But the modern doubt is more subtle, more curious, more refined in its
methods. It does not spring, as the old denial did, from a partisan
hatred, which would seek to discredit Washington by an accusation of
undue partiality for England, and thus to break his hold upon the love
of the people. It arises, rather, like a creeping exhalation, from a
modern theory of what true Americanism really is: a theory which goes
back, indeed, for its inspiration to Dr. Johnson's somewhat crudely
expressed opinion that "the Americans were a race whom no other mortals
could wish to resemble"; but which, in its later form, takes counsel
with those British connoisseurs who demand of their typical American
not depravity of morals but deprivation of manners, not vice of heart
but vulgarity of speech, not badness but bumptiousness, and at least
enough of eccentricity to make him amusing to cultivated people.

Not a few of our native professors and critics are inclined to accept
some features of this view, perhaps in mere reaction from the unamusing
character of their own existence. They are not quite ready to subscribe
to Mr. Kipling's statement that the real American is

"Unkempt, disreputable, vast,"

I remember reading somewhere that Tennyson had an idea that Longfellow,
when he met him, would put his feet upon the table. And it is precisely
because Longfellow kept his feet in their proper place, in society as
well as in verse, that some critics, nowadays, would have us believe
that he was not a truly American poet.

Traces of this curious theory of Americanism in its application to
Washington may now be found in many places. You shall hear historians