GHRRRCTER 
 (STUDIK 
 
 vV'\ 
 
 R5KUHDER5 
 
(Hmmll ^nivmii]^ ^xhm^ 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 ..rVVL-W. ...^.cwvv|lA«rv!t,.. 
 
 .A...X^%^«Z ff^S. 
 
 3513-2 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 2779.S2C4 
 
 Character studies,with some personal rec 
 
 3 1924 022 028 603 
 
The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022028603 
 
CHARACTER STUDIES. 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 Salad for the Solitary and Social. Illus- 
 trated. Small quarto, cloth, gilt top, $2.00. 
 
 Pastime Papers. i2mo, paper covers, 50 
 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Stray Leaves of Literature. i2mo, cloth, 
 gilt top, $1.25. 
 
 The Story of the Discovery of the New 
 World by Columbus. Illustrated. i2mo, 
 white vellum and red cloth, $1.00. 
 
 THOMAS WHITTAKER, Publisher, 
 2 and 3 Bible House, New York. 
 
CHARACTER STUDIES, 
 
 SOME PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 * SALAD FOR THE SOLITARY AND THE SOCIAL," " PASTIME 
 
 PAPERS," "evenings WITH THE SACRED POETS," "STOHY 
 
 OF SOME FAMOUS BOOKS," " STRAY LEAVES OF 
 
 LITERATURE)'" ETC, 
 
 f Te«k.-eT-lck 'S a^A.-n.A enr^ 
 
 "Tz'wz^, who steals our years away^ 
 Shall steal cur pleasures too^ 
 But memory of the past^will stay^ 
 And half our Joys renew,"" 
 
 New York : 
 
 Thomas Whittaker, 2 and 3 Bible House. 
 
 1894. 
 
Copyright, 1894, 
 By THOMAS WHITTAKER. 
 
 Burr Printing House, New York. 
 
FORE-WORDS. 
 
 If, with Thackeray, we believe that 
 " memory is part of our souls, and is 
 eternal," then its bright visions may be 
 said to form an essential element of 
 life's best estate, and also to compen- 
 sate, in some measure, for its gloomy 
 seasons of sorrow and of sadness. 
 
 The object of the following pages is 
 to record some pleasant recollections of 
 a privileged friendship or acquaintance- 
 ship with certain distinguished person- 
 ages who have since passed beyond the 
 horizon of time. 
 
 Worthies, alas ! now passed away, 
 Whose presence charmed life's earlier day, 
 Whose wisdom, culture, courtesy. 
 Memory enshrines as legacy. 
 
 These memorial sketches do not pre- 
 tend to complete portraiture ; they are 
 rather quiet studies of characters, emi- 
 nent alike for their intellectual culture 
 and moral excellence. 
 
 We instinctively cherish respect for 
 
vi Fore - Words. 
 
 persons whose names have become illus- 
 trious by their achievements, whether 
 by their inventive genius, their intel- 
 lectual endowments and culture, as lead- 
 ers of thought, or by their high moral 
 worth, as elevators of society. In the 
 economic and industrial estimate of its 
 progressive development, the thinker 
 and the doer equally present their re- 
 spective claims to our regard, each being 
 essentially necessary in promoting the 
 advancement of mankind. There is yet 
 another element, no less requisite to the 
 formation of symmetrical and exalted 
 character in a community — that which 
 is, indeed, the basis of its moral power 
 — its spiritual culture. Wherever this 
 happy combination prevails in a country, 
 the highest expression of individual 
 character also obtains. It is not likely, 
 therefore, that those whose lives have 
 been devoted to the furtherance of such 
 high aims will fail to secure from all 
 true lovers of the race their grateful 
 esteem. Frederick Saunders. 
 
 The Astor Library, New York. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. Edwakd Irving : Carlyle's estimate of — The early 
 days of —His personnel — His chosen books — His first 
 sermon — His arrival in London — His Caledonian chapel 
 — Coleridge^s opinion of him — Crowded audiences — Or- 
 igin of his great popularity — His new church dedica- 
 tion by Chalmers — His published '* Orations" — Address 
 at the Bible Society meeting — " Unknown tongues" — 
 Great missionary discourse — Prophetic discourses — His 
 trial for heresy — Closing days and death i 
 
 II. Anna Jameson : Her early history — Travels on the 
 Continent — Her*' Diary of an Ennuy6e" — Her " Char- 
 acteristics of Women" — ^Visit to the United States and 
 Canada — Christian art in the Middle Ages— Her return 
 to Europe — Her efforts in behalf of the elevation of 
 
 ^ woman— Longfellow's high tribute to her " Sacred and 
 Legendary Art" — Her descriptions of Niagara and else- 
 where — Various estimates of her character and genius.. 31 
 
 III. Washington Irving : Description of his home- 
 Its history, by himself — His first visit to Europe— 
 — Meeting with Roscoe — First meeting with Scott — Visit 
 to Dryburgh and Melrose — His return to New York^ 
 His Mission to Madrid — Visit to the Alhambra — His 
 researches for his " Life of Columbus" — His brief 
 dinner speeches — His London publisher, Murray — 
 Meeting the London literary magnates — Scott's friend- 
 ship — Opinions of the '* Sketch-Book" and " Knicker- 
 bocker" — Literary party at Sunnyside— His connection 
 with the Astor Library — Subsequent sickness and 
 death — Funeral at Sleepy Hollow Cemetery — Tributes 
 
 to his memory 65 
 
viii Contents, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 IV. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow : The poet in his 
 historic home — Description of it — Genial and generpus 
 spirit displayed in referring to his contemporaries — The 
 illustrated edition of his works — Various high opinions 
 of his productions — Origin of some of his poems— Se- 
 lect extracts — His visits abroad — His academic honors — 
 His poem on the flowers 113 
 
 V. William Cullen Bryant : As a pastoral and ethical 
 poet — His love of natural objects— His pedigree of Puri- 
 tan origin and early life — Arrival in New York — His first 
 noteworthy production, '* Thanatopsis" — His connec- 
 tion with the Evening Post — His home at Roslyn, L. I. 
 — Extracts from his poems — His increasing popularity 
 as a poet — His laborious career as a journalist — His 
 visits abroad — His closing days 133 
 
 VI. Joseph Green Cogswell : His early history- 
 Graduate of Harvard — His voyage to India — Establishes 
 a high school at Raleigh, N. C. — Visits John Jacob 
 Astor— His establishment of the Public Library— Is ap- 
 pointed librarian — Makes trips to Europe for obtaining 
 books of high repute — The Astor Library is built, and 
 the books, numbering 80,000 volumes, placed on its 
 shelves— First opened to the public— The great art 
 productions exhibited — Excellent skill in selection of its 
 books — His devotion to it of over a score of years — His 
 resignation of his official relations with the Library- 
 Extracts from his later correspondence 155 
 
" Hi toe toorlt upon matile, it tofll perist ( (f toe 
 toocit upon brass, time toill efface it; it toe rear 
 temples, tjej toill crumiile into Bust i if toe toorfe 
 upon immortal minlis, if toe imlrne tjem toft!) prin- 
 ciples, toitj) ti)e Just fear of CSoa antr lobe of our 
 felloto-men, toe enerabe on tjose taiilets soraetSina 
 toSicJ toill liriflijten to all eternits." 
 
 Daniel Wkbstee. 
 
EDWARD IRVING. 
 
 Born 1792, died 1834. 
 
' The good man suffers but to gain, 
 And every virtue springs from pain, — 
 As aromatic plants bestow 
 No spicy fragrance while they grow, 
 But crushed, or trodden to the ground. 
 Diffuse their balmy sweets around."' 
 
 — Goldsmith. 
 
EDWARD IRVING. 
 
 " Edward Irving's warfare has closed, 
 if not in victory, yet in invincibility and 
 faithful endurance unto the end. . . . 
 His was the freest, brotherliest, bravest 
 human soul mine ever came in contact 
 with : I call him, on the whole, the best 
 man I have ever (after hard trial enough) 
 found in this world, or now hope to 
 find. ' ' Thus wrote Thomas Carlyle con- 
 cerning the subject of the present sketch, 
 who half a century ago filled so promi- 
 nent a place in the annals of his day. 
 Such high testimony from such a source 
 must have been of one well worthy of 
 such an eulogy and of our study, for 
 wherever he went men acknowledged 
 the spell of his genius. 
 
 Until the appearance of Carlyle's 
 " Reminiscences" comparatively little 
 
2 Edward Irving. 
 
 was known of the real character of the 
 celebrated Scotch minister, Edward Irv- 
 ing. Mrs. Oliphant's charming memoir 
 of his brilliant and checkered career pre- 
 sents his portraiture in a fuller and more 
 complete manner than any other that 
 had been published. Since that publi- 
 cation, the Rev. G. Carlyle, Irving's 
 nephew, has given to the world the col- 
 lective edition of the writings of the re- 
 nowned preacher, which, forming five 
 large volumes, constitute an enduring 
 monument of his genius and character. 
 
 Several years before the publication 
 of the fore mentioned works, the essen- 
 tial part of the present desultory sketch 
 appeared in a New York quarterly. In 
 that paper the writer, whose acquaint- 
 ance with Mr. Irving commenced a short 
 time after his arrival in London, gave 
 descriptions and incidents then fresh in 
 his recollection ; and these are incor- 
 porated in the present sketch, as they 
 may possibly afford some new glimpses 
 of Mr. Irving's remarkable career. 
 
 One of the leading British reviews 
 
Edward Irving. 3 
 
 some-^ttefe since remarked that if a 
 " sketch of Edward Irving — as he was 
 in the days of his glory, djgwn from 
 memory by a hand at o^nc e apprecia tjye 
 and_di^criminative — could be had, it 
 would be of real interest^ as well to the 
 historian as to the divine. "( It is not to 
 be inferred, however, that the above 
 requisitions are all met in the present 
 paper, which is but an attempt for the 
 most part to present what the writer 
 saw and heard of Mr. Irving when he 
 was in the zenith of his fame. 
 
 Reverting back to those days of Irv- 
 ing's wonderful popularity, his brilliant 
 career seems as transient as it was pic- 
 turesque, heroic, dramatic, and sad ; a 
 life of seeming paradoxes — short, if 
 years are its only measurement, but 
 long and luminous, if computed by 
 great thoughts, feelings, and sorrows. 
 
 There was a strange witchery about 
 Edward Irving ; his utterances were 
 fervid and glowing, often stately and 
 Miltonic. He was of commanding stat- 
 ure, of dark and melancholy beauty of 
 
4 Edward Irving. 
 
 countenance, with a profusion of raven- 
 black hair parted on the centre of his 
 head, and flowing down to his shoul- 
 ders ; with piercing dark eyes, one of 
 which was oblique — all which produced 
 a very profound impression. In addi- 
 tion, there seemed to be a weird fascina- 
 tion about his presence — an apparent 
 austerity,, almost- sugggstive of the as- 
 ceticism of . the cloister, ^ his public 
 ministrations ; yet it is well known that 
 he possessed a heart singularly sensitive 
 and gentle. 
 
 He does not seem to have courted 
 fame, but rather to have sought to be a 
 worshipper at the shrine of nature, by 
 the hill-side or the romantic glens of 
 his own classic soil, than to pore over 
 the pages of the collective wisdom of the 
 past. It is said that, at twelve years of 
 age, he used to take his solitary ramble 
 over the wild heather, with only the 
 Bible under one arm and a loaf of bread 
 under the other ; and thus would seek, 
 at their very source, to draw deep wis- 
 dom and inspiration alike from the great 
 
Edward Irving. 5 
 
 statute-books of heaven and of earth. 
 He imbibed the love of liberty with his 
 pure mountain air ; and doubtless at 
 early dawn and dewy eve his impas- 
 sioned soul was filled with lofty aspira- 
 tions and earnest yearnings after that 
 higher estate of being which to him 
 seemed so real. 
 
 Thus did he commune with the celes- 
 tial, the ideal, and the real. It is not 
 surprising, therefore, that he should 
 have been moulded after* a model dis- 
 similar from that of his contemporaries 
 and his age. Far from disdaining the 
 toils of studious scholarship, however, 
 Irving not only possessed in an eminent 
 degree an acquaintance with the sci- 
 ences and the general branches of human 
 lore, but he became himself essentially 
 a poet. Mr. Irving took his degree at 
 the University of Edinburgh in 1809, 
 when he attracted the notice of the pro- 
 fessors of the classics and mathematics. 
 
 He was then forming his taste and 
 style on the model of certain books, 
 which became his prime favorites ; 
 
6 Edward Irving. 
 
 these were the " Arabian Nights," Os- 
 sian's poems (which he is said always to 
 have carried in his pocket), Homer, and 
 the works of Hooker. Carlyle has de- 
 scribed him as he saw him at this period, 
 when he returned from the University 
 of Edinburgh. " We have heard of 
 famed professors, of high matters, classi- 
 cal, mathematical — a whole wonderland 
 of knowledge ; nothing but joy, health, 
 hopefulness without end looked out 
 from the blooming young man." 
 
 He then, in his eighteenth year, be- 
 came a teacher in a mathematical school 
 at Haddington. It is said that often in 
 moonlit nights he would gather his 
 pupils about him, when he would recite 
 passages from Milton's epic or Ossian's 
 poems, and give to the recital such 
 dramatic force as almost to frighten his 
 little flock. Among his scholars at Had- 
 dington was his favorite one, Jane Welsh, 
 who afterward became the wife of his 
 friend, Thomas Carlyle. In 1815 Irving 
 delivered his first sermon at Annan, 
 Scotland ; and the town turned out to 
 
Edward Irving. 7 
 
 hear him. When he had reached the 
 middle of his discourse, by some incau- 
 tious movement of his hand he tilted 
 aside the Bible and with it the manu- 
 script of his sermon. That direful paper, 
 which Scotch congregations then held 
 in " high despite," fluttered down upon 
 the precentor's desk beneath- Much 
 excitement prevailed through the assem- 
 bly, but Irving calmly bent his tall fig- 
 ure over the pulpit, grasped the manu- 
 script as it lay, put it into his pocket, 
 and continued his discourse as fluently 
 as before. His success, which gained, 
 by the accident, was triumphant. But. 
 this was not an auspicious time ; as a. 
 preacher he seemed to fail ; and he is. 
 said to have destroyed his sermons. 
 
 In his despondency he was contem- 
 plating a plan of going as a missionary 
 to the East, ' ' after the apostolic order, 
 without scrip or purse," when an invita- 
 tion came to him from Dr. Andrew 
 Thomson to occupy his pulpit at St. 
 George's Church, Edinburgh, when Dr. 
 Chalmers was expected to be present. 
 
S Edward Irving. 
 
 This led to his appointment of assistant 
 to Dr. Chalmers. " I will preach to 
 them if you think fit," said Irving ; 
 " but if they bear with my preaching 
 they will be the first people who have 
 borne with it." About two years later 
 came the call to the Caledonian Chapel, 
 Hatton Garden, London, where some 
 two or three months sufficed of his elo- 
 quent addresses to stir all the British 
 metropolis with excitement and curios- 
 ity, attracting crowded audiences of the 
 aristocracy and nobility to see and hear 
 the great Scottish Boanerges. Among 
 the distinguished persons, scientific, 
 literary, and social, seen in this obscure 
 chapel were, Lord Brougham, Sir James 
 Mackintosh, Wilkie, Canning, the Duke 
 of York, Coleridge, and Carlyle. 
 
 It was about this time that Coleridge 
 said of him : " I hold that Edward Irv- 
 ing possesses more of the spirit and pur- 
 poses of the first reformers ; that he 
 has more of the head and heart, the life 
 and unction, and the genial power of 
 Martin Luther than any man of this or 
 
Edward Irving. q 
 
 the last century. I see in Edward Irv- 
 ing a minister of Christ after the order 
 of Paul." 
 
 That was the golden period of Irv- 
 ing's career, when he delivered some of 
 his masterly discourses, and when he 
 was flushed with the triumphs of his 
 genius. Those discourses formed the 
 book which he styled " Orations for the 
 Oracles of God," of which a leading 
 contemporary critic thus spoke : " There 
 is a swelling grandeur in these orations 
 both of thought and expression, a rich- 
 ness of conception and grasp of imagi- 
 nation, with a wondrous poetry of spir- 
 itual feeling, which captivate and hold 
 spellbound the reader." 
 y>^ The recollection of Irving's picturesque 
 appearance on a Sunday, when the chapel 
 was crowded by notabilities and eager 
 masses of persons anxious to hear him, 
 it is not easy to forget. At eleven 
 o'clock A.M., the hour of public worship, 
 the church clerk carried the Bible up to 
 the pulpit, then followed with slow and 
 stately steps the surpliced orator, Ed- 
 
lO Edward Irving. 
 
 ward Irving, calm, dignified, and self- 
 possessed, seemingly conscious of his 
 master^power. He commenced the ser- 
 vice by an invocation, and then would 
 read with dramatic effect one of the 
 rugged, unmusical Scottish hymns, 
 which was sung by the congregation, 
 led by the precentor, who occupied a 
 seat below the pulpit. The slow sing- 
 ing ends, and we are charmed by the 
 fine voice of Irving- — organ-like, full of 
 melody and modulation — as he reads one 
 of the psalms, and then adds, " Let us 
 pray ;" and here especially we felt con- 
 scious of being in the presence of a 
 strangely gifted man. The prayer end- 
 ed, he announced his text and entered 
 upon his theme, and as he became in- 
 spired by its unfolding, his enthusiasm 
 and eloquence, sustained by his grace- 
 ful action, rose to their full height ; so 
 that a visitor for the first time had been 
 heard to exclaim, " If that man be not 
 mad, he must be inspired." So intense 
 was the eagerness of the people of all 
 classes to hear him that it was found 
 
 / 
 
Edward Irving. 1 1 
 
 necessary to issue cards of admission 
 not only to Hatton Garden Chapel, but 
 also to the new Gothic church .in Re- 
 gent Square, in which he afterward 
 preached, the dedication services of 
 which edifice was a proud day for Irv- 
 ing. This beautiful structure was in 
 part modelled after York Minster Cathe- 
 dral, and one of its most exquisite fea- 
 tures was the elaborately carved oak 
 pulpit, with its rich Gothic canopy. At 
 this time the name and fame of Thomas 
 Chalmers was at its meridian, his " As- 
 tronomical Discourses" having aston- 
 ished the intellectual world of London 
 and elsewhere by their brilliancy and 
 beauty. Such was the intense anxiety, 
 therefore, to obtain tickets of admission 
 to the opening services as soon as it was 
 announced that Chalmers would take 
 part on the occasion, that the neighbor- 
 ing streets were blocked up with car- 
 riages, and the crowds of pedestrians 
 had to be kept back by the police while 
 the ticket-holders were being first ad- 
 mitted to the church. The crowded 
 
12 Edward Irving. 
 
 audience paid dearly for the privilege 
 of seeing and hearing the two Scottish 
 magnates, for the services were weari- 
 somely protracted and fatiguing. Irv- 
 ing commenced the order of procedure 
 by reading a long chapter from one of the 
 old prophetical books of the Bible, upon 
 which he dilated at yet greater length. 
 Then followed the slow singing of a 
 hymn, and after this Chalmers arose to 
 speak from the text.* His broad Scotch 
 accent was so marked as to make it dif- 
 ficult to catch some of his utterances ; 
 but as he advanced with his subject his 
 manner of delivery — which was the op- 
 posite of Irving's, being heavy and dull 
 — then became eloquent in diction and 
 earnest in manner. 
 
 The supposed origin of Irving's re- 
 markable popularity was this : Sir James 
 Mackintosh happened to hear the new 
 Scotch minister referring in his prayer 
 to a family of orphans connected with 
 his congregation as now " thrown upon 
 
 * Jeremiah 6 : 16. 
 
Edward Irving. 13 
 
 the fatherhood of God." This phrase 
 struck the mind of the philosopher, and 
 he repeated it to Canning, then the 
 prime minister ; and shortly afterward, 
 in a discussion on church endowments, 
 he referred to Irving and his masterly 
 eloquence, although connected with the 
 poor and obscure chapel at Hatton Gar- 
 den. Here it was that he laid the foun- 
 dation of that brilliant yet brief career of 
 popularity the parallel of which is scarce- 
 ly to be found in the annals of the 
 Church. A contemporary writer thus 
 refers to the elements which combined 
 to make this modern clerical Demos- 
 thenes such a marvel : " In these might 
 be seen independence stalking in his 
 stride, intellect enthroned on his brow, 
 imagination dreaming on his lips, physi- 
 cal energy stringing his frame, and 
 athwart the whole a cross-ray from Bed- 
 lam shooting in his eye. It was this 
 which excited such curiosity, wonder, 
 awe, rapture, and tears, and made his 
 very enemies, even while abusing, confess 
 his power and tremble in his presence. 
 
14 Edward Irving. 
 
 It was this that made ladies flock and 
 faint, which divided attention with the 
 theatres, eclipsed the oratory of Parlia- 
 ment, and made such men as Hazlitt 
 protest, on returning, half squeezed to 
 death, from one of his displays, that a 
 monologue from Coleridge or a burst 
 of puns from Lamb were nothing to a 
 sermon from Edward Irving." His 
 manner and voice, as well as his fine 
 physique, contributed to the charm ; 
 his aspect wild yet grave — now sym- 
 metrical in repose, anon terrible with 
 excitement or enthusiasm. 
 
 Then there was the style, curiously 
 uniting the beauties and faults of a ser- 
 mon of the seventeenth century with 
 the beauties and blemishes of a parlia- 
 mentary harangue of the nineteenth ; 
 quaint as Browne, florid as Taylor, and 
 interspersed with patches from the 
 magic robe of Coleridge. Abrupt and 
 startling as were sometimes his transi- 
 tions from the majestic and the sublime 
 to the commonplace and the colloquial, 
 such was his oratorical adroitness that 
 
Edward Irving. 15 
 
 these defects, which would have been 
 deemed fatal to an ordinary speaker, 
 were regarded, in his instance, but as 
 among the eccentricities of genius. 
 
 In fine, his diction was a new dialect 
 for the sacred desk — it was his own ; 
 and consequently even old and familiar 
 truths came from his lip with a fresh- 
 ness and grace that charmed the ear 
 with their persuasiveness and power. 
 Modelled, for the most part, after the 
 seventeenth-century masters in theol- 
 ogy, his style became a rich conglomer- 
 ate of gems from the Elizabethan age 
 of letters — rich in poetic power and im- 
 agery and rhetorical pomp. But it must 
 be confessed that Irving had one serious 
 defect — prolixity. At one of the anni- 
 versary meetings held at Hackney, near 
 London, he kept the patient audience 
 nearly three hours ; and on another oc- 
 casion he preached at the Tabernacle, 
 before the missionary meeting, to the 
 same extent. At one of the anniversary 
 celebrations of the British and Foreign 
 Bible Society, held at Free Masons' 
 
1 6 Edward Irving. 
 
 Hall, when Wilberforce was among 
 those present, an exciting incident oc- 
 curred which is still fresh in the mem- 
 ory of the writer. 
 
 Many animated addresses had been 
 delivered touching the question of print- 
 ing the Bible without the Apocrypha. 
 When the debate was at its height, Irv- 
 ing arose and commenced his speech, 
 which was a stream of astonishing elo- 
 quence, till at length, beginning to ful- 
 minate against his brethren for their 
 combined opposition to his tenets, he 
 was vociferously hissed. The harmony 
 of the meeting was at an end, and in 
 the midst of the direst confusion he 
 roared out, as few if any beside him 
 could have done, " Do you know in 
 what spirit I am come here to speak 
 that you dare to put me down ?" His 
 dauntless courage gained for him a fresh 
 silence, and with moderated feelings he 
 was suffered to conclude his remarks. 
 
 When he went through his native dis- 
 trict of Annandale there was no church 
 edifice found of sufficient size to accom- 
 
'Edward Irving. i 
 
 modate the crowds of persons eager t 
 hear him ; and so he preached to thei 
 in the open air — the adjacent church« 
 were closed during his appearanc 
 among them. 
 
 Before presenting some brief extrad 
 from his first published " Orations fc 
 the Oracles of God," it should be n 
 membered that much of the witcher 
 and fascinating charm of Irving' s or£ 
 tory was due to his dramatic power an 
 picturesque personnel ; and as this is, c 
 course, lost to the mere reader of his di: 
 courses, it should be duly allowed for i 
 our estimate of his genius and of th 
 man. The following extract is from th 
 exordium to his first oration : 
 
 " There was a time when each revel; 
 tion of the Word of God had an intrc 
 duction into this earth, which neithe 
 permitted men to doubt whence it cam 
 nor wherefore it was sent. If, at th 
 giving of each several truth, a star wa 
 not lighted up in heaven, as at the birt 
 of the Prince of Truth, there was don 
 upon the earth a wonder to make he 
 
1 8 Edward Irving. 
 
 children listen to the message of her 
 Maker. The Almighty made bare His 
 arm ; and through mighty acts, shown 
 by His holy servants, gave demonstra- 
 tion of His truth, and found for it a sure 
 place ^mong the other matters of human 
 knowledge and belief. But now the 
 miracles of God have ceased ; and na- 
 ture, secure and unmolested, is no 
 longer called on for testimonies to her 
 Creator's voice. No burning bush draws 
 the footsteps to His presence-chamber ; 
 no invisible voice holds the ear awake ; 
 no hand cometh- forth from the obscure, 
 to write His purposes in letters of flame. 
 The vision is shut, the testimony is 
 sealed, and the word of the Lord is 
 ended ; and this solitary volume is the 
 sum total of all for which the chariot of 
 heaven made so many visits to the 
 earth, and the Son of God Himself tab- 
 ernacled and dwelt among us. The 
 truth which it contains once dwelt, un- 
 divulged, in the bosom of God ; and 
 on coming forth to take its place among 
 things revealed, the heavens and the 
 
Edward Irving. 19 
 
 earth, and nature, through all her cham- 
 bers, gave it reverent welcome. Be- 
 yond what it contains, the mysteries of 
 the future are unknown. To gain it ac- 
 ceptation and currency, the noble com- 
 pany of martyrs testified unto the 
 death ; the general assembly of the 
 firstborn in heaven made it the day- 
 star of their hopes, and the pavilion of 
 their peace. 
 
 " If you get not the soul's attach- 
 ments to the world loosened before 
 death, there will ensue such a rending 
 and agony upon your departure as no 
 loss of country, of wife, or children can 
 be compared with ; and if you take not 
 a cool forethought of the future, nor 
 prepare to meet it, there will come such 
 a brood of fears, such a wreck of hopes 
 as no improvident spendthrift ever en- 
 countered. O ye sons of men, if these 
 things are so, and ye tread every mo- 
 ment upon the brink of time, and live 
 upon the eve of judgment, what avail 
 your many cares and your unresting oc- 
 cupations ? Will your snug dwellings. 
 
20 Edward Irving. 
 
 your gay clothing, and your downy beds 
 give freshness to the stiffened joints or 
 remove the disease which hath got a 
 lodgment in your marrow and in your 
 bones ? Will a crowded board, and the 
 full flow of jovial mirth, and beauty's 
 wreathed smile, and beauty's dulcet 
 voice charm back to a crazy dwelling 
 the ardors and graces of youth ? Will 
 yellow gold bribe the tongue of mem- 
 ory and wipe away from the tablets of 
 the mind the remembrance of former 
 doings ? Will worldly goods reach up- 
 ward to heaven and bribe the pen of 
 the recording angel, that he should can- 
 cel from God's books all vestige of our 
 crimes, or abrogate the eternal law by 
 which sin and sorrow, righteousness and 
 peace are bound together ?' ' 
 
 The following passage, referring to 
 the beatitudes of the future life of the 
 Christian, for the pomp of its rhetoric 
 and poetic imagery is a fair illustration 
 of his power : 
 
 " Cannot God create another world 
 many times more fair, and cast over it a 
 
Edward Irving. 21 
 
 mantle of light many times more lovely, 
 and wash it with purer dew than ever 
 dropped from the eyelids of the morn ? 
 Can He not shut up winter in His hoary 
 caverns, or send him howling over other 
 domains ? Can He not form the crystal 
 eye more full of sweet sensations, and 
 fill the soul with a richer faculty of con- 
 versing with nature than the most gift- 
 ed poet did ever possess ? Think you 
 the creative function of God is exhaust- 
 ed upon this dark and troublous ball of 
 earth ; or that this body and soul of 
 human nature are the masterpiece of 
 His architecture ? Who knows what 
 new enchantment of melody, what new 
 witchery of speech, what poetry of con- 
 ception, what variety of design, and 
 what brilliancy of execution He may en- 
 dow the human faculties withal ? in 
 what new graces He may clothe nature, 
 with such various enchantment of hill 
 and dale, woodland, rushing streams, 
 and living fountains ; with bowers of 
 bliss, and Sabbath scenes of peace, and 
 a thousand forms of disporting crea- 
 
22 Edward Irving. 
 
 tures, so as to make all that the worjd 
 hath beheld to seem like the gross pic- 
 ture with which you catch infants ; and 
 to make the Eastern tale of romances 
 and the most rapt imagination of East- 
 ern poets like the ignorant prattle and 
 rude structures which first delight the 
 nursery, and afterward shame our riper 
 years. . . . Oh, what untried forms 
 of happy being, what cycles of revolv- 
 ing bliss await the just ! Conception 
 cannot reach it, nor experience present 
 materials for the picture of its simili- 
 tude ; and though thus figured out by 
 the choicest emblems, they do no more 
 represent it than the name of Shepherd 
 does the guardianship of Christ, or the 
 name of Father the love of Almighty 
 God." 
 
 Carlyle said that Irving's head, when 
 " the fog-Babylon had not obscured it, 
 was of strong, far-reaching insight ;" 
 and but for his extremely excitable tem- 
 perament and the strange infatuation of 
 a few of his fanatical friends, Irving 
 might have held long the high position 
 
Edward Irving. 23 
 
 for which his remarkable gifts qualified 
 him. His false step was his endorsing; 
 the idea that the gift of tongues, with 
 other primitive endowments of the 
 Church, was still obtainable in answer 
 to prayer. Having been present on sev- 
 eral occasions in his Gothic church when 
 this delusion was manifested by the sup- 
 posed "gifted," the writer; in common 
 with most of the audience, felt the 
 painful conviction that the whole pro- 
 cedure was a fanatic delusion. These 
 hysterical utterances were rightly called 
 " unknown tongues," since they were 
 utterly incoherent and unintelligible to 
 us. But occult as they were to outsid- 
 ers, the " gifted" circle pretended to 
 give them an interpretation. Some- 
 times these eccentric and disturbing 
 persons would burst out with shrill, 
 screaming voices during Irving's ser- 
 mon and put the audience in great, 
 confusion. He would then stop speak- 
 ing, bow his head reverently, and wait 
 until the utterances ceased, which 
 seemed to be the result of sheer ex- 
 
24 Edward Irving. 
 
 haustion. Irving himself was never 
 known to claim the possession of the 
 gift of tongues ; but that he became a 
 victim of the delusion, and gave to it 
 the force of his great influence, there 
 seems to be no doubt. 
 
 Another exciting doctrine, which Irv- 
 ing espoused with no less zeal and ear- 
 nestness, was that of the near approach 
 of the millennium and the final restora- 
 tion of the Jews. He even acquired the 
 Spanish language in order that he might 
 translate a Spanish wor.k that had then 
 just appeared on that subject, professed- 
 ly by a converted Jew — Ben Ezra — on 
 " The Coming of the Messiah." 
 
 Irving seems to have been in advance 
 of his age on another doctrine of the 
 Scriptures — the nature of our Lord's 
 humanity — for he strenuously insisted 
 on the peccability of His body ; and yet 
 he maintained that it was immaculate 
 and free from all taint of sin. Remem- 
 bering how much that subject has been 
 since discussed by our theologians, Irv- 
 ing has done good service to the Church 
 
Edward Irving. 25 
 
 and the progressive interpretation of the 
 Bible. But the tenet was too meta- 
 physical for the Presbytery of Annan in 
 his day ; and in the year preceding his 
 last on earth, that council impeached, 
 tried, and condemned for heresy the 
 great and gifted seeker after truth. 
 But such was the decree of the Presby- 
 tery ; and in thus deposing Irving from 
 the ministry, the gates of the beautiful 
 edifice which his popularity had erected 
 were now closed against him. 
 
 The touching details of his closing 
 days show that he had lost the strong 
 leadership of the flock that now followed 
 him ; and sadness and sorrow accom- 
 panied him even to the tomb. After his 
 expulsion from the church in Regent 
 Square, Irving frequently gathered a 
 crowd in various open places in the 
 metropolis, and preached to crowds 
 from some temporary platform. On 
 one occasion it rained heavily, and yet 
 the services continued under cover of 
 umbrellas. 
 
 Mrs. Oliphant speaks touchingly about 
 
26 Edward Irving. 
 
 the kindly nature of Irving's married 
 relations, and illustrates this by extracts 
 from the " Journal" which he kept dur- 
 ing their temporary separation. This 
 record, she thinks, " has no parallel, 
 perhaps, in modern times — a picture so 
 minute, yet so broad ; a self- revelation so 
 entire ; a witness so wonderful of those 
 household lovesj deepened by mutual 
 suffering and sorrow, which so far tran- 
 scends in its gravity and soberness the 
 more voluble passions of youth, has 
 never, so far as I am aware, been given 
 to the world." 
 
 Thomas Carlyle's last interview with 
 Edward Irving has been given to us in his 
 " Reminiscences." " Proceeding toward 
 Chelsea," he states, " on a bright May 
 day, I noticed in Kensington Gardens a 
 dark male figure sitting between two 
 white female ones under a tree. The for- 
 mer arose and stalked toward me, whom, 
 seeing it was Irving — but how changed 
 in the two years since I had last seen 
 him. He had suddenly become an old 
 man ; his head, which I had left raven 
 
Edward Irving. 27 
 
 black, was grown gray on the temples, 
 almost stone white. The face was hol- 
 low, wrinkly, collapsed ; the figure, still 
 perfectly erect, yet seemed to have lost 
 all its elasticity and strength. He was 
 very kind and loving ; but his tone was 
 low, pensive, and full of sadness." 
 
 The closing scene on earth was nigh 
 — one of touching pathos and sadness ; 
 it occurred at Kirkaldy, the birthplace 
 of his wife. The supreme hour ap- 
 proached when hope of recovery was 
 lost ; he was heard to be murmuring 
 some sonorous syllables to himself ; and 
 as his father-in-law. Rev. Dr. Martin, 
 bent his ear close to him, to his joy he 
 discovered that he was reciting in He- 
 brew the twenty-third Psalm ! 
 
 " As the gloomy December Sabbath 
 sank into the night shadows," says his 
 biographer, " his last audible words on 
 earth fell from his pale lips. The last 
 utterance that could be understood was, 
 ' If I die, I die unto the Lord.' And 
 so at the wintry midnight hour which 
 closed the last Sabbath on earth, the last 
 bonds of mortal trouble dropped asun- 
 
28 Edward Irving. 
 
 der, and the saint and martyr entered 
 into the rest of his Lord." 
 
 His death excited profound sorrow 
 throughout the religious world ; and 
 most of the clergy of the city and sub- 
 urbs followed in solemn and sorrowing 
 procession the remains of him whom 
 they so, lately excommunicated from 
 their order to his final resting-place, in 
 the crypt of the magnificent cathedral 
 of Glasgow. 
 
 Tributes to the exalted character of 
 the subject of this sketch abound ; one 
 or two may sufiBce : 
 
 " No man, no child ever met the 
 warm glance of his eye or heard the 
 kind accents of his blessing but treas- 
 ured the memory ever afterward. The 
 impulse which he gave to larger views 
 of God's love and deeper faith in the 
 presence and power of His Spirit, which 
 as the result the century has received, 
 cannot well be overestimated." 
 
 One of Carlyle's closing sentences 
 reads : " Less mendacious soul of a man 
 than my noble Irving' s there could not 
 well be." 
 
ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Born 1797, died i860. 
 
"To see her kindle into enthusiasm amidst the 
 gorgeous natural beauty, the antique memorials, 
 and the sacred Christian relics of Italy, was a sight 
 which one who witnessed it will never forget. 
 There is not a cypress upon the Roman hills, or a 
 picture in those vast sombre galleries of foreign 
 palaces, or a Catacomb spread out vast and dark 
 under the martyr-churches of the City of the Seven 
 Hills, which is not associated with some vivid 
 flash of her intellect and imagination, and with the 
 dearer recollections of personal kindness." 
 
 — B. R. PARKES. 
 
ANNA JAMESON. 
 
 Among the many distinguished wom- 
 en who have contributed to shed lustre 
 on the Victorian epoch by their noble 
 service in the realm of literature, art, 
 and social life, the name of Anna Jame- 
 son shines conspicuously. Notwith- 
 standing the sadness that overshadowed 
 her earlier days, and other unpropitious 
 events, by the force of genius she sur- 
 mounted all opposing difficulties. 
 
 Her aesthetic and intellectual pursuits 
 and studies, combined with her sympa- 
 thetic nature, ever seeking to ameliorate 
 the sufferings and privations of others, 
 have justly won for her a noble name. 
 She seems to merit the high tribute of 
 the poet : 
 
 " So good a lady, that no tongue could e'er pro- 
 nounce dishonor of her !" 
 
32 Anna Jameson. 
 
 Her earnest efforts in behalf of the 
 higher intellectual culture and educa- 
 tion of women, and their qualification 
 for self-support, gave the first impulse 
 to the great movement for the moral 
 and social elevation of the sex that has 
 proved so prolific of beneficent results.* 
 
 In glancing back at her early life we 
 find that she was born at Dublin in 1 797. 
 Mrs. Jameson's father, Brownell Mur- 
 phy, an associate of Robert Emmett and 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald, was happily 
 saved from sharing their fate by the 
 cares of a large family. He had to go 
 to England to seek a livelihood as a 
 miniature painter just before the final 
 catastrophe of Irish patriotism. After a 
 fairly successful career at Newcastle, he 
 removed to London. Anna, the eldest 
 of several daughters, was called " the 
 
 * We find as the result such institutions established as the 
 Vassar College, the Wellesley College, and many similar noble 
 seats of learning, expressly for the intellectual culture of the 
 fair daughters of our republic, so that in the enlightened 
 American daughter, wife, and mother, in the free American 
 home, we may look for the fairest flower and the highest 
 promise of our advanced civilization. 
 
Anna Jameson. 33 
 
 despot" of the family, but an admired 
 one. Not content with acquiring the 
 French, Italian, and Spanish languages, 
 she also devoted herself to the Oriental 
 disquisitions of Sir William Jones, and 
 composed an Eastern story for the nurs- 
 ery. At sixteen years of age she be- 
 came a governess to Lord Winchester's 
 family. In the mean time she/had fallen 
 in love — or fancied she had — with Cap- 
 tain Robert Jameson. As the result 
 of this, an engagement was contracted 
 between them, and they subsequently 
 were mafried. The nuptial tie had 
 scarce been formed, however, ere it was 
 rent asunder ; for, three days after, .Mr. 
 Jameson announced to her that he in- 
 tended to spend the day with some of 
 his friends, according to his custom. 
 They being unknown to his wife, he 
 gave her simply the option of going with 
 him or remaining at home. She decid- 
 ed on the latter alternative. Her hus- 
 band went alone, to dine and spend the 
 evening with his companions, leaving 
 his bride in neglected solitude. Four 
 
34 Anna Jameson. 
 
 years of her married life was a fitting 
 sequel to such an ominous beginning. 
 A separation was the inevitable result of 
 such a union. Her husband's departure 
 to the West Indies gave Mrs. Jameson 
 an opportunity of seeking her own pur- 
 suits in literature and art undisturbed ; 
 but at this juncture she was invited to 
 accompany her father and Sir Gerard 
 Noel and his daughter on a pleasant and 
 luxurious continental tour. 
 
 During her travels she kept a diary, 
 and this was the nucleus of her first 
 literary production, ' ' The Diary of an 
 Ennuyee." The book was at once a 
 success ; so vivid and fresh were some 
 of its pages, indeed, that one day, when 
 it fell into the hands of Edward Irving, 
 he is said to have devoured it eagerly, 
 and laid it down full of sympathy for 
 the love- griefs and for the early death 
 of the poor ennuyee. A few days later, 
 at the house of Basil Montague, he was 
 presented to Anna Jameson, and told 
 that she was the ennuyee of the 
 "Diary." His face fell, and turning 
 
Anna Jameson. 35 
 
 to the host, he reproached him for hav- 
 ing allowed him to sympathize with the 
 book and its heroine, whom he believed 
 to have been buried in a convent gar- 
 den. 
 
 This ill-assorted marriage seems to 
 have exercised an unfortunate influence 
 over her mind, because it mars in a de- 
 gree all her works, especially her later 
 ones, by fettering the noblest aspira- 
 tions of her genius, instinctively femi- 
 nine, and therefore only capable of feel- 
 ing the full compass of its powers, when 
 devoted to the true and the good. 
 
 In her " Winter Studies and Summer 
 Rambles" she records her observations 
 on Canada and the United States, as far 
 as she travelled. The shadow over 
 these original and spirited pictures is — 
 unhappiness in wedded life ! Every- 
 where she finds marriage a slavery, a 
 sin, or a sorrow. The shaft in her own 
 bosom she plants in that of every other 
 married pair ; like a person with a pain- 
 ful disease, she hears only of the afflict- 
 ed, and fancies the world to be a hos- 
 
36 Anna Jameson. 
 
 pital of incurables. She had naturally 
 a love for the pure and the innocent, a 
 true woman in her warm sympathies 
 with her sex ; and had she been fortu- 
 nate in the connection which possessed 
 for her, as it does for the noblest and 
 purest of both sexes, the holiest ele- 
 ments of happiness and the best oppor- 
 tunities of self-improvement, she would 
 have been a shining light in the onward 
 movement of Christian civilization, in- 
 stead of bowing her woman's soul to 
 human philosophy and deifying the wor- 
 ship of the beautiful in art.* 
 
 Her literary engagements had in- 
 creased since the temporary separation 
 from her husband, and she planned and 
 carried out, among other pursuits, an- 
 other continental tour, with the view of 
 visiting the great galleries of art. In 
 Germany she was greeted with the wel- 
 come she deserved as the author of the 
 " Essay on the Heroines of Shake- 
 speare." Goethe died the year before 
 
 * Hale's " Woman's Record." 
 
Anna Jameson. 37 
 
 Mrs. Jameson reached Weimar, but she 
 found there his daughter-in-law, Ottilie 
 von Goethe, and a close intimacy sprang 
 up between the two ladies. During all 
 these months the home in Canada, to 
 which she looked forward whenever her 
 husband should be fairly established in 
 his new position, seemed farther off than 
 ever. She wrote from Germany to her 
 father, with whom her relations were 
 always endearing, that she had " a let- 
 ter from Canada — as usual very well 
 written, very cold, and very vague ;" 
 but this vagueness gave place at times 
 to words of great bitterness on the part 
 of both. After her return to London 
 and the publication of her " Sketches at 
 Home and Abroad," she was summoned 
 to join her husband at Toronto. On 
 her arrival at New York she was re- 
 ceived by the best society, and remained 
 long enough to reproduce her " Char- 
 acteristics of Women" for American 
 readers. It was during this interval of 
 a few weeks that the writer of this 
 sketch had the privilege of frequently 
 
38 Anna Jameson. 
 
 meeting with this gifted and refined 
 lady. The result of her visit to Canada 
 was most unsatisfactory ; for, instead of 
 finding a home of welcome prepared for 
 her, she was coldly met by her husband, 
 and had the further pain of discovering 
 that other and less regular ties had been 
 formed during her absence. Crushed 
 by this neglect and dishonor, she re- 
 turned to Europe, there to end her days. 
 In her " Characteristics of Women," 
 traits of character are made palpable by 
 her skilful analysis, which had hitherto 
 escaped the notice of critics. She has 
 classified her heroines into characters of 
 intellect, of passion and imagination, 
 Dharacters of the affections and histori- 
 cal characters. It is not the purpose of 
 the writer, however, to follow, even in 
 DUtline, the elaborate and interesting 
 inalysis which she gives. This is her 
 ipostrophe to the characters of pas- 
 sion : " O Love ! thou teacher — O Grief ! 
 ;hou tamer — O Time ! thou healer of 
 luman hearts ! bring hither all your 
 ieep and serious revelations. And ye, 
 
Anna Jameson. 39 
 
 too, rich fancies of unbruised, unbowed 
 youth ; ye visions of long - cherished 
 hopes ; shadows of unborn joys ; gay 
 colorings of the dawn of existence- 
 whatever memory hath treasured up of 
 bright and beautiful nature or in art ; 
 all soft and delicate images ; all lovely 
 forms ; divinest voices and entrancing 
 melodies ; gleams of sunniest skies and 
 fairer climes — live once more in m)' 
 heart. Come thronging around me, 
 all inspirations that wait on passion, on 
 power, or beauty." 
 
 In her preface to the American edi- 
 tion of " Characteristics of Women," 
 published in New York, Mrs. Jameson 
 thus wrote : " My object was not tO' 
 present a complete commentary on all 
 the female characters of Shakespeare's 
 plays ; such an undertaking would have: 
 required much more critical learning 
 than I possess. I must have dived far 
 deeper into that vast, perplexing chaos 
 of tradition, poetry, history, romance, 
 and real life, whence he conjured up 
 spirits of grace, intellect, grandeur, and 
 
40 Anna Jameson. 
 
 bade them stand before us clothed in 
 the aspects and passions of humanity. 
 I could not do this, but I selected a few 
 among the creatures of his art for par- 
 ticular consideration, merely to throw 
 into a pleasing and intelligible form 
 some observations on the natural work- 
 ings of mind and feeling in my own sex, 
 which might lead to good. More than 
 this I never designed ; more than this I 
 never attempted, and what I have at- 
 tempted, I sincerely wish had been done 
 better." 
 
 Her fruitless visit to Toronto ended 
 in October, 1837, and her intercourse 
 with her husband, who allowed her 
 three hundred pounds a year, was 
 thenceforth carried on only by corre- 
 spondence ; but the letters, which grew 
 less and less frequent, had, like the al- 
 lowance, ceased altogether before Cap- 
 tain Jameson's death, in 1854. As yet 
 she had been little more than tentative 
 in her work ; its real development was 
 to come. She took, with her adopted 
 niece, Gerardine Bate, a cottage near 
 
Anna Jameson. 41 
 
 idon, and applied herself to the 
 dy of Art. In 1840 she says in one of 
 letters, " Though there is much to 
 done and endured, I cannot say I am 
 lappy. I am so engrossed by the in- 
 5sts and sufferings of others I have 
 time to think about myself ; besides, 
 ave just undertaken a new book — a 
 orious thing." Mrs. Jameson had 
 •ays the happy faculty of pleasing her 
 ders ; and, consequently, many of 
 more elaborate productions to this 
 r retain their hold upon the cultivat- 
 reader. A contemporary critic has 
 \ said : "It was Mrs. Jameson's task 
 lead her readers through the Chris- 
 1 centuries ; to cull for them the early 
 vers of Paradise, which Giotto and 
 nabue planted ; to recall the tender- 
 forms of medieval fancy, and the 
 rn thoughts of the men who carried 
 as a cross, while they looked for the 
 edy consummation of all things in 
 second advent of the Lord. She 
 I, also, to reproduce the mystic beau- 
 ; of those studios which were cells, 
 
42 Anna Jameson. 
 
 and the dreams of monks who dwelt 
 apart in cloisters." The difficulties of 
 her task were great, but she touched the 
 subjects with a reverent and discreet 
 hand. 
 
 Her book, " Sacred and Legendary 
 Art," was received with acclamations at 
 home and abroad. Longfellow wrote : 
 " God bless you for this book ! How 
 very precious it is to me ! Indeed, I 
 can hardly try to express to you the feel- 
 ings of affection with which I have cher- 
 ished it from the first moment it reached 
 us. It most amply supplies the crav- 
 ings of the religious nature." And this 
 enthusiastic praise has elsewhere been 
 echoed in the Old World. Another 
 beautiful work on Christian Art, to 
 which she devoted herself, was the 
 " Life of the Madonna." Nothing can 
 exceed the beauty and finish of this 
 book, with its hundred and sixty-five 
 engravings, and its twenty-seven etch- 
 ings, illustrating her descriptions in har- 
 monious prose. The last in the series 
 of her great works was " The History of 
 
Anna Jameson. 43 
 
 our Lord," which was designed to pre- 
 sent the combined results of the piety 
 and industry of nineteen Christian cen- 
 turies. The pictures were in great num- 
 bers, and the themes inexhaustible, for 
 the Christ of history was no passing ap- 
 parition. While working at this great 
 subject the pen fell from the hand of 
 the gifted and laborious author, and the 
 unfinished manuscript was confided to 
 Lady Eastlake for completion. This 
 noble work closed the long series of the 
 literary labors of Mrs. Jameson. Her 
 entire productions, as recorded in the 
 catalogue of the British Museum, num- 
 ber not less than forty-eight volumes. 
 These works, it is almost superfluous to 
 add, are replete with romantic and his- 
 toric lore and poetic beauty. The 
 strange mystic symbolism of the early 
 mosaics was to her a legible language ; 
 and in their quaint emblems she could 
 expound the thoughts of the artist of a 
 thousand years ago. 
 
 In one of her papers on the great art- 
 ists, Mrs. Jameson says : "If I were re- 
 
44 Anna Jameson. 
 
 quired to sum up in two great names 
 whatever the art of painting had con- 
 templated and achieved of highest and 
 best, I would invoke Raphael and Titian. 
 The former as the most perfect example 
 of all that has been accomplished in 
 the expression of thought through the 
 medium of form ; the latter of all 
 that has been accomplished in the ex- 
 pression of life through the medium 
 of color. Hence it is, that, while both 
 have given us mind and both have given 
 us beauty — Mind, ever the characteristic 
 of Raphael ; and Beauty, that of Ti- 
 tian !" 
 
 Many distinguished families in Rome, 
 Florence, Dresden, Paris, and elsewhere, 
 as well as in England, will long remem- 
 ber Mrs. Jameson for her brilliant con- 
 versational powers, as well as — with the 
 world of art — for her great service in re- 
 vealing and inspiring greater love for its 
 antique treasures. Indeed, it has been 
 said that " not a cypress on Roman hills 
 exists, or garden on the sweet South 
 land, a picture or statue in the palaces. 
 
Anna Jameson. 45 
 
 churches, or catacombs, which did not 
 kindle of eager, delightful talk from 
 her." She may be said to have lived, 
 notwithstanding her ill-assorted mar- 
 riage, a busy, brilliant, helpful life, and 
 has left a legacy of high thoughts and 
 incentives to noble aims to all women. 
 
 As an illustration of Mrs. Jameson's 
 descriptive power, the following account 
 of her visit to Niagara Falls is present- 
 ed : "As we prepared to walk to the 
 Crescent Fall, I bound some crampons to 
 my feet, like those they use among the 
 Alps, without which I could not have 
 kept my footing on the frozen surface 
 of the snow. As we approached the 
 Table Rock the whole scene assumed a 
 wild and wonderful magnificence ; down 
 came the dark, pure waters, hurrying 
 with them over the edge of the preci- 
 pice enormous blocks of ice, brought 
 down from Lake Erie. On each side of 
 the falls, from the ledges and overhang- 
 ing cliffs, were suspended huge icicles, 
 some twenty, some thirty feet in length, 
 thicker than the body of a man, and in 
 
46 Anna Jameson. 
 
 color of a pale green, like the glaciers 
 of the Alps ; and all the crags below 
 which projected from the boiling, eddy- 
 ing waters were incrusted and in a man- 
 ner built round with ice, which had 
 formed into immense crystals, like ba- 
 saltic columns such as I have seen in the 
 pictures of Staffa and the Giant's Causes 
 way ; and every tree and leaf and 
 branch flinging the rocks and ravines 
 were wrought in ice. On them and on 
 the wooden buildings erected near the 
 Table Rock the spray from the cataract 
 had accumulated and formed into the 
 most beautiful crystals and tracery 
 work ; they looked like houses of glass, 
 welded and moulded into regular orna- 
 mental shapes, and hung round with a 
 rich fringe of icy points. Wherever we 
 stood we were on unsafe ground, for the 
 snow, when heaped up, as then, to the 
 height of three or four feet, frequently 
 slipped in masses from the bare rock ; 
 and on its surface the spray, forever 
 falling, was converted into a sheet of 
 ice, smooth, compact, and glassy, on 
 
Anna Jameson. 47 
 
 which I could not have stood a moment 
 without my crampons. It was very fear- 
 ful ; and yet I could not tear myself 
 away, but remained on the Table Rock, 
 even on the very edge of it, till a kind 
 of dreamy fascination came over me. 
 The continuous thunder and might and 
 movement of the lapsing waters held all 
 my vital spirits bound up as by a spell. 
 Then, as at last I turned away, the de- 
 scending sun broke out, and an iris ap- 
 peared below the American Falls, one 
 extremity resting on a snow mound ; 
 and motionless, there it hung in the 
 midst of restless terrors, its beautiful 
 but rather pale hues contfasting with 
 the death-like, colorless objects around 
 — it reminded me of the faint, ethereal 
 smile of a dying martyr. ... It was 
 near midnight when we mounted our 
 sleigh to letutn to the town of Niagara, 
 and as I remember, I did not utter a 
 word during the Whole fourteen miles. 
 The air was still, though keen ; the 
 snow lay around ; the whole earth 
 seemed to slumber in the ghastly, calm 
 
48 Anna Jameson. 
 
 repose ; but the heavens were wide 
 awake. There the aurora borealis was 
 holding- her revels, and dancing and 
 flashing and varying through all shapes 
 and all hues — pale amber, rose tint, blood 
 red — and the stars shone out with a fit- 
 ful, restless brilliance ; while every now 
 and then a meteor would shoot athwart 
 the skies or fall to earth ; and all around 
 me was wild and strange and exciting 
 — more like a fever dream than a real- 
 ity. . . • We drove along the road above 
 the falls ; there was the wide river 
 spreading like a vast lake, then narrow- 
 ing, boiling, and foaming along in a cur- 
 rent of eighteen miles an hour, till it 
 swept over the Crescent Rock in a sheet 
 of emerald green, and threw up the sil- 
 ver clouds of spray into the clear blue 
 sky. Now the fresh, luxurious verdure 
 of the woods, relieved against the dark 
 pine forest, added to the beauty of the 
 scene. After dinner I returned to the 
 hotel by the light of a full moon, be- 
 neath which the falls looked magnifi- 
 cently mysterious — part glancing silver 
 
Anna Jameson, 49 
 
 light, and part dark shadow, mingled with 
 fleecy folds of spray, over which floated 
 a soft, sleepy gleam ; and in the midst 
 of this tremendous velocity of motion 
 and eternity of sound there was a deep, 
 deep repose, as in a dream. It im- 
 pressed me for the time like something 
 supernatural — a vision, not a reality." 
 
 Among her literary friends in this 
 country may be named Irving, Longfel- 
 low, Channing, and Catherine Sedg- 
 wick ; and when she returned home she 
 was cordially welcomed in London and 
 elsewhere by numerous old friends, 
 among them Mrs. Austin — whose hus- 
 band Mrs. Jameson refers to as "a hyp- 
 ochondriac" — Fanny Kemble, Rogers, 
 Wordsworth, Mrs. Browning — then Miss 
 Barrett — of whose odd "honeymoon" 
 flitting to Pisa she was some years later 
 the companion ; Marie Edgworth, Lady 
 Byron, Thackeray, etc. On her pres- 
 entation to the Queen of her " Hand- 
 book to the Royal and Private Galleries 
 of the British Nobility," her majesty, 
 with smiling face, thanked Mrs. Jama- 
 
50 Anna Jameson. 
 
 son, and took it to show Prince Al- 
 bert. 
 
 Her " Commonplace Book of 
 Thoughts, Memories, and Fancies" has 
 justly been characterized as " a beauti- 
 ful book of a beautiful writer ;" it is re- 
 plete with words of wisdom, deeply felt 
 and calmly pondered. "Wisdom and 
 the law of kindness" are pre-eminently 
 characteristic of the ethical and critical 
 writings of Mrs. Jameson. " Hers is the 
 commonplace book of no commonplace 
 woman, but of one naturally and habitu- 
 ally meditative." One of her senten- 
 tious aphorisms, well worth repeating, 
 is the following : " The bread of life is 
 love ; the salt of life is work ; the sweet- 
 ness of life, poesy ; the water of life, 
 faith." 
 
 The following piquant episode we cite 
 from Mrs. Jameson's " Commonplace 
 Book," a volume which has been defined 
 as " full of a thousand melodious sug- 
 gestions, undertones of sentiment and 
 feeling, and beautiful fragments of 
 thought" ; " When travelling in Ire- 
 
Anna Jameson. 51 
 
 land, I stayed over one Sunday in a cer- 
 tain town in the north, and rambled out 
 early in the morning. It was cold and 
 wet, the streets empty and quiet, but the 
 sound of voices drew me in one direc- 
 tion down a court where there was a 
 Roman Catholic chapel. It was so 
 crowded that many of the congregation 
 stood round the door. I remarked 
 among them a number of soldiers and 
 most miserable-looking women. All 
 made way for me with true national 
 courtesy, and I entered at the moment 
 the priest was finishing mass and about 
 to begin his sermon. There was no pul- 
 pit, and he stood on the steps of the 
 altar — a fine-looking man, with a bright 
 face, a sonorous voice, and a very strong 
 Irish accent. His tqxt was from Matt. 
 5 : 43, 44. He began by explaining what 
 Christ really meant by the words, ' Love 
 thy neighbor,' then drew a picture in 
 contrast of hatred and dissension, com- 
 mencing with dissensions in families, be- 
 tween kindred and between husband and 
 wife. Then he made a most touching 
 
52 Anna Jameson. 
 
 appeal in behalf of children brought up 
 in an atmosphere of contention, where 
 no love is. ' God help them ; God pity 
 them ! Small chance for them of being 
 either good or happy, for their young 
 hearts are saddened and soured with 
 strife, and they eat their bread in bitter- 
 ness.' Then he preached patience to 
 the wives, indulgence to the husbands, 
 and denounced scolds and quarrelsome 
 women in a manner that seemed to 
 glance at recent events. ' When ye are 
 found in the streets vilifying and slan- 
 dering one another — ay, fighting and 
 tearing each other's hair — do ye think 
 ye're women? No, ye'renot; ye're dev- 
 ils incarnate, and ye'll go where the devils 
 will be fit companions for ye ! ' (Here 
 some women near me, with long black 
 hair streaming down, fell on their knees, 
 sobbing with contrition.) He then went 
 on in the same strain of homely elo- 
 quence to the evils of political and re- 
 ligious hatred, and quoted the text, ' If 
 it be possible, as much as lieth in you, 
 live peaceably with all men.' ' I'm a 
 
Anna Jaineson. 53 
 
 Catholic,' he went on, 'and I believe in the 
 truth of my own religion above all others. 
 I'm convinced, by long study and ob- 
 servation, it's the best that is ; but what 
 then ? Do you think I hate my neigh- 
 bor because he thinks differently ? Do 
 ye think I mane to force my religion 
 down other people's throats ? ' . . . 
 The fights, domestic and political, the 
 rich without care for the poor, and the 
 poor without food or work — all arose 
 from nothing but the want of love. 
 ' Down on your knees,' he exclaimed, 
 ' and ask God's mercy and pardon ; and 
 as ye hope to find it, ask pardon of one an- 
 other for every angry word ye have 
 spoken, for every uncharitable thought 
 that has come into your minds ; and if 
 any man or woman have aught against 
 his neighbor, no matter what, let it be 
 plucked out of his heart before he leaves 
 this place ; let it be forgotten at the 
 door of this chapel. Let me, your pas- 
 tor, have no more rason to be ashamed 
 of you, as if I were set over wild bastes 
 instead of Christian men and women ! ' 
 
54 Anna Jameson. 
 
 After more in this fervid strain, which I 
 cannot recollect, he gave his blessing in 
 the same earnest, heart-felt manner. I 
 never saw a congregation more attentive, 
 more reverent, and apparently more 
 touched and edified." . . . A very dif- 
 ferent sketch is the following from her 
 versatile pen ; but it will doubtless in- 
 terest many readers. She writes from 
 Brighton, and thus refers to the eminent 
 clergyman of that day. Rev. Mr. Rob- 
 ertson : " My great pleasure is to hear 
 Mr. Robertson preach. I never heard 
 anything to equal him in eloquence — 
 really fine speaking, not mere fervor 
 and fluency ; a logical distribution of 
 his subject and an entire command of 
 himself and his own power, as well as of 
 his audience." 
 
 As the following letter possesses a 
 compound interest, it may be well to 
 transcribe it in full. It was Mr. Long- 
 fellow who thus addressed her from 
 Cambridge, Mass. : 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Jameson : Having many 
 
Anna Jameson. 55 
 
 friends, who are your friends and ad- 
 mirers, and none more so than my own 
 wife, I venture to smuggle myself in 
 among them at this season, and wish you 
 all the good wishes of the New Year. I 
 beg you to accept a volume of poems 
 which I have just published, and in 
 which I hope there may be something 
 that will give you pleasure — you, who 
 have given me so much, particularly 
 your last work, ' Sacred and Legendary 
 Art.' How very precious it is to me ; 
 indeed, I shall hardly try to express to 
 you the feelings of affection with which 
 I have cherished it from the first moment 
 it reached us. It most amply supplies 
 the cravings of the religious sentiment, 
 of 'the spiritual nature within. It pro- 
 duces in my soul the same effect that 
 great organists have produced by lay- 
 ing slight weights upon certain keys of 
 their instruments, thus keeping an un- 
 broken flow of melody, while their fin- 
 gers are busy with the other keys and 
 stops. And there let these volumes lie, 
 pressing just enough upon my thoughts 
 
56 Anna Jameson. 
 
 . to make perpetual music. God bless 
 you for this book ! 
 
 " Your sincere friend, 
 
 " Henry W. Longfellow." 
 
 It may not be thought inappropriate, 
 indeed, here to cite the opinion of a 
 critic in the Irish Quarterly Review, who 
 thus wrote : " There is not one in the 
 whole noble band of English female 
 writers from the Duchess of Newcastle, 
 of whose life of her husband Charles 
 Lamb wrote, ' No casket is rich enough, 
 no casing sufficiently durable to honor 
 and keep safe such a jewel ' — to Hannah 
 More, of whom Sydney Smith said, ban- 
 tering, that he spoke timidly of her, as 
 of a mysterious and superior being — 
 more worthy of the great praise be- 
 stowed upon her works than Mrs. Jame- 
 son." The same authority continues : 
 " Growing up in all the refined natural 
 tastes of a very woman, Mrs. Jameson 
 has become the mental anatomist of her 
 sex. It must be acknowledged that, 
 while claiming the fullest and highest 
 
Anna Jameson. 57 
 
 position in the ranks of human nature, 
 she has never become in the most re- 
 mote degree a woman's rights advocate. 
 With ability of the highest order, gifted 
 with energy of mind, and endowed with 
 great and eloquent powers of expres- 
 sion, she has always been mindful of the 
 truth, that the qualities making woman 
 glorious and equal to man are not the 
 qualities which induce women to de- 
 mand equality with men. ' ' 
 
 Her essays on the social relations of 
 mothers and governesses — a topic which 
 she was well qualified to discuss, from 
 her own varied experience — are marked 
 by wise suggestions, and many of them 
 have been applied to the removal of then 
 existing evils. In her later years she 
 took up a succession of subjects, all 
 bearing on the same principles of active 
 benevolence, and the best way of carry- 
 ing them into operation. Indeed, it has 
 been remarked that during the later 
 part of her life Mrs. Jameson was con- 
 sidered not only the patron, but the 
 counsellor, of her sex in England. 
 
58 Anna Jameson. 
 
 "Women in mental anguish needing con- 
 solation and advice " fled to her, as to 
 a convent, for protection and guid- 
 ance." Her published appeals and 
 efforts in behalf of her dependent sis- 
 terhood naturally led them to seek her 
 assistance, sympathy, and counsel ; and 
 she devoted herself generously to minis- 
 tering to their succor and aid. 
 
 A glimpse of the personal struggles 
 through which she passed may be 
 caught in the following extract from 
 one of her letters : " Outwardly I stand 
 in the world an enviable being ; inward- 
 ly it is a hard struggle. Of how many 
 women might the history be comprised 
 in these few words, ' She lived, suffered, 
 and was buried ! ' " Yet at the time 
 she wrote to another : " I accept about 
 one invitation out of three, for I have 
 something better to do than to stand 
 dangling in a court circle talking noth- 
 ing." She seems to have devoted her- 
 self to literature and art not only from 
 a pure love of such studies, but because 
 it was necessary to her support and 
 
Anna Jameson. 59 
 
 those of her family who were dependent 
 upon her. 
 
 From her earliest recollections she 
 seems to have had an instinctive love of 
 natural beauty ; and this sense of the 
 beautiful in nature gave her the zest for 
 poetry. Shakespeare's dramas she had 
 read when only ten years old ; the 
 " Tempest" and " Cymbeliiie" were the 
 plays she liked and knew the best. 
 Nor should it be forgotten, as charac- 
 teristic of the quality of her child life, 
 her sensibility to music. 
 
 Those who knew her best attest by 
 their glowiAg tribute to her memory 
 how much she was loved and honored 
 in the domestic circles that she visited, 
 both in her native land and elsewhere. 
 
 Her death, in March, i860, which was 
 sudden, was caused by inflammation of 
 the lungs, superinduced by cold caught 
 during a winter visit from Brighton to 
 the British Museum. There is a touch- 
 ing incident connected with the " Mem^ 
 oirs of Anna Jameson." While this 
 tribute of loving remembrance was 
 
6o Anna Jameson. 
 
 being prepared for the press, her niece 
 died, and it was left to Mrs. Oliphant 
 to bestow the final revision as a tribute 
 of love to both. So that this very grace- 
 ful sketch of a very graceful writer has 
 an additional element of pathos in the 
 fact that the volume is an epitaph at 
 once on its heroine and its author. 
 
 In fine, no one can read the loving 
 biography of Mrs. Jameson, by her 
 favorite niece, in connection with the 
 few pages of the postscript, without a 
 pang of sympathy and pity. " There we 
 find how hard was the last chapter of 
 Geraldine's existence, after many years 
 of not unprosperous nor unhappy, yet 
 far from tranquil married life, which fol- 
 lowed her union with Robert Macpher- 
 son, once a very well-known figure in 
 Rome. He died in 1873, leaving her 
 penniless and overwhelmed with debt. 
 It may well be said that the writer of the 
 book has given us with the subject of 
 her biography her own touching memo- 
 rial. 
 
 Analyzing for us the great art produc- 
 
Anna Jameson. 6 1 
 
 tions of the ages, Mrs. Jameson's name 
 is also associated with a series of benefi- 
 cent services in behalf of her sex. In 
 the opinion and words of Lady Eastlake, 
 ■ the most valuable of all.' She began 
 her literary career by analyzing books, 
 she proceeded to analyze works of art, 
 and she ended by analyzing society. It 
 was a natural supplement to a course of 
 varied personal experience, and no little 
 struggle, that her attention should be 
 directed to the great moral questions of 
 the day, and especially to those affect- 
 ing the education, occupations, and 
 maintenance of her own sex. Her early 
 essay on the ' Relative Social Position 
 of Mothers and Governesses ' is a mas- 
 terpiece. She knew both sides ; and in 
 no respect does she more clearly prove 
 the falseness of the position she de- 
 scribes than in the certainty with which 
 she predicts its eventual reform. . . . 
 In her later years she took up a succes- 
 sion of subjects all bearing on the same 
 principles of active benevolence, and the 
 best ways of carrying them into prac- 
 
62 Anna Jameson. 
 
 tice. Sisters of charity, hospitals, peni- 
 tentiaries, prisons, and workhouses all 
 claimed her interest ; all more or less 
 included under those definitions of ' the 
 communion of love and communion of 
 labor, ' which are inseparably connected 
 with her memory. To the clear and 
 temperate forms in which she brought 
 the results of her convictions before her 
 friends in the form of private lectures, 
 subsequently printed, may be traced the 
 source whence living reformers and 
 philanthropists took counsel and cour- 
 age." 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 Borji 1783, died 1859. 
 
" One kindly advised him to avoid the ludicrous ; 
 another to shun the pathetic ; a third assured him 
 that he was tolerable at description, but cautioned 
 him to leave narrative alone ; while a fourth de- 
 clared that he had a very pretty knack at turning- 
 a story, and was really entertaining when in a 
 pensive mood, but was grievously mistaken if he 
 imagined himself to possess a spirit of humor." — 
 Irving' s account of himself in his " Sketch Book." 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 In a sequestered rural retreat, some 
 twenty-five miles from the din of city life, 
 half hid among thick foliage, through 
 which the tourist may catch glimpses of 
 an antique, grotesque-looking cottage 
 known as ' ' Sunnyside, ' ' was the home of 
 Washington Irving. It is an enchanting 
 little nook, charmingly diversified with 
 upland, lawn, and dell, rock and rivulet, 
 with no sound to disturb save that of rust- 
 ling leaf, humming insect, or voice of 
 feathered songster. There is an air of 
 quaintness about it even yet ; for it was, 
 to some extent, an exponent of the mind 
 and taste of its illustrious occupant. 
 This picturesque domicile he had mod- 
 ernized and decorated with sundry im- 
 provements ; and as nature had already 
 decked it with leafy luxuriance and 
 
66 Washington Irving. 
 
 beauty, we need not wonder that these 
 environments charmed Irving's fancy 
 and taste, or that it should have become 
 the site of attraction to his legend-lov- 
 ing pen ; and thus it has become 
 charmed with a spirit of fairy legend 
 and romance that will hereafter ever 
 hover over the spot. 
 
 Let the pen that has so felicitously 
 chronicled the legendary lore of the 
 Hudson be here cited for further de- 
 tails : 
 
 " It was a lowly edifice, built in the 
 time of the Dutch dynasty, and stood 
 on a green bank, overshadowed by trees, 
 from which it peeped forth upon the 
 Great Tappan Zee, so famous among 
 early Dutch navigators. Though but 
 of small dimensions, yet, like many 
 small people, it is of mighty spirit, and 
 values itself greatly on its antiquity, 
 being one of the oldest edifices for its 
 size in the whole country. This doughty 
 and valorous little pile claims to be an an- 
 cient seat of empire — I may rather say, 
 an empire in itself — and, like all em- 
 
Washington Irving. 67 
 
 pires, great and small, has had its grand 
 historical epochs. Its origin, in truth, 
 dates far back in that remote region 
 commonly called the fabulous age, in 
 which vulgar fact becomes mystified 
 and tinted up with delectable fiction. 
 A bright, pure spring welled up at the 
 foot of the green bank ; a wild brook 
 came babbling down a neighboring 
 ravine, and threw itself into a little 
 woody cove in front of the mansion. It 
 was indeed as quiet and sheltered a 
 nook as the heart of man could require 
 in which to take refuge from the cares 
 and troubles of the world ; and as such 
 it had been chosen in old times, by Wol- 
 fert Acker, one of the privy councillors 
 of the renowned Peter Stuyvesant. 
 This worthy but ill-starred man had led 
 a weary and worried life throughout the 
 stormy reign of the chivalric Peter, 
 being one of those unlucky wights with 
 whom the world is ever at variance, and 
 who are kept in a continual fume and 
 fret by the wickedness of mankind. At 
 the time of the subjugation of the prov- 
 
68 Washington Irving. 
 
 ince by the English, he retired hither in 
 high dudgeon, with the bitter determina- 
 tion to bury himself from the world, and 
 live here in peace and quietness for the 
 remainder of his days. 
 
 " In token of this fixed resolution he 
 inscribed over his door the favorite 
 Dutch motto, ' Lust in Rust ' (pleasure 
 in repose). The mansion was thence 
 called 'Wolf art's Rust ' —Wolf ert's 
 Rest ; but in process of time the name 
 was vitiated into Wolf ert's Roost, proba- 
 bly from its quaint cockloft look, or 
 from its having a weather-cock perched 
 on every gable. 
 
 " Here, then, have I set up my rest, 
 surrounded by the recollections of early 
 days and the mementoes of the historian 
 of the Manhattoes, with that glorious 
 river before me which flows with such 
 majesty through his works, and which 
 has ever been to me a river of delight. 
 I thank God I was born on the banks 
 of the Hudson. I think it an invaluable 
 advantage to be born and brought up in 
 the neighborhood of some grand and 
 
Washington Irving. 69 
 
 noble object in nature — a river, a lake, 
 or a mountain. We make a friendship 
 with it, we in a manner ally ourselves to 
 it for life. It remains an object of our 
 pride and affection, a rallying-point to 
 call us home again after all our wander- 
 ings. ' The things which we have 
 learned in our childhood,' says ah old 
 writer, ' grow up with our soul and 
 unite themselves to it.' So it is with 
 the scenes among which we have passed 
 our early days ; they influence the whole 
 course of our thoughts and feelings, and 
 I fancy I can trace much of what is good 
 and pleasant in my own heterogeneous 
 compound to my early companionship 
 with this glorious river. In the warmth 
 of my youthful enthusiasm I used to 
 clothe it with moral attributes and al- 
 most to give it a soul. I admired its 
 frank, bold, honest character, its noble 
 sincerity and perfect truth. Here was 
 no specious, smiling, surface covering 
 the dangerous sand-bar or perfidious 
 rock, but a stream deep as it was broad, 
 and bearing with honorable faith the 
 
yo Washington Irving. 
 
 bark that trusted to its waves. I gloried 
 in its simple, quiet, majestic, epic flow, 
 ever straight forward. Once, indeed, 
 it turns aside for a moment, forced from 
 its course by opposing mountains, but 
 it struggles bravely through them and 
 immediately resumes its straightforward 
 march. Behold, thought I, an emblem 
 of a good man's course through life, 
 ever simple, open, and direct ; or if, 
 overpowered by adverse circumstances, 
 he deviate into error, it is but momen- 
 tary, he soon recovers his onward and 
 honorable career, and continues it to 
 the end of his pilgrimage. The Hudson 
 is, in a manner, my first and last love, 
 and after all my wanderings and seem- 
 ing infidelities I return to it with a heart- 
 felt preference over all the other rivers 
 in the world." 
 
 Among the clustered beauties and his- 
 toric relics of " Sunnyside" may be 
 mentioned the rich trailing ivy which 
 almost covers the study window. This 
 was planted from a slip originally 
 brought from Melrose Abbey and pre- 
 
Washington -Irving. 71 
 
 sented by Sir Walter Scott to Mrs. Fen- 
 wick, a friend of Irving' s, and who was 
 celebrated in song by Burns. Here 
 lived our first, if not foremost, repre- 
 sentative in American letters ; and here 
 he spent the last twenty happy years of 
 his honored and fruitful life. It is not 
 surprising that one to whom American 
 letters owes so much should also, by 
 his distinguished literary fame, as well 
 as his eminent personal character, have 
 won from so many loving testimonials 
 of personal esteem. As the writer of 
 the present sketch had the good fortune 
 to share the honor of his acquaintance 
 for over a score of years, he may be per- 
 mitted to add this to those numerous 
 tributes to the memory of the genial and 
 gifted author of the "Sketch Book,'" 
 " Geoffrey Crayon, Gent." 
 
 When Mr. Irving was in England, and 
 before he commenced his literary career, 
 his friends proposed that he should be 
 introduced to Mr. William Roscoe, of 
 Liverpool, the historian of Leo X. and 
 other well-known works. Acting upon 
 
72 Washington Irving. 
 
 the suggestion, he visited Mr. Roscoe. 
 Unknown to Mr. Irving, some friend 
 had, previously to their interview, put 
 into the hands of Mr. Roscoe several of 
 the early contributions of Mr. Irving 
 which were printed in the " Portfolio." 
 Among them was a paper on the 
 "Aborigines of America," and it was 
 to this that Mr. Roscoe referred with 
 especial commendation. Mr. Irving, in 
 a quiet way, replied that he fully agreed 
 with him in his estimate of that paper, 
 as it was the production of a friend of 
 his, Mr. Henry Brevoort, of New York. 
 From that time Roscoe became interest- 
 ed in Irving' s career ; and the reader 
 will not need to be reminded of the fact, 
 as it is on record in the " Sketch Book." 
 This incident suggests another and later 
 event, which may not be inaptly cited 
 here. 
 
 The description of the meeting of Irv- 
 ing and Scott is so characteristic of both 
 those eminent men that it cannot fail to 
 be of lasting interest. Late in the even- 
 ing of August 29th, 1817, Irving reached 
 
Washington Irving. 73 
 
 the town of Selkirk, where he lodged for 
 the night. " I had come from Edin- 
 burgh," he wrote, " partly to visit Mel- 
 rose Abbey and its vicinity, but chiefly 
 to get a sight of the ' mighty minstrel 
 of the north.' I had a letter of intro- 
 duction to him from Thomas Campbell, 
 the poet, and had reason to think, from 
 the interest he had taken in some of my 
 earlier scribblings, that a visit from me 
 would not be deemed an intrusion. On 
 the following morning I set off in a post- 
 chaise for the abbey. On the way thith- 
 er I stopped at the gate of Abbotsford, 
 and sent the postilion to the house 
 with the letter of introduction and my 
 card, on which I had written that I was 
 on my way to the ruins of Melrose Ab- 
 bey, and wished to know whether it 
 would be agreeable to him to receive a 
 visit from me in the course of the morn- 
 ing. The noise of the vehicle had dis- 
 turbed the quiet of the establishment. 
 Out sallied the warder of the castle — a 
 black greyhound — and leaping on one of 
 the blocks of stone, began a furious 
 
74 Washington Irving. 
 
 barking ; his alarm brought out the 
 whole garrison of dogs, ' both puppy, 
 mongrel, whelp and hound, and curs of 
 low degree,' all open-mouthed and 
 vociferous. In a little while the ' lord 
 of the castle ' himself made his appear- 
 ance. I knew him at once, by the de- 
 scriptions I had read and heard and the 
 likenesses I had seen of him. He was 
 tall and of a large and powerful frame ; 
 his dress was simple, almost rustic — an 
 old green shooting-coat, with a dog- 
 whistle at the buttonhole ; brown linen 
 pantaloons, stout shoes that tied at the 
 ankles, and a white hat that had evi- 
 dently seen service. He came limping 
 up the gravel walk, aiding himself by a 
 stout walking staff, but moving rapidly 
 and with vigor. By his side jogged 
 along a large iron-gray stag-hound of 
 the most grave deportment, taking no 
 part in the clamor of the canine rabble, 
 but seeming to consider himself bound, 
 for the dignity of the house, to give me 
 a courteous reception. Before Scott 
 had reached the gate he called out in a 
 
Washington Irving. 75 
 
 hearty tone, welcoming me to Abbots- 
 ford. 
 
 " I soon felt myself quite at home and 
 my heart in a glow with the cordial wel- 
 come I experienced. I had thought to 
 make a mere morning visit, but found I 
 was not to be let off so lightly. ' You 
 must not think our neighborhood is to 
 be read in a morning, like a newspaper,' 
 said Scott. ' It takes several days of 
 study for an observant traveller that has 
 a relish fpr auld-world trumpery. After 
 breakfast you shall make your visit to 
 Melrose Abbey. I shall not be able to 
 accompany you, as I have some house- 
 hold affairs to attend to ; but I will put 
 you in charge of my son Charles, who is 
 very learned in all things touching the 
 old ruin and the neighborhood it stands 
 in ; and he and my friend, Johnny 
 Bower, will tell you the whole truth 
 about it, with a great deal more that 
 you are not called upon to believe un- 
 less you be a true and nothing-doubting 
 antiquary. To-morrow we will take a 
 look at the Yarrow, and the next day we 
 
"jt Washington Irving. 
 
 will drive over to Dryburgh Abbey, 
 which is a fine old ruin well worth your 
 seeing' — in a word, before Scott had got 
 through with his plan, I found myself 
 committed for a visit of several days ; 
 and it seemed as if a little realm of ro- 
 mance had opened suddenly before 
 me. . . . On the following morning 
 the sun darted his beams from over the 
 hills through the low lattice window. I 
 rose at an early hour and looked out be- 
 tween the branches of eglantine which 
 overhung the casement. To my sur- 
 prise, Scott was already up and forth, 
 seated on a fragment of stone chatting 
 with the workmen employed on the new 
 building. I soon joined, when he talked 
 about his proposed plans of Abbotsford. 
 Happy would it have been for him could 
 he have contented himself with his de- 
 lightful little vine-covered cottage and 
 the simple yet hearty, hospitable style 
 in which he lived at the time of my 
 visit. The great pile of Abbotsford, 
 with the huge expense it entailed upon 
 him — of servants, retainers, guests, and 
 
Washington Irving. jj 
 
 baronial style, was a drain upon his 
 purse, a tax upon his exertions, and a 
 weight upon his mind that finally 
 crushed him. . . . During several 
 days that I had passed there Scott was 
 in admirable vein ; from early morn 
 until dinner-time he was rambling about 
 With me ; no time was reserved for him- 
 self ; he seemed as if his only occupa- 
 tion was to entertain me, and yet I was 
 almost an entire stranger to him — one of 
 whom he knew nothing but an idle book 
 1 had written, and which some years be- 
 fore had amused him. But such was 
 Scott. The conversation of my host 
 was frank, hearty, picturesque, and 
 dramatic. At the time of my visit he 
 inclined to the comic rather than the 
 grave in his anecdotes and stories ; he 
 relished a joke or a trait of humor in 
 social intercourse, and laughed with 
 right good will. It was delightful to 
 observe the generous spirit in which he 
 spoke of all his literary contempora- 
 ries. ... In fine, I consider it one of 
 the greatest advantages that I have de- 
 
78 Washington Irving. 
 
 rived from my literary career that it has 
 elevated me into genial communion with 
 such a spirit." 
 
 To complete the touching picture — 
 the greeting and the parting of two kin- 
 dred immortals — Irving' s own descrip- 
 tion of their last interview is annexed : 
 
 ' ' I was in London when Scott arrived 
 after his attack of paralysis, on his way 
 to the continent in search of health. I 
 received a note from Lockhart begging 
 me to come and take dinner with Scott 
 and himself the next day. When I en- 
 tered the room Scott grasped my hand 
 and looked me steadfastly in the face. 
 ' Time has dealt gently with you, my 
 friend, since we parted,' he exclaimed — 
 he referred to the difference in himself 
 since we had met. At dinner I could 
 see that Scott's mind was failing ; he 
 was painfully conscious of it himself. 
 He would talk with much animation, 
 and we would listen with the most re- 
 spectful attention ; but there was an 
 effort and an embarrassment in his man- 
 ner — he kneW' all was not right. It was 
 
Washington Irving. 79 
 
 very distressing, and we tried to keep 
 up the conversation between ourselves, 
 that Sir Walter might talk as little as 
 possible. After dinner he took my arm 
 to walk upstairs, which he did with diffi- 
 culty. He turned and looked in my 
 face and said, ' They need not tell a 
 man his mind is not affected when his 
 body is as much affected as mine.' . 
 This was my last interview with Scott." 
 Few could have valued his friend more 
 highly or deplored his loss more keenly 
 than did Irving his early and fast friend, 
 Scott. These are some of his words : 
 ' ' Of his public character and merits all 
 the world can judge. His works have in- 
 corporated themselves with the thoughts 
 and concerns of the whole civilized world 
 for a quarter of a century, and have had 
 a controlling influence over the age in 
 which he lived. But when did a human 
 being ever exercise an influence more 
 salutary and benignant ? Who is there 
 that, on looking back over a great por- 
 tion of his life, does not find the genius 
 of Scott administering to his pleasures, 
 
8o Washington Irving. 
 
 beguiling his cares, soothing his lonely- 
 sorrows ? When I consider how much 
 he has thus contributed to the better 
 hours of my past existence, I bless my 
 stars that cast my lot in his days ; and 
 as a tribute of gratitude for his friend- 
 ship and veneration for his memory, 
 I cast this humble stone upon his 
 cairn." 
 
 The writer of this paper first knew 
 Mr. Irving in the year 1837, through an 
 introductory letter from Mr. Charles 
 Macfarlane, the author of several well- 
 known books on Italy, Turkey, etc., 
 who met Mr. Irving at Milan and else- 
 where during their continental travels. 
 It is with a feeling of unmingled satis- 
 faction and pleasure that he looks back 
 to those early days, as Mr. Irving uni- 
 formly evinced a warm interest and sym- 
 pathy in co-operating by his influence 
 and name in an enterprise which in- 
 volved the whole " republic of letters." 
 A few years later, upon the occasion of 
 a banquet given in New York in honor 
 of Mr. Charles Dickens' first visit to this 
 
Washington Irving. 8i 
 
 country, Mr. Irving was requested to 
 preside. Although against his inclina- 
 tion, being unaccustomed to make pub- 
 lic addresses, yet his modesty was over- 
 ruled, and, under protest, he had to 
 become chairman. He predicted his 
 failure, and the event verified it ; for 
 after a few introductory words he 
 paused, and then made an effort to ad- 
 dress the great assembly ; but again be- 
 coming embarrassed, took refuge in the 
 announcement of the toast, " Charles 
 Dickens, the guest of the nation." The 
 scene was one the writer will not forget. 
 Resuming his seat amid the responsive 
 and tumultuous applause, Irving whis- 
 pered to those near to him, "There, I 
 told you I should fail, and I have done 
 it." This amusing incident suggests 
 another, which was almost the counter- 
 part of the above. 
 
 In 1842, when in London, Mr. Irving 
 was an invited guest at the meeting of 
 the " Literary Fund" dinner, which was 
 presided over by Prince Albert. The 
 company was a brilliant constellation of 
 
82 Washington Irving. 
 
 intellectual luminaries — historians, sci- 
 entists, and poets ; among them were 
 Hallam, Talford, Moore, Campbell, 
 James, Lord Mahon, and Edward Ever- 
 ett, our minister. Irving was, of course, 
 toasted ; and it is said that his respon- 
 sive speech was compressed within the 
 narrow limits of nine words ! 
 
 Passing over a rather extended inter- 
 val, duiing which occurred Mr. Irving's 
 absence abroad, the next incident mem- 
 ory recalls is that of the public welcome 
 which was tendered to Irving by the 
 publishers and booksellers of the city of 
 New York upon his return to his native 
 land. This was in the autumn of 1855. 
 The fame of our author was then at its 
 zenith, and many of our most distin- 
 guished men of letters assembled to do 
 him honor. Among them were James 
 Fenimore Cooper, Daniel Webster, 
 George Bancroft, and many others. Mr. 
 Irving- on this occasion, being among 
 his literary confreres and his good 
 friends the publishers, felt more at his 
 ease, and he consequently got through 
 
Washington Irving. 83 
 
 with his after-dinner speech without em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 Mr. Irving, who was a friend and fre- 
 quent visitor of Mr. Astor, doubtless 
 encouraged, conjointly with Dr. J. G. 
 Cogswell, the project of founding a 
 public Library, when Mr. Astor, desir- 
 ing to render a public benefit to the 
 city of New York, was still undecided 
 what form it should take. Whether a 
 Library was first suggested by them, 
 or whether it was due entirely to the 
 impulse of his own generous purpose, 
 it may safely be affirmed that such 
 a project could not fail of meeting 
 with the hearty concurrence of his 
 friends. The grand result, in the estab- 
 lishment of the library, is a lasting mat- 
 ter of gratulation to all lovers of learn- 
 ing and progressive civilization ; while 
 it will ever shed lustre alike upon its 
 munificent founder, its illustrious presi- 
 dent, and its accomplished superinten- 
 dent. 
 
 At one of the writer's visits to Mr. 
 Irving at Sunnyside he found the author 
 
$4 Washington Irving. 
 
 in his sanctum surrounded with his manu- 
 scripts and books, with pen in hand ; he 
 rose to greet his unexpected visitor with 
 his uniform courtesy and cordiality. 
 Passing from his study to the parlor, he 
 was introduced to some ladies — Mr. Irv- 
 ing' s nieces, whom he styled his guar- 
 dian angels — adding he " supposed that 
 few old bachelors were so fortunate as 
 himself — they were so careful of him." 
 In the spring of 1859, in response to Mr. 
 Irving's kind invitation to meet some of 
 his literary friends, the writer well re- 
 members the unmingled pleasure of that 
 delightful visit, so unalloyed was the 
 enjoyment alike of host and guests. But 
 little did that joyous company imagine 
 what a sad reverse was so soon to over- 
 shadow us, that to most of us it was to 
 prove our last interview with Irving. It 
 was the common remark of his guests 
 that Mr. Irving seemed in unusually 
 good spirits and so exuberant of genial 
 humor, so full of reminiscences of his 
 European travels, and personal anec- 
 dotes of his literary friends abroad. Be- 
 
Washington Irving. 85 
 
 fore assembling for dinner Mr. Irving 
 escorted us about his beautiful grounds, 
 which his gardener had skilfully laid 
 out so as to combine the picturesque 
 effects of meadow, lawn, ravine, and 
 rivulet, garnished with flowers and fes- 
 tooned with luxuriant foliage. 
 
 At the table the social intercourse was 
 most cordial, for all seemed to have 
 caught inspiration from the happy host, 
 who kept up an animated narrative of 
 his travels and adventures abroad and 
 the wonders of the Old World. To at- 
 tempt to reproduce them in detail would, 
 however, be doing serious injustice alike 
 to their author and the reader. One or 
 two items must suffice. When in Paris 
 Irving became acquainted with Vander- 
 lyn, who painted the " Landing of Co- 
 lumbus' ' which now hangs in the rotun- 
 da of the Capitol at Washington. In 
 Madrid, he said, he enjoyed special 
 privileges, being allowed apartments in 
 the palace of the Alljiambra ; and while 
 there he produced some of his choicest 
 works — "The Alhambra," "Conquest 
 
86 Washington Irving. 
 
 of Granada," and " Life and Voyages 
 of Columbus." 
 
 The last-named work made its appear- 
 ance in 1828, from the press of John 
 Murray, his London publisher, who 
 paid for the manuscript three thousand 
 guineas. Mr. Irving referred to his 
 many pleasurable interviews at Murray's 
 house in Albemarle Street, where most 
 of the leading literary notabilities were 
 accustomed to gather as at a literary 
 club. Here he met Moore, Campbell, 
 Byron, Rogers, Sydney Smith, Scott, 
 and Lockhart. After we had retired from 
 the dining-room, Mr. Irving did the 
 writer the honor to escort him over his 
 lawn, after which we sat on a rustic bench 
 which overlooked the Hudson. Here he 
 again spoke of his old love of the nooks 
 and corners of old London, and the anti- 
 quities of England's cathedral towns, its 
 rural retreats, its moss-crowned castles 
 and historic sites. His allusion to the 
 continental antiquities, and especially to 
 the legendary Rhine, seemed to fire him 
 with something of the fervor of a first 
 
Washington Irving. 87 
 
 love. When the writer referred to his 
 having read the " Sketch Book" long 
 before he had the pleasure of knowing 
 its author, he responded that, after his 
 " Knickerbocker," the " Sketch Book," 
 with its unexpected success, was fol- 
 lowed by " Bracebridge Hall" and " The 
 Traveller" with comparative facility ; 
 but that his " Life of Columbus" cost 
 him more hard labor than any other of 
 his productions. We visited his cosey 
 little library — a bijou of a study — walled 
 round with pictures, including Jarvis's 
 portrait and bust of himself, busts of 
 Dante, Rogers, and books, including 
 many choice gifts from literary friends. 
 In the rear was a lounge screened by a 
 curtain, upon which our author would 
 indulge an occasional siesta or beguile 
 himself with some pleasing reverie. In 
 the drawing-room were also indications, 
 of the refined taste of its occupants ;; 
 many objects of virtu and curiosities 
 brought from remote places were to be 
 seen, as well as paintings by Leslie, 
 
88 Washington Irving. 
 
 Stuart Newton, and some original 
 sketches by Cruikshank. 
 
 It is not diflScult to infer the source of 
 his many-hued characters and the odd 
 situations in which he places some of 
 them ; his sketches doubtless are the re- 
 sult of his early habits of close observa- 
 tion, as well as fondness for adventure 
 and travel. He said, indeed, that he 
 was always fond of visiting strange char- 
 acters and scenes, and it has been his 
 fortune to have had his roving passion 
 gratified. 
 
 The legendary lore of the Rhine ana 
 the Hartz Mountains proved so potent a 
 charm to the lover of the marvellous, 
 that he resolved to attempt a series of 
 sketches somewhat upon the same model, 
 touching the woods and streams of 
 America. With what singular success 
 this projected resolution was achieved it 
 is needless to speak. If the castellated 
 peaks of Germany, so celebrated in ro- 
 mance and song, have become the at- 
 traction of the Old World, it would seem 
 to require no prophetic spirit to predict 
 
Washington Irving. 89 
 
 the results of a similar kind from the 
 magic and ideal pen of our author for 
 the New World. /His weird fancy, 
 which has thrown such an imperishable 
 charm over Sleepy Hollow, decked the 
 banks of the Hudson with poetic asso- 
 ciations, and crowned the hoary fast- 
 nesses of the Catskills with a species of 
 Dutch mythology, has assuredly invest- 
 ed with the witchery of ideal beauty 
 some of the great natural glories of 
 America. 
 
 In the picturesque words of a scholar- 
 ly writer of our day : * " The shore 
 at Tarrytown, stretching backward to 
 Sleepy Hollow, the broad waters of the 
 Tappan Zee, the airy heights of the 
 summer Catskills, were suffused with the 
 rosy light of literature by the kindly 
 genius of Washington Irving. Burns 
 and Scott have made every hill, and 
 stream, and bird, and flower of their be- 
 loved land reflected individually and 
 fondly in Scottish tale and song. The 
 
 * Dr. J. M. Taylor. 
 
90 Washington Irving. 
 
 Scotchman, with his deep and strong 
 national sentiment, murmurs wherever 
 he goes the legendary music of the 
 Ayr and the Doon, of the laverock and 
 the mavis, the Scottish landscape and 
 the Scottish legend. Irving's genius 
 was what, in the old English phrase, 
 would have been called sauntering ; it 
 cast the glamour of idlesse over our 
 sharp, positive, and busy American life. 
 Rip Van Winkle, the indolent and kind- 
 ly vagabond, asserts the charm of day- 
 dream and loitering against all the en- 
 grossing hurry of lucrative activity. At 
 first he and the grotesque Knickerbocker 
 heroes were solitary figures in our let- 
 ters ; and still Rip Van Winkle lounges 
 idly by, and the vagabond of the Hud- 
 son is an unwasting figure of the imagi- 
 nation, the earliest, constant, gentlest 
 satirist of American life." 
 
 When Wilkie, the painter, and Irving, 
 the writer, were rambling about Europe 
 ad libitum, they at length turned their 
 steps toward that land of old romance 
 and chivalry — Spain — where they were 
 
Washington Irving. gr 
 
 struck with the resemblances of many 
 scenes and incidents to passages found 
 in "The Arabian Nights." This sug- 
 gested to the artist, who urged our 
 author to write some sketches and his- 
 toriettes in the vein of that old fasci- 
 nation ; and as a result we have that 
 charming work "Tales of the Alham- 
 bra." /No writer of note, we believe, 
 was more controlled by impulse or moods 
 of mind in doing the best literary work 
 than was Washington Irving ; indeed, he 
 confessed his inability to do justice to 
 himself or his subject except when so in- 
 clined or when the poetic afflatus was 
 upon him. When once got to work, 
 however, he hardly gave himself time 
 for rest or refreshment, so anxious was 
 he to keep at work while he felt the im- 
 pulse to do so/ When at Madrid, he 
 confessed that '' he never found outside 
 the walls of his study any enjoyment 
 equal to that of being at his writing 
 desk, and also that some of the happiest 
 hours of his life were those passed in the 
 composition of his books." When ad- 
 
92 Washington Irving. 
 
 vised to employ an amanuensis, he said 
 that he " could not get along with that 
 process ; brain and pen, with him, must 
 be harnessed together ; and that his in- 
 spiration spells were capricious and not 
 to be controlled." 
 
 When in London, on a certain occa- 
 sion Moore called upon Irving, and find- 
 ing him engaged in writing, and not 
 wishing to interrupt him, left him undis- 
 turbed and unconscious of the visit. 
 
 There is such a remarkable difference 
 between Irving' s " Knickerbocker" and 
 his " Sketch Book" — so much of pathos 
 and fine sentiment in the one and so 
 much of sarcasm and satire in the other 
 — that we scarcely recognize the identity 
 of authorship. Scott's high compliment 
 to the first-named production is worth 
 quoting ; it reads as follows : 
 
 " I beg you to accept my best thanks 
 for the uncommon degree of entertain- 
 ment which I have received from the 
 most excellently jocose history of New 
 York. I am sensible that, as a stranger 
 to American parties and politics, I must 
 
Washington Irving. 93 
 
 lose much of the concealed satire of the 
 piece ; but I must own that, looking at 
 the simple and obvious meaning only, I 
 have never read anything so closely re- 
 sembling the style of Dean Swift as the 
 annals of Diedrich Knickerbocker." 
 
 When the writer first read the " Sketch 
 Book" in London he little expected to 
 have the pleasure of knowing personally 
 its distinguished author ; few books of 
 that early day made so pleasurable and 
 abiding an impression ; and among its 
 choicest chapters, that descriptive of 
 Westminster Abbey was the chief. 
 Scarcely less delightful are his sketches 
 of old-time rural life and scenery ; for 
 example, the following : "It is a pleas- 
 ing sight of a Sunday morning, when 
 the bell is sending its sober melody 
 across the quiet fields, to behold the 
 peasantry, in their best finery, with 
 ruddy faces and modest cheerfulness, 
 thronging tranquilly along the green 
 lanes to church," And at evening, 
 " about their cottage doors, apparently 
 exulting in the humble comforts which 
 
94 Washington Irving. 
 
 their own hands have spread around 
 them." 
 
 His descriptions of memorable persons 
 and places in the British metropolis are 
 no less felicitous and artistic. While it 
 may seem quite superfluous at the pres- 
 ent time to refer to the characteristic 
 claims of a work that has already be- 
 come a classic of our literature, yet it is 
 interesting to refer to Irving's own con- 
 fession, which may be accepted as a clue 
 to the rare charm of his style. He says 
 that he " longed to tread in the foot- 
 steps of antiquity, to loiter about the 
 ruined castle, to meditate on the moss- 
 grown tower — to escape, in short, from 
 the commonplace realities of the present, 
 and to lose himself among the shadowy 
 grandeur of the past." His "Sketch 
 Book ' ' thus originated while he and his 
 brother Peter were walking over West- 
 minster bridge one dull, foggy day, when 
 Washington began reciting some of the 
 old Dutch stories which he had heard 
 at Tarrytown in his early days. The 
 thought of writing them occurred to 
 
Washington Irving. 95 
 
 him, and he suddenly exclaimed : "I 
 have it ! I'll go home and make mem- 
 oranda of these for a book." This he 
 did on the following day — one of the 
 darkest and dullest of London fogs — • 
 and then wrote out, by the light of a 
 candle, his " Legend of Sleepy Hollow." 
 There is an incident connected with 
 Irving' s " Sketch Book" which it may be 
 worth while to refer to. 'When visiting 
 Shakespeare's house at Stratford, and 
 lingering as he did there, he called at 
 the Red Horse Inn for refreshments and 
 lodging. Here he was accustomed to 
 sit up late at nights writing for his 
 " Sketch Book,"* and he occasionally 
 
 " After his return from his official mission to the Spanish 
 court, Mr. Irving made frequent visits to the Aster Library, in 
 consultation of authorities, for completion of his " Life of 
 Washington," as well as when attending the stated meetings 
 of the Board of Trustees. The writer well remembers his 
 last visit, which was in the early autumn of 1859, when he 
 came to inspect the library extension by the erection of the 
 second hall. On this occasion he did not seem to be in 
 his usual health and vigor, yet he did not manifest any pre- 
 monitory signs of an approaching crisis or the sad event 
 which was so soon to follow. In a cheerful conversation with 
 his friend. Dr. Cogswell, he remarked : " What might have 
 been my destiny could I have commanded these treasures 
 
96 Washington Irving, 
 
 took the liberty of stirring up the fire 
 with the steel poker that he found 
 there, much to the annoyance of the old 
 landlady, who was unaccustomed to 
 having such a late visitor. Afterward, 
 however, when she discovered that she 
 was mentioned in that book, she had the 
 poker dignified with the title of '* Geof- 
 frey Crayon's sceptre." Visitors to the 
 shrine of the great dramatist doubtless 
 
 in my youth !" These significant words were the last he 
 uttered as he took a rapid survey of the library. About two 
 months later came the sad calamity to us of his demise at 
 Sunnyside. The mournful intelligence soon cast a gloom over 
 the hearts of all lovers of his refined and genial productions, 
 at home and abroad ; and every demonstration of sorrow was 
 indicated by the community at large. The trustees of the 
 library recorded their prof ound sense of esteem, using, among 
 other words, the following : '' We deplore the loss which the 
 Astor Cibrary has sustained in the death of Washington 
 Irving, its first President, the chosen friend of the founder of 
 the library, and first named "by him in the original «ct of 
 donation as a trustee — a selection fully justified by the ad- 
 mirable qualities of Mr. Irving.'* 
 
 On Sunday, November 27th, 1859, Mr. Irving for the last 
 time attended Divine service, at Christ Church, Tarrytown, 
 of which he was a member and warden. On the following day 
 he took his accustomed walk in the adjacent meadows, and 
 in the evening he sat watching from his parlor window the 
 beautiful autumnal sunset — so symbolic and so prophetic of his 
 own life —declining in the golden west. 
 
Washington Irving. 97 
 
 have heard the story and handled the 
 sceptre. 
 
 When the story of " Rip Van Winkle" 
 was written, the author was living at 
 Kinderhook, on the Hudson, some dis- 
 tance from the locale of the legend ; and 
 as he had not visited the mountain 
 range prior to its publication, it is not a 
 little remarkable that the details of the 
 scene should have proved topographi- 
 cally so accurate. 
 
 Some time after its publication, Mr. 
 Irving was on a visit there for the first 
 time, and, as is usual, the guide pointed 
 out to him the scene of the redoubtable 
 and drowsy Dutchman. He also led 
 him to the turn in the road, at the en- 
 trance to a deep ravine, to Rip Van 
 Winkle's house, over the entrance to 
 which is an enormous sign represent- 
 ing Rip as he awoke from his long 
 " nap" in the Catskills. He listened to 
 the rehearsal of his own legend with 
 exemplary patience, pleased to find his 
 imaginary description of its locality so 
 singularly, verified by fact. He quietly 
 
gS Washington Irving. 
 
 retired without revealing himself as the 
 author. 
 
 On a certain occasion Irving was re- 
 turning home from New York, and found 
 himself in the cars next to an Irish wom- 
 an with two noisy children that she 
 could not keep quiet. Mr. Irving took 
 one of them in his arms, caressed it, 
 and when the woman got out of the car 
 she thanked him, saying, " You must 
 be a kind, good father, sir." " No," re- 
 plied our author, " I am, unfortunately, 
 an old bachelor." The children showed 
 their love for him at the Tarrytown 
 church by often garnishing Irving's 
 pew. 
 
 His kindly nature is seen in an inci- 
 dent that occurred once in his orchard. 
 He caught a young lad up in one of his 
 apple trees ; instead of sending him 
 away with rebuke, he simply called up 
 to him, saying, " If you like apples, 
 there is yonder a fine rosy one, and I 
 will help you to get it." 
 
 The asthma was beginning to affect 
 his health when he had just completed 
 
Washington Irving. 99 
 
 the " Life of Washington ;" in addition 
 to this latent disease he suffered occa- 
 sionally from chills and fever, contracted 
 when on a tour westward. Insomnia 
 was the last form of interruption to his 
 previous uniform health. In conse- 
 quence of his inability of obtaining suffi- 
 cient sleep he became subject to fre- 
 quent fits of despondency. 
 
 On retiring, he said : "I must ar- 
 range my pillows for another weary 
 night ;" and some indistinct utterances 
 about the " end" were the last words 
 from his lips ; for, with a slight cry as 
 of pain, he fell in the presence of his at- 
 tendant, and when the physician arrived 
 life was extinct. His sun had set, and 
 not with less glory than marked the 
 sunset he had witnessed. Shortly be- 
 fore he passed from our horizon of vi- 
 sion his own prophetic words were, " I 
 am getting ready to go ; shutting up 
 doors and windov/s ;" and in response 
 to the inquiry of his niece one morning, 
 after a sleepless night, he said, " I am 
 apt to be rather fatigued, my dear, with 
 
lOO Washington Irving. 
 
 my night's rest." Humor and pathos, 
 the characteristics of his writings, were 
 his personal characteristics to the last. 
 So passed away from us the gifted and 
 kindly Washington Irving. His fruitful 
 and picturesque life, which, as we meas- 
 ure uniformly by years, reached just be- 
 yond the " threescore and ten ;" but 
 how much have those laborious years 
 enriched our literary wealth ! Not only 
 has he given a library of excellent 
 books, but he has bequeathed to all who 
 know the high worth of individuaL char- 
 acter the legacy of his example and a 
 spotless reputation. 
 
 December 2d, 1859, was the day of the 
 funeral obsequies ; at one o'clock the 
 procession, headed by Bishop Potter, 
 of New York, and the Rev. Dr. Creigh- 
 ton, the rector of Christ Church, Tar- 
 rytown, entered the church ; the pall- 
 bearers, with the remains of the illus- 
 trious dead," followed by numerous 
 friends of the departed from New 
 York, Boston, and elsewhere. As the 
 casket was deposited in front of the 
 
Washington Irving. loi 
 
 chancel the choir rendered a Gregorian 
 chant, which was followed by the read- 
 ing of the usual burial service, after 
 which the members of the family and a 
 great company of sorrowing friends 
 were invited to look for the last time 
 upon the kindly face of the great au- 
 thor. In that village church there had 
 never before gathered such groups of 
 men eminent of letters ; and the vil- 
 lagers did not forget to exhibit their 
 emblems of sorrow and sympathy by 
 draping their houses and closing their 
 stores. Irving's grave, which is at 
 Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, is placed in 
 the centre of the family enclosure, is 
 marked simply by his name, with the 
 dates of his birth and death engraved 
 upon a plain white marble stone. 
 
 The scene of the burial was a very 
 impressive and touching one ; there 
 were gathered around the open grave a 
 great concourse of sorrowing friends un- 
 covered and mute. Never before, per- 
 haps, was there ever witnessed as then 
 such an illustration of the eloquence of 
 
102 Washington Irving. 
 
 silence — eulogy or panegyric in this in- 
 stance was superfluous, since we all well 
 knew his worth. Thus " Sleepy Hol- 
 low," by the possession of this " noble 
 dust," and by the magic of his charm- 
 ing pen, became invested with a lasting 
 fame by its association with genius. 
 His name is, however, enshrined in the 
 hearts of all lovers of an elevated and 
 pure literature, while it is also not for- 
 gotten in our public places. 
 
 It has been justly said that " England 
 returned him to his native land medalled 
 by the king, honored by its university, 
 and followed by the applause of the 
 whole English people." 
 
 George Bancroft fittingly closed his 
 loving tribute to his noble friend with 
 these well-chosen words : " There is 
 the man who during more than fifty 
 years employed his pen as none other 
 could have done ; and in all that time 
 never wrote one word that was tainted 
 with scepticism, nor one line that was 
 not as chaste and pure as the violets of 
 spring." Not only was Irving eminent- 
 
Washington Irving. 103 
 
 ly gifted with social graces, he was also 
 a genial and enthusiastic lover of nature 
 and all its garniture and glory. 
 
 An English writer of excellent books 
 thus speaks of Irving as a " genial, 
 modest, quiet gentleman, averse to all 
 show or flattery and even half averse to 
 fame. There never was any one who so 
 carried the whole of himself in his writ- 
 ings ; the charm of that personal wit 
 and simplicity of character, not without 
 a certain playful subtlety, is never ab- 
 sent. He seldom rises or falls ; he is 
 neither more nor less than himself, and 
 that is always delightful, sincere, thor- 
 ough, and buoyant. He was delight- 
 fully desultory and yet capable of sus- 
 tained effort, as in his ' Life of Wash- 
 ington ' or ' Columbus, ' where his heart 
 went with his work." 
 
 Mr. Irving has told us that he pre- 
 ferred adopting the mode of short, 
 sketches, as affording him greater free- 
 dom for the play of sentiment and 
 humor ; and he may be said to have 
 thus introduced a new order of writing. 
 
I04 Washington Irving. 
 
 There is evidence of this, since it at once 
 attracted the notice of Dickens, whose 
 " Sketches of Every- day Life" are on 
 the same model — graphic, fresh, humor- 
 ous, and picturesque. These writers 
 alike touched with a master hand the 
 salient points of the grotesque and hum- 
 bler ranks of life and brought them into 
 humorous or ludicrous combinations. 
 Yet they were not rivals ; their sketches 
 and portraitures differed in style and de- 
 tail, and both have achieved a world-wide 
 fame for having given to us characters 
 and scenes heretofore unfamiliar, if not 
 unknown — full of beauty and pathos, as 
 well as redolent of humor and laughter- 
 provoking situations. Dickens, in one 
 of his genial letters, thus writes to Irv- 
 ing : " I should love to go with you as I 
 have gone, God knows how often, into 
 ' Little Britain,' ' Eastcheap,' ' Green 
 Arbor Court,' and ' Westminster Ab- 
 bey.' I should like to travel with you, 
 outside of the last of the coaches, down 
 to ' Bracebridge Hall.' It would make 
 my heart glad to compare notes with 
 
Washington Irving. io$ 
 
 you about that.shabby gentleman in the 
 oil-cloth hat and red nose who sat in the 
 nine-cornered back parlor of the Ma- 
 sons' Arms, and about Robert Preston 
 and the tallow-chandler's widow, whose 
 sitting-room is second nature to me ; 
 and about all those delightful places and 
 people that I used to read about and 
 dream of in the daytime when a very 
 small and not over-particularly taken- 
 care-of boy." Irving may also claim to 
 have been the inventor of Christmas 
 literature, which has, with Dickens and 
 Thackeray, done so much to foster the 
 beautiful in sentiment and feeling con- 
 nected with that festive, holly-garlanded 
 season of the year. 
 
 It has been justly said that " no name 
 in our literature or literary annals is 
 more fondly cherished than that of 
 Washington Irving." One of the ear- 
 liest and most distinguished of Ameri- 
 can writers, none has been so generally 
 and heartily loved at home and abroad. 
 This is easily accounted for, since his in- 
 tellectual gifts were made all the more 
 
io6 Washington Irving. 
 
 conspicuous and attractive by the radi- 
 ancy of his happy and genial tempera- 
 ment. 
 
 Among the numerous loving tributes 
 to his memory, Tuckerman has voiced 
 for us one of the best: " No one ever 
 lived a more beautiful life ; no one ever 
 left less to regret in life ; no one ever, 
 carried with him to the grave a more 
 universal affection, respect, and sorrow. ' ' 
 
 The estimate which Mr. Longfellow 
 formed of Mr. Irving in his early days 
 is thus given in one of his letters from 
 Madrid: "Washington Irving is one of 
 those men who put you at ease with 
 them in a moment. He makes no cere- 
 mony whatever with one, and, of course, 
 is a very fine man in society — all mirth 
 and good humor." In later days he 
 says : " I had the pleasure of meeting 
 Mr. Irving in Spain, and found the au- 
 thor whom I had loved, repeated in the 
 man ; the same playful humor, the same 
 touches of sentiment, the same poetic 
 atmosphere, and, what I admired still 
 more, the entire absence of all literary 
 
Washington Irving. 107 
 
 jealousy, of all that mean avarice of 
 fame which counts what is given to an- 
 other as so much taken from one's self : 
 
 "And rustling hears in every breeze 
 The laurels of Miltiades."' 
 
 At this time Mr. Irving was at Madrid 
 engaged upon his " Life of Columbus ;" 
 and if the work itself did not bear ample 
 testimony to his zealous and conscien- 
 tious labor, I could do so from personal 
 observation. He seemed to be always 
 at work. "Sit down," he would say, 
 " I will talk with you in a moment ; but 
 I must first finish this sentence." One 
 summer morning, passing his house at 
 the early hour of six, I saw his study 
 window already wide open. On my 
 mentioning it to him afterward he said, 
 " Yes, I am always at my work as early 
 as six." Since then I have often remem- 
 bered that sunny morning and that open 
 window, so suggestive of his sunny tem- 
 perament and his open heart, and equal- 
 ly so of his patient and persistent toil. 
 
 Mr. Russell Lowell has, in his " Fable 
 
)8 Washington Irving. 
 
 r Critics," so felicitously sketched Irv- 
 g that his limning seems necessary to 
 1 adequate portraiture of our author ; 
 le portrait was made on his return 
 om Madrid : 
 
 Irving ! thrice welcome, warm heart and fine 
 
 brain, 
 You bring back the happiest spirit from Spain ; 
 And the gravest sweet humor that ever were 
 
 there 
 Since Cervantes met death in his gentle despair. 
 
 So allow me to speak, what I honestly feel. 
 To a true-hearted poet, add the fun of Dick 
 
 Steele, 
 Throw in all of Addison, minus the chill, 
 With the whole of that partnership's stock and 
 
 ' good will,' 
 Mix well, and while stirring, hum o'er as a 
 
 spell, 
 ' The fine old English gentleman ; ' simmer it 
 
 well, 
 Sweeten just to your own private liking, then 
 
 strain, 
 That only the finest and clearest remain. 
 Let it stand out-of-doors till a soul it receives, 
 From the warm lazy sun, loitering down through 
 
 green leaves, 
 
Washington Irving. lOg 
 
 And you'll find a choice nature, not wholly de- 
 serving 
 A name either English or Yankee — just Irving." 
 
 By his protracted residence abroad, as 
 well as by his writings, he had succeeded 
 in dissipating prejudice and linking to- 
 gether in fraternal bonds two great na- 
 tions more effectively than diplomacy 
 itself. It should not be forgotten, more- 
 over, that Irving was the first to win for 
 American letters the respect and recog- 
 nition of the Old World. 
 
 " But the light of his friendly eye is 
 quenched ; we shall hear no more his 
 gentle voice nor take his welcome hand. 
 It is as if some genial year had just 
 closed and left us in frost and gloom — 
 its flowery spring, its leafy summer, its 
 plenteous autumn flown, never to re- 
 turn." * And so, of Sunnyside, now 
 the shrine of his genius, its glorious at- 
 traction has lost much of its magnetic 
 power — its genius loci is gone ! 
 
 Bryant. 
 
no Washington Irving. 
 
 " The dear, quaint cottage, as we pass, 
 No clambering rose or ivy hide ; 
 But dead leaves fleck the matted grass, 
 
 And shadow rests on ' Sunnyside ! ' 
 ****** 
 
 " Yet ne'er did more serene repose 
 
 Of cloud and sunshine, brook and brae, 
 Round ' Sleepy Hollow ' fondly close, 
 Than on its lover's burial-day !"* 
 
 * Tuckerman. 
 
HENRY WADSWORTH LONG- 
 FELLOW. 
 
 Born 1807, died i88a. 
 
" Oh, deem not 'midst this worldly strife 
 An idle art the poet brings, 
 Let high philosophy control, 
 And sages calm the stream of life ; 
 'Tis he refines its fountain springs, 
 The nobler passions of the soul." 
 
 — Campbell. 
 
HENRY WADSWORTH LONG- 
 FELLOW. 
 
 Among the most pleasant memories of 
 the past was the writer's delightful visit 
 to the poet Longfellow, about a year 
 prior to his lamented death. Few men 
 of letters on either side of the broad At- 
 lantic that it has been his privilege to 
 meet have left such a charm with their 
 names as that of the gifted professor, 
 the subject of the present sketch. Dur- 
 ing a summer jaunt with a friend to 
 the "modern Athens of America," 
 among its leading objects of interest, 
 historic, artistic, and literary, Craigie 
 House, Cambridge, of course claimed 
 attention — it being not only a shrine of 
 genius, but an historic edifice of storied 
 interest. There are, as is well known, 
 many fascinating attractions that draw 
 
114 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 
 
 the steps of the lover of the picturesque 
 as well as the lover of learning to that 
 classic region — its time-honored halls of 
 learning, its clustered beauties of nature 
 and art, as well as its unrivalled ceme- 
 tery. Mount Auburn. But the honored 
 name of Longfellow has imparted to 
 that suburban retreat a glory that will 
 linger about Cambridge and Craigie 
 House, by the spell of his muse, that 
 lovers of his beautiful lyrics will en- 
 shrine as a perpetual memory. 
 
 The writer, as already intimated, had 
 the good fortune to meet the poet in his 
 classic abode, finding him not only in 
 excellent health and spirits, but at lei- 
 sure. He received his visitors very gra- 
 ciously, and although strangers till then 
 personally, he at once made them feel 
 at ease with him, and readily entered 
 into animated talk about literature and 
 literary persons, their writings, and their 
 respective claims. It is a matter of re- 
 gret that the substance of his remarks 
 has since passed from memory, now 
 that he has left us and laid aside his lyre 
 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 1 1 5 
 
 forever. Although his voice is silent, 
 his charmed utterances are yet vocal, 
 and are destined to become our common 
 inheritance in the realm of song. Yet 
 even fragments of his words, so gentle 
 and wise, now possess for us a value be- 
 fore unknown. Other poets may cheer 
 and inspire us with their philosophic and 
 ethical teaching ; but Longfellow has 
 imparted to his musical stanzas such a 
 felicitous charm that his productions 
 please all classes and conditions of per- 
 sons. His generous and even enthusi- 
 astic praise of the productions of several 
 of his brother bards was conspicuous as 
 illustrative of his modesty — the modesty 
 of true genius. In this respect he not 
 only resembled Washington Irving, but 
 the analogy holds good as to his kindli- 
 ness of nature and gentle courtesy of de- 
 portment. As the writer entered the 
 house the first object that met his gaze 
 was the old-fashioned clock on the stairs ; 
 and passing into the drawing-room, he 
 was cordially received by the host, al- 
 though his acquaintance with him had 
 
1 16 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 hitherto been merely by correspondence. 
 This room was evidently the sanctum 
 sanctorum of the poet ; it was decked 
 and garnished with artistic taste, the 
 walls being covered with choice paint- 
 ings and portraits, while the bookcases 
 were surmounted with statuary and mar- 
 ble busts. On the table and desk at 
 which he usually sat might be noticed 
 many objects of value — rare relics and 
 souvenirs which he had brought from 
 abroad. In fine, this presence chamber 
 looked like a combination of a poet's 
 pleasaunce and an artist's studio. 
 
 In course of our conversation an allu- 
 sion was made to Mr. Ruskin and his 
 great authority as an art critic, to which 
 Mr. Longfellow responded in something 
 like these words : " He resembles a 
 squadron of cavalry, sweeping all before 
 them and taking the field. Ruskin is a 
 master of style," he continued, "and, 
 although not wholly unimpeachable, he 
 is usually correct." When the names 
 were mentioned of James Russell Lowell, 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes, and John Green- 
 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 117 
 
 leaf Whittier, he did not fail to recog- 
 nize and applaud their distinctive and 
 characteristic merits. He also referred 
 to the high estimate with which the sage 
 of Concord (Ralph Waldo Emerson) 
 was regarded. It was the writer's good 
 fortune to visit the philosopher in his 
 modest cottage shortly afterward, and 
 to share with him a delightful hour of 
 converse. His aspect was severely sim- 
 ple, quaint, and kindly, and his environ- 
 ment quite in keeping with his person- 
 ality. Mr. Longfellow took the writer 
 through his apartments and into sundry 
 nooks and corners, in which were to be 
 seen some of his choicest literary treas- 
 ures. When travelling in Italy, he said 
 he found an incomplete set of Bodoni's 
 celebrated edition of Dante. The set 
 lacked but one volume ; yet, imperfect 
 as it was, he said it was too great a prize 
 to be lost, and so he brought home the 
 volumes. He never dreamed that he 
 should ever find the missing volume ; 
 but, to his joyful surprise, he found it 
 some months after his return home at a 
 
1 1 8 Henry Wadszvorth Longfellow. 
 
 second-hand bookstore in an obscure 
 street in Boston. His eye lighted up 
 with evident pleasure and pride as he 
 exhibited the now completed set. Just 
 as the writer was leaving, Mr. Longfel- 
 low referred to the illustrated edition of 
 his poems, in two quarto volumes, and 
 expressed his unqualified pleasure at the 
 rare excellence of the designs and the 
 typography. He also mentioned the 
 fact that such was the scarcity of the 
 first edition of his poems, that a copy 
 had been offered for sale at $500. The 
 home of the poet, many of whose beau- 
 tiful contributions to our literature are 
 prized as jewels of our language, and 
 are of world-wide fame, has been often 
 described by pen and portrayed by pen- 
 cil. Like the quaint, picturesque cot- 
 tage, Sunnyside, Craigie House will long 
 continue to attract pilgrim feet as a 
 shrine of genius — one of the " Meccas 
 of the mind," at which loving tribute 
 will be offered. This delightful episode 
 of a summer vacation will not be lost to 
 memory, that brought the writer face to 
 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 119 
 
 face for a brief interval with one of the 
 most gifted and genial of men. In fine, 
 if he may be permitted to cite the words 
 of an eminent English author and tour- 
 ist, who shared the like pleasure, he 
 would add : " I shall not forget that I 
 have been permitted to touch the hand 
 and to listen to the discourse, full of calm 
 and wise and gentle things, of a noble 
 American gentleman, of him who wrote 
 'The Psalm of Life,' 'The Village 
 Blacksmith,' and ' Evangeline ;' of him 
 whose life has been blameless, whose 
 record is pure, whose name is a sound 
 of fame to all people." Let us add an- 
 other noble testimony to his genius from 
 the late John Bright ; his words are the 
 following : 
 
 "I do not hesitate to say, as far as 
 my reading has led me to judge, that 
 the ' Song of Hiawatha ' is a poem that 
 deserves to live, and will live ; and at 
 this moment it is the finest poem of any 
 language that has been produced by any- 
 writer of the United States. ' ' 
 
 With genius of so high an order. Long- 
 
1 20 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 fellow combined a purity and simplicity 
 of character rarely excelled or equalled ; 
 and this it was that won for him so wide 
 and enduring a fame, as well as such a 
 cherished regard in the homes of Ameri- 
 ca and Great Britain. It has been just- 
 ly remaiked that " he was distinguished 
 for a singular and unfailing love of chil- 
 dren and of child life. At threescore 
 years and ten he entered into their 
 thoughts and hopes and sympathies as 
 if he were yet himself a child. No man 
 ever called forth such an expression of 
 affectionate regard from the hearts of 
 so many children. How touching the 
 incident of the celebration of his birth- 
 day, when, on its seventy-second anni- 
 versary, the Cambridge schools present- 
 ed to him a chair made from the wood 
 of the village blacksmith's chestnut tree. 
 And how beautiful his verses of acknowl- 
 edgment from " The Arm-Chair :" 
 
 " And thus, dear children, have ye made for me 
 this day a jubilee ; 
 And to my more than threescore years and ten 
 brought back my youth again. 
 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 1 2 1 
 
 Only your love and your remembrance could 
 
 give life to this dead wood, 
 And make these branches — leafless now so long 
 
 — blossom again in song." 
 
 Longfellow was emphatically the poet 
 of his native land. Though deeply im- 
 bued with the classic spirit, and revel- 
 ling at his ease in all the treasures of 
 English and European literature, the 
 scenery and art of the Old World, with 
 its mighty monuments and ancient his- 
 toric memories, his heart was yet in this 
 New World — its wild scenes and its fresh 
 life ; and here he found a home for his 
 muse, and he made that home illus- 
 trious. He has shown us that the spirit 
 of poesy resides here as well as there. 
 
 ' ' Thy song shall speak to old and young, 
 While song yet speaks an English tongue, 
 By Charles' or Thames' wave." 
 
 Longfellow wrote his " Hyperion, "^ 
 which followed his " Outre Mer," in 
 r839, and it at once met with general ac- 
 ceptation, being of that charming order 
 — travel books — which wins by its liter- 
 
T22 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 ary attractions. " The Psalm of Life" 
 and many of his well-known lyrics fol- 
 lowed in quick succession, of which, to 
 cite the words of one of his brother 
 bards, it may be said that " they are 
 delicate renderings of our common emo- 
 tions ; and there is a humanity in them 
 which is irresistible in the fit measures 
 to which they are wedded. If some ele- 
 giac poets have strung rosaries of tears, 
 there is a weakness of woe in their verses 
 which repels ; but the quiet, pensive 
 thought, the twilight of the mind, in 
 which the little facts of life are saddened 
 in view of their relation to the eternal 
 laws, time and change, this is the medi- 
 tation and mourning of every manly 
 heart ; and this is the alluring and per- 
 manent charm of Longfellow's poetry." 
 Longfellow's modesty may be seen in 
 his impromptu on a certain occasion, 
 when, on being introduced to Mr. Long- 
 worth, who happened to meet him in 
 company, " I am happy to meet you, 
 Mr. Longworth," said the professor, 
 " for it reminds me of the adage : 
 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 123 
 
 " Worth makes the man — the want of it, the 
 fellow ; 
 And all the rest is leather and prunella." 
 
 It seems quite superfluous to cite 
 stanzas that chime in almost every per- 
 son's memory ; yet for the very few who 
 may not have seen them, the following 
 are given : 
 
 " Lives of great men all remind us 
 We can make our lives sublime, 
 And, departing, leave behind us 
 Footprints on the sands of time — 
 
 " Footprints, that perhaps another, 
 Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
 A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 
 Seeing, shall take heart again." 
 
 No endeavor is in vain — 
 Its reward is in the doing ; 
 And the rapture of pursuing 
 
 Is the prize the vanquished gain." 
 
 ' All are architects of fate. 
 
 Working in these walls of time ; 
 
 Some with massive deeds and great, 
 
 Some with ornaments of rhyme. 
 
124 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 " In the elder days of art, 
 
 Builders wrought with greatest care 
 Each minute and unseen part ; 
 For the gods see everywhere. 
 
 " Let us do our work as well, 
 
 Both the unseen and the seen ; 
 Make the house where gods may dwell 
 Beautiful, entire and clean." 
 
 * . 
 And this little gem, written as he 
 
 neared his eighth decade : 
 
 " Is it too late? Ah, nothing is too late 
 Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate." 
 " Something remains for us to do or dare. 
 Even the oldest tree some fruit may bear ; 
 For age gives opportunity, no less 
 Than youth itself, tho' in another dress, 
 And as the evening twilight fades away 
 The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day." 
 
 In his diary, under date of December 
 6th, 1838, Professor Longfellow wrote 
 these words : "A beautiful, holy morn- 
 ing within me. I was softly excited. I 
 knew not why, and wrote with peace in 
 my heart, and not without tears in my 
 eyes, ' The Reaper and the Flowers : a 
 Psalm of Death.' I have had an idea of 
 
Henry Wadswortk Longfellow. 125 
 
 this kind in my mind for a long time 
 without finding any expression for it in 
 words. This morning it seemed to crys- 
 tallize at once, without any efEort of my 
 own." His biographer thus relates the 
 one great tragedy that left its traces on 
 the gentle and beautiful life of the poet : 
 " There is a break in the journal here ; 
 and then these lines of Tennyson, added 
 many days after : 
 
 " Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace ! 
 Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul ! 
 While the stars burn, the moons increase. 
 And the great ages onward roll." 
 
 This break in the journal marked a 
 break in his very life. His wife was sit- 
 ting in the library with her two little 
 girls engaged in sealing up some small 
 packages of their curls which she had 
 just cut off. From a match fallen upon 
 the floor her light summer dress caught 
 fire. The shock was too great, and she 
 died the next morning. Three days 
 later her burial took place at Mount Au- 
 burn — it was the anniversary of her mar- 
 
126 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 riage day. Eighteen years after he 
 wrote the commemorative, touching 
 lines, " The Cross of Snow," found in 
 his portfolio after his death. 
 
 Longfellow's character as a poet seems 
 to us one of graceful symmetry in its 
 fertility of imagination, affluence of 
 thought, and picturesqueness of its dic- 
 tion ; and the world has fully recog- 
 nized his claim to a prominent niche in 
 the temple of fame. The lesson of his 
 literary life has much in it for the head 
 and heart to ponder ; it was a healthful 
 and an elevated one well worthy of 
 being studied. 
 
 When he visited England he was re- 
 ceived with every expression of regard ; 
 it was, indeed, the hearty greeting of 
 affection paid to a long-loved and hon- 
 ored friend. A life which has been 
 crowned with such abundant fruitage, 
 such a revenue of noble teaching en- 
 shrined in the music of speech, must 
 have been a devoted and laborious one. 
 He has himself given us an insight into 
 the secret of his success as a philosophic 
 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 127 
 
 poet in the closing stanza of his " Voices 
 of the Night:" 
 
 " Look, then, into thine heart and write ! 
 Yes, into Life's deep stream ! 
 All forms of sorrow and delight — 
 All solemn voices of the night. 
 That can soothe thee, or affright — 
 Be these henceforth thy theme !" 
 
 Thus we hear his " Psalm of Life" 
 repeated by boys at college, grave states- 
 men in Congress or Parliament, and 
 even more sympathetically at the fire- 
 side. The world has been not only en- 
 riched by the genius of Longfellow — it 
 has been made better. 
 
 His famous poem " Excelsior" has a 
 history. One night, after the poet had 
 attended a party of friends, he took up 
 a New York newspaper having the arms 
 of the State — a shield with a rising sun, 
 and the motto, " Excelsior." This at- 
 tracted his notice, and the word sug- 
 gested the poem, which was an im- 
 promptu, and was written on the back 
 of a letter of his friend, Charles Sum- 
 ner. Like his other beautiful lyfic, 
 
128 Henry VVadsworth Longfellow. 
 
 " The Footsteps of Angels" — the one a 
 hymn of aspiration, the other a hymn of 
 patience — both will live among the im- 
 mortals of song. After Longfellow's 
 visit to Europe, in 1868, where he be- 
 came the honored guest of the literary 
 celebrities abroad, he received the aca- 
 demic degree of D.C.L. from the Uni- 
 versity of Oxford ; the queen sent for 
 him, and the poet, in the usual republi- 
 can fashion, shook her majesty by the 
 hand — a familiarity not accorded to her 
 liege subjects. 
 
 With these charming stanzas closes 
 this tribute : 
 
 " Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, 
 One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, 
 When he called the flowers, so blue and golden. 
 Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine. 
 
 " Stars they are, wherein we read our history. 
 As astrologers and seers of eld ; 
 Yet not wrapped about with awful mystery. 
 Like the burning stars, which they beheld. 
 
 " Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous, 
 God hath written in those stars above ; 
 But not less in the bright flowerets under us 
 Stands the revelation of his love. 
 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 129 
 
 " Not alone in meadows and green alleys, 
 On the mountain-top and by the brink 
 Of sequestered pools in woodland valleys, 
 Where the slaves of Nature stoop to drink ; 
 
 " Not alone in her vast dome of glory. 
 Not on graves of bird and beast alone, 
 But in old cathedrals, high and hoary. 
 On the tombs of heroes, carved in stone ; 
 
 " In the cottage of the rudest peasant. 
 
 In ancestral homes, whose crumbling towers, 
 Speaking of the Past unto the Present, 
 Tell us of the ancient games of Flowers ; 
 
 " In all places, then, and in all seasons, 
 
 Flowers expand their light and soul-like 
 wings, 
 Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, 
 How akin they are to human things. 
 
 " And with child-like, credulous affection 
 We behold their tender buds expand. 
 Emblems of oqr own great resurrection. 
 Emblems of the bright and better land." 
 
130 Henry WadswortJt Longfellow. 
 
 I, nearer to the Wayside Inn 
 
 Where toil shall cease and rest begin, 
 
 Am weary, thinking of your road. 
 O little hands ! that weak or strong 
 Have still to serve or rule so long. 
 
 Have still so long to give or ask ; 
 I, who so much with book and pen 
 Have toiled among my fellow-men, 
 
 Am weary, thinking of your task. 
 O little hearts ! that throb and beat 
 With such impatient, feverish heat. 
 
 Such limitless and strong desires ; 
 Mine, that so long has glow'd and burn'd. 
 With passions into ashes turn'd, 
 
 Now covers and conceals its fires. 
 O little souls ! as pure and white 
 And crystalline as rays of light. 
 
 Direct from Heaven, their source divine \ 
 Refracted through the mist of years, 
 How red my setting sun appears, 
 
 How lurid looks this soul of mine !" 
 
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 Born 1797, died 1878. 
 
"While he is best known by his poems, Mr. 
 Bryant is considered by the best authorities one 
 of the finest prose writers in the country. He was 
 distinctively a student and interpreter of Nature ; 
 all her aspects and voices were familiar to him, 
 and are reproduced in his poetry.'' 
 
 — G. R. Cathcart. 
 
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
 
 An accepted authority * has said that 
 " a true poet, a man in whose heart re- 
 sides some effluence of wisdom, some 
 tone of the 'eternal melodies,' is the 
 most precious gift that can be bestowed 
 on a generation. We see in him a freer, 
 purer development of whatever is noblest 
 in ourselves ; his life is a rich lesson to 
 us, and we mourn his death as that of a 
 benefactor who loved and taught us." 
 In harmony with this is the graceful es- 
 timate of Washington Irving, whose 
 words are these : "A poet, of all writ- 
 ers, has the best chance for immortal- 
 ity ; others may write from the head, 
 but he writes from the heart, and the 
 heart will always understand him. His 
 
 * Carlyle. 
 
134 William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 writings, therefore, contain the spirit, 
 the aroma of the age in which he lives. 
 They are caskets which enclose within a 
 small compass the wealth of the lan- 
 guage — its family jewels, which are thus 
 transmitted in a portable form to pos- 
 terity." Much also has been claimed 
 for the true poet, whose musical utter- 
 ances not only elevate and refine those 
 who would not be taught the lessons of 
 life in stern didactic prose, but because 
 the gems of poesy, which are recognized 
 as classics of artistic beauty, ' ' bring 
 pleasure to millions of the human race, 
 like the sunshine of .the morning after 
 the shadows of night flee away." Mr. 
 Bryant himself has said that " the ele- 
 ments of poetry lie in natural objects, in 
 the vicissitudes of common life, in the 
 emotions of the heart and in the rela- 
 tions of society." As Bryant's name 
 has long been recognized as one of the 
 representative poets of our country, it 
 may be proper to glance back to the 
 time when he first became a citizen of 
 its metropolitan city. Mr. Bryant's life- 
 
William Cullen Bryant. 135 
 
 time may be said to have been coeval 
 with the great formative and progressive 
 development of the republic — scientific, 
 political, and literary. 
 
 It is, indeed, not one of the least of 
 the distinctive glories of this country 
 that it has not only demonstrated the 
 feasibility of popular government, but 
 that it has also taken the lead in popu- 
 lar education, and .has had an ample 
 share in the triumphs of inventive and 
 scientific discovery. Within the limits 
 of a lifetime its progress and proficiencj'- 
 in the several departments of learning 
 are among the marvels of an age itself 
 one of unparalleled achievements. 
 
 Mr. Bryant, like Professor Longfel- 
 low, traced his ancestry back to the 
 memorable landing of the Mayflower. 
 From his early days he seems to have 
 caught poetic fire from his favorites — 
 Pope, Wordsworth, Gray, and Gold- 
 smith. Indeed, he wrote verses at the 
 age of ten, and when at the age of eigh- 
 teen years he produced his "-Thanatop- 
 sis" (view of death), which at once won 
 
136 William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 for him the laurel chaplet of fame. It 
 was at the suggestion of a legal friend 
 that he left his native Berkshire Hills 
 and came to New York to study and 
 practise law ; but he did not succeed in 
 that profession, for his preference, it 
 was soon evident, was for Wordsworth 
 rather than for Blackstone. He accord- 
 ingly devoted himself to literature, and 
 at about thirty-two years of age he be- 
 came associate editor with Mr. Coleman, 
 the editor of the Evening Post, then one 
 of the leading organs of political thought. 
 His name had subsequently been con- 
 nected with that journal until within a 
 few years of his death. But Mr. Bryant 
 is best known to us as the poet who has 
 sought his inspiration from American 
 forests, mountains and rivers, as well as 
 the feathered minstrels and the varied 
 aspects of Nature in her leafy garniture 
 and grandeur. For example, of his de- 
 scriptive verse, these opening stanzas 
 " To the Evening Wind" are cited : 
 
 " Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou 
 That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day, 
 
William Cullen Bryant. 137 
 
 Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow ; 
 Thou hast been out upon the deep at play, 
 Riding all day the wild blue waves till now, 
 Roughening their crests, and scattering high 
 
 their spray. 
 And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee 
 To the scorch'd land, thou wanderer of the sea ! 
 
 " Nor I alone ; a thousand bosoms round 
 Inhale thee in the fulness of delight ; 
 And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound 
 Livelier, at coming of the wind of night ; 
 And languishing, to hear thy grateful sound. 
 Lies the vast inland stretched beyond the sight. 
 Go forth into the gathering shade ; go forth, 
 God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth ! 
 
 " Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest, 
 Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and 
 
 rouse 
 The wild old wood from his majestic rest. 
 Summoning from the innumerable boughs 
 The strange deep harmonies that haunt his 
 
 breast : 
 Pleasant shall be thy way, where meekly bows 
 The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass. 
 And where the o'ershadowing branches sweep 
 
 the grass." 
 
 When the pioneer effort was being 
 made by the writer, seeking the enact- 
 
138 William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 ment of an international copyright treaty 
 between the United States and Great 
 Britain, it was that he first met Mr. Bry- 
 ant. Like Irving, Lowell, Longfellow, 
 Bancroft, Motley, Whittier, and many 
 other eminent writers, Bryant attached 
 his name to several petitions to Congress 
 in behalf of the measure. In addition to 
 these, there was also presented a " Me- 
 morial" of fifty-six British authors — 
 comprising the most distinguished wri- 
 ters of that day — who signed the doc- 
 ument. This interesting manuscript 
 — which was procured by Messrs. Saun- 
 ders & Otley, the London publish- 
 ers, and by them consigned to the care 
 of Captain Wilkes, of the United States 
 Exploring Expedition — was, on his ar- 
 rival here, delivered to the writer. It 
 was then duly forwarded to Henry Clay, 
 who presented it to the Senate of the 
 United States. 
 
 When Charles Dickens first visited this 
 country, he at once became interested 
 in and co-operated with the enterprise ; 
 and an American petition to Congress 
 
William Cullen Bryant. 139 
 
 was prepared by the writer, signed by 
 the most prominent authors of the time, 
 which document Mr. Dickens took with 
 him to Washington and handed person- 
 ally to Hon. Henry Clay. In response, 
 autograph letters from the illustrious 
 statesman and the distinguished novelist 
 came in due course. But to return from 
 this digression to the subject of our 
 sketch — the poet. 
 
 In his apostrophe to the " Fringed 
 Gentian" we have a graceful illustration 
 of Bryant's ethical muse : 
 
 " Thou comest not when violets lean 
 O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen, 
 Or columbines, in purple drest, 
 Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest. 
 Thou waitest late and com'st alone. 
 When woods are bare and birds are flown, 
 And frosts and shortening days portend 
 The aged year is near his end. 
 Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye 
 Look through its fringes to the sky — 
 Blue — blue — as if that sky let fall 
 A flower from its cerulean wall. 
 I would that thus, when I shall see 
 The hour of death draw near to me. 
 
140 William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 Hope blossoming within my heart — 
 May look to heaven as T depart.'' 
 
 He was invited to write a patriotic 
 poem for the semi-centennial anniver- 
 sary of the New York Historical Society. 
 The poem formed four stanzas, begin- 
 ning : 
 
 " Great were the hearts and strong the minds 
 Of those who framed in high debate 
 The immortal league of Love that binds 
 Our fair, broad empire. State with State." 
 
 Mr. Bryant was a wonderful worker ; 
 not only was his editorial industry re- 
 markable, but his contributions to our 
 American literature, both in prose and 
 verse, afford abundant evidence of the 
 fact. He was an accomplished student 
 of the literature of many languages, and 
 while his translations from other tongues 
 are so felicitous that his fellow-master, 
 Longfellow, praised some of his Spanish 
 translations as rivalling the originals in 
 beauty, yet his own verse is as free from 
 merely literary influence or reminiscence 
 as the pure air of his native hills from 
 
William Cullen Bryant. 141 
 
 the perfume of exotics. His last con- 
 siderable poem, " The Flood of Years," 
 but echoes in its meditative flow the sol- 
 emn cadences of " Thanatopsis." One 
 stanza — perhaps the most familiar if not 
 the best in all his verse — will long be the 
 climax of patriotic appeal : 
 
 " Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again ; 
 
 The eternal years of God are hers ; 
 
 But Error, wounded, writhes with pain. 
 
 And dies among his worshippers." 
 
 Bryant made his fifth voyage to Eu- 
 rope in 1857, travelling in Spain and Al- 
 giers ; and after his return he published 
 a volume of " Letters from Spain." He 
 went again abroad in 1865 and 1867, 
 making in all seven visits to the Old 
 World. Although many persons might 
 suppose the poet, from the tenor of 
 much of his writings, to have been of a 
 grave and ascetic tendency, the follow- 
 ing extract from one of his letters, writ- 
 ten in 1863, proves that he was not de- 
 void of humor, and even that of a rollick- 
 some mood. In his letter to the Rev. 
 Dr. Dewey, he says : 
 
142 William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 " Looking at your last a second time, 
 it strikes me that you niight, perhaps, 
 expect that I should answer some part 
 of it. Let me say, then, that we will 
 give you a reasonable time to consider 
 the question of coming to Roslyn, you 
 and Mrs. Dewey, if you will only come 
 at last, and before the days arrive de- 
 scribed in the verses which you will find 
 on the other leaf of this sheet : 
 
 " The season wears an aspect glum and glummer ; 
 
 The icy north wind, an unwelcome comer, 
 
 Frighting from garden-walks each pretty hum- 
 mer, 
 
 Whose murmuring music lulled the noons of 
 summer, 
 
 Roars in the woods, with grummer voice and 
 grummer. 
 
 And thunders in the forest like a drummer. 
 
 Dumb are the birds — they could not well be 
 dumber. 
 
 " The winter cold, life's pitiless benumber, 
 Bursts water-pipes, and makes us call the 
 
 plumber ; 
 Now, by the fireside, toils the patient thumber 
 Of ancient books, and no less patient summer 
 Of long accounts ; while topers fill the rummer, 
 
William Cullen Bryant. 143 
 
 The maiden thinks what furs will best become 
 
 her, 
 And on the stage-boards shouts the gibing 
 
 mummer. 
 Shut in by storms, the dull piano strummer 
 Murders old tunes — there's nothing weari- 
 
 somer !" 
 
 Mr. Bryant's presence was an impres- 
 sive one ; his venerable aspect in his 
 later years gave him a picturesque and 
 striking appearance. His simple and 
 natural mode of rural life doubtless 
 tended to counteract the effects upon his 
 physical frame caused by his unremit- 
 ting mental labor as editor and poet. 
 The personal friend of Dr. Dewey and 
 Dr. Bellows, the Unitarian clergymen of 
 New York, and an attendant upon their 
 ministry ; yet no one ever recognized 
 more completely nor more devoutly the 
 divinity of Christ.* To a little volume 
 from the pen of the Rev. Dr. Alden, en- 
 titled ' ' Thoughts on the Religious 
 Life," he contributed a preface, in 
 which he says : " I cannot but lament 
 
 * John Bigelow's Memoirs. 
 
144 William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 the tendency of the time, encouraged by- 
 some in the zealous prosecution of sci- 
 ence, to turn its attention from the teach- 
 ings of the Gospel, from the beautiful 
 examples of Christ's life and the su- 
 premely excellent precepts which He 
 gave to His disciples and the people who 
 resorted to hear Him. To those teach- 
 ings and that example the world owes 
 its recovery from the abominations of 
 heathenism. ... I tremble to think 
 what the world would be without Him. 
 Take away the blessing of the advent of 
 His life and the blessings purchased by 
 His death, in what an abyss of guilt 
 would man have been left ! It would 
 seem to be blotting the sun out of the 
 heavens, to leave our system of worlds 
 in chaos, frost, and darkness. In my 
 view of the life, the teachings, the labors, 
 and the sufferings of the blessed Jesus, 
 there can be no admiration too profound, 
 no love of which the human heart is 
 capable too warm, no gratitude too ear- 
 nest and deep of which He is justly the 
 object." This admirable testimony was 
 
William Cullen Bryant. 145 
 
 believed to have been among the last 
 things that Mr. Bryant wrote. 
 
 Like Irving, whenever an occasion 
 called for it, he was the coveted guest 
 at public gatherings, celebrations, and 
 banquets ; and both suffered from 
 modest diffidence when called upon for 
 a speech. Bryant's tenacity of memory 
 was phenomenal. Pope and Words- 
 worth seem to have been his favorites, 
 and also Johnson ' s " Lives of the Poets. ' ' 
 His love of literary work and ability to 
 labor continued almost to the close of 
 his career ; and even in his great work, 
 the translation of Homer, he evinced no 
 lack of intellectual skill or indication of 
 senility. 
 
 Mr. John Bigelow, in his able memoir 
 of the poet, remarks that " he was not 
 a man of moods and tenses, and that his 
 seasons for productive labor did not 
 alternate like the seasons of the calendar 
 year, or the ebb and flow of the tides. ' I 
 cannot say, ' he wrote to a gentleman who 
 had addressed him some inquiries upon 
 the subject, ' that in writing my poems I 
 
146 William. Cullen Bryant. 
 
 am directly conscious of the action of an 
 outside intelligence ; but I sometimes 
 wonder whence the thoughts come, and 
 they seem to me hardly my own. Some- 
 times, in searching for the adequate ex- 
 pression, it seems suddenly darted into 
 my mind like a ray of light into a dark 
 room, and gives me a kind of surprise. 
 I don't invoke the muse at all. It ap- 
 pears to me that inspiration has no more 
 to do with one intellectual process than 
 another, and that if there is such a thing, 
 it might be present as directly in the so- 
 lutions of a problem of high mathe- 
 matics, as in a copy of verses.' " 
 
 The writer well remembers meeting 
 the poet one wintry morning as he was 
 on his way from his rural home at Ros- 
 lyn to the office of the Evening Post in 
 New York. In his reply to the remark 
 that it seemed strange that he did not 
 stay in the city during the austerity of 
 winter, he said that he gloried in the 
 winter's landscape, with its snow-clad 
 aspects, as much as in the radiant sum- 
 mer, with its sunshine and its flowers. 
 
William Cullen Bryant. 147 
 
 In his poem styled " A Winter Piece" 
 are some lines confirmatory of this : 
 
 " But Winter has yet brighter scenes — he boasts 
 Splendors beyond what gorgeous Summer 
 
 knows — 
 Or Autumn, with his many fruits, and woods 
 AH flushed with many hues. Come when the 
 
 rains 
 Have glazed the snow, and clothed the trees 
 
 with ice ; , 
 
 While the slant sun of February pours 
 Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach !" 
 
 The following lines are addressed to 
 the " Autumn Woods": 
 
 " Ere, in the northern gale, 
 
 The summer tresses of the trees are gone, 
 
 The woods of autumn, all around our vale 
 
 Have put their glory on. 
 
 " The mountains that infold. 
 In their wide sweep, the colored landscape round, 
 Seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold, 
 That guards the enchanted ground. 
 
 " I roam the woods that crown 
 The upland, where the mingled splendors glow, 
 Where the gay company of trees look down 
 On the green fields below. 
 
148 William Cullen Bryqnt. 
 
 " My steps are not alone 
 In these bright walks ; the sweet southwest, at play. 
 Flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strown 
 Along the winding way. 
 
 " Oh, Autumn ! why so soon 
 Depart the hues that make thy forests glad : 
 Thy gentle wind and thy fair, sunny noon, 
 And leave thee wild and sad !" 
 
 Take yet another extract of his pas- 
 toral poetry, " The Prairies :" 
 
 " These are the Gardens of the Desert, these 
 The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful. 
 For which the speech of England has no name — 
 The Prairies. I behold them for the first, 
 And my heart swells, while the dilated sight 
 Takes in the encircling vastness. Lo ! they 
 
 stretch 
 In airy undulations, far away, 
 As if the ocean, in his gentlest swell. 
 Stood still, with all his rounded billows fixed. 
 And motionless forever. Motionless ? — • 
 No — they are all unchained again. The clouds 
 Sweep over with their shadows, and, beneath. 
 The surface rolls and fluctuates to the eye ; 
 Dark hollows seem to glide along and chase 
 The sunny ridges. Breezes of the South !" 
 
 Like Wordsworth's, Bryant's muse 
 evidently loved to commune with Nature 
 
William Cullen Bryant. 149 
 
 in her solitary grandeur, her forests, 
 hills, and streams. 
 
 With the demands of journalism and 
 the devotion to the muse — indeed, his 
 seems to have been a kind of dual life. 
 
 Although so familiar to most readers 
 of poetic literature, it may be admissi- 
 ble, perhaps, here to cite the first and 
 last stanzas of his " Thanatopsis" : ■ 
 
 " To him who in the love of Nature holds 
 
 Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
 A various language ; for his gayer hours 
 She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 
 And eloquence of beauty, and she glides 
 Into his darker musings with a mild 
 And healing sympathy, that steals away 
 Their sharpness ere he is aware. 
 
 * » * * * 
 
 " As the long train 
 Of ages glides away, the sons of men — 
 The youth in life's green spring, and he who 
 
 goes 
 In the full strength of years, matron and maid, 
 And the sweet babe, and the gray -headed man — 
 Shall one by one be gathered to thy side. 
 By those who, in their turn, shall follow them. 
 So live that, when thy summons comes to join 
 The innumerable caravan that moves 
 
ISO William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 To that mysterious realm where each shall take 
 His chamber in the silent halls of death — 
 Thou go, not like the quarry-slave at night, 
 Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and 
 
 soothed 
 By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, 
 Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
 About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams." 
 
 Mr. Bryant's last printed poem, on 
 "■Washington's Birthday," of which 
 these are the closing stanzas, has been 
 much admired : 
 
 " Lo where beneath an icy shield 
 
 Calmly the mighty Hudson flows ! 
 By snow-clad fell and frozen field 
 Broadening the mighty river goes. 
 
 The wildest storm that sweeps through space, 
 And rends the oak with sudden force, 
 
 Can raise no ripple on his face. 
 Or slacken his majestic course. 
 
 " Thus 'mid the wreck of thrones shall live 
 Unmarred, undimmed our hero's fame. 
 And years succeeding years shall give 
 Increase of honors to his name." 
 
 Hi's closing days seemed to be under 
 the shadow of unconsciousness. After 
 his delivery of an address at the unveil- 
 
William Cullen Bryant. 151 
 
 ing of a statue to the memory of the 
 Italian patriot, Mazzini, in Central Park, 
 New York, in the spring of 1878, having 
 too freely exposed himself to the heat of 
 the sun, he became suddenly uncon- 
 scious, and fell. This superinduced a 
 comatose condition, in which state he 
 lingered about two weeks, when his 
 kindly presence left us in great sorrow. 
 
 In the glowing words of one eminent 
 in the world of letters, it may be well to 
 now sum up this tribute to his memory, 
 since the generous and eloquent esti- 
 mate finds a cordial response in the per- 
 sonal recollections of the writer : " Dur- 
 ing all these busy years he had become 
 a man of threescore and ten. The pleas- 
 ant city that he knew when he came to 
 New York was now the chief city of the 
 Western continent — one of the great 
 cities of the world ; and the poet, whose 
 immortal distinction it was to have writ- 
 ten the firs"t memorable American poem, 
 and whose fame was part of the national 
 glory — the editor who, with perfect un- 
 selfishness and unswerving fidelity, had 
 
J 52 William Cullen Bryant. 
 
 ■expounded and defended great funda- 
 mental principles of national progress 
 and prosperity, became our patriarch, 
 our mentor, our most conspicuous citi- 
 zen. Every movement of art and litera- 
 ture, of benevolence and good citizen- 
 ship, sought the decoration of his name. 
 His presence was the grace of every fes- 
 tival, and although he had always in- 
 stinctively shrunk from personal public- 
 ity, he yielded to a fate benignant for 
 the community. From his childhood 
 and through all his eighty-four years 
 his habits of life were temperate and 
 careful. He rose early, took active exer- 
 cise, spared work at night, yet had time 
 for every duty of a fully occupied life, 
 and at seventy-one sat down in the 
 shadow of the great sorrow of his life, 
 to seek a wise distraction, in translat- 
 ing the ' Iliad ' and the ' Odyssey.' No 
 man ever bore the burden of years more 
 lightly. The primeval woods, ' God's 
 first temples,' breathe the solemn bene- 
 diction of his verse." * 
 
 • G. W. Curtis. 
 
JOSEPH GREEN COGSWELL. 
 
 Born 1786, died 1871. 
 
' Blest with a taste exact, yet unconfined ; 
 A knowledge both of books and human kind ; 
 Generous converse, a soul exempt from pride 
 Ready to praise, with reason on his side ; 
 Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame ; 
 Averse to flatter, yet not apt to blame." 
 
 — Pope. 
 
JOSEPH GREEN COGSWELL* 
 
 The age in which we are living is a 
 privileged one, being characterized by 
 intense intellectual activity throughout 
 the civilized world. It is almost super- 
 fluous to add that this is seen, not only 
 in its unprecedented number of writers 
 and readers, but also in the marvellous 
 multiplication of the higher institutions 
 of learning, free public libraries, and 
 academies of art and science, as well as 
 our ubiquitous common schools. 
 
 The time - honored foundations of 
 learning in the Old World, until recent- 
 ly, were accessible to comparatively few 
 privileged scientists and scholars ; but 
 these restrictions have at length been 
 
 * This paper was prepared at request of and read before the 
 International Conference of Librarians in the autumn of 1887, 
 and afterward printed in their Library Journal, 
 
156 Joseph Green Cogswell. 
 
 abandoned, and the temples of science 
 and literature are now made universally 
 available. In a country of such free po- 
 litical institutions as ours, moral and in- 
 tellectual culture is a necessity, and may 
 even be said to be the palladium of our 
 perpetuity as a nation. While these in- 
 valuable auxiliaries for the promotion of 
 the highest interests of the people are 
 thus so characteristic of our day, it is 
 fitting that we hold in cherished esteem 
 the memory of the self-denying and 
 the devoted services of those who have 
 been conspicuously among its pioneers, 
 in the planning and developing of the 
 grand movement, and foremost, perhaps, 
 among them was the subject of this 
 sketch. 
 
 Joseph Green Cogswell, as to his an- 
 cestral history, came of Puritan origin — 
 his progenitor, John Cogswell, having 
 left Bristol, England, in 1635, and set- 
 tled in Ipswich, Mass., where many of 
 his descendants long continued to reside. 
 The subject of our memoir was graduat- 
 ed at Harvard in 1806, and shortly after- 
 
Joseph Green Cogswell. 157 
 
 ward he made a voyage to India. On 
 his return to New York, he studied law 
 with Fisher Ames and subsequently en- 
 tered upon the practice of the profession 
 at Belfast, Me. It was for a short time 
 only, however, he preferring to be a 
 tutor at Cambridge. In 181 2 he was 
 married to Mary, daughter of Governor 
 Oilman, of New Hampshire. The union 
 was soon dissolved, as she died of con- 
 sumption the following year. In 1816 
 he joined his friends, Edward Everett 
 and George Ticknor, in making a trip 
 to Europe, and while at the leading capi- 
 tals abroad, he paid especial attention to 
 the methods and principles of instruc- 
 tion. He remained in Europe about 
 four years, spending considerable time 
 at Gottingen for this purpose. 
 
 On his return home, in 1820, he be- 
 came Professor of Mineralogy and Geol- 
 ogy in Harvard College, and also its 
 Librarian. In 1823, in company with 
 George Bancroft, the historian, he 
 founded the Round Hill School at 
 Northampton, Mass., on the plan of the 
 
158 Joseph Green Cogsivell. 
 
 German and English academies. This 
 institution attracted to itself many stu- 
 dents from all parts of the United States, 
 and exerted an important influence in 
 advancing the standard of education 
 among us. Mr. Cogswell afterward 
 established a similar school at Raleigh, 
 N. C. Three years later he returned to 
 New York, and became the editor of 
 what was then regarded as the leading 
 critical periodical, the New York Re- 
 view J it was continued to ten volumes. 
 It may here be stated that the professor 
 during his European travels had enjoyed 
 the acquaintance of many of the most 
 illustrious men of letters — Goethe, Hum- 
 boldt, B6ranger, Byron, Scott, Jeffrey, 
 and many more. In 1839 he was intro- 
 duced by Fitz-Greene Halleck to Mr. 
 John Jacob Astor. At this early date, 
 the millionaire contemplated, it is said, 
 the founding of some public institution 
 in the city of his adoption — New York. 
 The first suggestion of the establishment 
 of a free public library has been, by 
 some persons, attributed to Washington 
 
Joseph Green Cogswell. 159 
 
 ving, and by others to Mr. Cogswell ; 
 it he has himself stated that " it was a 
 nd impulse of Mr. Astor's own heart 
 lich prompted him to the establish- 
 ent of some permanent and valuable 
 emorial to testify his grateful feelings 
 ward the city in which he had so long 
 'ed and prospered." 
 From the best of our means of in- 
 rmation on the subject, it appears that 
 r. Astor, being somewhat undecided 
 
 to the particular form his bequest 
 ould assume, Mr. Cogswell urged 
 e importance of a Public Library 
 
 Reference. Both Mr. Irving and 
 r. Brevoort coincided in the view, 
 uring the closing years of Mr. As- 
 r's life Mr. Cogswell was in daily 
 tendance upon him, as his companion, 
 id in pursuance of the determination 
 founding a library, he was authorized 
 ' him to begin preparations for the 
 Drk. Mr. Cogswell devoted himself 
 cordingly to the planning and prepara- 
 ry service. Although Mr. Irving, who 
 IS also Mr. Astor's frequent guest, sug- 
 
i6o Joseph Green Cogswell. 
 
 gested that it would be a good thing for 
 him at once to put into execution his 
 noble enterprise, yet it was left to be 
 carried out under the provisions of his 
 will. Having thus been entrusted with 
 the management of the design, the col- 
 lecting of the books commenced. The 
 first collection of works were about one 
 thousand volumes, including Mr. As- 
 tor's copy of Audubon's great work on 
 " American Ornithology," in four large 
 folio volumes. In 1842, when Mr. Wash- 
 ington Irving was appointed United 
 States Minister to the Court of Spain, 
 he desired to have Mr. Cogswell ac- 
 company him as Secretary to the Lega- 
 tion. 
 
 In writing to the authorities at Wash- 
 ington, Irving thus refers to his friend : 
 " He is a gentleman with whom I am on 
 terms of confidential intimacy, and I 
 know no one who, by his various ac- 
 quirements, his prompt sagacity, his 
 knowledge of the world, his habits of 
 business and his obliging disposition, is 
 so calculated to give me counsel, aid. 
 
Joseph Green Cogswell. i6i 
 
 i companionship, so important in 
 idrid, where a stranger is more isolat- 
 than in any other capital of Europe." 
 fust as he had succeeded in procuring 
 s appointment, Mr. Astor heard of it, 
 i finding that he was likely to lose his 
 uable services for the projected libra- 
 he at once made Mr. Cogswell its 
 rarian. In 1848, after the death of 
 ■. Astor, the librarian was sent to 
 rope to purchase books ; meanwhile 
 5 preparations were in progress for 
 5 erection of the building. Returning 
 im his tour, he brought home about 
 enty thousand volumes, chiefly select- 
 from the marts of London and Paris, 
 lese books were deposited in a house 
 Bond Street, hired for the purpose, 
 e writer- called there on the bibliog- 
 )her more than once. On entering 
 ; parlors, he found him with his hands 
 1 of books ; books piled up on his 
 )le ; the floor so covered with books 
 It he did not know where to move ; the 
 lis were also garnished with books, 
 lichever way the eye turned there 
 
i62 Joseph Green Cogswell. 
 
 were books — books to the right of him, 
 books to the left of him, books in the 
 rear and books to the front of him. 
 
 The act of incorporation of the library- 
 took effect January, 1849. The officers 
 were eleven trustees, Mr. Irving being 
 president, Mr. William B. Astor treas- 
 urer, and Mr. Cogswell the superinten- 
 dent. 
 
 In 1850 he was instructed to make an- 
 other visit to Europe for the purchase 
 of books to the extent of $25,000. 
 While in Paris he was aided by Hector 
 Bossange, then the leading bookseller 
 and bibliopolist. Meanwhile, Mr. Cogs- 
 well had prepared and had printed an 
 alphabetical catalogue of books essential 
 to the completion of a cosmopolitan 
 library. This valuable manual, which 
 was the product of great skill and labor, 
 is now scarce, and has been known to 
 sell for $5. He visited the literary cen- 
 tres of Paris, London, Brussels, and 
 Berlin, and there being at the time some 
 important auction sales pending, he was 
 enabled to buy many rare and valuable 
 
Joseph Green Cogswell. 163 
 
 works at a great reduction of cost. 
 Later on he made another trip abroad, 
 remaining several months there, and 
 visiting the most important book-marts, 
 from Rome on the south to Stockholm 
 on the north. His collections now were 
 of the first- importance, comprising most 
 of the rare and valuable productions 
 that have since imparted its distinctive 
 character of excellence to the library. 
 
 As illustrative of the bibliographical 
 skill and critical acumen displayed by 
 the superintendent in his selections, he, 
 might quote the words of Mr. Burton in 
 his " Bopk-Hunter," where he says : 
 " In the Astorian Library the selections 
 of books have been made with great 
 judgment ; innate literary value being 
 held an object more important than mere, 
 abstract rarity." The numerical extent, 
 of the collection at this time was eighty 
 thousand volumes ; and even at that 
 early day similar high estimates of its 
 value were expressed by several other 
 eminent scholars abroad, Humboldt, 
 Bunsen, and Lepsius being among the 
 
164 Joseph Green Cogswell. 
 
 number. The establishment of a great 
 free library on the plan of the Aster was 
 here not only a novelty, it was also a 
 prophecy of the transformation it was 
 destined to effect in the social condition 
 of the metropolis. It is due to the 
 memory of Dr. Cogswell to add that it 
 was to his eminent attainments as a lin- 
 guist, and to his sagacious forethought 
 that the success of the great enterprise 
 is mainly to be ascribed. The works 
 which his diligent search and wise econ- 
 omy secured were of the class which are 
 now required by the professional writer 
 and student, and which in some instances 
 even to this day are unattainable else- 
 where on this continent. 
 
 It was during the ten years' interval 
 between his appointment as librarian 
 and the collecting of the books from 
 abroad that the doctor devoted himself 
 so assiduously to the preparatory labors 
 that resulted so successfully in the de- 
 velopment of the library. Dr. Cogswell 
 made in all six voyages to Europe, four 
 for the purchasing of books for the 
 
Joseph Green Cogswell. 165 
 
 library. And it may be proper here to 
 cite the testimony of a person himself 
 conversant with books, who states that 
 " No library in the land was founded 
 with more discrimination and economy ; 
 the books purchased to-day would sell 
 for ten times the amount that was ex- 
 pended for them, while many of them 
 cannot now be bought at any price." 
 
 In January, 1854, Dr. Cogswell for- 
 mally opened the Astor Library, ten 
 days being devoted to the exhibition of 
 its rare and costly works of art. 
 
 In two years, when the first building 
 was found to be crowded to its utmost 
 capacity, the volumes amounting to 
 about one hundred thousand, Mr. Will- 
 iam B. Astor, son of the founder, erect- 
 ed a second hall adjoining the original 
 structure, and uniform in style with it. 
 During the erection of the new building 
 Dr. Cogswell undertook the arduous 
 and self-imposed task of preparing and 
 superintending the printing of the alpha- 
 betical catalogue of the library, forming 
 four large octavo volumes. In addition 
 
1 66 Joseph Green Cogswell. 
 
 to this herculean labor, he had to super- 
 intend the routine service of the library 
 as well as its entire rearrangement and 
 classification. He also gave to the 
 library his own valuable and complete 
 collection of works on bibliography in 
 many languages, extending to over five 
 thousand volumes. 
 
 It was after Dr. Cogswell had com- 
 pleted a supplemental volume, the fifth 
 of his catalogue, that his physical 
 strength visibly declined, although his 
 mental vigor remained unimpaired, and 
 he felt it his duty to tender to the Board 
 of Trustees his resignation. After about 
 a score of years devoted to its interests 
 he left the library with regret, and he 
 evinced his loving regard for its success 
 by his subsequent visits. In accepting 
 his official resignation the trustees re- 
 corded their high sense of his valuable 
 services in words profoundly expressive 
 of their grateful esteem and regret at 
 losing their continuance. 
 
 In the central hall of the library are 
 two marble busts — one facing the en- 
 
Joseph Green Cogswell. 167 
 
 trance is that of the honored founder, 
 and at the western end that of Dr. Cogs- 
 well, the superintendent. It is an ad- 
 mirable likeness, and was the work of 
 Lequesne, of Paris, whose decorations 
 of the Louvre and the tomb of Napo- 
 leon at the Invalides have rendered his 
 name famous. In the south, or original 
 hall, is a marble bust of Washington 
 Irving, the first president of the institu- 
 tion. 
 
 Having thus briefly sketched the lead- 
 ing events of his literary career, it may 
 not be inappropriate to add a few words 
 respecting his personal character. This 
 may be seen at a glance ih the loving re- 
 gard of his pupils at the Round Hill 
 School, long after they had taken their 
 devious ways in life ; and no less in the 
 cordial testimonial of his associates irt 
 the Board of Trustees. Nor was his de- 
 voted service to the library unappreciat- 
 ed by the estimable family it represents. 
 And were it needed to extend the testi- 
 mony, I might add that, having been for 
 several years his ofKcial assistant, it 
 
l68 Joseph Green Cogswell. 
 
 affords the writer much pleasure to state 
 that during those years he remembers 
 only his uniform kindliness and refined 
 courtesy of deportment. Although hav- 
 ing had the entrk of the coteries of liter- 
 ary and fashionable life in Paris, Lon- 
 don, and Berlin, as well as the best 
 society here, he was yet remarkable for 
 his urbane and suave deportment, with- 
 out the least ostentation. 
 
 Dr. Cogswell received his honorary 
 degree of LL.D. from Trinity in 1842, 
 and the distinction was again conferred 
 by Harvard in 1863. Like other men of 
 genius. Dr. Cogswell had his harmless 
 eccentricities ; one was his refusal to 
 wear an overcoat, even in the coldest 
 weather ; and he was never seen to 
 seek shelter from the rain under an 
 umbrella. He was simple in his dress 
 and generally also in his diet, and if his 
 average health and longevity are consid- 
 ered, he proved the good effects of the lat- 
 ter. His memory was remarkably tena- 
 cious, especially in whatever concerned 
 the books of the library. He was not an 
 
Joseph Green Cogswell. 169 
 
 infrequent guest at the table of Mr. Wil- 
 liam B. Astor when he resided in Lafay- 
 ette Place, and on one occasion, a ques- 
 tion occurred in the conversation, con- 
 cerning some place on the African coast, 
 and it not being satisfactorily answered, 
 Mr. Washington Irving being present, 
 said, "Ask Cogswell; he knows every- 
 thing." The doctor responded that he 
 knew the particular spot, having been 
 sent as supercargo of a vessel to that 
 coast. 
 
 Longfellow thus incidentally refers to 
 his having visited him : " Dr. Cogswell 
 is here, and is truly a god-send." He 
 was not only a scholar of wide scope, 
 having a knowledge of classic, Oriental, 
 Scandinavian, Slavic, and other Euro- 
 pean and Asiatic literature ; he was also 
 a Christian, as the following interesting 
 extract from one of his letters evinces : 
 " God has never given me over to unbe- 
 lief. At no period of my life has a 
 doubt arisen in my mind in regard to 
 the great spiritual truths — God the Crea- 
 tor, Christ the Redeemer, the Holy 
 
170 Joseph Green Cogswell. 
 
 Spirit the Sanctifier are realities with me 
 as much as the earth upon which I 
 tread. I would not give up this belief 
 for the gift of the greatest intellect, the 
 highest rank, or the most unbounded 
 wealth ever attained by mortal man. . . . 
 I believe in the reality of a future life as 
 fully as I believe in the present." 
 
 It is pleasant to notice, in the follow- 
 ing extracts from his later correspond- 
 ence, the indications of his happy tem- 
 perament and calm state of mind, when 
 his physical strength was abating, he 
 writes at the close of 1865 thus to a 
 friend : "I have great cause for grati- 
 tude to God. As He brings me nearer 
 and nearer to the close of life. He grants 
 me as much freedom from the usual 
 trials of old age as its condition ever al- 
 lows, and more of its comforts than I 
 could reasonably expect. In a social 
 point of view, it is true I lose a good 
 deal from impaired hearing ; on the 
 other hand, I am spared hearing an in- 
 finite deal of nonsense. My eyesight is 
 still good, and I look upon the beauties 
 
Joseph Green Cogswell. 171 
 
 of nature and art with as much, if not 
 more delight than ever, and enjoy a 
 greater serenity of mind than I did when 
 my cares were more distracting. Above 
 all, as my sun nears its western horizon, 
 I look with a more unwavering faith 
 toward the land where there will be no 
 night." Two years later we find his so- 
 cial character even more clearly reveal- 
 ed. " Conscious that I am unfitted for 
 large assemblies, I do not care to join 
 them, but I never loved the few who 
 are dear to me more than I do now, and 
 never enjoyed being with them more 
 highly ; and while they do not tire of 
 me, I cannot give up that enjoyment 
 which is, next to one, the sweetest cup 
 in life. Nor do I hold that the closing 
 years of life should all be given up to 
 penitence and ajcetic devotion. Real 
 religion is of another cast, its services 
 are man's highest duties, and the proper 
 performance of them contributes more 
 to habitual cheerfulness than all the joys 
 of earth. Is there no devotion but in a 
 monk's cell ? . . . As regards reading, 
 
172 Joseph Green Cogswell. 
 
 I find there are few books of which I do 
 not tire, and of these few the first of all 
 is the Bible. I have just finished a care- 
 ful perusal of the four Gospels, having 
 taken them up as if it were for the first 
 time and I had never formed an opinion 
 in regard to Him whose life they re- 
 cord, and in so far as I can divest my- 
 self of all preconceived belief. I closed 
 the book convinced by what I had been 
 reading of the literal truth of the narra- 
 tive, and saying with the centurion, 
 ' Truly this was the Son of God.' " 
 
AFTER-THOUGHTS. 
 
 If the musician has his prelude, inter- 
 lude and postlude, certes the scribe may 
 be permitted his appendix. Compara- 
 tively few wills are executed without a 
 codicil ; and fewer still are the epistles, 
 especially those of the gentler sex, with- 
 out the time-honored J>osiscrip(. And in 
 social intercourse generally some words 
 at parting are deemed necessary, if they 
 do involve the somewhat saddening 
 phrase — farewell. George Selwyn on a 
 certain occasion, when in a courtly com- 
 pany, ventured the assertion that no 
 woman ever wrote a letter without add- 
 ing to it a postscript. " My next shall 
 refute that statement," said Lady B. 
 In a few days Selwyn received a missive 
 from her ladyship, ending with the in- 
 evitable P.S. and the question, "Now, 
 who was right, you or IT' 
 
174 After-Thoughts. 
 
 So, if the courtesy of the reader has 
 induced him to accompany the writer 
 thus far, he will doubtless continue with 
 him to the end of these closing sen- 
 tences, for his patience will not, it is 
 believed, be very severely taxed. 
 
 In conning over these brief studies of 
 the eminent persons whose illustrious 
 careers have been glanced at, many a 
 suggestive hint of ethical teaching or 
 inspiration may be garnered, and many 
 a gem of poesy culled to charm the 
 fancy. If, perchance, some portions may 
 seem to savor too much of the homiletic, 
 it is to be remembered that fidelity to 
 the delineation of character required it ; 
 and, moreover, life has its shadowy as 
 well as its sunny aspects. Cultured in- 
 tellect and moral elevation of character 
 are the consummate blossom of a life of 
 studious toil and self-discipline ; and 
 these great elements imply solitude and 
 soliloquy, as well as patient hours of 
 quiescent thought. All great achieve- 
 ments have been thus engendered. In 
 these unrestful times, when everything 
 
After- Thoughts. 175 
 
 seems whirled along with such electric 
 speed, who does not turn with relief 
 from the " madd'ning world's ignoble 
 strife" to the calm study of exalted 
 character with its ethical and sagacious 
 teaching ? 
 
 It has been well said that " some men 
 of a secluded and studious life have 
 sent forth from their closet or their 
 cloister rays of intellectual light that 
 have agitated courts and revolutionized 
 kingdoms." Thus solitude becomes 
 ofttimes the birthplace of important 
 ideas and results. Sequestered from 
 the strife of tongues and the ever-surg- 
 ing tide of human life, the student ex- 
 plores the mysteries and marvels of the 
 great book of Nature, and solves her 
 problems. 
 
 Thomas Fuller quaintly remarks that 
 " some sciolists have discovered a short 
 path to celebrity. Having heard that it 
 is a vastly silly thing to believe every- 
 thing, they take it for granted that it 
 would be a vastly wise thing to believe 
 nothing. They, therefore, set up for 
 
176 After-Thoughts. 
 
 free-thinkers ; but their stock in trade 
 is, that they are free from thinking. 
 No persons make so large a demand 
 against the reason of others as those 
 who have none of their own ; as a high- 
 wayman will take greater liberties with 
 our purse than our banker. " Said Cow- 
 ley, " I love and commend a true, good 
 fame, because it is th€ shadow of virtue 
 — not that it doth any good to the body 
 which accompanies it, but it is an effica- 
 cious shadow, and, like that of St. Peter, 
 cures the diseases of others." Mental, 
 like muscular activity, is essential to 
 healthy development ; the firefly emits 
 its phosphorescent light only when 
 a-wing, and the lark sings as he soars. 
 Good and great men have been com- 
 pared to the stars — the planets of the 
 age, wherein they live and illustrate the 
 times. Jeremy Collier has said that 
 " intellectual pleasures are of a nobler 
 kind than any others. They belong to 
 beings of the highest order ; they are 
 the inclinations of heaven and the en- 
 tertainments of the Deity." 
 
After- Thoughts. 
 
 17; 
 
 As the patent of nobility is theirs 
 whose lives are found worthy and have 
 been prolific of benefits to others, the 
 symbol of esteem for the eminent char- 
 acters who have so recently passed away 
 should be on that account, rather than 
 the laurel crown of old, a wreath of the 
 more familiar, fragrant, many-hued beau- 
 ties of Flora.