Americanism unaccompanied by a war-whoop.
The Saturday Review, wishing to emphasize its contempt for Henry Ward Beecher
, finally declares that one would turn from him with relief even to the poems of Whittier
There could hardly have been a more exhaustive proof of this local limitation or chauvinisme than I myself noticed at a London dinner-party some years ago. Our host was an Oxford professor, and the company was an eminent one.
Being hard pressed about American literature, I had said incidentally that a great deal of intellectual activity in America
was occupied, and rightly, by the elucidation of our own history,—a thing, I added, which inspired almost no interest in England
This fact being disputed, I said, ‘Let us take a test case.
We have in America
an historian superior to Motley
in labors, in originality of treatment, and in style.
If he had, like Motley
, first gone abroad for a subject, and then for a residence, his European
fame would have equalled Motley
's. As it is, probably not a person present except our host will recognize his name.’
When I mentioned Francis Parkman, the prediction