We live in a country pre-eminently rich in mental and physical
resources. We have whatever internally or externally is requisite to
promote national greatness and prosperity. We live in the full
possession and enjoyment of a government founded on the experience of
the past, and reared by the genius and wisdom of an unrivalled
ancestry. The mind here blooms and grows under the protecting wings of
the Genius of Freedom--its native boldness and vigor unrestrained. Here
it may be aroused to all that is noble in enterprise, or excellent in
virtue. Here the aliments of its growth are as rich and as inspiriting,
as they are abundant. It enjoys the choice fruit of the loftiest minds
of departed ages; and may feast on the wisdom and learning of every
modern age. It enjoys the bland influence of the christian spirit; and
may attain a superior standard in moral greatness and power. But these
are not the only advantages which tend to the development of American
mind. In whatever direction we gaze, nature's beauties, as profuse and
lovely as the stars of the sky, meet the vision. We behold landscape
after landscape, enchanting beyond measure; the graceful undulations of
luxuriant prairies; tall forests, clothed in the magnificent robes of
summer, or cheerless with the storms of winter; noble and beautiful
rivers, over whose placid waters genius and enterprise have scattered
the wonders and researches of science; towering mountains, fairy
groves, and silver-sparkling lakes. Add to these, the wild traditions
of a people unknown to former minds: traditions, over which curiosity
loves to linger, and philosophy to speculate; traditions, which,
imbodying the terrific, the romantic, and the ennobling of the savage
state, throw over the page of fiction a charm and an interest,
enchanting and enchaining.
From this view, we might indulge the prophetic thought, that our
national mind would attain to the highest degree of intellectual
pre-eminence. Now, the mind is the prime source of literature, creating
it, and giving to it an enduring form. If all its powers are fully
developed in their varied beauty and might, that literature to which it
gives character, will be of an exalted nature. Should then our national
mind be made to appreciate its advantages, it naturally follows, that
our literature will be all that is grand and sublime--will soar to the
loftiest summit of the Olympian mount. But whatever will have a
tendency to pervert these advantages, to draw the mind into pursuits
below its real nature, will impede its growth. We behold around us such
impediments. It shall be our object to exhibit a few of them, feeling
convinced that if the obstacles which retard the transit of our
literature in its ascent to greatness, be once known and surmounted,
its destiny will be bright and glorious.
Individual character is the combined result of early impressions. The
same is true in regard to national character. Whatever most influences
the young mind, gives tone to its future action. Those circumstances,
which most excite and agitate the mind of a nation, likewise mould and
shape its future action. What has most deeply interested the American
mind? If we trace back the chain of our history to the fearless days of
our infancy, we shall find that its absorbing interests have been of a
political nature. True, there were some minds among that matchless band
of our New England ancestry, who, with the great volume of nature open
before them, wrote with a spirit of inspiration, and soared to the high
heavens of literature. They were few in number. We need not ask what
now moves and engrosses the thoughts and feelings of the American mind.
We need not now ask what form of character it is fast assuming: for it
is truly becoming a political mind. Now, what will be the effect of
such a cast of intellect in impeding the march of our literature, is
obvious to any one of common discernment. The _mind_ that would create
an exalted literature, should drink at all the fountains of knowledge;
should be clothed in forms of grace and loveliness; should have all its
powers and faculties developed; its delicate and masculine, its placid,
its stormy and religious: it should be like Phidias' Minerva, perfect
in all its proportions. Political pursuits do not produce _this mind_.
If we examine them, we shall find their elements to be the united
effects of _bad_ ambition and immature intellect. It is true, they
encourage activity of mind; but it is not that kind of activity which
develops its beauties and majesty. That mental action which they
promote, has its origin in lawless passions, in inordinate and
ungenerous emulation. The political aspirant of the day is attracted by
the false glory which beams around our political temple, and thinks no
means too low, too debased, to gain entrance there. It is true,
politics may bring into the field of competition, timid and shrinking
intellect; but they do not impart to it a masculine boldness and
nobleness. They train it to deeds of cunning and hypocrisy. We have
reference now to the general politics of the age. Party strifes, the
natural result of excess in politics, keep the mind in an unhealthy
state: at one time raising it to the highest pitch of excitement; at
another, causing the most extreme depression. That calm serenity, which
moderates and chastens its powers, passions and emotions, is a stranger
in a political contest. That mind, inured to party feelings and party
interests, can never attain its full vigor and manhood--such is the
nature of excess in political pursuits. We would ask, do they cause a
full development of the mental powers? Do they awaken the fancy? Do
they clothe human thoughts in radiant and brilliant robes? Do they
promote mental research? Do they create pure and soaring eloquence? or
tune the lyre of poesy to notes celestial? Let the genius of American
Literature, as she wings her slow flight upwards, give the answer.
This political spirit, contagious and diffusive in its nature, has
spread itself throughout the entire frame of our government. All
classes of society, from the proudest to the humblest spheres of life,
have imbibed it, feel it, and act under its influence. It composes the
chief interests, and engages the active feelings, of almost every
community. Who can be insensible to the fact, that our universal mind
has already assumed a political character? The aspect of the times
prove it beyond the shadow of a doubt. The consequences to our
literature are obvious. The majority of our gifted, shining minds,
prefer the honors of state to classic fame--rush headlong into fierce
unnatural intellectual conflicts, rather than enjoy the calm,
soul-ennobling, and sublime strifes of literary pursuit. The goddess of
learning is uncourted in her temple. Pure mental illumination shines
only on a few isolated spots. Public taste, which may be styled the
protectress of literature in every country, instead of being refined
and elevated, is corrupted and debased. In short, our literary mind,
which, under the influence of our free institutions, might, like the
eagle, soar with might and majesty, is chained down and impeded in its
action.
It cannot be expected, that such a state of society would patronize
noble, intellectual effort. Genuine literary merit, is unnoticed amid
the whirl of party. The beauteous and serene beams of the star of
science, are lost in the dazzling brightness of the political sun. How
feeble the inducement held out in our land to the poet, the historian,
or philosopher! The reading portion of our population is but a trifle,
compared with the whole. We have a few mature minds, who, soaring above
the common level, have taken their seats in the halls of literary
eminence. Are they appreciated? Their names are unknown to a majority
of the various classes of society? Who read the classic and eloquent
orations of Webster and Everett, full of deep principles and splendid
thoughts? Who, the placid, flowing and pathetic verse of Bryant, whose
thoughts, so melancholy, yet so beautiful, steal over the soul like
evening music on the still water? Who are delighted with the brilliant
imagery, and chaste conceptions of _Cooper_ and _Irving_? Their
productions, the results of long, close, and patient thought, serve for
parlor-ornaments, and parlor-reading. They are not studied; and who,
without studying, can master the real, pure meaning of a fine thought?
A work on modern philosophy is rarely seen, even among the learned
circles of society: it never reaches the great mass. How could it be
otherwise, when the general mind is agitated and convulsed by political
strifes! How could it be otherwise, when all that is beautiful in the
heart, and sunshine in the intellect, is debased and destroyed?
We may be told, that learning has flourished in other countries, under
similar inauspicious influences; that the mightiest geniuses the world
has ever seen, wrote their superior works under the frowns of
patronage. They were exceptions to all rule. There are few minds cast
in the same moulds as those of Cervantes, Petrarch, Dante, Shakspeare,
and Milton. If we mark the history of mankind, we will find, that there
are now and then, in almost every nation, some unconquerable minds that
would, in spite of circumstance, illumine the world. But the principle
is a natural one. Mankind are fond of the fame of the moment; self-love
is the predominant feature of human character. Men, in general, live
not for posthumous glory. The present is more selfish than past ages.
There is something exhilarating, spirit-stirring in the smiles and
praises of our own countrymen. Genius, or _holy ambition_, then, cannot
be aroused to vigorous action, unpatronized. Let it not be supposed,
that we would have the mind think for gold. We would have it
write,--and it would write, and that, too, with an immortal pen, in
lofty and impassioned strains,--under the favor and good-feeling of
society. But how can the literary mind be thus stimulated, when the
general feeling of society is diametrically opposite to its interests?
As well might we ascribe the splendid and magnificent architecture of
the pantheon, to the skill and workmanship of the unlettered barbarian.
We would not be misunderstood. We would not have our political
interests forgotten. We would have them engage a share, but not the
universal mind of the nation. We would have communities feel the same
degree of interest in literary as in political greatness. We would have
them combined; for their united results will increase our power, and
throw around the arch of our glory, a radiance, lovely and sublime.
What periods in the history of mankind, are most distinguished for
mental superiority? When did Grecian literature assume its brightest
charms? Who has studied the character of the Pereclean age, and not
experienced feelings of inexpressible delight, as he then beheld the
mind in its noblest form? Then, the true value of mind was appreciated,
and its efforts liberally patronized. Munificent gifts were the reward
of mental exertion. Then, all grades of society, on the return of their
Olympia, assembled with joyful hearts, to celebrate the festivities of
mind. Then, art shone in original splendor; and science, in utility and
nobleness, was unrivalled. Then, the muses were courted in their
heavenly abodes, and Grecian poetry breathed a spirit of immortality.
The tragedies of _Euripides_ and _Sophocles_ still illume the path of
the modern dramatist. Then, the poor of Athens listened to the
instructions of the divine _Socrates_. Then, the sacred groves and
shades resounded to the eloquence of _Plato_, as the 'soul of
philosophy' flowed from his lips. Then, Athens became the magnificent
sun of all antiquity. It was no political age. All literary eras of the
modern world, are analagous to the Pereclean of the ancient world. The
most resplendent galaxys of modern mind have shone in times of the
greatest literary feeling and patronage.
But this political influence of national feelings and interests will
not be confined to the people. It will, indeed it has, entered within
the walls of our academies and universities. Now, it is founded in
reason and experience, that in the morning bloom of a literature, there
is most need of active mental vigor. It requires untiring and
unrelenting strength, to raise the stately pyramid. Alladin's magic
lamp of Arabian story, is not an inheritance of this age. Such strength
is in youthful mental cultivation. This invigorating influence must
then come from our seats of learning. They are to our literature, what
the consecrated groves and shades of Athens were to the Grecian--the
resort of its protecting spirits. Here, the mind should be trained to
action, should commence its acquisitions in knowledge. Here, it should
be taught to think, and to feel, with depth and sublimity. Here, a
fondness for whatever is great or commanding in human thoughts, should
be created. Here, the characteristic features of such minds as
Shakspeare and Milton, Newton and Franklin, should be studied; for like
bright stars they will shed a cheering light on the obscure wanderings
of the youthful intellect. When such is the case, and it never can fail
to be, if our universities preserve their characters, the success of
American literature will rest on a steadfast foundation. But such
cannot be, when their interests and those of the people run in counter
channels. In a republic, where public opinion works such magic spells,
it is the interest of the minority to yield to its sway. Upon a
principle of human nature, the weak cling to the strong. Can, then, our
colleges maintain their high, original standing? They must conform, in
some degree, to the feelings of the mass of society. Besides, the youth
who resort to them, come from the people, and must necessarily bear
with them the malady of the people. Who will deny, that this political
spirit is now, in many instances, the great stimulus of the American
student? He seldom turns his aspiring gaze toward the celestial mount
of the muses. He looks abroad upon society, and marks its character.
His grasping mind longs for fame. He beholds but one road to
eminence--the political. He beholds the splendid career of the mighty
intellects of the land; marks a growing and powerful people doing them
reverence; hears their name trumpeted by a thousand tongues; and like
the Grecian hero, whose slumbers were troubled by the trophies of
Miltiades, he burns for action. Nor is this all. In the political
world, he sees mind battling with mind; all life, all activity, the
congenial elements of panting, fiery ambition. In the literary world,
he sees the mind pursuing a silent, unobserved, noiseless march; and
not dreaming of the unfading brightness of its matured glories, he
disdains its pursuits as unworthy of his attention. The result is
natural. The grand, animating, and powerful thoughts of the splendid
intellects of the past and the present, which, when sought, come all
eloquent from the living page, never breathe their inspiriting energies
into his mind. His course being finished, he rushes, full of sanguine
hope, on the theatre of action, unskilled and unprepared. His success
hangs on a point. An inordinate ambition urges him onward; he faces the
storms and tempests, and opposes the thousand counter currents which
run in, and keep in perpetual commotion the mountain wave of the
political sea. His career is about closing, and, as he imagines, the
diadem of glory about settling on his forehead; by some unforeseen
stroke of bad fortune, he is hurled from his high elevation, sinks, and
falls, and is heard of no more. In this way, many minds meet an
unhonored and untimely end--minds, that might have proved great and
useful to society--minds, which might have illuminated the arts and
sciences with improved splendor--minds, which might have been 'founts
of beauty' to our literature.
What preserves, in its original strength and grandeur, the rich and
massy arch of German literature? The incomparable exertions of the
German student. The German student! whose mind knows no other commune
than the thoughts of the mighty dead. The German student! who knows the
power and majesty of truth, and thinks no care, nor labor, too great to
possess it; and whose intellectual eye takes in all that is lovely and
sublime in creation. The universities of Germany are unequalled in the
world. Is it wonderful that its literature is unequalled? But they are
supported by the good feeling of society. Let then the current of
public feeling be changed in our beloved land; let the American mind
feel sensible of the importance of youthful mental cultivation; let the
youthful intellect be taught to ascribe as much value, as much
greatness, and as much immortality, to literary as to political
interests. Let this be done, and our universities will surpass even
those of Germany; will furnish to their country, instead of Schillers
and Goethes, their prototypes, Shakspeares and Miltons.
But apart from these impediments to American literature, there is
another. It glares in the face of every one. It lies in the periodical
press. The benefits and glories of the press are familiar to every
mind. Disseminating knowledge with unexampled rapidity, its influence
is spread over and reaches the extreme borders of society. Being a
universal mental aliment, it moulds, and fashions, and directs the
thoughts and feelings of the man. Thousands on thousands of minds are
developed by its effects, never enjoying any other. To the growing,
varied classes of our society, it is the only light of information. How
important that its action be pure, healthy, and vigorous! How important
that it be the vehicle of virtuous and elevated thought! How important
that it send forth on its hundred rapid wings and eloquence, which,
like the written eloquence of the lamented Grimke, more enduring than
marble or brass, should beautify the affections, and arouse to glorious
action the intellect of this and coming ages! Thus mighty in its
influence, and thus important in its character, it cannot maintain too
high, too noble a standard. It should imbody whatever is great and
excellent in human thought. It should teach the people how to apply the
principles of science to the arts; and, therefore, should ever
preserve, with vestal care, the temple of learning. In short, it should
be the tribunal of public taste--an ordeal of criticism--severe, but
highminded. Such being its characteristics, the periodical press will
be the strongest pillar that shall support the towering fabric of our
literature. It cannot fail to be, because through its instrumentality,
public feeling is formed and swayed; and we have seen, that the right
direction of this feeling will ever insure permanent, liberal, literary
patronage. But what is the general character of this branch of the
press? Is it a fountain from which flows the pure streams of knowledge?
Is it a messenger of eloquent and exalted thoughts? Is it a friend to
literature, or the efforts of original and powerful mind? Facts speak
to the contrary. The majority of our periodicals, bear upon their very
face, a political stamp. They contain in their broad folds, no more
than the creations of rankling and disappointed passion, of unripened
and undeveloped intellect. Do such minds as Johnson and Addison, spread
beauty and interest through their columns? How paltry, how much to be
lamented the spirit of their criticisms!--They breathe the essence of
fanaticism. True, we have a few quarterlys and monthlys, that rise
above the ordinary grade, and will compare, in all the excellencies of
thought, with any productions of the kind, in any country or clime. The
North American Review, is a fair and splendid specimen of what should
characterize that department of our literature. Who ever closed its
pages, beaming with a sun-like brilliancy, without having, in some
degree, his knowledge enriched, his taste refined, his thoughts
enlarged, and his intellect expanded? But shining only on the high
peaks of society, its glorious beams never find their way to the mass:
its influence, amid the universal debasement of the press, is unseen,
unfelt. We have, likewise, a few literary papers; but in the delicate
idea and beautiful expression of one of the contributors of the
Magazine, they are the mere "sprays of the intellectual wave." We
repeat it, the periodical press is, in the strongest sense of the word,
political. Now, it is plain to every observing mind, that being the
most influential, it should be the purest and noblest portion of our
literature. How far it falls short of such a standard, our national
mind has fatally experienced. Our country's glory and pride, our own
genius, our own talent, call loudly and decidedly for a reformation.
We have now set forth a faint view of some of the impediments to the
growth of American literature. We have seen, that political pursuits do
not tend to the full development and vigor of the mind, and that
without such a cast of mind, there cannot be eloquent and sublime
mental action. We have seen, that our nation's mind is absorbed in
political interests; in short, that the age is too political. We would
ask, if there is no necessity of a change? He who feels the heavenly
glow of patriotic devotion, and hopes to see his country the brightest
star in the firmament of modern glory, will return an affirmative
response.
Our literature has not, as yet, assumed any permanent form. Its
features are just beginning to develope. What character it will take,
we cannot judge with any degree of certainty. Now, it is a familiar
principle, that in the formation of the mind, there is need of the most
unceasing care and attention, to shape and direct its budding energies
to virtue and excellence. Let the American mind have this attention,
and we have a literature purer, nobler, and richer, than has ever
illumined mankind. Do we desire a glorious immortality? And is not
literary immortality--the mind set forth in visible, enchanting, and
enduring forms--far more desirable, than political? How has the
greatness and grandeur of all antiquity, been perpetuated? Who will
compare the Pereclean age of Greece--an age, as we have seen, when
literature shone purely, brightly--with those that followed, when
political feuds rent every state? Who will compare the fame of Homer,
the mirror-mind of the ancient world, with the most distinguished
politician of antiquity? of Milton, with that of Cromwell? of
Shakspeare, with that of the profoundest statesman of the Elizabethan
age. Political glory, is as the short-lived plant--literary, as the
majestic oak. Political glory, is as the flashing meteor--literary, as
the splendor of the noon-day sun.