The Inferiority of American Literature [pp. 707-710]

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of thought; that the blood of Alfred and Edward flows in aroused! The infant Hercules is in very truth cradled in
our veins as well as theirs; and so, too, does that of Milton our midst, and needs but to be awakened to put forth the
antl Shakspeare and Newton and Locke aid Taylor. Their strength of the giant!
ancestors are ouars; their glory ours; their models ours. We There is one thing which is calculated to throw discredit
drink with them at the same fountain; we think and write upon our literary fame. It is the sutperabundance of petty
in the same language that preserves the mental monuments authors. Perhaps we are wrong, and shlould rather say, the
of these models in literature. Does this answer, however, superabundance of petty productions. There has not yet
satisfy him who is truly and wholly American in his feel- sprung up in our midst giants in literature. Our works,
ings;-him who has that passion for his country which beautiful in their proportions and structure, are of Lillipti amounts to idolatry-the passion of a lover forhis mistress — tian dimensions, There appears to be, even on the part of
that true anor patrice which absorbs every other feeling? those who are thought equal to the task, an unwillingness,
Were we not cast from the household of these men by our nay, almost a dread of undertaking any thing on a large and
brethren, who claimed no more right to the inheritance than superb scale-a lack of that unquenchable enthusiasm that which superior strength confers? Did we not in turn "alta petens,-aliquid immensum, infinituque7e"-which leads
renounce them, and resolve to build upon a newfoundation- its possessor to attempt mighty things. The restless spirit
to earn a name and an immortality by our unaided efforts- of despatch has seized even our writers! and instead of the
which should gather none of their lustre from ancient names? fixed, unwearied, protracted ambition-which fanned the
Then why not cast off all allegiance to these, as names, for flame of glory in the bosoms of the ancients, and likewise
America to boast of? Why not determine that our litera- some of our Trans-Atlantic authors, of a time contempora ture and government shall be coetaneous-that one shall be nenus with our own history; and which led them to labor
as peculiar as the other? But we will return to the corn- long years, in the completion of some single but sublime
parison. Take Germany, Germany also with all her noto- production-a spirit which led them to exclaim with the
riety, as the nurse of slow-paced intellects and phlegmatic ancient poet, and with the same fervor, as she witnessed the
temperaments. Her ponderous piles of literary iesearch slow iut daily progress to perfection of some sublime piece —
bids defiance to every comparison; and even in the fields of! they conceive quickly-they write instantly-and the next
poesy and song, the strains of Scheller and Goethe will not day the steam printing press throws off-it may be a beauti suffer, nay, will grow more resplendent in the contrast with fil, but snmall and only beautiful production. How differ those of our ablest writers. Of France we say but little, ent this from him who writes an imperishable book! As an
not that she is inferior: her writers are not vwell known; as example, we quote two widely separated sentences from an
with Germany, so is she just beginning to unlock her deep introductory essay, to one of the most substantial monu.
store-houses, and pour forth their horded treasures. But at ments of British literature: "This fact we know, that he
the very name of France our minds revert to the names of was engaged upon his Analogy during a period of twenty
the unhappy but gifted Voltaire-to Racine, to Corneille, to years." "Butler, the author of the Analogy, will live to the
the accomplished Madame De Stael; and, in holier writings last recorded time."
than any of these, that of the " IHeaven-soaring" Massillon, These small, though beautiful productions to which we
Even "dead Italy" boasts her Boccaccio, her Ariosto, and have alluded, are enough to awaken attention-to call 1p
her Tasso! Spain her Boscan, her Calderon, and her Cer- admiration; but there is a want of vastness which alone can
vantes. "' names, that were not born to die." place their authors among those who have added to the lite We do not deem it sufficient to say that our literature is rature of the world: for the writings of great authors, while
not yet formred. Why is it not yet formed? Is the doe- they add peculiar honor to the birth-place of those authors,
trine true that a country must attain " a good old age" be- add to the wealth-to the intellectual wealth of the globe,
fore authors of true rank and dignity can be produced from and they are its property. To whom do Virgil and Homer
its soil? Hesiod eternized his name, before his countrymen belong? The one wrote in the language of the Roman were emancipated from barbarism. The dark but grand the other that of the Greek. For their sakes we honor the
and majestic images of Ossiaii rose up in an age when "the countries which gave them birth; but Virgil and Homer
schoolmaster was not abroad." The stiblimest of all Eng- now belong to no one country or clime. For in what land
lishli poems was brought forth at a period when the British are they not read?-in what spot of the earth are they not
constitution was scarcely formed; and when the British go- admired? There is not a college in any civilized country
vernment, staggering under a revolution which hadl shaken where these are not a necessary part of education; and
it to its circumfereice, was just clothing itself with the pa- strange as it may seem-it is not less true than strange —
noply of strength and freedom. But why have we not in that on the same day the student in the hall of Oxford, and
this kept pace with our other improvements? Why is our the scholar in the missionary school-room of Owhyhee are
literature but in its embryo, whilst all else has sprung up as scanning the same, "Tityre, tu patulas recubans sub tagunder the wand of an enchanter Has it not been purely mine fagi" —which was penned upon the banks of the Tiber
from neglect? We have within us the elements of a high nearly nineteen hundred years ago! It is true also of many
and glorious literature. The boundless extent of our do- writers of more modern date, that their works are the promains-our mountains, rivers, lakes, cataracts, extended party of the world; and when the sun of science shall have
vallies, boundless prairies-our every variety of soil and driven darkness from every land-which we are assured it
climate and productionsT In fact all external objects are on will do —we may prophecy, without any thing romantic orvia scale, grand, diversified, and magnificent-beyond an sionary in the spirit which prompts the prediction, that the
equal; and besides, the freeness and nobleness of our insti- works of Milton and Shakspeare —of Locke and Bacon-=
tutions, are all calculated.to give that masculine energy to of Scott and Johnson, (what Aniericain names can we annthought-that height of imagination-that boldness of ex- merate?) will be read by the dwellers of all countries, from
pression-which constitute the very sublimity of writing. Patagonia to the frozen shores of Labrador —from the exNor are we of a sickly and puny growth. We have not treme peninsula of southern Asia, far north to the snows of
been fostered in sloth, or cherished in affluence or voluptuous Zenibla.
ease. No! we have been cradled in oppression; we have How few works have we that are fated to be immortal!
been rocked by whirlwinds; we have been taught to battle How few that are read beyond the boundaries of our own
with the warring elements: our coeart has been the storm country even at the present day! This cannot be because
and the tempest1 and thus have our mindst with our bodies, we have not talent in our midst. We have had indications
gathered nerve and sinjew. America, genius needs but to be abundantly sufficient to prove the kind of materials whiclh
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The Inferiority of dmerican Literat?ire..
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