The New York Herald Newspaper, April 4, 1860, Page 4

- Lar path to which his gemas atiracted him, 4 THB DIRTHDAY OF WASHINGTON IRVING. IMMENSE CONCOURSE OF INTELLIGENCE, Commemorative Celebration at the Academy of Music. . ORATION BEFORE THE HISTORICAL SOCIETY. Speeches of the Hon. Edward Everett and | i Ex-Governor King. | MEMORY OF THE DEAD, kes, ke, | HONOR TO THE bon 3 Tbe Academy of Masic in this city was crowded to its fullest capacity last evening, by one of the largest, most | intolligent and appreciative audiences of both sexes that has over assembled within its walls, The occasion was the commemoration of the seventy seventh anniversary of the pata! day of the great poet and historian of Ameri. ca—the biographer of Washington and of Christophor Co- lumbus—Washington Irving. Such « united tribute of esteem, affection and veneration as was shown to the memory of the deceased by his countrymen and country- women, while it must gratify the geutier feelings of every | admirer of Irving’ wonderful mind, reflects the greatest giory on the citzens of New York, who bave thue unaai- mously shown their high appreciation of departed worth. ‘The platrorm which was set apart for the "ae of the members of the EHatorical Society and a few other gon- tlemen was very simply, and yet appropri ately ornamented. Immediately in the rear of the President's chair, thero was suspended a fulllength portrait of Washington Irving. He is repre- sented sittiog t2 & meditative posture, with bis mano scripts before bim and his library in the rear. His face | bears the veval bland snd generous expression waich characterizeg the living original; and the period seized by tho artist for immortabwing him on the canvass is when he was engaged upon his Sketch Book, The poriait isan excellent one in every reapect, those who kaew Mr Irving well recognizing in it everything that a lifeless painting can bring to tho mind of this groat apd good man At each side of the purple curtain which shrouded the portrait were evergrosns, and more to the front of the platform were three sym Dolica! urns. Among the geatlomen present we observed the follow- ing :-—Mr. Luther Bradish, President of the Society; Dr. DeWitt and ur, DePeyster, Vice Presidents; Dr. Osgood, Domestic Corresponding Secretary ; Col. Walner, Recording Secretary, and Geo, H Moore, Librarian. Besides these thore were the Hon. rd Everett, Gen. Winfeld Scott, ex Governor King, Governor Hall, of Vermont; ex.Goy. Fish, Col Peter Foroe, of Washington; President King, of Columbia College; Dr. J. W. Francis, Rev. Dr. Alama, Dr. Cogswell, G ©. Verplanck, Prof. Geo. W. Greene, Wm. B. Astor, John Jacob Astor, Daniol Hard, Geo. Ticknor, of Boston; Wm. Bancroft, &c. The Hon. Lother Bradish walked up the auditarium with the orator of the ovening, Mr. William Cullen Bryant, followed by Genoral Scott, the Hon. Edward Everett and others, the whole party being loudly ap- plauded. ‘The Hon. Lummr Brapisu then opened the proceedings of the evening. He said:— Meanurs or 11" New York "Historicat Socrery, and all who hovor this ocossicn by their preesence, we come this evening to lay the cbaplet of our warm affection upon the stil] fresh grave of a beloved assoziate. We come to in dulge in sweet memories of the past, to do such*honor as we cap t» one,who bas so grestiy honored himseif and us— one the mila and healthful radianco and genius, of whose productions and t harmony, of whose chi racter and life bave shed such unfaing lustre upon our country and his kind—onewin whom the inteliectaal, moral and social elementa of character were 80 harmoniously and beautifully bieaded that his memory will live equally | in the purest adtoiration, and in the warmest aff-ction | ‘of us all. Sach is the occasion of our present meeting. Tae exercises of the evening will commence with a prayer to be offered by the Rev. Dr. Creighton, long the beloved pastor and repected friend of the deceased. The com Memorative address will then be delivered by Wiliam Cuilen Bryant, the poet and pride of his country. (Ap- | plause.) “This will be followed by remarks and letters from severai gentlemen from various cities of the Union, | to be concluded by a benedi:tion,to be pronounced by | the Rev. Dr. be Witt, a vistioguisbed member of the Soci- ety: immediately after which, withont formal motion or vote to that eflect, the Society will consider itself-ad- journed. Prayer will now be offered by the Rey. Dr. Creighton. Rev. Dr. Crricuton then offered the following prayer:— Almighty and everlasting God, who by Thy holy apos. tle bast tavght us to make prayer and supplica- tion, and to give thanks for all ‘men, we hambly beseech thee most mercifully to receive these our prayers whieh we offer to thy Divine Majeaty. We beseech thee to tapire continually the untversal church with spiritual unity. Grant that all those who do confess thy holy name may agree in the trath of thy holy word and live in unity ‘and godly love. We beseech thee also ao to direct and dispose the hearts of all Christian rulers that they may truly and impartially administer justice tothe panish- ment of wickeaness and vice, and to the maintenance of truth and virtue. Give grace, oh, Heavenly Father, to all bishope and other roinistera, that they, both by ite and doctrine, may set forth thy true and lively word, and Tightly and truly administer thy holy sacramente; and to all thy people, and in particular to those here p-eseat, give thy beaventy grace, that with meek hearts and due reverence they msy hear and recaive thy holy word and truly serve thee in holiness and rigbtsousness al! the days of their life. And we nost humbly beeeech thee in thy goodness, Oh! Lord, to com fort and succor all those who in this transient live are in trouble, in sorrow, in sickness, or any other adversity. Aué we algo give thee humble and hearty thanks for all those, thy servanis, who, baving fluished their course of faith, do now rest from iheir labors. And more especial- ly for the good example of him in memory of whom we are now gathered together, We laud aad bless theo, Oa Father of Light, trom whom cometh every good and every perfect gi/t, toat in simplicity and godly sincerity tn fervant hac his conversation in the world; that though groatly exalted an3 honored among men and a praise in all the earth, his heart was not lifted up by pride nor hardened through succes#, but with humility add readiness bowed itself down and adored thee, the one true God, and Jeans Christ woom thou hast sent. And we beseech thee that all those who are thus in !ike masner cistinguished above their fellows by the gifts of mind or station, may 80 follow in bis foot- Bteps ag te eeek thy bonorand glory, by making it the great end of their life to acquaint themselves with thee whom truly t know and serve,is hfe eternal Gra in thetr hearts the love of thy name; increase in them true wisdom; povrish them in thy goodvess, and iu tuy gteat mercy keep them. On, thou, the fountain of all wisdom, who knowest our necessities before we ask thee, nd our ignorance tn asking, incline thine ear to us who have now mace our prayere avd supplications to thee, and those things, which tor our unworthiness we dare not, and for our Diindvess we cannot ask, vouchsafe to give us, for the sake of thy ron, JesusChrist our Lord. Our Father which art in heaven, batiowed be thy nama, thy kingdom com:, thy will be cone on earth as it is in heaven, give us this Gay our daily bread, forgive us our trespasses as wo for- give those that treapaew: us, lead us not into temp. tation, but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom and. the power and the glory, for everand ever, Amen. fno grace of obr Lord Jesus Christ, andthe love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost be with us all evermore. Amen! 2 The Parsinent then introduced the orator of the evening, who spoke as followa, amid frequent bursts of applause:— | MR, BRYANT'S ORATION. ‘We have come together, my friends, on the birthday of an lilustrions citizen 0! our republic; but so recens is his departure from among us that our assembling is rather an expression of sorrow for his death thar of congratuia- tion that such a man was born into the worlds His ad- ruirable writings, the beautiful products of his pecaltar enius, Temsin to be be enjoyment of the present aad Kiture generations; we keep th» recollection of bis amiable and blameless life snd his kindly manners—and for chess we give thanka; but tbe thought will force itself upoa us thatthe jightof nis friendly eye is quenched—that wo must hear no more his beloved voice, nor take his wel- come band. It is as if some genial year haa just closed and left us in frost and gloom: its flowery spring, tts leafy sumer, is plenteour autumn, flown, never to return, Ite are sirewn around us; ite harvests are in our garners, but its season of bloom and warmth aad fruitful ness is We look around us and see that the sun- ghine which filed the golden ear and tinged the reddening apple brightens the earth no more. Twelve years ripce the task was assigned me to deliver funeral eulogy of Thomas Cole, the great fataer of landscape painting in America, the artist who | first taught the peueil to portray, with the voldnees of nature, our wild forsets and lake shores, our mountain regions and the borders of our majestic rivera. Five years later I was bidden to express, in such terms ‘as I could command, the general sorrow which was felt for the death of Fenimore Cooper, equally great ani equally the leaser of his covatrymen in different walk of creative genins. Another grave hea been opened, and he who bas gone down to it, earlier than thsy in his Jabors and bis fame,'was like them, foremost in the peca Cole was taken from us in the zenith of his manhood; Cooper wien the sun of life bad stooped from its meridisn. Ta both instances the day was darkened by the cloud of dexth Defore the natural hour of its close; wut Irving was per- mitted to bebola its light, until, in the fulness of time and dy the appointment of nature, it was carried below the borigon. Washington Irving was bornin New York on the third of April, 1783, but a few days after the nows of the treaty with Great Britain, acknowledging our indepen. dence, been received, to the great contentm-nt ‘of the people, he opened his eyes to the light; therefore, Just ip the dawn ofGthat eabdathjof peace whica brought Test to the land after a weary seven yoars’ war—just as the ity, of which be was native, and the repabitc, of which hhe war yet to be the ornament, were entering upon a ca- reer of greatness and prosperity, of which those who tn Labited them could scarce have dreamed—it seems fit the | | world bottor avd happler by ilsgentlo nfluomox, Yn vas respect thogs who were bork at thas Ume had the +! vantage of these who were oducated under the mire volpar influeccce of ue preset age Betore their ey 8 wore set, Ip the public aotous Of the men who achieved our Revolution, noble examples Of steady rectitude, mag. papimour self detial dad cheerful self sacridce for ths sukoof thelr country, Irving came iato the world whoa “great And Viel¥OUS IDen wore in the prime of thoir dood, aud pasted his youth in tue midstol thas gene- verepoo which gathered round them as they grew William Irving, the father of the great author, was a native of Scoilagd—oneof a race in whica the iusunot of veneration i strong—and a Scoiteh womau ag em- ployed a8 a vuree in bie household ft is related that ous dey, while whe was walking in the streot with her little charge, then — five yoars old, sbe saw General Washiogion in a shop, and emtering, led up the boy, whom ehe progonted as one to Whom bis namo bad been given. Tho General turned, laid bis hand on the chiia’s beat, ang gave him his smile apd bis bleesiog, Little thinking that Uiey were bestowed Uyon bis future biographer, Tae goude pressure of that | bapa Irving always remembered, and that dieasiag, he bate 4 y at ag, ved, atopded him through life. Who shail say what power that recollection may have had in keeping him | true to high and generous aims? At the time that Waah- ington Irving was borm the city of New York contemed | fourcely more than twenty tho 1 inhabitants Duriog the war its population bad probably dimiaished, own was scarcely butt up to Warren etreet; Broadway, | w little beyond, was loet among grassy pastures and tilled fields; the Park, im hich now stauos our City Hail, was | &0 open common, and beyond it gleamed in a hollow amoug the meadows a little sheet of fresh water, the | Koicb, from which a sluggish rivulet stole through tue low grounds called Lispenard’s Meadows, and, following the course of what is pow Canal street, entured the Had- | son. With the exception of the littie corner of the island | below the present City Hall the rural character of the whole region was unchanged, aud the ireeh air of the country colored New Yerk atevery street, The town at that time coptsined a mingled population drawn from different | Countries; but the desceouants of the old Dutch seitlers | formed a large proportion of the inhabitants, and these Preserved many of their peculiar customs, and had not Ceased to use the speech of theic ancestors at their fire- sices = Mauy of thew lived in the quaint old houses, bulit | Of emall yellow bricks from Ho land, with thoir notched gabie ends on the strovts, which have éince been swept away with that language. In tho surrounding couatry, along its rivers anu beside its harbors, and in many parts far inland, the original character of the Dutch settlements was stil! less changed. Here they read their Bibles and seid their prayers, and \isteued to sermons in tho ances- trai tongue. Remaina of this language yet boger ina few neighborhoods; but in most, the common schools, and the irruptions of the Yankoe race, and the growth of population newly derived from Burope, have stitied the ancient utterances of New Awsterdam. I remember that twenty youra since the market peopie of Bergen chattered Dutch in the swamers whicn brought tuem ia the early morning to New York. | I remember, aiso, that about ten yearn before’ there wore’ fami ilea in the westernmost towns of Massichasetts where Dutch was swil the household tongue, and matrons of the Eogiish stock, marrying into them, were laughed at for speaking it go badiy. It will be readily interred that the isolation in which the us of a langaage, Strange to the rest of the county, placed thage paople, would form them to a character of peeuliar simplicity, ia which there was a great deal that was quaint and not a litte that would appear comic to their neighbors of the Ang'o-Saxon stock. It was among such a popalstion, trieacly sad heepitable, wearing tavir faults on the oat- side, and living im bomely comfort on their fertile and ample acres, that the boyhood and early youth of Irving wore passed. He began white yet a poy to wander abou’ the surrounding country, for the love of rambling was the most remarkabdie pec iarity of that perioa of his hfe. He became, as he himself writes, familiar with all tho neighboring places famous in history or fable, knew every spot where @ marder or a robbery hat boen committed or a ghost seon—strolied into the vi lages, noted their customs and talked with their aages, a welcome “guest, doubtless, with bis «kindly and ipgepuous manners and tho natural playfal tarn ot bis conversation. J dwell upon these particulars because Ubey help to show here how the mind of Irving was tained id by what process he made himself master of the materials afterwaro= wrougit into the forms we so much a It was in these rambles that his strong love of mi ¢ Was awakened and nourished. Those who only know the island of New York as it now is sco few traces of the beauty it wore befare it was levelled and smoothed from side to side for the .builder, Immediately witbout the little town it was charmingly diversified with heights and hollows, groves alternating with sunny open- ings, shining tracks of rivulets, quiet country seats with trim gardens, broad avenues of trees and lines of pleached hawthorn heages. Icamsto New York in 1825, and I well recollect how much I admired the shores of the Hud- son above Canal street, where the dark rocks jutted far out in the wator, with little bays between, over which drooped forest trees overrun with wild vines. No less beautiful were tho eborea of the Kast river, where the orchards of the Stuyvesant estate reached to cliffs bectling over the water, and stul further on were inlets between rocky banks bristling with red cedars. Some idea of this beauty may be formed from looking at what remains of tbe vative shore of New York island where the tides of the East river rush to and fro by the rocky verge of Jones’ wood. Here wandtred Irving in his youth, and allowed the aspect of that nature which ‘he afterwards portrayed £0 well, to engrave itself on his heart; but hie exousions were pot contined to this island. He becams femiliar with the banks of the Hudson, the extraordioury beauty of which he was tbe first to describe. He made acquaintance with the Patch neighborhoods sheltered by its bills, Nyack, Haverstraw, Sing Sing and Sleepy Hei- low, and with the majestic Highlands beyond. His rambles in another direction led him to Communipaw, lying in its quiet recees by New York bay; to the then peaceful Gowanus, now noisy with the passage of visiters to Greenwood and thronged with fuverals; to Hoboken, Harsimus and Paulus Hook, which has since become a city. <A ferry boat dancing om the rapid tides took him over to Brooklyn, now our flourish- ing and beautiful neighbor city—then a clus- ter of Dutch farms, whose possessors lived in broad low bouses, with stoops in front, overshadowed by trees. The generation with whom Irving grew up read the Spectator and the Rambler, tne essays and tales of Maskcnzic, and those of Gflasmith; the novels of the day were%hose of Richardson, Fielding and Smollet; the reli gious womd were occupted with the pages of Haonah Moore and Doddridge, fresh from the press; politicians Sougbt weir models of style and reasoning in tue speeches of Burke and the writiogs of Mackimtosh and Junius. ‘These were certainly masters of whom no pupil needed to be ashamed, but ican hardly be said that the etyle of Irving was formed in the school of any of them His fa. ther’s library was enriched with authorg of the Etizs- bethan age, and be delighted, wo are told, in readiag Chaucer and Spenser. The elder of these ‘great posts might have shown bim the art of heighteniag his genial bumor with poetic graces, and from both be mighi nave | learned @ freer mastery over his native English than the } somewhat formal tase of that day eucouraged. Cowper's poems, at that time, were in every bouy’s hands, and if his father gad not thoes of Barns, we must betierve that he was no wchman. I think we may fairly infer that if the style of Irving took a bolder range than was allowed in the way of writiog which prevailed when ne was a youth, it was owing, in a great degree, to his studies in the poets, and especially in those of the earlier Eaglish literature. He owed little to the schools, though he began toattend themearly. His first instructions were given when he was between four and six years old, by Mrs. Ann Kilmaster, at her school in Ann street, who seems w have had some difficulty in getting him through the alpliabet, In 1789 he was transferred to ® school in Fulton street, then called Partition street, kept by Benjamin Romaine, | Who had boen a soldier in the Revolution emsible m: j and @ good disciplinarian. but probably an indifferent scholar, and hore he continued till he was fourteen years of age.’ He wasa favorite with the master, but preferred reaging to reguiar study. Alt ten years of age he delight ed in the witd tales of Ariosto, as transiated by Hoole; at eleven ho was deep in books of voyages and travels, which he took to school and read by stealth. Atthat time he composed with remarkable epse aad fluency, and exchanged tasks with the other boys, writing thoir compositions, while they solved his problems in arithms tic, which be detested. At the age of thirteen he tried bis hand at compoting a play, which was performed by children at a friend’s bouse, and of which he afterwards forgot every part, even the title, Bomatine gave up teacting in i797, and in that year Irving entered a school kept in Beekman street by Jonathan irish, proba: bly the most accomplished of his instructors. He left | thie school in March, 1798, but continued for a timo to | receive private lessons from the same teacher at hom: Dr Fran in his pleasant reminiscences of Irvin, early life, speaks of him as preparing to onter Colum College, and as being prevented by the state of his health: but it 18 certain that an indifference to the acquisition of Jearving bad taken of him at that age, waich he afterwards greatly regretted At the age of sixteen he | entered bis name as a student at law in the office of Josiah Ogden Hofman, an eminent advocate, woo im later lite became « Judge in one of our principal tribunals. It was | while engaged in his professional studies that he | made his first appearance as an author. I should have mentioned among the circumstances that favored the un- | folding of hie literary capacities, that two of his elaer | brothers were men of decided literary tastes— William. | Irving, 80me seventeen years his seuior,and Dr. Peter Irvirg, who in the year 1802 founded a daily paper in | New York, at a time whan a datly paper was aot, as now, an enterprise requiriog @ large Outlay of capital, but ac | Xperiment that migbt be trie and abandoned with little risk. Dr. Irving established the Morning Chronicle, and hue younger brother coutributed a series of essays bear. ing the signature of Jonathan Oidetyie, of which Me. Duy- chuinck, whose judgment] willingly accept, says that they show how early the author acquired the ‘style which so much charms as in his later writings In 1894, having reacbed the age of twenty-one, Irving, alarmed by an in- | cresing weakness of the chest, visited @arope (or tho sake of bis health. He sailed dircctiy to the.south of Fravce, landed at Bordeaux in May, passed two months jn Genoa, made the tour of Sic, and crossing | from Palermo tw Naples proceeded to Rome. Here he formed the acquaintance of Washington Allston, who was ther entering on @ Career of art as extraordivary as that of Irving iu literature With Allston he made loug les | im the picturesqus netghborhood of that old city, visited the galleries of its palaces aud villaa, and stutied their works of art with a delight that rose to enthusiasm. de thought of the Gry pursuit of the law which awaited his returp to America, aud for which he bad no ioclination, and almost determined to be a painter. Allston eacour- aged him in this disposition, and together they piannod the acbeme of a life devoted to the pursuit of art. It was fortunate for the world that, as Irving reflected on the mater, doubts arose in his mind which tempered his en- thusiasm and Jed him to a different destiny The two friende separated, cach to take his own way to re- pbown— Allston to become one of the greatest of painters and Irving to take bis place among the greatest of authors. Leaving Italy, Irving passed throngh Switzerland to France, resided in Paria everal monthe, travelled through Flanders and Holland, weot to Nogland, and re. turned to his native country in 1806, after aa ab sence of two years. At the close of the year be was mitted to practice as an attorney at law. He opened a: office, bat it could not be said that be ever becams a » He ‘those literary labor? which have won him tho admyration | of tho world. On the 24th of January apoeared, in the form of a small Lge ny firsg number of « periodical ting that ove of the first births of the new peacs, 89 wel come to the country, ahould be that of a gonias as kindly nd fruitful as peace itaeli, and destined to make the entitled Salmaguadé, the joint protuction of hi nseif. bis brother, William and Jameg K. Pasiding. The elder bro- ther contributed the poetry, with hints and outlines for ome of the ommays, hut nearly all the prose Wag Write ee vy ie two other assoolates. Whon Salmagundt ed, (he quaiut old Dutob town in which Irviag wat born bad Wevwormed lo & COMparalivoly gay moiro lie popustion of twenty thousaad Bouts had oy ‘oced to more than eighty thousand, although ita aris > Oratic claga had yet tacir residences in what seems to us uw the barrow space between the Baitery and W. wreet. The modes and fashions of Europe wee imported fresh and free! Salmaguadi eperks 9 leather brecepes a6 all the rage for a moreiug dress, and Sesh colored emails for an event . Gay equipages daphoo through the streets: ryt haa riseu io Park row, oa toe boards of whic Cooper, one of tne vest of ceclalmers, was performing to crowded houses. Tee churches bad multiplied faster tham the places of amusement; other public buildings of a magaiicoace hitherto unknowa, including our present City Hall, bat beev erected, Tarmmany Hall, fresh from the hands of the builder, overlooked the Park. We begaa to affect a taste for pictures, amd the roome of Mishacl Palf, the famous German picture dealer in Broadway, were a favorite lounge for such connoisseurs a5 we then had, whoamused themeelves with muaning. Bi talk of Michael Augelo, Balleton Springs wero great fhsbionablo watering place of tho country, to which resorted the plaaters of the South with splendid equipages and troops of shining diacks im livery, Salmagunai satirized the follies and ridiculed the humors of the timo with great pro- (ugality of wit and no lees exuberance of good nature. In form It resembles the Tatiler, and that nume- ous brood of periodical papers to which the succeas of the Jotler and Syctator gave birth; but it is in wo sense ad imitation, Iw galety 1s its own; its style of hamor ts nog that of Addivon nor Goldsmith, though it hag ali the genial spirit of theirs, por is it borrowed from any other wrier. It is far more frolicksome and joyous, yot tem- pered by a native gracefulness. Salma; was mapi- feetly written without the {ear of criticiam before the eyesof the antbors, and to this sense of perfect freedom im the oxercize of Loy pont the charm is probably owing which makes us still read it with so mach delight. Irving pever seemed to piace much value in the part be Dore in this work, yet 1 doubt whether he ever excolied some of those papers in whicn bear the most evident marks of his style, and Paulding, though he has since acquired a reputation by his otucr wriings, caa hardly be eaid to haye writtea anything better than the best of thoge which are ascribed to his pen. Just before Saimagundé appeared, several of the authors who gave the literature of England its present character had begun to write Por five yearg the quarterly issues of the Kdia- burg Review, then im the most brilliang period of its existence, had been before the public, Hazlits bad taken his place among the authors, and Jobm Foster had pub- dished his essays. Of the poets Rogers, Campbell aad Moore were beginning to be popular; Wordsworth had i penge =) his “Lyrical Ballads,” Scott his Lay of sne Last Minstrel,"’ Southey, his ‘Madoc,’ and Joanna Baillis two voumes of her plays. In this revival of the creative power in titerature, tt is pleasant w see that our own country took part, contributing & work of a charactor as freeh and original a8 any they produced on tue other side of the Atlaatic. Nearly two years afverwards, ia the au- toma of 1809, appeared in Boening Pow widressed to the humane, au advertisement requesting infor mation conceruiog @ small elderly gontleman named Knicker- bopker, dressed in a black coat and cocked hat, who had eudeenly left bis lodgings at the Columbian Hotel in Mui- berry stroct, aad had not been beard of afwrwards. In the beginning of November, a “Traveller” comm to the same journal the information that he bad sven « person apewering to this description, apparently fatigued with his journey, resting by the road side a little north of Kingsbridge. m days later Setu Handa- side, the landiora of the Columbian Hotel, gave nouce, through the same journal, that ne-had found {a the miss ing gentleman’s chamber “a curious kind of written book,’ which he should print by way of roimbarsing himself for what his lodger owed him. Ia Decenoer foi- lowing, Inskeep and Bradford, booksollera, published “Diearich Kuickerbockor’s History of New York.” Sal vit had prevared the public to receive tis work with favors and Seth Handaside had uo reason to regret having undertaken ita publication. I recolloct well its ear} and immediate popularity. Iwas then & youth io college, and having commiited to memory a portion of it to repeat as @ deciamation betore my class, I was so over- come with laughter when I appeared on the floor that I was unable to proceed, aud drew upon myself the rebuke of the tutor. I bave just read this History ot New York over again, and I found myself no less delighted than when I first turned its pages in my early youth. When I compare it with other’ works of wit aad humor of a similar length, 1 find that, unlike mos; of them, it carries forward the reader to the con- clusion without wearinces or satiety, so unsought, spon. taneous, self suggested are the wit and tie humor. The author makes us laugh, because-he can no more help it than we can help laughing. Scott, in one of his letters, compared the humor of this work to that of Swift. The rich vein of Irving’s mirth is of a quality quite distinct from the dry droliery of Swift, but they have this ia com mon, that they charm by the utter absence oj effurt, agd (bis wae probably the ground of Scott’s remark. A critic in the London Quarteriy, somo years after its appearance, spoke of tt a a “tantalizing book,” on account of his taa- bility t understand what be called ‘the point of many of the allusions in this poiitical aatiro.”’ I fear that be must have been one of those respectable persoos who find it diftloult to undersiand a Sarl unless tt be accom- penied with a commentary ope! and explaining it to tbe humblest capacity. Scott found no Any ‘aifitahy, ‘Our sides, he says, in # letter to Mr. Brevoort, a friead of Irving, written {just after ho had read’ the book, ‘tare absolutely sore with laughing.”’ The mirth of the ‘History of New York’’ is of the most trans- parent fort, apd the author in even the later edi- ons, judiciously abstained from attempt to make {it more intelligible by notes. find, in this work, moro manifest traces than in his other writings “of what Irving owed to the earlier authors im our language. The quaint poetic coloring, and often the phraseology betray the difciple of Chaucer aad Spen- ser. Weare conscious of a flavor of the olden time, as of a racy wine of some rich vintage— Covled long age in the deep-delved earth. Iwill not say that there are no passages in this work which are not worthy of their context; that we do not sometimes meet with phrascology which we could wish changed, that the wit does nov sometimes run wild and drop bere and there a jest which we could willingiy gpare. We forgive, we overlook, wo forget all this as we read, in consideration of the eatertainment we have eujoyed, ard of thet which beckons. us onward in the next page. Of all mock heroic works, Knickerbocker’s ‘ History of New York” is the gaycet, the airicat, the least tiresome. Ia 1848 Mr. Irving issued an edition of this work, ta which he prefixed what he called an “ Apology,” intended ip part as an answer to those who thought he bad made too free witn the names of our old Dutch families. To speak frankly, 1 dé not much wonder that the descendants of the inal founders of Now Amstordam should have hardly kaown whether to laugh or look grave on finding the names of their ances- tors, of whom they never thought but with-reepest, now connected with ludicrous associations by a wit of aaothor race. In one of his exceilent hiatorical discourses Mr. Verplauck bad gently complained of this freedom, ex- pressing himself, as he said, more in sorrow than in auger. Even the sorrow, I believe, must have long since wholly passed away when it is seen how litte Irving’s plesgantries have detracted from the honor paid to the early history of our city—at ail events, we do not see bow it coula survive Irving’s good humored and gracefal apology. It was not long after the publication of tne “ His- tory of New York’’ that Irving abandoned tac profession of law, for which he had 60 decided a taste as never to have fully tried hia capacity for purauing it. Two of bis brothers were engaged in commerce, aad they received him as a silent partuer. Ho did not, however, renounce his literary ocoupa- tion, He wrote, in 1810, a memoir of Campbell, the poet, prefaced td an edition of the writings of that author, which appeared in Philadelphia; and to the Analetic Magazine, public! im the same city, he con- tributed @ series of biographical accounts of the naval commanders of the United States. Of this magazine, in 1813 and the following years, be was the editor; maxing the experiment of his talent for ® vocation to which men of decided iiterary tastes in this country are strongly ia- clued to betake themseives. Those who remember the Analectic Magazine cannot bave forgotten that it was a most entertaining misceliany, partly compiled from Kag- lsh publications, mostly periodicals, and partly madeap of ‘contributions of some of oar own beet waters. Tho biographical essays of which I have spoken wee the only published writings of Irving between the appearance of the ‘Bistory of New York,” 1809, and that of the “Sketch Book,’ 12 1819. It was during this interval that anevent took place which had a marked influence on Irving's future life, affscted the character of his writings, and, now that the death of both parties allows it to be epoken of without reserve, gives a peculiar interest to bis personal history. He became attached wo a young lady whom he was to have married. She dled ‘unwedded, in the flower of her ago; there was @ sorrow: ful leave-taking betweon her and her lover, as the grat was about to separate them on the eve of what shoal have been her bridal; and Irving, ever after, to the close of his life, tanderly and faithfully cherished her memory. In one of the biographical notices published immediately after Irving's death, an old, well-worn copy of the Bible ig spoken of, which was kept lying on the table in his chamber, witbim reach of bis vedside, bearing ber name on the tile page im a delicate foma'e hand—a relic which we may pregame to hsve beea bis constant companion. Those who are fond of searching, in the bi- ographies of crainent men, for the circumstances which determined the bent of their genius, find in this sad event and the cloud it threw over the bopeful and cheerful pe- riod of early manhood, an explanation of the transition from Wie unbounded playfulness of the ‘History of New to the serious, tender and meditative vein of the ‘ketch Book.’’ In 1816, soon after our second peace with Great Britain, Irving suled again for Europe, and fixed himeelf at Liverpool, where a branch of the large commercial house to whidh he belonged was estan. abed. His old love of rambling returned upon him; be wandered first iato Wales and over some of the finest counties of England, and then northward to the stern sr region of the Scottish Highlands. His m+moir of Camp- bell procured him the acquaintance and friendship of that Poet. Campbeil gave bim, more than a year attor bis arrival in England, a letter of introduction to Scott, who alreasy acquainted with bim by his writings, weicomed bim warmiy to Abbotsford, and made him his friend for live, Scott sent a special measage 40 Campbell, thankiog him for having made him known to Irving. ‘He ts one of the best nod pleagantest acquaintanccs,” Scott, “that I bave made this many a day."’ Inthe same year that be visited Abbotsford his brotners failed. The changes which followed the peace of 1515 swept away their fortunes and bis together, ani he was now to begin tho world anew. In 1819 ho began to pubitsh the “Sketch Book ’’ It was written in Eogiand an‘ sent over to Now York, where it was {asuea by Van Winkle, ia octavo numbers, containing from seventy to a huntred pages. In the preface he remarked tuat he was ‘ unasttied in hie abode; that be bad ‘bis cares and vicissi tudes,” and could not, therefore, give these papers the “tranquil attention necessary to finished composition " Several of them were copied with praise in tae London Literary Gasctte, and an intimation wi conveyed to the aathor that some person in Lon dom was about to publish them entire He preferred to do thie himself, and accordingly offered tae work to she famous Ddooksecile: Murray. Mirrey was slow in giving the matter his attention, ani Irviag, after & reasonable delay, wrote to ask that tne copy which be bad lett with bim might be returned. [t was sent back, with a note pleading excess of oocupation—the great croes of alleminent bovassilers—and alleging th ‘want of scove im the nature of the work” as @ reatou for declining it This was discouraging; but Irving bet the enterprise to print the first volume in Loadon, at his owe Fie, 1h wag feowed by Joba Miller, and was wall received, but within a mouth afterwards tho pe fatled. Im- ncdistely Sir Walter Soott came to don and waw Mt ray, who allowed Limeell to be porsuaded, the mere ossily, doubuers, 0m accoust of the partial success of the Aras volume, that the work bad more “acope”’ than he up pored, and purchased the copyright of both volumes for two hundred pougcs, @bick ‘he afterwards lideraly raised to four hundred. “Wnoever compares the Skotoh Sook with the history of New York might, perhaps, at firet fail to recognise It as the work of tho sam» band, so much gravet aad more /hought{ul is the strain in whioh + is written. A more stentive exammation, however, shows thatthe humor ip the fightor parw ts of the samo peculiar aad original cast, wholiy unlike that of aay author who ever wrote, a bumor which Mr. ava happily characterized a8 “a faucifui playing with common things, and bere and there beautiful touches, till the luticcous becomes baif picturesque.’ Yet one caanot help per- cerving that the autbor’s spirit had beea sodered sauce he leat eppeared before the public, as if the shadow of a great sorrow had fallen upom it Tue greator numbor of the papers are addressed to our deeper sympativs, and some of them, as for example, the em Hoart. tne Widow aud ber Son sod Rural Fanerals, dwoll apon the sadd themes Ouly in two of them—Rip Vaa Wiokie aad tho Legend of Sleepy Hollow—does he lay tho reins loose on the neck of bis frolicksome fancy, and allow it to dash forward without reatraumt; smd these raak among the most delightful and popular tales ever written. Io our country they have been read, I believe, by nearly everybody whocan read atall. ‘The Sketch Book and the two bp works ot Irving—Bracebridgo Hail avd the Tales of a Travelior—abound with agrecabie pictures of English life, seen under favoraole hight and sketched with a friendly pencil. Le} me say here, that it feipees eA court to the ssoglieh that he thus described them aad their country; it was because he could not de- scribe thom otherwise. It was the instinct of his mind to atiach iwelf to the contemplation of the good and beauti- ful, wherever he found them, and to tur ay from the sight of what was evil, misshapen and by |. His was not a nature to pry for faults, or disaouse the miad of good natured mistakes, he looked for virtue, love and ‘ruth among moa, and thanked God that he foand them in such large measure. If there are touches of satire im his writiogs, he 1s the beat natured and most amiabdie of satiriste, emiabie beyond Horace; and im kis irony, for there is a vein of playful irony running through many of his works, there is no tinge of bitterness, I re- joice, for my part, that we have had such @ writer ‘as Irving to bridge over the chasm between the two great nations—that an illustrious Americaa lived ‘so long in Eogland and was 80 much beloved there, sad sought 80 earnestly to bring the people of the two coun- tries to a better understanding with each other and to wean thom from the animosities of narrow minds [am sure that there is nota large minded and large hearted man in all our country who can res over the “Sketch Book"’ and the other writings of Irving aad disowa one of the magnanimous sentiments they express with regard to Exgiland, or desire to abate the glow of one of his warm and cheerful pictures of Engitsh life. Occasions will arise, no doubt, for saying some things im a ives ac- commodating spirit,and there are men cnough oa both sides of the Adantic who can gay them; but Irviug was not sept into the world op this errana. A differeat work was assigned bim im the very structure of his mind and the endowments of bis heart, a work of sad brotherhood, and 1 wiil say for him that be nobly per tormed it Lot me pause here to speak of what I be- lieve to have buen the intluence of the *3ketcu Book’ upom American literature. at the time it appeared the perwaical lisw of new American pubiications were extremely meagre, and consisie’, to a great extent, of occasional pamphlets and dissertations on the quostions of the day. The works of greater pretension were, for the most part, crudely and languidly made up, and dee tined to be litle read. A work like the ‘‘Sketch Bo0k,'” welcomed on both sides of the Atiantic, showed the pos- sibility of am American author acquiring afame bounded only by the limits of his own language, aad gave ac ex. ample of the qualities by which it might be won, Withia two years afterwards we bad Cooper's “‘spy’’ aud Dana's ‘idle Man.’’ The press of oar country began by degrees to teem with works composed with a literary skiil aud a spir- ited activity of intellect until thea little Kaown among us. Every year the ascertion that we had no literature of our own became lees and less true; aod now, whea we look over a list of new works by native autnors, wo find, with an astonishment amounting almost to alarm, that the most voracious devourer of books must de- spair of being able to read half those which make a fair claim upon his attention it was since 1819 that the great historians of our country, whose praise is in the mouths of all the natons, began to write. One of them built up the fabric of his fame long after Irving appeared as ap auttor, and slept with Herodotus two years before Irving’s death; another of the band lives yet to be the ornamant of the association before whom I am called to speak, and is forming tue annals of bis country into a work for future ages. Wiihin that period bas arisen among us the clags who hold vast muldtudes in motioniess attention by public discourses, the most perfect of their Kind, such as make the tame of Everett. Within that period our theologians have learned to write with the elegance aad, vivacity of the eeeayists. We had but one novelist before the era of the Sketch Book; their aumber is now beyond enumera. tion by apy but a professed catalogue maker, and many of them are read in every cultivated form of humana speech. Those‘whom we a2knowledge as our poets, one of whom is the special tavorite of our brothers im language who dweil beyond sea, appeared in tne world of letters and won its patiention after Irving had become famous. We have wits, and humorists, and amusing eseayiste, authors of some of the airiest and most graceful compositions of the pre sent century, and we owe thom to the new impuise given to our literature in 1819. I look abroad on these stars of otr literary frmament—some crowded together, with their minute points of lightin a galaxy—some standing apart in glorious constellations —[ recoguise Arcturus, and Urion, apd Perseus, and the gliter jewels of the Southern Crown, and the Pleiades shodding sweet influ. ences; but the Evening Star, the soft and severe light thas glowed in their van, the precursor of them all, has suok below the horizon. The spheres, meantime, perform their appointe 1 courses; the same motion whicn lifted thom up tothe midsky bears them forward to taeir setting: and they, too, like their bright leader, must soon be carried by it below tne earth. Irving went to Paris in 1820, where Pd garg the remainder of the year and part of the next, and where he became acquainted with the poet Moore, who frequently mentions him in his diary. Moore and he ‘were much io each others’ company, and the poet has left on record an expreasion of his amasement with — « aaa aire Aa” was com] i—one bundre: en irty pages in ten bear oo winter of 1822 found him in Dresden. that year was published “Bracebridge Hall,”’ the groun work of which is a char description of country life in England, interspersed with narratives, the scene of which is laid in other countries. Of these, the Norman tale of Annette Delarbre seems to mo the most beautiful and affecting thing of ite kind in all his works; so beauti- I can hardly see how he 5 we have the Stout Gentleman, full of « certain minute paintiog 0: famiuar objects, where not a single touch is throwa tx that does not heighten the comic cffect of the narrative. If I am Bot greatiy mistaken, the moet popular novelists of the day have learnea from this pattern the skill with which they have wrought up some of their most striking pas- sages, both grave and gay. In composing “Braceoridge Hall,” Irving showed that he had not forgotten his aative country; and in the pleasant tale ot Dolpn Hey legos he went back to the banks of that glorious river besite whica he was born. {on 1823, Irving, stilt a wanderer, returned to Paris, and in tne year following gave tho world his ‘Tales of Travoller.”” Murray,ia the moean- time, had become fully weaned {from the notion that Irving's writings Jacked the quality which he cailed “scope.’’ for he had paid a thousand guineas for the copy right of ‘“Bracebrigce 1,’ and now offered ffién hun¢red pounds for the “Taiea of a Travelier,” waick Irving accepted. ‘(He might have had two thousand,” says Moore; but this assembly will not, I hope, thiak tho worse of him if it be acknowledged that the worid con- tained men who were sharper than he at driving a bar. gain. The ‘Tales of a Traveller’ are most remarkable for their second » entitled ‘Buckthoone ant his Friends,”’ in which thé author introauces us to literary iife in its various aspects, as he had observed it in Loa don, and to the relations in which authors at that time stood to the bookseliers. His sketches of the different personages are individual, characteristic and divorting; yet with what a kindly pencil they are all drawo! Hw good nature overspreads aud harmoniz: ry thing, like the warm atmosphere which eo much delights us in ® painting. Irving suli ‘‘uosettied im tis sbdode,”’ the winter of 1825 in the south of France Then you are in that region you see the snowy summits of the Spanish Pyrenees ‘lookiug down upon you; Spanish visiters frequent the watering places, Spanisn peddlers, in their handsome costume, offer you the fabrics cf Barcelona and Valencia; Spanish poasauts come to the fairs; the traveller feels bimeel: almost in Spain already, and is haunted by the desire of visiting that remarkaole country. To Spain Irving went jin the iatter part of the year, invited by our Minister at Madrid, Alexander ff. Everett, at the of Mr. Rich, the American Con sal, an industrious and intelligent collector of Spanish works relating to America. His errapd was to transla! tmto English the documents relating to the discovery sad early bistory of our continent, collected by the research Navarrete. He passed the winter of 1826 at the Spa- nish capital, as the guest of Mr. Rica; the following sea- 00 took him Ao Grenada, aod he liugered awbile iu beautiful region protasedly watered by the streams break from the Suowy Ridge. In 1827 he agaia visi i the south ef Spain, gathering materials tor bis “Life of Columbus,” which immediely after hia arrival io Spain be had determined to write, instead of translating the documeuts of Navarrete. Ia Spain De began and Gnished that work, after having visited the places associated with the principal evenis ia tas life of tus hero. Murraygras so well sausfied with its‘* scope” that works of Irving, it was pudlehed here at the sane tims ho gave him three thousand guineas for the copyrigat, and laid it before the public in 1828. Like the other as in London. “The Lifo and Voyages of Christopner Colombua” piaced Irving smong the historians, for the biograpay of that great discoverer is a part, and a re- markable part, of the history of the world. Of what was strictly ani simply personal in his adventures, mack, of course, has passed into irremediable oblivion; what was both persoval and biatorical is yet outstandiug above the shadow that has settled over the rest. Tao work of Irving at once in everyboay’s bands aad sagerly read. Navarrete vouched for ita Ristorical accuracy and completeness. Jeffrey declared tbat no work could ever take ite piace. It was written with a stroug love of the rubject, and to this itowes much of its power over the reader. Columbus was one of those who, with all theie faculties occupied py one great idea, end bent vn making it @ practical y ace looked upon as crazed, aad pited and forgot if they fail, but if they sus- ceed sre venerated as the glory of Tre poetic elements of his tory, the graadeur and mystery of photic sagacity, his hopeful aad devout .co disregard of the ridisule of m: r tavell ok a strong hold 00 the mind of Irving aad formed the Mispiration of the work Mr, Duyckiack gives,on the authority of oe who kvew Irving intimately, sa instructive anecdote re lating to the “Life of Cxiumbas.’” Wi the work was nearly Gnishod it ee Pputinto the haads of Lieute’ Sitdell Mackeuzic, himeel{ aa agteoabie writer, then o visit to Spain, woo read it witn a view of givil opinion of its merits. *It ia quite parfost,’” returning the manuscript, ‘exoapt the style. aad that i: unequal.” Tho remark made such aa impression on the mind of the author that he wrote over tne whole parre Uve with the view of making the styl4 more uniform, bat he afterwards thought thathe had not tmoroved it. [a this L bave ne doubs that Irving wee quite right, and that of the curiosities of the ocoupied by Washington Irving, of mapy plain. in 3 the juerer from ‘whlok it was to. be writwa, When after- The work, be e work, to signed to write Oe Binteey of the Mexican conquest and immodiately he desisted. ‘It was his intention to intor- weavo with tho narrative descriptions of the ancient cus- toms of the Aborigines, such as their modes of warfare and their gorgeous pageants, by way of relief to tne san- chned it. A ier in Bond street, na undertook its publication, but required that Irving should introduce it with a prefaco of ‘his own. He did #0, speak- ing of my veraes in such terms as would naturally com- mand for them the atiention of the public, and allowing his pame to be placed in the title page asthe editor. The @sition in consequence found a sale. ever, that the publisher objected to two lines in a poem culled the ‘Song of Marion’s Men.’’ it would have been better if he had never tonchod ttfe work alter he bad br {to the etato which sutisfl«<d bis incividual judgment AD auhor oan soarcs comait a greater orror khan (0 alter what ke writes, except when be bas aclear perception thatthe alteration tx forthe better, aad cam make it with as hoarty @ couidenco in himself aa be felt in giving the work ite frat shane What airikes mo ‘8s an oovastonal defect in the Life of Columbus"? ia this ola- borate uniformity of style—a certaia pri matic coloring in pessages where absolute timphoity wou!d have satisted ue better. may well be supposed that Irving originally wrote some parts of the work-wita tho quiet palioaesa of calm relater of facta, and others with tho spirit and fire of one who had become warmed with his subject, au@ this probably gave occasion to wheat was said of the ine- quelity of the style. The attempt to elevate the diction of the simpler portions, we may suppose, marred what Irving atterwards perceived had really boem one of the merits of the work. Inthe spring ef 1829 Irviog made another visit to the south of Spain, coilesting materials from which be afterwards composed some of his moat po- pular works. Wher the travolier now visits Grenade and is taken to the Albambra, his guide will say, ‘ Hereis one lace; this is the chamber ) and he will show an apartment, from the windows of which you have a view of the glorious valiey of the Genil, with the mountain peaks overlooking it, and hear the murmur mountain brooks at once, as thoy hurry to the In July of the same year he repaired to London, where he was to act as secretary of the Amorican tion, of Grenada,” ome of the moat delightful of his works, am exact history, for such It ts admitted to be by those whe have searched most carefully the ancient records of Spain, yet eo full of personal Prising turns of fortune, and these wrought up with such Picturesque effect, that, to use an expression of Pope, Hore he published his ‘Chronicies of the Conquest incident, 6o diversiiled. with sur: a lacy might read it by mistake for a romance. ‘a id on iu histo~ the Companio: the ‘Alhambra,’ which is another Book,’’ with the scene laid io Spaia. While » Irving bad planned a Life of Cortez, of Mexico, and collected the facts bad actually began the composition ef 4 learn that Prescott do- uinary barbaritics of the conquest. He saw what rich 8 materiais of the picturesque these opened to him, and if he had accomplished his pian he would probably have produced one of his age ned works. In 1832 cup | returned to New York. ro seventeen years to find his native city doubled in popula. tion; its once quiet waters alive with ails and furrowed Dy steamers passing to and fro, its wharves crowded turned after an absence with masts, the beights which surround it, and which he remembered wild and solitary and lying in forest, now crowned with stately country seats, or with dwellings clustered im villages, and © where the activity and bustle of a prosperous aud hopeiul people. And he, toe, how had be rewrned? The borg and comparatively onacure author, whose works had only found here and there a reader in Fogland, had achieved a fame as wide as the civiitzed world. All the trophies be had won ia this field be brought home to lay at the feet of his country. Meanwhile all the country was moved to meet him; the rejotcing was universal that oue who had represented us 80 illustriously abroad was henoeferth to live among ua. Irving hated pubiic dinners, but he was forced to accept one pressed upon bim b; enthusiastic countrymen. It was given at che City Hall on the 30th of May, Cnancel- lor Kent presiding, and the most eminent citizens of New York assembled at the table. I remember the accounts Of this testivity reaching me as I was wandering in Iili- Reis, hovering on the skirts of the Indian war, in a region DOW populous but then vatiiied and waste, ana I could oly write to Irving and ask leave to add my voice to the general acclamation. In bis address at the dinaer, Chan. cellor Kent welcomed the historian of New Amsterdam back to his fuative city, and Irving in reply poured forth his heart in the warmest expressions of del ght at finding bimeelf again among his countrymen and kindred in a land of sunshine and freedom and hope. “I am asked,” he said, how loug I mean to remain here. They know litte'of my heart who can ask mo this question I anawer, a3 long as I live.’ Toe instinct of rambiing had not, however, forsaken him. In the sum. mer a ter bis return he made a journey to the couatry weet of the Mississippi, in company with Mr. Ellsworth, a commissioner entrusted with the removal of certain In- dian tribes, and roamed over wild regions, then the hunt- ing grounes of the savage, but into which the white man bes since bronght bis plough and his herds. He did not publish his account of this journey until 1835, when it ap- peared as the firat voiume of the “Crayon Miscellany,” under the title of a “Tour on the Prairies.” In this work tbe original West is described ss Irving knew how to de- scribe it, and the narrative is in that vein of easy gaisty liar to his writings. ‘‘Abdboteford and Nowstead Abby,”’ formed the second volume of the “Crayon Miscel- lany,’’ and to theee be has added another, entitled “Ie. gonda of the Conquest of Spain.”” In 1836 he published “astoria; or, Anecdotes of an Enterprise Beyond the Recky Mountains,” a somewhat curious exemple of literary skill. A voluminous commercial corrospomcence was the dull ore of the earth of which he refined and wrought into symmetry and splendor Irving reduced to a regular parative the events to which it referred, bringing out the picturesque whenever be found it, and enlivening ‘the whole with touches of his native humor. His nephew, Fierre M. Irving, ligntencd his labor materially by exami- nipg aad collating the letters, aud making memoranda of their contents. In 1837 he prepared for the the “‘Ad- ventures of Captain Bonneville, of the United States Army, in the Rocky Mountains and the Far West.’’ He had the Ls sprees eaten of Bonneville before him, but the haad 1 Irving 16 apparent in every Geomry that this work appeared Irving was drawn juto the only public controversy in neh, Be far as I know, ho ever engaged. odical entitled the Plaindealer, remarkable both for its ability and its love cf diaputation. It attacked Mr. Irving for altering a line or two in one of peo, with a view of making it leas offensive to Engi ers, and for writing a preface to the American edition of professions of love for his country, *tudiously omitted from the Eoglsh edition. From these circumstances the Plaindealer drew an inference unfavor- able to Irving’s Sincerity. hope I may do it without much egotism, that when a volume of my poems was published here inthe year 1832, Mr. Verplanck had the it to Irving, desiring him to find a publisher for it in Eng- land. This he readily acquainted with me, and Aout the time ‘William Leggeut then conducted a weekly pori- ish read- his -‘* Tour on the Prairies,” full of Ishould here mention, and I Kindness to send a copy of to do, though wholly un- the volume te Murray. sell at presont,”’ eaid Murray, and de d Andrews, It happened, how- One of them was The British soldier trembles, and Irving good-naturedly consented that It should be altered to s ‘The foeman trembies in his camp. ‘Tho other alteration was of a similar character. To tho accusations of the Plaindealer,’ Irving replied with a mingled spirit and dignity which almost make us regret thet he feoaies were not oftener roused into energy by buch collisions, or at least that he did not sometimes em- ploy bis pen on controverted points. He fully vindicated Dimee!f in both instances, showing that he had mado the atiterations in my poem from a simple desire to do me service, and that with regard to the ‘Tour on the Pra- ries,’’ he bad sent a manuscript copy of it to ingland for Ppablication et the same time that he had sent aaotner to the printer here, and that it would bave been an absur- Gity to address the Englisn edition to the American public, Botas this was the firat time that he had appeared before his countrymen #5 an au:bor since his return from Eu- rope, it was but proper that be shouid express to them the feelings awakened by their generous wel- come. “ These ferlings,”” he said, “were genuine, and were not expressed with half the warmth with which they were entertained,’ an assertion waich every reader, I believe, was disposed to reccive literally. In his answer to the Pla:dealer, some allu- sions were made to m6 which seemed to imply that I hat taken part in this attack upon him To remove the im- pression I sent a note to the Plaindealer: for publication, in which I declared in subsiauce that I never bsd com- plained of the alterations of my poem, that though they were pot such as I should have mace, 1 was certain they were made with the kindest intentions, and that I had no feelings towards Mr. Irving but gratitude for the sorvico be bad rendered me. The explanation wag graciously accepted, and in a brief note, printed in the Pinndealee, Irving pronounced my acquittal. Several papers were written by Irving in 1839 aud the foliowing year for the Knickerbocker, & monthly periodical conducted by his friend, Lewis Gaylord Clark, all of them such as he only could write, They were afterwards collected into a volume, entitied** Wolfert’s Roost,’’ from the ancient name of that beautiful residence of his on the banks of the Judson, in which they were mostly written. They Were, perbaps, read with more interpet in the volame than in the magazine, just as some palutings of the highest merit are seen with more pleasure to the panter’s room than on the walls ofan exhibition [a 1842 be went to Spain as the American Minister, and re mained in that country for tour years. I have never co cerstood ything Ovcured during that time to put his talents for diplomacy to any rigorous test. He did, at least, what ail American Ministers at the European courts are doing, and I suppose my hourers understand very well what toat is; but if there had deea any question of importance to be settled, I think he might have acquitted himself as weil as many who have haa a higher repute tion for dexterity in business. When I was at Madrid in ip 1857 a aistinguished Spaniard said to me:—‘‘ Why does bot your government send out Washtugton Irving to this court? Why do you not take as your agent the man whom ai! Spain admires, veaerates, loves? I assure you it would be difficult for our governmentto retuse anything which Irving should ask, and his signature would make almost any treaty. acceptable to our peopl Re burning im 1846, wg went back to Sunnyside on tthe Hudson, and continued te make it his abole for the rest of his life. Those who passed up and down the river before’the year 1835, may remember & weglected cottage on @ green bank, with a few lo cust trees before it, close to where a little brook brings tn its tribute to the mightier stream. In that year Irving Deoame its possessor; he gave it the namo it now wears, planted ite pleasant slopes with trees aad sorubds, laid it out in walks, built outhouses and converted the cottage into ® more spacious dwelling tn the old Dutch style of architecture, with crowsteps on the gables; a quaiat, pic. turesque building, with “ aa many angles aad cornera,” to use his own words, ‘asa cocked hat.” Ho causad creeping planta and climbing roses to bo trained up its wails; toe trees be planted prospered io that sheltered situation, and were filied with birds whica would not leave their vests at the approacd of the kind master of the olace. The bourse became almost hidden from sight by their lofty summits, the perpatual rastiings of which, to those who sat within, were blended with the murmurs oi the water. Van Tassel wou'd have hai some difficulty ig reooguising bis old abode-in ths littie paratisa, witt ‘ho Beauty of which one of Irving’s friends (H. T. Tuskerman) has made the pudlic familisr to me acd verses. At Sunnysite Irving wrote his ‘Life of “iver Goldamith.”” Putnam the bookseller had apid to s\m oae day, ‘Hore is Fuater’s ‘Life of Golismite:’ Tyoiek of repuotohing i)” “Longa wrote A momar of qq . Goltemith,” answered Irving, “ which wat prefixed te om cotton of his works printed at Paris, and | bave thought of onlarging #t und macimg it more porfos “IT you will do that,” was the reply of tho vuekseller, 1 shall not republieh the Life by Foster.’ Witbie three months afterwarce Irving's * Lifoof Goldsmia” was finished and in p: . Iswasao mach svperior te the origipal sketch in the exeotaces of the particulars, the em- tainment of the anoosotes, wad the beauty of tho sale, that it was really a wew work. For my part I knew nothing like it I bave read pe biographical memoir which carries forward the resder so delightfully and with fo littie teaiouaness of recital or reflection I never take it op wit oz tempted to wish that Irving had writ ten more of the kind; but this could hardly be, for where covlg he have tound another Golosmith? In 1850 appeared © Lives of Mahomet and his S: ad composed principally from memorauda made by him ae dence in and im the’ same ae ot ee of the now piece » bookseller of radle conduct he delighted to 9) Irving was a mam with whom it “preps Eg misundorstandieg; but, even if he had bees of a different temper, there com- mendations would have been none the less well deserved. ‘When Cooper died, towards the close of the year 1850, Irving, who had not long before met him, apparently im the full vigor of his exoellent constitution’ wes “shocked by the event, and took part in the meetings held es of the next year, at which Webster presided. He near the end of bis sixty eighth year, aud was ‘a8 one over whom the last t' i i itd: He, as in early life a and his health by habitual dally. assembly a fres: more than elderty?, Hel ing planned ‘Life of Waahington,”’ to which Soinbu Deokwelier bat ewes i hit jin burg r, is to him before, and he them resolved he should return te the United States. im favor of other projects, but never length the expected time seemed to otber tasks had been successfully performed; ‘WAS waiting for new works from his pen; body were yet im their vigor; tne habit ana Ty production yet remained, and he 18 greatest it ; Ses i i Hh could not” divert ie. frou though they id not divert him “They expect too much—too much,’ he sai of mine, to whom he was # ‘ing of the magnitu: the task and the difficulty satistying the . cannot wonder at theac doubts. At the time when be to employ himeclf steadily on work wear the age of throescore and , whem with men the season of hope and oonfidénce like ome who should begin the great when the run was shedding his latest beams, and what; the shadews of nigbt should descend upon him before task was ended? A vast labor had beea thrown him by the almost numberleas documents and pape: cently brought to light relating to the events ia which Wasbip; was concerned. a8 were amassed and digested by the research of }, and pooaepenlen by the commentary of his excelleat . These were rH i é ae FF world-wide fame, with w! compared, and he was to be judged oy a public whom he More than aimost any ower man had taught to be ii tient of mediocrity. Ido not believe, however, that ‘vivg’s task would havo been performed so ably if it had beem undertaken whem it was sugg:ated by stable ; the parrative could not have been eo complete in its festa; it might not bave been written with the same bo>0: simplicity. It was fortunate that the work was till R could be written from the largest store of materials— till ys pian was fully matured in allie fair proportions, and wll the autbor’s mind had become filled with the profoundest veneration of his subject. The siaplic' already mentioned is the first quality of this work whit impresees the reader. Here ia a man of genius, a poet temperament, writing the life of a man of transcendans wisdom and virtue—a life passed amidst great events and. ra neon Le Brg perll ge services. zoers is a esa- stant 0 eul ut the temptation is resisted; the actions of his bero are left to speak their own praise, He records events reverently, as one might have recorded them before the art of rhetoric was invented, with ae exaggeration, with no parade of reflection; tho leevoms of the narrative are made to impress themselves on the mind by the earnest and conscientious relation of facta. Moan- time the narrator keeps himself in the background, selely’ occupied with the due presentation of bis subject. Oar eyes are upon the actors whom he sets before us—we never think of Mr. Irving, A closer examination reveals another great merit tere work, the admirable propor- tion in which the au! keeps the ot his story. Isuppose be could hardly have been cea- a a ir ggftnes a) and that Pec without a irect effort. 1g meditation 0 shaped and matured tho pl reagent paseo y Al itg parts in their just symmetry, that, executing it as did conscientiousty, he could not have made it a difforemt. thing from what we bave it. There is nothing distorted, nothing placed in too broad a light or thrown too far im the shade. fhe oleae of our Falndeany = war, the great event of jashington’s le, pass fore as they passed before the eyeb ' the ‘commeand?. er-in-chief himeeW, and from time to time varied his designs. Washington is kept always in sight, and the office of the biographer is never piored to become merged ip that of the bistorian. who were the companions of Washington in the field or in civil life are sbown only in their association with him, yet are ther characters drawn, pot only with ekil and spirit, bat with a hand that delighted to do them justice. Nothing, I be- heve, could be more abhorrent to Irving’s ideas of the province of a biographer, than the slightest detraction # from the merits of others, that his hero ‘appear more eminent. So remarkable is bs work im this reepect, that a distingyjshed member of he Historical (G. W. Greene—* Biographi- cal Stacies’”) who has ana'yzed the merits ef the “Life of Wa ”? with a critical skill which mak=s me ashamed to 8; of the work after him, has declared ceestully catablithed bis claim to the tue of impartiality.” I contess that my admiration of this work becomes the greater the more I examine it. im the other writings of Irviog are beauties which strike the read- er at once. In this I reoognise qualities which lie deeper and which I was not sure of finding—a rare equity of Judgment, a large graep of the subject, a profound philoss- pby, independent of philosophica! forms and even tastiac- tvely rejecting them, the power of reducing an immense crowd of loose materials to clear and orderly arrangemeat, and forming them into one grand whole, as a skilifel commander, from a rabble of raw recruits forms a disol- plined army, animated and taoved by a single will. The greater part of this last work of Irving was composed. while he was in the enjoyment of what might be called a happy old age. It was not without its Gap “but his frame was yet unwasted bright amd active, and the hour of ed ao cistant. He had become ever object of public veneration, and in his beautiful retreat enjoyed all ‘be advantages and few of the moles- tations of acknowledged greatness; # little too much visited, perbsps, but submicting to the intrusion of hig admirers with characteristic patience nd kindness. That re- treat now become more charming than ever, aad the domestic life within was as beautiful as the natare with- out, <A surviving brother older than himself, shared it with him, and several affectionate nephews aad aioces stood to him in the relation of eons and daughters. He was surrounded by neighbors who saw him dally, aed honored and loved him the more for knowing him so well. While he was engaged in writing the last pages of his “Life of Washingtop,,’ his countrymen heard with pain that hig nealth was failing and his strength was ebbing away. He completed the work, however, though he was not abl te reviee the last sheets, and we then hoard thas his nights bad become altogether sleepless. He was himeelt of opinion that his labors had bees toe severe for his time of life, and had sometimes feared that the power to continue them would desert him before Bis tack should be ended. A catarrh,to which he had been subject, haa, by some injudicious prescription, been converted into am asthma, and the asthma, according to the ‘testimony of his physician, Dr. Peters, one of the most attentive and assiduous of ‘his profession, was at Jength accompanied by an enlargement of the heart. This Gieease ended in the usual way, by a sudden dissolution. On the 26th of Nevember last, in the evening, he had bidden the family good night, in his sual kind manner, aud bad withorawn to his room, attended by one of bis nieces, carrying his modicines, when he complained of a gudcen feeling of intense sadness, immediately into her arms. and died without a struggle. Although ho ha@ Teacbed an age beyond which life is rarely pi , the news of his death wasevery where received with profound sorrow. The whole country mourned, but the gricf was most deeply felt in his immediate neighborhood; the little children wept for the logs of their good friend. When day of his funeral arrived the people gathered far and near to attend it; this capital forth its citizens; the trains on the railway were crowded, anda multitude, jike a mase meeting, but reverentally eflent, moved th: the streets of the neighboring village, which bad been dresso: emblems of mourning, avd clustered about the church and the burial ground. It was the first day of December; the pleasant Incian summer of our climate bad been p Jonged fer beyonc its usual date; the sun shone with hi softest splendor, and the clements were hushed inte a riect calm, it was like one of the blandes: days of Ucte- Ser The hilig and forests, the mestoge and waters which Irving had loved secmed listening, in that quiet atmoeptiere, as the solemn funeral service was reat. It was read over the remains of one whoec life had well Prepared bis spirit for iis new stage of being. Irving did Rot aspire to be a theologian, but hie heart was dooply penetrated with the better part of religion, amd he hi sought humbly to imitate the example of the Great Teaskor of our faith That amvadle charscter which makes So manifest in tha writings cf Irving was secoin all bis daily actions. "He wan ever ready to do kind offices, fencer of the feelings of others, carefully ju: but ever leaning to the mercifal side of justic averse from strife, and go modest that tho world never ceased to wonder how itshould have happoa- ed that one so much praised should have gained so little assurance. He envied mo man’s Success, he sought to detract from no man’s merits, but he was acutely seasi- tive both to praise and to blame—sensitive to such @ de- greo that an unfavorable criticism of any of his works would almost persuade him thas they were as worthless as tho critic represented them. He thought so little of himself that he could nsver comprehend why it was that be should be the object of curiosity or revereace. From the time that be began the composition of the ‘“Skoeteh Book?” his whole life was the life or an author. His hadite of composition were, however, by no moans regular. When be was in the vein the periods would literally stream from his pen; at other times he would scarcely write anything. For tem years after tho failire of his brothers at Liverpool ho found it almost impossible to write aline. He was throughout life an early risor, and when in the mood would write all the morning and ttl late in the day, wholly engrossed with his sabject. In the evening he was ready for any cheerful pastime, m whieh he took os with an scimation al- most amounting to high spirits. Taese inter- vals of excitement ang? intense Iabor, rometimes instipg for weeks, were succ*cded by laugor, and at tinos by depression of spirits, and for months tho pen would lig untouched; even to engyrer @ letter at those times wan desay seem- more thea