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Excerpt ​

Excerpt from The Complete Works of Brann, the Iconoclast — Volume 01, by William Cowper Brann

With the roll of the years, the perspective of time, like a low
swung sun, casts the mountain's shadow ever farther
across the valley; and Brann the Waco journalist has
become Brann the American genius. No matter how dead
the issues, how local to time and place the characters of
which he wrote, his writing is literature and the imperishable
legacy of the world.

The Biblical story of Joseph would be equally great if his
name had been Fu Chow, and Pharaoh had been the
Emperor Wu Wong Wang. Hamlet would be immortal if his
name were L. Percy Smith and his uncle a pork packer in
Omaha. The prodigal son has no name, the swine he fed
knew no country. Particular names, local places, and
passing forms and institutions are not the essence of
literature. For those who formerly read Brann in The
Iconoclast he was a Texas journalist in the free silver
days; but for those who shall read his work in these days
after the world war, New York might as well be Babylon,
Mark Hanna, Haman, and the files of The Iconoclast,
clay tablets dug from the ruins of some long-buried Waco of
the Euphrates Valley.

It is only the transcendent genius who can afford to be
careless of the preservation of his product. Socrates
merely talked to chance disciples in the Groves of
Athens; other men wrote and preserved his words.
Shakespeare wrote plays for his current theatrical business;
others gathered and printed his manuscripts. While he
lived, Brann's writing never saw the dignity of a clothbound
book. They were not written for carefully edited, thrice-
proofread, leather-bound volumes, but ground out for the
unwashed hand of a Waco printer's devil, done into hastily
set type and jammed between badly set beer ads and
patent medicine testimonials, on a thin, little job-press sheet
that could be rolled up and stuck through a wedding ring.

Explanation ​

This excerpt from The Complete Works of Brann, the Iconoclast (Volume 1) is a meta-literary reflection on the enduring power of great writing, using the figure of William Cowper Brann—a fiery, late 19th-century Texas journalist—as a case study. The passage argues that true literature transcends its immediate context, outlasting the ephemeral details of time, place, and politics. Below is a detailed breakdown of the text’s meaning, themes, literary devices, and significance, with an emphasis on close reading.

Context: Who Was Brann? ​

William Cowper Brann (1855–1898) was a controversial journalist who edited The Iconoclast, a Waco, Texas, newspaper known for its scathing satire, populist politics, and attacks on religious hypocrisy, political corruption, and social pretensions. Brann’s writing was raw, witty, and uncompromising, often targeting figures like Mark Hanna (a powerful Republican political boss) and the Free Silver Movement (a monetary policy debate of the 1890s). Though he was a local figure in his time, the excerpt argues that his work has since been recognized as universal literature.

The passage itself is likely from an introduction or preface to Brann’s collected works, written after his death (possibly by an editor or admirer). It makes a bold claim: that Brann’s journalism, despite its local and temporal specifics, belongs alongside the works of Shakespeare and the Bible as timeless art.

Themes ​

  1. The Timelessness of Great Literature

    • The opening metaphor ("the perspective of time, like a low-swung sun, casts the mountain's shadow ever farther across the valley") suggests that distance lends grandeur. What was once a local Texas newspaper now looms as American genius because time has stripped away the immediate controversies, leaving only the artistic essence.
    • The comparison to Joseph, Hamlet, and the Prodigal Son reinforces this: these stories endure not because of their historical details (names, settings) but because they capture universal human truths.

  2. The Irrelevance of Particulars

    • The passage dismisses names, places, and contemporary issues as nonessential to literary greatness:
      • "Hamlet would be immortal if his name were L. Percy Smith and his uncle a pork packer in Omaha."
      • "The prodigal son has no name, the swine he fed knew no country."
    • This is a defense of Brann’s work: though he wrote about Free Silver, Mark Hanna, and Waco politics, his style, insight, and rhetorical power make his writing permanent.

  3. Genius vs. Preservation

    • The text argues that true genius doesn’t need careful preservation to survive. Examples:
      • Socrates never wrote anything; his ideas were recorded by others.
      • Shakespeare wrote for immediate theater, not posterity.
      • Brann’s essays were hastily printed in a cheap newspaper, surrounded by beer ads and quack medicine, yet they endure.
    • The implication: Greatness is inherent in the work itself, not in its packaging.

  4. The Paradox of Ephemeral Media

    • Brann’s writing was physically disposable (printed on thin paper, "rolled up and stuck through a wedding ring"), yet intellectually immortal.
    • The comparison to clay tablets from a "long-buried Waco of the Euphrates Valley" suggests that future readers will see Brann’s work as ancient, mysterious, and profound, much like we view Sumerian or Biblical texts today.

Literary Devices ​

  1. Extended Metaphor (Time as a Low Sun)

    • "The perspective of time, like a low-swung sun, casts the mountain's shadow ever farther across the valley."
    • Meaning: As time passes, the significance of a figure (Brann) grows, much like a mountain’s shadow lengthens as the sun sets. The "valley" could represent history or cultural memory.

  2. Analogy (Brann as Shakespeare/Socrates)

    • The passage elevates Brann by comparing him to Socrates (oral tradition) and Shakespeare (popular entertainment), both of whom created enduring work despite unpretentious origins.

  3. Hyperbole & Paradox

    • "His writing is literature and the imperishable legacy of the world."
      • Hyperbole: A Texas journalist’s work as a world legacy?
      • Paradox: Something printed on cheap paper becomes imperishable.
    • "New York might as well be Babylon, Mark Hanna, Haman..."
      • Exaggeration to show how future readers will mythologize the past.

  4. Juxtaposition (High Art vs. Low Production)

    • The grandeur of Brann’s ideas vs. the grubby reality of his publication:
      • "ground out for the unwashed hand of a Waco printer’s devil"
      • "jammed between badly set beer ads and patent medicine testimonials"
    • This contrast makes the argument stronger: true art doesn’t need polished presentation.

  5. Allusion (Biblical, Shakespearean, Classical)

    • Joseph/Fu Chow, Pharaoh/Emperor Wu Wong Wang → Universality of myth.
    • Hamlet/L. Percy Smith → A great story doesn’t depend on its setting.
    • Socrates in the Groves of Athens → Ideas outlive their speaker.
    • Clay tablets from the Euphrates → Future archaeologists will study Brann like ancient texts.

Significance of the Passage ​

  1. A Defense of Journalism as Literature

    • The excerpt challenges the hierarchy that separates "high literature" (novels, poetry) from "low journalism". It argues that style, insight, and truth matter more than genre or medium.

  2. The Power of Rhetoric Over Time

    • Brann’s satirical, aggressive prose was provocative in his day, but the passage suggests that what was once controversial becomes classic when the specific disputes fade, leaving only the artistry.

  3. The Idea of the "Transcendent Genius"

    • The text proposes that great writers don’t worry about posterity—they write for their moment, and time takes care of the rest. This is a romantic view of genius: the artist is unconcerned with preservation because their work is inherently powerful.

  4. A Meditation on How We Read the Past

    • The comparison of The Iconoclast to clay tablets suggests that all history becomes myth. Future readers will not care about Free Silver or Mark Hanna, but they will respond to Brann’s wit, anger, and humanity.

Close Reading of Key Lines ​

  1. "No matter how dead the issues, how local to time and place the characters of which he wrote, his writing is literature and the imperishable legacy of the world."

    • "Dead the issues": The Free Silver debate is long over, but Brann’s prose lives on.
    • "Imperishable legacy": A bold claim—that a Texas newspaper editor belongs in the global canon.

  2. "Particular names, local places, and passing forms and institutions are not the essence of literature."

    • This is the core argument: Literature is about human nature, not historical details.

  3. "While he lived, Brann's writing never saw the dignity of a clothbound book."

    • "Dignity": Implies that hardcover books are respected, but greatness doesn’t need them.
    • The physical form doesn’t determine value.

  4. "done into hastily set type and jammed between badly set beer ads and patent medicine testimonials"

    • Vivid imagery of a cheap, chaotic newspaper—yet this is where immortal prose appeared.

  5. "clay tablets dug from the ruins of some long-buried Waco of the Euphrates Valley."

    • Future readers will see Brann’s Waco as we see Babylon—mythic, distant, profound.

Why This Matters Today ​

  • Relevance to Digital Media: In an age of Twitter threads, blogs, and ephemeral online writing, this passage challenges the idea that only "serious" books last. Could a viral tweet or a Substack essay be the Iconoclast of our time?
  • The Canon Debate: Who decides what is "literature"? This excerpt argues for inclusivity—that journalism, satire, and polemics can be as enduring as Shakespeare or the Bible.
  • The Power of Voice: Brann’s rage, humor, and clarity made his work timeless. The passage suggests that style and passion matter more than subject matter.

Final Thought ​

This excerpt is not just about Brann—it’s a manifesto for how we should judge all writing. It tells us:

  • Greatness is not determined by subject, medium, or initial reception.
  • Time is the ultimate editor—what survives is what speaks to the human condition.
  • The best writers don’t write for posterity; they write so truthfully that posterity cannot ignore them.

In short: Brann’s cheap, angry newspaper articles are now "clay tablets"—and that’s the highest praise.