BBhs.Aoqts y&T&j^ ' Of raCLLSfl CLASSICS .elections f™» Washin^ton'trvin LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Prices largely reduced. Efje Stutrente' Series of lEnjjIteijf Claries. Coleridge's Ancient Mariner 25 cts A Ballad Book 50 " The Merchant of Venice Edited by Katharine Lee Bates, Wellesley College. Matthew Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum 25 Webster's First Bunker Hill Oration 25 Milton, Lyrics . . 25 Edited by LOUISE MANNING HODGKINS. Introduction to the Writings of John Ruskin . . . .50 Macaulay's Essay on Lord Clive 35 Edited by VlDA D. SCUDDER, Wellesley College. George Eliot's Silas Marner 35 Scott's Marmion . . . . ■ 35 Edited by MARY HARRIOTT NORRIS, Instructor, New York. Sir Roger de Coverley Papers from The Spectator . . .35 Edited by A. S. ROE, Worcester, Mass. Macaulay's Second Essay on the Earl of Chatham . . .35 Edited by W. W. CURTIS, High School, Pawtucket, R.I. Johnson's History of Rasselas 35 Edited by FRED N. SCOTT, University of Michigan. Joan of Arc and Other Selections from De Quincey . . .35 Edited by Henry H. Belfield, Chicago Manual .Training School, 2 THE STUDENTS' SERIES OF ENGLISH CLASSICS. Carlyle's The Diamond Necklace 35 cts. Edited by W. F. Mozier, High School, Ottawa, 111. Macaulay's Essays on Milton and Addison . . . . 35 " Edited by James Chalmers, Ohio State University. Selections from Washington Irving 50 " Edited by ISAAC THOMAS, High School, New Haven, Conn. Scott's Lady of the Lake Edited by JAMES ARTHUR TUFTS, Phillips Exeter Academy. Selected Orations and Speeches Edited by C. A. WHITING, University of Utah. Lays of Ancient Rome . . . . Edited by D. D. PRATT, High School, Portsmouth, Ohio. Goldsmith's Traveller and Deserted Village . . . . 25 " Edited by W. F. GREGORY, High School, Hartford, Conn. Burke's Speech on Conciliation with America .... Edited by L. Du PONT Syle, University of California. Macaulay : Life of Samuel Johnson ; Essay on Byron Edited by GAMALIEL BRADFORD, Jr., Instructor in Literature, Wellesley and Boston. Wordsworth's White Doe of Rylstone Edited by MARY HARRIOTT NORRIS, Professor of English Literature. Tennyson's Elaine Edited by FANNIE MORE McCAULEY, Instructor in English Literature, Winchester School, Baltimore. All are substantially bound in cloth. The usual discount will be made for these books in quantities. LEACH, SHEWELL, & SANBORN, Publishers. BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. Six* JluAjetxts' Jjevijes xrf ^xxqXx&U ©lassixs. SELECTIONS FROM / WASHINGTON IRVING SELECTED AND ARRANGED ISAAC THOMAS, A.M. (Yale), Principal of Hillhouse High School, New Haven, Conn. The best preparation to the study of an author is to read what he has written. LEACH, SHEWELL, & SANBORN, BOSTON. NEW YORK. CHICAGO. \ v Copyright, 1894, By Leach, Shewell, & Sanborn. U - 3Vt Electrotyping by C. J. Peters & Son, Boston, U.S.A. Press of Berwick & Smith. PEEFAOE. Beading with my classes this year " The Alhambra," and selections from the " Sketch Book/' it seemed to me that Irving was well worth a much wider reading in the schools than he now has. That he is not more widely read is due, no doubt, to many reasons which need not here be discussed ; but certainly one of them is the lack of an available book representative of his best work. To make such selections from his works as would (1) form an interesting book for school work, and (2) represent him at his best in every direction, was therefore the first task set. At the same time, I believed that such a book would lead both teacher and pupil to a more general reading of Irving. I am well aware that in some quarters Irving is con- sidered antiquated, though I have never been able to see upon what ground. Then, too, he is called " genial," as if it were a small thing to be able to give pure pleasure and enjoyment. If, as he himself says, he can, "'by any lucky chance, in these days of evil, rub out one wrinkle from the brow of care, or prompt a benevolent view of human nature, and make his reader more in a good humor with his fellow-beings and himself," I for one cannot see why it should be counted against him. iii iv PREFA CE. But this is no place for an argument to show why Irving is worthy to be read, and read a great deal too. I shall content myself, therefore, by referring the reader to some things that have been said by others. One Eng- lish writer, Thackeray, and two American writers, Charles Dudley Warner and Donald G. Mitchell, have said what any one may read with great profit. " Nil nisi bonum " in the Roundabout Papers ; "Washington Irving," "Ameri- can Men of Letters," especially the last chapter ; Preface of 1863 to " Dream Life ; " and " Washington Irving " in " Bound Together," give what any author might be happy to have said of him. I cannot forbear to quote briefly from these authors. " Did he ever say an unkind thing of you, or me, or any one ? Can you cull me a sneer, that has hate in it, anywhere in his books ? Can you tell me of a thrust of either words or silence which has malignity in it ? " " Here are two x examples of men most differently gifted : each pursuing his calling; each speaking his truth as God bade him ; each honest in his life ; just and irre- proachable in his dealings ; dear to his friends ; honored by his country; beloved at his fireside. It has been the fortunate lot of both to give incalculable happiness and delight to the world, which thanks them in return with an immense kindliness, respect, and affection." "The author loved good women, and little children, and a pure life ; he had faith in his fellow-men, a kindly sympathy with the lowest, without any subservience to the highest; he retained a belief in the possibility of chivalrous actions, and did not care to envelop them in a 1 Macaulay and Irving. PREFACE. V cynical suspicion ; lie was an author still capable of an enthusiasm. His books are wholesome, full of sweetness and charm, of humor without any sting, of amusement without any stain; and their more solid qualities are marred by neither pedantry nor pretension." Happily the fashion of Manuals of Literature is pass- ing away, and we are learning to become acquainted with authors rather than to know about them. So that the need of urging teachers to read much is also passing away. ~ Yet the press of much work, and the weariness of exacting duties, often make outside reading almost a martyrdom. Notwithstanding this, I say, without hesi- tation, that nothing takes away the drudgery of teaching, puts life into the teacher, and awakens interest in the pupil, so well as a large acquaintance with authors on the part of the instructor. This outside reading should be not simply on the authors taught, and adjacent to them ; but should, in addition, follow some definite course apparently remote, perhaps, from any actual daily work. I am confident that much of the weakness in our Eng- lish teaching ; much of the lack of freshness, and of that indispensable sharpness of mind ; much of the dreary treadmill round when one is teaching the same authors, and perhaps the same works, over and over again, are due to our disposition to be too . easily satisfied with our acquirements. Another fashion, too, is passing away ; that fashion which denies to teacher and pupil one of the greatest pleasures of study and recitation, making of one a help- vi PREFACE. less questioner, and securing from the other a self-satis- fied and listless answer, — the fashion of copious notes. Only a few notes, therefore, will be found in this book. If I have erred, I hope the error has been on the side of too few rather than too many notes. I have left even the choice of books of reference, dictionaries, etc., to the teacher. In two selections, " The Palace of the Alhambra," and "The Character of Goldsmith," I have fitted together parts to suit the purpose I had in mind. I hope they will not have too much the appearance of patchwork. The text of these selections is from the author's re- vised edition, published only by GL P. Putnam's Sons, by whose kind permission the papers in this book are used ; and all the references in the notes are to that edition. While this book has been prepared for the Student's Series of English Classics, it is believed that it will be found particularly well suited for use in the grammar schools, where the reading must of necessity be of a more general character than in the high school. In the course of my work Prof. H. A. Beers of Yale University gave me many valuable suggestions which I here most gratefully acknowledge. I. T. New Haven, May, 1894. TABLE OF CONTENTS. PAGE. 1. Capture of New Amsterdam by the English . 1 Knickerbocker's History of New York, 1809. 2. Eip Tan Winkle 37 Sketch Book, 1818. 3. Christmas Sketches — Sketch Book, 1818. 1. Christmas 63 2. The Stage-Coach 71 3. Christmas Eve 80 4. Christmas Day 96 5. The Christmas Dinner 115 4. Stratford-on-Avon 135 Sketch Book, 1818. 5. The Stout Gentleman 161 Bracebridge Hall, 1822. 6. Dolph Heyliger — Bracebridge Hall, 1822. 1. The Historian 175 2. The Haunted House . . . . - 178 3. Dolph Heyliger 183 4. The Storm-ship 233 vii viii TABLE OF CONTENTS. PAGE. 7. Columbus's Discovery of Land, 1492 269 Life of Columbus, 1828. 8. Surrender of Granada 281 Conquest of Granada, 1829. 9. Palace of the Alhambra 294 -The Alhambra, 1832. 10. Legend of the Two Discreet Statues .... 324 The Alhambra, 1832. 11. Oliver Goldsmith 347 Goldsmith, 1849. 12. Washington at Princeton 358 Life of Washington, 1855-9. SELECTIONS FBOM WASHINGTON IRVING. THE CAPTUEE OF NEW AMSTEEDAM BY THE ENGLISH. Great nations resemble great men in this particular, that their greatness is seldom known until they get in trouble ; adversity, therefore, has been wisely denomi- nated the ordeal of true greatness, which, like gold, can never receive its real estimation until it has passed through the furnace. In proportion, therefore, as a nation, a community, or an individual (possessing the in- herent quality of greatness) is involved in perils and mis- fortunes, in proportion does it rise in grandeur, and even when sinking under calamity makes, like a house on fire, a more glorious display than ever it did in the fairest period of its prosperity. The vast empire of China, though teeming with pop- ulation and imbibing and concentrating the wealth of nations, has vegetated through a succession of drowsy ages ; and were it not for its internal revolutions, and the subversion of its ancient government by the Tartars, 1 2 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. might have presented nothing but a dull detail of mo- notonous prosperity. Pompeii and Herculaneum might have passed into oblivion, with a herd of their contem- poraries, had they not been fortunately overwhelmed by a volcano. The renowned city of Troy acquired celebrity only from its ten years' distress, and final conflagration ; Paris rose in importance by the plots and massacres which ended in the exaltation of Napoleon; and even the mighty London had skulked through the records of time, celebrated for nothing of moment excepting the plague, the great fire, and Guy Faux's gunpowder plot ! Thus cities and empires creep along, enlarging in silent ob- scurity, until they burst forth in some tremendous ca- lamity — and snatch, as it were, immortality from the explosion ! The above principle being admitted, my reader will plainly perceive that the city of New Amsterdam and its dependent province are on the high-road to greatness. Dangers and hostilities threaten from every side, and it is really a matter of astonishment how so small a state has been able, in so short a time, to entangle itself in so many difficulties. Ever since the province was first taken by the nose, at the Fort of Goed Hoop, in the tranquil days of Wouter Van Twiller, has it been gradu- ally increasing in historic importance; and never could it have had a more appropriate chieftain to conduct it to the pinnacle of grandeur than Peter Stuyvesant. This truly headstrong hero having successfully effected his daring progress through the east country, girded up his loins as he approached Boston, and prepared for the THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 3 grand onslaught with the Amphictyons, which was to be the crowning achievement of the campaign. Throwing Antony Yan Corlear, who, with his calico mare, formed his escort and army, a little in the advance, and bidding him to be of stout heart and great wind, he placed him- self firmly in his saddle, cocked his hat more fiercely over his left eye, summoned all the heroism of his soul into his countenance, and, with one arm akimbo, the hand resting on the pommel of his sword, rode into the great metropolis of the league, Antony sounding his trumpet before him in a manner to electrify the whole community. Never was there such a stir in Boston as on this occa- sion ; never such a hurrying hither and thither about the streets ; such popping of heads out of windows ; such gathering of knots in market-places. Peter Stuyvesant was a straightforward man, and prone to do everything above board. He would have ridden at once to the great council-house of the league and sounded a parley ; but the grand council knew the mettlesome hero they had to deal with, and were not for doing things in a hurry. On the contrary, they sent forth deputations to meet him on the way, to receive him in a style befitting the great potentate of the Manhattoes, and to multiply all kind of honors and ceremonies and formalities and other cour- teous impediments in his path. Solemn banquets were accordingly given him, equal to thanksgiving feasts. Complimentary speeches were made him, wherein he was entertained with the surpassing virtues, long-sufferings, and achievements of the Pilgrim Fathers ; and it is even 4 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. said lie was treated to a sight of Plymouth Rock, — that great corner-stone of Yankee empire. I will not detain my readers by recounting the endless devices by which time was wasted, and obstacles and delays multiplied to the infinite annoyance of the impa- tient Peter. Neither will I fatigue them by dwelling on his negotiations with the grand council, when he at length brought them to business. Suffice it to say, it was like most other diplomatic negotiations : a great deal was said and very little done ; one conversation led to another, one conference begot misunderstandings which it took a dozen conferences to explain, at the end of which both parties found themselves just where they had begun, but ten times less likely to come to an agreement. In the midst of these perplexities which bewildered the brain and incensed the ire of honest Peter, he re- ceived private intelligence of the dark conspiracy matured in the British cabinet, with the astounding fact that a British squadron was already on the way to invade New Amsterdam by sea, and that the grand council of Amphic- tyons, while thus beguiling him with subtleties, were actually prepared to co-operate by land ! Oh ! how did the sturdy old warrior rage and roar, when he found himself thus entrapped, like a lion in the hunter's toil ! Now did he draw his trusty sword, and determine to break in upon the council of the Amphic- tyons and put every mother's son of them to death. Now did he resolve to fight his way throughout all the region of the east and to lay waste Connecticut River ! Gallant, but unfortunate Peter ! Did I not enter with THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 5 sacl forebodings on this ill-starred expedition? Did I not tremble when I saw thee, with no other counsellor than thine own head; no other armor but an honest tongue, a spotless conscience, and a rusty sword; no other protector but St. Nicholas, and no other attendant but a trumpeter ; did I not tremble when I beheld thee thus sally forth to contend with all the knowing powers of New England ? It was a long time before the kind-hearted expostula- tions of Antony Van Corlear, aided by the soothing mel- ody of his trumpet, could lower the spirits of Peter Stuyvesant from their warlike and vindictive tones, and prevent his making widows and orphans of half the pop- ulation of Boston. With great difficulty he was pre- vailed upon to bottle up his wrath for the present, to conceal from the council his knowledge of their machi- nations, and by effecting his escape, to be able to arrive in time for the salvation of the Manhattoes. The latter suggestion awakened a new ray of hope in his bosom ; he forthwith despatched a secret message to his councillors at New Amsterdam, apprising them of their danger, and commanding them to put the city in a posture of defence, promising to come as soon as possi- ble to their assistance. This done, he felt marvellously relieved, rose slowly, shook himself like a rhinoceros, and issued forth from his den, in much the same manner as Giant Despair is described to have issued from Doubt- ing Castle, in the chivalric history of the Pilgrim's Progress. And now much does it grieve me that I must leave the 6 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. gallant Peter in his imminent jeopardy; but it behooves us to hurry back and see what is going on at New Am- sterdam, for greatly do I fear that city is already in a turmoil. Such was ever the fate of Peter Stuyvesant ; while doing one thing with heart and soul, he was too apt to leave everything else at sixes and sevens. While, like a potentate of yore, he was. absent attending to those things in person which in modern days are trusted to generals and ambassadors, his little territory at home was sure to get in an uproar — all which was owing to that uncommon strength of intellect, which induced him to trust to nobody but himself, and which had acquired him the renowned appellation of Peter the Headstrong. There is no sight more truly interesting to a philoso- pher than a community where every individual has a voice in public affairs, where every individual considers himself the Atlas of the nation, and where every indi- vidual thinks it his duty to bestir himself for the good of his country : I say, there is nothing more interesting to a philosopher than such a community in a sudden bustle of war. Such clamor of tongues — such patriotic bawling — such running hither and thither — everybody in a hurry — everybody in trouble — everybody in the way, and everybody interrupting his neighbor — who is busily employed in doing nothing ! It is like witnessing a great fire, where the whole community are agog — some dragging about empty engines — others scampering with full buckets, and spilling the contents into their neigh- bor's boots — and others ringing the church bells all night, by way of putting out the fire. Little firemen, THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 7 like sturdy little knights storming a breach, clambering up and down scaling-ladders, and bawling through tin trumpets, by way of directing the attack. Here a fel- low, in his great zeal to save the property of the unfor- tunate, catches up an anonymous chamber-utensil, and gallants it off with an air of as much self-importance as if he had rescued a pot of money ; there another throws looking-glasses and china out of the window, to save them from the flames ; whilst those who can do nothing else run up and down the streets, keeping up an inces- sant cry of Fire! Fire! Fire! " When the news arrived at Sinope," says Lucian, — though I own the story is rather trite, — "that Philip was about to attack them, the inhabitants were thrown into a violent alarm. Some ran to furbish up their arms ; others rolled stones to build up the walls — everybody, in short, was employed, and everybody in the way of his neighbor. Diogenes alone could find nothing to do whereupon, not to be idle when the welfare of his country was at stake, he tucked up his robe, and fell to rolling his tub with might and main up and down the Gymnasium." In like manner did every mother's son in the patriotic community of New Amsterdam, on receiv- ing the missive of Peter Stuyvesant, busy himself most mightily in putting things in confusion, and assisting the general uproar. "Every man" — saith the Stuyvesant manuscript — "flew to arms!" — by which is meant, that not one of our honest Dutch citizens would venture to church or to market without an old-fasioned spit of a sword dangling at his side, and a long Dutch fowling- 8 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. piece on his shoulder; nor would he go out of a night without a lantern 5 nor turn a corner without first peep- ing cautiously round, lest he should come unawares upon a British army; — and we are informed that Stoffel Brinkerhoff, who was considered by the old women almost as brave a man as the governor himself, actually had two one-pound swivels mounted in his entry, one pointing out at the front door, and the other at the back. But the most strenuous measure resorted to on this awful occasion, and one which has since been found of wonderful efficacy, was to assemble popular meetings. These brawling convocations, I have already shown, were extremely offensive to Peter Stuyvesant; but as this was a moment of unusual agitation, and as the old governor was not present to repress them, they broke out with intolerable violence. Hither, therefore, the orators and politicians repaired, striving who should bawl loudest, and exceed the others in hyperbolical bursts of patriotism, and in resolutions to uphold and defend the government. In these sage meetings it was resolved that they were the most enlightened, the most dignified, the most formidable, and the most ancient community upon the face of the earth. This resolution being carried unanimously, another was immediately proposed, — whether it were not possible and politic to exterminate Great Britain? upon which sixty-nine members spoke in the affirmative, and only one arose to suggest some doubts, — who, as a punishment for his treasonable presumption, was immediately seized by the mob, and tarred and feathered,-— which punishment be- THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 9 ing equivalent to the Tarpeian Rock, he was afterwards considered as an outcast from society, and his opinion went for nothing. The question, therefore, being unani- mously carried in the affirmative, it was recommended to the grand council to pass it into a law ; which was accordingly done. By this measure the hearts of the people at large were wonderfully encouraged, and they waxed exceedingly choleric and valorous. Indeed, the first paroxysm of alarm having in some measure sub- sided, — the old women having buried all the money they could lay their hands on, and their husbands daily getting fuddled with what was left, — the community began even to stand on the offensive. Songs were manufactured in Low Dutch and sung about the streets, wherein the English were most wofully beaten, and shown no quarter; and popular addresses were made, wherein it was proved, to a certainty, that the fate of Old England depended upon the will of the New Am- sterdammers. Finally, to strike a violent blow at the very vitals of Great Britain, a multitude of the wiser inhabitants assembled, and having purchased all the British manu- factures they could find, they made thereof a huge bon- fire; and, in the patriotic glow of the moment, every man present, who had a hat or breeches of English workmanship, pulled it off and threw it into the flames, — to the irreparable detriment, loss, and ruin of the English manufacturers. In commemoration of this great exploit, they erected a pole on the spot, with a device on the top intended to represent the province of Meuw 10 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. Nederlands destroying Great Britain, under the simili- tude of an Eagle picking the little Island of Old England out of the globe ; but, either through the unskilfulness of the sculptor, or his ill-timed waggery, it bore a striking resemblance to a goose, vainly striving to get hold of a dumpling. It will need but little penetration in any one conver- sant with the ways of that wise but windy potentate, the sovereign people, to discover that, notwithstand- ing all the warlike bluster and bustle, the city of New Amsterdam was not a whit more prepared for war than before. The privy councillors of Peter Stuyvesant were aware of this ; and, having received his private orders to put the city in an immediate posture of de- fence, they called a meeting of the oldest and richest burghers to assist them with their wisdom. These were that order of citizens commonly termed "men of the greatest weight in the community ; " their weight being estimated by the heaviness of their heads and of their purses. Their wisdom, in fact, is apt to be of a ponderous kind, and to hang like a mill-stone round the neck of the community. Two things were unanimously determined in this as- sembly of venerables : First, that the city required to be put in a state of defence ; and, second, that, as the dan- ger was imminent, there should be no time lost, which points being settled, they fell to making long speeches and belaboring one another in endless and intemperate disputes. For about this time was this unhappy city first visited by that talking endemic so prevalent in this THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 11 country, and which so invariably evinces itself wherever a number of wise men assemble together, breaking out in long, windy speeches, caused, as physicians suppose, by the foul air which is ever generated in a crowd. Now it was, moreover, that they first introduced the ingenious method of measuring the merits of an harangue by the hour-glass, he being considered the ablest orator who spoke longest on a question. For which excellent inven- tion, it is recorded, we are indebted to the same profound Dutch critic who judged of books by their size. This sudden passion for endless harangues, so little consonant with the customary gravity and taciturnity of our sage forefathers, was supposed by certain philoso- phers to have been imbibed, together with divers other barbarous propensities, from their savage neighbors ; who were peculiarly noted for long talks and council-fires, and never undertook any affair of the least importance with- out previous debates and harangues among their chiefs and old men. But the real cause was, that the people, in electing their representatives to the grand council, were particular in choosing thein for their talents at talking, without inquiring whether they possessed the more rare, difficult, and oftentimes important talent of holding their tongues. The consequence was, that this deliberate body was composed of the most loquacious men in the commu- nity. As they considered themselves placed there to talk, every man concluded that his duty to his constitu- ents, and, what is more, his popularity with them, re- quired that he should harangue on every subject, whether he understood it or not. There was an ancient mode of 12 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. burying a chieftain, by every soldier throwing his shield full of earth on the corpse, until a mighty mound was formed ; so, whenever a question was brought forward in this assembly, every member pressing forward to throw on his quantum of wisdom, the subject was quickly buried under a mountain of words. We are told that disciples, on entering the school of Pythagoras, were for two years enjoined silence, and for- bidden either to ask questions, or make remarks. After they had thus acquired the inestimable art of hold- ing their tongues, they were gradually permitted to make inquiries, and finally to communicate their own opinions. With what a beneficial effect could this wise regulation of Pythagoras be introduced in modern legislative bodies, — and how wonderfully it would have tended to expedite business in the grand council of the Manhattoes ! At this perilous juncture the fatal word economy, the stumbling-block of William the Testy, had been once more set afloat, according to which the cheapest plan of defence was insisted upon as the best ; it being deemed a great stroke of policy in furnishing powder to economize in ball. Thus did dame Wisdom (whom the wags of antiquity have humorously personified as a woman) seem to take a mischievous pleasure in jilting the venerable councillors of New Amsterdam. To add to the confusion, the old factions of Short Pipes and Long Pipes, which had been almost strangled by the Herculean grasp of Peter Stuy- vesant, now sprang up with tenfold vigor. Whatever THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. IB was proposed by Short Pipe was opposed by the whole tribe of Long Pipes, who, like true partisans, deemed it their first duty to effect the downfall of their rivals, their second, to elevate themselves, and their third, to consult the public good ; though many left the third con- sideration out of question altogether. In this great collision of hard heads it is astonishing the number of projects that were struck out, — projects which threw the windmill system of William the Testy completely in the background. These were almost uni- formly opposed by the "men of the greatest weight in the community ! " your weighty men, though slow to devise, being always great at " negativing." Among these were a set of fat, self-important old burghers, who smoked their pipes, and said nothing except to negative every plan of defence proposed. These were that class of "conservatives" who, having amassed a fortune, but- ton up their pockets, shut their mouths, sink, as it were, into themselves, and pass the rest of their lives in the indwelling beatitude of conscious wealth ; as some phleg- matic oyster, having swallowed a pearl, closes its shell, sinks in the mud, and devotes the rest of its life to the conservation of its treasure. Every plan of defence seemed to these worthy old gentlemen pregnant with ruin. An armed force was a legion of locusts preying upon the public property; to fit out a naval armament was to throw their money into the sea ; to build fortifi- cations was to bury it in the dirt. In short, they settled it as a sovereign maxim, so long as their pockets were full, no matter how much they were drubbed. A kick i4 SELECTIONS PROM WASHINGTON IRVING. left no scar ; a broken head cured itself ; but an empty purse was, of all maladies, the slowest to heal, and one in which nature did nothing for the patient. Thus did this venerable assembly of sages lavish away that time which the urgency of affairs rendered invalu- able, in empty brawls and long-winded speeches, without ever agreeing, except on the point with which they started; namely, that there was no time to be lost, and delay was ruinous. At length, St. Nicholas taking com- passion on their distracted situation, and anxious to preserve them from anarchy, so ordered, that in the midst of one of their most noisy debates, on the subject of fortification and defence, when they had nearly fallen to loggerheads in consequence of not being able to con- vince each other, the question was happily settled by the sudden entrance of a messenger, who informed them that a hostile fleet had arrived, and was actually advan- cing up the bay ! Like as an assemblage of belligerent cats, gibbering and caterwauling, eying one another with hideous grim- aces and contortions, spitting in each other's faces, and on the point of a general clapper-clawing, are suddenly put to scampering rout and confusion by the appearance of a house-dog, so was the no less vociferous council of New Amsterdam amazed, astounded, and totally dis- persed, by the sudden arrival of the enemy. Every member waddled home as fast as his short legs could carry him, wheezing as he went with corpulency and terror. Arrived at his castle, he barricadoed the street- door, and buried himself in the cider-cellar, without ven- THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 15 turing to peep out, lest he should have his head carried off by a cannon-ball. The sovereign people crowded into the market-place, herding together with the instinct of sheep, who seek safety in each other's company when the shepherd and his dog are absent, and the wolf is prowling round the fold. Far from finding relief, however, they only in- creased each other's terrors. Each man looked ruefully in his neighbor's face, in search of encouragement, but only found in its woe-begone lineaments a confirmation of his own dismay. Not a word now was to be heard of conquering Great Britain, not a whisper about the sover- eign virtues of economy, — while the old women height- ened the general gloom by clamorously bewailing their fate, and calling for protection on St. Nicholas and Peter Stuyvesant. Oh, how did they bewail the absence of the lion- hearted Peter ! and how did they long for the comfort- ing presence of Antony Van Corlear ! Indeed, a gloomy uncertainty hung over the fate of these adventurous heroes. Day after day had elapsed since the alarming message from the governor, without bringing any further tidings of his safety. Many a fearful conjecture was hazarded as to what had befallen him and his loyal squire. Had they not been devoured alive by the canni- bals of Marblehead and Cape Cod ? — had they not been put to the question by the great council of Amphictyons ? — had they not been smothered in onions by the terrible men of Pyquag ? In the midst of this consternation and perplexity, when horror, like a mighty nightmare, sat 16 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. brooding upon the little, fat, plethoric city of New Am- sterdam, the ears of the multitude were suddenly startled by the distant sound of a trumpet : it approached, it grew louder and louder, and now it resounded at the city gate. The public could not be mistaken in the well- known sound ; a shout of joy burst from their lips, as the gallant Peter, covered with dust, and followed by his faithful trumpeter, came galloping into the market- place. The first transports of the populace having subsided, they gathered round the honest Antony, as he dismounted, overwhelming him with greetings and congratulations. In breathless accents he related to them the marvellous adventures through which the old governor and himself had gone, in making their escape from the clutches of the terrible Amphictyons. But though the Stuyvesant manuscript, with its customary minuteness where any- thing touching the great Peter is concerned, is very par- ticular as to the incidents of this masterly retreat, the state of the public affairs will not allow me to indulge in a full recital thereof. Let it suffice to say, that, while Peter Stuyvesant was anxiously revolving in his mind how he could make good his escape with honor and dig- nity, certain of the ships sent out for the conquest of the Manhattoes touched at the eastern ports to obtain supplies, and to call on the grand council of the league for its promised co-operation. Upon hearing of this, the vigilant Peter, perceiving that a moment's delay were fatal, made a secret and precipitate decampment ; though much did it grieve his lofty soul to be obliged to turn his THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 17 back even upon a nation of foes. Many hairbreadth 'scapes and divers perilous mishaps did they sustain, as they scoured, without sound of trumpet, through the fair regions of the east. Already was the country in an up- roar with hostile preparations, and they were obliged to take a large circuit in their flight, lurking along through the woody mountains of the Devil's backbone ; whence the valiant Peter sallied forth one day like a lion, and put to rout a whole legion of squatters, consisting of three generations of a prolific family, who were already on their way to take possession of some corner of the New Netherlands. - Nay, the faithful Antony had great difficulty, at sundry times, to prevent him, in the excess of his wrath, from descending down from the mountains, and falling, sword in hand, upon certain of the border- towns, who were marshalling forth their draggle-tailed militia. The first movement of the governor, on reaching his dwelling, was to mount the roof, whence he contemplated with rueful aspect the hostile squadron. This had al- ready come to anchor in the bay, and consisted of two stout frigates, having on board, as John Josselyn, Gent., informs us, "three hundred valiant redcoats." Having taken this survey, he sat himself down and wrote an epistle to the commander, demanding the reason of his anchoring in the harbor without obtaining previous per- mission so to do. This letter was couched in the most dignified and courteous terms, though I have it from un- doubted authority that his teeth were clinched, and he had a bitter, sardonic grin upon his visage all the while 18 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. he wrote. Having despatched his letter, the grim Peter stumped to and fro about the town with a most war- betokening countenance, his hands thrust into his breeches pockets, and whistling a Low-Dutch psalm tune, which bore no small resemblance to the music of a north-east wind, when a storm is brewing. The very dogs, as they eyed him, skulked away in dismay ; while all the old and ugly women of New Amsterdam ran howling at his heels, imploring him to save them from murder, robbery, and pitiless ravishment ! The reply of Colonel Nicholas, who commanded the invaders, was couched in terms of equal courtesy with the letter of the governor ; declaring the right and title of his British Majesty to the province, where he affirmed the Dutch to be mere interlopers ; and demanding that the town, forts, etc., should be forthwith rendered into his Majesty's obedience and protection; promising, at the same time, life, liberty, estate, and free trade to every Dutch denizen who should readily submit to his Majesty's government. Peter Stuyvesant read over this friendly epistle with some such harmony of aspect as we may suppose a crusty farmer reads the loving letter of John Stiles, warning him of an action of ejectment. He was not, however, to be taken by surprise ; but, thrusting the summons into his breeches pocket, stalked three times across the room, took a pinch of snuff with great vehe- mence, and then, loftily waving his hand, promised to send an answer the next morning. He now summoned a general meeting of his privy councillors and burgomas- THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 19 ters, not to ask their advice, for, confident in his own strong head, he needed no man's counsel, but apparently to give them a piece of his mind on their late craven conduct. His orders being duly promulgated, it was a piteous sight to behold the late valiant burgomasters, who had demolished the whole British empire in their harangues, peeping ruefully out of their hiding-places ; crawling cautiously forth; dodging through narrow lanes and alleys ; starting at every little dog that barked ; mis- taking lamp-posts for British grenadiers; and, in the excess of their panic, metamorphosing pumps into for- midable soldiers levelling blunderbusses at their bosoms ! Having, however, in despite of numerous perils and dif- ficulties of the kind, arrived safe, without the loss of a single man, at the hall of assembly, they took their seats, and awaited in fearful silence the arrival of the governor. In a few moments the wooden leg of the intrepid Peter was heard in regular and stout-hearted thumps upon the staircase. He entered the chamber, arrayed in full suit of regimentals, and carrying his trusty toledo, not girded on his thigh, but tucked under his arm. As the governor never equipped himself in this portentous manner unless something of martial nature were working within his pericranium, his council regarded him ruefully, as if they saw fire and sword in his iron countenance, and forgot to light their pipes in breathless suspense. His first words were to rate his council soundly for having wasted in idle debate and party feud the time which should have been devoted to putting the city in a 20 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. state of defence. He was particularly indignant at those brawlers who had disgraced the councils of the province by empty bickerings and scurrilous invectives against an absent enemy. He now called upon them to make good their words by deeds, as the enemy they had defied and derided was at the gate. Finally, he informed them of the summons he had received to surrender, but concluded by swearing to defend the province as long as Heaven was on his side and he had a wooden leg to stand upon ; which warlike sentence he emphasized by a thwack with the flat of his sword upon the table, that quite electrified his auditors. The privy councillors, who had long since been brought into as perfect discipline as were ever the soldiers of the great Frederick, knew there was no use in saying a word, — so lighted their pipes, and smoked away in silence, like fat and discreet councillors. But the burgomasters, being inflated with considerable importance and self- sufficiency, acquired at popular meetings, were not so easily satisfied. Mustering up fresh spirit, when they found there was some chance of escaping from their pres- ent jeopardy without the disagreeable alternative of fight- ing, they requested a copy of the summons to surrender, that they might show it to a general meeting of the people. So insolent and mutinous a request would have been enough to have roused the gorge of the tranquil Van Twiller himself, — what then must have been its effect upon the great Stuyvesant, who was not only a Dutch- man, a governor, and a valiant wooden-legged soldier to boot, but withal a man of the most stomachful and gun- THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 21 powder disposition ? He burst forth into a blaze of indignation, — swore not a mother's son of them should see a syllable of it, — that as to their advice or occur- rence, he did not care a whiff of tobacco for either, — that they might go home, and go to bed like old women ; for he was determined to defend the colony himself, without the assistance of them or their adherents ! So saying, he tucked his sword under his arm, cocked his hat upon his head, and, girding up his loins, stumped indignantly out of the council-chamber, everybody mak- ing room for him as he passed. No sooner was he gone than the busy burgomasters called a public meeting in front of the Stadthouse, where they appointed as chairman one Dofue Koerback, for- merly a meddlesome member of the cabinet during the reign of William the Testy, but kicked out of office by Peter Stuyvesant on taking the reins of government. He was, withal, a mighty gingerbread baker in the land, and reverenced by the populace as a man of dark knowl- edge, seeing that he was the first to imprint New- Year cakes with the mysterious hieroglyphics of the Cock and Breeches, and such like magical devices. This burgomaster, who still chewed the cud of ill-will against Peter Stuyvesant, addressed the multitude in what is called a patriotic speech, informing them of the courteous summons which the governor had received, to surrender, of his refusal to comply therewith, and of his denying the public even a sight of the summons, which doubtless contained conditions highly to the honor and advantage of the province. 22 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. He then proceeded to speak of his Excellency in high- sounding terms of vituperation, suited to the dignity of his station ; comparing him to Nero, Caligula, and other flagrant great men of yore ; assuring the people that the history of the world did not contain a despotic outrage equal to the present. That it would be recorded in letters of fire, on the blood-stained tablet of history ! That ages would roll back with sudden horror when they came to view it ! That the womb of time (by the way, your orators and writers take strange liberties with the womb of time, though some would fain have us believe that time is an old gentleman) — that the womb of time, pregnant as it was with direful horrors, would never produce a parallel enormity ! — with a variety of other heart-rending, soul-stirring tropes and figures, which I cannot enumerate ; neither, indeed, need I, for they were of the kind which even to the present day form the style of popular harangues and patriotic orations, and may be classed in rhetoric under the general title of Kigmarole. The result of this speech of the inspired burgomaster was a memorial address to the governor, remonstrating in good round terms on his conduct. It was proposed that Dofue Eoerback himself should be the bearer of this memorial ; but this he warily declined, having no inclination of coming again within kicking distance of his Excellency. Who did deliver it has never been named in history, in which neglect he has suffered grievous wrong ; seeing that he was equally worthy of blazon with him perpetuated in Scottish song and story by the surname of Bell-the-cat. All we know of the fate THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 23 of this memorial is, that it was used by the grim Peter to light his pipe ; which, from the vehemence with which he smoked it, was evidently anything but a pipe of peace. Now did the high-minded Pieter de Groodt shower down a pannier-load of maledictions upon his burgo- masters for a set of self-willed, obstinate, factious varlets, who would neither be convinced nor persuaded. Nor did he omit to bestow some left-handed compliments upon the sovereign people, as a herd of poltroons, who had no relish for the glorious hardships and illustrious misadventures of battle, but would rather stay at home, and eat and sleep in ignoble ease, than fight in a ditch for immortality and a broken head. Resolutely bent, however, upon defending his beloved city, in despite even of itself, he called unto him his trusty Van Corlear, who was his right-hand man in all times of emergency. Him did he adjure to take his war- denouncing trumpet, and mounting his horse, to beat up the country night and day, — sounding the alarm along the pastoral borders of the Bronx, — startling the wild solitudes of Croton, — arousing the rugged yeomanry of Weehawk and Hoboken, — the mighty men of battle of Tappan Bay, — and the brave boys of Tarry-Town, Pet- ticoat-Lane, and Sleepy-Hollow, — charging them one and all to sling their powder-horns, shoulder their fowl- ing-pieces, and march merrily down to the Manhattoes. Now there was nothing in all the world, the divine sex excepted, that Antony Van Corlear loved better than errands of this kind. So just stopping to take a lusty 24 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. dinner, and bracing to his side his junk-bottle, well charged with heart-inspiring Hollands, he issued jollily from the city gate, which looked out upon what is at present called Broadway, sounding a farewell strain, that rung in sprightly echoes through the winding streets of New Amsterdam. Alas ! never more were they to be gladdened by the melody of their favorite trumpeter ! It was a dark and stormy night when the good Antony arrived at the creek (sagely denominated Haerlem river) which separates the island of Manna-hata from the mainland. The wind was high, the elements were in an uproar, and no Charon could be found to ferry the adventurous sounder of brass across the water. For a short time he vapored like an impatient ghost upon the brink, and then, bethinking himself of the urgency of his errand, took a hearty embrace of his stone bottle, swore most valorously that he would swim across in spite of the devil ! ( Spyt den Duy vel ! ) and daringly plunged into the stream. Luckless Antony ! Scarce had he buffeted half-way over when he was observed to struggle violently, as if battling with the spirit of the waters, — instinctively he put his trumpet to his mouth, and giving a vehement blast — sank forever to the bottom ! The clangor of his trumpet, like that of the ivory horn of the renowned Paladin Orlando, when expiring in the glorious field of Eoncesvalles, rang far and wide through the country, alarming the neighbors round, who hurried in amazement to the spot. Here an old Dutch burgher, famed for his veracity, and who had been a witness of the fact, related to them the melancholy affair ; with the THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 25 fearful addition (to which I am slow in giving belief) that he saw the duyvel, in the shape of a huge moss- bonker, seize the sturdy Antony by the leg, and drag him beneath the waves. Certain it is, the place, with the adjoining promontory, which projects into the Hud- son, has been called Spyt den Duyvel ever since ; the ghost of the unfortunate Antony still haunts the sur- rounding solitudes, and his trumpet has often been heard by the neighbors, of a stormy night, mingling with the howling of the blast. Nobody ever attempts to swim across the creek after dark ; on the contrary, a bridge has been built to guard against such melancholy acci- dents in future ; and as to the moss-bonkers, they are held in such abhorrence, that no true Dutchman will admit them to his table, who loves good fish and hates the devil. As some way-worn pilgrim, when the tempest whistles through his locks, and night is gathering round, beholds his faithful dog, the companion and solace of his jour- neying, stretched lifeless at his feet, so did the generous- hearted hero of the Manhattoes contemplate the untimely end of Antony Van Corlear. He had been the faithful attendant of his footsteps ; he had charmed him in many a weary hour by his honest gayety and the martial melody of his trumpet, and had followed him with un- flinching loyalty and affection through many a scene of direful peril and mishap. He was gone forever ! and that, too, at a moment when every mongrel cur was skulking from his side. This — Peter Stuyvesant — was the moment to try thy fortitude ; and this was the 26 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. moment when thou didst indeed shine forth Peter the Headstrong ! The glare of day had long dispelled the horrors of the stormy night ; still all was dull and gloomy. The late jovial Apollo hid his face behind lugubrious clouds, peeping out now and then for an instant, as if anxious, yet fearful, to see what was going on in his favorite city. This was the eventful morning when the great Peter was to give his reply to the summons of the invaders. Already was he closeted with his privy council, sitting in grim state, brooding over the fate of his favorite trumpeter, and anon boiling with indignation as the in- solence of his recreant burgomasters flashed upon his mind. — While in this state of irritation, a courier arrived in all haste from Winthrop, the subtle governor of Connecticut, counselling him, in a most affectionate and disinterested manner, to surrender the province, and magnifying the dangers and calamities to which a refusal would subject him. — What a moment was this to intrude officious advice upon a man who never took advice in his whole life ! — The fiery old governor, strode up and down the chamber with a vehemence that made the bosom of his councillors to quake with awe, — railing at his unlucky fate, that thus made him the constant butt of factious subjects and Jesuitical advisers. Just at this ill-chosen juncture, the officious burgo- masters, who had heard of the arrival of mysterious despatches, came marching in a body into the room, with a legion of schepens and toad-eaters at their heels, and abruptly demanded a perusal of the letter. This THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 27 was too much for the spleen of Peter Stuyvesant. He tore the letter in a thousand pieces, — threw it in the face of the nearest burgomaster, — broke his pipe over the head of the next, — hurled his spitting-box at an unlucky schepen, who was just retreating out at the door, and finally prorogued the whole meeting sine die, by kicking them down-stairs with his wooden leg. As soon as the burgomasters could recover from their confusion, and had time to breathe, they called a public meeting, where they related at full length, and with appropriate coloring and exaggeration, the despotic and vindictive deportment of the governor; declaring that, for their own parts, they did not value a straw the being kicked, cuffed, and mauled by the timber toe of his Excellency, but that they felt for the dignity of the sovereign people, thus rudely insulted by the outrage committed on the seat of honor of their representatives. The latter part of the harangue came home at once to that delicacy of feeling and jealous pride of character vested in all true mobs, — who, though they may bear injuries without a murmur, yet are marvellously jealous of their sovereign dignity ; and there is no knowing to what act of resentment they might have been provoked, had they not been somewhat more afraid of their sturdy old governor than they were of St. Nicholas, the English — or the d 1 himself. There is something exceedingly sublime and melan- choly in the spectacle which the present crisis of our history presents. An illustrious and venerable little city, — the metropolis of a vast extent of uninhabited 28 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. country, — garrisoned by a doughty host of orators, chairmen, committeemen, burgomasters, schepens, and old women, — governed by a determined and strong- headed warrior, and fortified by mud batteries, pali- sadoes, and resolutions, — blockaded by sea, beleaguered by land, and threatened with direful desolation from without, while its very vitals are torn with internal faction and commotion ! Never did historic pen record a page of more complicated distress, unless it be the strife that distracted the Israelites, during the siege of Jerusalem, — where discordant parties were cutting each other's throats, at the moment when the victorious legions of Titus had toppled down their bulwarks, and were carrying fire and sword into the very sanctum sanctorum of the temple. Governor Stuyvesant, having triumphantly put his grand council to the rout, and delivered himself from a multitude of impertinent advisers, despatched a categor- ical reply to the commanders of the invading squadron ; wherein he asserted the right and title of their High Mightinesses the Lords States General to the province of New Netherlands, and, trusting in the righteousness of his cause, set the whole British nation at defiance ! My anxiety to extricate my readers and myself from these disastrous scenes prevents me from giving the whole of this gallant letter, which concluded in these manly and affectionate terms : — " As touching the threats in your conclusion, we have nothing to answer, only that we fear nothing but what THE CAPTURE OP NEW AMSTERDAM. 29 God (who is as just as merciful) shall lay upon us ; all things being in his gracious disposal, and we may as well be preserved by him with small forces as by a great army ; which makes us to wish you all happiness and prosperity, and recommend you to his protection. My lords, your thrice humble and affectionate servant and friend, P. Stuyvesant." Thus having thrown his gauntlet, the brave Peter stuck a pair of horse-pistols in his belt, girded an im- mense powder-horn on his side, — thrust his sound leg into a Hessian boot, and clapping his fierce little war-hat on the top of his head, paraded up and down in front of his house, determined to defend his beloved city to the last. While all these struggles and dissensions were prevail- ing in the unhappy city of New Amsterdam, and while its worthy but ill-starred governor was framing the above- quoted letter, the English commanders did not remain idle. They had agents secretly employed to foment the fears and clamors of the populace ; and, moreover, circu- lated far and wide, through the adjacent country, a proc- lamation, repeating the terms they had already held out in their summons to surrender, at the same time beguil- ing the simple Nederlanders with the most crafty and conciliating professions. They promised that every man who voluntarily submitted to the authority of his British Majesty should retain peaceful possession of his house, his vrouw, and his cabbage-garden. That he should be suffered to smoke his pipe, speak Dutch, wear as many 80 selections Prom Washington Irving. breeches as he pleased, and import bricks, tiles, and stone jugs from Holland, instead of manufacturing them on the spot. That he should on no account be compelled to learn the English language, nor eat codfish on Saturdays, nor keep accounts in any other way than by casting them up on his fingers, and chalking them down upon the crown of his hat; as is observed among the Dutch yeomanry at the present day. That every man should be allowed quietly to inherit his father's hat, coat, shoe- buckles, pipe, and every other personal appendage ; and that no man should be obliged to conform to any im- provements, inventions, or any other modern innovations ; but, on the contrary, should be permitted to build his house, follow his trade, manage his farm, rear his hogs, and educate his children, precisely as his ancestors had done before him from time immemorial. Finally, that he should have all the benefits of free trade, and should not be required to acknowledge any other saint in the calendar than St. Nicholas, who should thenceforward, as before, be considered the tutelar saint of the city. These terms, as may be supposed, appeared very satis- factory to the people, who had a great disposition to enjoy their property unmolested, and a most singular aversion to engage in a contest where they could gain little more than honor and broken heads, — the first of which they held in philosophic indifference, the latter in utter detestation. By these insidious means, therefore, did the English succeed in alienating the confidence and affections of the populace from their gallant old gov- ernor, whom they considered as obstinately bent upon THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 31 running them into hideous misadventures ; and did not hesitate to speak their minds freely, and abuse him most heartily — behind his back. Like as a mighty grampus, when assailed and buffeted by roaring waves and brawling surges, still keeps on an undeviating course, rising above the boisterous billows, spouting and blowing as he emerges, — so did the inflex- ible Peter pursue, unwavering, his determined career, and rise, contemptuous, above the clamors of the rabble. But when the British warriors found that he set their power at defiance, they despatched recruiting officers to Jamaica, and Jericho, and Nineveh, and Quag, and Patchog, and all those towns on Long Island which had been subdued of yore by Stoffel Brinkerhoff ; stirring up the progeny of Preserved Fish, and Determined Cock, and those other New-England squatters, to assail the city of New Amsterdam by land, while the hostile ships prepared for an assault by water. The streets of New Amsterdam now presented a scene of wild dismay and consternation. In vain did Peter Stuyvesant order the citizens to arm and assemble on the Battery. Blank terror reigned over the community. The whole party of Short Pipes in the course of a single night had changed into arrant old women, — a metamor- phosis only to be paralleled by the prodigies recorded by Livy as having happened at Rome at the approach of Hannibal, when statues sweated in pure affright, goats were converted into sheep, and cocks, turning into hens, ran cackling about the street. Thus baffled in all attempts to put the city in a state 32 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. of defence, blockaded from without, tormented from within, and menaced with a Yankee invasion, even the stiff-necked will of Peter Stuy vesant for once gave way, and, in spite of his mighty heart, which swelled in his throat until it nearly choked him, he consented to a treaty of surrender. Words cannot express the transports of the populace, on receiving this intelligence ; had they obtained a con- quest over their enemies, they could not have indulged greater delight. The streets resounded with their con- gratulations, — they extolled their governor as the father and deliverer of his country, — they crowded to his house to testify their gratitude, and were ten times more noisy in their plaudits than when he returned, with victory perched upon his beaver, from the glorious capture of Fort Christina. But the indignant Peter shut his doors and windows, and took refuge in the innermost recesses of his mansion, that he might not hear the ignoble rejoi- cings of the rabble. Commissioners were now appointed on both sides, and a capitulation was speedily arranged ; all that was want- ing to ratify it was that it should be signed by the gov- ernor. When the commissioners waited upon him for this purpose, they were received with grim and bitter courtesy. His warlike accoutrements were laid aside, — an old Indian night-gown was wrapped about his rugged limbs, a red night-cap overshadowed his frowning brow, an iron-gray beard of three days' growth gave additional grimness to his visage. Thrice did he seize a worn-out stump of a pen, and essay to sign the loathsome paper, THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 33 — thrice did lie clinch his teeth, and make a horrible countenance, as though a dose of rhubarb, senna, and ipecacuanha had been offered to his lips ; at length, dashing it from him, he seized his brass-hilted sword, and jerking it from the scabbard, swore by St. Nicholas, to sooner die than yield to any power under heaven. For two whole days did he persist in this magnanimous resolution, during which his house was besieged by the rabble, and menaces and clamorous revilings exhausted to no purpose. And now another course was adopted to soothe, if possible, his mighty ire. A procession was formed by the burgomasters and schepens, followed by the populace, to bear the capitulation in state to the governor's dwelling. They found the castle strongly barricadoed, and the old hero in full regimentals, with his cocked hat on his head, posted with a blunderbuss at the garret window. There was something in this formidable position that struck even the ignoble vulgar with awe and admiration. The brawling multitude could not but reflect with self- abasement upon their own pusillanimous conduct, when they beheld their hardy but deserted old governor, thus faithful to his post, like a forlorn hope, and fully pre- pared to defend his ungrateful city to the last. These compunctions, however, were soon overwhelmed by the recurring tide of public apprehension. The populace arranged themselves before the house, taking off their hats with most respectful humility ; Burgomaster Eoer- back, who was of that popular class of orators described by Sallust as being "talkative rather than eloquent," 34 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. stepped forth and addressed the governor in a speech of three hours' length, detailing, in the most pathetic terms, the calamitous situation of the province, and urging him, in a constant repetition of the same arguments and words, to sign the capitulation. The mighty Peter eyed him from his garret window in grim silence, — now and then his eye would glance over the surrounding rabble, and an indignant grin, like that of an angry mastiff, would mark his iron visage. But though a man of most undaunted metal, — though he had a heart as big as an ox, and a head that would have set adamant to scorn, — yet after all he was a mere mortal. Wearied out by these repeated oppositions, and this eternal haranguing, and perceiving that unless he com- plied, the inhabitants would follow their own inclination, or rather their fears, without waiting for his consent, or, what was still worse, the Yankees would have time to pour in their forces and claim a share in the conquest, he testily ordered them to hand up the paper. It was accordingly hoisted to him on the end of a pole; and having scrawled his name at the bottom of it, he anathe- matized them all for a set of cowardly, mutinous, degen- erate poltroons, threw the capitulation at their heads, slammed down the window, and was heard stumping down-stairs with vehement indignation. The rabble in- continently took to their heels ; even the burgomasters were not slow in evacuating the premises, fearing lest the sturdy Peter might issue from his den, and greet them with some unwelcome testimonial of his dis- pleasure. THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM. 35 Within three hours after the surrender, a legion of British beef -fed warriors poured into New Amsterdam, taking possession of the fort and batteries. And now might be heard, from all quarters, the sound of hammers made by the old Dutch burghers, in nailing up their doors and windows, to protect their vrouws from these fierce barbarians, whom they contemplated in silent sul- lenness from the garret windows as they paraded through the streets. Thus did Colonel Richard Nichols, the commander of the British forces, enter into quiet possession of the con- quered realm as locum tenens for the Duke of York. The victory was attended with no other outrage than that of changing the name of the province and its metropolis, which thenceforth were denominated New York, and so have continued to be called unto the pres- ent day. The inhabitants, according to treaty, were allowed to maintain quiet possession of their property ; but so inveterately did they retain their abhorrence of the British nation, that in a private meeting of the lead- ing citizens it was unanimously determined never to ask any of their conquerors to dinner. Note. — Modern historians assert that when the New Netherlands were thus overrun by the British, as Spain in ancient days by the Saracens, a resolute band refused to bend the neck to the invader. Led by one Garret Van Home, a valorous and gigantic Dutchman, they crossed the bay and buried themselves among the marshes and cabbage gardens of Communipaw; as did Pelayo and his followers among the mountains of Asturias. Here their descendants have remained ever since, keeping themselves apart, like seed-corn, to repeople the city with the genuine breed whenever it shall be effec- 36 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. tually recovered from its intruders. It is said the genuine descend- ants of the Nederlanders who inhabit New York, still look with longing eyes to the green marshes of ancient Pavonia, as did the con- quered Spaniards of yore to the stern mountains of Asturias, consid- ering these the regions whence deliverance is to come. RIP VAN WINKLE. 37 KIP VAN WINKLE. A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER. By Woden, God of Saxons, From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday, Truth is a thing that ever I will keep Unto thylke day in which I creep into My sepulchre Cartwright. [The following Tale was found among the papers of the late Diedrich Knickerbocker, an old gentleman of New York, who was very curious in the Dutch history of the province, and the manners of the descendants from its primitive settlers. His historical researches, however, did not lie so much among books as among men; for the former are lamentably scanty on his favorite topics; whereas he found the old burghers, and still more their wives, rich in that legendary lore so invaluable to true history. Whenever, therefore, he happened upon a genuine Dutch family, snugly shut up in its low-roofed farmhouse, under a spreading sycamore, he looked upon it as a little clasped volume of black-letter, and studied it with the zeal of a book- worm. The result of all these researches was a history of the province during the reign of the Dutch governors, which he published some years since. There have been various opinions as to the literary character of his work, and, to tell the truth, it is not a whit better than it should be. Its chief merit is its scrupulous accuracy, which, indeed, was a little questioned on its first appear- ance, but has since been completely established ; and it is now admitted into all historical collections as a book of unquestionable authority. The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his work; and now that he is dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to his memory to say that his time might have been much better employed in weightier labors. He, however, was apt to ride his hobby his own way; and though it did now and then kick up the dust a little in the eyes of his neighbors, and grieve the spirit of some friends, for whom he felt the truest deference and affection, yet his errors and follies are remembered " more in sorrow than in anger," and it begins to be suspected that he never intended to injure or offend. But 38 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING, however his memory may be appreciated by critics, it is still held dear by many folk whose good opinion is well worth having; particularly by certain biscuit-bakers, who have gone so far as to imprint his likeness on their New Year cakes ; and have thus given him a chance for immortality, almost equal to the being stamped on a Waterloo Medal, or a Queen Anne's Farthing.] Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dis- membered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these moun- tains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed it blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky ; but sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray vapors about their summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of glory. At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have descried the light smoke curling up from a village, whose shingle-roofs gleam among the trees, just where the blue tints of the upland melt away into the fresh green of the nearer landscape. It is a little village of great antiquity, having been founded by some of the Dutch colonists in the early times of the province, just about the beginning of the government of the good Peter Stuy vesant (may he rest in peace !), and there were some of the houses of the original settlers standing within a RIP VAN WINKLE. 39 few years, built of small yellow bricks brought from Holland, having latticed windows and gable fronts, sur- mounted with weathercocks. In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and weather-beaten), there lived, many years since, while the country was yet a province of Great Britain, a simple, good-natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van Winkle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the martial character of his ancestors. I have observed that he was a simple, good-natured man ; he was, moreover, a kind neighbor, and an obedient, henpecked husband. Indeed, to the latter circumstance might be owing that meekness of spirit which gained him such universal popularity ; for those men are most apt to be obsequious and conciliating abroad, who are under the discipline of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation ; and a curtain-lecture is worth all the ser- mons in the world for teaching the virtues of patience and long-suffering. A termagant wife may, therefore, in some respects, be considered a tolerable blessing 5 and if so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed. Certain it is, that he was a great favorite among all the good wives of the village, who., as usual with the amiable sex, took his part in all family squabbles ; and never failed, whenever they talked those matters over in 40 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. their evening gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van Winkle. The children of the village, too, would shout with joy whenever he approached. He assisted at their sports, made their playthings, taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of ghosts, witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodg- ing about the village, he was surrounded by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts, clambering on his back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with impunity ; and not a dog would bark at him throughout the neighbor- hood. The great error in Rip's composition was an insupera- ble aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It could not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble. He would carry a fowling-piece on his shoulder for hours together, trudging through woods and swamps, and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few squirrels or wild pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor even in the roughest toil, and was a foremost man at all country frolics for husking Indian corn, or building stone fences ; the women of the village, too, used to employ him to run their errands, and to do such little odd jobs as their less obliging husbands would not do for them. In a word, Rip was ready to attend to anybody's busi- ness but his own ; but as to doing family duty, and keeping his farm in order, he found it impossible. In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his RIP VAN WINKLE. 41 farm ; it was the most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole country ; everything about it went wrong, and would go wrong, in spite of him. His fences were con- tinually falling to pieces ; his cow would either go astray, or get among the cabbages ; weeds were sure to grow quicker in his fields than anywhere else ; the rain always made a point of setting in just as he had some out-door work to do ; so that though his patrimonial estate had dwindled away under his management, acre by acre, until there was little more left than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was the worst condi- tioned farm in the neighborhood. His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they belonged to nobody. His son Eip, an urchin begotten in his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits, with the old clothes, of his father. He was generally seen trooping like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a pair of his father's cast-off galligaskins, which he had much ado to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does her train in bad weather. Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be got with least thought or trouble, and would rather starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself, he would have whistled life away in perfect contentment ; but his wife kept continually dinning in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing on his family. Morning, noon, and night, her tongue was incessantly going, and everything 42 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. he said or did was sure to produce a torrent of household eloquence. Rip had but one way of replying to all lec- tures of the kind, and that, by frequent use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. This, however, always provoked a fresh volley from his wife ; so that he was fain to draw off his forces, and take to the out- side of the house — the only side which, in truth, belongs to a henpecked husband. Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as much henpecked as his master ; for Dame Van Winkle regarded them as companions in idleness, and even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his master's going so often astray. True it is, in all points of spirit befitting an honorable dog, he was as courageous an animal as ever scoured the woods ; but what courage can withstand the ever-during and all- besetting terrors of a woman's tongue ? The moment Wolf entered the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground, or curled between his legs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least nourish of a broom- stick or ladle he would fly to the door with yelping precipitation. Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with constant use. For a long while he used to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the HIP VAN WINKLE. 43 sages, philosophers, and other idle personages of the village, which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of His Majesty George the Third. Here they used to sit in the shade through a long, lazy summer's day, talking listlessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about nothing. But it would have been worth any statesman's money to have heard the profound discus- sions that sometimes took place, when by chance an old newspaper fell into their hands from some passing trav- eller. How solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled out by Derrick Van Bummel, the school- master, a dapper, learned little man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic word in the dictionary ; and how sagely they would deliberate upon public events some months after they had taken place. The opinions of this junto were completely controlled by Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and land- lord of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat from morning till night, just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun and keep in the shade of a large tree ; so that the neighbors could tell the hour by his movements as accu- rately as by a sun-dial. It is true he was rarely heard to speak, but smoked his pipe incessantly. His adhe- rents, however (for every great man has his adherents), perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his opinions. When anything that was read or related dis- pleased him, he was observed to smoke his pipe vehe- mently, and to send forth short, frequent, and angry puffs ; but when pleased, he would inhale the smoke 44 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid clouds ; and sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth, and letting the fragrant vapor curl about his nose, would gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation. From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip w r as at length routed by his termagant wife, who would sud- denly break in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage and call the members all to naught ; nor was that august personage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the dar- ing tongue of this terrible virago, who charged him out- right with encouraging her husband in habits of idleness. Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair ; and his only alternative, to escape from the labor of the farm and clamor of his wife, was to take gun in hand and stroll away into the woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the contents of his wallet with Wolf, with whom he sympathized as a fellow-sufferer in persecution. " Poor Wolf," he would say, " thy mistress leads thee a dog's life of it, but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want a friend to stand by thee ! " Wolf would wag his tail, look wistfully in his master's face ; and, if dogs can feel pity, I verily believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart. In a long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day, Rip had unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the Kaatskill mountains. He was after his favorite sport of squirrel-shooting, and the still solitudes had echoed and re-echoed with the reports of his gun. Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the RIP VAN WINKLE. 45 afternoon, on a green knoll, covered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening between the trees he could overlook all the lower country for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic course, with the reflec- tion of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark, here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in the blue highlands. On the other side he looked down into a deep moun- tain glen, wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom tilled with fragments from the impending cliffs, and scarcely lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For some time Rip lay musing on this scene ; evening was gradually advancing ; the mountains began to throw their long blue shadows over the valleys ; he saw that it would be dark long before he could reach the village, and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encoun- tering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle. As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance, hallooing, " Rip Van Winkle ! Rip Van Winkle ! " He looked round, but could see nothing but a crow winging its solitary flight across the mountain. He thought his fancy must have deceived him, and turned again to descend, when he heard the same cry ring through the still evening air : " Rip Van Winkle ! Rip Van Winkle ! " — at the same time Wolf bristled up his back, and giving a low growl, skulked to his master's side, looking fearfully down into the glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehension stealing over him ; he 46 SELECTIONS FROM WA SHINGTON IR VINO. looked anxiously in the same direction, and perceived a strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks, and bending under the weight of something he carried on his back. He was surprised to see any human being in this lonely and unfrequented place; but supposing it to be some one of the neighborhood in need of his assistance, he hastened down to yield it. On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the singularity of the stranger's appearance. He was a short, square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, and a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique Dutch fashion, — a cloth jerkin strapped round the waist, several pair of breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorated with rows of buttons down the sides, and bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulder a stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Kip to approach and assist him with the load. Though rather shy and distrustful of this new acquaintance, Rip complied with his usual alacrity ; and mutually relieving one another, they clambered up a narrow gully, appar- ently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As they ascended, Rip every now and then heard long, rolling peals, like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft, between lofty rocks, toward which their rugged path conducted. He paused for an instant, but supposing it to be the muttering of one of those transient thunder-showers which often take place in mountain heights, he proceeded. Passing through the ravine, they came to a hollow, like a small amphitheatre, surrounded by perpendicular precipices, UIP VAN WINKLE. 47 over the brinks of which impending trees shot their branches, so that yon only caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright evening cloud. During the whole time Rip and his companion had labored on in silence ; for, though the former marvelled greatly what could be the object of carrying a keg of liquor up this wild moun- tain, yet there was something strange and incomprehen- sible about the unknown, that inspired awe and checked familiarity. On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder presented themselves. On a level spot in the centre was a company of odd-looking personages playing at nine- pins. They were dressed in a quaint, outlandish fash- ion ; some wore short doublets, others jerkins, with long knives in their belts, and most of them had enormous breeches, of similar style with that of the guide's. Their visages, too, were peculiar : one had a large beard, broad face, and small, piggish eyes ; the face of another seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a white sugar-loaf hat, set off with a little red cock's tail. They all had beards, of various shapes and colors. There was one who seemed to be the commander. He was a stout old gentleman, with a weather-beaten coun- tenance ; he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger, high-crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high- heeled shoes, with roses in them. The whole group reminded Rip of the figures in an old Flemish painting, in the parlor of Dominie Yan Shaick, the village parson, and which had been brought over from Holland at the time of the settlement. 48 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that, though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the still- ness of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, when- ever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder. As Rip and his companion approached them, they sud- denly desisted from their play, and stared at him with such fixed, statue-like gaze, and such strange, uncouth, lack-lustre countenances, that his heart turned within him, and his knees smote together. His companion now emptied the contents of the keg into large flagons, and made signs to him to wait upon the company. He obeyed with fear and trembling ; they quaffed the liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their game. By degrees Rip's awe and apprehension subsided. He even ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage, which he found had much of the flavor of excellent Hollands. He was naturally a thirsty soul, and was soon tempted to repeat the draught. One taste provoked another ; and he reiterated his visits to the flagon so often that at length his senses were over- powered, his eyes swam in his head, his head gradually declined, and he fell into a deep sleep. On waking, he found himself on the green knoll whence he had first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes — it was a bright, sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, RIP VAN WINKLE. 49 and the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure mountain breeze. " Surely," thought Rip, " I have not slept here all night." He recalled the occurrences before he fell asleep. The strange man with a keg of liquor — the mountain ravine — the wild retreat among the rocks — the woe-begone party at ninepins — the flagon — "Oh! that flagon ! that wicked flagon ! " thought Rip, — " what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle ? " He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean, well-oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel incrusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock worm-eaten. He now suspected that the grave roisters of the mountain had put a trick upon him, and, having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he might have strayed away after a squirrel or partridge. He whistled after him, and shouted his name, but all in vain ; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was to be seen. He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening's gambol, and, if he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and gun. As he rose to walk, he found himself stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual activity. "These mountain beds do not agree with me," thought Rip, " and if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of the rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with Dame Van Winkle." With some difficulty he got down into the glen : he found the gully up which he and his com- panion had ascended the preceding evening ; but, to his astonishment, a mountain stream was now foaming down 50 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IR VINO. it, leaping from rock to rock, and rilling the glen with babbling murmurs. He, however, made shift to scramble up its sides, working his toilsome way through thickets of birch, sassafras, and witch-hazel, and sometimes tripped up or entangled by the wild grape-vines that twisted their coils or tendrils from tree to tree, and spread a kind of network in his path. At length he reached to where the ravine had opened through the cliffs to the amphitheatre ; but no traces of such opening remained. The rocks presented a high, impenetrable wall, over which the torrent came tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a broad, deep basin, black from the shadows of the surrounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip was brought to a stand. He again called and whistled after his dog ; he was only answered by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting high in air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice; and who, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the poor man's perplexities. What was to be done ? the morning was passing away, and Rip felt famished for want of his breakfast. He grieved to give up his dog and gun ; he dreaded to meet his wife ; but it would not do to starve among the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and, with a heart full of trouble and anxiety, turned his steps homeward. As he approached the village he met a number of people, but none whom he knew, which somewhat sur- prised him, for he had thought himself acquainted with every one in the country round. Their dress, too, was of a different fashion from that to which he was accus- RIP VAN WINKLE. 51 tomed. They all stared at him with equal marks of surprise, and whenever they cast their eyes upon him, invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence of this gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when, to his astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long ! He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized for an old acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very village was altered ; it was larger and more populous. There were rows of houses which he had never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names were over the doors — strange faces at the win- dows — everything was strange. His mind now misgave him ; he began to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched. Surely this was his native village, which he had left but the day before. There stood the Kaatskill mountains — there ran the silver Hudson at a distance — there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always been. Rip was sorely perplexed. "That flagon last night," thought he, "has addled my poor head sadly ! " It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay — the roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A half-starved dog that looked like Wolf 52 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. was skulking about it. Kip called him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was an unkind cut indeed. "My very dog," sighed poor Rip, " has forgotten me ! " He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and apparently abandoned. This deso- lateness overcame all his connubial fears — he called loudly for his wife and children — the lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and then all again was silence. He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the village inn — but it too was gone. A large, rickety, wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some of them broken and mended with old hats and peticoats, and over the door was painted, " The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red nightcap, and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage of stars and stripes ; — all this was strange and incomprehensible. He recognized on the sign, how- ever, the ruby face of King George, under which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe ; but even this was singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and buff, a sword was held in the hand instead of a sceptre, the head was decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large char- acters, General Washington. RIP VAN WINKLE. 53 There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none that Rip recollected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bus- tling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accus- tomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco- smoke instead of idle speeches ; or Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, doling forth the contents of an ancient newspaper. In place of these, a lean, bilious-looking fellow, with his pockets full of handbills, was haranguing vehemently about rights of citizens — elections — mem- bers of congress — liberty — Bunker's Hill — heroes of seventy-six — and other words, which were a perfect Babylonish jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle. The appearance of Kip, with his long, grizzled beard, his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army of women and children at his heels, soon attracted the attention of the tavern-politicians. They crowded round him, eying him from head to foot with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and, drawing him partly aside, inquired " On which side he voted ? " Rip stared in vacant stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow pulled him by the arm, and, rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear, " Whether he was Federal or Demo- crat ? " Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the question ; when a knowing, self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed; and planting himself before Van Winkle, with 54 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded in an austere tone, " What brought him to the election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at his heels ; and whether he meant to breed a riot in the village ? " — " Alas ! gentlemen," cried Eip, somewhat dismayed, " I am a poor quiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the King, God bless him ! " Here a general shout burst from the bystanders — " A tory ! a tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle him ! away with with him ! " It was with great difficulty that the self- important man in the cocked hat restored order ; and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, and whom he was seeking ? The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern. " Well — who are they ? — name them." Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, " Where's Nicholas Vedder ? " There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, in a thin, piping voice, " Nicholas Vedder ! why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years ! There was a wooden tombstone in the churchyard that used to tell all about him, but that's rotten, and gone too." " Where's Brom Dutcher ? " " Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the war ; some say he was killed at the storming of Stony Point — others say he was drowned in a squall at the RIP VAN WINKLE. 55 foot of Antony's Nose. I don't know — he never came back again." " Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster ? " " He went off to the wars too, was a great militia general, and is now in congress." Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer puzzled him too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand : war — congress — Stony Point — he had no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in despair, " Does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle ? " "Oh, Eip Van Winkle !" exclaimed two or three, "oh, to be sure ! that's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the tree." Eip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of him- self, as he went up the mountain ; apparently as lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now com- pletely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name. " God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end ; " I'm not myself — I'm somebody else — that's me yonder — no — that's somebody else got into my shoes — I was myself last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and they've changed my gun, and everything's changed, and I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my name, or who I am!" 56 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, wink significantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There was a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief, at the very suggestion of which the self-important man in the cocked hat retired with some precipitation. At this critical moment a fresh, comely woman pressed through the throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded man. She had a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to cry. " Hush, Rip," cried she, " hush, you little fool ; the old man won't hurt you." The name of the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his mind. " What is your name, my good woman ? " asked he. "Judith Gardenier." " And your father's name ? " " Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but it's twenty years since he went away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of since, — his dog came home without him; but whether he shot himself, or was carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl." Rip had but one question more to ask ; but he put it with a faltering voice : — "Where's your mother ? " " Oh, she too had died but a short time since ; she broke a bloodvessel in a fit of passion at a New England pedler." There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelli- RIP VAN WINKLE. 57 gence. The honest man conld contain himself no longer. He caught his daughter and her child in his arms. " I am your father ! " cried he — " young Rip Van Winkle once — old Rip Van Winkle now ! — Does nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle ? " All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out from among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and peering under it in his face for a moment, exclaimed, "Sure enough! it is Rip Van Winkle — it is himself! Welcome home again, old neighbor. Why, where have you been these twenty long years ? " Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had been to him but as one night. The neighbors stared when they heard it ; some were seen to wink at each other, and put their tongues in their cheeks ; and the self-important man in the cocked hat, who, when the alarm was over, had returned to the field, screwed down the corners of his mouth, and shook his head — upon which there was a general shaking of the head through- out the assemblage. It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old Peter Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing up the road. He was a descendant of the historian of that name, who wrote one of the earliest accounts of the province. Peter was the most ancient inhabitant of the village, and well versed in all the wonderful events and traditions of the neighborhood. He recollected Rip at once, and corroborated his story in the most satisfactory manner. He assured the company that it was a fact, handed down from his ancestor the historian, that the 58 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IR VI NG. Kaatskill mountains had always been haunted by strange beings. That it was affirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson, the first discoverer of the river and country, kept a kind of vigil there every twenty years, with his crew of the Half-moon ; being permitted in this way to revisit the scenes of his enterprise, and keep a guardian eye upon the river and the great city called by his name. That his father had once seen them in their old Dutch dresses playing at ninepins in a hollow of the mountain ; and that he himself had heard, one summer afternoon, the sound of their balls, like distant peals of thunder. To make a long story short, the company broke up and returned to the more important concerns of the election. Rip's daughter took him home to live with her ; she had a snug, well-furnished house, and a stout, cheery farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected for one of the urchins that used to climb upon his back. As to Rip's son and heir, who was the ditto of himself, seen leaning against the tree, he was employed to work on the farm; but evinced an hereditary disposition to attend to anything else but his business. Rip now resumed his old walks and habits ; he soon found many of his former cronies, though all rather the worse for the wear and tear of time ; and preferred mak- ing friends among the rising generation, with whom he soon grew into great favor. Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at that happy age when a man can be idle with impunity, he took his place once more on the bench at the inn- door, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of the RIP VAN WINKLE. 59 village, and a chronicle of the old times "before the war." It was some time before he could get into the regular track of gossip, or could be made to comprehend the strange events that had taken place during his torpor. How that there had been a revolutionary war, — that the country had thrown off the yoke of old England, — and that, instead of being a subject of his Majesty George the Third, he was now a free citizen of the United States. Rip, in fact, was no politician ; the changes of states and empires made but little impression on him ; but there was one species of despotism under which he had long groaned, and that was — petticoat government. Happily that was at an end ; he had got his neck out of the yoke of matrimony, and could go in and out when- ever he pleased, without dreading the tyranny of Dame Van Winkle. Whenever her name was mentioned, how- over, he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and cast up his eyes ; which might pass either for an expression of resignation to his fate, or joy at his deliverance. He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr. Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at first, to vary on some points every time he told it, which was, doubtless, owing to his having so recently awaked. It at last settled down precisely to the tale I have related, and not a man, woman, or child in the neighborhood but knew it by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the reality of it, and insisted that Rip had been out of his head, and that this was one point on which he always remained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost universally gave it full credit. Even to this day 60 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. they never hear a thunder storm of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but they say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at their game of ninepins ; and it is a common wish of all hen-pecked husbands in the neigh- borhood, when life hangs heavy on their hands, that they might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle's flagon. NOTE. The foregoing Tale, one would suspect, had been suggested to Mr. Knickerbocker by a little German superstition about the Emperor Frederick der Rothbart, and the Kypphauser mountain: the subjoined note, however, which he had appended to this tale, shows that it is an absolute fact, narrated with his usual fidelity. " The story of Rip Yan Winkle may seem incredible to many, but nevertheless I give it my full belief, for I know the vicinity of our old Dutch settlements to have been very subject to mar- vellous events and appearances. Indeed, I have heard many stranger stories than this, in the villages along the Hudson* all of which were too well authenticated to admit of a doubt. I have even talked with Rip Yan Winkle myself, who, when last I saw him, was a very venerable old man, and so perfectly rational and consistent on every other point, that I think no conscientious person could refuse to take this into the bargain; nay, I have seen a certificate on the subject taken before a country justice and signed with a cross, in the justice's own handwriting. The story, therefore, is beyond the possibility of doubt. "D. K." POSTSCRIPT. The following are travelling notes from a memorandum-book of Mr. Knickerbocker. The Kaatsberg, or Catskill Mountains, have always been a region full of fable. The Indians considered them the abode of RIP VAN WINKLE. 61 spirits, who influenced the weather, spreading sunshine or clouds over the landscape, and sending good or bad hunting-seasons. They were ruled by an old squaw spirit, said to be their mother. She dwelt on the highest peak of the Catskills, and had charge of the doors of day and night to open and shut them at the proper hour. She hung up the new moons in the skies, and cut up the old ones into stars. In times of drought, if properly pro- pitiated, she would spin light summer clouds out of cobwebs and morning dew, and send them off from the crest of the mountain, flake after flake, like flakes of carded cotton, to float in the air; until, dissolved by the heat of the sun, they would fall in gentle showers, causing the grass to spring, the fruits to ripen, and the corn to grow an inch an hour. If displeased, however, she would brew up clouds black as ink, sitting in the midst of them like a bottle-bellied spider in the midst of its web; and when these clouds broke, woe betide the valley! In old times, say the Indian traditions, there was a kind of Manitou or Spirit, who kept about the wildest recesses of the Catskill Mountains, and took a mischievous pleasure in wreaking all kinds of evils and vexations upon the red men. Sometimes he would assume the form of a bear, a panther, or a deer, lead the bewildered hunter a weary chase through tangled forests and among ragged rocks; and then spring off with a loud ho! ho! leaving him aghast on the brink of a beetling precipice or raging torrent. The favorite abode of this Manitou is still shown. It is a great rock or cliff on the loneliest part of the mountains, and, from the flowering vines which clamber about it, and the wild flowers which abound in its neighborhood, is known by the name of the Garden Bock. Near the foot of it is a small lake, the haunt of the solitary bittern, with water-snakes basking in the sun on the leaves of the pond-lilies which lie on the surface. This place was held in great awe by the Indians, insomuch that the boldest hunter would not pursue his game within its precincts. Once upon a time, however, a hunter who had lost his way, penetrated 62 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. to the Garden Rock, where he beheld a number of gourds placed in the crotches of trees. One of these he seized and made off with it, but in the hurry of his retreat he let it fall among the rocks, when a great stream gushed forth, which washed him away and swept him down precipices, where he was dashed to pieces, and the stream made its way to the Hudson, and contin- ues to flow to the present day; being the identical stream known by the name of Kaaters-kill. CHRISTMAS. 63 CHEISTMAS. But is old, old, good old Christmas gone? Nothing hut the hair of his good, gray, old head and beard left? Well, I will have that, seeing I cannot have more of him. Hue and Cry after Christmas. A man might then behold At Christmas, in each hall Good fires to curb the cold, And meat for great and small. The neighbors were friendly bidden, And all had welcome true; The poor from the gates were not chidden When this old cap was new. — Old Song. Nothing in England exercised a more delightful spell over my imagination than the lingerings of the holiday customs and rural games of former times. They recall the pictures my fancy used to draw in the May morn- ing of life, when as yet I only knew the world through books, and believed it to be all that poets had painted it; and they bring with them the flavor of those honest days of yore, in which, perhaps, with equal fallacy, I am apt to think the world was more homebred, social, and joyous than at present. I regret to say that they are daily growing more and more faint, being gradually worn away by time, but still more obliterated by modern 64 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. fashion. They resemble those picturesque morsels of Gothic architecture, which we see crumbling in various parts of the country, partly dilapidated by the waste of ages, and partly lost in the additions and alterations of later days. Poetry, however, clings with cherishing fondness about the rural game and holiday revel, from which it has derived so many of its themes — as the ivy winds its rich foliage about the Gothic arch and mould- ering tower, gratefully repaying their support by clasp- ing together their tottering remains, and, as it were, embalming them in verdure. Of all the old festivals, however, that of Christmas awakens the strongest and most heartfelt associations. There is a tone of solemn and sacred feeling that blends with our conviviality, and lifts the spirit to a state of hallowed and elevated enjoyment. The services of the church about this season are extremely tender and in- spiring. They dwell on the beautiful story of the origin of our faith, and the pastoral scenes that accompanied its announcement. They gradually increase in fervor and pathos during the season of Advent, until they break forth in full jubilee on the morning that brought peace and good-will to men. I do not know a grander effect of music on the moral feelings than to hear the full choir and the pealing organ performing a Christmas anthem in a cathedral, and filling every part of the vast pile with triumphant harmony. It is a beautiful arrangement, also derived from days of yore, that this festival, which commemorates the announcement of the religion of peat e and love, has been CHRISTMAS. 65 made the season for gathering together of family con- nections, and drawing closer again those bands of kin- dred hearts, which the cares and pleasures and sorrows of the world are continually operating to cast loose ; of calling back the children of a family, who have launched forth in life, and wandered widely asunder, once more to assemble about the paternal hearth, that rally ing-place of the affections, there to grow young and loving again among the endearing mementos of childhood. There is something in the very season of the year that gives a charm to the festivity of Christmas. At other times we derive a great portion of our pleasures from the mere beauties of nature. Our feelings sally forth and dissipate themselves over the sunny landscape, and we " live abroad and everywhere." The song of the bird, the murmur of the stream, the breathing fragrance of spring, the soft voluptuousness of summer, the golden pomp of autumn; earth with its mantle of refreshing green, and heaven with its deep, delicious blue and its cloudy magnificence, all fill us with mute but exquisite delight, and we revel in the luxury of mere sensation. But in the depth of winter, when nature lies despoiled of every charm, and wrapped in her shroud of sheeted snow, we turn for our gratifications to moral sources. The dreariness and desolation of the landscape, the short, gloomy days and darksome nights, while they circumscribe our wanderings, shut in our feelings also from rambling abroad, and make us more keenly dis- posed for the pleasure of the social circle. Our thoughts are more concentrated ; our friendly sympathies more QQ SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. aroused. We feel more sensibly the charm of each other's society, and are brought more closely together by dependence on each other for enjoyment. Heart calleth unto heart; and we draw our pleasures from the deep wells of loving-kindness, which lie in the quiet recesses of our bosoms ; and which, when resorted to, furnish forth the pure element of domestic felicity. The pitchy gloom without makes the heart dilate on entering the room filled with the glow and warmth of the evening fire. The ruddy blaze diffuses an artificial summer and sunshine through the room, and lights up each countenance in a kindlier welcome. Where does the honest face of hospitality expand into a broader and more cordial smile — where is the shy glance of love more sweetly eloquent — than by the winter fireside ? and as the hollow blast of wintry wind rushes through the hall, claps the distant door, whistles about the case- ment, and rumbles down the chimney, what can be more grateful than that feeling of sober and sheltered security, with which we look round upon the comfortable chamber and the scene of domestic hilarity ? The English, from the great prevalence of rural habit throughout every class of society, have always been fond of those festivals and holidays which agreeably interrupt the stillness of country life ; and they were, in former days, particularly observant of the religious and social rights of Christmas. It is inspiring to read even the dry details which some antiquaries have given of the quaint humors, the burlesque pageants, the complete abandon- ment to mirth and good-fellowship, with which this fes- CHRISTMAS. 67 tival was celebrated. It seemed to throw open every door, and unlock every heart. It brought the peasant and the peer together, and blended all ranks in one warm, generous now of joy and kindness. The old halls of castles and manor-houses resounded with the harp and the Christmas carol, and their ample boards groaned under the weight of hospitality. Even the poorest cot- tage welcomed the festive season with green decorations of bay and holly, — the cheerful fire glanced its rays through the lattice, inviting the passengers to raise the latch, and join the gossip knot huddled round the hearth, beguiling the long evening with legendary jokes, and oft-told Christmas tales. , One of the least pleasing effects of modern refinement is the havoc it has made among the hearty old holiday customs. It has completely taken off the sharp touch- ings and spirited reliefs of these embellishments of life, and has worn down society into a more smooth and pol- ished, but certainly a less characteristic surface. Many of the games and ceremonials of Christmas have entirely disappeared, and, like the sherris sack of old Falstaff, are become matters of speculation and dispute among commentators. They flourished in times full of spirit and lustihood, when men enjoyed life roughly, but heartily and vigorously; times wild and picturesque, which have furnished poetry with its richest materials, and the drama with its most attractive variety of characters and manners. The world has become more worldly. There is more of dissipation, and less of enjoyment. Pleasure has expanded into a broader, but 68 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. a shallower stream, and lias forsaken many of those deep and quiet channels where it flowed sweetly through the calm bosom of domestic life. Society has acquired a more enlightened and elegant tone ; but it has lost many of its strong, local peculiarities, its homebred feelings, its honest fireside delights. The traditionary customs of golden-hearted antiquity, its feudal hospitalities, and lordly wassailings, have passed away with the baronial castles and stately manor-houses in which they were celebrated. They comported with the shadowy hall, the great oaken gallery, and the tapestried parlor, but are unfitted to the light, showy saloons and gay drawing- rooms of the modern villa. Shorn, however, as it is, of its ancient and festive honors, Christmas is still a period of delightful excite- ment in England. It is gratifying to see that home-feel- ing completely aroused which holds so powerful a place in every English bosom. The preparations making on every side for the social board that is again to unite friends and kindred ; the presents of good cheer passing and repassing, those tokens of regard, and quickeners of kind feelings; the evergreens distributed about houses, and churches, emblems of peace and gladness ; all these have the most pleasing effect in producing fond associa- tions, and kindling benevolent sympathies. Even the sound of the Waits, rude as may be their minstrelsy, breaks upon the mid-watches of a winter night with the effect of perfect harmony. As I have been awakened by them in that still and solemn hour, " when deep sleep falleth upon man," I have listened with a hushed de- CHRISTMAS. 69 light, and, connecting them with the sacred and joyous occasion, have almost fancied them into another celestial choir, announcing peace and good-will to mankind. How delightfully the imagination, when wrought upon by these moral influences, turns everything to melody and beauty ! The very crowing of the cock, heard some- times in the profound repose of the country, "telling the night-watches to his feathery dames," was thought by the common people to announce the approach of this sacred festival. " Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long; And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad ; The nights are wholesome — then no planets strike, No fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm, So hallow' d and so gracious is the time." Amidst the general call to happiness, the bustle of the spirits, and stir of the affections, which prevail at this period, what bosom can remain insensible ? It is, in- deed, the season for kindling, not merely the fire of hospitality in the hall, but the genial flame of charity in the heart. The scene of early love again rises green to memory beyond the sterile waste of years ; and the idea of home, fraught with the fragrance of home-dwelling joys, reani- mates the drooping spirit ; as the Arabian breeze will sometimes waft the freshness of the distant fields to the weary pilgrim of the desert. 70 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. Stranger and sojourner as I am in the land — though for me no social hearth may blaze, no hospitable roof throw open its doors, nor the warm grasp of friendship welcome me at the threshold — yet I feel the influence of the season beaming into my soul from the happy looks of those around me. Surely, happiness is reflec- tive, like the light of heaven; and every countenance, bright with smiles, and glowing with innocent enjoy- ment, is a mirror transmitting to others the rays of a supreme and ever-shining benevolence. He who can turn churlishly away from contemplating the felicity of his fellow-beings, and can sit down darkling and repin- ing in his loneliness when all around is joyful, may have his moments of strong excitement and selfish grati- fication, but he wants the genial and social sympathies which constitute the charm of a merry Christmas. THE STAGE-COACH. 71 THE STAGE-COACH. Omne bene Sine poena Temp us est ludendi. Venit hora Absque mora Libros deponendi. Old Holiday School Song. In the preceding paper I have made some general observations on the Christmas festivities of England, and am tempted to illustrate them by some anecdotes of a Christmas passed in the country ; in perusing which I would most courteously invite my reader to lay aside the austerity of wisdom, and to put on that genuine holiday spirit which is tolerant of folly, and anxious only for amusement. In the course of a December tour in Yorkshire, I rode for a long distance in one of the public coaches, on the day preceding Christmas. The coach was crowded, both inside and out, with passengers, who, by their talk, seemed principally bound to the mansions of relations or friends, to eat the Christmas dinner. It was loaded also with hampers of game, and baskets and boxes of deli- cacies ; and hares hung dangling their long ears about the coachman's box, presents from distant friends for the impending feast. I had three fine, rosy-cheeked 72 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. boys for my fellow-passengers inside, full of the buxom health, and manly spirit which I have observed in the children of this country. They were returning home for the holidays in high glee, and promising themselves a world of enjoyment. It was delightful to hear the gigantic plans of the little rogues, and the impracticable feats they were to perform during their six weeks' eman- cipation from the abhorred thraldom of book, birch, and pedagogue. They were full of anticipations of the meet- ing with the family and household, down to the very cat and dog ; and of the joy they were to give their little sisters by the presents with which their pockets were crammed; but the meeting to which they seemed to look forward with the greatest impatience was with Bantam, which I found to be a pony, and, according to their talk, possessed of more virtues than any steed since the days of Bucephalus. How he could trot ! how he could run ! and then such leaps as he would take — there was not a hedge in the whole country that he could not clear. They were under the particular guardianship of the coachman, to whom, whenever an opportunity presented, they addressed a host of questions, and pronounced him one of the best fellows in the world. Indeed, I could not but notice the more than ordinary air of bustle and importance of the coachman, who wore his hat a little on one side, and had a large bunch of Christmas greens stuck in the button-hole of his coat. He is always a personage full of mighty care and business, but he is particularly so during this season, having so many com- missions to execute in consequence of the great inter- THE STAGE-COACH. 73 change of presents. And here, perhaps, it may not be unacceptable to my untravelled readers, to have a sketch that may serve as a general representation of this very numerous and important class of functionaries, who have a dress, a manner, a language, an air, peculiar to them- selves, and prevalent throughout the fraternity ; so, that, wherever an English stage-coachman may be seen, he cannot be mistaken for one of any other craft or mystery. He has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mottled with red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feeding into every vessel of the skin; he is swelled into jolly dimensions by frequent potations of malt liquors, and his bulk is still further increased by a multiplicity of coats, in which he is buried like a cauliflower, the upper one reaching to his heels. He wears a broad-brimmed, low-crowned hat ; a huge roll of colored handkerchief about his neck, knowingly knotted and tucked in at the bosom ; and has in summer-time a large bouquet of flowers in his button-hole ; the present, most probably, of some enamored country lass. His waistcoat is com- monly of some bright color, striped, and his small-clothes extend far below the knees, to meet a pair of jockey- boots which reach about half-way up his legs. All this costume is maintained with much precision ; he has a pride in having his clothes of excellent mate- rials ; and, notwithstanding the seeming grossness of his appearance, there is still discernible that neatness and propriety of person which is almost inherent in an Englishman. He enjoys great consequence and consid- eration along the road; has frequent conferences with 74 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. the village housewives, who look upon him as a man of great trust and dependence; and he seems to have a good understanding with every bright-eyed country lass. The moment he arrives where the horses are to be changed, he throws down the reins with something of an air, and abandons the cattle to the care of the hostler; his duty being merely to drive from one stage to another. When off the box, his hands are thrust into the pockets of his great-coat, and he rolls about the inn-yard with an air of the most absolute lordliness. Here he is generally surrounded by an admiring throng of hostlers, stable- boys, shoe-blacks, and those nameless hangers-on, that infest inns and taverns, and run errands, and do all kind of odd jobs, for the privilege of battening on the drip- pings of the kitchen and the leakage of the tap-room. These all look up to him as to an oracle ; treasure up his cant phrases ; echo his opinions about horses and other topics of jockey lore ; and, above all, endeavor to imitate his air and carriage. Every ragamuffin that has a coat to his back, thrusts his hands in the pockets, rolls in his gait, talks slang, and is an embryo Coachey. Perhaps it might be owing to the pleasing serenity that reigned in my own mind, that I fancied I saw cheerfulness in every countenance throughout the jour- ney. A stage-coach, however, carries animation always with it, and puts the world in motion as it whirls along. The horn, sounded at the entrance of a village, produces a general bustle. Some hasten forth to meet friends ; some with bundles and bandboxes to secure places, and in the hurry of the moment can hardly take leave of the THE STAGE-COACH. 75 group that accompanies them. In the mean time, the coachman has a world of small commissions to execute. Sometimes he delivers a hare or pheasant ; sometimes jerks a small parcel or newspaper to the door, of a public house ; and sometimes, with knowing leer and words of sly import, hands to some half -blushing, half-laughing housemaid an odd-shaped billet-doux from some rustic admirer. As the coach rattles through the village, every one runs to the window, and you have glances on every side of fresh country faces and blooming giggling girls. At the corners are assembled juntos of village idlers and wise men, who take their stations there for the important purpose of seeing company pass ; but the sagest knot is generally at the blacksmith's, to whom the passing of the coach is an event fruitful of much speculation. The smith, with the horse's heel in his lap, pauses as the vehicle whirls by ; the cyclops round the anvil suspend their ringing hammers, and suffer the iron to grow cool ; and the sooty spectre, in brown paper cap, laboring at the bellows, leans on the handle for a moment, and permits the asthmatic engine to heave a long-drawn sigh, while he glares through the murky smoke and sulphureous gleams of the smithy. Perhaps the impending holiday might have given a more than usual animation to the country, for it seemed to me as if everybody was in good looks and good spirits. Game, poultry, and other luxuries of the table, were in brisk circulation in the villages ; the grocers', butchers', and fruiterers' shops were thronged with customers. The housewives were stirring briskly about, putting 76 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. their dwellings in order ; and the glossy branches of holly, with their bright-red berries, began to appear at the windows. The scene brought to mind an old writer's account of Christmas preparations : "Now capons and hens, beside turkey, geese, and ducks, with beef and mutton — must all die — for in twelve days a multitude of people will not be fed with a little. Now plums and spice, sugar and honey, square it among pies and broth. Now or never must music be in tune, for the youth must dance and sing to get them a heat, while the aged sit by the fire. The country maid leaves half her market, and must be sent again, if she forgets a pack of cards on Christmas eve. Great is the contention of holly and ivy, whether master or dame wears the breeches. Dice and cards benefit the butler ; and if the cook do not lack wit, he will sweetly lick his fingers." I was roused from this fit of luxurious meditation by a shout from my little travelling companions. They had been looking out of the coach-windows for the last few miles, recognizing every tree and cottage as they approached home, and now there was a general burst of joy. "There's John ! and there's old Carlo ! and there's Bantam ! " cried the happy little rogues, clapping their hands. At the end of the lane there was an old, sober-looking servant in livery, waiting for them ; he was accompanied by a superannuated pointer, and by the redoubtable Bantam, a little old rat of a pony, with a shaggy mane and long, rusty tail, who stood dozing quietly by the roadside, little dreaming of the bustling times that awaited him. THE STAGE-COACH. 77 I was pleased to see the fondness with which the little fellows leaped about the steady old footman, and hugged the pointer, who wriggled his whole body for joy. But Bantam was the great object of interest ; all wanted to mount at once, and it was with some difficulty that John arranged that they should ride by turns, and the eldest should ride first. Off they set at last ; one on the pony, with the dog bounding and barking before him, and the others holding John's hands ; both talking at once, and overpowering him with questions about home, and with school anec- dotes. I looked after them with a feeling in which I do not know whether pleasure or melancholy predominated ; for I was reminded of those days, when, like them, I had neither known care nor sorrow, and a holiday was the summit of earthly felicity. We stopped a few moments afterwards to water the horses, and on resuming our route, a turn of the road brought us in sight of a neat country-seat. I could just distinguish the forms of a lady and two young girls in the portico, and I saw my little comrades, with Bantam, Carlo, and old John, trooping along the carriage-road. I leaned out the coach window, in hopes of witnessing the happy meet- ing, but a grove of trees shut it from my sight. In the evening we reached a village where I had determined to pass the night. As we drove into the great gateway of the inn, I saw on one side the light of a rousing kitchen fire beaming through a window. I entered, and admired, for the hundredth time, that picture of convenience, neatness, and broad, honest en- 78 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. joyment, the kitchen of an English inn. It was of spacious dimensions, hung round with copper and tin vessels highly polished, and decorated here and there with a Christmas green. Hams, tongues, and flitches of bacon were suspended from the ceiling ; a smoke-jack made its ceaseless clanking beside the fireplace, and a clock ticked in the corner. A well-scoured deal table extended along one side of the kitchen, with a cold round of beef, and other hearty viands upon it, over which two foaming tankards of ale seemed mounting guard. Travellers of inferior order were preparing to attack this stout repast, while others sat smoking and gossiping over their ale on two high-backed oaken settles beside the fire. Trim housemaids were hurrying back- wards and forwards under the directions of a fresh, bustling landlady ; but still seizing an occasional moment to exchange a flippant word, and have a rallying laugh, with the group round the fire. The scene completely realized Poor Robin's humble idea of the comforts of mid-winter. Now trees their leafy hats do bare To reverence Winter's silver hair; A handsome hostess, merry host, A pot of ale now and a toast, Tobacco and a good coal-fire, Are things this season doth require. 1 I had not been long at the inn when a postchaise drove up to the door. A young gentleman stept out, and by the light of the lamps I caught a glimpse of a counte- 1 Poor Robin's Almanac, 1684 THE STAGE-COACH. 79 nance which I thought I knew. I moved forward to get a nearer view, when his eye caught mine. I was not mistaken ; it was Frank Bracebridge, a sprightly, good- humored young fellow, with whom I had once travelled on the continent. Our meeting was extremely cordial, for the countenance of an old fellow-traveller always brings up the recollection of a thousand pleasant scenes, odd adventures, and excellent jokes. To discuss all these in a transient interview at an inn was impossible ; and finding that I was not pressed for time, and was merely making a tour of observation, he insisted that I should give him a day or two at his father's country- seat, to which he was going to pass the holidays, and which lay at a few miles' distance. "It is better than eating a solitary Christmas dinner at an inn," said he ; " and I can assure you of a hearty welcome in something of the old-fashioned style." His reasoning was cogent, and I must confess the preparation I had seen for uni- versal festivity and social enjoyment had made me feel a little impatient of my loneliness. I closed, therefore, at once, with his invitation ; the chaise drove up to the door, and in a few moments I was on my way to the family mansion of the Bracebridges. 80 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IR VING. CHRISTMAS EVE. Saint Francis and Saint Benedight Blesse this house from wicked wight ; From the night-mare and the goblin, That is hight good fellow Robin ; Keep it from all evil spirits, Fairies, weezels, rats, and ferrets, From curfew time To the next prime. Cartwright. It was a brilliant moonlight night, but extremely cold ; our chaise whirled rapidly over the frozen ground ; the post-boy smacked his whip incessantly, and a part of the time his horses were on a gallop. " He knows where he is going," said my companion, laughing, "and is eager to arrive in time for some of the merriment and good cheer of the servants' hall. My father, you must know, is a bigoted devotee of the old school, and prides himself upon keeping up something of old English hospitality. He is a tolerable specimen of what you will rarely meet with nowadays in its purity, the old English country gentleman ; for our men of fortune spend so much of their time in town, and fashion is carried so much into the country, that the strong, rich peculiarities of ancient rural life are almost polished away. My father, how- ever, from early years, took honest Peacham \ for his 1 Peacham's Complete Gentleman, 1622. CHRISTMAS EVE. 81 textbook, instead of Chesterfield ; he determined in his own mind that there was no condition more truly honor- able and enviable than that of a country gentleman on his paternal lands, and therefore passes the whole of his time on his estate. He is a strenuous advocate for the revival of the old rural games and holiday observances, and is deeply read in the writers, ancient and modern, who have treated on the subject. Indeed, his favorite range of reading is among the authors who nourished at least two centuries since; who, he insists, wrote and thought more like true Englishmen than any of their successors. He even regrets sometimes that he had not been born a few centuries earlier, when England was itself, and had its peculiar manners and customs. As he lives at some distance from the main road, in rather a lonely part of the country, without any rival gentry near him, he has that most enviable of all blessings to an Englishman, an opportunity of indulging the bent of his own humor without molestation. Being representative of the oldest family in the neighborhood, and a great part of the peasantry being his tenants, he is much looked up to, and, in general, is known simply by the appellation of ' The Squire ; ? a title which has been accorded to the head of the family since time immemo- rial. I think it best to give you these hints about my worthy old father, to prepare you for any eccentricities that might otherwise appear absurd." We had passed for sometime along the wall of a park, and at length the chaise stopped at the gate. It was in a heavy, magnificent old style, of iron bars, fancifully 82 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. wrought at top into flourishes and flowers. The huge square columns that supported the gate were surmounted by the family crest. Close adjoining was the porter's lodge, sheltered under dark fir-trees, and almost buried in shrubbery. The post-boy rang a large porter's bell, which re- sounded through the still frosty air, and was answered by the distant barking of dogs, with which the mansion- house seemed garrisoned. An old woman immediately appeared at the gate. As the moonlight fell strongly upon her, I had a full view of a little primitive dame, dressed very much in the antique taste, with a neat ker- chief and stomacher, and her silver hair peeping from under a cap of snowy whiteness. She came courtesying forth, with many expressions of simple joy at seeing her young master. Her husband, it seemed, was up at the house keeping Christmas Eve in the servants' hall ; they could not do without him, as he was the best hand at a song and story in the household. My friend proposed that we should alight and walk through the park to the hall, which was at no great dis- tance, while the chaise should follow on. Our road wound through a noble avenue of trees, among the naked branches of which the moon glittered, as she rolled through the deep vault of a cloudless sky. The lawn beyond was sheeted with a slight covering of snow, which here and there sparkled as the moonbeams caught a frosty crystal ; and at a distance might be seen a thin, transparent vapor, stealing up from the low grounds, and threatening gradually to shroud the landscape. CHRISTMAS EVE.- 83 My companion looked around him with transport : " How often," said he, " have I scampered up this avenue, on returning home on school vacations ! How often have I played under these trees when a boy! I feel a degree of filial reverence for them, as we look up to those who have cherished us in childhood. My father was always scrupulous in exacting our holidays, and having us around him on family festivals. He used to direct and superintend our games with the strictness that some parents do the studies of their children. He was very particular that we should play the old English games according to their original form; and consulted old books for precedent and authority for every 'merrie disport;' yet I assure you there never was pedantry so delightful. It was the policy of the good old gentleman to make his children feel that home was the happiest place in the world; and I value this delicious home-feel- ing as one of the choicest gifts a parent could bestow." We were interrupted by the clamor of a troop of dogs of all sorts and sizes, "mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, and curs of low degree," that, disturbed by the ring of the porter's bell and the rattling of the chaise, came bounding, open-mouthed, across the lawn. " The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me!" cried Bracebridge, laughing. At the sound of his voice, the bark was changed into a yelp of delight, and in a moment he was surrounded and almost overpowered by the caresses of the faithful animals. 84 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. We had now come in full view of the old family mansion, partly thrown in deep shadow, and partly lit up by the cool moonshine. It was an irregular building, of some magnitude, and seemed to be of the architecture of different periods. One wing was evidently very ancient, with heavy, stone-shafted bow-windows jutting out and overrun with ivy, from among the foliage of which the small diamond-shaped panes of glass glittered with the moonbeams. The rest of the house was in the French taste of Charles the Second's time, having been repaired and altered, as my friend told me, by one of his ances- tors, who returned with that monarch at the Restoration. The grounds about the house were laid out in the old formal manner of artificial flower-beds, clipped shrub- beries, raised terraces, and heavy stone balustrades ornamented with urns, a leaden statue or two, and a jet of water. The old gentleman, I was told, was extremely careful to preserve this obsolete finery in all its original state. He admired this fashion in gardening ; it had an air of magnificence, was courtly and noble, and befitting good old family style. The boasted imitation of nature in modern gardening had sprung up with modern repub- lican notions, but did not suit a monarchical govern- ment ; it smacked of the levelling system. I could not help smiling at this introduction of politics into garden- ing, though I expressed some apprehension that I should find the old gentleman rather intolerant in his creed. Frank assured me, however, that it was almost the only instance in which he had ever heard his father meddle with politics ; and he believed that he had got this notion CHRISTMAS EVE. 85 from a member of parliament who once passed a few- weeks with him. The squire was glad of any argument to defend his clipped yew-trees and formal terraces, which had been occasionally attacked by modern land- scape gardeners. As we approached the house, we heard the sound of music, and now and then a burst of laughter, from one end of the building. This, Bracebridge said, must pro- ceed from the servants' hall, where a great deal of revelry was permitted, and even encouraged by the squire, throughout the twelve days of Christmas, pro- vided everything was done conformably to ancient usage. Here were kept up the old games of hoodman blind, shoe the wild mare, hot cockles, steal the white loaf, bob apple, and snap-dragon ; the Yule clog and Christmas candle, were regularly burnt, and the mistletoe, with its white berries, hung up, to the imminent peril of all the pretty housemaids. 1 So intent were the servants upon their sports that we had to ring repeatedly before we could make ourselves heard. On our arrival being announced, the squire came out to receive us, accompanied by his two other sons : one a young officer in the army, home on leave of absence, the other an Oxonian, just from the university. The squire was a fine, healthy-looking old gentleman, with silver hair curling lightly round an open, florid 1 The mistletoe is still hung up in farmhouses and kitchens at Christmas ; and the young men have the privilege of kissing the girls under it, plucking each time a berry from the bush. When the berries are all plucked, the privilege ceases. 86 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IR VING. countenance ; in which the physiognomist, with the advantage, like myself, of a previous hint or two, might discover a singular mixture of whim and benevolence. The family meeting was warm and affectionate : as the evening was far advanced, the squire would not permit us to change our travelling dresses, but ushered us at once to the company, which was assembled in a large old-fashioned hall. It was composed of different branches of a numerous family connection, where there were the usual proportions of old uncles and aunts, comfortable married dames, superannuated spinsters, blooming country cousins, half -fledged striplings, and bright-eyed boarding-school hoydens. They were vari- ously occupied : some at a round game of cards ; others conversing around the fireplace ; at one end of the hall was a group of the young folks, some nearly grown up, others of a more tender and budding age, fully engrossed by a merry game ; and a profusion of wooden horses, penny trumpets, and tattered dolls, about the floor, showed traces of a troop of little fairy beings, who, having frolicked through a happy day, had been carried off to slumber through a peaceful night. While the mutual greetings were going on between young Bracebridge and his relatives, I had time to scan the apartment. I have called it a hall, for so it had certainly been in old times, and the squire had evidently endeavored to restore it to something of its primitive state. Over the heavy, projecting fireplace was sus- pended a picture of a warrior in armor, standing by a white horse, and on the opposite wall hung a helmet, CHRISTMAS EVE. 87 buckler, and lance. At one end an enormous pair of antlers were inserted in the wall, the branches serving as hooks on which to suspend hats, whips, and spurs ; and in the corners of the apartment were fowling-pieces, fishing-rods, and other sporting implements. The fur- niture was of the cumbrous workmanship of former days, though some articles of modern convenience had been added, and the oaken floor had been carpeted ; so that the whole presented an odd mixture of parlor and hall. The grate had been removed from the wide, over- whelming fireplace, to make way for a fire of wood, in the midst of which was an enormous log glowing and blazing, and sending forth a vast volume of light and heat : this I understood was the Yule clog, which the squire was particular in having brought in and illumined on a Christmas Eve, according to ancient custom. 1 1 The Yule clog is a great log of wood, sometimes the root of a tree, brought into the house with great ceremony, on Christmas Eve, laid in the fireplace, and lighted with the brand of last year's clog. While it lasted, there was great drinking, singing, and telling of tales. Sometimes it was accompanied by Christmas candles ; but in the cottages the only light was from the ruddy blaze of the great wood fire. The Yule clog was to burn all night ; if it went out, it was considered a sign of ill luck. Herrick mentions it in one of his songs : — " Come, bring with a noise, My merrie, merrie boyes, The Christmas log to the firing; While my good dame, she Bids ye all be free, And drink to your heart's desiring." The Yule clog is still burnt in many farmhouses and kitchens in England, particularly in the north, and there are several supersti- 88 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. It was really delightful to see the old squire seated in his hereditary elbow-chair, by the hospitable fireside of his ancestors, and looking around him like the sun of a system, beaming warmth and gladness to every heart. Even the very dog that lay stretched at his feet, as he lazily shifted his position and yawned, would look fondly up in his master's face, wag his tail against the floor, and stretch himself again to sleep, confident of kindness and protection. There is an emanation from the heart in genuine hospitality which cannot be described, but is immediately felt, and puts the stranger at once at his ease. I had not been seated many minutes by the comfortable hearth of the worthy old cavalier, before I found myself as much at home as if I had been one of the family. Supper was announced shortly after our arrival. It was served up in a spacious oaken chamber, the panels of which shone with wax, and around which were several family portraits decorated with holly and ivy. Besides the accustomed lights, two great wax tapers, called Christmas candles, wreathed with greens, were placed on a highly polished beaufet among the family plate. The table was abundantly spread with substantial fare ; but the squire made his supper of frumenty, a dish made of wheat-cakes boiled in milk, with rich spices, being a standing dish in old times for Christmas Eve. tions connected with it among the peasantry. If a squinting person come to the house while it is burning, or a person barefooted, it is considered an ill omen. The brand remaining from the Yule clog is carefully put away to light the next year's Christmas fire. CHRISTMAS EVE. 89 I was happy to find my old friend, minced-pie, in the retinue of the feast; and finding him to be perfectly orthodox, and that I need not be ashamed of my predi- lection, I greeted him with all the warmth wherewith we usually greet an old and very genteel acquaintance. The mirth of the company was greatly promoted by the humors of an eccentric personage whom Mr. Brace- bridge always addressed with the quaint appellation of Master Simon. He was a tight, brisk little man, with the air of an arrant old bachelor. His nose was shaped like the bill of a parrot ; his face slightly pitted with the small-pox, with a dry, perpetual bloom on it, like a frost- bitten leaf in autumn. He had an eye of great quickness and vivacity, with a drollery and lurking waggery of expression that was irresistible. He was evidently the wit of the family, dealing very much in sly jokes and innuendoes with the ladies, and making infinite merri- ment by harping upon old themes ; which, unfortunately, my ignorance of the family chronicles did not permit me to enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight during supper to keep a young girl next him in a continual agony of stifled laughter, in spite of her awe of the reproving looks of her mother, who sat opposite. In- deed, he was the idol of the younger part of the com- pany, who laughed at everything he said or did, and at every turn of his countenance ; I could not wonder at it ; for he must have been a miracle of accomplishments in their eyes. He could imitate Punch and Judy ; make an old woman of his hand, with the assistance of a burnt cork and pocket-handkerchief; and cut an orange into 90 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. such a ludicrous caricature, that the young folks were ready to die with laughing. I was let briefly into his history by Frank Brace- bridge. He was an old bachelor, of a small independent income, which, by careful management, was sufficient for all his wants. He revolved through the family system like a vagrant comet in its orbit ; sometimes visiting one branch, and sometimes another quite remote ; as is often the case with gentlemen of extensive connections and small fortunes in England. He had a chirping, buoyant disposition, always enjoying the present moment; and his frequent change of scene and company prevented his acquiring those rusty, unaccommodating habits, with which old bachelors are so uncharitably charged. He was a complete family chronicle, being versed in the genealogy, history, and intermarriages of the whole house of Bracebridge, which made him a great favorite with .the old folks ; he was a beau of all the elder ladies and superannuated spinsters, among whom he was habit- ually considered rather a young fellow, and he was master of the revels among the children; so that there was not a more popular being in the sphere in which he moved than Mr. Simon Bracebridge. Of late years, he had resided almost entirely with the squire, to whom he had become a factotum, and whom he particularly delighted by jumping with his humor in respect to old times, and by having a scrap of an old song to suit every occasion. We had presently a specimen of his last- mentioned talent ; for no sooner was supper removed, and spiced wines and other beverages peculiar to the CHRISTMAS EVE. 91 season introduced, than Master Simon was called on for a good old Christmas song. He bethought himself for a moment, and then, with a sparkle of the eye, and a voice that was by no means bad, excepting that it ran occasion- ally into a falsetto, like the notes of a split reed, he quavered forth a quaint old ditty. " Now Christmas is come, Let us beat up the drum, And call all our neighbors together, And when they appear, Let us make them such cheer, As will keep out the wind and the weather," etc. The supper had disposed every one to gayety, and an old harper was summoned from the servants' hall, where he had been strumming all the evening, and to all appearance comforting himself with some of the squire's home-brewed. He was a kind of hanger-on, I was told, of the establishment, and, though ostensibly a resident of the village, was oftener to be found in the squire's kitchen than his own home, the old gentleman being fond of the sound of "harp in hall." The dance, like most dances after supper, was a merry one ; some of the older folks joined in it, and the squire himself figured down several couple with a partner, with whom he affirmed he had danced at every Christmas for nearly half a century. Master Simon, who seemed to be a kind of connecting link between the old times and the new, and to be withal a little antiquated in the taste of his accomplishments, evidently piqued himself on his 92 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. dancing, and was endeavoring to gain credit by the heel and toe, rigadoon, and other graces of the ancient school ; but he had unluckily assorted himself with a little romping girl from boarding-school, who, by her wild vivacity, kept him continually on the stretch, and defeated all his sober attempts at elegance — such are the ill-assorted matches to which antique gentlemen are unfortunately prone ! The young Oxonian, on the contrary, had led out one of his maiden aunts, on whom the rogue played a thou- sand little knaveries with impunity : he was full of practical jokes, and his delight was to tease his aunts and cousins ; yet, like all madcap youngsters, he was a universal favorite among the women. The most interest- ing couple in the dance was the young officer and a ward of the squire's, a beautiful blushing girl of seventeen. From several shy glances which I had noticed in the course of the evening, I suspected there was a little kindness growing up betweem them; and, indeed, the young soldier was just the hero to captivate a romantic girl. He was tall, slender, and handsome, and, like most young British officers of late years, had picked up vari- ous small accomplishments on the continent — he could talk French and Italian, draw landscapes, sing very tolerably, dance divinely ; but, above all, he had been wounded at Waterloo — what girl of seventeen, well read in poetry and romance, could resist such a mirror of chivalry and perfection ! The moment the dance was over, he caught up a guitar, and, lolling against the old marble fireplace, in an CHRISTMAS EVE. 93 attitude which I am half inclined to suspect was studied, began the little French air of the Troubadour. The squire, however, exclaimed against having anything on Christmas Eve but good old English ; upon which the young minstrel, casting up his eye for a moment, as if in an effort of memory, struck into another strain, and, with a charming air of gallantry, gave Herrick's " Night- Piece to Julia." " Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee, And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee. No Will-o' -the- Wisp mislight thee; Nor snake nor slow-worm bite thee ; But on, on thy way, Not making a stay, Since ghost there is none to affright thee. Then let not the dark thee cumber; What though the moon does slumber, The stars of the night Will lend thee their light, Like tapers clear without number. Then, Julia, let me woo thee, Thus, thus to come unto me, And when I shall meet Thy silvery feet, My soul I'll pour into thee." The song might or might not have been intended in compliment to the fair Julia, for so I found his partner 94 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. was called ; she, however, was certainly unconscious of any such application, for she never looked at the singer, but kept her eyes cast upon the floor. Her face was suffused, it is true, with a beautiful blush, and there was a gentle heaving of the bosom, but all that was doubt- less caused by the exercise of the dance; indeed, so great was her indifference, that she amused herself with plucking to pieces a choice bouquet of hot-house flowers, and by the time the song was concluded the nosegay lay in ruins on the floor. The party now broke up for the night with the kind- hearted old custom of shaking hands. As I passed through the hall, on my way to my chamber, the dying embers of the Yule clog still sent forth a dusky glow, and had it not been the season when "no spirit dares stir abroad," I should have been half tempted to steal from my room at midnight, and peep whether the fairies might not be at their revels about the hearth. My chamber was in the old part of the mansion, the ponderous furniture of which might have been fabricated in the days of the giants. The room was pannelled with cornices of heavy carved work, in which flowers and grotesque faces were strangely intermingled; and a row of black-looking portraits stared mournfully at me from the walls. The bed was of rich, though faded damask, with a lofty tester, and stood in a niche opposite a bow- window. I had scarcely got into bed when a strain of music seemed to break forth in the air just below the window. I listened, and found it proceeded from a band, which I concluded to be the waits from some CHRISTMAS EVE. 95 neighboring village. They went round the house, play- ing under the windows. I drew aside the curtains to hear them more distinctly. The moonbeams fell through the upper part of the casement, partially lighting up the antiquated apartment. The sounds, as they receded, became more soft and aerial, and seemed to accord with the quiet and moonlight. I listened and listened, — they became more and more tender and remote, and, as they gradually died away, my head sunk upon the pillow, and I fell asleep. 96 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IR VING. CHEISTMAS DAY. Dark and dull night, flie hence away, And give the honor to this day That sees December turn'd to May. Why does the chilling winter's morne Smile like a field beset with corn ? Or smell like to a meade new-shorne, Thus on the sudden ? — Come and see The cause why things thus fragrant be. Herrick. When I woke the next morning, it seemed as if all the events of the preceding evening had been a dream, and nothing but the identity of the ancient chamber convinced me of their reality. While I lay musing on my pillow, I heard the sound of little feet pattering outside of the door, and a whispering consultation. Presently a choir of small voices chanted forth an old Christmas carol, the burden of which was : — " Rejoice, our Saviour he was born On Christmas day in the morning." I rose softly, slipt on my clothes, opened the door suddenly, and beheld one of the most beautiful little fairy groups that a painter could imagine. It consisted of a boy and two girls, the eldest not more than six, and lovely as seraphs. They were going the rounds of CHRISTMAS DAY. 97 the house, and singing at every chamber door ; but my sudden appearance frightened them into mute bashful- ness. They remained for a moment playing on their lips with their fingers, and now and then stealing a shy glance from under their eyebrows, until, as if by one impulse, they scampered away, and as they turned an angle of the gallery, I heard them laughing in triumph at their escape. Everything conspired to produce kind and happy feelings in this stronghold of old-fashioned hospitality. The window of my chamber looked out upon what in summer would have been a beautiful landscape. There was a sloping lawn, a fine stream winding at the foot of it, and a tract of park beyond, with noble clumps of trees, and herds of deer. At a distance was a neat hamlet, with the smoke from the cottage chimneys hanging over it; and a church with its dark spire in strong relief against the clear, cold sky. The house was surrounded with evergreens, according to the English custom, which would have given almost an appearance of summer, but the morning was extremely frosty ; the light vapor of the preceding evening had been precipi- tated by the cold, and covered all the trees and every blade of grass with its fine crystallizations. The rays of a bright morning sun had a dazzling effect among the glittering foliage. A robin, perched upon the top of a mountain-ash that hung its clusters of red berries just before my window, was basking himself in the sunshine, and piping a few querulous notes ; and a peacock was displaying all the glories of his train, and strutting with 98 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. the pride and gravity of a Spanish grandee, on the terrace-walk below. I had scarcely dressed myself, when a servant appeared to invite me to family prayers. He showed me the way to a small chapel in the old wing of the house, where I found the principal part of the family already assembled in a kind of gallery, furnished with cushions, hassocks, and large prayer-books; the servants were seated on benches below. The old gentleman read prayers from a desk in front of the gallery, and Master Simon acted as clerk, and made the responses ; and I must do him the justice to say that he acquitted himself with great gravity and decorum. The service was followed by a Christmas carol, which Mr. Bracebridge himself had constructed from a poem of his favorite author, Herrick ; and it had been adapted to an old church melody by Master Simon. As there were several good voices among the household, the effect was extremely pleasing ; but I was particularly gratified by the exaltation of heart, and sudden sally of grateful feeling, with which the worthy squire delivered one stanza ; his eye glistening, and his voice rambling out of all the bounds of time and tune : — " 'Tis thou that crown' st my glittering hearth With guiltless mirth, And givest me Wassaile bowles to drink Spiced to the brink; Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand That soiles my land; And giv'st me from my bushell sowne, Twice ten for one." CHRISTMAS DAY. 99 I afterwards understood that early morning service was read On every Sunday and saints' day throughout the year, either by Mr. Bracebridge or by some member of the family. It was once almost universally the case at the seats of the nobility and gentry of England, and it is much to be regretted that the custom is falling into neglect ; for the dullest observer must be sensible of the order and serenity prevalent in those households, where the occasional exercise of a beautiful form of worship in the morning gives, as it were, the key-note to every tem- per for the day, and attunes every spirit to harmony. Our breakfast consisted of what the squire denomi- nated true old English fare. He indulged in some bitter lamentations over modern breakfasts of tea and toast, which he censured as among the causes of modern effemi- nacy and weak nerves, and the decline of old English heartiness ; and though he admitted them to his table to suit the palates of his guests, yet there was a brave dis- play of cold meats, wine, and ale on the sideboard. After breakfast I walked about the grounds with Frank Bracebridge and Master Simon, or, Mr. Simon, as he was called by everybody but the squire. We were escorted by a number of gentlemanlike dogs, that seemed loungers about the establishment, from the frisking spaniel to the steady old staghound, — the last of which was of a race that had been in the family time out of mind; they were all obedient to a dog-whistle which hung to Master Simon's button-hole, and in the midst of their gambols would glance an eye occasionally upon a small switch he carried in his hand. 100 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. The old mansion had a still more venerable look in the yellow sunshine than by pale moonlight ; and I could not but feel the force of the squire's idea, that the formal terraces, heavily moulded balustrades, and clipped yew- trees carried with them an air of proud aristocracy. There appeared to be an unusual number of peacocks about the place, and I was making some remarks upon what I termed a flock of them, that were basking under a sunny wall, when I was gently corrected in my phrase- ology by Master Simon, who told me that, according to the most ancient and approved treatise on hunting, I must say a muster of peacocks. "In the same way," added he, with a slight air of pedantry, " we say a flight of doves or swallows, a bevy of quails, a herd of deer, of wrens, or cranes, a skulk of foxes, or a building of rooks." He went on to inform me that, according to Sir Anthony Fitzherbert, we ought to ascribe to this bird " both understanding and glory ; for, being praised, he will presently set up his tail, chiefly against the sun, to the intent you may the better behold the beauty thereof. But at the fall of the leaf, when his tail falleth, he will mourn and hide himself in corners, till his tail come again as it was." I could not help smiling at this display of small erudi- tion on so whimsical a subject; but I found that the pea- cocks were birds of some consequence at the hall ; for Frank Bracebridge informed me that they were great favorites with his father, who was extremely careful to keep up the breed; partly because they belonged to chivalry, and were in great request at the stately ban- CHRISTMAS DAY. 101 quets of the olden time, and partly because they had a pomp and magnificence about them, highly becoming an old family mansion. Nothing, he was accustomed to say, had an air of greater state and dignity than a peacock perched upon an antique stone balustrade. Master Simon had now to hurry off, having an appoint- ment at the parish church with the village choristers, who were to perform some music of his selection. There was something extremely agreeable in the cheerful flow of animal spirits of the little man ; and I confess I had been somewhat surprised at his apt quotations from au- thors who certainly were not in the range of every-day reading. I mentioned this last circumstance to Frank Bracebridge, who told me with a smile that Master Si- mon's whole stock of erudition was confined to some half a dozen old authors, which the squire had put into his hands, and which he had read over and over, whenever he had a studious fit ; as he sometimes had on a rainy day, or a long winter evening. Sir Anthony Fitzherbert's " Book of Husbandry ; " Markham's " Country Content- ments ; " the " Tretyse of Hunting," by Sir Thomas Cock- ayne, Knight ; Izaak Walton's " Angler," and two or three more such ancient worthies of the pen, were his standard authorities ; and, like all men who know but a few books, he looked up to them with a kind of idolatry, and quoted them on all occasions. As to his songs, they were chiefly picked out of old books in the squire's library, and adapted to tunes that were popular among the choice spirits of the last century. His practical application of scraps of literature, however, had caused him to be looked 102 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. upon as a prodigy of book knowledge by all the grooms, huntsmen, and small sportsmen of the neighborhood. While we were talking we heard the distant tolling of the village bell, and I was told that the squire was a little particular in having his household at church on a Christ- mas morning, considering it a day of pouring out of thanks and rejoicing ; for, as old Tusser observed, " At Christmas be merry, and thankful withal, And feast thy poor neighbors, the great with the small." "If you are disposed to go to church," said Frank Bracebridge, " I can promise you a specimen of my cousin Simon's musical achievements. As the church is destitute of an organ, he has formed a band from the village amateurs, and established a musical club for their improvement ; he has also sorted a choir, as he sorted my father's pack of hounds, according to the directions of Jervaise Markham, in his "Country Contentments;" for the bass he has sought out all the ' deep, solemn mouths,' and for the tenor the ' loud-ringing mouths,' among the country bumpkins ; and for ' sweet mouths,' he has culled with curious taste among the prettiest lasses in the neigh- borhood ; though these last, he affirms, are the most dif- ficult to keep in tune ; your pretty female singer being exceedingly wayward and capricious, and very liable to accident." As the morning, though frosty, was remarkably fine and clear, the most of the family walked to the church, which was a very old building of gray stone, and stood CHRISTMAS DAY. 103 near a village, about half a mile from the park gate. Adjoining it was a low snug parsonage, which seemed coeval with the church. The front of it was perfectly matted with a yew-tree, that had been trained against its walls, through the dense foliage of which apertures had been formed to admit light into the small antique lattices. As we passed this sheltered nest, the parson issued forth and preceded us. I had expected to see a sleek, well-conditioned pastor, such as is often found in a snug living in the vicinity of a rich patron's table ; but I was disappointed. The parson was a little, meagre, black-looking man, with a grizzled wig that was too wide, and stood off from each ear ; so that his head seemed to have shrunk away within it, like a dried filbert in its shell. He wore a rusty coat, with great skirts, and pockets that would have held the church Bible and prayer-book ; and his small legs seemed still smaller from being planted in large shoes, decorated with enormous buckles. I was informed by Frank Bracebridge, that the parson had been a chum of his father's at Oxford, and had received this living shortly after the latter had come to his estate. He was a complete black-letter hunter, and would scarcely read a work printed in the Roman char- acter. The editions of Caxton and Wynkin de Worde were his delight; and he was indefatigable in his re- searches after such old English writers as have fallen into oblivion from their worthlessness. In deference, perhaps, to the notions of Mr. Bracebridge, he had made diligent investigations into the festive rites and holiday 104 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING, customs of former times ; and had been as zealous in the inquiry as if he had been a boon companion ; but it was merely with that plodding spirit with which men of adust temperament follow up any track of study, merely because it is denominated learning ; indifferent to its intrinsic nature, whether it be the illustration of the wisdom, or the ribaldry and obscenity of antiquity. He had pored over these old volumes so intensely, that they seemed to have been reflected in his countenance ; which, if the face be indeed an index of the mind, might be compared to a title-page of black-letter. On reaching the church porch, we found the parson rebuking the gray-headed sexton for having used mistle- toe among the greens with which the church was deco- rated. It was, he observed, an unholy plant, profaned by having been used by the Druids in their mystic cere- monies ; and though it might be innocently employed in the festive ornamenting of halls and kitchens, yet it had been deemed by the Fathers of the Church as unhal- lowed, and totally unfit for sacred purposes. So tena- cious was he on this point, that the poor sexton was obliged to strip down a great part of the humble trophies of his taste, before the parson would consent to enter upon the service of the day. The interior of the church was venerable but simple ; on the walls were several mural monuments of the Bracebridges, and just beside the altar was a tomb of ancient workmanship, on which lay the effigy of a war- rior in armor, with his legs crossed, a sign of his having been a Crusader. I was told it was one of the family CHRISTMAS DAY. 105 who had signalized himself in the Holy Land, and the same whose picture hung over the fireplace in the hall. During service. Master Simon stood up in the pew, and repeated the responses very audibly ; evincing that kind of ceremonious devotion punctually observed by a gen- tleman of the old school, and a man of old family con- nections. I observed, too, that he turned over the leaves of a folio prayer-book with something of a flourish ; pos- sibly to show off an enormous seal ring which enriched one of his fingers, and which had the look of a family relic. But he was evidently most solicitous about the musical part of the service, keeping his eye fixed intently on the choir, and beating time with much gesticulation and emphasis. The orchestra was in a small gallery, and presented a most whimsical grouping of heads, piled one above the other, among which I particularly noticed that of the village tailor, a pale fellow with a retreating forehead and chin, who played on the clarionet, and seemed to have blown his face to a point ; and there was another, a short pursy man, stooping and laboring at a bass-viol, so as to show nothing but the top of a round. bald head, like the egg of an ostrich. There were two or three pretty faces among the female singers, to which the keen air of a frosty morning had given a bright rosy tint; but the gentlemen choristers had evidently been chosen, like old Cremona fiddles, more for tone than looks ; and as several had to sing from the same book, there were clusterings of odd physiognomies, not unlike 106 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. those groups of cherubs we sometimes see on country- tombstones. The usual services of the choir were managed toler- ably well, the vocal parts generally lagging a little be- hind the instrumental, and some loitering fiddler now and then making up for lost time by travelling over a passage with prodigious celerity, and clearing more bars than the keenest fox-hunter to be in at the death. But the great trial was an anthem that had been prepared and arranged by Master Simon, and on which he had founded great expectation. Unluckily there was a blun- der at the very outset ; the musicians became flurried ; Master Simon was in a fever ; everything went on lamely and irregularly until they came to a chorus beginning, " Now let us sing with one accord," which seemed to be a signal for parting company: all became discord and confusion ; each shifted for himself, and got to the end as well, or, rather, as soon, as he could, excepting one old chorister in a pair of horn spectacles, bestriding and pinching a long sonorous nose ; who happened to stand a little apart, and, being wrapped up in his own melody, kept on a quavering course, wriggling his head, ogling his book, and winding all up by a nasal solo of at least three bars' duration. The parson gave us a most erudite sermon on the rites and ceremonies of Christmas, and the propriety of ob- serving it not merely as a day of thanksgiving, but of rejoicing ; supporting the correctness of his opinions by the earliest usages of the church, and enforcing them by the authorities of Theophilus of Cesarea, St. Cyprian, CHRISTMAS DAY. 107 St. Chrysostorn, St. Augustine, and a cloud more of saints and fathers, from whom he made copious quotations. I was a little at a loss to perceive the necessity of such a mighty array of forces to maintain a point which no one present seemed inclined to dispute ; but I soon found that the good man had a legion of ideal adver- saries to contend with ; having, in the course of his researches on the subject of Christmas, got completely embroiled in the sectarian controversies of the Kevolu- tion, when the Puritans made such a fierce assault upon the ceremonies of the church, and poor old Christmas was driven out of the land by proclamation of Parlia- ment. 1 The worthy parson lived but with times past, and knew but little of the present. Shut up among wormeaten tomes in the retirement of his antiquated little study, the pages of old times were to him as the gazettes of the day ; while the era of the Revolution was mere modern history. He forgot that nearly two centuries had elapsed since the fiery perse- 1 From the Flying Eagle, a small Gazette, published December 24, 1652 : — " The House spent much time this day about the business of the Navy, for settling the affairs at sea, and before they rose, were presented with a terrible remonstrance against Christmas day, grounded upon divine Scriptures, 2 Cor. v. 16; 1 Cor. xv. 14, 17; and in honor of the Lord's Day, grounded upon these Scriptures, John xx. 1; Rev. i. 10; Psalm cxviii. 24; Lev. xxiii. 7, 11; Mark xv. 8; Psalm lxxxiv. 10, in which Christmas is called Anti-christ's masse, and those Masse-mongers and Papists who observe it, etc. In conse- quence of which Parliament spent some time in consultation about the abolition of Christmas day, passed orders to that effect, and re- solved to sit on the following day, which was commonly called Christmas day." 108 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. cution of poor mince pie throughout the land ; when plum porridge was denounced as "mere popery," and roast beef as anti-Christian ; and that Christmas had been brought in again triumphantly with the merry court of King Charles at the Restoration. He kindled into warmth with the ardor of his contest, and the host of imaginary foes with whom he had to combat ; he had a stubborn conflict with old Prynne and two or three other forgotten champions of the Round Heads on the subject of Christmas festivity ; and concluded by urging his hearers, in the most solemn and affecting manner, to stand to the traditional customs of their fathers, and feast and make merry on this joyful anniversary of the Church. I have seldom known a sermon attended apparently with more immediate effects ; for on leaving the church the congregation seemed one and all possessed with the gayety of spirit so earnestly enjoined by their pastor. The elder folks gathered in knots in the churchyard, greeting and shaking hands ; and the children ran about crying Ule ! Ule ! and repeating some uncouth rhymes, 1 which the parson, who had joined us, informed me had been handed down from days of yore. . The villagers doffed 'their hats to the squire as he passed, giving him the good wishes of the season with every appearance of heartfelt sincerity, and were invited by him to the hall, to take something to keep out the cold of the weather ; i " Ule! Ule! Three puddings in a pule Crack nuts and cry ule ! " CHRISTMAS DAY. 109 and I heard blessings uttered by several of the poor, which convinced me that, in the midst of his enjoyments, the worthy old cavalier had not forgotten the true Christmas virtue of charity. . On our way homeward his heart seemed overflowed with generous and happy feelings. As we passed over a rising ground which commanded something of a prospect, the sounds of rustic merriment now and then reached our ears ; the squire paused for a few moments, and looked around with an air of inexpressible benignity. The beauty of the day was of itself sufficient to inspire phi- lanthropy. Notwithstanding the frostiness of the morn- ing, the sun in his cloudless journey had acquired sufficient power to melt away the" thin covering of snow from every southern declivity, and to bring out the living green which adorns an English landscape even in mid- winter. Large tracts of smiling verdure contrasted with the dazzling whiteness of the shaded slopes and hollows. Every sheltered bank, on which the broad rays rested, yielded its silver rill of cold and limpid water, glittering through the dripping grass ; and sent up slight exhala- tions to contribute to the thin haze that hung just above the surface of the earth. There was something truly cheering in this triumph of warmth and verdure over the frosty thraldom of winter ; it was, as the squire observed, an emblem of Christmas hospitality, breaking through the chills of ceremony and selfishness, and thawing every heart into a flow. He pointed with pleasure to the indi- cations of good cheer reeking from the chimneys of the comfortable farmhouses and low thatched cottages. " I 110 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. love/' said he, " to see this day well kept by rich and poor ; it is a great thing to have one day in the year, at least, when you are sure of being welcome wherever you go, and of having, as it were, the world all thrown open to you ; and I am almost disposed to join with Poor Robin, in his malediction on every churlish enemy to this honest festival, — " Those who at Christmas do repine And would fain hence dispatch him, May they with old Duke Humphry dine, Or else may Squire Ketch catch 'em." The squire went on to lament the deplorable decay of the games and amusements which were once prevalent at this season among the lower orders, and countenanced by the higher ; when the old halls of the castles and manor-houses were thrown open at daylight ; when the tables were covered with brawn, and beef, and humming ale ; when the harp and the carol resounded all day long, and when rich and poor were alike welcome to enter and make merry. 1 " Our old games and local customs,' 7 said he, " had a great effect in making the peasant fond of his home, and the promotion of them by the gentry made 1 " An English gentleman, at the opening of the great day, i.e., on Christmas day in the morning, had all his tenants and neighbors enter his hall by daybreak. The strong beer was broached, and the black- jacks went plentifully about with toast, sugar and nutmeg, and good Cheshire cheese. The hackin (the great sausage) must be boiled by daybreak, or else two young men must take the maiden (i.e., the cook) by the arms and run her around the market-place till she is ashamed of her laziness." — Round About our Sea-Coal Fire. CHRISTMAS DAY. Ill him fond of his lord. They made the times merrier and kinder and better, and I can truly say, with one of our old poets, — " 'I like them well — the curious preciseness And all-pretended gravity of those That seek to banish hence these harmless sports Have thrust away much ancient honesty.' " The nation/' continued he, " is altered ; we have almost lost our simple true-hearted peasantry. They have broken asunder from the higher classes, and seem to think their interests are separate. They have become too knowing, and begin to read newspapers, listen to ale- house politicians, and talk of reform. I think one mode to keep them in good-humor in these hard times would be for the nobility and gentry to pass more time on their estates, mingle more among the country people, and set the merry old English games going again." Such was the good squire's project for mitigating pub- lic discontent : and, indeed, he had once attempted to put his doctrine in practice, and a few years before had kept open house during the holidays in the old style. The country people, however, did not understand how to play their parts in the scene of hospitality ; many un- couth circumstances occurred : the manor was overrun by all the vagrants of the country, and more beggars drawn into the neighborhood in one week than the par- ish officers could get rid of in a year. Since then he had contented himself with inviting the decent part of the neighboring peasantry to call at the hall on Christ- 112 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. mas Day, and with distributing beef and bread and ale among the poor, that they might make merry in their own dwellings. We had not been long home when the sound of music was heard in the distance. A band of country lads, without coats, their shirt sleeves fancifully tied with ribbons, their hats decorated with greens, and clubs in their hands, was seen advancing up the avenue, followed by a large number of villagers and peasantry. They stopped before the hall-door, when the music struck up a peculiar air, and the lads performed a curious and in- tricate dance, advancing, retreating, and striking their clubs together, keeping exact time to the music ; while one, whimsically crowned with a fox's skin, the tail of which flaunted down his back, kept capering round the skirts of the dance, and rattling a Christmas box with many antic gesticulations. The squire eyed this fanciful exhibition with great in- terest and delight, and gave me a full account of its ori- gin, which he traced to the times when the Romans held possession of the island ; plainly proving that this was a lineal descendant of the sword-dance of the ancients. "It was now/ 7 he said, " nearly extinct, but he had acci- dentally met with traces of it in the neighborhood, and had encouraged its revival ; though, to tell the truth, it was too apt to be followed up by the rough cudgel play, and broken heads in the evening." After the dance was concluded, the whole party was entertained with brawn and beef, and stout home brewed. The squire himself mingled among the rus- CHRISTMAS DAY. 113 tics, and was received with awkward demonstrations of deference and regard. It is true I perceived two or three of the younger peasants, as they were rais- ing their tankards to their mouths, when the squire's back was turned, making something of a grimace, and giving each other the wink ; but the moment they caught my eye they pulled grave faces, and were ex- ceedingly demure. With Master Simon, however, they all seemed more at their ease. His varied occupations and amusements had made him well known throughout the neighborhood. He was a visitor at every farmhouse and cottage ; gossiped with the farmers and their wives ; romped with their daughters ; and, like that type of a vagrant bachelor, the humblebee, tolled the sweets from all the rosy lips of the country round. The bashfulness of the guests soon gave way before good cheer and affability. There is something genuine and affectionate in the gayety of the lower orders, when it is excited by the bounty and familiarity of those above them ; the warm glow of gratitude enters into their mirth, and a kind word or a small pleasantry frankly uttered by a patron gladdens the heart of the dependent more than oil and wine. When the squire had retired, the merriment increased, and there was much joking and laughter, particularly between Master Simon and a hale, ruddy-faced, white-headed farmer, who appeared to be the wit of the village ; for I observed all his companions to wait with open mouths for his retorts, and burst into a gratuitous laugh before they could well understand them. 114 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. The whole house indeed seemed abandoned to merri- ment : as I passed to my room to dress for dinner, I heard the sound of music in a small court, and, looking through a window that commanded it, I perceived a band of wandering musicians, with pandean pipes and tam- bourine ; a pretty conquettish housemaid was dancing a jig with a smart country lad, while several of the other servants were looking on. In the midst of her sport the girl caught a glimpse of my face at the win- dow, and, coloring up, ran off with an air of roguish affected confusion. THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 115 THE CHEISTMAS DINKEE. " Lo, now is come our joyful'st feast ! Let every man be jolly, Eache roome with yvie leaves is drest, And every post with holly. Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke, And Christmas blocks are burning ; Their ovens they with bak't meats choke, And all their spits are turning. Without the door let sorrow lie, And if, for cold, it hap to die, Wee'le bury't in a Christmas pye, And evermore be merry." Withers's Juvenilia. I had finished my toilet, and was loitering with Frank Bracebridge in the library, when we heard a distant thwacking sound, which he informed me was a signal for the serving up of the dinner. The squire kept up old customs in kitchen as well as hall ; and the rolling-pin, struck upon the dresser by the cook, summoned the ser- vants to carry in the meats. " Just in this nick the cook knock' d thrice, And all the waiters in a trice His summons did obey ; Each serving man, with dish in hand, March' d boldly up, like our train band, Presented, and away." 1 1 Sir J ohn Suckling. 116 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. The dinner was served np in the great hall where the squire always held his Christmas banquet. A blazing, crackling fire of logs had been heaped on to warm the spacious apartment, and the flame went sparkling and wreathing up the wide-mouthed chimney. The great picture of the crusader and his white horse had been profusely decorated with greens for the occasion ; and holly and ivy had likewise been wreathed round the hel- met and weapons on the opposite wall, which I under- stood were the arms of the same warrior. I must own, by-the-by, I had strong doubts about the authenticity of the painting and armor as having belonged to the cru- sader, they certainly having the stamp of more recent days ; but I was told that the painting had been so con- sidered time out of mind ; and that, as to the armor, it had been found in a lumber-room, and elevated to its present situation by the squire, who at once determined it to be the armor of the family hero ; and as he was absolute authority on all such subjects in his own house- hold, the matter had passed into current acceptation. A sideboard was set out just under this chivalric trophy, on which was a display of plate that might have vied (at least in variety) with Belshazzar's parade of the vessels of the temple: "flagons, cans, cups, beakers, goblets, basins, and ewers ; " the gorgeous utensils of good com- panionship that had gradually accumulated through many generations of jovial housekeepers. Before these stood the two Yule candles, beaming like two stars of the first magnitude ; other lights were distributed in branches, and the whole array glittered like a firmament of silver. THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 117 We were ushered into this banqueting scene with the sound of minstrelsy, the old harper being seated on a stool beside the fireplace, and twanging his instrument with a vast deal more power than melody. Never did Christinas board display a more goodly and gracious assemblage of countenances ; those who were not hand- some were, at least, happy ; and happiness is a rare improver of your hard-favored visage. I always con- sider an old English family as well worth studying as a collection of Holbein's portraits or Albert Dtirer's prints. There is much antiquarian lore to be acquired; much knowledge of the physiognomies of former times. Per- haps it may be from having continually before their eyes those rows of old family portraits, with which the mansions of this country are stocked ; certain it is, that the quaint features of antiquity are often most faith- fully perpetuated in these ancient lines ; and I have traced an old family nose through a whole picture gal- lery, legitimately handed down from generation to gener- ation, almost from the time of the Conquest. Something of the kind was to be observed in the worthy company around me. Many of their faces had evidently originated in a Gothic age, and been merely copied by succeed- ing generations ; and there was one little girl in par- ticular, of staid demeanor, with a high Roman nose, and an antique vinegar aspect, who was a great favorite of the squire's, being, as he said, a Bracebridge all over, and the very counterpart of one of his ancestors who fig- ured in the court of Henry VIII. The parson said grace, which was not a short familiar 118 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. one, such as is commonly addressed to the Deity in these unceremonious days ; but a long, courtly, well-worded one of the ancient school. There was now a pause, as if something was expected; when suddenly the butler entered the hall with some degree of bustle : he was attended by a servant on each side with a large wax- light, and bore a silver dish, on which was an enormous pig's head, decorated with rosemary, with a lemon in its mouth, which was placed with great formality at the head of the table. The moment this pageant made its appear- ance, the harper struck up a flourish ; at the conclusion of which the young Oxonian, on receiving a hint from the squire, gave, with an air of the most comic gravity, an old carol, the first verse of which was as follows : — * " Caput apri defero Keddens laudes Domino. The boar's head in hand bring I, With garlands gay and rosemary. I pray you all synge merrily Qui estis in convivio." Though prepared to witness many of these little eccentricities, from being apprised of the peculiar hobby of mine host, yet, I confess, the parade with which so odd a dish was introduced somewhat perplexed me, until I gathered from the conversation of the squire and the parson, that it was meant to represent the bringing in of the boar's head ; a dish formerly served up with much ceremony and the sound of minstrelsy and song, at great tables, on Christmas Day. " I like the old custom," said THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 119 the squire, " not merely because it is stately and pleas- ing in itself, but because it was observed at the college at Oxford at which I was educated. When I hear the old song chanted, it brings to mind the time when I was young and gamesome, and the noble old college hall, and my fellow-students loitering about in their black gowns ; many of whom, poor lads, are now in their graves ! " The parson, however, whose mind was not haunted by such associations, and who was always more taken up with the text than the sentiment, objected to the Oxo- nian's version of the carol ; which he affirmed was differ- ent from that sung at college. 1 He went on with the dry perseverance of a commentator, to give the college read- ing, accompanied by sundry annotations, addressing 1 The old ceremony of serving up the boar's head on Christmas Day is still observed in the hall of Queen's College, Oxford. I was favored by the parson with a copy of the carol as now sung, and, as it may be acceptable to such of my readers as are curious in these grave and learned matters, I give it entire. " The boar's head in hand bear I, Bedeck'd with bays and rosemary ; And I pray you, my masters, be merry Quot estis in convivio. Caput apri defero, Reddens laudes Domino. The boar's head, as I understand, Is the rarest dish in all this land, Which thus bedeck'd with a gay garland Let us servire cantico. Caput apri defero, etc. Our steward hath provided this In honor of the King of Bliss, Which on this day to be served is In Reginensi Atrio. Caput apri defero," etc., etc., etc. 120 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. himself at first to the company at large; but finding their attention gradually diverted to other talk and other objects, he lowered his tone as his number of auditors diminished, until he concluded his remarks in an under- voice, to a fat-headed old gentleman next him, who was silently engaged in the discussion of a huge plateful of turkey. The table was literally loaded with good cheer, and presented an epitome of country abundance, in this season of overflowing larders. A distinguished post was allotted to "ancient sirloin," as mine host termed it; being, as he added, " the standard of old English hospi- tality, and a joint of goodly presence, and full of expec- tation." There were several dishes quaintly decorated, and which had evidently something traditional in their embellishments ; but about which, as I did not like to appear over-curious, I asked no questions. I could not, however, but notice a pie, magnificently decorated with peacock's feathers, in imitation of the tail of that bird, which overshadowed a considerable tract of the table. This, the squire confessed, with some little hesitation, was a pheasant-pie, though a peacock-pie was certainly the most authentical ; but there had been such a mortality among the peacocks this season, that he could not prevail upon himself to have one killed. 1 1 The peacock was anciently in great demand for stately entertain- ments. Sometimes it was made into a pie, at one end of which the head appeared ahove the crust in all its plumage, with the beak richly gilt ; at the other ertd the tail was displayed. Such pies were served up at the solemn banquets of chivalry, when knights-errant pledged themselves to undertake any perilous enterprise, whence THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 121 It would be tedious, perhaps, to my wiser readers, who may not have that foolish fondness for odd and obsolete things to which I am a little given, were I to mention the other makeshifts of this worthy old humor- ist, by which he was endeavoring to follow up, though at humble distance, the quaint customs of antiquity. I was pleased, however, to see the respect shown to his whims by his children and relatives ; who, indeed, entered readily into the full spirit of them, and seemed all well versed in their parts ; having doubtless been present at many a rehearsal. I was amused, too, at the air of profound gravity with which the butler and other servants executed the duties assigned them, however eccentric. They had an old-fashioned look ; having, for the most part, been brought up in the household, and grown into keeping with the antiquated mansion, and the humors of its lord ; and most probably looked upon all his whimsical regulations as the established laws of honorable housekeeping. When the cloth was removed, the butler brought in a huge silver vessel of rare and curious workmanship, which he placed before the squire. Its appearance was came the ancient oath, used by Justice Shallow, "by cock and pie." The peacock was also an important dish for the Christmas feast; and Massinger, in his " City Madam," gives some idea of the extrav- agance with which this, as well as other dishes, was prepared for the gorgeous revels of the olden times : — " Men may talk of Country Christmasses, "Their thirty pound butter'd eggs, their pies of carps' tongues; " Their pheasants drench'd with ambergris; the carcases of three fat wethers bruised for gravy to make sauce for a single peacock." 122 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING, hailed with acclamation ; being the Wassail Bowl, so renowned in Christmas festivity. The contents had been prepared by the squire himself ; for it was a beverage in the skilful mixture of which he particularly prided himself, alleging that it was too abstruse and complex for the comprehension of an ordinary servant. It was a potation, indeed, that might well make the heart of a toper leap within him ; being composed of the richest and raciest wines, highly spiced and sweetened, with roasted apples bobbing about the surface. 1 The old gentleman's whole countenance beamed with a serene look of indwelling delight, as he stirred this mighty bowl. Having raised it to his lips, with a hearty wish of a merry Christmas to all present, he sent it brimming round the board, for every one to follow his example, according to the primitive style ; pronouncing it " the ancient fountain of good feeling, where all hearts met together." 2 1 The Wassail Bowl was sometimes composed of ale instead of wine ; with nutmeg, sugar, toast, ginger, and roasted crahs : in this way the nut-brown beverage is still prepared in some old families and round the hearths of substantial farmers at Christmas. It is also called Lamb's "Wool, and is celebrated by Herrick in his " Twelfth Night": — " Next crowne the bowle full With gentle Lamb's Wool; Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger With store of ale too; And thus ye must doe To make the Wassaile a swinger." 2 " The custom of drinking out of the same cup gave place to each having his cup. When the steward came to the doore with the Wassel, he was to cry three times Wassel, Wassel, Wassel, and then the chappell (chaplein) was to answer with a song.'' — Archxologia. THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 123 There was much laughing and rallying as the honest emblem of Christmas joviality circulated, and was kissed rather coyly by the ladies. When it reached Master Simon, he raised it in both hands, and with the air of a boon companion struck up an old Wassail chanson. " The brown bowle The merry brown bowle, As it goes round about-a, Fill Still, Let the world say what it will, And drink your fill all out-a. The deep canne, The merry deep canne, As thou dost freely quaff-a, Sing Fling, Be as merry as a king, And sound a lusty laugh-a." 1 Much of the conversation during dinner turned upon family topics, to which I was a stranger. There was, however, a great deal of rallying of Master Simon about some gay widow, with whom he was accused of having a flirtation. This attack was commenced by the ladies ; but it was continued throughout the dinner by the fat- headed old gentleman next the parson, with the perse- vering assiduity of a slow hound; being one of those long-winded jokers, who, though rather dull at starting 1 From Poor Robin's Almanac. 124 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. game, are unrivalled for their talents in hunting it down. At every pause in the general conversation, he renewed his bantering in pretty much the same terms; winking hard at me with both eyes, whenever he gave Master Simon what he considered a home thrust. The latter, indeed, seemed fond of being teased on the sub- ject, as old bachelors are apt to be ; and he took occasion to inform me, in an undertone, that the lady in question was a prodigiously fine woman, and drove her own curricle. The dinner-time passed away in this flow of innocent hilarity, and though the old hall may have resounded in its time with many a scene of broader rout and revel, yet I doubt whether it ever witnessed more honest and genuine enjoyment. How easy it is for one benevolent being to diffuse pleasure around him ; and how truly is a kind heart a fountain of gladness, making everything in its vicinity to freshen into smiles ! The joyous disposition of the worthy squire was perfectly contagious ; he was happy himself, and disposed to make all the world happy ; and the little eccentricities of his humor did but season, in a manner, the sweetness of his philanthropy. When the ladies had retired, the conversation, as usual, became still more animated; many good things were broached which had been thought of during dinner, but which would not exactly do for a lady's ear ; and though I cannot positively affirm that there was much wit uttered, yet I have certainly heard many contests of rare wit produce much less laughter. Wit, after all, is a mighty tart, pungent ingredient, and much too acid for THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 125 some stomachs ; but honest good-humor is the oil and wine of a merry meeting, and there is no jovial compan- ionship equal to that where the jokes are rather small, and the laughter abundant. The squire told several long stories of early college pranks and adventures, in some of which the parson had been a sharer ; though in looking at the latter, it required some effort of imagination to figure such a little dark anat- omy of a man into the perpetrator of a madcap gambol. Indeed, the two college chums presented pictures of what men may be made by their different lots in life. The squire had left the university to live lustily on his pater- nal domains, in the vigorous enjoyment of prosperity and sunshine, and had flourished on to a hearty and florid old age ; whilst the poor parson, on the contrary, had dried and withered away, among dusty tomes, in the silence and shadows of his study. Still there seemed to be a spark of almost extinguished fire feebly glimmer- ing in the bottom of his soul ; and as the squire hinted at a sly story of the parson and a pretty milkmaid, whom they once met on the banks of the Isis, the old gentleman made an "alphabet of faces," which, as far as I could decipher his physiognomy, I verily believe was indicative of laughter; indeed, I have rarely met with an old gentleman that took absolute offence at the imputed gallantries of his youth. I found the tide of wine and wassail fast gaining on the dry land of sober judgment. The company grew merrier and louder as their jokes grew duller. Master Simon was in as chirping a humor as a grasshopper filled 126 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. with dew ; his old songs grew of a warmer complexion, and he began to talk maudlin about the widow. He even gave a long song about the wooing of a widow, which he informed me he had gathered from an excellent black- letter work, entitled " Cupid's Solicitor for Love/' con- taining store of good advice for bachelors, and which he promised to lend me. The first verse was to this effect : — " He that will woo a widow must not dally, He must make hay while the sun doth shine ; He must not stand with her, shall I, shall I ? But boldly say, Widow, thou must be mine." This song inspired the fat-headed old gentleman, who made several attempts to tell a rather broad story out of Joe Miller, that was pat to the purpose ; but he always stuck in the middle, everybody recollecting the latter part excepting himself. The parson, too, began to show the effects of good cheer, having gradually settled down into a doze, and his wig sitting most suspiciously on one side. Just at this juncture we were summoned to the drawing-room, and, I suspect, at the private instigation of mine host, whose joviality seemed always tempered with a proper love of decorum. After the dinner-table was removed, the hall was given up to the younger members of the family, who, prompted to all kind of noisy mirth by the Oxonian and Master Simon, made its old walls ring with their merriment, as they played at romping games. I delight in witnessing the gambols of children, and particularly at this happy THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 127 holiday season, and could not help stealing out of the drawing-room on hearing one of their peals of laughter. I found them at the game of blind-man's-buff. Master Simon, who was the leader of their revels, and seemed on all occasions to fulfil the office of that ancient potentate, the Lord of Misrule, 1 was blinded in the midst of the hall. The little beings were as busy about him as the mock fairies about Falstaff; pinching him, plucking at the skirts of his coat, and tickling him with straws. One fine blue-eyed girl of about thirteen, with her flaxen hair all in beautiful confusion, her frolic face in a glow, her frock half torn off her shoulders, a complete picture of a romp, was the chief tormentor ; and, from the slyness with which Master Simon avoided the smaller game, and hemmed this wild little nymph in corners, and obliged her to jump shrieking over chairs, I suspected the rogue of being not a whit more blinded than was convenient. When I returned to the drawing-room, I found the company seated round the fire, listening to the parson, who was deeply ensconced in a high-backed oaken chair, the work of some cunning artificer of yore, which had been brought from the library for his particular accom- modation. From this venerable piece of furniture, with which his shadowy figure and dark weazen face so ad- mirably accorded, he was dealing out strange accounts of 1 " At Christmasse there was in the Kinge's house, wheresoever hee was lodged, a lorde of misrule, or mayster of merie disportes, and the like had ye in the house of every nobleman of honor, or good worshippe, were he spirituall or temporall." — Stowk. 128 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. the popular superstitions and legends of the surrounding country, with which he had become acquainted in the course of his antiquarian researches. I am half inclined to think that the old gentleman was himself somewhat tinctured with superstition, as men are very apt to be who live a recluse and studious life in a sequestered part of the country, and pore over black-letter tracts, so often filled with the marvellous and supernatural. He gave us several anecdotes of the fancies of the neighboring peasantry, concerning the effigy of the crusader, which lay on the tomb by the church altar. As it was the only monument of the kind in that part of the country, it had always been regarded with feelings of superstition by the good wives of the village. It was said, to get up from the tomb and walk the rounds of the churchyard in stormy nights, particularly when it thundered; and one old woman, whose cottage bordered on the church- yard, had seen it through the windows of the church, when the moon shone, slowly pacing up and down the aisles. It was the belief that some wrong had been left unredressed by the deceased, or some treasure hidden, which kept the spirit in a state of trouble and restless- ness. Some talked of gold and jewels buried in the tomb, over which the spectre kept watch ; and there was a story current of a sexton in old times, who endeavored to break his way to the coffin at night, but, just as he reached it, received a violent blow from the marble hand of the effigy, which stretched him senseless on the pave- ment. These tales were often laughed at by some of the sturdier among the rustics, yet, when night came on, THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 129 there were many of the stoutest unbelievers that were shy of venturing alone in the footpath that led across the churchyard. From these and other anecdotes that followed, the crusader appeared to be the favorite hero of ghost- stories throughout the vicinity. His picture, which hung up in the hall, was thought by the servants to have something supernatural about it ; for they remarked that, in whatever part of the hall you went, the eyes of the warrior were still fixed on you. The old porter's wife, too, at the lodge, who had been born and brought up in the family, and was a great gossip among the maid- servants, affirmed that in her young days she had often heard say, that on Midsummer eve, when it was well known all kinds of ghosts, goblins, and fairies become visible and walk abroad, the crusader used to mount his horse, come down from his picture, ride about the house, down the avenue, and so to the church to visit the tomb ; on which occasion the church door most civilly swung open of itself ; not that he needed it, for he rode through closed gates and even stone walls, and had been seen by one of the dairy -maids to pass between two bars of the great park gate, making himself as thin as a sheet of paper. All these superstitions, I found, had been very much countenanced by the squire, who, though not supersti- tious himself, was very fond of seeing others so. He listened to every goblin-tale of the neighboring gossips with infinite gravity, and held the porter's wife in high favor on account of her talent for the marvellous. He 130 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. was himself a great reader of old legends and romances, and often lamented that he could not believe in them ; for a superstitious person, he thought, must live in a kind of fairy land. Whilst we were all attention to the parson's stories, our ears were suddenly assailed by a burst of heteroge- neous sounds from the hall, in which were mingled something like the clang of rude minstrelsy, with the uproar of many small voices and girlish laughter. The door suddenly flew open, and a train came trooping into the room that might almost have been mistaken for the breaking up of the court of Fairy. That indefatigable spirit, Master Simon, in the faithful discharge of his duties as lord of misrule, had conceived the idea of a Christmas mummery or masking ; and having called in to his assistance the Oxonian and the young officer, who were equally ripe for anything that should occasion romping and merriment, they had carried it into instant effect. The old housekeeper had been consulted ; the antique clothes-presses aud wardrobes rummaged, and made to yield up the relics of finery that had not seen the light for several generations ; the younger part of the company had been privately convened from the parlor and hall, and the whole had been bedizened out into a burlesque imitation of an antique mask. 1 1 Maskings or mummeries were favorite sports at Christmas in old times ; and the wardrobes at halls and manor-houses were often laid under contribution to furnish dresses and fantastic disguisings. I strongly suspect Master Simon to have taken the idea of his from Ben Jouson's " Masque of Christmas." THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 131 Master Simon led the van as "Ancient Christmas," quaintly apparelled in a ruff, a short cloak, which had very much the aspect of one of the old housekeeper's petticoats, and a hat that might have served for a village steeple, and must indubitably have figured in the days of the Covenanters. Prom under this his nose curved boldly forth, flushed with a frost-bitten bloom, that seemed the very trophy of a December blast. He was accompanied by the blue-eyed romp, dished up as " Dame Mince Pie," in the venerable magnificence of a faded brocade, long stomacher, peaked hat, and high-heeled shoes. The young officer appeared as E'obin Hood, in a sporting dress of Kendal green, and a foraging cap with a gold tassel. The costume, to be sure, did not bear testimony to deep research, and there was an evident eye to the picturesque, natural to a young gallant in the presence of his mistress. The fair Julia hung on his arm in a pretty rustic dress, as " Maid Marian." The rest of the train had been metamorphosed in various ways: the girls trussed up in the finery of the ancient belles of the Bracebridge line, and the striplings bewhiskered with burnt cork, and gravely clad in broad skirts, hang- ing sleeves, and full-bottomed wigs, to represent the character of Eoast Beef, Plum Pudding, and other worthies celebrated in ancient maskings. The whole was under the control of the Oxonian, in the appropriate character of Misrule ; and I observed that he exercised rather a mischievous sway with his wand over the smaller personages of the pageant. 132 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. The irruption of his motley crew, with beat of drum, according to ancient custom, was the consummation of uproar and merriment. Master Simon covered himself with glory by the stateliness with which, as Ancient Christinas, he walked a minuet with the peerless, though giggling, Dame Mince Pie. It was followed by a dance of all the characters, which, from its medley of cos- tumes, seemed as though the old family portraits had skipped down from their frames to join in the sport. Different centuries were figuring at cross hands and right and left; the dark ages were cutting pirouettes and rigadoons ; and the days of Queen Bess jigging merrily down the middle, through a line of succeeding generations. The worthy squire contemplated these fantastic sports, and this resurrection of his old wardrobe, with the simple relish of childish delight. He stood chuckling and rubbing his hands, and scarcely hearing a word the parson said, notwithstanding that the latter was dis- coursing most authentically on the ancient and stately dance of the Pavon, or peacock, from which he conceived the minuet to be derived. 1 For my part, I was in a continual excitement from the various scenes of whim and innocent gayety passing before me. It was inspir- 1 Sir John Hawkins, speaking of the dance called the Pavon, from pavo, a peacock, says, " It is a grave and majestic dance ; the method of dancing it anciently was hy gentlemen dressed with caps and swords, hy those of the long robe in their gowns, hy the peers in their mantles, and by the ladies in gowns with long trains, the motion whereof in dancing resembled that of a peacock." — History of Music, THE CHRISTMAS DINNER. 133 ing to see wild-eyed frolic and warm-hearted hospitality breaking out from among the chills and glooms of winter, and old age throwing off his apathy, and catch- ing once more the freshness of youthful enjoyment. I felt also an interest in the scene, from the consideration that these fleeting customs were posting fast into ob- livion, and that this was, perhaps, the only family in England in which the whole of them was still punctili- ously observed. There was a quaintness, too, mingled with all this revelry, that gave it a peculiar zest : it was suited to the time and place ; and as the old manor- house almost reeled with mirth and wassail, it seemed echoing back the joviality of long departed years. 1 But enough of Christmas and its gambols ; it is time for me to pause in this garrulity. Methinks I hear the questions asked by my graver readers, " To what pur- pose is all this ; how is the world to be made wiser by this talk ? " Alas ! is there not wisdom enough extant for the instruction of the world ? And if not, are there not thousands of abler pens laboring for its improve- ment ? — It is so much pleasanter to please than to instruct, — to play the companion rather than the per- ceptor. What, after all, is the mite of wisdom that I could 1 At the time of the first publication of this paper, the picture of an old-fashioned Christmas in the country was pronounced by some as out of date. The author had afterwards an opportunity of witness- ing almost all the customs above described, existing in unexpected vigor in the skirts of Derbyshire and Yorkshire, where he passed the Christmas holidays. The reader will find some notice of them in the author's account of his sojourn at Newstead Abbey. 134 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. throw into the mass of knowledge; or how am I sure that my sagest deductions may be safe guides for the opinions of others ? But, in writing to amuse, if I fail, the only evil is in my own disappointment. If, however, I can by any lucky chance, in these days of evil, rub out one wrinkle from the brow of care, or beguile the heavy heart of one moment of sorrow ; if I can now and then penetrate through the gathering film of misan- thropy, prompt a benevolent view of human nature, and make my reader more in good-humor with his fellow- beings and himself, surely, surely, I shall not then have written entirely in vain. STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 135 STRATFORD-ON-AVON. Thou soft-flowing Avon, by thy silver stream Of things more than mortal sweet Shakspeare would dream ; The fairies by moonlight dance round his green bed, For hallow'd the turf is which pillow'd his head. Garrick. To a homeless man, who has no spot on this wide world which he can truly call his own, there is a momen- tary feeling of something like independence and terri- torial consequence, when, after a weary day's travel, he kicks off his boots, thrusts his feet into slippers, and stretches himself before an inn fire. Let the world without go as it may ; let kingdoms rise or fall, so long as he has the wherewithal to pay his bill, he is, for the time being, the very monarch of all he surveys. The armchair is his throne, the poker his sceptre, and the little parlor, some twelve feet square, his undisputed empire. It is a morsel of certainty, snatched from the midst of the uncertainties of life ; it is a sunny moment, gleaming out kindly on a cloudy day ; and he who has advanced some way on a pilgrimage of existence, knows the importance of husbanding even morsels and moments of enjoyment. "Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn ? " thought I, as I gave the fire a stir, lolled back in 136 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. my elbow-chair, and cast a complacent look about the little parlor of the Red Horse, at Stratford-on-Avon. The words of sweet Shakspeare were just passing through my mind as the clock struck midnight from the tower of the church in which he lies buried. There was a gentle tap at the door, and a pretty chambermaid, put- ting in her smiling face, inquired, with a hesitating air, whether I had rung. I understood it as a modest hint that it was time to retire. My dream of absolute domin- ion was at an end ; so abdicating my throne, like a pru- dent potentate, to avoid being deposed, and putting the Stratford G-uide-Book under my arm, as a pillow com- panion, I went to bed, and dreamt all night of Shak- speare, the jubilee, and David Garrick. The next morning was one of those quickening morn- ings which we sometimes have in early spring; for it was about the middle of March. The chills of a long winter had suddenly given way; the north wind had spent its last gasp ; and a mild air came stealing from the west, breathing the breath of life into nature, and wooing every bud and flower to burst forth into fragrance and beauty. I had come to Stratford on a poetical pilgrimage. My first visit was to the house where Shakspeare was born, and where, according to tradition, he was brought up to his father's craft of wool-combing. It is a small, mean- looking edifice of wood and plaster, a true nestling-place of genius, which seems to delight in hatching its off- spring in by-corners. The walls of its squalid chambers are covered with names and inscriptions in every Ian- S TRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 137 guage, by pilgrims of all nations, ranks, and conditions, from the prince to the peasant ; and present a simple but striking instance of the spontaneous and universal homage of mankind to the great poet of nature. The house is shown by a garrulous old lady, in a frosty red face, lighted up by a cold blue anxious eye, and gar- nished with artificial locks of flaxen hair, curling from under an exceedingly dirty cap. She was peculiarly assiduous in exhibiting the relics with which this, like all other celebrated shrines, abounds. There was the shattered stock of the very matchlock with which Shakspeare shot the deer, on his poaching exploits. There, too, was his tobacco-box; which proves that he was a rival smoker of Sir Walter Raleigh; the sword also with which he played Hamlet ; and the identical lantern with which Friar Laurence discovered Romeo and Juliet at the tomb ! There was an ample supply also of Shakspeare's mulberry-tree, which seems to have as extraordinary powers of self-multiplication as the wood of the true cross ; of which there is enough extant to build a ship of the line. The most favorite object of curiosity, however, is Shakspeare's chair. It stands in the chimney nook of a small gloomy chamber, just behind what was his father's shop. Here he may many a time have sat when a boy, watching the slowly revolving spit with all the longings of an urchin ; or of an evening, listening to the cronies and gossips of Stratford, dealing forth church- yard tales and legendary anecdotes of the troublesome times of England. In this chair it is the custom of 138 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. every one that visits the house to sit : whether this be done with the hope of imbibing any of the inspiration of the bard I am at a loss to say, I merely mention the fact; and mine hostess privately assured me, that, though built of solid oak, such was the fervent zeal of devotees, that the chair had to be new bottomed at least once in three years. It is worthy of notice also, in the history of this extraordinary chair, that it partakes something of the volatile nature of the Santa Casa of Loretto, or the flying chair of the Arabian enchanter ; for, though sold some few years since to a northern princess, yet, strange to tell, it has found its way back again to the old chimney corner. I am always of easy faith in such matters, and am ever willing to be deceived, where the deceit is pleasant and costs nothing. I am therefore a ready believer in relics, legends, and local anecdotes of goblins and great men ; and would advise all travellers who travel for their gratification to be the same. What is it to us whether these stories be true or false, so long as we can persuade ourselves into the belief of them, and enjoy all the charm of the reality ? There is nothing like resolute good-humored credulity in these matters; and on this occasion I went even so far as willingly to believe the claims of mine hostess to a lineal descent from the poet, when, luckily for my faith, she put into my hands a play of her own composition, which set all belief in her consanguinity at defiance. From the birthplace of Shakspeare a few paces brought me to his grave. He lies buried in the chancel STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 139 of the parish, church, a large and venerable pile, moulder- ing with age, but richly ornamented. It stands on the banks of the Avon, on an embowered point, and separated by adjoining gardens from the suburbs of the town. Its situation is quiet and retired ; the river runs murmuring at the foot of the churchyard, and the elms which grow upon its banks droop their branches into its clear bosom. An avenue of limes, the boughs of which are curiously interlaced, -so as to form in summer an arched way of foliage, leads up from the gate of the yard to the church porch. The graves are overgrown with grass ; the gray tombstones, some of them nearly sunk into the earth, are half covered with moss, which has likewise tinted the reverend old building. Small birds have built their nests among the cornices and fissures of the walls, and keep up a continual nutter and chirping ; and rooks are sailing and cawing about its lofty gray spire. In the course of my rambles I met with the gray-headed sexton, Edmonds, and accompanied him home to get the key of the church. He had lived in Stratford, man and boy, for eighty years, and seemed still to consider him- self a vigorous man, with the trivial exception that he had nearly lost the use of his legs for a few years past. His dwelling was a cottage, looking out upon the Avon and its bordering meadows ; and was a picture of that neatness, order, and comfort, which pervade the humblest dwellings in this country. A low white-washed room, with a stone floor carefully scrubbed, served for parlor, kitchen, and hall. Rows of pewter and earthen dishes glittered along the dresser. On an old oaken table, well 140 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. rubbed and polished, lay the family Bible and prayer- book, and the drawer contained the family library, com- posed of about half a score of well-thumbed volumes. An ancient clock, that important article of cottage furni- ture, ticked on the opposite side of the room; with a bright warming-pan hanging on one side of it, and the old man's horn-handled Sunday cane on the other. The fireplace, as usual, was wide and deep enough to admit a gossip knot within its jambs. In one corner sat the old man's granddaughter sewing, a pretty blue-eyed girl, — and in the opposite corner was a superannuated crony, whom he addressed by the name of John Ange, and who, I found, had been his companion from childhood. They had played together in infancy ; they had worked to- gether in manhood ; they were now tottering about and gossiping away the evening of life ; and in a short time they will probably be buried together in the neighboring churchyard. It is not often that we see two streams of existence running thus evenly and tranquilly side by side ; it is only in such quiet " bosom scenes " of life that they are to be met with. I had hoped to gather some traditionary anecdotes of the bard from these ancient chronicles ; but they had nothing new to impart. The long interval during which Shakspeare's writing lay in comparative neglect has spread its shadow over his history ; and it is his good or evil lot that scarcely anything remains to his biographers but a scanty handful of conjectures. The sexton and his companion had been employed as carpenters on the preparations for the celebrated Strat- STRA TF011D-0N-A VON. 141 ford jubilee, and they remembered Garrick, the prime mover of the fete, who superintended the arrangements, and who, according to the sexton, was "a short punch man, very lively and bustling." John Ange had assisted also in cutting down Shakspeare's mulberry-tree, of which he had a morsel in his pocket for sale j no doubt a sovereign quickener of literary conception. I was grieved to hear these two worthy wights speak very dubiously of the eloquent dame who shows the Shakspeare house. John Ange shook his head when I mentioned her valuable collection of relics, particularly her remains of the mulberry-tree ; and the old sexton even expressed a doubt as to Shakspeare having been born in her house. I soon discovered that he looked upon her mansion with an evil eye, as a rival to the poet's tomb; the latter having comparatively but few visitors. Thus it is that historians differ at the very out- set, and mere pebbles make the stream of truth diverge into different channels, even at the fountain-head. We approached the church through the avenue of limes, and entered by a Gothic porch, highly ornamented, with carved doors of massive oak. The interior is spacious, and the architecture and embellishments supe- rior to those of most country churches. There are several ancient monuments of nobility and gentry, over some of which hang funeral escutcheons, and banners dropping piecemeal from the walls. The tomb of Shak- speare is in the chancel. The place is solemn and sepul- chral. Tall elms wave before the pointed windows, and the Avon, which runs at a short distance from the walls, 142 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. keeps up a low perpetual murmur. A flat stone marks the spot where the bard is buried. There are four lines inscribed on it, said to have been written by himself, and which have in them something extremely awful. If they are indeed his own, they show that solicitude about the quiet of the grave, which seems natural to fine sensibili- ties and thoughtful minds. " Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare To dig the dust enclosed here. Blessed be he that spares these stones, And curst be he that moves my bones." Just over the grave, in a niche of the wall, is a bust of Shakspeare, put up shortly after his death, and considered as a resemblance. The aspect is pleasant and serene, with a finely arched forehead, and I thought I could read in it clear indications of that cheerful, social disposition, by which he was as much characterized among his con- temporaries as by the vastness of his genius. The in- scription mentions his age at the time of his decease — fifty-three years ; an untimely death for the world : for what fruit might not have been expected from the golden autumn of such a mind, sheltered as it was from the stormy vicissitudes of life, and flourishing in the sun- shine of popular and royal favor. The inscription on the tombstone has not been without its effect. It has prevented the removal of his remains from the bosom of his native place to Westminster Abbey, which was at one time contemplated. A few years since also, as some laborers were digging to make STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 143 an adjoining vault, the earth caved in, so as to leave a vacant space almost like an arch, .through which one might have reached into his grave. No one, however, presumed to meddle with his remains, so awfully guarded by a malediction; and, lest any of the idle or the curious, or any collector of relics, should be tempted to commit depredations, the old sexton kept watch over the place for two days, until the vault was finished and the aper- ture closed again. He told me that he had made bold to look in at the hole, but could see neither coffin nor bones ; nothing but dust. It was something, I thought, to have seen the dust of Shakspeare. Next to this grave are those of his wife, his favorite daughter, Mrs. Hall, and others of his family. On a tomb close by, also, is a full-length effigy of his old friend John Combe of usurious memory ; on whom he is said to have written a ludicrous epitaph. There are other monuments around, but the mind refuses to dwell on anything that is not connected with Shakspeare. His idea pervaded the place ; the whole pile seems but as his mausoleum. The feelings, no longer checked and thwarted by doubt, here indulge in perfect confidence : other traces of him may be false or dubious, but here is palpable evidence and absolute certainty. As I trod the sounding pavement, there was something intense and thrilling in the idea, that, in very truth, the remains of Shakspeare were mouldering beneath my feet. It was a long time before I could prevail upon myself to leave the place; and as I passed through the churchyard, I plucked a branch from one of the yew-trees, the only relic that I have brought from Stratford. 144 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. I had now visited the usual objects of a pilgrim's devo- tion, but I had a desire to see the old family seat of the Lucys, at Charlecot, and to ramble through the park where Shakspeare, in company with some of the roysters of Stratford, committed his youthful offence of deer- stealing. In this hair-brained exploit we are told that he was taken prisoner, and carried to the keeper's lodge, where he remained all night in doleful captivity. When brought into the presence of Sir Thomas Lucy, his treat- ment must have been galling and humiliating ; for it so wrought upon his spirit as to produce a rough pasqui- nade, which was affixed to the park gate at Charlecot. 1 This flagitious attack upon the dignity of the knight so incensed him, that he applied to a lawyer at Warwick to put the severity of the laws in force against the rhyming deer-stalker. Shakspeare did not wait to brave the united puissance of a knight of the shire and a country attorney. He forthwith abandoned the pleas- ant banks of the Avon and his paternal trade ; wandered away to London ; became a hanger-on to the theatres ; then an actor ; and, finally, wrote for the stage ; and thus, through the persecution of Sir Thomas Lucy, 1 The following is the only stanza extant of this lampoon : — A parliament member, a justice of peace, At home a poor scarecrow, at London an asse, If lowsie is Lucy, as some volke miscalle it, Then Lucy is lowsie, whatever befall it. He thinks himself great; Yet an asse in his state, We allow by his ears but with asses to mate, If Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscalle it, Then sing lowsie Lucy whatever befall it. S TRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 145 Stratford lost an indifferent wool-comber, and the world gained an immortal poet. He retained, however, for a long time, a sense of the harsh treatment of the Lord of Charlecot, and revenged himself in his writings ; but in the sportive way of a good-natured mind. Sir Thomas is said to be the original Justice Shallow, and the satire is slyly fixed upon him by the justice's armorial bear- ings, which, like those of the knight, had white luces 1 in the quarterings. Various attempts have been made by his biographers to soften and explain away this early transgression of the poet ; but I look upon it as one -of those thoughtless exploits natural to his situation and turn of mind. Shakspeare, when young, had doubtless all the wildness and irregularity of an ardent, undisciplined, and undi- rected genius. The poetic temperament has naturally something in it of the vagabond. When left to itself it runs loosely and wildly, and delights in everything eccen- tric and licentious. It is often a turn-up of a die, in the gambling freaks of fate, whether a natural genius shall turn out a great rogue or a great poet ; and had not Shakspeare's mind fortunately taken a literary bias, he might have as daringly transcended all civil, as he has all dramatic laws. I have little doubt that, in early life, when running, like an unbroken colt ; about the neighborhood of Strat- ford, he was to be found in the company of all kinds of odd anomalous characters ; that he associated with all 1 The luce is a pike or jack, and abounds in the Avon about Charlecot. 146 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. the madcaps of the place, and was one of those unlucky urchins, at mention of whom old men shake their heads, and predict that they will one day come to the gallows. To him the poaching in Sir Thomas Lucy's park was doubtless like a foray to a Scottish knight, and struck his eager, and, as yet untamed, imagination, as some- thing delightfully adventurous. 1 1 A proof of Shakspeare's random habits and associates in his youthful days may be found in a traditionary anecdote, picked up at Stratford by the elder Ireland, and mentioned in his " Picturesque Views on the Avon." About seven miles from Stratford lies the thirsty little market town of Bedford, famous for its ale. Two societies of the village yeomanry used to meet, under the appellation of the Bedford topers, and to challenge the lovers of good ale of the neighboring villages to a contest of drinking. Among others, the people of Stratford were called out to prove the strength of their heads ; and in the number of the champions was Shakspeare, who, in spite of the proverb that "they who drink beer will think beer," was as true to his ale as Falstaff to his sack. The chivalry of Stratford was staggered at the first onset, and sounded a retreat while they had yet legs to carry them off the field. The had scarcely marched a mile when, their legs failing them, they were forced to lie down under a crab-tree, where they passed the night. It is still standing, and goes by the name of Shakspeare's tree. In the morning his companions awaked the bard, and proposed returning to Bedford, but he declined, saying he had had enough, having drank with Piping Pebworth, Dancing Marston, Haunted Hilbro', Hungry Grafton, Dudging Exhall, Papist Wicksford, Beggarly Broom, and Drunken Bedford. "The villages here alluded to," says Ireland, "still bear the epithets thus given them: the people of Pebworth are still famed for their skill on the pipe and tabor; Hilborough is now called Haunted Hilborough ; and Grafton is famous for the poverty of its soil." S TRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 147 The old mansion of Gharlecot and its surrounding park still remain in the possession of the Lucy family, and are peculiarly interesting, from being connected with this whimsical but eventful circumstance in the scanty history of the bard. As the house stood but little more than three miles' distance from Stratford, I resolved to pay it a pedestrian visit, that I might stroll leisurely through some of those scenes from which Shakspeare must have derived his earliest ideas of rural imagery. The country was yet naked and leafless ; but English scenery is always verdant, and the sudden change in the temperature of the weather was surprising in its quick- ening effects upon the landscape. It was inspiring and animating to witness this first awakening of spring ; to feel its warm breath stealing over the senses ; to see the moist mellow earth beginning to put forth the green sprout and the tender blade ; and the trees and shrubs, in their reviving tints and bursting buds, giving the promise of returning foliage and flower. The cold snowdrop, that little borderer on the skirts of winter, was to be seen with its chaste white blossoms in the small gardens before the cottages. The bleating of the new-dropt lambs was faintly heard from the fields. The sparrow twittered about the thatched eaves and budding hedges ; the robin threw a livelier note into his late querulous wintry strain ; and the lark, springing up from the reeking bosom of the meadow, towered away into the bright fleecy cloud, pouring forth torrents of melody. As I watched the little songster, mounting up 148 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. higher and higher, until his body was a mere speck on the white bosom of the cloud, while the ear was still filled with his music, it called to mind Shakspeare's exquisite little song in Cymbeline : — " Hark! hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs, On chaliced flowers that lies. And winking mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes ; With everything that pretty bin, My lady sweet arise ! " Indeed the whole country about here is poetic ground : everything is associated with the idea of Shakspeare. Every old cottage that I saw, I fancied into some resort of his boyhood, where he had acquired his intimate knowledge of rustic life and manners, and heard those legendary tales and wild superstitions which he has woven like witchcraft into his dramas. For in his time, we are told, it was a popular amusement in winter even- ings " to sit round the fire, and tell merry tales of errant knights, queens, lovers, lords, ladies, giants, dwarfs, thieves, cheaters, witches, fairies, goblins, and friars." x 1 Scot, in his "Discoverie of Witchcraft," enumerates a host of these fireside fancies. " And they have so fraid us with hull-beggars, spirits, witches, urchins, elves, hags, fairies, satyrs, pans, faunes, syrens, kit with the can sticke, tritons, centaurs, dwarfes, giantes, imps, calcars, conjurers, nymphes, changelings, incubus, Robin-good- fellow, the spoorne, the mare, the man in the oke, the hell-waine, the fier drake, the puckle, Tom Thombe, hobgoblins, Tom Tumbler, boneless, and such other bugs, that we were afraid of our own shadowes." STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 149 My route for a part of the way lay in sight of the Avon, which made a variety of the most fancy doublings and windings through a wide and fertile valley ; some- times glittering from among willows, which fringed its borders ; sometimes disappearing among groves, or be- neath green banks ; and sometimes rambling out into full view, and making an azure sweep round a slope of meadow land. This beautiful bosom of country is called the Vale of the Bed Horse. A distant line of undulat- ing blue hills seems to be its boundary, whilst all the soft intervening landscape lies in a manner enchained in the silver links of the Avon. After pursuing the road for about three miles, I turned off into a footpath which led along the borders of fields, and under hedgerows to a private gate of the park ; there was a stile, however, for the benefit of the pedestrian ; there being a public right of way through the grounds. I delight in these hospitable estates, in which every one has a kind of property — at least as far as the footpath is concerned. It in some measure recon- ciles a poor man to his lot, and, what is more, to the better lot of his neighbor, thus to have parks and pleasure-grounds thrown open for his recreation. He breathes the pure air as freely, and lolls as luxuriously under the shade, as the lord of the soil ; and if he has not the privilege of calling all that he sees his own, he has not, at the same time, the trouble of paying for it, and keeping it in order. I now found myself among noble avenues of oaks and elms, whose vast size bespoke the growth of centuries. 150 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. The wind sounded solemnly among their branches, and the rooks cawed from their hereditary nests in the tree- tops. The eye ranged through a long, lessening vista, with nothing to interrupt the view but a distant statue, and a vagrant deer stalking like a shadow across the opening. There is something about these stately old avenues that has the effect of Gothic architecture, not merely from the pretended similarity of form, but from their bearing the evidence of long duration, and of having had their origin in a period of time with which we associate ideas of romantic grandeur. They betoken also the long- settled dignity, and proudly concentrated independence of an ancient family; and I have heard a worthy but aristocratic old friend observe, when speaking of the sumptuous palaces of modern gentry, that "money could do much with stone and mortar, but, thank Heaven, there was no such thing as suddenly building up an avenue of oaks." It was from wandering in early life among this rich scenery, and about the romantic solitudes of the adjoin- ing park of Fullbroke, which then formed a part of the Lucy estate, that some of Shakspeare's commentators have supposed he derived his noble forest meditations of Jaques, and the enchanting woodland pictures in "As You Like It." It is in lonely wanderings through such scenes, that the mind drinks deep but quiet draughts of inspiration, and becomes intensely sensible of the beauty and majesty of nature. The imagination kindles into revery and rapture ; vague but exquisite images and STRA TFORD-ON-A VON 151 ideas keep breaking upon it; and we revel in a mute and almost incommunicable luxury of thought. It was in some such mood, and perhaps under one of those very- trees before me, which threw their broad shades over the grassy banks and quivering waters of the Avon, that the poet's fancy may Jiave sallied forth into that little song which breathes the very soul of a rural voluptuary : — " Under the green wood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry throat Unto the sweet hird's note, Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy, But winter and rough weather." I had now come in sight of the house. It is a large building of brick, with stone quoins, and is in the Gothic style of Queen Elizabeth's day, having been built in the first year of her reign. The exterior remains very nearly in its original state, and may be considered a fair speci- men of the residence of a wealthy country gentleman of those days. A great gateway opens from the park into a kind of courtyard in front of the house, ornamented with a grass-plot, shrubs, and flower-beds. The gateway is in imitation of the ancient barbacan ; being a kind of out- post, and flanked by towers, though evidently for mere ornament, instead of defence. The front of the house is completely in the old style ; with stone-shafted case- ments, a great bow-window of heavy stonework, and a 152 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. portal with armorial bearings over it, carved in stone. At each corner of the building is an octagon tower, sur- mounted by a gilt ball and weathercock. The Avon, which winds through the park, makes a bend just at the foot of a gently sloping bank, which sweeps down from the rear of the house. Large herds of deer were feeding or reposing upon its borders; and swans were sailing majestically upon its bosom. As I contemplated the venerable old mansion, I called to mind FalstafFs encomium on Justice Shallow's abode, and the affected indifference and real vanity of the latter. " Falstaff. You have a goodly dwelling and a rich. Shallow. Barren, barren, barren ; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John: — marry, good air." Whatever may have been the joviality of the old man- sion in the days of Shakspeare, it had now an air of stillness and solitude. The great iron gateway that opened into the courtyard was locked ; there was no show of servants bustling about the place ; the deer gazed quietly at me as I passed, being no longer harried by the moss-troopers of Stratford. The only sign of domestic life that I met with was a white cat, stealing with wary look and stealthy pace towards the stables, as if on some nefarious expedition. I must not omit to mention the carcass of a scoundrel crow which I saw suspended against the barn wall, as it shows that the Lucys still inherit that lordly abhorrence of poachers, and maintain that rigorous exercise of territorial power STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 153 which was so strenuously manifested in the case of the bard. After prowling about for some time, I at length found my way to a lateral portal, which was the every-day entrance to the mansion. I was courteously received by a worthy x>ld housekeeper, who, with the civility and communicativeness of her order, showed me the interior of the house. The greater part has undergone altera- tions, and been adapted to modern tastes and modes of living ; there is a fine old oaken staircase ; and the great hall, that noble feature in an ancient manor-house, still retains much of the appearance it must have had in the days of Shakspeare. The ceiling is arched and lofty; and at one end is a gallery in which stands an organ. The weapons and trophies of the chase, which formerly adorned the hall of a country gentleman, have made way for family portraits. There is a wide hospitable fire- place, calculated for an ample old-fashioned wood fire, formerly the rallying-place of winter festivity. On the opposite side of the hall is the huge Gothic bow-window, with stone shafts, which looks out upon the courtyard. Here are emblazoned in stained glass the armorial bear- ings of the Lucy family for many generations, some being dated in 1558. I was delighted to observe in the quarterings the three white luces, by which the character of Sir Thomas was first identified with that of Justice Shallow. They are mentioned in the first scene of the " Merry Wives of Windsor," where the Justice is in a rage with Fallstaff for having " beaten his men, killed his deer, and broken into his lodge." The poet had no 154 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. doubt the offences of himself and his comrades in mind at the time, and we may suppose the family pride and vindictive threats of the puissant Shallow to be a carica- ture of the pompous indignation of Sir Thomas. "Shallow. Sir Hugh, persuade me not; I will make a Star- Chamber matter of it ; if he were twenty John Falstaffs, he shall not abuse Sir Robert Shallow, Esq. Slender. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace, and coram. Shallow. Ay, Cousin Slender, and custalorum. Slender. Ay, and ratalorum too, and a gentleman born, mas- ter parson; who writes himself Armigero in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, Armigero. Shallow. Ay, that I do; and have done any time these three hundred years. Slender. All his successors gone before him have done't, and all his ancestors that come after him may; they may give the dozen white luces in their coat Shallow. The council shall hear it ; it is a riot. Evans. It is not meet the council hear of a riot ; there is no fear of Got in a riot ; the council, hear you, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot ; take your vizaments in that. Shallow. Ha! o' my life, if I were young again, the sword should end it ! " Near the window thus emblazoned hung a portrait by Sir Peter Lely, of one of the Lucy family, a great beauty of the time of Charles the Second: the old housekeeper shook her head as she pointed to the picture, and in- formed me that this lady had been sadly addicted to cards, and had gambled away a great portion of the family estate, among which was that part of the park STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 155 where Shakspeare and his comrades had killed the deer. The lands thus lost had not been entirely regained by the family even at the present day. It is but justice to this recreant dame to confess that she had a surpassingly fine hand and arm. The picture which most attracted my attention was a great painting over the fireplace, containing likenesses of Sir Thomas Lucy and his family, who inhabited the hall in the latter part of Shakspeare's lifetime. I at first thought that it was the vindictive knight himself, but the housekeeper assured me that it was his son ; the only likeness extant of the former being an effigy upon his tomb in the church of the neighboring hamlet of Charle- cot. 1 The picture gives a lively idea of the costume and 1 This effigy is in white marble, and represents the Knight in com- plete armor. Near him lies the effigy of his wife, and on her tomb is the following inscription; which, if really composed by her hus- band, places him quite above the intellectual level of Master Shallow : — " Here lyeth the Lady Joyce Lucy wife of Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecot in ye county of Warwick, Knight, Daughter and heir of Thomas Acton of Sutton in ye county of Worcester Esquire who de- parted out of this wretched world to her heavenly kingdom ye 10 day of February in ye yea re of our Lord God 1595 and of her age 60 and three. All the time of her lyfe a true and faythful servant of her good God, never detected of any cryme or vice. In religion most sounde, in love to her husband most faythful and true. In friendship most constant ; to what in trust was committed unto her most secret. In wisdom excelling. In governing of her house, bringing up of youth in ye fear of God that did converse with her moste rare and singular. A great maintayner of hospitality. Greatly esteemed of her betters ; misliked of none unless of the envyous. When all is spoken that can be saide a woman so garnished with virtue as not to be bet- tered and hardly to be equalled by any. As shee lived most virtuously so shee died most Godly. Set downe by him yt best did knowe what hath byn written to be true. Thomas Lucye." 156 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING, manners of the time. Sir Thomas is dressed in ruff and doublet ; white shoes with roses in them ; and has a peaked yellow, or, as Master Slender would say, " a Cain- colored beard." His lady is seated on the opposite side of the picture, in wide ruff and long stomacher, and the children have a most venerable stiffness and formality of dress. Hounds and spaniels are mingled in the family group ; a hawk is seated on his perch in the foreground, and one of the children holds a bow ; — all intimating the knight's skill in hunting, hawking, and archery — so indispensable to an accomplished gentleman in those days. 1 I regretted to find that the ancient furniture of the hall had disappeared ; for I had hoped to meet with the stately elbow-chair of carved oak, in which the country squire of former days was wont to sway the sceptre of empire over his rural domains ; and in which it might be presumed the redoubted Sir Thomas sat enthroned in awful state when the recreant Shakspeare was brought before him. As I like to deck out pictures for my own 1 Bishop Earle, speaking of the country gentleman of his time, observes, " his housekeeping is seen much in the different families of dogs, and serving-men attendant on their kennels ; and the deepness of their throats is the depth of his discourse. A hawk he esteems the true burden of nobility, and is exceedingly ambitious to seem de- lighted with the sport, and have his fist gloved with his jesses." And Gilpin, in his description of a Mr. Hastings, remarks, " he kept all sorts of hounds that run buck, fox, hare, otter, and badger; and had hawks of all kinds both long and short winged. His great hall was commonly strewed with marrow bones, and full of hawk perches, hounds, spaniels, and terriers. On a broad hearth, paved with brick, lay some of the choicest terriers, hounds, and spaniels." STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 157 entertainment, I pleased myself with the idea that this very hall had been the scene of the unlucky bard's ex- amination on the morning after his captivity in the lodge. I fancied to myself the rural potentate, surrounded by his body-guard of butler, pages, and blue coated serving- men, with their badges ; while the luckless culprit was brought in, forlorn and chopfallen, in the custody of gamekeepers, huntsmen, and whippers-in, and followed by a rabble rout of country clowns. I fancied bright faces of curious housemaids peeping from the half- opened doors ; while from the gallery the fair daughters of the knight leaned gracefully forward, eying the youthful prisoner with that pity "that dwells in woman- hood." Who would have thought that this poor varlet, thus trembling before the brief authority of a country squire, and the sport of rustic boors, was soon to become the delight of princes, the theme of all tongues and ages, the dictator to the human mind, and was to confer im- mortality on his oppressor by a caricature and a lampoon ! I was now invited by the butler to walk into the gar- den, and I felt inclined to visit the orchard and arbor where the justice treated Sir John Falstaff and Cousin Silence " to a last year's pippin of his own grafting, with a dish of caraways ; " but I had already spent so much of the day in my ramblings that I was obliged to give up any further investigations. When about to take my leave I was gratified by the civil entreaties of the housekeeper and butler, that I would take some refreshment : an in- stance of good old hospitality which, I grieve to say, we castle-hunters seldom meet with in modern days. I 158 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. make no doubt it is a virtue which the present represen- tative of the Lucys inherits from his ancestors ; for Shakspeare, even in his caricature, makes Justice Shal- low importunate in this respect, as witness his pressing instances to Falstaff . " By cock and pye, sir, you shall not away to-night ... I will not excuse you; you shall not be excused; excuses shall not be admitted; there is no excuse shall serve; you shall not be excused. . . . Some pigeons, Davy; a couple of short-legged hens; a joint of mutton; and any pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William Cook." I now bade a reluctant farewell to the old hall. My mind had become so completely possessed by the imagi- nary scenes and characters connected with it, that I seemed to be actually living among them. Everything brought them as it were before my eyes ; and, as the door of the dining-room opened, I almost expected to hear the feeble voice of Master Silence quavering forth his favorite ditty : — " 'Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all, And welcome merry shrove-tide!" On returning to my inn, I could not but reflect on the singular gift of the poet ; to be able thus to spread the magic of his mind over the very face of nature ; to give to things and places a charm and character not their own, and to turn this " working-day world " into a per- fect fairy land. He is indeed the true enchanter, whose spell operates, not upon the senses, but upon the imagi- STRA TFORD-ON-A VON. 159 nation and the heart. Under the wizard influence of Shakspeare I had been walking all day in a complete de- lusion. I had surveyed the landscape through the prism of poetry, which tinged every object with the hues of the rainbow. I had been surrounded with fancied beings ; with mere airy nothings, conjured up by poetic power ; yet which, to me, had all the charm of reality. I had heard Jaques soliloquize beneath his oak ; had beheld the fair Eosalind and her companion adventuring through the woodlands ; and, above all, had been once more present in spirit with fat Jack Falstaff and his contemporaries, from the august Justice Shallow, down to the gentle Master Slender and the sweet Anne Page. Ten thousand honors and blessings on the bard who has thus gilded the dull realities of life with innocent illu- sions ; who has spread exquisite and unbought pleasures in my checkered path ; and beguiled my spirit in many a lonely hour, with all the cordial and cheerful sympa- thies of social life ! As I crossed the bridge over the Avon on my return, I paused to contemplate the distant church in which the poet lies buried, and could not but exult in the maledic- tion which has kept his ashes undisturbed in its quiet and hallowed vaults. What honor could his name have de- rived from being mingled in dusty companionship with the epitaphs and escutcheons and venal eulogiums of a titled multitude? What would a crowded corner in Westminster Abbey have been, compared with this rev- erend pile, which seemed to stand in beautiful loneliness as_ his sole mausoleum ! The solicitude about the grave 160 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. may be but the offspring of an over-wrought sensibility ; but human nature is made up of foibles and prejudices ; and its best and tenderest affections are mingled with these factitious feelings. He who has sought renown about the world, and has reaped a full harvest of worldly favor, will find, after all, that there is no love, no admi- ration, no applause, so sweet to the soul as that which springs up in his native place. It is there that he seeks to be gathered in peace and honor among his kindred and his early friends. And when the weary heart and failing head begin to warn him that the evening of life is drawing on, he turns as fondly as does the infant to the mother's arms, to sink to sleep in the bosom of the scene of his childhood. How would it have cheered the spirit of the youthful bard when, wandering forth in disgrace upon a doubtful world, he cast back a heavy look upon his paternal home, could he have foreseen that, before many years, he should return to it covered with renown; that his name should become the boast and glory of his native place; that his ashes should be religiously guarded as its most precious treasure ; and that its lessening spire, on which his eyes were fixed in tearful contemplation, should one day be- come the beacon, towering amidst the gentle landscape, to guide the literary pilgrim of every nation to his tomb ! • THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 161 THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. A STAGE-COACH ROMANCE. " I'll cross it though it blast me ! " Hamlet. It was a rainy Sunday in the gloomy month of No- vember. I had been detained, in the course of a journey, by a slight indisposition, from which I was recover- ing ; but was still feverish, and obliged to keep within doors all day, in an inn of the small town of Derby. A wet Sunday in a country inn ! — whoever has had the luck to experience one can alone judge of my situation. The rain pattered against the casements ; the bells tolled for church with a melancholy sound. I went to the window in quest of something to amuse the eye ; but it seemed as if I had been placed completely out of the reach of all amusement. The windows of my bedroom looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of chimneys, while those of my sitting-room commanded a full view of the stable-yard. I know of nothing more calculated to make a man sick of this world than a stable-yard on a rainy day. The place was littered with wet straw that had been kicked about by travellers and stable boys. In one corner was a stagnant pool of water, surrounding an island of muck j there were several half-drowned fowls 162 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. crowded together under a cart, among which was a miser- able, crestfallen cock, drenched out of all life and spirit, his drooping tail matted, as it were, into a single feather, along which the water trickled from his back ; near the cart was a half -dozing cow, chewing the cud, and stand- ing patiently to be rained on, with wreaths of vapor ris- ing from her reeking hide ; a wall-eyed horse, tired of the loneliness of the stable, was poking his spectral head out of a window, with the rain dripping on it from the eaves ; an unhappy cur, chained to a dog-house hard by, uttered something, every now and then, between a bark and a yelp; a drab of a kitchen-wench tramped back- wards and forwards through the yard in pattens, look- ing as sulky as the weather itself ; everything, in short, was comfortless and forlorn, excepting a crew of hard- ened ducks, assembled like boon companions round a puddle, and making a riotous noise over their liquor. I was lonely and listless, and wanted amusement. My room soon become insupportable. I abandoned it, and sought what is technically called the travellers' room. This is a public room set apart at most inns for the accommodation of a class of wayfarers called travel- lers, or riders ; a kind of commercial knights-errant, who are incessantly scouring the kingdom in gigs, on horse- back, or by coach. They are the only successors that I know of at the present day to the knights-errant of yore. They lead the same kind of roving, adventurous life, only changing the lance for a driving-whip, the buckler for a pattern-card, and the coat of mail for an upper Ben- jamin. Instead of vindicating the charms of peerless THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 163 beauty, they rove about, spreading the fame and stand- ing of some substantial tradesman, or manufacturer, and are ready at any time to bargain in his name; it is be- coming the fashion nowadays to trade, instead of fight, with one another. As the room of the hostel, in the good old fighting times, would be hung round at night with the armor of way-worn warriors, such as coats of mail, falchions, and yawning helmets, so the travellers' room is garnished with the harnessing of their successors, with box-coats, whips of all kinds, spurs, gaiters, and oilcloth covered hats. I was in hopes of finding some of these worthies to talk with, but was disappointed. There were, indeed, two or three in the room ; but I could make nothing of them. One was just finishing his breakfast, quarrelling with his bread and butter, and huffing the waiter ; another buttoned on a pair of gaiters, with many execra- tions at Boots for not having cleaned his shoes well ; a third sat drumming on the table with his fingers and looking at the rain as it streamed down the window- glass ; they all appeared infected by the weather, and disappeared, one after the other, without exchanging a word. I sauntered to the window, and stood gazing at the people, picking their way to church, with petticoats hoisted midleg high, and dripping umbrellas. The bell ceased to toll, and the streets became silent. I then amused myself with watching the daughters of a trades- man opposite ; who, being confined to the house for fear of wetting their Sunday finery, played off their charms 164 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. at the front windows, to fascinate the chance tenants of the inn. They at length were summoned away by a vigilant, vinegar-faced mother, and I had nothing further from without to amuse me. What was I to do to pass away the long-lived day ? I was sadly nervous and lonely ; and everything about an inn seems calculated to make a dull day ten times duller. Old newspapers, smelling of beer and tobacco- smoke, and which I had already read half a dozen times. Good-for-nothing books, that were worse than rainy weather. I bored myself to death with an old volume of the Lady's Magazine. I read all the commonplace names of ambitious travellers scrawled on the panes of glass ; the eternal families of the Smiths, and the Browns, and the Jacksons, and the Johnsons, and all the other sons ; and I deciphered several scraps of fatiguing inn-window poetry which I have met with in all parts of the world. The day continued lowering and gloomy ; the slovenly, ragged, spongy cloud drifted heavily along ; there was no variety even in the rain ; it was one dull, continued, monotonous patter — patter — patter, excepting that now and then I was enlivened by the idea of a brisk shower, from the rattling of the drops upon a passing umbrella. It was quite refreshing (if I may be allowed a hack- neyed phrase of the day) when, in the course of the morning, a horn blew, and a stage-coach whirled through the street, with outside passengers stuck all over it, cowering under cotton umbrellas, and seethed together, THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 165 and reeking with the steams of wet box-coats and upper Benjamins. The sound brought out from their lurking-places a crew of vagabond boys, and vagabond dogs, and the carroty-headed hostler, and that nondescript animal ycleped Boots, and all the other vagabond race that infest the purlieus of an inn ; but the bustle was tran- sient ; the coach again whirled on its way ; and boy and dog, and hostler and Boots, all slunk back again to their holes ; the street again became silent, and the rain con- tinued to rain on. In fact, there was no hope of its clearing up ; the barometer pointed to rainy weather ; mine hostess's tortoise-shell cat sat by the fire washing her face, and rubbing her paws over her ears ; and, on referring to the almanac, I found a direful prediction stretching from the top of the page to the bottom through the whole month, " expect — much — rain — about — this — time ! " I was dreadfully hipped. The hours seemed as if they would never creep by. The very ticking of the clock became irksome. At length the stillness of the house was interrupted by the ringing of a bell. Shortly after I heard the voice of a waiter at the bar : " The stout gentleman in No. 13 wants his breakfast. Tea and bread and butter, with ham and eggs ; the eggs not to be too much done." In such a situation as mine, every incident is of impor- tance. Here was a subject of speculation presented to my mind, and ample exercise for my imagination. I am prone to paint pictures to myself, and on this occasion I 166 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. had some materials to work upon. Had the guest up- stairs been mentioned as Mr. Smith, or Mr. Brown, or Mr. Jackson, or Mr. Johnson, or merely as " the gentle- man in No. 13," it would have been a perfect blank to me. I should have thought nothing of it; but "The stout gentleman ! " — the very name had something in it of the picturesque. It at once gave the size ; it embod- ied the personage to my mind's eye, and my fancy did the rest. He was stout, or, as some term it, lusty ; in all proba- bility, therefore, he was advanced in life, some people expanding as they grow old. By his breakfasting rather late, and in his own room, he must be a man accustomed to live at his ease, and above the necessity of early rising ; no doubt a round, rosy, lusty old gentleman. There was another violent ringing. The stout gentle- man was impatient for his breakfast. He was evidently a man of importance ; " well to do in the world ; " accus- tomed to be promptly waited upon ; of a keen appetite, and a little cross when hungry ; " perhaps," thought I, " he may be some London Alderman ; or who knows but he may be a Member of Parliament ? " The breakfast was sent up, and there was a short interval of silence ; he was, doubtless, making the tea. Presently there was a violent ringing ; and before it could be answered, another ringing still more violent. " Bless me ! what a choleric old gentleman ! " The waiter came down in a huff. The butter was rancid, the eggs were overdone, the ham was too salt ; — the stout gentleman was evidently nice in his eating j one of those THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 167 who eat and growl, and keep the waiter on the trot, and live in a state militant with the household. The hostess got into a fume. I should observe that she was a brisk, coquettish woman ; a little of a shrew, and something of a slammerkin, but very pretty withal ; with a nincompoop for a husband, as shrews are apt to have. She rated the servants roundly for their negli- gence in sending up so bad a breakfast, but said not a word against the stout gentleman ; by which I clearly perceived that he must be a man of consequence, entitled to make a noise and to give trouble at a country inn. Other eggs, and ham, and bread and butter were sent up. They appeared to be more graciously received ; at least there was no further complaint. I had not made many turns about the travellers' room, when there was another ringing. Shortly after- wards there was a stir and an inquest about the house. The stout gentleman wanted the Times or the Chron- icle newspaper. I set him down, therefore, for a Whig ; or rather, from his being so absolute and lordly where he had a chance, I suspected him of being a Radical. Hunt, I had heard, was a large man ; " who knows," thought I, " but it is Hunt himself ! " My curiosity began to be awakened. I inquired of the waiter who was this stout gentleman that was making all this stir ; but I could get no information ; nobody seemed to know his name. The landlords of bustling inns seldom trouble their heads about the names or occu- pations of their transient guests. The color of a coat, the shape or size of the person, is enough to suggest a 168 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. travelling name. It is either the tall gentleman, or the short gentleman, or the gentleman in black, or the gen- tleman in snuff color ; or, as in the present instance, the stout gentleman. A designation of the kind once hit on, answers every purpose, and saves all further inquiry • Rain — rain — rain ! pitiless, ceaseless rain ! No such thing as putting a foot out-of-doors, and no occupation nor amusement within. By and by I heard some on© walking overhead. It was in the stout gentleman's room. He evidently was a large man by the heaviness of his tread ; and an old man from his wearing such creaking soles. " He is doubtless," thought I, " some rich old square-toes of regular habits, and is now taking exercise after breakfast." I now read all the advertisements of coaches and hotels that were stuck about the mantle-piece. The Lady's Magazine had become an abomination to me ; it was as tedious as the day itself. I wandered out, not knowing what to do, and ascended again to my room. I had not been there long, when there was a squall from a neighboring bedroom. A door opened and slammed violently ; a chambermaid, that I had remarked for hav- ing a ruddy, good-humored face, went down-stairs in a violent flurry. The stout gentleman had been rude to her ! This sent a whole host of my deductions to the deuce in a moment. This unknown personage could not be an old gentleman ; for old gentlemen are not apt to be so obstrep- erous to chambermaids. He could not be a young gen- tleman ; for young gentlemen are not apt to inspire such THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 169 indignation. He must be a middle-aged man, and con- founded ugly into the bargain, or the girl would not have taken the matter in such terrible dudgeon. I confess I was sorely puzzled. In a few minutes I heard the voice of my landlady. I caught a glance of her as she came tramping up-stairs, — her face glowing, her cap flaring, her tongue wagging the whole way. " She'd have no such doings in her house, she'd warrant. If gentlemen did spend money freely, it was no rule. She'd have no servant-maids of hers treated in that way, when they were about their work, that's what she wouldn't." As I hate squabbles, particularly with women, and above all with pretty women, I slunk back into my room, and partly closed the door ; but my curiosity was too much excited not to listen. The landlady marched intrepidly to the enemy's citadel, and entered it with a storm ; the door closed after her. I heard her voice in high windy clamor for a moment or two. Then it gradually subsided, like a gust of wind in a garret ; then there was a laugh ; then I heard nothing more. After a little while my landlady came out with an odd smile on her face, adjusting her cap, which was a little on one side. As she went down-stairs, I heard the land- lord ask her what was the matter ; she said, " Nothing at all, only the girl's a fool." I was more than ever perplexed what to make of this unaccountable personage, who could put a good-natured chambermaid in a passion, and send away a termagant landlady in smiles. He could not be so old, nor cross, nor ugly either. 170 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. I had to go to work at his picture again, and paint him entirely different. I now set hirn down for one of those stout gentlemen that are frequently met with swagger- ing about the doors of country inns. Moist, merry fel- lows, in Belcher handkerchiefs, whose bulk is a little as- sisted by malt-liquors. Men who have seen the world, and been sworn at Highgate; who are used to tavern- life ; up to all the tricks of tapsters, and knowing in the ways of sinful publicans. Free-livers on a small scale ; who are prodigal within the compass of a guinea ; who call all the waiters by name, tousle the maids, gossip with the landlady at the bar, and prose over a pint of port, or a glass of negus, after dinner. The morning wore away in forming these and similar surmises. As fast as I wove one system of belief, some movement of the unknown would completely overturn it, and throw all my thoughts again into confusion. Such are the solitary operations of a feverish mind. I was, as I have said, extremely nervous ; and the continual med- itation on the concerns of this invisible personage began to have its effect — I was getting a fit of fidgets. Dinner-time came. I hoped the stout gentleman might dine in the travellers' room, and that I might at length get a view of his person ; but no — he had dinner served in his own room. What could be the meaning of this solitude and mystery ? He could not be a radical ; there was something too aristocratical in thus keeping himself apart from the rest of the world, and con- demning himself to his own dull company throughout a rainy day. And then, too, he lived too well for a dis- THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 171 contented politician. He seemed to expatiate on a va- riety of dishes, and to sit over his wine like a jolly friend of good living. Indeed, my doubts on this head were soon at an end ; for he could not have finished his first bottle before I could faintly hear him humming a tune ; and on listening I found it to be " God save the King." 'Twas plain, then, he was no radical, but a faithful sub- ject; one who grew loyal over his bottle, and was ready to stand by king and constitution, when he could stand by nothing else. But who could he be ? My conjec- tures began to run wild. Was he not some personage of distinction travelling incog. ? " God knows ! " said I, at my wit's end ; "it may be one of the royal family for aught I know, for they are all stout gentlemen." The weather continued rainy. The mysterious un- known kept his room, and, as far as I could judge, his chair, for I did not hear him move. In the meantime, as the day advanced, the travellers' room began to be fre- quented. Some, who had just arrived, came in buttoned up in box-coats ; others came home who had been dis- persed about the town; some took their dinners, and some their tea. Had I been in a different mood, I should have found entertainment in studying this peculiar class of men. There were two especially, who were regular wags of the road, and up to all the standing jokes of trav- ellers. They had a thousand sly things to say to the waiting-maid, whom they called Louisa, and Ethelinda, and a dozen other fine names, changing the name every time, and chuckling amazingly at their own waggery. My mind, however, had been completely engrossed by 172 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. the stout gentleman. He had kept my fancy in chase during a long day, and it was not now to be diverted from the scent. The evening gradually wore away. The travellers read the papers two or three times over. Some drew round the fire and told long stories about their horses, about their adventures, their overturns, and breakings- down. They discussed the credit of different merchants and different inns ; and the two wags told several choice anecdotes of pretty chambermaids and kind landladies. All this passed as they were quietly taking what they called their night-caps, that is to say, strong glasses of brandy and water and sugar, or some other mixture of the kind ; after which they one after another rang for " Boots " and the chambermaid, and walked off to bed in old shoes cut down into marvellously uncomfortable slippers. There was now only one man left: a short-legged, long-bodied, plethoric fellow, with a very large sandy head. He sat by himself, with a glass of port-wine negus and a spoon; sipping and stirring, and meditating and sipping, until nothing was left but the spoon. He gradually fell asleep bolt upright in his chair, with the empty glass standing before him ; and the candle seemed to fall asleep too, for the wick grew long and black, and cabbaged at the end, and dimmed the little light that remained in the chamber. The gloom that now pre- vailed was contagious. Around hung the shapeless, and almost spectral, box-coats of departed travellers, long since buried in deep sleep. I only heard the ticking of THE STOUT GENTLEMAN. 173 the clock, with the deep-drawn breathings of the sleep- ing topers, and the drippings of the rain, drop — drop — drop, from the eaves of the house. The church-bells chimed midnight. All at once the stout gentleman began to walk overhead, pacing slowly backwards and forwards. There was something extremely awful in all this, especially to one in my state of nerves. These ghastly great-coats, these guttural breathings, and the creaking footsteps of this mysterious being. His steps grew fainter and fainter, and at length died away. I could bear it no longer. I was wound up to the despera- tion of a hero of romance. "Be he who or what he may," said I to myself, "I'll have a sight of him!" I seized a chamber-candle, and hurried up to No. 13. The door stood ajar. I hesitated — I entered: the room was deserted. There stood a large broad-bottomed elbow- chair at a table, on which was an empty tumbler and a Times newspaper, and the room smelt powerfully of Stilton cheese. The mysterious stranger had evidently but just retired. I turned off, sorely disappointed, to my room, which had been changed to the front of the house. As I went along the corridor, I saw a large pair of boots, with dirty waxed tops, standing at the door of a bed-chamber. They doubtless belonged to the unknown ; but it would not do to disturb so redoubtable a personage in his den ; he might discharge a pistol, or something worse, at my head. I went to bed, therefore, and lay awake half the night in a terribly nervous state ; and even when I fell asleep, I was still haunted in my dreams by the idea of the stout gentleman and his wax-topped boots. 174 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. I slept rather late the next morning, and was awak- ened by some stir and bustle in the house which I could not at first comprehend; until getting more awake, I found there was a mail-coach starting from the door. Suddenly there was a cry from below, " The gentleman has forgot his umbrella! Look for the gentleman's umbrella in No. 13 ! " I heard an immediate scampering of a chambermaid along the passage, and a shrill reply as she ran, " Here it is ! here's the gentleman's umbrella ! " The mysterious stranger then was on the point of setting off. This was the only chance I should ever have of knowing him. I sprang out of bed, scrambled to the window, snatched aside the curtains, and just caught a glimpse of the rear of a person getting in at the coach door. The skirts of a brown coat parted behind, and gave me a full view of the broad disk of a pair of drab breeches. The door closed — "all right!" was the word — the coach whirled off; — and that was all I ever saw of the stout gentleman ! THE HISTORIAN. 175 THE HISTOBIAK Hermione. Pray you sit by us, And tell's a tale. Mamilius. Merry or sad shall't be ? Hermione. As merry as you will. Mamilius. A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins. Hermione. Let's have that, sir. "Winter's Tale. As this is a story-telling age, I have been tempted occasionally to give the reader one of the many tales served up with supper at the Hall. I might, indeed, have furnished a series almost equal in number to the " Arabian Nights ; " but some were rather hackneyed and tedious ; others I did not feel warranted in betraying into print ; and many more were of the old general's relating, and turned principally upon tiger-hunting, elephant-riding, and Seringapatam, enlivened by the wonderful deeds of Tippoo Saib, and the excellent jokes of Major Pendergast. I had all along maintained a quiet post at a corner of the table, where I had been able to indulge my humor undisturbed ; listening attentively when the story was very good, and dozing a little when it was rather dull, which I consider the perfection of auditorship. I was roused the other evening from a slight trance, 176 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. into which I had fallen during one of the general's his- tories, by a sudden call from the squire to furnish some entertainment of the kind in my turn. Having been so profound a listener to others, I could not in conscience refuse ; but neither my memory nor invention being ready to answer so unexpected a demand, I begged leave to read a manuscript tale from the pen of my fellow- countryman, the late Mr. Diedrich Knickerbocker, the historian of New York. As this ancient chronicler may not be better known to my readers than he was to the company at the Hall, a word or two concerning him may not be amiss, before proceeding to his manuscript. Diedrich Knickerbocker was a native of New York, a descendant from one of the ancient Dutch families which originally settled that province, and remained there after it was taken possession of by the English in 1664. The descendants of these Dutch families still remain in vil- lages and neighborhoods in various parts of the country, retaining, with singular obstinacy, the dresses, manners, and even language of their ancestors, and forming a very distinct and curious feature in the motley population of ths State. In a hamlet whose spire may be seen from New York, rising from above the brow of a hill on the opposite side of the Hudson, many of the old folks, even at the present day, speak English with an accent, and the Dominie preaches in Dutch; and so completely is the hereditary love of quiet and silence maintained, that, in one of these drowsy villages, in the middle of a warm summer's day, the buzzing of a stout blue-bottle fly will resound from one end of the place to the other. THE HISTORIAN. 177 With the laudable hereditary feeling thus kept up among these worthy people, did Mr. Knickerbocker un- dertake to write a history of his native city, comprising the reign of its three Dutch governors during the time that it was yet under the domination of the Hogenmo- gens of Holland. In the execution of this design the little Dutchman has displayed great historical research, and a wonderful consciousness of the dignity of his sub- ject. His work, however, has been so little understood* as to be pronounced a mere work of humor, satirizing the follies of the times, both in politics and morals, and giving whimsical views of human nature. Be this as it may — among the papers left behind him were several tales of a lighter nature, apparently thrown together from materials gathered during his pro- found researches for his history, and which he seems to have cast by with neglect, as unworthy of publication. Some of these have fallen into my hands by an accident which it is needless at present to mention ; and one of these very stories, with its prelude in the words of Mr. Knickerbocker, I undertook to read, by way of acquit- ting myself of the debt which I owed to the other story- tellers at the Hall. I subjoin it for such of my readers as are fond of stories. 178 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. THE HAUNTED HOUSE. FROM THE MSS. OF THE LATE DIEDRICH KNICKER- BOCKER. Formerly almost every place had a house of this kind. If a house was seated on some melancholy place, or "built in some old romantic manner, or if any particular accident had happened in it, such as mur- der, sudden death, or the like, to be sure that house had a mark set on it, and was afterwards esteemed the habitation of a ghost. — Bourne's Antiquities. In the neighborhood of the ancient city of the Man- hattoes there stood, not very many years since, an old mansion, which, when I was a boy, went by the name of the Haunted House. It was one of the very few remains of the architecture of the early Dutch settlers, and must have been a house of some consequence at the time when it was built. It consisted of a centre and two wings, the gable ends of which were shaped like stairs. It was built partly of wood, and partly of some small Dutch bricks, such as the worthy colonists brought with them from Holland, before they discovered that bricks could be manufactured elsewhere. The house stood remote from the road, in the centre of a large field, with an avenue of old locust-trees * leading up to it, several of which had been shivered by lightning, and two or three 1 Acacias. THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 179 blown down. A few apple-trees grew straggling about the field; there were traces also of what had been a kitchen garden ; but the fences were broken down, the vegetables had disappeared, or had grown wild, and turned to little better than weeds, with here and there a ragged rose-bush, or a tall sunflower shooting up from among the brambles, and hanging its head sorrowfully, as if contemplating the surrounding desolation. Part of the roof of the old house had fallen in, the windows ^vere shattered, the panels of the doors broken, and mended with rough boards, and two rusty weather-cocks at the ends of the house made a great jingling and whist- ling as they whirled about, but always pointed wrong. The appearance of the whole place was forlorn and deso- late at the best of times ; but, in unruly weather, the howling of the wind about the crazy old mansion, the screeching of the weather-cocks, and the slamming and banging of a few loose window-shutters, had altogether so wild and dreary an effect, that the neighborhood stood perfectly in awe of the place, and pronounced it the rendezvous of hobgoblins. I recollect the old building well ; for many times, when an idle, unlucky urchin, I have prowled round its precinct, with some of my grace- less companions, on holiday afternoons, when out on a freebooting cruise among the orchards. There was a tree standing near the house that bore the most beautiful and tempting fruit ;| but then it was on enchanted ground, for the place was so charmed by frightful stories that we dreaded to approach it. Sometimes we would venture in a body, and get near the Hesperian tree, keep- 180 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. ing an eye upon the old mansion, and darting fearful glances into its shattered windows ; when, just as we were about to seize upon our prize, an exclamation from some one of the gang, or an accidental noise, would throw us all into a panic, and we would scamper headlong from the place, nor stop until we had got quite into the road. Then there were sure to be a host of fearful anecdotes told of strange cries and groans, or of some hideous face suddenly seen staring out of one of the windows. By degrees we ceased to venture into these lonely grounds, but would stand at a distance, and throw stones at the building ; and there was something fearfully pleasing in the sound as they rattled along the roof, or sometimes struck some jingling fragments of glass out of the windows. The origin of this house was lost in the obscurity that covers the early period of the province, while under the government of their high mightinesses the States-General. Some reported it to have been a country residence of Wilhelmus Kieft, commonly called the Testy, one of the Dutch governors of New Amsterdam ; others said it had been built by a naval commander who served under Van Tromp, and who, on being disappointed of preferment, retired from the service in disgust, became a philosopher through sheer spite, and brought over all his wealth to the province, that he might live according to his humor, and despise the world. The reason of its having fallen to decay was likewise a matter of dispute ; some said it was in chancery, and had already cost more than its worth in legal expense ; but the most current, and, of THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 181 course, the most probable account, was that it was haunted, and that nobody could live quietly in it. There can, in fact, be very little doubt that this last was the case, there were so many corroborating stories to prove it, — not an old woman in the neighborhood but could furnish at least a score. A grayheaded curmudgeon of a negro who lived hard by had a whole budget of them to tell, many of which had happened to himself. I recollect many a time stopping with my schoolmates, and getting him to relate some. The old crone lived in a hovel, in the midst of a small patch of potatoes and Indian corn, which his master had given him on setting him free. He would come to us, with his hoe in his hand, and as we sat perched, like a row of swallows, on the rail of a fence, in the mellow twilight of a summer evening, would tell us such fearful stories, accompanied by such awful rollings of his white eyes, that we were almost afraid of our own footsteps as we returned home afterwards in the dark. Poor old Pompey ! many years are past since he died, and went to keep company with the ghosts he was so fond of talking about. He was buried in a corner of his own little potato patch ; the plough soon passed over his grave, and levelled it with the rest of the field, and nobody thought any more of the grayheaded negro. By singular chance I was strolling in that neighborhood, several years afterwards, when I had grown up to be a young man, and I found a knot of gossips speculating on a skull which had just been turned up by a ploughshare. They, of course, determined it to be the remains of some 182 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. one who had been murdered, and they had raked up with it some of the traditionary tales of the haunted house. I knew it at once to be the relic of poor Pompey, but I held my tongue ; for I am too considerate of other people's enjoyment even to mar a story of a ghost or a murder. I took care, however, to see the bones of my old friend once more buried in a place where they were not likely to be disturbed. As I sat on the turf and watched the interment, I fell into a long conversation with an old gentleman of the neighborhood, John Josse Vandermoere, a pleasant, gossiping man, whose whole life was spent in hearing and telling the news of the prov- ince. He recollected old Pompey, and his stories about the Haunted House ; but he assured me he could give me one still more strange than any that Pompey had re- lated ; and on my expressing a great curiosity to hear it, he sat down beside me on the turf, and told the follow- ing tale. I have endeavored to give it as nearly as pos- sible in his words ; but it is now many years since, and I am grown old, and my memory is not over-good. I cannot therefore vouch for the language, but I am always scrupulous as to facts. D. K. DOLPH HEYLIGER. 183 DOLPH HEYLIGER. I take the town of concord, where I dwell, All Kilborn be my witness, if I were not Begot in bashfulness, brought up in shamefacedness. Let 'un bring a dog but to my vace that can Zay I have beat 'un, and without a vault ; Or but a cat will swear upon a book, I have as much as zet a vire her tail, And I'll give him or her a crown for 'mends. Tale of a Tub. In the early time of the province of New York, while it groaned under the tyranny of the English governor, Lord Cornbury, who carried his crnelties towards the Dutch inhabitants so far as to allow no Dominie, or schoolmaster, to officiate in their language without his special license ; about this time there lived in the jolly little old city of the Manhattoes a kind motherly dame, known by the name of Dame Heyliger. She was the widow of a Dutch sea captain, who died suddenly of a fever, in consequence of working too hard, and eat- ing too heartily, at the time when all the inhabitants turned out in a panic, to fortify the place against the invasion of a small French privateer. 1 He left her with very little money, and one infant son, the only survivor of several children. The good woman had need of much i 1705. 184 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. management to make both ends meet, and keep up a decent appearance. However, as her husband had fallen a victim to his zeal for the public safety, it was univer- sally agreed that " something ought to be done for the widow ; " and on the hopes of this " something " she lived tolerably for some years ; in the meantime every- body pitied and spoke well of her, and that helped along. She lived in a small house, in a small street, called Garden Street, very probably from a garden which may have flourished there some time or other. As her ne- cessities every year grew greater, and the talk of the public about doing " something for her " grew less, she had to cast about for some mode of doing something for herself, by way of helping out her slender means, and maintaining her independence, of which she was some- what tenacious. Living in a mercantile town, she had caught something of the spirit, and determined to venture a little in the great lottery of commerce. On a sudden, therefore, to the great surprise of the street, there appeared at her window a grand array of gingerbread kings and queens, with their arms stuck akimbo, after the invariable royal manner. There were also several broken tumblers, some filled with sugar-plums, some with marbles ; there were, moreover, cakes of various kinds, and barley-sugar, and Holland dolls, and wooden horses with here and there gilt-covered picture-books, and now and then a skein of thread or a dangling pound of candles. At the door of the house sat the good old dame's cat, a decent, de- DOLPH HEYLIGER. 185 mure looking personage, who seemed to scan everybody that passed, to criticise their dress, and now and then to stretch her neck, and to look out with sudden curiosity, to see what was going on at the other end of the street ; but if by chance an idle vagabond dog came by, and offered to be uncivil — hoity-toity ! — how she would bristle up, and growl, and spit, and strike out her paws ! she was as indignant as ever was an ancient and ugly spinster on the approach of some graceless profligate. But though the good woman had to come down to those humble means of subsistence, yet she still kept up a feeling of family pride, being descended from the Vanderspiegels, of Amsterdam ; and she had the family arms painted and framed, and hung over her mantle- piece. She was, in truth, much respected by all the poorer people of the place ; her house was quite a resort of the old wives of the neighborhood ; they would drop in there of a winter's afternoon, as she sat knitting on one side of her fireplace, her cat purring on the other, and the teakettle singing before it; and they would gossip with her until late in the evening. There was always an armchair for Peter de Groodt, sometimes called Long Peter, and sometimes Peter Longlegs, the clerk and sexton of the little Lutheran church, who was her great crony, and indeed the oracle of her fireside. Nay, the Dominie himself did not disdain, now and then, to step in, converse about the state of her mind, and take a glass of her special good cherry brandy. Indeed, he never failed to call on New Year's Day, and wish her a happy New Year ; and the good dame, who was a little 186 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. vain on some points, always piqued herself on giving him as large a cake as any one in town. I have said that she had one son. He was the child of her old age ; but could hardly be called the comfort, for, of all unlucky urchins, Dolph Heyliger was the most mischievous. Not that the whipster was really vicious ; he was only full of fun and frolic, and had that daring, gamesome spirit which is extolled in a rich man's child, but execrated in a poor man's. He was continu- ally getting into scrapes ; his mother was incessantly harassed with complaints of some waggish pranks which he had played off ; bills were sent in for windows that he had broken ; in a word, he had not reached his four- teenth year before he was pronounced, by all the neigh- borhood, to be a " wicked dog, the wickedest dog in the street ! " Nay, one old gentleman, in a claret-colored coat, with a thin red face, and ferret eyes, went so far as to assure Dame Heyliger, that her son would, one day or other, come to the gallows ! Yet, notwithstanding all this, the poor old soul loved her boy. It seemed as though she loved him the better the worse he behaved, and that he grew more in her favor the more he grew out of favor with the world. Mothers are foolish, fond-hearted beings ; there's no rea- soning them out of their dotage ; and, indeed, this poor woman's child was all that was left to love her in this world ; so we must not think it hard that she turned a deaf ear to her good friends, who sought to prove to her that Dolph would come to a halter. To do the varlet justice, too, he was strongly attached DOLPH HEYLIGER. 187 to his parent. He would not willingly have given her pain on any account; and when he had been doing wrong, it was but for him to catch his poor mother's eye fixed wistfully and sorrowfully upon him, to fill his heart with bitterness and contrition. But he was a heedless youngster, and could not, for the life of him, resist any new temptation to fun and mischief. Though quick at his learning, whenever he could be brought to apply himself, he was always prone to be led away by idle company, and would play truant to hunt after birds'- nests, to rob orchards, or to swim in the Hudson. In this w r ay he grew up, a tall, lubberly boy ; and his mother began to be greatly perplexed what to do with him, or how to put him in a way to do for himself ; for he had acquired such an unlucky reputation, that no one seemed willing to employ him. Many were the consultations that she held with Peter de Groodt, the clerk and sexton, who was her prime counsellor. Peter was as much perplexed as herself, for he had no great opinion of the boy, and thought he would never come to good. He at once advised her to send him to sea: a piece of advice only given in the most desperate cases ; but Dame Heyliger would not listen to such an idea ; she could not think of letting Dolph go out of her sight. She was sitting one day knitting by her fireside, in great perplexity, when the sexton entered with an air of unusual vivacity and brisk- ness. He had just come from a funeral. It had been that of a boy of Dolph's years, who had been apprentice to a famous German doctor, and had died of a consump- 188 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. tion. It is true, there had been a whisper that the deceased had been brought to his end by being made the subject of the doctor's experiments, on which he was apt to try the effects of a new compound, or a quiet- ing draught. This, however, it is likely, was a mere scandal ; at any rate, Peter de Groodt did not think it worth mentioning ; though, had we time to philosophize, it would be a curious matter for speculation, why a doc- tor's family is apt to be so lean and cadaverous, and a butcher's so jolly and rubicund. Peter de Groodt, as I said before, entered the house of Dame Heyliger with unusual alacrity. A bright idea had popped into his head at the funeral, over which he had chuckled as he shovelled the earth into the grave of the doctor's disciple. It had occurred to him, that, as the situation of the deceased was vacant at the doctor's, it would be the very place for Dolph. The boy had parts, and could pound a pestle, and run an errand with any boy in the town ; and what more was wanted in a student ? The suggestion of the sage Peter was a vision of glory to the mother. She already saw Dolph, in her mind's eye, with a cane at his nose, a knocker at his door, and an M.D. at the end of his name — one of the established dignitaries of the town. The matter, once undertaken, was soon effected; the sexton had some influence with the doctor, they having had much dealing together in the way of their separate professions; and the very next morning he' called and conducted the urchin, clad in his Sunday clothes, to DOLPH HEYLIGER. 189 undergo the inspection of Dr. Karl Lodovick Knipper- hausen. They found the doctor seated in an elbow-chair, in one corner of his study, or laboratory, with a large volume, in German print, before him. He was a short fat man, with a dark square face, rendered more dark by a black velvet cap. He had a little nobbed nose, not unlike the ace of spades, with a pair of spectacles gleaming on each side of his dusky countenance, like a couple of bow- windows. Dolph felt struck with awe on entering into the presence of this learned man; and gazed about him with boyish wonder at the furniture of this chamber of knowledge, which appeared to him almost as the den of a magician. In the centre stood a claw-footed table, with pestle and mortar, phials and gallipots, and a pair of small burnished scales. At one end was a heavy clothes-press, turned into a receptacle for drugs and com- pounds ; against which hung the doctor's hat and cloak, and gold-headed cane, and on the top grinned a human skull. Along the mantle-piece were glass vessels, in which were snakes and lizards, and a human foetus preserved in spirits. A closet, the doors of which were taken off, contained three whole shelves of books, and some, too, of mighty folio dimensions, — a collection the like of which Dolph had never before beheld. As, how- ever, the library did not take up the whole of the closet, the doctor's thrifty housekeeper had occupied the rest with pots of pickles and preserves ; and had hung about the room, among awful implements of the healing art, 190 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. strings of red pepper and corpulent cucumbers, carefully preserved for seed. Peter de Groodt and his protege were received with great gravity and stateliness by the doctor, who was a very wise, dignified little man, and never smiled. He surveyed Dolph from head to foot, above, and under, and through his spectacles, and the poor lad's heart quailed as these great glasses glared on him like two full moons. The doctor heard all that Peter de Groodt had to say in favor of the youthful candidate; and then wetting his thumb with the end of his tongue, he began deliberately to turn over page after page of the great black volume before him. At length, after many hums and haws, and strokings of the chin, and all that hesitation and delib- eration with which a wise man proceeds to do what he intended to do from the very first, the doctor agreed to take the lad as a disciple ; to give him bed, board, and clothing, and to instruct him in the healing art; in return for which he was to have his services until his twenty-first year. Behold, then, our hero, all at once transformed from an unlucky urchin running wild about the streets, to a student of medicine, diligently pounding a pestle, under the auspices of the learned Dr. Karl Lodovick Knipper- hausen. It was a happy transition for his fond old mother. She was delighted with the idea of her boy being brought up worthy of his ancestors; and antici- pated the day when he would be able to hold up his head with the lawyer, that lived in the large house opposite ; or, peradventure, with the Dominie himself. DOLPII HEYLIGER. 191 Doctor Knipperhausen was a native of the Palatinate in Germany; whence, in company with many of his countrymen, he had taken refuge in England, on account of religious persecution. He was one of nearly three thousand Palatines, who came over from England in 1710, under the protection of Governor Hunter. Where the doctor had studied, how he had acquired his medical knowledge, and where he had received his diploma, it is hard at present to say, for nobody knew at the time; yet it is certain that his profound skill and abstruse knowledge were the talk and wonder of the common people far and near. His practice was totally different from that of any other physician, — consisting in mysterious compounds, known only to himself, in the preparing and administer- ing of which, it was said, he always consulted the stars. So high an opinion was entertained of his skill, particu- larly by the German and Dutch inhabitants, that they always resorted to him in desperate cases. He was one of those infallible doctors that are always effecting sudden and surprising cures, when the patient has been given up by all the regular physicians; unless, as is shrewdly observed, the case has been left too long before it was put into their hands. The doctor's library was the talk and marvel of the neighborhood, I might almost say of the entire burgh. The good people looked with reverence at a man who had read three whole shelves full of books, and some of them, too, as large as a family Bible. There were many disputes among the members of the little Lutheran church, as to which was the wisest 192 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. man, the doctor or the Dominie. Some of his admirers even went so far as to say that he knew more than the governor himself, — in a word, it was thought that there was no end to his knowledge ! No sooner was Dolph received into the doctor's family, than he was put in possession of the lodging of his pred- ecessor. It was a garret room of a steep-roofed Dutch house, where the rain had pattered on the shingles, and the lightning gleamed, and the wind piped through the crannies in stormy weather ; and where whole troops of hungry rats, like Don Cossacks, galloped about, in defi- ance of traps and ratsbane. He was soon up to his ears in medical studies, being employed, morning, noon, and night, in rolling pills, filtering tinctures, or pounding the pestle and mortar in one corner of the laboratory ; while the doctor would take his seat in another corner, when he had nothing else to do, or expected visitors, and arrayed in his morn- ing-gown and velvet cap, would pore over the contents of some folio volume. It is true, that the regular thumping of Dolph's pestle, or, perhaps, the drowsy buzzing of the summer flies, would now and then lull the little man into a slumber; but 'then his spectacles were always wide awake, and studiously regarding the book. There was another personage in the house, however, to whom Dolph was obliged to pay allegiance. Though a bachelor, and a man of such great dignity and impor- tance, the doctor was, like many other wise men, subject to petticoat government. He was completely under the DOLPH HEYLIGER. 193 sway of his housekeeper, — a spare, busy, fretting house- wife, in a little, round, quilted German cap, with a huge bunch of keys jingling at the girdle of an exceedingly long waist. Frau Use (or Frow Ilsy, as it was pro- nounced) had accompanied him in his various migra- tions from Germany to England, and from England to the province ; managing his establishment and himself too : ruling him, it is true, with a gentle hand, but carrying a high hand with all the world beside. How she had acquired such ascendency, I do not pretend to say. People, it is true, did talk — but have not people been prone to talk ever since the world began ? Who can tell how women generally contrive to get the upper- hand? A husband, it is true, may now and then be master in his own house ; but who ever knew a bachelor that was not managed by his housekeeper ? Indeed, Frau Ilsy's power was not confined to the doctor's household. She was one of those prying gos- sips who know every one's business better than they do themselves ; and whose all-seeing eyes, and all-telling tongues, are terrors throughout a neighborhood. Nothing of any moment transpired in the world of scandal of this little burgh, but it was known to Frau Ilsy. She had her crew of cronies, that were perpet- ually hurrying to her little parlor with some precious bit of news ; nay, she would sometimes discuss a Avhole volume of secret history, as she held the street-door ajar, and gossiped with one of these garrulous cronies in the very teeth of a December blast. Between the doctor and the housekeeper it may easily 194 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. be supposed that Dolph had a busy life of it. As Frau Ilsy kept the keys, and literally ruled the roast, it was starvation to offend her, though he found the study of her temper more perplexing even than that of medicine. When not busy in the laboratory, she kept him running hither and thither on her errands ; and on Sundays he was obliged to accompany her to and from church, and carry her Bible. Many a time has the poor varlet stood shivering and blowing his fingers, or holding his frost- bitten nose, in the church-yard, while Ilsy and her cronies were huddled together, wagging their heads, and tearing some unlucky character to pieces. With all his advantages, however, Dolph made very slow progress in his art. This was no fault of the doc- tor's, certainly, for he took unwearied pains with the lad, keeping him close to the pestle and mortar, or on the trot about town with phials and pill-boxes : and if he ever flagged in his industry, which he was rather apt to do, the doctor would fly into a passion, and ask him if he ever expected to learn his profession, unless he ap- plied himself closer to the study. The fact is, he still retained the fondness for sport and mischief that had marked his childhood ; the habit, indeed, had strength- ened with his years, and gained force from being thwarted and constrained. He daily grew more and more untraceable, and lost favor in the eyes, both of the doctor and the housekeeper. In the mean time the doctor went on, waxing wealthy and renowned. He was famous for his skill in managing cases not laid down in the books. He had cured several DOLPH HEYLIGER. 195 old women and young girls of witchcraft, — a terrible complaint, and nearly as prevalent in the province in those days as hydrophobia is at present. He had even restored one strapping country-girl to perfect health, who had gone so far as to vomit crooked pins and needles : which is considered a desperate stage of the malady. It was whispered, also, that he was possessed of the art of preparing love-powders ; and many applica- tions had he in consequence from love-sick patients of both sexes. But all these cases formed the mysterious part of his practice, in which, according to the cant phrase, "secrecy and honor might be depended on." Dolph, therefore, was obliged to turn out of the study whenever such consultations occurred, though it is said he learnt more of the secrets of the art at the key-hole than by all the rest of his studies put together. As the doctor increased in wealth, he began to extend his possessions, and to look forward, like other great men, to the time when he should retire to the repose of a country-seat. For this purpose he had purchased a farm, or, as the Dutch settlers called it, a bowerie, a few miles from town. It had been the residence of a wealthy family, that had returned some time since to Holland. A large mansion-house stood in the centre of it, very much out of repair, and which, in consequence of certain reports, had received the appellation of the Haunted House. Either from these reports, or from its actual dreariness, the doctor found it impossible to get a tenant ; and that the place might not fall to ruin before he could reside in it himself, he placed a coun- 196 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING, try boor, with his family, in one wing, with the privi- lege of cultivating the farm on shares. The doctor now felt all the dignity of a' land-holder rising within him. He had a little of the German pride of territory in his composition, and almost looked npon himself as owner of a principality. He began to com- plain of the fatigue of business ; and was fond of riding out "to look at his estate." His little expeditions to his lands were attended with a bustle and parade that cre- ated a sensation throughout the neighborhood. His wall- eyed horse stood, stamping and whisking off the flies, for a full hour before the house. Then the doctor's sad- dle-bags would be brought out and adjusted ; then, after a little while, his cloak would be rolled up and strapped to the saddle; then his umbrella would be buckled to the cloak ; while, in the mean time, a group of ragged boys, that observant class of beings, would gather before the door. At length the doctor would issue forth, in a pair of jack-boots that reached above his knees, and a cocked hat napped down in front. As he was a short, fat man, he took some time to mount into the saddle ; and when there, he took some time to have the saddle and stirrups properly adjusted, enjoying the wonder and admiration of the urchin crowd. Even after he had set off, he would pause in the middle of the street, or trot back two or three times to give some parting orders ; which were answered by the housekeeper from the door, or Dolph from the study, or the black cook from the cellar, or the chambermaid from the garret-window ; and there were generally some last words bawled after him, just as he was turning the corner. DOLPH HEYLIGER. 197 The whole neighborhood would be aroused by this pomp and circumstance. The cobbler would leave his last ; the barber would thrust out his frizzled head, with a comb sticking in it ; a knot would collect at the grocer's door, and the word would be buzzed from one end of the street to the other, " The doctor's riding out to his country-seat ! " These were golden moments for Dolph. No sooner was the doctor out of sight, than pestle and mortar were abandoned ; the laboratory was left to take care of itself, and the student was off on some madcap frolic. Indeed, it must be confessed, the youngster, as he grew up, seemed in a fair way to fulfil the prediction of the old claret-colored gentleman. He was the ringleader of all holiday sports and midnight gambols ; ready for all kinds of mischievous pranks and hair-brained adven- tures. There is nothing so troublesome as a hero on a small scale, or, rather, a hero in a small town. Dolph soon became the abhorrence of all drowsy, housekeeping old citizens, who hated noise, and had no relish for waggery. The good dames, too, considered him as little better than a reprobate, gathered their daughters under their wings whenever he approached, and pointed him out as a warn- ing to their sons. No one seemed to hold him in much regard except the wild striplings of the place, who were captivated by his open-hearted, daring manners, — and the negroes, who always look upon every idle, do- nothing youngster as a kind of gentleman. Even the good Peter de Groodt, who had considered himself a 198 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. kind of patron of the lad, began to despair of him ; and would shake his head dubiously, as he listened to a long complaint from the housekeeper, and sipped a glass of her raspberry brandy. Still his mother was not to be wearied out of her affec- tion by all the waywardness of her boy ; nor disheartened by the stories of his misdeeds, with which her good friends were continually regaling her. She had, it is true, very little of the pleasure which rich people enjoy, in always hearing their children praised; but she considered all this ill-will as a kind of persecution which he suffered, and she liked him the better on that account. She saw him growing up a fine, tall, good-looking youngster, and she looked at him with the secret pride of a mother's heart. It was her great desire that Dolph should appear like a gentleman, and all the money she could save went towards helping out his pocket and his wardrobe. She would look out of the window after him, as he sallied forth in his best array, and her heart would yearn with delight; and once, when Peter de Groodt, struck with the youngster's gallant appearance on a bright Sunday morning, observed, "Well, after all, Dolph does grow a comely fellow ! " the tear of pride started into the mother's eye. " Ah, neighbor ! neighbor ! " exclaimed she, " they may say what they please ; poor Dolph will yet hold up his head with the best of them ! " Dolph Heyliger had now nearly attained his one-and- twentieth year, and the term of his medical studies was just expiring ; yet it must be confessed that he knew little more of the profession than when he first entered DOLPH HEYLIGER. 199 the doctor's doors. This, however, could not be from any want of quickness of parts, for he showed amazing aptness in mastering other branches of knowledge, which he could only have studied at intervals. He was, for instance, a sure marksman, and won all the geese and turkeys at Christmas holidays. He was a bold rider ; he was famous for leaping and wrestling ; he played toler- ably on the fiddle ; could swim like a fish ; and was the best hand in the whole place at fives or ninepins. All these accomplishments, however, procured him no favor in the eyes of the doctor, who grew more and more crabbed and intolerant the nearer the term of apprentice- ship approached. Frau Hsy, too, was forever finding some occasion to raise a windy tempest about his ears, and seldom encountered him about the house without a clatter of the tongue ; so that at length the jingling of her keys, as she approached, was to Dolph like the ring- ing of the prompter's bell, that gives notice of a theatrical thunder-storm. Nothing but the infinite good-humor of the heedless youngster enabled him to bear all this domestic tyranny without open rebellion. It was evi- dent that the doctor and his housekeeper were preparing to beat the poor youth out of the nest, the moment his term should have expired, — a short-hand mode which the doctor had of providing for useless disciples. Indeed the little man had been rendered more than usually irritable lately in consequence of various cares and vexations which his country estate had brought upon him. The doctor had been repeatedly annoyed by the rumors and tales which prevailed concerning the old 200 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. mansion, and found it difficult to prevail even upon the country man and his family to remain there rent-free. Every time he rode out to the farm he was teased by some fresh complaint of strange noises and fearful sights, with which the tenants were disturbed at night ; and the doctor would come home fretting and fuming, and vent his spleen upon the whole household. It was indeed a sore grievance that affected him both in pride and purse. He was threatened with an absolute loss of the profits of his property ; and then, what a blow to his territorial consequence, to be the landlord of a haunted house ! It was observed, however, that with all his vexation, the doctor never proposed to sleep in the house himself ; nay, he could never be prevailed upon to remain on the premises after dark, but made the best of his way for town as soon as the bats began to flit about in the twilight. The fact was, the doctor "had a secret belief in ghosts, having passed the early part of his life in a country where they particularly abound ; and indeed the story went, that, when a boy, he had once seen the devil upon the Hartz Mountains in Germany. At length the doctor's vexations on this head were brought to a crisis. One morning as he sat dozing over a volume in his study, he was suddenly startled from his slumbers by the bustling in of the housekeeper. " Here's a fine to do ! " cried she, as she entered the room. " Here's Claus Hopper come in, bag and baggage, from the farm, and swears he'll have nothing more to do with it. The whole family have been frightened out of DOLPH HEYLIGER. 201 their wits ; for there's such racketing and rummaging about the old house, that they can't sleep quiet in their beds!" "Donner and blitzeri!" cried the doctor, impatiently; " will they never have done chattering about that house ? What a pack of fools, to let a few rats and mice frighten them out of good quarters ! " " Nay, nay," said the housekeeper, wagging her head knowingly, and piqued at having a good ghost-story doubted, "there's more in it than rats and mice. All the neighborhood talks about the house ; and then such sights as have been seen in it ! Peter de G-roodt tells me, that the family that sold you the house, and went to Holland, dropped several strange hints about it, and said, 'they wished you joy of your bargain;' and you know yourself there's no getting any family to live in it." "Peter de Groodt's a ninny — an old woman," said the doctor, peevishly; "I'll warrant he's been filling these people's heads full of stories. It's just like his nonsense about the ghost that haunted the church-belfry, as an excuse for not ringing the bell that cold night when Harmanus BrinkerhofFs house was on fire. Send Claus to me." Claus Hopper now made his appearance: a simple country lout, full of awe at finding himself in the very study of Dr. Knipperhausen, and too much embarrassed to enter in much detail of the matters that had caused his alarm. He stood twirling his hat in one hand, rest- ing sometimes on one leg, sometimes on the other, look- 202 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. ing occasionally at the doctor, and now and then stealing a fearful glance at the death's-head that seemed ogling him from the top of the clothes-press. The doctor tried every means to persuade him to return to the farm, but all in vain ; he maintained a dogged determination on the subject; and at the close of every argument or solicitation would make the same brief, inflexible reply, " Ich kan nicht, mynheer." The doctor was , a " little pot, and soon hot ; " his patience was exhausted by these continual vexations about his estate. The stubborn refusal of Claus Hopper seemed to him like flat rebellion ; his temper suddenly boiled over, and Claus was glad to make a rapid retreat to escape scalding. When the bumpkin got to the housekeeper's room, he found Peter de Groodt, and several other true believers, ready to receive him. Here he indemnified himself for the restraint he had suffered in the study, and opened a budget of stories about the haunted house that aston- ished all his hearers. The housekeeper believed them all, if it was only to spite the doctor for having received her intelligence so uncourteously. Peter de Groodt matched them with many a wonderful legend of the times of the Dutch dynasty, and of the Devil's Stepping- stones ; and of the pirate hanged at Gibbet Island, that continued to swing there at night long after the gallows was taken down ; and of the ghost of the unfortunate Governor Leisler, hanged for treason, which haunted the old fort and the government-house. The gossiping knot dispersed, each charged with direful intelligence. The DOLPH HEYLIGER. 203 sexton disburdened himself at a vestry meeting that was held that very day, and the black cook forsook her kitchen, and spent half the day at the street pump, that gossiping-place of servants, dealing forth the news to all that came for water. In a little time the whole town was in a buzz with tales about the haunted house. Some said that Claus Hopper had seen the devil, while others hinted that the house was haunted by the ghosts of some of the patients whom the doctor had physicked out of the world, and that was the reason why he did not venture to live in it himself. All this put the little doctor in a terrible fume. He threatened vengeance on any one who should affect the value of his property by exciting popular prejudices. He complained loudly of thus being in a manner dis- possessed of his territories by mere bugbears; but he secretly determined to have the house exorcised by the Dominie. Great was his relief, therefore, when, in the midst of his perplexities, Dolph stepped forward and undertook to garrison the haunted house. The young- ster had been listening to all the stories of Claus Hopper and Peter de Groodt : he was fond of adventure, he loved the marvellous, and his imagination had become quite excited by these tales of wonder. Besides, he had led such an uncomfortable life at the doctor's, being sub- jected to the intolerable thraldom of early hours, that he was delighted at the prospect of having a house to him- self, even though it should be a haunted one. His offer was eagerly accepted, and it was determined he should mount guard that very night. His only stipulation 204 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. was, that the enterprise should be kept secret from his mother; for he knew the poor soul would not sleep a wink if she knew her son was waging war with the powers of darkness. When night came on he set out on this perilous ex- pedition. The old black cook, his only friend in the household, had provided him with a little mess for sup- per, and a rush-light ; and she tied round his neck an amu- let, given her by an African conjurer, as a charm against evil spirits. Dolph was escorted on his way by the doctor and Peter de Groodt, who had agreed to accom- pany him to the house, and to see him safe lodged. The night was overcast, and it was very dark when they arrived at the grounds which- surrounded the mansion. The sexton led the way with a lantern. As they walked along the avenue of acacias, the fitful light, catching from bush to bush, and tree to tree, often startled the doughty Peter, and made him fall back upon his fol- lowers ; and the doctor grappled still closer hold of Dolph's arm, observing that the ground was very slip- pery and uneven. At one time they were nearly put to total rout by a bat, which came flitting about the lantern ; and the notes of the insects from the trees, and the frogs from a neighboring pond, formed a most drowsy and doleful concert. The front door of the mansion opened with a grating sound, that made the doctor turn pale. They entered a tolerably large hall, such as is common in American country-houses, and which serves for a sitting-room in warm weather. From this they went up a wide staircase, that groaned and creaked as DOLPH HEYLIGER. 205 they trod, every step making its particular note, like the key of a harpsichord. This led to another hall on the second story, whence they entered the room where Dolph was to sleep. It was large, and scantily fur- nished ; the shutters were closed ; but as they were much broken, there was no want of a circulation of air. It appeared to have been that sacred chamber, known among Dutch housewives by the name of " the best bed- room;" which is the best furnished room in the house, but in which scarce anybody is ever permitted to sleep. Its splendor, however, was all at an end. There were a few broken articles of furniture about the room, and in the centre stood a heavy deal table and a large arm- chair, both of which had the look of being coeval with the mansion. The fireplace was wide, and had been faced with Dutch tiles, representing Scripture stories ; but some of them had fallen out of their places, and lay scattered about the hearth. The sexton lit the rush- light ; and the doctor, looking fearfully about the room, was just exhorting Dolph to be of good cheer, and to pluck up a stout heart, when a noise in the chimney, like voices and struggling, struck a sudden panic into the sexton. He took to his heels with the lantern ; the doctor followed hard after him ; the stairs groaned and creaked as they hurried down, increasing their agitation and speed by its noises. The front door slammed after them ; and Dolph heard them scrabbling down the avenue, till the sound of their feet was lost in the dis- tance. That he did not join in this precipitate retreat might have been owing to his possessing a little more 206 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. courage than his companions , or perhaps that he had caught a glimpse of the cause of their dismay, in a nest of chimney-swallows, that came tumbling down into the fireplace. Being now left to himself, he secured the front door by a strong bolt and bar ; and having seen that the other entrances were fastened, returned to his desolate cham- ber. Having made his supper from the basket which the good old cook had provided, he locked the chamber- door, and retired to rest on a mattress in one corner. The night was calm and still ; and nothing broke upon the profound quiet but the lonely chirping of a cricket from the chimney of a distant chamber. The rush-light, which stood in the centre of the deal table, shed a feeble yellow ray, dimly illumining the chamber, and making uncouth shapes and shadows on the walls, from the clothes which Dolph had thrown over a chair. With all his boldness of heart, there was something subduing in this desolate scene ; and he felt his spirits flag within him, as he lay on his hard bed and gazed about the room. He was turning over in his mind his idle habits, his doubtful prospects, and now and then heaving a heavy sigh as he thought on his poor old mother ; for there is nothing like the silence and loneli- ness of night to bring dark shadows over the brightest mind. By-and-by he thought he heard a sound as of some one walking below stairs. He listened, and dis- tinctly heard a step on the great staircase. It approached solemnly and slowly, tramp — tramp — tramp ! It was evidently the tread of some heavy personage ; and yet DOLPH HEYL1GER. 207 how could he have got into the house without making a noise ? He had examined all the fastenings, and was certain that every entrance was secure. Still the steps advanced, tramp — tramp — tramp ! It was evident that the person approaching could not be a robber, the step was too loud and deliberate ; a robber would either be stealthy or precipitate. And now the footsteps had ascended the staircase ; they were slowly advancing along the passage, resounding through the silent and empty apartments. The very cricket had ceased its melancholy note, and nothing interrupted their awful distinctness. The door, which had been locked on the inside, slowly swung open, as if self-moved. The footsteps entered the room; but no one was to be seen. They passed slowly and audibly across it, tramp — tramp — tramp ! but whatever made the sound was invisible. Dolph rubbed his eyes, and stared about him ; he could see to every part of the dimly lighted chamber ; all was vacant ; yet still he heard those mysterious footsteps, solemnly walking about the chamber. They ceased, and all was dead silence. There was something more appalling in this invisible visitation than there would have been in anything that addressed itself to the eye-sight. It was awfully vague and indefinite. He felt his heart beat against his ribs ; a cold sweat broke out upon his forehead; he lay for some time in a state of violent agitation; nothing, however, occurred to increase his alarm. His light gradually burnt down into the socket, and he fell asleep. When he awoke it was broad day- light ; the sun was peering through the cracks of the win- 208 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. dow shutters, and the birds were merrily singing about the house. The bright cheery day soon put to flight all the terrors of the preceding night. Dolph laughed, or rather tried to laugh, at all that had passed, and en- deavored to persuade himself that it was a mere freak of the imagination, conjured up by the stories he had heard ; but he was a little puzzled to find the door of his room locked on the inside, notwithstanding that he had positively seen it swing open as the footsteps had entered. He returned to town in a state of considerable perplexity ; but he determined to say nothing on the subject, until his doubts were either confirmed or re- moved by another night's watching. His silence was a grievous disappointment to the gossips who had gathered at the doctor's mansion. They had prepared their minds to hear direful tales, and were almost in a rage at being assured he had nothing to relate. The next night, then, Dolph repeated his vigil. He now entered the house with some trepidation. He was particular in examining the fastenings of all the doors, and securing them well. He locked the door of his chamber, and placed, a chair against it; then having despatched his supper, he threw himself on his mattress and endeavored to sleep. It was all in vain ; a thousand crowding fancies kept him waking. The time slowly dragged on, as if minutes were spinning themselves out into hours. As the night advanced, he grew more and more nervous ; and he almost started from his couch when he heard the mysterious footstep again on the staircase. Up it came, as before, solemnly and slowly, DOLPH HEYLIGER. 209 tramp — tramp — tramp! It approached along the pas- sage; the door again swung open, as if there had been neither lock nor impediment, and a strange-looking figure stalked into the room. It was an elderly man, large and robust, clothed in the old Flemish fashion. He had on a kind of short cloak, with a garment under it belted round the waist; trunk-hose, with great bunches or bows at the knees; and a pair of russet boots, very large at top, and standing widely from his legs. His hat was broad and slouched, with a feather trailing over one side. His iron-gray hair hung in thick masses on his neck ; and he had a short grizzled beard. He walked slowly round the room, as if examining that all was safe ; then, hanging his hat on a peg beside the door, he sat down in the elbow-chair, and, leaning his elbow on the table, fixed his eyes on Dolph with an unmoving and deadening stare. Dolph was not naturally a coward; but he had been brought up in an implicit belief in ghosts and goblins. A thousand stories came swarming to his mind that he had heard about this building; and as he looked at this strange personage, with his uncouth garb, his pale visage, his grizzly beard, and his fixed, staring, fishlike eye, his teeth began to chatter, his hair to rise on his head, and a cold sweat to break out all over his body. How long he remained in this situation he could not tell, for he was like one fascinated. He could not take his gaze off from the spectre; but lay staring at him, with his whole intellect absorbed in the contemplation. The old man remained seated behind the table, without 210 SELECTIONS PtlOM WASHINGTON IRVING. stirring, or turning an eye, always keeping a dead steady glare upon Dolph. At length the household cock, from a neighboring farm, clapped his wings, and gave a loud cheerful crow that rung over the fields. At the sound the old man slowly rose, and took down his hat from the peg; the door opened, and closed after him; he was heard to go slowly down the staircase, tramp — tramp — tramp ! — and when he had got to the bottom, all was again silent. Dolph lay and listened earnestly; counted every footfall ; listened, and listened, if the steps should return, until, exhausted by watching and agitation, he fell into a troubled sleep. Daylight again brought fresh courage and assurance. He would fain have considered all that had passed as a mere dream ; yet there stood the chair in which the un- known had seated himself ; there was the table on which he had leaned ; there was the peg on which he had hung his hat ; and there was the door, locked precisely as he himself had locked it, with the chair placed against it. He hastened down-stairs, and examined the doors and windows ; all were exactly in the same state in which he had left them, and there was no apparent way by which any being could have entered and left the house, without leaving some trace behind. " Pooh ! " said Dolph to himself, " it was all a dream : " — but it would not do ; the more he endeavored to shake the scene off from his mind, the more it haunted him. Though he persisted in a strict silence as to all that he had seen or heard, yet his looks betrayed the uncom- fortable night that he had passed. It was evident that DOLPH HEYLIGER. 211 there was something wonderful hidden under this myste- rious reserve. The doctor took him into the study, locked the door, and sought to have a full and confiden- tial communication ; but he could get nothing out of him. Frau Ilsy took him aside into the pantry, but to as little purpose ; and Peter de Groodt held him by the button for a full hour, in the church-yard, the very place to get at the bottom of a ghost story, but came off not a whit wiser than the rest. It is always the case, however, that one truth concealed makes a dozen current lies. It is like a guinea locked up in a bank, that has a dozen paper representatives. Before the day was over, the neighborhood was full of reports. Some said that Dolph Heyliger watched in the haunted house, with pistols loaded with silver bullets ; others, that he had a long talk with a spectre without a head ; others, that Doctor Knipperhausen and the sexton had been hunted down the Bowery lane, and quite into town, by a legion of ghosts of their customers. Some shook their heads, and thought it a shame the doctor should put Dolph to pass the night alone in that dismal house, where he might be spirited away no one knew whither ; while others observed, with a shrug, that if the devil did carry off the youngster, it would be but taking his own. These rumors at length reached the ears of the good Dame Heyliger, and, as may be supposed, threw her into a terrible alarm. For her son to have opposed himself to danger from living foes, would have been nothing so dreadful in her eyes, as to dare alone the terrors of the haunted house. She hastened to the doctor's, and passed 212 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. a great part of the day in attempting to dissuade Dolph from repeating his vigil ; she told him a score of tales, which her gossiping friends had just related to her, of persons who had been carried off, when watching alone in old ruinous houses. It was all to no effect. Dolph's pride, as well as curiosity, was piqued. He endeavored to calm the apprehensions of his mother, and to assure her that there was no truth in all the rumors she had heard; she looked at him dubiously and shook her head ; but finding his determination was not to be shaken, she brought him a little thick Dutch Bible, with brass clasps, to take with him, as a sword wherewith to fight the powers of darkness; and, lest that might not be suffi- cient, the housekeeper gave him the Heidelberg cate- chism by way of dagger. The next night, therefore, Dolph took up his quarters for the third time in the old mansion. Whether dream or not, the same thing was repeated. Towards mid- night, when everything was still, the same sound echoed through the empty halls, tramp — tramp — tramp ! The stairs were again ascended ; the door again swung open ; the old man entered ; walked round the room ; hung up his hat, and seated himself by the table. The same fear and trembling came over poor Dolph, though not in so violent a degree. He lay in the same way, motionless and fascinated, staring at the figure, which regarded him as before, with a dead, fixed, chilling gaze. In this way they remained for a long time, till, by degrees, Dolph's courage began gradually to revive. Whether alive or dead, this being had certainly some object in DOLPH HEYLIGER. 213 his visitation ; and he recollected to have heard it said, spirits have no power to speak until spoken to. Summoning up resolution, therefore, and making two or three attempts, before he could get his parched tongue in motion, he addressed the unknown in the most solemn form of adjuration, and demanded to know what was the motive of his visit. No sooner had he finished, than the old man rose, took down his hat, the door opened, and he went out, looking back upon Dolph just as he crossed the threshold, as if expecting him to follow. The youngster did not hesitate an instant. He took the candle in his hand, and the Bible under his arm, and obeyed the tacit invitation. The candle emitted a feeble, uncertain ray, but still he could see the figure before him slowly descend the stairs. He followed trembling. When it had reached the bot- tom of the stairs, it turned through the hall towards the back door of the mansion. Dolph held the light over the balustrades ; but, in his eagerness to catch a sight of the unknown, he flared his feeble taper so suddenly, that it went out. Still there was sufficient light from the pale moonbeams, that fell through a narrow window, to give him an indistinct view of the figure, near the door. He followed, therefore, down stairs, and turned towards the place ; but when he arrived there, the unknown had disappeared. The door remained fast barred and bolted ; there was no other mode of exit ; yet the being, what- ever he might be, was gone. He unfastened the door, and looked out into the fields. It was a hazy, moonlight night, so that the eye could distinguish objects at some 214 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. distance. He thought he saw the unknown in a foot- path which led from the door. He was not mistaken ; but how had he got out of the house ? He did not pause to think, but followed on. The old man proceeded at a measured pace, without looking about him, his foot- steps sounding on the hard ground. He passed through the orchard of apple-trees, always keeping the footpath. It led to a well, situated in a little hollow, which had supplied the farm with water. Just at this well Dolph lost sight of him. He rubbed his eyes and looked again ; but nothing was to be seen of the unknown. He reached the well, but nobody was there. All the sur- rounding ground was open and clear ; there was no bush nor hiding-place. He looked down the well, and saw, at a great depth, the reflection of the sky in the still water. After remaining here for some time, without seeing or hearing anything more of his mysterious conductor, he returned to the house, full of awe and wonder. He bolted the door, groped his way back to bed, and it was long before he could compose himself to sleep. His dream were strange and troubled. He thought he was following the old man along the side of a great river, until they came to a vessel on the point of sailing; and that his conductor led him on board and vanished. He remembered the commander of the vessel, a short, swarthy man, with crisped, black hair, blind of one eye, and lame of one leg ; but the rest of his dream was very confused. Sometimes he was sailing ; sometimes on shore ; now amidst storms and tempests, and now wan- dering quietly in unknown streets. The figure of the DOLPH HEYLIGER. 215 old man was strangely mingled up with the incidents of the dream, and the whole distinctly wound up by his finding himself on board of the vessel again, returning home, with a great bag of money ! When he woke, the gray, cool light of dawn was streak- ing the horizon, and the cocks passing the reveille from farm to farm throughout the country. He rose more harassed and perplexed than ever. He was singularly confounded by all that he had seen and dreamt, and be- gan to doubt whether his mind was not affected, and whether all that was passing in his thoughts might not be mere feverish fantasy. In his present sta.te of mind, he did not feel disposed to return immediately to the doc- tor's, and undergo the cross-questioning of the household. He made a scanty breakfast, therefore, on the remains of the last night's provisions, and then wandered out into the fields to meditate on all that had befallen him. Lost in thought, he rambled about, gradually approach- ing the town, until the morning was far advanced, when he was roused by a hurry and bustle around him. He found himself near the water's edge, in a throng of people, hurrying to a pier, where was a vessel ready to make sail. He was unconsciously carried along by the impulse of the crowd, and found that it was a sloop, on the point of sailing up the Hudson to Albany. There was much leave-taking, and kissing of old women and children, and great activity in carrying on board baskets of bread and cakes, and provisions of all kinds, notwith- standing the mighty joints of meat that dangled over the stern ; for a voyage to Albany was an expedition of 216 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. great moment in those days. The commander of the sloop was hurrying about, and giving a world of orders, which were not very strictly attended to ; one man being busy in lighting his pipe, and another in sharpening his snicker-snee. The appearance of the commander suddenly caught Dolph's attention. He was short and swarthy, with crisped black hair ; blind of one eye and lame of one leg — the very commander that he had seen in his dream ! Surprised and aroused, he considered the scene more attentively, and recalled still further traces of his dream : the appearanpe of the vessel, of the river, and of a va- riety of other objects accorded with the imperfect images vaguely rising to recollection. As he stood musing on these circumstances, the captain suddenly called out to him in Dutch, " Step on board, young man, or you'll be left behind ! " He was startled by the summons ; he saw that the sloop was cast loose, and was actually moving from the pier ; it seemed as if he was actuated by some irresistible impulse; he sprang upon the deck, and the next moment the sloop was hurried off by the wind and tide. Dolph's thoughts and feelings were in tumult and confusion. He had been strongly worked upon by the events which had recently befallen him, and could not but think there was some connection between his present situation and his last night's dream. He felt as if under supernatural influ- ence ; and tried to assure himself with an old and favorite maxim of his, that " one way or other all would turn out for the best." For a moment, the indignation DO LP II HEYLIGER. 217 of the doctor at his departure, without leave, passed across his mind, but that was matter of little moment; then he thought of the distress of his mother at his strange disappearance, and the idea gave him a sudden pang ; he would have entreated to be put on shore, but he knew with such wind and tide the entreaty would have been in Vain. Then the inspiring love of novelty and adventure came rushing in full tide through his bosom ; he felt himself launched strangely and suddenly on the world, and under full way to explore the regions of wonder that lay up this mighty river, and beyond those blue mountains which had bounded his horizon since childhood. While he was lost in this whirl of thought, the sails strained to the breeze ; the shores seemed to hurry away behind him ; and before he perfectly re- covered his self-possession, the sloop was ploughing her way past Spiking-devil and Yonkers, and the tallest chimney of the Manhattoes had faded from his sight. I have said that a voyage up the Hudson in those days was an undertaking of some moment ; indeed, it was as much thought of as a voyage to Europe is at present. The sloops were often many days on the way ; the cautious navigators taking in sail when it blew fresh, and coming to anchor at night ; and stopping to send the boat ashore for milk for tea, without which it was im- possible for the worthy old lady passengers to subsist. And there were the much-talked-of perils of the Tap- paan Zee, and the highlands. In short, a prudent Dutch burgher would talk of such a voyage for months, and even years, beforehand, and never undertook it without 218 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. putting his affairs in order, making his will, and having prayers said for him in the Low Dutch churches. In the course of such a voyage, therefore, Dolph was satisfied he would have time enough to reflect, and to make up his mind as to what he should do when he arrived at Albany. The captain, with his blind eye, and lame leg, would, it is true, bring his strange dream to mind, and perplex him sadly for a few moments ; but of late his life had been made up so much of dreams and realities, his nights and days had been so jumbled to- gether, that he seemed to be moving continually in a de- lusion. There is always, however, a kind of vagabond consolation in a man's having nothing in this world to lose ; with this Dolph comforted his heart, and deter- mined to make the most of the present enjoyment. In the second day of the voyage they came to the highlands. It was the latter part of a calm, sultry day, that they floated gently with the tide between these stern mountains. There was that perfect quiet which prevails over nature in the languor of summer heat ; the turning of a plank, or the accidental falling of an oar on deck, was echoed from the mountain-side and reverberated along the shores ; and if by chance the captain gave a shout of command, there were airy tongues which mocked it from every cliff. Dolph gazed about him in mute delight and wonder at these scenes of nature's magnificence. To the left the Dunderberg reared its woody precipices, height over height, forest over forest, away into the deep summer sky. To the right strutted forth the bold promontory of DOLPH HEYLIGER. 219 Antony's Nose, with a solitary eagle wheeling about it ; while beyond, mountain succeeded to mountain, until they seemed to lock their arms together, and confine this mighty river in their embraces. There was a feeling of quiet luxury in gazing at the broad, green bosoms here and there scooped out among the precipices ; or at wood- lands high in air, nodding over the edge of some beetling bluff, and their foliage all transparent in the yellow sunshine. In the midst of his admiration, Dolph remarked a pile of bright, snowy clouds, peering above the western heights. It was succeeded by another, and another, each seemingly pushing onwards its predecessor, and towering, with dazzling brilliancy, in the deep-blue atmosphere ; and now muttering peals of thunder were faintly heard rolling behind the mountains. The river, hitherto still and glassy, reflecting pictures of the sky and land, now showed a dark ripple at a distance, as the breeze came creeping up it. The fish-hawks wheeled and screamed, and sought their nests on the high dry trees ; the crows flew clamorously to the crevices of the rocks, and all nature seemed conscious of the approaching thunder- gust. The clouds now rolled in volumes over the mountain- tops ; their summits still bright and snowy, but the lower parts of an inky blackness. The rain began to patter down in broad and scattered drops ; the wind freshened, and curled up the waves ; at length it seemed as if the bellying clouds were torn open by the mountain-tops, and complete torrents of rain came rattling down. The 220 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. lightning leaped from cloud to cloud, and streamed quivering against the rocks, splitting and rending the stoutest forest-trees. The thunder burst in tremendous explosions ; the peals were echoed from mountain to mountain ; they crashed upon Dunderberg, and rolled up the long defile of the highlands, each headland making a new echo, until old Bull Hill seemed to bellow back the storm. For a time the scudding rack and mist, and the sheeted rain, almost hid the landscape from the sight. There was a fearful gloom, illumined still more fearfully by the streams of lightning which glittered among the rain-drops. Never had Dolph beheld such an absolute warring of the elements ; it seemed as if the storm was tearing and rending its way through this mountain defile, and had brought all the artillery of heaven into action. The vessel was hurried on by the increasing wind, until she came to where the river makes a sudden bend, the only one in the whole course of its majestic career. 1 Just as they turned the point, a violent flaw of wind came sweeping down a mountain gully, bending the forest before it, and, in a moment, lashing up the river into white froth and foam. The captain saw the danger, and cried out to lower the sail. Before the order could be obeyed, the flaw struck the sloop, and threw her on her beam ends. Everything now was fright and confu- sion : the flapping of the sails, the whistling and rushing of the wind, the bawling of the captain and crew, the shrieking of the passengers, all mingled with the rolling 1 This must have been the bend at West Point. DOLPH HEYLIGER. 221 and bellowing of the thnnder. In the midst of the nproar the sloop righted ; at the same time the mainsail shifted, the boom came sweeping the quarter-deck, and Dolph, who was gazing unguardedly at the clouds, found himself, in a moment, floundering in the river. For once in his life one of his idle accomplishments was of use to him. The many truant hours he had devoted to sporting in the Hudson had made him an expert swimmer ; yet with all his strength and skill he found great difficulty in reaching the shore. His disap- pearance from the deck had not been noticed by the crew, who were all occupied by their own danger. The sloop was driven along with inconceivable rapidity. She had hard work to weather a long promontory on the eastern shore, round which the river turned, and which com- pletely shut her from Dolph's view. It was on a point of the western shore that he landed, and, scrambling up the rocks, threw himself, faint and exhausted, at the foot of a tree. By degrees the thunder gust passed over. The clouds rolled away to the east, where they lay piled in feathery masses, tinted with the last rosy rays of the sun. The distant play of the light- ning might be seen about the dark bases, and now and then might be heard the faint muttering of the thunder. Dolph rose, and sought about to see if any path led from the shore, but all was savage and trackless. The rocks were piled upon each other ; great trunks of trees lay shattered about, as they had been blown down by the strong winds which draw through these mountains, or had fallen through age. The rocks, too, were overhung 222 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. with wild vines and briers, which completely matted themselves together, and opposed a barrier to all ingress ; every movement that he made shook down a shower from the dripping foliage. He attempted to scale one of these almost perpendicular heights ; but, though strong and agile, he found it a Herculean undertaking. Often he was supported merely by crumbling projections of the rock, and sometimes he clung to roots and branches of trees, and hung almost suspended in the air. The wood-pigeon came cleaving his whistling flight by him, and the eagle screamed from the brow of the im- pending cliff. As he was thus clambering, he was on the point of seizing hold of a shrub to aid his ascent, when something rustled among the leaves, and he saw a snake quivering along like lightning, almost from under his hand. It coiled itself up immediately, in an attitude of defiance, with flattened head, distended jaws, and quickly vibrating tongue, that played like a little flame about its mouth. Dolph's heart turned faint within him, and he had wellnigh let go his hold and tumbled down the precipice. The serpent stood on the defensive but for an instant; and finding there was no attack, glided away into a cleft of the rock. Dolph's eye fol- lowed it with fearful intensity, and saw a nest of adders, knotted, and writhing, and hissing in the chasm. He hastened with all speed from so frightful a neighbor- hood. His imagination, full of this new horror, saw an adder in every curling vine, and heard the tail of a rattlesnake in every dry leaf that rustled. At length he succeeded in scrambling to the summit DOLPH HEYLIGER. 223 of a precipice ; but it was covered by a dense forest. Wherever lie could gain a lookout between the trees, he beheld heights and cliffs, one rising beyond another, until huge mountains overtopped the whole. There were no signs of cultivation ; no smoke curling among the trees to indicate a human residence. Everything was wild and solitary. As he was standing on the edge of a precipice overlooking a deep ravine fringed with trees, his feet detached a great fragment of rock ; it fell, crashing its way through the treetops, down into the chasm. A loud whoop, or rather yell, issued from the bottom of the glen ; the moment after there was the report of a gun ; and a ball came whistling over his head, cutting the twigs and leaves, and burying itself deep in the bark of a chestnut-tree. Dolph did not wait for a second shot, but made a precipitate retreat; fearing every moment to hear the enemy in pursuit. He succeeded, however, in returning unmolested to the shore, and determined to penetrate no farther into a country so beset with savage perils. He sat himself down, dripping, disconsolately, on a stone. What was to be done ? where was he to shelter himself? The hour of repose was approaching: the birds were seeking their nests, the bat began to flit about in the twilight, and the night-hawk, soaring high in the heaven, seemed to be calling out the stars. Night gradually closed in, and wrapped everything in gloom ; and though it was the latter part of summer, the breeze stealing along the river, and among these dripping forests, was chilling and penetrating, especially to a half-drowned man. 224 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. As he sat drooping and despondent in this comfortless condition, he perceived a light gleaming through the trees near the shore, where the winding of the river made a deep bay. It cheered him with the hope of a human habitation, where he might get something to appease the clamorous cravings' of his stomach, and what was equally necessary in his shipwrecked condition, a comfortable shelter for the night. With extreme difficulty he made his way toward the light, along ledges of rocks, down which he was in danger of sliding into the river, and over great trunks of fallen trees, some of which had been blown down in the late storm, and lay so thickly together that he had to struggle through their branches. At length he came to the brow of a rock over-hanging a small dell, whence the light proceeded. It was from a fire at the foot of a great tree in the midst of a grassy interval or plat among the rocks. The fire cast up a red glare among the gray crags, and impending trees ; leav- ing chasms of deep gloom, that resembled entrances to caverns. A small brook rippled close by, betrayed by the quivering reflection of the flame. There were two figures moving about the fire, and others squatted before it. As they were between him and the light, they were in complete shadow ; but one of them happening to move round to the opposite side, Dolph was startled at per- ceiving, by the glare falling on painted features, and glittering on silver ornaments that he was an Indian. He now looked more narrowly, and saw guns leaning against a tree, and a dead body lying on the ground. Here was the very foe that had fired at him from the DOLPH HEYLIGER. 225 glen. He endeavored to retreat quietly, not caring to intrust himself to these half-human beings in so savage and lonely a place. It was too late : the Indian, with that eagle quickness of eye so remarkable in his race, perceived something stirring among the bushes on the rock : he seized one of the guns that leaned against the tree ; one moment more, and Dolph might have had his passion for adventure cured by a bullet. He halloed loudly, with the Indian salutation of friendship; the whole party sprang upon their feet ; the salutation was returned, and the straggler was invited to join them at the fire. On approaching, he found, to his consolation, the party was composed of white men, as well as Indians. One, evidently the principal personage, or commander, was seated on a trunk of a tree before the fire. He was a large, stout man, somewhat advanced in life, but hale and hearty. His face was bronzed almost to the color of an Indian's; he had strong but rather jovial features, an aquiline nose, and a mouth shaped like a mastiff's. His face was half thrown in shade by a broad hat with a buck's tail in it. His gray hair hung short in his neck. He wore a hunting-frock, with Indian leggings, and moc- casons, and a tomahawk in the broad wampum-belt round his waist. As Dolph caught a distinct view of his per- son and features, something reminded him of the old man of the haunted house. The man before him, how- ever, was different in dress and age ; he was more cheery too in aspect, and it was hard to find where the vague resemblance lay ; but a resemblance there certaintly was. 226 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. Dolph felt some degree of awe in approaching him ; but was assured by a frank, hearty welcome. He was still further encouraged by perceiving that the dead body, which had caused him some alarm, was that of a deer ; and his satisfaction was complete in discerning, by savory steams from a kettle, suspended by a hooked stick over the fire, that there was a part cooking for .the evening's repast. He had, in fact, fallen in with a rambling hunting- party, such as often took place in those days among the settlers along the river. The hunter is always hospitable ; and nothing makes men more social and unceremonious than meeting in the wilderness. The commander of the party poured out a dram of cheering liquor, which he gave him with a merry leer, to warm his heart ; and or- dered one of his followers to fetch some garments from a pinnace, moored in a cove close by, while those in which our hero was dripping might be dried before the fire. Dolph found, as he had suspected, that the shot from the glen, which had come so near giving him his quietus when on the precipice, was from the party before him. He had nearly crushed one of them by the fragments of rock which he had detached; and the jovial old hunter, in the broad hat and buck-tail, had fired at the place where he saw the bushes move, supposing it to be some wild animal. He laughed heartily at the blunder, it being what is considered an exceeding good joke among hunters ; " but faith, my lad," said he, " if I had but caught a glimpse of you to take sight at, you would have DOLPH HEYLIGER. 227 followed the rock. Antony Vander Heyden is seldom known to miss his aim." These last words were at once a elite to Dolph's curiosity ; and a few questions let him completely into the character of the man before him, and of his band of woodland rangers. The commander in the broad hat and hunting-frock was no less a personage than the Heer Antony Vander Heyden, of Albany, of whom Dolph had many a time heard. He was, in fact, the hero of many a story, his singular humors and whim- sical habits being matters of wonder to his quiet Dutch neighbors. As he was a man of property, having had a father before him from whom he inherited large tracts of wild land, and whole barrels full of wampum, he could indulge his humors without control. Instead of staying quietly at home, eating and drinking at regular meal-times, amusing himself by smoking his pipe on the bench before the door, and then turning into a comfort- able bed at night, he delighted in all kinds of rough, wild expeditions : never so happy as when on a hunting-party in the wilderness, sleeping under trees or bark sheds, or cruising down the river, or on some woodland lake, fishing and fowling, and living the Lord knows how. He was a great friend to Indians, and to an Indian mode of life ; which he considered true natural liberty and manly enjoyment. When at home he had always several Indian hangers-on who loitered about his house, sleeping like hounds in the sunshine ; or preparing hunting and fishing tackle for some new expedition ; or shooting at marks with bows and arrows. Over these vagrant beings Heer Antony had as perfect 228 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. command as a huntsman over his pack ; though they were great nuisances to the regular people of his neigh- borhood. As- he was a rich man, no one ventured to thwart his humors ; indeed, his hearty, joyous manner made him universally popular. He would troll a Dutch song as he tramped along the street ; hail every one a mile off, and when he entered a house, would slap the good man familiarly on the back, shake him by the hand till he roared, and kiss his wife and daughter before his face, — in short, there was no pride nor ill-humor about Heer Antony. Besides his Indian hangers-on, he had three or four humble friends among the white men, who looked up to him as a patron, and had the run of his kitchen, and the favor of being taken with him occasionally on his expe- ditions. With a medley of such retainers he was at present on a cruise along the shores of the Hudson, in a pinnace kept for his own recreation. There were two white men with him, dressed partly in the Indian style, with moccasons and hunting-shirts ; the rest of his crew consisted of four favorite Indians. They had been prowling about the river, without any definite object, until they found themselves in the highlands ; where they had passed two or three days, hunting the deer which still lingered among these mountains. " It is lucky for you, young man," said Antony Vander Hey den, "that you happened to be knocked overboard to-day, as to-morrow morning we start early on our re- turn homewards ; and you might then have looked in vain for a meal among the mountains — but come, lads, DOLPH HEYLIGER. 229 stir about ! stir about ! Let's see what prog we have for supper ; the kettle has boiled long enough ; my stomach cries cupboard ; and I'll warrant our guest is in no mood to dally with his trencher." There was a bustle now in the little encampment ; one took off the kettle and turned a part of the contents into a huge wooden bowl. Another prepared a flat rock for a table ; while a third brought various utensils from the pinnace ; Heer Antony himself brought a flask or two of precious liquor from his own private locker ; knowing his boon companions too well to trust any of them with the key. A rude but hearty repast was soon spread ; consisting of venison smoking from the kettle, with cold bacon, boiled Indian corn, and mighty loaves of good brown household bread. Never had Dolph made a more deli- cious repast ; and when he had washed it down with two or three draughts from the Heer Antony's flask, and felt the jolly liquor sending its warmth through his veins, and glowing round his very heart, he would not have changed his situation, no, not with the governor of the province. The Heer Antony, too, grew chirping and joyous ; told half a dozen fat stories, at which his white followers laughed immoderately, though the Indians, as usual, maintained an invincible gravity. " This is your true life, my boy ! " said he, slapping Dolph on the shoulder ; " a man is never a man till he can defy wind and weather, range woods and wilds, sleep under a tree, and live on bass-wood leaves ! " And then would he sing a stave or two of a Dutch 230 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. drinking-song, swaying a short squab Dutch bottle in his hand, while, his myrmidons would join in the chorus, until the woods echoed again ; as the good old song has it, " They all with a shout made the elements ring So soon as the office was o'er, To feasting they went, with true merriment, And tippled strong liquor gillore." In the midst of his joviality, however, Heer Antony did not lose sight of discretion. Though he pushed the bottle without reserve to Dolph, he always took care to help his followers himself, knowing the beings he had to deal with ; and was particular in granting but a moder- ate allowance to the Indians. The repast being ended, the Indians having drunk their liquor, and smoked their pipes, now wrapped themselves in their blankets, stretched themselves on the ground, with their feet to the fire, and soon fell asleep, like so many tired hounds. The rest of the party remained chatting before the fire, which the gloom of the forest, and the dampness of the air from the late storm, rendered extremely grateful and comforting. The conversation gradually moderated from the hilarity of supper-time, and turned upon hunt- ing-adventures, and exploits and perils in the wilder- ness, many of which were so strange and improbable, that I will not venture to repeat them, lest the veracity of Antony Vander Heyden and his comrades should be brought into question. There were many legendary tales told, also, about the river, and the settlements on DOLPH HEYLIGER. # 231 its borders ; in which valuable kind of lore the Heer Antony seemed deeply versed. As the sturdy bush- beater sat in a twisted root of a tree, that served him for an arm-chair, dealing forth these wild stories, with the fire gleaming on his strongly marked visage, Dolph was again repeatedly perplexed by something that re- minded him of the phantom of the haunted house ; some vague resemblance not to be fixed upon any precise feature or lineament, but pervading the general air of his countenance and figure. The circumstance of Dolph's falling overboard led to the relation of divers disasters and singular mishaps that had befallen voyagers on this great river, particu- larly in the earlier periods of colonial history ; most of which the Heer deliberately attributed to supernatural causes. Dolph stared at this suggestion; but the old gentleman assured him it was very currently believed by the settlers along the river, that these highlands were under the dominion of supernatural and mischievous beings, which seemed to have taken some pique against the Dutch colonists in the early time of the settlement. In consequence of this, they have ever taken particular delight in venting their spleen, and indulging their hu- mors, upon the Dutch skippers ; bothering them with flaws, head-winds, counter-currents, and all kinds of impediments ; insomuch, that a Dutch navigator was always obliged to be exceedingly wary and deliberate in his proceedings ; to come to anchor at dusk ; to drop his peak, or take in sail, whenever he saw a swag-bellied cloud rolling over the mountains ; in short, to take so 232 'SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. many precautions, that he was often apt to be an incred- ible time in toiling up the river. Some, he said, believed these mischievous powers of the air to be the evil spirits conjured up by the Indian wizards, in the early times of the province, to revenge themselves on the strangers who had dispossessed them of their country. They even attributed to their incanta- tions the misadventure which befell the renowned Hen- drick Hudson, when he sailed so gallantly up this river in quest of a northwest passage, and, as he thought, ran his ship aground ; which they affirm was nothing more nor less than a spell of these same wizards, to prevent his getting to China in this direction. The greater part, however, Heer Antony observed, accounted for all the extraordinary circumstances attend- ing this river, and the perplexities of the skippers who navigated it, by the old legend of the Storm-ship which haunted Point-no-point. On finding Dolph to be utterly ignorant of this tradition, the Heer stared at him for a moment with surprise, and wondered where he had passed his life, to be uninformed on so important a point of history. To pass away the remainder of the evening, therefore, he undertook the tale, as far as his memory would serve, in the very words in which it had been written out by Mynheer Selyne, an early poet of the New Kederlandts. Giving, then, a stir to the fire, that sent up its sparks among the trees like a little volcano, he adjusted himself comfortably in his root of a tree, and throwing back his head, and closing his eyes for a few moments, to summon up his recollection, he related the following legend. THE STORM-SHIP. 233 THE STOEM-SHIP. In the golden age of the province of the New Nether- lands, when under the sway of Wouter Van Twiller, otherwise called the Doubter, the people of the Manhat- toes were alarmed one sultry afternoon, just about the time of the summer solstice, by a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning. The rain fell in such torrents as absolutely to spatter up and smoke along the ground. It seemed as if the thunder rattled and rolled over the very roofs of the houses ; the lightning was seen to play about the church of St. Nicholas, and to strive three times, in vain, to strike its weather-cock. Garret Van Home's new chimney was split almost from top to bottom, and Doffue Mildeberger was struck speechless from his bald-faced mare, just as he was riding into town. In a word, it was one of those unparalleled storms which only happen once within the memory of that venerable personage known in all towns by the appellation of " the oldest inhabitant." Great was the terror of the good old women of the Manhattoes. They gathered their children together, and took refuge in the cellars ; after having hung a shoe on the iron point of every bedpost, lest it should attract the lightning. At length the storm abated; the thunder sank into a growl, and the setting sun, breaking from 234 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. under the fringed borders of the clouds, made the broad bosom of the bay to gleam like a sea of molten gold. The word was given from the fort that a ship was standing up the bay. It passed from mouth to mouth, and street to street, and soon put the little capital in a bustle. The arrival of a ship, in those early times of the settlement, was an event of vast importance to the inhabi- tants. It brought them news from the old world, from the land of their birth, from which they were so com- pletely severed : to the yearly ship, too, they looked for their supply of luxuries, of finery, of comforts, and almost of necessaries. The good vrouw could not have her new cap nor new gown until the arrival of the ship ; the artist waited for it for his tools, the burgomaster for his pipe and his supply of Hollands, the schoolboy for his top and marbles, and the lordly landholder for the bricks with which he was to build his new mansion. Thus every one, rich and poor, great and small, looked out for the arrival of the ship. It was the great yearly event of the town of New Amsterdam ; and from one end of the year to the other, the ship — the ship — the ship — was the continual topic of conversation. The news from the fort, therefore, brought all the populace down to the Battery, to behold the wished-for sight. It was not exactly the time when she had been expected to arrive, and the circumstance was a matter of some speculation. Many were the groups collected about the Battery. Here and there might be seen a burgo- master, of slow and pompous gravity, giving his opinion with great confidence to a crowd of old women and idle THE STORM-SHIP. 235 boys. At another place was a knot of old weather- beaten fellows, who had been seamen or fishermen in their times and were great authorities on such occasions ; these gave different opinions, and caused great disputes among their several adherents : but the man most looked up to, and followed and watched by the crowd, was Hans Van Pelt, an old Dutch sea-captain retired from service, the nautical oracle of the place. He reconnoitred the ship through an ancient telescope, covered with tarry canvas, hummed a Dutch tune to himself, and said nothing. A hum, however, from Hans Van Pelt, had always more weight with the public than a speech from another man. In the mean time the ship became more distinct to the naked eye : she was a stout, round, Dutch-built vessel, with high bow and poop, and bearing Dutch colors. The evening sun gilded her bellying canvas, as she came riding over the long waving billows. The sentinel who had given notice of her approach, declared, that he first got sight of her when she was in the centre of the bay, and that she broke suddenly on his sight, just as if she had come out of the bosom of the black thunder-cloud. The by-standers looked at Hans Van Pelt, to see what he would say to this report : Hans Van Pelt screwed his mouth closer together, and said nothing; upon which some shook their heads, and others shrugged their shoulders. The ship was now repeatedly hailed, but made no reply, and passing by the fort, stood on up the Hudson. A gun was brought to bear on her, and, with some difn- 236 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. culty, loaded and fired by Hans Van Pelt, the garrison not being expert in artillery. The shot seemed abso- lutely to pass through the ship, and to skip along the water on the other side, but no notice was taken of it ! What was strange, she had all her sails set, and sailed right against wind and tide, which were both down the river. Upon this Hans Van Pelt, who was likewise harbor-master, ordered his boat, and set off to board her ; but after rowing two or three hours, he returned without success. Sometimes he would get within one or two hundred yards of her, and then, in a twinkling, she would be half a mile off. Some said it was because his oarsmen, who were rather pursy and short-winded, stopped every now and then to take breath, and spit on their hands ; but this it is probable was a mere scandal. He got near enough, however, to see the crew ; who were all dressed in the Dutch style, the officers in doublets and high hats and feathers ; not a word was spoken by any one on board ; they stood as motionless as so many statues, and the ship seemed as if left to her own gov- ernment. Thus she kept on, away up the river, lessen- ing and lessening in the evening sunshine, until she faded from sight, like a little white cloud melting away in the summer sky. The appearance of this ship threw the governor into one of the deepest doubts that ever beset him in the whole course of his administration. Fears were enter- tained for the security of the infant settlements on the river, lest this might be an enemy's ship in disguise, sent to take possession. The governor called together THE STORM-SHIP. 237 his council repeatedly to assist him with their conjec- tures. He sat in his chair of state, built of timber from the sacred forest of the Hague, smoking his long jasmin pipe, and listening to all that his counsellors had to say on a subject about which they knew nothing ; but in spite of all the conjecturing of the sagest and oldest heads, the governor still continued to doubt. Messengers were despatched to different places on the river ; but they returned without any tidings — the ship had made no port. Day after day, and week after week, elapsed, but she never returned down the Hudson. As, however, the council seemed solicitous for intelligence, they had it in abundance. The captains of the sloops seldom arrived without bringing some report of having seen the strange ship at different parts of the river ; sometimes near the Pallisadoes, sometimes off Croton Point, and sometimes in the highlands ; but she never was reported as having been seen above the highlands. The crews of the sloops, it is true, generally differed among themselves in their accounts of these apparitions ; but that may have arisen from the uncertain situations in which they saw her. Sometimes it was by the flashes of the thunder-storm lighting up a pitchy night, and giving glimpses of her careering across Tappaan Zee, or the wide waste of Haver straw Bay. At one moment she would appear close upon them, as if likely to run them down, and would throw them into great bustle and alarm; but the next flash would show her far off, always sailing against the wind. Sometimes, in quiet moonlight nights, she would be seen under some high bluff of the 238 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. highlands, all in deep shadow, excepting her topsails glittering in the moonbeams ; by the time, however, that the voyagers reached the place, no ship was to be seen ; and when they had passed on for some distance, and looked back, behold! there she was again, with her top- sails in the moonshine! Her appearance was always just after, or just before, or just in the midst of unruly weather; and she was known among the skippers and voyagers of the Hudson by the name of "the storm- ship." These reports perplexed the governor and his council more than ever ; and it would be endless to repeat the conjectures and opinions uttered on the subject. Some quoted cases in point, of ships seen off the coast of New England, navigated by witches and goblins. Old Hans Van Pelt, who had been more than once to the Dutch colony at the Cape of Good Hope, insisted that this must be the flying Dutchman, which had so long haunted Table Bay; but being unable to make port, had now sought another harbor. Others suggested, that, if it really was a supernatural apparition, as there was every natural reason to believe, it might be Hendrick Hudson, and his crew of the Half moon ; who, it was well known, had once run aground in the upper part of the river in seeking a northwest passage to China. This opinion had very little weight with the governor, but it passed current out of doors; for indeed it had already been reported that Hendrick Hudson and his crew haunted the Kaat- skill Mountain; and it appeared very reasonable to sup- pose, that his ship might infest the river where the THE STORM-SHIP, 239 enterprise was baffled, or that it might bear the shadowy crew to their periodical revels in the mountain. Other events occurred to occupy the thoughts and doubts of the sage Wouter and his council, and the storm-ship ceased to be a subject of deliberation at the board. It continued, however, a matter of popular belief and marvellous anecdote through the whole time of the Dutch government, and particularly just before the cap- ture of New Amsterdam, and the subjugation of the province by the English squadron. About that time the storm-ship was repeatedly seen in the Tappaan Zee, and about Weehawk, and even down as far as Hoboken; and her appearance was supposed to be ominous of the approaching squall in public affairs, and the downfall of Dutch domination. Since that time we have no authentic accounts of her ; though it. is said she still haunts the highlands, and cruises about Point-no-point. People who live along the river insist that they sometimes see her in summer moon- light ; and that in a deep still midnight they have heard the chant of her crew, as if heaving the lead ; but sights and sounds are so deceptive along the mountainous shores, and about the wide bays and long reaches of this great river, that I confess I have very strong doubts upon the subject. It is certain, nevertheless, that strange things have been seen in these highlands in storms, which are con- sidered as connected with the old story of the ship. The captains of the river craft talk of a little bulbous- bottomed Dutch goblin, in trunk-hose and sugar-loafed 240 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. hat, with a speaking-trumpet in his hand, which they say keeps about the Dunderberg. 1 They declare that they have heard him, in stormy weather, in the midst of the turmoil, giving orders in Low Dutch for the piping up of a fresh gust of wind, or the rattling off of another thunder-clap. That sometimes he has been seen sur- rounded by a crew of little imps in broad breeches and short doublets ; tumbling head-over-heels in the rack and mist, and playing a thousand gambols in the air; or buzzing like a swarm of flies about Antony's Nose ; and that, at such times, the hurry-scurry of the storm was always greatest. One time a sloop, in passing by the Dunderberg, was overtaken by a thunder-gust, that came scouring round the mountain, and seemed to burst just over the vessel. Though tight and well ballasted, she labored dreadfully, and the water came over the gunwale. All the crew were amazed when it was discovered that there was a little white sugar-loaf hat on the mast-head, known at once to be the hat of the Heer of the Dunder- berg. Nobody, however, dared to climb to the mast-head, and get rid of this terrible hat. The sloop continued laboring and rocking, as if she would have rolled her mast overboard, and seemed in continual danger either of upsetting or of running on shore. In this way she drove quite through the highlands, until she had passed Pollopol's Island, where, it is said, the jurisdiction of the Dunderberg potentate ceases. No sooner had she passed this bourn, than the little hat spun up into the air like a top, whirled up all the clouds into a vortex, 1 I.e., The " Thunder-Mountain," so called from its echoes. THE STORM-SHIP. 241 and hurried them back to the summit of the Dunder- berg ; while the sloop righted herself, and sailed on as quietly as if in a mill-pond. Nothing saved her from utter wreck but the fortunate circumstance of having a horse- shoe nailed against the mast, — a wise precaution against evil spirits, since adopted by all the Dutch captains that navigate this haunted river. There is another story told of this foul-weather urchin, by Skipper Daniel Ouselsticker, of Eishkill, who was never known to tell a lie. He declared, that, in a severe squall, he saw him seated astride of his bowsprit, rid- ing the sloop ashore, full butt against Antony's Nose, and that he was exorcised by Dominie Van Gieson, of Esopus, who happened to be on board, and who sang the hymn of St. Nicholas ; whereupon the goblin threw him- self up in the air like a ball, and went off in a whirl- wind, carrying away with him the nightcap of the Dominie's wife, which was discovered the next Sunday morning hanging on the weather-cock of Esopus church- steeple, at least forty miles off ! Several events of this kind having taken place, the regular skippers of the river, for a long time, did not venture to pass the Dun- derberg without lowering their peaks, out of homage to the Heer of the mountain ; and it was observed that all such as paid this tribute of respect were suffered to pass unmolested. 1 1 Among the superstitions which prevailed in the colonies, during the early times of the settlements, there seems to have been a singu- lar one about phantom ships. The superstitious fancies of men are always apt to turn upon those objects which concern their daily occu- 242 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. " Such," said Antony Vander Heyden, " are a few of the stories written down by Selyne the poet, concerning the storm-ship, — which he affirms to . have brought a crew of mischievous imps into the province, from some old ghost-ridden country of Europe. I could give a host more, if necessary; for all the accidents that so often befall the river craft in the highlands are said to be tricks played off by these imps of the Dunderberg ; but I see that you are nodding, so let us turn in for the night." The moon had just raised her silver horns above the round back of Old Bull Hill, and lit up the gray rocks and shagged forests, and glittered on the waving bosom of the river. The night-dew was falling, and the late gloomy mountains began to soften and put on a gray pations. The solitary ship, which, from year to year, came like a raven in the wilderness, bringing to the inhabitants of a settlement the comforts of life from the world from which they were cut off, was apt to be present to their dreams, whether sleeping or waking. The accidental sight from shore of a sail gliding along the horizon in those as yet lonely seas, was apt to be a matter of much talk and speculation. There is mention made in one of the early New Eng- land writers of a ship navigated by witches, with a great horse that stood by the mainmast. I have met with another story, somewhere, of a ship that drove on shore, in fair, sunny, tranquil weather, with sails all set, and a table spread in the cabin, as if to regale a number of guests, yet not a living being on board. These phantom ships always sailed in the eye of the wind ; or ploughed their way with great velocity, making the smooth sea foam before their bows, when not a breath of air was stirring. Moore has finely wrought up one of these legends of the sea into a little tale, which, within a small compass, contains the very essence of this species of supernatural fiction. I allude to his Spectre Ship, bound to Deadman's Isle. DOLPH HEYLIGER. 243 aerial tint in the dewy light. The hunters stirred the fire, and threw on fresh fuel to qualify the damp of the night-air. They then prepared a bed of branches and dry leaves under a ledge of rocks for Dolph; while Antony Vander Heyden, wrapping himself in a huge coat of skins, stretched himself before the fire. It was some time, however, before Dolph could close his eyes. He lay contemplating the strange scene before him : the wild woods and rocks around; the fire throwing fitful gleams on the faces of the sleeping savages ; and the Heer Antony, too, who so singularly, yet vaguely, re- minded him of the nightly visitant to the haunted house. Now and then he heard the cry of some animal from the forest ; or the hooting of the owl ; or the notes of the whippoorwill, which seemed to abound among these soli- tudes ; or the splash of a sturgeon, leaping out of the river and falling back full-length on its placid surface. He contrasted all this with his accustomed nest in the garret-room of the doctor's mansion ; — where the only sounds at night were the church-clock telling the hour; the drowsy voice of the watchman, drawling out all was well ; the deep snoring of the doctor's clubbed nose from below-stairs ; or the cautious labors of some carpenter rat gnawing in the wainscot. His thoughts then wan- dered to his poor old mother : what would she think of his mysterious disappearance — what anxiety and distress would she not suffer ? This thought would continually intrude itself to mar his present enjoyment. It brought with it a feeling of pain and compunction, and he fell asleep with the tears yet standing in his eyes. 244 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. Were this a mere tale of fancy, here would be a fine opportunity for weaving in strange adventures among these wild mountains, and roving hunters ; and, after involving my hero in a variety of perils and difficulties, rescuing him from them all by some miraculous contri- vance ; but as this is absolutely a true story, I must con- tent myself with simple facts, and keep to probabilities. At an early hour of the next day, therefore, after a hearty morning's meal, the encampment broke up, and our adventurers embarked in the pinnace of Antony Vander Heyden. There being no wind for the sails, the Indians rowed her gently along, keeping time to a kind of chant of one of the white men. The day was serene and beautiful ; the river without a wave ; and as the vessel cleft the glassy water, it left a long, undulating track behind. The crows, who had scented the hunters' banquet, were already gathering and hovering in the air, just where a column of thin, blue smoke, rising from among the trees showed the place of their last night's quarters. As they coasted along the bases of the mountains, the Heer Antony pointed out to Dolph a bald eagle, the sovereign of these regions, who sat perched on a dry tree that projected over the river, and, with eye turned upwards, seemed to be drinking in the splendor of the morning sun. Their approach disturbed the mon- arch's meditations. He first spread one wing, and then the other ; balanced himself for a moment ; and then, quitting his perch with dignified composure, wheeled slowly over their heads. Dolph snatched up a gun, and sent a whistling ball after him, that cut some of the DOLPH HEYLIGER. 245 feathers from his wing; the report of the gun leaped sharply from rock to rock, and awakened a thousand echoes ; but the monarch of the air sailed calmly on, ascending higher and higher, and wheeling widely as he ascended, soaring up the green bosom of the woody mountain, until he disappeared over the brow of a beetling precipice. Dolph felt in a manner rebuked by this proud tranquillity, and almost reproached himself for having so wantonly insulted this majestic bird. Heer Antony told him, laughing, to remember that he was not yet out of the territories of the lord of the Dunderberg ; and an old Indian shook his head, and observed, that there was bad luck in killing an eagle ; the hunter, on the contrary, should always leave him a portion of his spoils. Nothing, however, occurred to molest them on their voyage. They passed pleasantly through magnificent and lonely scenes, until they came to where Pollopol's Island lay, like a floating bower at the extremity of the highlands. Here they landed, until the heat of the day should abate, or a breeze spring up that might supersede the labor of the oar. Some prepared the mid-day meal, while others reposed under the shade of the trees, in luxurious summer indolence, looking drowsily forth upon the beauty of the scene. On the one side were the highlands, vast and cragged, feathered to the top with forests, and throwing their shadows on the glassy water that dimpled at their feet. On the other side was a wide expanse of the river, like a broad lake, with long sunny reaches, and green headlands; and the distant line of 246 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. Shawangunk Mountains waving along a clear horizon, or checkered by a fleecy cloud. But I forbear to dwell on the particulars of their cruise along the river; this vagrant, amphibious life, careering across silver sheets of water; coasting wild woodland shores ; banqueting on shady promontories, with the spreading tree overhead, the river curling its light foam to one's feet, and distant mountain, and rock, and tree, and snowy cloud, and deep-blue sky, all min- gling in summer beauty before one; all this, though never cloying in the enjoyment, would be but tedious in narration. When encamped by the water-side, some of the party would go into the woods and hunt ; others would fish : sometimes they would amuse themselves by shooting at a mark, by leaping, by running, by wrestling ; and Dolph gained great favor in the eyes of Antony Vander Heyden, by his skill and adroitness in all these exercises which the Heer considered as the highest of manly accomplish- ments. Thus did they coast jollily on, choosing only the pleas- ant hours for voyaging ; sometimes in the cool morning dawn, sometimes in the sober evening twilight, and some- times when the moonshine spangled the crisp curling waves that whispered along the sides of their little bark. Never had Dolph felt so completely in his element; never had he met with anything so completely to his taste as this wild, hap-hazard life. He was the very man to second Antony Vander Hey den in his rambling humors, and gained continually on his affections. The DOLPH HEYLIGER. 247 heart of the old bushwhacker yearned toward the young man, who seemed thus growing up in his own likeness ; and as they approached to the end of their voyage, he could not help inquiring a little into his history. Dolph frankly told him his course of life, his severe medical studies, his little proficiency, and his very dubious pros- pects. The Heer was shocked to find that such amazing talents and accomplishments were to be cramped and buried under a doctor's wig. He had a sovereign con- tempt for the healing art, having never had any other physician than the butcher. He bore a mortal grudge to all kinds of study also, ever since he had been flogged about an unintelligible book when he was a boy. But to think that a young fellow like Dolph, of such won- derful abilities, who could shoot, fish, run, jump, ride, and wrestle should be obliged to roll pills, and adminis- ter juleps for a living — 'twas monstrous ! He told Dolph never to despair, but to " throw physic to . the dogs ; " for a young fellow of his prodigious talents could never fail to make his way. " As you seem to have no acquaintance in Albany," said Heer Antony, " you shall go home with me, and remain under my roof until you can look about you ; and in the mean time we can take an occasional bout at shooting and fishing, for it is a pity that such talents should lie idle." Dolph, who was at the mercy of chance, was not hard to be persuaded. Indeed, on turning over matters in his mind, which he did very sagely and deliberately, he could not but think that Antony Vander Hey den was, " somehow or other," connected with the story of the 248 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING, Haunted House ; that the misadventure in the highlands, which had thrown them so strangely together, was, " somehow or other," to work out something good : in short, there is nothing so convenient as this " somehow- or-other" way of accommodating one's self to circum- stances ; it is the main stay of a heedless actor, and tardy reasoner, like Dolph Heyliger ; and he who can, in this loose, easy way, link foregone evil to anticipated good, possesses a secret of happiness almost equal to the philosopher's stone. On their arrival at Albany, the sight of Dolph's com- panion seemed to cause universal satisfaction. Many were the greetings at the river-side, and the salutations in the streets ; the dogs bounded before him ; the boys whooped as he passed ; everybody seemed to know An- tony Vander Heyden. Dolph followed on in silence, admiring the neatness of this worthy burgh ; for in those days Albany was in all its glory, and inhabited almost exclusively by the descendants of the original Dutch settlers, not having as yet been discovered and colonized by the restless people of New England. Everything was quiet and orderly ; everything was con- ducted calmly and leisurely ; no hurry, no bustle, no struggling and scrambling for existence. The grass grew about the unpaved streets, and relieved the eye by its refreshing verdure. Tall sycamores or pendent wil- lows shaded the houses, with caterpillars swinging, in long silken strings, from their branches ; or moths, flut- tering about like coxcombs, in joy at their gay transfor- mation. The houses were built in the old Dutch style, DOLPH HEYLIGER. 249 with the gable-ends towards the street. The thrifty housewife was seated on a bench before her door, in close-crimped cap, bright-flowered gown, and white apron, busily employed in knitting. The husband smoked his pipe on the opposite bench ; and the little pet negro girl, seated on the step at her mistress's feet, was industriously plying her needle. The swallows sported about the eaves, or skimmed along the streets, and brought back some rich booty for their clamorous young ; and the little housekeeping wren flew in and out of a Liliputian house, or an old hat nailed against the wall. The cows were coming home, lowing through the streets, to be milked at their owner's door ; and if, per- chance, there were any loiterers, some negro urchin, with a long goad, was gently urging them homewards. As Dolph's companion passed on, he received a tran- quil nod from the burghers, and a friendly word from their wives ; all calling him familiarly by the name of Antony ; for it was the custom in this stronghold of the patriarchs, where they had all grown up together from childhood, to call each other by the Christian name. The Heer did not pause to have his usual jokes with them, for he was impatient to reach his home. At length they arrived at his mansion. It was of some magnitude, in the Dutch style, with large iron figures on the gables, that gave the date of its erection, and showed that it had been built in the earliest times of the settle- ment. The news of Heer Antony's arrival had preceded him, and the whole household was on the look-out. A crew 250 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. of negroes, large and small, had collected in front of the honse to receive him. The old, white-headed ones, who had grown gray in his service, grinned for joy, and made many awkward bows and grimaces, and the little ones capered about his knees. But the most happy being in the household was a little, plump, blooming lass, his only child, and the darling of his heart. She came bounding out of the house ; but the sight of a strange young man with her father, called up, for a moment, all the bashful- ness of a homebred damsel. Dolph gazed at her with wonder and delight ; never had he seen, as he thought, anything so comely in the shape of a woman. She was dressed in the good old Dutch taste, with long stays, and full, short petticoats, so admirably adapted to show and set off the female form. Her hair, turned up under a small round cap, displayed the fairness of her forehead ; she had fine, blue, laughing eyes, a trim, slender waist, and soft" swell — but, in a word, she was a little Dutch divinity ; and Dolph, who never stopped half-way in a new impulse, fell desperately in love with her. Dolph was now ushered into the house with a hearty welcome. In the interior was a mingled display of Heer Antony's taste and habits, and of the opulence of his predecessors. The chambers were furnished with good old mahogany ; the beauf ets and cupboards glittered with embossed silver and painted china. Over the parlor fireplace was, as usual, the family coat of arms, painted and framed ; above which was a long duck fowling-piece, flanked by an Indian pouch, and a powder-horn. The room was decorated with many Indian articles, such as DOLPH HEYLIGER. 251 pipes of peace, tomahawks, scalping-knives, hunting- pouches, and belts of wampum ; and there were various kinds of fishing-tackle, and two or three fowling-pieces in the corners. The household affairs seemed to be con- ducted, in some measure, after the master's humors ; cor- rected, perhaps, by a little quiet management of the daughter's. There was a great degree of patriarchal simplicity, and good-humored indulgence. The negroes came into the room without being called, merely to look at their master, and hear of his adventures ; they would stand listening at the door until he had finished a story, and then go off on a broad grin, to repeat it in the kitchen. A couple of pet negro children were playing about the floor with the dogs, and sharing with them their bread and butter. All the domestics looked hearty and happy ; and when the table was set for the evening repast, the variety and abundance of good household luxuries bore testimony to the open-handed liberality of the Heer, and the notable housewifery of his daughter. In the evening there dropped in several of the worthies of the place, the Van Renssellaers, and the Gansevoorts, and the Eosebooms, and others of Antony Vander Hey- den's intimates, to hear an account of his expedition; for he was the Sinbad of Albany, and his exploits and adventures were favorite topics of conversation among the inhabitants. While these sat gossiping together about the door of the hall, and telling long twilight sto- ries, Dolph was cosily seated, entertaining the daugh- ter, on a window-bench. He had already got on intimate terms ; for those were not times of false reserve and 252 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. idle ceremony ; and, besides, there is something won- derfully propitious to a lover's suit in the delightful dusk of a long summer evening ; it gives courage to the most timid tongue, and hides the blushes of the bashful. The stars alone twinkled brightly ; and now and then a fire-fly streamed his transient light before the window, or, wandering into the room, flew gleaming about the ceiling. What Dolph whispered in her ear that long summer evening, it is impossible to say ; his words were so low and indistinct, that they never reached the ear of the historian. It is probable, however, that they were to the purpose ; for he had a natural talent at pleasing the sex, and was never long in company with a petticoat with- out paying proper court to it. In the mean time the visit- ors, one by one, departed ; Antony Vander Heyden, who had fairly talked himself silent, sat nodding alone in his chair by the door, when he was suddenly aroused by a hearty salute with which Dolph Heyliger had un- guardedly rounded off one of his periods, and which echoed through the still chamber like the report of a pistol. The Heer started up, rubbed his eyes, called for lights, and observed that it was high time to go to bed ; though, on parting for the night, he squeezed Dolph heartily by the hand, looked kindly in his face, and shook his head knowingly ; for the Heer well remembered what he himself had been at the youngster's age. The chamber in which our hero was lodged was spa- cious, and panelled with oak. It was furnished with clothes-presses, and mighty chests of drawers, well DOLPH HEYLIGER. 253 waxed, and glittering with brass ornaments. These con- tained ample stock of family linen ; for the Dntch house- wives had always a laudable pride in showing off their household treasures to strangers. Dolph's mind, however, was too full to take particular note of the objects around him ; yet he could not help continually comparing the free, open-hearted cheeriness of this establishment with the starveling, sordid, joyless housekeeping at Doctor Knipperhausen's. Still some- thing marred the enjoyment : the idea that he must take leave of his hearty host, and pretty hostess, and cast himself once more adrift upon the world. To linger here would be folly : he should only get deeper in love ; and for a poor varlet, like himself, to aspire to the daugh- ter of the great Heer Vander Heyden — it was madness to think of such a thing ! The very kindness that the girl had shown towards him prompted him, on reflection, to hasten his departure ; it would be a poor return for the frank hospitality of his host to entangle his daugh. ter's heart in an injudicious attachment. In a word, Dolph was like many other young reasoners of exceeding good hearts and giddy heads, — who think after they act, and act differently from what they think, — who make excel- lent determinations overnight, and forget to keep them the next morning. " This is a fine conclusion, truly, of my voyage," said he, as he almost buried himself in a sumptuous feather- bed, and drew the fresh white sheets up to his chin. " Here am I, instead of finding a bag of money to carry home, launched in a strange place, with scarcely a stiver 254 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. in my pocket ; and, what is worse, have jumped ashore up to my very ears in love into the bargain. However," added he, after some pause, stretching himself, and turn- ing himself in bed, " I'm in good quarters for the pres- ent, at least ; so I'll e'en enjoy the present moment, and let the next take care of itself ; I dare say all will work out, ' somehow or other,' for the best." As he said these words, he reached out his hand to extinguish the candle, when he was suddenly struck with astonishment and dismay, for he thought he beheld the phantom of the haunted house, staring on him from a dusky part of the chamber. A second look reassured him, as he perceived that what he had taken for the spectre was, in fact, nothing but a Flemish portrait, hanging in a shadowy corner, just behind a clothes-press. It was, however, the precise representation of his nightly visitor. The same cloak and belted jerkin, the same grizzled beard and fixed eye, the same broad slouched hat, with a feather hanging over one side. Dolph now called to mind the resemblance he had frequently re- marked between his host and the old man of the haunted house ; and was fully convinced they were in some way connected, and that some especial destiny had governed his voyage. He lay gazing on the portrait with almost as much awe as he had gazed on the ghostly original, until the shrill house-clock warned him of the lateness of the hour. He put out the light ; but remained for a long time turning over these curious circumstances and coincidences in his mind, until he fell asleep. His dreams partook of the nature of his waking thoughts. DOLPH HEYLIGER. 255 He fancied that lie still lay gazing on the picture, until, by degrees, it became animated ; that the figure descended •from the wall, and walked out of the room ; that he fol- lowed it, and found himself by the well to which the old man pointed, smiled on him, and disappeared. In the morning, when he waked, he found his host standing by his bedside, who gave him a hearty morn- ing's salutation, and asked him how he had slept. Dolph answered cheerily; but took occasion to inquire about the portrait that hung against the wall. "Ah," said Heer Antony, "that's a portrait of old Killian Vander Spiegel, once a burgomaster of Amsterdam, who, on some popular troubles, abandoned Holland, and came over to the province during the government of Peter Stuyvesant. He was my ancestor by the mother's side, and an old miserly curmudgeon he was. When the English took possession of New Amsterdam, in 1664, he retired into the country. He fell into a melancholy, apprehending that his wealth would be taken from him and he come to beggary. He turned all his property into cash, and used to hide it away. He was for a year or two concealed in various places, fancying himself sought after by the English, to strip him of his wealth ; and finally he was found dead in his bed one morning, without any one being able to discover where he had concealed the greater part of his money." When his host had left the room, Dolph remained for some time lost in thought. His whole mind was occu- pied by what he had heard. Vander Spiegel was his mother's family name ; and he recollected to have heard 256 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. her speak of this very Killian Vander Spiegel as one of her ancestors. He had heard her say, too, that her father was Killian's rightful heir, only that the old man died without leaving anything to be inherited. It now appeared that Heer Antony was likewise a descendant, and perhaps an heir also of this poor rich man; and that thus the Heyligers and the Vander Heydens were re- motely connected. "What," thought he, "if, after all, this is the interpretation of my dream, that this is the way I am to make my fortune by this voyage to Albany, and that I am to find the old man's hidden wealth in the bottom of that well ? But what an odd roundabout mode of communicating the matter! . Why the plague could not the old goblin have told me about the well at once, without sending me all the way to Albany, to hear a story that was to send me all the way back again ? " These thoughts passed through his mind while he was dressing. He descended the stairs, full of perplexity, when the bright face of Marie Vander Heyden suddenly beamed in smiles upon him, and seemed to give him a clue to the whole mystery. "After all," thought he, "the old goblin is in the right. If I am to get his wealth, he means that I shall marry his pretty descen- dant; thus both branches of the family will again be united, and the property go on in the proper channel." No sooner did this idea enter his head, than it carried conviction with it. He was now all impatience to hurry back and secure the treasure, which, he did not doubt, lay at the bottom of the well, and which he feared every moment might be discovered by some other person. DOLPH HEYLIGER. 257 "Who knows," thought he, "but this night-walking old fellow of the haunted house may be in the habit of haunting every visitor, and may give a hint to some shrewder fellow than myself, who will take a shorter cut to the well than by the way of Albany?" He wished a thousand times that the babbling old ghost was laid in the Eed Sea, and his rambling portrait with him. He was in a perfect fever to depart. Two or three days elapsed before any opportunity presented for returning down the river. They were ages to Dolph, notwith- standing that he was basking in the smiles of the pretty Marie, and daily getting more and more enamoured. At length the very sloop from which he had been knocked overboard prepared to make sail. Dolph made an awkward apology to his host for his sudden depart- ure. Antony Vander Heyden was sorely astonished. He had concerted half a dozen excursions into the wil- derness; and his Indians were actually preparing for a grand expedition to one of the lakes. He took Dolph aside, and exerted his eloquence to get him to abandon all thoughts of business and to remain with him, but in vain ; and he at length gave up the attempt, observing, "that it was a thousand pities so fine a young man should throw himself away." Heer Antony, however, gave him a hearty shake by the hand at parting, with a favorite fowling-piece, and an invitation to come to his house whenever he revisited Albany. The pretty Marie said nothing; but as he gave her a farewell kiss, her dimpled cheek turned pale, and a tear stood in her eye. Dolph sprang lightly on board of the vessel. They 258 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. hoisted sail ; the wind was fair ; they soon lost sight of Albany, its green hills and embowered islands. They were wafted gayly past the Kaatskill Mountains, whose fairy heights were bright and cloudless. They passed prosperously through the highlands, without any moles- tation from the Dunderberg goblin and his crew; they swept on across Havers traw Bay, and by Croton Point, and through the Tappaan Zee, and under the Palisadoes, until, in the afternoon of the third day, they saw the promontory of Hoboken hanging like a cloud in the air; and, shortly after, the roofs of the Manhattoes rising out of the water. Dolph's first care was to repair to his mother's house ; for he was continually goaded by the idea of the un- easiness she must experience on his account. He was puzzling his brains, as he went along, to think how he should account for his absence without betraying the secrets of the haunted house. In the midst of these cogitations he entered the street in which his mother's house was situated, when he was thunderstruck at be- holding it a heap of ruins. There had evidently been a great fire, which had de- stroyed several large houses, and the humble dwelling of poor Dame Heyliger had been involved in the conflagra- tion. The walls were not so completely destroyed, but that Dolph could distinguish some traces of the scene of his childhood. The fireplace, about which he had often played, still remained, ornamented with Dutch tiles, illustrating passages in Bible history, on which he had many a time gazed with admiration. Among the rubbish DOLPH HEYLTGER. 259 lay the wreck of the good dame's elbow-chair, from which she had given him so many a wholesome precept ; and hard by it was the family Bible, with brass clasps ; now, alas ! reduced almost to a cinder. For a moment Dolph was overcome by this dismal sight, for he was seized with the fear that his mother had perished in the flames. He was relieved, however, from this horrible apprehension by one of the neighbors, who happened to come by and informed him that his mother was yet alive. The good woman had, indeed, lost everything by this unlooked-for calamity ; for the populace had been so intent upon saving the fine furniture of her rich neigh- bors, that the little tenement, and the little all of poor Dame Heyliger, had been suffered to consume without interruption ; nay, had it not been for the gallant assist- ance of her old crony, Peter de Groodt, the worthy dame and her cat might have shared the fate of their habitation. As it was, she had been overcome with fright and affliction, and lay ill in body and sick at heart. The public, however, had showed her its wonted kindness. The furniture of her rich neighbors being, as far as possible, rescued from the flames, themselves duly and ceremoniously visited and condoled with on the injury of their property, and their ladies commiserated on the agitation of their nerves ; the public, at length, began to recollect something about poor Dame Heyliger. She forthwith became again a subject of universal sympathy; everybody pitied her more than ever ; and if pity could 260 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. but have been coined into cash — good Lord ! how rich she would have been ! It was now determined, in good earnest, that something ought to be done for her without delay. The Dominie, therefore, put up prayers for her on Sunday, in which all the congregation joined most heartily. Even Cobus Groesbeek, the alderman, and Mynheer Milledollar, the great Dutch merchant, stood up in their pews, and did not spare their voices on the occasion ; and it was thought the prayers of such great men could not but have their due weight. Doctor Kmpperhausen, too, visited her professionally, and gave her abundance of advice gratis, and was universally lauded for his charity. As to her old friend, Peter de Groodt, he was a poor man, whose pity, and prayers, and advice could be of but little avail, so he gave her all that was in his power — he gave her shelter. To the humble dwelling of Peter de Groodt, then, did Dolph turn his steps. On his way thither he recalled all the tenderness and kindness of his simple-hearted parent, her indulgence of his errors, her blindness to his faults ; and then he bethought himself of his own idle, harum-scarum life. " I've been a sad scapegrace," said Dolph, shaking his head sorrowfully. " I've been a com- plete sink-pocket, that's the truth of it. — But," added he briskly, and clasping his hands, " only let her live — only let her live — and I'll show myself indeed a son ! " As Dolph approached the house he met Peter de Groodt coming out of it. The old man started back aghast, doubting whether it was not a ghost that stood DOLPH HEYLIGER. 261 before him. It being bright daylight, however, Peter soon plucked up heart, satisfied that no ghost dare show his face in such clear sunshine. Dolph now learned from the worthy sexton the consternation and rumor to which his mysterious disappearance had given rise. It had been universally believed that he had been spirited away by those hobgoblin gentry that infested the haunted house ; and old Abraham Vandozer, who lived by the great buttonwood-trees, near the three-mile stone, affirmed, that he had heard a terrible noise in the air, as he was going home late at night, which seemed just as if a flock of wild geese were overhead, passing off towards the northward. The haunted house was, in consequence, looked upon with ten times more awe than ever ; nobody would venture to pass a night in it for the world, and even the doctor had ceased to make his expeditions to it in the daytime. It required some preparation before Dolph's return could be made known to his mother, the poor soul having bewailed him as lost ; and her spirits having been sorely broken down by a number of comforters, who daily cheered her with stories of ghosts, and of people carried away by the devil. He found her confined to her bed, with the other member of the Heyliger family, the good dame's cat, purring beside her, but sadly singed, and utterly despoiled of those whiskers which were the glory of her physiognomy. The poor woman threw her arms about Dolph's neck. " My boy ! my boy ! art thou still alive ? " For a time she seemed to have forgotten all her losses and troubles in her joy at his return. Even 262 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. the sage grimalkin showed indubitable signs of joy at the return of the youngster. She saw, perhaps, that they were a forlorn and undone family, and felt a touch of that kindliness which fellow-sufferers only know. But, in truth, cats are a slandered people ; they have more affection in them than the world commonly gives them credit for. The good dame's eyes glistened as she saw one being at least, beside herself, rejoiced at her son's return. " Tib knows thee ! poor dumb beast ! " said she, smooth- ing down the mottled coat of her favorite ; then recol- lecting herself, with a melancholy shake of the head, " Ah, my poor Dolph ! " exclaimed she, " thy mother can help thee no longer ! She can no longer help herself ! What will become of thee, my poor boy ! " " Mother," said Dolph, " don't talk in that strain ; I've been too long a charge upon you ; it's now my part to take care ' of you in your old days. Come ! be of good cheer ! you, and I, and Tib will all see better days. I'm here, you see, young, and sound, and hearty ; then don't let us despair; I dare say things will all, somehow or other, turn out for the best. " While this scene was going on with the Heyliger family, the news was carried to Doctor Knipperhausen of the safe return of his disciple. The little doctor scarce knew whether to rejoice or be sorry at the tidings. He was happy at having the foul reports which had prevailed concerning his country mansion thus disproved ; but he grieved at having his disciple, of whom he had supposed himself fairly disencumbered, thus drifting DOLPH HEYLIGER. 263 back, a heavy charge upon his hands. While balancing between these two feelings, he was determined by the counsels of Frau Ilsy, who advised him to take advan- tage of the truant absence of the youngster, and shut the door upon him forever. At the hour of bedtime, therefore, when it was sup- posed the recreant disciple would seek his old quarters, everything was prepared for his reception. Dolph, hav- ing talked his mother into a state of tranquillity, sought the mansion of his quondam master, and raised the knocker with a faltering hand. Scarcely, however, had it given a dubious rap, when the doctor's head, in a red nightcap, popped out of one window, and the house- keeper's, in a white nightcap, out of another. He was now greeted with a tremendous volley of hard names and hard language, mingled with invaluable pieces of advice, such as are seldom ventured to be given except- ing to a friend in distress, or a culprit at the bar. In a few moments, not a window in the street but had its particular nightcap, listening to the shrill treble of Frau Ilsy, and the guttural croaking of Dr. Knipperhausen ; and the word went from window to window, " Ah ! here's Dolph Heyliger come back, and at his old pranks again." In short, poor Dolph found he was likely to get nothing from the doctor but good advice ; a commodity so abun- dant as even to be thrown out of the window ; so he was fain to beat a retreat, and take up his quarters for the night under the lowly roof of honest Peter de Gfroodt. The next morning, bright and early, Dolph was out at the haunted house. Everything looked just as he had 264 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. left it. The fields were grass-grown and matted, and ap- peared as if nobody had traversed them since his depart- ure. With palpitating heart he hastened to the well. He looked down into it, and saw that it was of great depth, with water at the bottom. He had provided him- self with a strong line, such as the fishermen use on the banks of Newfoundland. At the end was a heavy plummet and a large fish-hook. With this he began to sound the bottom of the well, and to angle about in the water. The water was of some depth; there was also much rubbish, stones from the top having fallen in. Several times his hook got entangled, and he came near breaking his line. Now and then, too, he hauled up mere trash, such as the skull of a horse, an iron hoop, and a shattered iron-bound bucket. He had now been several hours employed without finding anything to repay his trouble, or to encourage him to proceed. He began to think himself a great fool, to be thus decoyed into a wild-goose chase by mere dreams, and was on the point of throwing line and all into the well, and giving up all further angling. " One more cast of the line," said he, " and that shall be the last." As he sounded, he felt the plummet slip, as it were, through the interstices of loose stones ; and as he drew back the line, he felt that the hook had taken hold of something heavy. He had to manage his line with great caution, lest it should be broken by the strain upon it. By degrees the rubbish which lay upon the article he had hooked gave way ; he drew it to the surface of the water, and what was his rapture at seeing DOLPH HEYLIGER. 265 something like silver glittering at the end of his line ! Almost breathless with anxiety, he drew it up to the mouth of the well, surprised at its great weight, and fear- ing every instant that his hook would slip from its hold, and his prize tumble again to the bottom. At length he landed it safe beside the well. It was a great silver porringer, of an ancient form, richly embossed, and with armorial bearings engraved on its side, similar to those over his mother's mantelpiece. The lid was fastened down by several twists of wire; Dolph loosened them with a trembling hand, and, on lifting the lid, behold ! the vessel was filled with broad golden pieces, of a coin- age which he had never seen before ! It was evident he had lit on the place where Killian Vander Spiegel had concealed his treasure. Fearful of being seen by some straggler, he cautiously retired, and buried his pot of money in a secret place. He now spread terrible stories about the haunted house, and deterred every one from approaching it, while he made frequent visits to it in stormy days, when no one was stirring in the neighboring fields ; though, to tell the truth, he did not care to venture there in the dark. For once in his life he was diligent and industri- ous, and followed up his new trade of angling with such perseverance and success, that in a little while he had hooked up wealth enough to make him, in those moderate days, a rich burgher for life. It would be tedious to detail minutely the rest of this story. To tell how he gradually managed to bring his property into use without exciting surprise and inquiry, 266 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. — how he satisfied all scruples with regard to retaining the property, and at the same time gratified his own feelings by marrying pretty Marie Vander Heyden, — and how he and Heer Antony had many a merry and roving expedition together. I must not omit to say, however, that Dolph took his mother home to live with him, and cherished her in her old days. The good dame, too, had the satisfaction of no longer hearing her son made the theme of censure : on the contrary, he grew daily in public esteem ; every- body spoke well of him and his wines ; and the lordliest burgomaster was never known to decline his invitation to dinner. Dolph often related, at his own table, the wicked pranks which had once been the abhorrence of the town ; but they were now considered excellent jokes, and the gravest dignitary was fain to hold his sides when listening to them. No one was more struck with Dolph's increasing merit than his old master the doctor ; and so forgiving was Dolph, that he absolutely employed the doctor as his family physician, only taking care that his prescriptions should be always thrown out of the window. His mother had often her junto of old cronies to take a snug cup of tea with her in her comfortable little parlor ; and Peter de Groodt, as he sat by the fire- side, with one of her grandchildren on his knee, would many a time congratulate her upon her son turning out so great a man ; upon which the good old soul would wag her head with exultation, and exclaim, " Ah, neigh- bor, neighbor ! did I not say that Dolph would one day or other hold up his head with the best of them ? " DOLPH HEYLIGER. 267 Thus did Dolph Heyliger go on, cheerily and prosper- ously, growing merrier as he grew older and wiser, and completely falsifying the old proverb about money got over the devil's back ; for he made good use of his wealth, and became a distinguished citizen, and a valu- able member of the community. He was a great pro- moter of public institutions, such as beef-steak societies and catch-clubs. He presided at all public dinners, and was the first that introduced turtle from the West Indies. He improved the breed of race-horses and game-cocks, and was so great a patron of modest merit, that any one who could sing a good song, or tell a good story, was sure to find a place at his table. He was a member, too, of the corporation, made sev- eral laws for the protection of game and oysters, and be- queathed to the board a large silver punch-bowl, made out of the identical porringer before mentioned, and which is in the possession of the corporation to this very day. Finally he died in a florid old age, of an apoplexy at a corporation feast, and was buried with great honors in the yard of the little Dutch church in Garden Street, where his tombstone may still be seen with a modest epitaph in Dutch, by his friend Mynheer Justus Benson, an ancient and excellent poet of the province. The foregoing tale rests on better authority than most tales of the kind, as I have it second-hand from the lips of Dolph Heyliger himself. He never related it till towards the latter part of his life, and then in great con- fidence (for he was very discreet) to a few of his par- 268 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. ticular cronies at his own table, over a supernumerary howl of punch; and, strange as the hobgoblin parts of the story may seem, there never was a single doubt ex- pressed on the subject by any of his guests. It may not be amiss, before concluding, to observe that, in addition to his other accomplishments, Dolph Heyliger was noted for being the ablest drawer of the long-bow in the whole province. COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, 1^92. 269 COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, 1492. The situation of Columbus was daily becoming more and more critical. In proportion as lie approached the regions where he expected to find land, the impatience of his crews augmented. The favorable signs which increased his confidence were derided by them as delu- sive ; and there was danger of their rebelling, and obli- ging him to turn back, when on the point of realizing the object of all his labors. They beheld themselves with dismay still wafted onward, over the boundless wastes of what appeared to them a mere watery desert, sur- rounding the habitable world. What was to become of them should their provisions fail ? Their ships were too weak and defective even for the great voyage they had already made ; but if they were still to press forward, adding at every moment to the immense expanse behind them, how should they ever be able to return, having no intervening port where they might victual and refit ? In this way they fed each other's discontents, gather- ing together in little knots, and fomenting a spirit of mutinous opposition : and when we consider the natural fire of the Spanish temperament and its impatience of control ; and that a great part of these men were sailing on compulsion ; we cannot wonder that there was immi- nent danger of their breaking forth into open rebellion 270 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. and compelling Columbus to turn back. In their secret conferences they exclaimed against him as a desperado, bent, in a mad fantasy, upon doing something extrava- gant to render himself notorious. What were their suf- ferings and dangers to one evidently content to sacrifice his own life for the chance of distinction ? What obliga- tions bound them to continue on with him ; or when were the terms of their agreement to be considered as fulfilled ? They had already penetrated unknown seas, untraversed by a sail, far beyond where man had ever before ventured. They had done enough to gain themselves a character for courage and hardihood in undertaking such an enter- prise, and persisting in it so far. How much farther were they to go in quest of a merely conjectured land? Were they to sail on until they perished, or until all return became impossible ? In such case they would become the authors of their own destruction. On the other hand, should they consult their safety, and turn back before too late, who would blame them ? Any complaints made by Columbus would be of no weight ; he was a foreigner, without friends or influence ; his schemes had been condemned by the learned, and discountenanced by people of all ranks. He had no party to uphold him, and a host of opponents whose pride of opinion would be gratified by his failure. Or, as an effectual means of preventing his complaints, they might throw him into the sea, and give out that he had fallen overboard while busy with his instruments con- templating the stars ; a report which no one would have either the inclination or the means to controvert. COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, 1492. 271 Columbus was not ignorant of the mutinous disposi- tion of his crew; but he still maintained a serene and steady countenance, soothing some with gentle words, endeavoring to stimulate the pride or avarice of others, and openly menacing the refractory with signal punish- ment, should they do anything to impede the voyage. On the 25th of September, the wind again became favorable, and they were able to resume their course directly to the west. The airs being light, and the sea calm, the vessels sailed near to each other, and Columbus had much conversation with Martin Alonzo Pinzon on the subject of a chart, which the former had sent three days before on board of the Pinta. Pinzon thought that, according to the indications of the map, they ought to be in the neighborhood of Cipango, and the other islands which the admiral had therein delineated. Columbus partly entertained the same idea, but thought it possible that the ships might have been borne out of their track by the prevalent currents, or that they had not come so far as the pilots had reckoned. He desired that the chart might be returned ; and Pinzon, tying it to the end of a cord, flung it on board to him. While Columbus, his pilot, and several of his experienced mariners were studying the map, and endeavoring to make out from it their actual position, they heard a shout from the Pinta, and looking up, beheld Martin Alonzo Pinzon mounted on the stern of his vessel, crying " Land ! land ! Sefior, I claim my reward ! " He pointed at the same time to the southwest, where there was indeed an appearance of land at about twenty-five leagues' distance. Upon this Colum- 272 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. bus threw himself on his knees and returned thanks to God : and Martin Alonzo repeated the Gloria in excelsis, in which he was joined by his own crew and that of the admiral. The seamen now mounted to the mast-head or climbed about the rigging, straining their eyes in the direction pointed out. The conviction became so general of land in that quarter, and the joy of the people so ungovern- able, that Columbus found it necessary to vary from his usual course, and stand all night to the south-west. The morning light, however, put - an end to all their hopes, as to a dream. The fancied land proved to be nothing but an evening cloud, and had vanished in the night. With dejected hearts they once more resumed their western course, from which Columbus would never have varied, but in compliance with their clamorous wishes. For several days they continued on with the same propitious breeze, tranquil sea, and mild, delightful weather. The water was so calm that the sailors amused themselves with swimming about the vessel. Dolphins began to abound, and flying fish, darting into the air, fell upon the decks. The continued signs of land diverted the attention of the crews, and insensibly beguiled them onward. On the 1st of October, according to the reckoning of the pilot of the admiral's ship, they had come five hun- dred and eighty leagues west since leaving the Canary Islands. The reckoning which Columbus showed the crew, was five hundred and eighty-four, but the reckoning which he kept privately was seven hundred and seven. COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, 1J+92. 273 On the following day, the weeds floated from east to west ; and on the third day no birds were to be seen. The crews now began to fear that they had passed between islands, from one to the other of which the birds had been flying. Columbus had also some doubts of the kind, but refused to alter his westward course. The people again uttered murmurs and menaces ; but on the following day they were visited by such flights of birds, and the various indications of land became so numerous, that from a state of despondency they passed to one of confident expectation. Eager to obtain the promised pension, the seamen were continually giving the cry of land, on the least appear- ance of the kind. To put a stb-p to these false alarms, which produced continual disappointments, Columbus de- clared that should any one give such notice, and land not be discovered within three days afterwards, he should thenceforth forfeit all claim to the reward. On the evening of the 6th of October, Martin Alonzo Pinzon began to lose confidence in their present course, and proposed that they should stand more to the south- ward. Columbus, however, still persisted in steering directly west. Observing this difference of opinion in a person so important in his squadron as Pinzon, and fear- ing that chance or design might scatter the ships, he ordered that, should either of the caravels be separated from him, it should stand to the west, and endeavor as soon as possible to join company again ; he directed, also, that the vessels should keep near to him at sun- 274 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. rise and sunset, as at these times the state of the atmos- phere is most favorable to the discovery of distant land. On the morning of the 7th of October, at sunrise, sev- eral of the admiral's crew thought they beheld land in the west, but so indistinctly that no one ventured to proclaim it, lest he should be mistaken, and forfeit all chance of the reward : the Nina, however, being a good sailer, pressed forward to ascertain the fact. In a little while a flag was hoisted at her mast-head, and a gun discharged, being the preconcerted signals for land. New joy was awakened throughout the little squadron, and every eye was turned to the west. As they ad- vanced, however, their cloud-built hopes faded away, and before evening the fancied land had. again melted into air. The crews now sank into a degree of dejection propor- tioned to their recent excitement j but new circumstances occurred to arouse them. Columbus, having observed great flights of small field-birds going towards the south- west, concluded they must be secure of some neighboring land, where they would find food and a resting-place. He knew the importance which the Portuguese voyagers attached to the flight of birds, by following which they had discovered most of their islands. He had now come seven hundred and fifty leagues, the distance at which he had computed to find the island of Cipango ; as there was no appearance of it, he might have missed it through some mistake in the latitude. He determined, therefore, on the evening of the 7th of October to alter his course COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, U92. 275 to the west-south-west, the direction in which the birds generally flew, and continue that direction for at least two days. After all, it was no great deviation from his main course, and would meet the wishes of the Pinzons, as well as be inspiriting to his followers generally. For three days they stood in this direction, and the further they went the more frequent and encouraging were the signs of land. Flights of small birds of various colors, some of them such as sing in the fields, came fly- ing about the ships, and then continued towards the south-west, and others were heard also flying by in the night. Funny fish played about the smooth sea, and a heron, a pelican, and a duck, were seen, all bound in the same direction. The herbage which floated by was fresh and green, as if recently from land, and the air, Columbus observes, was sweet and fragrant as April breezes in Seville. All these, however, were regarded by the crews as so many delusions beguiling them on to destruction ; and when on the evening of the third day they beheld the sun go down upon a shoreless ocean, they broke forth into turbulent clamor. They exclaimed against this obstinacy in tempting fate by continuing on into a boundless sea. They insisted upon turning homeward, and abandoning the voyage as hopeless. Columbus en- deavored to pacify them by gentle words and promises of large rewards ; but finding that they only increased in clamor, he assumed a decided tone. He told them it was useless to murmur ; the expedition had been sent by the sovereigns to seek the Indies, and, happen what 276 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. might, lie was determined to persevere, until, by the blessing of God, he should accomplish the enterprise. 1 1 Hist, del Almirante, cap. 20. Las Casas, lib. i., Journal of Columb., Navarrete, Colec. torn. i. p. 19. It has been asserted by various historians, that Columbus, a day or two previous to coming in sight of the New World, capitulated with his mutinous crew, promising, if he did not discover land within three days, to abandon the voyage. There is no authority for such an assertion, either in the history of his son Fernando, or that of the Bishop Las Casas, each of whom had the admiral's papers before him. There is no mention of such a circumstance in the extracts made from the journal by Las Casas, which have recently been brought to light, nor is it asserted by either Peter Martyr or the Curate of Los Palacios, both contemporaries and acquaintances of Columbus, and who could scarcely have failed to mention so striking a fact, if true. It rests merely upon the authority of Oviedo, who is of inferior credit to either of the authors above cited, and was grossly misled as to many of the particulars of this voyage by a pilot of the name of Hernan Perez Matheo, who was hostile to Columbus. In the manu- script process of the memorable lawsuit between Don Diego, son of the admiral, and the fiscal of the crown, is the evidence of one Pedro de Bilbas, who testifies that he heard many times that some of the pilots and mariners wished to turn back, but that the admiral promised them presents, and entreated them to wait two or three days, before which time he should discover land. On the other hand, it was asserted by some of the witnesses in the above-mentioned suit, that Columbus, after having proceeded some few hundred leagues without finding land, lost confidence, and wished to turn back ; but was persuaded and even piqued to continue by the Pinzons. This assertion carries falsehood on its very face. It is in total contradiction to that persevering constancy and undaunted res- olution displayed by Columbus, not merely in the present voyage, but from first to last of his difficult and dangerous career. This testi- mony was given by some of the mutinous men, anxious to exaggerate the merits of the Pinzons, and to depreciate that of Columbus. Fortu- nately, the extracts from the journal of the latter, written from day to day with guileless simplicity, and all the air of truth, disprove these fables, and show that on the very day previous to his discovery, COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, U92. 277 Columbus was now at open defiance with his crew, and his situation became desperate. Fortunately the mani- festations of the vicinity of land were such on the fol- lowing day as no longer to admit a doubt. Beside a quantity of fresh weeds, such as grow in rivers, they saw a green fish of a kind which keeps about rocks ; then a branch of thorn with berries on it, and recently Separated from the tree, floated by them ; then they picked up a reed, a small board, and, above all, a staff artificially carved. All gloom and mutiny now gave way to sanguine expectation; and throughout the day each one was eagerly on the watch, in hopes of being the first to discover the long-sought for land. In the evening, when, according to invariable custom on board the admiral's ship, the mariners had sung the salve regina, or vesper hymn to the Virgin, he made an impressive address to his crew. He pointed out the goodness of God in thus conducting them by soft and favoring breezes across a tranquil ocean, cheering their hopes continually with fresh signs, increasing as their fears augmented, and thus leading and guiding them to a promised land. He now reminded them of the orders he had given on leaving the Canaries, that, after sailing westward seven hundred leagues, they should not make sail after midnight. Present appearances authorized such a precaution. He thought it probable they would make land that very night ; he ordered, therefore, a vigi- lant lookout to be kept from the forecastle, promising to he expressed a peremptory determination to persevere, in defiance of all dangers and difficulties. 278 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. whomsoever should make the discovery, a doublet of velvet, in addition to the pension to be given by the sovereigns. The breeze had been fresh all day, with more sea than usual, and they , had made great progress. At sunset they had stood again to the west, and were ploughing the waves at a rapid rate, the Pinta keeping the lead, from her superior sailing. The greatest animation pre- vailed throughout the ship; not an eye was closed that night. As the evening darkened, Columbus took his station on the top of the castle or cabin on the high poop of his vessel, ranging his eye along the dusky horizon, and maintaining an intense and unremitting watch. About ten o'clock, he thought he beheld a light glimmer- ing at a great distance. Fearing his eager hopes might deceive him, he called to Pedro Gutierrez, gentleman of the king's bed-chamber, and inquired whether he saw such a light; the latter replied in the affirmative. Doubtful whether it might not yet be some delusion of the fancy, Columbus called Rodrigo Sanchez of Sego- via, and made the same inquiry. By the time the latter had ascended the round-house, the light had disappeared. They saw it once or twice afterwards in sudden and passing gleams; as if it were a torch in the bark of a fisherman, rising and sinking with the waves ; or in the hand of some person on shore, borne up and down as he walked from house to house. So transient and uncertain were these gleams, that few attached any importance to them; Columbus, however, considered them as certain signs of land, and, moreover, that the land was inhabited. COLUMBUS'S DISCOVERY OF LAND, 1J&2. 279 They continued their course until two in the morning, when a gun from the Pinta gave the joyful signal of land. It was first descried by a mariner named Eodrigo de Triana; but the reward was afterwards adjudged to the admiral, for having previously perceived the light. The land was now clearly seen about two leagues distant, whereupon they took in sail, and laid to, waiting impa- tiently for the dawn. The thoughts and feelings of Columbus in this little space of time must have been tumultuous and intense. At length, in spite of every difficulty and danger, he had accomplished his object. The great mystery of the ocean was revealed ; his theory, which had been the scoff of sages, was triumphantly established; he had secured to himself a glory durable as the world itself. It is difficult to conceive the feelings of such a man, at such a moment ; or the conjectures which must have thronged upon his mind, as to the land before him, covered with darkness. That it was fruitful, was evi- dent from the vegetables which floated from its shores. He thought, too, that he perceived the fragrance of aromatic groves. The moving light he had beheld proved it the residence of man. But what were its inhabitants ? Were they like those of the other parts of the globe; or were they some strange and monstrous race, such as the imagination was prone in those times to give to all remote and unknown regions? Had he come upon some wild island far in the Indian Sea; or was this the famed Cipanzo itself, the object of his golden fancies? A thousand speculations of the kind 280 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. must have swarmed upon him, as, with his anxious crews, he waited for the night to pass away ; wondering whether the morning light would reveal a savage wilder- ness, or dawn upon spicy groves, and glittering fanes, and gilded cities, and all the splendor of Oriental civili- zation. SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 281 SURRENDER OF GRANADA. The night preceding the surrender was a night of dole- ful lamentings, within the walls of the Alhambra ; for the household of Boabdil were preparing to take a last farewell of that delightful abode. All the royal treas- ures and most precious effects were hastily packed upon mules ; the beautiful apartments were despoiled, with tears and wailings, by their own inhabitants. Before the dawn of day, a mournful cavalcade moved obscurely out of a postern-gate of the Alhambra, and departed through one of the most retired quarters of the city. It was composed of the family of the unfortunate Boabdil, which he sent off thus privately, that they might not be exposed to the eyes of ' scoffers, or the exultation of the enemy. The mother of Boabdil, the Sultana Ayxa la Horra, rode on in silence, with dejected yet dignified demeanor; but his wife, Morayma, and all the females of his household, gave way to loud lamentations, as they looked back upon their favorite abode, now a mass of gloomy towers behind them. They were attended by the ancient domestics of the household, and by a small guard of veteran Moors, loyally attached to the fallen monarch, and who would have sold their lives dearly in defence of his family. The city was yet buried in sleep, as they passed through its silent streets. The guards at 282 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. the gate shed tears, as they opened it for their departure. They paused not, but proceeded along the banks of the Xenil on the road that leads to the Alpuxarras, until they arrived at a hamlet at some distance from the city, where they halted, and waited until they should be joined by King Boabdil. The night which had passed so gloomily in the sump- tuous halls of the Alhambra, had been one of joyful anticipation in the Christian camp. In the evening proclamation had been made that Granada was to be surrendered on the following day, and the troops were all ordered to assemble at an early hour under their sev- eral banners. The cavaliers, pages, and esquires were all charged to array themselves in their richest and most splendid style, for the occasion; and even the royal family determined to lay by the mourning they had recently assumed for the sudden death of the prince of Portugal, the husband of the princess Isabella. In a clause of the capitulation it had been stipulated that the troops destined to take possession, should not traverse the city, but should ascend to the Alhambra by a road opened for the purpose outside of the walls. This was to spare the feelings of the afflicted inhabitants, and to prevent any angry collision between them and their conquerors. So rigorous was Ferdinand in enforcing this precaution, that the soldiers were prohibited under pain of death from leaving the ranks to enter into the city. The rising sun had scarce shed his rosy beams upon the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada, when three sig- SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 283 nal guns boomed heavily from the lofty fortress of the Alhambra. It was the concerted sign that all was ready for the surrender. The Christian army forthwith poured out of the city, or rather camp, of Santa Pe, and ad- vanced across the vega. The king and queen, with the prince and princess, the dignitaries and ladies of the court, took the lead, accompanied by the different orders of monks and friars, and surrounded by the royal guards splendidly arrayed. The procession moved slowly for- ward, and paused at the village of Armilla, at the dis- tance of half a league from the city. In the mean time, the grand cardinal of Spain, Don Pedro Gonzalez de Mendoza, escorted by three thousand foot and a troop of cavalry, and accompanied by the com- mander, Don Gutierrez de Cardenas, and a number of prelates and hidalgos, crossed the Xenil and proceeded in the advance, to ascend to the Alhambra and take posses- sion of that royal palace and fortress. The road which had been opened for the purpose led by the Puerta de los Molinos, or Gate of Mills, up a defile to the esplanade on the summit of the Hill of Martyrs. At the approach of this detachment, the Moorish king sallied forth from a postern-gate of the Alhambra, having left his vizier Yusef Aben Comixa to deliver up the palace. The gate by which he sallied passed through a lofty tower of the outer wall, called the Tower of the Seven Floors. He was accompanied by fifty cavaliers, and approached the grand cardinal on foot. The latter immediately alighted, and advanced to meet him with the utmost respect. They stepped aside a few paces, and held a brief conver- 284 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. sation in an undertone, when Boabdil, raising his voice, exclaimed, " Go, Senor, and take possession of those for- tresses in the name of the powerful sovereigns, to whom God has been pleased to deliver them in reward of their great merits, and in punishment of the sins of the Moors." The grand cardinal sought to console him in his reverses, and offered him the use of his own tent during any time he might sojourn in the camp. Boabdil thanked him for the courteous offer, adding some words of melancholy import, and then taking leave of him gracefully, passed mournfully on to meet the Catholic sovereigns, descending to the vega by the same road by which the cardinal had come. The latter, with the prel- ates and cavaliers who attended him, entered the Al- hambra, the gates of which were thrown wide open by the alcayde Aben Comixa. At the same time the Moor- ish guards yielded up their arms, and the towers and battlements were taken possession of by the Christian troops. While these transactions were passing in the Alham- bra and its vicinity, the sovereigns remained with their retinue and guards near the village of Armilla, their eyes fixed on the towers of the royal fortress, watching for the appointed signal of possession. The time that had elapsed since the departure of the detachment seemed to them more than necessary for the purpose, and the anxious mind of Ferdinand began to entertain doubts of some commotion in the city. At length thej^ saw the silver cross, the great standard of this crusade, elevated on the Torre de la Vela, or Great Watch-Tower, SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 285 and sparkling in the sunbeams. This was done by Her- nando de Talavera, bishop of Avila. Beside it was planted the pennon of the glorious apostle St. James, and a great shout of " Santiago ! Santiago ! " rose through- out the army. Lastly was reared the royal standard by the king of arms, with the shout of " Castile ! Castile ! for King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella." The words were echoed by the whole army, with acclamations that resounded across the Vega. At sight of these signals of possession, the sovereigns sank upon their knees, giving thanks to God for this great triumph ; the whole assembled host followed their example, and the chorister of the royal chapel broke forth into the solemn anthem of " Te Deum Laudamus." The king now advanced with a splendid escort of cav- alry and the sound of trumpets, until he came to a small mosque near the banks of Xenil, and not far from the foot of the Hill of Martyrs, which edifice remains to the present day consecrated as the hermitage of St. Sebas- tian. Here he beheld the unfortunate king of Granada approaching on horseback, at the head of his slender retinue. Boabdil, as he drew near, made a movement to dismount, but, as had previously been concerted, Ferdi- nand prevented him. He then offered to kiss the king's hand, which, according to arrangement, was likewise de- clined, whereupon he leaned forward and kissed the king's right arm ; at the same time he delivered the keys of the city with an air of mingled melancholy and resig- nation. "These keys," said he, "are the last relics of the Arabian empire in Spain : thine, king, are our 286 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. trophies, our kingdom, and our person. Such is the will of God ! Receive them with the clemency thou hast promised, and which we look for at thy hands." King Ferdinand restrained his exultation into an air of serene magnanimity. "Doubt not our promises," re- plied he, " nor that thou shalt regain from our friendship the prosperity of which the fortune of war has deprived thee." Being informed that Don Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, the good count of Tendilla, was to be governor of the city, Boabdil drew from his finger a gold ring set with a precious stone, and presented it to the count. "With this ring," said he, " Granada has been governed ; take it and govern with it, and God make you more fortunate than I." * He then proceeded to the village of Armilla, where the Queen Isabella remained with her escort and attend- ants. The queen, like her husband, declined all acts of homage, and received him with her accustomed grace and benignity. She at the same time delivered to him his son, who had been held as a hostage for the fulfil- ment of the capitulation. Boabdil pressed his child to his bosom with tender emotion, and they seemed mutu- ally endeared to each other by their misfortunes. . Having rejoined his family, the unfortunate Boabdil continued on towards the Alpuxarras, that he might not 1 This ring remained in the possession of the descendants of the count until the death of the marques Don Inigo, the last male heir, who died in Malaga without children in 1656. The ring was lost through inadvertence and ignorance of its value, Dona Maria, the sister of the marques, being absent in Madrid. SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 287 behold the entrance of the Christians into his capital. His devoted band of Cavaliers followed him in gloomy silence ; but heavy sighs burst from their bosoms, as shouts of joy and strains of triumphant music were borne on the breeze from the victorious army. Having rejoined his family, Boabdil set forward with a heavy heart for his allotted residence in the Valley of Purchena. At two leagues distance, the cavalcade, wind- ing into the skirts of the Alpuxarras, ascended an emi- nence, commanding the last view of Granada. As they arrived at this spot, the Moors paused involuntarily, to take a farewell gaze at their beloved city, which a few steps more would shut from their sight forever. Never had it appeared so lovely in their eyes. The. sunshine, so bright in that transparent climate, lit up each tower and minaret, and rested gloriously upon the crowning battlements of the Alhambra ; while the Vega spread its enameled bosom of verdure below, glistening with the silver windings of the Xenil. The Moorish cavaliers gazed with a silent agony of tenderness and grief upon that delicious abode, the scene of their loves and pleas- ures. While they yet looked, a light cloud of smoke burst forth from the citadel, and presently a peal of artillery, faintly heard, told that the city was taken pos- session of, and the throne of the Moslem kings was lost forever. The heart of Boabdil, softened by misfortunes and overcharged with grief, could no longer contain itself : " Allah Achbar ! God is great ! " said he ; but the words of resignation died upon his lips, and he burst into tears. 288 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. His mother, the intrepid Ayxa, was indignant at his weakness: " You do well," said she, "to weep like a woman for what you failed to defend like a man ! " The vizier Aben Comixa endeavored to console his royal master. "Consider, Seiior," said he, "that the most signal misfortunes often render men as renowned as the most prosperous achievements, provided they sustain them with magnanimity." The unhappy monarch, however, was not to be con- soled ; his tears continued to flow. " Allah Achbar ! " exclaimed he, "when did misfortunes ever equal mine ? " From this circumstance, the hill, which is not far from Padul, took the name of Peg Allah Achbar; but the point of view commanding the last prospect of Gra- nada is known among Spaniards by the name of El ultimo suspiro del Moro, or, " The last sigh of the Moor." Queen Isabella having joined the king, the royal pair, followed by a triumphant host, passed up the road by the Hill of Martyrs, and thence to the main entrance of the Alhambra. The grand cardinal awaited them under the lofty arch of the great Gate of Justice, accompanied by Don Gutierrez de Cardenas and Aben Comixa. Here King Ferdinand gave the keys which had been delivered up to him into the hands of the queen ; they were passed successively into the hands of the prince Juan, the grand cardinal, and finally into those of the count de Tendilla, in whose custody they remained, that brave cavalier having been named alcayde of the Alhambra, and cap- tain-general of Granada. The sovereigns did not remain long in the Alhambra SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 289 on this first visit, but leaving a strong garrison there under the count de Tendilla, to maintain tranquillity in the palace and the subjacent city, returned to the camp at Santa Ee. We must not omit to mention a circumstance attend- ing the surrender of the city, which spoke eloquently to the hearts of the victors. As the royal army had ad- vanced in all the pomp of courtly and chivalrous array, a procession of a different kind came forth to meet it. This was composed of more than five hundred Christian captives, many of whom had languished for years in Moorish dungeons. Pale and emaciated, they came clanking their chains in triumph, and shedding tears of joy. They were received with tenderness by the sover- eigns. The king hailed them as good Spaniards, as men loyal and brave, as martyrs to the holy cause ; the queen distributed liberal relief among them with her own hands, and they passed on before the squadrons of the army, singing hymns of jubilee. The sovereigns forbore to enter the city until it should be fully occupied by their troops, and public tranquillity insured. All this was done under the vigilant super- intendence of the count de Tendilla, assisted by the marques of Yillena; and the glistening of Christian helms and lances along the walls and bulwarks, and the standards of the faith and of the realm flaunting from the towers, told that the subjugation of the city was complete. The proselyte prince, Cid Hiaya, now known by the Christian appellation of Don Pedro de Granada Yanegas, was appointed chief alguazil of the city, and 290 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. had charge of the Moorish inhabitants; and his son, lately the prince Alnayer, now Alonzo de Granada Vanegas, was appointed admiral of the fleets. It was on the 6th of January, the day of kings and festival of the Epiphany, that the sovereigns made their triumphal entry with grand military parade. First advanced, we are told, a splendid escort of cavaliers in burnished armor, and superbly mounted. Then followed the prince Juan, glittering with jewels and diamonds; on each side of him, mounted on mules, rode the grand cardinal, clothed in purple, Fray Hernando de Talavera, bishop of Aria, and the archbishop elect of Granada. To these succeeded the queen and her ladies, and the king, managing in galliard style, say the Spanish chronicles, a proud and mettlesome steed (un caballo arrogante). Then followed the army in shining columns, with flaunt- ing banners and the inspiring clamor of military music. The king and queen (says the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida) looked, on this occasion, as more than, mortal: the venerable ecclesiastics, to whose advice and zeal this glorious conquest ought in a great measure to be attrib- uted, moved along with hearts swelling with holy exul- tation, but with chastened and downcast looks of edifying humility; while the hardy warriors, in tossing plumes and shining steel, seemed elevated with a stern joy at finding themselves in possession of this object of so many toils and perils. As the streets resounded with the tramp of steeds and swelling peals of music, the Moors buried themselves in the deepest recesses of their dwellings. There they bewailed in secret the fallen SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 291 glory of their race, but suppressed their groans, lest they should be heard by their enemies, and increase their triumph. The royal procession advanced to the principal mosque, which had been consecrated as a cathedral. Here the sovereigns offered up prayers and thanksgiving, and the choir of the royal chapel chanted a triumphant anthem, in which they were joined by all the courtiers and cavaliers. Nothing (says Fray Antonio Agapida) could exceed the thankfulness to God of the pious King Ferdi- nand, for having enabled him to eradicate from Spain the empire and name- of that accursed heathen race, and for the elevation of the cross in that city wherein the impious doctrines of Mahomet had so long been cherished. In the fervor of his spirit, he supplicated from Heaven a continuance of its grace, and that this glorious triumph might he perpetuated. The prayer of the pious monarch was responded to by the people, and even his enemies were for once convinced of his sincerity. When the religious ceremonies were concluded, the court ascended to the stately palace of the Alhambra, and entered by the great Gate of Justice. The halls lately occupied by turbaned infidels now rustled with stately dames and Christian courtiers, who wandered with eager curiosity over this far-famed palace, admiring its verdant courts and gushing fountains, its halls deco- rated with elegant arabesques and storied with inscrip- tions, and the splendor of its gilded and brilliantly painted ceilings. It had been a last request of the unfortunate Boabdil, 292 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. and one which showed how deeply he felt the transition of his fate, that no person might be permitted to enter or depart by the gate of the Alhambra, through which he had sallied forth to surrender his capital. His request was granted; the portal- was closed up, and remains so to the 'present day — a mute memorial of that event. 1 The Spanish sovereigns fixed their throne in the presence-chamber of the palace, so long the seat of Moorish royalty. Hither the principal inhabitants of Granada repaired, to pay them homage and kiss their hands in token of vassalage ; and their example was fol- lowed by deputies from all the towns and fortresses of the Alpuxarras, which had not hitherto submitted. Thus terminated the war of Granada, after ten years 1 Garibay, Compend. Hist. lib. 40, cap. 42. The existence of this gateway, and the story connected with it, are perhaps known to few ; but were identified, in the researches made to verify this history. The gateway is at the bottom of a tower, at some distance from the main body of the Alhambra. The tower had been rent and ruined by gunpowder, at the time when the fortress was evacuated by the French. Great masses lie around half covered by vines and fig-trees. A poor man, by the name of Mateo Ximenes, who lives in one of the halls among the ruins of the Alhambra, where his family has resided for many generations, pointed out to the author the gateway, still closed up with stones. He remembered to have heard his father and grandfather say, that it had always been stopped up, and that out of it King Boabdil had gone when he surrendered Granada. The route of the unfortunate king may be traced thence across the garden of the convent of Los Maryros, and down a ravine beyond, through a street of gypsy caves and hovels, by the gate of Los Molinos, and so on to the Hermitage of St. Sebastian. None but an antiquarian, however, will be able to trace it, unless aided by the humble historian of the place, Mateo Ximenes. SURRENDER OF GRANADA. 293 of incessant fighting ; equalling (says Fray Antonio Aga- pida) the far-famed siege of Troy in duration, and ending, like that, in the capture of the city. Thus ended also the dominion of the Moors in Spain, having endured seven hundred and seventy-eight years, from the memorable defeat of Eoderick, the last of the Goths, on the banks of the G-audalete. The authentic Agapida is uncom- monly particular in fixing the epoch of this event. This great triumph of our holy Catholic faith, according to this computation, took place in the beginning of Jan- uary, in the year of our Lord 1492, being 3,655 years from the population of Spain by the patriarch Tubal; 3,797 from the general deluge ; 5,453 from the creation of the world, according to Hebrew calculation ; and in the month Kabic, in the eight hundred and ninety-sev- enth year of the Hegira, or flight of Mahomet; whom may God confound ! saith the pious Agapida ! 294 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. To the traveller imbued with a feeling for the histori- cal and poetical, so inseparably intertwined in the annals of romantic Spain, the Alhambra is as much an object of devotion as is the Caaba to all true Moslems. How many legends and traditions, true and fabulous, — how many songs and ballads, Arabian and Spanish, of love and war and chivalry, are associated with this Oriental pile ! It was the royal abode of the Moorish kings, where, surrounded with the splendors and refinements of Asiatic luxury, they held dominion over what they vaunted as a terrestrial paradise, and made their last stand for empire in Spain. The royal palace forms but a part of a fortress, the walls of which, studded with towers, stretch irregularly round the whole crest of a hill, a spur of the Sierra Nevada or Snowy Mountains, and overlook the city ; externally it is a rude congrega- tion of towers and battlements, with no regularity of plan nor grace of architecture, and giving little promise of the grace and beauty which prevail within. In the time of the Moors the fortress was capable of containing within its outward precincts an army of forty thousand men, and served occasionally as a strong-hold of the sovereigns against their rebellious subjects. After the kingdom had passed into the hands of the Christians, PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 295 the Alhambra continued to be a royal demesne, and was occasionally inhabited by the Castilian monarchs. The emperor Charles V. commenced a sumptuous palace within its walls, but was deterred from completing it by repeated shocks of earthquakes. The last royal resi- dents were Philip V. and his beautiful queen, Elizabetta of Parma, early in the eighteenth century. Great prep- arations were made for their reception. The palace and gardens were placed in a state of repair, and a new suite of apartments erected, and decorated by artists brought from Italy. The sojourn of the sovereigns was tran- sient, and after their departure the palace once more became desolate. Still the place was maintained with some military state. The governor held it immediately from the crown, its jurisdiction extended down into the suburbs of the city, and was independent of the captain- general of Granada. A considerable garrison was kept up ; the governor had his apartments in the front of the old Moorish palace, and never descended into Granada without some military parade. The fortress, in fact, was a little town of itself, having several streets of houses within its walls, together with a Franciscan con- vent and a parochial church. The desertion of the court, however, was a fatal blow to the Alhambra. Its beautiful halls became desolate, and some of them fell to ruin, the gardens were de- stroyed, and the fountains ceased to play. By degrees the dwellings became filled with a loose and lawless pop- ulation ; contrabandistas, who availed themselves of its independent jurisdiction to carry on a wide and daring 296 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. course of smuggling, and thieves and rogues of all sorts, who made this their place of refuge whence they might depredate upon Granada and its vicinity. The strong arm of government at length interfered ; the whole com- munity was thoroughly sifted ; none were suffered to remain but such as were of honest character, and had legitimate right to a residence ; the greater part of the houses were demolished and a mere hamlet left, with the parochial church and the Franciscan convent. During the recent troubles in Spain, when Granada was in the hands of the French, the Alhambra was garrisoned by their troops, and the palace was occasionally inhabited by the French commander. With that enlightened taste which has ever distinguished the French nation in their conquests, this monument of Moorish elegance and gran- deur was rescued from the absolute ruin and desolation that were overwhelming it. The roofs were repaired, the saloons and galleries protected from the weather, the gardens cultivated, the watercourses restored, the foun- tains once more made to throw up their sparkling show- ers ; and Spain may thank her invaders for having preserved to her the most beautiful and interesting of her historical monuments. On the departure of the French they blew up several towers of the outer wall, and left the fortifications scarcely tenable. Since that time the military impor- tance of the post is at an end. The garrison is a handful of invalid soldiers, whose principal duty is to guard some of the outer towers, which serve occasionally as a prison of state ; and the governor, abandoning the lofty PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 297 hill of the Alhambra, resides in the centre of Granada, for the more convenient despatch of his official duties. I cannot conclude this brief notice of the state of the fortress without bearing testimony to the honorable exertions of its present commander, Don Francisco de Serna, who is tasking all the limited resources at his command to put the palace in a state of repair, and by his judicious precautions has for some time arrested its too certain decay. Had his predecessors discharged the duties of their station with equal fidelity, the Alhambra might yet have remained in almost its pristine beauty ; were government to second him with means equal to his zeal, this relic of it might still be preserved for many generations to adorn the land, and attract the curious and enlightened of every clime. Our first object of course, on the morning after our arrival, was a visit to this time-honored edifice ; it has been so often, however, and so minutely described by travellers, that I shall not undertake to give a compre- hensive and elaborate account of it, but merely occasional sketches of parts, with the incidents and associations connected with them. Leaving our posada, and traversing the renowned square of the Vivarrambla, once the scene of Moorish jousts and tournaments, now a crowded market-place, we proceeded along the Zacatin, the main street of what, in the time of the Moors, was the Great Bazaar, and where small shops and narrow alleys still retain the Oriental character. Crossing an open place in front of the palace of the captain-general, we ascended a confined and wind- 298 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. ing street, the name of which reminded us of the chival- ric days of Granada. It is called the Calle, or street of the Gomeres, from a Moorish family famous in chronicle and song. This street led up to the Puerta de las Gra- nadas, a massive gateway of Grecian architecture, built by Charles V., forming the entrance to the domains of the Alhambra. We entered the gate and found ourselves in a deep narrow ravine, filled with beautiful groves, with a steep avenue, and various footpaths winding through it, bor- dered with stone seats, and ornamented with fountains. To our left we beheld the towers of the Alhambra beet- ling above us ; to our right, on the opposite side of the ravine, we were equally dominated by rival towers on a rocky eminence. These, we were told, were the Torres Vermejos, or vermilion towers, so called from their ruddy hue. No one knows their origin. They are of a date much anterior to the Alhambra : some suppose them to have been built by the Romans ; others, by some wander- ing colony of Phoenicians. Ascending the steep and shady avenue, we arrived at the foot of a huge square Moorish tower, forming a kind of barbican, through which passed the main entrance to the fortress. Within the barbican was a group of veteran invalids, one mount- ing guard at the portal, while the rest, wrapped in their tattered cloaks, slept on the stone benches. This portal is called the Gate of Justice, from the tribunal held within its porch during the Moslem domination, for the immediate trial of petty causes : a custom common to the Oriental nations, and occasionally alluded to in the PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 299 Sacred Scriptures. "Judges and officers shalt thou make thee in all thy gates, and they shall judge the people with just judgment." The great vestibule, or porch of the gate, is formed by an immense Arabian arch, of the horseshoe form, which springs to half the height of the tower. On the key- stone of this arch is engraven a gigantic hand. Within the vestibule on the keystone of the portal, is sculptured, in like manner, a gigantic key. Those who pretend to some knowledge of Mohammedan symbols, affirm that the hand is the emblem of doctrine, the five fingers des- ignating the five principal commandments of the creed of Islam, fasting, pilgrimage, alms-giving, ablution, and war against infidels. The key, say they, is the emblem of the faith or of power ; the key of Daoud, or David, transmitted to the prophet. " And the key of the house of David will I lay upon his shoulder ; so he shall open and none shall shut, and he shall shut and none shall open. (Isaiah xxii. 22.) The key we are told was em- blazoned on the standard of the Moslems in opposition to the Christian emblem of the cross, when they subdued Spain or Andalusia. It betokened the conquering power invested in the prophet. "He that hath the key of David, he that openeth and no man shutteth ; and shutteth and no man openeth." (Kev. iii. 7.) A different explanation of these emblems, however, and one more in unison with the notions of the common people, was a tradition handed down from the oldest inhabitants, that the hand and key were magical devices on which the fate of the Alhambra depended. The 300 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. Moorish king who built it was a great magician, or, as some believed, had sold himself to the devil, and had laid the whole fortress nnder a magic spell. By this means it had remained standing for several years, in defiance of storms and earthquakes, while almost all other buildings of the Moors had fallen to ruin and dis- appeared. This spell, the tradition went on to say, would last until the hand on the outer arch should reach down and grasp the key, when the whole pile would tumble to pieces, and all the treasures buried beneath it by the Moors would be revealed. Notwithstanding this ominous prediction, we ventured to pass through the spell-bound gateway, feeling some little assurance against magic art in the protection of the Virgin, a statue of whom we observed above the portal. After passing through the barbican, we ascended a narrow lane, winding between walls, and came on an open esplanade within the fortress, called the Plaza de los Algibes, or place of the Cisterns, from great reservoirs which undermine it, cut in the living rock by the Moors to receive the water brought by conduits from the Darro, for the supply of the fortress. Here, also, is a well of immense depth, furnishing the purest and coldest of water, — another monument of the delicate taste of the Moors, who were indefatigable in their exertions to obtain that element in its crystal purity. In front of this esplanade is the splendid pile com- menced by Charles V., and intended, it is said, to eclipse the residence of the Moorish kings. Much of the Ori- PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 301 ental edifice intended for the winter season was demol- ished to make way for this massive pile. The grand entrance was blocked up; so that the present entrance to the Moorish palace is through a simple and almost humble portal in a corner. With all the massive gran- deur and architectural merit of the palace of Charles V., we regarded it as an arrogant intruder, and passing by it with a feeling almost of scorn, rang at the Moslem portal. We crossed the threshold, and were at once trans- ported, as if by magic wand, into other times and an Oriental realm, and were treading the scenes of Arabian story. Nothing could be in greater contrast than the unpromising exterior of the pile with the scene now before us. We found ourselves in a vast patio or court, one hundred and fifty feet in length, and upwards of eighty feet in breadth, paved with white marble, and decorated at each end with light Moorish peristyles, one of which supported an elegant gallery of fretted archi- tecture. Along the mouldings of the cornices and on various parts of the walls were escutcheons and ciphers, and cufic and Arabic characters in high relief, repeating the pious mottoes of the Moslem monarchs, the builders of the Alhambra, or extolling their grandeur and munif- icence. Along the centre of the court extended an immense basin or tank (estanque), a hundred and twenty-four feet in length, twenty-seven in breadth, and five in depth, receiving its water from two marble vases. Hence it is called the Court of the Alberca (from al Beerkah, the Arabic for a pond or tank). Great num- bers of gold-fish were to be seen gleaming through the 302 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. waters of the basin, and it was bordered by hedges of roses. Passing from the Court of the Alberca under a Moorish archway, we entered the renowned Court of Lions. No part of the edifice gives a more complete idea of its original beauty than this, for none has suffered so little from the ravages of time. In the centre stands the fountain famous in song and story. The alabaster basins still shed their diamond drops; the twelve lions which support them, and give the court its name, still cast forth crystal streams as in the days of Boabdil. The lions, however, are unworthy of their fame, being of miserable sculpture, the work probably of some Chris- tian captive. The court is laid out in flower-beds, instead of its ancient and appropriate pavement of tiles or marble ; the alteration, an instance of bad taste, was made by the French when in possession of Granada. Eound the four sides of the court are light Arabian arcades of open filigree work, supported by slender pillars of white marble, which it is supposed were origi- nally gilded. The architecture, like that in most parts of the interior of the palace, is characterized by elegance rather than grandeur, bespeaking a delicate and graceful taste, and a disposition to indolent enjoyment. When one looks upon the fairy traces of the peristyle, and the apparently fragile fretwork of the walls, it is difficult to believe that so much has survived the wear and tear of centuries, the shocks of earthquakes, the violence of war, and the quiet, though no less baneful, pilferings of the tasteful traveller; it is almost sufficient to excuse the PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 303 popular tradition, that the whole is protected by a magic charm. On one side of the court a rich portal opens into the Hall of the Abencerrages : so called from the gallant cavaliers of that illustrious line who were here perfidi- ously massacred. Immediately opposite the Hall of the Abencerrages, a portal, richly adorned, leads into a hall of less tragical associations. It is light and lofty, exquisitely graceful in its architecture, paved with white marble, and bears the suggestive name of the Hall of the Two Sisters. Some destroy the romance of the name by attributing it to two enormous slabs of alabaster which lie side by side, and form a great part of the pavement : an opinion strongly supported by Mateo Ximenes. Others are dis- posed to give the name a more poetical significance, as the vague memorial of Moorish beauties who once graced this hall, which was evidently a part of the royal harem. This opinion I was happy to find entertained by our little bright-eyed guide, Dolores, who pointed to a bal- cony over an inner porch, which gallery, she had been told, belonged to the women's apartment. " You see, senor," said she, "it is all grated and latticed, like the gallery in a convent chapel where the nuns hear mass ; for the Moorish kings," added she, indignantly, " shut up their wives just like nuns." The latticed "jalousies," in fact, still remain, whence the dark-eyed beauties of the harem might gaze unseen upon the zambras and other dances and entertainments of the hall below. 804 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. On each side of this hall are recesses or alcoves for ottomans and conches, on which the voluptuous lords of the Alhambra indulged in that dreamy repose so dear to the Orientalists. A cupola or lantern admits a tempered light from above and a free circulation of air ; while on one side is heard the refreshing sound of waters from the Fountain of the Lions, and on the other side the soft plash from the basin in the garden of Lindaraxa. It is impossible to contemplate this scene, so perfectly Oriental, without feeling the early associations of Ara- bian romance, and almost expecting to see the white arm of some mysterious princess beckoning from the gallery, or some dark eye sparkling through the lattice. The abode of beauty is here as if it had been inhabited but yesterday ; but where are the two sisters, where the Zoraydas and Lindaraxas ! An abundant supply of water, brought from the moun- tains by old Moorish aqueducts, circulates throughout the palace, supplying its baths and fish-pools, sparkling in jets within its halls, or murmuring in channels along the marble pavements. When it has paid its tribute to the royal pile, and visited its gardens and parterres, it flows down the long avenue leading to the city, tinkling in rills, gushing in fountains, and maintaining a per- petual verdure in those groves that embower and beau- tify the whole hill of the Alhambra. Those only who have sojourned in the ardent climates of the South can appreciate the delights of an abode combining the breezy coolness of the mountain with the freshness and verdure of the valley. While the city PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 305 below pants with the noontide heat, and the parched Vega trembles to the eye, the delicate airs from the Sierra Nevada play through these lofty halls, bringing with them the sweetness of the surrounding gardens. Everything invites to that indolent repose, the bliss of southern climes ; and while the half-shut eye looks out from shaded balconies upon the glittering landscape, the ear is lulled by the rustling of groves and the murmur of running streams. The peculiar charm of this old dreamy palace is its power of calling up vague reveries and picturings of the past, and thus clothing naked realities with the illusions of the memory and the imagination. As I delight to walk in these " vain shadows," I am prone to seek those parts of the Alhambra which are most favorable to this phantasmagoria of the mind; and none are more so than the Court of Lions, and its surrounding halls. Here the hand of time has fallen the lightest, and the traces of Moorish elegance and splendor exist in almost their original brilliancy. Earthquakes have shaken the foun- dations of this pile, and rent its rudest towers ; yet see ! not one of those slender columns has been displaced, not an arch of that light and fragile colonade given way, and all the fairy fretwork of these domes, apparently as unsubstantial as the crystal fabrics of a morning's frost, exists after the lapse of centuries, almost as fresh as if from the hand of the Moslem artist. I write in the midst of these mementos of the past, in the fresh hour of early morning, in the fated Hall of the Abencerrages. The blood-stained fountain, the legendary monument of 306 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. their massacre, is before me; the lofty jet almost casts its dew upon my paper. How difficult to reconcile the ancient tale of violence and blood with the gentle and peaceful scene around! Everything here appears calcu- lated to inspire kind and happy feelings, for everything is delicate and beautiful. The very light falls tenderly from above, through the lantern of a dome tinted and wrought as if by fairy hands. Through the ample and fretted arch of the portal I behold the Court of Lions, with brilliant sunshine gleaming along its colonnades and sparkling in its fountains. The lively swallow dives into the court, and, rising with a surge, darts away twit- tering over the roofs ; the busy bee toils humming among the flower-beds ; and painted butterflies hover from plant to plant, and flutter up and sport with each other in the sunny air. It needs but a slight exertion of the fancy to picture some pensive beauty of the harem, loitering in these secluded haunts of Oriental luxury. He, however, who would behold this scene under an aspect more in unison with its fortunes, let him come when the shadows of evening temper the brightness of the court, and throw a gloom into the surrounding halls. Then nothing can be more serenely melancholy, or more in harmony with the tale of departed grandeur. At such times I am apt to seek the Hall of Justice, whose deep shadowy arcades extend across the upper end of the court. Here was performed, in presence of Ferdinand and Isabella and their triumphant court, the pompous ceremonial of high mass, on taking possession of the Alhambra. The very cross is still to be seen PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 307 upon the wall, where the altar was erected, and Avhere officiated the Grand Cardinal of Spain, and others of the highest religious dignitaries of the land. I picture to myself the scene when this place was filled with the conquering host, that mixture of mitred prelate and shaven monk, and steel-clad knight and silken courtier; when crosses and crosiers and religious standards were mingled with proud armorial ensigns and the banners of the haughty chiefs of Spain, and flaunted in triumph through these Moslem halls. I picture to myself Colum- bus, the future discoverer of a world, taking his modest stand in a remote corner, the humble and neglected spec- tator of the pageant. I see in imagination the Catholic sovereigns prostrating themselves before the altar, and pouring forth thanks for their victory ; while the vaults resound with sacred minstrelsy and the deep-toned Te Deum. The transient illusion is over, — the pageant melts from the fancy, — monarch, priest, and warrior return into oblivion with the poor Moslems over whom they exulted. The hall of their triumph is waste and deso- late. The bat flits about its twilight vault, and the owl hoots from the neighboring tower of Comares. In the course of a few evenings a thorough change took place in the scene and its associations. The moon, which when I took possession of my new apartments was invisible, gradually gained each evening upon the darkness of the night, and at length rolled in full splen- dor above the towers, pouring a flood of tempered light 308 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. into every court and hall. The garden beneath my window, before, wrapped in gloom, was gently lighted up; the orange and citron trees were tipped with silver; the fountain sparkled in the moonbeams, and even the blush of the rose was faintly visible. I now felt the poetic merit of the Arabic inscription on the walls, — " How beauteous is this garden ; where the flowers of the earth vie with the stars of heaven. What can compare with the vase of yon alabaster fountain filled with crystal water ? nothing but the moon in her fulness, shining in the midst of an unclouded sky ! " On such heavenly nights I would sit for hours at my window inhaling the sweetness of the garden, and mus- ing on the checkered fortunes of those whose history was dimly shadowed out in the elegant memorials around. Sometimes, when all was quiet, and the clock from the distant cathedral of Granada struck the midnight hour, I have sallied out on another tour and wandered over the whole building; but how different from my first tour ! ~No longer dark and mysterious ; no longer peopled with shadowy foes ; no longer recalling scenes of violence and murder ; all was open, spacious, beautiful ; every- thing called up pleasing and romantic fancies ; Linda- raxa once more walked in her garden ; the gay chivalry of Moslem Granada once more glittered about the Court of Lions ! Who can do justice to a moonlight night in such a climate and such a place ? The temperature of a summer midnight in Andalusia is perfectly ethereal. We seem lifted up into a purer atmosphere ; we feel a serenity of soul, a buoyancy of spirits, an elasticity of PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 309 frame, which render mere existence happiness. But when moonlight is added to all this, the effect is like enchantment. Under its plastic sway the Alhambra seems to regain its pristine glories. Every rent and chasm of time ; every mouldering tint and weather-stain is gone ; the marble resumes its original whiteness ; the long colonnades brighten in the moonbeams ; the halls are illuminated with a softened radiance — we tread the enchanted palace of an Arabian tale ! What a delight, at such a time, to ascend to the little airy pavilion of the queen's toilet (el tocador de la reyna), which, like a bird-cage, overhangs the valley of the Darro, and gaze from its light arcades upon the moonlight prospect ! To the right, the swelling moun- tains of the Sierra Nevada, robbed of their ruggedness and softened into a fairy land, with their snowy summits gleaming like silver clouds against the deep blue sky. And then to lean over the parapet of the Tocador and gaze down upon Granada and the Albaycin spread out like a map below ; all buried in deep repose ; the white palaces and convents sleeping in the moonshine, and beyond all these the vapory Vega fading away like a dreamland in the distance. Sometimes the faint click of castanets rises from the Alameda, where some gay Andalusians are dancing away the summer night. Sometimes the dubious tones of a guitar and the notes of an amorous voice tell perchance the whereabout of some moonstruck lover serenading his lady's window. Such is a faint picture of the moonlight nights I have 310 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. passed loitering about the courts and halls and balconies of this most suggestive pile ; " feeding my fancy with sugared suppositions," and enjoying that mixture of reverie and sensation which steals away existence in a southern climate ; so that it has been almost morning before I have retired to bed, and been lulled to sleep by the falling waters of the fountain of Lindaraxa. It is a serene and beautiful morning : the sun has not gained sufficient power to destroy the freshness of the night. What a morning to mount to the summit of the Tower of Comares, and take a bird's-eye view of Granada and its environs ! Come then, worthy reader and comrade, follow my steps into this vestibule, ornamented with rich tracery, which opens into the Hall of Ambassadors. We will not enter the hall, however, but turn to this small door opening into the wall. Have a care ! here are steep winding steps and but scanty light ; yet up this narrow, obscure, and spiral staircase, the proud monarchs of Granada and their queens have often ascended to the battlements to watch the approach of invading armies, or gaze with anxious hearts on the battles in the Vega. At length we have reached the terraced roof, and may take breath for a moment, while we cast a general eye over the splendid panorama of city and country ; of rocky mountain, verdant valley, and fertile plain; of castle, cathedral, Moorish towers, and Gothic domes, crumbling ruins, and blooming groves. Let us approach the battlements, and cast our eyes immediately below. PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 311 See, on this side we have the whole plain of the Alham- bra laid open to us, and can look down into its courts and gardens. At the foot of the tower is the Court of the Alberca, with its great tank or fishpool, bordered with flowers ; and yonder is the Court of Lions, with its famous fountain, and its light Moorish arcades ; and in the centre of the pile is the little garden of Lindaraxa, buried in the heart of the building, with its roses and citrons and shrubbery of emerald green. That belt of battlements, studded with square towers, straggling round the whole brow of the hill, is the outer boundary of the fortress. Some of the towers, you may perceive, are in ruins, and their massive fragments buried among vines, fig-trees, and aloes. Let us look on this northern side of the tower. It is a giddy height ; the very foundations of the tower rise above the groves of the steep hill-side. And see ! a long fissure in the massive walls shows that the tower has been rent by some of the earthquakes which from time to time have thrown Granada into consternation ; and which, sooner or later, must reduce this crumbling pile to a mere mass of ruin. The deep narrow glen below us, which gradually widens as it opens from the mountains, is the valley of the Darro ; you see the little river winding its way under embowered terraces, and among orchards and flower-gardens. It is a stream famous in old times for yielding gold, and its sands are still sifted occa- sionally, in search of the precious ore. Some of those white pavilions, which here and there gleam from among groves and vineyards, were rustic retreats of the Moors, 312 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. to enjoy the refreshment of their gardens. Well have they been compared by one of their poets to so many pearls set in a bed of emeralds. The airy palace, with its tall white towers and long arcades, which breasts yon mountain, among pompous groves and hanging gardens, is the Generalife, a summer palace of the Moorish kings, to which they resorted during the sultry months to enjoy a still more breezy region than that of the Alhambra. The naked summit of the height above it, where you behold some shapeless ruins, is the Silla del Moro, or seat of the Moor, so called from having been a retreat of the unfortunate Boabdil during the time of an insurrection, where he seated him- self, and looked down mournfully upon his rebellious city. A murmuring sound of water now and then rises from the valley. It is from the aqueduct of yon Moorish mill, nearly at the foot of the hill. The avenue of trees beyond is the Alameda, along the bank of the Darro, a favorite resort in evenings, and a rendezvous of lovers in the summer nights, when the guitar may be heard at a late hour from the benches along its walks. At present you see none but a few loitering monks there, and a group of water-carriers. The latter are burdened with water-jars of ancient Oriental construction, such as were used by the Moors. They have been filled at the cold and limpid spring called the fountain of Avellanos. Yon mountain path leads to the fountain, a favorite resort of Moslems as well as Christians ; for this is said to be the Adinamar (Aynu-1-adamar), the " Fountain of Tears," PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 313 mentioned by Ibn Batuta the traveller, and celebrated in the histories and romances of the Moors. You start ! 'tis nothing but a hawk that we have frightened from his nest. This old tower is a complete breeding-place for vagrant birds ; the swallow and mart- let abound in every chink and cranny, and circle about it the whole day long ; while at night, when all other birds have gone to rest, the moping owl comes out of its lurking-place, and utters its boding cry from the bat- tlements. See how the hawk we have dislodged sweeps away below us, skimming over the tops of the trees, and sailing up to the ruins above the G-eneralife ! I see you raise your eyes to the snowy summit of yon pile of mountains, shining like a white summer cloud in the blue sky. It is the Sierra Nevada, the pride and delight of Granada ; the source of her cooling breezes and perpetual verdure, of her gushing fountains and perennial streams. It is this glorious pile of mountains which gives to Granada that combination of delights so rare in a southern city, — the fresh vegetation and tem- perate airs of a northern climate, with the vivifying ardor of a tropical sun, and the cloudless azure of a southern sky. It is this aerial treasury of snow, which, melting in proportion to the increase of the summer heat, sends down rivulets and streams through every glen and gorge of the Alpuxarras, diffusing emerald verdure and fertility throughout a chain of happy and sequestered valleys. Those mountains may be well called the glory of Granada. They dominate the whole extent of Anda- 314 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. lusia, and may be seen from its most distant parts. The muleteer hails them, as he views their frosty peaks from the sultry level of the plain ; and the Spanish mariner on the deck of his bark, far, far off on the bosom of the blue Mediterranean, watches them with a pensive eye, thinks of delightful Granada, and chants, in low voice, some old romance about the Moors. See to the south at the foot of those mountains a line of arid hills, down which a long train of mules is slowly moving. Here was the closing scene of Moslem domina- tion. From the summit of one of those hills the un- fortunate Boabdil cast back his last look upon Granada, and gave vent to the agony of his soul. It is the spot famous in song and story, " The last sigh of the Moor." Farther this way these arid hills slope down into the luxurious Vega, from which he had just emerged : a blooming wilderness of grove and garden, and teeming orchard, with the Xenil winding through it in silver links, and feeding innumerable rills ; which, conducted through ancient Moorish channels, maintain the land- scape in perpetual verdure. Here were the beloved bowers and gardens, and rural pavilions, for which the unfortunate Moors fought with such desperate valor. The very hovels and rude granges, now inhabited by boors, show, by the remains of arabesques and other tasteful decoration, that they were elegant residences in the days of the Moslems. Behold, in the very centre of this eventful plain, a place which in a manner links the history of the Old World with that of the New. Yon line of walls and towers gleaming in the morning sun, PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 315 is the city of Santa Fe, built by the Catholic sovereigns during the siege of Granada, after a conflagration had destroyed their camp. It was to these walls Columbus was called back by the heroic queen, and within them the treaty was concluded which led to the discovery of the Western World. Behind yon promontory to the west is the bridge of Pinos, renowned for many a bloody fight between Moors and Christians. At this bridge the messenger overtook Columbus when, despairing of suc- cess with the Spanish sovereigns, he was departing to carry his project of discovery to the court of France. Above the bridge a range of mountains bounds the Yega to the west, — the ancient barrier between Granada and the Christian territories. Among their heights you may still discern warrior towns j their gray walls and battlements seeming of a piece with the rocks on which they are built. Here and there a solitary atalaya, or watchtower, perched on a mountain peak, looks down as it were from the sky into the valley on either side. How often have these atalayas given notice, by fire at. night or smoke by day, of an approaching foe ! It was down a cragged defile of these mountains, called the Pass of Lope, that the Christian armies descended into the Yega. Round the base of yon gray and naked mountain (the mountain of Elvira), stretching its bold rocky promontory into the bosom of the plain, the in- vading squadrons would come bursting into view, with flaunting banners and clangor of drum and trumpet. But enough ; — the sun is high above the mountains, and pours his full fervor on our heads. Already the 816 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING* terraced roof is hot beneath our foot ; lot us abandon it. and refresh ourselves under the Arcades by the Fountain o( the Lions. In ono of my visits to tho old Moorish ohamlvr where tho good Tia Antonia eooks her dinner and receives her company, I observed a mysterious door in ono corner, leading- apparently into tho ancient part oi' tho edifice. My curiosity being aroused, I opened it. and found my- self in a narrow, blind corridor, groping along which I Came to the head of a dark winding staiivaso. loading- down an angle of the Tower of Comares. Pown this staiivaso I descended darkling, guiding myself by the wall until I eamo to a small door at the bottom, throw ing which open. 1 was suddenly da. vied by emerging into the brilliant antechamber of the Hall of Ambassadors; with the fountain of tho court of the Alborea sparkling before me. The antechamber is separated from the court by an elegant gallery, supported by slender eol- iiiiins with spandrels of open work in the Morisoo style, At eaeh end of the antechamber are alcoves, and its Ceiling is richly Stuccoed and painted. Passing through a magnificent portal. I found myself in the far-famed Hall of Ambassadors, the audience chamber o( the Mos- lem monarehs. li is said to be thirty-seven feet square, and sixty feet high: occupies the whole interior o{ the Tower oi' Pomaros ; and still bears the traces oi' past magnificence. The walls are beautifully stuccoed and decorated with Morisoo faneifulnoss; the lofty ceiling was originally of tho same favorite material, with the PALACM OP THE auiamiula. 81? .-.,.] frostwork and pensile (>ih'ri.ui<-A ^talactites; nrhich, v/jUj the embellishments of vivid gliding, must have been gorgeous in ' l .:':me, Un- fortunately it gave iray dtirii earthquake, brought down with it an immense arch which traversed the hall It was replaced by the present vault or dome of larch ox cedar, frith intersecting ribs, the irhole curi- ously wrought and richly colored ; still Oriental in its character, reminding one of •• those ceilings of ce and verm i J ion that we read of in the Prophets and the Arabiai] Nights," From the great height Of the vault above the win- dows, the upper part of the hall is aim it in obscu- rity: yet there is a magnificence a:-; well a:-; solemnity in the gloom, as through if ire have gleams of rich gilding and the brilliant tints of the Moorish pencil. The royal throne was placed opposite the entrance in a which still bears an inscription intimating that STusef L (the monarch wrho completed the Alhambra) made this the throne of his empire. Everything in this noble hall seems to have been calculated to surround the throne with impressive dignity and splendor; there was none of the elegant voluptuousness which reigns in other part:, oi the palace. The tower is of massive Strength, domineering over the whole edifice and over- hanging the steep hillside. On three sides of the ifall of Ambassadors are windows cut through the immense thiekness of the walls, and commanding extensive pros- pects. The balcony of the central window especially look.; down upon the verdant valley of the Darro, with 318 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. its walks, its groves, and gardens. To the left it enjoys a distant prospect of the Vega ; while directly in front rises the rival height of the Albaycin, with its medley of streets, and terraces, and gardens, and once crowned by a fortress that vied in power with the Alhambra. " 111 fated the man who lost all this ! " exclaimed Charles V., as he looked forth from this window upon the enchanting scenery it commands. The balcony of the window where this royal exclama- tion was made, has of late become one of my favorite resorts. I have just been seated there, enjoying the close of a long brilliant day. The sun, as he sank be- hind the purple mountains of Alhama, sent a stream of effulgence up the valley of the Darro, that spread a mel- ancholy pomp over the ruddy towers of the Alhambra ; while the Vega, covered with a slight sultry vapor that caught the setting ray, seemed spread out in the distance like a golden sea. Not a breath of air disturbed the stillness of the hour, and though the faint sound of music and merriment now and then rose from the gar- dens of the Darro, it but rendered more impressive the monumental silence of the pile which overshadowed me. It was one of those hours and scenes in which memory asserts an almost magical power ; and, like the evening sun beaming on these mouldering towers, sends back her retrospective rays to light up the glories of the past. As I sat watching the effect of the declining daylight upon this Moorish pile, I was led into a consideration of the light, elegant, and voluptuous character prevalent throughout its internal architecture, and to contrast it PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 819 with the grand but gloomy solemnity of the Gothic edi- fices reared by the Spanish conquerors. The very archi- tecture thus bespeaks the opposite and irreconcilable natures of the two warlike people who so long battled here for the mastery of the Peninsula. By degrees I fell into a course of musing upon the singular fortunes of the Arabian or Morisco-Spaniards, whose whole existence is as a tale that is told, and certainly forms one of the most anomalous yet splendid episodes in history. Potent and durable as was their dominion, we scarcely know how to call them. They were a nation without a legiti- mate country or name. A remote wave of the great Arabian inundation, cast upon the shores of Europe, they seem to have all the impetus of the first rush of the tor- rent. Their career of conquest, from the rock of Gibraltar to the cliffs of the Pyrenees, was as rapid and brilliant as the Moslem victories of Syria and Egypt. Nay, had they not been checked on the plains of Tours, all France, all Europe, might have been overrun with the same facility as the empires of the East, and the Crescent at this day have glittered on the fanes of Paris and London. Repelled within the limits of the Pyrenees, the mixed hordes of Asia and Africa, that formed this great irrup- tion, gave up the Moslem principle of conquest, and sought to establish in Spain a peaceful and perma- nent dominion. As conquerors, their heroism was only equalled by their moderation ; and in both, for a time, they excelled the nations with whom they contended. Severed from their native homes, they loved the land 320 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. given them as they supposed by Allah, and strove to embellish it with everything that could administer to the happiness of man. Laying the foundations of their power in a system of wise and equitable laws, diligently cultivating the arts and sciences, and promoting agricul- ture, manufactures, and commerce, they gradually formed an empire unrivalled for its prosperity by any of the empires of Christendom ; and diligently drawing round them the graces and refinements which marked the Ara- bian empire in the East, at the time of its greatest civ- ilization, they diffused the light of Oriental knowledge through the western regions of benighted Europe. The cities of Arabian Spain became the resort of Christian artisans, to instruct themselves in the useful arts. The universities of Toledo, Cordova, Seville, and Granada were sought by the pale student from other lands to acquaint himself with the sciences of the Arabs and the treasured lore of antiquity ; the lovers of the gay science resorted to Cordova and Granada, to imbibe the poetry and music of the East; and the steel-clad warriors of the North hastened thither to accomplish themselves in the graceful exercises and courteous usages of chivalry. If the Moslem monuments in Spain, if the Mosque of Cordova, the Alcazar of Seville, and the Alhambra of Granada, still bear inscriptions fondly boasting of the power and permanency of their dominion, can the boast be derided as arrogant and vain ? Generation after gen- eration, century after century, passed away, and still they maintained possession of the land. A period elapsed PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 321 longer than that which has passed since England was subjugated by the Norman Conqueror, and the descen- dants of Musa and Taric might as little anticipate being driven into exile across the same straits, traversed by their triumphant ancestors, as the descendants of Rollo and William, and their veteran peers, may dream of being driven back to the shores of Normandy. With all this, however, the Moslem empire in Spain was but a brilliant exotic, that took no permanent root in the soil it embellished. Severed from all their neigh- bors in the West by impassable barriers of faith and manners, and separated by seas and deserts from their kindred of the East, the Morisco-Spaniards were an isolated people. Their whole existence was a prolonged, though gallant and chivalric, struggle for a foothold in a usurped land. They were the outposts and frontiers of Islamism. The peninsula was the great battle-ground where the Gothic conquerors of the North and the Moslem con- querors of the East met and strove for mastery; and the fiery courage of the Arab was at length subdued by the obstinate and persevering valor of the Goth. Never was the annihilation of a people more complete than that of the Morisco-Spaniards. Where are they ? Ask the shores of Barbary and its desert places. The exiled remnant of their once powerful empire disap- peared among the barbarians of Africa, and ceased to be a nation. They have not even left a distinct name behind them, though for nearly eight centuries they were a distinct people. The home of their adoption, 322 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. and of their occupation for ages, refuses to acknowledge them, except as invaders and usurpers. A few broken monuments are all that remain to bear witness to their power and dominion, as solitary rocks, left far in the interior, bear testimony to the extent of some vast inun- dation. Such is the Alhambra ; — a Moslem pile in the midst of a Christian land ; an Oriental palace amidst the Gothic edifices of the West ; an elegant memento of a brave, intelligent, and graceful people, who conquered, ruled, flourished, and passed away. NOTE ON MORISCO ARCHITECTURE. To an unpractised eye, the light relievos and fanciful arabesques which cover the walls of the Alhambra appear to have been sculp- tured by the hand, with a minute and patient labor, an inexhaustible variety of detail, yet a general uniformity and harmony of design truly astonishing ; and this may especially be said of the vaults and cupolas, which are wrought like honeycombs, or frostwork, with stalactites and pendants which confound the beholder with the seeming intricacy of their patterns. The astonishment ceases, how- ever, when it is discovered that this is all stucco-work ; plates of plaster of Paris, cast in moulds and skilfully joined so as to form patterns of every size and form. This mode of diapering walls with arabesques, and stuccoing the vaults with grotto-work, was invented in Damas- cus, but highly improved by the Moors in Morocco, to whom Saracenic architecture owes its most graceful and fanciful details. The process by which all this fairy tracery was produced was ingeniously simple. The wall in its naked state was divided off by lines crossing at right angles, such as artists use in copying a picture; over these were drawn a succession of intersecting segments of circles. By the aid of these the artists could work with celerity and certainty, and from the mere intersection of the plain and curved lines arose the interminable variety of patterns and the general uniformity of their character.* 1 See Urquhart's Pillars of Hercules, B. III. C. 8. PALACE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 323 Much gilding was used in the stucco-work, especially of the cupolas; and the interstices were delicately penciled with brilliant colors, such as vermilion and lapis lazuli, laid on with the whites of eggs. The primitive colors alone were used, says Ford, by the Egyp- tians, Greeks, and Arabs, in the early period of art ; and they prevail in the Alhambra whenever the artist has been Arabic or Moorish. It is remarkable how much of their original brilliancy remains after the lapse of several centuries. The lower part of the walls in the saloons, to the height of several feet, is incrusted with glazed tiles, joined like the plates of stucco- work, so as to form various patterns. On some of them are embla- zoned the escutcheons of the Moslem kings, traversed with a band and motto. These glazed tiles (azulejos in Spanish, az-zulaj in Arabic) are of Oriental origin ; their coolness, cleanliness, and freedom from vermin, render them admirably fitted in sultry climates for paving halls and fountains, incrusting bathing-rooms, and lining the walls of chambers. Ford is inclined to give them great antiquity. From their prevailing colors, sapphire and blue, he deduces that they may have formed the kind of pavements alluded to in the sacred Scrip- tures: — "There was under his feet as it were a paved work of a sapphire stone " (Exod. xxiv. 10) ; and again, "Behold I will lay thy stones with fair colors, and lay thy foundations with sapphires" (Isaiah liv. 11). These glazed or porcelain tiles were introduced into Spain at an early date by the Moslems. Some are to be seen among the Moorish ruins which have been there upwards of eight centuries. Manufac- tures of them still exist in the Peninsula, and they are much used in the best Spanish houses, especially in the southern provinces, for paving and lining the summer apartments. The Spaniards introduced them into the Netherlands when they had possession of that country. The people of Holland adopted them with avidity, as wonderfully suited to their passion for house- hold cleanliness ; and thus these Oriental inventions, the azulejos of the Spanish, the az-zulaj of the Arabs, have come to be commonly known as Dutch tiles. 324 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCEEET STATUES. There lived once in a waste apartment of the Alham- bra a merry little fellow, named Lope Sanchez, who worked in the gardens, and was as brisk and blithe as a grasshopper, singing all day long. He was the life and soul of the fortress ; when his work was over he would sit on one of the stone benches of the esplanade, strum his guitar, and sing long ditties about the Cid, and Bernardo del Carpio, and Fernando del Pulgar, and other Spanish heroes, for the amusement of the old soldiers of the fortress ; or would strike up a merrier tune, and set the girls dancing boleros and fandangos. Like most little men, Lope Sanchez had a strapping buxom dame for a wife, who could almost have put him in her pocket ; but he lacked the usual poor man's lot — instead of ten children he had but one. This was a little black-eyed girl about twelve years of age, named Sanchica, who was as merry as himself, and the delight of his heart. She played about him as he worked in the gardens, danced to his guitar as he sat in the shade, and ran as wild as a young fawn about the groves and alleys and ruined halls of the Alhambra. It was now the eve of the blessed St. John, and the holiday-loving gossips of the Alhambra, men, women, and children, went up at night to the Mountain of the LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 325 Sun, which rises above the Generalife, to keep their midsummer vigil on its level summit. It was a bright moonlight night, and all the mountains were gray and silvery, and the city, with its domes and spires, lay in shadows below, and the Vega was like a fairy land, with haunted streams gleaming among its dusky groves. On the highest part of the mountain they lit up a bonfire, according to an old custom of the country handed down from the Moors. The inhabitants of the surrounding country were keeping a similar vigil, and bonfires, here and there in the Vega, and along the folds of the moun- tains, blazed up palely in the moonlight. The evening was gayly passed in dancing to the guitar of Lope Sanchez, who was never so joyous as when on a holiday revel of the kind. When the dance was going on, the little Sanchica with some of her playmates sported among the ruins of an old Moorish fort that crowns the mountain, when, in gathering pebbles in the fosse, she found a small hand curiously carved of jet, the fingers closed, and the thumb firmly clasped upon them. Overjoyed with her good fortune, she ran to her mother with her prize. It immediately became a subject of sage speculation, and was eyed by some with supersti- tious distrust. " Throw it away," said one ; " it's Moor- ish, — depend upon it, there's mischief and witchcraft in it." " By no means," said another ; " you may sell it for something to the jewellers of the Zacatin." In the midst of this discussion an old tawny soldier drew near, who had served in Africa, and was as swarthy as a Moor. He examined the hand with a knowing look. " I have 326 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. seen things of this kind/' said he, " among the Moors of Barbary. It is a great virtue to guard against the evil eye, and all kinds of spells and enchantments. I give you joy, friend Lope, this bodes good luck to your child/' Upon hearing this, the wife of Lope Sanchez tied the little hand of jet to a ribbon, and hung it round the neck of her daughter. The sight of this talisman called up all the favorite superstitions about the Moors. The dance was neglected, and they sat in groups on the ground, telling old legen- dary tales handed down from their ancestors. Some of their stories turned upon the wonders of the very moun- tain upon which they were seated, which is a famous hobgoblin region. One ancient crone gave a long ac- count of the subterranean palace in the bowels of that mountain where Boabdil and all his Moslem court are said to remain enchanted. " Among yonder ruins," said she, pointing to some crumbling walls and mounds of earth on a distant part of the mountain, " there is a deep black pit that goes down, down into the very heart of the mountain. For all the money in Granada I would not look down into it. Once upon a time a poor man of the Alhambra, who tended goats upon this mountain, scrambled down into that pit after a kid that had fallen in. He came out again all wild and staring, and told such things of what he had seen, that every one thought his brain was turned. He raved for a day or two about the hobgoblin Moors that had pursued him in the cavern, and could hardly be persuaded to drive his goats up LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 327 again to the mountain. He did so at last, but, poor man, he never came down again. The neighbors found his goats browsing about the Moorish ruins, and his hat and mantle lying near the mouth of the pit, but he was never more heard of." The little Sanchica listened with breathless attention to this story. She was of a curious nature, and felt immediately a great hankering to peep into this danger- ous pit. Stealing away from her companions, she sought the distant ruins, and, after groping for some time among them, came to a small hollow, or basin, near the brow of the mountain, where it swept steeply down into the valley of the Darro. In the centre of this basin yawned the mouth of the pit. Sanchica ventured to the verge, and peeped in. All was as black as pitch, and gave an idea of immeasurable depth. Her blood ran cold ; she drew back, then peeped in again, then would have run away, then took another peep, — the very horror of the thing was delightful to her. At length she rolled a large stone, and pushed it over the brink. For some time it fell in silence ; then struck some rocky projection with a violent crash ; then rebounded from side to side, rumbling and tumbling, with a noise like thunder ; then made a final splash into water, far, far below, — and all was again silent. The silence, however, did not long continue. It seemed as if something had been awakened within this dreary abyss. A murmuring sound gradually rose out of the pit like the hum and buzz of a beehive. It grew louder and louder, there was the confusion of voices as 328 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. of a distant multitude, together with the faint din of arms, clash of cymbals and clangor of trumpets, as if some army were marshalling for battle in the very bowels of the mountain. The child drew off with silent awe, and hastened back to the place where she had left her parents and their companions. All were gone. The bonfire was expiring, and its last wreath of smoke curling up in the moon- shine. The distant fires that had blazed along the mountains and in the Vega were all extinguished, and everything seemed to have sunk to repose. Sanchica called her parents and some of her companions by name, but received no reply. She ran down the side of the mountain, and by the gardens of the G-eneralife, until she arrived in the alley of trees leading to the Alhambra, where she seated herself on a bench of a woody recess, to recover breath. 'The bell from the watch-tower of the Alhambra tolled midnight. There was a deep tran- quillity as if all nature slept ; excepting the low tinkling sound of an unseen stream that ran under the covert of the bushes. The breathing sweetness of the atmosphere was lulling her to sleep, when her eye was caught by something glittering at a distance, and to her surprise she beheld a long cavalcade of Moorish warriors pouring down the mountain-side and along the leafy avenues. Some were armed with lances and shields ; others with cimeters and battle-axes, and with polished cuirasses that flashed in the moonbeams. Their horses pranced proudly and champed upon their bits, but their tramp caused no more sound than if they had been shod with LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. '329 felt, and the riders were all as pale as death. Among them rode a beautiful lady, with a crowned head and long golden locks entwined with pearls. The housings of her palfrey were of crimson velvet embroidered with gold, and swept the earth ; but she rode all disconsolate, with eyes ever fixed upon the ground. Then succeeded a train of courtiers magnificently ar- rayed in robes and turbans of divers colors, and amidst them, on a cream-colored charger, rode king Boabdil el Chico, in a royal mantle covered with jewels, and a crown sparkling with diamonds. The little Sanchica knew him by his yellow beard, and his resemblance to his portrait, which she had often seen in the picture- gallery of the Generalife. She gazed in wonder and admiration at this royal pageant, as it passed glistening among the trees ; but though she knew these monarchs and courtiers and warriors, so pale and silent, were out of the common course of nature, and things of magic and enchantment, yet she looked on with a bold heart, such courage did she derive from the mystic talisman of the hand, which was suspended about her neck. The cavalcade having passed by, she rose and followed. It continued on to the great Gate of Justice, which stood wide open ; the old invalid sentinels on duty lay on the stone benches of the barbican, buried in profound and apparently charmed sleep, and the phantom pageant swept noiselessly by them with flaunting banner and triumphant state. Sanchica would have followed; but to her surprise she beheld an opening in the earth, within the barbican, leading down beneath the founda- 330 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. tions of the tower. She entered for a little distance, and was encouraged to proceed by finding steps rudely hewn in the rock, and a vaulted passage here and there lit up by a silver lamp, which, while it gave light, dif- fused likewise a grateful fragrance. Venturing on, she came at last to a great hall, wrought out of the heart of the mountain, magnificently furnished in the Moorish style, and lighted up by silver and crystal lamps. Here, on an ottoman, sat an old man in Moorish dress, with a long white beard, nodding and dozing, with a staff in his hand, which seemed ever to be slipping from his grasp ; while at a little distance sat a beautiful lady, in ancient Spanish dress, with a coronet all sparkling with diamonds, and her hair entwined with pearls, who was softly play- ing on a silver lyre. The little Sanchica now recollected a story she had heard among the old people of the Al- hambra, concerning a Gothic princess confined in the centre of the mountain by an old Arabian magician, whom she kept bound up in magic sleep by the power of music. The lady paused with surprise at seeing a mortal in that enchanted hall. " Is it the eve of the blessed St. John ? " said she. " It is," replied Sanchica. "Then for one night the magic charm is suspended. Come hither, child, and fear not. I am a Christian like thyself, though bound here by enchantment. Touch my fetters with the talisman that hangs about thy neck, and for this night I shall be free." So saying, she opened her robes and displayed a broad LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 331 golden band round her waist, and a golden chain that fastened her to the ground. The child hesitated not to apply the little hand of jet to the golden band, and im- mediately the chain fell to the earth. At the sound the old man woke ami began to rub his eyes; but the lady ran her fingers over the chords of the lyre, and again he fell into a slumber and began to nod, and his staff to falter in his hand. "Now," said the lady, "touch his staff with the talismanic hand of jet." The child did so, and it fell from his grasp, and he sank in a deep sleep on the ottoman. The lady gently laid the silver lyre on the ottoman, leaning it against the head of the sleeping magician ; then touching the chords until they vibrated in his ear, — "0 potent spirit of harmony," said she, "continue thus to hold his senses in thraldom till the return of day. Now follow me, my child," continued she, " and thou shalt behold the Alhambra as it was in the days of its glory, for thou hast a magic talisman that reveals all enchantments." Sanchica followed the lady in silence. They passed up through the entrance of the cavern into the barbican of the Gate of Justice, and thence to the Plaza de los Algibes; or esplanade within the fortress. This was all filled with Moorish soldiery, horse and foot, marshalled in squadrons, with banners displayed. There were royal guards also at the portal, and rows of African blacks with drawn cimeters. No one spoke a word, and Sanchica passed on fearlessly after her con- ductor. Her astonishment increased on entering the royal palace, in which she had been reared. The broad 332 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. moonshine lit up all the halls and courts and gardens almost as brightly as if it were day, but revealed a far different scene from that to which she was accustomed. The walls of the apartment were no longer stained and rent by time. Instead of cobwebs, they were now hung with rich silks of Damascus, and the gildings and ara- besque paintings were restored to their original brilliancy and freshness. The halls, no longer naked and unfur- nished, were set out with divans and ottomans of the rarest stuffs, embroidered with pearls and studded with precious gems, and all the fountains in the courts and gardens were playing. The kitchens were again in full operation ; cooks were busy preparing shadowy dishes, and roasting and boiling the phantoms of pullets and partridges; servants were hurrying to and fro with silver dishes heaped up with dainties, and arranging a delicious banquet. The Court of Lions was thronged with guards, and courtiers, and alfaquis, as in the old times of the Moors ; and at the upper end, in the saloon of judgment, sat Boabdil on his throne, surrounded by his court, and swaying a shadowy sceptre for the night. Notwithstanding all this throng and seeming bustle, not a voice nor a footstep was to be heard ; nothing interrupted the midnight silence but the splashing of the fountains. The little Sanchica followed her conductress in mute amazement about the palace, until they came to a portal opening to the vaulted pas- sages beneath the great Tower of Comares. On each side of the portal sat the figure of a nymph, wrought out of alabaster. Their heads were turned aside, and their LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 333 regards fixed upon the same spot within the vault. The enchanted lady paused, and beckoned the child to her. "Here," said she, "is a great secret, which I will reveal to thee in reward for thy faith and courage. These dis- creet statues watch over a treasure hidden in old times by a Moorish king. Tell thy father to search the spot on which their eyes are fixed, and he will find what will make him richer than any man in Granada. Thy inno- cent hands alone, however, gifted as thou art also with the talisman, can remove the treasure. Bid thy father use it discreetly, and devote a part of it to the perform- ance of daily masses for my deliverance from this unholy enchantment." When the lady had spoken these words, she led the child onward to the little garden of Lindlaraxa, which is hard by the vault of the statues. The moon trembled upon the waters of the solitary fountain in the centre of the garden, and shed a tender light upon the orange and citron trees. The beautiful lady plucked a branch of myrtle and wreathed it round the head of the child. " Let this be a memento," said she, " of what I have revealed to thee, and a testimonial of its truth. My hour is come ; I must return to the enchanted hall ; fol- low me not, lest evil befall thee ; — farewell. Remem- ber what I have said, and have masses performed for my deliverance." So saying, the lady entered a dark pas- sage leading beneath the Tower of Comares, and was no longer seen. The faint crowing of a cock was now heard from the cottages below the Alhambra, in the valley of the Darro, 334 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. and a pale streak of light began to appear above the eastern mountains. A slight wind arose, there was a sound like the rustling of dry leaves through the courts and corridors, and door after door shut to with a jarring sound. Sanchica returned to the scenes she had so lately beheld thronged with the shadowy multitude, but Boab- dil and his phantom court were gone. The moon shone into empty halls and galleries stripped of their transient splendor, stained and dilapidated by time, and hung with cobwebs. The bat flitted about in the uncertain light, and the frog croaked from the fish-pond. Sanchica now made the best of her way to a remote staircase that led up to the humble apartment occupied by her family. The door as usual was open, for Lope Sanchez was too poor to need bolt or bar ; she crept quietly to her pallet, and, putting the myrtle wreath beneath her pillow, soon fell asleep. In the morning she related all that had befallen her to her father. Lope Sanchez, however, treated the whole as a mere dream, and laughed at the child for her credulity. He went forth to his customary labors in the garden, but had not been there long when his little daughter came running to him almost breathless. " Father, father!" cried she, " behold the myrtle wreath which the Moorish lady bound round my head." Lope Sanchez gazed with astonishment, for the stalk of the myrtle was of pure gold, and every leaf was a sparkling emerald ! Being not much accustomed to precious stones, he was ignorant of the real value of LEGEND OP THE DISCREET STATUES. 335 the wreath, but he saw enough to convince him that it was something more substantial than the stuff of which dreams are generally made, and that at any rate the child had dreamt to some purpose. His first care was to enjoin the most absolute secrecy upon his daughter; in this respect, however, he was secure, for she had dis- cretion far beyond her years or sex. He then repaired to the vault, where stood the statues of the two alabas- ter nymphs. He remarked that their heads were turned from the portal, and that the regards of each were fixed upon the same point in the interior of the building. Lope Sanchez could not but admire this most discreet contrivance for guarding a secret. He drew a line from the eyes of the statues to the point of regard, made a private mark on the wall, and then retired. All day, however, the mind of Lope Sanchez was dis- tracted with a thousand cares. He could not help hover- ing within distant view of the two statues, and became nervous from the dread that the golden secret might be discovered. Every footstep that approached the place made him tremble. He would have given anything could he but have turned the heads of the statues, for- getting that they had looked precisely in the same direc- tion for some hundreds of years, without any person being the wiser. "A plague upon them," he would say to himself, " they'll betray all ; did ever mortal hear of such a mode of guarding a secret ? " Then on hearing any one ad- vance, he would steal off, as though his very lurking near the place would awaken suspicion. Then he would 336 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. return cautiously, and peep from a distance to see if everything was secure, but the sight of the statues would again call forth his indignation. " Ay, there they stand," would he say, "always looking, and looking, and looking, just where they should not. Confound them ! they are just like all their sex ; if they have not tongues to tattle with, they'll be sure to do it with their eyes." At length, to his relief, the long anxious day drew to a close. The sound of footsteps was no longer heard in the echoing halls of the Alhambra ; the last stranger passed the threshold, the great portal was barred and bolted, and the bat and the frog and the hooting owl gradually resumed their nightly vocations in the deserted palace. Lope Sanchez waited, however, until the night was far advanced before he ventured with his little daughter to the hall of the two nymphs. He found them looking as knowingly and mysteriously as ever at the secret place of deposit. "By your leaves, gentle ladies," thought Lope Sanchez, as he passed between them, " I will re- lieve you from this charge that must have set so heavy in your minds for the last two or three centuries." He accordingly went to work at the part of the wall which he had marked, and in a little while laid open a con- cealed recess, in which stood two great jars of porcelain. He attempted to draw them forth, but they were immov- able, until touched by the innocent hand of his little daughter. With her aid he dislodged them from their niche, and found, to his great joy, that they were filled with pieces of Moorish gold, mingled with jewels and LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 837 precious stones. Before daylight lie managed to convey them to his chamber, and left the two guardian statues with their eyes still fixed on the vacant wall. Lope Sanchez had thus on a sudden become a rich man; but riches, as usual, brought a world of cares to which he had hitherto been a stranger. How was he to convey away his wealth with safety ? How was he even to enter upon the enjoyment of it without awaken- ing suspicion? Now, too. for the first time in his life the dread of robbers entered into his mind. He looked with terror at the insecurity of his habitation, and went to work to barricade the doors and windows ; yet after all his precautions he could not sleep soundly. His usual gayety was at an end, he had no longer a joke or a song for his neighbors, and, in short, became the most miserable animal in the Alhambra. His old com- rades remarked this alteration, pitied him heartily, and began to desert him ; thinking he must be falling into want, and in danger of looking to them for assistance. Little did they suspect that his only calamity was riches. The wife of Lope Sanchez shared his anxiety, but then she had ghostly comfort. We ought before this to have mentioned that Lope, being rather a light inconsiderate little man, his wife was accustomed, in all grave matters, to seek the counsel and ministry of her confessor, Fray Simon, a sturdy, broad-shouldered, blue-bearded, bullet- headed friar of the neighboring convent of San Francisco, who was in fact the spiritual comforter of half the good wives of the neighborhood. He was moreover in great esteem among divers sisterhoods of nuns ; who requited 338 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. him for his ghostly services by frequent presents of those little dainties and knickknacks manufactured in con- vents, such as delicate confections, sweet biscuits, and bottles of spiced cordials, found to be marvellous restora- tives after fasts and vigils. Fray Simon thrived in the exercise of his functions. His oily skin glistened in the sunshine as he toiled up the hill of the Alhambra on a sultry day. Yet notwith- standing his sleek condition, the knotted rope round his waist showed the austerity of his self -discipline ; the multitude doffed their caps to him as a mirror of piety ; and even the dogs scented the odor of sanctity that ex- haled from his garments, and howled from their kennels as he passed. Such was Fray Simon, the spiritual counsellor of the comely wife of Lope Sanchez ; and as the father con- fessor is the domestic confidant of women in humble life in Spain, he was soon acquainted, in great secrecy, with the story of the hidden treasure. The friar opened his eyes and mouth, and crossed him- self a dozen times at the news. After a moment's pause, " Daughter of my soul ! " said he, " know that thy hus- band has committed a double sin — a sin against both State and church ! The treasure he hath thus seized upon for himself, being found in the royal domains, be- longs of course to the crown ; but being infidel wealth, rescued as it were from the fangs of Satan, should be de- voted to the church. Still, however, the matter may be accommodated. Bring hither thy myrtle wreath." When the good father beheld it, his eyes twinkled LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 339 more than ever with admiration of the size and beauty of the emeralds. " This," said he, "being the first-fruits of this discovery, should be dedicated to pious purposes. I will hang it up as a votive offering before the image of San Francisco in our chapel, and will earnestly pray to him, this very night, that your husband be permitted to remain in quiet possession of your wealth." The good dame was delighted to make her peace with heaven at so cheap a rate, and the friar, putting the wreath under his mantle, departed with saintly steps toward his convent. When Lope Sanchez came home, his wife told him what had passed. He was excessively provoked, for he lacked his wife's devotion, and had for sometime groaned in secret at the domestic visitations of the friar. " Woman," said he, " what hast thou done ? Thou hast put everything at hazard by thy tattling." " What ! " cried the good woman, " would you forbid my disburdening my conscience to my confessor ? " " No, wife ! confess as many of your own sins as you please ; but as to this money-digging, it is a sin of my own, and my conscience is very easy under the weight of it." There was no use, however, in complaining ; the secret was told, and, like water spilled on the sand, was not again to be gathered. Their only chance was that the friar would be discreet. The -next day, while Lope Sanchez was abroad, there was an humble knocking at the door, and Fray Simon entered with meek and demure countenance. 340 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. " Daughter," said he, " I have earnestly prayed to San Francisco, and he has heard my prayer. In the dead of the night the saint appeared to me in a dream, but with a frowning aspect, ' Why/ said he, ' dost thou pray to me to dispense with this treasure of the Gentiles, when thou seest the poverty of my chapel ? Go to the house of Lope Sanchez, crave in my name a portion of the Moor- ish gold, to furnish two candlesticks for the main altar, and let him possess the residue in peace.' " When the good woman heard of this vision, she crossed herself with awe, and going to the secret place where Lope had hid the treasure, she filled a great leathern purse with pieces of Moorish gold, and gave it to the friar. The pious monk bestowed upon her, in return, benedictions enough, if paid by Heaven, to en- rich her race to the latest posterity; then slipping the purse into the sleeve of his habit, he folded his hands upon his breast, and departed with an air of humble thankfulness. When Lope Sanchez heard of this second donation to the church, he had wellnigh lost his senses. " Unfortu- nate man," cried he, " what will become of me ? I shall be robbed by piece-meal ; I shall be ruined and brought to beggary." It was with the utmost difficulty that his wife could pacify him, by reminding him of the countless wealth that yet remained, and how considerate it was for San Francisco to rest .contented with so small a portion. Unluckily, Fray Simon had a number of poor relations to be provided for, not to mention some half-dozen sturdy LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 341 bullet-headed orphan children and destitute foundlings that he had taken under his care. He repeated his visits, therefore, from day to day, with solicitations on behalf of Saint Dominick, Saint Andrew, Saint James, until poor Lope was driven to despair, and found that unless he got out of the reach of this holy friar, he should have to make peace-offering to every saint in the calendar. He determined, therefore, to pack up his re- maining wealth, beat a secret retreat in the night, and make off to another part of the kingdom. Full of his project, he bought a stout mule for the purpose, and tethered it in a gloomy vault underneath the tower of the seven floors ; the very place whence the Belludo, or goblin horse, is said to issue forth at mid- night, and scour the streets of Granada, pursued by a pack of hell-hounds. Lope Sanchez had little faith in the story, but availed himself of the dread occasioned by it, knowing that no one would be likely to pry into the subterranean stable of the phantom steed. He sent off his family in the course of the day, with orders to wait for him at a distant village of the Yega. As the night advanced, he conveyed his treasure to the vault under the tower, and having loaded his mule, he led it forth, and cautiously descended the dusky avenue. Honest Lope had taken his measures with the utmost secrecy, imparting them to no one but the faithful wife of his bosom. By some miraculous revelation, however, they became known to Fray Simon. The zealous friar beheld these infidel treasures on the point of slipping forever out of his grasp, and determined to have one 342 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. more dash at them for the benefit of the church and San Francisco. Accordingly, when the bells had rung for animas, and all the Alhambra was quiet, he stole out of his convent, and descending through the Gate of Justice, concealed himself among the thickets of roses and laurels that border the great avenue. Here he remained, counting the quarters of hours as they were sounded on the bell of the watch-tower, and listening to the dreary hootings of owls, and the distant barking of dogs from the gypsy caverns. At length he heard the tramp of hoofs, and, through the gloom of the overshading trees, imperfectly beheld a steed descending the avenue. The sturdy friar chuckled at the idea of the knowing turn he was about to serve honest Lope. Tucking up the skirts of his habit, and wriggling like a cat watching a mouse, he waited until his prey was directly before him, when darting forth from his leafy covert, and putting one hand on the shoulder and the other on the crupper, he made a vault that would not have disgraced the most experienced master of equita- tion, and alighted well-forked astride the steed. "Ah ha ! " said the sturdy friar, " we shall now see who best understands the game." He had scarce uttered the words when the mule began to kick, and rear, and plunge, and then set off full speed down the hill. The friar attempted to check him, but in vain. He bounded from rock to rock, and bush to bush ; the friar's habit was torn to ribbons and fluttered in the wind, his shaven poll received many a hard knock from the branches of LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 343 the trees, and many a scratch from the brambles. To add to his terror and distress, he found a pack of seven hounds in full cry at his heels, and perceived, too late, that he was actually mounted upon the terrible Belludo ! Away then they went, according to the ancient phrase, " pull devil, pull friar," down the great avenue, across the Plaza Nueva, along the Zacatin, around the Vivar- rambla — never did huntsman and hound make a more furious run, or more infernal uproar. In vain did the friar invoke every saint in the calendar, and the holy Virgin into the bargain ; every time he mentioned a name of the kind it was like a fresh application of the spur, and made the Belludo bound as high as a house. Through the remainder of the night was the unlucky Fray Simon carried hither and thither, and whither he would not, until every bone in his body ached, and he suffered a loss of leather too grievous to be mentioned. At length the crowing of a cock gave the signal of returning day. At the sound the goblin steed wheeled about, and galloped back for his tower. Again he scoured the Vivarrambla, the Zacatin, the Plaza Nueva, and the avenue of fountains, the seven dogs yelling, and barking, and leaping up, and snapping at the heels of the terrified friar. The first streak of day had just appeared as they reached the tower; here the goblin steed kicked up his heels, sent the friar a somerset through the air, plunged into the dark vault followed by the infernal pack, and a profound silence succeeded to the late deafening clamor. Was ever so diabolical a trick played off upon a holy 344 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. friar ? A peasant going to his labors at early dawn found the unfortunate Fray Simon lying under a fig-tree at the foot of the tower, but so bruised and bedevilled that he could neither speak nor move. He was conveyed with all care and tenderness to his cell, and the story went that he had been waylaid and maltreated by rob- bers. A day or two elapsed before he recovered the use of his limbs ; he consoled himself, in the mean time, with the thoughts that though the mule with the treasure had escaped him, he had previously had some rare pickings at the infidel spoils. His first care on being able to use his limbs, was to search beneath his pallet, where he had secreted the myrtle wreath, and the leathern pouches of gold extracted from the piety of dame San- chez. What was his dismay at finding the wreath, in effect, but a withered branch of myrtle, and the leathern pouches filled with sand and gravel ! Fray Simon, with all his chagrin, had the discretion to hold his tongue, for to betray the secret might draw on him the ridicule of the public, and the punishment of his superior. It was not until many years afterwards, on his dea,th-bed, that he revealed to his confessor his nocturnal ride on the Belludo. Nothing was heard of Lope Sanchez for a long time after his disappearance from the Alhambra. His mem- ory was always cherished as that of a merry companion, though it was feared, from the care and melancholy observed in his conduct shortly before his mysterious departure, that poverty and distress had driven him to some extremity. Some years afterwards one of his old LEGEND OF THE DISCREET STATUES. 345 companions, an invalid soldier, being at Malaga, was knocked down and nearly run over by a coach and six. The carriage stopped; an old gentleman, magnificently dressed, with a bagwig and sword, stepped out to assist the poor invalid. What was the astonishment of the latter to behold in this grand cavalier his old friend Lope Sanchez, who was actually celebrating the mar- riage of his daughter Sanchica, with one of the first grandees in the land. The carriage contained the bridal party. There was dame Sanchez, now grown as round as a barrel, and dressed out with feathers and jewels, and necklaces of pearls, and necklaces of diamonds, and rings on every finger, altogether a finery of apparel that had not been seen since the days of Queen Sheba. The little Sanchica had now grown to be a woman, and for grace and beauty might have been mistaken for a duchess, if not a prin- cess outright. The bridegroom sat beside her — rather a withered spindle-shanked little man, but this only proved him to be of the true-blue blood; a legitimate Spanish grandee being rarely above three cubits in stat- ure. The match had been of the mother's making. Riches had not spoiled the heart of honest Lope. He kept his old comrade with him for several days ; feasted him like a king, took him to plays and bull-fights, and at length sent him away rejoicing, with a big bag of money for himself, and another to be distributed among his ancient messmates of the Alhambra. Lope always gave out that a rich brother had died in America and left him heir to a copper mine ; but the 346 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. shrewd gossips of the Alhambra insist that his wealth was all derived from his having discovered the secret guarded by the two marble nymphs of the Alhambra. It is remarked that these very discreet statues continue, even unto "the present day, with their eyes fixed most significantly on the same part of the wall ; which leads many to suppose there is still some hidden treasure re- maining there well worthy the attention of the enter- prising traveller. Though others, and particularly all female visitors, regard them with great complacency as lasting monuments of the fact that women can keep a secret. OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 347 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. There are few writers for whom the reader feels such personal kindness as for Oliver Goldsmith, for few have so eminently possessed the magic gift of identifying themselves with their writings. We read his character in every page, and grow into familiar intimacy with him as we read. The artless benevolence that beams through- out his works ; the whimsical, yet amiable views of human life and human nature ; the unforced humor, blending so happily with good feeling and good sense, and singularly dashed at times with a pleasing melan- choly ; even the very nature of his mellow, and flowing, and soft-tinted style — all seem to bespeak his moral as well as his intellectual qualities, and make us love the man at the same time that we admire the author. While the productions of writers of loftier pretension and more sounding names are suffered to moulder on shelves, those of Goldsmith are cherished and laid in our bosoms. We do not quote them with ostentation, but they mingle with our minds, sweeten our tempers, and harmonize our thoughts ; they put us in good humor with ourselves and with the world, and in so doing they make us happier and better men. An acquaintance with the private biography of Gold- smith lets us into the secret of his gifted pages. We 348 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. there discover them to be little more than transcripts of his own heart and picturings of his fortunes. There he shows himself the same kind, artless, good-humored, ex- cursive, sensible, whimsical, intelligent being that he appears in his writings. Scarcely an adventure or char- acter is given in his works that may not be traced to his own parti-colored story. Many of his most ludicrous scenes and ridiculous incidents have been drawn from his own blunders and mischances, and he seems really to have been buffeted into almost every maxim imparted by him for the instruction of his reader. Never was the trite, because sage apophthegm, that " The child is father to the man," more fully verified than in the case of Goldsmith. He is shy, awkward, and blundering in his childhood, yet full of sensibility ; he is a butt for the jeers and jokes of his companions, but apt to surprise and confound them by sudden and witty repartees ; he is dull and stupid at his tasks, yet an eager and intelligent devourer of the travelling tales and campaigning stories of his half -military pedagogue ; he may be a dunce, but he is already a rhymer ; and his early scintillations of poetry awaken the expectations of his friends. He seems from infancy to have been com- pounded of two natures, one bright, the other blunder- ing ; or to have had fairy gifts laid in his cradle by the " good people " who haunted his birthplace, the old gob- lin mansion on the banks of the Inny. He carries with him the wayward elfin spirit, if we may so term it, throughout his career. His fairy gifts are of no avail at school, academy, or college : they unfit OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 349 him for close study and practical science, and render him heedless of everything that does not address itself to his poetical imagination, and genial and festive feel- ings ; they dispose him to break away from restraint, to stroll about hedges, green lanes, and haunted streams, to revel with jovial companions, or to rove the country like a gypsy in quest of odd adventures. As if confiding in these delusive gifts, he takes no heed of the present nor care for the future, lays no regu- lar and solid foundation of knowledge, follows out no plan, adopts and discards those recommended by his friends, at one time prepares for the ministry, next turns to the law, and then fixes upon medicine. He repairs to Edinburgh, the great emporium of medical science, but the fairy gifts accompany him ; he idles and frolics away his time there, imbibing only such knowledge as is agreeable to him ; makes an excursion to the poetical regions of the Highlands ; and having walked the hos- pitals for the customary time, sets off to ramble over the Continent, in quest of novelty rather than knowledge. His whole tour is a poetical one. He fancies he is play- ing the philosopher, while he is really playing the poet ; and though professedly he attends lectures, and visits foreign universities, so deficient is he on his return, in the studies for which he set out, that he fails in an ex- amination as a surgeon's mate ; and while figuring as a doctor of medicine, is outvied on a point of practice by his apothecary. Baffled in every regular pursuit, after trying in vain some of the humbler callings of common- place life, he is driven almost by chance to the exercise 350 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. of his pen, and here the fairy gifts come to his assist- ance. For a long time, however, he seems unaware of the magic properties of that pen : he uses it only as a makeshift until he can find a legitimate means of sup- port. He is not a learned man, and can write but meagrely and at second-hand on learned subjects ; but he has a quick convertible talent that seizes lightly on the points of knowledge necessary to the illustration of a theme : his writings for a time are desultory, the fruits of what he has seen and felt, or what he has recently and hastily read; but his gifted pen transmutes every- thing into gold, and his own genial nature reflects its sunshine through his pages. Still unaware of his powers, he throws off his writings anonymously, to go with the writings of less favored men ; and it is a long time, and after a bitter struggle with poverty and humiliation, before he acquires confi- dence in his literary talent as a means of support, and begins to dream of reputation. From this time his pen is a wand of power in his hand, and he has only to use it discreetly, to make it competent to all his wants. But discretion is not a part of Goldsmith's nature ; and it seems the property of these fairy gifts to be accompanied by moods and tem- peraments to render their effect precarious. The heed- lessness of his early days, his disposition for social enjoyment, his habit of throwing the present on the neck of the future, still continue. His expenses forerun his means; he incurs debts on the faith of what his magic pen is to produce, and then, under the pressure of OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 851 his debts, sacrifices its productions for prices far below their value. It is a redeeming circumstance in his prodi- gality that it is lavished oftener upon others than upon himself ; he gives without thought or stint, and is the continual dupe of his benevolence and his trustfulness in human nature. We may say of him as he says of one of his heroes, "He could not stifle the natural im- pulse which he had to do good, but frequently borrowed money to relieve the distressed ; and when he knew not conveniently where to borrow, he has been observed to shed tears as he passed through the wretched suppliants who attended his gate. . . . " His simplicity in trusting persons whom he had no previous reasons to place confidence in, seems to be one of those lights of his character which, while they im- peach his understanding, do honor to his benevolence. The low and the timid are ever suspicious ; but a heart impressed with honorable sentiments expects from others sympathetic sincerity." 1 His heedlessness in pecuniary matters, which had ren- dered his life a struggle with poverty even in the days of his obscurity, rendered the struggle still more intense when his fairy gifts had elevated him into the society of the wealthy and luxurious, and imposed on his simple and generous spirit fancied obligations to a more ample and bounteous display. " How comes it," says a recent and ingenious critic, " that in all the miry paths of life which he had trod, no speck ever sullied the robe of his modest and graceful 1 Goldsmith's Life of Nash. 352 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. Muse ? How, amidst all the love of inferior company, which never to the last forsook him, did he keep his genius so free from every touch of vulgarity ? " We answer that it was owing to the innate purity and goodness of his nature ; there was nothing in it that assimilated to vice and vulgarity. Though his circum- stances often compelled him to associate with the poor, they never could betray him into companionship with the depraved. His relish for humor and for the study of character, as we have before observed, brought him often into convivial company of a vulgar kind ; but he discriminated between their vulgarity and their amusing qualities, or, rather, wrought from the whole those familiar pictures of life which form the staple of his most popular writings. Much, too, of this intact purity of heart may be ascribed to the lessons of his infancy, under the paternal roof; to the gentle, benevolent, elevated, unworldly maxims of his father, who, " passing rich with forty pounds a year," infused a spirit into his child which riches could not deprave, nor poverty degrade. Much of his boyhood, too, had been passed in the household of his uncle, the amiable and generous Contarine, where he talked of literature with the good pastor, and practised music with his daughter, and delighted them both by his juvenile attempts at poetry. These early associations breathed a grace and refinement into his mind and tuned it up, after the rough sports on the green, or the frolics at the tavern. These led him to turn from the roaring glees of the club to listen to the OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 853 harp of his cousin Jane ; and from the rustic triumph of " throwing sledge " to a stroll with his flute along the pastoral banks of the Inny. The gentle spirit of his father walked with him through life, a pure and virtuous monitor ; and in all the vicissi- tudes of his career we find him ever more chastened in mind by the sweet and holy recollections of the home of his infancy. It has been questioned whether he really had any religious feeling. Those who raise the question have never considered well his writings ; his " Vicar of Wake- field," and his pictures of the Village Pastor, present religion under its most endearing forms, and with a feel- ing that could only flow from the deep convictions of the heart. When his fair travelling companions at Paris urged him to read the Church Service on a Sunday, he replied that " he was not worthy to do it." He had seen in early life the sacred offices performed by his father and his brother with a solemnity which had sanctified them in his memory ; how could he presume to undertake such functions ? His religion has been called in question by Johnson and by Boswell ; he certainly had not the gloomy hypochondriacal piety of the one, nor the bab- bling mouth piety of the other ; but the spirit of Chris- tian charity, breathed forth in his writings and illustrated in his conduct, give us reason to believe he had the in- dwelling religion of the soul. We have made sufficient comments in the preceding chapters on his conduct in elevated circles of literature and fashion. The fairy gifts which took him there were 354 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. not accompanied by the gifts and graces necessary to sustain him in that artificial sphere. He can neither play the learned sage with Johnson, nor the fine gentle- man with Beauclerc ; though he has a mind replete with wisdom and natural shrewdness, and a spirit free from vulgarity. The blunders of a fertile but hurried intellect, and the awkward display of the student assum- ing the man of fashion, fix on him a character for absurdity and vanity which, like the charge of lunacy, it is hard to disprove, however weak the grounds of the charge and strong the facts in opposition to it. In truth, he is never truly in his place in these learned and fashionable circles, which talk and live for display. It is not the kind of society he craves. His heart yearns for domestic life ; it craves familiar, confiding inter- course, family firesides, the guileless and happy company of children ; these bring out the heartiest and sweetest sympathies of his nature. " Had it been his fate," says the critic we have already quoted, "to meet a woman who could have loved him, despite his faults, and respected him despite his foibles, we cannot but think that his life and his genius would have been much more harmonious ; his desultory affec- tions would have been concentred, his craving self-love appeased, his pursuits more settled, his character more solid. A nature like Goldsmith's, so affectionate, so con- fiding, so susceptible to simple, innocent enjoyments, so dependent on others for the sunshine of existence, does not flower if deprived of the atmosphere of home." The cravings of his heart in this respect are evident, OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 355 we think, throughout his career ; and if we have dwelt with more significancy than others upon his intercourse with the beautiful Horneck family, it is because we fan- cied we could detect, amid his playful attentions to one of its members, a lurking sentiment of tenderness, kept down by conscious poverty and a humiliating idea of personal defects. A hopeless feeling of this kind — the last a man would communicate to his friends — might account for much of that fltfulness of conduct, and that gathering melancholy, remarked, but not comprehended by his associates, during the last year or two of his life ; and may have been one of the troubles of the mind which aggravated his last illness, and only terminated with his death. We shall conclude these desultory remarks with a few which have been used by us on a former occasion. From the general tone of Goldsmith's biography, it is evident that his faults at the worst were but negative, while his merits were great and decided. He was no one's enemy but his own; his errors, in the main, inflicted evil on none but himself, and were so blended with humorous and even affecting circumstances, as to disarm anger and conciliate kindness. Where eminent talent is united to spotless virtue, we are awed and dazzled into admiration, but our admiration is apt to be cold and reverential; while there is something in the harmless infirmities of a good and great, but erring individual, that pleads touch- ingly to our nature ; and we turn more kindly towards the object of our idolatry, when we find that, like our. selves, he is mortal and is frail. The epithet so often 356 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. heard, and in snch kindly tones, of "poor Goldsmith," speaks volumes. Few, who consider the real compound of admirable and whimsical qualities which form his character, would wish to prune away his eccentricities, trim its grotesque luxuriance, and clip it down to the decent formalities of rigid virtue. " Let not his frailties be remembered," said Johnson ; " he was a very great man." But, for our part, we rather say, " Let them be remembered," since their tendency is to endear ; and we question whether he himself would not feel gratified in hearing his reader, after dwelling with admiration on the proofs of his greatness, close the volume with the kindhearted phrase, so fondly and familiarly ejaculated, of " Poor Goldsmith." OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 357 NOTE. Not long after his death the Literary Club set on foot a sub- scription, and raised a fund to erect a monument to his memory, in "Westminster Abbey. It was executed by Nollekens, and consisted simply of a bust of the poet in profile, in high relief, in a medallion, and was placed in the area of a pointed arch over the south door in Poets' Corner, between the monuments of Gay and the Duke of Argyle. Johnson furnished a Latin epitaph, of which the following is a translation from Croker's edition of Boswell's " Johnson : " — " OF OLIVER GOLDSMITH — A POET, NATURALIST, AND HISTORIAN, WHO LEFT SCARCELY ANY STYLE OF WRITING UNTOUCHED, AND TOUCHED NOTHING THAT HE DID NOT ADORN; OF ALL THE PASSIONS, WHETHER SMILES WERE TO BE MOVED OR TEARS, A POWERFUL YET GENTLE MASTER; IN GENIUS, SUBLIME, VIVID, VERSATILE, IN STYLE, ELEVATED, CLEAR, ELEGANT — THE LOVE OF COMPANIONS, THE FIDELITY OF FRIENDS, AND THE VENERATION OF READERS, HAVE BY THIS MONUMENT HONORED THE MEMORY. HE WAS BORN IN IRELAND, AT A PLACE CALLED PALLAS, [IN THE PARISH] OF FORNEY, [AND COUNTY] OF LONGFORD, *ON THE 29TH NOV., 1731. EDUCATED AT [THE UNIVERSITY OF] DUBLIN, AND DIED IN LONDON, 4TH APRIL, 1774." * The true date of birth was 10th Nov., 1728. 358 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. General Howe was taking his ease in winter quarters at New York, waiting for the freezing of the Delaware to pursue his triumphant march to Philadelphia, when tidings were brought him of the surprise and capture of the Hessians at Trenton. " That three old established regiments of a people who made war their profession, should lay down their arms to a ragged and undisciplined militia, and that with scarcely any loss on either side," was a matter of amazement. He instantly stopped Lord Cornwallis, who was on the point of embarking for England, and sent him back in all haste to resume the command in the Jerseys. The ice in the Delaware impeded the crossing of the American troops, and gave the British time to draw in their scattered cantonments and assemble their whole force at Princeton. While his troops were yet crossing, Washington sent out Colonel Reed to reconnoitre the position and movements of the enemy and obtain infor- mation. Six of the Philadelphia light horse, spirited young fellows, but who had never seen service, volun- teered to accompany Reed. They patrolled the country to the very vicinity of Princeton, but could collect no information from the inhabitants, who were harassed, terrified, and bewildered by the ravaging marches to and fro of friend and enemy. WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 359 Emerging from a wood almost within view of Prince- ton, they caught sight, from a rising ground, of two or three red-coats passing from time to time from a barn to a dwelling-house. Here must be an outpost. Keep- ing the barn in a line with the house so as to cover their approach, they dashed up to the latter without being discovered, and surrounded it. Twelve British dragoons were within, who, though well armed, were so panic- stricken that they surrendered without making defence. A commissary, also, was taken ; the sergeant of the dragoons alone escaped. Colonel Eeed and his six cava- liers returned in triumph to headquarters. Important information was obtained from their prisoners. Lord Cornwallis had joined General Grant the day before at Princeton, with a reinforcement of chosen troops. They had now seven or eight thousand men, and were pressing wagons for a march upon Trenton. Cadwalader, stationed at Crosswicks, about seven miles distant, between Bordentown and Trenton, sent intelli- gence to the same purport, received by him from a young gentleman who had escaped from Princeton. Word, too, was brought from other quarters, that General Howe was on the march with a thousand light troops with which he had landed at Amboy. The situation of Washington was growing critical. The enemy were beginning to advance their large pickets towards Trenton. Everything indicated an approaching attack. The force with him was small ; to retreat across the river would destroy the dawn of hope awakened in the bosoms of the Jersey militia by the late exploit ; but 360 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. to make a stand without reinforcements was impossible. In this emergency, he called to his aid General Cadwala- der from Crosswicks, and General Mifflin from Borden- town, with their collective forces, amounting to about three thousand six hundred men. He did it with reluc- tance, for it seemed like involving them in the common danger ; but the exigency of the case admitted of no alternative. They promptly answered to his call, and marching in the night, joined him on the 1st of Jan- uary. Washington chose a position for his main body on the the east side of the Assunpink. There was a narrow stone bridge across it, where the water was very deep — the same bridge over which part of Rahl's brigade had escaped in the recent affair. He planted his artillery so as to command the bridge and the forts. His advance guard was stationed about three miles off in a wood, having in front a stream called Shabbakong Creek. Early on the morning of the second, came certain word that Cornwallis was approaching with all his force. Strong parties were sent out under General Greene, who skirmished with the enemy and harassed them in their advance. By twelve o'clock they reached the Shabba- kong, and halted for a time on its northern bank. Then crossing it, and moving forward with rapidity, they drove the advance guard out of the woods, and pushed on until they reached a high ground near the town. Here Hand's corps of several battalions was drawn up, and held them for a time in check. All the parties in advance ultimately retreated to the main body, on the WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 361 east side of the Assunpink, and found some difficulty in crowding across the narrow bridge. From all these checks and delays, it was nearly sunset before Cornwallis with the head of his army entered Trenton. His rear-guard under General Leslie rested at Maiden Head, about six miles distant, and nearly half way between Trenton and Princeton. Forming his troops into columns, he now made repeated attempts to cross the Assunpink at the bridge and the fords, but was as often repulsed by the artillery. For a part of the time Washington, mounted on a white horse, stationed himself at the south end of the bridge, issuing his orders. Each time the enemy was repulsed there was a shout along the American lines. At length they drew off, came to a halt, and lighted their campfires. The Americans did the same, using the neighboring fences for the purpose. Sir William Erskine, who was with Cornwallis, urged him, it is said, to attack Washington that evening in his camp ; but his lordship declined ; he felt sure of the game which had so often escaped him ; he had at length, he thought, got Washington into a situation from which he could not escape, but where he might make a desper- ate stand, and he was willing to give his wearied troops a night's repose to prepare them for the closing struggle. He would be sure, he said, to " bag the fox in the morning." A cannonade was kept up on both sides until dark ; but with little damage to the Americans. When night closed in, the two camps lay in sight of each other's fires, ruminating the bloody action of the following day. 362 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. It was the most gloomy and anxious night that had yet closed in on the American army, throughout its series of perils and disasters ; for there was no concealing the im- pending danger. But what must have been the feelings of the commander-in-chief, as he anxiously patrolled his camp, and considered the desperate position ? A small stream, fordable in several places, was all that separated his raw, inexperienced army from an enemy vastly supe- rior in numbers and discipline, and stung to action by the mortification of a late defeat. A general action with them must be ruinous ; but how was he to retreat ? Behind him was the Delaware, impassable from floating ice. Granting even (a thing not to be hoped) that a retreat across it could be effected, the consequences would be equally fatal. The Jerseys would be left in possession of the enemy, endangering the immediate capture of Philadelphia, and sinking the public mind into despondency. In this darkest of moments a gleam of hope flashed upon his mind ; a bold expedient suggested itself. Almost the whole of the enemy's force must by this time be drawn out of Princeton, and advancing by de- tachments toward Trenton, while their baggage and prin- cipal stores must remain weakly guarded at Brunswick. Was it not possible by a rapid night-march along the Quaker road, a different road from that on which Gen- eral Leslie with the rear-guard was resting, to get past that force undiscovered, come by surprise upon those left at Princeton, capture or destroy what stores were left there, and then push on to Brunswick ? This would WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 368 save the army from being cut off ; would avoid the appearance of a defeat ; and might draw the enemy away from Trenton, while some fortunate stroke might give additional reputation to the American arms. Even should the enemy march on to Philadelphia, it could not in any case be prevented ; while a counter-blow in the Jerseys would be a great consolation. Such was the plan which Washington revolved in his mind on the gloomy banks of the Assunpink, and which he laid before his officers in a council of war, held after nightfall, at the quarters of General Mercer. It met with instant concurrence, being of that hardy, adventu- rous kind, which seems congenial with the American character. One formidable difficulty presented itself. The weather was unusually mild ; there was a thaw, by which the roads might be rendered deep and miry, and almost impassable. Fortunately, or rather providentially, as Washington was prone to consider it, the wind veered to the north in the course of the evening ; the weather became intensely cold, and in two hours the roads were once more hard and frost-bound. In the meantime, the baggage of the army was silently removed to Burlington, and every other preparation was made for a rapid march. To deceive the enemy, men were employed to dig trenches near the bridge, within hearing of the British sentries, with orders to continue noisily at work until daybreak ; others were to go the rounds ; relieve guards at the bridge and fords ; keep up the campfires, and maintain all the appearance of a regular encampment. At daybreak they were to hasten after the army, 864 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. In the dead of the night, the army drew quietly out of the encampment and began its march. General Mercer, mounted on a favorite gray horse, was in the advance, with the remnant of his flying camp, now but about three hundred and fifty men, principally relics of the brave Delaware and Maryland regiments, with some of the Pennsylvania militia. Among the latter were youths belonging to the best families in Philadelphia. The main body followed, under Washington's immediate com- mand. The Quaker road was a complete roundabout, joining the main road about two miles from Princeton, where Washington expected to arrive before daybreak. The road, however, was new and rugged; cut through woods, where the stumps of trees broke the wheels of some of the baggage trains, and retarded the march of the troops ; so that it was near sunrise of a bright, frosty morning, when Washington reached the bridge over Stony Brook, about three miles from Princeton. After crossing the bridge, he led his troops along the bank of the brook to the edge of a wood, where a by-road led off on the right through low grounds, and was said by the guides to be a short cut to Princeton, and less exposed to view. By this road Washington defiled with the main body, order- ing Mercer to continue along the brook with his brigade, until he should arrive at the main road, where he was to secure, and if possible destroy, a bridge over which it passes ; so as to intercept any fugitives from Princeton, and check any retrograde movements of the British troops which might have advanced towards Trenton. WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 865 Hitherto the movements of the Americans had been undiscovered by the enemy. Three regiments of the latter, the 17th, 40th, and 55th, with three troops of dragoons, had been quartered all night in Princeton, under marching orders to join Lord Cornwallis in the morning. The 17th regiment under Colonel Mawhood was already on the march ; the 55th regiment was pre- paring to follow. Mawhood had crossed the bridge by which the old or main road to Trenton passes over Stony Brook, and was proceeding through a wood beyond, when, as he attained the summit of a hill about sunrise, the glittering of arms betrayed to him the movement of Mercer's troops to the left, who were riling along the Quaker road to secure the bridge, as they had been ordered. The woods prevented him from seeing their number. He supposed them to be some broken portion of the American army flying before Lord Cornwallis. With this idea, he faced about and made a retrograde move- ment, to intercept them or hold them in check; while messengers spurred off at all speed, to hasten forward the regiments still lingering at Princeton, so as com- pletely to surround them. The woods concealed him until he had recrossed the bridge of Stony Brook, when he came in full sight of the van of Mercer's brigade. Both parties pushed to get possession of a rising ground on the right near the house of a Mr. Clark, of the peaceful Society of Friends. The Americans being nearest, reached it first, and formed behind a hedge fence which extended along a slope in 866 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. front of the house; whence, being chiefly armed with rifles, they opened a destructive fire. It was returned with great spirit by the enemy. At the first discharge Mercer was dismounted, " his gallant gray " being crippled by a musket ball in the leg. One of his colonels, also/was mortally wounded and carried to the rear. Availing themselves of the confusion thus occa- sioned, the British charged with the bayonet; the Ameri- can riflemen, having no weapon of the kind, were thrown into disorder and retreated. Mercer, who was on foot, endeavored to rally them, when a blow from the butt end of a musket felled him to the ground. He rose and defended himself with his sword, but was surrounded, bayoneted repeatedly, and left for dead. Mawhood pursued the broken and retreating troops to the brow of the rising ground, on which Clark's house was situated, when he beheld a large force emerging from a wood and advancing to the rescue. It was a body of Pennsylvania militia, which Washington, on hearing the firing, had detached to the support of Mercer. Mawhood instantly ceased pursuit, drew up his artillery, and by a heavy discharge brought the militia to a stand. At this moment Washington himself arrived at the scene of action, having galloped from the by-road in advance of his troops. From a rising ground he beheld Mercer's troops retreating in confusion, and the detach- ment of militia checked by Mawhood's artillery. Every- thing was at peril. Putting spurs to his horse, he dashed past the hesitating militia, waving his hat and WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 367 cheering them on. His commanding figure and white horse made him a conspicuous object for the enemy's marksmen, but he heeded it not. Galloping forward under the fire of Mawhood's battery, he called upon Mercer's broken brigade. The Pennsylvanians rallied at the sound of his voice, and caught fire from his example. At the same time the 7th Virginia regiment emerged from the wood, and moved forward with loud cheers, while a fire of grapeshot was opened by Captain Moulder of the American artillery, from the brow of a ridge to the south. Colonel Mawhood, who a moment before had thought his triumph secure, found himself assailed on every side, and separated from the other British regiments. He fought, however, with great bravery, and for a short time the action was desperate. Washington was in the midst of it ; equally endangered by the random fire of his own men, and the artillery and musketry of the enemy. His aide-de-camp, Colonel Fitzgerald, a young and ardent Irishman, losing sight of him in the heat of the fight when enveloped in dust and smoke, dropped the bridle on the neck of his horse and drew his hat over his eyes, giving him up for lost. When he saw him, however, emerge from the cloud, waving his hat, and beheld the enemy giving way, he spurred up to his side. "Thank God," said he, "your Excellency is safe!" " Away, my dear colonel, and bring up the troops," was the reply ; " the day is our own ! " It was one of those occasions in which the latent fire of Washington's char- acter blazed forth. 368 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. Mawhood, by this time, had forced his way, at the point of the bayonet, through gathering foes, though with heavy loss, back to the main road, and was in full retreat towards Trenton to join Cornwallis. Washing- ton detached Major Kelly with a party of Pennsylvania troops, to destroy the bridge at Stony Brook, over which Mawhood had retreated, so as to impede the advance of General Leslie from Maiden Head. In the meantime the 55th regiment, which had been on the left and nearer Princeton, had been encountered by the American advance guard under General St. Clair, and after some sharp fighting in a ravine, had given way, and was retreating across fields and along a by-road to Brunswick. The remaining regiment, the 40th, had not been able to come up in time for the action ; a part of it fled toward Brunswick ; the residue took refuge in the college at Princeton, recently occupied by them as bar- racks. Artillery was now brought to bear on the college, and a few shot compelled those within to surrender. In this brief but brilliant action, about one hundred of the British were left dead on the field, and nearly three hundred taken prisoners, fourteen of whom were officers. Among the slain was Captain Leslie, son of the Earl of Leven. His death was greatly lamented by his captured companions. The loss of the Americans was about twenty-five or thirty men and several officers. Among the latter was Colonel Haslet, who had distinguished himself through- out the campaign, by being among the foremost in ser- vices of danger. He was indeed a gallant officer, and gallantly seconded by his Delaware troops. WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 369 A greater loss was that of General Mercer. He was said to be either dead or dying, in the house of Mr. Clark, whither he had been conveyed by his aide-de- camp, Major Armstrong, who found him, after the re- treat of Mawhood's troops, lying on the field gashed with several wounds, and insensible from cold and loss of blood. Washington would have ridden back from Prince- ton to visit him, and have him conveyed to a place of greater security, but was assured that, if alive, he was too desperately wounded to bear removal ; in the mean- time he was in good hands ; being faithfully attended to by his aide-de-camp, Major Armstrong, and treated with the utmost care and kindness by Mr. Clark's family. Under these circumstances Washington felt compelled to leave his old companion in arms to his fate. Indeed, he was called away by the exigencies of his command, having to pursue the routed regiments which were mak- ing a headlong retreat to Brunswick. In this pursuit he took the lead at the head of a detachment of cavalry. At Kingston, however, three miles to the north-east of Princeton, he pulled up, restrained his ardor, and held a council of war on horseback. Should he keep on to Brunswick or not ? The capture of the British stores and baggage would make his triumph complete; but, on the other hand, his troops were excessively fatigued by their rapid march all night and hard fight in the morn- ing. All of them had been one night without sleep, and some of them two, and many were half-starved. They were without blankets, thinly clad, some of them bare- footed, and this in freezing weather. Cornwallis would 370 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. be upon them before they could reach Brunswick. His rear-guard, under General Leslie, had been quartered but six miles from Princeton, and the retreating troops must have roused them. Under these considerations, it was determined to discontinue the pursuit and push for Morristown. There they would be in a mountainous country, heavily wooded, in an abundant neighborhood, and on the flank of the enemy, with various defiles by which they might change their position according to his movements. Piling off to the left, therefore, from Kingston, and breaking down the bridges behind him, Washington took the narrow road by Eocky Hill to Pluckamin. His troops were so exhausted, that many in the course of the march would lie down in the woods on the frozen ground and fall asleep, and were with difficulty roused and cheered forward. At Pluckamin he halted for a time, to allow them a little repose and refreshment. While they are taking breath we will cast our eyes back to the camp of Cornwallis, to see what was the effect upon him of this masterly movement of Washington. His lord- ship had retired to rest at Trenton with the sportsman's vaunt that he would "bag the fox in the morning." Nothing could surpass his surprise and chagrin when at daybreak the expiring watchnres and deserted camp of the Americans told him that the prize had once more evaded his grasp ; that the general whose military skill he had decried had outgeneralled him. For a time he could not learn whither the army, whicti had stolen away so silently, had directed its stealthy WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON 371 march. By sunrise, however, there was the booming of cannon, like the rumbling of distant thunder, in the direction of Princeton. The idea flashed upon him that Washington had not merely escaped, but was about to make a dash at the British magazines at Brunswick. Alarmed for the safety of his military stores, his lord- ship forthwith broke up his camp, and made a rapid march towards Princeton. As he arrived in sight of the bridge over Stony Brook, he beheld Major Kelly and his party busy in its destruction. A distant discharge of round shot from his field-pieces drove them away, but the bridge was already broken. It would take time to repair it for the passage of the artillery ; so Cornwallis, in his impatience, urged his troops breast-high through the turbulent and icy stream, and again pushed forward. He was brought to a stand by the discharge of a thirty- two pounder from a distant breastwork. Supposing the Americans to be there in force, and prepared to make resistance, he sent out some horsemen to reconnoitre, and advanced to storm the battery. There was no one there. The thirty-two pounder had been left behind by the Americans as too unwieldy, and a match had been ap- plied to it by some lingerer of Washington's rear guard. Without further delay Cornwallis hurried forward, eager to save his magazines. Crossing the bridge at Kingston, he kept on along the Brunswick road, suppos- ing Washington still before him. The latter had got far in the advance, during the delays caused by the broken bridge at Stony Brook, and the discharge of the thirty- two pounder ; and the alteration of his course at Kings- 372 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. ton had carried him completely out of the way of Cornwallis. His lordship reached Brunswick towards evening, and endeavored to console himself, by the safety of the military stores, for being so completely foiled and out-manoeuvred. Washington, in the meantime, was all on the alert; the lion part of his nature was aroused ; and while his weary troops were in a manner panting upon the ground around him, he was despatching missives and calling out aid to enable him to follow up his successes. In a letter to Putnam, written from Pluckamin during the halt, he says, "The enemy appear to be panic-struck. I am in hopes of driving them out of the Jerseys. March the troops under your command to Crosswicks, and keep a strict watch upon the enemy in this quarter. Keep as many spies out as you think proper. A m number of horsemen in the dress of the country must be kept con- stantly going backwards and forwards for this purpose. If you discover any motion of the enemy of conse- quence, let me be informed thereof as soon as possible, by express." To General Heath, also, who was stationed in the Highlands of the Hudson, he wrote at the same hur- ried moment. " The enemy are in great consternation ; and as the panic affords us a favorable • opportunity to drive them out of the Jerseys, it has been determined in council that you should move down towards New York with a considerable force, as if you had a design upon the city. That being an object of great impor- tance, the enemy will be reduced to the necessity of WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 373 withdrawing a considerable part of their force from the Jerseys, if not the whole, to secure the city." These letters despatched, he continued forward to Mor- ristown, where at length he came to a halt from his in- cessant and harassing marchings. There he learned that General Mercer was still alive. He immediately sent his own nephew, Major George Lewis, under the protec- tion of a flag, to attend upon him. Mercer had indeed been kindly nursed by a daughter of Mr. Clark and a negro woman, who had not been frightened from their home by the storm of battle which raged around it. At the time that the troops of Cornwallis approached, Major Armstrong was binding up Mercer's wounds. The latter insisted on his leaving him in the kind hands of Mr. Clark's household and rejoining the army. Lewis found him languishing in great pain ; he had been treated with respect by the enemy, and great tenderness by the benev- olent family who had sheltered him. He expired in the arms of Major Lewis on the 12th of January, in the fifty-sixth year of his age. Dr. Benjamin Eush, after- wards celebrated as a physician, was with him when he died. He was upright, intelligent, and brave ; esteemed as a soldier and beloved as a man, and by none more so than by Washington. His career as a general had been brief ; but long enough to secure him a lasting renown. His name remains one of the consecrated names of the Revolution. From Morristown, Washington again wrote to General Heath, repeating his former orders. To Major-General 374 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. Lincoln, also, who was just arrived at Peekskill, and had command of the Massachusetts militia, he writes on the seventh, " General Heath will communicate mine of this date to you, by which you will find that the greater part of your troops are to move down towards New York, to draw the attention of the enemy to that quarter ; and if they do not throw a considerable body back again, you may, in all probability, carry the city, or at least block- ade them in it. . . . Be as expeditious as possible in moving forward, for the sooner a panic-struck enemy is followed the better. If we can oblige them to evacuate the Jerseys, we must drive them to the utmost distress ; for they have depended upon the supplies from that State for their winter's support." Colonel Reed was ordered to send out rangers and bodies of militia to scour the country, waylay foraging parties, cut off supplies, and keep the cantonments of the enemy in a state of siege. " I would not suffer a man to stir beyond their lines," writes Washington, " nor suffer them to have the least communication with the country." The expedition under General Heath toward New York, from which much had been anticipated by Wash- ington, proved a failure. It moved in three divisions, by different routes, but all arriving nearly at the same time at the enemy's outpost at King's Bridge. There was some skirmishing, but the great feature of the expedi- tion was a pompous and peremptory summons of Fort Independence to surrender. " Twenty minutes only can be allowed," said Heath, "for the garrison to give their WASHINGTON AT PRINCETON. 375 answer, and, should it be in the negative, they must abide the consequences." The garrison made no answer but an occasional cannonade. Heath failed to follow up his summons by corresponding deeds. He hovered and skirmished for some days about the outposts and Spyt- den Duyvel Creek, and then retired before a threatened snowstorm, and the report of an enemy's fleet from Ehode Island, with troops under Lord Percy, who might land in Westchester and take the besieging force in rear. Washington, while he spoke of Heath's failure with indulgence in his despatches to government, could not but give him a rebuke in a private letter. " Your sum- mons," writes he, "as you did not attempt to fulfil your threats, was not only idle, but farcical, and will not fail of turning the laugh exceedingly upon us. These things I mention to you as a friend, for you will perceive they have composed no part of my public letter." But, though disappointed in this part of his plan, Washington, having received reinforcements of militia, continued, with his scanty army, to carry on his system of annoyance. The situation of Cbrnwallis, who but a short time before traversed the Jerseys so triumphantly, became daily more and more irksome. Spies were in his camp to give notice of every movement, and foes without to take advantage of it j so that not a foraging party could sally forth without being waylaid. By degrees he drew in his troops which were posted about the country, and collected them at New Brunswick and Amboy, so as to have a communication by water with New York, whence he was now compelled to draw nearly all his 376 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON IRVING. supplies ; " presenting," to use the words of Hamilton, " the extraordinary spectacle of a powerful army strait- ened within narrow limits by the phantom of a military force, and never permitted to transgress those limits with impunity." In fact, the recent operations in the Jerseys had sud- denly changed the whole aspect of the war, and given a triumphant close to what had been a disastrous campaign. The troops, which for months had been driven from post to post, apparently an undisciplined rabble, had all at once turned upon their pursuers and astounded them by brilliant stratagems and daring exploits. The com- mander, whose cautious policy had been sneered at by enemies, and regarded with impatience by misjudging friends, had all at once shown that he possessed enter- prise as well as circumspection, energy as well as endur- ance, and that beneath his wary coldness lurked a fire to break forth at the proper moment. This year's cam- paign, the most critical one of the war, and especially the part of it which occurred in the Jerseys, was the ordeal that made his great qualities fully appreciated by his countrymen, and gained for him from the statesmen and generals of Europe the appellation of the American Fabius. NOTES. A great many books are helpful to the study of any good author, and some are necessary. In the latter list for Irving are suggested : 1. A complete edition (revised) of Irving's works. 2. A good biography — not too long — e.g., "American Men of Letters." Washington Irving ("Warner). 3. A good dictionary of the English language. The Inter- national ; The Century if possible. 4. A good cyclopaedia, the best within reach. 5. A good dictionary of biography. In these notes Irving is made to interpret himself as far as possible ; and it is hoped that, by reference to Irving himself, the teacher will be, in a manner, compelled to become acquainted with his works. If so, one object of this book will have been attained. Another object of the book is the study of Irving's style, and upon this I will quote only Edward Everett's words : — " If any one wishes to study a style which possesses the charac- teristic beauties of Addison, its ease, simplicity, and elegance, with greater accuracy, point, and spirit, let him give his days and nights to the volumes of Irving." Page 1. The Capture of New Amsterdam by the English. Compare the historical account in any good history of the United States. P. 2. Pompeii, Troy, Paris, etc. It is assumed that all such evident historical references are either so well known to teachers, or so easily found, that no further attention will be paid to them in these notes. 377 378 WASHINGTON IRVING. Fort of Goed Hoop, Book III., Chapter IX., Knickerbocker's History of New York. Similar references are to the same book. Wouter Van Twiller, Book III., Chapter I. Peter Stuyvesant, Book V., Chapter I. P. 3. Amphictyons, Book IV., Chapter XII. Look up the term in dictionary and history. Antony Van Corlear, Book IV., Chapter IV. Calico Mare, piebald or spotted. Manhattoes. See Irving's etymology of the term, Book II., Chapter VI. P. 4. Yankee empire. See Irving's humorous derivation of the word " Yankee." Book III., Chapter VII. P. 9. Tarpeian Rock. Consult classical dictionary under " Tar- peia," and any history of Rome. P. 12. Pythagoras. Consult classical dictionary. Short Pipes and Long Pipes, Book IV., Chapter VIII. P. 13. Windmill system, Book IV., Chapter IV. P. 15. Put to the Question, examination by torture. See " Ques- tion," No. 8, Century Dictionary. P. 21. William the Testy, Book IV., Chapter I. P. 22. Rigmarole. Consult your dictionary. Bell-the-cat, Archibald, Fifth Earl of Angus, " The Great Earl." Consult your history. P. 23. Bronx. A river of Westchester Co., N.Y. P. 24. Spyt den Duyvel. Spuyten Duyvil. See gazetteer. Paladin Orlando. Baldwin's Story of Roland, Adventure 32. See Roland in cyclopaedia. Roncesvalles. Consult your cyclopaedia. P. 25. Moss-bonker. Consult dictionary under moss-bunker. P. 26. Schepen. (Skdpen.) A Dutch magistrate corresponding nearly to an associate justice of a municipal court, or to an English alderman. P. 31. Prodigies recorded by Livy. Et per idem tempus Romae signum Martis Appia via ac simulacra luporum sudasse. . . . Capras lanatas quibusdam factas, et gallinam in marem, gallum in feminam sese vertisse. (Livy XXII., 1.) P. 32. Capture of Fort Christiana. Book VI., chapter VIII. P. 35. As did Pelayo. " Spanish papers." " Legend of Pelayo." P. 37. Diedrich Knickerbocker, See " Knickerbocker's His- NOTES. 379 tory of New York," "Account of the Author." Also "The Histo- rian," under " Dolph Heyliger," in this volume. For Irving's deriva- tion of Knickerbocker, see Book V., Chapter IV. P. 38. Waterloo Medal, honor, or Queen Anne's farthing, rarity. P. 41. Galligaskins. Consult the dictionary. P. 55. Antony's Nose. Book VI., Chapter IV. P. 63. Christmas. Cf. Introduction to Sixth Canto, "Marmion." " Sir Roger in London," " Roger de Coverley Papers." This chapter is a good example for the study of Irving's essay style. P. 67. Sherris sack. Sherry, in Century Dictionary. P. 68. Wassailings. Festivities, carousings. See wassail, Cen- tury Dictionary. Waits. See wait, 2, Century Dictionary. P. 69. "Some say," etc. Hamlet, Act I., Scene I. P. 71. Yorkshire. Consult map of England. P. 73. Mystery. See mystery, 2, in Century Dictionary. Like a cauliflower. Show the propriety of the figure. P. 75. Cyclops. Why Cyclops ? Twelve days. Consult dictionary. "Twelfth Night," etc. P. 76. Square it. See square, 5, Century Dictionary. P. 78. Smoke-Jack. See Century Dictionary. Deal table. See deal, 2, in Century Dictionary. P. 83. Mongrel, puppy, etc. " Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog," Goldsmith. The little dogs and all. King Lear, Act III., Scene VI. P. 84. Stone-shafted. Explain. P. 85. Hoodman blind, etc. It would be interesting to explain what these games were. P. 88. Beaufet. An erroneous form of buffet, which see. P. 90. Jumping with his humor. Explain it. P. 92. Rigadoon. Consult the dictionary. P. 96. Rejoice! our Saviour he was born. West of England carol, " I Saw Three Ships," " Open Sesame," Part II. Ginn & Co. P. 98. 'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth. Her- rick's " Noble Numbers." " A Thanksgiving to God for His House." P. 103. Black-letter. See Century Dictionary. P. 110. Poor Robin. See Irving's note under " The Stage Coach." 380 WASHINGTON IRVING. P. 122. Roasted Crabs. " "When roasted crabs hiss in the howl." " Love's Labor's Lost," Act V., Scene 2. Cf . "Midsummer Night's Dream," Act II., Scene 1. P. 135. See article " Stratford," in Cyclopaedia Britannica. Also article " Shakspeare." Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn ? " Henry IV.," part 1, Act III., Scene 3. P. 136. The Jubilee. In 1769. P. 138. Santa Casa of Loretto. See " Loretto," in American Cyclopaedia. P. 143. A ludicrous epitaph. " Ten in a hundred lies here engraved, 'Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not saved : If any man ask, Who lies in this tomb? Ho ! ho ! quoth the Devil, 'tis my John-a-Combe." P. 145. Justice Shallow. "Merry Wives of "Windsor," and " King Henry IV.," part 2. P. 157. To a last year's pippin. " Benry IV.," part 2, Act V., Scene 3. P. 158. By Cock and Pye. See Irving's note, p. 120. P. 161. The Stout Gentleman. Read chapters, " The Hall," and " Story Telling," " Bracebridge Hall." See "Tales of a Traveller," " The Great Unknown." Also the prefatory letter to Scott's " Peveril of the Peak." P. 162. Benjamin. Consult Century Dictionary. P. 165. Hipped. The meaning of the term? P. 167. Slammerkin. Slamkin. Nincompoop. Non compos. Hunt. Very likely Leigh Hunt is meant. P. 170. Belcher handkerchiefs. Consult the dictionary. P. 172. Cabbaged. The propriety of the term? P. 175. Of the old general's relating. See " Bracebridge Hall ; " chapters, "An Old Soldier," and " Bachelors." P. 177. Hogenmogens. The States-General. But see the word in the Century Dictionary. P. 180. In chancery. In litigation in a court of equity. P. 181. Curmudgeon. See the derivation. Crone. Is this the common use of the word ? NOTES. 381 P. 183. Lord Cornbury. Bancroft says of him: "Heir to an earldom, he joined the worst form of arrogance to intellectual im- becility." " History of United States," Vol. II., Chapter II. P. 202. DeviPs Stepping Stones. Knickerbocker's "History of New York," Book IV., Chapter VI. Was the place that where the " Stepping Stones" lighthouse now is? Gibbet Island. See "Guests from Gibbet Island," " Wolf ert's Boost." Governor Leisler, 1691. Bancroft's " History of United States," Vol. II., Chapter II. P. 216. Snicker-snee» Consult Century Dictionary. P. 269. Columbus. Bead Chapter VII. of " Washington Irving," by Charles Dudley Warner. P. 271. Martin Alonzo Pinzon. Commander of the Pinta. See Book II., Chapter VIII., " Columbus." Cipango. Book I., Chapters IV. and V., " Columbus." " I claim my reward." The pension promised by the Spanish sovereigns. See Book III., Chapter III., " Columbus." P. 281. Boabdil. The last of the Moorish kings. For his subse- quent history, see appendix to the " Conquest of Granada." P. 282. Xenil. (Ha-nee'l.) See the first chapter of " Conquest of Granada." P. 283. Comixa. See appendix to " Conquest of Granada." P. 286. Alpuxarras. Consult Lippincott's Pronouncing Gazetteer. P. 289. Cid Hiaya. See Chapters LXX., LXXX., and LXXXI. of " Conquest of Granada." Fray Antonio Agapida. The fictitious narrator into whose mouth Irving puts the story of the " Conquest of Granada." P. 293. Roderick. See the " Legend of Don Roderick," " Span- ish Papers." P. 294. Palace of the Alhambra. This extract is made up from Irving's descriptions of various parts of the Palace of the Alhambra, and put together so as to form, as nearly as possible, a continuous piece. The teacher is recommended to read the various pieces of description as they occur in " The Alhambra " itself. I recommend to the teacher the reading of the " Conquest of Granada," the whole of " The Alhambra," and the " Spanish Papers," in connection with the study of this part of the book. I believe it will be too interesting to be irksome. 382 WASHINGTON IRVING. Caaba. Consult the dictionary. P. 296. During the recent troubles in Spain. To what does Irving refer ? P. 300. Darro. Consult the gazetteer. P. 303. Abencerrages. See chapter " The Ahencerrages," in "The Alhambra." Mateo Ximenes. The " Son of the Alhambra," Irving's cice- rone. Cf. Irving's note in " Surrender of Granada." P. 304. Lindaraxa. See the chapter " The Mysterious Cham- bers," of " The Alhambra." P. 306. Here was performed. See " Surrender of Granada." P. 314. The last sigh of the Moor. Cf. the "Surrender of Granada." P. 316. Tia Antonia. See the chapter " Important Negotiations," of " The Alhambra." P. 319. Their career of conquest. Some of the "Spanish Pa- pers " will be found interesting and suggestive in reference to the Moorish conquest. P. 324. Cid. Consult cyclopaedia. P. 324. Bernardo del Carpio. See American Cyclopaedia, and cf. Felicia Hemans's poem of that name. P. 324. Fernando del Pulgar. See Chapters LIL, LXXIV. and note, LXXXVIII., and XCII., " Conquest of Granada," and chapter " Public Fetes of Granada," of " The Alhambra." P. 324. Eve of the Blessed St. John. June 23d. P. 325. Generalife. See " Alhambra," chapter " The Generalife." P. 329. Gate of Justice. See chapter " Palace of the Alhambra. " P. 330. Concerning a Gothic Princess. See "Legend of the Arabian Astrologer," in "The Alhambra." P. 332. The Court of Lions. See chapter "The Court of Lions." P. 332. Tower of Comares. See " Panorama from the Tower of Comares." P. 347. Character of Goldsmith. It seems to me that every one will be delighted to read the whole book from which this extract is made. Of it Warner, in his biography of Irving, p. 172, says: " The 'Goldsmith ' was enlarged from a sketch he had made twenty- five years before. It is an exquisite, sympathetic piece of work, with- out pretension or any subtle verbal analysis, but on the whole an excellent interpretation of the character. Author and subject had NOTES. 383 much in common. Irving had at least a kindly sympathy for the vagahondish inclinations of his predecessor, and with his humorous and cheerful regard of the world. Perhaps it is significant of a deeper unity of character that both, at times, fancied they could please an intolerant world by attempting to play the flute." P. 358. Washington at Princeton. Irving's " Life of "Wash- ington," Vol. II., closing chapter. On the " Life of Washington," read pp. 294-297 in " Washington Irving," ("American Men of Letters)." The references in this extract, both historical and geographical, are so well known as to need no explanation in the way of notes. P. 360. In the recent affair. The Battle of Trenton. Prices largely reduced. Wit Stutrente' Series of 3Engltsij Claries. 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