five weeks as a suspected spy: once captured | mal retainer from some of Colonel Burr's by pirates, or privateer's men (the distinction friends," the said Colonel being then on his seems shadowy enough); saw Nelson's fleet trial for high treason. Aaron Burr was one pass in all its magnificence through the Faro of those half-dreaming and half-knavish poof Messina, and the illuminations for Nelson's litical plotters on a great scale, of whom Condeath-crowned victory in London. He vis-tinental Europe has produced many, England ited Sicily, Rome,* Northern Italy, Paris, and America but few; for the special vocaEngland, and returned to New York in 1806. tion of such men does not thrive well in counwith his health re-established, and destined tries where the game of politics is played to endure, with trifling interruption, the tri- above-board. He had schemes for the disals of a very long life, but all chance of devo- ruption of the juvenile Union, and for estabtion to a settled every-day life irrevocably lishing a new federation in the valley of the gone, and the propensity to a wandering ex- Mississippi. His mysterious and abrupt istence radically implanted. manners imposed much on his associates: we Such a propensity could hardly flourish remember one who knew him on a visit to along with due devotion to the legal profes- England describing him as having the habit, sion, to which he now returned in his own when he entered a room, of feeling the pancountry. His letters and journals become els of the walls mechanically with his cane, filled with the usual jèrèmiades of men of his to ascertain whether they were adapted for turn of mind over want of success, betraying listeners posted behind. Irving made a hero at the same time something of internal satis- of his romantic client, whom the lawyers, faction that business keeps aloof, and thereby between them, contrived to extricate by furnishes an excuse for clinging to literary plunging the court, not unwilling, in a quagoccupation and its accompanying amuse-mire of technical embarrassments. ments. For Washington had become a con- Literary life, and the amusements attending tributor to newspapers, even before he first it were his real passion. We must refer the left his country, and now made them a means of livelihood as well as pleasure. Students for admission to the bar had in New York the excellent habit of giving a supper to their examiners, at which the names of successful candidates were read over. Those who officiated at Irving's call boggled a little conscientiously, when they came to his name. "Martin," said one to the other, "I think he knows a little law." "Make it stronger, Joe," was the reply—“ damned little:" with which compliment he passed. As he was not destined by nature to become a Story or a Kent, we may dismiss his connection with the law in a few words. The only occasion on which he ever seems to have caught a spark of enthusiasm for the sable profession was when he went to Richmond, in 1807, on what his biographer oddly calls an "infor

66

*It was at Rome that the desire to become a painter took strong but temporary possession of his mind. To a genuine American, like himself, it does not seem to have occurred as an objection that he had never tried his hand at art at all. "I believe it owed its main force to the lovely evening ramble in which I first conceived it, and to the romantic friendship I had formed with Allston (the American artist). Whenever it recurred to my mind, it was always connected with Italian scenery, palaces and statues and fountains and terraced gardens, and Allston as the companion of, my studio."

reader to Mr. Pierre Irving's narrative for a detail of "life in New York," such as Irving and the "choice spirits" of the commonwealth found it fifty years ago: rejoicing"To riot at Dyde's on imperial Champagne, And then scour our city, the peace to maintain," in company with Allston the artist, Paulding the writer, Longworth the bookseller, "commonly called the Dusky," whom it was their delight to circumvent, and Henry Ogden, of whom the following is the only memorial: he had left one of their meetings" with a brain half bewildered by the number of bumpers he had been compelled to drink. He told Irving the next day that in going home he had fallen through a grating which had been carelessly left open, into a vault beneath. The solitude, he said, was rather dismal at first, but several other of the guests fell in in the course of the evening, and they had on the whole quite a pleasant night of it." We cannot but conceive the gayety of those primitive days as rather of a drab-colored order, and doubt whether the title of Lads of Kilkenny, ," which the most daring leaders of New York life then gave themselves, would have been recognized as appropriate.by its proper owners: but they were sufficient to leave a very pleasant memory in Irving's

mind, and often, in times of depression, to "It is an indication," says his nephew," of provoke comparison with the enjoyments of the depth of the author's feeling on this subLondon "society," to which he was after-ject, that he never alluded to this part of his

wards introduced.

history, or mentioned the name of Matilda even to his most intimate friends; but after his

death, in a repository of which he always kept the key, a package was found marked outside, Private Mems., from which he would seem to have at once unbosomed himself. This memorial was a fragment of sixteen consecutive pages, of which the beginning and end were missing. . . It carried internal evidence of having been written to a married lady, with whose family he was on the most intimate terms, and who had wondered at his celibacy, and invited a disclosure of his early history. With these private memorandums were found a miniature of great beauty, enclosed in a case, and in it a braid of fair hair, on which was written in his own hand, "Matilda Hoffman."

Meanwhile he seems to have eked out the little he derived from his parents, and the assistance of his family, chiefly by literary work. He began writing for the newspapers, as we have seen, even before his first visit to Europe. After his return, he soon attained a leading place among the rising literary men of his country, where however, there was as yet but little encouragement to afford substantial support to such a reputation. "Salmagundi," a miscellany in the essayist style, by himself, his brother Peter, and others, appeared in 1807, and was the first work through which he became known in London, where it was reprinted in 1811. Paulding, the editor, allotted the two brothers a hun- It adds something more to the touching indred dollars apiece as their ultimate share terest of this sad little history, that at the of profits, while he inhumanly (and as Irving time of Matilda's last illness and death, poor believed falsely) boasted that he had himself Irving was actually engaged, as we have seen, realized ten or fifteen thousand by it. "The in finishing and preparing for the press. his whirligig of Time brings about its revenges,' "History of New York; "the well-known and we shall see presently how Irving turned work of humor on which his reputation in the tables on publishers in later days, when America first rose, and of which the genial, his celebrity led them into speculations though somewhat wire-drawn, tone of mockwhich the public would not ratify. This heroic fun must have jarred strangely on the finished, he and Peter immediately set about feelings of the broken-hearted man :— the more celebrated Knickerbocker's History of New York; " for my pocket," said Peter, “calls aloud, and will not brook delay." It was completed and produced, and at once achieved in America a high popularity; but saddened by the occurrence at the same time of the most melancholy event of Irving's life. He had formed a strong attachment to a young lady named Matilda Hoffman, the daughter of the "advocate" in whose office he had commenced his clerkship. Irving's means were slender enough-little but the results of his pen, and a share in the kind of co-operative society which the brothers seem to have established. But his powers were great, his character most amiable; and in that happy region and time Cupid was not much in the habit of allowing Hymen to be embarrassed by chilling suggestions about future prospects. Everything went well with their loves, when they were interrupted by the rapid illness and death of the object of his affections. And his was one of the rarer cases in which such a wound never

heals

memorial in question, "as well as I could; "I brought it to a close," he says, in the and published; it but the time and circumstances in which it was produced rendered me always unable to look upon it with satisfaction. Still it took with the public, and gave me celebrity, as an original work was something remarkable and uncommon in America. I was noticed, caressed, and for a time elevated by the popularity I had gained. I found myself uncomfortable in my feelings at New York, and travelled about a little. Wherever I went I was overwhelmed with attentions. I was full of youth and animation, far different from the being I am now, and was quite flushed with this early taste of public favor. Still, however, the career of gayety and notoriety soon palled upon me; I seemed to drift about without aim or object, at the mercy of every breeze; my heart wanted anchorage. I was naturally susceptible, and tried to form other attachments: but my heart would not hold on: it would continually recur to what it had lost and whenever there was a pause in the hurry of dismal dejection. For years I could not talk novelty and excitement, I would sink into on the subject of this hopeless regret: I could

not even mention her name: but her image was continually before me, and I dreamt of her incessantly.”—Vol. i., p. 129."

According to his biographer,

6

in society, and acquire literary pre-eminence

because it seems to us to furnish also the real keynote of one of the most beautiful and popular passages in the "Sketch-Book." The Broken Heart," suggested by the wellknown story of Miss Curran and Robert Emmett, tells in part his own tale also. It is true that he attributes the faculty of nourishing those inveterate memories of the heart to women only; but Irving's was in many respects a feminine, not effeminate, disposition, and no doubt he sate to himself for some traits in the picture.

"He never alluded to this event of his life, nor did any of his relatives ever venture in his presence to introduce the name of Matilda. I have heard of but one instance in which it was ever obtruded upon him; and that was by her father, Mr. Hoffman, nearly thirty years after her death, and at his own house. A grand-daughter had been requested to play for him some favorite piece on the piano; and in extracting her music from the drawer, had accidentally brought forth a piece of embroid- "It is a common practice with those who ery with it. Washington," said Mr. Hoff- have outlived the susceptibility of early feelman, picking up the faded relic, This is a ing, or have been brought up in the gay heartpiece of poor Matilda's workmanship.' The lessness of dissipated life, to laugh at all love effect was electric. He had been conversing stories, and to treat the tales of romantic pasin the sprightliest mood before, and he sank sion as mere fictions of novelists and poets. at once into utter silence, and in a few min- My observations on human nature have inutes got up and left the house. . . It is induced me to think otherwise. They have the light of this event of Mr. Irving's history, convinced me, that however the surface of that we must interpret portions of his article the character may be chilled and frozen by on Rural Funerals' in the Sketch-Book,' and also that solemn passage in St. Mark's Eve,' in Bracebridge Hall,' beginning I have loved as I never again shall love in this world. I have been loved as I never shall be loved.' To this sacred recollection also I ascribe this brief record, in a note-book of 1822, kept only for his own eye: 'She died in the beauty of her youth, and in my memory she will be young and beautiful forever."

6

P. 131.

6

Thus speaks the editor in his first volume: but there is considerable danger incurred in thus publishing biography by instalments. Before the third volume was through the press, a little correspondence has been brought to light which shows that the hero's heart did not remain so absolutely true to its first impression as had been supposed-that, in point of prosaic fact, he did fall in love some fifteen years later with a fair English girl into whose society he had been thrown in Germany, quite seriously enough to be made very uneasy by Miss Emily Foster's friendly, but decided rejection of his addresses. Still, this early attachment, if not quite so exclusive as romance would fain have pictured, exercised, no doubt, a lifelong influence on his character.

We have dwelt the rather on this episode in Irving's life-the permanent impression made by the passing away of an unknown and short-lived girl on the character and genius of a man whose fate was to mix largely

the cares of the world, or cultivated into mere smiles by the arts of society, still there are dormant fires lurking in the depths of the coldest bosom, which, when once enkindled, become impetuous, and are sometimes desolating in their effects. Indeed, I am a true believer in the blind deity, and go to the full extent of his doctrines. Shall I confess it? I believe in broken hearts, and the possibility of dying of disappointed love. I do not, however, consider it a malady often fatal to my own sex; but I firmly believe that it withers down many a lovely woman into an early grave.

"Man is the creature of interest and ambi

tion. His nature leads him forth into the but the embellishment of his early life, or a struggle and bustle of the world. Love is song piped in the intervals of the acts. He seeks for fame, for fortune, for space in the world's thought, and dominion over his fellow-men. But a woman's whole life is a history of the affections. The heart is her world: it is there her ambition strives for empire; it is there her avarice seeks for hidden treasures. She sends forth her sympathies on adventure: she embarks her whole soul in the traffic of affection; and if shipwrecked, her case is hopeless - for it is a bankruptcy of the heart.

"To a man the disappointment of love may occasion some bitter pangs: it wounds some feelings of tenderness-it blasts some proshe can dissipate his thoughts in the whirl spects of felicity; but he is an active being of varied occupation, or can plunge into the tide of pleasure; or if the scene of disappointment be too full of painful associations, he

rest.'

But woman's is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, and a meditative life. She is more the companion of her own thoughts and feelings; and if they are turned to ministers of sorrow, where shall she look for consolation? Her lot is to be wooed and won; and if unhappy in her love, her heart is like some fortress that has been captured and sacked and

abandoned and left desolate."

We do not know whether the strange and suspicious resemblance between this passage and the well-known lines in "Don Juan,"

remain long in any fixed condition. His life was a succession of varying schemes and shifting localities. And yet his works are full of and steady Penates. The best remembered passages evincing a passion for quiet homes and most picturesque portions of the " SketchBook" and its successors describe the habits and enjoyments of a stationary, old-fashioned, rustic population. And it is plain from his letters and journals how intensely he enjoyed the repose and warmth of the family circles

in which he became at different times acci

dentally domesticated, and how highly his own presence in them was appreciated in return. But whenever he seems likely to take root in any spot, the whirlwind seizes on him as on Béranger's Wandering Jew, and drives him devious over the world.

"Man's love is of man's life a thing apart," and so forth, has ever been remarked on. It is so great that, on all ordinary calculation In 1814 we find Washington Irving, notof probabilities, plagiarism would be sup- withstanding his constitutional aversion to posed; and Lord Byron was of all converters politics, inspired by the war with England to their own use of other men's intellectual with patriotic ardor. He served for some goods, after Shakspeare, the most daringly time on the staff of the civic army of those unconcerned. Moore, in kis edition of " Don days, while his brother William represented Juan," quotes as a parallel passage a few New York in Congress. He does not appear, sentences in Corinne ; " but they are not however, to have been engaged in actual fightso near by an enormous distance. And yet ing. Some years afterwards an endeavor was it does so happen that the clearest possible made to draw him into public service. His case of literary alibi seems to be provable in countrymen, however they may be chargeable favor of both writers. Lord Byron wrote the with making official situations in general the first canto of "Don Juan" in Italy, in the mere prizes of party zeal, have never been summer of 1818. It was privately printed wanting in affording this kind of encourageearly in 1819, and published in September of ment to literary merit. His friend, the celthat year. Irving sent the MS. of No. 2 of ebrated Commodore Decatur, now obtained the "Sketch-Book" (in which the "Broken for him the promise of the office of "First Heart" occurs) from England, where he wrote Clerk in the Navy Department, which is it, to America, in April, 1819. It was printed similar to that of Under-Secretary in Engin America that summer, and first appeared, land. The salary" (adds his informant) in England, in the Literary Gazette in Sep- " is equal to 2,400 dollars per annum, which, tember that year, the same month with "Don as the commodore says, is sufficient to enaJuan." It is all but mathematically impos-ble you to live in Washington like a prince." sible that either could have borrowed from "To the great chagrin of his brothers, and the other. And yet many an author has been contrary to their expectations" (says his bipilloried (metaphorically) on less cogent in-ographer), "Washington declined this offer." ternal evidence, as a close comparison of the passages will show.

The principal reason which he assigned was, "I do not wish to take any situation that We have said that Matilda Hoffman's ca- must involve me in such a routine of duties tastrophe decided Irving's destiny. He had, as to prevent my attending to literary purindeed, as we have seen, a natural predilec- suits." He was so disturbed, however, “by tion for the Gypsy or "Bohemian " mode of the responsibility he had taken in refusing existence. But this might have been coun-such a situation, and trusting to the uncerteracted by strong domestic instinct and fam-tain chances of literary success, that for two. ily affection. His whole life bears evidence months he could scarcely write a line." to the conflict in his disposition between the Probably the old wound-that inflicted by two opposing tendencies. He never could the death of Matilda Hoffman-was not yet

scarred over, and he shrank from the dreari- itself; but it must not cower at home and ness of steady routine employment in soli- expect to be sought for. There is a good tude as men so hit often do. In after life he deal of cant too, in the whining about the chose to regard this as a mistake. The follow-success of forward and impudent men, while men of retiring worth are passed over with neglect. But it happens often that those forward men have that valuable quality of promptness and activity, without which worth is a mere inoperative property. A barking dog is often more useful than a sleeping lion."-Vol. ii., p. 393.

ing letter, addressed in 1824 to his nephew, Pierre Paris Irving, seems like an unburdening of his conscience :—

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This is all very sound doctrine, and well preached, but if it had been acted on, the world would have lost an accomplished and agreeable author, and the author himself a life which seems on the whole to have been while the duties of "First Clerk in the Navy an enjoyable as well as a successful one; Board" were probably much better performed by some one else.

one.

66

I hope your literary vein has been a transient one, and that you are preparing to establish your fortune and reputation on a better basis than literary success. I hope none of those whose interest and happiness are dear to me will be induced to follow my footsteps, and wander into the seductive but treacherous paths of literature. There is no life more precarious in its profits and fallacious in its enjoyments than that of an author. I speak from an experience which may be considered a favorable and prosperous one; and I would earnestly dissuade all those with whom my voice has any effect from trusting We are, however, anticipating, in carrytheir fortunes to the pen: for my part, I look ing the reader forward to the circumstances forward with impatience to the time when a of this offer. It was in 1815, immediately moderate competency will place me above the on the conclusion of peace between America necessity of writing for the press. I have long since discovered that it is indeed vanity and Great Britain, that Irving revisited the and vexation of spirit. . . . I feel myself old world. No very special motive for this called upon to urge these matters: because, journey appears in his biography, beyond the from passages in your letter, it would seem ordinary desire for a temporary change of that some idle writing of mine had caught scene. But that change proved a protracted your fancy, and awakened a desire to follow He little dreamt that the ocean he my footsteps. If you think my path has been was about to cross would roll its waters for a flowery one, you are greatly mistaken; it has too often lain among thorns and brambles, seventeen years between him and his home,” and been darkened by care and despondency. or that the close of those seventeen years Many and many a time have I regretted that would find him an adopted Englishman, faat my early outset in life I had not been im- miliar to the homes and hearts of his new periously bound down to some regular and countrymen as one of the most popular auuseful mode of life, and been thoroughly thors of his time. inured to habits of business; and I have a At this period two of Washington's broththousand times regretted with bitterness that I was ever led away by my imagination. Be-ers, Ebenezer and Peter, were established in lieve me, the man who earns his bread by the business at Birmingham, where his brothersweat of his brow, eats often a sweeter mor- in-law, Mr. Van Wart, was also a merchant. sel, however coarse, than he who procures it He made his home with them on his arrival, by the labor of his brains. . . . I am anx- and was in course of time persuaded into ious to hear of your making a valuable prac- joining them as a partner. As this constitical man of business, whatever profession tutes a mere episode in Washington's life, it and mode of life you adopt. Our country is a glorious one for merit to make its is sufficient here to say that the partnership way in; and wherever talents are properly was a constant source of anxiety; the house matured, and are supported by honorable of the brothers Irving got into difficulties, principle and amiable manners, they are sure to succeed. As for the talk about modest merit being neglected, it is too often a cant, by which indolent and irresolute men seek to lay their want of success at the door of the public. Modest merit is too apt to be inactive, or negligent, or uninstructed merit. Well matured and well disciplined talent is always sure of a market, provided it exerts

owing to the commercial reaction which followed the peace of 1815, and become ultimately bankrupt in 1818. The matter was of little consequence to Washington-who had no capital to embark in the concernexcept that it stimulated him to action, from the necessity of relying on his pen as a regular means of support. And the house of Van