TOUCHES OF NATURE 51 
us pray for unction, which is the marrowfat of hu- 
mor, and for humility, which is the badge of man- 
hood. 
As the voice of the American has retreated from 
his chest to his throat and nasal passages, so there 
is danger that his contribution to literature will 
soon cease to imply any blood or viscera, or health- 
ful carnality, or depth of human and manly affec- 
tion, and be the fruit entirely of our toploftical 
brilliancy and cleverness. 
What I complain of is just as true of the essay- 
ists and the critics as of the novelists. The prevail- 
ing tone here also is born of a feeling of immense 
superiority. How our lofty young men, for instance, 
look down upon Carlyle, and administer their mas- 
terly rebukes to him! But see how Carlyle treats 
Burns, or Scott, or Johnson, or Novalis, or any of 
his heroes. Ay, there’s the rub; he makes heroes 
of them, which is not a trick of small natures. He 
can say of Johnson that he was “ moonstruck,” but 
it is from no lofty height of fancied superiority, 
but he uses the word as a naturalist uses a term to 
describe an object he loves. 
What we want, and perhaps have got more of 
than I am ready to admit, is a race of writers who 
affiliate with their subjects, and enter into them 
through their blood, their sexuality, and manliness, 
instead of standing apart and criticising them and 
writing about them through mere intellectual clev- 
erness and ‘“‘smartness.”’ 
