Ill ffadDWffniBipiriBoa, THE BEAUTIES OF WASHINGTON IRVING, ESQ. . AUTHOR OF " THE SKETCH BOOK," " BRACEBRIDGE HALL," Or, the principal inn of a small Flemish village. It was after the hour of the table d'hote, so that I was obliged to make a solitary supper from the reliques of its amp- ler board. The weather was chilly ; I was seated alone in one end of a great gloomy dining-room, and my re- past being over, I had the prospect before me of » d2 42 BEAUTIES OF long dull evening, without any visible means of enliven- ing it. I summoned mine host, and requested some- thing to read ; he brought me the whole literary stock of his household, a Dutch family-bible, an almanack in the same language, and a number of old Paris news- papers. As I sat dozing over one of the latter, read- ing 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 tra- velled 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 equivo- cal kind of weather, when a fire becomes agreeable towards evening. 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 partly of the usual attendants and hangers-on of inns. They were seated round a great burnished stove, that might have been mistaken for an altar, at which they were worshipping. It was covered with various kitchen vessels of resplendent brightness ; among 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 re- lief. Its yellow rays partially illumed the spacious kitch- en, dying duskily away into remote corners ; except where they settled in 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 obscu- rity. A strapping Flemish lass, with long golden pen- dants 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 WASHINGTON IRVING. 43 of honest unceremonious laughter, in which a man in- dulges 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 extra- vagant, 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 appearance of the narra- tor. He was a corpulent old Swiss, who had the look of a veteran traveller. He was dressed in a tarnished 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 countenance, with a double chin, acquiline nose, and a pleasant twink- ling 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 ar- rival of guests, or the remarks of his auditors; and paused now and then to replenish his pipe ; at which times he had generally a roguish leer, and a sly joke for the buxom kitchen maid. I wish my reader could imagine the old fellow lol- ling in a huge arm-chair, one arm a-kimbo, the other holding a curiously twisted tobacco pipe, formed of genuine e'cume de mer, decorated with silver chain and silken tassel — his head cocked on one side, and a whim- sical cut of the eye occasionally, as he related the follow- ing story : THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. On the summit of one of the heights of the Oden- wald, 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 44* BEAUTIES OF 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 pos- sessor 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 Katzenellenbogen,* 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 en- deavoured to keep up some show of former state. The times were peaceable, and the German nobles, in gene- ral, had abandoned their inconvenient old castles, perch- ed 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 for- tress, 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 happened between their great great grandfathers. The Baron had but one child, a daughter : but na- ture, when she grants but one child, always compensates by making it a prodigy ; and so it was with the daugh- ter 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 bet- ter than they ? She had, moreover, been brought up with great care under the superintendance of two maid- en aunts, who had spent some years in their early life at one of the little German courts, and were skilled in all the branches of knowledge necessary to the educa- tion of a fine lady. Under their instructions, she be- came a miracle of accomplishments. By the time she was eighteen, she could embroider to admiration, and * i. e. Cat's-Elbow. 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. WASHINGTON IRVING. 45 had worked whole histories o£ the saints in tapestiy, 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 the chivalric wonders of the Heldenbuch. She had even made considerable proficiency in writing ; could sign her own name without missing a letter, and so legibly that her aunts could read it without spectacles. She excel- led in making little elegant good-for-nothing lady-like knicknacks of all kinds ; was versed in the most abs- truse 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 in 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 ! — she was taught to hold them at such a distance, and in such absolute distrust, that, un- less properly authorised, 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 apparent. 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 coy- ly blooming into fresh and lovely womanhood under the protection of those immaculate 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, nothing of the kind could happen to the heiress of Katzenellenbogen. 46 BEAUTIES OF 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 abundance 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 Ba- ron'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 jubi- lees of the heart. The Baron, though a small man, had a large soul, and he 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 war- riors 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 mar- vellous, and a firm believer in all those supernatural tales with which every mountain and valley in Ger- many abounds. The faith of his guests exceeded 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 absolute monarch of his little territory, and happy, above all things, in the persuasion that he was the wis- est man of the age. At the time of which my story treats there was a :.reat 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 negociation 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 preli- minaries had been conducted with proper punctilio. The young people were betrothed without seeing each other, and the time was appointed for the marriage WASHINGTON IRVING. 47 ceremony. The young Count Von Altenburgh had been recalled from the army for the purpose, and was actually on his way to the Baron's to receive his bride. Missives had even been received from him from Wurtz- burg, where he was accidentally detained, mentioning the day and hour when he might be expected to arrive. The castle 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 morn- ing about every article of her dress. The young lady had taken the advantage 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 expectation heightened the 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 counsel how to deport her- self, 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 natu- rally a fuming bustling little man, and could not remain passive when all the world was in a hurry. He wor- ried from top to bottom of the castle 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 im- portunate as a blue-bottle fly on a warm summer's day. In the mean time the fatted calf had been killed, the forests had rung with the clamour of the hunts- men ; 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 contribution. Every thing was ready 48 BEAUTIES OF to receive the distinguished guest with Saus und 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 forests of the Odenwald, now just gleamed along the summits of the mountains. The Baron mounted 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 direction. 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 pursuing 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 Wurtzburg, a youthful companion in arms, with whom he had seen some service on the frontiers ; Her- mon Von Starkenfaust, one of the stoutest hands and worthiest hearts of German chivalry, who was now re- turning from the army. His father's castle was not far distant from the old fortress of Landshort, although an hereditary feud rendered the families hostile, and stran- gers to each other. In the warm-hearted moment of recognition, the young friends related all their past adventures and for- tunes, and the Count gave the whole history of his in- tended nuptials with a young lady whom he had never WASHINGTON IRVING. 49 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 to- gether ; and that they might do it the more leisurely, set off from Wurtzburg at an early hour, the Count having given directions 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 await- ed him. In this way they had entered among the mountains of the Odenwald, and were traversing one of its most lonely and thickly wooded passes. It is well known that the forests 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 disbanded soldiers wandering about the country. It will not appear extraordinary, therefore, that the Cavaliers were attacked 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 Wurtzburg, and a friar summoned from a neighbouring com ent, who was famous for his skill in administering to both soul and body : but half of his skill was superfluous ; the moments of the unfortunate Count were numbered. With his dying breath he entreated his friend to re- pair 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 punctillious of men, and appeared earnestly solicitous that this mission should be speedily and courteously executed. " Unless this is done," said he, " I shall not sleep quietly in my grave !" He re- E 50 BEAUTIES OF peated these last words with peculiar solemnity. A request, at a moment so impressive, admitted no hesi- tation. Starkenfaust endeavoured to soothe 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 delirium — 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 pre- sent himself an unbidden guest among hostile people, and to damp their festivity with tidings fatal to their hopes. Still there were certain whisperings of curiosity in his bosom to see this far-famed beauty of Katzen- ellenbogen, 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 arrange- ments with the holy fraternity of the convent for the funeral solemnities of his friend, who was to be buried in the cathedral of Wurtzburg, near some of his illustri- ous relatives ; and the mourning retinue of the Count took charge of his remains. It is now high time that we should return to the an- cient family of Katzenellenbogen, who were impatient for their guest, and still more for their dinner ; and to the worthy little Baron, whom we left airing himself on the watch-tower. Night closed in, but still no guest arrived. The Ba- ron 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 over- done ; 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 WASHINGTON IRVING. 51 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 was 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 was to be connected. He pacified himself, however, with the conclusion that it must have been youthful impa- tience which had induced him thus to spur on sooner than his attendants. " I am sorry," said the stranger, "to break in upon you thus unseasonably — " Here the Baron interrupted him with a world of compliments and greetings ; for, to tell the truth, he prided himself upon his courtesy and his eloquence. — The stranger attempted, 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 appearance of the female part of the family, leading forth the shrinking and blushing bride. He gazed on her for a moment as one entranced ; it seemed as if his whole soul beamed 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 52 BEAUTIES OF about her lips, and a soft dimpling of the cheek that showed her glance had not been unsatisfactory. It was impossible for a girl of 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 de- ferred 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 mingled 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 cannot catch the softest whisper of the lover? There was a mingled tenderness and gravity in his mariner, that appeared to have a powerful effect upon the young lady. Her colour came and went as she listened with deep attention. ISow and then she made some blushing reply, and when his eye was turned away, she would steal a side-long glance at his roman- tic countenance, and heave a gentle sigh of tender hap- piness. It was evident that the young couple were completely enamoured. The aunts, who were deeply versed in the mysteries of the heart, declared that they had fallen in love with each other 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 WASHINGTON IRVING. 53 them so well, or with such great effect. If there was any thing marvellous, his auditors were lost in astonish- ment ; 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 broadfaced cousin of the Baron, that abso- lutely made the maiden aunts hold up their fans. Amidst all this revelry, the stranger guest maintained a most singular and unseasonable gravity. His coun- tenance assumed a deeper cast of dejection as the evening advanced ; and, strange as it may appear, even the Barons jokes seemed only to render him the more melancholy. At times 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 con- versations 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. 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 suc- ceeded by wild tales and supernatural legends. One dismal story produced another more dismal, and the Baron nearly frightened some of the ladies into hyste- rics with the history of the goblin horseman that carried away the fair Leonora ; a dreadful but true story, which e2 54 BEAUTIES OF has since been put into excellent verse, and is read and believed by all the world. The bridegroom listened to this tale with profound attention. He kept his eyes steadily fixed on the Ba- ron, 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 amazement. 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 myste- riously ; " 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 mis- give him ; but he rallied his forces and repeated his hos- pitable 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 with impatience. When they had reached the portal, whose deep archway was dimly light- ed 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 the reason of my going. I have a solemn, an in- dispensable 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 — " WASHINGTON IRVING. 55 " Ay," said the Baron, plucking up spirit, " but not until to-morrow — to-morrow you shall take your bride there." " No ! no !" replied the stranger, with tenfold solem- nity, " my engagement is with no bride — the worms ! the worms expect me ! I am a dead man — I have been slain by robbers — my body lies at Wurtzburg — at mid- night 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 drawbridge, 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 con- sternation, and related what had passed. Two ladies fainted outright, 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 Ger- man legend. Some talked of mountain sprites, of wood-demons, and of other supernatural beings, with which the good people of Germany have been so griev- ously 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 especi- ally 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 possible, and come into the faith of the true believers. But whatever may have been the doubts entertained, they were completely put to an end by the arrival, next day, of regular missives, confirming the intelligence of the young Count's murder, and his interment in Wurtz- burg 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 collected in groups in the hall, shaking 56 BEAUTIES OF their heads and shrugging their shoulders, at the troubles of so good a man ; and sat longer than ever at table, and ate and drank more stoutly 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? 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 overlooked a small 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 mid-night, 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 moonlight fell upon the countenance. Heaven and earth ! she beheld the Spectre Bridegroom ! A loud shriek at that moment burst upon her ear, and her aunt, who had been awakened by the music, and had followed her silently to the window, fell into her arms. When she looked again, the spectre had disap- peared. Of the two females, the aunt required the most sooth- ing, 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 shadow of a man is but little calculated to satisfy the affections of a love-sick girl, yet, where the sub- stance is not to be had, even that is consoling. The aunt declared she would never sleep in that chamber again ; the niece, for once was refractory, and declared WASHINGTON IRVING. 57 as strongly, that she would sleep in no other in the cas- tle : 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 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 neighbourhood, 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 re- straint, 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 intel- ligence was received, can only be imagined by those who have witnessed 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, M 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 car- ried off his bride. Two of the domestics corroborated the opinion, for they heard the clattering of a horse's hoofs down the mountain about midnight, and had no doubt that it was the spectre on his black charger, bear- ing 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 authen- ticated 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 Katzenelen- 58 BEAUTIES OF bogen ! 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, perchance, a troop of goblin grand children ! 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 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 palfray, attended by a cavalier on horseback. She gal- loped up to the gate, sprang from the horse, and falling at the Baron's feet, embraced his knees. It was his lost daughter, and her companion — the Spectre Bride- groom ! The Baron was astonished. He looked at his daughter, then at the spectre, and almost doubted the evidence of his senses. The latter, too, was won- derfully improved in 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 lon- ger 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 Herman 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 complete- ly captivated him, and that to pass a few hours near her, he had tacitly suffered the mistake to continue. How he had been sorely perplexed in what way to make a de- cent retreat, until the Baron's goblin stories had suggest- ed his eccentric exit. How, fearing the feudal hostility of the family, he had repeated his visits by stealth — had haunted the garden beneath the young lady's window — WASHINGTON IRVING. 59 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 of 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 hus- band was of hostile house, yet, thank heaven, he was not a goblin. There was something, it must be ac- knowledged, 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, assured him that every stratagem was excusable in love, and that the ca- valier was entitled to especial privilege, having lately served as a trooper. Matters, therefore, were happily arranged. The Ba- ron pardoned the young couple on the spot. The revels at the castle were resumed. The poor relations over- whelmed this new member of the family with loving kindness ; he was so gallant, so generous — and so rich. The aunts, it is true, were somewhat scandalized that their system of strict seclusion, 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 Novem- ber. 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. 60 BEAUTIES OF A wet Sunday in a country 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 completely out of the reach of all amusement. The windows of my bed- room looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of chim- neys, while those of my sitting-room commanded a full view of the stable-yard. I know of nothing more cal- culated 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, sur- rounding an island of muck ; there were several half- drowned fowls crowded together under a cart, among which was a miserable crest fallen cock, drenched out of all life and spirits : 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 doghouse hard by, uttered something every now and then, between a bark and a yelp ; a drab of a kitchen wench tramped backwards and forwards through the yard in pattens, looking as sulky as the weather it- self; 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 traveller's-room. This is a public room set apart at most inns for the ac- commodation 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, WASHINGTON IRVING. 61 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 Benja- min. Instead of vindicating the charms of peerless beauty, they rove about, spreading the fame and stand- ing of some substantial tradesman, or manufacturer, and are ready at any time to bargain in his name ; it being the fashion now-a-days to trade, instead of fight, with 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, falchions, 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 dissappointed. There were, indeed, two or three in the room ; but I could make nothing of them. One was just finishing breakfast, quarrelling with his bread and butter, and huffing the waiter; another buttoned on a pair of gaiters, with many execrations at 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 petti- coats 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 off their charms at the front windows, to fascinate 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 I to do to pass away the long-lived day ? F 62 BEAUTIES OF 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 families of the Smiths and the Browns, and the Jacksons, and the Johnsons, and all the other sons ; and I decyphered several scraps of fatiguing inn- window poetry, which I 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 rattling of the drops upon a passing umbrella. It was quite refreshing (if I maybe 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 un- der 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 car- roty-headed hostler, and that non-descript animal ycleped 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, host- ler 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 Almanack, I found a direful prediction stretching from the top of the page to the bottom through the whole month, "expect — much- — rain — about — this — time !" WASHINGTON IRVING. 63 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 blooming 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 mixture of ancient and mo- dern 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 morsel soon found favour in his eyes ; more especially after he had visited her in her paternal man- sion. Old Baltus Van Tassel was a perfect picture of a thriving, contented, liberal-hearted farmer. He sel- dom, it is true, sent either his eyes or his thoughts be- yond 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 green, 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 64 BEAUTIES OF might have served for a church ; every window and crevice of which seemed bursting forth with the treasures 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 sun- shine on the roof. Sleek unwieldy porkers were grunting in the repose and abundance 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 discon- tented cry. Before the ban. 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 tear- ing up the earth with his feet, and then generously calling his ever 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 sumptuous promise of luxurious winter fare. In his devouring 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 put to bed in a comfortable pie, and tucked in with a cover- let 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 ami juicy relishing ham ; not a tur- key but he beheld daintily trussed up, with its gizzard under its wing, and, peradventure, a necklace of savoury sausages ; and even bright chanticleer himself lay sprawl- ing on his back, in a side dish, with uplifted claws, as WASHINGTON IRVING. 65 if craving that quarter which his chivalrous spirit dis- dained 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 buck- wheat, and In- dian corn, and the orchards burthened with ruddy fruit, which surrounded 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 presented to him the blooming Katrina, with a whole family of children, mounted on the top of a waggon loaded with household 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 was 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 with 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. 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 knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dex- terous on horseback as a Tartar. He was foremost at all races and cock-fights ; and, with the ascendancy 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 f2 66 BEAUTIES OF composition; and with all his overbearing roughness, there was a strong dash of waggish good humour at bot- tom. 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 country, attending every scene of feud or merriment for miles round. In cold weather he was distinguished by a fur cap, surmounted with a Haunting 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 al- ways stood by for a squall. Sometimes his crew would be heard dashing along past the farm-houses at midnight, with whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossacks ; and the old dames, startled out of their sleep, would listen for a moment till the hurry-scurry had clattered by, and then exclaim, " Aye their 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 gallant- ries, 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, " sparkling," 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 com- petition, 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 — I yielding, but tough; though he bent, he never broke; I WASHINGTON IRVING. 67 and though he bowed beneath the slightest pressure, yet, the moment it was away, jerk ! — he was as erect, and carried his head as high as ever. Brom, who had a degree of rough chivalry in his na- ture, 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 Icha- bod was too conscious of the superior might of his adver- sary 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 opportunity. There was something ex- tremely provoking in this obstinately pacific system ; it left Brom no alternative but to draw upon the funds of rustic waggery in his disposition, and to play off boorish practical jokes upon his rival. Ichabod became the ob- ject of whimsical persecution to Bones and his gang of rough riders. They harried his hitherto peaceful do- mains ; smoked out his singing school, by stopping up the chimney; broke into the schoolhouse at night, in spite of its formidable fastenings of withes and window stakes, and tinned 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. An Invitation, In this way matters went on for some time, without producing 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 feride, that sceptre of despotic power; the birch of justice re- 68 BEAUTIES OF posed on three nails behind the throne, a constant terror to evil doers ; while on the desk before him might be seen sundry contraband articles and prohibited weapons, de- tected upon the persons of idle urchins, such as half- munched apples, popguns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and whole legions of rampant little paper game cocks. Apparently there had been some appalling act of justice recently in- flicted, 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 inter- rupted 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 attend 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 scampering 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 skipped 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 racketing about the green, in joy at their early emancipation. A Dutch Entertainment Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and " sugared suppositions," he journeyed along the sides of WASHINGTON IRVING. 69 a range of hills which look 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 Tappaan Zee lay motionless and glassy, excepting that here and there a gentle undulation waved and pro- longed the blue shadow of the distant mountain. A few 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 grey and purple of her rocky sides. A sloop was loitering in the distance, dropping slowly down with the tide, her sail hanging uselessly 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 toward evening when Ichabod arrived at the castle of the Heer 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 magnifi- cent pewter buckles. Their brisk, withered, little dames in close-crimped caps, long-waisted short-gowns, home- spun petticoats, with scissors and pincushions, and gay calico pockets, hanging on the outside. Buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their mothers, excepting where a straw hat, a fine ribband, 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 eel-skin for the purpose, it being esteemed throughout the country, as a potent 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 for preferring vicious animals, given to ail kinds of tricks which kept the rider in con- 70 BEAUTIES OF stant risk of his neck, for he held a tractable well- broken horse as unworthy of 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 entered the state parlour of Van Tassel's mansion. Not those of the bevy buxom lasses, with their luxurious dis- play of red and white ; but the ample charms of a genu- ine Dutch country tea-table, in the sumptuous time of autumn. Such heaped up platters of cakes of various and almost indescribable kinds, known only to experi- enced 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 smoked 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-piggeldy, 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 want breath and time to dis- cuss this banquet as it deserves, arid am too eager to get on with my story. Happily Ichabod Crane was not in so great a hurry as his historian, but did ample justice to every dainty. He was 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 hisj large eyes round him as he ate, and chuckling with the possibility that he might one day be lord of all thia scene of almost unimaginable luxury and splendourJ Then, he thought, how soon he'd turn his back upoif the old school house; snap his fingers in the face of Hans Van Ripper, and every other niggardly patron, and kick any itinerant pedagogue out of doors that should dare td call him comrade ! Old Bultus Van Tassal moved about among kil WASHINGTON IRVING. 71 guests with a face dilated with content and good hu- mour, round and jolly as the harvest moon. His hos- pitable attentions were brief, but expressive, being con- fined to a shake of the 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 neighbour- hood, 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 grin- ning rows of ivory from ear to ear. How could the flogger of urchins be otherwise than animated and joyous? 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 exertion 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 unassisted strength was succeeded by the more rugged one of stones and clubs, and war assumed a san- guinary aspect. As man advanced in refinement, as his faculties expanded, and his sensibilities became more exquisite, he grew rapidly more ingenious and experienc- ed in the art of murdering his fellow beings. He in- vented a thousand devices to defend and to assault — the helmet, the cuirass, and the buckler, the sword, the 72 BEAUTIES OF 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 a sublimity to war ; and magnify its glory by increasing its desolation. Still insatiable, though armed with machinery that seemed to reach the limits of destructive invention, and to yield a power of injury, commensurate even with the desire 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 proclama- tion seems to endow the demon of war with ubiquity 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 gra- tify 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 discovery — enlarges and multiplies his powers of destruction ; arro- gates 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 untravelled readers, to have a sketch that may serve as a general representation of this very numerous and im- WASHINGTON IRVING. 73 portant class of functionaries, who have a dress, a man- ner, a language, an air, peculiar to themselves, and pre- valent throughout the fraternity ; so that, wherever 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 mot- tled with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding into every vessel of the skin ; he is swelled into jolly dimensions by frequent potations of malt liquors, and his bulk is still further increased by a muU tiplicity of coats, in which he is buried like a cauli- flower, the upper one reaching to his heels. He wears a broad-brimmed low-crowned hat ; a huge roll of co- loured handkerchief about his neck, knowingly knotted and tucked in at the bosom ; and has in summer 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, stripped, and his small-clothes extend far below the knees, to meet a pair of jockey boots which reach about half way up his legs. All this costume is maintained with much precision ; he has a pride in having his clothes of excellent mate- rials ; and, notwithstanding the seeming grossness of his appearance, there is still discernable that neatness and propriety of person, which is almost inherent in an Englishman. He enjoys great consequence and consi- deration along the road ; has frequent conferences with the village housewives, 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 changed, he throws down 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 ano- ther. When off the box, his hands 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 74 BEAUTIES OF hangers-on that infest inns and taverns, and run er- rands, and do all kinds 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 ora- cle ; treasure up his cant phrases ; echo his opinions about horses and other topics of jockey lore ; and above all, endeavour to imitate his air and carriage. Every ragamuffin, that has a coat to his back, thrusts his hands in the pockets, rolls in his gait, talks slang, and is an embryo Coachey. THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENGLISHMAN. In the morning all was bustle in the inn at Terraci- na. The procaccio had departed at day-break on its route towards Rome, but the Englishman was yet to start, and the departure of an English equipage is al- ways enough to keep an inn in a bustle. On this oc- casion there was more than usual stir, for the English- man, having much property about him, and having been convinced of the real danger of the wad, had applied to the police, and obtained, by dint of liberal pay, an escort of eight dragoons and twelve foot soldiers, as far as Fondi. Perhaps, too, there might have been a little ostentation at bottom, though, to say the truth, he had nothing of it in his manner. He moved about, taciturn and reserved as usual, among the gaping crowd ; gave laconic orders to John, as he packed away the thousand and one indispensable conveniencies of the night ; dou- ble loaded his pistols with great sang froid, and depo- sited them in the pockets of the carriage, taking no notice of a pair of keen eyes gazing on him from among the herd of loitering idlers. The fair Venetian now came up with a request, made in her dulcet tones, that he would permit their carriage to proceed under protection of his escort. The Eng- lishman, who was busy loading another pair of pistols i WASHINGTON IRVING. 75 for his servant, and held the ramrod between his teeth, nodded assent, as a matter of course, but without lifting up his eyes. The fair Venetian was a little piqued at what she supposed indifference : — " O Dio !" ejaculated she softly as she retired, " Quanto sono insensibili questi InglesL" At length, off they set in gallant style. The eight dragoons prancing in front, the twelve foot soldiers marching in rear, and the carriage moving slowly in the centre to enable the infantry to keep pace with them. They had proceeded but a few hundred yards, when it was discovered that some indispensable article had been left behind. In fact, the Englishman's purse was mis- sing, and John was despatched to the inn to search for it. This occasioned a little delay, and the carriage of the Venetians drove slowly on. John came back out of breath and out of humour. The purse was not to be found. His master was irritated : he recollected the very place where it lay : he had not a doubt that the Italian servant had pocketed it. John was again sent back. He returned once more without the purse, but with the landlord and the whole household at his heels. A thousand ejaculations and protestations, ac- companied by all sorts of grimaces and contortions — " No purse had been seen — his excellenza must be mis- taken." " No — his excellenza was not mistaken — the purse lay on the marble table, under the mirror, a green purse, half full of gold and silver." Again a thousand grim- aces and contortions, and vows by San Gennaro, that no purse of the kind had been seen. The Englishman became furious. " The waiter had pocketed it — the landlord was a knave — the inn a den of thieves — it was a vile country — he had been cheated and plundered from one end of it to the other — but he'd have satisfaction — he'd drive right off to the police." He was on the point of ordering the postilions to turn back, when, on rising, he displaced the cushion of the carriage, and the purse of money fell chinking to the floor. 76 BEAUTIES OF All the blood in his body seemed to rush into his face — " Curse the purse," said he, as he snatched it up. He dashed a handful of money on the ground before the pale cringing waiter — " There — be off!" cried he. "John, order the postilions to drive on." Above half an hour bad been exhausted in this alter- cation. The Venetian carriage had loitered along ; its passengers looking out from time to time, and expect- ing the escort every moment to follow. They had gra- dually turned an angle of the road that shut them out of sight. The little army was again in motion, and made a very picturesque appearance as it wound along at the bottom of the rocks ; the morning sunshine beaming upon the weapons of the soldiery. The Englishman lolled back in his carriage, vexed with himself at what had passed, and consequently out of humour with all the world. As this, however, is no uncommon case with gentlemen who travel for their pleasure, it is hardly worthy of remark. They had wound up from the coast among the hills, and came to a part of the road that admitted of some prospect ahead. " I see nothing of the lady's carriage, sir," said John, leaning down from the coach-box. " Pish !" said the Englishman, testily — " don't plague me about the lady's carriage; must I be continually pestered with the concerns of strangers ?" John said not another word, for he understood his master's mood. The road grew more wild and lonely; they were slowly proceeding on a foot pace up a hill ; the dragoons were some distance ahead, and had just reached the summit of the hill, when they uttered an exclamation, or rather shout, and galloped forward. The English- man was roused from his sulky reverie — He stretched his head from the carriage, which had attained the brow of the hill. Before him extended a long hollow defile, commanded on one side by rugged precipitous heights, covered with bushes and scanty forest. At some dis- tance he beheld the carriage of the Venetians over- turned ; a numerous gang of desperadoes were rifling it; the young man and his servant were overpowered. WASHINGTON IRVING. 77 and partly stripped, and the lady was in the hands of two of the ruffians. The Englishman seized his pis- tols, sprung from the carriage, and called upon John to follow him. In the meantime, as the dragoons came forward, the robbers, who were busy with the carriage, quitted their spoil, formed themselves in the middle of the road, and taking a deliberate aim, fired. One of the dragoons fell, another was wounded, and the whole were for a moment checked and thrown in confusion. The rob- bers loaded again in an instant. The dragoons dis- charged their carbines, but without apparent effect. They received another volley, which, though none fell, threw them again into confusion. The robbers were loading a second time, when they saw the foot soldiers at hand " Scampa via /" was the word : they aban- doned their prey, and retreated up the rocks, the sol- diers after them. They fought from cliff to cliff, and bush to bush, the robbers turning every now and then to fire upon their pursuers ; the soldiers scrambling after them, and discharging their muskets whenever they could get a chance. Sometimes a soldier or a robber was shot down, and came tumbling among the cliffs. The dragoons kept firing from below whenever a rob- ber came in sight. The Englishman had hastened to the scene of action, and the balls discharged at the dragoons had whistled past him as he advanced. One object, however, en- grossed his attention. It was the beautiful Venetian lady in the hands of two of the robbers, who, during the confusion of the fight, carried her shrieking up the mountain. He saw her dress gleaming among the bushes, and he sprang up the rocks to intercept the robbers, as they bore off their prey. The ruggedness y. of the steep, and the entanglements of the bushes, de- " layed and impeded him. He lost sight of the lady, but - was still guided by her cries, which grew fainter and fainter. They were off to the left, while the reports of muskets showed that the battle was raging to the right. At length he came upon what appeared to be a g2 78 BEAUTIES OF rugged footpath, faintly worn in a gully of the rocks, and beheld the ruffians at some distance hurrying the lady up the defile. One of them hearing his approach, let go his prey, advanced towards him, and levelling the carbine, which had been slung on his back, fired. The ball whizzed through the Englishman's hat, and carried with it some of his hair. He returned the fire with one of his pitols, and the robber fell. The other bri- gand now dropped the lady, and drawing a long pistol from his belt, fired on his adversary with deliberate aim. The ball passed between his left arm and his side, slightly wounding the arm. The Englishman ad- vanced, and discharged his remaining pistol, which wounded the robber, but not severely. The brigand drew a stiletto and rushed upon his ad- versary, who eluded the blow, receiving merely a slight wound, and defended himself with his pistol, which had a spring bayonet. They closed with one another, and a desperate struggle ensued. The robber was a square- built, thick-set man, powerful, muscular, and active. The Englishman, though of larger frame and greater strength, was less active and less accustomed to ath- letic exercises and feats of hardihood, but he showed himself practised and skilled in the arts of defence. They were on a craggy height, and the Englishman perceived that his antagonist was striving to press him to the edge. A side glance showed him also the rob- ber whom he had first wounded, scrambling up to the assistance of his comrade, stiletto in hand. He had in fact attained the summit of the cliff, he was within a few steps, and the Englishman felt that his case was desperate, when he heard suddenly the report of a pis- tol, and the ruffian fell. The shot came from John, who had arrived just in time to save his master. The remaining robber, exhausted by loss of blood and the violence of the contest, showed signs of falter- ing. The Englishman pursued his advantage, pressed on him, and as his strength relaxed, dashed him head- long from the precipice. He looked after him, and saw him lying motionless among the rocks below. WASHINGTON IRVING. 79 The Englishman now sought the fair Venetian. He found her senseless on the ground. With his servant's assistance he bore her down to the road, where her hus- band was raving like one distracted. He had sought her in vain, and had given her over for lost ; and when he beheld her thus brought back in safety, his joy was equally wild and ungovernable. He would have caught her insensible form to his bosom, had not the English- man restrained him. The latter, now really aroused, displayed a true tenderness and manly gallantry which one would not have expected from his habitual phlegm. His kindness, however, was practical, not wasted in words. He despatched John to the carriage for resto- ratives of all kinds, and, totally thoughtless of himself, was anxious only about his lovely charge. The occa- sional discharge of fire-arms along the height showed that a retreating fight was still kept up by the robbers. The lady gave signs of reviving animation. The Eng- lishman, eager to get her from this place of danger, conveyed her to his own carriage, and, committing her to the care of her husband, ordered the dragoons to escort them to Fondi. The Venetian would have in- sisted on the Englishman's getting into the carriage, but the latter refused. He poured forth a torrent of thanks and benedictions ; but the Englishman beckoned to the postilions to drive on. John now dressed his master's wounds, which were found not to be serious, though he was faint with loss of blood. The Venetian carriage had been righted, and the baggage replaced ; and, getting into it, they set out on their way towards Fondi, leaving the foot-sol- diers still engaged in ferreting out the banditti. Before arriving at Fondi, the fair Venetian had completely recovered from her swoon. She made the usual question — " Where was she?" "In the Englishman's carriage." " How had she escaped from the robbers ?" " The Englishman had rescued her. " Her transports were imbounded ; and mingled with 80 BEAUTIES OF them were enthusiastic ejaculations of gratitude to her deliverer. A thousand times did she reproach herself for having accused him of coldness and insensibility. The moment she saw him she rushed into his arms with the vivacity of her nation, and hung about his neck in a speechless transport of gratitude. Never was man more embarassed by the embraces of a fine woman. " Tut ! — tut !" said the Englishman. " You are wounded !" shrieked the Venetian, as she saw blood upon his clothes. " Pooh ! nothing at all !" " My deliverer ! — my angel !" exclaimed she, clasping him again round the neck, and sobbing on his bosom. " Pish !" said the Englishman, with a good-humoured tone, but looking somewhat foolish, " this is all hum- bug." The fair Venetian, however, has never since accused the English of insensibility. 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 encroach- ments. Away, then, they go, about, and about, and about — " About what, sir ?" — About the room, madam, to be sure. The whole economy of this dance consists in turning round and round the room in a certain mea- sured step ; and it is truly astonishing that this conti- nued revolution does not set all their heads swimming like a top ; but I have been positively assured that it WASHINGTON IRVING. * 81 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 con- tinually changing their relative situations, — now the gen- tleman, 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 gentleman, 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 fighting mastiffs. — After continuing this divine interchange of hands, arms, et cetera, for half an hour or so, the lady begins to tire, and " with eyes upraised," in most bewitching languor, petitions her partner for a little more sup- port. 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 conclusion, the parties being 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 ? 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 waggons. The company 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 regaled 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 82 BEAUTIES OF 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 around 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 por- poises at sea, or our Indians spear salmon in 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 hogg's fat, and called dough nuts, or oly koeks : a delicious kind of cake, at present scarce known in this city, excepting in genuine Dutch families. The tea was served out of a majestic delft tea-pot, ornamented with paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds and shepherdesses tending pigs — with boats sailing in the air, and houses built in the clouds, and sundfy 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 econo- mic 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 — an ingenious expedient, which is still kept up by some families in Albany ; but which prevails without exception in Com- munipaw, 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 coquet- ting — no gambling of old ladies, nor hoyden chattering and romping of young ones — no self-satisfied struttings of wealthy gentlemen, with their brains in their pockets ; nor amusing conceits, and monkey divertisements of WASHINGTON IRVING. 83 smart young gentlemen 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 Vrouw, 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 contem- plation of the blue and white tiles with which the fire- places were decorated; wherein sundry passages of scripture were piously pourtrayed : Tobit and his dog figured to great advantage ; Haman swung conspicuously on his gibbet ; and Jonah appeared most manfully bounc- ing out of the whale, like Harlequin through a barrel of fire. The parties broke up without noise and without con- fusion. 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 waggon. 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 custom, it would argue a great want of reverence in their descendants to say a word against it. 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 84 BEAUTIES OF 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, there- fore, requires that I should proceed to notice the cos- mogony 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 beginning of some smoother chapter. Of the creation of the world we have a thousand con- tradictory accounts ; and though a very satisfactoiy one is furnished by divine revelation, yet every philosopher feels himself in honour bound to furnish us with abetter. 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 deity himself;* a doctrine most strenuously maintained by Zenophanes and the whole tribe of Eleatics, as also by Strato and the sect of peripatetic philosophers. Py- thagoras likewise inculcated the famous numerical system of the monad, dyad, and tryad ; and by means of his sacred quaternary elucidated the formation of the world, the arcana of nature, and the principles both of music * Aristot. ap. Cic. lib. i. cap« 3. WASHINGTON IRVING. 85 and morals.* Other sages adhered to the mathematical system of squares and triangles ; the cube, the pyramid, and the sphere ; the tetrahedron, the octahedron, the ieosahedron, and the dodecahedron, 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, ah', earth, fire, and water ; with the assistance of a fifth, an immaterial 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 Epi- curus, that king of good fellows ; and modernized by the fanciful Descartes. But I decline enquiring whether the atoms of which the earth is said to be composed, are eternal or recent ; whether they are animate or in- animate ; whether, agreeably to the opinions of Atheists, 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. Plato, 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 ima- ginary island of Atlantis than to the sturdy race, com- posed of rebellious flesh and blood, which populates the little matter of fact island we inhabit. * Aristot. Metaph. lib. i. cap. 5. Idem de Coelo, lib. iii. c. 1. Rous- seau. Mem. sur Musique Ancien. p. 39. Plutarch de Plac. Philos. lib. i. cap. 3. t Tim. Locr. ap. Plato t. iii. p. 90. $ Aristot. Nat. Ascult. 1. ii. cap. 6. Aristoph. Metaph. lib. i. cap. 3. Cic de Nat Deor. lib. i. cap. 10. Justin Mart. Orat. ad Gent. p. 20. § Mosheim in Cudw. lib. i. cap. 4. Tim. de Anim. Mund. ap. Pit. lib. iii. Mem. de TAcad. des Belles Lettres. t. xxxii. p. 19. et al. 86 BEAUTIES OF Besides' these systems, we have, moreover, the poetical theogony of old Hesiod, who generated the whole uni- verse in the regular mode of procreation, and the plausi- ble 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 us with an accurate drawing and descrip- tion both of the form and texture of this mundane egg t 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 con- tinued, in different tones and inflections, from philoso- pher to philosopher, 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 renowned, have equal claims to attention, and equal chance for correctness. Thus it is recorded by the Brah- mins, 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 beautiful ; and when he had finished the first man, he * Book i. ch. 5. t Holwell, Gent. Philosophy. WASHINGTON IRVING. 87 was well pleased with him, and smoothed him over the face, and hence his nose, and the nose of all his de- scendants, became flat. The Mohawk philosophers tell us, that a pregnant woman fell down from heaven, and that a tortoise took her upon its 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 an- cient and outlandish philosophers, whose deplorable ignorance, in spite of all 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 con- jectures that this globe was originally a globe of liquid fire, scintillated from the body of the sun, by the percus- sion 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 mass that formed 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 sur- passing 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 * Johannes Megapolensis, jun. Account of Maquaas or Mohawk Indians, 1644. 88 BEAUTIES OF 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 ac- complished. 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 himself by a very admirable theory respecting the earth. He con- jectures that it was originally a chaotic comet, which, being selected for the abode of man, was removed from its eccentric orbit, and 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 de- luge 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 White- hurst ; regretting extremely that my 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 re- search ; and who has recommended himself wonderfully to the good graces of the ladies, by letting them into all the gallantries, amours, debaucheries, and other topics of scandal of the court of Flora, has fallen upon a theory worthy of his combustible imagination. Accor- ding to his opinion, the huge mass of chaos took a sud- den 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 concate- WASHINGTON IRVING. 89 nation of explosions, the whole solar system was pro- duced, 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 surprisingly consistent in all its parts, my unlearned readers will perhaps be led to conclude, that the crea- tion of a world is not so difficult a task as they at first imagined. I have shown at least a score of ingenious methods in which a world could be constructed ; and, I have no doubt, that had any of the philosophers above quoted the use of a good manageable comet, and the philosophical warehouse, chaos, 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 providence, 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 gal- lops in triumph, like an enchanter on his hippogrifF, or a Connecticut witch on her broomstick, " to sweep the cobwebs out of the sky." It is an old and vulgar saying, about a " beggar on horseback," which I would not for the world have ap- plied 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 the » Darw. Bot. Garden. Part I. cant. i. lib. 105. h2 90 BEAUTIES OF mighty concussion ; another, more moderate, makes his comet a kind of beast of burden, carrying the sun a regular supply of food and faggots ; 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 deli- cacy 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 benefit of philosophers to assist them in manufacturing theories. And now, having adduced several of the most promi- nent 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 essentially from each other — and all have the same title to belief. It has ever been the task of one race of philosophers to demolish the works of their prede- cessors, and elevate more splendid fantasies in their stead, which, in their turn, are demolished and replaced by the air-castles of a succeeding generation. Thus it would seem that knowledge and genius, of which we make such great parade, consist but in detecting the errors and absurdities of those who have gone before, and devising new errors and absurdities, to be detected 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 vagaries with the name of wisdom ! Surely Socrates was right in his opinion, that philosophers are but a soberer sort of madmen, busying themselves in things totally incomprehensible, or which, if they could be comprehended, would be found not worthy the trou- ble 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 WASHINGTON IRVING. 91 I do but follow the example of our ingenious neighbours of Connecticut ; who at their first settlement proclaim- ed, 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 unani- mous authority of the before quoted philosophers, sup- ported by the evidence of our own senses, (which, though very apt to deceive us, may be cautiously ad- mitted as additional testimony), it appears, I say, and I make the assertion deliberately, without fear of contra- diction, that this globe really was created, and that it is composed of land and water. It further appears that it is curiously divided and parcelled out into continents and islands, among which I boldly declare 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 discounte- nanced by the authorities, as being heathenish and savage. Besides, it was considered an excellent and praiseworthy measure to 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 man- ner that little snivelling urchins are called after great statesmen, saints, and worthies, and renowned 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 increase of houses gradually awakened the good Oloffe 92 BEAUTIES OF 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 increas- ing town should be built. Summoning, therefore, his counsellors and coadjutors together, they took pipe in mouth, and forthwith sunk into a very sound delibera- tion on the subject. At the very outset of the business an unexpected difference of opinion arose, and I mention it with much sorrowing, 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 Belle vue. The great Hardenbroeck had waxed 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 form part of the district from which his descendants have been expelled in latter ages by the powerful clans of the Joneses and the Shermerhornes. An ingenious plan for the city was offered by Myn- heer Tenbroeck, who proposed that it should be cut up and intersected by canals, after the manner of the most admired cities in Holland. To this Mynheer Harden- broeck was diametrically opposed, suggesting in place thereof that they should run out docks and wharfs 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 immense rivers, and build a city that shall rival Amsterdam, Venice, or any am- phibious city in Europe." To this proposition Ten- broeck (or Ten Breeches) replied, with a look 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 ? — It is like a body without veins and arteries, and must perish for want of WASHINGTON IRVING. 93 a free circulation of the vital fluid." Tough Breeches, on the contrary, 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 existence, 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 busy-body in the whole colony. Personalities have seldom much effect in making converts in argument ; nor have I ever seen a man convinced of error by being convicted of defor- mity. 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 advantage of the greatest volubility, but Tough Breeches had that invaluable coat of mail in argument called obstinacy — Ten Breeches had, there- fore, the most mettle, 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 conclusion ; but they hated each other most heartily for ever after, and a similar breach with that between the houses of Capulet and Montague did ensue between the families of Ten Breeches and Tough Breeches. I would not fatigue my reader with these dull matters 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 appeared, 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. After the unhappy altercation I have just mentioned, I do not find that any thing further was said on the 94 BEAUTIES OF subject worthy of being recorded. The council, con- sisting 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 exer- cise of the brain — certain 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 enforcing any, and in the mean time the affairs of the settlement went on — as it pleased God. As most of the council were but little skilled in the mystery of combining pothooks and hangers, they deter- mined, most judiciously, not to puzzle either them- selves or posterity with voluminous records. The Secretary, however, kept the minutes of the council with tolerable precision, in a large 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 a 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- Amsterdam 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, un- shackled by clouts and bandages, and other abomina- tions, by which your notable nurses and sage old women cripple and disfigure the children of men, increased so rapidly in strength and magnitude, that before the honest burgomasters had determined upon a plan, it was too WASHINGTON IRVING. 95 late to put it in execution — whereupon they wisely abandoned the subject altogether. 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 settled 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 gossiping villages — by the sudden and unaccountable appearance of a mys- terious individual. The object of this solicitude was a little black-look- ing 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 inter- est in the pleasures or the little broils of the village — nor ever talked, except sometimes to himself in an out- landish tongue. He commonly carried a large book, covered with sheep-skin, under his arm, appeared al- ways 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 96 BEAUTIES OF of sober tranquillity, at the sun as it gradually sunk be- low the horizon. The good people of the vicinity beheld something prodigiously 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 wordly charity they pronounced it a sure sign " that he was no better than he should be ;" a phrase innocent enough in itself; but which, as applied in common, sig- nifies nearly every thing that is bad. The young peo- ple thought him a gloomy misanthrope, because he never joined in their sports; the old men thought still more hardly of him, because he followed 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 opin- ions, seemed resolved to maintain the liberty of keeping 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 meddling, in all the affairs of each other. A confidential conference was held one Sunday morn- ing after sermon, at the door of the village church, and the character of the unknown fully investigated. The schoolmaster gave it lal|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 Doc- tor, 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, proposed to ascertain the fact by sousing him into a kettle of hot water. Suspicion, when once afloat, goes with wind and tide, and soon became certainty. Many a stormy nigh was WASHINGTON IRVING. 97 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 suggested the humane ordeal of the boiling kettle, lost on one of these occasions a fine brindle cow ; which accident was entirely 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 howl through the village at night, but the old women shrugged 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 as effec- tual in frightening little children into obedience and hysterics, as the redoubtable Rawhead-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 occasioned ; 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 prescribed, and becomes a mark for injury and insult ; particularly if he has not the power or the disposition to recriminate. — The little venomous pas- sions, which in the great world are dissipated and weakened by being widely diffused, act in the narrow limits of a country town with collected vigour, and be- come rancorous in proportion as they are confined in their sphere of action. The little man in black ex- perienced the truth of this ; every mischievous urchin returning from school had full liberty to break his win- dows ; 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 98 BEAUTIES OF cross-roads, where a traveller had been murdered by the Indians, rather than pass by the door of his forlorn ha- bitation. The only living creature that seemed to have any care or affection for this deserted being was an old turnspit, — the companion of his lonely mansion and his solitary wanderings ; — the sharer of his scanty meals, and, sorry I am to say it, — the sharer of his persecu- tions. 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 neigh- bourhood. 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 him- self in all things like a civil and well disposed turnspit. But notwithstanding his exemplary deportment he fell likewise under the ill report of the village, as being the familiar of the little man in black, and the evil spi- rit 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 fre- quently 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 wondering as their descendants. The patience with which he bore his per- secutions 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- WASHINGTON IRVING. 99 father, who, worthy soul, seldom wandered abroad in search of conclusions, took datum from his own excel- lent heart, and regarded 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 winter 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 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 super- stition ; 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 vi- sage and hollow eyes ; in a room destitute of every convenience ; without fire to warm or friend to console him, lay this helpless mortal who had been so long the terror and wonder of the village. His dog was crouch- ing 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 100 BEAUTIES OF 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 sympathy, 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 hag- gard ; — he put forth his hand, but it was cold ; — he es- sayed to speak, but the sound died away in his throat ; — he pointed to his mouth with an expression of dread- ful meaning, and, sad to relate ! my grandfather under- stood that the harmless stranger, deserted by society, was perishing with hunger ! — With the quick impulse of humanity he despatched the servant 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 assylum where " the wicked cease from troubling." His tale of misery was short, and quickly told ; — infirmities had stolen upon him, heightened by the ri- gours 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 have no friend that I know of in the world ! — the villagers avoid me as something loathsome 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 howtings of my faithful dog excited your attention." He seemed deeply sensible of the kindness of my grandfather ; and at one time as he looked up into his old benefactor'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 I warrant it was not the first by millions ! My grandfather watched by him all night. Towards morning he gra- WASHINGTON IRVING. 101 dually declined ; and as the rising sun gleamed through the windows, be begged to be raised in his bed, that he might look at it for the last time. He contemplated 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 grand- father's mind. " He is an idolater !" thought he, "and is worshipping the sun !" He listened a moment, and blushed at his own uncharitable 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 grand- father'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 feature had given place to an expres- sion of mysterious import : — a gleam of grandeur seem- ed 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 behold the last descendant of the renowned Linkum Fidelius !" My grandfather gazed at him with reverence; for though he had never heard of the illustrious personage thus pompously announced, yet there was a certain black-letter dignity in the name that peculiarly struck his fancy and commanded his respect. " You have been kind to me," continued the little man in black, after a momentary pause, "and rich- ly will I requite your kindness by making you heir to my treasures ! In yonder large deal box are the vo- lumes of my illustrious ancestor, of which I alone am i 102 BEAUTIES OF the fortunate possessor. Inherit them — ponder over them, and be wise !" He grew faint with the exertion he had made, and sunk back almost breathless on his pillow. His hand, which, inspired with the impor- tance 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 eyes, — turned them on the dog, then on my grandfather ; and having given this silent recommendation — closed them for ever. The remains of the little man in black, notwithstand- ing the objections of many pious people, were decently interred in the church-yard of the village ; and his spi- rit, harmless as the body it once animated, has never been known to molest a living being. My grandfather complied as far as possible with his last request ; he conveyed the volumes of Linkum Fidelius to his lib- rary; — he pondered over them frequently; but whe- ther he grew wiser, the family tradition doth not men- tion. This much is certain, that his kindnes 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 constant 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. MY AUNT CHARITY. My aunt Charity departed this life in the fifty-ninth year of her age, though she never grew older after twenty-five. In her teens she was, according to her WASHINGTON IRVING. 103 own account, a celebrated 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 least sensibility, she would, like poor old Acca, 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 Tar- tar feels in the presence of his grand Lama. If a gen- tleman 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 taffetta ! Her very paste shoe buckles sparkled with indignation, and for a moment assumed the brilliancy of diamonds ! In those days the person of a belle was sacred — it was un- profaned by the sacreligious grasp of a stranger; — simple souls : — they had not the waltz among them yet! My good aunt prided herself on keeping up this buckrum delicacy ; and if she happened to be playing at the old fashioned 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 adversary 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 La- tonian 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 Sir Charles Grandison, the hero of her 104 BEAUTIES OF 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 certain, that for many years pre- vious to her decease she declined all attentions from the gentlemen, and contented herself with watching over the welfare of her fellow creatures. She was, indeed, ob- served to take a considerable lean towards methodism, was frequent in her attendance at love-feasts, read Whit- field 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 consin Christopher, and his good lady, who, as I 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 al- tercation. She was indeed, as the Cockloft family ever boasted — a lady of unbounded loving-kindness, which extended to man, woman, and child; many of whom she almost killed with good nature. Was any acquaintance sick? — in vain did the wind whistle and the storm beat — my aunt would waddle through mud and mire, over the whole town, but she would vis- it them. She would sit by them for hours together with the most persevering patience ; and tell a thousand mel- ancholy stories of human misery, to keep up their spirits. The whole catalogue of yerb teas was at her fingers' ends, from formidable wormwood down to gentle balm; and she would descant by the hour on the healing qua- lities of hoarhound, catnip, and penny-royal. Woe be to the patient that came under the benevolent hand of my aunt Charity ; he was sure, willy nilly, to be drench- ed with a deluge of decoctions; and full many a time has my cousin Christopher borne a twinge of pain in silence, through fear of being condemned to suffer the martyrdom of her materia medica. My good aunt had, moreover, considerable skill in astronomy; for she could tell when the sun rose and set every day in the year ; — and no wo- man in the whole world was able to pronounce, with more certainty, at what precise minute the moon chang- ed. She held the story of the moon's beings made of WASHINGTON IRVING. 105 green cheese as an abominable slander on her favourite planet ; and she had made several valuable discoveries in solar eclipses, by means of a bit of burnt glass, which entitled her at least to an honorary admission in the American Philosophical Society. " Hutching's Im- proved" 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 consumptions. But the truth must be told ; with all her good quali- ties, my aunt Charity was afflicted with one fault, ex- tremely 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 vengeance with her, and destroyed the comfort of her life. Having an invincible desire to know every body's character, 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 disposition 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 expression, she had got " to the bottom of it ;" which meant nothing more than telling it to every body she knew. I remember one night my aunt Charity happened to hear a most precious story about one of her good friends, but unfortunately too late to give it immediate circula- tion. 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 al- ways 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 106 BEAUTIES OF 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 listen- ed 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, al- terations, and amendments ! 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 Sip- kins, to whom she never would be reconciled. But I pass over the rest of my aunt Charity's life, chequered with the various calamities and misfortunes and mortifications, incident to those worthy old gentle- women who have the domestic cares of the whole com- munity 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 fortnight than she was at the beginning ; she thought that neighbour Pension had a monstrous large family, and somehow or other they were all men ! She could not imagine what business neighbour Pen- sion followed to support so numerous a household; and wondered why there was always such a scraping of fid- dles in the parlour, and such a smell of onions from neighbour Pension's kitchen : in short, neighbour Pen- sion was continually uppermost in her thoughts, and in- cessantly 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 WASHINGTON IRVING. 107 little doubt, however, that my aunt would have ferreted neighbour Pension out, could she have spoken or un- derstood French ; but in those times people in general could make themselves understood 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; when one day she was keeping her usual look-out, and suffering all the pangs of unsatisfied curi- osity, she beheld a little meagre, weazel-faced French- man, of the most forlorn, diminutive, and pitiful pro- portions, arrive at neighbour Pension's door. He was dressed in white, with a little 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 want- ing 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 possible do with so much baggage, and particularly with his parrots and monkeys; or how so small a carcass could have occasion for so many trunks of clothes. Honest soul ! she had 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 up her head 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 ! and you, O ! ye excellent ladies, whether married or single, who pry 108 BEAUTIES OF into other people's affairs and neglect those of your own household; who are so busily employed in observing the faults of others that you have no time to correct your own ; remember the fate of my dear aunt Charity, and eschew the evil spirit of curiosity. WILL WIZARD. I was not a little surprised the other morning at a re- quest from Will Wizard that I would accompany him that evening 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 disposed for the society of ladies — not that he dislikes their company; 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 undoubt- edly 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 con- founded bungler at a bow, has so many odd bachelor habits, and finds 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 pro- lixity ; he might better be tied to the tail of a jack-o'lan- thern. In one word — Will talks like a traveller. Be- ing 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 invitation ; — 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 sneaking kind- ness when at grammar school ; and she in return had WASHINGTON IRVING. 109 invited him to come and drink some of it : a cheap way enough of paying off little obligations. I readily acced- ed to Will's proposition, expecting much entertainment from his eccentric remarks ; and as he has been absent some few years, I anticipated his surprise at the splen- dour and elegance of a modern rout. On calling for Will in the evening, I found him full dressed waiting for me. I contemplated 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 from shoulder to shoulder, describing a pleasing semi-circle of powder and pomatum. His claret-coloured coat was decorated with a profusion of gilt buttons, and reached to his calves. His white cas- simere small-clothes were so tight that he seemed to have grown up in them ; and his ponderous legs, which are the thickest part of his body, were beautifully cloth- ed in sky-blue silk stockings, once considered so be- coming. But above all, he prided himself upon his waist- coat of China silk, which might almost have served a good housewife for a short gown ; and he boasted that the roses and tulips upon it were the work of JVang- 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 conceit with himself; so, though I would willingly have made a little alteration in my friend Wizard's pictur- esque costume, yet I politely complimented him on his rakish appearance. 110 BEAUTIES OF 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 on the middle of the floor, playing with his great steel watch-chain, and looking round on the company, the furniture 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 cooly pull out his villanous old japanned tobacco-box, orna- mented 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 his box its prescriptive rap, and returned it to his pocket, I drew him into a corner where he might observe the company without being prominent objects ourselves. " 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 Laurelia Dashaway : — she is the high- est flash of the ton — has much whim and more eccentri- city, 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?" His name, said I, is Billy Dimple ; — he is a universal smiler, and would travel from Dan to Beersheba, and smile 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 contemporary beau at Hayti. You must know that the magnanimous WASHINGTON IRVING. Ill 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 gew-gaws. In the middle of the rout, when all was buzz, slip-slop, clack, and perfume, who should enter but Tucky Squash ! The yellow beauties blushed blue, and the black ones blushed as red as they could, with pleasure ; and there was a universal agita- tion of fans : every eye brightened and whitened 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 pro- vided you kept to windward of him in summer, I do not know a sweeter youth in all Hayti than Tucky Squash. When he laughed, there appeared from ear to ear a chevaux-de-frize of teeth, that rivalled the shark's in whiteness ; he could whistle 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 potatoes," more scientifically : in short, he was a second Lothario. And the dusky nymphs of Hayti, one and all, declared him a perpetual Adonis. Tucky walked about, whistling to himself, without re- garding any body; and his nonchalance was irresistible." I found Will had got neck and heels into one of his traveller'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 ad- joining 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 acquaint- ance for a country dance. It happened to be the fash- ionable one of " The devil among the Tailors," which is 112 BEAUTIES OF 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 some- times 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 interview with Queen Dido, he might be said to have been enveloped in a cloud. Nor was Will's partner an insignificant figure in the scene ; she was a young lady of most voluminous proportions, that quivered at every skip ; and being braced up in the fash- ionable style with whalebone, stay-tape and buckram, looked like an apple pudding tied in the middle ; 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 happy moods, and there was no doing any thing with him. He insisted on my introducing him to Miss Sparkle, a young lady un- rivalled for playful wit and innocent vivacity, and who, like a brilliant, adds lustre to the front of fashion. I accordingly presented him to her, and began a conversa- tion, 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 hers, 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 something 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 eulo- gium on the succulent qualities of boiled birds' nests : and I made my escape at the very moment when he was on WASHINGTON IRVING. 113 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 acquaintance 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 un- lucky 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 perfectly 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 the true golden rules ; and he took special care to put Coc- ker's arithmetic into the hands of his children, before they had read ten pages in the bible or the prayer book. The practice of these favourite maxims were 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 satisfaction of seeing himself worth a plum, and of dying just as he had determined to enjoy the re- mainder of his days in contemplating his great wealth and accumulating mortgages. His children inherited his money ; but they buried the disposition, and every other memorial of their father k2 114 BEAUTIES OF in his grave. Fired with a noble thirst for style, they instantly emerged from the retired lane in which them- selves and their accomplishments had hitherto been bu- ried ; and they blazed, and they whizzed, and they cracked about town, like a nest of squibbs and devils in a fire- work. I can liken their sudden eclat to nothing but that of the locust, which is hatched in the dust, where it in- creases 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 coach- maker, 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 wil- ling wights most courteously answered their call, and fell to work to build up the fame of the Giblets, as they had done that of many an aspiring family before them. In a little time the young ladies could dance the waltz, thunder Lodoiska, murder French, kill time, and com- mit 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 corners of streets, and driving tandem ; heard talking loud at the theatre, and laughing in church, with as much ease and 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 nobody noticed them except to honour them with a lit- tle contempt. The Giblets made a prodigious splash in their own opinion ; but nobody extolled them except the tailors and the milliners, who had been employed in WASHINGTON IRVING. 115 manufacturing their paraphernalia. The Giblets there- upon being, like Caleb Quotem, 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 invited the dancing men, and the dancing women, and the gorman- dizers, and the epicures of the city, to come and make merry at their expense ; and the dancing men, and the dancing women, and the epicures, and the 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 entertain- ers. Then commenced the hurry and the bustle, and 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 a bustle and unmeaning noise wherever they appeared ! 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 getting 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 visitors, who cared nothing about them ; of being squeezed, and smothered, and parboiled at nightly balls and evening tea parties ; they were allowed the privilege of forget- ting 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 sublime affectation at length left it no longer a matter of doubt that the Giblets were perfectly in the style. 116 BEAUTIES OF FRENCHMEN. In my mind there's no position more positive and un- exceptionable 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 distorters of the human frame, and tanta- mount 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 ener- gy 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 somewhat 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 determined, that a Frenchman passes at least three-fifths of his time between the heavens and the earth, and partakes eminently of the nature of a gossamer or soap bubble. One of these jack-a-lantern heroes, in taking a figure, which neither Euclid nor Pythagoras himself could demonstrate, unfortunately wound him- self — I mean his foot — his better part — in a lady's cob- web muslin robe ; but perceiving it at the instant, he set himself a spinning the other way, like a top, unra- valled his step, without omiting 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 fmishe^UMs wonderful evolution by quivering his left leg, as *?cat does her paw when she has accidentally dipped it in water. No man " of woman born," who was not a Frenchman, or a mountebank, could have done the like. WASHINGTON IRVING. 117 THE WIFE. I have often had occasion to remark the fortitude with which women sustain the most overwhelming 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 husband under misfor- tune, and abiding, with unshrinking firmness, the bit- terest blasts of adversity. As the vine which has long twined its graceful fo- liage 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 Pro- vidence, that woman, who is the mere dependant and ornament of man in his happier hours, should be his stay and solace when smitten with sudden calamity; winding 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 in- deed, 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 sti- mulated 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 118 BEAUTIES OF 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 run to waste and self-neglect ; to fancy him- self 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 maried a beautiful and accomplished girl, who had been brought up in the midst of fashion- able life. She had, it is true, no fortune, but that of my friend was ample ; and he delighted in the anticipa- tion of indulging her in every elegant pursuit, and ad- ministering 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 combination: he was of a romantic and somewhat serious cast ; she was all life and gladness. I have often noticed the mute rapture with which he would gaze upon her in company, of which her sprightly powers made her the delight ; and how, in the midst of ap- plause, 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 finely with his tall manly person. The fond confiding air with which she looked up to him seemed to call forth a flush of trium- phant 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 embarked his property in large speculations ; and he had not been married many months, when, by a succession of sudden 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 WASHINGTON IRVING. 119 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, however, with the quick eyes of affection, that all was not well with him. She marked his altered looks and stifled sighs, 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 only drove the arrow deeper into his soul. The more he saw cause to love her, the more torturing was the thought that he was soon to make 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, I inquired, " Does your wife know all this?" — 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 ?" said I. " She must know it sooner or later : you cannot keep it long from her, and the in- telligence may break upon her in a more startling man- ner than if imparted 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 communi- ty 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 soul to the earth, by telling her that her husband 120 BEAUTIES OF is a beggar ! that she is to forgo all the elegancies of life — all the pleasures of society — to shrink with me into indigence and obscurity ! To tell her that I have drag- ged her down from the sphere in which she might have continued to move in constant brightness — the light of every eye — the admiration of every heart ! — How can she bear poverty ? she has been brought up in all the refinements 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 had subsided, and he had relapsed into moody silence, I resumed the subject gently, and urged him to break his situation at once to his wife. He shook his head mournfully, but positively. " But how are you to keep it from her ? It is neces- sary 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 af- flict you. I am sure you have never placed your happi- ness 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 her! — God bless her !" cried he, bursting into a transport of grief and tenderness. " 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 dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and WASHINGTON IRVING. 121 beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity. No man knows what the wife of his bosom is — no man knows what a ministering angel she is — until he has gone with her through the fiery trials of this world." There was something in the earnestness of my man- ner, and the figurative style of my language, that caught the excited imagination of Leslie. I knew the auditor I had to deal with ; and following up the impression I had made, I finished by persuading him to go home and unburden his sad heart to his wife. I must confess, notwithstanding all I had said, I felt some little solicitude for the result. Who can calculate on the fortitude of one whose whole life has been a round of pleasures ? Her gay spirits might revolt at the dark downward path of low humility suddenly pointed out before her, and 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 morning without trepi- dation. He had made the disclosure. " And how did she bear it ?" " 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 accustomed conveniences nor ele- gancies. When we come practically to experience its sordid cares, its paltry wants, its petty humiliations — then will be the real trial." "But," said I, "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 anticipa- tion, every hour in the day. It is not poverty so much as pretence, that harasses a ruined man — the struggle L 122 BEAUTIES OF 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 disarm po- verty of its sharpest sting." On this point I found Leslie perfectly prepared. He had no false pride him- self, and as to his wife, she was only anxious to conform to their altered fortunes. Some days afterwards he called upon me in the even- ing. 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 establishment 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 instrument, and listened to the melting tones of her voice. I could not but smile at this instance of romantic gallantry in a doting 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 of- fered 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 !" at length broke, with a heavy sigh, from his lips. " And what of her ?" asked I : " has any thing hap- pened to her ?" " What," said he, darting an impatient glance, " is it nothing to be reduced to this paltry situation — to be caged in a miserable cottage — to be obliged to toil almost in the menial concerns of her wretched habita- tion ?" " Has she then repined at the change !" " Repined ! she has been nothing but sweetness and good humour. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than WASHINGTON IRVING, 123 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 treasures 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 do- mestic 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 sit- ting 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 thickly shaded with forest trees as to give it a com- plete air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage. It was humble 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 few trees threw their branches gracefully over it; and I observed several pots of flowers tastefully disposed about the door, and on the grass-plot 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 grasped 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 was pecu- liarly fond. I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my arm. He stepped forward 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 124 BEAUTIES OF was in a pretty rural dress of white ; a few wild llowers were twisted in her fine hair ; a fresh bloom was on her cheek ; her whole countenance 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 set out a table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage ; and I've been gathering some of the most de- licious strawberries, for I know you are fond of them — and we have such excellent cream — and we have every thing so sweet and still here — Oh!" said she, putting her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face, " Oh, we shall be so happy !" Poor Leslie was overcome — he caught her to his bo- som — 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, indeed, been a happy one, yet never has he experi- enced a moment of more exquisite felicity. 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 liberty of appealing to you on a subject, which, though considered merely as a very good joke, has oc- casioned 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 shop- ping with them, supply them with bouquets, and furnish them with novels from the circulating library. In con- sequence of these attentions I am become a great fa- vourite, 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 WASHINGTON IRVING. 125 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 informed, that a number of them manage by this great system of exchange to keep their crowns de- cently 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 whether it would not be advisable for ladies to mention in their cards of invitation, as a postscript, " Stealing hats and shawls positively prohibited." — At any rate, I would thank you, Mr Evergreen, to discountenance the thing totally, by publishing in your paper that stealing a hat is no joke. Your humble servant, Walter Withers. Showing the nature of History in general ; containing furthermore the universal Acquirements of William the Testy, and how a Man may learn so much as to render himself good for Nothing. When the lofty Thucydides is about to enter on his description 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, Smith's Thucyd. vol. 1. L 2 126 BEAUTIES OF and pathetic ;" and hints, with that air of chuckling gra- tulation, with which a good dame draws forth a choice morsel from a cupboard to regale a favourite, that this plague will give his 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 Calender, a re- gister of the crimes and miseries that man has inflicted on his fellow men. It is a huge libel on human nature, to which we industriously add page after page, volume after volume, as if we were building up a monument to the honour rather than the infamy of our species. If we turn over the pages of these chronicles that man has written of himself, what are the characters dignified by the appellation of great, and held up to the admiration of posterity? — Tyrants, robbers, conquerors, renowned only for the magnitude of their misdeeds and the stupen- dous wrongs and miseries they have inflicted on man- kind — 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 massacring 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 miseries of mankind — they are like the birds of prey that hover over the field of battle, to fatten on the mighty dead. It was observed by a great projector of inland lock navigation, that rivers, lakes, and oceans were only formed to feed canals. In like manner I am tempted to believe, that plots, conspiracies, wars, vic- tories, and massacres are ordained by providence only as food for the historian. - WASHINGTON IRVING. 127 It is a source of great delight to the philosopher, in studying 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 often execrated as useless vermin, are created for the sustenance of spi- ders; and spiders, on the other hand, are evidently made to devour flies. So those heroes who have been such pests in the world were bounteously provided as themes for the poet and the historian, while the poet and the historian were destined to record the achieve- ments 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, having 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 Nederlandts, 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 pre- ferable to repel than endure them. The reader will now witness the manner in which a peaceful community advances toward a state of war ; which 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 Gu- bernatorial chair (to borrow a favourite though clumsy appellation of modern phraseologists,) was in form, feature, and character, the very reverse of Wouter Van Twiller, his renowned predecessor. He was of very respectable descent, his father being Inspector of 128 BEAUTIES 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 afterwards came to be so ingenious a governor. His name, according to the most ingenious etymologists, was a corruption of Kyver, that is to say, a wrangler or scolder, and expressed the hereditary disposition of his family, which, for nearly two centuries, had kept the windy town of Saardam in hot water, and produced more tartars and brimstones than any ten families in the place; and so truly did Wilhelmus Kieft inherit this family endowment that he had scarcely been a year in the discharge of his go- vernment, before he was universally known by the name of William the Testy. He was a brisk, waspish, little old gentleman, who had dried and withered away, partly through the natural process of years, and partly from being parched and burned up by his fiery soul, which blazed Like a vehe- ment rush-light in his bosom, constantly inciting him to most valorous broils, altercations, and misadventures. I have heard it observed by a profound and philosophi- cal judge of human nature, that if a woman waxes fat as she grows old, the tenure of her life is very preca- rious ; but if haply she withers, she lives for ever : such likewise was the case with William the Testy, who grew tougher in proportion as he dried. He was just 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 turned up with a most petulent curl ; his cheeks, like the regions of Terra del Fuego, were scorched into a dusky red — doubtless, in consequence of the neighbour- hood of two fierce little gray eyes, through which his torrid soul beamed as fervently as a tropical sun blazing through a pair of burning glasses. The corners of his mouth were curiously modelled into a kind of fret- work, WASHINGTON IRVING. 129 not a little resembling the wrinkled proboscis of an irritable pug dog ; in a word, lie 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 Testy ; 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 despatch unequalled, except by certain of our American colleges, which seem to manufacture bache- lors of arts by some patent machine. Here he skir- mished 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 which he constantly paraded in con- versation and writing, with as much vainglory as would a triumphant general of yore display the spoils of the countries he had ravished. He had moreover puzzled himself considerably with logic, in which he had ad- vanced 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 well nigh being smothered in a slouch of unintelligible learn- ing — a fearful peril, from the effects of which he never perfectly recovered. In plain words, like many other profound intermeddlers in this abstruse, bewildering science, he so confused his brain with abstract specula- tions which he could not comprehend, and artificial dis- tinctions 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 con- fess, was in some measure a misfortune, for he never engaged in argument, of which he was exceeding fond, but what, between logical deductions and metaphysical jargon, he soon involved himself and his subject in a fog of contradictions and perplexities, and then would 130 BEAUTIES OF get into a mighty passion with his adversary, for not being convinced gratis. It is in knowledge as in swimming, — he who osten- tatiously sports and flounders on the surface makes more noise and splashing, and attracts more attention than the industrious pearl diver, who plunges in search of treasures to the bottom. The " universal acquire- ments" of William Kieft were the subject of great mar- vel and admiration among his countrymen ; he figured about the Hague with as much vainglory as does a pro- found Bonze at Pekin, who has mastered half the letters of the Chinese alphabet ; and, in a word, was unani- mously pronounced, a universal genius ! — I have known many universal geniuses in my time, though, to speak my mind freely, I never knew one who, for the ordi- nary 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 sparkling 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 a less learned man, it is possible he would have been a much greater governor. He was exceedingly fond of trying philosophical and po- litical experiments : and having stuffed his head full of scraps and remnants of ancient republics, and oligar- chies, and aristocracies, and monarchies, and the laws of Solon, and Lycurgus, and Charondas, and the ima- ginary commonwealth of Plato, and the Pandects of Justinian, and a thousand other fragments of venerable antiquity, he was for ever bent upon introducing some one or other of them into use ; so that between one contradictory measure and another, he entangled the government of the little province of the Nieuw Neder- landts 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 delivered a very ani- WASHINGTON IRVING. 131 mated speech on the affairs of the province. As every body knows what a glorious opportunity a governor, a president, or even an emperor has of drubbing his ene- mies 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 occasion to escape him, of evincing that gallantry of tongue common to all able legislators. Before he com- menced, it is recorded that he took out his pocket hand- kerchief, and gave a very sonorous blast of the nose, according to the usual custom of great orators. This, in general, I believe, is intended as a signal trumpet, to call the attention of the auditors ; but with William the Testy it boasted a more classic cause, for he had read of the singular expedient of that famous demagogue Caius Gracchus, who, when he harangued the Roman populace, modulated his tones by an oratorical 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 unworthiness of the honour conferred upon him, and his humiliating incapacity to discharge the important duties of his new station ; in short, he expressed so contemptible 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 wroth that he should accept an office for which he was consciously so inadequate. He then proceeded in a manner highly classic, pro- foundly erudite, and nothing at all to the purpose ; be- ing nothing more than a pompous account of all the governments of ancient 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 grandchildren 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 situ- 132 BEAUTIES OF ation of the province ; and here he soon worked himself into a fearful rage against the Yankees, whom he com- pared to the Gauls who desolated Rome, and the Goths and Vandals who overran the fairest plains of Europe — nor did he forget to mention, in terms of adequate opprobrium, the insolence with which they had en- croached upon the territories of New Netherlands, and the unparalleled audacity with which they had com- menced the town of New- Plymouth, and planted the onion patches of Weathersfield under the very walls of Fort Good Hope. 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 mea- sures to put a final stop to these encroachments — that he had been obliged to have recourse to a dreadful en- gine of warfare, lately invented, awful in its effects, but authorised by direful necessity. In a word, he was re- solved to conquer the Yankees — by proclamation. For this purpose he had prepared a tremendous in- strument of the kind, ordering, commanding, and en- joining the intruders aforesaid forthwith to remove, de- part, and withdraw 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 for some time silent after he had finished ; whether struck dumb with admiration at the brilliancy of his project, or put to sleep by the length of his harangue, the history of the times doth not mention. Suffice it to say, they at length gave a general grunt of acquiescence ; the proclamation was immedi- ately 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 rib- WASHINGTON IRVING. 133 bond. Governor Kieft, having thus vented his indig- nation, felt greatly relieved — adjourned the council sine 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, sequestered swamp, now called Dutch Street, but more commonly 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 punish- ment 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 secret at the time, and consequently was not a subject of scandal at more than half the tea tables of New- Amsterdam, but which, like many other great secrets, has leaked out in the 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 nei- ther laid down in Aristotle nor Plato ; in short, it par- took of the nature of a pure, iinmixed tyranny, and is familiarly denominated petticoat government. An abso- lute 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 eco- nomy of honest Socrates, 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 that 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" 134 BEAUTIES OF TEA, A POEM. Earnestly recommended to the attention of all Maidens of a certain age. Old time, my dear girls, is a knave who in truth From the fairest of beauties will pilfer their youth ; Who, by constant attention and wily deceit, For ever is coaxing some grace to retreat ; And, like crafty seducer, with subtle approach, The further indulged, will still further encroach. Since this " thief of the world" has made off with your bloom, And left you some score of stale years in its room — Has deprived you of all those gay dreams, that would dance In your brains at fifteen, and your bosoms entrance ; And has forced you almost to renounce in dispair The hope of a husband's affection and care — Since such is the case, and a case rather hard ! Permit one who holds you in special regard To furnish such hints in your loveless estate As may shelter your names from detraction and hate. Too often our maidens, grown aged I ween, Indulge to excess in the workings of spleen ; And at times, when annoy'd by the slights of mankind, Work off their resentment — by speaking their mind : Assemble together in snuff-taking clan, And hold round the tea-urn a solemn divan. A convention of tattling — a tea party hight, Which, like meeting of witches, is brew'd up at night : Where each matron arrives, fraught with tales of sur- prise, With knowing suspicion and doubtful surmise ; Like the broomstick whirl'd hags that appear in Mac- beth, Each bearing some relic of venom or death, WASHINGTON IRVING. 135 " To stir up the toil and to double the trouble, That fire may burn, and that caldron may bubble." When the party commences, all starch'd and all glum, They talk of the weather, their corns, or sit mum : They will tell you of cambric, of ribands, of lace, How cheap they were sold — and will name you the place. They discourse of their colds, and they hem, and they cough, And complain of their servants to pass the time off; Or list to the tale of some doting mamma, How her ten weeks old baby will laugh and say taa ! But tea, that enlivener of wit and of soul — More loquacious by far than the draughts of the bowl, Soon unloosens the tongue and enlivens the mind, And enlightens their eyes to the faults of mankind. 'Twas thus with the Pythia, who served at the fount That flowed near the far-famed Parnassian mount, While the steam was inhaled of the sulphuric spring Her vision expanded, her fancy took wing ; By its aid she pronounced the oracular will That Appollo commanded his sons to fulfil. But alas ! the sad vestal, performing the rite, Appear'd like a demon — terrific to sight. E'en the priests of Appollo averted their eyes, And the temple of Delphi resounded her cries. But quitting the nymph of the tripod of yore, We return to the dames of the tea-pot once more. In harmless chit-chat and acquaintance they roast, And serve up a friend, as they serve up a toast, Some gentle faux pas, or some female mistake, Is like sweatmeats delicious, or relished as cake ; A bit of broad scandal is like a dry crust, It would stick in the throat, so they butter it first With a little affected good nature, and cry " Nobody regrets the thing deeper than I. " 136 BEAUTIES OF Our young ladies nibble a good name in play, As for pastime they nibble a biscuit away : While with shrugs and surmises the toothless old dame, As she mumbles a crust she will mumble a name. And as the fell sisters astonished the Scot, In predicting of Banquo's descendants the lot, Making shadows of kings, amid flashes of light, To appear in array and to frown in his sight, So they conjure up spectres all hideous in hue, Which, as shades of their neighbours, are pass'd in re- view. The wives of our cits of inferior degree Will soak up repute in a little bohea ; The potion is vulgar, and vulgar the slang With which on their neighbours' defects they harangue ; But the scandal improves, a refinement in wrong ! As our matrons are richer, and rise to souchong. With hyson — a beverage that's still more refined, Our ladies of fashion enliven their mind, And by nods, innuendoes, and hints, and what not, Reputations and tea send together to pot. While madam in laces and cambrics array'd, With her plate and her liveries in splendid parade, Will drink in imperial a friend at a sup, Or in gunpowder blow them in dozens all up. Ah me ! how I groan when with full swelling sail Wafted stately along by the favouring gale, A China ship proudly arrives in our bay, Displaying her streamers and blazing away. Oh ! more fell to our port is the cargo she bears Than grenadoes, torpedoes, or warlike affairs : Each chest is a bombshell thrown into our town, To shatter repute and bring character down. Ye Samquas, ye Chinquas, ye Chonquas, so free, Who discharge on our coasts your cursed quantums of tea, Oh ! think, as ye waft the sad weed from your strand, Of the plagues and vexations ye deal to our land. WASHINGTON IRVING. 137 As the Upas' dread breath, or the plain where it flies, Empoisons and blasts each green blade that may rise, So, wherever the leaves of your shrub find their way, The social affections soon suffer decay : Like to Java's drear waste, they embarren the heart, Till the blossoms of love and friendship depart. Ah, ladies, and was it by Heaven design'd That ye should be merciful, loving, and kind ! Did it form you like angels, and send you below To prophecy peace — to bid charity flow ! And have you thus left your primeval estate, And wander'd so widely — so strangely of late ? Alas ! the sad cause I too plainly can see — These evils have all come upon you through tea ! Cursed weed, that can make our fair spirits resign The character mild of their mission divine ; That can blot from their bosoms that tenderness true, Which from female to female for ever is due ! O ! how nice is the texture — how fragile the frame Of that delicate blossom, a female's fair fame ! 'Tis the sensitive plant, it recoils from the breath, And shrinks from the touch as if pregnant with death. How often, how often, has innocence sighed, Has beauty been 'reft of its honour — its pride, Has virtue, though pure as an angel of light, Been painted as dark as a demon of night, All offer'd up victims, an auto da fe, At the gloomy cabals — the dark orgies of tea ! If I, in the remnant that's left me of life, Am to suffer the torments of slanderous strife, Let me fall, I implore, in the slang-whanger's claw, Where the evil is open and subject to law; Not nibbled, and mumbled, and put to the rack, By the sly underminings of tea-party clack : Condemn me, ye gods, to a newspaper roasting, But spare me ! O spare me a tea-table toasting ! M 2 138 BEAUTIES OF Description of the powerful Army that assembled at the City of New-Amsterdam — together with the interview between Peter the Headstrong and General Von Pof- fenburgh ; and Peter's Sentiments respecting unfortu- nate great Men. While thus the enterprising Peter was coasting, with flowing sail, up the shores of the lordly Hudson, and arousing all the phlegmatic little Dutch settlements up- on its borders, a great and puissant concourse of war- riors was assembling at the city of New- Amsterdam. And here that invaluable fragment of antiquity, the Stuyvesant manuscript, is more than commonly parti- cular; 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 denominated 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 gover- nor. These were commanded by the valiant Stoffel Brinkerhoofj 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 Nederlanders. * On their right hand might be seen the vassals of that renowned Mynheer Michael Paw,f who lorded it over the fair regions of ancient Pavonia, and the lands away * This was likewise the great seal of the New-Netherlands, as may stil be seen in ancient records, f Besides what is related in the Stuyvesant MS. I have found men- tion made of this illustrious Patroon in another manuscript, which says: — "De Heer (or the Squire) Michael Paw, a Dutch subject, about 10th Aug., 1630, by deed purchased Staten Island. N.B. The same Michael Paw had what the Dutch call a colonnie 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." WASHINGTON IRVING. 139 south, even unto the Navesink mountains,* and was moreover patroon of Gibbet- Island. His standard was borne by his trusty squire, Cornelius Van Vorst ; con- sisting of a huge oyster recumbent upon a sea green field ; being the armorial bearings of his favourite me- tropolis, Communipaw. He brought to the camp a stout force of warriors, heavily armed, being each clad in ten pair of linsey woolsey breeches, and oversha- dowed by broad brimmed beavers, with short pipes twisted in their hat-bands. These were the men who vegetated 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 war- riors 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 beto- ken — they were terrible looking fellows, clad in broad- skirted gaberdines, of that curious coloured cloth called thunder and lightning; and bore as a standard three DeviPs-darning-needles, vocant, in a flame coloured field. Hard by was the tent of the men of battle from the marshy borders of the Wael-bogtig,f 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 institutors of that honourable order of knighthood, called Fly market shirks ; and if tradition speak true, did likewise introduce the far famed step in dancing, called "double trouble." They were com- manded by the fearless Jacobus Varra Vanger, and had, moreover, a jolly band of Breukelenf ferrymen, who performed a brave concerto on conchshells. But I refrain from pursuing this minute description, * So called from the Navesink tribe of Indians, that inhabited these parts— at present they are erroneously denominated the Never- sink, or Neversunk Mountains. t i. e. The Winding Bay, named from the winding of its shores. This has since been corrupted by the vulgar into the WcUlabout, and is the basin which shelters our infant navy. + Now spelt Brooklyn. 140 BEAUTIES OF 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 Am- sterdam, 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 recognised 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 of the Hudson. And here the excellent but anonymous writer of the Stuyve- sant manuscript breaks out into a brave but glorious de- scription of the forces, as they denied through the princi- pal 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 cyder, and arrant brag- garts in their liquor After them came the Van Pelts, of Groodt Esopus, dexterous horsemen, mounted upon goodly switch-tailed steeds of the Esopus breed : these were mighty hunters of minks and musk rats, whence came the word Peltry Then the Van Nests of Kin- derhoek, valiant robbers of birds' nests, as their name denotes : to these, if the report may be believed, are we indebted for the invention of 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 intellect, and that the shortest way to get knowledge into the head was to hammer it into the bot- tom 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 Hud- WASHINGTON IRVING. 141 son and thereabouts, distinguished by many triumphant feats, such as robbing water-melon patches, smoking rabbits out of their holes, and the like, and by being great lovers of roasted pigs' tails : these were the ances- tors of the renowned congressman of that name — Then the Van Hoesens 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 publicans, 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, be- ing much spoken of for their skill in shooting with the long bow — Then the Van Bunschotens, 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 moontight. — 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, came the Knickerbockers, 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 Kniker, to shake, and Becker, a goblet, indicating thereby that they were sturdy tosspots of yore ; but, in truth, it was derived from Knicker, to nod, and JBoeken, 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 matters of greater moment. Nothing could surpass the joy and martial pride of the lion- hearted Peter, as he reviewed this mighty host of war- riors ; and he determined no longer to defer the gratifi- cation of his much-wished-for revenge, upon the scoun- drel Swedes at Fort Casimir. 142 BEAUTIES OF 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 Poffenburgh, 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 thousand scurvy rumours were set afloat in New- Amsterdam ; wherein it was insinuated, that he had in reality a treacherous 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 man out of the ranks of honour who dared to doubt his integrity. Moreover, on returning to New- Amster- dam, he paraded up and down the streets with a crew of hard swearers at his heels, — sturdy bottle companions, whom he gorged and fattened, and who were ready to bolster him through all the courts of justice, — heroes of his own kidney, fierce whiskered, broad shouldered, col- brand looking swaggerers, not one of whom but looked as though he could eat up an ox, and pick his teeth with 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 conversa- tion was interspersed with oaths like minute guns, and every bombastic rhodomontado was rounded off by a thundering execration, like a patriotic toast honoured with a discharge of artillery. All these valorous vapourings had a considerable ef- fect in convincing certain profound sages, many of whom began to think the general a hero of unutterable lofti- ness and magnanimity of soul, particularly as he was continually protesting on the honour of a soldier, — a mar- vellously high sounding asseveration. Nay, one of the WASHINGTON IRVING. 143 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, protesta- tions, and ejaculations — " Harkee, comrade," cried he, " though by your own account you are the most brave, upright, and honourable man in the whole province, yet do you lie under the misfortune of being damnably tra- duced and immeasurably despised. Now, 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 counter- act its sovereign will. Beside, I cannot consent to ven- ture my armies with a commander whom they despise, or to trust the welfare of my people to a champion whom they distrust. Retire therefore, my friend, from the irksome toils and cares of public life, with this com- forting 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 perse- cution. 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 yourself." Of Peter Stuyvesanfs 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 trouble ; adversity, therefore, has been wisely denomi- 144 BEAUTIES OF nated 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 na- tion, a community, or an individual (possessing the in- herent quality of greatness) is involved 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 po- pulation, and imbibing and concentrating the wealth of nations, has vegetated through a succession of drowsy ages ; and were it not for its internal revolution, and the subversion of its ancient government by the Tar- tars, might have presented 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 fortu- nately overwhelmed by a volcano. The renowned city of Troy has acquired celebrity only from its ten years' distress and final conflagration ; Paris rises in impor- tance 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 re- cords of time, celebrated for nothing of moment, ex- cepting the plague, the great fire, and Guy Faux's gun- powder plot ! Thus 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 tre- mendous calamity, and snatch, as it were, immortality from the explosion ! The above principle being admitted, my reader will plainly perceive that the city of New- Amsterdam and its dependent 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 difficulties. Ever since the province was first taken by the nose, at the Fort of Good Hope, in the tranquil days of Wouter Van Twiller, has it been WASHINGTON IRVING. 145 gradually increasing in historic importance ; and never could it have had a more appropriate chieftain to con- duct it to the pinnacle of grandeur than Peter Stuyve- sant. In the fiery heart of this iron- headed old warrior sat enthroned all those five kinds of courage described by Aristotle ; 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 discretion, 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 was, 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 council of the Amphyctions, bearing the sword in one hand, and the olive branch in the other ; to require immediate reparation for the innumerable violations of that treaty, which, in an evil hour, he had formed ; to put a stop to those repeated 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, set- ting forth the rashness of exposing his sacred person in the midst of a strange and barbarous people, with sun- dry other weighty remonstrances — all which had about as much influence upon the determination of the head- strong Peter, as though you were to endeavour to turn a rusty weathercock with a broken-winded bellows. Summoning, therefore, to his presence, his trusty fol- lower, Anthony Van Corlear, he commanded him to hold himself in readiness to accompany him the follow- ing 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 ne- 146 BEAUTIES OF ver known care or sorrow, (having never been married); he was still a hearty, jocund, rubicond, 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 de- lighted Anthony than this command of the great Peter ; for he could have followed the stout-hearted old gover- nor to the world's end, with love and loyalty : and he moreover still remembered the frolicking, and dancing, and bundling, and other disports of the east country ; and entertained dainty recollection 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 an- nals 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 negociat- ing with the whole council of New-England — never was there known a more desperate undertaking ! Ever since I have entered upon the chronicles of this peer- less, 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 already 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 undaunted, like a guardian spirit, into the midst of the horrid battle of Fort Christina ? That I have been put incessantly to my trumps to keep thee safe and sound — -now warding off with my single pen the shower of dastard blows that fell upon thy rear — now narrowly shielding thee from a deadly thrust, by a mere tobacco-box — now casing thy dauntless skull with WASHINGTON IRVING. 147 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 jeopardizing in headlong enterprises thyself, thy trum- peter, and thy historian ? And now the ruddy faced Aurora, like a buxom chambermaid, 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 har- nessed 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, be- striding a raw-boned, switch-tailed charger, gallantly arrayed in full regimentals, and bracing on his thigh that truly brass-hilted sword, which had wrought such fearful deeds on the banks of the Delaware. Behold, hard after him, his doughty trumpeter, Van Corlear, 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 with a gorgeous banner, on which is emblazoned the great beaver of the Manhattoes. See them proudly issuing out of the city gate, like an iron-clad hero of yore, with his faithful squire at his heels, the populace 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 — pros- perous 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 befell our adventurers in this their adventurous travel, excepting the Stuyvesant manuscript, which gives the substance of a pleasant little heroic poem, written on the 148 BEAUTIES OF occasion by Domini iEgidius Luyck,* who appears to have been the poet-laureate of New- Amsterdam. This inestimable manuscript assures us, that it was a rare spectacle to behold the great Peter, and his loyal fol- lower, hailing the morning sun, and rejoicing in the clear countenance of nature, as they pranced it through the pastoral scenes of Bloemen Dael ;f which, in those days, was a wild flower, refreshed by many a pure streamlet, and enlivened here and there by a delectable little Dutch cottage, sheltering under some sloping hill, and almost buried in embowering trees. Now did they enter upon the confines of Connecti- cut, where they encountered many grievous difficulties and perils. 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 exceedingly with guesses and questions, more especially the worthy Peter, whose silver-chased leg excited not a little 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 travel- ling on Sunday, and threatened to carry them captive to a neighbouring church, whose steeple peered above the trees ; but these the valiant Peter put to rout with little difficulty, insomuch that they bestrode their canes and galloped 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 switch-tailed charger, leaving him in place thereof a villanous, spavined, foundered Narraganset pacer. But, maugre all these hardships, they pursued their journey cheerily along the course of the soft flowing * This Luyck was, moreover, rector of the Latin school in Nieuw- Nederlandts, 1663. There are two pieces of ^Egidius 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 IRVING. 149 Connecticut, whose gentle waves, says the song, roll through many a fertile vale and sunny plain ; now re- flecting the lofty spires of the bustling city, and now the rural beauties of the humble 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 into great dismay when they heard of his approach. For the fame of his incomparable achievements on the Dela- ware had spread throughout the east country, and they dreaded lest he had come to take vengeance on their manifold transgressions. But the good Peter rode through these towns with a smiling aspect ; waving his hand with inexpressible ma- jesty 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 fronts of their houses, were so many decorations in honour of his approach ; as it was the custom in the days of chivalry to compli- ment renowned heroes, by sumptuous displays of tapes- try and gorgeous furniture. The women 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, ran after him in troops, staring with won- der at his regimentals, his brimstone breeches, and the silver garniture of his wooden leg. Nor must I omit to mention the joy which many strapping wenches be- trayed, at beholding 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 infinite loving kindness — and was right pleased to see a crew of little trum- peters 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. 150 BEAUTIES OF The Stuyvesant manuscript makes but little further mention of the governor's adventures upon this expedi- tion, excepting that he was received with extravagant courtesy and respect by the great council of the Am- phyctions, who almost talked him to death with com- plimentary and congratulatory harangues. I will not detain my readers by dwelling on his negociations with the grand council. Suffice it to mention, it was like all other negociations — a great deal was said, and very little done : one conversation led to another — one con- ference begat misunderstandings which it took a dozen 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 ques- tions of etiquette, and conceived a cordial distrust of each other, that rendered their future negociations ten times more difficult than ever.* In the midst of all these perplexities, which bewil- dered the brain and incensed the ire of the sturdy Peter, who was perhaps, of all men in the world, least fitted for diplomatic wiles, he privately received the first inti- mation of the dark conspiracy which had been matured in the Cabinet of England. To this was added the astounding intelligence that a hostile squadron had al- ready sailed from England, destined to reduce the pro- vince 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 forebod- ings upon this ill starred expedition ? Did I not trem- ble when I saw thee with no other counsellor but thine own head — with no other armour but an honest tongue, a spotless conscience, 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 * For certain of the particulars of this ancient negotiation, see Haz. Col. State Pap. It is singular that Smith is entirely silent with | respect to this memorable expedition of Peter Stuyve6ant. WASHINGTON IRVING. 151 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 dire- ful wrath subsided, he resorted to safer though less glo- rious expedients. Concealing from the council his knowledge of their machinations, he privately despatched a trusty messen- ger with missives to his counsellors at New- Amsterdam, apprising them of the impending danger, commanding them immediately to put the city in a posture of defence, while in the meantime he would endeavour to elude his enemies and come to their assistance. This done, he felt himself marvellously relieved, rose slowly, shook himself like a rhinoceros, and issued forth from his den, in much the same manner as Giant Despair is described to have issued from Doubting Castle, in the chivalric history of the Pilgrim's Progress. And now much does it grieve me that I must leave the gallant Peter in this imminent jeopardy; but it behoves us to hurry back and see what is going on at New- Amsterdam, for greatly do I fear that city is al- ready 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 him- self, and which had acquired him the renowned appella- tion of Peter the Headstrong. 152 BEAUTIES OF How the people of New-Amsterdam were thrown 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 philoso- pher than to contemplate a community where every in- dividual has a voice in public affairs, where every indi- vidual 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 a commu- nity 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, every body up to the ears in trouble, every body in the way, and every body interrupting his industrious neighbour, who is busily employed in doing nothing ! It is like witness- ing 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 scaling-ladders, and bawling through tin trumpets, by way of directing the attack. Here one busy fellow, in his great zeal to save the pro- perty 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 cala- mity, run up and down the streets with open throats, keeping up an incessant cry of — Fire ! Fire ! Fire / " When the news arrived at Sinope," says the grave and profound Lucian, though I own the story is rather trite, " that Philip was about to attack them, the inha- bitants were thrown into violent alarm. Some ran to furbish up their arms ; others rolled stones to build up WASHINGTON IRVING. 153 the walls; every body, in short, was employed, and every b'o'dy 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 wel- fare 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 mo- ther'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 con- fusion, and assisting the general uproar. " Every man," saith the Stuyvesant manuscript, "flew to arms !" By which is meant, that not one of our honest Dutch citi- zens 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 lanthorn ! nor turn a corner without first peeping cautiously round, lest he should come unawares upon a British army ; and we are informed, that Stoffel Brinkerhoff, who was consi- dered by the old women almost as brave a man as the governor himself, actually had two one-pound swivels mounted in his entry, one pointing out at the front door and the other at the back. But the most strenuous measure resorted to on this awful occasion, and one which has since been found of wonderful efficacy, was to assemble popular meetings. These brawling convocations, 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 pat- riotism, 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 enlightened, the most dignified, the most formidable, and the most ancient community upon the face of the 154 BEAUTIES OF earth. Finding that this resolution was so universally and readily carried, another was immediately proposed, — Whether it were not possible and politic to extermi- nate Great Britain ? Upon which sixty-nine members spoke most eloquently in the affirmative, and only one arose to suggest some doubts, who, as a punishment for his treasonable presumption, was immediately seized by the mob, and tarred and feathered ; which punishment being equivalent to the Tarpeian Rock, he was after- wards considered as an outcast from society, and his opinion went for nothing. The question, therefore, being unanimously carried in the affirmative, it was re- commended to the grand council to pass it into a law, which was accordingly done ; by this measure the hearts of the people at large were wonderfully encouraged, and they waxed exceedingly choleric and valorous. Indeed, the first paroxysm of alarm having in some measure sub- sided, the old women having buried all the money they could lay their hands on, and their husbands daily get- ting fuddled with what was left — the community began even to stand on the offensive. Songs were manufac- tured in low Dutch, and sung about the streets, wherein the English were most wofully beaten, and shown no quarter ; and popular addresses 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 as- sembled, and having purchased all the British manufac- tures 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 work- manship, pulled it off, and threw it most undauntedly into the flames — to the irreparable detriment, loss, and ruin of the English manufacturers. In commemoration of this great exploit, they erected a pole on the spot, with a device on the top intended to represent the pro- vince 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 WASHINGTON IRVING. 155 the unskilf illness of the sculptor, or his ill timed wag- gery, 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 thicken — Showing the Bravery, in Time of Peril, of a People who defend themselves by Resolutions, Like as an assemblage of politic cats, engaged in cla- morous gibberings andcatterwaulings, eyeing one another with hideous grimaces, spitting in each other's faces, and on the point of breaking forth into a general clap- per-clawing, are suddenly put to scampering, rout, and confusion, by the startling appearance of a house-dog — so was the no less vociferous council of New- Amster- dam 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 terror. 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. 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 shepherd and his dog are absent, and the wolf is prowling round the fold. Far from rinding relief, however, they only increased each other's terrors. Each man looked rue- fully in his neighbour's face, in search of encouragement, but only found, in its woe-begone lineaments, a confir- mation of his own dismay. Not a word now was to be heard of conquering Great Britain, not a whisper about the sovereign virtues of economy — while the old women heightened the general gloom, by clamorously bewail- ing their fate, and incessantly calling for protection on St. Nicholas and Peter Stuyvesant. Oh, how did they bewail the absence of the lion-heart- 156 BEAUTIES OF ed 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 governor, without bringing any further tidings of his safety. Many a fearful conjecture was hazarded as to what had befallen him and his loyal squire. Had they not been devoured alive by the can- nibals of Marblehead and Cape Cod ? Were they not put to the question by the great council of Amphyc- tions ? Were they not smothered in onions by the ter- rible men of Pyquag ? In the midst of this consterna- tion and perplexity, when horror, like a mighty night- mare, sat brooding upon the little, fat, plethoric city of New- Amsterdam, the ears of the multitude were sud- denly startled by a strange and distant sound — it ap- proached — it grew louder and louder — and now it re- sounded at the city gate. The public could not be mistaken in the well known sound. A shout of joy burst from their lips, as the gallant Peter, covered with dust, and followed by his faithful trumpeter, came gal- loping into the market-place. The first transports of the populace having subsided, they gathered round the honest Anthony, as he dis- mounted from his horse, overwhelming him with greet- ings and congratulations. In breathless accents he related to them the marvellous adventures through which the old governor and himself had gone, in making their escape from the clutches of the terrible Amphyctions. But though the Stuyvesant manuscript, with its cus- tomary minuteness, where any thing touching 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 recital thereof. Let it suffice to say, that, while Peter Stuyvesant 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 touched at the eastern ports, to obtain need- ful supplies, and to call on the grand council of the WASHINGTON IRVING. 157 league for its promised co-operation. Upon hearing of this, the vigilant Peter perceiving that a moment's delay were 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, lurk- ing along, through the woody mountains of the Devil's Backbone ; from whence the valiant Peter sallied forth one day, like a lion, and put to rout a whole legion of squatters, consisting of three generations of a prolific family, who were already on their way to take posses- sion of some corner of the New Netherlands. Nay, the faithful Anthony had great 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 con- templated 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, inform us, "three hundred valiant red coats." Having taken this survey, he sat himself down, and wrote an epistle to the commander, demanding his rea- son of anchoring in the harbour without obtaining pre- vious permission so to do. This letter was couched in the most dignified and courteous terms, though I have it from undoubted authority, that his teeth were clenched, and he had a bitter sardonic grin upon his visage, all the while he wrote. Having despatched his letter, the grim Peter stumped to and fro about the town, with a most war-betokening countenance, his hands thrust into his breeches pockets, and whistling a low Dutch Psalm tune, which bore no small resemblance to the music of a north-east wind, when a storm is brewing. The very o 158 BEAUTIES OF dogs, as they eyed him, skulked away in dismay — while all the old and ugly women of New- Amsterdam ran howling at his heels, imploring him to save them from murder, robbery, and pitiless ravishment ! The reply of Col. Nicholas, who commanded the in- vaders, 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 affirmed the Dutch to be mere interlopers ; and demanding that the town, forts, &c. should be forthwith rendered into his majesty's obedience and protection — promising at the sametime, life, liberty, estate, and free trade, to every Dutch denizen, who should readily submit to his majes- ty'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 Stiles, that warns him of an action of ejectment. The old governor, how- ever, 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 the next morning. In the meantime he called a general council of war of his privy counsellors and burgomasters, not for the purpose 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 adherence. Before, however, he convened his council, he resolved upon three important points ; first, never to give up the city, without a little hard fighting, for he deemed it highly derogatory to the dignity of so renowned a city, to suffer itself to be captured and stripped, without re- ceiving a few kicks into the bargain. Secondly, that the majority of his grand council was composed of ar- rant poltroons, utterly destitute of true bottom ; and, thirdly, that he would not therefore suffer them to see the summons of Col. Nicholas, lest the easy terms it held out might induce them to clamour for a surrender. WASHINGTON IRVING. 159 His orders being duly promulgated, it was a piteous sight to behold the late valiant burgomasters, who had demolished the whole British empire in their harangues, peeping ruefully out of their hiding places, and then crawling cautiously forth, dodging through narrow lanes and alleys : starting at every little dog that barked, as though it had been a discharge of artillery — mistaking lamp-posts for British grenadiers, and in the excess of their panic, metamorphosing pumps into formidable soldiers, levelling blunderbuses at their bosoms ! Hav- ing, however, in despite of numerous perils and difficul- ties 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 arrival of the governor. In a few moments the wooden leg of the intrepid Peter was heard in regular and stout-hearted thumps upon the staircase He entered the chamber, arrayed in full suit of regimentals, and carrying his trusty toledo, not girded on his thigh, but tucked under his arm. As the governor never equipped himself in this portentous man- ner, unless something of martial nature were working within his fearless perecranium, his council regarded him ruefully, as a very Janus, bearing fire and sword in his iron countenance, and forgot to light their pipes in breathless suspense. The great Peter was as eloquent as he was valorous ; indeed, these two rare qualities seemed to go hand in hand in his composition ; and, unlike most great states- men, whose victories are only confined to the bloodless field of argument, 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 categorical decision. Addres- sing 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 individual security, had disgraced the councils of the 160 BEAUTIES OF province, by impotent hectorings and scurrilous invec- tives, against a noble and powerful enemy — those cow- ardly 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 sup- port their vaun tings by their actions — for it was deeds, not words, that bespoke the spirit of a nation. He pro- ceeded to recall the golden days of former prosperity, which were only to be gained by manfully withstanding their enemies ; for the peace, he observed, which is ef- fected 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, be- fore the frowning 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 safe- ty, amid all the savages of the wilderness, the witches, and squatters of the east, and the giants of Merry-land. Finally, he informed them of the insolent summons he had received, to surrender ; but concluded by swear- ing 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 electrified his auditors. The privy counsellors, who had long been accustom- ed to the governor's way, and in fact had been brought ( into as perfect discipline as were ever the soldiers of the great Frederick, saw that there was no use in say- ing a word — so lighted their pipes and smoked away in silence like fat and discreet counsellors. But the bur- gomasters being less under the governor's control, con- sidering themselves as representatives 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 morality, the WASHINGTON IRVING. 161 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 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 Twiller himself — what then must have been its effects upon the great Stuyvesant, who was not only a Dutch- man, a governor, 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 1 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 traitorously 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 de- fend the colony himself, 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-cham- ber, 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 appointed as chairman one Dofue Roerback, a mighty gingerbread-baker in the land, and formerly of the cabinet of William the Testy. He was looked up to with great reverence by the populace, who consider- ed him a man of dark knowledge, seeing he was the first that imprinted new-year cakes with the mysterious hie- roglyphics of the cock and breeches, and such like ma- gical devices. This great burgomaster, who still chewed the cud of ill will against the valiant Stuyvesant, in consequence, o 2 162 BEAUTIES OF of having been ignominiously kicked out of his cabinet at the time of his taking the reins of government, addres- sed 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 com- ply therewith — of his denying the public a sight of the summons, which, he had no doubt, contained conditions highly to the honour and advantage of the province. He then proceeded to speak of his 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 peo- ple that the history of the world did not contain a de- spotic outrage to equal the present for atrocity, cruel- ty, 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 liber- ties 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 va- riety 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 pre- sent day, and may be classed in rhetoric under the ge- neral title of Rigmarole. The speech of this inspired burgomaster being fi- nished, the meeting fell into a kind of popular fermenta- tion, which produced not only a string of right wise re- solutions, but likewise a most resolute memorial, ad- dressed 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 invalu- able document, that might have served as a precedent to the enlightened cobblers and tailors of the present day j in their sage intermeddlings with politics. WASHINGTON IRVING. 163 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 reverend with the gloom of departed years, seemed to fit it for the haunt of solemn meditation. A Sun- day, too, in the country, is so holy in its repose ; such a pensive quiet reigns over the face of nature, that every restless passion is charmed 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 bridal of the earth 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. The only being that seemed thoroughly to feel the humble and prostrate piety of a true Christian, was a poor decrepid 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 ap- pearance. 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 faultering voice of 164 BEAUTIES OF that poor woman arose to heaven far before the re- sponses 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 at- tracted 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 gene- rally wheeling about it. I was seated there one still sunny morning watching two labourers who were dig- ging a grave. They had chosen one of the most remote and neglected corners of the church-yard ; where, from the number of nameless graves around, it would appear 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 af- fected woe ; but there was one real mourner 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 par- son issued from the church porch, arrayed in the sur- plice, with prayer-book in hand, and attended by the WASHINGTON IRVING. 165 clerk. The service, however, was a mere act of cha- rity. The deceased had been destitute, and the sur- vivor was pennyless. It was shuffled through, there- fore, in form, but coldly and unfeelingly. 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 sublime and touching ceremony, turned into such a frigid mummery of words. I approached the grave. The coffin was placed on the ground. On it were inscribed the name and age of the deceased — " 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 the lips, that she was gazing on the last relics of her son, with the yearnings of a mother's heart. Preparations were made to deposit the coffin into the earth. There was that bustling stir which breaks so harshly on the feelings of grief and affection ; directions given in the cold tones of 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 to awaken the mother from a wretched reverie. She raised her glazed eyes, and looked about with a faint wildness. As the men ap- proached 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 t c whisper 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 agonise her ; but, when, on some accidental obstruction, there was a justling of the cof- fin, all the tenderness of the mother burst forth ; as if any harm could come to him who was far beyond the Teach of worldly suffering. 166 BEAUTIES OF I could see no more — my heart swelled into my throat — my eyes filled with tears — I felt as if I were acting a barbarous part in standing by and gazing idly on this scene of maternal anguish. I wandered to another part of the church yard, where I remained until the funeral train had dispersed. 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 soothe — 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 soon rise above the pressure — their green and subtile affections soon twine round new objects. But the sorrows of the poor, who have no outward appliances to soothe — the sorrows of the aged, with whom life at best is but a wintry day, and who can look for no aftergrowth of joy — the sorrows of a widow, 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 accom- panying the mother to her lonely habitation, and I drew from her some particulars connected with the affecting scene I had witnessed. 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 as- sistance of a small garden, had supported themselves creditably and comfortably, and led a happy and a blameless life. They had only one son, who had growm 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 WASHINGTON IRVING. 167 see him of a Sunday, dressed out in his best, so tall, so straight, so cheery, supporting his old mother 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 ser- vice of one of the small craft that plied on a neighbour- ing river. He had not been long in this employ when he was entrapped 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 in- firm, grew heartless and melancholy, and sunk into his grave. The widow, left lonely, in her age and feeble- ness, could no longer support herself, and came upon the parish. Still there was a kind of feeling towards her throughout the village, and a certain respect as be- ing 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 supplied 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 circumstances were told me, that she was gathering some vegetables 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 seaman's clothes, 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 faultering ; 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 ? your poor boy George ?" It was indeed the wreck of her once noble lad ; who, shattered by his wounds, by 168 BEAUTIES OF sickness and foreign imprisonment, had, at length, dragged his wasted limbs homeward, to repose among the scenes of his childhood. I will not attempt to detail the particulars of such a meeting, where 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 suffi- cient. 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 com- fort 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 unwilling 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 de- spondency ; 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 administered to his helpless- ness. Oh ! there is an enduring tenderness in the love of a mother to a son that transcends all other af- fections of the heart. It is neither to be chilled by selfishness, nor daunted by danger, nor weakened by worthlessness, nor stifled by ingratitude. She will sacrifice every comfort to his convenience ; she will surrender every pleasure to his enjoyment; she will glory in his fame, and exult in his prosperity : — and if misfortune overtake him, he will be the dearer to her from his misfortunes ; and if disgrace 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. WASHINGTON IRVING. 169 Poor George Sommers had known what it was to be In sickness, and none to soothe — 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 fol- low 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 humble tale of affliction, was to visit the cottage of the mourner, and administer pecuniary assistance, and, if possible, com- fort. I found, however, 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 sorrows, I 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 accustomed seat on the steps of the altar. She had made an effort to put on something like mourning for her son, and nothing could be more touch- ing than this struggle between pious affection and utter poverty : a black ribband or so — a faded black handker- chief, 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 which 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 offering up the prayers and praises of a pious, though a broken 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 exerted themselves to render her situation more com- fortable, and to lighten her afflictions. It was, how- p 170 BEAUTIES OF ever, 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 the church, and before I left the neigh- bourhood I heard, with a feeling of satisfaction, that she had quietly breathed her last, and had gone to re- join those she loved, in that world where sorrow is never known, and friends are never parted. STORM AT SEA. The storm increased with the night. The sea was lashed into tremendous confusion. There was a fear- ful, 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 darkness 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 plunging among these roaring caverns, it seemed miraculous that she regained her balance, or preserved her buoyancy. Her yards would dip into the water ; her bow was almost buried beneath the waves. Sometimes an impending surge appeared ready to ovenjdrelm her, and nothing but a dexterous movement of tHfe helm preserved her from the shock. . When I retired to my cabin, the awful scene still followed me. The whistling of the wind through the rigging sounded like funeral wailings. The creaking of the masts, the straining and groaning of bulk heads, as the ship laboured in the weltering sea, were fright- ful. 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. 171 JOHN BULL. There is no species of humour in which the English more excel, than that which consists in caricaturing and giving ludicrous appellations, or nicknames. In this way they have whimsically designated, not merely indi- viduals, 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 something grand, heroic, and im- posing ; 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 na- tional 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 pri- vate 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 captivated with the beau ideal which they have formed of John Bull, and endeavour to act up to the broad caricature that is perpetually before their eyes. Urduckily, they sometimes make their boasted Bull-ism an apology for their prejudice or grossness ; and this I have especially noticed among those truly home-bred and genuine sons of the soil who have never migrated beyond 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 172 BEAUTIES OF 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 foreign refine- ments, he thanks heaven for his ignorance — he is a plain John Bull, and has no relish for frippery and nicknacks, His very proneness to be gulled by strangers, and to pay extravagantly for absurdities, is excused under the plea of munificence — for John is always more generous than wise. Thus, under the name of John Bull, he will con- trive to argue every fault into a merit, and will frankly convict himself of being the honestest fellow in exis- tence. However little, therefore, the character may have suited in the first instances, it has gradually adapted itself to the nation, or rather they have adapted them- selves to each other; and a stranger who wishes to study English peculiarities, may gather much valuable information from the innumerable portraits of John Bull, as exhibited in the windows of the caricature shops. Still, however, he is one of those fertile hu- mourists, that are continually throwing out new por- traits, and presenting different aspects from different points of view; and, often 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, matter-of-fact fellow, with much less of poetry about him than rich prose. There is little of romance in his nature, but a vast deal of strong natural feeling. He excels in humour more than in wit ; is jolly rather than gay ; melancholy rather 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 himself; and he will stand by a friend in a quarrel, with life and purse, however soundly he may be cudgelled. WASHINGTON IRVING. 173 In this last respect, to tell the truth, he has a pro- pensity 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 without asking his advice ; though he seldom engages in any friendly office of the kind without finishing by getting into 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 ac- complished himself in the use of his limbs and his wea- pons, and become a perfect master at boxing and cudgel play, he has had a troublesome 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 rela- tions of pride and policy so completely over the whole country, that no event can take place without infringing some of his finely-spun rights and dignities. Couched in his little domain, with these filaments stretching forth in every direction, he is like some choloric, 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 af- fray; he always goes into a fight with alacrity, but 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 p2 174 BEAUTIES OF his antagonist pocket all that they have been quarrelling' 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 farthing ; 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 un- injured, 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 cockfights, and carrying a high head among "gentlemen of the fancy ;" but immediately after one of these fits of extra- vagance, he will be taken with violent qualms of eco- nomy ; stop short at the most trivial expenditure ; talk desperately of being ruined, and brought upon the parish ; and in such moods, he will not pay the smal- lest tradesman's bill without violent altercation. He is, in fact, the most punctual and discontented paymas- ter in the world ; drawing his coin out of his breeches' pocket with infinite reluctance ; paying to the utter- most farthing, but accompanying every guinea with a growl. With all this talk of economy, however, he is a boun- tiful provider, and a hospitable housekeeper. His eco- nomy is of a whimsical kind, its chief object being to devise how he may afford 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 neighbours 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. WASHINGTON IRVING. 175 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 architecture, and is as solid as ponder- ous 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 edifice from time to time, and great alterations have taken place ; towers and battlements have been erected during the wars and tumults ; wings built in times of peace ; and out-houses, lodges, and offices, run up according to the whim or convenience of different generations : until it has become one of the most spacious, rambling tene- ments imaginable. An entire wing is taken up with a family chapel ; a reverend pile that must once have been exceedingly sumptuous, and, indeed, in spite of having been altered and simplified at various periods, has still a look of solemn religious pomp. Its walls within are storied with the monuments of John's ances- tors ; and it is snugly fitted up with soft cushions and well-lined chairs, where such of his family as are in- clined 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 its vicinity, and several of his neighbours, with whom he has had quarrels, are strong papists. 176 BEAUTIES OF 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 Christian, who always backs the old gentle- man in his opinions, winks discreetly at his little pec- cadilloes, rebukes the children 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 punc- tually, 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, unwieldy furniture, and loads of massy gorgeous old plate. The vast fire-places, ample kitchens, extensive cellars, and sumptuous ban- quetting halls — all speak of the roaring hospitality of days of yore, of which the modern festivity at the ma- nor-house is but a shadow. There are, however, com- plete suites of rooms apparently deserted and time worn ; and towers and turrets that are tottering to decay ; so that in high winds there is a danger 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 parts pulled down, and the others strength- ened with their materials ; but the old gentleman al- ways 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 tempests — that it has stood for several hundred years, and, therefore, 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 unwieldy size and irregular construction, these result from its being the growth of centuries, and being im- proved 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 WASHINGTON IRVING. 177 the building as superfluous, he insists that it is ma- terial 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 disposition to protect and patronize. He thinks it indispensible to the dignity of an ancient and honour- able family to be bounteous in its appointments, and to be eaten up by dependents ; and so, partly from pride > and partly from kind-heartedness, he makes it a rule always to give shelter and maintenance to his superan- nuated servants. The consequence is, that, like many other venerable family establishments, his manor is encumbered by old retainers 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 person- age. 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 garisoned 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 mouldering 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 ex- pense 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 ha 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, 178 BEAUTIES OF 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 neighbours were to imitate, would not be to their discredit. Indeed, it is one of his greatest pleasures to point out these old steeds to his visitors, to dwell on their good qualities, extol their past servi- ces, and boast with some little vain-glory, of the peril- ous adventures and hardy exploits, through which they have carried him. He is given, however, to indulge his veneration for family usages, and family encumbrances, 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 regularly 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 cen- turies. Owls have taken possession of the dovecote ; but they are hereditary owls, and must not be disturbed. 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 weathercock ; and old grey-headed rats may be seen in every quarter of the house, running in and out of their holes undauntedly, in broad daylight. In short, John has such a reverence for every thing that has been long in the family, that he will not hear even of abuses being reformed, because they are good old family abuses. All these whims and habits have concurred woefully to drain the old gentleman's purse ; and as he prides himself on punctuality in money matters, and wishes to maintain his credit in the neighbourhood, they have caused him great perplexity in meeting his engagements. This, too, has been increased, by the altercations and heart-burnings which are continually taking place in his family. His children bave been brought up to differ- ent callings, and are of different ways of thinking ; and WASHINGTON IRVING. 179 as they have always been allowed to speak their mind freely, they do not fail to exercise the privilege most clamourously 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, whatever may be the cost ; others, who are more pru- dent and considerate, entreat the old gentleman to re- trench his expenses, and to put his whole system of house- keeping on a more moderate footing. He has, indeed, at times, seemed inclined to listen to their opinions, but their wholesome advice has been completely de« feated by the obstreperous conduct 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 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, takes 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 ; hectors the old man about his spend- thrift practices ; ridicules his tastes and pursuits ; in- sists 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 growl- ing to the ale-house whenever an equipage drives up to the door. Though constantly complaining of the empti- ness 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 which he preaches about his father's extravagance. It may readily be imagined how little such thwarting agrees with the old cavalier's fiery temperament. He has become so irritable, from repeated crossings, that the mere mention of retrenchment or reform is a signal for a brawl between him and the tavern oracle. As 180 BEAUTIES OF the latter is too sturdy and refractory for paternal dis- cipline, 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 racketting roystering life ; and is ready, at a wink or a nod, to out sabre and flourish 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, when- ever his affairs 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 extrava- gance, things must be badly managed. They under- stand he is mortgaged over head and ears, and is con- tinually dabbling with money lenders. 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 knowri many finer estates come to the hammer." What is worst of all, is the effect which these pecu- niary embarassments and domestic feuds have had on the poor man himself. Instead of that jolly round cor- poration, and smug rosy face, which he used to present, he has of late become 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 apparently 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- WASHINGTON IRVING. 181 cornered hat on one side ; flourishing his cudgel, and bringing it down every moment with a hearty thump upon the 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 drooping down, his cudgel tucked under his arm, and his hands thrust to the bottom of his breeches pockets, which are evidently 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 concern, he takes fire in an instant ; swears 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, longs exceedingly to have another bout at quarterstafF. Though there may be something rather whimsical in all this, yet I confess I cannot look upon John's situa- tion without strong feelings of interest. With all his odd humours and obstinate prejudices, he is a sterling- 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 quarrel- someness of his courage ; his credulity of his open faith ; his vanity of his pride ; and his bluntness of his sin- cerity. They are all the 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 growth and grandeur of the timber ; and whose branches make a fearful groaning and murmuring in the least storm, from their very magnitude and luxuriance. There is some- thing, too, in the appearance of his old family mansion that is extremely poetical and picturesque ; and, as long as it can be rendered comfortably habitable, I should almost tremble to see it meddled with during the present Q 182 BEAUTIES OF 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 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 dint 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 chil- dren 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 territory in his composition, and almost looked upon himself as owner of a principality. He began to com- plain of the fatigue 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 whisking off the flies, for a full hour before the house. Then the doctor's saddle-bags would be brought out and adjusted ; 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 mean time, a group of ragged boys, that observant class of beings, would gather before the door. At length the doctor would issue forth, in a pair of jack-boots that reached above his knees, Carwe/jnenee WASHINGTON IRVING. 183 and a cocked hat flapped down 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 won- der 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 were answered by the housekeeper from the door, or Dolph from the study, or the black 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 toning 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 sticking in it ; a knot would collect at the gro- cer'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 fre- quent 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 cele« brated Roman Knight, cousin to the progenitor of his Majesty of Britain, who left his native country on occa- sion 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 member of the family, I have sometimes ventured to doubt the authen- ticity of this portion of their annals, to the great vexation 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 184 BEAUTIES OF has been the rule for the Cocklofts to marry one of theif own name ; and as they always breed 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 with- out starting a warren of genuine Cocklofts. Every person of the least observation or experience must have observed, that where this practice of marrying cou- sins and second cousins prevails in a family, every member, in the course of a few generations, becomes queer, humourous, and original ; as much distinguished from the common race of mongrels, as if he were of a different species. This has happened in our family, and particularly in that branch of it of which Christo- pher Cockloft, Esq. is the head — Christopher is, in fact, the only married man of the name who resides in town ; his family is small, having lost most of his chil- dren 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 ex- periment 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 dry, repeated this wise experiment three or four times of a morning. The consequence was, the poor little souls died one after the other, 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 theory; and even brought the parson of the parish, in which my cousin's country house is situated to her aid ; but in vain, Christopher persisted, and attributed the failure of his plan to it not having been exactly conformed to. As I have mentioned Mrs. Cockloft, I may as well say a little more about her while WASHINGTON IRVING. 185 I am in the humour. She is a lady of wonderful nota- bility, a warm admirer of shining mahogany, clean hearths, and her husband, whom she considers the wisest man in the world, beating Will Wizard and the parson 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 en- titled to ascend a pulpit unless he has been ordained by a bishop ; nay, so far does she carry her orthodoxy, that all the arguments in the world will never persuade her that a Presbyterian or Baptist, or even a Calvinist, 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 hyste- rics when my cousin insisted that one of his boys should be christened after our laureate, because the parson of the parish had told her, that Pindar was the name of a Pagan writer, famous for his love of boxing-matches, wrestling, and horse-racing. To sum up all her quali- fications in the shortest possible way, 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 Jeremy 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 servants 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 cus- tom to call every member of the family 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 our- selves undisturbed, save at meal times. This apartment old Cockloft 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 maintains its station at the q2 180 BEAUTIES OF foot of the table, in defiance of mutton, poultry, 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 country, who profess a wonderful regard for Cousin Christopher ; and overwhelm every member of his household, down to the cook in the kitchen, with their attentions. We have for three weeks past been greeted with the com- pany 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 snufT, all the time they have been here : the whole family are bewildered with church-yard tales of sheeted ghosts, white horses without heads, and with large goggle eyes in their buttocks ; and not one of the old servants dare budge an inch after dark with- out a numerous company at his heels. My cousin's visitors, however, always return his hospitality with due gratitude, and now and then remind him of their frater- nal 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 relations, who all think him a prodigy, and often stand astounded, 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 as- serted, that this world revolved round the sun, and that the moon was certainly inhabited. The family mansion bears equal marks of antiquity with 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 abandon it. The consequence is, WASHINGTON IRVING. 187 it has been so patched up and repaired, that it has be- come as full of whims and oddities as its tenants ; re- quires to be nursed and humoured like a gouty old cod- ger 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 domes- tics 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 generations of the Cocklofts, and, of course, has become a personage of no little im- portance in the household. He calls all the family by their christian names ; tells long stories about how he dandled them on his knee when 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 snail's pace, a dozen in a row, and harmoniously jing- ling their bells. Whim- whams are the inheritance of the Cocklofts, and every member of the household is a humourist sui generis, from the master down to the foot- man. The very cats and dogs are humourists ; 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 piteously. Jeremy in- sists that this is owing to a peculiar delicacy in the or- ganization of his ears, and supports his positions 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 188 BEAUTIES OF the time of my grandfather. A propensity to save every thing that bears the stamp of family antiquity has accumulated an abundance of trumpery and rubbish 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 candle- sticks, and looking glasses with frames carved into fan- tastic shapes, of feathered sheep, of 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 proportions, that it is quite a serious undertaking to gallant one of them across the room ; and sometimes make a most equivocal noise when you sit down in a hurry, the mantle-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, exhibiting 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 morn- ing 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. My cousin Christopher enjoys unlimited authority in the mansion of his forefathers ; he is truly what may be termed a hearty old blade — has a florid, sunshiny countenance, and, if you will only praise his wine, and laugh at his long stories, 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 none of the best, and often repeated, are apt to create a disposition to yawn WASHINGTON IRVING. 189 being, in addition to their other qualities, most unrea- sonably long. His prolixity is the more afflicting to me, since I have all his stories by heart ; and when he enters 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 ac- quaintance, cousin Cockloft is blessed with a most pro- voking retentive memory, and can give day and date, and name, and age, and circumstance, with most unfeel- ing precision. These, however, are but trivial foibles, forgotten, or remembered only with a kind of tender respectful pity, by those who knew with what a rich redundant harvest of kindness and generosity his heart is stored. It would delight you to see with what social gladness he welcomes a visitor 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 enquiring after the welfare of their families, and receiving 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 gentle- man considers it treason against the majesty of good breeding to speak to any visitor 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 the son of a generation of bar- bers ; 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 190 BEAUTIES OF to own it, always does honour to his majesty's birth day, by inviting a few cavaliers, like himself, to dinner ; and gracing his table with more than ordinary festivity. 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 disapproba- tion of the sound. He once, in the fulness of his heart, observed to me that green pease 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 fact 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 liking 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 handirons, and smoak his cigar, and screw his phiz, and spin away tremendous long stories of his travels, for a whole evening, to the great delight of the old gentleman and lady, and espe- cially of the young ladies, who, like Desdemona, do " seriously incline," 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-natured soul, whom I never saw in a passion but once ; and that was occa- sioned by seeing an old favourite beau of hers kiss the hand of a pretty blooming girl ; and, in truth, she only WASHINGTON IRVING. 191 got angry because, as she very properly said, it would spoil the child. Her sister Margery, or Maggie, as she is familiarly termed, seemed disposed to maintain her post as a belle, until a few months since ; when acci- dentally hearing a gentleman observe that she broke very fast, she suddenly left off going to the assembly, took a cat into high favour, and began to rail at the forward pertness of young misses. From that moment I set her down 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 almost any thing but make people young. They are, notwithstanding, still warm candidates for female favour; look venerably tender, and repeat over and over the same honeyed speeches and sugared sentiments to the little belles that they 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 contrary, 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 plen- tiful stock of whims, and oddities, and whalebone ha- bits : 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 poneys in a pasture, striving to supply the absence 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 passions into something like love, by basking 192 BEAUTIES OF in the sunshine of beauty ; and it did remind me of an old moth attempting to fly through a pane of glass towards a light without ever approaching near enough to warm itself, or scorch its wings. Never, I firmly believe, did there exist a family that went more by tangents than the Cocklofts. — Every thing is governed 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 accom- modated 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 refreshing 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 cousin, as he is rather apt to do, betray any symptoms of vexation or uneasiness, no matter about what, he is worried to death with inquiries, which answer no other end but to demonstrate the good will of the inquirer, and put him in a passion ; for every body knows how provoking 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 re- member, a few months ago, the old gentleman came home in quite a squall ; kicked poor Caesar, the mastiff, out of his way, as he came through the hall ; threw his hat on the table with most violent emphasis, and pulling out his box, took three huge pinches of snuff, and threw 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 Cockloft began " my dearing" it as fast as tongue could move ; the young ladies took each a stand at an elbow of his chair : Jeremy marshalled in rear ; the servants came tumbling in ; the mastiff put up an enquiring nose ; and even grimalkin, after he had cleansed his whiskers and WASHINGTON IRVING. 193 finished sneezing, discovered indubitable signs of sym- pathy. After the most affectionate enquiries on all sides, it turned out that my cousin, in crossing the street, had got his silk stockings bespattered with mud by a coach which it seems belonged to a dashing gen- tleman who 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 conversa- tion which took place concerning the insolence of up- starts, and 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 intro- duction 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 ignorance of religion. It is true, they neither stole nor defrauded ; they were sober, frugal, continent, and faithful to their word ; but though they acted right habitually, it was all in vain, unless they acted so from precept. The new comers therefore used every method to induce them to embrace 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 194 BEAUTIES OF conduct the advocates of Christianity did not seem to believe in it themselves. Was not this too much for human patience ? — would not one suppose, that the be- nign visitants from Europe, provoked at their incredu- lity, and discouraged, by their stiff-necked obstinacy, would for ever have abandoned their shores, and con- signed 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 per- suasion to the more painful and troublesome one of persecution — let loose among them whole troops of fiery monks and furious blood-hounds — purified them by fire and sword, by stake and faggot ; in consequence 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 ad- vance to the country than this ? Have not whole nations of uninformed 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 affec- tions 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 recompence to their benefactors, in surrendering to them a little pitiful tract of this dirty sublunary planet, in exchange for a glorious inheritance in the kingdom of Heaven !" Here, then, are three complete and undeniable sources WASHINGTON IRVING. 195 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 influ- ence of cultivation so industriously extended, and the progress of salvation and civilization so zealously pro- secuted; that, what with their attendant wars, persecu- tions, oppressions, diseases, and other partial evils that often hang on the skirts of great benefits, the savage aborigines have, some how or another, been utterly an- nihilated ; and this all at once brings me to a fourth right, which is worth all the others put together; for the ori- ginal 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 malefactor — and as they have Black- stone,* 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 exter- mination, 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 andPortuguese ; who, thus having law and gospel on their side, and be- ing inflamed with great spiritual zeal, shewed the Pagan savages neither favour nor affection, but prosecuted the work of discovery, colonization, civilization, and exter- mination, with ten times more fury than ever. Thus were the European worthies who first discover- ed America clearly entitled to the soil ; and not only en- titled to 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 heathenish condition — for having made * Bl. Com. b. ii c. 1. 196 BEAUTIES OF 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 Straddle, 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, Brummagem, so famous for its manufactories of gimblets, pen-knives, and pepper-boxes, and where they make buttons and beaux enough to in- undate our whole country. He was a young man of considerable standing in the manufactory at Birming- ham ; sometimes had the honour to hand his master's daughter into a tim-whiskey, was the oracle of the ta- vern 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. Stradle was, moreover, a member of a catch-club, and was a great hand at ring- ing 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 mem- ber of a spouting club ; had seen a company of strolling actors perform in a barn, and had even, like Abel Drug- ger, " enacted" the part of Major Sturgeon with consi- derable applause ; he was consequently a profound critic, and fully authorised to turn up his nose at any Ameri- can performances. He had twice partaken of annual dinners, given to the head manufacturers 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,. WASHINGTON IRVING. 197 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, sell-important " qemmen.'' 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 determined 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 satisfaction, the bustle and confusion his arrival would occasion ; 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 Birming- ham. He had heard of the beauty of our women, and chuckled at the thought of how completely he should eclipse their unpolished beaux, and the number of des- pairing 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 paddled 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 fellow-apprentices, who assured him that it was the Latin word for inhabitants. 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 in- sisted upon goins: on shore there to rather some c:ood b 2 198 BEAUTIES OF cabbages, of which he was excessively fond. Straddle, however, denied all this, and declared it to be a mis- chievous 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 constant- ly employed for a month before his departure ; equip- ped 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-topped boots, that seemed to stand on tiptoe to reach his breeches, and his hat had the true translantic declination towards his right ear. The fact was — nor did he make any secret of it — he was determined to astonish the natives a few t 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 lodg- ings unmolested by a crowd, and even unnoticed by a single individual ; — no love-letters came pouring in up- on him ; — no rivals lay in wait to assassinate him ; — his very dress excited no attention, for there were many fools dressed equally ridiculous with himself. This was mor- tifying indeed to an aspiring youth, who had come out with the idea of astonishing and captivating. He was equally unfortunate in his pretensions to the character of critic, connoisseur, and boxer ; he condemned our whole dramatic corps, and every thing appertaining to the theatre ; but his critical abilities were ridiculed ; — he found fault with old Cockloft's dinner, not even sparing his wine, and was never invited to the house afterwards ; — 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 all his attempts at notoriety, Straddle hit on the expedient which was resorted toby the Giblets ; — he determined to take the town by storm. He accordingly bought horses and equipages, 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 WASHINGTON IRVING. 199 to use a true cockney phrase, Brummagem suffered. But this was a circumstance that made little impression upon Straddle, who was now a lad of spirit — and lads of spi- rit always dispise the sordid cares of keeping another man's money. Suspecting this circumstance, I never could witness any of his exhibitions of style without some whimsical association of ideas. Did he give an entertainment to a host of guzzling friends, I immedi- ately fancied them gormandizing heartily at the expense of poor Birmingham, and swallowing a consignment of hand-saws and razors. Did I behold him dashing 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 horseman- ship, but my mischievous imagination would picture him spurring a cask of hardware, like rosy Bachus bestrid- ing a beer-barrel, or the little gentleman who be-strad dies the world in the front of Hutching's Almanack. 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 in his curricle or his gig, the candi- date is like a statue elevated on a high pedestal ; his me- rits are discernable from afar, and strike the dullest optics. Oh ! Gotham, Gotham ! most enlightened of cities ! how does my heart swell with delight when I behold your sapient inhabitants lavishing their attention with such wonderful discernment ! Thus Straddle became quite a man of ton, and was caressed, and courted, and invited to dinners and balls. Whatever was absurd or ridiculous in him before was now declared to be the style. He criticised our theatre, and was listened to with reverence. He pronounced our musical entertainments barbarous ; and the judgment of Apollo 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 ma- '200 BEAUTIES OF lediction on every thing ; and his arguments were con- clusive — for he supported every assertion with a bet. He was likewise pronounced by the learned in the fash- ionable world a young man of great research and deep observation — for he had sent home, as natural curiosi- ties, 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 In- dian, and a cataract, but without success. In fine, the people talked of Straddle and his equipage, and Straddle talked of his horses, until it was impossible for the most critical observer 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 swaggered about parlours and drawing-rooms with the same unceremonious 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. He became the great man of all the taverns between New- York and Haerlem ; 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 staggered from the dinner- table to the play, entered the box like a tempest, and staid 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 number of other depredations, and make the whole company sensible of his infinite condescension in com- ing 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 fash- ionable gentleman, and struck with astonishment at his WASHINGTON IRVING. 201 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 Englishman, and their wives treated him with great defference because he had come from beyond seas. I cannot help here observ- ing that your salt water 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 fa- shion was checked by some of those stumbling-blocks in the way of aspiring youth called creditors — or duns : — 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 society, the tailors and shoe- makers, rose in rebellion against Straddle. In vain were all his remonstrances ; in vain did he prove to them, that though he had given thern 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 prosecutors pounced upon his back, Straddle saw there was but one way for it : he determined to do the thing genteelly, 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—ne plus ultra — the d — 1. Unfortunate Straddle ! may thy fate be a warning to all young gentlemen who come out from Birmingham to astonish the natives ! — I should never have taken the trouble to delineate his character, had he not been a genuine Cockney, and worthy to be the representative of his numerous tribe. Perhaps my simple country- men may hereafter be able to distinguish between the real English gentleman and individuals of the cast I have heretofore spoken of, as mere mongrels, spring- ing at one bound from contemptible obscurity at home to daylight and splendour in this good-natured land. The true-born and true-bred English gentleman is a 202 BEAUTIES OF character I hold in great respect ; and I love to look back to the period when our forefathers flourished in the same generous soil, and hailed each other as bro- thers. But the Cockney ! — 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 character men- tioned 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 Tappaan 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 generally and properly known by the name of Tarry Town. This name was given, we are told, in former days, by the good house- wives of the adjacent country, from the inveterate pro- pensity 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 vil- lage, perhaps about three miles, there is a little valley, or rather lap of land, among high hills, which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. A small brook glides through it, with just murmur enough to lull one to repose ; and the occasional whistle of a quail, or tap- ping of a woodpecker, is almost the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform tranquillity. I recollect, that when a stripling, my first exploit in squirrel shooting was in a grove of tall walnut trees WASHINGTON IRVING. 203 f 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 re- verberated 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 neighbouring 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 In- dian 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 continues 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 sub- ject to trances and visions ; and frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in the air. The whole neighbourhood abounds with local tales, haunt- ed spots, and twillight 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 gambols. The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this en- chanted region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of all the powers 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 204 BEAUTIES OF during the revolutionary 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 valley, but extend at times to the adjacent roads, and especially to the vicini- ty of a church that is at no great distance. Indeed, certain of the most authentic historians of those parts, who have been careful in collecting and collating the floating 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 super- stition, which has furnished materials for many a wild story in that region of shadows ; and the spectre is known, at all the country fire-sides, by the name of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. It is remarkable that the visionary propensity I have mentioned 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 before they entered that sleepy region, they are sure, in a little time to inhale the witch- ing influence of the air, and begin to grow imaginative — to dream dreams, and see apparitions. I mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud ; for it is in such little retired Dutch valleys, found here and there, embosomed in the great state of New York, that population, manners, and customs remain fixed ; while the great torrent 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, or slowly revolving in their mimic harbour, undisturbed by the rush of the passing current. Though many years have elapsed fckafax? Crane WASHINGTON IRVING. 205 since I trod the drowsy shades of Sleepy Hollow, yet I question whether I 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 ; whs iojourned, or, as he expressed it, " tarried," in Sleepy follow, for the purpose of instructing the children of the vicinity. He was a native of Connec- ticut : a stajfe which supplies the Union with pioneers for the mindxas well as for the forest, and sends forth yearly its legions of frontier woodmen and country schoolmasters. The cognomen of Crane was not in- applicable to his person. He 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 flat 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 striding 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 corn field. 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 em- barrassment in getting out ; an idea most probably borrowed by the architect, Yost Van Houten, from the mystery of an eel-pot. The school-house stood in 206 BEAUTIES OF a rather lonely but pleasant situation, j ust 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 bee hive ; interrupted now and then by the authoritative voice of the master, in the 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 admi- nistered justice with discrimination rather than severity ; taking the burthen off the backs of the weak, and lay- ing it on those of the strong. Your mere puny strip- ling, 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 portion on some little, tough, w T rong-headed, broad-skirted Dutch urchin, who skulked and swelled, and grew dogged, and sullen 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 com- panion and playmate of the larger boys ; and on holy- day afternoons 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 behoved him to keep on good terms with his pupils. The revenue arising from his school was small, and would have been scarcely suffi- cient to furnish him with daily bread, for he was a huge feeder, and though lank, had the dilating powers of an WASHINGTON IRVING. 207 Anaconda ; but to help out his maintenance, he was, according to country custom in those parts, boarded and lodged at the houses of the farmers, whose children he instructed. With these he lived successively a week at a time ; thus going the rounds of the neighbourhood, with all his worldly effects tied up in a cotton handker- chief. 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 burthen, and schoolmasters as mere drones, he had various ways of rendering himself both useful and agreeable. He assisted the farmers occasionally in the lighter labours of their farms ; help- ed to make hay ; 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 domi- nant dignity and absolute sway with which he lorded it in his little empire, the school, and became wonderfully gentle and ingratiating. He found favour in the eyes of the mothers, by petting the children, particularly the youngest; and like the lion bold, which whilome 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 sing- ing-master of the neighbourhood, and picked up many bright shillings by instructing the young folks in psal- mody. It was a matter of no little vanity to him on Sundays, to take his station in front of the church gal- lery, with a band of chosen singers ; where, in his own mind, he completely carried 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 in- genious way which is commonly denominated " by hook and by crook," the worthy pedagogue got on tolerably 208 BEAUTIES OF enough, and was thought, by all who understood no- thing of the labour of head work, to have a wonderful easy life of it. Superstition, But all these were nothing to the tales of ghosts and apparitions that suceeded. The neighbourhood is rich in legendary treasures of the kind. Local tales and su- perstitions 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-established Dutch communities. The immediate cause, however, of the prevalence of supernatural stories in these parts, was doubtless owing to the vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. There was a conta- gion 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 Tassel's, and, as usual, were dolling out their wild and wonderful legends. Many dismal tales were told about funeral trains, and mourn- ing 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 haunted 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 Hollow, the headless horseman, who had been heard several times of late, patrolling the country ; and it was said, WASHINGTON IRVING. 209 tethered his horse nightly among the graves in the church-yard. The sequestered situation of this church seems al- ways to have made it a favourite 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 forth, like Christian purity, beaming through the shades of retirement. A gentle slope de- scends 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, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think 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 over- hanging trees, which cast a gloom about it, even in the day-time ; but occasioned 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 gal- loped 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 sprung 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 s2 210 BEAUTIES OF at all love stories, and to treat the tales of romantic pas- sion as mere fictions of novelists and poets. My ob- servations on human nature have induced me to think otherwise. They have convinced me, that however the surface of the character may be chilled and frozen by the cares of the world, or cultivated into mere smiles by the arts of society, still there are dormant fires lurking in the depths of the coldest bosom, which, when once enkindled, become impetuous, and are sometimes deso- lating in their effects. Indeed, I am a true believer in the blind deity, and go to the full extent of his doctrines. Shall I confess it ! — I believe in broken hearts, and the possibility of dying of disappointed love. I do not, however, consider it a malady often fatal to my own sex ; but I firmly believe that it withers down many a lovely woman into an early grave. Man is the creature of interest and ambition. His nature 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. Her heart is her world : it is there her ambition strives for empires ; it is there her avarice seeks for hidden trea- sures. She sends forth her sympathies on adventures ; she embarks her whole soul in the traffic of affection ; and if shipwrecked, her case is hopeless — for it is a bank- ruptcy of the heart. To a man the disappointment of love may occasion some bitter pangs : it wounds some feelings of tender- ness — it blasts some prospects of felicity ; but he is an active being — he may dissipate his thoughts in the whirl of varied occupation, 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 WASHINGTON IRVING. 211 own thoughts and feelings ; and if they are turned to ministers of sorrow, where shall she look for consola- tion ? Her lot is to be wooed and won ; and if unhappy in her love, her heart is like some fortress that has been captured, and sacked, and abandoned and left desolate. How many bright eyes grow dim — how many soft cheeks grow pale — how many lovely forms fade away in- to the tomb, and none can tell the cause that blighted their loveliness ! As the dove will clasp its wings to its side, and cover and conceal the arrow that is preying on its vitals, so is it the nature of woman to hide from the world the pangs of wounded affection. The love of a delicate female is always 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 ne- glects all the cheerful exercises which gladden the spirits, quicken the pulses, and send the tide of life in health- ful currents through the veins. Her rest is broken — the sweet refreshment of sleep is poisoned by melan- choly dreams — " dry sorrow drinks her blood," until her enfeebled frame sinks under the slightest external inju- ry. Look for her, after a little while, and you will find friendship weeping over her untimely grave, and won- dering that one, who but lately glowed with all the ra- diance 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 withering, 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 pe- rished away, it falls even in the stillness of the forest; 212 BEAUTIES OF 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 repeatedly fancied that I could trace their death through the various declensions of consumption, cold, debility, languor, melancholy, until I reached the first symptom of disappointed love. But an instance of the kind was lately told to me ; the circumstances are well known in the country where they happened, and I shall but give them in the manner they were re- lated. Every one must recollect the tragical story of young E , the Irish patriot ; it was too touching to be soon forgotten. During the troubles in Ireland he was tried, condemned, 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 indignation with which he repelled the charge of treason against his country — the eloquent vindica- tion of his name — and his pathetic appeal to posterity, in the hopeless hour of condemnation — all these enter- ed deeply into every generous bosom, and even his ene- mies lamented the stern policy that dictated his execu- tion. * * This ill-starred youth was the son of Dr Emmet, a gentleman of fortune and family, whose mind was deeply imbued with repub- lican principles, which he was but too successful in impressing upon his children. His eldest son, Thomas Addis Emmet, being a sus- pected character, in 1798 he accepted the terms offered by Govern- ment, and retired to France ; from thence he proceeded to New- York, where he now holds 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 possessing more enthusiasm or less prudence than his brother, became involved in a series of in- surrections, 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 en- WASHINGTON IRVING. 213 But there was one heart, whose anguish it would be impossible to describe. In happier days and fairer for- tunes, he had won the affections of a beautiful and in- teresting girl, the daughter of a late celebrated Irish barrister. She loved him with the disinterested fer- vour of a woman's first and early love. When every gaged. This amiable female, whose hard fate is described with so much pathos by our author, was the daughter of the celebrated John Philpot Curran. The following address was 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 suffer 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 dies, but his memory lives; and that mine may not forfeit all claim to the respect of my countrymen, I use this occasion to vindicate myself from some of the charges advanced against me. f 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 fo- reign power, and least of all, to France. No ! never did I entertain the idea of establishing French power in Ireland— God forbid. On the contrary, it is evident from the introductory paragraph of the address of the Provisional Government, that every hazard attending an independent effort was deemed preferable to the more fatal risk of introducing a French army 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 unprinci- pled and abandoned instruments of imposing slavery on others. ' If such an inference be drawn from any part of the proclamation of the Provisional 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 me- ditate 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 be- trayed 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 character, I had merited the honest execration of that country 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 dignity 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 sub- 214 BEAUTIES OF 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 suf- ferings. 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 ject myself to the bondage of the grave to give her independence — am I to be loaded with the foul and grievous calumny of b?ing an emissary of France ? ' My Lord, 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 des- potism 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 cul- prit, yet you are but a man and I am another. T have a right there- fore 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 the last use of that life in rescuing my name and my memory from the afflicting imputation of having been an emissary of France, or seeking her interference 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 countrymen to immolate them in their very boats; and before our native soil should be polluted by a foreign foe, if they succeeded in landing, I would burn every blade of grass before them, raze every house, contend to 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 I feel conscious that my death were unprofitable, and all hopes of liberty extinct, the mo- ment a French army obtained a footing on this land. God forbid that I should see my country under the hands of a foreign power. If the French should come as a foreign enemy, Oh ! my country- men ! meet them on the shore with a torch in one hand and a sword in the other: receive them with all the destruction of war; immo- late them in their boats, before our native soil shall be polluted by a foreign foe ! If they proceed in landing, fight them on the strand, burn every blade of grass before them as thev 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 left; and when but one remains, let that man set fire to the pile, and release himself, and the families of his fallen countrymen, 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 j for as no man, who knows my motives, dare vin- WASHINGTON IRVING. 215 those tell who have had the portals of the tomb sudden- ly 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 that coidd soothe the pang of separation — none of those tender, though melancholy circumstances, that en- dear the parting 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 attachment, 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 people of quick and generous sensibilities. 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 love. But it was all in vain. There are some strokes of calamity 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 with her an inward woe that mocked at all the blandishments of friendship, and " heeded not the song of the charmer, charm he never so wisely." dicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them ; let them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain unin- scribed, till other times and other men can do justice to my charac- ter.' 216 BEAUTIES OF The person who told me her story had seen her at a masquerade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone wretchedness more striking and painful than to meet it in such a scene. To find it wandering like a spectre, lonely and joyless, where all around is gay — to see it dressed out in the trappings of mirth, and looking so wan and woe-begone, as if it had tried in vain to cheat the poor heart into a momentary forgetfulness of sor- row. After strolling through the splendid rooms and giddy crowd with an air of utter abstraction, 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 garish scene, she began, with the capriciousness of a sickly heart, to warble a little plain- tive air. She had an exquisite voice ; but on this occa- sion it w r as 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 story of one so true and tender could not but excite great interest in a country remarkable for enthu- siasm. 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 for- mer lover. He, however, persisted in his suit. He solicited not her tenderness, but her esteem. 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 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 si- lent and devouring melancholy that had entered into her very soul. She wasted away in a slow, but hopeless WASHINGTON IRVING. 217 decline, and at length sunk into the grave, the victim of a broken heart. * A WRECK AT SEA. We one day descried some shapeless object drifting at a distance. At sea, every thing that breaks the mono- tony 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 this 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 ; clusters of shell fish had fastened about it, and long sea weeds flaunted at its sides. But where, thought I, is the crew ? 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, * 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 lovers 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 deir native plains, Every note which he lov'd awaking — Ah ! little they think, who delight in ner strains, How the heart of the minstrel is breaking ! He had lived for his love— for his country he died, They were all that to life had entwined him— Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him ! Oh ! make her a grave where the sun-beams rest, When they promise a glorious morrow ; They'll shine o'er her sleep like a smile from the west, From her own lov'd island of sorrow ! 218 BEAUTIES OF 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 ship ! what prayers offered up at the deserted fireside of home ! How often has the mis- tress, the wife, the mother, pored 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 dismal anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the evening, when the weather, which had hitherto been fair, began to look wild and threatening, and gave indi- cations of one of those sudden storms that will some- times 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 dis- tinguish any object at twice the length of the ship. I kept lights at the mast head, and a constant watch for- ward to look out for fishing smacks, which are accus- tomed 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 ahead !' — 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-midships. The force, the size, and weight of our vessel bore her down below the waves ; we passed over her and were hurried on our course. As the crashing wreck was sinking beneath us, I had a WASHINGTON IRVING. 219 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 drown- ing cry mingling with the wind. The blast that bore it to our ears swept us out of all further 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 tired signal guns, and listened if we might hear the halloo of any survi- vors : 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 Ame- rican'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 promise, teeming with every thing of which his childhood has heard, or on which 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, towering 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 moulder- ing ruin of an abbey overrun with ivy, and the taper spire of a village church rising from the brow of a neigh- bouring 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 220 BEAUTIES OF eager expectants of friends or relatives. I could dis- tinguish the merchant to whom the ship was consigned. I knew him by his calculating brow and restless air. His hands were thrust into his pockets ; he was whis- tling thoughtfully and walking to and fro, a small space having been accorded him by the crowd, in deference to his temporary importance. There were repeated cheerings and salutations interchanged between the shore and ship, as friends happened to recognize each other. I particularly noticed one young woman of hum- ble dress, but interesting demeanour. She was leaning 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 agi- tated ; 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 ham- mock, 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 affec- tion 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, ut- tered a faint shriek, and stood wringing them in silent agony. GENIUS. It is interesting to notice how some minds seem almost to create themselves, springing up under every disad- vantage, and working their solitary but irresistible way through a thousand obstacles. Nature seems to delight in disappointing the assiduities of art, with which it WASHINGTON IRVING. 221 would rear legitimate dullness to maturity; and to glory in the vigour and luxuriance of her chance pro- ductions. She scatters the seeds of genius to the winds, and though some may perish among the stony places of the world, and some be choaked by the thorns and bram- bles of early adversity, yet others will now and then strike root even in the clefts of the rock, struggle brave- ly 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 and unas- suming than their appearance. They generally came to church in the plainest equipage, and often on foot. The young ladies would stop and converse in the kind- est manner with the peasantry, caress the children, 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 fashionably, but simply ; with strict neatness and propriety, but without any mannerism or foppish- ness. Their whole demeanour was easy and natural, with that lofty grace and noble frankness which be- speak 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 hum- ble. It is only spurious pri