American　Literary　Centers
  by　William　Dean　Howells
  One　of　the　facts　which　we　Americans　have　a　difficulty　in　making　clear　to
  a　rather　inattentive　world　outside　is　that；　while　we　have　apparently　a
  literature　of　our　own；　we　have　no　literary　centre。　　We　have　so　much
  literature　that　from　time　to　time　it　seems　even　to　us　we　must　have　a
  literary　centre。　　We　say　to　ourselves；　with　a　good　deal　of　logic；　Where
  there　is　so　much　smoke　there　must　be　some　fire；　or　at　least　a　fireplace。
  But　it　is　just　here　that；　misled　by　tradition；　and　even　by　history；　we
  deceive　ourselves。　　Really；　we　have　no　fireplace　for　such　fire　as　we　have
  kindled；　or；　if　any　one　is　disposed　to　deny　this；　then　I　say；　we　have　a
  dozen　fireplaces；　which　is　quite　as　bad；　so　far　as　the　notion　of　a
  literary　centre　is　concerned；　if　it　is　not　worse。
  I　once　proved　this　fact　to　my　own　satisfaction　in　some　papers　which　I
  wrote　several　years　ago；　but　it　appears；　from　a　question　which　has　lately
  come　to　me　from　England；　that　I　did　not　carry　conviction　quite　so　far　as
  that　island；　and　I　still　have　my　work　all　before　me；　if　I　understand　the
  London　friend　who　wishes　〃a　comparative　view　of　the　centres　of　literary
  production〃　among　us；　〃how　and　why　they　change；　how　they　stand　at
  present；　and　what　is　the　relation；　for　instance；　of　Boston　to　other　such
  centres。〃
  I。
  Here；　if　I　cut　my　coat　according　to　my　cloth；　t　should　have　a　garment
  which　this　whole　volume　would　hardly　stuff　out　with　its　form；　and　I　have
  a　fancy　that　if　I　begin　by　answering；　as　I　have　sometimes　rather　too
  succinctly　done；　that　we　have　no　more　a　single　literary　centre　than　Italy
  or　than　Germany　has　（or　had　before　their　unification）；　I　shall　not　be
  taken　at　my　word。　　I　shall　be　right；　all　the　same；　and　if　I　am　told　that
  in　those　countries　there　is　now　a　tendency　to　such　a　centre；　I　can　only
  say　that　there　is　none　in　this；　and　that；　so　far　as　I　can　see；　we　get
  further　every　day　from　having　such　a　centre。　　The　fault；　if　it　is　a
  fault；　grows　upon　us；　for　the　whole　present　tendency　of　American　life　is
  centrifugal；　and　just　so　far　as　literature　is　the　language　of　our　life；
  it　shares　this　tendency。　　I　do　not　attempt　to　say　how　it　will　be　when；　in
  order　to　spread　ourselves　over　the　earth；　and　convincingly　to　preach　the
  blessings　of　our　deeply　incorporated　civilization　by　the　mouths　of　our
  eight…inch　guns；　the　mind　of　the　nation　shall　be　politically　centred　at
  some　capital；　that　is　the　function　of　prophecy；　and　I　am　only　writing
  literary　history；　on　a　very　small　scale；　with　a　somewhat　crushing　sense
  of　limits。
  Once；　twice；　thrice　there　was　apparently　an　American　literary　centre：　at
  Philadelphia；　from　the　time　Franklin　went　to　live　there　until　the　death
  of　Charles　Brockden　Brown；　our　first　romancer；　then　at　New　York；　during
  the　period　which　may　be　roughly　described　as　that　of　Irving；　Poe；　Willis；
  and　Bryant；　then　at　Boston；　for　the　thirty　or　forty　years　illumined　by
  the　presence　of　Longfellow；　Lowell；　Whittier；　Hawthorne；　Emerson；　Holmes；
  Prescott；　Parkman；　and　many　lesser　lights。　　These　are　all　still　great
  publishing　centres。　　If　it　were　not　that　the　house　with　the　largest　list
  of　American　authors　was　still　at　Boston；　I　should　say　New　York　was　now
  the　chief　publishing　centre；　but　in　the　sense　that　London　and　Paris；　or
  even　Madrid　and　Petersburg；　are　literary　centres；　with　a　controlling
  influence　throughout　England　and　France；　Spain　and　Russia；　neither　New
  York　nor　Boston　is　now　our　literary　centre；　whatever　they　may　once　have
  been。　　Not　to　take　Philadelphia　too　seriously；　I　may　note　that　when　New
  York　seemed　our　literary　centre　Irving　alone　among　those　who　gave　it
  lustre　was　a　New…Yorker；　and　he　mainly　lived　abroad；　Bryant；　who　was　a
  New　Englander；　was　alone　constant　to　the　city　of　his　adoption；　Willis；　a
  Bostonian；　and　Poe；　a　Marylander；　went　and　came　as　their　poverty　or　their
  prosperity　compelled　or　invited；　neither　dwelt　here　unbrokenly；　and　Poe
  did　not　even　die　here；　though　he　often　came　near　starving。　　One　cannot
  then　strictly　speak　of　any　early　American　literary　centre　except　Boston；
  and　Boston；　strictly　speaking；　was　the　New　England　literary　centre。
  However；　we　had　really　no　use　for　an　American　literary　centre　before　the
  Civil　War；　for　it　was　only　after　the　Civil　War　that　we　really　began　to
  have　an　American　literature。　　Up　to　that　time　we　had　a　Colonial
  literature；　a　Knickerbocker　literature；　and　a　New　England　literature。
  But　as　soon　as　the　country　began　to　feel　its　life　in　every　limb　with　the
  coming　of　peace；　it　began　to　speak　in　the　varying　accents　of　all　the
  different　sectionsNorth；　East；　South；　West；　and　Farthest　West；　but　not
  before　that　time。
  II。
  Perhaps　the　first　note　of　this　national　concord；　or　discord；　was　sounded
  from　California；　in　the　voices　of　Mr。　Bret　Harte；　of　Mark　Twain；　of　Mr。
  Charles　Warren　Stoddard　（I　am　sorry　for　those　who　do　not　know　his
  beautiful　Idyls　of　the　South　Seas）；　and　others　of　the　remarkable　group　of
  poets　and　humorists　whom　these　names　must　stand　for。　　The　San　Francisco
  school　briefly　flourished　from　1867　till　1872　or　so；　and　while　it　endured
  it　made　San　Francisco　the　first　national　literary　centre　we　ever　had；　for
  its　writers　were　of　every　American　origin　except　Californian。
  After　the　Pacific　Slope；　the　great　Middle　West　found　utterance　in　the
  dialect　verse　of　Mr。　John　Hay；　and　after　that　began　the　exploitation　of
  all　the　local　parlances；　which　has　sometimes　seemed　to　stop；　and　then　has
  begun　again。　　It　went　on　in　the　South　in　the　fables　of　Mr。　Joel　Chandler
  Harris's　Uncle　Remus；　and　in　the　fiction　of　Miss　Murfree；　who　so　long
  masqueraded　as　Charles　Egbert　Craddock。　　Louisiana　found　expression　in
  the　Creole　stories　of　Mr。　G。　W。　Cable；　Indiana　in　the　Hoosier　poems　of
  Mr。　James　Whitcomb　Riley；　and　central　New　York　in　the　novels　of　Mr。
  Harold　Frederic；　but　nowhere　was　the　new　impulse　so　firmly　and　finely
  directed　as　in　New　England；　where　Miss　Sarah　Orne　Jewett's　studies　of
  country　life　antedated　Miss　Mary　Wilkins's　work。　　To　be　sure；　the
  portrayal　of　Yankee　character　began　before　either　of　these　artists　was
  known；　Lowell's　Bigelow　Papers　first　reflected　it；　Mrs。　Stowe's　Old　Town
  Stories　caught　it　again　and　again；　Mrs。　Harriet　Prescott　Spofford；　in　her
  unromantic　moods；　was　of　an　excellent　fidelity　to　it；　and　Mrs。　Rose　Terry
  Cooke　was　even　truer　to　the　New　England　of　Connecticut。　　With　the　later
  group　Mrs。　Lily　Chase　Wyman　has　pictured　Rhode　Island　work…life　with
  truth　pitiless　to　the　beholder；　and　full　of　that　tender　humanity　for　the
  material　which　characterizes　Russian　fiction。
  Mr。　James　Lane　Allen　has　let　in　the　light　upon　Kentucky；　the　Red　Men　and
  White　of　the　great　plains　have　found　their　interpreter　in　Mr。　Owen
  Wister；　a　young　Philadelphian　witness　of　their　dramatic　conditions　and
  characteristics；　Mr。　Hamlin　Garlafid　had　already　expressed　the　sad
  circumstances　of　the　rural　Northwest　in　his　pathetic　idyls；　colored　from
  the　experience　of　one　who　had　been　part　of　what　he　saw。　　Later　came　Mr。
  Henry　B。　Fuller；　and　gave　us　what　was　hardest　and　most　sordid；　as　well　as
  something　of　what　was　most　touching　and　most　amusing；　in　the　burly…burly
  of　Chicago。
  III。
  A　survey　of　this　sort　imparts　no　just　sense　of　the　facts；　and　I　own　that
  I　am　impatient　of　merely　naming　authors　and　books　that　each　tempt　me　to
  an　expansion　far　beyond　the　limits　of　this　essay；　for；　if　I　may　be　so
  personal；　I　have　watched　the　growth　of　our　literature　in　Americanism　with
  intense　sympathy。　　In　my　poor　way　I　have　always　liked　the　truth；　and　in
  times　past　I　am　afraid　that　I　have　helped　to　make　it　odious　to　those　who
  believed　beauty　was　something　different；　but　I　hope　that　I　shall　not　now
  be　doing　our　decentralized　literature　a　disservice　by　saying　that　its
  chief　value　is　its　honesty；　its　fidelity　to　our　decentralized　life。
  Sometimes　I　wish　this　were　a　little　more　constant；　but　upon　the　whole　I
  have　no　reason　to　complain；　and　I　think　that　as　a　very　interested
  spectator　of　New　York　I　have　reason　to　be　content　with　the　veracity　with
  which　some　phases　of　it　have　been　rendered。　　The　lightning…or　the　flash…
  light；　to　speak　more　accuratelyhas　been　rather　late　in　striking　this
  ungainly　metropolis；　but　it　has　already　got　in　its　work　with　notable
  effect　at　some　points。　　This　began；　I　believe；　with　the　local　dramas　of
  Mr。　Edward　Harrigan；　a　species　of　farces；　or　sketches　of　character；
  loosely　hung　together；　with　little　sequence　or　relevancy；　upon　the　thread
  of　a　plot　which　would　keep　the　stage　for　two　or　three　hours。　　It　was　very
  rough　magic；　as　a　whole；　but　in　parts　it　was　exquisite；　and　it　held　the
  mirror　up　towards　politics　on　their　social　and　political　side；　and　gave
  us　East…Side　typesIrish；　German；　negro；　and　Italianwhich　were
  instantly　recognizable　and　deliciously　satisfying。　　I　never　could
  understand　why　Mr。　Harrigan　did　not　go　further；　but　perhaps　he　had　gone
  far　enough；　and；　at　any　rate；　he　left　the　field　open　for　others。　　The
  next　to　appear　noticeably　in　it　was　Mr。　Stephen　Crane；　whose　Red　Badge　of
  Courage　wronged　the　finer　art　which　he　showed　in　such　New　York　studies　as
  Maggie：　A　Girl　of　the　Streets；　and　George's　Mother。　　He　has　been　followed
  by