I desire neither to apologize for American literature, nor to
boast of it. No apology is necessary now, whatever Sydney Smith
may have thought in earlier days: and it is decidedly not the time
to boast, for so far literature has usually been a by-product in
the development of American aptitudes. But it may be useful to
state broadly at the beginning some of the difficulties and the
closely related advantages that condition the making of literature
in the United States.
The critic of American literature usually begins in this fashion:
America, in somewhat over a century, has built up a political and
social organization admittedly great. She has not produced,
however, a great literature: great writers she has produced, but
not a great literature. The reason is, that so much energy has
been employed in developing the resources of a great country, that
little has been left to expend in creative imagination. The
currents of genius have flowed toward trade, agriculture, and
manufacturing, not aesthetics.
This explanation is easy to understand, and is therefore
plausible, but I do not believe that it is accurate. It is not
true that American energy has been absorbed by business.
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