AND HIS WORKS.
Washington Irving was born, in the State of New York, in the year 1782, and is, consequently, in his fifty-first year. His early life cannot better be told than in his own graceful language, prefixed to the most celebrated of his writings as "the author's account of himself."
"I was always fond of visiting new scenes, and observing strange characters and manners. Even when a mere child I began my travels, and made many tours of discovery into foreign parts and unknown regions of my native city, to the frequent alarm of my parents, and the emolument of the town-crier. As I grew into boyhood I extended the range of my observations. My holiday afternoons were spent in rambles about the surrounding country. I made myself familiar with all its places famous in history or fable. I knew every spot where a murder or robbery had been committed, or a ghost seen. I visited the neighbouring villages, and added greatly to my stock of knowledge, by noting their habits and customs, and conversing with their sages and great men. I even journeyed one long summer's day to the summit of the most distant hill, from whence I stretched my eye over many a mile of terra incognita, and was astonished to find how vast a globe I inhabited.
"This rambling propensity strengthened with my years. Books of voyages and travels became my passion, and in devouring their contents, I neglected the regular exercises of the school. How wistfully would I wander about the pier heads in fine weather, and watch the parting ships bound to distant climes; with what longing eyes would I gaze after their lessening sails; and waft myself in imagination to the ends of the earth.
"Farther reading and thinking, though they brought this vague inclination into more reasonable bounds, only served to make it more decided. I visited various parts of my own country; and had I been merely influenced by a love of fine scenery, I should have felt little desire to seek elsewhere its gratification; for on no country have the charms of nature been more prodigally lavished. Her mighty lakes, like oceans of liquid silver; her mountains, with their bright aërial tints; her valleys, teeming with wild fertility; her tremendous cataracts, thundering in their solitudes; her boundless plains, waving with spontaneous verdure; her broad, deep rivers, rolling in solemn silence to the ocean; her trackless forests, where vegetation puts forth all its magnificence; her skies, kindling with the magic of summer clouds and glorious sunshine:—no, never need an American look beyond his own country for the sublime and beautiful of natural scenery."[2]
Mr. Irving began his career, as an author, in periodical literature. His first work was a humorous journal, entitled "Salmagundi, or the Whim-Whams and Opinions of Launcelot Langstaff, Esq. and Others," originally published in numbers in New York, where it met with a very flattering reception. The date of the first paper is Saturday, January 24, 1827.
Salmagundi has been several times reprinted in this country; and it may be acceptable to know, that the cheapest, if not the most elegant, edition may be purchased for twenty-pence. It would be difficult to explain the merits of Salmagundi to the reader, as they are of the most varied character; but, it may be remarked generally, that a vein of quaint humour and human kindness pervades these early papers, which will bring the reader and writer to the best possible terms.
This lively miscellany was followed by a humorous History of New York, with the somewhat droll nom of Dedrick Knickerbocker as its author. It possesses considerable merit, with a nice perception of the ludicrous; but, on its first appearance, this recommendation was generally overlooked, whether from the local interest of the subject, or the want of due judgment in its readers, it is difficult to determine.
About this period Mr. Irvine's name was heard in England, almost for the first time; his only claims to public notice resting entirely on Salmagundi, and the History of New York. He was indebted for his introduction to the acquaintance of European readers, to a young fellow-countryman of high attainments, who alludes to the above works and their author in the following terms:—"Mr. Irving has shown much talent and great humour in his Salmagundi and Knickerbocker, and they are exceedingly pleasant books, especially to one who understands the local allusions."
A few years subsequent to the publication of Knickerbocker, Mr. Irving visited England, or the "land of wonders," as he facetely terms our favoured isle. During his stay, he wrote a series of papers, illustrative of English manners, which were chiefly printed in America. These papers were afterwards published in a collected form, in England, under the title of "The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent." and dedicated to Sir Walter Scott, "in testimony of the admiration and affection of the author." In the advertisement to the Sketch-Book, Mr. Irving thus modestly refers to its origin:
"The author is aware of the austerity with which the writings of his countrymen have hitherto been treated by British critics: he is conscious too, that much of the contents of his papers can be interesting only in the eyes of American readers. It was not his intention, therefore, to have them reprinted in this country. He has, however, observed several of them from time to time inserted in periodical works of merit, and has understood that it was probable they would be republished in a collective form. He has been induced, therefore, to revise and bring them forward himself, that they may at least come correctly before the public. Should they be deemed of sufficient importance to attract the attention of critics, he solicits for them that courtesy and candour which a stranger has some right to claim, who presents himself at the threshold of a hospitable nation."
Mr. Irving's solicitations were not made in vain, as the rapid sale of several editions must have convinced him; while every journalist in the empire hailed the work as the most beautiful specimen of Transatlantic talent which had been recognised in this country.
The two volumes of the Sketch-Book appeared at different periods; and, at the conclusion of the second, we find the following apologetic postscript: "The author is conscious of the numerous faults and imperfections of his work; and, well aware how little he is disciplined and accomplished in the arts of authorship. His deficiencies are also increased by a diffidence arising from his peculiar situation. He finds himself writing in a strange land, and appearing before a public, which he has been accustomed, from childhood, to regard with the highest feelings of awe and reverence. He is full of solicitude to secure their approbation, yet finds that very solicitude continually embarrassing his powers, and depriving him of that ease and confidence which are necessary to successful exertion. Still the kindness with which he is treated encourages him to go on, hoping that, in time, he may acquire a steadier footing; and thus he proceeds, half venturing, half shrinking, surprised at his own good fortune, and wondering at his own temerity."
The success of the Sketch-Book was followed by the almost equal fortune of "Bracebridge Hall, or the Humorists;" a series of scenes of Old English life, as displayed in one of those venerable halls, that rise, here and there, in a British landscape, as monuments of the hospitality of our ancestors, and better times. In the autobiographical chapter of this work, the writer thus pleasantly refers to his previous success, as "a matter of marvel, that a man, from the wilds of America, should express himself in tolerable English. I was looked upon as something new and strange in literature,—a kind of demi-savage, with a leather in his hand, instead of his head; and there was a curiosity to hear what such a being had to say about civilized society." In referring the circumstances under which he writes his second work on English manners, he says: "Having been born and brought up in a new country, yet educated from infancy in the literature of an old one, my mind was filled with historical and poetical associations, connected with places, and manners, and customs of Europe; but which could rarely be applied to those of my own country. To a mind thus peculiarly prepared, the most ordinary objects and scenes, on arriving in Europe, are full of strange matter, and interesting novelty. England is as classic ground to an American, as Italy is to an Englishman; and Old London teems with as much historical association as mighty Rome." There is, also, great amiability in the concluding paragraph:—"I have always had an opinion, that much good might be done by keeping mankind in good humour with one another. I may be wrong in my philosophy; but I shall continue to practise it until convinced of its fallacy. When I discover the world to be all that it has been represented by sneering cynics and whining poets, I will turn to and abuse it also; in the meanwhile, worthy reader, I hope you will not think lightly of me, because I cannot believe this to be so very bad a world as it is represented."
Soon after the publication of Bracebridge Hall, Mr. Irving left this country, where he had passed two years with literary and pecuniary advantage. He quitted England with a pathetic farewell; declaring that if, as he is accused, he views it with a partial eye, he shall never forget that it is his "fatherland." On the consanguinity of England and America too, and the cultivation of good feeling between them, he thus touchingly expresses himself in Bracebridge Hall: "We ask nothing from abroad that we cannot reciprocate. But with respect to England, we have a warm feeling of the heart, the glow of consanguinity that still lingers in our blood. Interest apart, past differences forgotten, we extend the hand of old relationship. We merely ask, do not estrange us from you, do not destroy the ancient tie of blood, do not let scoffers and slanderers drive a kindred nation from your side. We would fain be friends, do not compel us to be enemies." There is a manly affection in these sentiments which is truly admirable.
Mr. Irving's works, with the exception of his early efforts,[3] had been the result of his love of travel: indeed, he describes himself as a traveller who has "surveyed most of the terrestrial angles of the globe." In similar vein, he next produced two volumes of "Tales of a Traveller," narrating legends of the continent, with masterly sketches of the scenery of the respective countries; the incidents of the Tales being fraught with points of grotesque humour, and abounding with pathos and poetic feeling.
To these Tales succeeded a work of greater importance in literature than either of Mr. Irving's previous undertakings. We allude to a History of the Life and Voyages of Columbus, in four vols. 8vo., which appeared in the year 1828. Mr. Irving, at the time this work was first suggested to him, in the winter of 1825-6, was at Bordeaux; and, being informed that a biography was about to appear at Madrid, containing many important and some new documents relative to Columbus, he set off for the Spanish capital, to undertake the translation of the work. Mr. Irving, however, meeting with numerous aids at Madrid, resolved on producing an original history, which he has presented to the public with extreme diffidence: "all that I can safely claim," he observes, "is, an earnest desire to state the truth, an absence from prejudices respecting the nations mentioned in my history, a strong interest in my subject, and a zeal to make up by assiduity for many deficiencies of which I am conscious." This work has been abridged by Mr. Irving to one of the volumes of the Family Library. As we have intimated to the reader, it is of higher pretensions than either of the author's previous writings: a clever critic refers to it as "a spirited and interesting work, in which every thing is as judiciously reasoned as it is beautifully and forcibly expressed," and as "much more grave in its character and laborious in its execution than any of his preceding ones."[4]
Mr. Irving's next production was "A Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada," in which the author's knowledge of Spanish history is made to shine in detailing the chivalrous glories of the New World.
In the spring of the present year it appears that Mr. Irving touched "the golden shores of old romance," and published Tales of the Alhambra; the origin of which work is thus told by the author. A few years since, Mr. Wilkie, the distinguished R.A. and Mr. Irving were fellow travellers on the continent. In their rambles about some of the old cities of Spain, they were struck with scenes and incidents which reminded them of passages in the Arabian Nights. Mr. Wilkie urged his companion to write something that should illustrate those peculiarities, "something in the Haroun Alraschid style" that should have a dash of that Arabian spice which pervades everything in Spain. Mr. Irving set about his task with enthusiasm: his study was the spacious Alhambra itself, and the governor gave the author and his companion, permission to occupy his vacant apartments in the Moorish palace: Mr. Wilkie soon returned to England, leaving Mr. Irving at the Alhambra, where he remained "for several months, spell-bound in the old enchanted pile." The result was two volumes of legends and traditions, which for interesting incident, and gracefulness of narrative, have few parallels in our romance-writing.[5] They are dedicated, in good taste, to the ingenious originator, Mr. Wilkie.
In person, Mr. Irving is of middle height; and, according to a contemporary, of "modest deportment and easy attitude, with all the grace and dignity of an English gentleman."[6] Another describes him as "a most amiable man, and great genius, but not lively in conversation." His features have a pleasing regularity, and are lit up, at every corner, with that delightful humour which flows in a rich vein throughout his writings, and forms their most attractive charm.
Having noticed Mr. Irving's principal works, we have left but little occasion to speak of his general style. A contemporary has denominated him the "Goldsmith of the age;" and of Goldsmith we must remember that, in his epitaph, Dr. Johnson observes: "he left no species of writing untouched, and adorned all to which he applied himself"—a tribute which can scarcely be appropriately paid to any writer of our time. However, we know not any author that Mr. Irving so much resembles as Goldsmith: although no imitator, his style and language forcibly remind us of that easy flow so peculiar to the Citizen of the World. But, we have higher warrant for this parallel. "It seems probable," observes a critical writer of considerable acumen, "that Mr. Irving might prove no contemptible rival to Goldsmith, whose turn of mind he very much inherits, and of whose style he particularly reminds us. Like him, too, Mr. Irving possesses the art of setting ludicrous perplexities in the most irresistible point of view, and we think equals him in the variety of humour."[7]
To conclude, we find the literary character of Mr. Irving illustrated in a contemporary journal, with unusual spirit. "There never was a writer," observes the editor, "whose popularity was more matter of feeling, or more intimate than Washington Irving, perhaps, because he appeared at once to our simplest and kindliest emotions. His affections were those of 'hearth and home;' the pictures he delighted to draw were those of natural loveliness, linked with human sympathies; and a too unusual thing with the writers of our time—he looked upon God's works, and 'saw that they were good.' * * * With him the wine of life is not always on the lees. An exquisite vein of poetry runs through every page,—and of poetry, his epithets who does not remember—'the shark, glancing like a spectre through the blue seas.'"[8]