ture is something different from English literature written in
America. Canadian and Australian literatures have indigenous qualities
of their own, but typically they belong to the colonial literature of
Great Britain. This can scarcely be said of the writings of Franklin and
Jefferson, and it certainly cannot be said of the writings of Cooper,
Hawthorne, Emerson, Thoreau, Whitman, Lowell, Lincoln, Mark Twain, and
Mr. Howells. In the pages of these men and of hundreds of others less
distinguished, there is a revelation of a new national type. That the
full energies of this nation have been back of our books, giving them a
range and vitality and unity commensurate with the national existence,
no one would claim. There are other spheres of effort in which American
character has been more adequately expressed than in words. Nevertheless
the books are here, in spite of every defect in national discipline,
every flaw in national character; and they deserve the closest attention
from all those who are trying to understand the American mind.

If the effort toward an expression of a peculiarly complex national
experience has been the problem of our literary past, the literary
problem of the future is the expression of the adjustment of American
ideals to the standards of civilization. "Patriotism," said the martyred
Edith Cavell just before her death, "is not enough." Nationality and the
instincts of national separatism now seem essential to the preservation
of the political units of the world-state, precisely as a healthy
individualism must be the basis of all enduring social fellowship.
Yet it is clear that civilization is a larger, more ultimate term than
nationality. Chauvinism is nowhere more repellent than in the things of
the mind. It is difficult for some Americans to think internationally
even in political affairs--to construe our national policy and duty
in terms of obligation to civilization. Nevertheless the task must be
faced, and we are slowly realizing it.

In the field of literature, likewise, Americanism is not a final word
either of blame or praise. It is a word of useful characterization.
Only American books, and not books written in English in America, can
adequately represent our national contribution to the world's thinking
and feeling. So argued Emerson and Whitman, long ago. But the younger
of these two poets came to realize in his old age that the New World
and the Old World are fundamentally one. The l