"
"So that, Mr. Ridgeley," said Ida, "we may not in our time hope for
the American novel, the great American epic, or the great American
drama?"
"Well, I don't know that these will ever be. That will depend upon our
luck in acquiring a mode and style, and habit of thought, and power
of expression of our own, which for many reasons we may never have. An
American new writes as much like an Englishman as he can--and the more
servile the imitation, the better we like him--as a woman writes like
a man as nearly as she possibly can, for he is the standard. What
is there in Irving, that is not wholly and purely English? And so of
Cooper; his sturdiness and vigor are those of a genuine Englishman,
and when they write of American subjects, they write as an Englishman
would; and if better, it is because they are better informed."
"Mr. Ridgeley," said Miss Giddings, "can't you give us an American
book?"
"'When the little fishes fly
Like swallows in the sky,'
An American will write an American book," said Bart, laughing. "But
your question is a good answer to my solemn twaddle on literature."
"No, I don't quite rate it as twaddle," said Ida.
"Don't you though?" asked Bart.
"No," seriously. "Now what is the effect of our American literature
upon the general character of English literature? We certainly add to
its bulk."
"And much to its value, I've no doubt," said Bart. "Well, with
increased strength and vigor, we shall begin by imperceptible degrees,
to modify and change the whole, and the whole will ultimately become
Americanized, till the English of this continent, partaking of its
color and character, imparts its tone and flavor finally to the whole
everywhere.
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