review of this is here.