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PICKVriCK CLUB, 
 
 A NEW AND ILLUSTRATED nDrrZOir; 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 
 
 CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD, 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, 
 HAVE PUBLISHED A NEW EDITION OF 
 
 THE POSTHUMOUS PAPERS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE PICKWICK CLUB, 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 
 BY 
 
 SAM WELLER, Jk. AND ALFRED CROWQUILL, Esa. 
 
 This edition is complete in one volume, and printed on fine 
 paper. The illustrations executed in the best style, and printed 
 on a beautiful cream-coloured paper. 
 
 SAM SI.ICK. ' 
 
 THEY HAVE ALSO PUBLISHED A NEW EDITION 
 
 OF 
 
 THE SAYINGS AND DOINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE YANKEE CLOCK-MAKER, 
 
 SAMUEL SLICK, of SLICKVILLE. 
 
 IN ONE VOLUME 12mo, 
 
BEAUTIES 
 
 OP 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
THE 
 
 BEAUTIES 
 
 OP 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 « THE SKETCH-BOOK," " KNICKERBOCKER," « CRAYON 
 MISCELLANY," "LIFE OF COLUMBUS," &c. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 CARP^Y, LEA & BLANCHARD, 
 
 ron 
 
 GEORGE W. GORTON. 
 
 1838. 
 

 n 
 
 L^t // 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 The Inn Kitchen, - - - - : - 13 
 
 The Spectre BridegToom, - - - - - 15 
 
 A Wet Sunday in a Country Inn, - - = - 29 
 
 An Obedient Hen-pecked Husband, - - - - 32 
 
 A Desirable Match, - - - - - - 36 
 
 A Rival, - - - . - - - 38 
 
 An Invitation, - - - - - - -40 
 
 A Dutch Entertainment, - - - - - 42 
 
 War, - - - - - - - -44 
 
 English Stage Coachmen, - - - . . - 45 
 
 The Waltz, - - - - - - - 47 
 
 Dutch Tea-parties, - - - - - - 48 
 
 Cosmogony, - - -- - - -50 
 
 Dutch Legislators, - - - - - -56 
 
 The Little Man in Black, - - . ' - -60 
 
 My Aunt Charity, - - - - - - 67 
 
 Will Wizard, - - - - - - - 71 
 
 Style, - - . - . = ^ . ^ re 
 
 Frenchmen, - - - - - - -79 
 
 The Wife, - - - - - - -80 
 
 To Anthony Evergreen, Gent., - - - - 87 
 
 Showing the Nature of History in General,— furthermore, 
 
 the Universal Acquirements of William the Testy, and 
 how a man may learn so much as to render himself good 
 
 for nothing, - = . - . - , =88 
 
99 
 
 104 
 
 tl COXTEIfTS. 
 
 Page 
 Dirk Sehuiler and the Valiant Peter, - - 95 
 
 Description of the powerful Army that assembled at the 
 City of New-Amsterdam — tog-ether with the interview 
 between Peter the Headstrong and General Von Poffen- 
 burg'h, and Peter's sentiments respecting- unfortunate great 
 men, .„_--- 
 
 Of Peter Stuyvesant's Expedition into the East Countiy, 
 showing that though an Old Bird, he did not understand 
 
 Trap, 
 
 How the People of New- Amsterdam were thrown into a great 
 Panic by the news of a threatened Invasion, and the man- 
 ner in which tliey fortified themselves, - - 111 
 The troubles of New-Amsterdam appear to thicken, showing 
 the bravery in time of Peril of a People who defend them- 
 selves by Resolutions, - - - - 114 
 
 The Widow and her Son, .... 121 
 
 Storm at Sea, -.-.-. 128 
 
 John Bull, .-..-. 129 
 
 Consequence, - - - - - - 139 
 
 The Cockloft family, ..... 140 
 
 Conversion of the Americans, - - - - 149 
 
 Tom Straddle, .-.-.- 151 
 
 Sleepy Hollow, - -- - - . 157 
 
 Ichabod Crane, ------ 160 
 
 Superstition, - - - - - - 163 
 
 The Broken Heart, . - . . . 164 
 
 A Wreck at Sea, . - . . - 171 
 
 Land, - - - - - - - 173 
 
 Genius, - - - - - - - 175 
 
 A Contrast, ------ fj. 
 
 Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Asem Hac- 
 chem. Principal Slave-Driver to his Highness the Bashaw 
 of Tripoli, - - - - - - 179 
 
 A warlike Portrait of the Great Peter, - - 186 
 
 Mutability of Literature, - . . . 194 
 
 Book-Making, ---.-. 195 
 
 A Dutch Settler's Dream, . - - . 201 
 
eONTBNTS. Vll 
 
 Pag« 
 The Pride of the Village, - - - ^ 202 
 
 Domestic Scene, ----- 210 
 
 Master Simon, - - - - - 211 
 
 Perseverance, ------ 212 
 
 Doleful Disaster of Anthony the Trumpeter, - - ib. 
 
 The Grief of Peter Stuyvesant, - - - 214 
 
 The Dignified Retirement and Mortal surrender of Peter the 
 Headstrong", ----.- 215 
 
 Morning, -....- 220 
 
 The Author's Account of his History of New-York, - ib, 
 
 Westminster Abbey, ----- 222 
 
 Master Henry Hudson, ----- 224 
 
 Master Robert Juet, ----- 225 
 
 A Dutch Voyag-e of Discovery, - - . 226 
 
 Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Asem Hac- 
 chem, Principal Slave-Driver to his Highness the Bashaw 
 of Tripoli, ------ 227 
 
 Autumnal Reflections, ----- 232 
 
 The Family of the Lambs, - - - - 237 
 
 Blindmans'-Buff, ----- 240 
 
 The Angler, ------ ih. 
 
 Rural Life in England, - - - - - 243 
 
 Letter from Mustapha Rub-a-dub Keli Khan to Muley Helim 
 al Raggi, surnamed the Agreeable Ragamuffin, chief Moun- 
 tebank and BufFo-dancer to his Highness, - - 246 
 James I. of Scotland, ----- 254 
 
 How Peter Stuyvesant relieved the Sovereign People from 
 the burden of taking care of the Nation — with sundry par- 
 ticulars of his conduct in time of peace, - - 255 
 Showing the great* difficulty Philosophers have had in peo- 
 pling America — and how the Aborigines came to be begot- 
 ten by Accident, to the great relief and satisfaction of the 
 Author, ------ 263 
 
 Wouter Van Twiller, ----- 269 
 
 The Grand Council of New- Amsterdam — ^with reasons why 
 an Alderman should be Fat, .... 274 
 
 Ichabod Crane and the Galloping Hessian, - - 278 
 
VIU CONTBXTB. 
 
 Page 
 On Greatness, - - = . - 284 
 
 How King Ferdinand foraged the Vega — and of the battle 
 
 of the Bridge of Finos, and the fate of the two Moorish 
 
 brothers, - - - - - - 292 
 
 Boabdil el Chico, - - * > - - 297 
 
 The Alhambra by Moonlight, . . . , 300 
 
 Kidd the Pirate, ..... 302 
 
BEAUTIES 
 
 OF 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 THE INN KITCHEN. 
 
 During a journey that I once made through the Ne- 
 therlands, I had arrived one evening at the Pomme d^Or, 
 the principal inn of a small Flemish village. It was after 
 the hour of the table cVJioie, so that I was obliged to make 
 a solitary supper from the reliques of its ampler board. 
 The weather was chilly ; I was seated alone in one end of 
 a great gloomy dining-room, and my repast being over, I 
 had the prospect before me of a long dull evening, without 
 any visible means of enhvening it. I summoned mine host, 
 and requested something to read; he brought m^e the whole 
 literary stock of his household, a Dutch family-bible, an 
 almanac in the same language, and a number of old Paris 
 newspapers. As 1 sat dozing over one of the latter, reading 
 old news and stale criticisms, my ear was now and then 
 struck with bursts of laughter which seemed to proceed 
 from the kitchen. Every one that has travelled on the 
 continent must know how favourite a resort the kitchen of a 
 country inn is to the middle and inferior order of travellers ; 
 particularly in that equivocal kind of weather, when a fire 
 becomes agreeable towards evenino;. I threw aside the 
 newspaper, and explored my way to the kitchen, to take a 
 peep at the group that appeared to be so merry. It was 
 composed partly of travellers who had arrived some hours 
 before in a diligence, and parti}'- of the usual attendants and 
 hangers-on of inns. They were seated round a great bur- 
 nished stove, that might liave been mistaken for an altar, 
 at which they were worshipping. It was covered with va- 
 rious kitchen vessels of resplendent brightness ; among 
 
14 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 which steamed and hissed a huge copper tea-kettle. A 
 large lamp threw a strong mass of light upon the group 
 bringing out many odd features in strong relief. Its yellow 
 rays partially illumined the spacious kitchen, dying duskily 
 away into remote corners ; except where they settled into 
 mellow radiance on the broad side of a flitch of bacon, or 
 were reflected back from well-scoured utensils, that gleamed 
 from the midst of obscurity. A strapping Flemish lass, with 
 long golden pendants in her ears, and a necklace with a 
 golden heart suspended to it, was the presiding priestess of 
 the temple. 
 
 Many of the company were furnished with pipes, and 
 most of them with some kind of evening potation. I found 
 their mirth was occasioned by anecdotes, which a little 
 swarthy Frenchman, with a dry weazen face and large 
 whiskers, was giving of his love adventures ; at the end of 
 each of which, there was one of those bursts of honest un- 
 ceremonious laughter, in which a man indulges in that 
 temple of true liberty, an inn. 
 
 As I had no better mode of getting through a tedious 
 blustering evening, I took my seat near the stove, and listened 
 to a variety of travellers' tales, some very extravagant, and 
 most very dull. All of them, however, have faded from 
 my treacherous memory except one, which I will endeavour 
 to relate. I fear, however, it derived its chief zest from the 
 manner in which it was told, and the peculiar air and ap- 
 pearance of the narrator. Fie was a corpulent old Svvissj 
 who had the look of a veteran traveller. He was dressed 
 in a ta/nished green travelling jacket, with a broad belt 
 round his waist, and a pair of overalls, with buttons from 
 the hips to the ancles. He was of a full rubicund coun- 
 tenance, with a double chin, aquiline nose, and a pleasant 
 twinkling eye. His hair was light, and curled from under 
 an old green velvet travelling cap stuck on one side of his 
 head. He was interrupted more than once by the arrival 
 of guests, or the remarks of his auditors ; and paused now 
 and then lo replenish his pipe ; at which times he had ge- 
 nerally a roguish leer, and a sly joke for the buxom kitchen 
 maid. 
 
 I wish my reader could imagine the old fellow lolling in 
 a huge arm-chair, one arm a-kimbo, the other holding a 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 15 
 
 curiously twisted tobacco pipe, formed of genuine e'cume de 
 vier, decorated with silver chain and silken tassel — his head 
 cocked on one side, and a whimsical cut of the eye occa- 
 sionally, as he related the following story. 
 
 THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. 
 
 On the summit of one of the heights of the Odenwald, 
 a wild and romantic tract of Upper Germany, that lies not 
 far from the confluence of the Main and the Rhine, there 
 stood, many, many years since, the Castle of the Baron 
 Von Landshort. It is now quite fallen to decay, and almost 
 buried among beech trees and dark firs ; above which, 
 however, its old watch-tower may still be seen struggling, 
 like the former possessor I have mentioned, to carry a high 
 head and look down upon the neighbouring country. 
 
 The Baron was a dry branch of the great family of Kat- 
 zenellenbogen,* and inherited the reliques of the property, 
 and all the pride of his ancestors. Though the warlike 
 disposition of his predecessors had much impaired the family 
 possessions, yet the Baron still endeavoured to keep up some 
 show of former state. The times were peaceable, and the 
 German nobles, in general, had abandoned iheir incon- 
 venient old castles, perched like eagles' nests among the 
 mountains, and had built more convenient residences in the 
 valleys ,* still the Baron remained proudly drawn up in his 
 little fortress, cherishing with hereditary inveteracy, all the 
 old family feuds ; so that he was on ill terms with some of 
 his nearest neighbours, on account of disputes that had hap- 
 pened between their great great grandfathers. 
 
 The Baron had but one child, a daughter : but nature, 
 when she grants but one child, always compensates by 
 making it a prodigy ; and so it was with the daughter of 
 the Baron. All the nurses, gossips, and country cousins, 
 assured her father that she had not her equal for beauty in 
 all Germany ; and who should know better than they ? She 
 had, moreover, been brought up with great care under the 
 superintendence of two maiden aunts, who had spent some 
 
 * uc. Cafs-Elbonv. The name of a family of those parts very powerful in former 
 times. The appellation, we are told, was given in compliment to a peerless dame 
 of the family, celebrated for a fine arm. 
 
16 SEAUTiES or 
 
 years of their early life at one of the little German couri^^ 
 and were skilled in all the branches of knowledge necessary 
 to the education of a fine lady. Under their instructions? 
 she became a miracle of accomplishments. By the time 
 she was eighteen, she could embroider to admiration, and 
 had worked whole histories of the saints in tapestry, with 
 such strength of expression in their countenances, that they 
 looked like so many souls in purgatory. She could read 
 without great difficulty, and had spelled her way through 
 several church legends, and almost all thechivalric wonders 
 of the Heldenbuch. She had even made considerable pro- 
 ficiency in writing ; could sign her own name without miss- 
 ing a letter, and so legibly that her aunts could read it 
 without spectacles. She excelled in making little elegant 
 good-for-nothing lady-like knick-nacks of all kinds ; was 
 versed in the most abstruse dancing of the day ; played a 
 number of airs on the harp and guitar ; and knew all the 
 tender ballads of the Minnielieders by heart. 
 
 Her aunts, too, having been great flirts and coquettes ira 
 their younger days, were admirably calculated to be vigilant 
 guardians and strict censors of the conduct of their niece ; 
 for there is no duenna so rigidly prudent and inexorably 
 decorous, as a superannuated coquette. She was rarely 
 suffered out of their sight ; never went beyond the domains 
 of the castle, unless well attended, or rather well watched ; 
 had continual lectures read to her about strict decorum and 
 implicit obedience : and, as to the men — pah I she was 
 taught to hold them at such distance, and in such absolute 
 distrust, that, unless properly authorized she would not have 
 cast a glance upon the handsomest cavalier in the world — 
 no, not if he were even dying at her feet. 
 
 The good effects of this system were wonderfully ap- 
 parent. The young lady was a pattern of docility and 
 correctness. While others were wasting their sweetness in 
 the glare of the world, and liable to be plucked and thrown 
 aside by every hand ; she was coyly blooming into fresh 
 and lovely womanhood under the protection of those im* 
 maculate spinsters, like a rose-bud blushing forth among 
 guardian thorns. Her aunts looked upon her with pride 
 and exultation, and vaunted that though all the other young 
 ladies in the world might -go astray, yet, thank Heaven, 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 17 
 
 nothing of the kind could happen to the heiress of Katzenel- 
 lenbogen. 
 
 But, however scantily the Baron Von Landshort might 
 be provided with children ; his household was by no means 
 a small one ; for Providence had enriched him with abund- 
 ance of poor relations. They, one and all, possessed the 
 affectionate disposition common to humble relatives ; were 
 wonderfully attached to the Baron, and took every possible 
 occasion to come in swarms and enliven the castle. All 
 family festivals were commemorated by these good people 
 at the Baron's expense ; and when they were filled with 
 good cheer, they would declare that there was nothing- on 
 earth so delightful as these family meetings, these jubilees 
 of the heart. 
 
 The Baron, though a small man, had a large soul, and 
 it swelled with satisfaction at the consciousness of being the 
 greatest man in the little world about him. He loved to tell 
 long stories about the stark old warriors whose portraits 
 looked grimly down from the walls around, and he found 
 no listeners equal to those who fed at his expense. He was 
 much given to the marvellous, and a firm believer in all 
 those supernatural tales with which every mountain and 
 valley in Germany abounds. The faith of his guests ex- 
 ceeded even his own: they listened to every tale of wonder 
 with open eyes and mouth, and never failed to be astonished, 
 even though repeated for the hundredth time. Thus lived 
 the Baron Von Landshort, the oracle of his table, the ab- 
 solute monarch of his little territory, and happy above all 
 things, in the persuasion that he was the wisest man of the 
 age. 
 
 x\t the time of which my story treats there was a great 
 family gathering at the castle, on an affair of the utmost 
 importance. It was to receive the destined bridegroom of 
 the Baron's daughter. A negotiation had been carried on 
 between the father and an old nobleman of Bavaria, to unite 
 the dignity of the two houses by the marriage of their 
 children. The preliminaries had been conducted with 
 proper punctilio. The young people were betrothed without 
 seeing each other; and the time was appointed for the 
 marriage ceremony. The young Count Von Altenburg 
 had been recalled from the army for the purpose, and was 
 
 2* 
 
18 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 actually on his way to the Baron's to receive his bride. 
 Missives had even been received from him from Wurtzburg, 
 where he was accidentally detained, mentioning the day 
 and hour when he might be expected to arrive. 
 
 The caslle was in a tumult of preparation to give him a 
 suitable welcome. The fair bride had been decked out 
 with uncommon care. The two aunts had superintended 
 her toilet, and quarrelled the whole morning about every 
 article of her dress. The young lady had taken the ad- 
 vantage of their contest to follow the bent of her own taste ; 
 and fortunately it was a good one. She looked as lovely 
 as youthful bridegroom could desire; and the flutter of ex- 
 pectation heightened tlse lustre of her charms. 
 
 The suffusions that mantled her face and neck, the gentle 
 heaving of the bosom, the eye now and then lost in reverie, 
 all betrayed the soft tumult that was going on in her little 
 heart. The aunts were continually hovering around her ; 
 for maiden aunts are apt to take great interest in affairs of 
 this nature. They were giving her a world of staid council 
 how to deport herself, what to say, and in what manner to 
 receive the expected lover. 
 
 The Baron was no less busied in preparations. He had, 
 in truth, nothing exactly to do ; but he was naturally a 
 fuming bustling little man, and could not remain passive 
 when all the world vvas in a hurry. Ho worried from top 
 to bottom of the castie with an air of infinite anxiety ; he 
 continually called the servants from their work to exhort 
 them to be diligent ; and buzzed about every hall and 
 chamber, as idly restless and importunate as a blue-bottle 
 fly on a warm summer's day. 
 
 In the mean time the fatted calf had been killed, the 
 forests had runa; with the clamour of the huntsman ; the 
 kitchen was crowded with good cheer ; the cellars had 
 yielded up whole oceans of Rhein-wine and Ferne-wein ; and 
 even the great Heidelburg tun had been laid under contri- 
 bution. Every thing was ready to receive the distinguished 
 guests with Savs unci Braus in the true spirit of German 
 hospitality — but the guest delayed to make his appearance. 
 Hour rolled after hour. The sun that poured his downward 
 rays upon the rich forest of the Odenwald, now just gleamed 
 along; the summits of the mountains. The Baron mounted 
 
■WASHINGTON IRVING, 19 
 
 the highest tower, and strained his eyes in hopes of catching 
 a distant sight of the Count and his attendants. Once he 
 thought he beheld them ; the sound of horns came floating 
 from the valley, prolonged by the mountain echoes. A 
 number of horsemen were seen far below, slowly advancing 
 along the road ; but when they had nearly reached the foot 
 of the mountain, they suddenly struck off in a different di= 
 rection. The last ray of sunshine departed — the bats 
 began to flit by in the twilight — the road grew dimmer and 
 dimmer to the view ; and nothing appeared stirring in it, but 
 now and then a peasant lagging homeward from his labour. 
 
 While the old castle of Landshort was in this state of 
 perplexity, a very interesting scene was transacting in a 
 different part of the Odenwald. 
 
 The young Count Von Altenburg was tranquilly pur- 
 suing his route in that sober jog-trot way, in which a man 
 travels towards matrimony when his friends have taken all 
 the trouble and uncertainty of courtship off. his hands^ 
 and a bride is waiting for him, as certainly as a dinner at 
 the end of his journey. He had encountered at Wurtz- 
 burg, a youthful companion in arms, with whom he had 
 seen some service on the frontiers ; Hermon Von Starken- 
 faust, one of the stoutest hands, and worthiest hearts, of 
 German chivalry, who was now returning from the army. 
 His father's castle was not far distant from the old fortress 
 of Landshort, although an hereditary feud rendered the fa- 
 milies hostile and strangers to each other. 
 
 In the warm-heaftecl moment of recognition, the young 
 friends related all their past adventures and fortunes, and 
 the Count gave the whole history of his intended nuptials 
 with a young lady whom he had never seen, but of whose 
 charms he had received the most enrapturing descriptions. 
 
 As the route of the friends lay in the same direction, 
 they agreed to perform the rest of their journey together ; 
 and that they might do it the more leisurely, set off from 
 Wurtzburg, at an early hour, the Count having given di- 
 rections for his retinue to follow and overtake him. 
 
 They beguiled their wayfaring with recollections of their 
 military scenes and adventures ; but the Count was apt to 
 be a little tedious, now and then, about the reputed charms 
 of his bride, and the felicity that awaited him. 
 
20 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 In this way they had entered among the mountains of 
 the Odenvvald, and were traversing one of its most lonely 
 and thickly wooded passes. It is well known that the fo- 
 rests of Germany have always been as much infested by 
 robbers as its castles by spectres ; and at this time, the 
 former were particularly numerous, from the hordes of dis- 
 banded soldiers wandering about the country. It will not 
 appear extraordinary, therefore, that the Cavaliers were at- 
 tacked by a gang of these stragglers, in the depth of the 
 forest. They defended themselves with bravery, but were 
 nearly overpowered, when the Count's retinue arrived "to 
 their assistance. At sight of them the robbers fled, but not 
 until the Count had received a mortal wound. He was 
 slowly and carefully conveyed back to the city of Wurtz- 
 burg, and a friar summoned from a neighbouring convent, 
 who was famous for his skill in administering to both soul 
 and body ; but half of his skill was superfluous ; the mo- 
 ments of the unfortunate Count were numbered. 
 
 With his dying breath he entreated his friend to repair 
 instantly to the castle of Landshort, and explain the fatal 
 cause of his not keeping his appointment with his bride. 
 Though not the most ardent of lovers, he was one of the 
 most punctilious of men, and appeared earnestly solicitous 
 that this mission should be speedily and courteously ex- 
 ecuted. " Unless this is done," said he, " I shall not sleep 
 quietly in my grave!" He repeated these last words with 
 peculiar solemnity. A request, at a moment so impressive, 
 admitted no hesitation. Starkenfaust endeavoured to sooth 
 him to calmness ; promised faithfully to execute his wish, 
 and gave him his hand in solemn pledge. The dying man 
 pressed it in acknowledgment, but soon lapsed into deli- 
 rium — raved about his bride — his engagements — his plighted 
 word ; ordered his horse, that he might ride to the castle of 
 Landshort ; and expired in the fancied act of vaulting into 
 the saddle. 
 
 Starkenfaust bestowed a sigh, and a soldier's tear, on the 
 untimely fate of his comrade ; and then pondered on the 
 awkward mission he had undertaken. His heart was heavy, 
 and his head perplexed ; for he was to present himself an 
 unbidden guest among hostile people, and to damp their fes- 
 tivity with tidings fatal to their hopes. Still there were 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 21 
 
 certain whisperings of curiosity in his bosom to see this far- 
 famed beauty of Katzenellenbogen, so cautiously shut up 
 from the world ; for he was a passionate admirer of the sex, 
 and there was a dash of eccentricity and enterprise in his 
 character that made him fond of all singular adventures. 
 
 Previous to his departure he made all due arrangements 
 with the holy fraternity of the convent for the funeral so- 
 lemnities of his friend, who was to be buried in the cathedral 
 of Wurtzburg, near some of his illustrious relatives ; and 
 the mourning retinue of the Count took charge of his re- 
 mains. 
 
 It is now high time that we should return to the ancient 
 family of Katzenellenbogen, who were impatient for their 
 guest, and still more for their dinner; and to the worthy little 
 Baron, whom they left airing himself on the watch-tower. 
 
 Night closed in, but still no guest arrived. The Baron 
 descended from the tower in despair. The banquet, which 
 had been delayed from hour to hour, could no longer be 
 postponed. The meats were already overdone ; the cook in 
 agony ; and the whole household had the look of a garrison 
 that had been reduced by famine. The Baron was obliged 
 reluctantly to give orders for the feast without the presence 
 of the guest. All were seated at table, and just on the point 
 of commencing, when the sound of a horn from without the 
 gate gave notice of the approach of a stranger. Another 
 long blast filled the old court of the castle with its echoes, 
 and were answered by the warder from the walls. The 
 Baron hastened to receive his future son-in-law. 
 
 The drawbridge had been let down, and the stranger was 
 before the gate. He was a tall gallant cavalier, mounted on 
 a black steed. His countenance was pale, but he had a 
 beaming, romantic eye, and an air of stately melancholy. 
 The Baron was a little mortified that he should have come 
 in this simple, solitary style. His dignity for a moment was 
 ruffled, and he felt disposed to consider it a want of proper 
 respect for the important occasion, and the important family 
 with which he v/as to be connected. He pacified himself, 
 however, with the conclusion that it must have been -youth- 
 ful impatience which had induced him thus to spur on sooner 
 than his attendants. 
 
22 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 " I am sorry," said the stranger, " to break in upon you 
 thus unseasonably — " 
 
 Here the Baron interrupted him with a world of compli- 
 ments and greetings ; for to tell the truth, he prided himself 
 upon his courtesy and his eloquence. The stranger attempt- 
 ed, once or twice, to stem the torrent of words, but in vain, 
 so he bowed his head and suffered it to flow on. By the 
 time the Baron had come to a pause, they had reached the 
 inner court of the castle ; and the stranger was again about 
 to speak, when he was once more interrupted by the ap- 
 pearance of the female part of the family, leading forth the 
 shrinking and blushing bride. He gazed on her lor a mo- 
 ment as one entranced ; it seemed as if his whole soul beam- 
 ed forth in the gaze, and rested upon that lovely form. One 
 of the maiden aunts whispered something in her ear ; she 
 made an effort to speak ; her moist blue eye was timidly 
 raised ; gave a shy glance of inquiry on the stranger ; and 
 was cast again on the ground. The words died away ; but 
 there was a sweet smile playing about her lips, and a soft 
 dimpling of the cheek that showed her glance had not been 
 unsatisfactory. It was impossible for a girl at the fond age 
 of eighteen, highly predisposed for love and matrimony, not 
 to be pleased with so gallant a cavalier. 
 
 The late hour at which the guest had arrived left no time 
 for parley. The Baron was peremptory, and deferred all 
 particular conversation until the morning, and led the way 
 to the untasted banquet. 
 
 It was served up in the great hall of the castle. Around 
 the walls hung the hard favoured portraits of the heroes of 
 the house of Katzenellenbogen and the trophies which they 
 had gained in the field and in the chase. Hacked corslets, 
 splintered jousting spears, and tattered banners, were ming- 
 led with the spoils of sylvan warfare ; the jaws of the wolf, 
 and the tusks of the boar, grinned horribly among cross- 
 bows and battle-axes, and a huge pair of antlers branched 
 accidentally over the head of the youthful bridegroom. 
 
 The cavalier took but little notice of the company or the 
 entertainment. He scarcely tasted the banquet, but seemed 
 absorbed in admiration of his bride. He conversed in a low 
 tone that could not be overheard — for the language of love 
 is never loud ; but where is the female ear so dull that it 
 
WASHINGTON IRVINCf. 23 
 
 cannot catch the softest whisper of the lover ? There was a 
 mingled tenderness and gravity in his manner, that appeared 
 to have a powerful effect upon the young lady. Her colour 
 came and went as she listened with deep attention. Now 
 and then she made some blushing reply, and when his eye 
 was turned away, she would steal a side-long glance at bis 
 romantic countenince, and heave a gentle sigh of tender 
 happiness. It was evident that the young couple were com- 
 pletely enamoured. The aunts, who were deeply versed in 
 the mysteries of the heart, declared that they had fallen in 
 love with each at first sight. 
 
 The feast went on merrily, or at least noisily, for the 
 guests were all blessed with those keen appetites that attend 
 upon light purses and mountain air. The Baron told his 
 best and longest stories, and never had he told them so well, 
 or with such great effect. If there was any thing marvel- 
 lous, his auditors were lost in astonishment ,- and if any 
 thing facetious, they were sure to laugh exactly in the right 
 place. The Baron, it is true, like most great men, was too 
 dignified to utter any joke but a dull one ; it was always 
 enforced, however, by a bumper of excellent hocheimer ; 
 and even a dull joke, at one's own table, served up with jolly 
 old wine, is irresistible. Many good things were said by poorer 
 and keener wits, that would not bear repeating, except on 
 similar occasions ; many sly speeches whispered in ladies' 
 ears, that almost convulsed them with suppressed laughter; 
 and a song or two roared out by a poor, but merry and 
 broad-faced cousin of the Baron, that absolutely made the 
 maiden aunts hold up their fans. 
 
 Amidst all this revelry, the stranger guest maintained a 
 most singular and unseasonable gravity. His countenance 
 assumed a deeper cast of dejection as the evening advanced; 
 and, strange as it may appear, even the Baron's jokes 
 seemed only to render him the more melancholy. At limes 
 he was lost in thought, and at times there was a perturbed 
 and restless wandering of the eye that bespoke a mind but 
 ill at ease. His conversations with the bride became more 
 and more earnest and mysterious. Louring clouds began to 
 steal over the fair serenity of her brow, and tremors to run 
 through her tender frame. 
 
 All this could not escape the notice of the company. 
 
24 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Their gaiety was chilled by the unaccountable gloom of the 
 bridegroom; their spirits were infected; whispers and glances 
 were interchanged, accompanied by shrugs and dubious 
 shakes of the head. The song and the laugh grew less and less 
 frequent; there were dreary pauses in the conversation, which 
 were at length succeeded by wild tales and supernatural le- 
 gends. One dismal story produced another more dismal, and 
 the Baron nearly frightened some of the ladies into hysterics 
 with the history of the goblin horseman that carried away 
 the fair Leonora ; a dreadful but true story, which has since 
 been put into excellent verse, and is read and believed by all 
 the world. 
 
 The bridegroom listened to this tale with profound atten- 
 tion. He kept his eyes steadily fixed on the Baron, and as 
 the story drew to a close, began gradually to rise from his 
 seat, growing taller and taller, until, in the Baron's entranced 
 eye, he seemed almost to tower into a giant. The moment 
 the tale was finished, he heaved a deep sigh, and took a 
 solemn farewell of the company. They were all amaze- 
 ment. The Baron was perfectly thunderstruck. 
 
 "What! going to leave the castle at midnight? why, 
 every thing was prepared for his reception ; a chamber was 
 ready for him if he wished to retire." 
 
 The stranger shook his head mournfully and mysterious- 
 ly ; " I must lay my head in a different chamber to night !" 
 
 There was something in this reply, and the tone in which 
 it was uttered, that made the Baron's heart misgive him ; 
 but he rallied his forces and repeated his hospitable entreaties. 
 
 The stranger shook his head silently, but positively, at 
 every offer ; and, waving his farewell to the company, 
 stalked slowly out of the hall. The maiden aunts were 
 absolutely petrified — the bride hung her head, and a tear 
 stole to her eye. 
 
 The Baron followed the stranger to the great court of the 
 castle, where the black charger stood pawing the earth, and 
 snorting v^'ith impatience. — When they had reached the 
 portal, whose deep archway was dimly lighted by a cresset, 
 the stranger paused, and addressed the Baron in a hollow 
 tone of voice, which the vaulted roof rendered still more 
 sepulchral. 
 
 " Now that we are alone," said he, " I will impart to you 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 25 
 
 the reason of my going. I have a solemn, an indispensable 
 
 engagement — " 
 
 " Why," said the Baron, " cannot you send some one in 
 your place ?" 
 
 *' It admits of no substitute — I must attend it in person — 
 I must away to Wurtzburg cathedral — " 
 
 "Ay," said the Baron, plucking up spirit, "but not until 
 to-morrow — to-m rrow you shall take your bride there." 
 
 " No ! no !" replied the stranger, with tenfold solemnity, 
 " my engagement is with no bride — the worms ! the worms 
 expect me ! I am a dead man — I have been slain by rob- 
 bers — my body lies at Wurtzburg — at midnight I am to be 
 buried — the grave is waiting for me — I must keep my 
 appointment !" 
 
 He sprang on his black charger, dashed over the draw- 
 bridge, and the clattering of his horse's hoofs was lost in the 
 whistling of the night blast. 
 
 The Baron returned to the hall in the utmost consterna- 
 tion, and related what had passed. Two ladies fainted out- 
 right, others sickened at the idea of having banqueted with 
 a spectre. It was the opinion of some, that this might be 
 the wild huntsman, famous in German legend. Some talked 
 of mountain spirits, of wood-demons, and of other superna- 
 tural beings, with which the good people of Germany have 
 been so grievously harassed since time immemorial. One 
 of the poor relations ventured to suggest that it might be 
 some sportive evasion of the young cavalier, and that the 
 very gloominess of the caprice seemed to accord with so 
 melancholy a personage. This, however, drew on him the 
 indignation of the whole company, and especially of the 
 Baron, who looked upon him as little better than an infidel; 
 so that he was fain to abjure his heresy as speedily as pos- 
 sible, and come into the faith of the true believers. 
 
 But whatever may have been the doubts entertained, they 
 were completely put an end to by the arrival, next day, of 
 regular missives, confirming the intelligence of the young 
 Count's murder, and his interment in Wurtzburg cathedral. 
 
 The dismay at the castle may be well imagined. The 
 Baron shut himself up in his chamber. The guests, who 
 had come to rejoice with him, could not think of abandoning 
 him in his distress. They wandered about the courts, or 
 
 3 
 
26 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 collected in groups in the hall, shaking their heads and shrug- 
 ging their shoulders, at the troubles of so good a man ; and 
 sat longer than ever at table, and ate and drank more stout- 
 ly than ever, by way of keeping up their spirits. But the 
 situation of the widowed bride was the most pitiable. To 
 have lost a husband before she had even embraced him — 
 and such a husband ! if the very spectre could be so gracious 
 and noble, what must have been the living man 1 She filled 
 the house with lamentations. 
 
 On the night of the second day of her widowhood she had 
 retired to her chamber, accompanied by one of her aunts, 
 who insisted on sleeping with her. The aunt, who was one 
 of the best tellers of ghost stories in all Germany, had just 
 been recounting one of her longest, and had fallen asleep in 
 the very midst of it. The chamber was remote, and over- 
 looked a sm'all garden. The niece lay pensively gazing at 
 the beams of the rising moon as they trembled on the leaves 
 of an aspen tree before the lattice. The castle clock had just 
 tolled midnight, when a soft strain of music stole up from 
 the garden. She rose hastily from her bed, and stepped 
 lightly to the window. A tall figure stood among the 
 shadows of the trees. As it raised its head, a beam of moon- 
 light fell upon the countenance. Heaven and earth ! she 
 beheld the Spectre Bridegroom I A loud shriek at that mo- 
 ment burst upon her ear, and her aunt who had been awak- 
 ened by the music, and had followed her silently to the win- 
 dow, fell into her arms. When she looked again, the 
 spectre had disappeared. 
 
 Of the two females, the aunt required the most soothing, 
 for she was perfectly beside herself with terror. As to the 
 young lady, there was something, even in the spectre of her 
 lover, that seemed endearing. There was still the semblance 
 of manly beauty ; and though the shadov; of a man is but 
 little calculated to satisfy the affections of a love-sick girl, 
 yet, where the substance is not to be had, even that is con- 
 soling. The aunt declared she would never sleep in that 
 chamber again ; the niece, for once was refractory, and 
 declared as strongly, that she would sleep in no other in the 
 castle: the consequence was, that she had to sleep in it 
 alone ; but she drew a promise from her aunt not to relate 
 the story of the spectre, lest she should be denied the only 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 27 
 
 melancholy pleasure left her on earth — that of inhabiting the 
 chamber over which the guardian shade of her lover kept its 
 nightly vigils. 
 
 How long the good old lady would have observed this 
 promise is uncertain, for she dearly loved to talk of the 
 marvellous, and there is a triumph in being the first to tell a 
 frightful story ; it is, however, still quoted in the neighbour- 
 hood, as a memorable instance of female secrecy, that she 
 kept it to herself for a whole week ; when she was suddenly, 
 absolved from all further restraint, by intelligence brought 
 to the breakfast table one morning that the young lady was 
 not to be found. Her room was empty — the bed had not 
 been slept in — the window was open, and the bird had 
 flown ! 
 
 The astonishment and concern with which the intelligence 
 was received, can only be imagined by those who have wit- 
 nessed the agitation which the mishaps of a great man cause 
 among his friends. Even the poor relations paused for a 
 moment from the indefatigable labours of the trencher; 
 when the aunt, who had at first been struck speechless, 
 wrung her hands, and shrieked out, " The goblin ! the 
 goblin ! she's carried away by the goblin !" 
 
 In a few words she related the fearful scene of the garden, 
 and concluded that the spectre must have carried off his 
 bride. Two of the domestics corroborated the opinion, for 
 they heard the clattering of a horse's hoofs down the moun- 
 tain about midnight, and had no doubt that it was the 
 spectre on his black charger, bearing her away to the tomb. 
 All present were struck with the direful probability ; for 
 events of the kind are extremely common in Germany, as 
 many well authenticated histories bear witness. 
 
 What a lamentable situation was that of the poor Baron ! 
 What a heart-rending dilemma for a fond father, and a 
 member of the great family of Katzenellenbogen ! His only 
 daughter had either been wrapt away to the grave, or he 
 was to have some wood-demon for a son-in-law, and, per- 
 chance, a troop of goblin grand children I As usual, he was 
 completely bewildered, and all the castle in an uproar. The 
 men were ordered to take horse, and scour every road and 
 path and glen of the Odenwald. The Baron himself had 
 just drawn on his jackboots, girded on his sword, and was 
 
28 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 about to mount his steed to sally forth on the doubtful quest, 
 when he was brought to a pause by a new apparition. A 
 lady was seen approaching the castle, mounted on a palfrey, 
 attended by a cavalier on horseback. She galloped up to 
 the gate, sprang from her horse, and falling at the Baron's 
 feet embraced his knees. It was his lost daughter, and her 
 companion — the Spectre Bridegroom ! The Baron was as- 
 tonished. He looked at his daughter, then at the spectre, 
 ard almost doubted the evidence of his senses. The latter, 
 ;Sj was wonderfully improved ia his appearance, since his 
 visit to the world of spirits. His dress was splendid, and 
 set off a noble figure of manly symmetry. He was no 
 longer pale and melancholy. His fine countenance was 
 flushed with the glow of youth, and joy rioted in his large 
 dark eye. 
 
 The mystery was soon cleared up. The cavalier, (for 
 in truth, as you must have known all the while, he was no 
 goblin,) announced himself as Sir Hermon Von Starkenfaust. 
 He related his adventure with the young Count. He told 
 how he had hastened to the castle to deliver the unwelcome 
 tidings, but that the eloquence of the Baron had interrupted 
 him in every attempt to tell his tale. How the sight of the 
 bride had completely captivated him, and that to pass a few 
 hours near her, he had tacitly suffered the mistake to con- 
 tinue. How he had been sorely perplexed in what way to 
 make a decent retreat, until the Baron's goblin stories had 
 suggested his eccentric exit. How, fearing the feudal hos- 
 tility of the family, he had repeated his visits by stealth — 
 had haunted the garden beneath the young lady's window — 
 had wooed — had won — had borne away in triumph — and, 
 in a word, had wedded the fair. 
 
 Under any other circumstances, the Baron would have 
 been inflexible, for he was tenacious ©f paternal authority, 
 and devoutly obstinate in all family feuds ; but he loved his 
 daughter ; he had lamented her as lost ; he rejoiced to find 
 her still alive ; and, though her husband was of a hostile 
 house, yet, thank heaven, he was not a goblin. There was 
 something, it must be acknowledged, that did not exactly 
 accord with his notions of strict veracity, in the joke the 
 knight had passed upon him of his being a dead man ; but 
 several old friends present, who had served in the wars, as- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 29 
 
 SLired him that every stratagem was excusable in love, and 
 that the cavalier was entitled to especial privilege, having 
 lately served as a trooper. 
 
 Matters, therefore, were happily arranged. The Baron 
 pardoned the young couple on the spot. The revels at the 
 castle were resumed. The poor relations overwhelmed this 
 new member of the family with loving-kindness ; he was so 
 gallant, so generous — and so rich. The aunts, it is truCj 
 were somewhat scandahzed that their system of strict seclu- 
 sion, and passive obedience, should be so badly exemplified, 
 but attributed it all to their negligence in not having the 
 windows grated. One of them was particularly mortified at 
 having her marvellous story marred, and that the only 
 spectre she had ever seen should turn out a counterfeit ; but 
 the niece seemed perfectly happy at having found him sub- 
 stantial flesh and blood — and so the story ends. 
 
 A WET SUNDAY IN A COUNTRY INN. 
 
 It was a rainy Sunday, in the gloomy month of November. 
 I had been detained, in the course of a journey, by a slight 
 indisposition, from which I was recovering ; but I was still 
 feverish, and was obliged to keep within doors all day, in an 
 inn of the small town of Derby. A wet Sunday in a coun- 
 try inn ! whoever has had the luck to experience one can 
 alone judge of my situation. The rain pattered against the 
 casements ; the bells tolled for church with melancholy 
 sound. I went to the windows in quest of something to 
 amuse the eye ; but it seemed as if I had been placed com- 
 pletely out of the reach of all amusement. The windows of 
 my bed-room looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of 
 chimneys, while those of my sitting-room commanded a full 
 view of the stable-yard. I know of nothing more calculated 
 to make a man sick of this world than a stable-yard on a 
 rainy day. The place was littered with wet straw that had 
 been kicked about by travellers and stable-boys. In one 
 corner was a stagnant pool of water, surrounding an island 
 of muck ; there were several half-drowned fowls crowded 
 together under a cart, among which was a miserable crest- 
 
 3* 
 
30 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 fallen cock, drenched out of all life and spirit; his drooping 
 tail matted, as it were, into a single feather, along which the 
 water trickled from his back ; near the cart was a half- 
 dozing cow, chewing the cud, and standing patiently to be 
 rained on, with wreaths of vapour rising from her reeking 
 hide ; a wall-eyed horse, tired of the loneliness of the stable, 
 was poking his spectral head out of a window, with the rain 
 dripping on it from the eaves ; an unhappy cur, chained to 
 a dog-house hard by, uttered something every now and then, 
 between a baik and a yelp; a drab of a kitchen wench 
 tramped backwards and forwards through the yard in pat- 
 tens, looking as sulky as the weather itself; every thing, in 
 short, was comfortless and forlorn, excepting a crew of hard- 
 drinking ducks, assembled like boon companions round a 
 puddle, and making a riotous noise over their liquor. 
 
 I was lonely and listless, and wanted amusement. My 
 room soon became insupportable. I abandoned it, and 
 sought what is technically called the travellers' room. This 
 is a public room set apart at most inns for the accommoda- 
 tion of a class of wayfarers, called travellers, or riders ; a 
 kind of commercial knights errant, who are incessantly 
 scouring the kingdom in gigs, on horseback, or by coach. 
 They are the only successors that I know of, at the present 
 day, to the knights errant of yore. They lead the same 
 kind of roving adventurous life, only changing the lance for 
 a driving-whip, the buckler for a pattern-card, and the coat 
 of mail for an upper Benjamin. Instead of vindicating the 
 charms of peerless beauty, they rove about, spreading the 
 fame and standing of some substantial tradesman, or manu- 
 facturer, and are ready at any time to bargain in his name ; 
 it being the fashion now-a-days to trade, instead of fight, 
 wilh one another. As the room of the hostel, in the good 
 old fighting times, would be hung round at night with the 
 armour of way-worn warriors, such as coats of mail, fal- 
 chions, and yawning helmets; so the travellers' room is 
 garnished with the harnessing of their successors, with box 
 coats, whips of all kinds, spurs, gaiters, and oil cloth covered 
 hats. 
 
 I was in hopes of finding some of these worthies to talk 
 with, but was disappointed. There were, indeed, two or 
 threo in the room ; but I could make nothing of them. One 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 31 
 
 was just finishing breakfast, quarrelling with his bread and 
 butter, and huffing the waiter ; another buttoned on a pair of 
 gaiters, with many execrations of Boots for not having 
 cleaned his shoes well ; a third sat drumming on the table 
 with his fingers, and looking at the rain as it streamed down 
 the window glass : they all appeared infected by the weather, 
 and disappeared, one after the other, without exchanging a 
 word. 
 
 I sauntered to the window and stood gazing at the people, 
 picking their way to the church, with petticoats hoisted 
 midleg high, and dripping umbrellas. The bell ceased to 
 toll, and the streets became silent. I then amused myself 
 with watching the daughters of a tradesman opposite ; who 
 being confined to the house for fear of wetting their Sunday 
 finery, played ofi" their charms at the front windows, to fasci- 
 nate the chance tenants of the inn. They at length were 
 summoned away by a vigilant vinegar-faced mother, and I 
 had nothing further from without to amuse me. 
 
 What was 1 to do to pass away the long-lived day? I 
 was sadly nervous and lonely ; and every thing about an 
 inn seems calculated to make a dull day ten times duller. 
 Old newspapers, smelling of beer and tobacco smoke, and 
 which I had already read half a dozen times. Good for 
 nothing books, that were worse than rainy weather. I 
 bored myself to death with an old volume of the Lady's 
 Magazine. I read all the common-place names of ambitious 
 travellers scrawled on the panes of glass ; the eternal fami- 
 lies of the Smiths and the Browns, and the Jacksons, and 
 the Johnsons, and all the other sons; and I deciphered 
 several scraps of fatiguing inn-window poetry, which 1 have 
 met with in all parts of the world. 
 
 The day continued lowering and gloomy; the slovenly, 
 ragged, spongy clouds drifted heavily along ; there was no 
 variety even in the rain ; it was one dull, continued, mono- 
 tonous patter — patter — patter, excepting that now and then 
 I was enlivened by the idea of a brisk shower, from the rat- 
 tling of the drops upon a passing umbrella. 
 
 It was quite refreshing (if I may be allowed a hackneyed 
 phrase of the day,) when, in the course of the morning, a 
 horn blew, and a stage coach whirled through the street, 
 with outside passengers stuck all over it, cowering under 
 
32 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 cotton umbrellas, and seethed together, and reeking with the 
 steams of wet box-coats and upper Benjamins. 
 
 The sound brought out from their lurking-places a crew 
 of vagabond boys, and vagabond dogs, and the carroty- 
 headed hostler, and that non-descript animal yclepted Boots, 
 and all the other vagabond race, that infest the purlieus of 
 an inn; but the bustle was transient; the coach again 
 whirled on its way ; and boy and dog, hostler and Boots, all 
 slunk back again to their holes ; the street again became 
 silent, and the rain continued to rain on. In fact, there was 
 no hope of its clearing up, the barometer pointed to rainy 
 weather; mine hostess's tortoise shell cat sat by the fire 
 washing her face, and rubbing her paws over her ears ; and, 
 on referring to the Almanac, I found a direful prediction 
 stretching from the top of the page to the bottom through 
 the whole month, " expect — much — rain — about— rthis — 
 time !" 
 
 AN OBEDIENT HEN-PECKED HUSBAND. 
 
 In that same village, and in one of these very houses, 
 (which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and 
 weather beaten,) there lived many years since, when the' 
 country was yet a province of Great Britain, a simple good- 
 natured fellow, of the name of Rjp Van Winkle. He was 
 a descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly 
 in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuy vesant, and accompanied 
 him to the siege of Fort Christina. He inherited, however, 
 but little of the martial character of his ancestors. I have 
 observed that he was a simple good-natured man ; he was, 
 moreover, a kind neighbour, and an obedient hen-pecked 
 husband. Indeed, to the latter circumstance might be owino- 
 that meekness of spirit which gained him such universal po- 
 pularity ; for those men are most apt to be obsequious and 
 conciliating abroad, who are under the discipline of shrews 
 at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered pliant and 
 malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation, and a 
 curtain lecture is worth all the sermons in the world for 
 teaching the virtues of patience and long suffering. A ter- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 33 
 
 magant, wife may, therefore, in some respects, be considered 
 a tolerable blessing; and if so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice 
 blessed. 
 
 Certain it is, that he was a great favourite among all the 
 good wives of the village, who, r-\ usual with the amiable 
 sex, took his part in all family squabbles ; and never failed, 
 whenever they talked those matters over in their evening 
 gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van Winkle. The 
 children of the village, too, would shout with joy whenever 
 he approached. He assisted at their sports, made their play- 
 things, taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and told 
 them long stories of ghosts, witches, and Indians. When- 
 ever he went dodging about the village, he was surrounded 
 by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts, clambering on his 
 back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with impunity ; 
 and not a dog would bark at him throughout the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 The great error in Rip's composition was an insuperable 
 aversion to all kinds of profitable labour. It could not be 
 from the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for he would 
 sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tar- 
 tar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even though 
 he should not be encouraged by a single nibble. He would 
 carry a fowling piece on his shoulder for hours together, 
 trudging through woods and swamps, and up hill and down 
 dale, to shoot a few squirrels or wild pigeons. He would 
 never refuse to assist a neighbour even in the roughest toil, 
 and was a foremost man at all country frolics tor husking 
 Indian corn, or building stone fences ; the women of the 
 village, too, used to employ him to run their errands, and to 
 do such little odd jobs as their less obliging husbands would 
 not do for them. — In a word. Rip was ready to attend to any 
 body's business but his own ; but as to doing family duty, 
 and keeping his farm in order, he found it impossible. 
 
 In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his farm ; 
 it was the most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole 
 country ; every thing about it went wrong, and would go 
 wrong, in spite of him. His fences were continually falling 
 to pieces ; his cow would either go astray, or get among the 
 cabbages ; weeds were sure to grow quicker in his field 
 than any where else ; the rain always made a point of set- 
 
34 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 ting in just as he had some out-door work to do ; so that 
 though his patrimonial estate had dwindled away under his 
 management, acre by acre, until there was little more left 
 than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was 
 the worse conditioned farm in the neighbourhood. 
 
 His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they 
 belonged to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten in 
 his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits with the 
 old clothes of his father. He was generally seen trooping 
 like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a pair of his 
 father's cast off galligaskins, which he had much ado to hold 
 up with one hand, as a fine lady does her train in bad 
 weather. 
 
 Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy 
 mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the 
 world easy, eat white bread or brown, which ever can be 
 got with the least thought or trouble, and would rather 
 starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself 
 he would have whistled life away in perfect contentment ; 
 but his wife kept continually dinning in his ears about his 
 idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing on 
 his family. Morning, noon, and night, her tongue was in- 
 cessantly going, and every thing he said or did was sure to 
 produce a torrent of household eloquence. Rip had but one 
 way of replying to all lectures of the kind, and that by 
 frequent use, had got into a habit. He shrugged his 
 shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. 
 This, however, always provoked a fresh volley from his 
 wife ; so that he was fain to draw off his forces, and take 
 to the outside of the house — the only side which, in truth, 
 belongs to a henpecked husband. 
 
 Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was 
 as much henpecked as his master ; for dame Van Winkle 
 regarded them as companions in idleness, and even looked 
 upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his master's 
 going so often astray. True it is, in all points of spirit be- 
 fitting an honourable dog, he was as courageous an animal 
 as ever scoured the woods — but what courage can withstand 
 the ever-during and all besetting terrors of a woman's 
 tongue? The moment Wolf entered the house his crest 
 fell, his tail dropped to the ground or curled between his 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 35 
 
 legs, he sneaked about with ia gallows air, casting many 
 a sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least 
 flourish of a broom-stick or ladle, he would fly to the door 
 with yelping precipitation. 
 
 Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as 
 years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never mellows 
 with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that 
 grows keener with constant use. For a long while he used 
 to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting 
 a kind of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, and 
 other idle personages of the village ; which held its sessions 
 on a bench before a small inn, designated by a rubicund 
 portrait of His Majesty George the Third. Here they used 
 to sit in the shade, of a long lazy summer's day, talking 
 listlessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories 
 about nothing. But it would have been worth any states- 
 man's money to have heard the profound discussions that 
 sometimes took place, when by chance an old newspaper fell 
 into their hands from some passing traveller. How solemnly 
 they would listen to the contents, as drawled out by Der- 
 rick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learned little 
 man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic word 
 in the dictionary ; and how sagely they would deliberate 
 upon public events some months after they had taken place. 
 
 The opinions of this junto were completely controlled by 
 Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord 
 of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat from morn- 
 ing till night, just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun and 
 keep in the shade of a large tree ; so that the neighbours 
 could tell the hour by his movements as accurately as by a 
 sun-dial. It is true, he was rarely heard to speak, but 
 smoked his pipe incessantly. His adherents, however, (for 
 every great man has his adherents,) perfectly understood 
 him, and knew how to gather his opinions. When any 
 thing that was read or related displeased him, he was ob- 
 served to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth 
 short, frequent and angry puffs ; bat when pleased, he 
 would inhale the smoke slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in 
 light and placid clouds ; and sometimes, taking the pipe from 
 his mouth, and letting the fragrant vapour curl about his nose, 
 would gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation. 
 
36 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 From even this strong hold the unlucky Rip was at length 
 routed by his termagant wife, who would suddenly break 
 in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage and call the* 
 members all to nought; nor was that august personage, 
 Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring tongue of 
 this terrible virago, who charged him outright with encour- 
 aging her husband in habits of idleness. 
 
 Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair ; and his 
 only alternative, to escape from the labour of the farm and 
 clamour of his wife, was to take gun in hand and stroll away 
 into the woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at 
 the foot of a tree, and share the contents of his wallet with 
 Wolf, with whom he sympathized as a fellow-sufferer in 
 persecution. " Poor Wolf," he would say, " thy mistress 
 leads thee a dog's life of it; but never mind, my lad, whilst 
 I live thou shalt never want a friend to stand by thee !" 
 Wolf would wag his tail, look wistfully in his master's face, 
 and if dogs can feel pity, I verily believe he reciprocated the 
 sentiment with all his heart. 
 
 A DESIRABLE MATCH. 
 
 Among the musical disciples who assembled, one evening 
 in each week, to receive his (Ichabod Crane's) instructions 
 in psalmody, was Katrina Van Tassel, the daughter and 
 only child of a substantial Dutch farmer. She was a bloom- 
 ing lass of fresh eighteen ; plump as a partridge ; ripe and 
 melting and rosy cheeked as one of her father's peaches, 
 and universally famed, not merely for her beauty, but her 
 vast expectations. She was withal a little of a coquette, 
 as might be perceived even in her dress, which was a mix- 
 ture of ancient and modern fashions, as most suited to set 
 off her charms. She wore the ornaments of pure yellow 
 gold, which her great-great-grandmother had brought over 
 from Saardum ; the tempting stomacher of the olden time ; 
 and withal a provokingly short petticoat, to display the 
 prettiest foot and ankle in the country round. 
 
 Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart toward the 
 sex ; and it is not to be wondered at, that so tempting a 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 37 
 
 morsel soon found favour in his eyes ; more especially after 
 he had visited her in her paternal mansion. Old Baltus 
 Van Tassel was a perfect picture of a thriving, contented, 
 liberal-hearted farmer. He seldom, it is true, sent either 
 his eyes or his thoughts beyond the boundaries of his own 
 farm ; but within those every thing was snug, happy, and 
 well conditioned. He was satisfied with his wealth but not 
 proud of it; and piqued himself upon the hearty abundance, 
 rather than the style in which he lived. His strong hold 
 was situated on the banks of the Hudson, in one of those 
 grern, sheltered, fertile nooks, in which the Dutch farmers 
 are so fond of nestling. A great elm-tree spread its broad 
 branches over it ; at the foot of which bubbled up a spring 
 of the softest and sweetest water, in a little well, formed of 
 a barrel ; and then stole sparkling away through the grass, 
 to a neighbouring brook, that babbled along among alders 
 and dwarf willows. Hard by the farm house was a vast 
 barn, that might have served for a church ; every window 
 and crevice of which seemed burstino- forth with the trea- 
 sures of the farm ; the flail was busily resounding within 
 from morning to night ; swallows and martins skimmed 
 twittering about the eaves ; and rows of pigeons, some with 
 one eye turned up, as if watching the weather, some with 
 their heads under their wings, or buried in their bosoms, 
 and others swelling and cooing and bowing, about their 
 dames, were enjoying the sunshine on the roof. Sleek 
 unwieldy porkers were grunting in the repose and abun- 
 dance of their pens ; from whence sallied forth, now and 
 then, troops of sucking pigs, as if to snuff the air. A stately 
 squadron of snowy geese were riding in an adjoining pond, 
 convoying whole fleets of ducks ; regiments of turkeys 
 were gobbling through the farm-yard, and guinea fowls 
 fretting about it, like ill-tempered house-wives, with their 
 peevish discontented cry. Before the barn door strutted the 
 gallant cock, that pattern of a husband, a warrior, and a 
 fine gentleman ; clapping his burnished wings, and crowing 
 in the pride and gladness of his heart— sometimes tearing 
 up the earth with his feet, and then generously calling his 
 hungry family of wives and children to enjoy the rich 
 morsel which he had discovered. 
 
 The pedagogue's mouth watered, as he looked upon this 
 
 4 
 
38 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 sumptuous promise of luxurious winter fare. In his de- 
 vouring mind's eye, he pictured to himself every roasting 
 pig running about with a pudding in its belly and an 
 apple in its mouth ; the pigeons were snugly pnt to bed in 
 a comfortable pie, and tucked in with a coverlet of crust ; 
 the geese were swimming in their own gravy ; and the 
 ducks pairing cosily in dishes, like snug married couples, 
 with a decent competency of onion sauce. In the porkers 
 he saw carved out the future sleek side of bacon, and juicy 
 relishing ham ; not a turkey, but he beheld daintily trussed 
 up, with its gizzard under its wing, and peradventure, a neck- 
 lace of savoury sausages ; and even bright chanticleer 
 himself lay sprawling on his back, in a side dish, with up- 
 lifted claws as if craving that quarter, which his chivalric 
 spirit disdained to ask while living. 
 
 As the enraptured Ichabod fancied all this, and as he 
 rolled his great green eyes over the fat meadow lands, the 
 rich fields of wheat, of rye, of buckwheat, and Indian corn, 
 and the orchards burthened with ruddy fruit, which sur- 
 rounded the warm tenement of Van Tassel, his heart yearned 
 after the damsel who was to inherit these domains, and his 
 imagination expanded with the idea, how they might be 
 readily turned into cash, and the money invested in immense 
 tracts of wild land, and shingle palaces in the wilderness. 
 Nay, his busy fancy already realized his hopes, and pre- 
 sented to him the blooming Katrina, with a whole family of 
 children, mounted on the top of a wagon loaded with house- 
 hold trumpery, with pots and kettles dangling beneath ; and 
 he beheld himself bestriding a pacing mare, with a colt at 
 her heels, setting out for Kentucky, Tennessee, or the Lord 
 knows where. 
 
 A Rival. 
 
 Among these the most formidable w^as a burly, roaring, 
 roystering blade, of the name of Abraham, or according to 
 the Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van Brunt, the hero of the 
 country round, which rung mth his feats of strength and 
 hardihood. He was broad-shouldered and double jointed, 
 with short curly black hair, and a bluff, but not unpleasant 
 countenance, having a mingled air of fun and arrogance. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 39 
 
 From his Herculean frame and great powers of limb, he 
 had received the nick-name of Brom Bones, by which he 
 was universally known. He was famed for great know- 
 ledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dexterous on 
 horseback, as a Tartar. He was foremost at all races and 
 cockfights ,* and, with the ascendency which bodily strength 
 always acquires in rustic life, was the umpire in all disputes, 
 setting his hat on one side, and giving his decisions with an 
 air and tone that admitted of no gainsay or appeal. He 
 was always ready for either a fight or a frolic ; had more 
 mischief than ill-will in his composition ; and with all his 
 overbearing roughness, there was a strong dash of 
 waggish good humour at bottom. He had three or four 
 boon companions of his own stamp, who regarded him as 
 their model, and at the head of whom he scoured the coun- 
 try, attending every scene of feud or merriment for miles 
 round. In cold weather he was distinguished by a fiir cap, 
 surmounted with a flaunting fox's tail ; and when the folks 
 at a country gathering descried this well-known crest at a 
 distance, whisking about among a squad of hard riders, 
 they always stood by for a squall. Sometimes his crew 
 would be heard dashing along past the farm houses at mid- 
 night, with whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossack's; 
 and the old dames, startled out of their sleep, would listen 
 for a moment till the hurry-skurry had clattered by, and 
 then exclaim, " Ay, there goes Brom Bones and his gang!" 
 The neighbours looked upon him with a mixture of awe,, 
 admiration, and good-will ; and when any mad-cap prank, 
 or rustic brawl, occurred in the vicinity, always shook 
 their heads, and warranted Brom Bones was at the bottom 
 of it. 
 
 This rantipole hero had for some time singled out the 
 blooming Katrina for the object of his uncouth gallantries, 
 and though his amorous toyings were something like the 
 gentle caresses and endearments of a bear, yet it was 
 whispered that she did not altogether discourage his hopes. 
 Certain it is, his advances were signals for rival candidates 
 to retire, who felt no inclination to cross a lion in his 
 amours ; insomuch, that when his horse was seen tied to 
 Van Tassel's paling, on a Sunday night, a sure sign that 
 his master was courting, or as it is termed, " sparking," 
 
40 BEAJUTIES OF 
 
 within, all other suitors passed by in despair, and carried 
 the war into other quarters. 
 
 Such was the formidable rival with whom Ichabod Crane 
 had to contend, and, considering all things, a stouter man, 
 than he would have shrunk from the competition, and a 
 wiser man would have despaired. He had a happy mixture 
 of pliability and perseverance in his nature ; he was in form 
 and spirit like a supple jack — yielding, but tough ; though 
 he bent, he never broke ; and though he bowed, beneath 
 the slightest pressure, yet, the moment it was away, jerk I — 
 he was erect, and carried his head as high as ever. 
 
 Brom, who had a degree of rough chivalry in his nature, 
 would fain have carried matters to open warfare, and have 
 settled their pretensions to the lady, according to the mode 
 of those most concise and simple reasoners, the knights- 
 errant of yore — by single combat ; but Ichabod was too 
 conscious of the superior might of his adversary to enter 
 the lists against him : he had overheard the boast of Bones, 
 that he would " double the schoolmaster up, and put him 
 on a shelf;" and he was too wary to give him an oppor- 
 tunity. There was something extremely provoking in this 
 obstinately pacific system ; it left Brom no alternative but 
 to draw upon the funds of rustic wagger}?" in his disposition, 
 and to play off boorish practical jokes upon his rival. Icha- 
 bod became the object of whimsical persecution to Bones, 
 and his gang of rough riders. They harried his hitherto 
 ^peaceful domains; smoked out his singing school, by stop- 
 ping up the chimney ; broke into the schoolhouse at night, 
 in spite of his formidable fastenings of withes and window 
 stakes, and turned every thing topsy-turvy ; so that the 
 poor schoolmaster began to think all the witches in the 
 country held their meetings there. But what was still 
 more annoying, Brom took all opportunities of turning him 
 into ridicule in presence of his mistress, and had a scoundrel 
 dog whom he taught to whine in the most ludicrous manner, 
 and introduced as a rival of Ichabod's to instruct her in 
 psalmody. 
 
 t^n Invitation. 
 
 In this way matters went on for some time, without pro- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 41 
 
 ducing any material effect on the relative situations of the 
 contending powers. On a fine autumnal afternoon, Ichabod, 
 in pensive mood, sat enthroned on the lofty stool from 
 whence he usually watched all the concerns of his little 
 literary realm. In his hand he swayed a ferule, that 
 sceptre of despotic power ; the birch of justice reposed on 
 three nails, behind a throne, a constant terror to evil doers ; 
 whilst on the desk before him might be seen sundry con- 
 traband articles and prohibited weapons, detected upon the 
 persons of idle urchins; such as half-munched apples, pop- 
 guns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and whole legions of rampant 
 little paper game cocks. Apparently there had been some 
 appalling act of justice recently inflicted, for his scholars 
 were all busily intent upon their books, or slyly whispering 
 behind them with one eye kept upon the master ; and a 
 kind of buzzing stillness reigned throughout the school- 
 room. It was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a 
 negro in tow cloth jacket and trowsers, a round crowned 
 fragment of a hat, like the cap of Mercury, and mounted 
 on the back of a ragged, wild, half-broken colt, which he 
 managed with a rope by way of halter. He came clattering 
 up to the school door with an invitation to Ichabod to at- 
 tend a merry meeting, or " quilting frolic," to be held that 
 evening at Mynheer Van Tassel's ; and having delivered 
 his message with that air of importance, and effort at fine 
 language, which a negro is apt to display on petty embassies 
 of the kind, he dashed over the brook, and was seen scamp- 
 ering away up the hollow, full of the importance and hurry 
 of his mission. 
 
 All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet school- 
 room. The scholars were hurried through their lessons, 
 without stopping at trifles ; those who were nimble, skip- 
 ped over half with impunity, and those who were tardy, 
 had a smart application now and then in the rear, to 
 quicken their speed, or help them over a tall word. Books 
 were flung aside, without being put away on the shelves ; 
 inkstands were overturned ; benches thrown down ; and 
 the whole school was turned loose an hour before the 
 usual time; bursting forth like a legion of young imps, 
 yelping and racketting about the green, in joy at their early 
 
 emancipation. 
 
 4# 
 
42 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 A Dutch, Entei'tainment 
 
 Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and 
 " sugared suppositions," he journeyed along the sides of a 
 range of hills which looked out upon some of the goodliest 
 scenes of the mighty Hudson. The sun gradually wheeled 
 his broad disk down into the west. The wide bosom of the 
 Tappean Zee lay motionless and glassy, excepting that 
 here and there a gentle undulation waved and prolonged the 
 blue shadow of the distant mountain. A fhw amber clouds 
 floated in the sky, without a breath of air to move them. 
 The horizon was of a fine golden tint, changing gradually 
 into a pure apple green, and from that into the deep blue of 
 the mid-heaven. A slanting ray lingered on the woody 
 crests of the precipices that overhung some parts of the 
 river, giving greater depth to the dark gray and purple of 
 their rocky sides. A sloop was loitering in the distance, 
 dropping slowly down with the tide, her sail hanging use- 
 lessly against the mast ; and as the reflection of the sky 
 gleamed along the still water, it seemed as if the vessel was 
 suspended in the air. 
 
 It was towards evening that Ichabod arrived at the castlo 
 of the lieer Van Tassel, which he found thronged with the 
 pride and flower of the adjacent country. Old farmers, a 
 spare leathern-faced race, in homespun coats and breeches, 
 blue stockings, huge shoes, and magnificent pewter buckles. 
 Their brisk, withered little dames, in close crimped caps, 
 long-waisted gowns, homespun petticoats, with scissors and 
 pincushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the outside. 
 Buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their mothers, except- 
 ing where a straw hat, a fine riband, or perhaps a white 
 frock, gave symptoms of city innovations. The sons, in 
 short square-skirted coats, with rows of stupendous brass 
 buttons, and their hair generally queued in the fashion of 
 the times, especially if they could procure an eelskin for the 
 purpose, it being esteemed throughout the country, as a po- 
 tent nourisher and strengthener of the hair. 
 
 Brom Bones, however, was the hero of the scene, having 
 come to the gathering on his favourite steed Dare-devil, a 
 creature, like himself, full of mettle and mischief, and which 
 no one but himself could manage. He was, in fact, noted 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 43 
 
 for preferring vicious animals, given to all kinds of tricks 
 which kept the rider in constant risk of his neck, for he held 
 a tractable well broken horse as unworthy a lad of spirit. 
 
 Fain would I pause to dwell upon the world of charms 
 that burst upon the enraptured gaze of my hero, as he en- 
 tered the state parlour of Van Tassel's mansion. Not those 
 of the bevy of buxom lasses, with their luxurious display of 
 red and white ; but the ample charms of a genuine Dutch 
 country tea-table, in the sumptuous time of autumn. Such 
 heaped up platters of cakes, of various and almost indescrib- 
 able kinds, known only to experienced Dutch housewives ! 
 There was the doughty dough-nut, the tenderer oly koek, 
 and the crisp and crumbling cruller; sweet cakes and short 
 cakes, ginger cakes and honey cakes, and the whole family 
 of cakes. And then there were apple pies, and peach pies, 
 and pumpkin pies; besides slices of ham and smoke beef; 
 and moreover delectable dishes of preserved plums, and 
 peaches, and pears, and quinces; not to mention broiled shad 
 and roasted chickens; together with bowls of milk and 
 cream; all mingled higgeldy-piggekly, pretty much as I 
 have enumerated them, with the motherly tea-pot sending up 
 its clouds of vapour from the midst— Heaven bless the 
 mark I I want breath and time to discuss this banquet as it 
 deserves, and am too eager to get on with my story. Hap- 
 pily Ichabod Crane was not in so great a hurry as his histo- 
 rian, but did ample justice to every dainty. 
 
 He v/as a kind and thankful creature, whose heart dilated 
 in proportion as his skin was filled with good cheer; and 
 whose spirits rose with eating as some men's do with drink. 
 He could not help, too, rolling his large eyes round him as 
 he ate, and chuckling v/ith the possibility that he might one 
 day be lord of all this scene of almost unimaginable luxury 
 and splendour. Then, he thought, how soon he'd turn his 
 back upon the old school house ; snap his finger in the face 
 of Hans Van Ripper^ and every other niggardly patron, and 
 kick any itinerant pedagogue out of doors that should dare 
 to call him comrade ! 
 
 Old Baltus Van Tassel moved about among his guests 
 with a face dilated with content and good humour, round 
 and jolly as the harvest moon. His hospitable attentions 
 were brief, but expressive, being confined to a shake of the 
 
44 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 hand, a slap on the shoulder, a loud laugh, and a pressing 
 invitation to " fall to, and help themselves." 
 
 Ichabod prided himself upon his dancing as much as upon 
 his vocal powers. Not a limb, not a fibre about him was 
 idle; and to have seen his loosely hung frame in full motion, 
 and clattering about the room, you would have thought Saint 
 Vitus himself, that blessed patron of the dance, was figuring 
 before you in person. He was the admiration of all the 
 negroes ; who, having gathered, of all ages and sizes, from 
 the farm and the neighbourhood, stood forming a pyramid of 
 shining black faces at every door and window ; gazing with 
 delight at the scene; rolling their white eye-balls, and 
 showing grinning rows of ivory from ear to ear. How could 
 the flogger of urchins be otherwise than animated and joy- 
 ous 1 the lady of his heart was his partner in the dance, and 
 smiling graciously in reply to all his amorous oglings; while 
 Brom Bones, sorely smitten with love and jealousy, sat 
 brooding by himself in one corner. 
 
 WAR. 
 
 The first conflict between man and man was the mere ex- 
 ertion of physical force, unaided by auxiliary weapons, — 
 his arm was his buckler, his fist was his mace, and a broken 
 head the catastrophe of his encounters. The battle of unas- 
 sisted strength was succeeded by the more rugged one of 
 stones and clubs, and war assumed a sanguinary aspect. As 
 man advanced in refinement, as his faculties expanded, and 
 his sensibilities became more exquisite, he grew rapidly 
 more ingenious and experienced in the art of murdering his 
 fellow beings. He invented a thousand devices to defend 
 and to assault — the helmet, the cuirass, and the buckler, the 
 sword, the dart, and the javelin, prepared him to elude the 
 wound, as well as to launch the blow. Still urging on, in 
 the brilliant and philanthropic career of invention, he en- 
 larges and heightens his powers of defence and injury. — The 
 aries, the scorpio, the balista, and the catapulta, give a horror 
 and sublimity to war; and magnify its glory, by increasing 
 its desolation. Still insatiable, though armed with machinery 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 45 
 
 that seemed to reach the limits of destructive invention, and 
 to yield a power of injury, commensurate even with the 
 desires of revenge — still deeper researches must be made in 
 the diabolical arcana. With furious zeal he dives into the 
 bowels of the earth ; he toils midst poisonous minerals and 
 deadly salts — the sublime discovery of gunpowder blazes 
 upon the world — and, finally, the dreadful art of fighting by 
 proclamation seems to endow the demon of war with ubi- 
 quity and omnipotence. 
 
 This, indeed, is grand! — this, indeed, marks the powers 
 of mind, and bespeaks that divine endowment of reason, 
 which distinguishes us from the animals, our inferiors. 
 The unenlightened brutes content themselves with the native 
 force which providence has assigned them. The angry bull 
 butts with his horns, as did his progenitors before him — the 
 lion, the leopard, and the tiger, seek only with their talons 
 and their fangs to gratify their sanguinary fury ; and even 
 the subtle serpent darts the same venom, and uses the same 
 wiles as did his sire before the flood. Man alone, blessed 
 with the inventive mind, goes on from discovery to disco- 
 very—enlarges and multiplies his powers of destruction ; 
 arrogates the tremendous weapons of Deity itself, and tasks 
 creation to assist him in murdering his brother worm. 
 
 ENGLISH STAGE COACHMEN. 
 
 And here, perhaps, it may^not be unacceptable to my un- 
 travelled readers to have a sketch that may serve as a gene- 
 ral representation of this very numerous and important 
 class of functionaries, who have a dress, a manner, a lan- 
 guage, an air, peculiar to themselves, and prev-alent through- 
 out the fraternity : so that, whenever an English stage 
 Coachman may be seen, he cannot be mistaken for one of 
 any other craft or mystery. 
 
 He has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mottled 
 with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding 
 into every vessel of the skin ; he is swelled into jolly dimen- 
 sions by frequent potations of malt liquors, and his bulk is 
 still further increased by a multiplicity of coats, in which he 
 
46 BEAUTIES or 
 
 is buried like a cauliflower, the upper one reaching fo his 
 heels. He wears a broad- brimmed low-crowned hat; a 
 huge roll of coloured handkerchief about his neck, know- 
 ingly knotted and tucked in at the bosom ; and has, in sum- 
 mer time, a large bouquet of flowers in his button-hole ; the 
 present, most probably, of some enamoured country lass. 
 His waistcoat is commonly of some bright colour, striped, 
 and his small-clothes extend far below the knees, to meet a 
 pair of jocky boots which reach about halfway up his legs. 
 All this costume is maintained with much precision ; he 
 has a pride in having his clothes of excellent materials ; and 
 notwithstanding the seeming grossness of his appearance, 
 there is still descernible that neatness and propriety of 
 person, which is almost inherent in an Englishman. He 
 enjoys great consequence and consideration along the road ; 
 has frequent conferences with the village house-wives, who 
 look upon him as a man of great trust and dependence ; and 
 he seems to have a good understanding with every bright- 
 eyed country lass. The moment he arrives where the 
 horses are to be chanj^ed, he throws dov/n the reins with 
 something of an air, and abandons the cattle to the care of 
 the hostler ; his duty being merely to drive from one stage 
 to another. When off the box, his bands are thrust into 
 the pockets of his great coat, and he rolls about the inn 
 yard with an air of the most absolute lordliness. Here he 
 is generally surrounded by an admiring throng of hostlers, 
 stable-boys, shoeblacks, and those nameless hangers-on, that 
 infest inns and taverns, and run errands, and do all kind of 
 odd jobs for the privilege of battening on the drippings of 
 the kitchen and the leakage of the tap-room. These all 
 look up to him as to an oracle ; treasure up his cant phra- 
 ses ; echo his opinions about horses and other topics of 
 jocky lore ; and above all endeavour to imitate his air and 
 carriagd. Every ragamuffin that has a coat to his back, 
 thrusts his hands in the pockets, rolls in his gait, talks slangs 
 and is an embryo Coachey. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 47 
 
 THE WALTZ. 
 
 As many of the retired matrons of this city, unskilled in 
 ** gestic lore," are doubtless ignorant of the movements and 
 figures of this modest exhibition, I will endeavour to give 
 some account of it in order that they may learn what odd 
 capers their daughters sometimes cut when from under their 
 guardian wings.— On a signal being given by the music, 
 the gentleman seizes the lady round her waist ; the lady 
 scorning to be out-done in courtesy, very politely takes the 
 gentleman round the neck, with one arm resting against his 
 shoulder to prevent encroachments. Away then they go, 
 about, and about, and about — " About what, sirl" — About 
 the room, madam, to be sure. The whole economy of this 
 dance consists in turnino- round and round the room in a 
 certain measured step, and it is truly astonishing that this 
 continued revolution does not set all their heads swimming 
 like a top ; but I have been positively assured that it only 
 occasions a gentle sensation which is marvellously agreeable. 
 In the course of this circumnavigation, the dancers, in order 
 to give the charm of variety are continually changing their 
 relative situations, — now the gentleman, meaning no harm 
 in the world, I assure you, madam, carelessly flings his arm 
 about the lady's neck, with an air of celestial impudence ; 
 and anon, the lady, meaning as little harm as the gentle- 
 man, takes him round the waist with most ingenious modest 
 languishment, to the great delight of numerous spectators 
 and amateurs, who generally form a ring, as the mob do 
 about a pair of amazons pulling caps, or a couple of fight- 
 ing mastiffs. — After continuing this divine interchange of 
 hands, arms, et cetera, for half an hour or so, the lady be- 
 gins to tire, and " with eyes upraised," in most bewitching 
 languor, petitions her partner for a little more support. 
 This is always given without hesitation. The lady leans 
 gently on his shoulder ; their arms entwine in a thousand 
 seducing, mischievous curves — don't be alarmed madam — 
 closer and closer they approach each other, and in conclu- 
 sion, the parties beino; overcome with ecstatic fatigue, the 
 lady seems almost sinking into the gentleman's arms, and 
 
 then " Well, sir ! what then !" — Lord ! madam how 
 
 should I know. 
 
BEAUTIES OF 
 
 DUTCH TEA PARTIES, 
 
 These fashionable parties were generally consigned to 
 the higher classes, or noblesse, that is to say, such as kept 
 their own cows, and drove their own wagons. The com- 
 pany commonly assembled at three o'clock, and went 
 away about six, unless it was in winter time, when the 
 fashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies might 
 get home before dark. I do not find that they ever treated 
 their company to iced creams, jellies, or syllabubs; or re- 
 galed them with musty almonds, mouldy raisins, or sour 
 oranges, as is often done in the present age of refinement. 
 Our ancestors were fond of more sturdy, substantial fare. 
 The tea-table was crowned with a huge earthen dish, well 
 stored with slices of fat pork, fried brown, cut up into 
 morsels and swimming in gravy. The company being 
 seated round the genial board, and each furnished with a 
 fork, evinced their dexterity in launching at the fattest 
 pieces in this mighty dish, in much the same manner as 
 sailors harpoon porpoiK^es at sea, or our Indians spear salmon 
 on the lakes. Sometimes the table was graced with immense 
 apple pies, or saucers full of preserved peaches and pears ; 
 but it was always sure to boast an enormous dish of balls of 
 sweetened dough, fried in hog's fat, and called dough nuts, 
 or oly keoks : a delicious kind of cake, at present scarce 
 known in this city, excepling in genuine Dutch families. 
 
 The tea was served out of a majestic delft tea-pot, orna- 
 mented with paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds and shep- 
 herdesses, tending pigs— -v/ith boats sailing in the air, and 
 houses built in the clouds, and sundry other ingenious Dutch 
 fantasies. The beaux distinguished themselves by their 
 adroitness in replenishing this pot, from a huge copper tea- 
 kettle, which would have made the pigmy macaronies of 
 these degenerate days sweat, merely to look at it. To 
 sweeten the beverage, a lump of sugar was laid beside each 
 cup — and the company, alternately nibbled and sipped with 
 great decorum, until an improvement was introduced by a 
 shrewd and economic old lady, which was to suspend a 
 large lump directly over the tea-table, by a string from the 
 ceiling, so that it could be swung from mouth to mouth, — 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 49 
 
 an ingenious expedient, which is still kept up by some fami- 
 jies in Albany ; but which prevails without exception in 
 Communipaw, Bergen, Flat-Bush, and all our uncontami- 
 nated Dutch villages. 
 
 At these primitive tea-parties the utmost propriety and 
 dignity of deportment prevailed. No flirting nor coquetting 
 — no gambling ofold ladies, nor hoyden chattering and romp- 
 ing of young ones — no self-satisfied struttings of wealthy 
 gentlemen, with their brains in their pockets ; nor amusing 
 conceits, and monkey divertisements of smart young gentle- 
 men with no brains at all. On the contrary, the young ladies 
 seated themselves demurely in their rush-bottomed chairs, 
 and knit their own woollen stockings ; nor ever opened their 
 lips, excepting to say yah Mynheer^ or yah ya Yrouw, to 
 any question that was asked them ; behaving, in all things, 
 like decent well educated damsels. As to the gentlemen, 
 each of them tranquilly smoked his pipe, and seemed lost 
 in contemplation of the blue and white tiles, with which the 
 fire places were decorated ; wherein sundry passages of 
 Scripture were piously portrayed : Tobit and his dog figur- 
 ed to great advantage; Haman swung conspicuously on his 
 gibbet ; and Jonah appeared most manfully bouncing out of 
 the whale, like harlequin through a barrel of fire. 
 
 The parties broke up without noise and without confu- 
 sion. They were carried home by their own carriages, 
 that is to say, by the vehicles nature had provided them, 
 excepting such of the wealthy as could afford to keep a 
 wagon. The gentlemen gallantly attended their fair ones 
 to their respective abodes, and took leave of them with a 
 hearty smack at the door : which, as it was an established 
 piece of etiquette, done in perfect simplicity and honesty of 
 heart, occasioned no scandal at that time, nor should it at 
 the present — if our great grandfathers approved of the cus- 
 tom, it would argue a great want of reverence in their de- 
 scendants to sav a word agrainst it. 
 
 5 
 
BEAUTIE8 OP 
 
 COSMOGONY, 
 
 Or Creation of the World ; with a multitude of excellent 
 Theories, by which the Creation of a World is shown 
 to be no such difficult Matter as common Folks would 
 imagine. 
 
 Having thus briefly introduced my reader into the world, 
 and given him some idea of its form and situation, he will 
 naturally be curious to know from whence it came, and how 
 it was created. And indeed the clearing up of these points 
 is absolutely essential to my history, inasmuch as if this 
 world had not been formed, it is more than probable, that 
 this renowned island, on which is situated the city of New 
 York, would never have had an existence. The regular 
 course of my history, therefore, requires that T should pro- 
 ceed to notice the cosmogony or formation of this our globe. 
 
 And now I give my readers fair warning, that I am about 
 to plunge for a chapter or two, into as complete a labyrinth 
 as ever historian was perplexed withal ; therefore, I advise 
 them to take fast hold of my skirts, and keep close at my 
 heels, venturing neither to the right hand nor to the left, 
 lest they get bemired in a slough of unintelligible learning, 
 or have their brains knocked out by some of those hard 
 Greek names which will be flying about in all directions. 
 But should any of them be too indolent or chicken-hearted 
 to accompany me in this perilous undertaking, they had 
 better take a short cut round, and wait for me at the begin- 
 ning of some smoother chapter. 
 
 Of the creation of the world we have a thousand contra- 
 dictory accounts ; and though a very satisfactory one is 
 furnished by divine revelation, yet every philosopher feels 
 himself in honour bound to furnish us with a better. As an 
 impartial historian, I consider it my duty to notice their 
 several theories by which mankind have been so exceedingly 
 edified and instructed. 
 
 Thus it was the opinion of certain ancient sages, that the 
 earth and the whole system of the universe was the deify 
 himself;* a doctrine most strenuously maintained by Zeno- 
 
 * Aristot. ap. Cic. lib. i. cap. 3. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 51 
 
 phanes and the whole tribe of Eleatics, as also by Strabo and 
 the sect of peripatetic philosophers. Pythagoras likewise 
 inculcated the famous numerical system of the monad, dyad, 
 and triad ; and by means of his sacred quaternary elucida- 
 ted the formation of the world, the arcana of nature, and 
 the principles both of music and morals.* Other sages 
 adhered to the mathematical system of squares and trian- 
 gles ; the cube, the pyramid, and the sphere ; the tetrahe- 
 dron, the octahedron, the icosahedron, and the dodecahe- 
 dron. f While others advocated the great elementary theory, 
 which refers the construction of our globe and all that it 
 contains to the combinations of four material elements, air, 
 earth, fire, and water ; with the assistance of a fifth, an im- 
 material and vivifying principle. 
 
 Nor must I omit to mention the great atomic system 
 taught by old Moschus before the siege of Troy; revived 
 by Democritus of laughing memory; improved by Epicurus, 
 that king of good fellows ; and modernized by the fanciful 
 Descartes. But I decline inquiring whether the atoms, of 
 which the earth is said to be composed, are eternal or recent ; 
 whether they are animated or inanimate ; whether, agree- 
 ably to the opinions of Athesits, they were fortuitously 
 aggregated ; or, as the Theists maintain, were arranged by 
 a supreme intelligence.:}: Whether, in fact, the earth be an 
 insensate clod, or whether it be animated by a soul ;|| which 
 opinion was strenuously maintained by a host of philosophers, 
 at the head of whom stands the great Pi to, that temperate 
 sage, who threw the cold water of philosophy on the form of 
 sexual intercourse, and inculcated the doctrine of Platonic 
 love — an exquisitely refined intercourse, but much better 
 adapted to the ideal inhabitants of his imaginary island of 
 Atlantis than to the sturdy race, composed of rebellious flesh 
 and blood, which populates the little matter of fact island 
 we inhabit. 
 
 Besides these systems, we have, moreover, the poetical 
 
 * Avistot. Metaph. lib. i. cap. 5. Idem de Coelo, 1. iii. c. 1. Tlousseau. Mem. sup 
 Musique Ancien. p. 39. Plutarch de Plae. Pliilos. lib. i. cap. 3. 
 
 i" Tim. Locr. ap. Plato t. iii. p. 90. 
 
 $ Aristot. Nat. Auseult. 1. ii. cap. 6. Aiistoph. Metaph. lib. i. cap. 3. Cic. de 
 Nat. Deor. lib. i. cap. 10. Justin Mart. Orat. ad Gent. p. 20. 
 
 II Mosheim in Cudw. lib. i. cap. 4. Tim. de Auim. Mund. ap. Plat. lib. iii. Mem. 
 de I'Aead. des Bellea Lettres, t. xxxii. p. 19 et al. 
 
52 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 theogony of old Hesiod, who generated the whole universe 
 in the regular mode of procreation, and the plausible opinion 
 of others, that the earth was hatched from the great egg of 
 night, which floated in chaos, and was cracked by the horns 
 of the celestial bull. To illustrate this last doctrine^ Burnet ^ 
 in his theory of the earth,* has favoured os with an accurate 
 drawing and description both of the form and texture of this 
 mundane egg ; which is found to bear a near resemblance 
 to that of a goose. Such of my readers as take a proper 
 interest in the origin of this our planet will be pleased to 
 learn, that the most profound sages of antiquity, among the 
 Egyptians, Chaldeans, Persians, Greeks, and Latins, have 
 alternately assisted at the hatching of this strange bird ; and 
 that their cacklings have been caught and continued, in 
 different tones and inflections, from philosopher to philoso- 
 pher, unto the present day- 
 
 But while briefly noticing long celebrated systems of 
 ancient sages, let me not pass over, with neglect, those of 
 other philosophers ; which, though less universal than re- 
 nowned, have equal claims to attention, and equal chance 
 for correctness. Thus it is recorded by the Brahmins, in 
 the pages of their inspired Shastah, that the angel Bistnoo 
 transformed himself into a great boar, plunged into the 
 watery abyss, and brought up the earth on his tusks. Then 
 issued from him a mighty tortoise, and a mighty snake ; 
 and Bistnoo placed the snake erect upon the back of the 
 tortoise, and he placed the earth upon the head of the 
 snake.f 
 
 The negro philosophers of Congo affirm, that the world 
 was made by the hands of angels, excepting their own 
 country, which the supreme being constructed himself, that 
 it might be supremely excellent. And he took great pains 
 with the inhabitants, and made them very black and beauti- 
 ful ; and when he had finished the first man, he was well 
 pleased with him, and smoothed him over the face, and 
 hence his nose, and the nose of all his descendants, became 
 flat. 
 
 The Mohawk philosophers tell us, that a pregnant woman 
 fell down from heaven, and that a tortoise took her upon its 
 
 * Book i. ch. 5. t Hohvell, Gent Philosophy. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 53 
 
 back, because every place was covered with water ; and, 
 that the woman, sitting upon the tortoise, paddled with her 
 hands in the water, and raked up the earth, whence it finally 
 happened that the earth became higher than the water. '" 
 
 But I forbear to quote a number more of these ancient and 
 outlandish philosophers, whose deplorable ignorance, in 
 despite of ail their erudition, compelled them to write in 
 languages, which but few of my readers can understand ; 
 and I shall proceed briefly to notice a few more intelligible 
 and fashionable theories of their modern successors. 
 
 And first I shall mention the great Buffon, who conjectures 
 that this globe was originally a globe of liquid fire, scintilla- 
 ted from the body of the sun, by the percussion of a comet, 
 as a spark is generated by the collision of flint and steel. 
 That at first it was surrounded by gross vapours, which 
 cooling and condensing in process of time, constituted, 
 according to their densities, earth, water, and air; which 
 gradually arranged themselves, according to their respective 
 gravities, round the burning or vitrified m ss that ibrmed 
 their centre. 
 
 Hutton, on the contrary, supposes that the waters at first 
 were universally paramount: and he terrifies himself with 
 the idea that the earth must be eventually washed away by 
 the force of rains, rivers, and mountain torrents, until it is 
 confounded with the ocean, or, in other words, absolutely 
 dissolves into itself. — Sublime idea! far surpassing that of 
 the tender hearted damsel of antiquity, who wept herself 
 into a fountain ; or the good dame of Narbonne in France, 
 who, for a volubility of tongue unusual in her sex, was 
 doomed to peel five hundred thousand and thirty-nine ropes 
 of onions, and actually ran out at her eyes before half the 
 hideous task was accomplished. 
 
 Whiston, the same ingenious philosopher who rivalled 
 Ditton in his researches after the longitude, (for which the 
 mischief-loving Swift discharged on their heads, a most 
 savoury stanza,) has distinguished liimself by a very admi- 
 rable theory respecting the earth. He conjectures that it 
 was originally a chaotic comet, which, being selected for 
 the abode of man, was removed from its eccentric orbit, and 
 
 * Johnannes Megapolensisj jun. Account of Jfaquaas or Mohawk Indians. 1644. 
 
 5* 
 
54 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 whirled round the sun in its present regular motion ; by 
 which change of direction, order succeeded to confusion in 
 the arrangement of its component parts. The philosopher 
 adds, that the deluge was produced by an uncourteous salute 
 from the watery tail of another comet ; doubtless through 
 sheer envy of its improved condition ; thus furnishing a 
 melancholy proof that jealousy may prevail, even among 
 the heavenly bodies, and discord interrupt that celestial 
 harmony of the spheres, so melodiously sung by the poets. 
 
 But I pass over a variety of excellent theories, among 
 which are those of Burnet, and Woodward, and Whitehurst; 
 regretting extremely that m}?^ time will not suffer me to give 
 them the notice they deserve — And shall conclude with that 
 of the renowned Dr. Darwin. This learned Theban, who is 
 as much distinguished for rhyme as reason, and for good 
 natured credulity as serious research ; and who has recom- 
 mended himself wonderfully to the good graces of the ladies, 
 by letting them into all the gallantries, amours, debauche- 
 ries, and other topics of scandal of the court of Flora, has 
 fallen upon a theory worthy of his combustible imagination. 
 According to his opinion, the huge mass of chaos took a 
 sudden occasion to explode, like a barrel of gunpowder, and, 
 in that act, exploded the sun — which, in its flight, by a 
 similar convulsion exploded the earth — which in like guise 
 exploded the moon — and thus, by a concatenation of explo- 
 sions, the whole solar system was produced and set most 
 systematically in motion.* 
 
 By the great variety of theories here alluded to, every 
 one of which, if thoroughly examined, will be found sur- 
 prisingly consistent in all its parts, my unlearned readers 
 will perhaps be led to conclude, that the creation of a world 
 is not so diificult a task as thev at first imasjined. I have 
 shown at least a score of ingenious methods in which a 
 world could be constructed ; and 1 have no doubt, that had 
 any of the philosophers above quoted the use of a good 
 manageable comet, and the philosophical warehouse, chaosy 
 at his command, he would engage to manufacture a planet, 
 as good, or, if you would take his word for it, better than 
 this we inhabit. 
 
 And here I cannot help noticing the kindness of provi- 
 
 * Daiw. Dot. Ganitii. Far! lean'. I. 1. 1C5. 
 
WASHINGTON IRTING. 55 
 
 dence, in creating comets for the great relief of bewildered 
 philosophers. By their assistance more sudden evolutions 
 and transitions are effected in the system of nature, than 
 are wrought in a pantomimic exhibition, by the wonder- 
 working sword of harlequin. Should one of our modern 
 sages, in his theoretical flights among the stars, ever find 
 himself lost in the clouds, and in danger of tumbling into 
 the abyss of nonsense and absurdity, he has but to seize a 
 comet by the beard, mount astride of its tail, and away he 
 gallops in triumph, like an enchanter on his hippogriff, or 
 a Connecticut witch on her broomstick, " to sweep the cob- 
 webs out of the sky." 
 
 It is an old and vulgar saying, about a " beggar on horse- 
 back," which I would not for the world have applied to 
 these reverend philosophers : but I must confess, that some 
 of them, when they are mounted on one of those fiery 
 steeds, are as wild in their curvetings as was Phaeton, of 
 yore, when he aspired to manage the chariot of Phoebus. 
 One drives his comet at full speed against the sun, and 
 knocks the world out of him with mighty concussion ; ano- 
 ther, more moderate, makes his comet a kind of beast of 
 burden, carrying the sun a regular supply of food and fag- 
 gots ; a third of more combustible disposition, threatens to 
 throw his comet, like a bombshell, into the world, and blow 
 it up like a powder magazine ; while a fourth, with no great 
 delicacy to this planet and its inhabitants, insinuates that 
 some day or other his comet — my modest pen blushes while 
 I write it — shall absolutely turn tail upon the world and 
 deluge it with water! — Surely, as I have already observed, 
 comets were bountifully provided by providence for the bene- 
 fit of philosophers to assist them in manufacturing theories. 
 
 And now, having adduced several of the most prominent 
 theories that occur to my recollection, I leave my judicious 
 readers at full liberty to choose among them. They are 
 all serious speculations of learned men — all differ essential- 
 ly from each other — and all have the same title to belief. 
 It has ever been the task of one race of philosophers to de- 
 molish the works of their predecessors, and elevate more 
 splendid fantasies in their stead, which, in their turn, are de- 
 molished and replaced by the air-castles of a succeeding 
 generation. Thus it would seem that knowledge and ge- 
 nius, of which we make such great parade, consist but in 
 
66 , BEAUTIES OF 
 
 detecting the errors and absurdities of those who have gone 
 before, and devising new errors and absurdities, to be de- 
 tected by those who are to come after us. Theories are 
 the mighty soap-bubbles with which the grown-up children 
 of science amuse themselves ; while the honest vulgar stand 
 gazing in stupid admiration, and dignify these learned va- 
 garies with the name of wisdom. — Surely Socrates was 
 right in his opinion, that philosophers are but a sober sort 
 of madmen, busying themselves in things totally incompre- 
 hensible, or which, if they could be comprehended, would 
 be found not worthy the trouble of discovery. 
 
 For my own part, until the learned have come to an 
 agreement among themselves, I shall content myself with 
 the account handed down to us by Moses ; in which I do 
 but follow the example of our ingenious neighbours of Con- 
 necticut ; who at their first settlement proclaimed, that the 
 colony should be governed by the laws of God — until they 
 had time to make better. 
 
 One thing however appears certain — from the unanimous 
 authority of the before quoted philosophers, supported by 
 the evidence of our own senses, (which, though very apt to 
 deceive us, may be cautiously admitted as additional testi- 
 mony,) it appears, I say, and 1 make the assertion deliber- 
 ately, without fear of contradiction, that this globe really 
 was created, and that it is composed of land and loater. 
 It further appears that it is curiously divided and parcelled 
 out into continents and islands, among which I boldly de- 
 clare the renowned island of new york will be found by 
 any one who seeks for it in its proper place. 
 
 DUTCH LEGISLATORS. 
 
 And now the infant settlement having advanced in age 
 and stature, it was thought high time it should receive an 
 honest Christian name, and it was accordingly called New- 
 Amsterdam. It is true there were some advocates for the 
 original Indian name, and many of the best writers of the 
 province did long continue to call it by the title of " The 
 Manhattoes," but this was discountenanced by the authori- 
 ties, as being heathenish and savage. Besides, it was con- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 57 
 
 sidered an excellent and praiseworthy measure lo name it 
 after a great city of the old world ; as by that means it 
 was induced to emulate the greatness and renown of its 
 namesake — in the manner that little snivelling urchins are 
 called after great statesmen, saints, and worthies, and re- 
 nowned generals of yore, upon which they all industriously 
 copy their examples, and come to be very mighty men in 
 their day and generation. 
 
 The thriving state of the settlement and the rapid in- 
 crease of houses gradually awakened the good OlofFe from 
 a deep lethargy, into which he had fallen after the building 
 of the fort. He now began to think it was time some plan 
 should be devised on which the increasing town should be 
 built. Summoning, therefore, his counsellors and coadju- 
 tors together, they took pipe in mouth, and forthwith sunk 
 into a very sound deliberation on the subject. 
 
 At the very outset of the business an unexpected differ- 
 ence of opinion arose, and I mention it with much sor- 
 rowing, as being the first altercation on record in the 
 councils of New-Amsterdam. It was a breaking forth of 
 the grudge and heartburning that had existed between 
 those two eminent burghers. Mynheers Tenbroeck and 
 Hardenbroeck, ever since their unhappy altercation on 
 the coast of Bellevue. The great Hardenbroeck had wax- 
 ed very wealthy and powerful from his domains, which 
 embraced the whole chain of Apulean mountains that 
 stretch along the gulf of Kip's Bay, and from part of which 
 his descendants have been expelled in latter ages by the 
 powerful clans of the Joneses and the Schermerhornes. 
 
 An ingenious plan for the city was offered by Mynheer 
 Tenbroeck, who proposed that it should be cut up and in- 
 tersected by canals, after the manner of the most admired 
 cities in Holland. To this Mynheer Hardenbroeck was 
 diametrically opposed, suggesting in place thereof that they 
 should run out docks and wharves by means of piles, driven 
 into the bottom of the river, on which the town should be 
 built. " By these means," said he triumphantly, " shall 
 we rescue a considerable space of territory from these im- 
 mense rivers, and build a city that shall rival Amsterdam, 
 Venice, or any amphibious city in Europe." To this pro- 
 position Tenbroeck (or Ten Breeches) replied, with a look 
 
58 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 of as much scorn as he could possibly assume. He cast the 
 utmost censure upon the plan of his antagonist as being 
 preposterous, and against the very order of things, as he 
 would leave to every true Hollander. " For what," said 
 he, " is a town without canals 1 — -It is like a body without 
 veins and arteries, and must perish for want of a free cir- 
 culation of the vital fluid." Tough Breeches on the con- 
 trary, retorted with a sarcasm upon his antagonist, who 
 was somewhat of an arid, dry boned habit ; he remarked, 
 that as to the circulation of the blood being necessary to ex- 
 istence. Mynheer Ten Breeches was a living contradiction to 
 his own assertion ; for every body knew there had not a 
 drop of blood circulated through his wind-dried carcass for 
 good ten years, and yet there was not a greater busybody 
 in the whole colony. Personalities have seldom much ef- 
 fect in making converts in argument ; nor have I ever seen 
 a man convinced of error by being convicted of deformity. 
 At least, such was not the case at present. Ten Breeches 
 was very acrimonious in reply, and Tough Breeches, who 
 was a sturdy little man, and never gave up the last word, 
 rejoined with increasing spirit — Ten Breeches had the ad- 
 vantage of the greatest volubility, but Tough Breeches had 
 that invaluable coat of mail in argument called obstinacy — 
 Ten Breeches had, therefore, the most metal, but Tough 
 Breeches the best bottom — so that though Ten Breeches 
 made a dreadful clattering about his ears, and battered and 
 belaboured him with hard words and sound arguments; 
 yet Tough Breeches hung on most resolutely to the last. 
 They parted, therefore, as is usual in all arguments where 
 both parties are in the right, without coming to any conclu- 
 sion ; but they hated each other most heartily for ever af- 
 ter, and a similar breach with that between the houses of 
 Capulet and Montague did ensue between the families of 
 Ten Breeches and Tough Breeches. 
 
 1 would not fatigue my reader v/ith these dull mattei's of 
 fact, but that my duty as a faithful historian requires that I 
 should be particular; and, in truth, as I am now treating of 
 the critical period, when our city, like a young twig first 
 received the twists and turns, that have since contributed to 
 give it the present picturesque irregularity for which it is 
 celebrated, I cannot be too minute in detailing their first' 
 causes. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 59 
 
 After the unhappy altercation I have just mentioned, I 
 do not find that any thing further was said on the subject 
 worthy of being recorded. The council, consisting of the 
 largest and oldest heads in the community, met regularly 
 once a-week, to ponder on this monstrous subject ; but 
 either they were deterred by the war of words they had 
 witnessed, or they were naturally averse to the exercise of 
 the tongue, and the consequent exercise of the brain — cer- 
 tain it is, the most profound silence was maintained — the 
 question, as usual, lay on the table — the members quietly 
 smoked their pipes, making but few laws, without ever en- 
 forcing any, and in the mean time the affairs of the settle- 
 ment went on — as it pleased God. 
 
 As most of the council were but little skilled in the mys- 
 tery of combining pothooks and hangers, they determined, 
 most judiciously, not to puzzle either themselves or poste- 
 rity with voluminous records. The secretary however, 
 kept the minutes of the council with tolerable precision, in a 
 lar^e vellum folio, fastened with massy brass clasps ; the 
 journal of each meeting consisted but of two lines, stating 
 in Dutch, that " the council sat this day, and smoked twelve 
 pipes on the affairs of the colony." By which it appears 
 that the first settlers did not regulate their time by hours, 
 but pipes, in the same manner as they measure distances in 
 Holland at this very time ; an admirably exact measure- 
 ment, as the pipe in the mouth of a true born Dutchman is 
 never liable to those accidents and irregularities that are 
 continually putting our clocks out of order. 
 
 In this manner did the profound council of New-Am- 
 sterdam smoke, and doze, and ponder, from week to week, 
 month to month, and year to year, in what manner they 
 should construct their infant settlement ; meanwhile, the 
 town took care of itself, and like a sturdy brat which 
 is suffered to run about wild, unshackled by clouts and 
 bandages, and other abominations, by which your notable^ 
 nurses and sage old women cripple and disfigure the child- 
 ren of men, increased so rapidly in strength and magnitude, 
 that before the honest burgomasters had determined upon a 
 plan, it was too late to put it in execution- — whereupon they 
 wisely abandoned the subject altogether. 
 
60 BEAUTIES or 
 
 THE LITTLE MAN IN BLACK. 
 
 The following story has been handed down by a family 
 tradition for more than a century. It is one on which my 
 cousin Christopher dwells with more than usual prolixity ; 
 and, being in some measure connected with a personage 
 often quoted in our work, I have thought it worthy of being 
 laid before my readers. 
 
 Soon after my grandfather, Mr. Lemuel Cockloft, had 
 quietly seated himself at the Hall, and just about the time 
 that the gossips of the neighbourhood, tired of prying into 
 his affairs, were anxious for some new tea-table topic, the 
 busy community of our little village was thrown into a 
 grand turmoil of curiosity and conjecture — a situation very 
 common to little gossipping villages — by the sudden and 
 unaccountable appearance of a mysterious individual. 
 
 The object of this solicitude was a little black-looking 
 man, of a foreign aspect, who took possession of an old 
 building, which having long had the reputation of being 
 haunted, was in a state of ruinous desolation, and an object 
 of fear to all true believers in Ghosts. He usually wore a 
 high sugar loaf hat with a narrow brim, and a little black 
 cloak, which, short as he was, scarcely reached below his 
 knees. He sought no intimacy or acquaintance with any 
 one — appeared to take no interest in the pleasures or the 
 little broils of the village — nor ever talked, except some- 
 times to himself in an outlandish tongue. He commonly 
 carried a large book, covered with sheepskin, under his arm, 
 appeared always to be lost in meditation — and was often 
 met by the peasantry, sometimes watching the dawning of 
 the day, sometimes at noon seated under a tree poring over 
 his volume, and sometimes at evening gazing with a look 
 of sober tranquillity, at the sun as it gradually sunk below 
 the horizon. 
 
 The good people. of the vicinity beheld something prodi- 
 giously singular in all this ; a profound mystery seemed to 
 hang about the stranger, which, with all their sagacity, 
 they could not penetrate; and in the excess of worldly cha- 
 rity they pronounced it a sure sign " that he was no better 
 than he should be ;" a phrase innocent enough in itself; 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 61 
 
 but which, as applied in common, signifies nearly every 
 thing that is bad. The young people thought him a gloomy 
 misanthrope, because he never joined in their sports ; the 
 old men thought still more hardly of him, because he fol- 
 lowed no trade, nor ever seemed ambitious of earning a 
 farthing ; and as to the old gossips, baffled by the inflexible 
 taciturnity of the stranger, they unanimously declared that 
 a man who could not or would not talk was no better than 
 a dumb beast. The little man in black, careless of their 
 opinions, seemed resolved to maintain the liberty of keep- 
 ing his own secret ; and the consequence was, that, in a lit- 
 tle while, the whole village was in an uproar; for in little 
 communities of 'this description, the members have always 
 the privilege of being thoroughly versed, and even of med- 
 dling in all the affairs of each other. 
 
 A confidential conference was held one Sunday morning 
 after sermon, at the door of the village church, and the cha- 
 racter of the unknown fully investigated. The schoolmaster 
 gave as his opinion that he was the wandering Jew ; the 
 sexton was certain that he must be a freemason from his 
 silence ; a third maintained, with great obstinacy, that he 
 was a High German Doctor, and that the book which he 
 carried about with him contained the secrets of the black art ; 
 but the most prevailing opinion seemed to be that he was a 
 witch — a race of beings at that time abounding in those 
 parts : and a sagacious old matron, from Connecticut, pro- 
 posed to ascertain the fact by sousing him into a kettle of hot 
 w^ter. 
 
 Suspicion, when once afloat, goes with wind and tide, and 
 soon becomes certainty. Many a stormy night was the little 
 man in black seen by the flashes of lightning, frisking and 
 curveting in the air upon a broomstick; and it was always 
 observed, that at those times the storm did more mischief 
 than at any other. The old lady in particular, who suggest- 
 ed the humane ordeal of the boiling kettle, lost, on one of 
 these occasions, a fine brindle cow ; which accident was en- 
 tirely ascribed to the vengeance of the little man in black. 
 If ever a mischievous hireling rode his master's favourite 
 horse to a distant frolic, and the animal was observed to be 
 lame and jaded in the morning, — the little man in black was 
 sure to be at the bottom of the affair ; nor could a high wind 
 
 6 
 
62 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 howl through the village at night, but the old women shrug- 
 ged up their shoulders, and observed, " the little man in black 
 was in his tantrums.'^'' In short, he became the bugbear 
 of every house ; and was effectual in frightening little 
 children into obedience and hysterics, as the redoubtable 
 Raw-head-and-bloody-bones himself; nor could a housewife 
 of the village sleep in peace, except under the guardianship 
 of a horse-shoe nailed to the door. 
 
 The object of these direful suspicions remained for some 
 time totally ignorant of the wonderful quandary he had oc- 
 casioned ; but he was soon doomed to feel its effects. An 
 individual who is once so unfortunate as to incur the odium 
 of a village, is in a great measure outlawed" and proscribed, 
 and becomes a mark for injury and insult ; particularly if 
 he has not the power or the disposition to recriminate. The 
 little venomous passions, which in the great world are dis- 
 sipated and weakened by being widely difflised, act in the 
 narrow limits of a country town vvith collected vigour, and 
 become rancorous in proportion as they are confined in their 
 sphere of action. The little man in black experienced the 
 truth of this ; every mischievous urchin returning from 
 school had full liberty to break, his windows ; and this was 
 considered as a most daring exploit ; for in such awe did 
 they stand of him, that the most adventurous schoolboy was 
 never seen to approach his threshold, and at night would 
 prefer going round by the cross-roads, where a traveller had 
 been murdered by the Indians, rather than pass by the door 
 of his forlorn habitation. 
 
 The only living creature that seemed to have any care or 
 affection for this deserted being was an old turnspit, — the 
 companion of this lonely mansion and his solitary wander- 
 ings ; — the sharer of his scanty meals, and, sorry am I to 
 say it, — the sharer of his persecutions. The turnspit, like 
 his master, was peaceable and inoffensive ; never known to 
 bark at a horse, to growl at a traveller, or to quarrel with 
 the dogs of the neighbourhood. He followed close by his 
 master's heels when he went out, and when he returned 
 stretched himself in the sunbeams at the door ; demeaning 
 himself in all things like a civil and well-disposed turnspit. 
 But notwithstanding his exemplary deportment, he fell like- 
 wise under the ill report of the village ; as being the familiar 
 
WASHINGTON IRVINO. 68 
 
 of the little man in black, and the evil spirit that presided at 
 his incantations. The old hovel was considered as the scene 
 of their unhallowed rites, and its harmless tenants regarded 
 with a detestation which their inoffensive conduct never 
 merited. Though pelted and jeered at by the brats of the 
 village, and frequently abused by their parents, the little 
 man in black never turned to rebuke them ; and his faithful 
 dog, when wantonly assaulted, looked up wistfully in his 
 master's face, and there learned a lesson of patience and 
 forbearance. 
 
 The movements of this inscrutable being had long been 
 the subject of speculation at Cockloft-hall, for its inmates 
 were full as much given to wandering as their descendants. 
 The patience with which he bore his persecutions particularly 
 surprised them — for patience is a virtue but little known in 
 the Cockloft family. My grandmother, who, it appears, was 
 rather superstitious, saw, in this humility, nothing but the 
 gloomy sullenness of a wizard, who restrained himself for 
 the present, in hopes of midnight vengeance — the parson of 
 the village, who was a man of some reading, pronounced it 
 the stubborn insensibility of a stoic philosopher — my grand- 
 father, who, worthy soul, seldom wandered abroad in search 
 of conclusions, took datum from his own excellent heart, 
 and I'egarded it as the humble forgiveness of a Christian. 
 But however different were their opinions as to the character 
 of the stranger, they agreed in one particular, namely, in 
 never intruding; upon his solitude ; and my grandmother, 
 who was at that time nursing my mother, never left the 
 room without wisely putting the large family bible in the 
 cradle — ^a sure talisman, in her opinion, against witchcraft 
 and necromancy. 
 
 One stormy windy night, when a bleak north-east wind 
 moaned about the cottages, and howled around the village 
 steeple, my grandfather was returning from club preceded 
 by a servant with a lantern. Just as he arrived opposite 
 the desolate abode of the little man in black, he was arrested 
 by the piteous howling of a dog, which, heard in the pauses 
 of a storm, was exquisitely mournful ; and he fancied now 
 and then that he caught the low and broken groans of some 
 one in distress. He stopped for some minutes, hesitating 
 between the benevolence of his heart and a sensation of 
 
64 BEAUTIES or 
 
 genuine delicacy, which, in spite of his eccentricity, he fully 
 possessed, — and which forbade him to pry into the con- 
 cerns of his neighbours. Perhaps, too, this hesitation might 
 have been strengthened by a little taint of superstition ; or 
 surely, if the unknown had been addicted to witchcraft, this 
 was a most propitious night for his vagaries. At length the 
 old gentleman's philanthropy predominated ; he approached 
 the hovel, and pushing open the door, — for poverty has no 
 occasion for locks and keys, — beheld, by the light of the 
 lantern, a scene that smote his generous heart to the core. 
 
 On a miserable bed, with pallid and emaciated visage and 
 hollow eyes ; in a room destitute of every convenience ; 
 without fire to warm or friend to console him, lay this help- 
 less mortal, who had been so long the terror and wonder of 
 the village. His dog was crouching on the scanty coverlet, 
 and shivering with cold. My grandfather stepped softly and 
 hesitatingly to the bedside, and accosted the forlorn sufferer 
 in his usual accents of kindness. The little man in black, 
 seemed recalled by the tones of compassion from the lethargy 
 into which he had fallen ; for, though his heart was almost 
 frozen, there was yet one chord that answered to the call of 
 the good old man who bent over him ; — the tones of sympa- 
 thy, so novel to his ear, called back his wandering senses, 
 and acted like a restorative to his solitary feelings. 
 
 He raised his eyes, but they were vacant and haggard ; 
 — he put forth his hand, but it was cold; he essayed to 
 speak, but the sound died away in his throat ; — he pointed 
 to his mouth with an expression of dreadful meaning, and, 
 sad to relate ! my grandfather understood that the harmless 
 stranger, deserted by society, was perishing with hunger ! — 
 With the quick impulse of humanity he despatched the ser- 
 vant to the hall for refreshment. A little warm nourishment 
 renovated him for a short time, but not long : it was evident 
 his pilgrimage was drawing to a close, and he was about 
 entering that peaceful asylum where " the wicked cease from 
 troubling." 
 
 His tale of misery was short, and quickly told ; — infirmi- 
 ties had stolen upon him, heightened by the rigours of the 
 season ; he had taken to his bed without strength to rise and 
 ask for assistance ; " and if I had," said he, in a tone of 
 bitter despondency, " to whom should I have applied ? I 
 
•WASHINGTON IRVING. 65 
 
 have no friend that I know of in the world ! — the villagers 
 avoid me as something loathsonne and dangerous ; and here, 
 in the midst of Christians, should I have perished without a 
 fellow being to sooth the last moments of existence, and close 
 my dying eyes, had not the howlings of my faithful dog 
 excited your attention." 
 
 He seemed deeply sensible of the kindness of my grand- 
 father ; and at one time as he looked up into his old bene- 
 factor's face, a solitary tear was observed to steal adown the 
 parched furrows of his cheek. — Poor outcast ! — it was the 
 last tear he shed ; but 1 warrant it was not the first by mil- 
 lions ! My grandfather watched by him all night. Towards 
 morning he gradually declined ; and as the rising sun 
 gleamed through the w^indows, he begged to be raised in his 
 bed, that he might look at it for the last time. He contem- 
 plated it for a moment with a kind of religious enthusiasm, 
 and his lips moved as if engaged in prayer. The strange 
 conjecture concerning him rushed on my grandfather's mind. 
 *' He is an idolater !" thought he, " and is worshipping the 
 sun 1" He listened a moment, and blushed at his own uncha- 
 ritable suspicion ; he was only engaged in the pious devotions 
 of a Christian. His simple orison being finished, the little 
 man in black withdrew his eyes from the east, and taking 
 my grandfather's hand in one of his. and making a motion 
 with the other towards the sun — " I love to contemplate it," 
 said he; "'tis an emblem of the universal benevolence of a 
 true Christian ; — and it is the most glorious work of him 
 who is philanthropy itself !" My grandfather blushed still 
 deeper at his ungenerous surmises ; he had pitied the 
 stranger at first, but now he revered him : — he turned once 
 more to regard him, but his countenance had undergone a 
 change ; the holy enthusiasm that had lighted up each fea- 
 ture had given place to an expression of mysterious import : 
 — a gleam of grandeu ■ seem-^d to steal across his gothic 
 visage, and he appeared full of some mighty secret which 
 he hesitated to impart. He raised the tattered nightcap that 
 had sunk almost over his eyes, and waving his withered 
 hand with a slow and feeble expression of dignity — " In 
 me," said he, with a laconic solemnity, — " In me you be- 
 hold the last descendant of the renowned Linkum Fidelius 1" 
 My grandfather gazed at him with reverence ; for though 
 
 6* 
 
66 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 he had never heard of the illustrious personage thus pom- 
 pously announced, yet there was a certain black-letter dig- 
 nity in the name that peculiarly struck his fancy and com- 
 manded his respect. 
 
 "You have been kind to me," continued the little man in 
 black, after a momentary pause, *' and richly will I requite 
 your kindness by making you heir to my treasures ! In 
 yonder large deal box are the volumes of my illustrious an- 
 cestor, of which I alone am the fortunate possessor. Inherit 
 them — ponder over them, and be wise !" He grew faint 
 with the exertion he had made, and sunk back almost breath- 
 less on his pillow. His hand, which, inspired with the im- 
 portance of his subject, he had raised to my grandfather's 
 arm, slipped from its hold and fell over the side of the bed, 
 and his faithful dog licked it ; as if anxious to sooth the last 
 moments of his master, and testify his gratitude to the hand 
 that had so often cherished him. The untaught caresses of 
 the faithful animal were not lost upon his dying master ; he 
 raised his languid ej-^es, — turned them on the dog, then on 
 my grandfather ; and having given this silent recommenda- 
 tion — closed them for ever. 
 
 The remains of the little man in black, notwithstanding 
 the objections of many pious people, were decently interred 
 in the church-yard of the. village; and his spirit, harmless 
 as the body it once animated, has never been known to mo- 
 lest a living being. My grandfather complied as far as pos- 
 sible with his last request ; he conveyed the volumes of Lin- 
 kum Fidelius to his library; — he pondered over them fre- 
 quently ; but whether he grew wiser, the family tradition 
 doth not mention. This much is certain, that his kindness 
 to the poor descendant of Fidelius was amply rewarded by 
 the approbation of his own heart, and the devoted attach- 
 ment of the old turnspit ; who, transferring his affection 
 from his deceased master to his benefactor, became his con- 
 stant attendant, and was father to a long tribe of runty curs 
 that still flourish in the family. And thus was the cockloft 
 library enriched by the invaluable folios of the sage Linkum 
 Fidelius. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 67 
 
 MY AUNT CHARITY. 
 
 My aunt Charity departed this life in the fifty-ninth year 
 of her age, though she never grew older after .twenty -fiy_e.. 
 In her teens she was, according to her own account, a cele- 
 brated beauty, — though I never could meet with any body 
 that remembered when she was handsome. On the contrary, 
 Evergreen's father, who used to gallant her in his youth, 
 says she was as knotty a little piece of humanity as he ever 
 saw ; and that, if she had been possessed of the leastsensi- 
 bility, she would, like poor old Acco^ have most certainly 
 run mad at her own figure and face the first time she con- 
 templated herself in a looking-glass. In the good old times 
 that saw my aunt in the hey-day of youth, a fine lady was 
 a most formidable animal, and required to be approached 
 with the same awe and devotion that a Tartar feels in the 
 presence of his grand Lama. If a gentleman offered to take 
 her hand, except to help her into a carriage, or lead her into 
 a drawing-room, such frowns ! such a rustling of brocade 
 and taffeta ! Her very paste shoe buckles sparkled with in- 
 dignation, and for a moment assumed the brilliancy of dia- 
 monds ! In those days the person of a belle was sacred — it 
 was unprofaned by the sacrilegious grasp of a stranger : — 
 simple souls : — they had not the waltz among them yet ! 
 
 My good aunt prided herself on keeping up this buckram 
 delicacy ; and if she happened to be playing at the old fash- 
 ioned game of forfeits, and was fined a kiss, it was always 
 more trouble to get it than it was worth ; for she made a most 
 gallant defence, and never surrendered until she saw her ad- 
 versary inclined to give over his attack. Evergreen's father 
 says he remembers once to have been on a sleighing party 
 with her, and when they came to Kissing-Bridge, it fell to his 
 lot to levy contributions on Miss Charity Cockloft, who after 
 squalling at a hideous rate, at length jumped out of the 
 sleigh plump into a snow-bank, where she stuck fast like an 
 icicle, until he came to her rescue. This Latonian feat cost' 
 her a rheumatism, which she never thoroughly recovered. 
 
 It is rather singular that my aunt, though a great beauty, 
 and an heiress withal, never got married. The reason she 
 alleged was, that she never met with a lover who resembled 
 
68 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Sir Charles Grandison, the hero of her nightly dreams and 
 waking fancy ; but I am privately of opinion that it was 
 owing to her never having had an offer. This much is cer- 
 tain, that for many years previous to her decease she de- 
 clined all attentions from the gentlemen, and contented her- 
 self with watching over the welfare of her fellow creatures. 
 She was, indeed, observed to take a considerable lean towards 
 methodism, was frequent in her attendance at lovefeasts, 
 read Whitefield and Wesley, and even went so far as once 
 to travel the distance of five and twenty miles to be present at a 
 camp-meeting. This gave great offence to my cousin Christo- 
 pher, and his good lady, who, as 1 have already mentioned, 
 are rigidly orthodox ; — and had not my aunt Charity been 
 of a most pacific disposition, her religious whim-wham 
 would have occasioned many a family altercation. She 
 was indeed, as the Cockloft family ever boasted — a lady of 
 unbounded loving-kindness, which extended to man, woman, 
 and child ; many of ivhom she almost killed with good na- 
 ture. Was any acquaintance sick? — -in vain did the wind 
 whistle and the storm beat — my aunt would v/addle through 
 mud and mire, over the whole town, but what she would 
 visit ihem. She would sit by them for hours together with 
 the most persevering patience ; and tell a thousand melan- 
 choly stories of human misery, to keep up their spirits. 
 The whole catalogue of yerh teas was at her fingers' ends, 
 from formidable wormwood down to gentle balm ; and she 
 would descant by the hour on the healing qualities of hoar- 
 hound, catnip, and penny-royal. Wo be to the patient that 
 came under the benevolent hand of my aunt Charity ; he 
 was sure, willy nilly, to be drenched with a deluge of de- 
 coctions ; and full many a time has my cousin Christopher 
 borne a twinge of pain in silence, through fear of being con- 
 demned to suffer the martyrdom of her materia-medica. 
 My good aunt had, moreover, considerable skill in astrono- 
 my ; for she could tell when the sun rose and set every 
 day in the year ; — and no woman in the whole world was 
 able to pronounce, with more certainty, at what precise 
 minute the moon changed. She held the story of the 
 moon's being made of green cheese as an abominable slan- 
 der on her favourite planet ; and she had made several 
 valuable discoveries in solar eclipses, by means of a bit of 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 69 
 
 burnt glass, which entitled her at least to an honorary ad- 
 mission in the American Philosophical Society. " Hutch- 
 ing's Improved" was her favourite book ; and I shrewdly 
 suspect that it was from this valuable work she drew most 
 of her sovereign remedies for colds, coughs, corns, and con- 
 sumptions. "* 
 
 But the truth must be told ; with all her good qualities, 
 my aunt Charity was afflicted with one fault, extremely rare 
 among her gentle sex — it was curiosity. How she came by 
 it, I am at a loss to imagine, but it played the very ven- 
 geance with her, and destroyed the comfort of her life. 
 Having an invincible desire to know every body's charac- 
 ter, business, and mode of living, she was for ever prying 
 into the affairs of her neighbours ; and got a great deal of 
 ill-will from people towards whom she had the kindest dis- 
 position possible. If any family on the opposite side of the 
 street gave a dinner, my aunt would mount her spectacles, 
 and sit at the window until the company were all housed, 
 merely that she might know who they were. If she heard 
 a story about any of her acquaintance, she would forthwith 
 set off full sail, and never rest, until, to use her usual ex- 
 pression, she had got " to the bottom of it ;" which meant 
 nothing more than telling it to every one she knew. 
 
 I remember one night my aunt Charity happened to hear 
 a most precious story about one of her good friends, but un- 
 fortunately too late to give it immediate circulation. It 
 made her absolutely miserable ; and she hardly slept a 
 wink all night; for fear her bosom friend, Mrs. Sipkins 
 should get the start of her in the morning, and blow the 
 whole affair. — You must know there was always a contest 
 between these two ladies, who should first give currency to 
 the good-natured things said about every body ; and this 
 unfortunate rivalship at length proved fatal to their long and 
 ardent friendship. My aunt got up full two hours that 
 morning before her usual time ; put on her pompadour 
 taffeta gown, and sallied forth to lament the misfortune of 
 her dear friend. — Would you believe it! — wherever she 
 went, Mrs. Sipkins had anticipated her; and instead of 
 being listened to with uplifted hands and open-mouthed 
 wonder, my unhappy aunt was obliged to sit down quietly 
 and listen to the whole affair, with numerous additions, aU 
 
70 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 terations, and cimendments ! Now this was too bad ; it 
 would almost have provoked Patient Grizzle or a saint ; it 
 was too much for my aunt, who kept her bed three days 
 afterwards, with a cold as she pretended ; but I have no 
 doubt it was owing to this affair of Mrs. Sipkins, to whom 
 she never would be reconciled. 
 
 But I pass over the rest of my aunt Charity's life che- 
 quered with the various calamities and misfortunes and mor- 
 tifications, incident to those worthy old gentlewomen who 
 have the domestic cares of the whole community upon their 
 minds ; and I hasten to relate the melancholy incident that 
 hurried her out of existence in the full bloom of antiquated 
 virginity. 
 
 In their frolicsome malice the fates had ordered that a 
 French boarding-house, or Pension Francaise, as it was 
 called, should be established directly opposite my aunt's 
 residence. Cruel event ! unhappy aunt Charity !— it threw 
 her into that alarming disorder denominated the fidgets : she 
 did nothing but watch at the window day after day, but 
 without becoming one whit the wiser at the end of a fort- 
 night than she was at the beginning ; she thought that 
 neighbour Pension had a monstrous large family, and some- 
 how or other they were all men ! She could not imagine 
 what business neighbour Pension followed to support so nu- 
 merous a household ; and wondered why there was always 
 such a scraping of fiddles in the parlour, and such a smell 
 of onions from neighbour Pension's kitchen ; in short, neigh- 
 bour Pension was continually uppermost in her thoughts, 
 and incessantly on the outer edge of her tongue. This was, 
 I believe, the very first time she had ever failed " to get at 
 the bottom of a thing;" and the disappointment cost her 
 many a sleepless night, I warrant you. I have little doubt, 
 however, that my aunt would have ferreted neighbour Pen- 
 sion out, could she have spoken or understood French ; but 
 in those times people in general could make themselves un- 
 derstood in plain English ; and it was always a standing 
 rule in the Cockloft family, which exists to this day, that 
 not one of the females should learn French. 
 
 My aunt Charity had lived at her window, for some time 
 in vain ; v^^hen one day she was keeping her usual look out, 
 and suffering all the pangs of unsatisfied curiosity, when she 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. ■?! 
 
 beheld a little meagre, weazel-faced Frenchman, of the most 
 forlorn, diminutive, and pitiful proportions, arrive at neigh- 
 bour Pension's door. He was^dressed in white, with a lit- 
 tle pinch-up cocked hat ; he seemed to shake in the wind, 
 and every blast that went over him whistled through his 
 bones, and threatened instant annihilation. This embodied 
 spirit of famine was followed by three carts, lumbered with 
 crazy trunks, chests, band-boxes, bidets, medicine chests, 
 parrots, and monkeys ; and at his heels ran a yelping pack 
 of little black-nosed pug-dogs. This was the one thing 
 wanting to fill up the measure of my aunt Charity's afflic- 
 tions ; she could not conceive, for the soul of her, who this 
 mysterious little apparition could be that made so great a 
 display ; — what he could possibly do with so much bag- 
 gage, and particularly with his parrots and monkeys ; or 
 how so small a carcass could have occasion for so many 
 trunks of clothes. Honest soul I she never had a peep 
 into a Frenchman's wardrobe — that depot of old coats, hats, 
 and breeches of the growth of every fashion he has followed 
 in his life. 
 
 From the time of this fatal arrival my poor aunt was in a 
 quandary ; — all her inquiries were fruitless ; no one could 
 expound the history of this mysterious stranger : she never 
 held her head up afterwards — drooped daily, took to her 
 bed in a fortnight, and in " one little month," I saw her 
 quietly deposited in the family vault — being the seventh 
 Cockloft that has died of a whim-wham ! 
 
 Take warning, my fair countrywomen 1 and you, O 1 ye 
 excellent ladies, whether married or single, who pry into 
 other people's affairs and neglect those of your own house- 
 hold ; who are so busily employed in observing the faults of 
 others that you have no time to correct your own ; remem- 
 ber the fate of my dear aunt Charity and eschew the evil 
 spirit of curiosity. 
 
 WILL WIZARD. 
 
 I WAS not a little suprised the other morning at a request 
 from Will Wizard, that I would accompany him that even 
 
72 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 ing to Mrs. — 's ball. The request was simple enough 
 
 in itself, it was only singular as coming from Will ; — of all 
 my acquaintance, Wizard is the least calculated and dispos- 
 ed for the society of ladies — not that he dislikes their com- 
 pany ; on the contrary, like every man of pith and marrow, 
 he is a professed admirer of the sex ; and had he been born 
 a poet, would undoubtedly have bespattered and be-rhymed 
 some hard named goddess ; until she became as famous as 
 Petrarch's Laura, or Waller's Sacharissa ; but Will is such 
 a confounded bungler at a bow, he has so many odd bache- 
 lor habits, and fiftds it so troublesome to be gallant, that he 
 generally prefers smoking his cigar and telling his story 
 among cronies of his own gender : — and thundering long 
 stories they are, let me tell you : set Will once a-going about 
 China or Crim Tartary, or the Hottentots, and heaven help 
 the poor victim who has to endure his prolixity ; he might 
 better be tied to the tail of a jack-o'lantern. In one word, 
 Will talks like a traveller. Being well acquainted with his 
 character, I was the more alarmed at his inclination to visit 
 a party ; since he has often assured me, that he considered 
 it as equivalent to being stuck up for three hours in a steam- 
 engine. I even wondered how he had received an invita- 
 tion ; — this he soon accounted for. It seems Will, on his 
 last arrival from Canton, had made a present of a case of 
 tea to a lady, for whom he had once entertained a sneakmg 
 kindness when at grammar-school ; and she in return had 
 invited him to come and drink some of it ; a cheap way 
 enough of paying off little obligations. I readily acceded to 
 Will's proposition, expecting much entertainment from his 
 eccentric remarks ; and as he has been absent some fefw 
 years, I anticipated his surprise at the splendour and ele- 
 gance of a modern rout. 
 
 On calling for Will in the evening, t found him full 
 dressed, waiting for me. I contemplated him with absolute 
 dismay. As he still retained a spark of regard for the lady 
 who once reigned in his affections, he had been at unusual 
 pains in decorating his person, and broke upon my sight 
 arrayed in the true style that prevailed among our beaux 
 some years ago. His hair was turned up and tufted at the 
 top, frizzled out at the ears, a profusion of powder puffed 
 over the whole, and a long plaited club swung gracefully 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 73 
 
 from shoulder to shoulder, describing a pleasing semircircle 
 of powder and pomatum. His claret coloured coat was de- 
 corated with a profusion of gilt buttons, and reached to his 
 calves. His white cassimere small clothes were so tight 
 that he seemed to have grown up in them ; and his ponde- 
 rous legs, which are the thickest part of his body, were 
 beautifully clothed in sky-blue silk stockings, once consid- 
 ered so becoming. But above all he prided himself upon 
 his waistcoat of China silk, which might almost have served 
 a good house-wife for a short-gown ; and he boasted that 
 the roses and tulips upon it were the work of Nang-Fou, 
 daughter of the great Chin-Chin-Fou, who had fallen in 
 love with the graces of his person, and sent' it to him as a 
 parting present ; he assured me she was a perfect beauty, 
 with sweet obliquity of eyes, and a foot no longer than the 
 thumb of an alderman ; — he then dilated most copiously on 
 his silver sprigged dicky, which he assured me was quite 
 the rage among the dashing young mandarins of Canton. 
 
 I hold it an ill-natured office to put any man out of con- 
 ceit with himself; so, though I would willingly have made 
 a little alteration in my friend Wizard's picturesque cos- 
 tume, yet I politely complimented him on his rakish appear- 
 ance. 
 
 On entering the room I kept a good look out on Will, 
 expecting to see him exhibit signs of surprise ; but he is one 
 of those knowing fellows who are never surprised at any 
 thing, or at least will never acknowledge it. He took his 
 stand in the middle of the floor, playing with his great steel 
 watch chain ; and looking round on the company, the fur- 
 niture, and the pictures, with the air of a man " who had seen 
 
 d d finer things in his time ;" and to my utter confusion 
 
 and dismay, I saw him coolly pull out his villanous old 
 japanned tobacco-box, ornamented with a bottle, a pipe, and 
 a scurvy motto, and help himself to a quid in face of all the 
 company. 
 
 I knew it was all in vain to find fault with a fellow of 
 Will's socratic turn, who is never to be put out of humour 
 with himself; so, after he had given the box its prescriptive 
 rap, and returned it to its pocket, I drew him into a corner, 
 where we might observe the company without being promi- 
 nent objects ourselves. 
 
 7 
 
74 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 " And pray who is that stylish figure," said Will, *' who 
 blazes away in red, like a volcano, and who seems wrapped 
 in flames like a fiery dragon ?" — That, cried I, is Miss Lau- 
 relia Dashaway : — she is the highest flash of the ton — has 
 much whim and more eccentricity, and has reduced many 
 an unhappy gentleman to stupidity by her charms ; you see 
 she holds out the red flag in token of " no quarter." " Then 
 keep me safe out of the sphere of her attractions," cried 
 Will : " I would not e'en come in contact with her train, 
 lest it should scorch me like the tail of a comet. — But who, 
 I beg of you, is that amiable youth who is handing along a 
 young lady, and at the same time contemplating his sweet 
 person in a mirror, as he passes V His name, said I, is Billy 
 Dimple ; — he is a universal smiler, and would travel from 
 Dan to Beersheba, and sinile on every body as he passed. 
 Dimple is a slave to the ladies — a hero at tea-parties, and is 
 famous at the pirouet and the pigeon-wing ; a fiddle-stick is 
 his idol, and a dance his elysium. "A very pretty young 
 gentleman truly," cried Wizard ; " he reminds me of a con- 
 temporary beau at Hayti. You must know that the mag- 
 nanimous Dessalines gave a great ball to his court one fine 
 sultry summer's evening; Dessy and I were great cronies ; 
 — hand and glove : — one of the most condescending great 
 men I ever knew. — Such a display of black and yellow 
 beauties ! such a show of Madras handkerchiefs, red beads, 
 cocks' tails, and peacocks feathers ! — it was, as here, who 
 should wear the highest top-knot, drag the longest tails, or 
 exhibit the greatest variety of combs, colours, and gewgaws. 
 In the middle of the rout, when all was buzz, sHp-slpp, 
 clack, and perfume, who should enter but Tucky Squash ! 
 The yellow beauties blushed blue, and the black ones blush- 
 ed as red as they could, with pleasure ; and there was a 
 universal agitation of fans : every eye brightened and whit- 
 ened to see Tucky ; for he was the pride of the court, the 
 pink of courtesy, the mirror of fashion, the adoration of all 
 the sable fair ones of Hayti. Such breadth of nose, such 
 exuberance of lip ! his shins had the true cucumber curve ; — 
 his face in dancing shone like a kettle ; and provided you 
 kept to windward of him in summer, I do not know a sweet- 
 er youth in all Hayti than Tucky Squash. When he 
 laughed, there appeared from ear to ear a chevaux-de-frize of 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 75 
 
 teeth, that rivalled the shark's in whiteness ; he could whis- 
 tle like a north-wester ; play on a three-stringed fiddle like 
 Apollo; and, as to dancing, no Long-Island negro could 
 shuffle you " double-trouble," or " hoe corn and dig pota- 
 toes," more scientifically : in short, he was a second Lo- 
 thario. And the dusky nymphs of Hayti, one, and all, de- 
 clared him a perpetual Adonis. Tucky walked about, whist- 
 hng to hinself, without regarding any body ; and his non- 
 chalance was irresistible." 
 
 I found Will had got neck and heels into one of his tra- 
 veller's stories ; and there is no knowing how far he would 
 have run his parallel between Billy Dimple and Tucky 
 Squash, had not the music struck up from an adjoining 
 apartment, and summoned the company to the dance. The 
 sound seemed to have an inspiring effect on honest Will, 
 and he procured the hand of an old acquaintance for a 
 country dance. It happened to be the fashionable one of 
 " The devil among the Tailors," which is so vociferously 
 demanded at every ball and assembly : and many a torn 
 gown, and many an unfortunate toe, did rue the dancing 
 of that night; for Will thundered down the dance like a 
 coach and six, sometimes right and sometimes wrong ; 
 now running over half a score of little Frenchmen, and 
 now making sad inroads into ladies cobweb muslins and 
 spangled tails. As every part of Will's body partook 
 of the exertion, he shook from his capacious head such 
 volumes of powder, that like pious Eneas on the first inter- 
 view with Queen Dido, he might be said to have been enve- 
 loped in a cloud. Nor was Will's partner an insignificant 
 figure in the scene ; she was a young lady of most volum- 
 inous proportions, that quivered at every skip ; and being 
 braced up in the fashionable style with whalebone, stay-tape 
 and buckram, looked like an apple pudding tied in the mid- 
 dle ; or, taking her flaming dress into consideration, like a 
 bed and bolsters rolled up in a suit of red curtains. The 
 dance finished. — I would gladly have taken Will off*, but no; 
 — he was now in one of his hanpy moods, and there was no 
 doing any thing wilh him. He insisted on my introducing 
 him to Miss Sparkle, a young lady unrivalled for playful 
 wit and innocent vivacity, and who, like a brilliant, adds 
 lustre to the front of fashion. I accordingly presented him 
 
76 BEAUTIES or 
 
 to her, and began a conversation, in which, I thought, he 
 might take a share ; but no such thing. Will took his stand 
 before her, straddling like a colossus, with his hands in his 
 pockets, and an air of the most profound attention ; nor did 
 he pretend to open his lips for some time, until, upon some 
 lively sally of her's, he electrified the whole company with a 
 most intolerable burst of laughter. What was to be done 
 with such an incorrigible fellow ? — To add to my distress, 
 the first word he spoke was to tell Miss Sparkle that some- 
 thing she said reminded him of a circumstance that happened 
 to him in China ; — and at it he went, in the true traveller 
 style, — described the Chinese mode of eating rice with chop- 
 sticks ; — -entered into a long eulogium on the succulent qua- 
 lities of boiled birds' nests ; and I made my escape at the 
 very moment when he was on the point of squatting down 
 on the floor, to show how the little Chinese Joshes sit cross- 
 legged. 
 
 STYLE. 
 
 In no instance have I seen this grasping after style more 
 whimsically exhibited than in the family of my old acquaint- 
 ance Timothy Giblet. I recollect old Giblet when I was a 
 boy, and he was the most surly curmudgeon I ever knew. 
 He was a perfect scare-crow to the small-fry of the day, and 
 inherited the hatred of all these unlucky little shavers ; for 
 never could we assemble about his door of an evening to 
 play, and make a little hubbub, but out he sallied from his 
 nest like a spider, flourished his formidable horse-whip, and 
 dispersed the whole crew in the twinkling of a lamp. I per- 
 fectly remember a bill he sent in to my father for a pane of 
 sound glass I had accidentally broken, which came well 
 nigh getting me a flogging ; and I remember, as perfectly, 
 that the next night I revenged myself by breaking half-a- 
 dozen. Giblet was as arrant a grub-worm as ever crawled ; 
 and the only rules of right and wrong he cared a button for, 
 were the rules of multiplication and addition; which he 
 practised much more successfully than he did any of the 
 rules of religion or morality. He used to declare they were 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 77 
 
 the true golden rules ; and he took special care to put 
 Cocker's arithmetic in the hands of his children, before they 
 had read ten pages in the bible or the prayer book. The 
 practice of these favourite maxims was at length crowned 
 with the harvest of success ; and after a life of incessant 
 self-denial, and starvation, and after enduring all the pounds, 
 shillings and pence miseries of a miser, he had the satisfac- 
 tion of seeing himself worth a plum, and of dying just as he 
 had determined to enjoy the remainder of his days in con- 
 templating his great wealth and accumulating mortgages. 
 
 His children inherited his money ; but they buried the 
 disposition, and every other memorial of their father in his 
 grave. Fired with a noble thirst for style, they instantly 
 emerged from the retired lane in which themselves and their 
 accomplishments had hitherto been buried; and they blazed, 
 and they whizzed, and they cracked about town, like a nest 
 of squibs and devils in a fire-work. I can liken t?ieir sudden 
 eclat to nothing but that of the locust, which is hatched in 
 the dust, where it increases and swells up to maturity, and 
 after feeling for a moment the vivifying rays of the sun, 
 bursts forth a mighty insect, and flutters and rattles, and 
 buzzes from every tree. The little warblers, who have long 
 cheered the woodlands with their dulcet notes, are stunned by 
 the discordant racket of these upstart intruders, and con- 
 template, in contemptuous silence, their tinsel and their noise. 
 
 Having once started, the Giblets were determined that 
 nothing should stop them in their career, until they had run 
 their full course and arrived at the very tip-top of style. 
 Every tailor, every shoemaker, every coachmaker, every 
 milliner, every mantua-maker, every paper-hanger, every 
 piano-teacher, and every dancing-master in the city, were 
 enlisted in their service ; and the willing wights most cour- 
 teously answered their call, and fell to work to build up the 
 fame of the Giblets, as they had done that of many an as- 
 piring family before them. In a little time the young ladies 
 could dance the waltz, thunder Lodoiska, murder French, 
 kill time, and commit violence on the face of nature in a 
 landscape in water-colours, equal to the best lady in the 
 land, and the young gentlemen were seen lounging at cor- 
 ners of streets, and driving tandem ; heard talking loud at 
 the theatre, and laughing in church, with as much ease and 
 
78 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 grace, and modesty, as if they had been gentlemen all the 
 days of their lives. 
 
 And the Giblets arrayed themselves in scarlet, and in fine 
 linen, and seated themselves in high places ; but no body 
 noticed them except to honour them with a little contempt. 
 The Giblets made a prodigious splash in their own opinion ; 
 but nobody extolled them except the tailors, and the milli- 
 ners, who had been employed in manufacturing their para- 
 phernalia. The Giblets thereupon being, like Caleb Quo- 
 tem, determined to have " a place at the review," fell to 
 work more fiercely than ever ; — they gave dinners, and they 
 gave balls ; they hired cooks ; they hired confectioners ; 
 and they would have kept a newspaper in pay, had they not 
 been all bought up at that time for the election. They in- 
 vited the dancing men, and the dancing women, and the 
 gormandizers, and the epicures of the city, to come and make 
 merry at their expense; and the dancmg men, and the 
 dancing women, and the epicures, and ths gormandizers, did 
 come; and they did make merry at their expense," and they 
 eat, and they drank, and they capered; and they danced, and 
 they — -laughed at their entertainers. 
 
 Then commenced the hurry and the bustle, ^nd the mighty 
 nothingness of fashionable life ; — such rattling in coaches ! 
 such flaunting in the streets! such slamming of box-doors at 
 the theatre ! such a tempest of bustle and unmeaning noise 
 wherever they appeared I The Giblets were seen here and 
 there and every where ; — they visited every body they knew, 
 and every body they did not know; and there was no get- 
 ting along for the Giblets. Their plan at length succeeded. 
 By dint of dinners, of feeding and frolicking the town, the 
 Giblet family worked themselves into notice, and enjoyed 
 the ineffable pleasure of being for ever pestered by visiters, 
 who cared nothing about them ; of being squeezed, and 
 smothered, and par-boiled at nightly balls, and evening tea- 
 parties ; they were allowed the privilege of forgetting the 
 very few old friends they once possessed ; — they turned their 
 noses up in the wind at every thing that was not genteel ; 
 and their superb manners and subhme affectation at length 
 left it no longer a matter of doubt that the Giblets were per- 
 fectly in the style. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 79 
 
 FRENCHMEN. 
 
 In my mind there's no position more positive and unex- 
 ceptionable than that most Frenchmen, dead or alive, are 
 born dancers. I came pounce upon this discovery at the 
 assembly, and I immediately noted it down in my' register of 
 indisputable facts — the public shall know all about it. As I 
 never dance cotillions, holding them to be monstrous distor- 
 ters of the human frame, and tantamount in their operations 
 to being broken and dislocated on the wheel, I generally take 
 occasion, while they are going. on, to make my remarks on 
 the company. In the course of these observations I was 
 struck with the energy and eloquence of sundry limbs, which 
 seemed to be flourishing about without appertaining to any 
 body. After much investigation and difficulty, I, at length, 
 traced them to their respective owners, whom I found to be 
 all Frenchmen to a man. Art may have meddled some- 
 what in these affairs, but nature certainly did more. I have 
 since been considerably employed in calculations on this 
 subject; and by the most accurate computation I have de- 
 termined, that a Frenchman passes at least three-fifths of his 
 time between the heavens and the earth, and partakes emi- 
 nently of the nature of a gossam or soap bubble. One of 
 these jack-a-lantern heroes, in taking a figure, which neither 
 Euclid nor Pythagoras himself could demonstrate, unfortu- 
 nately wound himself — I mean his foot — -his better part — 
 into a lady's cobweb muslin robe ; but perceiving it at the 
 instant, he set himself a spinning the other way, like a top, 
 unravelled his step, without omitting one angle or curve, and 
 extricated himself without breaking a thread of the lady's 
 dress ! he then sprung up like a sturgeon, crossed his feet 
 four times, and finished this wonderful evolution by quiver- 
 ing his left leg, as a cat does her paw when she has acci- 
 dentally dipped it in water. No man of" woman born," who 
 was not a Frenchman, or a mountebank, could have done 
 the like. 
 
80 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 THE WIFE, 
 
 I HAVE often had occasion to remark the fortitude with 
 which women sustain the most overwhehning reverses of 
 fortune. Those disasters which break down the spirit of a 
 man, and prostrate him in the dust, seem to call forth all 
 the energies of the softer sex, and give such intrepidity and 
 elevation to their character, that at times it approaches to 
 sublimity. Nothing can be more touching than to behold 
 a soft and tender female, who had been all weakness and 
 dependence, and alive to every trivial roughness while 
 treading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising in 
 mental force to be the comforter and supporter of her hus- 
 band under misfortune, and abiding with unshrinking firm- 
 ness, the bitterest blasts of adversity. 
 
 As the vine Vv'hich has long twined its graceful foliage 
 about the oak, and been lifted by it in sunshine, will, when 
 the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it 
 with its caressing tendrils, and bind up its shattered boughs; 
 so is it beautifully ordered by Providence, that woman, v/ho 
 is the mere dependant and ornament of man in his happier 
 hours, should be his stay and solace when smitten with 
 sudden calamity; vv^inding herself into the rugged recesses 
 of his nature, tenderly supporting the drooping head and 
 binding up the broken heart. 
 
 I was once congratulating a friend, who had around him 
 a blooming family, knit together in the strongest affection. 
 " I can wish you no better lot," said he, with enthusiasm, 
 " than to have a wife and children. — If you are prosperous, 
 there they are to share your prosperity ; if otherwise, there 
 they are to comfort you." And, indeed, I have observed 
 that a married man falling into misfortune is more apt to 
 retrieve his situation in the world than a single one ; partly 
 because he is more stimulated to exertion by the necessities 
 of the helpless and beloved beings who depend upon him for 
 subsistence; but chiefly because his spirits are soothed and 
 relieved by domestic endearments, and his self-respect kept 
 alive by finding, that, though all abroad is darkness and 
 humiliation, yet there is still a little world of love at home, 
 of which he is the monarch. Whereas a single man is apt to 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 81 
 
 run to waste and self-neglect ; to fancy himself lonely and 
 abandoned, and his heart to fall to ruin like some deserted 
 mansion, for want of an inhabitant. 
 
 These observations call to mind a little domestic story, of 
 which I was once a witness. My intimate friend, Leslie, 
 had married a beautiful and accomplished girl, who had 
 been brought up in the midst of fashionable life. She had, 
 it is true, no fortune, but that of my friend was ample ; and 
 he delighted in the anticipation of indulging her in every 
 elegant pursuit, and administering to those delicate tastes 
 and fancies, that spread a kind of witchery about the sex. — ■ 
 " Her life," said he, " shall be like a fairy tale." The very 
 difference in their characters produced an harmonious com- 
 bination ; he was of a romantic and somewhat serious cast ; 
 she was air life and gladness. I have often noticed the 
 mute rapture with which he would gaze upon her in com- 
 pany, of which her sprightly powers made her the delight ; 
 and how in the midst of applause, her eye would still turn 
 to him, as if there alone she sought favour and acceptance. 
 When leaning on his arm, her slender form contrasted fine- 
 ly with his tall manly person. The fond confiding air with 
 which she looked up to him seemed to call forth a fliish of 
 triumphant pride and cherishing tenderness, as if he doted on 
 his lovely burthen for its very helplessness. Never did a 
 couple set forward on the flowery path of early and well- 
 suited marriage with a fairer prospect of felicity. 
 
 It was the misfortune of my friend, however, to have em- 
 barked his property in large speculations ; and he had not 
 been married many months, when, by a succession of sud- 
 den disasters, it was swept from him, and he found himself 
 reduced almost to penury. For a time he kept his situation 
 to himself, and went about with a haggard countenance, and 
 a breaking heart- His life was but a protracted agony ; and 
 what rendered it more insupportable was the keeping up a 
 smile in the presence of his wife ; for he could not bring 
 himself to overwhelm her with the news. She saw, how- 
 ever, with the quick eyes of affection, that all was not well 
 with him. She marked his altered looks and stifled si^hs, 
 and was not to be deceived by his sickly and vapid attempts 
 at cheerfulness. She tasked all her sprightly powers and 
 tender blandishments to win him back to happiness ; but she 
 
82 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 only drove the arrow deeper into his soul. The more he 
 saw cause to love her, the more torturing wa^ the thought 
 that he was soon to nnake her wretched. A little while, 
 thought he, and the smile will vanish from that cheek — the 
 song will die away from those lips — the lustre of those eyes 
 will be quenched with sorrow ; and the happy heart, which 
 now beats lightly in that bosom, will be weighed .down like 
 mine, by the cares and miseries of the world. 
 
 At length he came to me one day, and related his whole 
 situation in a tone of the deepest despair. When I heard him 
 through, 1 inquired, "Does your wife know all this1" — At 
 the question he burst into an agony of tears. " For God's 
 sake !" cried he, "if you have any pity on me, don't mention 
 my wife ; it is the thought of her that drives me almost to 
 madness !" 
 
 " And why not 1" said I. " She must know it sooner or 
 later : you cannot keep it long from her, and the intelligence 
 may break upon her in a more startling manner than if im- 
 parted by yourself; for the accents of those we love soften 
 the harshest tidings. Besides you are depriving yourself of 
 the comforts of her sympathy; and not merely that, but also 
 endangering the only bond that can keep hearts together — an 
 unreserved community of thought and feeling. She will soon 
 perceive that something is secretly preying upon your mind ; 
 and true love will not brook reserve ; it feels undervalued 
 and outraged, when even the sorrows of those it loves are 
 concealed from it." 
 
 " Oh, but, my friend ! to think what a blow I am to give 
 to all her future prospects — how I am to strike her very soui 
 to the earth, by telling her that her husband is a beggar! 
 that she is to forego all the elegancies of life — all the plea- 
 sures of society — to shrink with me into indigence and ob- 
 scurity ! To tell her that I have dragged her down from the 
 sphere in which she might have continued to move in con- 
 stant brightness — the light of every eye — the admiration of 
 every heart ! — how can she bear poverty ? she has been 
 brought up in all the refinement of opulence. How can she 
 bear neglect? she has been the idol of society. Oh, it will 
 break her heart — it will break her heart ! — " 
 
 I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it have its flow ; 
 for sorrow relieves itself by words. When his paroxysm 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. ' 83 
 
 had subsided, and he had relapsed into moody silence, I re- 
 sumed the subject gently, and urged him lo break his situa- 
 tion at once to his wife. He shook his head mournfully, but 
 positively, 
 
 " But how are you to keep it from her ? It is necessary 
 she should know it, that you may take the steps proper to 
 the alteration of your circumstances. You must change your 
 
 style of living nay," observing a pang to pass across his 
 
 countenance, " don't let that afflict you. I am sure you have 
 nerer placed your happiness in outward show — you have 
 yet friends, warm friends, who will not think the worse of 
 you for being less splendidly lodged ; and surely it does not 
 require a palace to be happy with Mary — " 
 
 " I could be happy with her," cried he,~convulsively, " in 
 a hovel !-— I could go down with her into poverty and the 
 
 dust! — I could — I could God bless herl — God bless 
 
 her!" cried he, bursting into a transport of giief and ten- 
 derness. 
 
 " And believe me, my friend," said I, stepping up, and 
 grasping him warmly by the hand, " believe me, she can be 
 the same with you. Ay, more: it will be a source of pride 
 and triumph to her — it will call forth all the latent energies 
 and fervent sympathies of her nature ; for she will rejoice to 
 prove that she loves you for yourself. There is in every 
 true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dor- 
 mant in the broad daylight of prosperity ; but which kindles 
 up, and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity. No 
 man knows'what the wife of his bosom is — no man knows 
 what a ministerino; ano;el she is — until he has ffone with her 
 through the fiery trials of this world." 
 
 There was something in the earnestness of my manner, 
 and the figurative style of my language, that caught the ex- 
 cited imagination of Leslie. I knew the auditor I had to deal 
 with ; and following up the impression I had made, 1 finished 
 by persuading him to go home and unburden his sad heart 
 to his wife. 
 
 I must confess, notwithstanding all I had said, T felt some 
 little solicitude for the result. Who can calculate on the 
 fortitude of one whose whole life has been a round of plea- 
 sures? Her gay spirits might revolt at the dark downward 
 path of low humility suddenly pointed out before her, and 
 
84 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 might cling to the sunny regions in which they had hitherto 
 revelled. Besides, ruin in fashionable life is accompanied by 
 so many galling mortifications, to which in other ranks it is 
 a stranger. — In short, I could not meet Leslie the next morn- 
 ing without trepidation. He had made the disclosure. 
 
 " And how did she bear it 1" 
 
 " Like an angel ! It seemed rather to be a relief to her 
 mind, for she threw her arms round my neck, and asked if 
 this was all that had lately made me unhappy. — But, poor 
 girl," added he, " she cannot realize the change we must 
 undergo. She has no idea of poverty but in the abstract ; 
 she has only read of it in poetry, where it is allied to love. 
 She feels as yet no privation ; she suffers no loss of accus- 
 tomed conveniences nor elegancies. When we come prac- 
 tically to experience its sordid cares, its paltry wants, its 
 petty humiliations — then will be the real trial." 
 
 " But," said T, " now that you have got over the severest 
 task, that of breaking it to her, the sooner you let the world 
 into the secret the better. The disclosure may be mortifying^ 
 but then it is a single misery, and soon over: whereas you 
 otherwise suffer it, in anticipation, every hour in the day. It 
 is not poverty so much as pretence, that harasses a ruined 
 man — the struggle between a proud mind and an empty 
 purse — the keeping up a hollow show that must soon come 
 to an end. Have the courage to appear poor, and you dis- 
 arm poverty of its sharpest sting." On this point I found 
 Leslie perfectly prepared. He had no false pride himself, 
 and as to his wife, she was only anxious to conform to their 
 altered fortunes. 
 
 Some days afterwards he called upon me in the evening. 
 He had disposed of his dwelling-house, and taken a small 
 cottage in the country, a few miles from town. He had been 
 busied all day in sending out furniture. The new establish- 
 ment required few articles, and those of the simplest kind. 
 All the splendid furniture of his late residence had been sold, 
 excepting his wife's harp. That, he said, was too closely 
 associated with the idea of herself; it belonged to the little 
 story of their loves ; for some of the sweetest moments of 
 their courtship were those when he had leaned over that in- 
 strument, and listened to the melting tones of her voice. I 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 85 
 
 could not but smile at this instance of romantic gallantry in 
 a dotino; husband. 
 
 He was now going out to the cottage, where his wife had 
 been all day superintending its arrangement. My feelings 
 had become strongly interested in the progress of this family 
 story, and, as it was a fine evening, I ofl^ered to accompany 
 him. 
 
 He was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and as we 
 walked out, fell into a fit of gloomy musing. 
 
 " Poor Mary i" at length broke, with a heavy sigh, from 
 his Hps. 
 
 " And what of her? asked I : " jias any thing happened 
 to her?" 
 
 " What," said he, darting an impatient glance, " is it no- 
 thing to be reduced to this paltry situation — to be caged in 
 a miserable cottage — to be obliged to toil almost in the me- 
 nial concerns of her wretched habitation?" 
 " Has she then repined at the change ?" 
 " Repined 1 she has been nothing but sweetness and good 
 humour. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than I have ever 
 known her ; she has been to me all love, and tenderness and 
 comfort !" 
 
 " Admirable girl !" exclaimed I. " You call yourself 
 poor, my friend ; you never were so rich — you never knew 
 the boundless treasure of excellence you possessed in that 
 woman." 
 
 " Oh ! but, my friend, if this first meeting at the cottage 
 were over, I think I could then be comfortable. But this 
 is her first day of real experience ; she has been introduced 
 into a humble dwelling — she has been employed all day in 
 arranging its miserable equipments — she has, for the first 
 time, known the fatigues of domestic employment — she has, 
 for the first time, looked round her on a home destitute of 
 every thing elegant, — almost of every thing convenient; and 
 may now be sitting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding 
 over a prospect of future poverty." 
 
 There was a degree of probability in this picture that I 
 could not gainsay, so we walked on in silence. 
 
 After turning from the main road up a narrow lane, so 
 th.ckly shaded v, ith forest trees as to give it a complete air 
 of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. It was hum- 
 
BEAUTIES OF 
 
 ble enough in its appearance for the most pastoral poet ; and 
 yet it had a pleasing rural look. A wild vine had overrun 
 one end with a profusion of foliage ; a {ew trees threw their 
 branches gracefully over it ; and I observed several pots of 
 flowers tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass 
 plat in front. A small wicket gate opened upon a footpath 
 that wound through some shrubbery to the door. Just as 
 we approached, we heard the sound of music — Leslie grasp- 
 ed my arm ; we paused and listened. It was Mary's voice, 
 singing, in a style of the most touching simplicity, a little air 
 of which her husband Avas peculiarly fond. 
 
 I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He stepped for- 
 ward to hear more distinctly. His step made a noise on the 
 gravel walk. A bright beautiful face glanced out at the 
 window and vanished — a light footstep was heard — and 
 Mary came tripping forth to meet us ; she was in a pretty 
 rural dress of white; a few wild flowers were twisted in her 
 fine hair ; a fresh bloom was on her cheek ; her whole coun- 
 tenance beamed with smiles — I had never seen her look so 
 lovely. 
 
 " My dear George," cried she, " I am so glad you are 
 come ! I have been watching and watching for you ; and 
 running down the lane, and looking out for you. I've sei, 
 out a table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage ; and 
 I've been gathering some of the most delicious strawberries, 
 for I know you are fond of them — and we have such excel- 
 lent cream — and we have every thing so sweet and still 
 here — Oh !" said she, putting her arm within his, and look- 
 ing up brightly in his face, " Oh, we shall be so happy !" 
 
 Poor Leslie was overcome — He caught her to his bosom 
 — he folded his arms round her — he kissed her again and 
 again — he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his 
 eyes ; and he has often assured me that though the world 
 has since gone prosperously with him, and his life has, in- 
 deed, been a happy one, yet never has he experienced a 
 moment of more exquisite felicity. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 87 
 
 TO ANTHONY EVERGREEN, Gent. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 As you appear to have taken to yourself the trouble of 
 meddling in the concerns of the beau-monde, I take the liber- 
 ty of appealing to you on a subject, which, though consider- 
 ed merely as a very good joke,' has occasioned me great 
 vexation and expense. You must know I pride myself on 
 being very useful to the ladies, that is, I take boxes for them 
 at the theatre, go shopping with thera^ supply them with bou- 
 quets, and furnish them with novels from the circulating 
 library. In consequence of these attentions I am become a 
 great favourite, and there is seldom a party going on in the 
 city without my having an invitation. The grievance I 
 have to mention is the exchange of hats which takes place 
 on these occasions ; for, to speak my mind freely, there are 
 certain young gentlemen who seem to consider fashionable 
 parties as mere places to barter old clothes : and I am in- 
 formed, that a number of them manage by this great system 
 of exchcinge to keep their crowns decently covered without 
 their hatters suffering in the least by it. 
 
 It was but lately that I went to a private ball with a new 
 hat, and on returning in the latter part of the evening, and 
 asking for it, the scoundrel of a servant, with a broad grin, 
 informed me that the new hats had been dealt out half an 
 hour since, and they were then on the third quality ; and I 
 was in the end obliged to borrow a young lady's beaver 
 rather than go home with any of the ragged remnants that 
 were left. 
 
 Now" I would wish to know if there is no possibility of 
 having these offenders punished by law; and vv^hether it 
 would not be advisable for ladies to mention in their cards 
 of invitation, as a- postscript, " Stealing hats and shawls posi- 
 tively prohibited." — -At any rate, 1 would thank you, Mr. 
 Evergreen, to discountenance the thing totally, by publish- 
 ing in your paper, that stealing a hat is no joke. 
 
 Your humble servant, 
 
 Walter V/ithers. 
 
bo. BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Showing the nature of History in general ; containing fur" 
 thermore the universal Jlcquirements of William the 
 Testy, and how a man May learn so much as to render 
 himself good for nothing. 
 
 When the lofty Tbucydides is about to. enter on his de- 
 scription of the plague that desolated Athens, one of his 
 modern commentators* assures the reader, that his history 
 *' is now going to be exceeding solemn, serious, and pa- 
 thetic ;" and hints, with that air of chuckling gratulation, 
 with which a good dame draws forth a choice morsel from 
 a cupboard to regale a favourite, that this plague will give 
 bis history a most agreeable variety. 
 
 In like manner did my heart leap within me, when I 
 came to the dolorous dilemma of Fort Good Hope, which I at 
 once perceived to be the forerunner of a series of great events 
 and entertaining disasters. Such are the true subjects for 
 the historic pen. For what is history in fact, but a kind of 
 Newgate Calendar, a register of the crimes and miseries 
 that man has inflicted on his fellow men 1 It is a huge libel 
 on human nature, to which we industriously add page after 
 page, volume after volume, as if v^e were building up a mo- 
 nument to tiie honour ratlier than the infamy of our species. 
 If we turn over the pages of these chronicles that man has 
 written of himself, Vt^hat are the characters dignified by the 
 appellation of great, and held up to the aclliii ration of poste- 
 rity ? — Tyrants, robbers, conquerors, renowned only for 
 the magnitude of their misdeeds and the stupendous wrongs 
 and miseries they have inflicted on mankind — warriors, 
 who have hired themselves to the trade of blood, not from 
 motives of virtuous patriotism, or to protect the injured or 
 defenceless, but merely to gain the vaunted glory of being 
 adroit and successful in massacreing their fellow beings! 
 What are the great events that constitute a glorious era? 
 The fall of empires — the desolation of happy countries — ■ 
 splendid cities smoking in their ruins— the proudest works 
 of art tumbled in the dust — the shrieks and groans of whole 
 nations ascending unto heaven ! 
 
 It is thus the historians may be said to thrive on the mi- 
 series of mankind — they are like the birds of prey that 
 
 * Smith's Thueyd. vol. L 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 89 
 
 hover over the field of battle, to fatten on the mighty dead. 
 It was observed by a great projector of inland lock naviga- 
 tion, that rivers, lakes, and oceans were only formed to feed 
 canals. In like manner I am tempted to believe, that plots, 
 conspiracies, wars, victories, and massacres are ordained by 
 Providence only as food for the historian. 
 
 It is a source of great delight to the philosopher in study- 
 ing the wonderful economy of nature, to trace the mutual 
 dependencies of things, how they are created reciprocally 
 for each other, and how the most noxious and apparently 
 unnecessary animal has its uses. Thus those swarms of 
 flies, which are so otlen execrated as useless vermin, are 
 created for the sustenance of spiders ; and spiders, on the 
 other hand, are evidently made to devour flies. So those 
 heroes who have been such pests in the world were bounte- 
 ously provided as themes for the poet and the historian, 
 while the poet and historian were destined to record the 
 achievements of heroes ! 
 
 These and many similar reflections naturally arose in 
 my mind^as I took up my -pen to commence the reign of 
 William Kieft, for now the stream of our history, which 
 hitherto has rolled in a tranquil current, is about to depart for 
 ever from its peaceful haunts, and brawl through many a 
 turbulent and rugged scene. Like some sleek ox, which, 
 havino; fed and fattened in a rich clover field, lies sunk in 
 luxurious repose, and will bear repeated taunts and blows 
 before it heaves its unwieldy limbs, and clumsily arouses 
 from its slumbers; so the province of the Nieuw Neder- 
 landts, having long thriven and grown corpulent under the 
 prosperous reign of the Doubter, was reluctantly awakened 
 to a melancholy conviction that, by patient sufferance, its 
 grievances had become so numerous and aggravating, that 
 it was preferable to repel than endure them. The reader 
 will now vvitness the manner in which a peaceful communi- 
 ty advances toward a state of war; vv'hich it is too apt to 
 approach, as a horse does a drum, with much prancing and 
 parade, but with little progress and too often with the wrong 
 end foremost. 
 
 WiLHELMus KiEFT) who, in 1634, ascended the Guber- 
 natorial chair, (to borrow a favourite though clumsy ap- 
 pellation of modern phraseoiogists,) was in form, feature, 
 
 8* 
 
90 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 and character, the very reverse of Wouter Von Twiller, his 
 renowned predecessor. He v/as of very respectable de- 
 scent, his father being Inspector of Windmills in the ancient 
 town of Saardam ; and our hero, we are told, made very 
 curious investigations in the nature and operations of those 
 machines when a boy, which is one reason why he after- 
 wards came to be so ingenious a governor. His name, ac- 
 cording to the most ingenious etymologists, was a corrup- 
 tion of Kyver, tliat is to say, a wrangler or scolder, and 
 expressed the hereditary disposition of his family, v.'hich, 
 for nearly two centuries, had kept the windy town of Saar- 
 dam in hot water, and produced more tartars and brim- 
 stones, than any ten families in the place ; atid so truly did 
 Wilhelmus Kieft inherit this family endowment, that he had 
 scarcely been a year in the discharge of his government, 
 before he v/as universally known by the name of William 
 THE Testy. 
 
 He was a brisk, waspish, little old gentlenian, who had 
 dried and withered awa;/, partly through the natural pro- 
 cess of years, and partly from being parched and burned 
 up by his fiery soul, which blazed like a vehement rush- 
 light in his bosom, constantly inciting him to most valorous 
 broils, altercations, and misadventures. I have heard it 
 observed by a profound and philosophical judge of human 
 nature, that if a v/oman waxes fat as she grows old, the 
 tenure of her life is very precarious ; but if happily she 
 withers, she lives for eter : such likewise was the case with 
 Willam the Testy, who grew tougher in proportion as he 
 dried. He was some such a little Dutchman as we may 
 now and then see, stumping briskly about the streets of our 
 city, in a broad skirted coat, with buttons nearly as large 
 as the shield of Ajax, an old fashioned cocked hat stuck 
 on the back of his head, and a cane as high as his chin. 
 His visage was broad, but his features sharp ; his nose turn- 
 ed up with a most petulant curl ; his cheeks, like the re- 
 gions of Terra del Fuego, were scorched into a dusky red — 
 doubtless, in consequence of the neighbourhood of two fierce 
 little gray eyes, through which his torrid soul beamed as 
 ferventlj^ as a tropical sun blazing through a pair of burn- 
 ing glasses. The corners of his mouth were curiously 
 modelled into a kind of fretwork, not a little resembling the 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 9i 
 
 wrinkled proboscis of an irritable pug dog ; in a word, he 
 was one of the most positive, restless, ugly little men that 
 ever put himself in a passion about nothing. 
 
 Such were the personal endowments of William the Tes- 
 ty ; but it was the sterling riches of his mind that raised 
 him to dignity and power. In his youth he had passed 
 with great credit through a celebrated academy at the 
 Hague, noted for producing finished scholars with a des- 
 patch unequalled, except by certain of our American col- 
 leges, which seem to manufacture bachelors of arts by some 
 patent machine. Here he skirmished very smartly on the 
 frontiers of several of the sciences, and made so gallant an 
 inroad on the dead languages, as to bring off captive a host 
 of Greek nouns and Latin verbs, together with divers pithy 
 saws and apophthegms ; all of which he constantly paraded 
 in conversation and writing, with as much vain glory as 
 would a triumphant general of yore display the spoils of the 
 countries he had ravished. He had moreover puzzled him- 
 self considerably with logic, in which he had advanced so 
 far as to attain a very familiar acquaintance, by name at 
 least, with the whole family of syllogisms and dilemmas ; 
 but what he chiefly valued himself on was his knowledge of 
 metaphysics, in which having once upon a time ventured 
 too deeply, he came Vv'ell nigh being smothered in a slough 
 of unintelligible learning — a fearful peril, from the effects of 
 which he never perfectly recovere'd. In plain words, like 
 many other profound intermeddlers in this abstruse, be- 
 wildering science, he so confused his brain with abstract 
 speculations which he could not comprehend, and artificial 
 distinctions which he could not realize, that he could never 
 think clearly on any subject, however simple, through the 
 whole course of his life afterwards. This, I must confess, 
 was in some measure a misfortune, for he never engaged in 
 argument, of which he was exceeding fond, but what, be- 
 tween logical deductions and metaphysical jargon, he soon 
 involved himself and his subject in a fog of contradictions 
 and perplexities, and then would get into a mighty passion 
 with his adversary, for not being convinced gratis. 
 
 It is in knowledge as in swimming, — he who oslenta- 
 tiously sports and flounders on the surface makes more 
 noise and splashing, and attracts more attention than the 
 
92 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 industrious pearl diver, who plunges in search of treasures 
 to the bottom. The " universal acquirements" of William 
 Kieft were the subject of great marvel and admiration 
 among his countrymen ; he figured about at the Hague 
 with as much vain glory as does a profound Bonze at Pe- 
 kin, who has mastered half the letters of the Chinese alpha- 
 bet; and, in a word, was unanimously pronounced a uni' 
 versal genius ! — I have known many universal geniuses in 
 my time, though to speak my mind freely, I never knew one, 
 who for the ordinary purposes of life, was worth his weight 
 in straw; but for the purposes of government, a little sound 
 judgment, and plain common sense, is worth all the spark- 
 ling genius that ever wrote poetry, or invented theories. 
 
 Strange as it may sound, therefore, the universal ac- 
 quirements of the illustrious Wilhelmus were very much in 
 his way ; and had he been less a learned man, it is possible 
 he would have been a much greater governor. He was ex- 
 ceedingly fond of trying philosophical and political experi- 
 ments : and having stuffed his head full of scraps and rem- 
 nants of ancient republics, and oligarchies, and aristocra- 
 cies, and monarchies, and the laws of Solon, and Lycurgus, 
 and Charondas, and the imaginary commonwealth of Plato, 
 and the Pandects of Justinian, and a thousand other frag- 
 ments of venerable antiquity, he was for ever bent upon in-, 
 troducing ^ome one or other of them into use ; so that be- 
 tween one contradictory measure and another, he entangled 
 the government of the little province of Nieuw Nederlandts 
 in more knots, during his administration, than half a dozen 
 successors could have untied. No sooner had this bustling 
 little man been blown by a whiff of fortune into the seat of 
 government, than he called together his council, and deliv- 
 ered a very animated speech on the aflairs of the province. 
 As every body knows what a glorious opportunity a gover- 
 nor, a president, or even an emperor has of drubbing his 
 enemies in his speeches, messages, and bulletins, where he 
 has the talk all on his own side, they may be sure the high- 
 mettled William Kieft did not suffer so favourable an occa- 
 sion to escape him, of evincing that gallantry of tongue 
 common to all able legislators. Before he commence^d, it is 
 recorded that he took out his pocket handkerchief, and gave 
 a very sonorous blast of the nose, according to the usual 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 93 
 
 custom of great orators. This, in general, I believe is in- 
 tended as a signal trumpet, to call the attention of the audi- 
 tors ; but with Willara the Testy it boasted a more classic 
 cause, for he had read of the singular expedient of that fa- 
 mous demagogue Caius Gracchus, who, when he haran- 
 gued the Roman populace, modulated his tones by an ora- 
 torical flute or pitch-pipe. 
 
 This preparatory symphony being performed, he com- 
 menced by expressing an humble sense of his own want of 
 talents, his utter un worthiness of the honour conferred upon 
 him, and his humiliating incapacity to discharge the import- 
 ant duties of his new station; in short, he expressed so con- 
 temptible an opinion of himself, that many simple country 
 members present, ignorant that these were mere words of 
 course, always used on such occasions, were very uneasy, 
 and even felt wrath that he should accept an office for 
 which he was consciously so inadequate. 
 
 He then proceeded in a manner highly classic, profound- 
 ly erudite, and nothing at all to the purpose ; being nothing 
 more than a pompous account of all the governments of an- 
 cient Greece, and the wars of Rome and Carthage, together 
 with the rise and fall of sundry outlandish empires, about 
 which the assembly knew no more than their great grand- 
 children who were yet unborn. Thus having, after the 
 manner of your learned orators, convinced the audience 
 that he was a man of many words and great erudition , he 
 at length came to the less important part of his speech, the 
 situation of the province ; and here he soon worked himself 
 into a fearful rage against the Yankees, whom he compared 
 to the Gauls who desolated Rome, and the Goths and Van- 
 dals who overran the fairest plains of Europe — nor did he 
 forget to mention, in terms of adequate opprobrium, the in- 
 solence with which they had encroached upon the territories 
 of New Netherlands, and the unparalleled audacity with 
 which they had commenced the town of New Plymouth, 
 and planted the onion patches of Weathersfield under the 
 very wails of Fort Goed Hoop. 
 
 Having thus artfully wrought up his tale of terror to a 
 climax, he assumed a self-satisfied look, and declared, with 
 a nod of knowing import, that he had taken measures to 
 put a final stop to these encroachments — that he had been 
 
94 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 obliged to have recourse to a dreadful engine of vv^arfare, 
 lately invented, awful in its effects, but authorized by dire- 
 ful necesssity. In a word, he was resolved to conquer the 
 Yankees — by proclamation. 
 
 For this purpose he had prepared a trenaendous instru- 
 ment of the kind, ordering, commanding, and enjoining the 
 intruders aforesaid, forthwith to remove, depart, and with- 
 draw from the districts, regions, and territories aforesaid, 
 under the pain of suffering all the penalties, forfeitures, and 
 punishments, in such case made and provided, &c. This 
 proclamation, he assured them, would at once exterminate 
 the enemy from the face of the country ; and he pledged 
 his valour as a governor, that within two months after it 
 was published, not one stone should remain on another in 
 any of the towns which they had built. 
 
 The council remained lor some time silent after he had 
 finished ; whether struck dumb with admiration at the bril- 
 liancy of his project, or put to sieep by the length of his 
 harangue, the history of the times doth not mention. Suf- 
 fice it to say, they at length gave a general grunt of ac- 
 quiescence ; the proclamation was immediately despatched 
 with due ceremony, having the great seal of the province, 
 which was about the size of a buckwheat pancake, attached 
 to it by a broad red riband. Governor Kieft, having thus 
 vented his indignation, felt greatly relieved— adjourned the 
 council si?ie die — put on his cocked hat and corduroy small- 
 clothes, and, mounting on a tall raw-boned charger, trotted 
 out to his country seat, which was situated in a sweet se- 
 questered swamp, now called Dutch Street, but more com- 
 monly known by the name of Dog's Misery. 
 
 Here, like the good Numa, he reposed from the toils of 
 legislation, taking lessons in Government, not from the 
 Nymph Ageria, but from the honoured wife of his bosom ; 
 who was one of that peculiar kind of females, sent upon 
 earth a little before the flood, as a punishment for the sins 
 of mankind, and commonly known by the appellation of 
 knowing women. In fact, my duty as an historian obliges 
 me to make known a circumstance which was a great se- 
 cret at the time, and consequently was not a subject of scan- 
 dal at more than half the tea-tables of New-Amsterdam, but 
 which, like many other great secrets, has leaked out in the 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 95 
 
 lapse of years ; and this was, that the great Wilhelmus the 
 Testy, though one of the most potent little men that ever 
 breathed, yet submitted at home to a species of government, 
 neither laid down in Aristotle nor Plato ; in short, it partook 
 of the nature of a pure, unmixed tyranny, and is familiarly 
 denominated petticoat government. An absolute sway, 
 which, though exceedingly common in these modern days, 
 was very rare among the ancients, if we may judge from 
 the rout made about the domestic economy of honest So- 
 crates, which is the only ancient case on record. 
 
 The great Kieft, however, warded off all the sneers and 
 sarcasms of his particular friends, who are ever ready to 
 joke with a man on sore points of the kind, by alleging it 
 was a government of his own election, to which he submitted 
 through choice; adding, at the same time, a profound maxim 
 which he had found in an ancient author, that " he who 
 would aspire to govern, should first learn to obey,'''' 
 
 DIRK SCHUILER, 
 
 AND THE VALIANT PETER. 
 
 This was one Dirk Schuiler (or Skulker,) a kind of hang» 
 er-on to the garrison, who seemed to belong to nobody, and 
 in a manner to be self-outlawed. He was one of those vaga= 
 bond cosmopolites, who shark about the world as if they 
 had no right or business in it ; and who infest the skirts of 
 society, like poachers and interlopers. Every garrison and 
 country village has one or more scapegoats of this kind, 
 whose life is a kind of enigma, whose existence is without 
 motive, who comes from the Lord knows where, who [ives 
 the Lord knows how, and seems to be made for no other 
 earthly purpose but to keep up the ancient and honourable 
 order of idleness. This vagabond philosopher was suppos- 
 ed to have some Indian blood in his veins, which, was mani- 
 fested by a certain Indian complexion and cast of counte- 
 nance ; but more especially by his propensities and habits» 
 
BBAWTIfiS OF 
 
 He was a tall, lank fellow, swift of foot, and long-winded. 
 He was generally equipped in a half Indian dress, with belt, 
 leggings, and moccasons. His hair hung in strait gallows- 
 locks about his ears, and added not a little to his sharking 
 demeanour. It is an old remark, that persons of Indian mix- 
 ture are half civilized, half savage, and half devil; a third 
 half being expressly provided for their particular conve- 
 nience. It is for similar reasons, and probably with equal 
 truth, that the back-wood men of Kentucky are styled half 
 man, b.alf horse, and half alligator by the settlers on the 
 Mississippi, and held accordingly in great respect and ab- 
 horrence. 
 
 The above character may have presented itself to the 
 garrison as applicable to Dirk Schuiler, whom they familiarly 
 dubbed Gallows Dirk. Certain it is, he acknowledged alle- 
 giance to no one — was an utter enemy to work, holding it 
 in no manner of estimation — but lounged about the fort, de- 
 pending upon chance for a subsistence, getting drunk when- 
 ever he could get liquor, and stealing whatever he could lay 
 his hands on. Every day or two he was sure to get a sound 
 rib-roasting for some of his misdemeanours, which, however, 
 as it broke no bones, he made very light of, and scrupled 
 not to repeat the offence whenever another opportunity pre- 
 sented. Sometimes, in consequence of some flagrant villany, 
 he would abscond from the garrison, and be absent for a 
 month at a time ; skulking about the woods and swamps, 
 with a long fowling-piece on his shoulder, laying in ambush 
 for game, or squatting himself down on the edge of a pond 
 catching fish for hours together, and bearing no little resem- 
 blance 10 that notable bird ycleped the Mud-pole. When he 
 thought his crimes had been forgotten or forgiven, he would 
 sneak back to the fort with a bundle of skins, or a bunch of 
 poultry, which perchance he had stolen, and would exchange 
 them for liquor, with which, having well soaked his carcass, 
 he would lay in the sun and enjoy all the luxurious indo- 
 lence of that swinish philosopher Diogenes. He was the 
 terror of all the farm-yards in the country, into which he 
 made l^earful inroads ; and some times he would make his 
 sudden appearance at the garrison at daybreak, with the 
 whole neighbourhood at his heels, like a scoundrel thief of a 
 fox, detected in his maraudings, and hunted to his hole. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. &7 
 
 Such was this Dirk Schuiler ; and from the total indiffer- 
 ence he showed to this world or its concerns, and from his 
 truly Indian stoicism and taciturnity, no one would ever 
 have dreamed that he would have been the publisher of the 
 treachery of Risingh. 
 
 When the carousal was going on, which proved so fatal 
 to the brave Von Poffenburgh and his watchful garrison. 
 Dirk skulked about from room to room, being a kind of 
 privileged vagrant or useless hound, whom nobody noticed. 
 But though a fellow of iJew words, yet, like your tsiciturn 
 people, his eyes and ears were always open, and in the 
 course of his prowlings he overheard the whole plot of the 
 Swedes. Dirk immediately settled in his own mind how he 
 should turn the matter to his own advantage. He played 
 the perfect jack-of-both-sides ; that is to say, he made a 
 prize of every thing that came in his reach, robbed both par- 
 ties, stuck the copper-bound cocked hat of the puissant Von 
 Poffenburgh on his head, whipped a huge pair of Risingh's 
 jackboots under his arm, and took to his heels just before 
 the catastrophe and confusion at the garrison. 
 
 Finding himself completely dislodged ■ from his haunt in 
 this quarter, he directed his flight towards his native place, 
 New-Amsterdam, from whence he had formerly been oblig- 
 ed to abscond precipitately, in consequence of misfortune in 
 business, that is to say, having been detected in the act of 
 sheep-stealing. After wandering many days in the woods, 
 toiling through swamps, fording brooks, swimming various 
 rivers, and encountering a world of hardships that would 
 have killed any other being but an Indian, a back-wood 
 man, or the devil ; he at length arrived, half-famished, and 
 lank as a starved weasel at Communipaw, where he stole a 
 canoe, and paddled over to New-Amsterdam. Immediately 
 on landing, he repaired to Governor Stuyvesant, and in more 
 words than he had ever spoken before in the whole course 
 of his life, gave an account of the disastrous affair. 
 
 On receiving these direful tidings, the valiant Peter start- 
 ed from his seat, as did the stout King Arthur when at 
 *' merry Carleile," the news was brought him of the uncour- 
 teous misdeeds of the " grim barone" — without uttering a 
 word, he dashed the pipe he was smoking against the back 
 of the chimney, thrust a prodigious quid of negro headed to- 
 
98 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 bacco into his left cheek, pulled up his galligaskins, and 
 strode up and down the room, humming, as was customary 
 with him when in a passion, a hideous north-west ditty. 
 But, as I have before shown, he was not a man to vent his 
 spleen in idle vapouring. His first measure after the parox- 
 ysm of wrath had subsided, was to stump up stairs to a huge 
 wooden chest, which served as his armoury, from whence 
 he drew forth that identical suit of regimentals described in 
 the preceding chapter. Tn these portentous habiliments he 
 arrayed himself, like Achilles in the armour of Vulcan, and 
 maintaining all the while a most appalling silence, knitting 
 his brows, and drawing his breath through his clenched 
 teeth. Being hastily equipped, he strode down into the par- 
 lour, jerked down his trusty sword from over the fire-place, 
 where it was usually suspended ; but before he girded it on 
 his thigh he drew it from its scabbard, and as his eye cours- 
 ed along the rusty blade, a grim smile stole over his iron 
 visage. It was the first smile that had visited his counte- 
 nance for five long weeks ; but every one who beheld it pro- 
 phesied that there would soon be warm work in the province ! 
 Thus armed at all points, with grisly war depicted in each 
 feature, his very cocked hat assuming an air of uncommon, 
 defiance, he instantly put himself on the alert, and despatch- 
 ed Anthony Van Coriear hither and thither, this way and 
 that way, through all the muddy streets and crooked lanes 
 of the city, summoning by sound of trumpet his trusty peers 
 to assemble in instant council. This done, by way of ex- 
 pediting matters, according to the custom of people in a hur- 
 ry, he kept in continual bustle, shifting from chair to chair, 
 popping his head out of every window, and stumping up and 
 down stairs with his wooden leg in such brisk and incessant 
 motion, that, as we are informed by an authentic historian 
 of the times, the continual clatter bore no small resemblance 
 to the music of a cooper hooping a flour barrel. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 99 
 
 Description of the powerful Army that assembled at the 
 City of Neic- Amsterdam — together loith the interview 
 between Peter the Headstrong and General Von Poffen- 
 burgh ; and Peter^s sentiments respecting unfortunate 
 great men* 
 
 While thus the enterprising Peter was coasting, with flow- 
 ing sail, up the shores of the lordly Hudson, and arousing 
 all the phlegmatic little Dutch settlements upon its borders, 
 a great and puissant concourse of warriors was assembling 
 at the city of New-Amsterdam, And here that invaluable 
 fragment of antiquity, the Stuyvesant manuscript, is more 
 than commonly particular ; by which means I am enabled 
 to record the illustrious host that encamped itself on the-, 
 public square, in front of the fort, at present denominatea 
 the Bowling Green. 
 
 In the centre then was pitched the tents of the men of 
 battle of the Manhattoes ; who, being the inmates of the 
 metropolis, composed the life-guards of the governor. These 
 were commanded by the valiant Stoifel Brinkerhoof, who 
 whilome had acquired such immortal fame at Oyster Bay — 
 they displayed as a standard, a beaver rampant on a field 
 of orange ; being the arms of the province, and denoting the 
 persevering industry, and the amphibious origin of the Ned- 
 erlanders.* 
 
 On their right hand might be seen the vassals of that re- 
 nowned Mynheer Michael Paw,| who lorded it over the fair 
 regions on ancient Pavonia, and the lands away south, even 
 unto the Navesink mountains,:}: and was moreover patroon 
 of Gibbet-Island. His standard was borne by his trusty 
 squire, Cornelius Van Vorst ; consisting of a huge oyster 
 recumbent upon a sea green field, being the armorial bear- 
 
 * This was likewise the great seal of the New-Netherlands, as may still be seen 
 iu ancient records. 
 
 t Besides what is related in the Stviyvesant MS. I have found mention made of 
 this illustrious patroon in another manuscript, which says :— " De Heer (or the 
 Squire) Michael Paw, a Dutch subject, about 10th August, 1630, by deed purchas- 
 ed Staten Island. N. B. The same Michael Paw had what the Dutch call a colo- 
 nie at Pavonia, on the Jersey shore, opposite New York, and his overseer, in 1636, 
 was named. Corns. Van Vorst— a person of the same name, in 1769, owned Pawles 
 Hook, and a large farm at Pavonia, and is a lineal descendant from Van Vorst." 
 
 X So called from the Navesink tribe of Indians, that inhabited these parts ; at 
 present they ai-e erroneously denominated the Nevcrsink, or Neversunk mountains^ 
 
100 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 ings of his favourite metropolis, Commiinipaw. He brought 
 to the camp a stout force of warriors, heavily armed, being 
 each clad in ten pair of linsey woolsey breeches, and over- 
 shadowed by broad brimmed beavers, with short pipes 
 twisted in their hatbands. These were the men who vege- 
 tated in the mud along the shores of Pavonia; being of the 
 race of genuine copperheads, and were fabled to have sprung 
 from oysters. 
 
 At a little distance was encamped the tribe of warriors 
 who came from the neighbourhood of Hell-Gate. These 
 were commanded by the Suy Dams, and the Van Dams, 
 incontinent hard swearers as their names betoken- — they 
 were terrible looking fellows, clad in broad-skirted gaber- 
 
 les, of that curious coloured cloth called thunder and 
 !§btning ; and bore as a standard three devil's darning-nee- 
 dles, volant, in a flame coloured field. 
 
 Hard by was the tent of the men of battle from the marshy 
 borders of the Wael-bogtig,* and the country thereabouts-— 
 these were of a sour aspect, by reason that they lived on 
 crabs, which abound in these parts : they were the first in- 
 stitutors of that honourable order of knighthood, called Fly 
 market shirks ; and if tradition speak true, did likewise in- 
 troduce the far famed step in dancing, called " double trou- 
 ble." They were commanded by the fearless Jacobus Varra 
 Vanger, and had moreover, a jolly band of Breukelenf fer- 
 rymen, who performed a brave concerto on conchshells. 
 
 But I refrain from pursuing this minute description, which 
 goes on to describe the warriors of Bloemen-dael, and Wee- 
 hawk, and Hoboken, and sundry other places, well known 
 in history and song — for now does the sound of martial 
 music alarm the people of New-Amsterdam, sounding afar 
 from beyond the walls of the city. But this alarm was in 
 a little time relieved, for lo, from the midst of a vast cloud 
 of dust, they recognized the brimstone coloured breeches, 
 and splendid silver leg of Peter Stuyvesant glaring in the 
 sunbeams ; and beheld him approaching at the head of a 
 formidable army, which he had mustered along the banks 
 
 ^ * ii. e. The Winding Bay, named from. <he windings of its shores. This has 
 since been corrupted by the vulgar into the JVallabout, and is the basin which 
 shelters our infant navy, 
 t Now spelt Brooklyn. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 101 
 
 of the Hudson. And here the excellent but anon3''mous 
 writer of the Scuyvesant manuscript breaks out into a brave 
 but glorious description of the forces, as they defiled 
 through the principal gate of the city that stood by the 
 head of Wall-street. 
 
 First of all came the Van Bummels, who inhabit the 
 pleasant borders of the Bronx. These were short fat men, 
 wearing exceeding large trunk breeches, and are renowned 
 for feats of the trencher : they were the first inventors of 
 suppawn, or mush and milk. Close in their rear marched 
 the Van Vlotans, of Kaats Kill, most horrible quaffers of 
 new cider, and arrant braggarts in their liquor. — After 
 them came the Van Pelts, of Groodt Esopus dexterous 
 horsemen, mounted upon goodly switch-tailed steeds of the 
 Esopus breed : those were mighty hunters of minks and 
 musk rats, whence came the word Peltry. Then the Van 
 Nests of Kinderhoek, valiant robbers of birds' nests, as their 
 name denotes : to these, if the report may be believed, are 
 we indebted for the invention pf slap-jacks, or buckwheat 
 cakes. Then the Van Higginbottoms, of Wapping's Creek : 
 these came armed with ferules and birchen rods, being a 
 race of schoolmasters, who first discovered the marvellous 
 sympathy between the seat of honour and the seat of intel- 
 lect, and that the shortest way to get knowledge into the 
 head was to hammer it into the bottom. Then the Van 
 Grolls, of Anthony's Nose, who carried their liquor in fair 
 round little pottles, by reason they could not bouse it out of 
 their canteens, having such rare long noses. Then the 
 Gardeniers, of Hudson and thereabouts, distinguished by 
 many triumphant feats, such as robbing watermelon patches, 
 smoking rabbits out of their holes, and the like, and by being 
 great lovers of roasted pigs' tails : these were the ancestors 
 of the renowned congressman of that name. Then the Van 
 Hoesen's of Sing-Song, great choristers and players upon 
 the Jew's-harp : these marched two and two, singing the 
 great song of St. Nicholas. Then the Couenhovens of 
 Sleepy Hollow : these gave birth to a jolly race of publi- 
 cans, who first discovered the magic art of conjuring a 
 quart of wine into a pint bottle. Then the Van Kortlandts, 
 who lived on the wild banks of the Croton, and were great 
 killers of wild ducks, being much spoken of for their skill 
 
 9* 
 
102 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 in shooting v/ith the long bow. Then the Van Bunscho- 
 lens, of Nyock and Kakiat, who were the first that did ever 
 kick with the left foot; they were gallant bush-whackers, 
 and hunters of racoons, by moonlight. Then the Van 
 Winkles of Haerlem, potent suckers of eggs, and noted for 
 running of horses, and running up of scores at taverns : 
 they were the first that ever winked with both eyes at once. 
 Lastly, catne the Knickerbockeks, of the great town of 
 Schahtikoke, where the folk lay stones upon the houses in 
 windy weather, lest they should be blown away. These 
 derive their name, as some say, from K?iiker, to shake, 
 and BecJi'er, a goblet, indicating thereby that they v/ere 
 sturdy tosspots of yore; but in truth, it was derived from 
 Knicker, to nod, and Boeken, books, plainly meaning that 
 they were great nodders or dozers over books : from them 
 did descend the writer of this history. 
 
 Such was the legion of sturdy bush-beaters, that poured 
 in at the grand gate of New-Amsterdam- The Stuyvesant 
 manuscript, indeed, speaks of many more, whose names I 
 omit to mention, seeing that it behoves me to' hasten to mat- 
 ters of greater moment. Nothing could surpass the joy and 
 martial pride of the lion-hearted Peter, as he reviewed this 
 mighty host of warriors ; and he determined no longer to 
 defer the gratification of his much-wished for revenge, upon 
 the scoundrel Swedes at Fort Casimir. 
 
 But before I hasten to record those unmatchable events 
 which will be found in the sequel of this faithful history, 
 let me pause to notice the fate of Jacobus Von PofTenburgh, 
 the discomfited commander-in-chief of the armies of the 
 New-Netherlands. Such is the inherent uncharitableness 
 of human nature, that scarcely did the news become public, 
 of his deplorable discomfiture at Fort Casimir than a thou- 
 sand scurvy rumours were set afloat in New-Amsterdam ; 
 wherein it was insinuated, that he had in reality a treach- 
 erous understanding with the Swedish commander; that he 
 had long been in the practice of privately communicating 
 with the Swedes ; together with divers hints about " secret 
 service money," — to all which deadly charges I do not give 
 a jot more credit than I think they deserve. 
 
 Certain it is, that the general vindicated his character by 
 the most vehement oaths and protestations, and put every 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 103 
 
 inan out of the ranks of honour who dared to doubt his in- 
 tegrity. Moreover, on returning to New-iVmsterdam, he 
 paraded up and dovv'n the streets with a crew of hard swear- 
 ers at his heels, — sturdy bottle companions^ whom he 
 gorged and fattened, and v.'ho were ready to bolster him 
 through all the courts of justice, — heroes of his own kidney, 
 fierce whiskered, broad shouldered, colbrand looking swag- 
 gerers, not one of whom but looked as though he could eat 
 up an ox, and pick his teeth v/ith the horns. These life- 
 guard men quarrelled all his quarrels, were ready to fight 
 all his battles, and scowled at every man that turned up his 
 nose to the general, as though they would devour him alive. 
 Their conversation was interspersed with oaths like minute 
 guns, and every bombastic rhodom.ontado was rounded off* 
 by a thundering execration like a patriotic toast honoured 
 with a discharge of artillery. 
 
 All these valorous vapourings had a considerable effect 
 in convincing certain profound sages, many of whom began 
 to think the general a hero of unutterable loftiness and mas- 
 nanimity of soul, particularly as he was continually protest- 
 ing on the honour of a soldier^ — a marvellously high sound- 
 ing asseveration. Nay, one of the members of the council 
 went so far as to propose they should immortalize him by 
 an imperishable statue of plaster of Paris. 
 
 But the vigilant Peter the Headstrong was. not thus to be 
 deceived. Sending privately for the commander-in-chief of 
 all the armies, and having heard all his story, garnished 
 with the customary pious oaths, protestations, and ejacula- 
 tions — " Harkee, comrade," cried he, " though by your 
 own account you are the most brave, upright, and honour- 
 able man in the v/hole province, yet do you lie under the 
 misfortune of being damnably traduced and immeasurably 
 despised. Novv? though it is certainly hard to punish a man 
 for his misfortunes, and though it is very possible you are 
 totally innocent of the crimes laid to your charge; yet as- 
 heaven, at present, doubtless for some wise purpose, sees fit 
 to withhold all proofs of your innocence, far be it from me 
 to counteract its sovereign will. Beside, I cannot consent 
 to venture my armies with a commander whom they des- 
 pise, or to trust the welfare of my people to a champion 
 whom they distrust. Retire, therefore, my friend, from the 
 
104 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 irksome toils and cares of public life, with this comforting 
 reflection — that if you be guilty, you are but enjoying your 
 just reward — and if innocent, that you are not the first great 
 and good man, who has most wrongfully been slandered 
 and maltreated in this wicked world — doubtless to be better 
 treated in a better world, where there shall neither be error, 
 calumny, nor persecution. In the mean time let me never 
 see your face again, for I have a horrid antipathy to the 
 countenances of unfortunate great men like yoUi'lelf." 
 
 Of Peter Stnyvesanfs expedition into the East Country / 
 showing that, though an old Bird, he did not understand 
 Trap. 
 
 Great nations resemble great men in this particular, 
 that their greatness is seldom known until they get in trou- 
 ble; adversity, therefore, has been wisely denominated the 
 ordeal of true greatness, which, like gold, can never receive 
 its real estimation until it has passed through the furnace. 
 In proportion, therefore, as a nation, a community, or an in- 
 dividual (possessing the inherent quality of greatness) is in- 
 volved in perils and misfortunes, in proportion does it rise 
 in grandeur — and even when sinking under calamity, makes, 
 like a house on fire, a more glorious display than ever it 
 did in the fairest period of its prosperity. 
 
 The vast empire of China, though teeming with popula- 
 tion, and imbibing and concentrating the wealth of nations, 
 has vegetated through a succession ojf drowsy ages ; and 
 were it not for its internal revolution and the subversion of 
 its ancient government by the Tartars, might have present- 
 ed nothing but an uninteresting detail, of dull, monotonous 
 prosperity. Pompeii and Herculaneum might have passed 
 into oblivion, with a herd of their contemporaries, had they 
 not been fortunately overwhelmed by a volcano. The re- 
 nowned city of Troy has acquired celebrity only from its 
 ten years' distress and final conflagration; Paris rises in 
 importance by the plots and massacres which have ended 
 in the exaltation of the illustrious Napoleon ; and even the 
 mighty London itself has skulked through the records of 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 105 
 
 time, celebrated for nothing of moment, excepting the plague^ 
 the great fire, and Guy Faux's gunpowder plot ! Tims 
 cities and empires seem to creep along, enlarging in silent 
 obscurity under the pen of the historian, until at length they 
 burst forth in some tremendous calamity, and snatch, as it 
 were, immortality from the explosion ! 
 
 The above principle being admitted, my reader will plain- 
 ly perceive that the city of New-Amsterdam and its depend- 
 ent province are on the high road to greatness. Dangers 
 and hostilities threaten from every side, and it is really a 
 matter of astonishment to me, how so small a state has been 
 able, in so short a time, to entangle itself in so many diffi- 
 culties. Ever since the province was first taken by the 
 nose at the Fort of Good Hope, in the tranquil days of 
 Wouter Van Tvviller, has it been gradually increasing in 
 historic importance ; and never could it have had a more 
 appropriate chieftain to conduct it to the pinnacle of grandeur 
 than Peter Stuyvesant. 
 
 In the fiery heart of this iron-headed old warrior sat en- 
 throned all those five kinds of courage described by Aris- 
 totle ; and had the philosopher mentioned five hundred 
 more to the back of them, I verily believe he would have 
 been found master of them all. The only misfortune was, 
 that he was deficient in the better part of valour called dis- 
 cretion, a cold-blooded virtue which could not exist in the 
 tropical climate of his mighty soul. Hence it was, he was 
 continually hurrying into those unheard-of enterprises that 
 gave an air of chivalric romance to all his history ; and 
 hence it Vv'as, that he now conceived a project worthy of the 
 hero of La Mancha himself. 
 
 This was no other than to repair in person to the great coun- 
 cil of the Amphyctions, bearing the sword in one hand, and 
 the olive branch in the other ; to require immediate repara- 
 tion for the innumerable violations of that treaty, which, in 
 an evil hour, he had formed ; to put a stop to those repeat- 
 ed maraudings on the eastern borders ; or else to throw the 
 gauntlet, and appeal to arms for satisfaction. 
 
 On declaring this resolution in his privy council, the 
 venerable members were seized with vast astonishment : 
 for once in their lives they ventured to remonstrate, setting 
 forth the rashness of exposing -his sacred person in the 
 
106 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 midst of a strange and barbarous people, with sundry other 
 weighty remonstrances — all which had about as much in- 
 fluence upon the determination of the headstrong Peter, as 
 though you were to endeavour to turn a rusty weathercock 
 with a broken-winded bellows. 
 
 Summoning, therefore, to his presence his trusty follower, 
 Anthony Van Corlear, he commanded him to hold himself 
 in readiness to accompany him the following morning on 
 this his hazardous enterprise. Now Anthony, the trumpeter, 
 was a little stricken in years, yet by dint of keeping up a 
 good heart, and having never known care or sorrow (having 
 never been married,) he was still a hearty, jocund, rubicund, 
 gamesome wag, and of great capacity in the doublet. This 
 last was ascribed to his living a jolly life on those domains 
 at the Hook, which Peter Stuyvesant had granted to him 
 for his gallantry at Fort Casimir. 
 
 Be this as it may, there was nothing that more delighted 
 Anthony than this command of the great Peter ; for he could 
 have followed the stout-hearted old governor to the world's 
 end, with love and loyalty : and he moreover still remem- 
 bered the frolicking, and dancing, and bundling, and other 
 disports of the east country ; and entertained dainty recol- 
 lection of numerous kind and buxom lasses, whom he longed 
 exceedingly again to encounter. 
 
 Thus, then, did this mirror of hardihood set forth, with 
 no other attendant but his trumpeter, upon one of the most 
 perilous enterprises ever recorded in the annals of knight- 
 errantry. For a single warrior to venture openly among a 
 whole nation of foes ; but, above all, for a plain, downright 
 Dutchman to think of negotiating with the whole council of 
 New-England — never was there known a more desperate 
 undertaking! Ever since I have entered upon the chroni- 
 cles of this peerless, but hitherto uncelebrated chieftain, has he 
 kept me in a state of incessant action and anxiety with the 
 toils and dangers he is constantly encountering. Oh ! for 
 a chapter of the tranquil reign of Wouter Van Twiller, that 
 I might repose on it as on a feather bed ! 
 
 Is it not enough, Peter Stuyvesant, that I have once al- 
 ready rescued thee from the machinations of these terrible 
 Amphyctions, by bringing the whole powers of witchcraft 
 to thine aid?— is it not enough, that I have followed thee 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 107 
 
 undaunted, like a guardian spirit, into the midst of the hor- 
 rid battle of Fort Christina ? That I have been put inces- 
 santly to my trumps to keep thee safe and sound — now 
 warding off with my single pen the shower of dastard blows 
 that tell upon thy rear — now narrowly shielding thee from 
 a deadly thrust, by a mere tobacco-box — now casing thy 
 dauntless skull with adamant, when even thy stubborn ram- 
 beaver failed to resist the sword of the stout Risingh — and 
 now, not merely bringing thee off alive, but triumphant, 
 from the clutches of the gigantic Swede, by the desperate 
 means of a paltry stone pottle ?— Is not all this enough, but 
 must thou still be plunging into new difficulties, and jeopard- 
 izing in headlong enterprises thyself, thy trumpeter, and 
 thy historian? 
 
 - And now the ruddy -faced Aurora, like a buxom chamber- 
 maid, draws aside the sable curtains of the night, and out 
 bounces from his bed the jolly red-haired Phoebus, startled 
 at being caught so late in the embraces of Dame Thetis. 
 With many a stable oath, he harnesses his brazen-footed 
 steeds, and whips and lashes, and splashes up the firmament, 
 like a loitering post-boy, half an hour behind his time. And 
 now behold that imp of fame and prowess, the headstrong 
 Peter, bestriding a raw-boned, switch-tailed charger, gallant- 
 ly arrayed in full regimentals, and bracing on his thigh that 
 trusty brass-hilted sword, v,^hich had wrought such fearful, 
 deeds on the banks of the Delaware. 
 
 Behold, hard after him, his doughty trumpeter. Van Cor- 
 lear, mounted on a broken-winded, wall-eyed, calico mare ; 
 his stone pottle which had laid low the mighty Risingh, 
 slung under his arm, and his trumpet displayed vauntingly 
 in his right hand, decorated v/ith a gorgeous banner, on 
 which is emblazoned the great beaver of the Manhattoes. 
 See him proudly issuing out of the city gate, like an iron-clad 
 hero of yore, with his faithful squire at his heels, the popu- 
 lace following them with their eyes, and shouting many a 
 
 parting wish, and hearty cheering. Farewell, Hard- 
 
 koppig Piet ! Farewell, honest Anthony ! — Pleasant be your 
 wayfaring — prosperous your return ! The stoutest hero that 
 ever drew a sword, and the worthiest trumpeter that ever 
 trod shoe leather. 
 
 Legends are lamentably silent about the events that be- 
 
108 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 fell our adventurers, in this their adventurous travel, except- 
 ing the Stuyvesant manuscript, which gives the substance of 
 a pleasant little heroic poem, written on the occasion by 
 Domini ^gidius Luyck,* who appears to have been the 
 poet-laureate of New-Amsterdam. This inestimable manu- 
 script assures us, that it was a rare spectacle to behold the 
 great Peter, and his loyal follower, hailing the morning sun, 
 and rejoicing in the clear countenance of nature, as they 
 pranced it through the pastoral scenes of Bloomen Dael ;t 
 which, in those days, was a wild flower, refreshed by many 
 a pure streamlet, and enlivened here and there by a delecta- 
 ble little Dutch cottage, sheltering under some sloping hill, 
 and almost buried in embowering trees. 
 
 Now did they enter upon the confines of Connecticut, 
 where they encountered many grievous difficulties and pe- 
 rils. At one place they were assailed by a troop of country 
 squires and militia colonels, who, mounted on goodly steeds, 
 hung upon their rear for several miles, harassing them ex- 
 ceedingly with guesses and questions, more especially the 
 worthy Peter, whose silver chased leg excited not a httle 
 marvel. At another place, hard by the renowned town of 
 Stamford, they were set upon by a great and mighty legion 
 of church deacons, who imperiously demanded of them five 
 shillings for travelling on Sunday, and threatened to carry 
 them captive to a neighbouring church, v/hose steeple peer- 
 ed above the trees : but these the valiant Peter put to rout 
 with little difficulty, insomuch that they bestrode their canes 
 and gallopped off in horrible confusion, leaving their cocked 
 hats behind in the hurry of their flight. But not so easily 
 did he escape from the hands of a crafty man of Pyquag ; 
 who, with undaunted perseverance, and repeated onsets, 
 fairly bargained him out of his goodly switched-iailed charg- 
 er, leaving him in place thereof a villanous, spavined, found- 
 ered Narraganset pacer. 
 
 But, maugre all these hardships, they pursued their jour- 
 ney cheerily along the courses of the soft flowing Connecti- 
 cut, whose gentle waves, says the song, roll through many 
 
 * This Luyck was, moreover, rector of the Latin school in Nieuw-Nederlandts, 
 1663. There are two jjieces of jEgidins Luyck in D. Selyn's MSS. of poesies, 
 upon his marriage with Judith Isendoorn. Old MS. 
 
 t Now called Blooming Dale, about four miles from New- York. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVINCf. 109 
 
 a fertile vale and sunny plain ; now reflecting the lofty spires 
 of the bustling city, and now the rural beauties of the hum- 
 ble hamlet ; now echoing with the busy hum of commerce, 
 and now with the cheerful song of the peasant. 
 
 At every town would Peter Stuyvesant, who was noted 
 for warlike punctilio, order the sturdy Anthony to sound a 
 courteous salutation ; though the manuscript observes, that 
 the inhabitants were thrown in great dismay when they 
 heard of his approach. For the fame of his incomparable 
 achievements on the Delaware, had spread throughout the 
 east country, and they dreaded lest he had come to take ven- 
 geance on their manifold transgressions. 
 
 But the good Peter rode through these towns with a smil- 
 ing aspect ; waving his hand with inexpressible majesty and 
 condescension ; for he verily believed that the old clothes 
 which these ingenious people had thrust into their broken- 
 windows, and the festoons of dried apples and peaches which 
 ornamented the front of their houses, Vv^ere so many decora- 
 tions in honour of his approach ; as it was the custom in the 
 days of chivalry to compliment renowned heroes, by sump- 
 tuous displays of tapestry and gorgeous furniture. The wo- 
 men crowded to the doors to gaze upon him as he passed, 
 so much does prowess in arms delight the gentle sex. The 
 little children too i^an after him in troops, staring with won- 
 der at his regimentals, his brimstone breeches, and silver 
 garniture of his wooden leg. Nor must I omit to mention 
 the joy which many strapping wenches betrayed, at behold- 
 ing the jovial Van Corlear, who had whilome delighted them 
 so much with his trumpet, when he bore the great Peter's 
 challenge to the Amphyctions. The kind-hearted Anthony 
 alighted from his calico mare, and kissed them all with in- 
 finite loving kindness — and was right pleased to see a crew 
 of little trumpeters crowding around him for his blessing ; 
 each of whom he patted on the head, bade him be a good 
 boy, and gave him a penny to buy molasses candy. 
 
 The Stuyvesant manuscript makes but little further men- 
 tion of the governor's adventures upon, this expedition, ex- 
 cepting that he was received with extravagant courtesy and 
 respect by the great council of the Amphyctions, who almost 
 talked him to death with comphmentary and congratulatory 
 harangues. I will not detain my readers by dwelling on 
 
 10 
 
110 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 his negotiations with the grand council. Suffice it to men- 
 tion, it was Hke all other negotiations — a great deal was 
 said, and very little done : one conversation led to another — 
 one conference begat misunderstandings which it took a do- 
 zen conferences to explain ; at the end of which the parties 
 found themselves just where they were at first ; excepting 
 that they had entangled themselves in a host of questions of 
 etiquette, and conceived a cordial distrust of each other, that 
 rendered their future negotiations ten times more difficult 
 than ever.* 
 
 In the midst of all these perplexities, which bewildered the 
 brain and incensed the ire of the sturdy Peter, who was per- 
 haps, of all men in the world, least fitted for diplomatic 
 wiles, he privately received the first intimation of the dark 
 conspiracy which had been matured in the Cabinet of Eng- 
 land. To this was added the astounding intelligence that a 
 hostile squadron had already sailed from England, destined 
 to reduce the province of New-Netherlands, and that the 
 grand council of Amphyctions had engaged to co-operate, 
 by sending a great army to invade New-Amsterdam by 
 land ! 
 
 Unfortunate Peter ! did I not enter with sad forebodings 
 upon this ill-starred expedition? Did I not tremble when I 
 saw thee with no other counsellor but thine own head — 
 with no other armour but an honest tongue, a spotless con- 
 science, and a rusty sword — with no other protector but St. 
 Nicholas — and no other attendant but a trumpeter? Did I 
 not tremble when I beheld thee thus sally forth to contend 
 with all the knowing powers of New-England ? 
 
 Oh how did the sturdy old warrior rage and roar, when 
 he found himself thus entrapped, like a lion in the hunter's 
 toil ! Now did he determine to draw his trusty sword, and 
 manfully to fight his way through all the countries of the 
 east. Now did he resolve to break in upon the council of 
 the Amphyctions, and put every mother's son of them to 
 death. At length, as his direful wrath subsided, he resorted 
 to safer though less glorious expedients. 
 
 Concealing from the council his knowledge of their ma- 
 
 * For certain of the particulars of this ancient negotiation, see Haz. Col. State 
 rap. It is singular that Smith is entirely silent with respect to this memorable 
 expedition of Peter Stuyvesant. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. Ill 
 
 chinations, he privately despatched a trusty messenger with 
 missives to his counsellors at New- Amsterdam, apprising 
 them of the impending danger, commanding them immedi- 
 ately to put the city in a posture of defence, while in the 
 mean time he would endeavour to elude his enemies and 
 come to their assistance. This done, he felt himself mar- 
 vellously relieved, rose slowly, shook himself like a rhino- 
 ceros, and issued forth from his den, in much the same man- 
 ner as Giant Despair is described to have issued from Doubt- 
 ing Castle, in the chivalric history of the Pilgrim's Progress. 
 And how much does it grieve me that I must leave the 
 gallant Peter in this imminent jeopardy : but it behooves us 
 to hurry back and see what is going on at New-Amsterdam, 
 for greatly do I fear that city is already in a turmoil. Such 
 was ever the fate of Peter Stuyvesant ; while doing one thing 
 with heart and soul, he was too apt to leave every thing 
 else at sixes and sevens. While, like a potentate of yore, 
 he was absent attending to those things in person, which in 
 modern days are trusted to generals and ambassadors, his 
 little territory at home was sure to get in an uproar — all 
 which was owing to that uncommon strength of intellect, 
 which induced him to trust to nobody but himself, and which 
 had acquired him the renowned appellation of Peter the 
 Headstrong. 
 
 How the People vf New -Amsterdam were throivn into a 
 great Panic by the News of a threatened Invasion : and 
 the Manner in which they fortified themselves. 
 
 There is no sight more truly interesting to a philosopher 
 than to contemplate a community v/here every individual 
 has a voice in public affairs, where every individual thinks 
 himself the Atlas of the nation, and where every individual 
 thinks it his duty to bestir himself for the good of his country. 
 I say, there is nothing more interesting to a philosopher 
 than to see such ^ community in a sudden bustle of war. 
 Such a clamour of tongues, such a bawling of patriotism, 
 such running hither and thither, every body in a hurry, eve- 
 ry body up to the ears in trouble, every body in the way, 
 
112 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 and every body interrupting his industrious neighbour, who 
 is busily employed in doing nothing ! It is like witnessing a 
 great fire, where every man is at work like a hero ; some 
 dragging about empty engines ! others scampering with full 
 buckets, and spilling the contents into the boots of their 
 neighbour ; and others ringing the church bells at night, by 
 way of putting out the fire. Little firemen, like sturdy little 
 knights storming a breach, clambering up and down scal- 
 ing-ladders, and bawhng through tin trumpets, by way of 
 directing the attack. Here one busy fellow, in his great 
 zeal to save the property of the unfortunate, catches up an 
 anonymous chamber utensil, and gallants it off with an air 
 of as much self-importance, as if he had rescued a pot of 
 money ; another throws looking glasses and china out of 
 the window, to save them from the flames ; while those, who 
 can do nothing else to assist the great calamity, run up and 
 down the streets with open throats, keeping up an incessant 
 cry of — Fire ! Fire ! Fire ! 
 
 " When the news arrived at Sirsope," says the grave and 
 profound Lucian, though I own the story is rather trite, 
 " that Philip was about to attack tliem, the inhabitants were 
 thrown into violent alarm. Some ran to furbish up their 
 arms ; others rolled stones to build up the walls ; every bo- 
 dy, in short, was employed, and every body was in the way 
 of his neighbour. Diogenes alone was the only man who 
 could find nothing to do; whereupon, determining not to be 
 idle when the welfare of his country was at stake, he tucked 
 up his robe, and fell to rolling his tub with might and main, 
 up and down the Gymnasium." In like manner did every 
 mother's son, in the patriotic community of New-Amster- 
 dam, on receiving the missives of Peter Stuyvesant, busy 
 himself most mightily in putting things into confusion, and 
 assisting the general uproar. " Every man," saith the Stuy- 
 vesant manuscript, " flew to arms !" By which is meant, 
 that not one of our honest Dutch citizens would venture to 
 church or to market, without an old fashioned spit of a sword 
 dangling at his side, and a long Dutch fowling-piece on his 
 shoulder ; nor would he go out of a night without a lantern ! 
 nor turn a corner without first peeping cautiously round, 
 lest he should come unawares upon a British army ; and 
 we are informed, that Stoffel Brinkerhofl^, who was consider- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 113 
 
 ed by the old women almost as brave a man as the go- 
 vernor himself, actually had two one-pound swivels mount- 
 ed in his entry, one pointing out at the front door and ihe 
 p,ther at the back. 
 
 But the most strenuous measure resorted to on this awful 
 occasion, and one which has since been found of wonderful 
 efficacy, w,as to assemble popular meetings. These brawl- 
 ing, conyocatipps, I have already shown^ were extremely 
 offensive to Peter Stuyvesant ; but as this was a moment of 
 unusual agitation, and as the old governor was not present 
 to repress them, they broke out with intolerable violence. 
 Hither, therefore, the orators and politicians repaired, and 
 there seemed to be a competition among them who should 
 bawl; the loudest, and exceed the others in hyperbolical 
 bursts of patriotism, and in resolutions to uphold and defend 
 the government. In these sage and all powerful meetings' 
 it was determined, nem. con, that they were the most en- 
 lightened, the most dignified, the most formidable, and the 
 most ancient community upon the face of the earth. Find- 
 ing that this resolution was so universally and readily car- 
 ried, another was immediately proposed, — Whether it were 
 not possible and politic to exterminate Great Britain 1 Upon 
 which sixty-nine members spoke most eloquently in the af- 
 firmative, and only one arose to suggest some doubts, who, 
 as a punishment for his treasonable presumption, was im- 
 mediately seized by the mob, and tarred and feathered ; 
 which punishment being equivalent to the Tarpeian Rock, 
 he was afterwards considered as an outcast from society, 
 and his opinion v/ent for nothing. The question, therefore, 
 being unanimously carried in the affirmative, it was recom- 
 mended to the grand council to pass it into a law, which 
 was accordingly done ; by this measure the hearts of the 
 peoplj3 at large were wonderfully encouraged, and they 
 waxed,exceedingly choleric and valorous. Indeed, the first 
 parpxysrn of alarm having in some measure subsided, the 
 old women having buri^jd all the money they could lay their 
 hands on, and their husbands daily getting fuddled with 
 what was left — the community began even to stand on the 
 offensive. Songs were manufactured in low Dutch, and 
 sung about the streets, wherein the English were most 
 wofully beaten, and shown no quarter; and popular ad- 
 
 10* 
 
114 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 dresses were made, wherein it was proved to a certainty, 
 that the fate of Old England depended upon the will of the 
 New-Amsterdammers. 
 
 Finally, to strike a violent blow at the very vitals of 
 Great Britain, a multitude of the wiser inhabitants assem- 
 bled, and having purchased all the British manufactures 
 they could find, they made thereof a huge bonfire ; and, in 
 the patriotic glow of the moment, every man present, who 
 had a hat or breeches of English workmanship, pulled it off, 
 and threw it most undauntedly into the flames — to the irre- 
 parable detriment, loss, and ruin of the English manufactur- 
 ers. In commemoration of this great exploit, they erected 
 a pole on the spot, with a device on the top intended to re- 
 present the province of Nieuw Nederlandts, destroying 
 Great Britain, under the similitude of an Eagle picking the 
 little Island of Old England out of the globe ; but either 
 through the unskilfulness of the sculptor, or his ill-timed 
 waggery, it bore a striking resemblance to a goose vainly 
 striving to get hold of a dumpling. 
 
 In which the Troubles of New- Amsterdam appear to thick- 
 en — Showing the bravery^ in Time of Perils of a Peo- 
 ple who defend themselves by Resolutions. 
 
 Like as an assemblage of politic cats, engaged in clamor- 
 ous gibberings and caterwaulings, eyeing one another with 
 hideous grimaces, spitting in each other's faces, and on the 
 point of breaking forth into a general clapper-clawing, are 
 suddenly put to scampering, rout, and confusion, by the 
 startling appearance of a house-dog — so was the no less vo- 
 ciferous council of New-Amsterdam amazed, astounded, and 
 totally dispersed, by the sudden arrival of the enemy. — 
 Every member made the best of his way home, waddling 
 along as fast as his short legs could fag under their heavy 
 burthen, and wheezing as he went with corpulency and ter- 
 ror. When he arrived at his castle, he barricadoed the 
 street door, and buried himself in the cider cellar, without 
 daring to peep out, lest he should have his head carried off 
 by a cannon ball. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 115 
 
 The sovereign people all crowded into the market place, 
 herding together with the instinct of sheep, who seek for 
 safety in each other's company, when the shepiierd and his 
 dog are absent, and the wolf is prowling round the fold. 
 Far from finding relief, however, they only increased each 
 other's terrors. Each man looked ruefully in his neigh- 
 bour's face, in search of encouragement, but only found, in 
 its wo-begone lineaments, a confirmation of his own dismay. 
 Not a word now was to be heard of conquering Great Bri- 
 tain, not a whisper about the sovereign virtues of economy — 
 while the old women heightened the general gloom, by cla- 
 morously bewailing their fate, and incessantly calling for 
 protection on St. Nicholas and Peter Stuyvesant. 
 
 Oh, how did they bewail the absence of the lion-hearted 
 Peter ! — and how did they long for the comforting presence 
 of Anthony Van Corlear ! Indeed, a gloomy uncertainty 
 hung over the fate of these adventurous heroes. Day after 
 day had elapsed since the alarming message from the gover- 
 nor, v,Mthout bringing any further tidings of his safety. 
 Many a fearful conjecture was hazarded as to what had be- 
 fallen him and his loyal squire. Had they not been de- 
 voured alive by the cannibals of Marblehead and Cape Cod? 
 Were they not put to the question by the great council of 
 Amphyctions? Were they not smothered in onions by the 
 terrible men of Pyquag? In the midst of this consternation 
 and perplexity, when horror, like a mighty night-mare, sat 
 brooding upon the little, fat, plethoric city of New-Amster- 
 dam, the ears of the multitude were suddenly startled by a 
 stranp-e and distant sound- — it approached— it grew louder 
 and louder — and now resounded at the city gate. The pub- 
 lic could not be mistaken in the well knov/n sound. A 
 shout of joy burst from their lips, as the gallant Peter, co- 
 vered with dust, and' followed by his faithful trumpeter, 
 came galloping into the market-place. 
 
 The first transports of the populace having subsided, they 
 gathered round the honest Anthony, as he dismounted from 
 his horse, overwhelming him with greetings and congratu- 
 lations. In breathless accents he related to them the mar- 
 vellous adventures through which the old governor and him- 
 self had gone, in making their escape from the clutches of 
 the terrible Amphyctions. But though the Stuyvesant manu- 
 
116 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 script, with its customary minuteness where any thing touch- 
 ing the great Peter is concerned, is very particular as to the 
 incidents of this masterly retreat, yet the particular state of 
 the public affairs will not allow me to indulge in a full reci- 
 tal thereof. Let it suffice to say, that, while Peter Stuyve- 
 sant was anxiously revolving in his mind how he could 
 make good his escape with honour and dignity, certain of 
 the ships sent out for the conquest of the Manhattoes touch- 
 ed at the eastern ports, to obtain needful supplies, and to 
 call on the grand council of the league, for its promised co- 
 operation. Upon hearing of this, the vigilant Peter perceiv- 
 ing that a moment's delay wpre fatal, made a secret and 
 precipitate decampment ; though much did it grieve his 
 lofty soul, to be obliged to turn his back even upon a nation 
 of foes. Many hair breadth 'scapes and divers perilous 
 mishaps did they sustain, as they scoured, without sound of 
 trumpet, through the fair regions of the east. Already was 
 the country in an uproar with hostile preparation, and they 
 were obliged to take a large circuit in their flight, lurking 
 along, through the woody mountains of the Devil's Back- 
 bone ; from whence the valiant Peter sallied forth one day, 
 like a lion, and put to rout a whole legion of squatters, con- 
 sisting of three generations of a prolific family, who were 
 already on their way to take possession of some corner of 
 the New Netherlands. Nay, the faithful Anthony had grea,t 
 difficulty at sundry times to prevent him, in the excess of 
 his wrath, from descending down from the mountains, and 
 falling sword in hand upon certain of the border-towns, who 
 were marshalling forth their draggle-tailed militia. 
 
 The first movements of the governor, on reaching his 
 dwelling, was to mount the roof, from whence he contem- 
 plated with rueful aspect the hostile squadron. This had 
 already come to an anchor in the bay, and consisted of two 
 stout frigates, having on board, as John Josselyn, Gent, in- 
 forms us, " three hundred valiant redcoats." Having taken 
 this survey, he sat himself down and wrote an epistle to the 
 commander, demanding his reason of anchoring in the har- 
 bour withf ut obtdining previous permission so to do. This 
 letter was couched in the most dignified and courteous terms, 
 though 1 have it from undoubted authority, that his teeth 
 were clenched, and he had a bitter sardonic grin upon his 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 117 
 
 visage all the while he wrote. Having despatched his let- 
 ter, the grim Peter stumped to and fro about the town, with a 
 most war-betokening countenance, his hand thrust into his 
 breeches pockets, whistling a low Dutch Psalm tune, which 
 bore no small resemblance to the music of a northeast wind, 
 when a storm is brewing. The very dogs, as they eyed 
 him, skulked away in dismay — while all the old and ugly 
 women of New-Amsterdam ran howling at his heels, im- 
 ploring him to save them from murder, robbery, and pitiless 
 ravishment. 
 
 The reply of CoL Nicholas, who commanded the invad- 
 ers, was couched in terms of equal courtesy with the letter 
 of the governor — declaring the right and title of his British 
 majesty to the province ; where he Eiffirmed the ' Dutch to 
 be mere interlopers ; and demanding that the town, forts, 
 &c. should be forthwith rendered into his majesty's obe- 
 dience and protection — promising at the same time, life, 
 liberty, estate, and free trade, to every Dutch denizen, who 
 should readily submit to his majesty's government. 
 
 Peter Stuyvesant read over this friendly epistle with some 
 such harmony of aspect as we may suppose a crusty farmer, 
 who has long been fattening upon his neighbour's soil, reads 
 the loving letter of John Styles, that warns him of an ac- 
 tion of ejectment. The old governor, however, was not to 
 be taken by surprise, but thrusting the summons into his 
 breeches pocket, he stalked three times across the room, 
 took a pinch of snuff with great vehemence, and then loftily 
 waving his hand, promised to send an answer next morn- 
 ing. In the mean time he called a general council of war 
 of his privy counsellors and burgomasters, not for the pur- 
 pose of asking their advice, for that, as has been already 
 shown, he valued not a rush ; but to make known to them 
 his sovereign determination, and require their prompt adher- 
 ence. 
 
 Before, however, he convened his council, he .resolved 
 upon three important points ; firsts never to give up the city, 
 without a little hard fighting, for he deemed it highly dero- 
 gatory to the dignity of so renowned a city, to suffer itself 
 to be captured and stripped, without receiving a ^qw kicks into 
 the bargain. Secondly., that the majority of his grand coun- 
 cil was composed of arrant poltrons, utterly destitute of 
 
118 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 true bottom ; and, thirdly, that he would not therefbre stTf- 
 fer them to see the summons of Col. Nicholas, lest the easy 
 terms it held out might induce them to clamour for a sur- 
 render. 
 
 His orders being duly promulgated, it was a piteous sight 
 to behold the late valiant burgomasters, who had demolish- 
 ed the whole British empire in their harangues ; peeping 
 ruefully out^of their hiding "places, and then crawling cau- 
 tiously forth, dodging through narrow lanes and alleys ; 
 starting at every little dog that barked, as though it had 
 been a discbarge of artillery—- mistaking lamp-posts for Bri- 
 tish grenadiers, and in the excess of their panic, metamor- 
 phosing pumps into formidable soldiers, levelling blunder- 
 busses at their bosoms! Having, however, in despite of 
 numerous perils and difficulties of the kind, arrived safe 
 without the loss of a single man, at the hall of assembly , 
 they took their seats and awaited in fearful silence the arri- 
 val of the governor. In a few moments the wooden leg of 
 the intrepid Peter was heard in regular and stout-hearted 
 thumps upon the stair case. He entered the chamber ar- 
 rayed in a full suit of regimentals, and carried his trusty 
 toledo, not girded on his thigh, but tucked under his arm. 
 As the governor never equipped himself in this portentous 
 manner, unless something of martial nature were working 
 within his fearless pericranium, his council regarded him 
 ruefully, as a very Janus, bearing fire and sword, in his iron 
 countenance, and forgot to light their pipes ia breathless 
 suspense. 
 
 The great Peter was as eloquent as he was valorous ; in- 
 deed, these two rare qualities seemed to go hand in hand 
 in his composition ; and, unlike most great statesmen, whose 
 victories are only confined to the bloodless field of argu- 
 ment, he was always ready to enforce his hardy words by 
 no less hardy deeds. His speeches were generally marked 
 by a simplicity approaching to bluntness, and by truly cate- 
 gorical decision. Addressing the grand council, he touched 
 briefly upon the perils and hardships he had sustained in 
 escaping from his crafty foes. He next reproached the 
 council for wasting in idle debate and party feuds that time 
 which should have been devoted to their country. He was 
 particularly indignant at those brawlers, who, conscious of 
 
WASHINGTON IRVINff. 119 
 
 indiviidual security, had disgraced the councils of the pro- 
 vince, by impotent hectorings and scurrilous invectives, 
 against a noble and powerful enemy — those cowardly curs 
 who were incessant in their barkings and yelpings at the 
 lion, while distant or asleep, but the moment he approached, 
 were the first to skulk away. He now called on those who 
 had been so valiant in their threats against Great Britain to 
 stand forth and support their vaun tings by their actions — 
 for it was deeds, not words, that bespoke the spirit of a na- 
 tion. He proceeded to recall the golden days of former 
 prosperity, which were only to be gained by manfully with- 
 standing their enemies ; for the peace, he observed, which is 
 effected by force of arms, is always more sure and durable 
 than that which is patched up by temporary accommoda- 
 tions. He endeavoured, moreover, to arouse their martial 
 fire, by reminding them of the time, when, before the frown- 
 ing walls of fort Christina, he had led them on to victory. 
 He strove likewise to awaken their confidence, by assuring 
 them of the protection of St. Nicholas, who had hitherto 
 maintained them in safety, amid all the savages of the wil- 
 derness, the witches and squatters of the east, and the giants 
 of Merry-land. Finally, he informed them of the insolent 
 summons he had receivea, to surrender; but concluded by 
 swearing to defend the province as long as heaven was on 
 his side, and he had a wooden leg to stand upon. Which 
 noble sentence he emphasized by a tremendous thwack with 
 the broad side of his sword upon the table, that totally elec- 
 trified his auditors. 
 
 The privy counsellors, who had long been accustomed 
 to the governor's way, and in fact had been brought into as 
 perfect discipline as were ever the soldiers of the great Fre- 
 derick, saw that there was no use in saying a word — so 
 lighted their pipes and smoked away in silence like fat and 
 discreet counsellors. But the burgomasters being less under 
 the governor's control, considered thcnnselves as representa- 
 tives of the sovereign people, and being moreover inflated 
 with considerable importance and self-sufficiency, which they 
 had acquired at those notable schools of wisdom and morali- 
 ty, the popular meetings — were not so easily satisfied. Mus- 
 tering up fresh spirit, when they found there was some 
 chance of escaping from their present jeopardy, without the 
 
120 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 disagreeable alternative of fighting, they requested a copy 
 of the summons to surrender, that they might show it to a 
 general meeting of the people. 
 
 So insolent and mutinous a request would have been 
 enough to have aroused the gorge of the tranquil Van Twil- 
 ler himself — what then must have been its effects upon the 
 great Stuyvesant, who was not only a Dutchman, a govern- 
 or, and a valiant wooden-legged soldier to boot, but withal 
 a man of the most stomachful and gunpowder disposition. 
 He burst forth into a blaze of noble indignation, to which 
 the famous rage of Achilles was a mere pouting fit — swore 
 not a mother's son of them should see a syllable of it — that 
 they deserved, every one of them, to be hanged, drawn, and 
 quartered, for tr;iitorously daring to question the infallibility 
 of government ; that as to their advice and concurrence, he 
 did not care a whiff of tobacco for either ; that he had long 
 been harassed and thwarted by their cowardly councils ; 
 but that they might thenceforth go home, and go to bed like 
 old women, for he was determined to defend the colony him- 
 self, without the assistance of them or their adherents ! So 
 saying, he tucked his sword under his arm, cocked his hat 
 upon his head, and girding up his loins, stumped indignantly 
 out of the council-chamber, every body making room for 
 him as he passed. 
 
 No sooner had he gone than the busy burgomasters called 
 a public meeting in front of the Stadt-house, where they ap- 
 pointed as chairman one Dofue Roorback, a mighty ginger- 
 bread-baker in the land, and formerly of the cabinet of Wil- 
 liam the Testy. He was looked up to with great reverence 
 by the populace, who considered him a man of dark know- 
 ledge, seeing he was the first that imprinted new-year cakes 
 with the mysterious hieroglyphics of the cock and breeches, 
 and such like magical devices. 
 
 This great burgomaster, who still chewed the cud of ill 
 will against the valiant Stuyvesant, in consequence of hav- 
 ing been ignominiously kicked out of his cabinet at the time 
 of his taking the reins of government, addressed the greasy 
 multitude in what is called a patriotic speech ; in which he 
 informed them of the courteous summons to surrender — of 
 the governor's refusal to comply therewith — of his denying 
 the public a sight of the summons, which, he had no doubt. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 121 
 
 contained conditions highly to the honour and advantage of 
 the province. 
 
 He then proceeded to speak of liis excellency in high 
 sounding terms, suitable to the dignity and grandeur of his 
 station, comparing him to Nero, Caligula, and those other 
 great men of yore, who are generally quoted by popular 
 orators on similar occasions. Assuring the people that the 
 history of the world did not contain a despotic outrage to 
 equal the present for atrocity, cruelty, tyranny, and blood- 
 thirstiness ,* that it would be recorded in letters of fire on the 
 blood-stained tablet of history ! that ages would roll back 
 with sudden horror, when they came to view it ! That the 
 womb of time — -(by the way your orators and writers take 
 strange liberties with the womb of time, though some would 
 fain have us believe that time is an old gentleman) — that 
 the womb of time, pregnant as it was with direful horrors, 
 would never produce a parallel enormity ! — with a variety 
 of other heart-rending, soul-stirring tropes and figures, which 
 I cannot enumerate. Neither indeed need I, for they were 
 exactly the same that are used in all popular harangues and 
 patriotic orations at the present day, and may be classed in 
 rhetoric under the general title of Rigmarole. 
 
 The speech of this inspired burgomaster being finished, 
 the meeting fell into a kind of popular fermentation, which 
 produced not only a string of right wise resolutions, but like- 
 wise a most resolute memorial, addressed to the governor, 
 remonstrating at his conduct; which was no sooner handed 
 to him, than he handed it into the fire; and thus deprived 
 posterity of an invaluable document, that might have served 
 as a precedent to the enlightened cobblers and tailors of the 
 present day ; in their sage intermeddlings with politics. 
 
 THE WIDOW AND HER SON. 
 
 During my residence in the country, I used frequently to 
 attend at the old village church. Its shadowy aisles its 
 mouldering monuments, its dark oaken pannelling, all re- 
 verend with the gloom of departed years, seemed to fit it 
 for the haunt of solemn meditation. A Sunday, too, in the 
 
 11 
 
123 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 country, is so holy in its repose ; such a pensive quiet reigns 
 over the face of nature, that every restless passion is charm- 
 ed down, and we feel all the natural religion of the soul 
 gently springing up within us. 
 
 " Sweet day, so pure, so calm, so "bright, 
 The bindal of the eaith and sky." 
 
 I do not pretend to be what is called a devout man ; but 
 there are feelings that visit me in a country church, amid 
 the beautiful serenity of nature, which I experience no where 
 else ; and if not a more religious, I think I am a better man 
 on Sunday, than on any other day of the seven. 
 
 But in this church I felt myself continually thrown back 
 upon the world by the frigidity and pomp of the poor worms 
 around me. Tlie only being that seemed thoroughly to feel 
 the humble and prostrate piety of a true Christian, was a 
 poor decerpid old woman, bending under the weight of years 
 and infirmities. She bore the traces of something better 
 than abject poverty. The lingerings of decent pride were 
 visible in her appearance. Her dress, though humble in 
 the extreme, was scrupulously clean. Some trivial respect, 
 too, had been awarded her, for she did not take her seat 
 among the village poor, but sat alone on the steps of the 
 altar. She seemed to have survived all love, all friendship, 
 all society ; and to have nothing left her but the hopes of 
 heaven. When I saw her feebly rising and bending her 
 aged form in prayer- — habitually conning her prayer-book, 
 which her palsied hand and failing eyes would not permit 
 her to read, but which she evidently knew by heart — I felt 
 persuaded that the faltering voice of that poor woman 
 arose to heaven far before the responses of the clerk, the 
 swell of the organ, or the chanting of the choir. 
 
 I am fond of loitering about country churches, and this 
 was so delightfully situated, that it frequently attracted me. 
 It stood on a knoll, round which a small stream made a 
 beautiful bend, and then wound its way through a long reach 
 of soft meadow scenery. The church was surrounded by 
 yew trees which seemed almost coeval with itself. Its tall 
 Gothic spire shot up lightly from among them, with rooks 
 and crows generally wheeling about it. I was seated there 
 one still sunny morning, watching two labourers who were 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 123 
 
 digging a grave. They had chosen one of the most re- 
 mote and neglected corners of the church -yard ; where, 
 from the number of nameless graves around, it would ap- 
 pear that the indigent and friendless were huddled into the 
 earth. I was told that the new-made grave was for the 
 only son of a poor widow. While I was meditating on the 
 distinctions of worldly rank, which extend thus down into 
 the very dust, the toll of the bell announced the approach of 
 the funeral. They were the obsequies of poverty, with 
 which pride had nothing to do. A coffin of the plainest 
 materials, without pall or other covering, was borne by 
 some of the villagers. The sexton walked before with an 
 air of cold indifference. There were no mock mourners in 
 the trappings of affected wo ; but there was one real mour- 
 ner who feebly tottered after the corpse. It was the aged 
 mother of the deceased — the poor old woman whom I had 
 seen seated on the steps of the altar. She was supported by 
 a humble friend, who was endeavouring to comfort her. A 
 few of the neighbouring poor had joined the train, and some 
 children of the village were running hand in hand, now 
 shouting with unthinking mirth, and now pausing to gaze 
 with childish curiosity, on the grief of the mourner. 
 
 As the funeral train approached the grave, the parson is- 
 sued from the church porch, arrayed in the surplice, with 
 prayer-book in hand, and attended by the clerk. The ser- 
 vice, however, was a mere act of charity. The deceased 
 had been destitute, and the survivor was pennyless. It 
 was shuffled through, therefore, in form, but coldly and un- 
 feelingly. The well-fed priest moved but a few steps from 
 the church door ; his voice could scarcely be heard at the 
 grave ; and never did I hear the funeral service, that sub- 
 lime and touching ceremony, turned into such a frigid mum- 
 mery of words. 
 
 I "approached the grave. The coffin was placed on the 
 ground. On it were inscribed the name and age of the de- 
 ceased — " George Sommers, aged 26 years." The poor 
 mother had been assisted to kneel down at the head of it. 
 Her withered hands were clasped, as if in prayer, but I could 
 perceive, by a feeble rocking of the body, and a convulsive 
 motion of her lips, that she was gazing on the last relics of 
 her son, with the yearnings of a mother's heart. 
 
124 BEAUTIES or 
 
 Preparations were made to deposite the coffin into the 
 earth. There was that bustling stir which breaks so harsh- 
 ly on the feelings of grief and afTeclion ; directions given in 
 the cold tones pf business : the striking of spades into sand 
 and gravel; which, at the grave of those we love^ is, of all 
 sounds, the most withering. The bustle around seemed ta 
 awaken the mother from a wretched reverie. She raised her 
 glazed eyes, and looked about with a faint wildness- As the ■ 
 men, approached with cords to lower the coffin into the 
 grave, she wrung her hands and broke into an agony of 
 grief. The poor woman who attended her took her by the 
 arm, endeavouring to raise her from the earth, and to whis- 
 per something like consolation — " Nay, now — nay, now — 
 don't take it so sorely to heart." She could only shake her 
 head and wring her hands, as one not to be comforted. 
 
 As they lowered the body into the earth, the creaking of 
 the cords seemed to agonize her ; but when, on some acci- 
 dental obstruction, there was a jostling of the coffin, all the 
 tenderness of the motlier burst forth ; as if any harm could 
 come to him who was far beyond the reach of worldly suf- 
 fering. 
 
 I could see no more — my heart swe;lled into my throat — 
 my eyes filled with tears — I felt as if 1 were acting a barba- 
 rous part in standing by and gazing idly on this scene of 
 maternal anguish. J vv'andered to another part of the church- 
 yard, where I remained until the funeral train had dis- 
 persed. 
 
 When I saw the mother slowly and painfully quitting the 
 grave, leaving behind her the remains of all that was dear 
 to her on earth, and returning to silence and destitution, my 
 heart ached for her. What, thought I are the distresses of 
 the rich ! they have friends to sooth— pleasures to beguile 
 — a world to divert and dissipate their griefs. What are 
 the sorrows of the young ! Their growing minds soon close 
 above the wound — their elastic spirits sextn rise above the 
 pressure — their green and ductile affections soon twine 
 round new objects. But the sorrows oLthe poor, who have 
 no outward appliances to sooth — the sorrows of the aged, 
 with whom life at best is but a wintry day, and who can 
 look for no aflergrowth of joy— the sorrows of a widow^ 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 125 
 
 aged, solitary, destitute, mourning over an only son, the last 
 solace of her years ,* these are indeed sorrows which make 
 us feel the impotency of consolation. 
 
 It was some time before I left the church yard. On my 
 way homeward I met with the woman who had acted as 
 comforter: she was just returning from accompanying the 
 mother to her lonely habitation, and I drew from her some 
 particulars connected with the affecting scene I had wit- 
 nessed. 
 
 The parents of the deceased had resided in the village 
 from childhood. They had inhabited one of the neatest 
 cottages, and by various rural occupations, and the assist- 
 ance of a small garden, had supported themselves credita- 
 bly and comfortably, and led a happy and a blameless life. 
 They had only one son, who had grown up to be the staff 
 and pride of their age. — " Oh, Sir!" said the good woman, 
 " he was such a comely lad, so sweet-tempered, so kind to 
 every one around him, so dutiful to his parents ! It did 
 one's heart good, to see him of a Sunday, dressed out in his 
 best, so tall, so straight, so cheery, supporting his old mo- 
 ther to church — for she was always fonder of leaning on 
 George's arm, than on her good man's ; and, poor soul, she 
 might well be proud of him, for a finer lad there was not in 
 the country round." 
 
 Unfortunately the son was tempted, during a year of 
 scarcity and agricultural hardship to enter into the service 
 of one of the small craft that plied on a neighbouring river. 
 He had not been long in this employ when he was entrap- 
 ped by a press-gang and carried off to sea. His parents 
 received tidings of his seizure, but beyond that they could 
 learn nothing. It was the loss of their main prop. The 
 father, who was already intirm, grew heartless and melan- 
 choly, and sunk into his grave. The widow, left lonely, in 
 her age and feebleness, could no longer support herself, and 
 came upon the parish. Still there was a kind of feeling 
 toward her throughout the village, and a certain respect, as 
 being one of the oldest inhabitants. As no one applied for 
 the cottage in which she had passed so many happy days, 
 she was permitted to remain in it, where she lived solitary 
 and almost helpless. The few wants of nature were chiefly 
 
 11* 
 
126 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 suppliedj from the scanty productions of her little garden, 
 which the neighbours would now and then cultivate for her. 
 It was but a few days before the time at which these cir- 
 cumstances were told me, that she was gathering some ve- 
 getables for a repast, when she heard the cottage door which 
 faced the garden suddenly open. A stranger came out, and 
 seemed to be looking eagerly and wildly around. He was 
 dressed in seamen's clothes, and was emaciated and ghastly 
 pale, and bore the air of one broken by sickness and hard- 
 ships. He saw her, and hastened towards her, but his steps 
 were faint and faltering ; he sank on his knees before her, 
 and sobbed like a child. The poor woman gazed upon him 
 with a vacant and wandering eye — " Oh my dear, dear 
 mother, don't you know your son 1 your poor boy George?" 
 It was indeed the wreck of her once noble lad ; who, shat- 
 tered by wounds, by sickness and foreign imprisonment, 
 had, at length, dragged his wasted limbs homeward, to re- 
 pose among the scenes of his childhood. 
 
 I will not attempt to detail the particulars of such a meet- 
 ing, were joy and sorrow were so completely blended : still 
 he was alive ! he was come home ! he might yet live to 
 comfort and cherish her old age! Nature, however, was 
 exhausted in him ; and if any thing had been wanting to 
 finish the work of fate, the desolation of his native cottage 
 would have been sufficient. He stretched himself on the 
 pallet on which his widowed mother had passed many a 
 sleepless night, and never rose from it again. 
 
 The villagers when they heard that George Sommers had 
 returned, crowded to see him, offering every comfort and 
 assistance that their humble means afforded. He was too 
 weak, however, to talk — he could only look his thanks. 
 His mother was his constant attendant; and he seemed un- 
 willing to be helped by any other hand. 
 
 There is something in sickness, that breaks down the 
 pride of manhood ; that softens the heart, and brings it back 
 to the feelings of infancy. Who that has languished, even 
 in advanced life, in sickness and despondency ; who that 
 has pined on a weary bed in the neglect and loneliness of a 
 foreign land ; but has thought on the mother " that looked 
 on his childhood," that smoothed his pillow and administer- 
 ed to his helplessness ? Oh 1 there is an enduring tender- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 127 
 
 ness in the love of a mother to a son that transcends all 
 other affections of the heart. It is neither to be chilled by 
 selfishness, nor daunted by danger, nor weakened byworth- 
 lessness, nor stifled by ingratitude. She will sacrifice every 
 comfort to his convenience; she will surrender every plea- 
 sure to his enjoyment ; she will glory in his fame, and ex- 
 ult in his prosperity : — and, if misfortune overtake him, he 
 will be the dearer to her from his misfortunes ; and if dis- 
 grace settle upon his name, she will still love and cherish 
 him in spite of his disgrace ; and if all the world beside cast 
 him off, she will be all the world to him. 
 
 Poor George Sommers had known what it was to be in 
 sickness and none to sooth — lonely and in prison, and none 
 to visit him. He could not endure his mother from his 
 sight ; if she moved away, his eye would follow her. She 
 would sit for hours by his bed, watching him as he slept. 
 Sometimes he would start from a feverish dream, and look 
 anxiously up until he saw her bending over him ; when he 
 would take her hand, lay it on his bosom, and fall asleep 
 with the tranquillity of a child. In this way he died. 
 
 My first impulse on hearing this hum'ble tale of affliction, 
 was to visit the cottage of the mourner, and administer pe- 
 cuniary assistance, and, if possible, comfort. I found, how- 
 ever, on inquiry, that the good feelings of the villagers had 
 prompted them to do every thing "that the case admitted ; 
 and as the poor know best how to console each other's sor- 
 rows, 1 did not venture to intrude. 
 
 The next Sunday I was at the village church ; when, to 
 my surprise, I saw the poor old woman tottering down the 
 aisle to her ;<ccustomed seat on the steps of the altar. 
 
 She had made an effort to put on something like mourn- 
 ing for her son ; and nothing could be more touching than 
 this struggle between pious affection and utter poverty : a 
 black ribbon or so — a faded black handkercliief, and one or 
 two more such humble attempts to express by outward signs 
 that grief that passes show. When I looked round upon 
 the storied monuments ; the stately hatchments ; the cold 
 ;' marble pomp, with Vv'hich grandeur mourned magnificently 
 over departed pride, and turned to this poor widow, bowed 
 down by age and sorrow at the altar of her God, and offer- 
 ing up the prayers and praises of a pious though a broken 
 
1S8 ' BEAUTIES OF 
 
 heart, I felt that this living monument of real grief was 
 worth them all. 
 
 I related her story to some of the wealthy members of 
 the congregation, and they were moved by it. They exert- 
 ed themselves to render her situation more comfortable, and 
 to lighten her afflictions. It was, however, but smoothing a 
 few steps to the grave. In the course of a Sunday or two 
 after she was missed from her usual seat at church, and be- 
 fore 1 left the neighbourhood I heard, with a feeling of satis- 
 faction, that she had quietly breathed her last, and had gone 
 to rejoin those she loved, in that world w^here sorrow is 
 never known, and friends are never parted. 
 
 STORM AT SEA. 
 
 The storm increased with the night. The sea was lash- 
 ed into tremendous confusion. There was a fearful, sullen 
 sound of rushing waves, and broken surges. Deep called 
 unto deep. At times the black volume of clouds over head 
 seemed rent asunder by flashes of lightning that quivered 
 along the foaming billows, and made the succeeding dark- 
 ness doubly terrible. The thunders bellowed over the wild 
 waste of waters, and were echoed and prolonged by the 
 mountain waves. As I saw the ship staggering and plung« 
 ing among these roaring caverns, it seemed miraculous that 
 she regained her balance, or preserved her buoyancy. Her 
 yards would dip in the water; her bow was almost buried 
 beneath the waves. Sometimes an impending surge appear- 
 ed ready to overwhelm her, and nothing but a dexterouR 
 movement of the helm preserved her from the shock. 
 
 AVheri I retired to my cabin, the awful scene still followed 
 me. The whistling of the wind through the rigging sound- 
 ed like funeral waitings. The creaking of the masts, the 
 straining and groaning of bulk heads, as the ship laboured 
 in the weltering sea, were frightful. As I heard the waves 
 rushing along the side of the ship, and roaring in my very 
 ear, it seemed as if Death were raging round this floating 
 prison, seeking for his prey ; the mere starting of a nail, the 
 yawning of a seam might give him entrance. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 12^ 
 
 JOHN BULL. 
 
 Theke is no species of humour in which the EngHsh 
 more excel, than that which consists in caricaturing and 
 giving hidicrous appellations, or nicknames. In this way 
 they have whimsically designated, not merely individuals, 
 but nations ; and in their fondness for pushing a joke, they 
 have not spared even themselves. One would think that, 
 in personifying itself, a nation would be apt to picture some- 
 thmg g:, nd, heroic, and imposing; but it is characteristic 
 of the peculiar humour of the English, and of their love for 
 what is blunt, comic and familiar, that they have embodied 
 their national oddities in the figure of a sturdy corpulent old 
 fellow, with a three-cornered hat, red waistcoat, leather 
 breeches, and stout oaken cudgel. Thus they have taken 
 a singular delight in exhibiting their most private foibles in 
 a laughable point of view ; and have been so successful in 
 their delineations, that there is scarcely a being in actual 
 existence more absolutely present to the public mind than 
 that eccentric personage. John Bull. 
 
 Perhaps the continual contemplation of the character thus 
 drawn of them, has contributed to fix it upon the nation ; 
 and thus to give reality to what at first may have been 
 painted in a great measure from imagination. Men are apt 
 to acquire peculiarities that are continually ascribed to them. 
 The common orders of English seem wonderfully captivat- 
 ed with the heau ideal which they have formed of John 
 Bull, and endeavour to act up to the broad caricature that is 
 perpetually before their eyes. Unluckily, they sometimes 
 make their boasted Bull-ism an apology for their prejudice 
 or grossness ; and this I have especially noticed ajiiong 
 those truly home-bred and genuine sons of the soil who 
 have never migrated be3^ond the sound of Bow-bells. If 
 one of these should be a little uncouth in speech, and apt 
 to utter impertinent truths, he confesses that he is a real 
 John Bull, and always speaks his mind. If he now and 
 then flies into an unreasonable burst of passion about trifles, 
 he observes that John Bull is a choleric old blade, but then 
 his passion is over in a moment, and he bears no malice. 
 If he betrays a coarseness of taste, and an insensibility to 
 
130 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 foreign refinements, he thanks heaven for his ignorance — he 
 is a plain John Bull, and has no reb'sh for frippery and nick- 
 nacks, his ve-'y proneness to be gulled by strangers, and to 
 pay extravagantly for absurdities, is excused under the plea 
 of muo'icence — for John is always more generous than 
 wise. 
 
 Thus, under the name of John Bull, he will contrive to 
 argue every fault into a merit, and will frankly convict him- 
 self of being the honestest fellow in existence. 
 
 However little, therefore, the character may have suited 
 in the first insiance, it has gradually adapted its(:«f to the 
 nation, or rather they have adapted themselves lo each other; 
 and a stranger who wishes to study English peculiarities, 
 may gatlier much valuable information from the innumera- 
 ble portraits of John Bull, as exhibited in the windows of 
 the caricature shops. Still, however, he is one of those 
 fertile humorists, that are continually throwing out new 
 portraits, and preseniing different aspects from different points 
 of view ; and, ouen as he has been described, I cannot resist 
 the temptation to give a slight sketch of him, such as he has 
 "met my eye. 
 
 John Bull, to all appearance, is a plain downright mat- 
 ter-of-fact fellow, with much less of poetry about him than 
 rich prose. Thee is little of romance in his nature, but a 
 vast deal of strong natural feeling. He excels in hrmour 
 more than in wit; is jolly rather than gay; melancholy ra- 
 ther than morose ; can easily be moved to a sudden tear, or 
 surprised to a broad laugh ; but he loathes sentiment, and 
 has no turn for light pleasantry. He is a boon companion, 
 if you allow him to have his humour, and to talk about him- 
 self; and he will stand by a friend in a quarrel, with life 
 and purse, however soundly he may be cudgelled. 
 
 In this last respect, to tell the truth, he has a propensity 
 to be somewhat too ready. He is a busy-minded personage, 
 who thinks not merely for himself and family, but for all 
 the country round, and is most generously disposed to be 
 every body's champion. He is continually volunteering his 
 services to settle his neighbour's affairs, and takes it in great 
 dudgeon if they engage in any matter of consequence with- 
 out asking his advice; though he seldom engages in any 
 friendly office of the kind without finishing by getting into 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 131 
 
 a squabble with all parties, and then railing bitterly at their 
 ingratitude. He unluckily took lessons in his youth in the 
 noble science of defence, and having accomplished himself 
 in the use of his limbs and his weapons, and become a per- 
 fect master at boxing and cudgel play, he has had a trouble- 
 some life of it ever since. He cannot hear of a quarrel 
 between the most distant of his neighbours, but he begins 
 incontinently to fumble with the head of his cudgel, and to 
 consider whether his interest or honour does not require that 
 he should meddle in the broil. Indeed he has extended his 
 relations of pride and policy so completely over the whole 
 country, that no event can lake place, without infringing 
 some of his finely-spun rights and dignitie-j. Couched in 
 his little domain, with these filaments stretching forth in 
 every direction, he is like some choleric, bottle-bellied old 
 spider, who has woven his web over a whole chamber, so 
 that a fly cannot buzz, nor a breeze blow, without startling 
 his repose, and causing him to sally forth wrathfully from 
 his den. 
 
 Though really a good-hearted, good-tempered old fellow 
 at bottom, yet he is singularly fond of being in the midst of 
 contention. It is one of his peculiarities, however, that he 
 only relishes the beginning of an affray; he always goes 
 into a fight with alacrity, but he comes out of it grumbling, 
 even when victorious ; and though no one fights with more 
 obstinacy to carry a contested point, yet, when the battle is 
 over, and he comes to the reconciliation, he is so much taken 
 up with the mere shaking of hands, that he is apt to let his 
 antagonist pocket all that they have been quarreling about. 
 It is not, therefore, fighting that he ought to be so much on 
 his guard against, as making friends. It is difficult to cudgel 
 him out of a tarthing ; but put him in a good humour, and 
 you may bargain him out of all the money in his pocket. 
 He is like one of his own ships, which will weather the 
 roughest storm uninjured, but roll its masts overboard in the 
 succeeding calm. 
 
 He is a little fond of playing the magnifico abroad; of 
 pulling out a long purse ; flinging his money bravely about 
 at boxing-matches, horse-races, and cock-fights, and carry- 
 ing a high head among " gentlemen of the fancy;" but im- 
 mediately after one of these fits of extravagance, he will be 
 
132 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 taken with violent qualms of economy; stop short at tho 
 most trivial expenditure; talk desperately of being ruined, 
 and brought upon the parish ; and in such moods, he will 
 not pay the smallest tradesman's bill without violent alterca- 
 tion, lie is, in fact, the most punctual and discontented 
 paymaster in the world ; drawing his coin out of his breeches' 
 pocket with infinite reluctance ; paying to the uttermost 
 farthing, but accompanying every guinea with a growl. 
 
 With all this talk of economy, however, he is a bountiful 
 provider, and a hospitable housekeeper. His economy is of 
 a whimsical kind, its chief object being to devise how he 
 may afibrd to be extravagant ; for he will begrudge himself 
 a beefsteak and a pint of port one day, that he may roast an 
 ox whole, broach a hogshead of ale, and treat all his neigh- 
 bours on the next. 
 
 His domestic establishment is enormously expensive ; not 
 so much from any great outward parade, as from the great 
 consumption of solid beef and pudding ; the vast number of 
 followers he feeds and clothes ; and his singular disposition 
 to pay hugely for small services. He is a most kind and 
 indulgent master, and, provided his servants humour his 
 peculiarities, flatter his vanity a little now and then, and do 
 not peculate grossly on him before his face, they may manage 
 him to perfection. Every thing that lives on him seems to 
 thrive and grow fat. His house servants are well paid, and 
 pampered, and have little to do. His horses are sleek and 
 lazy, and prance slowly before his state carriage; and his 
 house dogs sleep quietly before his door, and will hardly 
 bark at a house-breaker. 
 
 His family mansion is an old castellated manor-house, 
 grey with age, and of a most venerable, though weather- 
 beaten appearance. It has been built upon no regular plan, 
 but is a vast accumulation of parts, erected in various tastes 
 and ages. The centre bears evident traces of Saxon archi- 
 tecture, and is as solid as ponderous stone and old English 
 oak can make it. Like all the relics of that style, it is full 
 of obscure passages, intricate mazes, and dusky chambers ; 
 and though these have been partially lighted up in modern 
 days, yet there are many places where you must still grope 
 in the dark. Additions have been made to the original edi- 
 fice from time to time, and great alterations have taken place ; 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 133 
 
 towers and battlements have been erected during the wars 
 and tumults ; wings bnilt in tim63s of peace ; and out-houses, 
 lodges, and offices, run up according to the whim or conve- 
 nience of different generations : until it has become one of 
 the most spacious, rambling tenements imaginable. An en- 
 tire wing is taken up with a family chapel ; a reverend pile 
 that must once have been exceedingly sumptuous, and, in- 
 deed, in spite of having been altered and simplified at va- 
 rious periods, has still a look of solemn religious pomp. 
 Its walls within are storied with the monuments of John's 
 ancestors ; and it is snugly fitted up with soft cushions and 
 well-lined chairs, where such of his family as are inclined 
 to church services, may doze comfortably in the discharge 
 of their duties. - 
 
 To keep up this chapel has cost John much money; but 
 he is staunch in his religion, and piqued in his zeal, from the 
 circumstance that many dissenting chapels have been erected 
 in his vicinity, and several of his neighbours, with whom he 
 has had quarrels, are strong papists. 
 
 To do the duties of the chapel, he maintains, at a large 
 expense, a pious and portly family chaplain. He is a most 
 learned and decorous personage, and a truly well-bred Chris- 
 tian, who always backs the old gentleman in his opinions, 
 winks discreetly at his little peccadilloes, rebukes the chil- 
 dren when refractory, and is of great use in exhorting the 
 tenants to read their bibles, say their prayers, and, above 
 all, to pay their rents punctually, and without grumbling. 
 
 The family apartments are in a very antiquated taste, 
 somewhat heavy, and often inconvenient, but full of the 
 solemn magnificence of former times ; fitted up with rich 
 though faded tapestry, unv/ieldy furniture, and loads of 
 massy gorgeous old plate. The vast fire-places, ample 
 kitchens, extensive cellars, and sumptuous banqueting halls 
 — all speak of the roaring hospitality of days of yore, of 
 which the modern festivity at the manor-house is but a sha- 
 dow. There are, however, complete suites of rooms appa- 
 rently deserted and time worn ; and towers and turrets that 
 are tottering to decay; so that in high winds there is a dan- 
 ger of their tumbling about the ears of the household. 
 
 John has frequently been advised to have the old edifice 
 thoroughly overhauled ; and to have some of the useless 
 
 12 
 
134 BBAtTTlBS OF 
 
 parts pulled down, and the others strengthened with their 
 materials ; but the old gentleman always grows testy on this 
 subject. He swears the house is an excellent house — that 
 it is tight and weather proof, and not to be shaken by tem- 
 pests — that it has stood for several hundred years, and, there- 
 fore, is not likely to tumble down now — that as to its being 
 inconvenient, his family is accustomed to the inconveniences, 
 and would not be comfortable without them — that as to its 
 unwieldly size and irregular construction, these result from 
 its being the growth of centuries, and being improved by 
 the wisdom of every generation — that an old family like his, 
 requires a large house to dwell in ; new upstart families may 
 live in modern cottages and snug boxes, but an old English 
 family should inhabit an old English manor-house. If you 
 point out any part of the building as superfluous, he insists 
 that it is material to the strength or decoration of the rest, 
 and the harmony of the whole ; and swears that the parts 
 are so built into each other, that, if you pull down one, you 
 run the risk of having the whole about your ears. 
 
 The secret of the matter is, that John has a great disposi- 
 tion to protect and patronize. He thinks it indispensable to 
 the dignity of an ancient and honourable family, to be boun- 
 teous in its appointments, and to be eaten up by dependants; 
 and so, partly from pride, and partly from kind-heartedness, 
 he makes it a rule always to give shelter and maintainance 
 to his superannuated servants. 
 
 The consequence is, that, like many other venerable fa- 
 mily establishments, his manor is encumbered by old re- 
 tainers whom he cannot turn off, and an old style which he 
 cannot lay down. His mansion is like a great hospital of 
 invalids, and, with all its magnitude, is not a whit too large 
 for its inhabitants. Not a nook or a corner but is of use in 
 housing some useless personage. Groups of veteran beef- 
 eaters, gouty pensioners, and retired heroes of the buttery 
 and the larder, are seen lolling about its walls, crawling 
 over its lawns, dozing under its trees, or sunning themselves 
 upon the benches at its doors. Every office and out-house 
 is garrisoned by these supernumeraries and their families ; 
 for they are amazingly prolific, and when they die off, are 
 sure to leave John a legacy of hungry mouths to be provided 
 for. A mattock cannot be struck against the most moul- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 135 
 
 dering tumble-down tower, but out pops, from some cranny 
 or loop-hole, the grey pate of some superannuated hanger- 
 on, who has lived at John's expense all his life, and makes 
 the most grievous outcry, at their pulling down the roof from 
 over the head of a worn-out servant of the family. This is 
 an appeal that John's honest heart never can withstand ; so 
 that a man, who has faithfully eaten his beef and pudding 
 all his life, is sure to be rewarded with a pipe and tankard 
 in his old days. 
 
 A great part of his park, also, is turned into paddocks 
 where his broken-down chargers are turned loose to graze 
 undisturbed for the remainder of their existence — a worthy 
 example of grateful recollection, which, if some of his neigh- 
 bours were to imitate, would not be to their discredit. In- 
 deed, it is one of his greatest pleasures to point out these old 
 steeds to his visiters, to dwell on their good qualities, extol 
 their past services, and boast with some little vain-glory, of 
 the perilous adventures and hardy exploits, through which 
 they have carried him. 
 
 He is given, however, to indulge his veneration for family 
 usages, and family incumbrances, to a whimsical extent. 
 His manor is infested by gangs of gipsies ; yet he will not 
 suffer them to be driven off, because they have infested the 
 place time out of mind, and been regular poachers upon 
 every generation of the family. He will scarcely permit a 
 dry branch to be lopped from the great trees that surround 
 the house, lest it should molest the rooks, that have bred 
 there for centuries. Owls have taken possession of the 
 dovecote ; but they are hereditary owls, and must not be dis- 
 turbed. Swallows have nearly choked up every chimney 
 with their nests ; martins build in every frieze and cornice ; 
 crows flutter about the towers, and perch on every weather- 
 cock ; and old grey-headed rats may be seen in every quar- 
 ter of the house, running in and out of their holes undaunt- 
 edly, in broad daylight. In short, John has such a reverence 
 for every thing that has been long in the family, that he vv^ill 
 not hear even of abuses being reformed, because they are 
 good old family abuses. 
 
 All these whims and habits have concurred wofully to 
 drain the old gentleman's purse ; and as he prides himself 
 on punctuality in money matters, and wishes to maintain 
 
136 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 his credit in the neighbourhood, they have caused him great 
 perplexity in meeting his engagements. This, too, has been 
 increased, b.y the altercations and heart-burnings which are 
 continually taking place in his family. Flis children have 
 been brought up to different callings, and are of different 
 ways of thinking; and as they have always been allowed to 
 speak their mind freely, they do not fail to exercise the privi- 
 lege most clamorously in the present posture of his affairs. 
 Some stand up for the honour of the race, and are clear that 
 the old establishment should be kept up in all its state, what- 
 ever may be the cost ; others, who are more prudent and 
 considerate, entreat the old gentleman to retrench his ex- 
 penses, and to put his whole system of housekeeping on a 
 more moderate footing. He has, indeed, at times, seemed 
 inclined to listen to their opinions, but their wholesome 
 advice has been compleily defeated by the obstreperous con- 
 duct of one of his sons. This is a noisy rattle-pated fellow, 
 of rather low habits, who neglects his business to frequent 
 ale-houses — is the orator of the village clubs, and a complete 
 oracle, among the poorest of his father's tenants. No sooner 
 does he hear any of his brothers mention reform or retrench- 
 ment, than up he jumps, lakes the words out of their mouths, 
 and roars out for an overturn. When his tongue is once 
 going, nothing can stop it. He rants about the room ; hec- 
 tors the old man about his spendthrift practices ; ridicules 
 his tastes and pursuits ; insists that he shall turn the old 
 servants out of doors ; give the broken down horses to the 
 hounds; send the fat chaplain packing, and take a field 
 preacher in his place — nay, that the whole family mansion 
 shall be levelled with the ground, and a plain one of brick 
 and mortar built in its place. He rails at every social en- 
 tertainment and family festivity, and skulks away growling 
 to the ale-house whenever an equipage drives up to the door. 
 Though constantly complaining of the emptiness of his 
 purse, yet he scruples not to spend all his pocket money in 
 these tavern convocations, and even runs up scores, for the 
 liquor over v/hich he preaches about his father's extrava- 
 gance. 
 
 It may readily be imagined how little such thwarting 
 agrees with the old cavalier's fiery temperament. He has 
 become so irrit.ible, from, repeated crossings, that the mere 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 137 
 
 mention of retrenchment or reform is a signal for a brawl 
 between him and the tavern oracle. As the latter is too 
 sturdy and refractory for paternal discipline, having grown 
 out of all fear of the cudgel, they have frequent scenes of 
 wordy warfare, which at times run so high, that John is 
 fain to call in the aid of his son Tom, an officer who has 
 served abroad, but is at present living at home, on half-pay. 
 This last is sure to stand by the old gentleman, right or 
 wrong ; likes nothing so much as a racketing, roystering 
 life ; and is ready, at a wink or nod, to out sabre, and flour- 
 ish it over the orator's head, if he dares to array himself 
 against paternal authority. 
 
 These family dissensions, as usual, have got abroad, and 
 are rare food for scandal in John's neighbourhood. People 
 begin to look wise, and shake their heads, whenever his af- 
 fairs are mentioned. They all " hope that matters are not 
 so bad with him as represented; but when a man's own 
 children begin to rail at his extavagance, things must be 
 badly managed. They understand he is mortgaged over 
 head and ears, and is continually dabbling with money lend- 
 ers. He is certainly an open-handed old gentleman, but 
 they fear he has lived too fast; indeed, they never knew any 
 good come of this fondness for hunting, racing, revelling, 
 and prize-fighting. In short, Mr. Bull's estate is a very 
 fine one, and has been in the family a long while ; but for 
 all that, they have known many finer estates come to the 
 hammer." 
 
 What is worst of all, is the effect which these pecuniary 
 embarrassments and domestic feuds have had on the poor 
 man himself. Instead of that jolly round corporation, and 
 snug rosy face, which he used to present, he has of late be- 
 come as shrivelled and shrunk as a frost-bitten apple. His 
 scarlet gold-laced waistcoat, which bellied out so bravely in 
 those prosperous days when he sailed before the wind, now 
 hangs loosely about him like a mainsail in a calm. His 
 leather breeches are all in folds and wrinkles, and appa- 
 rently have much ado to hold up the boots that yawn on 
 both sides of his once sturdy legs. 
 
 Instead of strutting about as formerly, with his three- 
 cornered hat on one side; flourishing his cudgel, and bring- 
 ing it down every moment with a hearty thump upon the 
 
 12* 
 
138 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 ground ; looking every one sturdily in the face, and trolling 
 out a stave of a catch or a drinking song ; he now goes 
 about whistling thoughtfully to himself, with his head droop- 
 ino- down, his cudgel tucked under his arm, and his hands 
 thrust to the bottom of his breeches pockets, which are evi- 
 dently empty. 
 
 Such is the plight of honest John Bull at present ; yet for 
 all this the old fellow's spirit is as tall and as gallant as 
 ever. If you drop the least expression of sympathy or con- 
 cern, he takes fire in an instant ; sv/ears that he is the 
 richest, and stoutest fellow in the country ; talks of laying 
 out large sums. to adorn his house or to buy another estate ; 
 and, with a valiant swagger and grasping of his cudgel, 
 
 ion^s exceedino;lv to have another bout at quarterstafF. 
 
 • • • • 11 
 
 Though there may be something rather whimsical m all 
 
 this, yet I confess I cannot look upon John's situation with- 
 out strong feelings of interest. With all his odd hurraours 
 and obstinate prejudices, he is a sterHng-hearted old blade. 
 He may not be so' wonderfully fine a fellow as he thinks 
 himself, but he is at least twice as good as his neighbours 
 represent him. His virtues are all his own; all plain, home- 
 bred and unaffected. His very faults smack of the raciness 
 of his good qualities. His extravagance savours of his 
 generosity; his quarrelsomeness of his courage; his credu- 
 lity of his open faith ; his vanity of his pride ; and his blunt- 
 ness of his sincerity. They are all redundancies of a rich 
 and liberal character. He is like his own oak ; rough with- 
 out, but sound and solid within ; whose bark abounds with 
 excrescences in proportion to the grov/th and grandeur of 
 the timber ; and whose branches make a fearful groaning 
 and murmuring in the least storm, from their very magni- 
 tude and luxuriance. There is something, too, in the ap- 
 pearance of his old tamily mansion, that is extremely poeti- 
 cal and picturesque ; and, as long as it can be rendered 
 comfortably habitable, I should almost tremble to see it med- 
 dled with during the present conflict of tastes and opinions. 
 Some of his advisers are no doubt good architects that 
 might be of service ; but many I fear are mere levellers, 
 who, when they had once got to work with their mattocks 
 on the venerable edifice, would never stop until they had 
 brought it to the ground, and perhaps buried themselves 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 139 
 
 among the ruins. All that I wish is, that John's present 
 troubles may teach him more prudence in future. That he 
 may cease to distress his mind about other people's affairs ; 
 that he may give up the fruitless attempt to promote the 
 good of his neighbours, and the peace and happiness of the 
 world, by dipt of the cudgel ; that he may remain quietly at 
 home ; gradually get his house into repair ; cultivate his rich 
 estate according to his fancy ; husband his income — if he 
 thinks proper; bring his unruly children into order — if he 
 can ; renew the jovial scenes of ancient prosperity ; and 
 long enjoy, on his paternal lands, a green, an honourable, 
 and a merry old age. 
 
 CONSEQUENCE. 
 
 The doctor now felt all the dignity of a landholder rising 
 within him. He had a little of the German pride of territo- 
 ry in his composition, and almost looked upon himself as 
 owner of a principality. He began to complain of the fa- 
 tigue of business ; and was fond of riding out " to look at 
 his estate." His little expeditions to his lands were attended 
 with a bustle and parade that created a sensation throughout 
 the neighbourhood. His wall-eyed horse stood stamping, 
 and whiskino; off the flies, for a full hour before the house. 
 Then the doctor's saddle-bags would be brought out and ad- 
 justed ; then, after a little while, his cloak would be rolled 
 up and strapped to the saddle ; then his umbrella would be 
 buckled to the cloak ; while, in the meantime, a group of 
 ragged boys, that observant class of beings, would gather be- 
 fore the door. At length the doctor would issue forth, in a 
 pair of jack-boots that reached above his knees, and a cock- 
 ed hat flapped dov/n in front. As he was a short, fat man, 
 he took some time to mount into the saddle ; and when there, 
 he took some time to have the saddle and stirrups properly 
 adjusted, enjoying the wonder and admiration of the urchin 
 crowd. Even after he had set off, he would pause in the 
 middle of the street, or trot back two or three times to give 
 some parting orders which v/ere answered by the house- 
 keeper from the door, or Dolph from the study, or the black 
 
140 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 cook from the cellar, or the chambermaid from the garret 
 window ; and there were generally some last words bawled 
 after him, just as he was turning the corner. 
 
 The whole neighbourhood would be aroused by this pomp 
 and circumstance. The cobbler would leave his last ; the 
 barber would thrust out his frizzed head, with a comb stick- 
 ing in it ; a knot would collect at the grocer's door, and the 
 word would be buzzed from one end of the street to the 
 other, "The doctor's riding out to his country seat." 
 
 THE COCKLOFT FAMILY. 
 
 The Cockloft family, of which I have made such frequent 
 mention, is of great antiquity, if there be any truth in the 
 genealogical tree which hangs up in my cousin's library., 
 They trace their descent from a celebrated Roman Knight, 
 cousin to the progenitor of his Majesty of Britain, who left 
 his native country on occasion of some disgust ; and coming 
 into Wales, became a great favourite of Prince Madoc, and 
 accompanied that famous argonaut in the voyage which 
 ended in the discovery of this continent. — Though a mem- 
 ber of the family, I have sometimes ventured to doubt the 
 authenticity of this portion of their annals, to the great vex- 
 ation of cousin Christopher, who is looked up to as the head 
 of our house ; and who, though as orthodox as a bishop, 
 would sooner give up the whole decalogue than lop off a 
 single limb of the family tree. From time immemorial, it 
 has been the rule for the Cocklofts to marry one of their 
 own name ; and as they always bred like rabbits, the family 
 has increased and multiplied like that of Adam and Eve. 
 In truth their number is almost incredible; and you can 
 hardly go into any part of the country without starting a 
 warren of genuine Cocklofts. Every person of the least "ob- 
 servation, or experience, must have observed that where this 
 practice of marrying cousins, and second cousins, prevails in 
 a family, every member, in the course of a few generations, 
 becomes queer, humorous, and original ; as much distin- 
 guished from the common race of mongrels as if he were of 
 a different species. This has happened in our family, and 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 141 
 
 particularly in that branch of it of which Christopher Cock- 
 loft, Esq. is the head — Christopher is, in fact, the only mar- 
 ried man of the name who resides in town ; his family is 
 small, having lost most of his children when young, by the 
 excessive care he took to bring them up like vegetables. 
 This was one of the first whim-whams, and a confounded 
 one it was ; as his children might have told, had they not 
 fallen victims to his experiment before they could talk. He 
 had got from some quack philosopher or other, a notion that 
 there was a complete analogy between children and plants, 
 and that they ought to be both reared alike. Accordingly 
 he sprinkled them every morning with water, laid them out 
 in the sun, as he did his geraniums ; and if the season was 
 remarkably dr}'", repeated this wise experiment three or four 
 times of a morning. The consequence was, the poor little 
 souls died one after another, except Jeremy and his two 
 sisters ; who, to be sure, are a trio of as odd, runty, mummy- 
 looking originals as ever Hogarth fancied in his most happy 
 moments. Mrs. Cockloft, the larger if not the better half 
 of my cousin, often remonstrated against this vegetable the- 
 ory; — and even brought the parson of the parish, in which 
 my cousin's country house is situated, to her aid ; but in 
 vain; Chris»topher persisted, and attributed the failure of his 
 plan to its not having been exactly conformed to. As I 
 have mentioned Mrs. Cockloft, I may as well say a little 
 more about her while T am in the humour. She is a lady 
 of wonderful notability, a warm admirer of shining mahoga- 
 ny, clean hearths and her husband : whom she considers the 
 wisest, man in the world, bating Will Wizard and the par- 
 son of our parish ; the last of whom is her oracle on all oc- 
 casions. She goes constantly to church every Sunday and 
 saint's day, and insists upon it that no man is entitled to 
 ascend a pulpit unless he has been ordained by a bishop ; 
 nay, so far does she carry her orthodoxy, that all the argu- 
 ments in the v/orld will never persuade her that a Presbyte- 
 rian or Baptist, or even a Calvin ist, has any possible chance 
 of going to heaven. Above every thing else, however, she 
 abhors Paganism ; can scarcely refrain from laying violent 
 hands on a Pantheon when she meets with it ; and was very 
 nigh going into hysterics, when my cousin insisted that one 
 of his boys should be christened after our laureate, because 
 
142 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 the parson of the parish had told her that Pindar was the 
 name of a Pao-an writer, famous for his love of boxing- 
 matches, wrestling, and horse-racing. To sum up all her 
 qualifications in the shortest possible wa}^, Mrs. Cockloft is, 
 in the true sense of the phrase, a good sort of a woman ; and 
 I often congratulate my cousin on possessing her. The rest 
 of the family consists of oTeremy Cockloft, the younger, who 
 has already been mentioned, and the two Miss Cocklofts, or 
 rather the young ladies, as they have been called by the ser- 
 vants time out of mind ; not that they are really young, the 
 younger being somewhat on the shady side of thirty — but it 
 has ever been the custom to call every member of the fami- 
 ly young under fifty. In the south-east corner of the house, 
 I hold quiet possession of an old-fashioned apartment, where 
 myself and my elbow chair are suffered to amuse ourselves 
 undisturbed, save at meal times. This apartment old Cock- 
 loft has facetiously denominated Cousin Launce's Paradise ; 
 and the good old gentleman has two or three favourite jokes 
 about it, which are served up as regularly as the standing 
 family dish of beefsteaks and onions, which every day main- 
 tains its station at the foot of the table, in defiance of mutton, 
 pouhry, or even venison itself 
 
 Though the family is apparently small, yet, like most old 
 establishments of the kind, it does not -want for honorary 
 members. It is the city rendezvous of the Cocklofts ; and 
 we are continually enlivened by the company of half a score 
 of uncles, aunts, and cousins in the fortieth remove, from all 
 parts of the county, who profess a wonderful regard for 
 Cousin Christopher ; and overwhelm every member of his 
 household, down to the cook in the kitchen, with their atten- 
 tions. We have for three weeks past been greeted with the 
 company of two worthy old spinsters, who came down from 
 the country to settle a law suit. They have done little else 
 but retail stories of their village neighbours, knit stockings, 
 and take snuff, all the time they have been here : the whole 
 family are bewildered v/ith church-yard tales of sheeted 
 ghosts, M'hite horses v/ithout heads, and with large goggle 
 eyes in their buttocks ; and not one of the old servants dare 
 budge an inch after dark without a numerous company at 
 his heels. My cousin's visiters, however, always return his 
 hospitality with due gratitude, and now and then remind him 
 
WASHiNSTON IRTIN*. 143 
 
 of their fraternal regard, by a present of a pot of apple 
 sweetmeats, or a barrel of sour cider at Christmas. Jeremy 
 displays himself to great advantage among his country rela- 
 tions, who all think him a prodigy, and often stand astound- 
 ed, in "gaping wonderment," at his natural philosophy. He 
 lately frightened a simple old uncle almost out of his wits, 
 by giving it as his opinion that the earth would one day be 
 scorched to ashes by the eccentric gambols of the famous 
 comet, so much talked of; and positively asserted that this 
 world revolved round the sun, and that the moo« was cer- 
 tainly inhabited. 
 
 The family mansion bears equal marks of antiquity v/ith 
 its inhabitants. As the Cocklofts are remarkable for their 
 attachment to every thing that has remained long in the 
 family, they are bigoted towards their old edifice, and I dare 
 say would sooner have it crumble about their ears than aban- 
 don it. The consequence is, it has been so patched up and 
 repaired, that it has become as full of whims and oddities as 
 its tenants ; requires to be nursed and humored like a gouty 
 old codger of an alderman ; and reminds one of the famous 
 ship in which a certain admiral circumnavigated the globe, 
 which was so patched and timbered, in order to preserve so 
 great a curiosity, that at length not a particle of the original 
 remained. Whenever the wind blows, the old mansion 
 makes a most perilous groaning ; and every storm is sure to 
 make a day's work for the carpenter, who attends upon it 
 as regularly as the family physician. This predilection for 
 every thing that has been long in the family shows itself in 
 every particular. The domestics are all grown grey in the 
 service of our house. We have a little, old, crusty, grey- 
 headed negro, who has lived through two or three genera- 
 tions of the Cocklofts, and, of course, has become a person- 
 age of no little importance in the household. He calls all 
 the family by their christian names ; tells long stories about 
 how he dandled them on his knee v/hen they were children : 
 and is a complete Cockloft chronicle for the last seventy 
 years. The family carriage was made in the last French 
 war, and the old horses were most indubitably foaled in 
 Noah's ark — resembling marvellously, in gravity of de- 
 meanour, those sober animals which may be seen any day 
 of the year in the streets of Philadelphia, walking their 
 
144 BEAUTIES QF 
 
 snail's pace, a dozen in a row, and harmoniously jingling 
 their bells. Whim-whams are the inheritance of the Cock- 
 lofts, and every member of the household is a humorist 
 sui generis, from the master down to the footman. The 
 very cats and dogs are humorists; and we have a little 
 runty scoundrel of a cur, who, whenever the church bells 
 ring, will run to the street door, turn up his nose in the 
 wind and howl most piteousiy. Jeremy insists that this is 
 owing to a peculiar delicacy in the organization of his ears, 
 and supports his position by many learned arguments which 
 nobody can understand : but I am of opinion that it is a mere 
 Cockloft whim-wham, which the little cur indulges, being 
 descended from a race of dogs which has flourished in the 
 family ever since the time of my grandfather. A propen- 
 sity to save every thing that bears the stamp of family anti- 
 quity has accumulated an abundance of trumpery and rub- ' 
 bish with which the house is encumbered, from the cellar to 
 the garret ; and every room, and closet, and corner, is 
 crammed with three-legged chairs, clocks without hands, 
 swords without scabbards, cocked hats, broken candlesticks, 
 and looking glasses with frames carved into fantastic shapes, 
 of feathered sheep, woolly birds, and other animals that 
 have no name except in books of heraldry. The ponderous 
 mahogany chairs in the parlour are of such unwieldy pro- 
 portions, that it is quite a serious undertaking to gallant one 
 of them across the room ; and sometimes make a most equiv- 
 ocal noise when you sit down in a hurry : the mantel-piece 
 is decorated with little lacquered earthen shepherdesses — 
 some of which are without toes, and others without noses ; 
 and the fire-place is garnished out with Dutch tiles, exhibit- 
 ing a great variety of Scripture pieces, which my good old 
 soul of a cousin takes infinite delight in explaining. Poor 
 Jeremy hates them as he does poison ; for while a younker, 
 he was obliged by his mother to learn the history of a tile 
 every Sunday morning before she would permit him to join 
 his play-mates : this was a terrible affair for Jeremy, who 
 by the time he had learned the last had forgotten the first, 
 and was obliged to begin again. He assured me the other 
 day, with a round college oath, that if the old house stood 
 out till he inherited it, he would have these tiles taken out, 
 and ground into powder, for the perfect hatred he bore them. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 145 
 
 My cousin Christopher enjoys unlimited authority in the 
 mansion of his forefathers ; he is truly what may be termed 
 a heart}' old blade — has a florid, sunshiny countenance, and, 
 if you will only praise his wine, and laugh at his long sto- 
 ries, himself and his house are heartily at your service. 
 The first condition is indeed easily complied with, for, to 
 tell the truth, his wine is excellent ; but his stories being not 
 of the best, and often repeated, are apt to create a disposi- 
 tion to yawn, being, in addition to their other qualities, most 
 unreasonably long. His prolixity is the more afflicting to 
 me, since I have all his stories by heart ; and when he en- 
 ters upon one, it reminds me of Newark causeway, where 
 the traveller sees the end at the distance of several miles. 
 To the great misfortune of all his acquaintance, cousin Cock- 
 loft is blessed with a most provoking retentive memory, and 
 can give day and date, and name and age and circumstance, 
 with the most unfeeling precision. These, however, are but 
 trivial foibles, forgotten, or remembered only with a kind of 
 tender respectful pity, by those who know with what a rich 
 redundant harvest of kindness and generosity his heart is 
 stored. It would delight you to see with what social glad- 
 ness he welcomes a visiter into his house ; and the poorest 
 man that enters his door never leaves it without a cordial 
 invitation to sit down and drink a glass of wine. By the 
 honest farmers round his country seat, he is looked up to 
 with love and reverence ; they never pass him by without 
 his inquiring after the welfare of their families, and receiv- 
 ing a cordial shake of his liberal hand. There are but two 
 classes of people who are thrown out of the reach of his 
 hospitality — and these are Frenchmen and Democrats. The 
 old gentleman considers it treason against the majesty of 
 good breeding to speak to any visiter with his hat on ; but 
 the moment a Democrat enters his door, he forthwith bids 
 . his man Pompey bring his hat, puts it on his head, and 
 salutes him with, an appalling " Well, sir, what do you want 
 with me ?" 
 
 He has a profound contempt for Frenchmen, and firmly 
 believes that they eat nothing but frogs and soup-maigre in 
 their own country. This unlucky prejudice is partly owing 
 to my great aunt Pamelia having been, many years ago, 
 run away with by a French Count, who turned out to be 
 
 13 
 
146 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 the son of a generation of barbers ; and partly to a little 
 vivid spark of toryism, which burns in a secret corner of his 
 heart. He was a loyal subject of the crown ; has hardly 
 yet recovered the shock of independence ; and though he 
 does not care to own it, always does honour to his majesty's 
 birth-day, by inviting a few cavaliers, like himself, to din- 
 r^or ; and gracing his table with more than ordinary festi- 
 vity. If by chance the revolution is mentioned before him, 
 my cousin shakes his head ; and you may see, if you take 
 good note, a lurking smile of contempt in the corner of his 
 eye, which marks a decided disapprobation of the sound. 
 He once, in the fulness of his heart, observed to me that 
 green peas were a month later than they were under the old 
 government. But the most eccentric manifestation of loyalty 
 he ever gave was making a voyage to Halifax for no other 
 reason under heaven but to hear his majesty prayed for in 
 church, as he used to be here formerly. This he never could 
 be brought fairly to acknowledge, but it is a certain iact I 
 assure you. It is not a little singular, that a person so much 
 given to long story-telling as my cousin, should take a lik- 
 ing to another of the same character ; but so it is with the 
 old gentleman — his prime favourite and companion is Will 
 Wizard, who is almost a member of the family, and will sit 
 before the fire, with his feet on the massy andirons, and 
 smoke his cigar, and screw his phiz, and spin away tremen- 
 dous long stories of his travels, ibr a whole evening, to the 
 great delight of the old gentleman and lady, and especially 
 of the young ladies, who, like Desdemona, do " seriously in- 
 cline," and listen to him with innumerable " O dears," " is 
 it possibles," " good graciouses," and look upon him as a 
 second Sinbad the sailor. 
 
 The Miss Cocklofts, whose pardon I crave for not having 
 particularly introduced them before, are a pair of delectable 
 damsels ; who having purloined and locked up the family- 
 bible, pass for just what age they please to plead guilty to. 
 Barbara, the eldest, has long since resigned the character of 
 a belle, and adopted that staid, sober, demure, snuff-taking 
 air, becoming her years and discretion. She is a good-na- 
 tured soul, whom I never saw in a passion but once; and 
 that was occasioned by seeing an old favourite beau of her's 
 kiss the hand of a pretty blooming girl ; and, in truth she 
 
' * WASHINGTON IRVING. 147 
 
 only got angry because, as she very properly said, it would 
 spoil the child. Her sister Margery, or Maggie, as she is 
 familiarly ternned, seemed disposed to maintain her post as a 
 belle, until a few months since; when accidentally hear- 
 ing a gentleman observe that she broke very fast, she sud- 
 denly left off going to the assembly, took a cat into high fa- 
 vour, and began to rail at the forward pertness of young 
 misses. From that moment I set her dov/n for an old maid ; 
 and so she is, " by the hand of my body." The young 
 ladies are still visited by some half dozen of veteran beaux, 
 who grew and flourished in the haut ton, when the Miss 
 Cocklofts were quite children, but have been brushed rather 
 rudely by the hand of time, who, to say the truth, can do al- 
 most any thing but make people young. They are, notwith- 
 standing, still warm candidates for female favour ; look 
 venerably tender, and repeat over and over the same honey- 
 ed speeches and sugared sentiments to the little belles that 
 ihey poured so profusely into the ears of their mothers. I 
 beg leave here to give notice, that by this sketch I mean no 
 reflection on old bachelors ; on the conti^ary, I hold, that, 
 next to a fine lady, the ne plus ultra, an old bachelor is the 
 most charming being upon earth ; inasmuch as by living in 
 " single blessedness," he of course does just as he pleases ; 
 and if he has any genius must acquire a plentiful stock of 
 whims, and oddities, and whalebone habits : without which 
 I esteem a man to be mere beef without mustard, good for 
 nothing at all, but to run on errands for ladies, take boxes 
 at the theatre, and act the part of a screen at tea-parties, or 
 a walking stick in the streets. I merely speak of those old 
 boys who infest public walks, pounce upon the ladies from 
 every corner of the street, and worry and frisk and amble, 
 and caper before, behind, and round about the fashionable 
 belles, like old ponies in a pasture, striving to supply the ab- 
 sence of youthful whim and hilarity, by grimaces and grins, 
 and artificial vivacity. I have sometimes seen one of these 
 " reverend youths" endeavouring to elevate his wintry pas- 
 sions into something like love, by basking in the sunshine of 
 beauty ; and it did remind me of an old moth attempting to 
 fly through a pain of glass towards a light without ever ap- 
 proaching near enough to warm itself, or scorch its wings. 
 Never, I firmly believe, did there exist a family that went 
 
148 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 more by tangents than the Cocklofts. Every thing is gov- 
 erned by whim ; and if one member starts a new freak, 
 away all the rest follow like wild geese in a string. As the 
 family, the servants, the horses, cats, and dogs, have all 
 grown old together, they have accommodated themselves to 
 each other's habits completely ; and though every body of 
 them is full of odd points, angles, rhomboids, and ins and 
 outs, yet somehow or other, they harmonize together like so 
 many straight lines ; and it is truly a grateful and refresh- 
 ing sight to see them agree so well. Should one, however, 
 get out of tune, it is like a cracked fiddle, the whole concert 
 is ajar ; you perceive a cloud over every brow in the house, 
 and even the old chairs seem to creak afFettuoso. If my cou- 
 sin, as he is rather apt to do, betray any symptoms of vexa- 
 tion or uneasiness, no matter about what, he is worried to 
 death with inquiries, which answer no other end but to de- 
 monstrate the good will of the inquirer, and put him in a 
 passion ; for every body knows how provokingly it is to be 
 cut short in a fit of the blues, by an impertinent question 
 about " what is the matter?' when a man can't tell himself. 
 I remember a few months ago the old gentleman came home 
 in quite a squall ; kicked poor Csesar, the mastiff, out of his 
 way as he came through the hal I ; threw his hat on the table 
 with most violent emphasis, and pulling out his box, took 
 three huge pinches of snuff, and ihrew a fourth into the cat's 
 eyes as he sat purring his astonishment by the fire-side. 
 This was enough to set the body politic going ; Mrs. Cock- 
 loft began "my dearing" it as fast as tongue could move; 
 the young ladies took each a stand at an elbow of his chair; 
 Jeremy marshaled in rear ; the servants came tumbling in ; 
 the mastiff put up an inquiring nose ; and even grimalkin, 
 after he had cleansed his whiskers and finished sneezing, 
 discovered indubitable signs of sympathy. After the most 
 affectionate inquiries on all sides, it turned out that my cou- 
 sin, in crossing the street, had got his silk stockings bespat- 
 tered with mud by a coach which it seems belonged to a 
 dashing gentleman w^ho had formerly supplied the family 
 with hot rolls and muffins ! Mrs. Cockloft thereupon turned 
 up her eyes, and the young ladies their noses ; and it would 
 have edified a whole congregation to hear the conversation 
 which took place concerning the insolence of upstarts, and 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 149 
 
 the vulgarity of would-be gentlemen and ladies, who strive 
 to emerge from low life by dashing about in carriages to pay 
 a visit two doors off, giving parties to people who laugh at 
 them, and cutting all their old friends. 
 
 CONVERSION OF THE AMERICANS. 
 
 But the most important branch of civilization, and which 
 has most strenuously been extolled, by the zealous and pious 
 fathers of the Romish Church, is the introduction of the 
 Christian faith. It was truly a sight that might well inspire 
 horror, to behold these savages, stumbling among the dark 
 mountains of paganism, and guilty of the most horrible ig- 
 norance of religion. It is true, they neither stole nor de- 
 frauded ; they were sober, frugal, content, and faithful to 
 their word ; but though they acted right habitually, it was 
 ail in vain, unless they acted so from precept. The new 
 comers therefore used every method to induce them to em- 
 brace and practise the true religion — except indeed that of 
 setting them the example. 
 
 But notwithstanding all these complicated labours for their 
 good, such was the unparalleled obstinacy of these stubborn 
 wretches, that they ungratefully refused to acknowledge the 
 strangers as their benefactors, and persisted in disbelieving 
 the doctrines they endeavoured to inculcate; most insolently 
 alleging that from their conduct, the advocates of Christiani- 
 ty did not seem to believe in it themselves. Was not this too 
 much for human patience? — would not one suppose, that 
 the benign visitants from Europe, provoked at their incre- 
 dulity, and discouraged, by their stiff-necked obstinacy, 
 would for ever have abandoned their shores, and consigned 
 them to their original ignorance and misery ? But no — so 
 zealous were they to effect the temporal comfort and eternal 
 salvation of these pagan infidels, that they even proceeded 
 from the milder means of persuasion to the more painful 
 and troublesome one of persecution — let loose among them 
 whole troops of fiery monks and furious blood-hounds — pu- 
 rified them by fire and sword, by stake and fagot ; in con- 
 
 13* 
 
150 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 sequence of which indefatigable measures the cause of 
 Christian love and charity was so rapidly advanced that, in 
 a very few years, not one-fifth of the number of unbelievers 
 existed in South America, that were found there at the time 
 of its discovery. 
 
 What stronger right need the European settlers advance 
 to the country than this ? Flave not whole nations of unin- 
 formed savages been made acquainted with a thousand 
 imperious wants and indispensable comforts, of which they 
 were before wholly ignorant ? Have they not been literally 
 hunted and smoked out of the dens and lurking places of 
 ignorance and infidelity, and absolutely scourged into the 
 right path ? Have not the temporal things, the vain baubles 
 and filthy lucre of this world, which were too apt to engage 
 their worldly and selfish thoughts, been benevolently taken 
 from them ; and have they not instead thereof, been taught 
 to set their affections on things above? And, finally, to use 
 the words of a Reverend Spanish Father, in a letter to his 
 superior in Spain — " Can any one have the presumption to 
 say, that these savage Pagans have yielded any thing more 
 than an inconsiderable recompense to their benefactors, in 
 surrendering to them a pitiful tract of this dirty sublunary 
 planet, in exchange fbr a glorious inheritance in the king- 
 dom of Heaven?" 
 
 Here, then, are three complete and undeniable sources of 
 right established, any one of which was more than ample to 
 establish a property in the newly-discovered regions of 
 America. Now, so it has happened in certain parts of this 
 delightful quarter of the globe that the right of discovery has 
 been so strenuously asserted, the influence of cultivation so 
 industriously extended, and the progress of salvation and 
 civilization so zealously prosecuted ; that, what with their 
 attendant wars, persecutions, and oppressions, diseases, and 
 other partial evils that often hang on the skirts of great bene- 
 fits, the savage aborigines have, some how or other, been 
 utterly annihilated ; and this all at once brings me to a fourth 
 right, which is worth all the others put together ; for the 
 original claimants to the soil being all dead and buried, and 
 no one remaining to inherit or dispute the soil, the Spaniards, 
 as the next immediate occupants, entered upon the possession 
 as clearly as the hangman succeeds to the clothes of the 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 151 
 
 malefactor — and as they have Blackstone,* and all the 
 learned expounders of the law on their side, they may set 
 all actions of ejectment at defiance — and this last right may 
 be entitled the right by extermination, or in other words, 
 
 the RIGHT BY GUNPOWDER. 
 
 But, lest any scruples of conscience should remain on 
 this head, and to settle the question of right for ever, his 
 holiness Pope Alexander VI. issued a mighty bull, by which 
 he generously granted the newly-discovered quarter of the 
 globe to the Spaniards and Portuguese; who, thus having 
 law and gospel on their side, and being inflamed with great 
 spiritual zeal, showed the Pagan savages neither favour nor 
 affection, but prosecuted the work of discovery, coloniza- 
 tion, civilization, and extermination, with ten times more 
 fury than ever. 
 
 Thus were the European worthies who first discovered 
 America, clearly entitled to the soil; and not only entitled 
 10 the soil, but likewise to the eternal thanks of these infidel 
 savages, for having come so far, endured so many perils by 
 sea and land, and taken such unwearied pains, for no other 
 purpose but to improve their forlorn, uncivilized, and hea- 
 thenish condition — -for having made them acquainted with 
 the comforts of life — for having introduced among them the 
 light of religion ; and finally, for having hurried them out 
 of the world, to enjoy its reward ! 
 
 TOM STRADDLE. 
 
 Will's great crony for some time was Tom Strad- 
 dle, to whom he really took a great liking. Straddle had 
 just arrived in an importation of hardware, fresh from the 
 city of Birmingham, or rather as the most learned English 
 would call it Brmmnagen, so famous for its manufactories 
 of gimlets, pen-knives, and pepper-boxes, and where they 
 make buttons and beaux enough to inundate our whole 
 country. He was a young man of considerable standing in 
 the manufactory at Birmingham ; sometimes had the honouT 
 
 * El. Com. b, ii. c. 1. 
 
152 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 to hand his master's daughter into a tim-whiskey, was the 
 oracle of the tavern he frequented on Sundays, and could 
 beat all his associates, if you would take his word for it, in 
 boxing, beer-drinking, jumping over chairs, and imitating 
 cats in a gutter, and opera-singers. Straddle was, more- 
 over, a member of a catch-club, and was a great hand at 
 ringing bob-majors; he was, of course, a complete connois- 
 seur in music, and entitled to assume that character at all 
 performances in the art. He was likewise a member of a 
 spouting-club ; had seen a company of strolling actors per- 
 form in a barn, and had even, like Abel Drugger, "enacted" . 
 the part of Major Sturgeon with considerable applause ; he 
 was consequently a profound critic, and fully authorized to 
 turn up liis nose at any American performances. He had 
 twice partaken of annual dinners, given to the head manu- 
 facturers at Birmingham, where he had the good fortune to 
 get a taste of turtle and turbot, and a smack of Champaign 
 and Burgundy ; and he had heard a vast deal of the roast 
 beef of Old England ; — he was therefore epicure sufficient to 
 d — n every dish and every glass of wine he tasted in 
 America, though at the same time he was as voracious an 
 animal as ever crossed the Atlantic. Straddle had been 
 splashed half a dozen times by the carriages of nobility, and 
 had once the superlative felicity of being kicked out of 
 doors by the footman of a noble duke; he could, therefore, 
 talk of nobility, and despise the untitled plebeians of America. 
 In short, Straddle was one of those dapper, bustling, florid, 
 round, self-important '-'- gemmen,'''' who bounce upon us half- 
 beau, half-button-maker; undertake to give us the true polish 
 of the bon-ton, and endeavour to inspire us with a proper 
 and dignified contempt of our native country. 
 
 Straddle was quite in raptures when his employers deter- 
 mined to send him to America as an agent. He considered 
 himself as going among a nation of barbarians, where he 
 could be received as a prodigy: he anticipated, with a proud 
 satisfliction, the bustle and confusion his arrival would occa- 
 sion ; the crowd that would throng to gaze at him as he 
 passed through the streets ; and had little doubt but that he 
 should excite as much curiosity as an Indian chief or a Turk 
 in the streets of Birmingham. He had heard of the beauty 
 of our women, and chuckled at the thought of how com- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 153 
 
 pletely he should eclipse their unpolished beaux, and the 
 number of despairing lovers that would mourn the hour of 
 his arrival. I am even informed by Will Wizard, that he 
 put good store of beads, spike-nails, and looking-glasses in 
 his trunk, to win the affections of the fair ones as they pad- 
 dled about in their bark canoes. The reason Will gave for 
 this error of Straddle's respecting our ladies was, that he 
 had read in Guthrie's Geography that the aborigines of 
 America were all savages ; and not exactly understanding 
 the word aborigines, he applied to one of his fejlow-appren- 
 tices, who assured him that it was the Latin word for inha- 
 bitants. 
 
 Wizard used to tell another anecdote of Straddle, which 
 always put him in a passion : — Will swore that the captain 
 of the ship told him, that when Straddle heard they were 
 off the banks of Newfoundland, he insisted upon going on 
 shore there to gather some good cabbages, of which he was 
 excessively fond. Straddle, however, denied all this, and 
 declared it to be a mischievous quiz of Will Wizard, who 
 indeed often made himself merry at his expense. However 
 this may be, certain it is he kept his tailor and shoemaker 
 constantly employed for a month before his departure ; 
 equipped himself with a smart crooked stick about eighteen 
 inches long, a pair of breeches of most unheard-of length, 
 a little short pair of Hoby's white-topt boots, that seemed 
 to stand on tiptoe to reach his breeches, and his hat had the 
 true transatlantic declination towards his right ear. The 
 fact was — nor did he make any secret of it — he was deter- 
 mined to astonish the natives a few ! 
 
 Straddle was not a little disappointed on his arrival, to 
 find the Americans were rather more civilized than he had 
 imagined: — he was suffered to walk to his lodgings unmo- 
 lested by a crowd, and even unnoticed by a single indivi- 
 dual ; — no love-letters came pouring in upon him ; — no rivals 
 lay in wait to assassinate him ; — his very dress excited no 
 attention, for there were many fools dressed equally ridicu- 
 lous with himself. This was mortifying indeed to an aspir- 
 ing youth, who had come out with the idea of astonishing 
 and captivating. He was equally unfortunate in his preten- 
 sions to the character of critic, connoisseur and boxer; he 
 condemned our whole dramatic corps, and every thing ap- 
 
154 BEAUTIE8 OF 
 
 pertaining to the theatre ; but bis critical abilities were ridi- 
 culed ; — he found fault with old Cockloft's dinner, not even 
 sparing his wine, and was never invited to the house after- 
 wards ; — he scoured the streets at night, and was cudgelled 
 by a sturdy watchman ;— he hoaxed an honest mechanic, 
 and was soundly kicked. Thus disappointed in ail his at- 
 tempts at notoriety, Straddle hit on the expedient which 
 was resorted to by the Giblets ; — he determined to take the 
 town by storm. He accordingly bought horses and equi- 
 pages, and forthwith made a furious dash at style in a gig 
 and tandem. 
 
 As Straddle's finances were but limited, it may easily be 
 supposed that his fashionable career infringed a little upon 
 his consignments, which was indeed the case — for to use a 
 true cockney phrase, Brummagen suffered. But this was 
 a circumstance that made little impression upon Straddle, 
 who was now a lad of spirit—and lads of spirit always j 
 despise the sordid cares of keeping another man's money. M 
 Suspecting this circumstance, I never could witness any of *^ 
 his exhibitions of style without some whimsical associatioB 
 of ideas. Did he give an entertainment to a host of guzzling 
 friends, I immediately fancied them gormandizing heartily 
 at the expense of poor Birmingham, and swallowing a con- 
 signment of hand-saws and razors. Did I behold him dash- 
 ing through Broadway in his gig, I saw him, " in my mind's 
 eye," driving tandem on a nest of tea-boards ; nor could I 
 ever contemplate his cockney exhibitions of horsemanship, 
 but my nriischievous imagination would picture him spurring 
 a cask of hardware, like rosy Bacchus bestriding a beer- 
 barrel, or the little gentleman who be-straddles the world in 
 the front of Hutching's Almanac. 
 
 Straddle was equally successful with the Giblets, as may 
 well be supposed ; for though pedestrian merit may strive in 
 vain to become fashionable in Gotham, yet a candidate in an 
 equipage is always recognized, and like Philip's ass, laden 
 with gold, will gain admittance every where. Mounted m 
 his curricle or his gig, the candidate is like a statue elevated 
 on a high pedestal ; his merits are discernible from afar, 
 and strike the dullest optics. Oh ! Gotham, Gotham I most 
 enlightened of cities ! how does my heart swell with delight 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 155 
 
 when I behold your sapient inhabitants lavishing their at- 
 tention with such wonderful discernment ! 
 
 Thus Straddle became quite a man of ton, and was ca- 
 ressed, and courted, and invited to dinners and balls. What- 
 ever was absurd or ridiculous in him before, was now de- 
 clared to be the style. He criticized our theatre, and was 
 listened to with reverence. He pronounced our musical en- 
 tertainments barbarous ; and the judgment of ApoHo himself 
 would not have been more decisive. He abused our dinners ; 
 and the god of eating, if there be any such deity, seemed to 
 speak through his organs. He became at once a man of 
 taste — for he put his malediction on everything; and his 
 arguments were conclusive — for he supported every asser- 
 tion with a bet. He was likewise pronounced by the learn- 
 ed in the fashionable world a young man of great research 
 and deep observation, — for he had sent home, as natural 
 curiosities, an ear of Indian corn, a pair of moccasons, a 
 belt of wampum, and a four-leafed clover. He had taken 
 great pains to enrich this curious collection with an Indian, 
 and a cataract, but without success. In fme, the people 
 talked of Straddle and his equipage, and Straddle talked of 
 his horses, until it was impossible for the most critical ob- 
 server to pronounce whether Straddle or his horses were 
 most admired, or whether Straddle admired himself or his 
 horses most. 
 
 Straddle was now in the zenith of his glory. He swag- 
 gered about parlours and drawing-rooms with the same un- 
 ceremonious confidence he used to display, in the taverns at 
 Birmingham. He accosted a lady as he would a bar-maid; 
 and this was pronounced a certain proof that he had been 
 used to better company in Birmingham. Fie became the 
 great man of all the taverns between New- York and Har- 
 lem ; and no one stood a chance of being accommodated 
 until Straddle and his horses were perfectly satisfied. He 
 d — d the landlords and waiters, with the best air in the world, 
 and accosted them with gentlemanly familiarity. He stag- 
 gered from the dinner-table to the play, entered the box like 
 a tempest, stayed long enough to be bored to death, and to 
 bore all those who had the misfortune to be near him. From 
 thence he dashed off to a ball, time enough to flounder 
 through a cotillion, tear half a dozen gowns, commit a num- 
 
15G BEAUTIES OF 
 
 ber of other depredations, and make the whole company 
 sensible of his infinite condescension in coming amongst 
 them. The people of Gotham thought him a prodigious 
 fine fellow ; the young bucks cultivated his acquaintance 
 with the most persevering assiduity, and his retainers were 
 sometimes complimented with a seat in his curricle, or a 
 ride on one of his fine horses. The belles were delighted 
 with the attentions of such a fashionable gentleman, and 
 struck with astonishment at his learned distinctions between 
 wrought scissors and those of cast steel; together with his 
 profound dissertations on buttons and horse-flesh. The rich 
 merchants courted his acquaintance because he was an Eng- 
 lishman, and their wives treated him with great deference 
 because he had come from beyond seas. I cannot help here 
 observing that your saltwater is a marvellous great sharpener 
 of men's wits, and I intend to recommend it to some of my 
 acquaintance in a particular essay. 
 
 Straddle continued his brilliant career for only a short 
 time. His prosperous journey over the turnpike of fashion 
 was checked by some of those stumbling-blocks in the way 
 of aspiring youth called creditors — or dims: — a race of 
 people who, as a celebrated writer observes, " are hated by 
 the gods and men." Consignments slackened, whispers of 
 distant suspicion floated in the dark, and those pests of so- 
 ciety, the tailors and shoemakers, rose in rebellion against 
 Straddle. In vain were all his remonstrances; in vain did 
 he prove to them, that though he had given them no money, 
 yet he had given them more custom, and as many promises 
 as any young man in the city. They were inflexible ; and 
 the signal of danger being given, a host of other prosecu- 
 tors pounced upon his back. Straddle saw there was but 
 one way for it ; he determined to do the thing genteely, to 
 go to smash like a hero, and dashed into the limits in high 
 style ; being the fifteenth gentleman I have known to drive 
 tandem to the — 7ie plvs ultra — the d — 1. 
 
 Unfortunate Straddle! may thy fate be a warning to all 
 young gentlemen who come from Birmingham to astonish 
 the natives ! — I should never have taken the trouble to de- 
 lineate his character, had he not been a genuine Cockney, 
 and worthy to be the representative of his numerous tribe. 
 Perhaps my simple countrymen may hereafter be able to 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. ^ 157 
 
 distinguish between the real English gentlemen and indi- 
 viduals of the cast I have heretofore spoken of, as mere 
 mongrels, springing at one bound from contemptible obscu- 
 rity at home to daylight and splendour in this good-natured 
 land. The true-born and true-bred English gentleman is a 
 character I hold in great respect ; and I love to look back to 
 the period when our forefathers flourished in the same gene- 
 rous soil, and hailed each other as brothers. But the Cock- 
 ney! — when I contemplate him as springing too from the 
 same source, I feel ashamed of the relationship, and am 
 tempted to deny my origin. In the character of Straddle is 
 traced the complete outline of a true Cockney of English 
 growth, and a descendant of that individual facetious cha- 
 racter mentioned by Shakspeare, " who in pure kindness to 
 his horse, buttered his hay." 
 
 SLEEPY HOLLOW. 
 
 In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent 
 the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of 
 the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the 
 Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened 
 sail, and implored the protection of St. Nicholas when they 
 crossed, there lies a small market-town or rural port, which 
 by some is called Greensburgh, but which is more general- 
 ly and properly known by the name of Tarry Town. This 
 name was given, we are told, in former days, by the good 
 housewives of the adjacent country, from the inveterate 
 propensity of their husbands to linger about the village 
 tavern on market days. Be that as it may, I do not vouch 
 for the fact, but merely advert to it, for the sake of being 
 precise and authentic. Not far from this village, perhaps 
 about three miles, there is a little valley, or rather lap of 
 land, among high hills, which is one of the quietest places 
 
 14 
 
158 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 in the whole world. A small brook glides through it, with 
 just murmur enough to lull one to repose; and the occa- 
 sional whistle of a quail, or tapping of a woodpecker, is al- 
 most the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform 
 tranquillity. 
 
 1 recollect that, when a stripling, my first exploit in 
 squirrel shooting was in a grove of tall walnut trees that 
 shades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it at 
 noon time, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and was 
 startled by the roar of my own gun, as it broke the Sabbath 
 stillness around, and was prolonged and reverberated by 
 the angry echoes. If ever I should wish for a retreat, 
 whither I might steal from the world and its distractions, 
 and dream quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, I 
 know of none more promising than this little valley. 
 
 From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar 
 character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from the 
 original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long been 
 known by the name of Sleepy Hollow, and its rustic lads 
 are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys throughout all the neigh- 
 bouring country. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to 
 hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere. 
 Some say that the place was bewitched by a high German 
 doctor during the early days of the settlement ; others, that 
 an old Indian chief, the prophet or wizard of his tribe, held 
 his powwows there before the country was discovered by 
 Master Hendrick Hudson. Certain it is, the place still con- 
 tinues under the sway of some witching power, that holds a 
 spell over the minds of the good people, causing them to 
 ■walk in a continual reverie. They are given to all kinds of 
 marvellous beliefs ; are subject to trances and visions ; and 
 frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in 
 the air. The whole neighbourhood abounds with local tales, 
 haunted spots, and twilight superstitions ; stars shoot and 
 meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any other 
 part of the country, and the night-mare, with her whole nine 
 fold, seems to make it the favourite scene of her gam- 
 bols. 
 
 The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted 
 region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of all the pow- 
 
WASHIN&TON IRVIKS. 159 
 
 ers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on horseback 
 without a head. It is said by some to be the ghost of a 
 Hessian trooper, whose head had been carried away by a 
 cannon ball, in some nameless battle during the revolution- 
 ary war ; and who is ever and anon seen by the country 
 folk, hurrying along in the gloom of night, as if on the 
 wings of the wind. His haunts are not confined to the val- 
 ley, but extend at times to adjacent roads, and especially to 
 the vicinity of a church that is at no great distance. In- 
 deed, certain of the most authentic historians of those parts, 
 who have been careful in collecting and collating the float- 
 ing facts concerning this spectre, allege that, the body of the 
 trooper having been buried in the church-yard, the ghost 
 rides forth to the scene of battle in nightly quest of his head, 
 and that the rushing speed with which he sometimes passes 
 along the Hollow, like a midnight blast, is owing to his 
 being belated, and in a hurry to get back to the church-yard 
 before day-break. 
 
 Such is the general purport of this legendary superstition, 
 which has furnished materials for many a wild story in that 
 region of shadows ; and the spectre is known at all the coun- 
 try firesides, by the name of the Headless Horseman of 
 Sleepy Hollow. 
 
 It is remarkable that the visionary propensity I have men- 
 tioned is not confined to the native inhabitants of the valley, 
 but is unconsciously imbibed by every one who resides there 
 for a time. However wide awake they may have been be- 
 fore they entered that sleepy region, they are sure in a little 
 time, to inhale the witching influence of the air, and begin 
 to grow imaginative — to dream dreams, and see appari- 
 tions. 
 
 I mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud ; for it 
 is in such little retired Dutch valle5'-s, found here and there, 
 embosomed in the great state of New-York, that population, 
 manners, and customs, remain fixed ; while the great tor- 
 rent of migration and improvement, which is making such 
 incessant changes in other parts of this restless country, 
 sweeps by them unobserved. They are like those little 
 nooks of still water which border a rapid stream ; where 
 we may see the straw and bubble riding quietly at anchor, 
 
160 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 or slowly revolving in their mimic harbour, undisturbed by 
 ihe rush of the passing current. Though many years have 
 elapsed since I trod the drowsy shades of Sleepy Hollow, 
 yet I question whether 1 should not still find the same trees 
 and the same families vegetating in its sheltered bosom. 
 
 Ichabod Crane. 
 
 In this by-place of nature there abode, in a remote period 
 of American history, that is to say, some thirty years since, 
 a worthy wight of the name of Ichabod Crane ; who so- 
 journed, or, as he expressed it, " tarried," in Sleepy Hollow, 
 for the purpose of instructing the children of the vicinity. 
 He was a native of Connecticut : a state which supplies the 
 Union with pioneers for the mind as well as for the forest, 
 and sends forth yearly its legions of frontier woodmen and 
 country schoolmasters. The cognomen of Crane was not 
 inapplicable to his person. H^e was tall, but exceedingly 
 lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands 
 that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have 
 served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung 
 together. His head was small and fiat at top, with huge 
 ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so 
 that it looked like a weathercock, perched upon his spindle 
 neck, to tell which way the wind blew. To see him strid- 
 ing along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his 
 clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have 
 mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the 
 earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield. 
 
 His school-room was a low building of one large room, 
 rudely constructed of logs ; the windows partly glazed, and 
 partly patched with leaves of old copy books. It was most 
 ingeniously secured at vacant hours, by a withe twisted in 
 the handle of the door, and stakes set against the window 
 shutters; so that though a thief might get in with perfect 
 ease, he would find some embarrassment in getting out ; an 
 idea most probably borrowed by the architect, Yost Van 
 Houten, from the mystery of an eel pot. The school-house 
 
WASHlK6T0]Sr IRnNO. 161 
 
 stood in a rather lonely but pleasant situation, just at the 
 foot of a woody hill, with a brook running close by, and a 
 formidable birch tree growing at one end of it. From 
 hence the low murmur of his pupils' voices, conning over 
 their lessons, might be heard in a drowsy summer's day, 
 like the hum of a beehive ; interrupted now and then by 
 the authoritative voice of the master, in a tone of menace 
 or command ; or, peradventure, by the appalling sound of 
 the birch, as he urged some tardy loiterer along the flowery 
 path of knowledge. Truth to say, he was a conscientious 
 man, that ever bore in mind the golden maxim, " Spare the 
 rod and spoil the child." — Ichabod Crane's scholars certainly 
 were not spoiled. 
 
 I would not have it imagined, however, that he was one 
 of those cruel potentates of the school, who joy in the smart 
 of their subjects ; on the contrary he administered justice 
 with discrimination rather than severity ; taking the burthen 
 off the backs of the weak, and laying it on those of the 
 strong. Your mere puny stripling, that winced at the least 
 flourish of the rod, was passed by with indulgence; but the 
 claims of justice were satisfied, by inflicting a double portioa 
 on some little, tough, wrong-headed, broad-skirted Dutch 
 urchin, who skulked and swelled, and grew dogged, and sul- 
 len beneath the birch. All this he called " doing his duty 
 by their parents :" and he never inflicted a chastisement, 
 without following it by the assurance, so consolatory to the 
 smarting urchin, that " he would remember it and thank 
 him for it the longest day he had to live." 
 
 When school hours were over, he was even the compan- 
 ion and playmate of the larger boys ; and on holyday after- 
 noons would convoy some of the smaller ones home, who 
 happened to have pretty sisters, or good housewives for 
 mothers, noted for the comforts of the cupboard. Indeed 
 it behooved him to keep on good terms with his pupils. The 
 revenue arising from his school was small, and would have 
 been scarcely sufficient to furnish him with daily bread, for 
 he was a huge feeder, and though lank, had the dilating 
 powers of an Anaconda ; but to help out his maintenance, 
 he was, according to country custom in those parts, board- 
 ed and lodged at the houses of the farmers, whose children 
 
 14* 
 
162 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 he instructed. With these he Hved successively a week at 
 a time; thus "going the rounds of the neighbourhood, with 
 all his worldly effects tied up in a cotton handkerchief. 
 
 That all this might not be^^too onerous on the purses of 
 his rustic patrons, who are apt to consider the costs of 
 schooling a grievous burden, and schoolmasters, as mere 
 drones, he^had various ways of rendering himself both use- 
 ful and agreeable. He assisted the farmers occasionally in 
 the lighter labours of their farms ; helped to make hay j 
 mended the fences ; took the horses to water ; drove the 
 cows from pasture ; and cut wood for the winter fire. He 
 laid aside, too, all the dominant dignity and absolute sway 
 with which he lorded it in his little empire, the school, and 
 become wonderfully gentle and ingratiating. He found fa- 
 vour in the eyes of the mothers, by petting the children, 
 particularly the youngest ; and like the lion bold, which 
 whilom so magnanimously the lamb did hold, he would sit 
 with a child on one knee and rock a^cradle for whole hours 
 together. 
 
 In addition to his other vocations, he was the singing 
 master of the neighbourhood, and picked up many bright 
 shillings by instructing the young folks in psalmody. It 
 was a matter of no little vanity to him on Sundays, to take 
 his station in front of the church gallery, with a band of 
 chosen singers; where, in his own mind, he completely car- 
 ried away the palm from the parson. Certain it is, his voice 
 resounded far above all the rest of the congregation ; and 
 there are peculiar quivers still to be heard in that church, and 
 may still be heard half-a-mile off, quite to the opposite side 
 of the mill pond, on a still Sunday morning, which are said 
 to be legitimately descended from- the nose of Ichabod 
 Crane. Thus, by divers little makeshifts, in that ingenious 
 way which is commonly denominated " by hook and by- 
 crook," the worthy pedagogue got on tolerably enough, and 
 was thought, by all who understood nothing of the labour 
 of headwork, to have a wonderful easy life of it. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 163 
 
 Superstition, 
 
 But all these were nothing to the tales of ghosts and ap- 
 paritions that succeeded. The neighbourhood is rich in le- 
 gendary treasures of the kind. Local tales and supersti- 
 tions thrive best in these sheltered long settled retreats ; but 
 are trampled under foot by the shifting throng that forms 
 the population of most of our country places. Besides, there 
 is no encouragement for ghosts in most of our villages, for 
 they have scarcely had time to finish their first nap, and 
 turn themselves in their graves, before their surviving friends 
 have travelled away from the neighbourhood ; so that when 
 they turn out at night to walk their rounds, they have no 
 acquaintance left to call upon. This is perhaps the reason 
 why we so seldom hear of ghosts except in our long estab- 
 lished Dutch communities. 
 
 The immediate cause, however, of the prevalence of su- 
 pernatural stories in these parts, was doubtless owing to the 
 vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. There was a contagion in the 
 very air that blew from that haunted region ; it breathed 
 forth an atmosphere of dreams and fancies infecting all the 
 land. Several of the Sleepy Hollow people were present 
 at Van Tassal's, and, as usual, were doling out their wild 
 and wonderful legends. Many dismal tales were told about 
 funeral trains, and mourning cries and wailings heard and 
 seen about the great tree where the unfortunate Major Andre 
 Was taken, and which stood in the neighbourhood. Some 
 mention was made also of the woman in white, that haunt- 
 ed the dark glen at Raven Rock, and was often heard to 
 shriek on winter nights before a storm, having perished 
 there in the snow. The chief part of the stories, however, 
 turned upon the favourite spectre of Sleepy HoUov/, the 
 headless horseman, who had been heard several times of 
 late, patrolling the country ; and, it was said, tethered his 
 horse nightly among the graves in the churchyard. 
 
 The sequestered situation of this church seems always to 
 have made it a favoured haunt of troubled spirits. It stands 
 on a knoll, surrounded by locust trees and lofty elms, from 
 among which, its decent whitewashed walls shine modestly 
 
164 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 forth, like Christian purity, beaming through the shades of 
 retirement. A gentle slope descends from it to a silver 
 sheet of water, bordered by high trees, between which, peeps 
 may be caught at the blue hills of the Hudson. To look 
 upon its grass grown yard, there the sunbeams seem to 
 sleep so quietly, one would ihink that there at least the dead 
 might rest in peace. On one side of the church extends a 
 wide woody dell, along which raves a large brook among 
 broken rocks and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep black 
 part of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly 
 thrown a wooden bridge ; the road that led to it, and the 
 bridge itself, were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, 
 which cast a gloom about it even in the day time ; but oc- 
 casioned a fearful darkness at night. Such was one of the 
 favourite haunts of the headless horseman, and the place 
 where he was most frequently encountered. The tale was 
 told of old Brouwer, a most heretical disbeliever in ghosts, 
 how he met the horseman returning from his foray into 
 Sleepy Hollow, and was obliged to get up behind him ; 
 how they galloped over bush and brake, over hill and 
 swamp, until they reached the bridge ; when the horseman 
 suddenly turned into a skeleton, threw old Brouwer into the 
 brook, and sprang away over the tree tops with a clap of 
 thunder. 
 
 THE BROKEN HEART. 
 
 It is a common practice with those who have outlived 
 the susceptibility of early feeling, or have been brought up 
 in the gay heartlessness of dissipated life, to laugh at all 
 love stories, and to treat the tales of romantic passion as 
 mere fictions of novelists and poets. My observations on 
 human nature have induced me to think otherwise. They 
 have convinced me, that however the surface of the charac- 
 ter may be chilled and frozen by the cares of the world, or 
 cultivated into mere smiles by the arts of society, still there 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 165 
 
 are dormant fires lurking in the depths of the coldest bosom, 
 which, when once enkindled, become impetuous, and are 
 sometimes desolating in their effects. Indeed, I am a true 
 behever in the blind deity, and go to the full extent of his 
 doctrines. Shall I confess it ! — I believe in broken hearts, 
 and the possibility of dying of disappointed love. I do not, 
 however, consider it a malady often fatal to my own sex ; 
 but I firmly believe that it withers down many a lovely 
 woman into an early grave. 
 
 Man is the creature of interest and ambition. His na- 
 ture leads him forth into the struggle and bustle of the 
 world. Love is but the embellishment of his early life, or 
 a song piped in the intervals of the acts. He seeks for fame, 
 for fortune, for space in the world's thought, and dominion 
 over his fellow men. But a woman's whole life is a history 
 of the affections. The heart is her world : it is there her 
 ambition strives for empires ; it is there her avarice seeks 
 for hidden treasures. She sends forth her sympathies on 
 adventure ; she embarks her whole soul in the traffic of af- 
 fection ; and if shipwrecked, her case is hopeless — for it is a 
 bankruptcy of the heart. 
 
 To a man the disappointment of love may occasion some 
 bitter pangs : it wounds some feelings of tenderness-^ — it 
 blasts some prospects of felicity ; but he is an active being- 
 he may dissipate his thoughts in the whirl of varied occupa- 
 tion, or may plunge into the tide of pleasure ; or, if the scene 
 of disappointment be too full of painful associations, he can 
 shift his abode at will, and taking as it were the wings of 
 the morning, can " fly to the uttermost parts of the earth, 
 and be at rest." 
 
 But woman's is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, and a 
 meditative life. She is more the companion of her own 
 thoughts and feelings ; and if they are turned to ministers 
 of sorrow, where shall she look for consolation ? Her lot 
 is to be wooed and won ; and if unhappy in her love, her 
 heart is like some fortress that has been captured and sack- 
 ed, and abandoned and left desolate. 
 
 How many bright eyes grow dim — how many soft 
 cheeks grow pale — how many lovely forms fade away into 
 the tomb, and none can tell the cause that blighted their 
 
166 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 loveliness ! As the dove will clasp its wings to its side, and 
 cover and conceal the arrow that is preying on its vitals, so 
 it is the nature of woman to hide from the world the pangs 
 of wounded affection. The love of a delicate female is al- 
 ways shy and silent. Even when fortunate, she scarcely 
 breathes it to herself; but when otherwise, she buries it in 
 the recesses of her bosom, and there lets it cower and brood 
 among the ruins of her peace. With her the desire of the 
 heart has failed. The great charm of existence is at an 
 end. She neglects all the cheerful exercises which gladden 
 the spirits, quicken the pulses, and send the tide of life in 
 healthful currents through the veins. Her rest is broken — - 
 the sweet refreshment of sleep is poisoned by melancholy 
 dreams — " dry sorrow drinks her blood," until her enfeebled 
 frame sinks under the slightest external injury. Look for 
 her, after a little while, and you will find friendship weep- 
 ing over her untimely grave, and wondering that one who 
 but lately glowed with all the radiance of health and beauty, 
 should so speedily be brought down to " darkness and the 
 worm." You will be told of some wintry chill, some casual 
 indisposition, that laid her low ; — but no one knows of the 
 mental malady that previously sapped her strength, and 
 made her so easy a prey to the spoiler. 
 
 She is like some tender tree, the pride and beauty of the 
 grove; graceful in its form, bright in its foliage, but with 
 the worm preying at its heart. We find it suddenly with- 
 ering, when it should be most fresh and luxuriant. We 
 see it drooping its branches^ to the earth, and shedding 
 leaf by leaf; until, wasted and perished away, it falls even 
 in the stillness of the forest ; and, as we muse over the 
 beautiful ruin, we strive in vain to recollect the blast or 
 thunderbolt that could have smitten it with decay. 
 
 I have seen many instances of women running to waste 
 and self-neglect, and disappearing gradually from the earth, 
 almost as if they had been exhaled to heaven ; and have re- 
 peatedly fancied that I could trace their death through the 
 various declensions of consumption, cold, debility, languor, 
 melancholy, until I reached the first symptom of disap- 
 pointed love. But an instance of the kind was lately told 
 to me ; the circumstances are well known in the countrv 
 
WASHINGTON IRVlNfi. ' 167 
 
 where they happened, and I shall but give them in the man- 
 ner as they were related. 
 
 Every one must recollect the tragical story of young 
 E , the Irish patriot ; it was too touching to be soon for- 
 gotten. During the troubles in Ireland he was tried, con- 
 demned, and executed on a charge of treason. His fate 
 made a deep impression on public sympathy. He was so 
 young — so intelligent — so generous — so brave — so every 
 thing that we are apt to like in a young man. His conduct 
 under trial too, was so lofty and intrepid. The noble indig- 
 nation with which he repelled the charge of treason against 
 his country — the eloquent vindication of his name — and his 
 pathetic appeal to posterity, in the hopeless hour of condem- 
 nation — all these entered deeply into every generous bosom, 
 and even his enemies lamented the stern policy that dictated 
 his execution.* - 
 
 * This ill-staiTed youth was the son of Dr. Emmet, a gentleman of fortune and 
 family, whose mind was deeply imbued with republican principles, which he was 
 but too successful in impressing upon his children. His eldest son, Thomas Ad- 
 dis Eminit, being a suspected charactei*, in 17Q8 he accepted the terms offered by 
 Government, and retired to France, from thence he proceeded to New-York, 
 where he held the first place at the bar of that city, highly respected as a lawyer 
 and esteemed as a man. Robert, the person alluded to by our author, either pos- 
 sessing more enthusiasm or less prudence than his brother, became involved in a 
 series of insurrections, which at last attracted the attention of Government, and 
 the unfortunate man was arrested while he lingered in his flight, in expectation of 
 a last meeting with the lady to whom he was engaged. This amiable female, 
 whose hard fate is dtssci'ibed with so much pathos by our author, was the daugh- 
 ter of the celebrated John Philpot Curran. The following address \fi>.s delivered 
 by Emmet on his trial. 
 
 " I am asked if I have any thing to say why sentence of death should not be 
 pronounced upon me. Was I to suifer only death, after being adjudged guilty, I 
 should bow in silence ; but a man in my situation has not only to combat with 
 the difficulties of fortune, but also the difficulties of prejudice : the sentence of 
 the law which delivers over his body to the executioner consigns his character to 
 obloquy. The man die?, but his memory lives ; and that mine may not forfeit 
 all claim to the respect of my countrymen, I use this occasion to vindicate my- 
 self from some of the charges advanced against me. 
 
 " I am charged with being an emissary of France — 'tis false ! I am no emissary 
 —I did not wish to deliver up my country to a foreign power, and least of all to 
 France. No ! never did I entertain the idea of establishing French power in 
 Ireland— God forbid. On the contrai-y, it is evident from the introductory para- 
 graph of the address of the Provisional Government, that every hazard attending 
 an independent effort was deemed preferable to the more fatal risk of inti'odueing a 
 French a? my into the country. Small would be our claims to patriotism and to 
 sense, and palpable our affectation of the love of liberty, if we were to encourage 
 the profanation of our shores by a people who are slaves themselves and the un- 
 principled and abandoned instruments of imposing slavery on others. 
 
168 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 But there was one heart, whose anguish it would be im- 
 possible to describe. In happier days and fairer fortunes, 
 he had won the affections of a beautiful and interesting girl, 
 the daughter of a late celebrated Irish barrister. She loved 
 him with the disinterested fervour of a woman's first and 
 early love. When every worldly maxim arrayed itself 
 against him ; when blasted in fortune, and disgrace and 
 danger darkened around his name, she loved him the more 
 ardently for his very sufferings. If, then, his fate could 
 awaken the sympathy even of his foes, what must have been 
 the agony of her, whose whole soul was occupied by his 
 image ! Let those teil who have had the portals of the tomb 
 suddenly closed between them and the being they most 
 loved on earth — who have sat at its threshold, as one shut 
 out in a cold and lonely world, from whence all that was 
 most lovely and loving had departed. 
 
 But then the horrors of such a grave ! so frightful, so 
 dishonoured ! There was nothing for memory to dwell on 
 
 " If such an inference be drawn from anj' part of the proclamation of the Pro- 
 visional Government, it calumniates their views, and is not warranted by the 
 fact. How could they speak of freedom to their countrymen ? How assume such an 
 exalted motive, and meditate the introduction of a power which has been the enemy 
 of freedom in every part of the globe ? Reviewing the conduct of France to 
 other countries, could we expect better towards us ? No ! Let not, then, any man 
 attaint my memory by believing that I could have hoped for freedom through the aid 
 of France, and beti-ayed the sacred cause of liberty by committing it to the power 
 of her most determined foe: had I done so, I had not deserved to live; and dying 
 with such a weight upon my chai-acter, I had merited the honest execrations of 
 that eoujitry which gave me birth, and to which I would have given freedom. 
 
 " Had I been in Switzerland, I would have fought against the French— in the dig- 
 nity of freedom, I would have expired on the threshold of that country, and they 
 should have entered it only by passing over my lifeless corpse. Is it then to be 
 supposed that I would be slow to make the same sacrifice to my native land ? 
 Am I, who lived but to be of service to my country, and who would subject my- 
 self to the bondage of the grave to give her independence— am I to be loaded with 
 the foul and grievous calumny of being an emissary of France ? 
 
 " My lords, it may be part of the system of angry justice, to bow a man's mind, 
 by humiliation, to meet the ignominy of the scaffold ; but worse to me than the 
 scaffold's shame, or the scaffold's terrors, would be the imputation of having been 
 the agent of French despotism and ambition ; and while I have breath, I will call 
 upon my countrymen not to believe me guilty of so foul a crime against their 
 liberties and their happiness. 
 
 " Though you, my lord, sit there a judge, and I stand here a culprit, yet you are 
 but a man and I am another. I have a right therefore to vindicate my character 
 and motives from the aspersions of calumny ; and, as a man, to whom fame is 
 dearer than life^ I will make th^ last use of that life in rescuing my name and my 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 169 
 
 that could sooth the pang of separation — none of those ten- 
 der, though melancholy circumstances, that endear the part- 
 ing scene — nothing to melt sorrow into those blessed tears, 
 sent, like the dews of heaven, to revive the heart in the 
 parting hour of anguish. 
 
 To render her widowed situation more desolate, she had 
 incurred her father's displeasure by her unfortunate attach- 
 ment, and was an exile from the paternal roof. But could 
 the sympathy and kind offices of friends have reached a 
 spirit-so shocked and driven in by horror, she would have 
 •experienced no want of consolation, for the Irish are a peo- 
 ple of quick and generous sensibihties. The most delicate 
 and cherishing attentions were paid her by families of 
 wealth and distinction. She was led into society, and they 
 tried by all kinds of occupation and amusement to dissipate 
 her grief, and wean her from the tragical story of her lover. 
 But it was all in vain. There are some strokes of calamity 
 
 memory from the afflicting imputation of having bean an emissai'y of France, or 
 sttking her intenerence in the internal regulation of our affairs. 
 
 " Did I live to see a French army approach this country, I would meet it on 
 the shore, with a torch in one hand and a sword in the other ; I would receive 
 them with all the destruction of war ! I would animate my eoiintrymen to im- 
 molate them in their very boats ; and hefore our native soil should be polluted by 
 a foreign foe, if tbey succeeded in landing, I would burn every blade of grass be- 
 fore them, raze every house, contend lo the last for every inch of ground ; and 
 the last spot on which the hope of freedom should desert me, that spot I would 
 make my grave ! What I cannot do, I leave a legacy to my country, because X 
 feel conscious that my death were unprofitable, and all hopes of liberty extinct, 
 the moment a French army obtained a footing in this land. God forbid that I 
 should see my country imdt r the hands of a foreign power. If the French should 
 come as a foreign enemy. Oh ! juy countrymen I meet them on the shore with a 
 torch in one hand and a sword in the other ; ■ receive them with all the destruc- 
 tion of war ; immolate them in their boats, before our native soil shall be polluted 
 by a foreign foe ! If they succeed in landing, fight them on the strand, burn 
 every blade of grass before them as tbey advance— raze every house ; and if you 
 are driven to the centre of your country, collect your provisions, your property, 
 your wives and your daughters ; form a circle around them, fight while but two 
 men are Itft ; and when but one i-emains, let that man set fire to the pile, and 
 release himself, and the families of his fallen coimtrymen, from the tyranny of 
 France. 
 
 " My lamp of life is nearly expired— my race is finished : the grave opens to 
 receive me, and I sink into its bosom. All I request then, at parting from the 
 world, is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph ; for as no 
 man, who knows my motives, dare vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance 
 asperse them : li t them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb re- 
 main uniuscribed, till other times and other men can do justice to my character." 
 
 15 
 
lYO BEAUTIES OF 
 
 that scathe and scorch the soul — that penetrate to the vital 
 seat of happiness — and blast it, never again to put forth bud 
 or blossom. She never objected to frequent the haunts of 
 pleasure, but she was as much alone there as in the depths 
 of solitude. She walked about in a sad reverie, apparently- 
 unconscious of the world around her. She carried within 
 her an inward wo that mocked at all the blandishments of 
 friendship, and " heeded not the song of the charmer, charm 
 he never so wisely." 
 
 The person who told me her story had seen her at a mas- 
 querade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone wretched- 
 ness more striking and painful than to meet it iu such a 
 scene. To find it wandering like a spectre, lonely and joy- 
 less, where all around is gay— to see it dressed out in the 
 trappings of mirth, and looking so wan and wo-begone, ns 
 if it had tried in vain to cheat the poor heart into a momen- 
 tary forgetfulness of sorrow. After strolling through the 
 splendid rooms and giddy crowd with an air of utter abstrac- 
 tion, she sat herself down on the steps of an orchestra, and 
 looking about for some time with a vacant air, that showed 
 her insensibility to the garjsh scene, she began, with the 
 capriciousness of a sickly heart, to warble a little plaintive 
 air. She had an exquisite voice ; but on this occasion it 
 was so simple, so touching, it breathed forth such a soul of 
 wretchedness, that she drew a crowd mute and silent around 
 her, and melted every one into tears. 
 
 The storj^ of one so true and so tender could not but ex- 
 cite great interest in a country remarkable for enthusiasm. 
 It completely won the heart of a brave officer, who paid his 
 addresses to her, and thought that one so true to the dead 
 could not but prove affectionate to the living. She declined 
 his attentions, for her thoughts were irrevocably engrossed 
 by the memory of her former lover. He, however, persist- 
 ed in his suit. He solicited not her tenderness but her es- 
 teem. He was assisted by her conviction of his worth, and 
 her sense of her own destitute and dependent situation, for 
 she was existing on the kindness of friends. In a word, he 
 at length succeeded in gaining her hand, though with the 
 solemn assurance, that her heart was unalterably another's. 
 
 He took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a change of 
 
WASHINGTON lAVlNQ. 171 
 
 scene might wear out the remembrance of early woes. She 
 was an amiable and exemplary wife, and made an effort to 
 be a happy one ; but nothing could cure the silent and de- 
 vouring melancholy that had entered into her very soul. 
 She wasted away in a slow, but hopeless decline, and at 
 length sunk inter the grave, the victim of a broken heart.* 
 
 A WRECK AT SEA. 
 
 We one day descried some shapeless object drifting at & 
 distance. At sea, every thing that breaks the monotony of 
 the surrounding expanse attracts attention.. It proved to be 
 the mast of a ship that must have been completely wrecked; 
 for there were the remains of handkerchiefs, by which some 
 of the crew had fastened themselves to the spar, to prevent 
 their being washed off by the waves. There was no trace 
 by which the name of the ship could be ascertained. The 
 wreck had evidently drifted about for many months ; clus- 
 ters of shell fish had fastened about it, and long sea weeds 
 
 * It was on her, says our Author, that Moore, the distinguished Irish Poet, 
 composed the following lines : 
 
 She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, 
 
 And lovei's around her are sighing ; 
 But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, ' 
 
 For her heart in his grave is lying. 
 
 She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains^ 
 
 Every note which he lov'd awaking — 
 Ah I httle they think, who delight in her strains, 
 
 How the heart of the minstrel is breaking J 
 
 He had lived for his love— for his country he died. 
 They wei-e all that to life had entwined him — 
 
 Nor soon shall the tears of his counti-y be dried, 
 Nor long will his love stay behind him ! 
 
 Oh ! make her a grave where th^ sun beams rest, 
 
 When they promise a glorious morrow ; 
 They'll shine o'er her sleep like a smile from the west, 
 
 Ttorn her own lov'd island of sorrow I 
 
172 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 flaunted at its sides. But where, thought I, is the crew 1 
 Their struggle has long been over — they have gone down 
 amidst the roar of the tempest — their bones lie whitening 
 among the caverns of the deep. Silence, oblivion, like the 
 waves, have closed over them, and no one can tell the story 
 of their end. What sighs have been wafted after that shipl 
 what prayers offered up at the deserted fireside of home ! 
 How often has the mistress, the wife, the mother, poured 
 over the daily news, to catch some casual intelligence of this 
 rover of the deep ! How has expectation darkened into 
 anxiety — anxiety into dread — and dread into despair ! Alas ! 
 not one memento shall ever return for love to cherish. All 
 that shall ever be known, is, that she sailed from her port, 
 *' and was never heard of more !" 
 
 The sight of this wreck, as usual, gave rise to many dis- 
 mal anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the even- 
 ing, when the weather, which had hitherto been fair, began 
 to look wild and threatening, and gave indications of one of 
 those sudden storms that will sometimes break in upon the 
 serenity of a summer voyage. As we sat round the dull 
 light of a lamp in the cabin, that made the gloom more 
 ghastly, every one had his tale of shipwreck and disaster. 
 I was particularly struck with a short one related by the 
 captain. 
 
 " As I was sailing," said he, " in a fine stout ship, across 
 the banks of Newfoundland, one of those heavy fogs that 
 prevail in those parts, rendered it impossible for us to see 
 far ahead even in the day-time ; but at night the weather 
 was so thick that we could not distinguish any object at 
 twice the length of the ship. I kept lights at the mast head, 
 and a constant watch forward to look out for fishing smacks, 
 which are accustomed to lie at anchor on the banks. The 
 wind was blowing a smacking* breeze, and we were going 
 at a great rate through the water. Suddenly the watch gave 
 the thrilling alarm of 'a sail-a-head !' — it was scarcely 
 uttered before we were upon her. She was a small schooner, 
 at anchor, with her broadside towards us. The crew were 
 all asleep, and had neglected to hoist a light. We struck • 
 her just a-mid-ships. The force, the size, and weight of our 
 vessel bore her down below the waves ; we passed over her 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING* 173 
 
 and were hurried on our course. As the crashing wreck 
 was sinking beneath us, I had a glimpse of two or three 
 half naked wretches rushing from her cabin ; they just 
 started from their beds to be swallowed shrieking by the 
 waves. I heard their drowning cry mingling with the wind. 
 The blast that bore it to our ears swept us out of all fur- 
 ther hearing. I shall never forget that cry! it was some 
 time before we could put the ship about, she was under such 
 head-way. We returned, as nearly as we could guess, to 
 the place where the smack had anchored. We cruised 
 about for several hours in the dense fog. We fired signal 
 guns, and listened if we might hear the halloo of any sur- 
 vivors : but all was silent — we never saw or heard any thing 
 of them more." 
 
 Land' 
 
 It was a fine sunny morning when the thrilling cry of 
 *' land !" was given from the mast head. None but those 
 who have experienced it, can form an idea of the delicious 
 throng of sensations which rush into an American's bosom, 
 when he first comes in sight of Europe. There is a volume 
 of associations with the very name. It is the land of pro- 
 mise, teeming with every thing of which his childhood has 
 heard, or on v/hich his studious years have pondered. 
 
 From that time until the moment of arrival, it was all 
 feverish excitement. The ships of war, that prowled like 
 guardian giants along the coast ; the headlands of Ireland, 
 stretching out into the channel ; the Welsh mountains, tower- 
 ing into the clouds; all were objects of intense interest. 
 As we sailed up the Mersey, I reconnoitred the shores with • 
 a telescope. My eye dwelt with delight on neat cottages, 
 with their trim shrubberies and green grass plots. I saw 
 the mouldering ruin of an abbey overrun with ivy, and the 
 taper spire of "a village church rising from the brow of a 
 neio-hbouring hill — all were characteristic of England. 
 
 The tide and wind were so favourable, that the ship was 
 enabled to come at once to the pier. It was thronged with 
 people; some idle lookers-on, others eager expectants of 
 
 15* 
 
174 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 friends or relatives. I could distinguish the merchant to 
 whom the ship was consigned. I knew him by his calcu- 
 lating brow and restless air. His hands were thrust into 
 his pockets ; he was whistling thoughtfully, and walking to 
 and fro, a small space having been accorded him by the 
 crowd, in deference of his temporary importance. There 
 were repeated cheerings and salutations interchanged be- 
 tween the shore and the ship, as friends happened to recog- 
 nize each other. I particularly noticed one young woman 
 of humble dress, but interesting demeanour. She was lean- 
 ing forward from among the crowd; her eye hurried over 
 the ship as it neared the shore, to catch some wished-for 
 countenance. She seemed disappointed and agitated ; when 
 I heard a faint voice call her name. It was from a poor 
 sailor, who had been ill all the voyage, and had excited the 
 sympathy of every one on board. When the weather was 
 fine, his messmates had spread a mattress for him on deck 
 in the shade, but of late his illness had so increased, that he 
 had taken to his hammock, and only breathed a wish that 
 he might see his wife before he died. He had been helped 
 on deck as we came up the river, and was now leaning 
 against the shrouds, with a countenance so wasted, so pale, 
 so ghastly, that it was no wonder even the eye of affection 
 did not recognize him. But at the sound of his voice, her 
 eye darted on his features ; it read, at once, a whole volume 
 of sorrow ; she clasped her hands, uttered a faint shriek, and 
 stood wringing them in silent agony. 
 
WASHINGT6N IRVING. 175 
 
 GENIUS. 
 
 It is interestina: to notice how some minds seem almost 
 to create themselves, springing up under every disadvan- 
 tage, and working their solitary but irresistible way through 
 a thousand obstacles. Nature seems to delight in disap- 
 pointing the assiduities of art, with which it would rear legi- 
 timate dulness to maturity; and to glory in the vigour and 
 luxuriance of her chance productions. She scatters the 
 seeds of genius to the winds, and though some may perish 
 among the stony places of the world, and some be choked 
 by the thorns and brambles of early adversity, yet others 
 will now and then strike root even in the clefts of the rock, 
 struggle bravely up into sunshine, and spread over their 
 sterile birth-place all the beauties of vegetation. 
 
 A CONTRAST. 
 
 I WAS yet a stranger in England, and curious to notice 
 the manners of its fashionable classes. I found, as usual, 
 that there was the least pretension where there was the most 
 acknowledged title to respect. I was particularly struck, 
 for instance, with the family of a nobleman of high rank, 
 consisting of several sons and daughters. Nothing could 
 be more simple aiaJ uu-cissumliig man men' appearcuice. 
 They generally came to church in the plainest equipage, and 
 often on foot. The young ladies would stop and converse 
 in the kindest manner with the peasantry, caress the chil- 
 dren, and listen to the stories of the humble cottagers. 
 Their countenances were open and beautifully fair, with an 
 expression of high refinement, but, at the same time, a frank 
 cheerfulness, and an engaging affability. Their brothers 
 were tall and elegantly formed. They were dressed fashion- 
 ably, but simply; with strict neatness and propriety, but 
 without any mannerism or foppishness. Their whole de- 
 
176 BEAUTIES Of* 
 
 meanour was easy and natural, with that lofty grace, and 
 noble frankness, which bespeak free-born souls that have 
 never been checked in their growth by feelings of inferiority. 
 There is a healthful hardiness about real dignity, that never 
 dreads contact and communication with others, however 
 humble. It is only spurious pride that is morbid and sensi- 
 tive, and shrinks from every touch. I was pleased to see 
 the manner in which they would converse with the peasant- 
 ry about those rural concerns and field-sports, in which the 
 gentlemen ©f this country so much delight. In these con- 
 versations, there was neither haughtiness on the one part, 
 nor servility on the other ; and you were only reminded 
 of the difference of rank by the habitual respect of the pea- 
 sant. 
 
 In contrast to these, was the family of a wealthy citizen 
 who had amassed a vast fortune; and, having purchased 
 the estate and mansion of a ruined nobleman in the neigh- 
 bourhood, was endeavouring to assume all the style and dig- 
 nity of an hereditary lord of the soil. The family always 
 come to church en prince. They were rolled majestically 
 along in a carriage emblazoned with arms. The crest glit- 
 tered in silver radiance from every- part of the harness 
 where a crest could possibly be placed. A fat coachman in 
 a three-cornered hat, richly laced, and a flaxen wig, curling 
 close round his rosy face, was seated on the box, with a 
 sleek Danish dog beside him. Two footmen, in gorgeous 
 liveries, with huge bouquets, and gold-headed canes, lolled 
 behind. The carriage rose and sunk on its long springs 
 — with peculiar stateliness of motion. The very horses champ- 
 ed their ^its, arched llieir necks, and glanced their eyes more 
 proudly than common horses ; either because they had got 
 a little of the family feeling, or were reined up more tightly 
 than ordinary. 
 
 I could not but admire the style with which this splendid 
 pageant was brought up to^ the gate of the churchyard. 
 There was a vast effect produced at the turning of an anr^le 
 of the wall ;— a great smacking of the whip ; 'straining and 
 scrambling of the horses ; glistening of harness, and flash- 
 mg of wheels through gravel. This was the moment of 
 triumph and vain glory to the coachman. The horses were 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 177 
 
 urged and checked until they were fretted into a foam. They 
 threw out their feet in a prancing trot, dashing about pebbles 
 at every step. The crowd of villagers, sauntering quietly 
 to church, opened precipitately to the right and left, gaping 
 in vacant admiration. On reaching the gate, the horses 
 were pulled up with a suddenness that produced an imme- 
 diate stop, and almost threw them on their haunches. 
 
 There was an extraordinary hurry of the footmen to 
 alight, open the door, pull down the steps, and prepare every 
 thing for the descent on earth of this august family. The 
 old citizen first emerged his round red face from out the 
 door, looking about him with the pompous air of a man ac- 
 customed to rule on 'Change, and shake the Stock Market 
 with a nod. His consort, a fine, fleshy, comfortable dame, 
 followed him. There seemed, I must confess, but little pride 
 in her composition. She was the picture of a broad, honest, 
 vulgar enjoyment. The world went well with her, and she 
 liked the world. She had fine clothes, a fine house, a fine 
 carriage, fine children, every thing was fine about her ; it 
 was nothing ^ut driving about, and visiting and feasting. 
 Life was to her a perpetual revel ; it was one long Lord 
 Mayor's day. 
 
 Two daughters succeeded to this goodly couple. They 
 certainly were handsome ; but had a supercilious air, that 
 chilled admiration, and disposed the spectator to be critical. 
 They were ultra-fashionable in dress ; and, though no one 
 could deny the richness of their decorations, yet their ap- 
 propriateness might be questioned amidst the simplicity of a 
 country church. They descended loftily from the carriage, 
 and moved up the line of peasantry with a step that seemed 
 dainty of the soil it trod on. They cast an excursive glance 
 around, that passed coldly over the burly faces of the pea- 
 santry, until they met the eyes of the nobleman's family, 
 when their countenances immediately brightened into smiles, 
 and they made the most profound and elegant courtesies ; 
 which were returned in a manner that showed they were 
 but slight acquaintances. 
 
 I must not forget the two sons of this aspiring citizen, 
 who came to church in a dashing curricle, with outriders. 
 They were arrayed in the extremity of the mode, with all 
 
178 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 that pedantry of dress which marks the man of questiona- 
 ble pretensions to style. They kept entirely by themselves, 
 eyeing every one askance that came near them, as if mea- 
 suring his claims to respectability ; yet they were without 
 conversation, except the exchange of an occasional cant 
 phrase. They even moved artificially; for their bodies, in 
 compliance with the caprice of the day, had been disciplined 
 into the absence of all easo and freedom. Art had done 
 every thing to accomplish them as men of fashion, but na- 
 ture had denied them the nameless grace. They were vul- 
 garly shaped, like men formed for the common purposes of 
 life, and had that air of supercilious assumption which is 
 never seen in the true gentleman. 
 
 I have been rather minute in drawing the pictures of these 
 two families, because I considered them specimens of what 
 is often to be met with in this country — the unpretending 
 great, and the arrogant little. I have no respect for titled 
 rank, unless it be accompanied with true nobility of soul ; 
 but I have remarked in all countries where artificial distinc- 
 tions exist, that the very highest classes are always the most 
 courteous and unassuming. Those who are well assured of 
 their own standing, are least apt to trespass on that of others; 
 whereas, nothing is so offensive as the aspirings of vul- 
 garity, which thinks to elevate itself by humiliating its neigh- 
 bour. 
 
 As I have brought these families into contrast, I must no- 
 tice their behaviour in church. That of the nobleman's 
 family was quiet, serious, and attentive. Not that they ap- 
 peared to have any fervour of devotion, but rather a respect 
 for sacred things, and sacred places, inseparable from good 
 breeding. The others, on the contrary, were in a perpetual 
 flutter and whisper ; they betrayed a continual consciousness 
 of finery, and a sorry ambition of being the wonders of a 
 rural congregation. 
 
 The old gentleman was the only one really attentive to 
 the service. He took the whole burden of. family devotion 
 upon himself, standing bolt upright and uttering the responses 
 with a loud voice that might be heard all over the church. 
 It was evident that he was one of those thorough church 
 and king men, who connect the idea of devotion and loyalty; 
 
^ WASHINGTON IRVIN©. 179 
 
 who consider the Deity, somehow or other, of the govern- 
 ment party, and religion " a very excellent sort of thing, 
 that ought to be countenanced and kept up." 
 
 When he joined so loudly in the service, it seemed more 
 by way of example to the lower orders, to show them, that, 
 though so great and wealthy. Tie was not above being reli- 
 gious ; as I have seen a turtle-fed Alderman swallow pub- 
 licly a basin of charity soup, smacking his lips at every 
 mouthful, and pronouncing it " excellent food for the poor." 
 
 When the service was at an end, I was curious to witness 
 the several exits of my groups. The young noblemen and 
 their sisters, as the day was fine, preferred strolling home 
 across the fields, chatting with the country people as they 
 went. The others departed as they came, in grand parade. 
 Again were the equipages wheeled up to the gate. There 
 was again the smacking of whips, the clattering of hoofs, 
 and the glittering of harness. The horses started off almost 
 at a bound; the villagers again hurried to right and left; 
 the wheels threw up a cloud of dust ; and the aspiring family 
 was wrapt out of sight in a whirlwind. 
 
 LETTER 
 
 PROM MUSTAPHA RUB-A-DUB KELI KHAN, 
 
 To Asem Hacchem, principal Slave-driver to his High- 
 ness the Bashaw of Tripoli, 
 
 Sweet, O Asem ! is the memory of distant friends ! Like 
 the mellow ray of a departing sun, it falls tenderly yet sadly 
 on the heart. Every hour of absence from my native land 
 rolls heavily by, like the sandy wave of the desert ; and the 
 fair shores of my country rise blooming to my imagination, 
 clothed in the soft illusive charms of distance. 1 sigh, yet 
 no one listens to the sigh of the captive : I shed the bitter 
 
180 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 tear of recollection, but no one sympathises in the tear of 
 the turbaned stranger ! — Think not, however, thou brother 
 of my soul, that I complain of the horrors of my situation; 
 think not that my captivity is attended with the labours, the 
 chains, the scourges, the insults, that render slavery, v/ith 
 us, more dreadful than the pangs of hesitating, lingering 
 death. Light, indeed, are the restraints on the personal 
 freedom of thy kinsman ; but who can enter into the afflic- 
 tions of the mind ? who can describe the agonies of the 
 heart 1 They are mutable as the clouds of the air ; they 
 are countless as the waves that divide me from my native 
 country. 
 
 I have, of late, niiy dear Asera, laboured under an incon- 
 venience singularly unfortunate, and am reduced to a di- 
 lemma most ridiculously embarrassing. Why should I hide 
 it from the companion of my thoughts, the partner of my 
 sorrows and my joys 7 Alas! Asem, thy friend Mustapha, 
 the invincible captain of a ketch, is sadly in want of a pair 
 of breeches ! Thou wilt, doubtless smile, O most grave 
 Mussulman, to hear me indulge in such ardent lamentations 
 about a circumstance so trivial, and a want apparently so 
 easy to be satisfied : but little canst thou know of the mov- 
 tificalions attending my necessities, and the astonishing diffi- 
 culty of supplying them. Honoured by the smiles and at- 
 tentions of the beautiful ladies of this city, who have fallen 
 in love with my whiskers and my turban; — courted by the 
 bashaws and the great men, who delight to have me at their 
 feasts; the honour of my company eagerly solicited by 
 every fiddler v/ho gives a concert ; think of my chagrin at 
 being obliged to decline the host of invitations that dally 
 overwhelm me, merely for want of a pair of breeches! 
 Oh, Allah ! Allah ! that thy disciples could come into the 
 world all be-feathered like a bantam, or with a pair of lea- 
 ther breeches like the wild deer of the forest ; surely, my 
 friend, it is the destiny of man to be for ever subjected to 
 petty evils, which, however trifling in appc.arance, prey in 
 silence on this little pittance of enjoyment, and poison these 
 moments of sunshine, which might otherwise be consecrated 
 to happiness. 
 
 The want of a garment, thou wilt say, is easily supplied ; 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 181 
 
 and thou mayest suppose need only be mentioned, to be 
 remedied at once by any tailor of the land. Little canst 
 thou conceive the impediments which stand in the way of 
 my comfort, and still less art thou acquainted with the pro- 
 digious great scale on which every thing is transacted in ■ 
 this country. The nation moves majestically slow and 
 clumsy in the most trivial affairs, like the unwieldy elephant 
 which makes a formidable difficulty of picking up a straw 1 
 When I hinted my necessities to the officer who has charge 
 of myself and my companions, I expected to have been 
 forthwith relieved; but he made an amazingly long face — 
 told me that we were prisoners of state — that we must there- 
 fore be clothed at the expense of the government ; that as 
 no provision has been made by the Congress for an emer- 
 gency of the kind, it was impossible to furnish me with a 
 pair of breeches, until all the sages of the nation had been 
 convened to talk over the matter, and debate upon the expe- 
 diency of granting my request. Sword of the immortal 
 Khalid, thought I, but this is great! — this is truly sublime! 
 All the sages in an immense logocracy assembled together, 
 to talk about my breeches ! — Vain mortal that I am ! I 
 cannot but own I was somewhat reconciled to the delay which 
 must necessarily attend this method of clothing me, by the 
 consideration that if they made the affair a national act, my 
 " name must of course be embodied in history," and myself 
 and my breeches flourish to immortality in the annals of this 
 mighty empire! 
 
 " But pray, sir," said I, " how does it happen that a mat- 
 ter so insignificant should be erected into an object of such 
 importance as to employ the representative wisdom of the 
 nation 1 and what is the cause of their talking so much about 
 a trifle !" — " Oh," replied the officer, who acts as our slave- 
 driver ; " it all proceeds from economy. If the government 
 did not spend ten times as much money in debating whether 
 it was proper to supply you with breeches as the breeches 
 themselves would cost, the people, who govern the bashaw 
 and his divan, would straightv/ay begin to complain of their 
 liberties being infringed — the national finances squandered 
 — not a hostile slang-whanger throughout the logocracy but 
 would burst forth like a barrel of combustion — and ten 
 
 16 
 
182 . BEAUTIES OF 
 
 chances to one but the bashaw and the sages of his divan 
 would ail be turned out of office together. My good Mussel- 
 man," continued he, " the administration have the good of 
 the people too much at heart to trifle with their pockets ; and 
 they would sooner assemble and talk away ten thousand 
 dollars than expend fifty silently out of the treasury — such 
 is the wonderful spirit of economy that pervades every 
 branch of this government." " But," said I, " how is it pos- 
 sible they can spend money in talking : surely words cannot 
 be the current coin of this country V — " Truly," cried he, 
 smiling, " your question is pertinent enough, for words 
 indeed often supply the place of cash among us, and many 
 an honest debt is paid in promises ; but the fact is, the grand 
 bashaw and the members of Congress, or grand talkers of 
 the nation, either receive a yearly salary or are paid by the 
 day." — " By the nine hundred tongues of the great beast in 
 Mahomet's vision, but the murder is out ! it is no wonder 
 these honest men talk so much about nothing, when they are 
 paid for talking like day-labourers." " You are mistaken," 
 said my driver ; " it is nothing but economy." 
 
 I remained silent for some minutes, for this inexplicable 
 word economy always discomfits me ; — and when I flatter 
 myself I have grasped it, it slips through my fingers like a 
 jack-o'lantern. I have not, nor perhaps ever shall acquire, 
 sufficient of the philosophic policy of this government, to 
 draw a proper distinction between an individual and a nation. 
 If a man was to throw away a pound in order to save a 
 beggarly penny, and boast at the same time of his economy, 
 I should think him on a par with the fool in the fable of Al- 
 fangi ; who, in skinning a flint worth a farthing, spoiled a 
 knife worth fifty times the sum, and thought he had acted 
 wisely. The shrewd fellow would doubtless have valued 
 himself much more highly on his economy, could he have 
 known that his example would one day be followed by the 
 bashaw of America, and the sages of his divan. 
 
 This economic disposition, my friend, occasions much 
 fighting of the spirit, and innumerable contests of the tongue 
 in this talking assembly. Wouldst thou believe it ? they 
 were actually employed for a whole week in a most stren- 
 uous and eloquent debate about patching up a hole in the 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 183 
 
 wall in the room appropriated to their meetings 1 A vast 
 profusion of nervous argument and pompous declamation 
 was expended on this occasion. Some of the orators, I am 
 told, being rather waggishly inclined, were most stupidly- 
 jocular on the occasion ; but their waggery gave great of- 
 fence, and was highly reprobated by the more weighty part 
 of the assembly ; who hold all wit and humour in abomi- 
 nation, and thought the business in hand much too solemn 
 and serious to be treated lightly. It was supposed by some 
 that this affair would have occupied a whole winter, as it 
 was a subject upon which several gentlemen spoke who had 
 never been known to open their lips in that place except to 
 say yes and no. — These silent members are by way of 
 distinction denominated orator mums, and are highly valued 
 in this country on account of their great talents for silence; 
 — a qualification extremely rare in a logocracy. 
 
 Fortunately for the public tranquillity, in the hottest part 
 of the debate, when two rampant Virginians, brim full of 
 logic and philosophy, were measuring tongues, and syllo- 
 gistically cudgelling each other out of their unreasonable 
 notions, the president of the divan, a knowing old gentleman, 
 one night slyly sent a mason with a hod of mortar, who in 
 the course of a few minutes closed up the hole, and put a 
 final end to the argument. Thus did this wise old gentle- 
 man, by hitting on a most simple expedient, in all proba- 
 bility, save his country as much money as would build a 
 gun-boat, or pay a hireling slang-whanger for a whole 
 volume of words. As it happened, only a few thousand^ 
 dollars were expended in paying these men, who are deno- 
 minated, I suppose in derision, legislators. 
 
 Another instance of their economy I relate with pleasure, 
 for I really begin to feel a regard for these poor barbarians. 
 They talked away the best parts of a whole winter before 
 they could determine not to expend a few dollars in purchas- 
 ing a sword to bestow on an illustrious warrior : yes, Asem, 
 on that very hero who frightened all our poor old women and 
 young children at Derne, and M\y proved himself a greater 
 man than the mother that bore him.* Thus, my friend, 
 
 * General Eaton, 
 
184 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 is the whole collective wisi^.om of this mighty logocracy em- 
 ployed in somniferous debates about the most trivial affairs ; 
 as I have sometimes seen a Herculean mountebank exerting 
 all his energies in balancing a straw upon his nose. Their 
 sages behold the minutest object with the microscopic eyes 
 of a pissmire ; mole-hills swell into mountains, and a grain 
 of mustard-seed will set the whole ant-hill in a hubbub. 
 Whether this indicates a capricious vision, or a diminutive 
 mind, I leave thee to decide ; for my part I consider it as 
 another proof of the great scale on which every thing is 
 transacted in this country. 
 
 I have before told thee that nothing can be done without 
 consulting the sages of the nation, who compose the assem- 
 bly called the Congress. This prolific body m,ay not im- 
 properly be called the " mother of inventions ;" and a most 
 fruitful mother it is, let me tell thee, though its children are 
 generally abortions. It has lately laboured with what was 
 deemed the conception of a mighty navy. — All the old 
 women and the good wives that assist the bashaw in his 
 emergencies hurried to head-quarters to be busy, like mid- 
 wives, at the delivery. — All was anxiety, fidgeting, and 
 consultation ; when after a deal of groaning and struggling, 
 instead of formidable first-rates and gallant frigates, out 
 crept a litter of sorry little gun-boats. These are most piti- 
 ful little vessels, partaking vastly of the character of the 
 grand bashaw, who has the credit of begetting them ; being- 
 flat shallow vessels that can only sail before the wind ; — 
 must always keep in with the land ; — are continually foun- 
 dering or running on shore ; and in short, are only fit for 
 smooth water. Though intended for the defence of the 
 maritime cities, yet the cities are obliged to defend them ; 
 and they require as much nursing as so many rickety little 
 bantlings. They are, however, the darling pets of the 
 grand bashaw, being the children of his dotage, and perhaps 
 from their diminutive size and palpable weakness, are called' 
 the " infant navy of America." The art that brought them 
 into existence was almost deified by the majority of the 
 people as a grand stroke of economy. — By the beard of 
 Mahomet, but this word is truly inexplicable ! 
 
 To this economic body therefore was I advised to address 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 185 
 
 my petition, and humbly to pray that the august assembly 
 of sages would, in the plenitude of their wisdom and the 
 magnitude of their powers, munificently bestow on an un- 
 fortunate captive a pair of cotton breeches ! " Head of the 
 immortal Amrou," cried I, " but this would be presumptuous 
 to a degree : — What ! after these worthies have thought 
 proper lo leave their country naked and defenceless, and 
 exposed to all the political storms that rattle without, can I 
 expect that they will lend a helping hand to comfort the ex- 
 tremities of a solitary captive?" My exclamation was only 
 answered by a smile, and 1 was consoled by the assurance 
 that, so far from being neglected, it was ever}^ way probable 
 my breeches might occupy a whole session of the divan, 
 and set several of the longest heads together by the ears. 
 Flattering as was the idea of a whole nation being agitated 
 about my breeches, yet I own I was somewhat dismayed at 
 the idea of remaining in querpo, until all the national gray- 
 beards should have made a speech on the occasion, and 
 given their consent to the measure. The embarrassment 
 and distress of mind which I experienced were visible in my 
 countenance, and my guard, who is a man of infinite good- 
 nature, immediately suggested, as a more expeditious plan 
 of supplying my wants, a benefit at the theatre. Though 
 profoundly ignorant of his meaning, I agreed to his propo- 
 sition, the result of which I shall disclose to thee in another 
 letter. 
 
 Fare thee well, dear Asem ; in thy pious prayers to our 
 great prophet, never forget to solicit thy friend's return ; and 
 when thou numberest up the many blessings bestowed on 
 thee by all-bountiful Allah, pour forth thy gratitude that he 
 has cast thy nativity in a land where there is no assembly 
 of legislative chatterers ;— no great bashaw, who bestrides 
 a gun-boat for a hobby-horse; — where the v/ord economy is 
 unknow^n ; — and where an unfortunate captive is not obliged 
 to call upon the whole nation to cut him out a pair of 
 breeches. 
 
 16* 
 
186 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 A warlike Portrait of the great Peter — and how General Von Pof- 
 fenburgh distinguished himself at Fort Cassimir. 
 
 Hitherto, most venerable and courteous reader, have I 
 shown thee the administration of the valorous Stuyvesant 
 under the mild moonshine of peace, or rather the grim tran- 
 quillity of awful expectation ; but now the war-drum rumbles 
 from afar, the brazen trumpet brays its thrilling note, and 
 the rude clash of hostile arms speaks fearful prophecies of 
 coming troubles. The gallant warrior starts from soft re- 
 pose, from golden visions, and voluptuous ease ; where, in 
 the dulcet "piping time of peace," he sought sweet solace 
 after all his toils. No more in beauty's siren lap reclined, 
 he weaves fair garlands for his lady's brows ; no more en- 
 twines with flowers his shining sword ; nor through the live- 
 long lazy summer's day, chants forth his lovesick soul in 
 madrigals. To manhood roused, he spurns the amorous 
 lute ,• doffs from his brawny back the robe of peace, and 
 clothes his pampered limbs in panoply of steel. O'er his 
 dark brow, where late the myrtle waved — where wanton 
 roses breathed enervate love — he rears the beaming casque 
 and nodding plume; grasps the bright shield, and shakes 
 the ponderous lance ; or mounts with eager pride the fiery 
 steed, and burns for deeds of glorious chivalry. 
 
 But soft, worthy reader ! I would not have you imagine, 
 that any preux chevalier, thus hideously begirt with iron, 
 existed in the city of New Amsterdam. This is but a lofty and 
 gigantic mode in which heroic writers always talk of war, 
 thereby to give it a noble and imposing aspect ; equipping 
 our warriors with bucklers, helmets, and lances, and such 
 like outlandish and obsolete weapons, the like which per- 
 chance they had never seen or heard of; in the same man- 
 ner that a cunning statuary arrays a modern general or an 
 admiral in the accoutrements of a Caesar or an Alexander. 
 The simple truth then of all this oratorical flourish is this — 
 that the valiant Peter Stuyvesant, all of a sudden, found it 
 necessary to scour his trusty blade, which too long had 
 rusted in its scabbard, and prepare himself to undergo the 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. • 187 
 
 hardy toils of war, in which his mighty soul so much de- 
 lighted. 
 
 Methinks I at this moment behold him in my imagination. 
 • — or rather, I behold his goodly portrait, which still hangs 
 wp in the famil}^ mansion of the Stuyvesants, arrayed in all 
 the terrors of a true Dutch General. His regimental coat 
 of German blue, gorgeously decorated with a goodly show 
 of large brass buttons, reaching from his waistband to his 
 chin. The voluminous skirts turned up at the corners and 
 separating gallantly behind, so as to display the seat of a 
 sumptuous pair of brimstone coloured trunk breeches, a grace- 
 ful style still prevalent among the warriors of our day, and 
 which is in conformity to the custom of ancient heroes, who 
 scorned to defend themselves in rear. His face rendered 
 exceeding terrible and warlike by a pair of black mustachios; 
 his hair strutting out on each side in stiffly pomatumed ear- 
 locks, and descending in a rat-tail queue below his waist ; a 
 shining stock of black leather supporting his chin, and a. 
 little, but fierce cocked hat, stuck with a gallant aiid fiery 
 air over his left eye. Such was the chivalric port of Peter 
 the Headstrong ,• and when he made a sudden halt, planted 
 himself firmly on his solid supporter, with his wooden leg 
 inlaid with silver, a little in advance, in order to strengthen 
 his position, his right hand grasping a gold-headed cane, his 
 left resting upon the pummel of his sword; his head dress- 
 ing spiritedly to the right with a most appalling and hard- 
 favoured frown upon his brow — he presented altogether one 
 of the most commanding, bitter looking and soldierlike 
 figures that ever strutted upon canvass. Proceed we now to 
 inquire the cause of this warlike preparation. 
 
 The encroaching disposition of the Swedes, on the south 
 or Delaware river, has been duly recorded in the chronicles 
 of the reign of William the Testy. These encroachments, 
 having been endured with that heroic magnanimity which 
 is the corner stone, or according to Aristotle, the left hand 
 neighbour of true courage, had been repeated and wickedly 
 aggravated. 
 
 The Swedes who were of that class of cunning pretenders 
 to Christianity, who read the Bible upside down, whenever 
 it interferes with their interests, inverted the golden maxim ; 
 
18B BEAUTIES Of' 
 
 and when their neighbour suffered them to smite him on the 
 one cheek, they generally smote him on the other alsa 
 whether turned to them or not. Their repeated aggressions, 
 had been among the numerous sources of vexation that con- 
 spired to keep the irritable sensibilities of Wilhelmus Kieft 
 in a constant fever ; and it \vas only owing to the unfortu- 
 nate circumstance that he had always a hundred things to 
 do at once, that he did not take such unrelenting vengeance 
 as their offences merited. But they had now a chieftain of 
 a different character to deal with ; and 4hey were soon 
 guilty of a piece of treachery, that threw his honest blood 
 in a ferment and precluded all further sufferance. 
 
 Printz, the governor of the province of New-Sweden, 
 beingr either deceased or removed, for of this fact some un- 
 
 o , . . . 
 
 certainty exists, was succeeded by Jan Risingh, a gigantic 
 Swede ; and v/ho, had he not been rather knock-kneed and 
 splay-footed, might have served for the model of a Samson 
 or a Hercules. He w^as no less rapacious than mighty, and 
 withal as crafty as he was rapacious ; so that, in fact, there 
 is very little doubt, had he lived some four or five centuries 
 before, he would have been one of those wicked giants, wh'o 
 took such a cruel pleasure in pocketing distressed damsels, 
 when gadding about in the world ; and locking them up in 
 enchanted castles, without a toilet, a change of linen, or any 
 other convenience. In consequence of which enormities, 
 they fell under the high displeasure of chivalry, and all true 
 loyal, and gallant knights, were instructed to attack and 
 slay outright any miscreant they might happen to find above 
 six feet high ; which is doubtless one reason that the race of 
 large men is nearly extinct, and the generations of latter 
 ages so exceedingly small. 
 
 No sooner did Governor Risingh enter upon his office 
 than he immediately cast his eyes upon the im])ortant post 
 of Fort Casimer, and formed the righteous resolution of 
 taking it into his possession. The only thing that remained 
 to consider was the mode of carrying his resolution into ef- 
 fect; and here I must do him the justice to say, that he ex- 
 hibited a humanity rarely to be met with among leaders, 
 and which I have never seen equalled in modern times, ex- 
 cepting among the English in their glorious affair at Copen- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING, 18® 
 
 hagen. Willing to spare the effusion of blood, and the 
 miseries of open warfare, he benevolently shunned every 
 thing like avowed hostility or regular siege, and resorted to 
 the less glorious but more merciful expedient of treachery. 
 
 Under pretence, therefore, of paying a neighbourly visit 
 to General Von Poffenburgh, at his new post of Fort Casi- 
 mir, he m.ade requisite preparation, sailed in great state up 
 the Delaware, displayed his flag with the most ceremonious 
 punctilio, and honoured the fortress with a royal salute pre- 
 vious to dropping anchor. The unusual noise awakened a 
 veteran Dutch sentinel, who was napping faithfully at his 
 post, and who having suffered his match to go out, contriv- 
 ed to return the compliment, by discharging his rusty mus- 
 ket with the spark of a pipe, which he borrowed from one 
 of his comrades. The salute indeed would have been an- 
 swered by the guns of the fort, had they not been unfortun- 
 ately out of order, and the magazine deficient in ammuni- 
 tion — -accidents to which forts have in all ages been liable, 
 and which were the more excusable in the present instance, 
 as Fort Casimir had only been erected about two years, and 
 General Von Poffenburgh, its mighty commander, had been 
 fully occupied with matters of much greater importance. 
 
 Risingh, highly satisfied with this courteoi:is reply to his 
 salute, treated the fort to a second, for he well knew its 
 commander was marvellously delighted with these little 
 ceremonials, which he considered as so many acts of ho- 
 mage paid unto his greatness. He then landed in great 
 state, attended by a suit of thirty men — a prodigious and 
 vainglorious retinue, for a petty governor of a petty settle- 
 ment, and in those days of primitive simplicity; and to the 
 full as great an army as generally swells the pomp and 
 marches in the rear of our frontier commanders at the pre- 
 sent day. 
 
 The number in fact might have awakened suspicion, had 
 not the mind of the great Von Poffenburgh been so com- 
 pletely engrossed with an all-pervading idea of himself, that 
 he had not room to admit a thought besides. In fact, he 
 considered the concourse of Risingh's followers as a com- 
 pliment to himself — so apt are great men to stand between 
 
190 BEAUTIES Ofi' 
 
 themselves and the sun, and completely eclipse the truth by 
 their own shadow. 
 
 It may readily be imagined how much General Von Pof- 
 fenburgh was flattered by a visit from so august a person- 
 age ; his only embarrassment was, how he should receive 
 him in such a manner as to appear to the greatest advan- 
 tage, and make the most advantageous impression. The 
 main guard was ordered immediately to turn out, and the 
 arms and regimentals (of which the garrison possessed full 
 half a dozen suits) v/ere equally distributed among the sol- 
 diers. One tall lank fellow appeared in a coat intended for 
 a small man, the skirts of which reached a little below his 
 waist, the buttons were between his shoulders, and the 
 sleeves halfway to his wrists, so that his hands looked like 
 a couple of huge spades ; and the coat not being large enough 
 to meet in front, w.'is linked together by loops, made of a 
 pair of red worsted garters. Another had an old cocked 
 hat, stuck on the back of his head, and decorated with a 
 bunch of cock's tails-- — a third had a pair of rusty gaiters, 
 hanging about his heels — while a fourth, who was a short 
 duck-legged little Trojan, was equipped in a huge pair of 
 the general's cast off breeches, which he held up with one 
 hand, while he grasped his firelock with the other. The 
 rest were accoutred in similar style, excepting three grace- 
 less ragamuffins, who had no shirts, ai*d but a pair and a 
 half of breeches between tbera, wherefore they were sent to 
 the black-hole to keep them oi.it of view. There is nothing 
 in which the talents of a prudent commander are more 
 completely testified than in thus setting matters off to the 
 greatest advantage; and it is for this reason that our fron- 
 tier posts of the present day (that of Niagara for example,) 
 display their best suit of regimentals on the back of the sen- 
 tinel who stands in sight of travellers. 
 
 His men being thus gallantly arrayed — those who lacked 
 muskets shouldering spades and pickaxes, and every man 
 being ordered to tuck in his shirt tail and pull up his bro- 
 gues. General Von PofRmburgh first took a sturdy draught 
 of foaming ale, which, like the magnanin:ious More of More- 
 hall, was his invariable practice on all great occasions ; 
 which done he put himself at their head, ordered the pi.^e 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 191 
 
 planks which served as a draw bridge, to be laid down, and 
 issued forth from his castle, like a mighty giant, just refresh- 
 ed with wine. But when the two heroes met, then began a 
 scene of warlike parade, and chivalric courtesy that beg- 
 gars all description. Risingh, who, as I before hinted, was 
 a shrewd, cunning politician, and had grown grey much 
 before his time, in consequence of his craftiness, saw at one 
 glance the ruling passion of the great Von Poffenburgh, and 
 humored him in all his valorous fantasies. 
 
 Their detachments were accordingly drawn up in front 
 of each other ; they carried arms, and they presented arms; 
 they gave the standing salute and the passing salute : — they 
 rolled their drums, they flourished their fifes, and they wa- 
 ved their colours — they faced to the left, and they faced to 
 the right, and they faced to the right about :— they wheeled 
 forward, and they wheeled backward, and they wheeled into 
 echelon : — they, marched and they counter-marched by 
 grand divisions, by single divisions, and by subdivisions, — 
 by platoons, by sections, and by files, — -to quick time, in 
 slow time, and in no time at all : for, having gone through 
 all the evolutions of two great armies, including the eighteen 
 manoeuvres of Dundas ; having exhausted all that they could 
 recollect or imagine of military tactics, including sundry 
 strange and irregular evolutions, the like of which were 
 never seen before or since, excepting among certain of our 
 newly raised militia — -the two great commanders and their 
 respective troops came at length to a dead halt, completely 
 exhausted by the toils of war. Never did two valiant train 
 band captains, or two buskined theatric heroes, in the re- 
 nowned tragedies of Pizarro, Tom Thumb, or any other 
 heroical and fighting tragedy, marshal their gallows-look- 
 ing, duck-legged heavy- heeled myrmidons, with more glory 
 and self-admiration. 
 
 These military compliments being finished. General Von 
 Poffenburgh escorted his illustrious visiter, with great cere- 
 mony, into the fort ; attended him throughout the fortifica- 
 tions ; showed him the horn-works, crown-works, half- 
 moons, and various other out works ; or rather the places 
 where they ought to be erected ; and where they might be 
 erected if he pleased ; plainly demonstrating that it was a 
 
192 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 place of " great capability," and though at present but a 
 little redoubt, yet that it evidentl}'- was a formidable fortress 
 in embryo. This survey over, he next had the whole gar- 
 rison put under arms, exercised and reviewed, and conclud- 
 ed by ordering the three bridewell birds to be hauled out of 
 the black hole, brought up to the halberts, and soundly flog- 
 ged for the amusement of his visiter and to convince him 
 that he was a great disciplinarian. 
 
 There is no error more dangerous than for a commandei 
 to make known the strength, or, as in the present case, the 
 weakness of his garrison ; this will be exemplified before 1 
 have arrived to the end of my present story, which thus 
 carries its moral, like a roasted goose his pudding, in the 
 very middle. The cunning Risingh, while he pretended to 
 be struck dumb outright, with the puissance of the great 
 Von Poffenburgh, took silent note of the incompetency of 
 his garrison, of which he gave a hint to his trusty follow- 
 ers, who tipped each other the wink, and laughed most ob- 
 streperously — in their sleeves. 
 
 The inspection, review, and flogging being concluded, the 
 party adjourned to the table ; for among his other great 
 qualities, the general was remarkably addicted to huge en- 
 tertainments, or rather carousals ; and in one afternoon's 
 campaign would leave more dead men on the field than ever 
 he did in the whole course of his military career. Many 
 bulletins of these bloodless victories do still remain on re- 
 cord ; and the whole province was once thrown in amaze 
 by the return of one of his campaigns; wherein it was stat- 
 ed, that though, like Captain Bobadil, he had only twenty 
 men to back him, yet, in the short space of six months, he 
 had conquered and utterly annihilated sixty oxen, ninety 
 hogs, one hundred sheep, ten thousand cabbages, one thou- 
 sand bushels of potatoes, one hundred and fifty kilderkins of 
 small beer, two thousand seven hundred and thirty-five 
 pipes, seventy-eight pounds of sugar plums, and forty bars 
 of iron, besides sundry small meats, game, poultry, and gar- 
 den stuffs. An achievement unparalleled since the days of 
 Pantagruel and his all-devouring army ; and which showed 
 that it was only necessary to let bellipotent Von Poffenburgh 
 and his garrison loose in an enemy's country, and in a lit- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 193 
 
 tie while tliey would breed a famine, and starve all the in- 
 habitants* 
 
 No sootier, thej'efore, had the general received the first 
 intimation of the visit of Governor Risingh, than he ordered 
 a great dinner to be prepared^ and privately sent out a de- 
 tachment of his most experienced veterans to rob all the hen 
 roosts in the neighbourhood, and lay the pigsties under con- 
 tribution — a service to which they had been long inured, 
 and which they discharged with such incredible zeal and 
 promptitude, that the garrison table groaned under the 
 weight of their spoils. 
 
 I wish, with all my heart, my readers could see the va- 
 liant Von PofFenburgh, as he presided at the head of the 
 banquet. It was a sight worth beholding :— there he sat, in 
 his greatest glory, surrounded by his soldiers, like that fa- 
 mous wine-bibber, Alexander, whose thirsty virtues he did 
 most ably imitate ; telling astonishing stories of his hair 
 breadth adventures and heroic exploits, at which, though all 
 his auditors knew them to be most incontinent and outrage- 
 ous gasconades, yet did they cast up their eyes in admira- 
 tion, and utter many interjections of astonishment. Nor 
 could the general pronounce any thing that bore the remot- 
 est resemblance to a joke but the stout Risingh would strike 
 bis brawny fist upon the table, till every glass rattled again, 
 throwing himself back in his chair, and uttering gigantic 
 peals of laughter, swearing most horribly it was the best 
 joke he ever heard in his life. Thus all was rout and re- 
 velry and hideous carousal within Fort Casimir ; and so 
 lustily did Von Poffenburgh ply the bottle that in less than 
 four short hours he made himself and his whole garrison, 
 who all sedulously emulated the deeds of their chieftain, 
 dead drunk in singing songs, quaffing bumpers, and drink- 
 ing patriotic toasts, none of which but was as long as a 
 Welch pedigree, or a plea at Chancery. 
 
 No sooner did things come to this pass than the crafty 
 Risingh and his Swedes, who had cunningly kept themselves 
 sober, rose on their entertainers, tied them neck and heels, 
 and took formal possession of the fort, and all its dependen- 
 cies, in the name of Queen Christina of Sweden ; adminis- 
 tering, at the same time, an oath of allegiance to all the 
 
 17 
 
194 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Dutch soldiers who could be made sober enough to swallow 
 it. Risingh then put the fortifications in order, appointed 
 his discreet and vigilant friend Suen Scutz, a tall, wind-dried, 
 water-drinking, Swede, to the command ; and departed, bear- 
 ing with him this truly amiable garrison and their puissant 
 commander, who, when brought to himself by a sound drub- 
 bing, bore no small resemblance to a " deboshed fish," or 
 bloated sea m.onster, caught upon dry land. 
 
 The transportation of the garrison was done to prevent 
 the transmission of intelligence to New- Amsterdam ; for 
 much as the cunning Risingh exulted in his stratagem, he 
 dreaded the vengeance of the sturdy Peter Stuy vesant, whose 
 name spread as much terror in the neighbourhood as did 
 whilome that of the unconquerable Scanderberg among his 
 scurvy enemies the Turks. 
 
 THE 
 MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE, 
 
 A COLLOQUY IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 "^There are certain half-dreaming moods of mind, in which 
 we naturally steal away from noise and glare, and seek 
 some quiet haunt, where we may indulge our reveries, and 
 build our air castles undisturbed.v In such a mood, I was 
 loitering about the old gray cloisters of Westminster Abbey, 
 enjoying that luxury of wandering thought which one is apt 
 to dignify with the name of reflection ; when suddenly an 
 irruption of madcap boys from Westminster school, playing 
 at foot-ball, broke in upon the monastic stillness of the place, 
 making the vaulted passages and mouldering tombs echo 
 with their merriment. I sought to take refuge from their 
 noise by penetrating still deeper into the solitudes of the pile, 
 and applied to one of the vergers for admission to the libra- 
 ry. He conducted me through a portal rich with the crumb- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 195 
 
 ling sculpture of former ages, which opened upon a gloomy 
 passage leading to the Chapter-house, and the chamber in 
 which Doomsday Book is deposited. Just within the pas- 
 sage is a small door on the left. To this the verger ap- 
 plied a key; it was double locked, and opened with some 
 difficulty, as if seldom used. We now ascended a dark nar- 
 row staircase, and passing through a second door, entered 
 the library. 
 
 I found myself in a lofty antique hall, the roof supported 
 by massive joists of old English oak. It was soberly lighted 
 by a row of Gothi(i windo\vs at a considerable height from 
 the floor, and which apparently opene^d upon the roofs of the 
 cloisters. An ancient picture of some reverend dignitary of 
 the church, in his robes, hung over the fire-place. Around 
 the hall and in a small gallery were the books, arranged in 
 carved oaken cases. They consisted principally of old 
 polemical writers, and were much more worn by time than 
 use. In^ihe centre of the library was a solitary table, with 
 two or three books on it, an inkstand without ink, and a [ew 
 pens parched by long disuse. The place seemed fitted for 
 quiet study and profound meditation. It was buried deep 
 among the massive walls of the abbey, and shut up from the 
 tumult of the world. I could only hear now and then the 
 shouts of the schoolboys faintly swelling from the cloisters, 
 and the sound of a bell tolling for prayers, that echoed so- 
 berly along the roofs of the abbey. By degrees the shouts 
 of merriment grew fainter and fainter, and at length died 
 away. The bell ceased to toll, and a profound silence reign- 
 ed through the dusky hall. 
 
 I had taken down a little thick quarto, curiously bound in 
 parchment, with brass clasps, and seated myself at the table 
 in a venerable elbow' chair. Instead of reading, however, I 
 was beguiled by the solemn monastic air, and lifeless quiet 
 of the place, into a train of musing. As I looked around 
 upon the old volumes in their mouldering covers, thus ranged 
 on the shelves, and apparently never disturbed in their^^re- 
 pose, I could not but consider the library a kind of literary 
 catacomb, where authors, like mummies, are piously entomb- 
 ed, and left to blacken and moulder in dusty oblivion. 
 
 How much, thought I, has each of these volumes, now 
 
196 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 thrust aside with such indifiereiice, cost some aching head! 
 how many weary days ! how many sleepless nights ! How 
 have their authors buried themselves in the solitude of cells 
 and cloisters ; shut themselves up from the face of man, and 
 the still more blessed face of nature ; and devoted themselves 
 to painful research and intense reflection ! And all for what ? 
 to occupy an inch of dusty shelf- — to have the title of their 
 works read now and then in a future age, by some drowsy 
 churchman or casual straggler like myself; and in another 
 age to be lost, even in remembrance. Such is the amount 
 of this boasted immortality. A mere temporary rumour, a 
 local sound ; like the tone of that bell which has just tolled 
 among these towers, filling the ear for a moment — lingering 
 transiently in echo — -and then passing a'way like a thing 
 that was not 1 
 
 BOOK MAKING. 
 
 Theeu was one dapper little gentleman in bright coloured 
 clothes, with a chirping gossiping expression of counte- 
 nance, who had all the appearance of an author on good 
 terms with his bookseller. After considering him atten- 
 tively, I recognized in him a diligent getter up of miscella- 
 neous works, which bustled off well with the trade. I was 
 curious to see how he manufactured his wares. He made 
 more stir and show of business than any of the others; dip- 
 ping into various books, fluttering over the leaves of manu- 
 scripts, taking a morsel out of one, a morsel out of another, 
 " line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there 
 a little." The contents of his book seemed to be as hete- 
 rogeneous as those of the witches' caldron in Macbeth. It 
 was here a finger and there a thumb, toe of frog and blind 
 worm's sting, with his own gossip poured in, like " baboon's 
 blood," to make the medley " slab and good." 
 
 After all, thought I, may not this pilfering disposition be 
 implanted in authors for wise purposes ; may it not be the 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 197 
 
 way in which Providence has taken care that the seeds of 
 knowledge and wisdom shall be preserved from age to age, 
 in spite of the inevitable decay of the works in which they 
 were first produced 1 We see that nature has wisely, though 
 whimsically, provided for the conveyance of seeds from 
 clime to clime, in the maws of certain birds ; so that ani- 
 mals, which, in themselves, are little better than carrion, 
 and apparently the lawless plunderers of the orchard and 
 the corn field, are, in fact. Nature's carriers to disperse and 
 perpetuate her blessings. In like manner, the beauties and 
 fine thouo;hts of ancient and obsolete authors are cauo-ht up 
 by these flights of predatory writers, and cast forth again to 
 flourish and bear fruit in a remote and distant tract of time. 
 Many of their works, also, undergo a kind of metempsy- 
 chosis, and spring up under new forms. What was formerly 
 a ponderous history, revives in the shape of a romance — an 
 old legend changes into a modern play— and a sober philo- 
 sophical treatise furnishes the body for a whole series of 
 bouncing and sparkling essays. Thus it is in the clearing 
 of our American woodlands ; where we burn down a forest 
 of stately pines, a progeny of dwarf oaks start up in their 
 place : and we never see the prostrate trunk of tree moul- 
 dering into soil, but it gives birth to a whole tribe of fungi. 
 
 Let us not, then, lament over the decay and oblivion into 
 which ancient writers descend ; they do but submit to the 
 great law of nature, which declares that all sublunary shapes 
 of matter shall be limited in their duration, but which de- 
 crees, also, that their elements shall never perish. Genera- 
 tion after generation, both in animal and vegetable life, passes 
 away, but the vital principle is transmitted to posterity, and 
 the species continue to flourish. Thus, also, do authors 
 beget authors, and having produced a numerous progeny, in 
 a, good old age they sleep with their fathers, that is to say, 
 with the authors who preceded them — and from whom they 
 had stolen. 
 
 Whilst 1 was indulging in these rambling fancies, I ha4 
 leaned my head against a pile of reverend folios. Whe- 
 ther it was owing to the soporific emanations from these 
 works ; or to the profound quiet of the room ; or to the 
 lassitude arising from much v/andcring ; or to an unlucky 
 
 17* 
 
198 . BEAUTIES OF 
 
 habit of napping at improper times and places, with which 
 I am grievously afflicted, so it was, that I fell into a doze. 
 Still, however, my imagination continued busy, and indeed 
 the same scene remained before my mind's eye, only a little 
 changed in some of the details. 1 dreamt that the chamber 
 was still decorated with the portraits of ancient authors, but 
 the number was increased. The long tables had disappear- 
 ed, and in place of the sage magi, I beheld a ragged, thread- 
 bare throng, such as may be seen plying about the grekt 
 repository of cast-off clothes, Monmouth Street. When- 
 ever they seized upon a book, by one of those incongruities 
 common to dreams, methought it turned into a garment of 
 foreign or antique fashion, with which they proceeded to 
 equip themselves. I noticed, however, that no one pre- 
 tended to clothe himself from any particular suit, but took 
 a sleeve from one, a cape from another, a skirt from a third, 
 thus decking himself out piecemeal, while some of his ori- 
 ginal rags would peep out from among his borrowed finery. 
 There was a portly, rosy, well-fed parson, whom I ob- 
 served ogling several mouldy polemical writers through an 
 eye-glass. He soon contrived to slip on the voluminous 
 mantle of one of the old fathers, and having purloined the 
 gray beard of another, endeavoured to look exceedingly 
 wise ; but the smirking common place of his countenance 
 set at nought all the trappings of wisdom. One sickly 
 looking gentleman was busied embroidering a very flimsy 
 garment with gold thread drawn out of several old court 
 dresses of the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Another had 
 trimmed himself magnificently from an illuminated manu- 
 script, had stuck a nosegay in his bosom, culled from "The 
 Paradise of dainty devices," and having put Sir Philip Sid- 
 ney's hat on one side of his head, strutted off with an ex- 
 qui-oite air of vulgar elegance. A third, who was but of 
 puny dimensions, had bolstered himself out bravely with the 
 spoils from several obscure tracts of philosophy, so that he 
 had a very imposing front ; but he was lamentably tattered 
 in rear, and 1 perceived that he had patched his small-clothes 
 with scraps of parchment from a Latin author. 
 
 There were some well dressed gentlemen, it is true, who 
 only helped themselves to a gem or so, which sparkled 
 
/ 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 199 
 
 among their own ornaments, without edipsing them. Some, 
 too, seemed to contemplate the costumes of the old writers, 
 merely to imbibe their principles of taste, and to catch their 
 air and spirit ; but I grieve to say, that too many were apt 
 to array themselves from top to toe, in the patchwork man- 
 ner I have mentioned. I shall not omit to speak of one 
 genius, in drab breeches and gaiters, and an Arcadian hat, 
 who had a violent propensity to the pastoral, but whose ru- 
 ral wanderings had been confined to the classic haunts of 
 Primrose Hill, and the solitudes of the Reo;ent's Park. He 
 had decked himself in wreaths and ribands from all the old 
 pastoral poets, and hanging his head on one side, went about 
 with a fantastical lack-a-daisical air, " babbling about green 
 fields." But -the personage that most struck my attention 
 was a pragmatical old gentleman, in clerical robes with a 
 remarkably large and square, but bald head. He entered 
 the room wheezing and puffing, elbowed his way through 
 the throng, with a look of sturdy self-confidence, and hav- 
 ing laid hands upon a thick Greek quarto, clapped it upon 
 his head, and swept majestically away in a formidable friz- 
 zled wioj. 
 
 In the height of this literary masquerade, a cry suddenly 
 resounded from every side, of " Thieves ! thieves !" I look- 
 ed, and lo ! the portraits about the wall became animated ! 
 The old authors thrust out, first a head, then a shoulder 
 from the canvass, looked down curiously, for an instant, 
 upon the motley throng, and then descended, with fury in 
 their eyes, to claim their rifled property. The scene of 
 scampering and hubbub that ensued baffles all description. 
 The unhappy culprits endeavoured in vain to escape with 
 the plunder. On one side might be seen half a dozen old 
 monks, stripping a modern professor; on another, there was 
 sad devastation carried into the ranks of modern dramatic 
 writers. Beaumont and Fletcher, side by side, raged round 
 the field like Castor and Pollux, and sturdy Ben Jonson 
 enacted more wonders than when a volunteer with the army 
 in Flanders. As to the dapper httle compiler of farragos, 
 mentioned some time since, he had arrayed himself in as 
 many patches and colours as Harlequin, and there was as 
 fierce a contention of claimants about him, as about the dead 
 
00 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 body of Patroclus. I was grieved to see many men, to 
 whom I had been accustomed to look upon with awe and 
 reverence, fain to steal off with scarce a rag to cover their 
 nakedness. Just then my eye was caught by the pragmati- 
 cal old gentleman in the Greek frizzled wig, who was scram- 
 bling away sore affrighted with half a score of authors in 
 full cry after him. They were close upon his haunches; 
 in a twinkling off went his wig ; at every turn some strip of 
 raiment was peeled away; until in a few moments, from his 
 domineering pomp, he shrunk into a little, pursy, " chopp'd 
 bald shot," and made his exit with only a few tags and bags 
 fluttering at his back. 
 
 There was something so ludicrous in the catastrophe of 
 this learned Theban, that I burst into an immoderate fit of 
 laughter, which broke the whole illusion. The tumult and 
 the scufHe were at an end. Tiie chamber resumed its usual 
 appearance. The old authors shrunk back into their pic- 
 ture-frames, and hung in shadowy solemnity along the walls. 
 In short, I found myself wide awake in my corner, with the 
 whole assemblage of bookworms gazing at me with aston- 
 ishment. Nothing of the dream had been real but my burst 
 of laughter, a sound never before heard in that grave sanc- 
 tuary, and so abhorrent to the ears of wisdom, as to electri- 
 fy the fraternity. 
 
 The librarian now stepped up to me, and demanded 
 whether I had a card of admission. At first I did not com- 
 prehend him, but I soon found that the library was a kind 
 of literary " preserve," subject to game laws, and that no 
 one must presume to hunt there without special license and 
 permission. In a word, I stood convicted of being an ar- 
 rant poacher, and was glad to make a precipitate retreat, 
 lest I should have a whole pack of authors let loose upon 
 me. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 201 
 
 A DUTCH SETTLER'S DREAM. 
 
 And the sage Oloffe dreamed a dream — and lo, the good 
 St. Nicholas came riding over the tops of the trees in that 
 self-same wagon wherein he brings his yearly presents to 
 children ; and he came and descended hard by where the 
 heroes of Communipaw had made their late repast. And 
 the shrewd Van Kortlandt knew him by his broad hat, his long 
 pipe, and the resemblance which he bore to the figure on 
 the brow of the Goede Vrouw. And he lit his pipe by the 
 fire, and he sat himself down and smoked ; and as he smok- 
 ed, the smoke from his pipe ascended into the air and spread 
 hke a cloud overhead. And the sage Oloffe bethought him, 
 and he hastened and climbed up to the top of one of the 
 tallest trees, and saw that the smoke spread over a great ex- 
 tent of country ; and as he considered it more attentively, 
 he fancied that the great volume of smoke assumed a varie- 
 ty of marvellous forms, where in dim obscurity he saw 
 shadowed out palaces and domes and lofty spires, all of 
 which lasted but for a moment, and then faded away, until 
 the whole rolled off, and nothing but the green woods were 
 left. And when St. Nicholas had smoked his pipe, he 
 twisted it in his hatband, and laying his finger beside his 
 nose, gave the astonished Van Kortlandt a very significant 
 look ; then mounting his wagon, he returned over the tree 
 tops and disappeared. 
 
 And Van Kortlandt awoke from his sleep greatly in- 
 structed, and he aroused his companions and related to 
 them his dream : and interpreted it, that it was the will of 
 St. Nicholas that they should settle down and build the city 
 there. And that the smoke of the pipe was a type how vast 
 should be the extent of the city ; inasmuch as the volumes of 
 its smoke should spread over a vast extent of country. 
 And they all with one voice assented to this interpretation 
 excepting Mynheer Tenbroeck, who declared the meaning 
 to be that it should be a city wherein a little fire should oc- 
 casion a great smoke, or in other words, a very vapouring 
 little city— both which interpretations have strangely come 
 to pass. 
 
202 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE. 
 
 In the course of an excursion through one of the remote 
 counties of England, I had struck into one of those cross 
 roads that lead through the more secluded parts of the coun- 
 try, and stopped one afternoon at a village, the situation of 
 which was beautifully rural and retired. There was an air 
 of primitive simplicity about its inhabitants, not to be found 
 in the villages which lie on the great coach roads. I deter- 
 mined to pass the night there, and having taken an early 
 dinner, strolled out to enjoy the neighbouring scenery. 
 
 My ramble, as is usually the case with travellers, soon 
 led me to the church, which stood at a little distance from 
 the village. Indeed, it was an object of some curiosity, its 
 old tower being completely over nin with ivy, so that only 
 here and there a jutting buttress, an angle of gray wall, or 
 a fantastically carved ornament, peered through the verdant 
 covering. It was a lovely evening. The early part of the 
 day had been dark and showery, but in the afternoon it had 
 cleared up ; though sullen clouds still hung over head, yet 
 there was a broad tract of golden sky in the west, from 
 which the setting sun gleamed through the dripping leaves, 
 and lit up all nature into a melancholy smile. It seemed 
 like the parting hour of a good Christian, smiling on the 
 sins and sorrows of the world, and giving, in the sere- 
 nity of his decline, an assurance that he will rise again in 
 glory. 
 
 I had seated myself on a half sunken tombstone, and was 
 musing, as one is apt to do at this sober-thoughted hour, on 
 past scenes and early friends — on those who were distant 
 and those who were dead — and indulgino; in that kind of 
 melancholy fancying, which has in it something sweeter 
 even than pleasure. Every now and then, the stroke of a 
 bell from the neighbouring tower fell on my ear ; its tones 
 were in unison with the scene, and, instead of jarring, chim- 
 ed in with my feelings ; and it was some time before I re- 
 collected, that it must be toUinsj the knell of some new tenant 
 of the tomb. 
 
 Presently I saw a funeral train moving across the village 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 203 
 
 green ; it wound slowly along a lane ; was lost, and re-ap- 
 peared through the breaks of the hedges, until it passed the 
 place where I was sitting. The pall was supported by young 
 girls dressed in white ; and another, about the age of seventeen, 
 walked before, bearing a chaplet of white flowers ; a token 
 that the deceased was a young and unmarried female. The 
 corpse was followed by the parents. Thej^ were a venera- 
 ble couple of the better order of peasantry. The father 
 seemed to repress his feelings ; but his fixed eye, contract- 
 ed brow, and deeply-furrowed face, showed the struggle 
 that was passing within. His wife hung on his arm, and 
 wept aloud with the convulsive bursts of a mother's sor- 
 row. 
 
 I followed the funeral into the church. The bier was 
 placed in the centre aisle, and the chaplet of white flowers, 
 with a pair of white gloves, were hung over the seat which 
 the deceased had occupied. 
 
 Every one knows the soul-subduing pathos of the funeral 
 service ; for who is so fortunate as never to have followed 
 some one he has loved to the tomb ? but when performed 
 over the remains of innocence and beauty, thus laid low in 
 the bloom of existence — what can be more affecting ? At 
 that simple, but most solemn consignment of the body to 
 the grave — " Earth to earth — ashes to ashes— dust to dust !" 
 - — the tears of the youthful companions of the deceased flow- 
 ed unrestrained. The father still seemed to struggle with 
 his feelings, and to comfort himself with the assurance, that 
 the dead are blessed which die in the Lord ; but the mother 
 only thought of her child as a flower of the field cut down 
 and withered in the midst of its sweetness : she was like 
 Rachel, " mourning over her children, and would not be 
 comforted." 
 
 On returning to the inn I learnt the whole story of the 
 deceased. It was a simple one, and such as has often been 
 told. She had been the beauty and pride of the village. 
 Her father had once been an opulent farmer, but was re- 
 duced in circumstances. This was an only child and brought 
 up entirely at home, in the simplicity of rural life. She had 
 been the pupil of the village pastor, the favourite of his little 
 flock. The good man watched over her education with pa- 
 
204 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 ternal care ; it was limited, and suitable to the sphere in 
 which she was to move ; for he only sought to make her 
 an ornament to her station in life, not to raise her above it. 
 The tenderness and indulgence of her parents, and the ex- 
 emption from all ordinary occupations, had fostered a natu- 
 ral grace and delicacy of character, that accorded with the 
 fragile loveliness of her form. She appeared like some ten- 
 der plant of the garden, blooming accidentally amid the 
 hardier natives of the fields. 
 
 The superiority of her charms was felt and acknowledged 
 by her companions, but without envy ; for it was surpassed 
 by the unassuming gentleness and winning kindness of her 
 manners. It might be truly said of her : 
 
 This is the prettiest low-born lass, that ever 
 Ran on the gveen-sward : nothing she does or seems, 
 But smacks of something greater than herself; 
 Too noble for this place." 
 
 The village was one of those sequestered spots, which 
 still retain some vestiges of old English customs. It had its 
 rural festivals and holy day pastimes, and still kept up some 
 faint observance of the once popular rites of May. These, 
 indeed, had been promoted by its present pastor ; who was 
 a lover of old customs, and one of those simple Christians 
 that think theii mission fulfilled by promoting joy on earth 
 and good will among mankind. Under his auspices the 
 may-pale stood from year to year in the centre of the vil- 
 lage green : on May- day it was decorated with garlands 
 and streamers ; and a queen or lady of the May was ap- 
 pointed, as in former times, to preside at the sports, and dis- 
 tribute the prizes and rewards. The picturesque situation of 
 the village, and the fancifulness of its rustic fetes, would 
 often attract the notice of casual visiters. Among these, one 
 May day was a young officer, whose regiment had been re- 
 cently quartered in the neighbourhood. He was charmed 
 with the native taste that pervaded this village pageant ; 
 but above all with the dawning loveliness of the queen of 
 May. It was the village favourite, who was crowned with 
 flowers, and blushing and smiling in all the beautiful confu- 
 sion of girlish diffidence and delight. The artlessness of 
 rural habits enabled him readily to make her acquaintance; 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 205 
 
 he gradually won his way into her intimacy ; and paid his 
 court to her in that unthinking way in which young officers 
 are too apt to trifle with rustic simphcity. 
 
 There was nothing in his advances to startle or alarm, 
 pe never even talked of love : but there are modes of mak- 
 ing it more eloquent than language, and which convey it 
 subtilely and irresistibly into the heart. The beam of the 
 eye, the tone of the voice, the thousand tendernesses which 
 emanate from every word, and look, and action— these form 
 the true eloquence of love, and can almost be felt and un- 
 derstood, but never described, j Can we wonder that they 
 should readily win a heart young, guileless, and susceptible 1 
 As to her, she loved almost unconsciously ; she scarcely in- 
 quired what was the growing passion that was absorbing 
 every thought and feeling or what were to be its consequen- 
 ces. She, indeed, looked not to the future. When present, 
 his looks and words occupied her whole attention ; when 
 absent, she thought, but of what had passed at their recent 
 interview. She would wander with him through the green 
 lanes and rural scenes of the vicinity. He taught her to 
 see new beauties in nature ; he talked in the language of 
 polite and cultivated life, and breathed into her ear the 
 witcheries of romance and poetry. 
 
 Perhaps there could not have been a passion, between the 
 sexes, more pure than this innocent girl's. The gallant 
 figure of her youthful admirer, and the splendour of his mili- 
 tary attire, might at first have charmed her eye ; but it was 
 not these that had captivated her heart. Her attachment 
 had something in it of idolatry. She looked up to him as 
 to a being of a superior order. She felt in his society the 
 enthusiasm of a mind naturally delicate and poetical, and 
 now first awakened to a keen perception of the beautiful 
 and grand. Of the sordid distinctions of rank and fortune 
 she thought nothing ; it was the difference of intellect, of 
 demeanour, of manners, from those of the rustic society to 
 which she had been accustomed, that elevated him in her 
 opinion. She would listen to him with charmed ear and 
 downcast look of mute delight, and her cheek would mantle 
 with enthusiasm ; or if ever she ventured a shy glance of 
 
 18 
 
206 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 timid admiration, it was as quickly withdrawn, and she would 
 sigh and blush at the idea of her comparative un worthiness. 
 Her lover was equally impassioned ; but his passion was 
 mingled with feelings of a coarser nature. He had begun 
 the connexion in levity ; for he had often heard his brother 
 officers boast of their village conquests, and thought some 
 triumph of the kind necessary to his reputation as a man of 
 spirit. But he was too full of youthful fervour. His heart 
 had not yet been rendered sufficiently cold and selfish by a 
 wandering and dissipated life : it caught fire from the very 
 flame it sought to kindle ; and before he was aware of the 
 nature of his situation, he became really in love. 
 
 What was he to do ? There were the old obstacles which 
 so incessantly occur in these heedless attachments. His 
 rank in life — -the prejudices of titled connexions — his de- 
 pendence upon a proud and unyielding father — all forbade 
 him to think of matrimony : — but when he looked down upon 
 this innocent being, so tender and confiding, there was a 
 purity in her manners, a blamelessness in her life, and a be- 
 seeching modesty in her looks that awed down every licen- 
 tious feeling. In vain did he try to fortify himself by a 
 thousand heartless examples of men of fashion ; and to chill 
 the glow of generous sentiment, with that cold derisive levity 
 with which he had heard them talk of female virtue; when- 
 ever he came into her presence, she was still surrounded by 
 that mysterious, but impressive charm of virgin purity, in 
 whose hallowed sphere no guilty thought can live. 
 
 The sudden arrival of orders for the regiment to repair 
 to the continent completed the confusion of his mind. He 
 remained for a short time in a state of the most painful irre- 
 solution ; he hesitated to communicate the tidings, until the 
 day of marching was at hand ,• when he gave her the intel- 
 ligence in the course of an evening ramble. 
 
 The idea of parting had never before occurred to her. It 
 broke at once upon her dream of felicity; she looked upon 
 it as a sudden and insurmountable evil, and wept with the 
 guileless simplicity of a child. He drew her to his bosom, 
 and kissed the tears from her soft cheek ; nor did he meet 
 with a repulse ; for there are moments of mingled sorrow 
 and tenderness, which hallow the caresses of affection. He 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. * 207 
 
 was naturally impetuous ; and the sight of beauty, appa- 
 rently yielding in his arms ; the confidence of his power 
 over her ; and the dread of losing her for ever ; all con- 
 spired to overwhelm his better feelings — he ventured to pro- 
 pose that she should leave her home, and be the companion 
 of his fortunes. 
 
 He was quite a novice in seduction, and blushed and fal- 
 tered at his own baseness ; but so innocent of mind was his 
 intended victim, that she was at first at a loss to comprehend 
 his meaning ; and why she should leave her native village 
 and the humble roof of her parents ? When at last the na- 
 ture of his proposal flashed upon her pure mind, the effect 
 was withering. She did not weep — she did not break forth 
 into reproach — she said not a word — but she shrunk back 
 aghast as from a viper ; gave him a look of anguish that 
 pierced to his very soul ; and clasping her hands in agony, 
 fled, as if for refuge, to her father^s cottage. 
 
 The oflicer retired, confounded, humiliated, and repentant. 
 It is uncertain what might have been the result of the con- 
 flict of his feelings, had not his thoughts been diverted by 
 the bustle of departure. New scenes, new pleasures, and 
 new companions, soon dissipated his self-reproach, and sti- 
 fled his tenderness ; yet, amidst the stir of camps, the revel- 
 ries of garrisons, the array of armies, and even the din of 
 battles, his thoughts would sometimes steal back to the scene 
 of rural quiet and village simplicity — the white cottage — 
 the footpath along the silver brook and up the hawthorn 
 hedge, and the little village maid loitering along it, leaning 
 on his arm, and listening to him with eyes beaming with un- 
 conscious affection. 
 
 The shock which the poor girl had received, in th^' de- 
 struction of all her ideal world, had indeed been cruel. 
 Paintings and hysterics, had at first shaken her tender 
 frame, and were succeeded by a settled and pining melan- 
 choly. She had beheld from her window the march of the 
 departing troops. She had seen her faithless lover borne 
 off, as if in triumph, amidst the sound of drum and trum- 
 pet, and the pomp of arms. She strained a last aching 
 gaze after him, as the morning sun glittered about his 
 figure, and his plume waved in the breeze : he passed away 
 
208 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 like a bn'o-ht vision from her sight and left her all in dark- 
 ness. 
 
 It would be trite to dwell on the particulars of her after- 
 story. It was, like other tales of love, melancholy. She 
 avoided society, and wandered out alone in the walks she 
 had most frequented with her lover. She sought, like the 
 stricken deer, to weep in silence and loneliness, and brood 
 over the barbed sorrow that rankled in her soul. Some- 
 times she would be seen late of an evening sitting in the 
 porch of the village church ; and the milk-maids, returning 
 from the fields, would now and then overhear her, singing 
 some plaintive ditty in the hawthorn walk. She became 
 fervent in her devotions at church : and as the old people 
 saw her approach, so wasted away, yet with a hectic bloom, 
 and that hallowed air which melancholy diffuses round the 
 form, they would make way for her, as for a thing spiritual, 
 and, looking after her, would shake their heads in gloomy 
 foreboding. 
 
 She felt a conviction that she was hastening to the tomb, 
 but looked forward to it as a place of rest. The silver cord 
 that had bound her to existence was loosed, and there seem- 
 ed to be no more pleasure under the sun. If ever her gen- 
 tle bosom had entertained resentment against her lover, it 
 was extinguished. She was incapable of angry passions ; 
 and in a moment of saddened tenderness, she penned him 
 a farewell letter. It was couched in the simplest language ; 
 but touching from its very simplicity. She told him that 
 she was dying, and did not conceal from him that his con- 
 duct was the cause. She even depicted the sufferings which 
 she had experienced ; but concluded with saying, that she 
 could not die in peace, until she had sent him her forgiveness 
 and her blessing. 
 
 By degrees her strength declined, so that she could no 
 longer leave the cottage. She could only totter to the win- 
 dow, where, propped up in her chair, it was her enjoyment 
 to sit all day and look out upon the landscape. Still she 
 uttered no complaint, nor imparted to any one the malady 
 that was preying upon her heart. She never even men- 
 tioned her lover's name ; but would lay her head on her 
 mother's bosom and weep in silence. Her poor parents 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 209 
 
 hung in mute anxiety over this fading blossom of their 
 hopes, still flattering themselves that it might again revive 
 to freshness, and that the bright unearthly bloom which 
 sometimes fl.ushed her cheek might be the promise of return- 
 ing health. 
 
 In this way she was seated between them one Sunday 
 afternoon ; her hands were clasped in theirs, the lattice was 
 thrown open, and the soft air that stole in brought with it 
 the fragrance of the clustering honeysuckle which her own 
 hands had trained round the window. 
 
 Her father had just been reading a chapter in the Bible : 
 it spoke of the vanity of worldly things and of the joys of 
 heaven : it seemed to have diffused comfort and serenity 
 through her bosom. Her eye was fixed on the distant vil- 
 lage church ; the bell had tolled for the evening service ; the 
 last villager was lagging into the porch, and every thing 
 had sunk into that hallowed stillness peculiar to the day of 
 rest. Her parents were gazing on her with yearning hearts. 
 Sickness and sorrow, which pass so roughly over some 
 faces, had given her's the expression of a seraph's. A 
 tear trembled in her soft blue eye. Was she thinking of 
 her faithless lover? — or were her thoughts wandering to 
 that distant church-yard, into whose bosom she might soon 
 be gathered 1 
 
 Suddenly the clang of hoofs was heard — a horseman gal- 
 loped to the cottage — he dismounted before the window — 
 the poor girl gave a faint exclamation, and sunk back in her 
 chair ; — it was her repentant lover ! He rushed into the 
 house, and flew to clasp her to his bosom ; but her wasted 
 form — her death-like countenance — so wan, yet so lovely 
 in its desolation, — smote him to the soul, and he threw him- 
 self in an agony at her feet. She was too faint to rise — 
 She attempted to extend her trembling hand— her lips mo- 
 ved as if she spoke, but no word was articulated — she look- 
 ed down upon him with a smile of unutterable tenderness, — 
 and closed her eyes for ever ! 
 
 Such are the particulars which I gathered of this village 
 story. They are but scanty, and I am conscious have little 
 novelty to recommend them. In the present rage also for 
 strange incident and high-seasoned narrative, they may ap- 
 
 18* 
 
210 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 pear trite and insignificant, but they interested me strongly 
 at the tinne ; and, taken in connexion with the affecting 
 ceremony which I just witnessed, left a deeper impression 
 on my mind than many circumstances of a more striking 
 nature. I have passed through the place since, and visited 
 the church again, from a better motive than mere curiosity. 
 It was a wintry evening ; the trees were stripped of their 
 foliage ; the church-yard looked naked and mournful, and 
 the wind rustled coldly through the dry grass. Ever- 
 greens, however, had been planted about the grave of the 
 village favourite, and osiers were bent over it to keep the 
 turf uninjured. 
 
 The church door was open, and I stepped in. There 
 hung the chaplet of flowers and the gloves as on the day of 
 the funeral : the flowers were withered, it is true, but care 
 seemed to have been taken that no dust should soil their 
 whiteness. I have seen many monuments, where art has 
 exhausted its powers to awaken the sympathy of the spec- 
 tator ; but I have met with none that spoke more touchingly 
 to my heart, than this simple, but delicate memento of de- 
 parted innocence. 
 
 DOMESTIC SCENE. 
 
 The family meeting v/as warm and aflectionate. As the 
 evening was far advanced, the Squire would not permit us 
 to change our travelling dresses, but ushered us at once to 
 the company, which was assembled in a large old-fashioned 
 hall. It was composed of different branches of a nume- 
 rous family connexion, where there were the usual propor- 
 tion of old uncles and aunts, comfortable married dames, 
 superannuated spinsters, blooming country cousins, half* 
 fledged striplings, and bright-eyed boarding school hoydens. 
 They were variously occupied ; some at a round game of 
 cards ; others conversing around the fire-place* At one end 
 of the hall was a group of the young folks, some nearly 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 311 
 
 grown up, others of a more tender and budding age, fully 
 engrossed by a merry game ; and a prof^jsion of wooden 
 horses, penny trumpets, and tattered dolls about the floor, 
 showed traces of a troop of little fairy beings, v/ho, having 
 frolicked through a happy day, had been carried off to slum 
 her through a peaceful night. 
 
 MASTER SIMON. 
 
 The mirth of the company was greatly promoted by the 
 humours of an eccentric personage whom Mr, Bracebridge 
 always addressed with the quaint appellation of Master Si- 
 mon. He was a tight brisk Httle man, with the air of an 
 arrant old bachelor. His nose was shaped like the bill of a 
 parrot ; his face slightly pitted with the small pox, with a 
 dry perpetual bloom on it, like a frost-bitten leaf in autumn. 
 He had an eye of great quickness and vivacity, with a drol- 
 lery and lurking waggery of expression that was irresistible. 
 He was evidently the wit of the family, dealing very much 
 in sly jokes and innuendoes with the ladies, and making in- 
 finite merriment by har pings upon old themes ; which, un- 
 fortunately, my ignorance of the family chronicles did not 
 permit me to enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight 
 during supper to keep a young girl next him in a continual 
 agony of stifled laughter, in spite of her awe of the reprov- 
 ing looks of her mother, who sat opposite. Indeed, he was 
 the idol of the younger part of the company, who laugLed 
 at every thing he said or did, and at every turn of his coun- 
 tenance. I could not wonder at it ; for he must have been 
 a miracle of accomplishments in their eyes. He could 
 imitate Punch and Judy ; make an old woman of his hand, 
 with the assistance of a burnt cork and pocket handkerchief; 
 and cut an orange into such a ludicrous caricature, that the 
 young folks were ready to die with laughing. 
 
212 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 PERSEVERANCE. 
 
 Like as a mighty grampus, who, though assailed and 
 buffeted by roaring waves and brawling surges, still keeps 
 on an undeviating course ; and though overwhelmed by bois- 
 terous billows, still emerges from the troubled deep, spout- 
 ing and blowing with tenfold violence — -so did the inflexible 
 Peter pursue, unwavering, his determined career, and rise 
 contemptuous above the clamours of the rabble. 
 
 ^ A DOLEFUL DISASTER OF ANTHONY THE 
 TRUMPETER. 
 
 Resolutely bent, however, upon defending his " beloved 
 city, in despite even of itself,, he called unto him his trusiy 
 Van Corlear, who was his right-hand man in all times of 
 emergency. Him did he adjure to take his war-denouncing 
 trumpet, and mounting his horse, to beat up the country, 
 night and day— sounding the alarm along the pastoral bor- 
 ders of the Bronx — startling the wild solitudes of Croton — 
 arousins the rugged veomanry of Weehawk and Hoboken 
 — the mighty men of battle of Tappan Bay*; — and the 
 brave boys of Tarry town and Sleepy hollow — together 
 with all the other warriors of the country round about ; 
 charging them one and all, to sling their powder horns, 
 shoulder their fowling-pieces, and march merrily down to 
 the Manhattoes. 
 
 Now there was nothing'in all the world, the divine sex 
 excepted, that Anthony Van Corlear loved better than er- 
 rands of this kind. So. just stopping to take a lusty dinner, 
 and bracing to his side his junk-bottle, well charged with 
 
 * A eorniption of Top paun ; so called from a tribe of Indians M'liich boasted 
 of 150 fighting men. See Ogilvie's History. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 213 
 
 heart-inspiring Hollands, he issued jollily from the city gate 
 that looked out upon what is at present called Broad-way; 
 sounding as usual a farewell strain, that rung in sprightly 
 echoes through the winding streets of New-Amsterdam — 
 Alas ! never more were they to be gladdened by the melody 
 of their favourite trumpeter ! 
 
 It was a dark and stormy night when the good Anthony 
 arrived at the famous creek (sagely denominated Harlem 
 river) which separates the island of Manna-hata from the 
 main land. The wind was high, the elements were in an 
 uproar, and no Charon could be found to ferry the adven- 
 turous sounder of brass across the water. For a short time 
 he vapoured like an impatient ghost upon the brink, and 
 then, bethinking himself of the urgency of his errand, took 
 a hearty embrace of his stone bottle, swore most valorous- 
 ly, that he would swim across, en spijt den duyvel (in spite 
 of the devil !) and daringly plunged into the stream. — Luck- 
 less Anthony ! scarce had he buffeted half-way over, when 
 he was observed to struggle violently, as if l^attling with the 
 spirit of the waters — instinctively he put his trumpet to his 
 mouth, and giving a vehement blast, sunk for ever to the 
 bottom ! 
 
 The potent clangour of his trumpet, like the ivory horn 
 of the renowned Paladin Orlando, when expiring in the glo- 
 rious field of Roncesvalles, rung far and wide through the 
 country, alarming the neighbours round, who hurried in 
 amazement to the spot. Here an old Dutch burgher, famed 
 for his veracity, and who had been a witness of the fact, re- 
 lated to them the melancholy affair ; with the fearful addi- 
 tion (to which I am ^\ow of giving belief,) that he saw the 
 duyvel, in the shape of a huge moss-bonker, seize the sturdy 
 Anthony by the leg, and drag him beneath the waves. 
 Certain it is, the place, with the adjoining promontory, 
 which projects into the Hudson, has been called Spijt den 
 duyvel or Spiking duyvel ever since, — the restless ghost of 
 the unfortunate Anthony still haunts the surrounding solitudes, 
 and his trumpet has often been heard by the neighbours, of 
 a stormy night, mingling with the howling of the blast. 
 Nobody ever attempts to swim over the creek after dark ; 
 on the contrary, a bridge has been built to guard against 
 
214 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 such melancholy accidents in future — and as to moss-bonk- 
 ers, they are held in such abhorrence that no true Dutch- 
 man will admit them to his table, who loves good fish, and 
 hates the devil. 
 
 Such was the end of Anthony Van Corlear — a man de- 
 serving of a better fate. He lived roundly and soundly, 
 like a true and jolly bachelor, until the day of his death ; 
 but though he was never married, yet did he leave behind, 
 some two or three dozen children, in different parts of the 
 country — fine chubby, brawling flatulent little urchins, from 
 whom if legends speak true (and they are not apt to lie,) 
 did descend the innumerable race of editors, who people and 
 defend this country, and who are bountifully paid by the 
 people for keeping up a constant alarm — and making them 
 miserable. Would that they inherited the worth, as they 
 do the wind, of their renowned progenitor! 
 
 The Grief of Peter Stuynesant. 
 
 The tidings of this lamentable catastrophe imparted a 
 severer pang to the bosom of Peter Stuyvesant than did 
 even the invasion of his beloved Amsterdam. It came ruth- 
 lessly home to those sweet affections that grow close around 
 the heart, and are nourished by its warmest current. As 
 some lone pilgrim wandering in trackless wastes while the 
 tempest whistles through his locks, and dreary night is 
 gathering around, sees stretched, cold and lifeless, his faith- 
 ful dog — the sole companion of his journeying — who had 
 shared his solitary meal, and so often licked his hand in 
 humble gratitude; — so did the generous-hearted hero of the 
 Manhattoes contemplate the untimely end of his faithful An- 
 thony. He had been the humble attendant of his footsteps — he 
 had cheered him in many a heavy hour, by his honest gaiety ; 
 and had followed him in loyalty and affection, through many 
 a scene of direful peril and mishap. He was gone for ever 
 « — and that too at a moment when every mongrel cur seeni' 
 ed skulking from his side, 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 215 
 
 The dignified Retirement and mortal Surrender of Peter 
 the Headstrong. 
 
 Thus then have 1 concluded this great historical enter- 
 prise ; but, before I lay aside my weary pen, there yet re- 
 mains to be performed one pious duty. If among the va- 
 riety of readers that may peruse this book, there should haply 
 be found any of those souls of true nobility, which glow 
 with celestial fire, at the history of the generous and the 
 brave, they will be anxious to know the fate of the gallant 
 Peter Stuyvesant. To gratify one such sterHng heart of 
 gold I would go more lengths than to instruct the cold- 
 blood curiosity of a whole fraternity of philosophers. 
 
 No sooner had that high mettled cavalier signed the ar- 
 ticles of capitulation, than, determined not to witness the 
 humiliation of his favourite city, he turned his back on its 
 walls, and made a growling retreat to his Bouwery, or 
 country-seat, which was situated about two miles off; where 
 he passed the remainder of his days in patriarchal retire- 
 ment. There he enjoyed that tranquillity of mind which he 
 had never known amid the distracting cares of government ; 
 and tasted the sweets of absolute and uncontrolled authority, 
 which his factious subjects had so often dashed with the bit- 
 terness of opposition. 
 
 No persuasions could ever induce him to revisit the city 
 — on the contrary, he would always have his great arm- 
 chair placed with its back to the wmdows which looked in 
 that direction ; until a thick grove of trees planted by his 
 own hand grew up and formed a screen that effectually ex- 
 cluded it from the prospect. He railed continually at the 
 degenerate innovations and improvements introduced by the 
 conquerors — forbade a word of their detested language to 
 be spoken in his family, a prohibition readily obeyed, since 
 none of the household could speak any thing but Dutch — 
 and even ordered a fine avenue to be cut down in front of 
 his house, because it consisted of English cherry trees. 
 
 The same incessant vigilance that blazed forth wiien he 
 had a vast province under his care, now showed itself with 
 equal vigour, though in narrower limits. He patrolled with 
 
216 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 unceasing watchfulness around the boundaries of his little 
 territory ; repelled every encroachment with intrepid prompt- 
 ness ; punished every vagrant depredation upon his orchard 
 or his farm yard with inflexible severity ; and conducted 
 every stray hog or cow in triumph to the pound. But to 
 the indigent neighbour, the friendless stranger, or the weary 
 wanderer, his spacious door was ever open, and his capa- 
 cious fire-place, that emblem of his own warm and generous 
 heart, had always a corner to receive and cherish them. 
 There was an exception to this, I must confess, in case the 
 ill-starred applicant was an Englishman or a Yankee; to 
 whom, though he might extend the hand of assistance, he 
 could never be brought to yield the rites of hospitality. 
 Nay, if peradventure some straggling merchant of the east, 
 should stop at his door, with his cart load of tin ware or 
 wooden bowls, the fiery Peter would issue forth like a giant 
 from his castle, and make such a furious clattering among 
 his pots and kettles, that the vender of " notions'^ was fain 
 to betake himself to instant flight. 
 
 His ancient suit of regimentals, worn threadbare by the 
 brush, were carefully hung up in the state bedchamber, and 
 regularly aired the first fair day of every month ; and his 
 cocked hat and trusty sword were suspended in grim repose 
 over the parlour mantlepiece, forming supporters to a full 
 length portrait of the renowned Admiral Von Tromp. In 
 his domestic empire he maintained strict discipline, and a 
 well organized despotic government; but though his own 
 will was the supreme law, yet the good of his subjects was 
 his constant object. He watched over, not merely their im- 
 mediate comforts, but their morals, and their ultimate wel- 
 fare ; for he gave them abundance of excellent admonition, 
 nor could any of them complain, that when occasion re- 
 quired, he was by any means niggardly in bestowing whole- 
 some correction. 
 
 The good old Dutch festivals, those periodical demonstra- 
 tions of an overflowing heart and a thankful spirit, which 
 are falling into sad disuse among my fellow citizens, were 
 faithfully observed in the mansion of Governor Stuyvesant. 
 New-year was truly a day of open handed liberality, of 
 jocund revelry, and warm-hearted congratulation — when the 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 217 
 
 bosom seemed to swell with genial good-fellowship ; and 
 the plenteous table was attended with an unceremonious 
 freedom, and honest broad-mouthed merriment, unknown in 
 these days of degeneracy and refinement. Paas and Pinx- 
 ler were scrupulously observed throughout his dominions ; 
 nor was the day of St. Nicholas suffered to pass by without 
 making presents, hanging the stocking in the chimney, and 
 complying with all its other ceremonies. 
 
 Once a year, on the first day of April, he used to array 
 himself in full regimentals, being the anniversary of his tri- 
 umphal entry into New-Amsterdam, after the conquest of 
 New-Sweden. This was always a kind of Saturnalia 
 among the domestics, when they considered themselves at 
 liberty in some measure to say and do what they pleased ; 
 for on this day their master was always observed to unbend, 
 and become exceedingly pleasant arid jocose, sending the 
 old grey-headed negroes on April fools' errands for pigeon's 
 milk ; not one of whom but allowed himself to be taken in^ 
 and humored his old master's jokes as became a faithful 
 and well disciplined dependant. Thus did he reign, happily 
 and peacefully on his own land — injuring no man — envy- 
 ing no man — -molested by no outward strifes — ^perplexed by 
 no internal commotions ; and the mighty monarchs of the 
 earth, who were vainly seeking to maintain peace, and pro- 
 mote the welfare of mankind, by war and desolation, would 
 have done well to have made a voyage to the little island of 
 Manna-hatta, and learned a lesson in government from the 
 domestic economy of Peter Stuy vesant. 
 
 In process of time, however, the old governor, like all 
 other children of mortality, began to exhibit evident tokens 
 of decay. Like an aged oak, which, though it long has 
 braved the fury of the elements, and still retains its gigantic 
 proportions, yet begins to shake and groan with every blast, 
 so the gallant Peter, though he still bore the port and sem- 
 blance of what he was in the days of his hardihood and chi- 
 valry, yet did age and infirmity begin to sap the vigour of 
 his frame ; but his heart, that most unconquerable citadel, 
 still triumphed unsubdued. With matchless avidity would 
 he listen to every article of intelligence concerning. the bat- 
 tles between the English and Dutch. Still would his pulse 
 
 19 
 
218 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 beat high whenever he heard of the victories of De Ruyter ; 
 and his countenance lower, and his eyebrows knit, when 
 fortune turned in favour of the English. At length, as on 
 a certain day, he had just smoked his fifth pipe, and was 
 napping after dinner, in his arm chair, conquering the whole 
 British nation in his dreams, he was suddenly aroused by a 
 fearful ringing of bells, rattling of drums, and roaring of 
 cannon, that put all his blood in a ferment. But when he 
 learned that these rejoicings were in honour of a great vic- 
 tory obtained by the combined English and French fleets 
 over the brave De Ruyter and the younger Von Tromp, it 
 went so much to his heart, that he took to his bed, and in 
 less than three days was brought to death's door by a vio- 
 lent cholera morbus ! But even in this extremity he still 
 displayed the unconquerable spirit of Peter the Headstrong; 
 holding out, to the last gasp, with the most inflexible obsti- 
 nacy, against a whole army of old women, who were bent 
 upon driving the enemy out of his bowels, after a true Dutch 
 mode of defence, by inundating the seat of war with catnip 
 and pennyroyal. 
 
 While he thus lay, lingering on the verge of dissolution, 
 news was brought him, that the brave Ruyter had suffer- 
 ed but little loss — had made good his retreat — and meant 
 once more to meet the enemy in battle. The closing eye 
 of the old warrior kindled at the words — he partly raised 
 himself in bed — a flash of martial fire beamed across his 
 visage — he clenched his withered hand as if he felt within 
 his gripe that sword which waved in triumph before the 
 walls of Fort Christina, and giving a grim smile of exulta- 
 tion, sunk back upon his pillow, and expired. 
 
 Thus died Peter Stuyvesant a valiant soldier, a loyal sub- 
 ject, an upright governor, and an honest Dutchman — who 
 wanted only a, few empires to desolate to have been immor- 
 talized as a hero ! 
 
 His funeral obsequies were celebrated with the utmost 
 grandeur and solemnity. The town was perfectly emptied 
 of its inhabitants, who crowded in throngs to pay the last 
 sad honours to their good old governor. All his sterling 
 qualities rushed in full tide upon their recollections, while the 
 memory of his foibles and his faults had expired with him. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 219 
 
 The ancient burghers contended who should have the privi- 
 lege of bearing the pall— the populace strove who should 
 walk nearest to the bier — and the melancholy procession 
 was closed by a number of gray-headed negroes, who had 
 wintered and summered in the household of their departed 
 master for the greater part of a century. 
 
 With sad and gloomy countenances, the multitude gath- 
 ered round the grave. They dwelt with mournful hearts on 
 the sturdy virtues, the signal services, and the gallant ex- 
 ploits of the brave old worthy. . They recalled with secret 
 upbraidings, their own factious oppositions to his govern- 
 ment — and many an ancient burgher, whose phlegmatic 
 features had never been known to relax, nor his eyes to 
 moisten, was now observed to puff a pensive pipe, and the 
 big drop to steal down l)is cheek — while he muttered, with 
 affectionate accent and melancholy shake of the head — 
 " Well den ! — Hard-Koppig Peter ben gone at last." 
 
 His remains were deposited in the family vault, under a 
 chapel, which he had piously erected on his estate, and de- 
 dicated to St. Nicholas — and which stood on the identical 
 spot at present occupied by St. Mark's Church, where his 
 tombstone is still to be seen. His estate or Bouwery, as it 
 was called, has ever continued in the possession of his descend- 
 ants ; who by the uniform integrity of their conduct, and 
 their strict adherence to the customs and manners that pre- 
 vailed in the " good old times,'^'' have proved themselves 
 worthy of their illustrious ancestor. Many a time and oft 
 has the farm been haunted at night by enterprising money 
 diggers, in quest of pots of gold said to have been buried by 
 the old governor — though 1 cannot learn that any of them 
 have ever been enriched by their researches — and who is 
 there, among my native born fellow citizens, that does not 
 remember, when in the mischievous days of his boyhood, 
 he conceived it a great exploit to rob " Stuyvesant's orch- 
 ard" on a holiday afternoon ? 
 
 At this strong hold of the family may still be seen cer- 
 tain memorials of the immortal Peter. His full length por- 
 trait frowns in martial terrors from the parlour wall- — -his 
 cocked hat and sword still hang up in the best bedroom. 
 His brimstone coloured breeches were for a long while sus- 
 
220 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 pended in the hall, until some years since they occasioned a 
 dispute between a new married couple. And his silver 
 mounted wooden leg is still treasured up in the store room 
 as an invaluable relique. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 And now the rosy blush of morn began to mantle in the 
 east, and soon the rising sun, enierging from amidst golden 
 and purple clouds, shed his blitlv;some rays on the tin wea- 
 thercocks of Communipav/. It was that delicious season of 
 the year, when nature, breaking from the chilling thraldom 
 of old winter, like a blooming damsel from the tyranny of 
 a sordid father, threw herself, blushing with ten thousand 
 charms, into the arms of youthful spring. Every tufted 
 copse and blooming grove resounded with the notes of hy- 
 meneal love. The very insects, as they sipped the dew that 
 gemmed the- tender grass of the meadows, joined in the 
 joyous epithalanium — the virgin bud timidly put forth its 
 blushes, " the voice of the turtle was heard in the land," 
 and the heart of man dissolved away in tenderness. 
 
 THE AUTHOR'S ACCOUNT OF HIS HISTORY OF 
 NEW -YORK. 
 
 I AM aware that I shall incur the censure of numerous 
 very learned and judicious critics, for indulging too fre- 
 quently in the bold excursive manner of my favourite He- 
 rodotus. And to be candid, I have found it impossible 
 always to resist the allurements of those pleasing episodes 
 which, like flowery banks and fragrant laowers, beset the 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 221 
 
 dusty road of the historian, and entice him to turn aside 
 and refresh himself from his wayfaring. But I trust it will 
 be found that I have always resumed my staff, and address- 
 ed myself to my weary journey with renovated spirits, so 
 that both my readers and myself have been benefited by the 
 relaxation. 
 
 Indeed, though it has been my constant wish and uniform 
 endeavour to rival Polybius himself, in observing the requi- 
 site unity of History, yet the loose and unconnected manner 
 in which many of the facts herein recorded have come to 
 hand, rendered such an attempt extremely difficult. This 
 difficulty was likewise increased by one of tfie grand objects 
 contemplated in my work, which was to trace the rise of 
 sundry customs and institutions in this best of cities, and 
 to compare them when in the germ of infancy with what 
 they are in the present old age of knowledge and improve- 
 ment. 
 
 But the chief merit on which I value myself, and found 
 my hopes for future regard, is that faithful veracity with 
 which I have compiled this invaluable little work ; carefully 
 winnowing away the chaff of hypothesis, and discarding 
 the tares of fable, which are too apt to spring up and choke 
 the seeds of truth and wholesome knowledge. Had I been 
 anxious to captivate the superficial throng, who skim like 
 swallows over the surface of literature ; or had I been 
 anxious to commend my writings to the pampered palates 
 of literary epicures — I might have availed myself of the 
 obscurity that overshadows the infant years of our city, to 
 introduce a thousand pleasing fictions, l^ut I have scrupu- 
 lously discarded many a pithy tale and marvellous adven- 
 ture, whereby the drowsy air of summer indolence might 
 be enthralled ; jealously maintaining that fidelity, gravity, 
 and dignity which should ever distinguish the historian. 
 
 19* 
 
222 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 I ROSE and prepared to leave the abbey. As I descended 
 the flight of steps which lead into the body of the building, 
 my eye was caught by the shrine of Edward the Confessor, 
 and 1 ascended the small staircase that conducts to it, to 
 take from thence a general survey of this wilderness of 
 tombs. The shrine is elevated upon a kind of platform, 
 and close around it are the sepulchres of various kings and 
 queens. From this eminence the eye looks down between 
 pillars and funeral trophies to the chapels and chambers be- 
 low, crowded with tombs ; where warriors, prelates, cour- 
 tiers and statesmen lie mouldering in their " beds of dark- 
 ness." Close by me stood the great chair of coronation, 
 rudely carved of oak, in the barbarous taste of a remote 
 and gothic age. The scene seemed almost as if contrived, 
 with theatrical artifice, to produce an effect on the beholder. 
 Here was a type of the beginning and the end of human 
 pomp and power ; here it was literally but a step from the 
 throne to the sepulchre. Would not one think that these 
 incongruous mementos had been gathered together as a les- 
 son to living greatness ?— to show it, even in the moment of 
 its proudest exaltation, the neglect and dishonour to which it 
 must soon arrive ; how soon that crown which encircles its 
 brow must pass away ; and it must lie dov/n in the dust and 
 disgraces of the tomb, and be trampled upon by the feet of 
 the meanest of the* multitude. For strange to tell, even the 
 grave is here no longer a sanctuary. There is a shocking 
 levity in some natures, which leads them to sport with awful 
 and hallowed things, and there are base minds, which de- 
 light to revenge on the illustrious dead the abject homage 
 and grovelling servility which they pay to the living. The 
 coffin of Edward the Confessor has been broken open, and 
 his remains despoiled of their funeral ornaments ; the scep- 
 tre has been stolen from the hand of the imperious Elizabeth, 
 and the effigy of Henry the Fifth lies headless. Not a royal 
 monument but bears some proof how felse and fugitive is 
 the homage of mankind. Some are plundered; some mu- 
 
Washington irving. 223 
 
 I'.lated ; some covered with ribaldry and insult — 'all more or 
 jess outraged and dishonoured! 
 
 The last beams of day were now faintly streaming 
 through the painted windows in the high vaults above me ; 
 the lower parts of the abbey were already wrapped in the 
 obscurity of twilight. The chapels and aisles grew darker 
 and darker. The effigies of the kings faded into shadows ; 
 the marble figures of the monuments assumed strange shapes 
 in the uncertain light ; the evening breeze crept through the 
 aisles like the cold breath of the grave ; and even the dis- 
 tant footfall of a verger, traversing the Poet's Corner, had 
 something strange and dreary in its sound. I slov^^ly re- 
 traced my morning's walk, and as \ passed out at the portal 
 of the cloisters, the door, closing with a jarring noise behind 
 me, filled the whole building with echoes. 
 
 I endeavoured to form some arrangement in my mind of 
 the objects 1 had been contemplating, but found they were 
 already falling into indistinctness and confusion. Names, 
 inscriptions, trophies, had all become confounded in my re- 
 collection, though I had scarcely taken my foot from off the 
 threshold. What, thought 1, is this vast assemblage of se- 
 pulchres but a treasury of humiliation ; a huge pile of reite- 
 rated homilies on the emptiness of renown, and the certainty 
 of oblivion ! It is, indeed, the empire of death ; his great 
 shadowy palace ; where he sits in state, mocking at the re- 
 liques of human glory, and spreading dust and forgetfulness 
 on the monuments of princes. How idle a boast, after all, 
 is the immortality of a name I Time is ever silently turn- 
 ing over his pages ; we are too much engrossed by the story 
 of the present, to think of the characters and anecdotes that 
 gave interest to the past ; and each age is a volume thrown 
 aside to be speedily forgotten. The idol of to-day pushes 
 Ihe hero of yesterday out of our recollection ; and will, in 
 turOj be supplanted "by his successor of to-morrow. 
 
224 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 MASTER HENRY HUDSON. 
 
 In the ever memorable year of our Lord, 1609, on a 
 Saturday morning, the five-and-twentieth day of March, old 
 style, did that " worthy and irrecoverable discoverer (as he 
 has justly been called,) Master Henry Hudson," set sail from 
 Holland in a stout vessel called the Half Moon, being em- 
 ployed by the Dutch East India, Company, to seek a north- 
 west passage to China. 
 
 Henry, (or as the Dutch historians call him, Hendrick) 
 Hudson was a seafaring man of renown, who had learned 
 to smoke tobacco under Sir Walter Raleigh, and is said to 
 have been the first to introduce it into Holland, which gain- 
 ed him much popularity in that country, and caused him to 
 find great favour in the eyes of their High Mightinesses, the 
 lords states-general, and also of the honourable West India 
 Company. He was a short, square, brawny old gentle- 
 man, with a double chin, a mastiff mouth, and a broad cop- 
 per nose, which was supposed in those days to have acquired 
 its fiery hue from the constant neighbourhood of his tobacco 
 pipe. 
 
 He wore a true Andrea Ferrara tucked in a leathern belt, 
 and a commodore's cocked hat on one side of his head. He 
 was remarkable for always jerking up his breeches when 
 he gave out his orders, and his voice sounded not unlike 
 the bratiling of a tin trumpet, owing to the number of hard 
 north-westers which he had swallowed in the course of his 
 seafaring. 
 
 Such was Hendrick Hudson, of vv^hom we have heard so 
 much and know so little ; and I have been thus particular 
 in his description, for the benefit of modern painters and 
 statuaries, that they may represent him as he was ; and not, 
 according to their common custom, with modern heroes, 
 make them look like Caesar, or Marcus Aurelius, or the 
 Apollo of Belvidere. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING, 
 
 Master Robert Juet. 
 
 ^25 
 
 As chief mate and favourite companion, the commodore 
 chose Master Robert Juet, of Limehouse, in England. By 
 some his name has been spelled Cheunt^ and ascribed to the 
 circumstance of his having been the first man that ever 
 chewed tobacco; but this T believe to be a mere flippancy; 
 more especially as certain of his progeny are living at this 
 day, who write their names Juet. Fie was an old comrade 
 and early school-mate of the great Hudson, with whom he 
 had often played truant and sailed chip boats in a neigh- 
 bouring pond, when they were little boys ; from whence it 
 is said the commodore first derived his bias towards a sea- 
 faring life. Certain it is, that the old people about Lime- 
 house declared Robert Juet to be an unlucky urchin, prone 
 to mischief, that would one day or other come to the gallows. 
 
 He grew up as boys of that kind often grow up, a ram- 
 bling heedless varlet, tossed about in all quarters of the 
 world — meeting with more perils and wonders than did Sin- 
 bad the sailor, without growing a whit more wise, prudent, 
 or ill-natured. Under every misfortune he comforted him- 
 self with a quid of tobacco, and the true philosophic maxim, 
 that " it will be all the same thing a hundred years hence." 
 He was sMUcd in the art of carving anchors and true lovers' 
 knots on the bulk-heads and quarter-railings, and was con- 
 sidered a great wit on board ship, in consequence of his 
 playing pranks on every body around, and now and then 
 even making a wr^'- face at old Hendrick, when his back was 
 turned. 
 
 To this universal genius we are indebted for many parti- 
 culars concerning this voyage, of which he wrote a history, 
 at the request of the commodore, who had an unconquera- 
 ble aversion to v/ritina; himself, from having received so 
 many floggings about it when at school. To supply the 
 deficiencies of Master Juet's Journal which is written with 
 true log-book brevity, I have availed myself of divers family 
 traditions, handed down from my great great grandfather, 
 who accompanied the expedition in the capacity of cabin 
 boy. 
 
2^6 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 A Dutch Voyage of Discovery. 
 
 Suffice it then to say, the voyage was prosperous and 
 tranquil — the crew being a patient people, much given to 
 slumber and vacuity, and but Httle troubled with the disease 
 of thinking — a malady of the mind, which is the sure breeder 
 of discontent. Hudson had laid in abundance of gia and 
 sour-crouty and every man was allowed to sleep quietly at 
 his post unless the wind blew. True it is, some slight dis- 
 satisfaction was shown on tv/o or three occasions, at certain 
 unreasonable conduct of Commodore Hudson. Thus, for 
 instance, he forbore to shorten sail M'hen the wind was light, 
 and the weather serene, which was considered among the 
 most experienced Dutch seamen, as certain loeatker-breeders, 
 or prognostics, that the weather would change tx)r the worse. 
 He acted, moreover, in direct contradiction to that ancient 
 and sage rule of the Dutch navigators, who always took in 
 sail at night, put the helm aport, and turned in ; by which 
 precaution they had a good night's rest, were sure of know- 
 ing where they were the next morning, and stood but little 
 chance of running down a continent in the dark. He like- 
 wise prohibited the seamen from wearing more than five 
 jackets, and six pair of breeches, under pretence of render- 
 ing them more alert ; and no man was permitted to go aloft, 
 and hand in sails, with a pipe in his mouth, as is the inva= 
 riable Dutch custom at the present day. All these griev- 
 ances, though they might ruffle for a moment the constitu- 
 tional tranquillity of the honest Dutch tars, made but a 
 transient impression ; they ate hugely, drank profusely, and 
 slept immeasurably; and being under the especial guidance 
 of providence, the ship was safely conducted to the coast of 
 America ; where, after sundry unimportant touchings and 
 standings off and on, she at length, on the fourth day of 
 September, entered that majestic bay, which at this day ex- 
 pands its ample bosom before the city of New-York, and 
 which had never before been visited by any European* 
 
WASHINGTON IRYING. 227 
 
 LETTER 
 
 PROM MUST4PHA RUB-A-DUB KELI KHAN, 
 
 tTo Asem Hacchem, principal Slave-drive?' to his High- 
 ness the Bashaic of Tripoli, 
 
 Though I am often disgusted, my good Asem, with the 
 vices and absurdities of the men of this country, yet the 
 women afford me a world of amusement. Their Hvely 
 prattle is as diverting as the chattering of the red-tailed par- 
 rot, nor can the green-headed monkey of Timandi equal 
 them in whim and playfulness. But, notwithstanding these 
 valuable qualifications, I am sorry to observe they are not 
 treated w\\h half the attention bestowed on the before-men- 
 tioned animals. These infidels put their parrots in cages 
 and chain their monkeys ; but their women, instead of be- 
 ing carefully shut up in harems and seraglios, are abandoned 
 to the direction of their own reason, and suffered to run 
 about in perfect freedom, like other domestic animals : this 
 comes, Asem, of ti^eating their women as rational beings, 
 and allov/ing them souls. The consequence of this piteous 
 neglect may easily be imagined ; — they have degenerated 
 into all their native wildness, are seldom to be caught at 
 home, and, at an early age, take to the streets and high- 
 jways, where they rove about in droves, giving almost as 
 much annoyance to the peaceable people as the troops of 
 wild dogs that infest our great cities, or the flights of locusts 
 that sometimes spread famine and desolation over whole re- 
 gions of fertility. 
 
 This propensity to relapse into pristine wildness con- 
 vinces me of the untameable disposition of the sex, who 
 may indeed be partially domesticated by a long course of 
 confinement and restraint, but the moment they are re- 
 stored to personal freedom, become wild as the young par- 
 trido-e of this country, which, though scarcely half hatched, 
 will take to the fields and run about with the shell upon its 
 back. 
 
228 BEAUTIES ©F 
 
 Notwithstanding their wildness, however, they are re- 
 markably easy of access, and suffer themselves to be ap- 
 proached, at certain hours of the day, without any symp- 
 toms of apprehension ; and 1 have even happily succeeded 
 in detecting them at their domestic occupations. One of 
 the most important of these consists in thumping vehemently 
 on a kind of musical instrument, and producing a confused, 
 hideous, and undefinable uproar, which they call the descrip- 
 tion of a battle — a jest, no doubt, for they are wonderfully 
 facetious at times, and make great practice of passing jokes 
 upon strangers. Sometimes they employ themselves in 
 painting little caricatures of landscapes, wherein they will 
 display their singular drollery in battering nature fairly out 
 of countenance — representing her tricked out in all the 
 tawdry finery of copper skies, purple rivers, calico rocks, 
 red grass, clouds that look like old clothes set adrift by the 
 tempest, and foxy trees, whose melancholy foliage, droop- 
 ing and curling most fantastically, reminds me of an un- 
 dressed periwig that I have now and then seen hung on a 
 stick in a barber's window. At other times they employ 
 themselves in acquiring a smattering of languages spoken 
 by nations on the other side of the globe, as they find their 
 own language not sufficiently copious to supply their con- 
 stant demands, and express their multifarious ideas. But 
 their most important domestic avocation is to embroider, on 
 satin or muslin, flowers of a non-descript kind, in which 
 the great art is to make them as unlike nature as possible ; 
 or to fasten little bits of silver, gold, tinsel, and glass, on 
 long stripes of muslin, which they drag after them with 
 much dignity whenever they go abroad — a fine lady, like a 
 bird of paradise, being estimated by the length of her tail. 
 
 But do not, my friend, fall into the enormous error of sup- 
 posing that the exercise of these arts is attended with any 
 useful or profitable result ; believe me, thou couldst not in- 
 dulge an idea more unjust and injurious ; for it appears to 
 be an established maxim among the women of this country, 
 that a lady loses her dignity when she condescends to be 
 useful, and forfeits all rank in society the moment she can 
 be convicted of earning a farthing. Their labours, there- 
 fore, are directed not towards supplying their household, but 
 
m. decking their persons, and — -generous souls ! — they deck 
 their persons, not so much to please themselves, as to grati- 
 fy others, particularly strangers. I am confident thou wilt 
 stare at this, my good Asem, accustom.ed as thou art to 
 our eastern females, who shrink in blushing timidity, even 
 from the glances of a lover, and are so chary of their fa- 
 vours, that they even seem fearful of lavishing their smiles 
 loo profusely on their husbands. Here, on the contrary, 
 the stranger has the first place in female regard, and, so far 
 do they carry their hospitality, that I have seen a fine lady 
 slight a dozen tried friends and real admirers, who lived in 
 her smiles and made her happiness their study, merely to 
 allure the vague and wandering glances of a stranger, who 
 viewed her person with indifference and treated her advan- 
 ces with contempt. By the whiskers of our sublime bashaw, 
 but this is highly flattering to a foreigner ! and thou mayest 
 judge how particularly pleasing to one, who is like myself, 
 so ardent an admirer of the sex. Far be it from me to con- 
 demn this extraordinary manifestation of good will — let their 
 own countrymen look to that. 
 
 Be not alarmed I conjure thee, my dear Asem, lest I 
 should be tempted, by these beautiful barbarians, to Break 
 the faith I owe to the three-and-twenty -wives, from whom 
 my unhappy destiny has perhaps severed me for ever ; — 
 no, Asem, neither time, nor the bitter succession of misfor- 
 tunes that pursues me, can shake from my heart the memo- 
 ry of former attachments. I listen with tranquil heart to 
 the strumming and prattling of these fair sirens ,• their 
 whimsical paintings touch not the tender chord of my affec- 
 tions ; and I would still defy their fascinations, though they 
 trailed after them trains as long as the gorgeous trappings 
 which are dragged at the heels of the holy camel of Mecca, 
 or as the tail of the great beast in our prophet's vision, which 
 measured three hundred and forty-nine leagues, two miles, 
 three furlongs, and a hand's breadth in longitude. 
 
 The dress of these women is, if possible, more eccentric 
 and whimsical than their deportment ; and they take an in- 
 ordinate pride in certain ornaments which are probably de- 
 rived from their savage progenitors. A woman of this 
 country, dressed out for an exhibition, is loaded with as 
 
 20 
 
230 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 many ornaments as a Circassian slave when brought out for 
 sale. Their heads are tricked out with little bits of horn or 
 shell, cut into fantastic shapes ; and they seem to emulate 
 each other in the number of these singular baubles, like the 
 women we have seen in our journeys to Aleppo, who cover 
 their heads with the entire shell of a tortoise, and thus equip- 
 ped are the envy of all their less fortunate acquaintance. 
 They also decorate their necks and ears with coral, gold 
 chains, and glass beads, and load their fingers with a variety 
 of rings ; though, I must confess, I have never perceived 
 that they wear any in their noses^ — as has been affirmed by 
 many travellers. We have heard much of their painting 
 themselves most hideously, and making use of bear's grease 
 in great profusion — but this, I solemnly assure thee, is a 
 misrepresentation : civilization, no doubt, having gradually 
 extirpated these nauseous practices. It is true, I have seen 
 two or three of these females who had disguised their fea- 
 tures with paint, but then it was merely to give a tinge of 
 red to their cheeks, and did not look very frightful ; and as 
 to ointment, they rarely use any now, except occasionally a 
 little Grecian oil for their hair, which gives it a glossy, 
 greasy, and, as they think, very comely appearance. The 
 last mentioned class of females, I take it for granted, have 
 been but lately caught and still retain strong traits of their 
 original savage propensities. 
 
 The most flagrant and inexcusable fault however, which 
 I find in these lovely savages, is the shameless and aban- 
 doned exposure of their persons. Wilt not thou suspect 
 me of exaggeration when I affirm- — wilt not thou blush for 
 them, most discreet Mussulman, when I declare to thee— 
 that they are so lost to all sense of modesty as to expose the 
 whole of their faces from their forehead to the chin, and they 
 even go abroad with their hands uncovered ! — Monstrous 
 indelicacy! 
 
 But what I am going to disclose will doubtless appear to 
 thee still more incredible. Though I cannot forbear pay- 
 ing a tribute of admiration to the beautiful faces of these 
 fair infidels, yet I must give it as my firm opinion that their 
 persons are preposterously unseemly. In vain did I look 
 around me, on my first landing, for those divine forms of 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 231 
 
 redundant proportions, which answer to the true standard of 
 eastern beauty — not a single fat fair one could I behold 
 among the multitudes that thronged the streets : the females 
 that passed in review before me tripping sportively along, 
 resembled a procession of shadows, returning to their graves 
 at the crowing of the cock. 
 
 This meagreness I first ascribed to their excessive volu- 
 bility, for I have somewhere seen it advanced by a learned 
 doctor, that the sex were endowed with a peculiar activity 
 of tongue, in order that they might practise talking as a 
 healthful exercise, necessary to their confined and sedentary ^ 
 mode of life. This exercise, it was natural to suppose, 
 would be carried to great excess in a logocracy. " Too 
 true," thought I, " they have converted, what was undoubt- 
 edly meant as a beneficent gift, into a noxious habit, that 
 steals the flesh from their bones and the rose from their 
 cheeks — they absolutely talk themselves thin !" Judge then 
 of my surprise when I was assured, not long since, that this 
 meagreness was considered the perfection of personal beauty, 
 and that many a lady starved herself, with all the obstinate 
 perseverance of a pious dervise, into a fine figure ! " Nay 
 more," said my informer, " they will often sacrifice their 
 healths in this eager pursuit of skeleton beauty, and drink 
 vinegar, eat pickles, and smoke tobacco, to keep themselves 
 within the scanty outlines of the fashions." Faugh! Allah 
 preserve me from such beauties, who contaminate their pure 
 blood with noxious recipes ; who impiously sacrifice the 
 best gifts of Heaven to a preposterous and mistaken vanity. 
 Ere long I shall not be surprised to see them scarring their 
 faces like the negroes of Consjo, flattening their noses in 
 imitation of the Hottentots, or like the barbarians of Ab-al 
 Timar, distortino; their lips and ears out of all natural di- 
 mensions^ Since I received this information, I cannot con- 
 template a fine figure, without thinking of a vinegar cruet; 
 nor look at a dashing belle, without fancying her a pot of 
 pickled cucumbers 'i What a difference, my friend, between 
 those shades and the plump beauties of Tripoli, — -what a 
 contrast between an infidel fair one and my favourite wife, 
 Fatima, whom I bought by the hundred weight, and had 
 trundled home m a wheelbarrow! 
 
Q33 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 But enough for the present ; I am promised a faithful ac- 
 count of the arcana of a lady's toilette — a complete initia- 
 tion into the arts, mysteries, spells and potions, in that the 
 whole chemical process,, by which ste i-educes herself down 
 to the most fashionable standard of insignificance ; together 
 with specimens of the strait waistcoats, the lacings, the 
 bandages, and the various ingenious instruments with which 
 she puts nature to the rack, and tortures herself into a pro- 
 per figure to be admired. 
 
 Farewell, thou sweetest of slave drivers ! The echoes 
 that repeat to a lover's ear the song of his mistress are not 
 ipore soothing than tidings from those we love. Let thy 
 answer to my letters be speedy ; and never, I pray thee, for 
 a moment^ cease to watch over the prosperity of my house, 
 and the welfare of my beloved wives. Let them want for 
 nothing, my friend, but feed them plentifully on honey, boil- 
 ed rice, and water gruel ; so that when I return to the 
 blessed land of my fathers, if that can ever be, I may find 
 them improved in size and loveliness, and sleek as the grace- 
 ful elephants that range the green valley of Abimar. 
 
 Ever thincj 
 
 MUSTA-PHA. 
 
 AUTUMNAL REFLECTIONS. 
 
 When a man is quietly journeying downwards into the 
 valley of the shadow of departed youth, and begins to con- 
 template in a shortened perspective the end of his pilgrim- 
 age, he becomes more solicitous than ever that the remain- 
 der of his wayfaring should be smooth and pleasant, and 
 the evening of his life, like the evening of a summer's day, 
 fade away in mild uninterrupted serenity. If haply his 
 heart has escaped uninjured, through the dangers of a se- 
 ductive world, it may then administer to the purest of his 
 felicities, and its chords vibrate more musically for the trials 
 they have sustained — like the viol which yields a melody 
 sweet in proportion to its age. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING, 233 
 
 To a mind thus temperately harmonized, thus matured 
 and mellowed by a long lapse of years, there is something 
 truly congenial in the quiet enjoyment of our early autumn, 
 amid the tranquillities of the country. There is a sober and 
 chastened air of gaiety diffused over the face of nature, pe- 
 culiarly interesting to an old man ; and when he views the 
 surrounding landscape withering under his eye, it seems as 
 if he and nature were taking a last farewell of each other, 
 and parting with a melancholy smile — like a couple of old 
 friends, who, having sported away the spring and summer 
 of life together, part at the approach of winter with a kind 
 of prophetic fear that they are never to meet again. 
 
 It is either my good fortune or mishap to be keenly sus- 
 ceptible to the influence of the atmosphere ; and I can feel 
 in the morning, before I open my window, whether the wind 
 is easterly. It will not, therefore, I presume be considered 
 an extravagant instance of vainglory when I assert, that 
 there are {"ew men who can discriminate more accurately in 
 the different varieties of damps, fogs, Scotch-mists, and north- 
 east storms, than myself. To the great discredit of my phi- 
 losophy I confess, I seldom fail to anathematize and excom- 
 munic-ate the weather, when it sports too rudely with my 
 sensitive system ; but then I always endeavour to atone 
 therefore, by eulogizing it when deserving of approbation. 
 And as most of my readers, simple folk ! make but one dis- 
 tinction, to wit, rain and sunshine — living in most honest 
 ignorance of the various nice shades which distinguish one 
 fine day from another — I take the trouble, from time to 
 time, of letting them into some of the secrets of nature, — 
 so will they be the better enabled to enjoy her beauties, with 
 the zest of connoisseurs, and derive at least as much infor- 
 mation from my pages as from the weather-wise lore of the 
 almanac. 
 
 Much of my recreation, since I retreated to the Hall, has 
 consisted in making little excursions through the neighbour- 
 hood ; which abounds in the variety of wild, romantic, and 
 luxuriant landscape that generally characterizes the scenery 
 in the vicinity of our rivers. There is not an eminence 
 within a circuit of many miles but commands an extensive 
 range of diversified and enchanting prospect. 
 
 20* 
 
234 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Often have I rambled to the summit of some favourite 
 hill, and thence, with feehngs sweetly tranquil as the lucid 
 expanse of the heavens that canopied me, have noted the 
 slow and almost imperceptible changes that mark the waning 
 year. There are many features peculiar to our autumn, 
 and which give it an individual character : the " green and 
 yellow melancholy" that first steals over the landscape — the 
 mild and steady serenity of the weather, and the transpa- 
 rent purity of the atmosphere, speak not merely to the senses 
 but the heart,- — it is the season of liberal emotions. To this 
 succeeds fantastic gaiety, a motley dress, which the woods 
 assume, where green and yellow, orange, purple, crimson 
 and scarlet, are whimsically blended together. A sickly 
 splendour this ! — like the wild and broken-hearted gaiety that 
 sometimes precedes dissolution, or that childish sportiveness 
 of superannuated age, proceeding, not from a vigorous flow 
 of animal spirits, but from the decay and imbecility of the 
 mind. We might, perhaps, be deceived by this gaudy garb 
 of nature, were it not for the rustling of the falling leaf, 
 which, breaking on the stillness of the scene, seems to an- 
 nounce, in prophetic whispers, the dreary winter that is ap- 
 proaching. When I have sometimes seen a thrifty young 
 oak changing its hue of sturdy vigour for a bright but tran- 
 sient glow of red, it has recalled to my mind the treacherous 
 bloom that once mantled the cheek of a friend who is now 
 no more ; and which, while it seemed to promise a long life 
 of jocund spirits was the sure precursor of premature decay. 
 In a little while, and this ostentatious foliage disappears — 
 the close of autumn leaves but one wide expanse of dusky 
 brown, save where some rivulet steals along, bordered with 
 little stripes of green grass— the woodland echoes no more 
 to the carols of the feathered tribes that sported in the leafy 
 covert, and its solitude and silence are uninterrupted except 
 by the plaintive whistle of the quail, the barking of the 
 squirrel, or the still more melancholy wintry wind, which, 
 rushing and swelling through the hollows of the mountains, 
 sighs through the leafless branches of the grove, and seems 
 to mourn the desolation of the year. 
 
 To one who, like myself, is fond of drawing compari- 
 sons between the different divisions of life and those of the 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 235 
 
 seasons, there will appear a striking analogy which connects 
 the feelings of the aged with the decline of the year. Often 
 as I contemplate the mild, uniform, and genial lustre with 
 which the sun cheers and invigorates us in the month of 
 October, and the almost imperceptible haze which, without 
 obscuring, tempers all the asperities of the landscape, and 
 gives to every object a character of stillness and repose, I 
 cannot help comparing it with that portion of existence, when 
 the spring of youthful hope and the summer of the passions 
 having gone by, reason assumes an undisputed sway, and 
 lights us on with bright but undazzling lustre, adown the 
 hill of life. There is a full and mature luxuriance in the 
 fields that fills the bosom with generous and disinterested 
 content. It is not the thoughtless extravagance of spring, 
 prodigal only in blossoms, nor the languid voluptuousness 
 of summer, feverish in its enjoyments, and teeming only 
 with immature abundance — ^it is that certain fruition of the 
 labours of the past — that prospect of comfortable realities, 
 which those will be sure to enjoy who have improved the 
 bounteous smiles of Heaven, nor wasted' away their spring 
 and summer in empty trifling or criminal indulgence. 
 
 Cousin Pindar, who is my constant companion in these 
 expeditions, and who still possesses much of the fire and 
 energy of youthful sentiment, and a buxom hilarity of the 
 spirits, often indeed draws me from these half-melancholy 
 reveries, and makes me feel young again by the enthusiasm 
 with which he contemplates, and the animation with which 
 he eulogizes the beauties of nature displayed before him. 
 His enthusiastic disposition never allows him to enjoy things 
 by halves, and his feelings are continually breaking out in 
 notes of admiration and ejaculations that sober reason might 
 perhaps deem extravagant. But for my part, when I see a 
 hale hearty old man, who has jostled through the rough path 
 of the world, without having worn away the fine edge of his 
 feelings, or blunted his sensibility to natural and moral 
 beauty, I compare him to the evergreen of the forest, whose 
 colou.rs, instead of fading at the approach of winter, seem 
 to assume additional lustre when contrasted with the sur- 
 rounding desolation. Such a man is my friend Pindar ; — 
 yet sometimes, and particularly at the approach of evening, 
 
236 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 even he will fall in with my humour ; but he soon recovers 
 his natural tone of spirits ; and, mounting on the elasticity 
 of his mind, like Ganymede on the eagle's wing, he soars 
 to the ethereal regions of sunshine and fancy. 
 
 One afternoon we had strolled to the top of a high hill in 
 the neighbourhood of the Hall, which commands an almost 
 boundless prospect ; and as the shadows began to lengthen 
 around us, and the distant mountains to fade into mists, my 
 cousin was seized with a moralizing fit. " It seems to me," 
 said he, laying his hand lightly on my shoulder, " that there 
 is just at this season, and this hour, a sympathy between us 
 and the world we are now contemplating. The evening is 
 stealing upon nature as well as upon us; — the shadows of 
 the opening day have given place to those of its close ; and 
 the only difference is, that in. the morning they were before 
 us, now they are behind ; and that the first vanished in the 
 splendours of noon-day, the latter will be los;t in the oblivion 
 of night. Our ' May of life,' ray dear Launce, has for ever 
 fled : our summer is over and gone : — but," continued he, 
 suddenly recovering himself and slapping me gaily on the 
 shoulder, — "but why should we repine? — What though the 
 capricious zephyrs of spring, the heats and hurricanes of 
 summer, have given place to the sober sunshine of autumn 
 — and though the woods begin to assume the dappled livery 
 of decay ! yet the prevailing colour is still green — gay, 
 sprightly green. 
 
 "Let us then comfort ourselves with this reflection ; that 
 though the shades of the morning have given place to those 
 of the evening, — though the spring is past, the summer over, 
 and the autumn come, — still you and I go on our way re- 
 joicing ; — and while, like the lofty mountains of our South- 
 ern America, our heads are covered with snow, still, like 
 them, we feel the genial warmth of spring and summer 
 playing upon our bosoms." 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 237 
 
 THE FAMILY OF THE LAMBS. 
 
 The family of the Lambs had long been among the most 
 thriving and popular in the neighbourhood ; the Miss Lambs 
 were the belles of Little Britain, and every body was pleased 
 when Old Lamb' had made money enough to shut up shop, 
 and put his name on a brass plate on his door. In an evil 
 hour, however, one of the Miss Lambs had the honour of 
 being a lady in attendance on the Lady Mayoress, at her 
 grand annual ball, on which occasion she wore three tower- 
 ing ostrich feathers on her head. The family never got 
 over it ; they were immediately smitten with a passion for 
 high life ; set up a one horse carriage, put a bit of gold lace 
 round the errand boy's hat, and have been the talk and de- 
 testation of the whole neighbourhood ever since. They 
 could no longer be induced to play at Pope- Joan or blind- 
 man's-buff; they could endure no dances but quadrilles, 
 which nobody had ever heard of in Little Britain ; and they 
 took to reading novels, talking bad French, and playing 
 upon the piano. Their brother too, who had been articled 
 to an attorney, set up for a dandy and a critic, characters 
 hitherto unknown in these parts, and he confounded the 
 worthy folks exceedingly by talking about Kean, the. Opera 
 and the Edinbro' Review. 
 
 What was still worse, the Lambs gave a grand ball, to 
 which they neglected to invite any of their old neighbours ; 
 but they had a great deal of genteel company from Theo- 
 bald's Road, Red-lion Square, and other parts towards the 
 west. . There were several beaux of the brother's acquaint- 
 ance from Gray's Inn Lane and Hatton Garden ; and not 
 less than three Aldermen'^ ladies with their daughters. This 
 was not to be forgotten or forgiven. All Little Britain was 
 in an uproar with the smacking of whips, the lashing of 
 miserable horses, and the rattling and jingling of hackney 
 coaches. The gossips of the neighbourhood might be seen 
 popping their night caps out at every window, watching the 
 crazy vehicles rumble by ; and there was a knot of virulent 
 old crones, that kept a look-out from a house just opposite 
 
238 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 the retired butcher's, and scanned and criticised everyone 
 that knocked at the door. 
 
 This dance was a cause of almost open war, and the 
 whole neighbourhood declared they would have nothing 
 more to say to the Lambs. It is true that Mrs. Lamb, 
 when she had no engagements with her quality acquaint- 
 ance, would give little hum-drum tea junketings to some of 
 her old cronies, " quite," as she would say, " in a friendly 
 way :" and it is equally true that her invitations were always 
 accepted, in spite of all previous vows to the contrary. Nay, 
 the good ladies would sit and be delighted with the music of 
 the Miss Lambs, who would condescend to strum an Irish 
 melody for them on the piano ; and they would listen with 
 wonderful interest to Mrs. Lamb's anecdotes of Alderman 
 Plunket's family of Port-soken-ward, and the Miss Timber- 
 lakes, the rich heiresses of Crutched-Friars ; but then they 
 relieved their consciences and averted the reproach of their 
 confederates, by canvassing at the next gossiping convoca- 
 tion every thing that had passed, and pulling the Lambs and 
 their rout all to pieces. 
 
 The only one of the family that could not be made 
 fashionable was the retired butcher himself. Honest Lamb, 
 in spite of the meekness of his name, was a rough hearty 
 old fellow, with the voice of a lion, a head of black hair like 
 a shoe-brush, and a broad face mottled like his own beef. It 
 was in vain that the daughters always spoke of him as " the 
 old gentleman," addressed him as " papa," in tones of infi- 
 nite softness, and endeavoured to coax him into a dressing 
 gown and slippers, and other gentlemanly habits. Do what 
 they might, there was no keeping down the butcher. His 
 sturdy nature would break through all their glossings. He 
 had a hearty vulgar good humour that was irrepressible. His 
 very jokes made his sensitive daughters shudder ; and ho 
 persisted in wearing his blue cotton coat of a morning, 
 dining at two o'clock, and having a " bit of sausage with 
 his tea." 
 
 He was doomed, however, to share the unpopularity of 
 his family. He found his old comrades gradually growing 
 cold and civil to him ; no longer laughing at his jokes ; and 
 now and then throwing out a fling at " some people" and a 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 239 
 
 hint about " quality binding." This both nettled and per- 
 plexed the honest butcher ; and his wife and daughters, with 
 the consummate policy of the shrewder sex, taking advan- 
 tage of the circumstance, at length prevailed upon him to 
 give up his afternoon's pipe and tankard at Wagstaff's ; to 
 sit after dinner by himself and take his pint of port — a liquor 
 he detested — and to nod in his chair in solitary and dismal 
 gentility. 
 
 The Miss Lambs might now be seen flaunting along the 
 streets in French bonnets, with unknown beaux ; and talking 
 and laughing so loud that it distressed the nerves of every 
 good lady within hearing. They even went so far as to at- 
 tempt patronage, and actually induced a French dancing 
 master to set up in the neighbourhood ; but the worthy folks 
 of Little Britain took fire at it, and did so persecute the poor 
 Gaul, that he was fain to pack up fiddle and dancing pumps, 
 and decamp with such precipitation, that he absolutely for- 
 got to pay for his lodgings. 
 
 I had flattered myself, at first, with the idea that all this 
 fiery indignation on the part of the community, was merely 
 the overflowing of their zeal for good old English manners, 
 and their horror of innovation ; and I applauded the silent 
 contempt they were so vociferous in expressing, for upstart 
 pride, French fashions, and the Miss Lambs. But I grieve 
 to say that I soon perceived the infection had taken hold ; 
 and that my neighbours, after condemning, were beginning 
 to follow their example. I overheard my landlady impor- 
 tuning her husband to let their daughters have one quarter 
 at French and music, and that they might take a few lessons 
 in quadrille. I even saw, in the course of a few Sundays, 
 no less than five French bonnets, precisely like those of the 
 Miss Lambs, parading about Little Britain, 
 
240 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 BLINDMAN'S-BDFF. 
 
 After the dinner table was removed, the hall was given 
 up to the younger members of the family, who, prompted to 
 all kind of noisy mirth by the Oxonian and Master Simon, 
 made its old walls ring with their merriment, as they played 
 at romping games. I delight in witnessing the gamlDols of 
 children, and particularly at this happy holiday season, and 
 could not help stealing out of the drawing-room on hearing 
 one of their peals of laughter. I found them at the game of 
 blind man's-buff. Master Simon, who was the leader of their 
 revc'ls, and seemed on all occasions to fulfil the office of that 
 ancient potentate, the Lord of Misrule, was blinded in the 
 midst of the hall. The little beings were as busy about him 
 as the mock fairies about Falstaff ; pinching him, plucking 
 at the skirts of his coat, and tickling him with straws. One 
 fine blue-eyed girl of about thirteen, with her flaxen hair all 
 in beautiful confusion, her frolic face in a glow, her frock 
 half torn ofi* her shoulders, a complete picture of a romp, was 
 the chief tormentor ; and from the slyness with which Master 
 Simon avoided the smaller game, and hemmed this wild lit- 
 tle nymph in corners, and obliged her to jump shrieking 
 over chairs, I suspected the rogue of being not a whit more 
 blinded than was convenient. 
 
 THE ANGLER. 
 
 On parting with the old angler I inquired after his place 
 of abode, and happening to be in the neighbourhood of the 
 village a few evenings afterwards, I had the curiosity to seek 
 him out. I found him living in a small cottage, containing 
 only one room, but a perfect curiosity in its method and ar- 
 rangement. It was on the skirts of the village, on a green 
 bank, a little back from the road, with a small garden in 
 front, stocked with kitchen herbs, and adorned with a few 
 
WASHIN6T0N IRVING. 241 
 
 flowers. The whole front of the cottage was overrun with 
 a honeysuckle. On the top was a ship for a weathercock. 
 The interior was fitted up in a truly nautical style ; his ideas 
 of comfort and convenience having been acquired on the 
 birth-deck of a man of war. A hammock was slung from 
 the ceiling, which, in the day-time, was lashed up so as to 
 take but little room. From the centre of the chamber hung 
 a model of a ship of his own workmanship. Two or three 
 chairs, a table, and a large sea chest, formed the principal 
 moveables. About the walls were stuck up naval ballads, 
 such as Admiral Hosier's Ghost, All in the Downs, and 
 Tom Bowling, intermingled with pictures of sea fights, 
 among which the battle of Camperdown held a distinguished 
 place. The mantel-piece was decorated with sea shells ; 
 over which hung a quadrant, flanked by two wood-cuts of 
 most bitter looking naval commanders. His implements for 
 angling were carefully disposed on nails and hooks about the 
 room. On a shelf was arranged his library, containing a 
 work on angling, much worn ; a bible covered with canvass; 
 an odd volume or two of voyages ; a nautical almanac ; 
 and a book of songs. 
 
 His family consisted of a large black cat with one eye, 
 and a parrot which he had caught and tamed, and educated 
 himself, in the course of one of his voyages ; and which ut- 
 tered a variety of sea phrases with the hoarse brattling tone 
 of a veteran boatswain. The establishment reminded me of 
 that of the renowned Robinson Crusoe ; it was kept in neat 
 order, every thing being " stowed away" with the regularity 
 of a ship of war ; and he informed me he " scoured the deck 
 every morning, and swept it between meals." 
 
 I found him seated on a bench before the door, smoking 
 his pipe in the soft evening sunshine. His cat was purring 
 soberly on the threshold, and his parrot describing some 
 strange evolutions in an iron ring that swung in the centre 
 of his cage. He had been angling all day, and gave me a 
 history of his sport with as much minuteness as a general 
 would talk over a campaign ; being particularly animated in 
 relating the manner in which he had taken a large trout, 
 which had completely tasked all his skill and wariness, and 
 which he had sent as a trophy to mine hostess of the inn. 
 
 21 
 
242 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 How comforting it is to see a cheerful and contented old 
 age ; and to behold a poor fellow, like this, after being tem- 
 pest tost through life, safely moored in a snug harbour, in the 
 evening of his days ! His happiness, however, sprung from 
 within himself, and was independent of external circum- 
 stances ; for he had that inexhaustible good-nature, which is 
 the most precious gift of Heaven ; spreading itself like oil 
 over the troubled sea of thought, and keeping the mind 
 smooth and equable in the roughest weather. 
 
 On inquiring further about him, I learned that he was a 
 universal favourite in the village, and the oracle of the tap- 
 room ; where he delighted the rustics with his songs, and 
 like Sinbad, astonished them with his stories of strange lands, 
 and shipwrecks, and sea fights. He was much noticed too 
 by gentlemen sportsmen of the neighbourhood ; had taught 
 several of them the art of angling ; and was a privileged 
 visiter to their kitchens. The whole tenor of his life was 
 quiet and inoffensive, being principally passed about the 
 neighbouring streams when the Weather and season were 
 favourable; and at other times he employed himself at 
 home, preparing his fishing tackle for the next campaign, or 
 manufacturing rods, nets, and flies for his patrons and pupils 
 among the gentry. 
 
 He was a regular attendant at church on Sundays, though 
 he generally fell asleep during the sermon. He had made 
 it his particular request that when he died he should be bu- 
 ried on a green spot, which he could see from his seat in 
 church, and which he had marked out ever since he was a 
 boy, and had thought of when far from home on the raging 
 sea, in danger of being food for the fishes — it was the spot 
 where his father and mother had been buried. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 243 
 
 RURAL LIFE IN ENGLAND. 
 
 Nothing can be more imposing than t?je magnificence of 
 English park scener}^ Vast lawns that extend like sheets 
 of vivid green, with here and there clumps of gigantic trees, 
 heaping up rich piles of foliage. The solemn pomp of groves 
 and woodland glades, with the deer trooping in silent herds 
 across them ; the hare, bounding away to the covert ; or the 
 pheasant, suddenly bursting upon the wing. The brook, 
 taught to wind in natural meanderings, or expand into a 
 glassy lake — the sequestered pool, reflecting the quivering 
 trees, with the yellow leaf sleeping on its bosom, and the 
 trout roaming fearlessly about its limpid waters : while some 
 'rustic temple or sylvan statue, grown green and dark with 
 age, gives an air of classic sanctity to the seclusion. 
 
 These are but a few of the features of park scenery ; but 
 what most delights me, is the creative talent with which the 
 English decorate the unostentatious abodes of middle life. — 
 The rudest habitation, the most unpromising and scanty por- 
 tion of land, in the hands of an Englishman of taste, be- 
 comes a little paradise. With a nicely discriminating eye, 
 he seizes at once upon its capabilities, and pictures in his 
 mind the future landscape. The sterile spot grows into love- 
 liness under his hand ; and yet the operations of art which 
 produce the effect are scarcely to be perceived. The cher- 
 ishing and training of some trees ; the cautious pruning of 
 others ; the nice distribution of flowers and plants of tender 
 and graceful foliage ; the introduction of a green slope of 
 velvet turf; the partial opening to a peep of blue distance, 
 or silver gleam of water ; all these are managed with a deli- 
 cate tact, a pervading yet quiet assiduity, like the magic 
 touchings with which a painter finishes up a favourite pic- 
 ture. 
 
 The residence of people of fortune and refinement in the 
 country has diffused a degree of taste and elegance in rural 
 economy, that descends to the lowest class. The very la- 
 bourer, with his thatched cottage and narrow slip of ground, 
 attends to their embellishment. The trim hedge, the grass=. 
 plot before the door, the little flower-bed bordered with snug 
 
244 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 box, the woodbine trained up against the wall, and hanging 
 its blossoms about the lattice, the pot of flowers in the win- 
 dow, the holly providently planted about the house, to cheat 
 winter of its drearinesss, and to throw in a semblance of 
 green summer to cheer the fire-side : all these bespeak the 
 influence of taste, flowing down from high sources, and per- 
 vading the lowest levels of the public mind. If ever Love, 
 as poets sing, delights to visit a cottage, it must be the cot- 
 tage of an English peasant. 
 
 The fondness for rural life among the higher classes of 
 the English, has had a great and salutary effect upon the 
 national character. I do not know a finer race of men than 
 the English gentlemen. Instead of the softness and effemi- 
 nacy which characterize the man of rank in most countries, 
 they exhibit a union of elegance and strength, a robustness 
 of frame and freshness of complexion, which I am inclined 
 to attribute to their living so much in the'open air, and pur- 
 suing so eagerly the invigorating recreations of the country. 
 These hardy exercises produce also a healthful tone of mind 
 and spirits, and a manliness and simplicity of manners, 
 which even the follies and dissipations of the town cannot 
 easily pervert, and can never entirely destroy. In the coun- 
 try, too, the different orders of society seem to approach 
 more freely, to be more disposed to blend and operate fa- 
 vourably upon each other. The distinctions between them 
 do not appear to be so marked and impassable, as in the 
 cities. The manner in which property has been distributed 
 into small estates and farms, has established a regular gra- 
 dation from the nobleman, through the class of gentry, small 
 landed proprietors, and substantial farmers, down to the 
 labouring peasantry ; and while it has thus banded the ex- 
 tremes of society together, has infused into each intermedi- 
 ate rank a spirit of independence. This, it must be confess- 
 ed, is not so universally the case at present as it was form- 
 erly ; the larger estates having, in late years of distress, 
 absorbed the smaller, and, in some parts of the country, al- 
 most annihilated the sturdy race of small farmers. These, 
 however, I believe, are but casual breaks in the general sys- 
 tem I have mentioned. 
 
 In rural occupation there is nothing mean and debasing. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 245 
 
 It leads a man forth among scenes of natural grandeur and 
 beauty ; it leaves him to the workings of his own mind, 
 operated upon by the purest and most elevating of external 
 influences. Such a man may be simple and rough, but he 
 cannot be vulgar. The man of refinement, therefore, finds 
 nothing revolting in an intercourse with the lower orders of 
 rural life, as he does when he casually mingles with the 
 lower of cities. He lays aside his distance and reserve, and 
 is glad to waive the distinctions of rank, and to enter into 
 the honest, heartfelt enjoyments of common life. Indeed the 
 very amusements of the country, bring men more and more 
 together ; and the sound of hound and horn blend all feel- 
 ings into harmony. I believe this is one great reason why 
 th6 nobility and gentry are more popular among the inferior 
 orders in England than they are in any other country ; and 
 why the latter have endured so many excessive pressures 
 and extremities, without repining more generally at the une- 
 qual distribution of fortune and privilege. 
 
 To this mingling of cultivated and rustic society may also 
 be attributed the rural feeling that runs through British lite- 
 rature ; the frequent use of illustrations from rural life ; 
 those incomparable descriptions of nature that abound in the 
 British Poets — that have continued down from " the flower 
 and the leaf" of Chaucer, and have brought into our closets 
 all the freshness and fragrance of the dewy landscape. The 
 pastoral writers of other countries appear as if they had paid 
 nature an occasional visit, and become acquainted with her 
 general charms : but the British poets have lived and revel- 
 led with her, — they have wooed her in her most secret 
 haunts, — they have watched her minutest caprices. A 
 spray could not tremble in the breeze — a leaf could not rus- 
 tle to the ground — a diamond drop could not patter in the 
 stream — a fragrance could not exhale from the humble vio- 
 let, nor a daisy unfold its crimson tints to the morning ; but 
 it has been noticed by these impassioned and delicate obser- 
 vers, and wrought up into some beautiful morality. 
 
 21* 
 
246 BEAUTIES OK 
 
 LETTER 
 
 FROM MtrSTAPHA RUB-A-DUB KELI K:HAN) 
 
 Te Muley Helim al Raggh surnamed the agreeable Ragamuffin^ 
 chief nhounteboMk and buffo-dancer to his Highness, 
 
 The numerous letters which I have written to our friend 
 the slave-driver, as well as those to thy kinsman the snorer, 
 and which doubtless were read to thee, honest Muley, have, 
 in all probability, awakened thy curiosity to know further 
 particulars concerning the manners of the barbarians, who 
 hold me in such ignominious captivity. I was lately at one 
 of their public ceremonies, which, at first, perplexed'me ex- 
 ceedingly, as to its object ; but as the explanations of a friend 
 have let me somewhat into the secret, and as it seems to 
 bear no small analogy to thy profession, a description of it 
 may contribute to thy amusement, if not to thy instruction. 
 
 A few days since, just as I had finished my coffee, and 
 was perfuming my whiskers preparatory to a morning walk, 
 I was waited upon by an inhabitant of this place, a gay 
 young infidel, who has of late cultivated my acquaintance. 
 He pres-ented me with a square bit of painted pasteboard, 
 which he informed me, would entitle me to admittance to 
 the city assembly. Curious to know the meaning of a phrase 
 which was entirely new to me, I requested an explanation ; 
 when my friend informed me that the assembly was a nu- 
 merous concourse of young people of both sexes, who, on 
 certain occasions, gathered together to dance about a large 
 room with violent gesticulation, and try to out-dress each 
 other. " In short," said he, "if you wish to see the natives 
 in all their glory, there's no place like the city assembly ; 
 so you must go there and sport your whiskers." Though 
 the matter of sporting my whiskers was considerably be- 
 yond my apprehension, yet I now began, as I thought, to 
 
Washington irving. 247 
 
 understand him. I had heard of the war dances of the na« 
 tives, which are a kind of religious institution, and had little 
 doubt but that this must be a solemnity of the kind — upon 
 a prodigious great scale. Anxious as I am to contemplate 
 these strange people in every situation, I willingly acceded 
 to his proposal, and, to be more at ease, I determined to lay 
 aside my Turkish dress, and appear in plain garments of the 
 fashion of this country, as is my custom whenever I wish 
 to mingle in a crowd, without exciting the attention of the 
 gaping multitude. 
 
 It was long after the shades of night had fallen, before 
 my friend appeared to conduct me to the assembly. " These 
 infidels," thought I, " shroud themselves in mystery, and 
 seeli the aid of gloom and darkness, to heighten the solem- 
 nity of their pious orgies." Resolving to conduct myself 
 with that decent respect, which every stranger owes to the 
 customs of the land in which he sojourns, I chastised my 
 features into an expression of sober reverence, and stretched 
 my face into a degree of longitude suitable to the ceremony 
 1 v^"as about to witness. Spite of myself, I felt an emotion 
 of awe stealing over my senses as I approached the majestic 
 pile. My imagination pictured something similar to a de- 
 scent into the cave of Dom-Daniel, where the necromancers 
 of the East are taught their infernal arts. I entered with 
 the same gravity of demeanour that I would have approach- 
 ed the holy temple of Mecca, and bowed my head three 
 times as I passed the threshold. " Head of the mighty 
 Ararou !" thought I, on being ushered into a splendid saloon, 
 " what a display is here ! surely I am transported to the 
 mansions of the Houris, the elysium of the faithful!" How 
 tame appeared all the descriptions of enchanted palaces in 
 our Arabian poetry ! Where ever I turned my eyes, the 
 quick glances of beauty dazzled my vision and ravished my 
 heart : lovely virgins fluttered by me, darting imperial looks 
 of conquest, or beaming such smiles of invitation, as did 
 Gabriel when he beckoned our holy prophet to heaven. 
 Shall I own the weakness of thy friend, good Muley ? — 
 while thus gazing on the enchanting scene before me, I for 
 a moment forgot my country, and even the memory of my 
 three-and-twenty wives faded from my heart ; my thoughts 
 
§48 BEAUTIES or 
 
 were bewildered and led astray, by the charms of these be- 
 witching savages, and I sunk, for a while, into that delicious 
 state of mind where the senses, all enchanted and all striv- 
 ing for mastery, produce an endless variety of tumultuous, 
 yet pleasing emotions. Oh, Muley, never shall I again 
 wonder that an infidel should prove a recreant to the single 
 solitary wife allotted him, when even thy friend, armed with 
 all the precepts of Mahomet, can so easily prove faithless to 
 three-and-twenty ! 
 
 " Whither have you led me?" said I, at length, to my 
 companion, " and to whom do these beautiful creatures be- 
 long? certainly this must be the seraglio of the grand ba- 
 shaw of the city, and a most happy bashaw must he be, to 
 possess treasures which even his highness of Tripoli cannot 
 parallel." " Have a care," cried my companion, " how you 
 talk of seraglios, or you will have all these gentle nymphs 
 about your ears ; for seraglio is a word which, beyond all 
 others, they abhor : — most of them," continued he, " have 
 no lord and master, but come here to catch one — they're in 
 the market, as we term it." " Ah, ha !" said I, exultingly, 
 *' then you really have a fair, or slave market, such as we 
 have in ihe East, where the faithful are provided with the 
 choicest virgins of Georgia and Circassia ? — by our glorious 
 sun of Afric, but I should like to select some ten or a dozen 
 wives from so lovely an assemblage ! pray what would you 
 suppose they might be bought for ?" 
 
 Before I could receive an answer, my attention was at- 
 tracted by two or three good-looking middle-sized men, who 
 being dressed in black, a colour universally worn in this 
 country by the muftis and dervises, I immediately concluded 
 to bs high priests, and was confirmed in my original opinion 
 that this was a religious ceremony. These reverend per- 
 sonages are entitled managers, and enjoy unlimited authori- 
 ty in the assemblies, being armed with swords, with which, 
 I am told, they would infallibly put any lady to death who 
 infringed the laws of the temple. They walked round the 
 room with great solemnity, and, with an air of profound 
 importance and mystery, put a little piece of folded paper 
 in each fair hand, which I concluded were religious talis- 
 mans. One of them dropped on the floor, whereupon 1 slily 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 249^ 
 
 put my foot on it, and, watching an opportunity, picked it 
 op unobserved, and found it to contain some unintelligible 
 words and the mystic number 9. What were its virtues I 
 know not ; except that I put it in my pocket, and have 
 hitherto been preserved from my fit of the lumbago, which 
 I generally have about this season of the year ever since 
 1 tumbled into the well of ZJm-zim on my pilgrimage to 
 Mecca. I enclose it to thee in this letter, presuming it to 
 be particularly serviceable against the dangers of thy pro- 
 fession. 
 
 Shortly after the distribution of these talismans, one of 
 the high priests stalked into the middle of the room with 
 great majesty, and clapped his hands three times : a loud 
 expFosion of music succeeded from a number of black, yel- 
 low, and white musicians, perched in a kind of cage over 
 the grand entrance. The company were thereupon thrown 
 into great confusion and apparent consternation. They hur- 
 ried to and fro about the room, and at length formed them- 
 selves into little groups of eight persons, half male and half 
 female ; — the music struck into something like harmony, 
 and, in a moment, to my utter astonishment and dismay, 
 they were all seized with what I concluded to be a paroxysm 
 of religious frenzy, tossing about their heads in a ludicrous 
 style from side to side, and indulging in extravagant contor- 
 tions of figure ; — now throwing their heels into the air, and 
 anon whirling round with the velocity of the eastern idola- 
 ters, who think they pay a grateful homage to the sun by 
 imitating his motions. I expected every moment to see them 
 fall down in convulsions, foam at the mouth, and shriek with 
 fancied inspiration. As usual the females seemed most fer- 
 vent in their religious exercises, and performed them with a 
 melancholy expression of feature that was peculiarly touch- 
 ing ; but I was highly gratified by the exemplary conduct 
 of several male devotees, who, though their gesticulations 
 would intimate a wild merriment of the feelings, maintained 
 throughout as inflexible a gravity of countenance as so many 
 monkeys of the island of Borneo at their antics. 
 
 "And pray," said I, " who is the divinity that presides 
 in this splendid mosque?" " The divinity ! Oh, I understand 
 —•you mean the belle of the evening ; we have a new one 
 
250 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 every season. The one at present in fashion is that lady 
 you see yonder, dressed in white, with pink ribbons, and a 
 crowd of adorers around her." " Truly," cried I, " this is 
 the pleasantest deity I have encountered in the whole course 
 of my travels ; — so familiar, so condescending, and so mer- 
 ry withal ; — why, her very worshippers take her by the 
 hand, and whisper in her ear." 
 
 " My good Mussulman," replied my friend with great 
 gravity, " I perceive you are completely in an error con- 
 cerning the intent of this ceremony. You are now in a 
 place of public amusement, not of public worship ; and the 
 pretty looking young men you see making such violent gro- 
 tesque distortions are merely indulging in our favourite 
 amusement of dancing." " I cry your mercy," exclaimed 
 I, " these then are the dancing men and women of the town, 
 such as we have in our principal cities, who hire themselves 
 out for the entertainment of the wealthy ; — but, pray who 
 pays them for this fatiguing exhibition ?" — My friend re- 
 garded me for a moment with an air of whimsical perplexi- 
 ty, as if doubtful whether I was in jest or in earnest — 
 " 'Sblood man," cried he, " these are some of our greatest 
 people, our fashionables, who are merely dancing here for 
 amusement." Dancing for amusement ! think of that, Mu- 
 ley ! — thou, whose greatest pleasure is to chew opium, smoke 
 tobacco, loll on a couch, and doze thyself into the regions 
 of the Houris ! — Dancing for amusement ! — shall I never 
 cease having occasion to laugh at the absurdities of these 
 barbarians, who are laborious in their recreations, and in- 
 dolent only in their hours of business ! — Dancing for amuse- 
 ment ! — the very idea makes my bones ache, and I never 
 think of it without being obliged to apply my handker- 
 chief to my forehead, and fan myself into some degree of 
 coolness. 
 
 " And pray," said I, when my astonishment had a little 
 subsided, " do these musicians also toil for amusement, or 
 are they confined to their cage, like birds, to sing for the 
 gratification of others ? I should think the former was the 
 case, from the animation with which they flourish their el- 
 bows." " Not so," replied my friend, " they are well paid, 
 which is no more than just, for I assure you they are the 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. ' 251 
 
 most important personages in the room. The fiddler puts 
 the whole assembly in motion, and directs their movements, 
 like the master of a puppet-show, who sets all his paste- 
 board gentry kicking by a jerk of his fingers. There now, 
 look at that dapper little gentleman yonder, who appears to 
 be suffering the pangs of dislocation in every limb : he is 
 the most expert puppet in the room, and performs not so 
 much for his own amusement, as for that of the bystanders." 
 Just then, the little gentleman having finished one of his pa- 
 roxysms of activity, seemed to be looking round for ap- 
 plause from the spectators. Feeling myself really much 
 obliged to him for his exertions, I made him a low bow of 
 thanks, but nobody followed my example, which I thought 
 a singular instance of ingratitude. 
 
 Thou wilt perceive, friend Muley, that the dancing of 
 these barbarians is totally different from the science pro- 
 fessed by thee in Tripoli ; the country, in fact, is afflicted 
 by numerous epidemical diseases, which travel from house 
 to house, from city to city, with the regularity of a caravan. 
 Among these, the most formidable is this dancing mania, 
 which prevails chiefly throughout the winter. It at first 
 seized on a few people of fashion, and being indulged in 
 moderation was a cheerful exercise ; but in a little time, by 
 quick advances, it infected all clashes of the community, 
 and became a raging epidemic. The doctors, immediately, 
 as is their usual way, instead of devising a remedy, fell 
 together by the ears, to decide whether it was native or im- 
 ported, and the sticklers for the latter opinion traced it to a 
 cargo of trumpery from France, as they had before hunted 
 down the yellow-fever to a bag of coffee from the West 
 Indies. What makes this disease the more formidable is, 
 that the patients seem infatuated with their malady, abandon 
 themselves to its unbounded ravages, and expose their per- 
 sons to wintry storms and mid-night airs, more fatal in this 
 capricious climate, than the withering Simoon blast of the 
 desert. 
 
 I know not whether it is a sight most whimsical, or 
 melancholy, to witness a fit of this dancing malady. The 
 lady hops up to the gentleman, who stands at the distance 
 of about three paces, and then capers back again to her 
 
853 • BEAUTIES OF 
 
 place ; — the gentleman of course does the same ; then they 
 skip one way, then they jump another ; — then they turn 
 their backs to each other ; — then they seize each other and 
 shake hands ; then they whirl round, and throw themselves 
 into a thousand grotesque and ridiculous attitudes ; — some- 
 times on one leg, and sometimes on the other, and some- 
 times on no leg at all : and this they call exhibiting the 
 graces ! By the nineteen thousand capers of the great 
 mountebank of Damascus, but these graces must be some- 
 thing like the crooked backed dwarf of Shabrac, who is 
 sometimes permitted to amuse his Highness by imitating 
 the tricks of a monkey. These fits continue for short in- 
 tervals of from four to five hours, till at last the lady is led 
 off, faint, languid, exhausted, and panting, to her carriage ; 
 — rattles home ; — passes a night of feverish restlessness, 
 cold perspirations, and troubled sleep ; rises late next morn- 
 ing, if she rises at all ; is nervous, petulant, or a prey to 
 languid indifference all day ; a mere household spectre, 
 neither giving nor receiving enjoyment ; in the evening hur- 
 ries to another dance ; receives an unnatural exhilaration 
 from the lights, the music, the crowd, and the unmeaning 
 bustle ; — flutters, sparkles, and blooms for a while, until the 
 transient delirium being past, the infatuated maid drops and 
 languishes into apathy again ; — is again led off to her car- 
 riage, and the next morning rises to go through exactly the 
 same joyless routine. 
 
 And yet, wilt thou believe it, my dear Raggi, these are 
 rational beings ; nay, more, their countrymen would fain 
 persuade me they have souls ! Is it not a thousand times 
 to be lamented that beings, endowed with charms that might 
 warm even the frigid heart of a dervise ; — with social and 
 endearing powers, that would render them the joy and pride 
 of the harem ; — should surrender themselves to a habit of 
 heartless dissipation, which preys imperceptibly on the 
 roses of the cheek ; which robs the eye of its lustre, the 
 mouth of its dimpled smile, the spirits of their cheerful 
 hilarity, and the limbs of their elastic vigour : — which hur- 
 ries them off in the spring-time of existence ; or, if they 
 survive, yields to the arms of a youthful bridegroom, a 
 frame wrecked in the storms of dissipation, and struggling 
 
WASHINGTON IRTING. 253 
 
 with premature infirmity. Alas, Muley ! may I not as- 
 cribe to this cause the number of Httle old women I meet 
 with in this country, from the age of eighteen to eight-and- 
 twenty 1 
 
 In sauntering down the room, my attention was attracted 
 by a smoky painting, which, on nearer examination, I found 
 consisted of two female figures crowning a bust with a 
 wreath of laurel. " This, I suppose," cried I, " was some 
 famous dancer in his time ? " O, no," replied my friend, 
 " he was only a general." " Good ; but then he must have 
 been great at a cotillion, or expert at a fiddle-stick — or why 
 is his memorial here?" "Quite the contrary," answered 
 my companion ; " history makes no mention of his ever 
 having flourished a fiddle-stick, or figured in a single dance. 
 You have no doubt, heard of him : he was the illustrious 
 Washington, the father and deliverer of his country : and, 
 as our nation is remarkable for gratitude to great men, it 
 always does honour to their memory, by placing their monu- 
 ments over the doors of taverns, or in the corners of dancing- 
 rooms." 
 
 From thence my friend and I strolled into a small apart- 
 ment adjoining the grand saloon, where 1 beheld a number 
 of grave looking persons with venerable gray heads, but 
 without beards, which I thought very unbecoming, seated 
 round a table studying hieroglyphics. I approached them 
 with reverence, as so many magi, or learned men, endea- 
 vouring to expound the mysteries of Egyptian science : se- 
 veral of them threw down money, which I supposed was a 
 reward proposed for some great discovery, when presently 
 one of them spread his hieroglyphics on the table, exclaimed 
 triumphantly, " Two bullets and a bragger !" and swept all 
 the money into his pocket. He has discovered a key to the 
 hieroglyphics, thought I — happy mortal ! — no doubt, his 
 name shall be immortalized. Willing, however, to be sa- 
 tisfied, I looked round on my companion with an inquiring 
 eye ; he understood me, and informed me that these were a 
 company of friends, who had met together to win each other's 
 money and be agreeable. " Is that all ?" exclaimed I ; 
 " why then, I pray you, make way, and let me escape 
 from this temple of abominations, who knows but these 
 
 22 
 
254 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 people, who meet together to toil, worry, and fatigue them- 
 selves to death, and give it the name of pleasure — and who 
 win each other's money by way of being agreeable — may 
 some one of them take a liking to me, and pick my pocket, 
 or break my head in a paroxysm of hearty good-will !" 
 
 Thy friend, 
 
 MUSTAPHA. 
 
 JAMES I. OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 James flourished nearly about the time of Chaucer and 
 Gower, and was evidently an admirer and studier of their 
 writings. Indeed, in one of his stanzas he acknowledges 
 them as his masters ; and, in some parts of his poem, we 
 find traces of similarity to their productions, more especially 
 to those of Chaucer. There are always, however, general 
 features of resemblance in the works of contemporary au- 
 thors, which are not so much borrowed from each other as 
 from the times. Writers, like bees, toil their sweets in the 
 wide world ; they incorporate with their own conceptions 
 the anecdotes and thoughts which are current in society ; 
 and thus each generation has some feature in common, cha- 
 racteristic of the age in which it lived. 
 
 James in fact belongs to one of the most brilliant eras of 
 our literary history, and establishes the claims of his coun- 
 try to a participation in its primitive honours. Whilst a 
 small cluster of English writers are constantly cited as the 
 fathers of our verse, the name of their great Scottish com- 
 peer is apt to be passed over in silence ; but he is evidently 
 worthy of being enrolled in that little constellation of remote 
 but never-failing luminaries, who shine in the highest firma- 
 ment of literature, and who, like morning stars, sang to- 
 gether at the bright dawning of British poesy. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 255 
 
 HoiD Peter Stuyvesant relieved the Sovereign People from 
 the Burthen of taking Care of the Nation — with sundry 
 Particulars of his Conduct in Time of Peace. 
 
 The history of the reign of Peter Stuyvesant furnishes a 
 melancholy picture of the incessant cares and vexations in- 
 separable from government ; and may serve as a solemn 
 warning to all who are ambitious of attaining the seat of 
 power. Though crowned with victory, enriched by con- 
 quest, and returning in triumph to his metropolis, his exul- 
 tation was checked by beholding the sad abuses that had 
 taken pface during the short interval of his absence. 
 
 The populace, unfortunately for their own comfort, had 
 taken a deep draught of the intoxicating cup of power, du- 
 ring the reign of William the Testy; and though, upon the 
 accession of Peter Stuyvesant, they felt, with a certain in- 
 stinctive perception, which mobs as well as cattle possess, 
 that the reins of government had passed into stronger hands ; 
 yet they could not help fretting, and chafing, and champing 
 on the bit, in restive silence. 
 
 It seems by some strange and inscrutable fatality, to be 
 the destiny of most countries (and more especially of your 
 enhghtened republics,) always to be governed by the most 
 incompetent man in the nation ; so that you will scarcely 
 find an individual throughout the whole community, but 
 who will detect to you innumerable errors in administration, 
 and convince you in the end, that had he been at the head of 
 affairs, matters would have gone on a thousand times more 
 prosperously. Strange ! that that government, which seems 
 to be so generally understood, should invariably be so erro- 
 neously administered— strange, that the talent of legislation, 
 so prodigally bestowed, should be denied to the only man in 
 the nation to whose station it is requisite. 
 
 Thus it was in the present instance; not a man of all the 
 herd of pseudo-politicians in New-Amsterdam, but was an 
 oracle on topics of state, and could have directed public af- 
 fairs incomparably better than Peter Stuyvesant. But so 
 severe was the old governor m his disposition j that he would 
 
256 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 never suffer one of the multitude of able counsellors by 
 whom he was surrounded, to intrude his advice, and save the 
 country from destruction. 
 
 Scarcely, therefore, had he departed on his expedition 
 against the Swedes, than the old factions of William Kieft's 
 reign began to thrust their heads above water, and to gather 
 together in political meetings, to discuss " the state of the 
 nation." At these assemblages the busy burgomasters and 
 their officious schepens made a very considerable figure. 
 These worthy dignitaries were no longer the fat, well-fed, 
 tranquil magistrates, that presided in the peaceful days of 
 Wouter Van Twiller. On the contrary, being elected by 
 the people, they formed in a manner a sturdy bulwark be- 
 tween the mob and the administration. They were great 
 candidates for popularity, and strenuous advocates for the 
 rights of the rabble ; resembling in disinterested zeal the 
 wide-mouthed tribunes of ancient Rome, or those virtuous 
 patriots of modern days, emphatically denominated " the 
 friends of the people." 
 
 Under the tuition of these profound politicians, it is asto- 
 nishing how suddenly enhghtened the swinish multitude be- 
 came, in matters above their comprehensions. Cobblers, 
 tinkers, and tailors, all at once felt themselves inspired, like 
 those religious idiots, in the glorious times of monkish illu- 
 mination ; and, without any previous study or experience, 
 became instantly capable of directing all the movements of 
 government. Nor must I neglect to mention a number of 
 superannuated, wrong-headed old burghers, who had come 
 over when boys, in the crew of the Goede Vromv, and were 
 held up as infallible oracles by the enlightened mob. To 
 suppose that a man who had helped to discover a country 
 did not know how it ought to be governed, was preposte- 
 rous in the extreme. It would have been deemed as much 
 a heresy as, at the present day, to question the political ta- 
 lents and universal infallibility of our old " heroes of '76" — 
 and to doubt that he who had fought for a government, 
 however stupid he might naturally be, was not competent to 
 Jill any station under it. 
 
 , But as Peter Stuyvesant had a singular inclination to go- 
 vern his province without the assistance of his subjects, he 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING, 257 
 
 felt highly incensed on his return to find the factious appear- 
 ance they had assumed during his absence. His first mea- 
 sure, therefore, was to restore perfect order, by prostrating 
 the dignity of the sovereign people. 
 
 He accordingly watched his opportunity, and one even- 
 ing when the enlightened mob was gathered together, listen- 
 ing to a patriotic speech from an inspired cobbler, the intrepid 
 Peter, like his great namesake of all the Russias, all at once 
 appeared among them, with a countenance sufficient to pe- 
 trify a mill-stone. The whole meeting was thrown into 
 consternation — the orator seemed to have received a para- 
 lytic stroke in the very middle of a sublime sentence, and 
 stood aghast with open mouth and trembling knees, whilst 
 the words horror 1 tyranny ! liberty ! rights ! taxes ! death ! 
 destruction ! and a deluge of other patriotic phrases came 
 roaring from his throat, before he had power to close his 
 lips. The shrewd Peter took no notice of the skulking 
 throng around him, but advancing to the brawling bully 
 ruffian, and drawing out a huge silver watch, which might 
 have served in times of yore as a town-clock, and which is 
 still retained by his descendants as a family curiosity, re- 
 quested the orator to mend it and set it going. The orator 
 humbly confessed it was utterly out of his power, as he was 
 unacquainted with the nature of its construction. " Nay, 
 but," said Peter, " try your ingenuity, man ; you see all the 
 springs and wheels, and how easily the clumsiest hand may 
 stop it, and pull it to pieces ; and why should it not be 
 equally easy to regulate as to stop it ?" The orator de- 
 clared that his trade was wholly different, he was a poor 
 cobbler, and had never meddled with a watch in his life. 
 That there were men skilled in the art, whose business it 
 was to attend to those matters ; but for his part he should 
 only mar the workmanship, and put the whole in confusion. 
 " Why, harkee, master of mine," cried Peter, turning sud- 
 denly upon him, with a countenance that almost petrified 
 the patcher of shoes into a perfect lapstone — " dost thou 
 pretend to meddle with the movements of government — to 
 regulat(j and correct, and patch, and cobble, a complicated 
 machire, the principles of which are above thy compreherf- 
 sion, and its simplest operation too subtle for thy under- 
 
 22* 
 
258 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 standing, when thou canst not correct a trifling error iri a 
 common piece of mechanism, the whole mystery of which 
 is open to thy inspection ? — Hence with thee to the leather 
 and stone, which are emblems of thy head ; cobble thy 
 shoes, and confine thyself to the vocation for which heaven 
 has fitted thee — But," elevating his voice until it made the 
 welkin ring, " if ever I catch thee, or any of thy tribe, 
 meddling again with the affairs of government — by St. 
 Nicholas, but I'll have every mother's bastard of ye flea'd 
 alive, and your hides stretched for drum-heads, that ye may 
 thenceforth make a noise to some purpose!" 
 
 This threat, and the tremendous voice in which it was ut- 
 tered, caused the whole multitude to quake with fear. The 
 hair of the orator rose on his head like his own swine's bris- 
 tles, and not a knight of the thimble present but his heart 
 died within him and he felt as though he could have verily 
 escaped through the eye of a needle. 
 
 But though this measure produced the desired effect in re- 
 ducing the community to order, yet it tended to injure the 
 popularity of the great Peter among the enlightened vulgar. 
 Many accused him of entertaining highly aristocratic senti- 
 ments and of leaning too much in favour of the patricians. 
 Indeed there appeared to be some grounds for such an accu- 
 sation, as he always carried himself with a very lofty sol- 
 dier-like port, and was somewhat particular in his dress ; 
 dressing himself, when not in uniform, in simple but rich 
 apparel ; and was especially noted for having his sound leg 
 (which was a very comely one) always arrayed in a red 
 stocking and high-heeled shoe. Though a man of great 
 simplicity of manners, yet there was something about him 
 that repelled rude familiarity, while it encouraged frank, and 
 even social intercourse. 
 
 He likewise observed some appearance of court ceremony 
 and etiquette. He received the common class of visiters on 
 the stoop,* before his door, according to the custom of our 
 Dutch ancestors. But when visiters were formally received ' 
 in his parlour, it was expected they would appear in clean 
 
 * Properly ?pelled stoch: the porch commonly built in front of Dutch houses, 
 with benches on each side. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 259 
 
 linen ; by no means to be bare-footed, and always to take 
 their hats off. On public occasions he appeared with great 
 pomp of equipage (for, in truth, his station required a httle 
 show and dignity,) and always rode to church in a yellow 
 wagon with flaming red wheels. 
 
 These symptoms of state and ceremony occasioned con- 
 siderable discontent among the vulgar. They had been 
 accustomed to find easy access to their former governors, 
 and in particular had lived on terms of extreme familiarity 
 with William the Testy. They therefore were very impa- 
 tient of these dignified precautions, which discouraged in- 
 trusion. But Peter Stuyvesant had his own way of think- 
 ing in Ihese matters, and was a staunch upholder of the 
 dignity of office. 
 
 He always maintained that government to be the least 
 popular, which is most open to popular access and control ; 
 and that the very brawlers against court ceremony, and the 
 reserve of men in power, would soon despise rulers among 
 wh*om they found oven themselves to be of consequence. 
 Such, at least, had been the case with the administration of 
 William the Testy; who, bent on making himself popular, 
 had listened to every man's advice, suffered every person to 
 have admittance to his person at all hours ; and, in a word, 
 treated every one as his thorough equal- By this means 
 every scrub politician and public busybody was enabled to 
 measure wits with him, and to find out the true dimensions, 
 not only of his person, but his mind. And what great man 
 can stand such scrutiny? 
 
 It is the mystery that envelopes great men, that gives 
 them half their greatness. We are always inclined to think 
 highly of those who hold themselves aloof from our exami- 
 nation. There is likewise a kind of superstitious reverence 
 for office, which leads us to exaggerate the merits and abili- 
 ties of men of power, and to suppose that they must be con- 
 stituted different from other men. And, indeed, faith is as 
 necessary in politics as in religion. It certainly is of the 
 first importance, that a country should be governed by wise 
 men ; but then it is almost equally important, that the peo- 
 ple should believe them to be wise ; for this belief alone can 
 produce willing subordination. 
 
260 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 To keep up, therefore, this desirable confidence in rulers, 
 the people should be allowed to see as little of them as pos- 
 sible. He who gains access to cabinets, soon finds out by 
 what foolishness the world is governed. He discovers that 
 there is a quackery in legislation, as well as in every thing 
 else ; that many a measure, which is supposed by the mil- 
 lion to be the .result of great wisdom and deep deliberation, 
 is the effect of mere chance, or perhaps of hair-brained ex- 
 periment. That rulers have their whims and errors as well 
 as other men, and after all are not so wonderfully superior 
 to their fellow-creatures as he at first imagined ; since he 
 finds that even his own opinions have had some weight with 
 them. Thus awe subsides into confidence, confidence in- 
 spires familiarity, and familiarity produces contempt. Peter 
 Stuyvesant, on the contrary, by conducting himself with 
 dignity and loftiness, was looked up to with great reverence. 
 As he never gave his reasons for any thing he did, the pub- 
 lic always gave iiim credit for very profound ones. Every 
 movement, however intrinsically unimportant, was a matter 
 of speculation ; and his very red stocking excited some re- 
 spect, as being different from the stocking of other men. 
 
 To these times we may refer the rise of family pride and 
 aristocratic distinctions ;* and indeed I cannot but look back 
 with reverence to the early planting of those mighty Dutch 
 families, which have taken such vigorous root, and branched 
 out so luxuriantly in our state. The blood which has flow- 
 ed down uncontaminated through a succession of steady, 
 virtuous generations, since the times of the patriarchs of 
 Communipavv, must certainly be pure and worthy. And if 
 so, then are the Van Rensellaers, the Van Zandts, the Van 
 Homes, the Rutgers, the Bensons, the Brinkerhoffs, the 
 Skermerhorns, and all the true descendants of the ancient 
 Pavonians, the only legitimate nobility and real lords of the 
 soil. 
 
 I have been led to mention thcis particularly the well 
 
 * In a work published many years after the time here treated of (in 1761, by C. 
 W. A. M.) it is mentioned that Frederick Philipse was counted the richest Myn- 
 heer in New-Yi>rk, and was said to have ivhole hogsheads of Indian money or 
 wampum ; and had a son and daughter, who, according to the Dutcli custom, 
 should divide it equally. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 261 
 
 •authenticated claims of our genuine Dutch famihes, because 
 I have noticed with great sorrow and vexation, that they have 
 been somewhat elbowed aside in latter days, by foreign in- 
 truders. It is really astonishing to behold how many great 
 families have sprung up of late years, who pride themselves 
 excessively on the score of ancestry. Thus he who can 
 look up to his father without humiliation assumes not a little 
 importance— he who can safely talk of his grandfather is 
 still more vainglorious — -but he who can look back to his great 
 grandfather without blushing is absolutely intolerable in his 
 pretensions to family. — Bless us ! what a piece of work is 
 here, between these mushrooms of an hour, and these 
 mushrooms of a day ! 
 
 But from what I have recounted in the former part of this 
 chapter, I would not have my reader imagine that the great 
 Peter was a tyrannical governor, ruling his subjects with a 
 rod of iron — 'On the contrary, where the dignity of authority 
 was not implicated, he abounded with generosity and cour- 
 teous condescension. Tn fact he really believed, though I 
 fear ray more enlightened republican readers will consider 
 it a proof of his ignorance and illiberality, that in preventing 
 the cup of social life from being dashed with the intoxicating 
 ingredient of politics, he promoted the tranquillity and happi- 
 ness of the people — and by detaching their minds from sub- 
 jects which they could not understand, and which only 
 tended to inflame their passions, he enabled them to attend 
 more faithfully and industriously to their proper callings ; 
 becoming more useful citizens and more attentive to their 
 families and fortunes. 
 
 So far from having any unreasonable austerity, he de- 
 lighted to see the poor and the labouring man rejoice, and 
 for this purpose was a great promoter of holydays and 
 public amusements. Under his reign was first introduced 
 the custom of cracking eggs at Pass or Easter. New-Year's 
 Day was also observed with extravagant festivity — and 
 ushered in by the ringing of bells and firing of guns. Every 
 house was a temple to the jolly god. Oceans of cherry- 
 brandy, true hollands, and mulled cider, were set afloat on 
 the occasion : and not a poor man in town but made it a 
 
262 BEAUTIES or 
 
 point to get drunk, out of a principle of pure eGoflorny--*- 
 taking in liquor enough to serve him half a year afteFward^ 
 
 It would have done one's heart good also to have seen the 
 valiant Peter, seated among the old burghers- and thei:r 
 wives of a Saturday afternoon, under the great trees that 
 spread their shade over the Battery, watching the young 
 men and women as they danced on the green. Here he 
 would smoke his pipe, crack his joke, and forget the rugged 
 toils of war in the sweet oblivious festivities of peace. He 
 would occasionally give a nod of approbation to those of the 
 young men who shuffled and kicked most vigorously, and 
 now and then gave a hearty smack, in all honesty of soul^ 
 to the buxom lass that held out longest, and tired down all 
 her competitors, which she considered as infallible proofs of 
 her being the best dancer. Once it is true the harmony of 
 the meeting was rather interrupted. A young vrouw, of great 
 figure in the gay world, and who, having lately come from 
 Holland, of course led the fashions in the city, made her 
 appearance in not more than half a dozen petticoats, and 
 these too of most alarming shortness. — A universal whisper 
 ran through the assembly ; the old ladies all felt shocked io 
 the extreme, the young ladies blushed and felt excessively 
 for the " poor thing," and even the governor himself was 
 observed to be a little troubled in mind. To complete the 
 astonishment of the good folks, she undertook, in the course 
 of a jig, to describe some astonishing figures in algebra, 
 which she had learned from a dancing master in Rotterdam. 
 Whether she was too animated in flourishing her feet, or 
 whether some vagabond Zephyr took the liberty of intruding 
 his services, certain it is, that in the course of a grand evo- 
 lution which would not have disgraced a modern ball roomg 
 she made a most unexpected display — whereat the whole 
 assembly was thrown into great admiration, several grave 
 country members were not a little moved, and the good Pe- 
 ter himself, who was a man of unparalleled modesty,, felt 
 himself grievously scandalized. 
 
 The shortness of the female dresses, which had continued 
 in fashion ever since the days of William Kieft, had long 
 offended his eye ; and though extremely adverse to meddling 
 v/iih the petticoats of the ladies, yet he immediately recona- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 263 
 
 mended that every one should be furnished with a flounce to 
 the bottom. He likewise ordered that the ladies, and indeed 
 the gentlemen, should use no other step in dancing than 
 shuffle and turn, and double trouble ; and forbade, under pain 
 of his high displeasure, any young lady thenceforth to at- 
 tempt what was termed " exhibiting the graces." 
 
 These were the only restrictions he ever imposed upon 
 the sex ; and these were considered by them as tyrannical 
 oppressions, and resisted with that becoming spirit always 
 manifested by the gentle sex whenever their privileges are 
 invaded. — In fact, Peter Stuyvesant plainly perceived, that 
 if he attempted to push the matter any farther, there was 
 danger gf their leaving off petticoats altogether ; so, like a 
 wise man, experienced in the ways of women, he held his 
 peace, and suffered them ever after to wear their petticoats 
 and cut their capers as high as they pleased. 
 
 Showing the great Difficulty Philosophers have had in 
 peopling America — and how the Aborigines came to he 
 begotten by Accident, to the great relief and Satisfac^ 
 tion of the Author. 
 
 The next inquiry at which we arrive in the regular course 
 of our history, is to ascertain, if possible, how this country 
 was originally peopled ; a point fruitful of incredible embar- 
 rassments ; for unless we prove that the aborigines did ab- 
 solutely come from somewhere, it will be immediately 
 asserted in this age of skepticism, that they did not come at 
 all ; and if they did not come at all, then was this country 
 never populated — a conclusion perfectly agreeable to the 
 rules of logic, but wholly irreconcileable to every feeling of 
 humanity, inasmuch as it must syllogistically prove fatal to 
 the innumerable aborigines of this populous region. 
 
 To avert so dire a sophism, and to rescue from logical 
 annihilation so many millions of fellow creatures, how many 
 wings of geese have been plundered ! what oceans of ink 
 
264 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 have been benevolently drained ! and how many capacious 
 heads of learned historians have been addled and for ever 
 confounded ! I pause with reverential awe, when I contem- 
 plate the ponderous tomes in different languages, with which 
 they have endeavoured to solve this question, so important 
 to the happiness of society, but so involved in clouds of in- 
 penetrable obscurity. Historian after historian has engaged 
 in the endless circle of hypothetical argument, and after 
 leading us a weary chase through octavos, quartos, and fo- 
 lios, has let us out, at the end of his work, just as wise as 
 we were at the beginning. It was doubtless some philo- 
 sophical wild-goose chase of the kind, that made the old 
 poet Macrobius rail in such a passion at curiosity, which he 
 anathematizes most heartily as " an irksome, agonizing care, 
 a superstitious industry about unprofitable things, an itching 
 humour to see what is not to be seen, and to be doing what 
 signifies nothing when it is done." But to proceed : 
 
 Of the claims of the children of Noah to the original 
 population of this country, I shall say nothing, as they have 
 already been touched upon in my last chapter. The claim- 
 ants next in celebrity are the descendants of Abraham. 
 Thus Christoval Colon (vulgarly called Columbus,) when ho 
 first discovered the gold mines of Hispaniola, immediately 
 concluded, with a shrewdness that would have done honour 
 to a philosopher, that he had found the ancient Ophir, 
 from whence Solomon procured the gold for embellishing 
 the temple at Jerusalem: nay, Colon even imagined that he 
 saw the remains of furnaces of veritable Hebraic construc- 
 tion, employed in refining the precious ore. 
 
 So golden a conjecture, tinctured with such fascinating 
 extravagance, was too tempting not to be immediately 
 snapped at by the gudgeons of learning ; and accordingly, 
 there were divers profound writers, ready to swear to its cor- 
 rectness, and bring in their usual load of authorities and wise 
 surmises, wherewithal to prop it up. Vatablus and Robertus 
 Stephens declared nothing could be more clear ; Arius Mon- 
 tanus, without the least hesitation, asserts that Mexico was 
 the true Ophir, and the Jews the early settlers of the coun- 
 try: while Possevin, Becan, and several other sagacious 
 writers, lug in a supposed prophecy of the fourth book of 
 
WASHINSTON IRVING. S65 
 
 Esdras, which being inserted in the mighty hypothesis, like 
 the key-stone of an arch, gives it, in their opinion, perpetual 
 durability. 
 
 Scarce, however, have they completed their goodly su- 
 perstructure, than in trudges a phalanx of opposite authors, 
 with Hans de Laet, the great Dutchman, at their head ; and 
 at one blow tumbles the whole fabric about their ears. Hans, 
 in fact, contradicts outright all the Israelitish claims to the 
 first settlements of this country, attributing all those equi- 
 vocal symptoms, and traces of Christianity and Judaism, 
 which have been said to be found in divers provinces of the 
 New World, to the Devil, who has always aifected to coun- 
 terfeit the worship of the true Deity. " A remark," says 
 the knowing old Padre d'Acosta, " made by all good authors 
 who have spoken of the religion of nations newly discovered, 
 and founded besides on the authority of the fathers of the 
 church.^'' 
 
 Some writers again, among whom it is with great regret 
 I am compelled to mention Lopes de Gomora and Juan de 
 Leri, insinuate that the Canaanites, being driven from the 
 land of promise by the Jews, were seized with such a panic 
 that they fled, without looking behind them, until stopping 
 to take breath, they found themselves safe in America. As 
 they brought neither their national language, manners, nor 
 features with them, it is supposed they left them behind in 
 the hurry of their flight. I cannot give my faith to this 
 opinion. 
 
 I pass over the supposition of the learned Grotius, who 
 being both an ambassador and a Dutchman to boot, is enti- 
 tled to great respect ; that North America was peopled by 
 a strolling company of Norwegians, and that Peru was 
 founded by a colony from China — Manco, or Mungo Capac, 
 the first Incas, being himself a Chinese. Nor shall I more 
 than barely mention, that father Kircher ascribes the settle- 
 ment of America to the Egyptians, Budbeck to the Scandi- 
 navians, Charron to the Gauls, Juffredus Petri to a skating 
 party from Friesland, Milius to the Celtas, Marinocus the Si- 
 cilian to the Romans, Le Comte to the Phoenicians, Postel 
 to the Moors, Martin d' Angleria to the Abyssinians, together 
 
 23 
 
M6 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 with the sage surmise of De Laet, that England, Ireland 
 and the Orcades may contend for that honour. 
 
 Nor will I bestow any more attention or credit to the idea 
 that America is the fairy region of Zipangri, described by 
 that dreaming traveller Marco Polo the Venetian ; or that 
 it comprises the visionary island of Atlantis, described by 
 Plato. Neither will I stop to investigate the heathenish as- 
 sertion of Paracelsus, that each hemisphere of the globe 
 was originally furnished with an Adam and Eve ; or the 
 more flattering opinion of Dr. Romayne, supported by many 
 nameless authorities, that Adam was of the Indian race ; or 
 the startling conjecture of BufFon, Helvetius, and Darwin, 
 so highly honourable to mankind, that the whole human 
 species is accidentally descended from a remarkable family 
 of the monkeys ! 
 
 This last conjecture, I must own, came upon me very 
 suddenly and very ungraciously. I have often beheld the 
 clown in a pantomime, while gazing in stupid wonder at the 
 extravagant gambols of a harlequin, all at once electrified 
 by a sudden stroke of the wooden sword across his shoul- 
 ders. Little did I think at such times that it would ever fall 
 to my lot to be treated with equal discourtesy, and that while 
 I was quietly beholding these grave philosophers emulating 
 the eccentric transformations of the hero of pantomime, they 
 would on a sudden turn upon me and my readers, and with 
 one hypothetical flourish metamorphose us into beasts ! I 
 determined from that moment not to burn my fingers with 
 any more of their theories, but content myself with detail- 
 ing the diflerent methods by which they transported the de- 
 scendants of these ancient and respectable monkeys, to this 
 great field of theoretical warfare. 
 
 This was done either by migrations by land or transmi- 
 grations by water. Thus Padre Joseph d'Acosto enumerates 
 three passages by land, first by the north of Europe, se- 
 condly by the north of Asia, and thirdly by regions south- 
 ward of the straits of Magellan. The learned Grotius 
 marches his Norwegians by a pleasant route across frozen 
 rivers and arms of the sea, through Iceland, Greenland, 
 Estotiland, and Naremberga. And various writers, among 
 whom are Angleria, De Plornn, and Buflbn, anxious for the 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. S67 
 
 accommodation of these travellers, have, fastened the two 
 continents together by a strong chain of deductions — by 
 which means they could pass over dryshod. But should 
 even this fail, Pinkerton, that industrious old gentleman, who 
 compiles books and manufactures Geographies, has con- 
 structed a natural bridge of ice, from continent to conti- 
 nent, at the distance of four or five miles from Behring's 
 straits — for which he is entitled to the grateful thanks of 
 all the wandering aborigines who ever did or ever will pass 
 over it. 
 
 It is an evil much to be lamented, that none of the wor- 
 thy writers above quoted, could ever commence his work, 
 without immediately declaring hostilities against every wri- 
 ter who had treated on the same subject. In this particular, 
 authors may be compared to a certain sagacious bird, which 
 in building its nest is sure to pull to pieces the nests of all 
 the birds in its neighbourhood. This unhappy propensity 
 tends grievously to impede the progress of sound knowledge. 
 Theories are at best but brittle productions, and when once 
 committed to the stream, they should take care that like the 
 notable pots which were fellow voyagers, they do not crack 
 each other. 
 
 For my part, when I beheld the sages I have quoted grave- 
 ly accounting for unaccountable things, and discoursing thus 
 wisely about matters for ever hidden from their eyes, like a 
 blind man describing the 'glories of light, and the beauty 
 and harmony of colours, I fell back in astonishment at the 
 amazing extent of human ingenuity. 
 
 If, cried I to myself, these learned men can weave whole 
 systems out of nothing, what would be their productions 
 were they furnished with substantial materials — if they can 
 argue and dispute thus ingeniously about subjects beyond 
 their knowledge, what would be the profundity of their ob- 
 servations, did they but know what they were talking about ! 
 Should old Rhadamanthus, when he comes to decide upon 
 their conduct while on earth, have the least idea of the use- 
 fulness of their labours, he will undoubtedly class them 
 with those notorious wise men of Gotham, who milked a bull, 
 twisted a rope of sand, and wove a velvet purse from a sow's 
 ear. 
 
268 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 My chief surprise is, that among the many writers I have 
 noticed, no one has attempted to prove that this country was 
 peopled from the moon — or that the first inhabitants floated 
 hither on islands of ice, as white bears cruise about the 
 northern oceans — or that they were conveyed hither by bal- 
 loons, as modern aeronauts pass from Dover to Calais — or 
 by witchcraft, as Simon Magus posted among the stars — or 
 after the manner of the renowned Scythian Abaris, who, 
 like the New-England witches on full blooded broomsticks 
 made most unheard-of journeys on the back of a golden 
 arrow, given him by the Hyperborean Apollo. 
 
 But there is still one mode left by which this country 
 could have been peopled, which I have reserved for the last, 
 because I consider it worth all the rest ; it is — hy accident ! 
 Speaking of the islands of Solomon, New-Guinea, and New- 
 Holland, the profound father Charlevoix observes, " in fine, 
 all these countries are peopled, and it is possible, some have 
 been so by accident. Now if it could have happened in 
 that manner, why might it not have been at the same time, 
 and by the same means, with the other parts of the globe V 
 This ingenious mode of deducing certain conclusions from 
 possible premises, is an improvement on syllogistic skill, and 
 proves the good father superior even to Archimedes, for he 
 can turn the world without any thing to rest his lever upon. 
 It is only surpassed by the dexterity with which the sturdy 
 old Jesuit, in another place, cuts the gordian knot — " No- 
 thing," says he, " is more easy. The inhabitants of both 
 hemispheres are certainly the descendants of the same father. 
 The common father of mankind received an express order 
 from Heaven to people the world, and accordingly it has 
 been peopled. To bring this about, it was necessary to 
 overcome all difficulties in the way, a7id they have also been 
 overcome r^ Pious Logician! How does he put all the 
 herd of laborious theorists to the blush, by explaining in 
 live words, v/hat it has cost them volumes to prove they 
 know nothing about ! 
 
 They have long been picking at the lock, and fretting at 
 the latch, but the honest father at ouce unlocks the door by 
 bursting it open, and when he has it once ajar, he is at full 
 liberty to pour in as many nations as he pleases. This 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 269 
 
 proves to a demonstration that a little piety is better than a 
 cart-Ioad of philosophy, and is a practical illustration of 
 that scriptural promise — " By faith ye shall move moun- 
 tains." 
 
 From all the authorities here quoted, and a variety of 
 others which I have consulted, but which are omitted through 
 fear of fatiguing the unlearned reader — I can only draw 
 the following conclusions, which, luckily however, are suffi- 
 cient for my purpose — First, That this part of the world has 
 actually been peopled (Q- E. D. :) to support which we have 
 living proofs in the numerous tribes of Indians that inhabit 
 it. Secondly, That it has been peopled in five hundred dif- 
 ferent \yays, as proved by a cloud of authors, who from the 
 positiveness of their assertions, seem to have been eye-wit- 
 ness to the fact. Thirdly, That the people of this country 
 had a variety of fathers^ which, as it may not be thought 
 much to their credit by the common run of readers, the less 
 we say on the subject the better. The question, therefore, 
 I trust is for ever at rest. 
 
 WOUTER VAN TWILLER. 
 
 The renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van Twiller was de- 
 scended from a long line of Dutch burgomasters, who had 
 successively dozed away their lives, and grown fat upon the 
 bench of magistracy in Rotterdam ; and who had comported 
 themselves with such singular wisdom and propriety that 
 they were never either heard or talked of — which, next to 
 being universally applauded, should be the object of ambi- 
 tion to all sage magistrates and rulers. 
 
 His surname of Twiller is said to be a corruption of the 
 original Twijfler, which in English means doubter ; a name 
 admirably descriptive of his deliberative habits. For though 
 he was a man shut up within himself like an oyster, and of 
 such a profoundly reflective turn that he scarcely ever spoke 
 except in monosyllables ; yet did he never make up his 
 
 23* 
 
270 BEAUTIES or 
 
 mind on any doubtful point. This was clearly accounted 
 for by his adherents, who affirmed that he always conceived 
 every subject on so comprehensive a scale that he had not 
 room in his head to turn it over and examine both sides of 
 it ; so that he always remained in doubt, merely in conse- 
 quence of the astonishing magnitude of his ideas ! 
 
 There are two opposite ways by which some men get 
 into notice — one by talking a vast deal and thinking a little, 
 and the other by holding their tongues and not thinking at 
 all. By the first many a vapouring superficial pretender 
 acquires the reputation of a man of quick parts, — by the 
 other, many a vacant dunderpate, like the owl, the stupidest 
 of birds, comes to be complimented by a discerning world, 
 with all the attributes of wisdom. This, by the way, is a 
 mere casual remark, which I would not for the universe 
 have it thought I apply to Governor Van Twiller. On the 
 contrary, he was a very wise Dutchman, for he never said 
 a foolish thing ; and of such invincible gravity that he was 
 never known to laugh, or even to smile, through the course 
 of a long and prosperous life. Certain, however, it is, there 
 never was a matter proposed, however simple, and on which 
 your common narrovv^-minded mortals would rashly deter- 
 mine at the first glance, but what the renowned Wouter put 
 on a mighty mysterious, vacant kind of look, shook his ca- 
 pacious head, and having smoked for five minutes with re- 
 doubled earnestness, sagely observed, that " he had his 
 doubts about the matter ;"— which, in process of time, gain- 
 ed him the character of a man slow of belief, and not easily 
 imposed on. 
 
 The person of this illustrious old gentleman was as regu- 
 larly formed, and nobly proportioned, as though it had been 
 moulded by the hands of some cunning Dutch statuary, as 
 a model of majesty and lordly grandeur. He was exactly 
 five feet six inches in height, and six feet five inches in cir- 
 cumference. His head was a perfect sphere, far excelling 
 in magnitude that of the great Pericles (who was thence 
 waggishly called Schenocephalus, or onion head)— indeed, 
 of such stupendous dimensions was it, that dame Nature 
 herself, with all her sex's ingenuity, would have been puz- 
 zled to construct a neck capable of supporting it ; where- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 271 
 
 fore she wisely declined tiie attempt, and settled it firmly on 
 the top of his back-bone, just between the shoulders ; where 
 it remained, as snugly bedded as a ship of war in the mud 
 of Potowmac. His body was of an oblong form, particu- 
 larly capacious at bottom ; which was wisely ordered by 
 providence, seeing that he v/as a man of sedentary habits, 
 and very averse to the idle labour of walking. His legs, 
 .though exceeding short, were sturdy in proportion to the 
 weight they had to sustain ; so that when erect he had not 
 a little the appearance of a robustious beer barrel, standing 
 on skids. His face, that infallible index of the mind, pre- 
 sented a vast expanse perfectly unfurrowed or deformed by 
 any of those lines and angles which disfigure the human 
 countenance with what is termed expression. Two small 
 gray eyes twinkled feebly in the midst, like two stars of 
 lesser magnitude, in a hazy firmament ; and his full-fed 
 cheeks, which seemed to have taken toll of every thing that 
 went into his mouth, were curiously mottled and streaked 
 with dusky red, like a Spitzemburg apple. 
 
 His habits were as regular as his person. He daily took 
 his four stated meals, appropriating exactly an hour to each ; 
 he smoked and doubted eight hours, and he slept the remain- 
 ing twelve of the f^ur-and-twenty. Such was the renowned 
 Wouter Van Twiller — a true philosopher, for his mind was 
 either elevated above, or tranquilly settled below, the cares 
 and perplexities of this world. He had lived in it for years, 
 without feeling the least curiosity to know whether the sun 
 revolved around it, or it round the sun ; and he had even 
 watched for at least half a century, the smoke curling from 
 his pipe to the ceiling, without once troubling his head with 
 any of those numerous theories, by which a philosopher 
 would have perplexed his brain, in accounting for its arising 
 above the surrounding atmosphere. 
 
 In his council he presided with great state and solemnity. 
 He sat in a hu£i;e chair of solid oak hewn in the celebrated 
 forest of the Hague, fabricated by an experienced Tim mer- 
 man of Amsterdam, and curiously carved about the arms 
 and feet, into exact imitations of gigantic eagle's claws. 
 Instead of a sceptre, he swayed a long Turkish pipe, wrought 
 wdth jasmin and amber, which had been presented to a stadt- 
 
272 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 holder of Holland at the conclusion of a treaty with one of 
 the petty Barbary powers. In this stately chair would he 
 sit, and this magnificent pipe would he smoke, shaking his 
 right knee with a constant motion, and fixing his eyes for 
 hours together upon a Httle print of Amsterdam, which hung 
 in a black frame against the opposite wall of the council 
 chamber. Nay, it has even been said, that when any deli- 
 beration of extraordinary length and intricacy was on the 
 carpet, the renowned Wouter would absolutely shut his eyes 
 for full two hours at a time, that he might not be disturbed 
 by external objects ; and at such times the internal commo- 
 tion of his mind was evinced by certain regular guttural 
 sounds, which his admirers declared were merely the 
 noise of conflict made by his contending doubts and opi- 
 nions. 
 
 It is with infinite difficulty I have been enabled to collect 
 these biographical anecdotes of the great man under consi- 
 deration. The facts respecting him were so scattered and 
 vague, and divers of them so questionable in point of au- 
 thenticity, that I have had to give up the search after many, 
 and decline the admission of still more, which would have 
 tended to heighten the colouring of his portrait. 
 
 I have been the more anxious to delineate fully the per- 
 son and habits of the renowned Van Twiller, from the con- 
 sideration that he was not only the first, but also the best 
 governor that ever presided over this ancient and respecta- 
 ble province ; and so tranquil and benevolent was his reign 
 that I do not find, throughout the whole of it, a single in- 
 stance of any offender being brought to punishment ; — a 
 most indubitable sign of a merciful governor and a case un- 
 paralleled, excepting in the reign of the illustrious King Log, 
 from whom, it is hinted, the renowned Van Twiller was a 
 lineal descendant. 
 
 The very outset of the career of this excellent magistrate, 
 like that of Solomon, or to speak more appropriately, like 
 that of the illustrious governor of Barataria, was distinguish- 
 ed by an example of legal acumen, that gave flattering pre- 
 sage of a wise and equitable administration. The very 
 morning after he had been solemnly installed in office, and 
 at the moment that he was making his breakfast from a 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 273 
 
 prodigious earthern dish, filled with milk and Indian pud- 
 ding, he was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of one 
 Wandle Schoonhoven, a very important old burgher of 
 New-Amsterdam, who complained bitterly of one Barent 
 Bleecker, inasmuch as he fraudulently refused to come to a 
 settlement of accounts, seeing that there was a heavy balance 
 in favour of the said Wandle. Governor Van Twiller, as I 
 have already observed, was a man of few words ; he was 
 likewise a mortal enemy to multiplying writings, or being 
 disturbed at his breakfast. Having listened attentively to 
 the statement of Wandle Schoonhoven, giving an occasion- 
 al grunt, as he shovelled a mighty spoonful of Indian pud- 
 ding into his mouth — either as a sign that he relished the 
 dish, or comprehended the story : he called unto him his 
 constable, and pulling out of his breeches pocket a huge 
 jack-knife, despatched it after the defendant as a summons, 
 accompanied by his tobacco box as a warrant. 
 
 This summary process was as effectual in those simple 
 days as was the seal ring of the great Haroun Alraschid 
 among the true believers. The two parties, being confront- 
 ed before him, each produced a book of accounts, wu'itten in 
 a language and character, that would have puzzled any but 
 a high Dutch commentator, or a learned decipherer of Egyp- 
 tian obelisks, to understand. The sage Wouter took them 
 one after the other, and having poised them in his hands, 
 and attentively counted over the number of leaves, fell 
 straightway into a very great doubt, and smoked for half an 
 hour without saying a word ; at length, laying his finger 
 beside his nose, and shutting his eyes for a moment, with 
 the air of a man who has just caught a subtle idea by the 
 tail, he slowly took his pipe from his mouth, puffed forth a 
 column of tobacco smoke, and with a marvellous gravity 
 and solemnity pronounced — that having carefully counted 
 over the leaves, and weighed the books, it was found, that 
 one was just as thick and as heavy as the other — therefore 
 it was the final opinion of the court, that the accounts were 
 equally balanced— therefore Wandle should give Barent a 
 receipt, and Barent should give Wandle a receipt— -and the 
 constable should pay the costs. 
 
 This decision being straightway made known, diffused 
 
274 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 general joy throughout New-Amsterdam ; for the people im- 
 mediately perceived, that they had a very wise and equita- 
 ble magistrate to rule over them. But its happiest effect 
 was, that not another lawsuit took place throughout the 
 whole of his administration ; and the office of constable fell 
 into such decay, that there was not one of those losel scouts 
 known in the province for many years. T am the more par- 
 ticular in dwelling on this transaction, not only because I 
 deem it one of the most sage and righteous judgments on re- 
 cord, and well worthy the attention of modern magistrates, 
 but because it was a miraculous event in the history of the 
 renowned Wouter — being the only time he was ever known 
 to come to a decision, in the whole course of his life. 
 
 The' Grand Council of New-Amsterdam — with Reasons 
 why an Mderman should he Fat, 
 
 To assist the doubtful Wouter in the arduous business of 
 legislation, a board of magistrates was appointed, which 
 presided immediately over the police. This potent body 
 consisted of a schout or bailiff, with powers between those 
 of the present mayor and sheriff; five burgermeesters, who 
 were equivalent to aldermen ; and five schepens, who offici- 
 ated as scrubs, sub-devils, or bottle-holders, to the burger- 
 meesters, in the same manner as do assistant aldermen to 
 their principals at the present day — it being their duty to 
 fill the pipes of ihe lordly burgermeesters, hunt the markets 
 for delicacies for corporation dinners, and to discharge such 
 othpr little offices of kindness, as were occasionally required. 
 It was, moreover, tacitly understood, though not specifically 
 enjoined, that they should consider themselves as butts for 
 the blunt wits of the burgermeesters, and should laugh most 
 heartily at all their jokes ; but this last was a duty as rarely 
 called in action in those days as it is at present, and was 
 shortly remitted, in consequence of the tragical death of a 
 fat little schepen, who actually died of suffocation in an un- 
 
WASHINeTON IRVING. 275 
 
 successful effort to force a laugh at one of burger meester 
 Van Zandt's best jokes. 
 
 In return for these humble services, they were permitted 
 to say, yes and no at the council board, and to have that en- 
 viable privilege, the run of the public kitchen ; being gra- 
 ciously permitted to eat, and drink, and smoke, at all those 
 snug junketings, and public gormandizings, for which the 
 ancient magistrates were equally famous with their more 
 modern successors. The post of schepen, therefore, like 
 that of assistant alderman, was eagerly coveted by all your 
 burghers of a certain description, who have a huge relish for 
 good feeding, and an humble ambition to be great men in a 
 small way — who thirst after a little brief authority, that shall 
 render them the terror of the alms-house and the bridewell 
 — that shall enable them to lord it over obsequious poverty, 
 vagrant vice, outcast prostitution, and hunger-driven dis- 
 honesty—that shall place in their hands the lesser, but gall- 
 ing scourge of the law, and give to their beck a houndlike 
 pack of catchpoles and bum-bailiffs — tenfold greater rogues 
 than the culprits they hunt down ! — My readers will excuse 
 this sudden warmth, which I confess is unbecoming of a 
 grave historian ; but I have a mortal antipathy to catchpoles, 
 bum-bailiffs, and little great men. 
 
 The ancient magistrates of this city corresponded with 
 those of the present time no less in form, magnitude, and 
 intellect, than in prerogative and privilege. The burgo- 
 masters, like our aldermen, were generally chosen by 
 weight ; and not only the weight of the body, but likewise 
 the weight of the head. It is a maxim practically observed 
 in all honest, plain thinking, regular cities, that an alder- 
 man should be fat — and the wisdom of this can be proved 
 to a certainty. That the body is in some measure an 
 image of the mind, or rather that the mind is moulded to 
 the body, like melted lead to the clay in which it is cast, has 
 been insisted on by many men of science, who have made 
 human nature their pec^iar study. For as a learned gen- 
 tleman of our own city observes, " there is a constant rela- 
 tion between the moral character of all intelligent creatures 
 and their physical constitution — between their habits and the 
 structure of their bodies." Thus we see, that a lean, spare, 
 
276 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 diminutive body is generally accompanied by a petulant, 
 restless, meddling mind. Either the mind wears down the 
 body by its continual motion ; or else the body, not afford- 
 ing the mind sufficient house-room, keeps it continually in a 
 state of fretfulness, tossing and worrying about, from the 
 uneasiness of its situation. Whereas your round, sleet, fat, 
 unwieldy periphery is ever attended by a mind like itself, 
 tranquil, torpid, and at ease ; and we may always observe, 
 that your well-fed, robustious burghers are in general very 
 tenacious of their ease and comfort ; being great enemies to 
 noise, discord, and disturbance: and surely none are more 
 likely to study the public tranquillity than those who are 
 careful of their own. Whoever hears of fat men heading a 
 riot, or herding together in turbulent mobs? — No — no — it is 
 your lean, hungry men, who are continually worrying soci- 
 ety, and setting the whole community by the ears. 
 
 The divine Plato, whose doctrines are not sufficiently at- 
 tended to by Philosophers of the present age, allows to every 
 man three souls : one immortal and rational, seated in the 
 brain, that it may overlook and regulate the body — a second 
 consisting of the surly and irascible passions, which, like 
 belligerent powers, lie encamped around the heart — a third 
 mortal and sensual, destitute of reason, gross and brutal in 
 its propensities, and enchained in the belly, that it may not 
 disturb the divine soul, by its ravenous bowlings. Now, 
 according to this excellent theory, what can be more clear, 
 than that your fat alderman is most likely to have the most 
 regular and well conditioned mind. His head is like a huge, 
 spherical chamber, containing a prodigious mass of soft 
 brains, whereon the rational soul lies softly and snugly 
 couched, as on a feather bed ; and the eyes, which are the 
 windows of the bed-chamber, are usually half closed, that 
 its slumberings may not be disturbed by external objects. 
 A mind thus comfortably lodged, and protected from dis- 
 turbance, is manifestly most likely to perform its functions 
 with regularity and ease. By dint of good feeding, morever, 
 the mortal and malignant soul, which is confined in the belly, 
 and which by its raging and roaring, puts the irritable soul 
 in the neighbourhood of the heart in an intolerable passion, 
 and thus renders men crusty and quarrelsome when hun- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 277 
 
 gry — is completely pacified, silenced, and put to rest; 
 whereupon a host of honest good-fellow qualities, and kind- 
 hearted affections, which had lain in perdue, slily peeping 
 out of the loopholes of the heart, finding this Cerberus asleep, 
 do pluck up their spirits, turn out one and all in their holiday 
 suits, and gambol up and down the diaphragm — disposing 
 their possessor to laughter, good humour, and a thousand 
 friendly offices towards his fellow mortals. 
 
 As a board of magistrates, formed on this model, think 
 but very little, they are less likely to differ and wrangle 
 about favourite opinions ; and as they generally transact 
 business ypon a hearty dinner, they are naturally disposed 
 to be lenient and indulgent in the administration of their 
 duties. Charlemagne was conscious of this, and therefore 
 (a pitiful measure, for which I can never forgive him,) 
 ordered in his cartularies, that no judge should hold a 
 court of justice, except in the morning, on an empty sto- 
 mach. — A rule v»'hich, I warrant, bore hard upon all the 
 poor culprits in his kingdom. The more enlightened and 
 humane generation of the present day have taken an op- 
 posite course, and have so managed that the aldermen 
 are the best fed men in the community ; feasting lustily on 
 the fat things of the land, and gorging so heartily oysters 
 and turtle, that in process of time they acquire the activity 
 of the one, and the form, the waddle, and the green fat of 
 the other. The consequence is, as I have just said ; these 
 luxurious feastings do produce such a dulcet equanimity and 
 repose of the soul, rational and irrational, that their transac- 
 tions are proverbial for unvarying monotony ; and the pro- 
 found laws, which they enact in their dozing moments, amid 
 the labours of digestion, are quietly suffered to remain as 
 dead letters, and never enforced, when awake. In a word, 
 your fair round bellied burgomaster, like a full fed mastiff, 
 dozes quietly at the house door, always at home, and always 
 at hand to watch over its safety : but as to electing a lean, 
 meddling candidate to the office, as has now and then been 
 done, I would as lief put a greyhound to watch the house, 
 or a race-horse to drag an ox-wagon. 
 
 The burgomasters 'then, as I have already mentioned, 
 were wisely chosen bv weight, and the schepens or assist- 
 ' " 24 
 
278 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 ant Alderman, were appointed to attend upon them, and 
 help them to eat ; but the latter in the course of time, when 
 they have been fed and fattened into sufficient bulk of body 
 and drowsiness of brain, became very eligible candidates 
 for the burgomasters' chair ; have fairly eaten themselves 
 into office, as a mouse eats its way into a comfortable lodg- 
 ment in a goodly blue-nosed, skimmed milk, New-England 
 cheese. 
 
 ICHABOD CRANE AND THE GALLOPING 
 
 HESSIAN, 
 
 FROM THE SKETCH-BOOK. 
 
 It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod, 
 heavy-hearted, and crest-fallen, pursued his travel home- 
 wards, along the sides of the lofty hills which rise above 
 Tarry-Town, and which he had traversed so cheerily in the 
 afternoon. The hour was as dismal as himself. Far be- 
 low him, the Tappan Zee spread its dusky and indistinct waste 
 of waters, with here and there the tall mast of a sloop, rid- 
 ing quietly at anchor under the land. In the dead hush of 
 midnight, he could even hear the barking of the watch-dog 
 from the opposite shore of the Hudson ! but it was so vague 
 and faint as only to give an idea of his distance from this 
 faithful companion of man. Now and then, too, the long- 
 drawn crowing of a cock, accidentally awakened, would 
 sound far, far off, from some farm-house away among the 
 hills — but it was like a dreaming sound in his ear. No 
 signs of life occurred near him, but occasionally the melan- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 279 
 
 choly chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a 
 buli-frog, from a neighbouring marsh, as if sleeping uncom- 
 fortably, and turning suddenly in his bed. 
 
 All the stories of ghosts and goblins that he had heard in 
 the afternoon, now came crowding upon his recollection. 
 The night grew darker and darker ; the stars seemed to sink 
 deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid them 
 from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and dismal. 
 He was, moreover, approaching the very place where many 
 of the scenes of the ghost stories had been laid. In the 
 centre of the road stood an enormous tulip tree, which tow- 
 ered like h giant above all the other trees of the neighbour- 
 hood, and formed a kind of land-mark. Its limbs were 
 gnarled, and fantastic, large enough to form trunks of ordi- 
 nary trees, twisting down almost to the earth, and rising 
 again into the air. It was connected with the tragical story 
 of the unfortunate Andre, who had been taken prisoner hard 
 by ; and was universally known by the name of Major An- 
 dre's tree. The common people regarded it with a mixture 
 of respect and superstition, partly out of sympathy for the 
 fate of its ill-starred namesake, and partly from the tales of 
 strange sights, and doleful lamentations told concerning it. 
 
 As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to 
 whistle : he thought his whistle was answered ; it was but 
 a blast sweeping sharply through the dry branches. As he 
 approached a little nearer, he thought he saw something 
 white, hanging in the midst of the tree ; he paused and ceas- 
 ed whisthng ; but on looking more narrowly, perceived that 
 it was a place where the tree had been scathed by lightning, 
 and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard a groan 
 — his teeth chattered, and his knees smote against the sad- 
 dle : It was but the rubbing of one huge branch upon 
 another, as they were swayed about by the breeze. He 
 passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him. 
 
 About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook 
 crossed the road, and ran into a marshy and thickly wooded 
 glen, known by the name of Wiley's swamp. A few rough 
 logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this stream. 
 On that side of the road where the brook entered the wood, 
 a group of oaks and chestnuts, matted thick with wild grape 
 
280 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 vines, threw a cavernous gloom over it. To pass this 
 bridge, was the severest trial. It was at this identical spot 
 that the unfortunate Andre was captured, and under the 
 covert of those chestnuts and vines were the sturdy yeomen 
 concealed who surprised him. This has ever since been 
 considered a haunted stream, and fearful are the feelings of 
 the schoolboy who has to pass it alone after dark. 
 
 As he approached the stream, his heart began to thump ; 
 he summed up, however, all his resolution, gave his horse 
 half a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to dash 
 briskly across the bridge ; but instead of starting forward, 
 the perverse old animal made a lateral movement, and ran 
 broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fears increased 
 with the delay, jerked the reins on the other side, and kicked 
 lustily vi^ith the contrary foot ; it was all in vain ; his steed 
 started, it is true, but it was only to plunge into the opposite 
 side of the road into a thicket of brambles and alder bushes. 
 The schoolmaster now bestowed both wliip and heel upon 
 the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed forward, 
 snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just by the 
 bridge with a suddenness that had nearly sent his rider 
 sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a plashy 
 tramp by the side of the bridge caught the sensitive ear of 
 Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin 
 of the brook, he beheld something huge and misshapen, 
 black and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up 
 in gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon 
 the traveller. 
 
 The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head 
 with terror. What was to be done ? To turn and fly was 
 now too late ; and besides, what chance was there of escap- 
 ing ghost or goblin, if such it was, which could ride upon 
 the wings of the wind ? Summoning up, therefore, a show 
 of courage, lie demanded in stammering accents — " Who 
 are you ?" He received no reply. He repeated his demand 
 in a still more agitated voice. Still there was no answer. 
 Once more he cudgelled the inflexible sides of old Gunpow- 
 der, and shutting his eyes, broke forth with involuntary fer- 
 vour into a psalm tune. 
 
 Just then the shadowy object of alarm put himself in mo- 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 281 
 
 tion, and with a scramble and a bound, stood at once in the 
 middle of the road. Though the night was dark and dismal, 
 yet the form of the unknown might now in some degree be 
 ascertained. Fie appeared to be a horseman of large dimen- 
 sions, and mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. 
 He made no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept 
 aloof on one side of the road, jogging along on the blind side 
 of old Gunpowder, who had now got over his fright and 
 waywardness. 
 
 Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight com- 
 panion, and bethought himself of the adventure of Brom 
 Bones with the Galloping Hessian, now quickened his steed, 
 in hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger, however, 
 quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up, 
 and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind — the other did 
 the same. His heart began to sink within him ; he endea- 
 voured to resume his psalm tune, but his parched tongue 
 clove to the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a 
 stave. There was something in the moody and dogged 
 silence of this pertinacious companion, that was mysterious 
 and appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On 
 mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his 
 fellow traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, 
 and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck, on per- 
 ceiving that^'he was headless! — but his horror was still 
 more increased, on observing that the head, which should 
 have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the 
 pommel of the saddle ; his terror rose to desperation ; he 
 rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, hop- 
 ing by a sudden movement, to give his companion the slip — 
 but the spectre started full jump with him. Away then 
 they dashed, through thick and thin ; stones flying, and 
 sparks flashing, at every bound. Ichabod's flimsy garments 
 fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long lank body away 
 over his horse's head, in the eagerness of his flight. 
 
 They had now reached the road which turns off to Sleepy 
 Hollow ; but Gunpowder, who seemed possessed with a de- 
 mon, instead of keeping up to it, made an opposite turn, and 
 plunged headlong down the hill to the left. This road leads 
 
 through a sandy hollow, shaded by trees for about a quarter 
 
 24* 
 
282 BEAUTIES 0¥ 
 
 of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in gobUn sto- 
 ry, and just beyond swells the green knoll on which stands 
 the whitewashed church. 
 
 As yet the panic of the steed had given his unskilful rider 
 an apparent advantage in the chase; but just as he had got 
 half way through the hollow, the girths of the saddle gave 
 way, and he felt it slipping from under him. He seized it 
 by the pommel, and endeavoured to hold it firm, but in vain ; 
 and had just time to save himself by clasping old Gunpow- 
 der round the neck, when the saddle fell to the earth, and he 
 heard it trampled under foot by his pursuer. For a moment 
 the terror of Hans Van Ripper's wrath passed across his 
 mind — for it was his Sunday saddle ; but this was no time 
 for petty fears ; the goblin was hard on his haunches ; and 
 (unskilful rider that he was !) he had much ado to maintain 
 his seat ; sometimes slipping on one side, and sometimes on 
 another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his horse's 
 back bone, with a violence that he verily feared would cleave 
 him asunder. 
 
 An opening of the trees nov/ cheered him with the hopes 
 that the Church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflec- 
 tion of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that 
 he was not mistaken. He saw the walls of the church dim- 
 ly glaring under the trees beyond. He recollected the place 
 where Brom Bones' ghostly competitor had disappeared. 
 " U I can but reach that bridge," thought Ichabod, " I am 
 safe." Just then he heard the black steed panting and 
 blowing close behind him ; he even fancied that he felt his 
 hot breath. Another convulsive kick in the ribs, and old 
 Gunpowder sprung upon the bridge ; he thundered over the 
 resounding planks ; he gained the opposite side ; and now 
 Ichabod cast a look behind him to see if his pursuer should 
 vanish, according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. 
 Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the 
 very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavoured 
 to dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered 
 his cranium with a tremendous crash — he was tumbled 
 headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed, and 
 the goblin rider, passed by like a whirlwind. 
 
 The next morning the old horse was found without his 
 
V/ASIIINGTON IRVING. 28S 
 
 saddle, and with the bridie under his feet, soberly cropping 
 the grass at his master's gate, Ichabod did not make his 
 appearance at breakfast— dinner-hour came, but no Ichabod. 
 The boys assembled at the schoolhouse, and strolled idly 
 about the banks of the brook ; but no schoolmaster. Hans 
 Van Ripper now began to feel some uneasiness about the 
 late of poor Ichabod, and his saddle. An inquiry was set 
 on foot, and after diligent investigation, they came upon his 
 traces. In one part of the road leading to the church, was 
 found the saddle trampled in the dirt ; the tracks of horses' 
 hoofs deeply dented on the road, and evidently at furious 
 speed, were traced to the bridge, beyond which, on the bank 
 of a bfoad part of the brook, where the water ran deep and 
 black, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and 
 close beside it a shattered pumpkin. 
 
 The brook was searched, but the body of the schoolmas- 
 ter was not to be discovered. Hans Van Ripper, as execu- 
 tor of his estate, examined the bundle Vv'hich contained all 
 his worldly effects. They consisted of two shirts and a 
 half; two stocks for the neck ; a pair or two of worsted 
 stockings ; and an old pair of corduroy small-clothes ; a rus- 
 ty razor ; a book of psalm tunes, full of dog's ears ; and a 
 broken pitch-pipe. As to the books and furniture of the 
 schoolhouse, they belonged to the community, except Cot- 
 ton Mather's History of Witchcraft, a New-England Alma- 
 nac, and a book of dreams and fortune telling; in which 
 last was a sheet of foolscap much scribbled and blotted in 
 several fruitless attempts to make a copy of verses in ho- 
 nour of the heiress of Van Tassel. These magic books and 
 the poetic scrawl were forthwith consigned to the flames by 
 Hans Van Ripper ; who from that time forward determined 
 to send his children no more to school ; observing, that he 
 never knew any good come of this same reading and writ- 
 ing. Whatever money the schoolmaster possessed, and he 
 had received his quarter's pay but a day or two before, he 
 must have had about his person at the time of his disappear- 
 ance. 
 
 The mysterious event caused much speculation at the 
 church on the following Sunday. Knots of gazers and gos- 
 sips were collected in the church-yard, at the bridge, and at 
 
284 BEAUTIES OP 
 
 the spot where the hat and pumpkin had been found. The 
 stories of Brouwer, of Bones, and a whole budget of others 
 were called to mind ; and when they had diligently consid- 
 ered them all, and compared them with the symptoms of the 
 present case, they shook their heads, and came to the con- 
 clusion that Ichabod had been carried off by the galloping 
 Hessian. As he was a bachelor, and in nobody's debt, no- 
 body troubled his head any more about him ; the school 
 was removed to a different quarter of the hollow, and ano- 
 ther pedagogue reigned in his stead. 
 
 It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to New 
 York on a visit several years after, and from whom this ac- 
 count of the ghostl}'- adventure was received, brought home 
 the intelligence that Ichabod Crane was still alive ; that he 
 had left the neighbourhood partly through fear of the gob- 
 blin and Hans Van Ripper, and partly in mortification at 
 having been suddenly dismissed by the heiress ; that he had 
 changed his quarters to a distant part of the country ; had 
 kept school and studied law at the same time ; had been ad- 
 mitted to the bar, turned politician, electioneered, written for 
 the newspapers, and finally had been made a justice of the 
 Ten Pound Court. Brom Bones, too, who shortly after his 
 rival's disappearance, conducted the blooming Katarina in 
 triumph to the altar, was observed to look exceedingly 
 knowing whenever the story of Ichabod was related, and 
 always burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the pump- 
 kin ; which led some to suspect that he knew more about 
 the matter than he chose to tell. 
 
 ON GREATNESS. 
 
 We have more than once, in the course of our work, been 
 most jocosely familiar with great personages ,* and, in truth, 
 treated them with as little ceremony, respect, and considera- 
 tion, as if they had been our most particular friends. Now, 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 285 
 
 we would not sufler the mortification of having our readers 
 even suspect us of an intimacy of the kind ; assuring them 
 we are extremely choice in our intimates, and uncommonly 
 circumspect in avoiding connexions with all doubtful char- 
 acters ; particularly pimps, bailiffs, Iotter3^-brokers, cheva- 
 liers of industry, and great men. The world in general is 
 pretty well aware of what is to be understood by the former 
 classes ^f delinquents: but as the latter has never, I believe, 
 been specifically defined, and as we are determined to in- 
 struct our readers to the extent of our abilities, and their 
 limited comprehension, it may not be amiss here to let them 
 know what we understand by a great man. 
 
 First, therefore, let us (editors and kings are always plu- 
 ral) premise, that there are two kinds of greatness ; — one 
 conferred by heaven — the exalted nobility of the soul ; — 
 the other a spurious distinction, engendered by the mob, and 
 lavished upon its favourites. The former of these distinc- 
 tions we have already contemplated with reverence ; the 
 latter we will take this opportunity to strip naked before our 
 unenlightened readers ; so that if by chance any of them 
 are held in ignominious thraldom by this base circulation of 
 false coin, they may forthwith emancipate themselves from 
 such inglorious delusion. 
 
 It is a fictitious value given to individuals by public ca- 
 price, as bankers give an impression to a worthless slip of 
 paper, thereby giving it a currency for infinitely more than 
 its intrinsic value. Every nation has its peculiar coin, and 
 peculiar great men ; neither of which will, for the most part, 
 pass current out of the country where they are stamped. 
 Your true mob-created great man, is like a note of one of 
 the little New England banks, and his value depreciates in 
 proportion to the distance from home. In England, a great 
 man is he who has most ribands and gew-gaws on his coat, 
 most horses in his carriage, most slaves in his retinue, or most 
 toad-eaters at hi§ table ; in France he who can most dexterous- 
 ly flourish his heels above "his head — Duport is most incontes- 
 tibly the greatest man in France! — when the Emperor is ab- 
 sent. The greatest man in China is he who can trace his an- 
 cestry up to the moon ; and in this country our great men 
 may generally hunt down their pedigree until it burrows in 
 
286 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 the dirt like a rabbit. To be concise ; our great men are 
 those who are most expert at crawling on all -fours, and have 
 the happiest facility in dragging and winding themselves 
 along in the dirt like very reptiles. This may seem a para- 
 dox to many of my readers, who, with great good nature be 
 it hinted, are too stupid to look beyond the mere surface of 
 our invaluable writings ; and often pass over the knowing 
 allusion, and poignant meaning, that is slyly couc|j|^ng be- 
 neath. It is for the benefit of such helpless ignorants, who 
 have no other creed but the opinion of the mob, that I shall 
 trace, as far as it is possible to follow him in his ascent from 
 insignificance, — the rise, progress, and completion of a lit- 
 tle great man. 
 
 In a logocracy, to use the sage Mustapha's phrase, it is 
 not absolutely necessary to the formation of a great man 
 that he should be either wise or valiant, upright or honour- 
 able. On the contrary, daily experience shows that these 
 qualities rather impede his preferment, inasmuch as they 
 are prone to render him too inflexibly erect, and are directly 
 at variance with that willowy suppleness which enables a 
 man to wind, and twist, through all the nooks and turns 
 and dark winding passages that lead to greatness. The 
 grand requisite for climbing the rugged hill of populari- 
 ty, — the summit of which is the seat of power, — is to be 
 useful. And here once more, for the sake of our readers, 
 who are of course not so wise as ourselves, I must explain 
 what we understand by usefulness. The horse, in his native 
 state, is wild, swift, impetuous, full of majesty, and of a 
 most generous spirit. It is then the animal is noble, exalt- 
 ed, and useless. But entrap him, manacle him, cudgel 
 him, break down his lofty spirit, put the curb into his 
 mouth, the load upon his back, and reduce him into servile 
 obedience to the bridle and the lash, and it is then he be- 
 comes useful. Your jackass is one of the most useful ani- 
 mals in existence. If my readers do not now understand 
 what I mean by usefulness, I gi^e them all up for most ab- 
 solute nincoms. 
 
 To rise in this country, a man must first descend. The 
 aspiring politician may be compared to that indefatigable 
 insect called the tumbler, pronounced by a distinguished 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 287 
 
 personage to be the only industrious animal in Virginia ; 
 which buries itself in filth, and works ignobly in the dirt, 
 until it forms a little ball of dirt, which it rolls laboriously 
 along, like Diogenes in his tub ; sometimes head, sometimes 
 tail foremost, pilfering from every rat and mud hole, and 
 increasing its ball of greatness by the contributions of the 
 kennel. Just so the candidate for greatness : — he plunges 
 into that mass of obscenity, the mob ; labours in dirt and 
 obHvion, and makes unto himself the rudiments of a popu- 
 lar name from the admiration and praises of rogues, igno- 
 ramuses, and blackguards. His name once started, onward 
 he goes' struggling and puffing, and pushing it before him ; 
 collecting new tributes from the dregs and offals of the land 
 as he proceeds, until having gathered together a mighty mass 
 of popularity, he mounts it in triumph, is hoisted into office, 
 and becomes a great man, and a ruler in the land. — All this 
 will be clearly illustrated by a sketch of a worthy of the 
 kind, who sprung up under my eye, and was hatched from 
 pollution by the broad rays of popularity, which, like the 
 sun, can " breed maggots in a dead dog." 
 
 Timothy Dabble was a young man of very promising 
 talents ; for he wrote a fair hand, and had thrice won the 
 silver medal at a country academy ; he was also an orator, 
 for he talked with emphatic volubility, and could argue a 
 full hour without taking either side, or advancing a single 
 opinion ; he had still farther requisites for eloquence ; for he 
 made very handsome gestures, had dimples in his cheeks 
 when he smiled, and enunciated most harmoniously through" 
 his nose. In short, nature had certainly marked him out 
 for a great man ; for though he was not tall, yet he added 
 at least half an inch to his stature by elevating his head,, 
 and assumed an amazing expression of dignity by turning 
 up his nose and curling his nostrils in a style of conscious 
 superiority. Convinced by these unequivocal appearances, 
 Dabble's friends, in full caucus, one and all declared that he 
 was undoubtedly born to be a great man, and it would be 
 his own fault if he were not one. Dabble was tickled with 
 an opinion which coincided so happily with his own, — for 
 vanity, in a confidential whisper, had given him the like in- 
 timation ; and he reverenced the judgment of his friends be- 
 
BEAUTIES OF 
 
 cause they thought so highly of himself ;— accordingly he 
 set out with a determination to become a great man, and to 
 start in the scrub-race for honour and renown. How to at- 
 tain the desired prizes was, however, the question. He knew 
 by a kind of instinctive feeling, which seems peculiar to 
 grovelling minds, that honour, and its better part — profit, 
 would never seek him out ; that they would never knock at 
 his door and crave admittance; but must be courted and 
 toiled after, and earned. He therefore strutted forth in the 
 highways, the market-places, and the assemblies of the peo- 
 ple; ranted like a true cockerel orator about virtue, and pa- 
 triotism, and liberty, and equality, and himself. Full many 
 a political v/ind-mill did he battle with; and full many a 
 time did he talk himself out of breath, and his hearers out 
 of their patience. But Dabble found to his vast astonish- 
 ment, that there was not a notorious political pimp at a ward 
 meeting but could out-talk him ; — and what was still more 
 mortifying, there was not a notorious political pimp but was 
 more noticed and caressed than himself. The reason was 
 simple enough ; while he harangued about principles, the 
 others ranted about men ; where he reprobated a political 
 error, they blasted a political character : — they were, conse- 
 quently, the most useful ; for the great object of our politi- 
 cal disputes is not who shall have the honour of emancipat- 
 ing the community from the leading-strings of delusion, but 
 who shall have the profit of holding the strings and leading 
 the community by the nose. 
 
 Dabble was Ukewise very loud m his professions of integ- 
 rity, incorruptibility, and disinterestedness; words, which, 
 from being filtered and refined through newspapers and elec- 
 tion handbills, have lost their original signification ; and in 
 the political dictionary are synonymous with empty pockets, 
 itching palms, and interested ambition. He, in addition to 
 all this, declared that he would support none but honest 
 men ; but unluckily as but Cew of these offered themselves 
 to be supported, Dabble's services were seldom required. — 
 He pledged himself never to engage in party schemes, or 
 party politics, but to stand up solely for the broad interests 
 of his country ; — so he stood alone and what is the same 
 thing, he stood still ; for, in this country, he who does not 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 289 
 
 side with either party, is like a body in a vacuum between 
 two planets, and must for ever remain motionless. 
 
 Dabble was immeasurably surprised that a man so honest, 
 so disinterested, and so sagacious withal, and one too who 
 had the good of his country so much at heart should thus 
 remain unnoticed and unapplauded. A little worldly advice, 
 whispered in his ear by a shrewd old politician, at once ex- 
 plained the whole mystery. " He who would become great," 
 said he, " must serve an apprenticeship to greatness ; and 
 rise by regular gradation, hke the master of a vessel, who 
 commences by being scruB and cabin-boy. He must fag in 
 the train of great men, echo all their sentiments, become 
 their toad-eater and parasite, — laugh at all their jokes ; and 
 above all, endeavour to make them laugh ; if you only now 
 and then make a man laugh, your fortune is made. Look 
 but about you, youngster, and you will not see a single little 
 great man of the day but has his miserable herd of retain- 
 ers, who yelp at his heels, come at his whistle, worry who- 
 ever he points his finger at, and think themselves fully re- 
 warded by sometimes snapping up a crumb that falls from 
 the great man's table. Talk of patriotism, virtue, and incor- 
 ruptibility ! tut, man 1 they are the very qualities that scare 
 munificence, and keep patronage at a distance. You might 
 as well attempt to entice crows with red rags and gunpow- 
 der. Lay all these scarecrow virtues aside, and let this be 
 your maxim, that a candidate for political eminence is like 
 a dried herring ; he never becomes luminous until he is cor- 
 rupt." 
 
 Dabble caught with hungry avidity these congenial doc- 
 trines, and turned into his predestined channel of action 
 with the force and rapidity of a stream which has for awhile 
 been restrained from its natural course. He became what 
 nature had fitted him to be ; — his tone softened down from 
 arrogant self-sufficiency to the whine of fawning solicitation. 
 He mingled in the caucuses of the sovereign people; adapt- 
 ed his dress to a similitude of dirty raggedness ; argued 
 most logically with those who were of his own opinion ; and 
 slandered, with all the malice of impotence, exalted charac- 
 ters whose orbit he despaired ever to approach : — -just as 
 that scoundrel midnight thief, the owl, hoots at the blessed 
 
 25 
 
290 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 light of the sun, whose glorious lustre he dares never con- 
 template. He likewise applied himself to discharging faith- 
 fully the honourable duties of a partisan ; he poached about 
 for private slanders, and ribald anecdotes ; he folded hand- 
 bills — he even wrote one or two himself, which he carried 
 about in his pocket and read to every body ; he became a 
 secretary at ward-meetings, set his hand to divers resolu- 
 tions of patriotic import^, and even once went so far as to 
 make a speech, in which he proved that patriotism was a 
 virtue ; — the reigning bashaw a great man ; — that this was 
 a free country, and he himself An arrant and incontestable 
 buzzard ! 
 
 Dabble was now very frequent and devout in his visits to 
 those temples of politics, popularity, and smoke, the ward 
 porter-houses ; those true dens of equality, where all ranks, 
 ages, and talents, are brought down to the dead level of rude 
 familiarity .^ — 'Twas here his talents expanded, and his genius 
 swelled up to its proper size ; like the loathsome toad, which 
 shrinking from balmy airs, and jocund sunshine, finds his 
 congenial home in caves and dungeons, and there nourishes 
 his venom, and bloats his deformity. 'Twas here he revelled 
 with the swinish multitude in their debauches on patriotism 
 and porter ; and it became an even chance whether Dabble 
 would turn out a great man or a great drunkard. — But Dab- 
 ble in all this kept steadily in his eye the only deity he ever 
 worshipped — his interest. Having by his familiarity ingra- 
 tiated himself with the mob, he became wonderfully potent 
 and industrious at elections ; knew all the dens and cellars 
 of profligacy and intemperance ; brought more negroes to the 
 polls, and knew to a greater certainty where votes could be 
 bought for beer, than any of his contemporaries. His exer- 
 tions in the cau^e, his persevering industry, his degrading 
 compliance, his unresisting humility, his steadfast dependence, 
 at length caught the attention of one of the leaders of the par- 
 ty ; who was pleased to observe that Dabble was a very useful 
 fellow, who would go all lengths. From that moment his 
 fortune was made; — he was hand and glove with orators 
 and slang-whangers ; basked in the sun-shine of great men's 
 smiles, and had the honour, sundry times, of shaking hands 
 with dignitaries, and drinking out of the same pot with them 
 at a porter-house ! ! 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 291 
 
 I will not fatigue myself with tracing this caterpillar in his 
 slimy progress from worm to butterfly ; suffice it that Dabble 
 bowed and bowed, and fawned, and sneaked, and smirked, 
 and libelled, until one would have thought perseverance itself 
 would have settled down into despair. There was no know- 
 ing how long he might have lingered at a distance from his 
 hopes, had he not luckily got tarred and feathered for some 
 of his electioneering manoeuvres — this was the making of 
 him ! Let not my readers stare — tarring and feathering 
 here is equal to pillory and cropped ears in England ; and 
 either of these kinds of martyrdom will ensure a patriot the 
 sympathy and suffrages of a faction. His partisans, for 
 even he had his partisans, took his case into consideration 
 — he had been kicked and cuffed, and disgraced, and dis- 
 honoured in the cause — he had licked the dust at the feet of 
 the mob — he was a faithful drudge, slow to anger, of invinci- 
 ble patience, of incessant assiduity — a thorough going tool, 
 who could be curbed, and spurred, and directed at pleasure 
 — in short he had all the important qualifications for a little 
 great man, and he was accordingly ushered into office amid 
 the , acclamations of the party. The leading men compli- 
 mented his usefulness, the multitude his republican simplici- 
 ty, and the slang-whangers vouched for his patriotism. Since 
 his elevation he has discovered indubitable signs of having 
 been destined for a great man. His nose has acquired an 
 additional elevation of several degrees, so that now he ap- 
 pears to have bidden adieu to this world, and to have set his 
 thoughts altogether on things above ; and he has swelled and 
 inflated himself to such a degree, that his friends are under 
 apprehensions that he will one day or other explode and 
 blow up like a torpedo* 
 
292 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 How King Ferdinand foraged the Vega; and of the 
 battle of the Bridge of Pinos, and the fate of the two 
 3Ioorish brothers, 
 
 MuLEY Abdalla el Zagal had'been under a spell of ill 
 fortune, ever since the suspicious death of the old king his 
 brother. Success had deserted his standard ; and, with his 
 fickle subjects, want of success was one of the greatest crimes 
 in a sovereign. He found his popularity declining, and ha 
 lost all confidence in his people. The Christian army march- 
 ed in open defiance through his territories, and sat down de- 
 liberately before his fortresses ; yet he dared not lead forth 
 his legions to oppose them, lest the inhabitants of the Albay- 
 cin, ever ripe for a revolt, should rise and shut the gates of 
 Granada against his return. 
 
 Every few days, some melancholy train entered the me- 
 tropolis, the inhabitants of some captured town, bearing the 
 few effects that had been spared them, and weeping and 
 bewailing the desolation of their homes. When the tidings 
 arrived that Illora and Moclin had fallen, the people were 
 seized with consternation. " The right eye of Granada is 
 extingyished," exclaimed they; " the shield of Granada is 
 broken: what shall protect us from the inroad of the foe?" 
 When the survivors of the garrisons of those towns arrived, 
 with downcast looks, bearing the marks of battle, and desti- 
 tute of arms and standards, the populace reviled them in their 
 wrath; but they answered, "we fought as long as we had 
 force to fight, or walls to shelter us ; but the christians laid 
 our towns and battlements in ruins, and we looked in vain 
 for aid from Granada." 
 
 The alcaydes of Illora and Moclin were brothers ; they 
 were alike in prowess, and the bravest among the Moorish 
 chevaliers. They had been the most distinguished in all 
 tilts and tourneys which graced the happier days of Granada, 
 and had distinguished themselves in the sterner conflicts of 
 the field. Acclamation had always followed their banners, 
 and they had long been the delight of the people. Yet now, 
 when they returned after the capture of their fortresses, they 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 293 
 
 were followed by the unsteady populace with execrations. 
 The hearts of the alcaydes swelled with indignation ; they 
 found the ingratitude of their countrymen still more intoler- 
 able than the hostility of the Christians. 
 
 Tidings came, that the enemy was advancing with his tri- 
 umphant legions to lay waste the country about Granada. 
 Still El Zagal did not dare to take the field. The two 
 alcaydes of Illora and Moclin stood before him: "We have 
 defended your fortresses," said they, " until we were almost 
 buried under their ruins, and for our reward we receive scof- 
 fings and revilings ; give us, oh king, an opportunity where 
 knightly valour may signalize itself, not shut up behind stone 
 walls, but in the open conflict of the field. The enemy ap- 
 proaches to lay our country desolate : give us men to meet 
 him in the advance, and let shame light upon our heads if 
 we be found wanting in the battle 1" 
 
 The two brothers were sent forth, with a large force of 
 horse and foot ; El Zagal intended, should they be successful, 
 to issue forth with his whole force, and by a decisive victory, 
 repair the losses he had suffered. When the people saw the 
 well-known standards of the brothers going forth to battle, 
 there was a feeble shout ; but the alcaydes passed on v/ith 
 stern countenances, for they knew the same voices would 
 curse them were they to return unfortunate. They cast a 
 farewell look upon fair Granada, and upon the beautiful 
 fields of their infancy, as if for these they were willing to lay 
 down their lives, but not for an ungrateful people. 
 
 The army of Ferdinand had arrived within two leagues of 
 Granada, at the Bridge of Pinos, a pass famous in the wars 
 of the Moors and christians for many a bloody conflict. It 
 was the pass by which the CastiUan monarchs generally 
 made their inroads, and was capable of great defence, from 
 the rugged ness of the country and the difficulty of the 
 bridge. The king, with the main body of the army, had 
 attained the brow of a hill, when they beheld the advance 
 guard, under the marques of Cadiz and the Master of Santi- 
 ago, furiously attacked by the enemy, in the vicinity of the 
 bridge. The Moors rushed to the assault with their usual 
 shouts, but with more than usual ferocity. There was a 
 hard struggle at the bridge; both parties knew the importance 
 of that pass. 
 
 2S* 
 
294 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 The king particularly noted the prowess of two Moorish 
 cavaliers, alike in arms and devices, and whom fby their 
 bearing and attendance he perceived to be commanders of 
 the enemy. They were the two brothers, the alcaydes of 
 lUora and Moclin. Wherever they turned, they carried con- 
 fusion and death into the ranks of the Christians ; but they 
 fought with desperation, rather than valour. The count de 
 Cabra, and his brother Don Mariin de Cordova, pressed for- 
 ward with eagerness against them ; but having advanced too 
 precipitately, were surrounded by the foe, and in imminent 
 danger. A young Christian knight, seeing their peril, has- 
 tened with his followers to their relief. The king recognized 
 him for Don Juan de Arragon, count of Ribar^oza, his own 
 nephew ; for he was illegitimate son of the duke of Villaher- 
 mosa, illegitimate brother of king Ferdinand. The splendid 
 armour of Don Juan, and the sumptuous caparison of his 
 steed, rendered him a brilliant object of attack. He was as- 
 sailed on all sides, and his superb steed slain, under him ; yet 
 still he fought valiantly, bearing for a lime, the brunt of the 
 light, and giving the exhausted forces of the count de Cabra 
 time to recover breath. 
 
 Seeing the peril of these troops and the general obstinacy 
 of the fight, the king ordered the royal standard to be ad- 
 vanced, and hastened, with all his forces, to the relief of the 
 count de Cabra. At his approach, the enemy gave way, 
 and retreated towards the bridge. The" two Moorish com- 
 manders endeavoured to rally their troops, and animate them 
 to defend this pass to the utmost ; they used prayers, remon- 
 strances, menaces — ^but almost in vain. They could only 
 collect a scanty handful of cavaliers ; with these they planted 
 themselves at the head of the bridge, and disputed it inch by 
 inch. The fight was hot and obstinate, for but few could 
 contend hand to hand, yet many discharged cross-bows 
 and arquebusses from the banks. The river was covered 
 with the floating bodies of the slain. The Moorish band of 
 cavaliers was almost entirely cut to pieces ; the two brothers 
 fell, covered with wounds, upon the bridge they had so reso- 
 lutely defended. They had given up the battle for lost, but 
 had determined not to return alive to ungrateful Granada. 
 
 When the people of the capital heard how devotedly they 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 29S 
 
 had fallen, they lamented greatly their deaths, and extolled 
 their memory : a column was erected to their honour in the 
 vicinity of the bridge, which long went by the name of" the 
 Tomb of the Brothers." 
 
 The army of Ferdinand now marched on, and established 
 its camp in the vicinity of Granada. The worthy Agapida 
 gives many triumphant details of the ravages committed in 
 the vega, which was again laid waste ; the grain, fruits, and 
 other productions- of the eartli, destroyed — and that earthly 
 paradise rendered a dreary desert. He narrates several 
 fierce but ineffectual sallies and skirmishes of the Moors, in 
 defence of their favourite plain; among which, one deserves 
 to be mentioned, as it records the achievements of one of the 
 saintly heroes of this war. 
 
 During one of the movements of the Christian army, near 
 the walls of Granada, a battalion of fifteen hundred cavalry, 
 and a large force of foot, had sallied from the city, and post- 
 ed themselves near some gardens, which were surrounded 
 by a canal, and traversed by ditches, for the purpose of irri- 
 gation. 
 
 The Moors beheld the duke del Infantado pass by, with 
 his two splendid battalions ; one of men-at-arms, the other 
 of light cavalry, armed a la gineta. In company with him, 
 but following as a rear-guard, was Don Garcia Osorio, the 
 belligerent bishop of Jaen, attended by Francisco Bovadillo, 
 the corregidor of his city, and followed by two squadrons of 
 men-at-arms, from Jaen, Anduxar, Ubeda, and Baeza.* 
 The success of last year's campaign had given the good 
 bishop an inclination for warlike affairs, and he had once 
 more buckled on his cuirass. 
 
 The Moors were much given to stratagem in warfare. 
 They looked wistfully at the magnificent squadrons of the 
 duke del Infantado; but their martial discipline precluded all 
 attack : the good bishop promised to be a more easy prey. 
 Suffering the duke and his troops to pass unmolested, they 
 approached the squadrons of the bishop, and, making a pre- 
 tended attack, skirmished slightly, and fled in apparent con- 
 fusion. The bishop considered the day his own, and, se- 
 
 * Puigar, part 3, cap. 62. 
 
S96 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 conded by his corregidor Bovadillo, followed with valorous 
 precipitation. The Moors fled into the Huerta del Rey, or 
 orchard of the king ; the troops of the bishop followed hotly 
 after them. 
 
 When the Moors perceived their pursuers fairly embar- 
 rassed among the intricacies of the garden, they turned 
 fiercely upon them, while some of their number threw open 
 the sluices of the Xenel. In an instant, the canal which en- 
 circled and the ditches which traversed the garden, were 
 filled with water, and the valiant bishop and his followers 
 found themselves overv^^helmed by a deluge.* A scene of 
 great confusion succeeded. Some of the men of Jaen, stout- 
 est of heart and hand, fought with the Moors in the garden, 
 while others struggled with the water, endeavouring to es- 
 cape across the canal, in which attempt many horses were 
 drowned. 
 
 Fortunately, the duke del Infantado perceived the snare 
 into which his companions had fallen, and despatched his 
 light cavalry to their assistance. The Moors v/ere com- 
 pelled to flight, and driven along the road of Elvira up to the 
 gates of Granada. f Several Christian cavaliers perished in 
 this affray; the bishop himself escaped with difficulty, having 
 slipped from his saddle in crossing the canal, but saving him- 
 self by holding on to the tail of his charger. This perilous 
 achievement seems to have satisfied the good bishop's belli- 
 gerent propensities. He retired on his laurels, (says Aga- 
 pida,) to his city of Jean ; where, in the fruition of all good 
 things, he gradually waxed too corpulent for his corselet, 
 which was hung up in the hall of his episcopal palace ; and 
 we hear no more of his military deeds, throughout the resi- 
 due of the holy war of Granada. J 
 
 King Ferdinand, having completed his ravage of the vega, 
 and kept El Zagal shut up in his capital, conducted his army 
 back through the pass of Lope to rejoin queen Isabella at 
 Moclin. The fortresses lately taken being well garrisoned 
 
 * Pulgar. t Ibid. 
 
 i " Don Luis Osorio fue obispo de Jaen desde el ano de 1483, y presidio in esta 
 Iglesia hasta el de 1496 in que niurio en Flandes, a donde fue accompanando a la 
 princesa Dona Juana, esposa del archiduque Don Felipe."— Espana Sagrada, po»" 
 Tr. M. Kiseo, torn. 41, trat. 77, cap. 4. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 297 
 
 and supplied, he gave the command of the frontier to hi^ 
 cousin, Don Fadrique de Toledo, afterwards so famous in 
 the Netherlands as the duke of Alva. The campaign being 
 thus completely crowned with success, the sovereigns re- 
 turned in triumph to the city of Cordova. 
 
 BOABDIL EL CHICO. 
 
 My conversation wath the Moor in thf^ Court of Lions, set 
 me to musing on the singular fate of Boabdil. Never was 
 surname more applicable than that bestowed upon him by 
 his subjects, of " El Zogoybi," or " the unlucky." His mis- 
 fortunes began almost in his cradle. In his tender youth, 
 he was imprisoned and menaced with death by an inhuman 
 father, and only escaped through a mother's stratagem ; in 
 after years his life was imbittered and repeatedly endanger- 
 ed, by the hostilities of a usurping uncle ; his reign was dis- 
 tracted by external invasions and internal feuds : he was 
 alternately the foe, the prisoner, the friend, and always the 
 dupe of Ferdinand, until conquered and dethroned by the 
 mingled craft and force of that perfidious monarch. An 
 exile from his native land, he took refuge with one of the 
 princes of Africa, and fell obscurely in battle, fighting in the 
 cause of a stranger. His misfortunes ceased not with his 
 death. If Boabdil cherished a desire to leave an honourable 
 name on the historic page, how cruelly has he been defraud- 
 ed of his hopes ! Who is there that has turned the least at- 
 tention to the romantic history of the Moorish domination in 
 Spain, without kindling v,^ith indignation at the alleged atro- 
 cities of Boabdil 1 Who has not been touched with the woes 
 of his lovely and gentle queen, subjected by him to a trial of 
 life and death, on a false charge of infidelity ? Who has 
 not been shocked by his alleged murder of his sister and her 
 two children, in a transport of passion? Who has not felt 
 his blood boil, at the inhuman massacre of the gallant 
 Abencerrages, thirty-six of whom, it is affirmed, he ordered 
 
298 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 to be beheaded in the Court of Lions ? All these charges 
 have been reiterated in various forms ; they have passed into 
 ballads, dramas, and romances, until they have taken too 
 thorough possession of the public mind to be eradicated. 
 There is not a foreigner of education that visits the Alham- 
 bra, but asks for the fountain where the Abencerrages were 
 beheaded ; and gazes with horror at the grated gallery where 
 the queen is said to have been confined ; not a peasant of the 
 Vega or the Sierra, but sings the story in rude couplets, to 
 the accompaniment of his guitar, while his hearers learn to 
 execrate the very name of Boabdil. 
 
 I'Tevcr, however, was the name more foully and unjustly 
 slandered. I have examined all the authentic chronicles 
 and letters written by Spanish authors, contemporary with 
 Boabdil ; some of whom were in the confidence of the Catho- 
 lic sovereigns, and actually present in the camp throughout 
 the war. I have examined all the Arabian authorities I 
 could get access to, through the medium of translation, and 
 can find nothing to justify these dark and hateful accusa- 
 tions. The whole of these tales may be traced to a work 
 commonly called " The Civil Wars of Granada," contain- 
 ing a pretended history of the feuds of the Zegries and 
 Abencerrages, during the last struggle of the Moorish em- 
 pire. The work appeared originally in Spanish, and pro- 
 fessed to be translated from the Arabic by one Gines Perez 
 de Hita, an inhabitant of Murcia. It has since passed into 
 various languages, and Florian has taken from it much of 
 the fable of his Gonsalvo of Cordova ; it has thus, in a great 
 measure, usurped the authority of real history, and is cur- 
 rently believed by the people, and especially the peasantry 
 of Granada. The whole of it, however, is a mass of fic- 
 tion, mingled with a few disfigured truths, which give it an 
 air of veracity. It bpars internal evidence of its falsity ; the 
 manners and customs of the Moors being extravagantly 
 misrepresented in it, and scenes depicted totally incompati- 
 ble with their habits and their faith, and which never could 
 have been recorded by a Mahometan writer. 
 
 I confess there seems to me something almost crimi- 
 nal in the wilful perversions of this work : great lati- 
 tude is undoubtedly to be allowed to romantic fiction, but 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 299 
 
 there are limits which it must not pass, and the names of 
 the distinguished dead, which belong to history, are no more 
 to be calumniated than those of the illustrious living. One 
 would have thought too, that the unfortunate Boadbil had suf- 
 fered enough for his justifiable hostility to the Spaniards, by 
 being stript of his kingdom, without having his name thus 
 wantonly traduced, and rendered a by-word and a theme of 
 infamy in his native land, and in the very mansion of his 
 fathers ! 
 
 It is not intended hereby to affirm that the transactions 
 imputed to Boabdil, are totally without historic foundation ; 
 but as far as they can be traced, they appear to have been 
 the acts of his father, Aben Hassan, who is represented by 
 both Christian and Arabian chroniclers, as being of a cruel 
 and ferocious nature. It was he who put to death the cava- 
 liers of the illustrious line of the Abencerrages, upon suspi- 
 cion of their being engaged in a conspiracy to dispossess him 
 of his throne. 
 
 The story of the accusation of the queen of Boabdil, and 
 of her confinement in one of the towers, may also be traced 
 to an incident in the life of his tiger-hearted father. Aben 
 Hassen, in his advanced age, married a beautiful Christian 
 captive of noble descent, who took the Moorish appellation 
 of Zorayda, by whom he had two sons. She was of an 
 ambitious spirit, and anxious that her children should suc- 
 ceed to the crown. For this purpose she worked upon the 
 suspicious temper of the king ; inflaming him with jealousies 
 of his children by his other wives and concubines, whom 
 she accused of plotting against his throne and life. Some 
 of them were slain by the ferocious father. Ayxa la Horra, 
 the virtuous mother of Boabdil, who had once been the 
 cherished favourite of the tyrant, became likewise the ob- 
 ject of his suspicion. He confined her and her son in the 
 tower of Comares, and would have sacrificed Boabdil to his 
 fury, but that his mother lowered him from the tower, in 
 the night, by means of the scarfs of herself and her attend- 
 ants, and thus enabled him to escape to Guadix. ' 
 
 Such is the only shadow of a foundation that I can find 
 for the story of the accused and captive queen ; and in this 
 it appears that Boabdil was the persecuted, instead of the 
 persecutor. 
 
300 BEAUTIES OF 
 
 Throughout the whole of his brief, turbulent, and disas- 
 trous reign, Boabdil gives evidence of a mild and amiable 
 character. He, in the first instance, won the hearts of the 
 people by his aifable and gracious manners ; he was always 
 placable, and never inflicted any severity of punishment 
 upon those who occasionally rebelled against him. He was 
 personally brave, but he wanted moral courage ; and, in 
 times of difficulty and perplexity, was wavering and irreso- 
 lute. This feebleness of spirit hastened his downfall, while 
 it deprived him of that heroic grace which would have given 
 a grandeur and dignity to his fate, and rendered him wor- 
 thy of closing the splendid drama of the Moslem domination 
 in Spain. 
 
 THE ALHAMBRA BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 I HAVE given a picture of my apartment on my first 
 taking possession of it; a few evenings have produced a 
 thorough change in the scene and in my feelings. The 
 moon, which then was invisible, has gradually gained upon 
 the night, and now rolls in full splendour above the towers, 
 pouring a flood of tempered light into every court and hall. 
 The garden beneath my window is gently lighted up ; the 
 orange and citron trees are tipped with silver ; the fountain 
 sparkles in the moonbeams, and even the blush of the rose 
 is faintly visible. 
 
 1 have sat for hours at my window, inhaling the sweet 
 ness of the garden, and musing on the chequered fortunes of 
 those whose history is dimly shadowed out in the elegant 
 memorials around. Sometimes I have issued forth at mid- 
 night, when every thing was quiet, and have wandered over 
 the whole building. Who can do justice to a moonlight 
 night in such a climate and in such a place ! The tempera- 
 ture of an Andalusian midnight in summer is perfectly ethe- 
 real. We seem lifted up into a purer atmosphere; there is 
 a serenity of soul, a buoyancy of spirits, an elasticity of 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 30i 
 
 frame, that render mere existence enjoyment. The effect of 
 moonlight, too, on the Alhambra, has something like en- 
 chantment. Every rent and chasm of time, every moulder- 
 ing tint and weather-stain disappears ; the marble resumes 
 its original whiteness ; the long colonnades hs'ighten in the 
 moonbeams ; the halls are illuminated with a softened radi- 
 ance until the whole edifice reminds one of the enchanted pa- 
 lace of an Arabian tale. 
 
 At such a time I have ascended to the little pavillion call- 
 ed the Queen's Toilette, to enjoy its varied and extensive 
 prospect. To the right, the snowy summits of the Sierra 
 Nevada would gleam like silver clouds against the darker 
 firmament, and all the outlines of the mountain would be 
 softened, yet delicately defined. My delight, however, 
 would be to lean over the parapet of the tocador, and gaze 
 down upon Granada, spread out like a map below me ; all 
 buried in deep repose, and its white palaces and convents 
 sleeping, as it were, in the moonshine. 
 
 Sometimes I would hear the faint sounds of castanets from 
 some party of dancers lingering in the Alameda, at other 
 times I have heard the dubious tones of a guitar, and the 
 notes of a single voice rising from some solitary street, and 
 have pictured to myself some youthful cavalier serenading 
 his lady's window ; a gallant custom of former days, but 
 now sadly on the decline, except in the remote towns and vil- 
 lages of Spain. Such are the scenes that have detained me 
 for many an hour loitering about the courts and balconies 
 of the castle, enjoying that mixture of reverie and sensation 
 which steal away existence in a southern climate, and it has 
 been almost morning before I have retired to my bed, and 
 been lulled to sleep by the falling waters of the fountain of 
 Lindaraxa. 
 
 2.6 
 
80^ 
 
 BEAUTIK8 iy& 
 
 KIDD THE PIRATK 
 
 In old times, just after the territory of the New Nether- 
 ands had been wrested from the hands of their Fligh Mighti- 
 nesses, the Lords States- General of Holland, by King Charles 
 the Second, and while it was as yet in an unquiet state, the 
 province was a great resort of random adventurers, loose 
 livers, and all that class of haphazard fellows who live by 
 their wits, and dislike the old-fashioned restraints of law and 
 gospel. Among these the foremost were the buccaneers. 
 These were rovers of the deep, who, perhaps, in time of war 
 had been educated in those schools of piracy, the privateers; 
 but having once tasted the sweets of plunder, had ever re- 
 tained a hankering after it. There is but a slight step from 
 the privateersman to the pirate ; both fight for the love of 
 plunder ; only that the latter is the bravest, as he dares both 
 the enemy and the gallows. 
 
 But in whatever school they had been taught, the bucca- 
 neers who kept about the English colonies were daring fel- 
 lows, and made sad work in times of peace among the Spa- 
 nish settlements and Spanish merchantmen. The easy 
 access to the harbour of the Manhattoes, the number of 
 hiding-places about its waters, and the laxity of its scarcely- 
 organized government, made it a great rendezvous of the 
 pirates ; where ihey might dispose of their booty, and con- 
 cert new depredations. As they brought home with them 
 wealthy lading of all kinds, the luxuries of the tropics, and 
 the sumptuous spoils of the Spanish provinces, and disposed 
 of them with the proverbial carelessness of freebooters, they 
 were welcome visiters to the thrifty traders of the Manhat- 
 toes. Crews of these desperadoes, therefore, the runagates 
 of every country and every clime, might be seen swagger- 
 ing in open day about the streets of the little burgh, elbow- 
 ing its quiet mynheers ; trafficking away their rich outland- 
 ish plunder at half or quarter price to the wary merchant ; 
 and then squandering their prize-money in taverns, drinking, 
 gambling, singing, swearing, shouting, and astounding the 
 neighbourhood with midnight brawl and ruffian revelry. 
 
WASHINGTON IRVING. 307 
 
 faced Cape-Cod whaler. — << There's a fine old song about 
 him, all to the tune of — 
 
 My name is Captain Kidd, 
 As I sailed, as I sailed — 
 
 And then it tells all about how he gained the Devil's good 
 graces by burying the Bible. 
 
 I had the Bible in my hand. 
 
 As I sailed, as I sailed. 
 And I buried it in the sand 
 
 As I sailed — 
 
 " Odsfish, if I thought this pistol had belonged to Kidd, I 
 should set great store by it, for curiosity's sake. By the 
 way, I recollect a story about a fellow who once dug up 
 Kidd's buried money, which was written by a neighbour of 
 mine, and which I learnt by heart. As the fish don't bite 
 just now, I'll tell it to you, by way of passing away the 
 time." 
 
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