Literature is a positive element of civilized life; but in different
countries and epochs it exists sometimes as a passive taste or means
of culture, and at others as a development of productive tendencies.
The first is the usual form in colonial societies, where the habit
of looking to the fatherland for intellectual nutriment as well as
political authority is the natural result even of patriotic feeling. The
circumstances, too, of young communities, like those of the individual,
are unfavorable to original literary production. Life is too absorbing
to be recorded otherwise than in statistics. The wants of the hour and
the exigencies of practical responsibility wholly engage the mind. Half a
century ago, it was usual to sneer in England at the literary pretensions
of America; but the ridicule was quite as unphilosophical as unjust,
for it was to be expected that the new settlements would find their
chief mental subsistence in the rich heritage of British literature,
endeared to them by a community of language, political sentiment,
and historical association. And when a few of the busy denizens of a
new republic ventured to give expression to their thoughts, it was
equally natural that the spirit and the principles of their ancestral
literature should reappear. Scenery, border-life, the vicinity of the
aborigines, and a great political experiment were the only novel features
in the new world upon which to found anticipations of originality; in
academic culture, habitual reading, moral and domestic tastes, and cast
of mind, the Americans were identified with the mother country, and,
in all essential particulars, would naturally follow the style thus
inherent in their natures and confirmed by habit and study. At first,
therefore, the literary development of the United States was imitative;
but with the progress of the country, and her increased leisure and
means of education, the writings of the people became more and more
characteristic; theological and political occasions gradually ceased
to be the exclusive moulds of thought; and didactic, romantic, and
picturesque compositions appeared from time to time. Irving peopled
“Sleepy Hollow” with fanciful creations; Bryant described not only with
truth and grace, but with devotional sentiment, the characteristic
scenes of his native land; Cooper introduced Europeans to the wonders
of her forest and seacoast; Bancroft made her story eloquent; and
Webster proved that the race of orators who once roused her children to
freedom was not extinct. The names of Edwards and Franklin were echoed
abroad; the bonds of mental dependence were gradually loosened; the
inherited tastes remained, but they were freshened with a more native
zest; and although Brockden Brown is still compared to Godwin, Irving
to Addison, Cooper to Scott, Hoffman to Moore, Emerson to Carlyle, and
Holmes to Pope, a characteristic vein, an individuality of thought, and
a local significance is now generally recognized in the emanations of
the American mind; and the best of them rank favorably and harmoniously
with similar exemplars in British literature; while, in a few instances,
the nationality is so marked, and so sanctioned by true genius, as
to challenge the recognition of all impartial and able critics. The
majority, however, of our authors are men of talent rather than of
genius; the greater part of the literature of the country has sprung
from New England, and is therefore, as a general rule, too unimpassioned
and coldly elegant for popular effect. There have been a lamentable
want of self-reliance, and an obstinate blindness to the worth of
native material, both scenic, historical, and social. The great defect
of our literature has been a lack of independence, and too exclusive a
deference to hackneyed models; there has been, and is, no deficiency of
intellectual life; it has thus far, however, often proved too diffusive
and conventional for great results.—_Henry T. Tuckerman._