was a man of genius, and it is misleading to dub him lazy, or seek to triangulate his life by a scientist's quadrant.

The "History of New York" was a mock-heroic account of the settlement of Manhattan by the Dutch "from the beginning of the world to the end of the Dutch dynasty." It was begun as a parody of a certain very serious study of New York by one Mitchell, a member of the New York Historical Society, and the intention was that Peter and Washington Irving should together concoct it; but business kept the other from his part, and luckily, as it turned out, Washington executed the work alone. The author represents that the blotted manuscript of the book was left in a New York hostelry by Diedrich, who is described as impoverished, of uncertain temper, and something of a busybody. One smiles to-day doubly in opening the "History" first for the amusement it furnishes in itself, and again as one conjures up a picture of the readers of Irving's time, beginning this solemn nonsense with the expectation of finding improving information. The merit of the work lies in its manner, its delicious exaggeration, its unforgetable penpictures of Heinrich Hudson and the other worthies of that early civilization, in the burlesque of social customs, dress, domestic life, and life civic-all thrown off with infectious abandon, with a flowing pen, and (in appearance at least) with an inexhaustible fresh spirit. It is with such gusto that the large men of literature always write; they produce what is to be a classic as a mere jeu d'esprit, much as a schoolboy conducts a game on a Saturday's holiday. The literary style in which all this is done varies in accordance with the demand, the required atmosphere; for to create an atmosphere and then to keep it by a congruous flow of language is one of the great secrets of good literature. But

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Irving's manner in the "History" may fairly be shown in the following passage; the reader however being cautioned that our author suffers inevitably from a short selection, inasmuch as his peculiar felicity comes from an effect of quiet charm and grace, of fitness and melody, to be felt in their totality.

The detached, striking, bizarre effects of latter-day literature are not to be sought in him:

About six miles from the renowned city of the Manhattoes, in that sound or arm of the sea which passes between the mainland and Nassua, on Long Island, there is a narrow strait, where the current is violently compressed between shouldering promontories and horribly perplexed by rocks and shoals. Being, at the best of times, a very violent, impetuous current, it takes these impediments in mighty dudgeon, boiling in whirlpools, brawling and fretting in ripples, raging and roaring in rapids and breakers, and, in short, indulging in all kinds of wrong-headed paroxysms. At such times, woe to any unlucky vessel that ventures within its clutches. This termagant humor, however, prevails only at certain times of tide. At low water, for instance, it is as pacific a stream as you would wish to see; but as the tide rises, it begins to fret; at half-tide, it roars with might and main, like a bull bellowing for more drink; but when the tide is full, it relapses into quiet and, for a time, sleeps as soundly as an alderman after dinner. In fact, it may be compared to a quarrelsome toper, who is a peaceable fellow enough when he has no liquor at all or when he has a skinful, but who when half seas over plays the very devil. This mighty, blustering, bullying, hard-drinking little strait was a place of great danger and perplexity to the Dutch navigators of ancient days hectoring their tub-built barks in a most unruly style, whirling them about in a manner to make any but a Dutchman giddy, and not unfrequently standing them upon rocks and reefs, as it did the famous squadron of Oloffe the Dreamer when seeking a place to found the city of Manhattoes. Whereupon, out of sheer spleen, they denominated it Helle-gat, and solemnly

gave it over to the devil. This appellation has since been aptly rendered into English by the name of Hell-gate and into nonsense by the name of Hurlgate, according to certain foreign intruders, who neither understood Dutch nor English-may St. Nicholas confound them!

Of any one quality, humor predominates in this early masterpiece. And since humor has always been a marked characteristic of American literature, along with sanity, a democratic spirit of brotherhood and a streak of idealism, it is interesting to inquire what are the characteristics of this earliest humorist of distinction on this side of the Atlantic. The present-day reader, accustomed to the broader and sometimes coarser fooling of the newspaper funny man, or to the school of humor for which Artemus Ward stands as father, is likely perhaps to find a writer like Irving a little tame. His fun does not involve verbal play, nor violent antithesis, nor grotesque exaggeration; nor, in spite of all its freedom in dealing with personalities, is it so daring as the fun of a later dispensation to which nothing is sacred. In this sense it is more in the British tradition. The day had not yet come for the full unfolding of the American sensibility to the ludicrous, developed by contact with democratic and material conditions. Irving begets an inward smile, where we laugh at Mark Twain, or mayhap guffaw at Bill Nye or George Ade, or Mr. Dooley. But the "Knickerbocker History" is very genuine humor, nevertheless, and more's the pity if our jaded taste fails to respond to it; such a result should suggest the possibility that food too highly spiced unfits for that which is more eupeptic.

After the "History," Irving did nothing of importance as a writer for ten years, from 1809 to 1819, in which latter year "The Sketch Book" began to appear. To be sure, he wrote

sundry articles for a magazine he edited for a while, but for the most part this was a period of observation, development, maturing. In 1815 he went abroad for a sojourn that stretched itself out to seventeen years of travel and residence. He was a year or so over thirty when he went, a man of nearly fifty when he returned. He left his native land partly because there were reasons connected with his business which called for his attention there; partly, too, because he liked the old country, much in him naturally responding to the social brilliancy and culture-steeped traditions of the older civilization. Friends he had made across the water urged him to come; and there was nothing of compelling importance either in the way of family ties or business cares to bid him remain in America. And so during these fruitful years in his youthful prime and dowered in many ways for enlightened social communion, Irving saw and wrote and eventually conquered.

His wanderings were wide. The first five years of the seventeen were spent in Great Britain- much of the time in the English capital; then for the most of six years, from 1820 to 1826, he was on the Continent; for three years in Spain, then back to England again as secretary of the United States legation. This prolonged residence abroad had a very great influence on Irving's life, his thought, and hence his literary work. He absorbed the spirit and essence of English social life, old and new; and those two typical volumes of essays, "The Sketch Book" and "Bracebridge Hall," were largely the result. He browsed in foreign libraries, and derived inspiration from the art treasures of Spain, and history like his "Columbus" and "The Alhambra❞ were given to the world. It is not too much to say that his European experience changed his life work as an author,

and yet, unlike other Americans upon whom foreign sojourn has worked more than a sea change, Irving's genius never lost its distinctively American quality. Henry James by such a residence has ceased to be an American author in any sense. Bret Harte, on the other hand, in a similar residence, continued to the day of his death to write stories that spoke alone of the native soil. To retain the domestic flavor under such circumstances is as well for an author as for a grape or pear.

Everywhere he went abroad Irving was received with cordiality and kindness: he was sought after, and deservedly so, for his manners were of the best, his personality charming, and his growing literary reputation such as to remove social barriers. There is testimony and to spare of the good time he had, the pleasant impression he made; many a reference in letter or memoir is preserved to prove it. He met familiarly the notables of letters and society in view of the period and Irving's plebeian origin this speaks eloquently for his winning qualities.

Irving seemed to need the pressure of necessity to produce literature. When, because of the hard times brought on by the War of 1812, the business houses of New York were tottering and unstable, Irving had tried magazine editorship to help the house of Irving Brothers, though with little success; in England, half a dozen years later, came to him news of the failure of the firm, and the loyal silent partner bethought him how he might help. Editorial work, with handsome remuneration, he refused; he sat down and made a permanent contribution to American literature by writing "The Sketch Book," or, to give it its full title, "The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent," the seven parts of which appeared during 1819 and 1820. It may be here