The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1869-12-27
THE JANUARY MAGAZINES.
ssrnE ATI.ANTIC.,,

The January number of the AaGntie has
the following table of contents: s:-''The Cathe-
dral;" Among the Isles of Shoals" III;
"Joseph and His Friend" l; "Il Guido Ros-
pigiosi;" "The Study of History" "Ameri-
eanism in Literature;" 'Nauhaught, the Dea-
COM" 1.-THE Woman Thou Gavest with Me-"
"what to do with the Surplus" ''Near-
ing the Snow-line;" ''Was heDead ?"
'Under the Midnight Sum- II; ''The
Descent of Neptune to Aid the Creek" ''By
Horse-Car to Boston," and Reviews and
Literary Notices"
From the papers on "Americanism in Lite
rature" we quote as follows
The highest aim of most of our literary jour
mails has thus far been to appear English, except
where some divergng experimentalist has said,
''Let us be German" or "Let us be French"
This was inevitable; as inevitable as boys first
limitations of Byron or Tennyson. But it neces-
sarily implied that our literature must, during
this epoch, be chiefly second-rate We need to
become national, not by any conscious
effort, implying attitudinizing and con-
straint, but by simply accepting our
own life. 1t is not desirable to go out of
ones way to be original, but it is to be hoped
that it win lie in ones way. Originality is
simply fresh pair of eyes. If you want to
astonish the whole world, said Rahel, tell the
simple truth, it is easier to excuse thousand
faith than to forgive the one great defect of
imitation in the purlst who seeks only to be
English. As Wasson has said, "The English
man is undoubtedly wholesome figure to the
mental eye; but will not twenty million copies
of him do for the PRESENT." We must pardon
something to the spirit OF liberty. We must
run some risks, as all immature creatures do
in the effort to use our own limbs. Professor
Edward Claiming used to say that it was bad
sign for a college boy to write too we'll; there
should be exuberances and inequalities. A
nation which has but just begun to create a
literature must sow some wild oats
be more hopeful than hypercriti-
clsm and spleen. The foies of the
absurdest spread-eagle orator may be far more
promising, because they smack more of the soil,
than the neat Londonism of the city editor who
dissects him.
Ii is but few years since we have dared to
be American in even the details and accessories
OF our literary work; to make our illusions to
natural objects real, not conventional; to ignore
the nightingale and skylark, and look for the
classic and romantic on our own soil. This change
began mainly with Emerson. Some of us
recall the bewilderment with which his verses
on the humblebee, for instance were received,
when the choice of subject seemed stranger than
the words themselves. 1t was called "a foolish
affectation of the familiar" Happily the illu-
sion of distance forms itself rapidly in new
land, and the poem has now as serene place in
literature as if Andrew MARVEL had
written it, The truly cosmopolitan
writer is not he who carefully denudes
his work of everything occasional and
temporary, but he who makes his local coloring
forever classic through the fascination of the
dream it tells. Reason, Imagination, passion,
are universal; but the sky, climate, costume,
and even type OF human character belong to
some one spot alone till they find an artist
potent enough to stamp their associations on
the memory of all the world. Whether his work
be picture or symphony, legend or lyric is of
little moment. The spirit of the execution is all
in all.
AS yet we have hardly begun to think of the
details of execution in any art We do not aim
at perfection of detail even in engineering,
much less in literature. In the haste of Ameri-
can life, much of our literary work is done at a
rush, is something inserted in the odd moments
OF the engrossing pursuit. The popular preacher
becomes anovelist the editor turns his paste-pot
and scissors to the compilation of n history; the
same man must be poet wit, philanthropist
and genealogist. We find a sort of pleasure
in seeing this variety of effort just as the
bystanders like to see street musician adjust
every joint in his body to separate instrument
and play concerted piece with the whole of
himself. To be sure, he plays each part badly,
but 1t is such wonder he should play them all
Thus, in our rather hurried and helter-skelter
literature, the man is brilliant, perhaps; his
main work is well done but his secondary work
is slurred. The book SELLS no doubt, by reason
of the authors popularity in other fields; it is
only the tone of our national literature that
suffers. There is nothing in American life that
Let man choose his pursuit, and make all else
count for recreation only. Goethes advice to
Eckermann is infinitely more important here
than it ever was in Germany:--"Beware of dis
sipating your powers; strive constantly to con-
centrate them. Genius thinks it can do what
ever it others doing, but it is sure to repent
of every ill-judged outlay"
In one respect however, this desultory acti-
witty is an advantages it makes men look in
variety of directions for standard AS each
sect in religion helps to protect us from some
other sect, SO every mental tendency is the limi-
tation of some other. We need the English cul-
ture, but we do not need it more evidently than
we need the German, the French, the Greek the
Oriental. In prose literature, for instance, the
English contemporary models are not enough.
There is an admirable vigor and heartiness, a
direct and manly tone; King Richard still lives:
but Saladin also had his fine sword-play; let us
see him. There are the delightful French quail
ties-the atmosphere where literary art means
fneness of touch. sou il NY point de delica-
tesse il ny point de literature. Tn ecrit ou
ne sc rencontrent que de Ia force ct un certain
feu sans eclat nannonce que lie caractere." But
there is something in the English climate which
seems to turn the fine edge of any very choice
scymitar till it cuts Saladins own fingers at last
"HARPEB'S.v
Turner Brothers & Co. send us HdrperS