Are the highest truths _national_?
Is there any trace of _locality_ in the purest and noblest of
sentiments? We invariably find that the same poets, and the same
passages of their works, which are most extolled at home, are the most
admired abroad. If there were any wondrous charm in this nationality
it would be otherwise. The foreigner would fail to admire what is most
delectable to the native. But the readers of all nations point at
once, and applaud invariably, at the same passage. Who ever rose from
the _Inferno_ of Dante without looking back to the story of Ugolino
and of Francesca? If a volume of choice extracts were to be culled
from the works of Dante, Ariosto, Petrarch, an Englishman and an
Italian would make no greater difference in their selection than would
two Englishmen or two Italians.

Nationality one is sure to have, whether desirable or not, but the
great writers of every people are unquestionably those who, without
foregoing their national character, rise to be countrymen of the
world. Mr Sims, instead of complaining that his fellow-countrymen are
European, (may more of them become so!) should be assured of this,
that it is only those who rise to European reputation that can be the
founders of an American literature. The day that sees the American
poet or philosopher taking his place in the high European diet of
sages and of poets, is the day when the national literature has become
confirmed and established.[13]

Mr Sims is, at all events, quite consistent with himself in his wish
to break loose from European literature--he who is disposed to break
loose entirely from all the past. History with him, _as history_, is
utterly worthless. It is absolutely of no value but as it affords a
raw material for novels and romances. One would hardly credit that a
man would utter such an absurdity. Here it is, however, formally
divulged.

"The truth is--an important truth, which seems equally to have
escaped," &c., &c.--"the truth is, the chief value of history
consists in its proper employment for the purposes of
art!--Consists in its proper employment, as so much raw material
in the erection of noble fabrics and lovely forms, to which the
fire of genius imparts soul, and which the smile of taste informs
with beauty; and which, thus endowed and constituted, are so many
_temples of mind_--_so many shrines of purity_--_where the big,
blind, struggling heart_ of the multitude