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Americans (search for this): chapter 1
by my friend David Atwood Wasson and entitled, The New World and the New Man. I am indebted to the proprietors of the Century, the Independent, the Christian Union, and Harper's Bazar for permission to reprint such of the remaining chapters as appeared in their respective columns. Nothing is farther from the present writer's wish than to pander to any petty national vanity, his sole desire being to assist in creating a modest and reasonable self-respect. The civil war bequeathed to us Americans, twenty-five years ago, a great revival of national feeling; but this has been followed in some quarters, during the last few years, by a curious relapse into something of the old colonial and apologetic attitude; enhanced, no doubt, by the vexations and humiliations of the long struggle for international copyright. This is the frame of mind which is deprecated in this volume, because it is the last source from which any strong or self-reliant literary work can proceed. In the words of
October 1st, 1891 AD (search for this): chapter 1
eprint such of the remaining chapters as appeared in their respective columns. Nothing is farther from the present writer's wish than to pander to any petty national vanity, his sole desire being to assist in creating a modest and reasonable self-respect. The civil war bequeathed to us Americans, twenty-five years ago, a great revival of national feeling; but this has been followed in some quarters, during the last few years, by a curious relapse into something of the old colonial and apologetic attitude; enhanced, no doubt, by the vexations and humiliations of the long struggle for international copyright. This is the frame of mind which is deprecated in this volume, because it is the last source from which any strong or self-reliant literary work can proceed. In the words of Thoreau, I do not propose to write an ode to dejection, but to brag as lustily as chanticleer in the morning, standing on his roost, if only to wake my neighbors up. Cambridge, Mass., October 1, 1891.
January 15th, 1891 AD (search for this): chapter 1
Preface the address which forms the first chapter in these pages was given originally before the Nineteenth Century Club of New York City on January 15, 1891, and was written out afterward. Its title was suggested by that of a remarkable essay contributed many years ago to the Atlantic Monthly, by my friend David Atwood Wasson and entitled, The New World and the New Man. I am indebted to the proprietors of the Century, the Independent, the Christian Union, and Harper's Bazar for permission to reprint such of the remaining chapters as appeared in their respective columns. Nothing is farther from the present writer's wish than to pander to any petty national vanity, his sole desire being to assist in creating a modest and reasonable self-respect. The civil war bequeathed to us Americans, twenty-five years ago, a great revival of national feeling; but this has been followed in some quarters, during the last few years, by a curious relapse into something of the old colonial an
H. D. Thoreau (search for this): chapter 1
eprint such of the remaining chapters as appeared in their respective columns. Nothing is farther from the present writer's wish than to pander to any petty national vanity, his sole desire being to assist in creating a modest and reasonable self-respect. The civil war bequeathed to us Americans, twenty-five years ago, a great revival of national feeling; but this has been followed in some quarters, during the last few years, by a curious relapse into something of the old colonial and apologetic attitude; enhanced, no doubt, by the vexations and humiliations of the long struggle for international copyright. This is the frame of mind which is deprecated in this volume, because it is the last source from which any strong or self-reliant literary work can proceed. In the words of Thoreau, I do not propose to write an ode to dejection, but to brag as lustily as chanticleer in the morning, standing on his roost, if only to wake my neighbors up. Cambridge, Mass., October 1, 1891.
David Atwood Wasson (search for this): chapter 1
Preface the address which forms the first chapter in these pages was given originally before the Nineteenth Century Club of New York City on January 15, 1891, and was written out afterward. Its title was suggested by that of a remarkable essay contributed many years ago to the Atlantic Monthly, by my friend David Atwood Wasson and entitled, The New World and the New Man. I am indebted to the proprietors of the Century, the Independent, the Christian Union, and Harper's Bazar for permission to reprint such of the remaining chapters as appeared in their respective columns. Nothing is farther from the present writer's wish than to pander to any petty national vanity, his sole desire being to assist in creating a modest and reasonable self-respect. The civil war bequeathed to us Americans, twenty-five years ago, a great revival of national feeling; but this has been followed in some quarters, during the last few years, by a curious relapse into something of the old colonial a
Cambridge (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 1
reprint such of the remaining chapters as appeared in their respective columns. Nothing is farther from the present writer's wish than to pander to any petty national vanity, his sole desire being to assist in creating a modest and reasonable self-respect. The civil war bequeathed to us Americans, twenty-five years ago, a great revival of national feeling; but this has been followed in some quarters, during the last few years, by a curious relapse into something of the old colonial and apologetic attitude; enhanced, no doubt, by the vexations and humiliations of the long struggle for international copyright. This is the frame of mind which is deprecated in this volume, because it is the last source from which any strong or self-reliant literary work can proceed. In the words of Thoreau, I do not propose to write an ode to dejection, but to brag as lustily as chanticleer in the morning, standing on his roost, if only to wake my neighbors up. Cambridge, Mass., October 1, 1891.
1857 AD (search for this): chapter 2
a citizen of the world, for he was born in New York City. He was not a rustic nor a Puritan, nor even, in the American sense, a Yankee. He spent twenty-one years of his life in foreign countries. He was mistaken in England for an English writer. He was accepted as an adopted Spaniard in Spain. He died before the outbreak of the great Civil War, which did so much to convince us, for a time at least, that we were a nation. Yet it was Washington Irving who wrote to John Lothrop Motley, in 1857, two years before his own death:— You are properly sensible of the high calling of the American press, that rising tribunal before which the history of all nations is to be revised and rewritten, and the judgment of past ages to be corrected or confirmed. July 17, 1857. Motley Correspondence, i. 203. The utmost claim of the most impassioned Fourth of July orator has never involved any declaration of literary independence to be compared with this deliberate utterance of the placid a
Thomas Jefferson (search for this): chapter 2
hstone, I should unhesitatingly reply, of the Declaration of Independence; or rather, perhaps, of those five opening words into which the essence of the Declaration of Independence was concentrated; the five words within which, as Lincoln said, Jefferson embodied an eternal truth. All men are created equal; —that is, equally men, and each entitled to be counted and considered as an individual. From this simple assumption flowed all that is distinctive in American society. From it resulted,d is just the same, and it consists in the essential dignity and value of the individual man. The distinctive attitude of the American press must lie, if anywhere, in its recognition of this individual importance and worth. The five words of Jefferson—words, which Matthew Arnold pronounced not solid, thus prove themselves solid enough to sustain not merely the government of sixty-three million people, but their literature. Instead of avoiding, with Goethe, the common, das Gemeinde, America
John Brown (search for this): chapter 2
My Madonnas—thus wrote to me that recluse woman of genius, Emily Dickinson —are the women who pass my house to their work, bearing Saviours in their arms. Words wait on thoughts, thoughts on life; and after these, technical training is an easy thing. The art of composition, wrote Thoreau, is as simple as the discharge of a bullet from a rifle, and its masterpieces imply an infinitely greater force behind them. What are the two unmistakable rifle-shots in American literature thus far? John Brown's speech in the court-room and Lincoln's Gettysburg address. Yielding to no one in the desire to see our land filled with libraries, with galleries, with museums, with fine buildings, I must still maintain that all those things are secondary to that vigorous American life, which is destined to assimilate and digest them all. We are still in allegiance to Europe for a thousand things; —clothes, art, scholarship. For many years we must yet go to Europe as did Robinson Crusoe to his wrec<
Abraham Lincoln (search for this): chapter 2
orld? The touchstone, I should unhesitatingly reply, of the Declaration of Independence; or rather, perhaps, of those five opening words into which the essence of the Declaration of Independence was concentrated; the five words within which, as Lincoln said, Jefferson embodied an eternal truth. All men are created equal; —that is, equally men, and each entitled to be counted and considered as an individual. From this simple assumption flowed all that is distinctive in American society. Fru, is as simple as the discharge of a bullet from a rifle, and its masterpieces imply an infinitely greater force behind them. What are the two unmistakable rifle-shots in American literature thus far? John Brown's speech in the court-room and Lincoln's Gettysburg address. Yielding to no one in the desire to see our land filled with libraries, with galleries, with museums, with fine buildings, I must still maintain that all those things are secondary to that vigorous American life, which
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