CHAPTER IX.

THE CHARACTERISTIC WORKS.

The Knickerbocker's "History of New York" and the "Sketch-Book" never

would have won for Irving the gold medal of the Royal Society of

Literature, or the degree of D.C.L. from Oxford.

However much the world would have liked frankly to honor the writer for

that which it most enjoyed and was under most obligations for, it would

have been a violent shock to the constitution of things to have given

such honor to the mere humorist and the writer of short sketches. The

conventional literary proprieties must be observed. Only some laborious,

solid, and improving work of the pen could sanction such distinction,--a

book of research or an historical composition. It need not necessarily

be dull, but it must be grave in tone and serious in intention, in order

to give the author high recognition.

Irving himself shared this opinion. He hoped, in the composition of his

"Columbus" and his "Washington," to produce works which should justify

the good opinion his countrymen had formed of him, should reasonably

satisfy the expectations excited by his lighter books, and lay for him

the basis of enduring reputation. All that he had done before was the

play of careless genius, the exercise of frolicsome fancy, which might

amuse and perhaps win an affectionate regard for the author, but could

not justify a high respect or secure a permanent place in literature.

For this, some work of scholarship and industry was needed.

And yet everybody would probably have admitted that there was but one

man then living who could have created and peopled the vast and humorous

world of the Knickerbockers; that all the learning of Oxford and

Cambridge together would not enable a man to draw the whimsical portrait

of Ichabod Crane, or to outline the fascinating legend of Rip Van

Winkle; while Europe was full of scholars of more learning than Irving,

and writers of equal skill in narrative, who might have told the story

of Columbus as well as he told it and perhaps better. The

under-graduates of Oxford who hooted their admiration of the shy author

when he appeared in the theatre to receive his complimentary degree

perhaps understood this, and expressed it in their shouts of "Diedrich

Knickerbocker," "Ichabod Crane," "Rip Van Winkle."

Irving's "gift" was humor; and allied to this was sentiment. These

qualities modified and restrained each other; and it was by these that

he touched the heart. He acquired other powers which he himself may have

valued more highly, and which brought him more substantial honors; but

the historical compositions, which he and his contemporaries regarded as

a solid basis of fame, could be spared without serious loss, while the

works of humor, the first fruits of his genius, are possessions in

English literature the loss of which would be irreparable. The world may

never openly allow to humor a position "above the salt," but it clings

to its fresh and original productions, generation after generation,

finding room for them in its accumulating literary baggage, while more

"important" tomes of scholarship and industry strew the line of its

march.

I feel that this study of Irving as a man of letters would be

incomplete, especially for the young readers of this generation, if it

did not contain some more extended citations from those works upon which

we have formed our estimate of his quality. We will take first a few

passages from the "History of New York."

* * * * *

It has been said that Irving lacked imagination. That, while he had

humor and feeling and fancy, he was wanting in the higher quality, which

is the last test of genius. We have come to attach to the word

"imagination" a larger meaning than the mere reproduction in the mind of

certain absent objects of sense that have been perceived; there must be

a suggestion of something beyond these, and an ennobling suggestion, if

not a combination, that amounts to a new creation. Now, it seems to me

that the transmutation of the crude and theretofore unpoetical

materials, which he found in the New World, into what is as absolute a

creation as exists in literature, was a distinct work of the

imagination. Its humorous quality does not interfere with its largeness

of outline, nor with its essential poetic coloring. For, whimsical and

comical as is the "Knickerbocker" creation, it is enlarged to the

proportion of a realm, and over that new country of the imagination is

always the rosy light of sentiment.

This largeness of modified conception cannot be made apparent in such

brief extracts as we can make, but they will show its quality and the

author's humor. The Low-Dutch settlers of the Nieuw Nederlandts are

supposed to have sailed from Amsterdam in a ship called the Goede Vrouw,

built by the carpenters of that city, who always model their ships on

the fair forms of their countrywomen. This vessel, whose beauteous model

was declared to be the greatest belle in Amsterdam, had one hundred feet

in the beam, one hundred feet in the keel, and one hundred feet from the

bottom of the stern-post to the taffrail. Those illustrious adventurers

who sailed in her landed on the Jersey flats, preferring a marshy

ground, where they could drive piles and construct dykes. They made a

settlement at the Indian village of Communipaw, the egg from which was

hatched the mighty city of New York. In the author's time this place had

lost its importance:--

"Communipaw is at present but a small village pleasantly situated,

among rural scenery, on that beauteous part of the Jersey shore

which was known in ancient legends by the name of Pavonia,[1] and

commands a grand prospect of the superb bay of New York. It is

within but half an hour's sail of the latter place, provided you

have a fair wind, and may be distinctly seen from the city. Nay, it

is a well-known fact, which I can testify from my own experience,

that on a clear still summer evening, you may hear, from the

Battery of New York, the obstreperous peals of broad-mouthed

laughter of the Dutch negroes at Communipaw, who, like most other

negroes, are famous for their risible powers. This is peculiarly

the case on Sunday evenings, when, it is remarked by an ingenious

and observant philosopher who has made great discoveries in the

neighborhood of this city, that they always laugh loudest, which he

attributes to the circumstance of their having their holiday

clothes on.

"These negroes, in fact, like the monks of the dark ages, engross

all the knowledge of the place, and being infinitely more

adventurous and more knowing than their masters, carry on all the

foreign trade; making frequent voyages to town in canoes loaded

with oysters, buttermilk, and cabbages. They are great astrologers,

predicting the different changes of weather almost as accurately as

an almanac; they are moreover exquisite performers on

three-stringed fiddles; in whistling they almost boast the

far-famed powers of Orpheus's lyre, for not a horse or an ox in the

place, when at the plough or before the wagon, will budge a foot

until he hears the well-known whistle of his black driver and

companion. And from their amazing skill at casting up accounts upon

their fingers, they are regarded with as much veneration us were

the disciples of Pythagoras of yore, when initiated into the sacred

quaternary of numbers.

"As to the honest burghers of Communipaw, like wise men and sound

philosophers, they never look beyond their pipes, nor trouble their

heads about any affairs out of their immediate neighborhood; so

that they live in profound and enviable ignorance of all the

troubles, anxieties, and revolutions of this distracted planet. I

am even told that many among them do verily believe that Holland,

of which they have heard so much from tradition, is situated

somewhere on Long Island,--that _Spiking-devil_ and _the Narrows_

are the two ends of the world,--that the country is still under the

dominion of their High Mightinesses,--and that the city of New York

still goes by the name of Nieuw Amsterdam. They meet every Saturday

afternoon at the only tavern in the place, which bears as a sign a

square-headed likeness of the Prince of Orange, where they smoke a

silent pipe, by way of promoting social conviviality, and

invariably drink a mug of cider to the success of Admiral Van

Tromp, who they imagine is still sweeping the British channel with

a broom at his mast-head.

"Communipaw, in short, is one of the numerous little villages in

the vicinity of this most beautiful of cities, which are so many

strongholds and fastnesses, whither the primitive manners of our

Dutch forefathers have retreated, and where they are cherished with

devout and scrupulous strictness. The dress of the original

settlers is handed down inviolate, from father to son: the

identical broad-brimmed hat, broad-skirted coat, and broad-bottomed

breeches, continue from generation to generation; and several

gigantic knee-buckles of massy silver are still in wear, that made

gallant display in the days of the patriarchs of Communipaw. The

language likewise continues unadulterated by barbarous innovations;

and so critically correct is the village schoolmaster in his

dialect, that his reading of a Low-Dutch psalm has much the same

effect on the nerves as the filing of a handsaw."

[Footnote 1: Pavonia in the ancient maps, is given to a tract

of country extending from about Hoboken to Amboy.]

The early prosperity of this settlement is dwelt on with satisfaction by

the author:--

"The neighboring Indians in a short time became accustomed to the

uncouth sound of the Dutch language, and an intercourse gradually

took place between them and the new-comers. The Indians were much

given to long talks, and the Dutch to long silence;--in this

particular, therefore, they accommodated each other completely. The

chiefs would make long speeches about the big bull, the Wabash, and

the Great Spirit, to which the others would listen very

attentively, smoke their pipes, and grunt _yah, mynher_,--whereat

the poor savages were wondrously delighted. They instructed the new

settlers in the best art of curing and smoking tobacco, while the

latter, in return, made them drunk with true Hollands,--and then

taught them the art of making bargains.

"A brisk trade for furs was soon opened; the Dutch traders were

scrupulously honest in their dealings and purchased by weight,

establishing it as an invariable table of avoirdupois, that the

hand of a Dutchman weighed one pound, and his foot two pounds. It

is true, the simple Indians were often puzzled by the great

disproportion between bulk and weight, for let them place a bundle

of furs, never so large, in one scale, and a Dutchman put his hand

or foot in the other, the bundle was sure to kick the beam;--never

was a package of furs known to weigh more than two pounds in the

market of Communipaw!

"This is a singular fact,--but I have it direct from my

great-great-grandfather, who had risen to considerable importance

in the colony, being promoted to the office of weigh-master, on

account of the uncommon heaviness of his foot.

"The Dutch possessions in this part of the globe began now to

assume a very thriving appearance, and were comprehended under the

general title of Nieuw Nederlandts, on account, as the Sage Vander

Donck observes, of their great resemblance to the Dutch

Netherlands,--which indeed was truly remarkable, excepting that the

former were rugged and mountainous, and the latter level and

marshy. About this time the tranquillity of the Dutch colonists was

doomed to suffer a temporary interruption. In 1614, Captain Sir

Samuel Argal, sailing under a commission from Dale, governor of

Virginia, visited the Dutch settlements on Hudson River, and

demanded their submission to the English crown and Virginian

dominion. To this arrogant demand, as they were in no condition to

resist it, they submitted for the time, like discreet and

reasonable men.

"It does not appear that the valiant Argal molested the settlement

of Communipaw; on the contrary, I am told that when his vessel

first hove in sight, the worthy burghers were seized with such a

panic, that they fell to smoking their pipes with astonishing

vehemence; insomuch that they quickly raised a cloud, which,

combining with the surrounding woods and marshes, completely

enveloped and concealed their beloved village, and overhung the

fair regions of Pavonia--so that the terrible Captain Argal passed

on totally unsuspicious that a sturdy little Dutch settlement lay

snugly couched in the mud, under cover of all this pestilent vapor.

In commemoration of this fortunate escape, the worthy inhabitants

have continued to smoke, almost without intermission, unto this

very day; which is said to be the cause of the remarkable fog which

often hangs over Communipaw of a clear afternoon."

The golden age of New York was under the reign of Walter Van Twiller,

the first governor of the province, and the best it ever had. In his

sketch of this excellent magistrate Irving has embodied the abundance

and tranquillity of those halcyon days:--

"The renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van Twiller was descended from a

long line of Dutch burgomasters, who had successively dozed away

their lives, and grown fat upon the bench of magistracy in

Rotterdam; and who had comported themselves with such singular

wisdom and propriety, that they were never either heard or talked

of--which, next to being universally applauded, should be the

object of ambition of all magistrates and rulers. There are two

opposite ways by which some men make a figure in the world: one, by

talking faster than they think, and the other, by holding their

tongues and not thinking at all. By the first, many a smatterer

acquires the reputation of a man of quick parts; by the other, many

a dunderpate, like the owl, the stupidest of birds, comes to be

considered the very type of wisdom. This, by the way, is a casual

remark, which I would not, for the universe, have it thought I

apply to Governor Van Twiller. It is true he was a man shut up

within himself, like an oyster, and rarely spoke, except in

monosyllables; but then it was allowed he seldom said a foolish

thing. So invincible was his gravity that he was never known to

laugh or even to smile through the whole course of a long and

prosperous life. Nay, if a joke were uttered in his presence, that

set light-minded hearers in a roar, it was observed to throw him

into a state of perplexity. Sometimes he would deign to inquire

into the matter, and when, after much explanation, the joke was

made as plain as a pike-staff, he would continue to smoke his pipe

in silence, and at length, knocking out the ashes, would exclaim,

'Well! I see nothing in all that to laugh about.'

"With all his reflective habits, he never made up his mind on a

subject. His adherents accounted for this by the astonishing

magnitude of his ideas. He conceived every subject on so grand a

scale that he had not room in his head to turn it over and examine

both sides of it. Certain it is, that, if any matter were

propounded to him on which ordinary mortals would rashly determine

at first glance, he would put on a vague, mysterious look, shake

his capacious head, smoke some time in profound silence, and at

length observe, that 'he had his doubts about the matter'; which

gained him the reputation of a man slow of belief and not easily

imposed upon. What is more, it has gained him a lasting name; for

to this habit of the mind has been attributed his surname of

Twiller; which is said to be a corruption of the original Twijfler,

or, in plain English, _Doubter_.

"The person of this illustrious old gentleman was formed and

proportioned, as though it had been moulded by the hands of some

cunning Dutch statuary, as a model of majesty and lordly grandeur.

He was exactly five feet six inches in height, and six feet five

inches in circumference. His head was a perfect sphere, and of such

stupendous dimensions, that dame Nature, with all her sex's

ingenuity, would have been puzzled to construct a neck capable of

supporting it; wherefore she wisely declined the attempt, and

settled it firmly on the top of his backbone, just between the

shoulders. His body was oblong and particularly capacious at

bottom; which was wisely ordered by Providence, seeing that he was

a man of sedentary habits, and very averse to the idle labor of

walking. His legs were short, but sturdy in proportion to the

weight they had to sustain; so that when erect he had not a little

the appearance of a beer-barrel on skids. His face, that infallible

index of the mind, presented a vast expanse, unfurrowed by any of

those lines and angles which disfigure the human countenance with

what is termed expression. Two small gray eyes twinkled feebly in

the midst, like two stars of lesser magnitude in a hazy firmament,

and his full-fed cheeks, which seemed to have taken toll of

everything that went into his mouth, were curiously mottled and

streaked with dusky red, like a spitzenberg apple.

"His habits were as regular as his person. He daily took his four

stated meals, appropriating exactly an hour to each; he smoked and

doubted eight hours, and he slept the remaining twelve of the

four-and-twenty. Such was the renowned Wouter Van Twiller,--a true

philosopher, for his mind was either elevated above, or tranquilly

settled below, the cares and perplexities of this world. He had

lived in it for years, without feeling the least curiosity to know

whether the sun revolved round it, or it round the sun; and he had

watched, for at least half a century, the smoke curling from his

pipe to the ceiling, without once troubling his head with any of

those numerous theories by which a philosopher would have perplexed

his brain, in accounting for its rising above the surrounding

atmosphere.

"In his council he presided with great state and solemnity. He sat

in a huge chair of solid oak, hewn in the celebrated forest of the

Hague, fabricated by an experienced timmerman of Amsterdam, and

curiously carved about the arms and feet into exact imitations of

gigantic eagle's claws. Instead of a sceptre, he swayed a long

Turkish pipe, wrought with jasmin and amber, which had been

presented to a stadtholder of Holland at the conclusion of a treaty

with one of the petty Barbary powers. In this stately chair would

he sit, and this magnificent pipe would he smoke, shaking his

right knee with a constant motion, and fixing his eye for hours

together upon a little print of Amsterdam, which hung in a black

frame against the opposite wall of the council-chamber. Nay, it has

even been said, that when any deliberation of extraordinary length

and intricacy was on the carpet, the renowned Wouter would shut his

eyes for full two hours at a time, that he might not be disturbed

by external objects; and at such times the internal commotion of

his mind was evinced by certain regular guttural sounds, which his

admirers declared were merely the noise of conflict, made by his

contending doubts and opinions....

"I have been the more anxious to delineate fully the person and

habits of Wouter Van Twiller, from the consideration that he was

not only the first but also the best governor that ever presided

over this ancient and respectable province; and so tranquil and

benevolent was his reign, that I do not find throughout the whole

of it a single instance of any offender being brought to

punishment,--a most indubitable sign of a merciful governor, and a

case unparalleled, excepting in the reign of the illustrious King

Log, from whom, it is hinted, the renowned Van Twiller was a lineal

descendant.

"The very outset of the career of this excellent magistrate was

distinguished by an example of legal acumen that gave flattering

presage of a wise and equitable administration. The morning after

he had been installed in office, and at the moment that he was

making his breakfast from a prodigious earthen dish, filled with

milk and Indian pudding, he was interrupted by the appearance of

Wandle Schoonhoven, a very important old burgher of New Amsterdam,

who complained bitterly of one Barent Bleecker, inasmuch as he

refused to come to a settlement of accounts, seeing that there was

a heavy balance in favor of the said Wandle. Governor Van Twiller,

as I have already observed, was a man of few words; he was likewise

a mortal enemy to multiplying writings--or being disturbed at his

breakfast. Having listened attentively to the statement of Wandle

Schoonhoven, giving an occasional grunt, as he shoveled a spoonful

of Indian pudding into his mouth,--either as a sign that he

relished the dish, or comprehended the story,--he called unto him

his constable, and pulling out of his breeches-pocket a huge

jack-knife, dispatched it after the defendant as a summons,

accompanied by his tobacco-box as a warrant.

"This summary process was as effectual in those simple days as was

the seal-ring of the great Haroun Alraschid among the true

believers. The two parties being confronted before him, each

produced a book of accounts, written in a language and character

that would have puzzled any but a High-Dutch commentator, or a

learned decipherer of Egyptian obelisks. The sage Wouter took them

one after the other, and having poised them in his hands, and

attentively counted over the number of leaves, fell straightway

into a very great doubt, and smoked for half an hour without saying

a word; at length, laying his finger beside his nose, and shutting

his eyes for a moment, with the air of a man who has just caught a

subtle idea by the tail, he slowly took his pipe from his mouth,

puffed forth a column of tobacco-smoke, and with marvelous gravity

and solemnity pronounced, that, having carefully counted over the

leaves and weighed the books, it was found, that one was just as

thick and as heavy as the other: therefore, it was the final

opinion of the court that the accounts were equally balanced:

therefore, Wandle should give Barent a receipt, and Barent should

give Wandle a receipt, and the constable should pay the costs.

"This decision, being straightway made known, diffused general joy

throughout New Amsterdam, for the people immediately perceived that

they had a very wise and equitable magistrate to rule over them.

But its happiest effect was, that not another lawsuit took place

throughout the whole of his administration; and the office of

constable fell into such decay, that there was not one of those

losel scouts known in the province for many years. I am the more

particular in dwelling on this transaction, not only because I deem

it one of the most sage and righteous judgments on record, and well

worthy the attention of modern magistrates, but because it was a

miraculous event in the history of the renowned Wouter--being the

only time he was ever known to come to a decision in the whole

course of his life."

This peaceful age ended with the accession of William the Testy, and the

advent of the enterprising Yankees. During the reigns of William Kieft

and Peter Stuyvesant, between the Yankees of the Connecticut and the

Swedes of the Delaware, the Dutch community knew no repose, and the

"History" is little more than a series of exhausting sieges and

desperate battles, which would have been as heroic as any in history if

they had been attended with loss of life. The forces that were gathered

by Peter Stuyvesant for the expedition to avenge upon the Swedes the

defeat at Fort Casimir, and their appearance on the march, give some

notion of the military prowess of the Dutch. Their appearance, when they

were encamped on the Bowling Green, recalls the Homeric age:--

"In the centre, then, was pitched the tent of the men of battle of

the Manhattoes, who, being the inmates of the metropolis, composed

the lifeguards of the governor. These were commanded by the valiant

Stoffel Brinkerhoof, who, whilom had acquired such immortal fame at

Oyster Bay; they displayed as a standard a beaver _rampant_ on a

field of orange, being the arms of the province, and denoting the

persevering industry and the amphibious origin of the Nederlands.

"On their right hand might be seen the vassals of that renowned

Mynheer, Michael Paw, who lorded it over the fair regions of

ancient Pavonia, and the lands away south even unto the Navesink

mountains, and was moreover patroon of Gibbet Island. His standard

was borne by his trusty squire, Cornelius Van Vorst; consisting of

a huge oyster _recumbent_ upon a sea-green field; being the

armorial bearings of his favorite metropolis Communipaw. He brought

to the camp a stout force of warriors, heavily armed, being each

clad in ten pair of linsey-woolsey breeches, and overshadowed by

broad-brimmed beavers, with short pipes twisted in their hat-bands.

These were the men who vegetated in the mud along the shores of

Pavonia, being of the race of genuine copperheads, and were fabled

to have sprung from oysters.

"At a little distance was encamped the tribe of warriors who came

from the neighborhood of Hell-gate. These were commanded by the Suy

Dams, and the Van Dams,--incontinent hard swearers, as their names

betoken. They were terrible looking fellows, clad in broad-skirted

gaberdines, of that curious colored cloth called thunder and

lightning,--and bore as a standard three devil's darning-needles,

_volant_, in a flame-colored field.

"Hard by was the tent of the men of battle from the marshy borders

of the Waale-Boght and the country thereabouts. These were of a

sour aspect, by reason that they lived on crabs, which abound in

these parts. They were the first institutors of that honorable

order of knighthood called _Fly-market shirks_, and, if tradition

speak true, did likewise introduce the far-famed step in dancing

called 'double trouble.' They were commanded by the fearless

Jacobus Varra Vanger,--and had, moreover, a jolly band of

Breuckelen ferry-men, who performed a brave concerto on conch

shells.

"But I refrain from pursuing this minute description which goes on

to describe the warriors of Bloemen-dael, and Weehawk, and

Hoboken, and sundry other places, well known in history and song;

for now do the notes of martial music alarm the people of New

Amsterdam, sounding afar from beyond the walls of the city. But

this alarm was in a little while relieved, for lo! from the midst

of a vast cloud of dust, they recognized the brimstone-colored

breeches and splendid silver leg of Peter Stuyvesant, glaring in

the sunbeams; and beheld him approaching at the head of a

formidable army, which he had mustered along the banks of the

Hudson. And here the excellent but anonymous writer of the

Stuyvesant manuscript breaks out into a brave and glorious

description of the forces, as they defiled through the principal

gate of the city, that stood by the head of Wall Street.

"First of all came the Van Bummels, who inhabit the pleasant

borders of the Bronx: these were short fat men, wearing exceeding

large trunk-breeches, and were renowned for feats of the trencher.

They were the first inventors of suppawn, or mush and milk.--Close

in their rear marched the Van Vlotens, of Kaatskill, horrible

quaffers of new cider, and arrant braggarts in their liquor.--After

them came the Van Pelts of Groodt Esopus, dexterous horsemen,

mounted upon goodly switch-tailed steeds of the Esopus breed. These

were mighty hunters of minks and musk-rats, whence came the word

_Peltry_.--Then the Van Nests of Kinderhoeck, valiant robbers of

birds'-nests, as their name denotes. To these, if report may be

believed, are we indebted for the invention of slap-jacks, or

buckwheat-cakes.--Then the Van Higginbottoms, of Wapping's creek.

These came armed with ferules and birchen rods, being a race of

schoolmasters, who first discovered the marvelous sympathy between

the seat of honor and the seat of intellect,--and that the shortest

way to get knowledge into the head was to hammer it into the

bottom.--Then the Van Grolls, of Antony's Nose, who carried their

liquor in fair round little pottles, by reason they could not bouse

it out of their canteens, having such rare long noses.--Then the

Gardeniers, of Hudson and thereabouts, distinguished by many

triumphant feats, such as robbing water-melon patches, smoking

rabbits out of their holes, and the like, and by being great lovers

of roasted pigs' tails. These were the ancestors of the renowned

congressman of that name.--Then the Van Hoesens, of Sing-Sing,

great choristers and players upon the jews-harp. These marched two

and two, singing the great song of St. Nicholas.--Then the

Couenhovens, of Sleepy Hollow. These gave birth to a jolly race of

publicans, who first discovered the magic artifice of conjuring a

quart of wine into a pint bottle.--Then the Van Kortlandts, who

lived on the wild banks of the Croton, and were great killers of

wild ducks, being much spoken of for their skill in shooting with

the long bow.--Then the Van Bunschotens, of Nyack and Kakiat, who

were the first that did ever kick with the left foot. They were

gallant bushwhackers and hunters of raccoons by moonlight.--Then

the Van Winkles, of Haerlem, potent suckers of eggs, and noted for

running of horses, and running up of scores at taverns. They were

the first that ever winked with both eyes at once.--Lastly came the

KNICKERBOCKERS, of the great town of Scaghtikoke, where the folk

lay stones upon the houses in windy weather, lest they should be

blown away. These derive their name, as some say, from _Knicker_,

to shake, and _Beker_, a goblet, indicating thereby that they were

sturdy toss-pots of yore; but, in truth, it was derived from

_Knicker_, to nod, and _Boeken_, books: plainly meaning that they

were great nodders or dozers over books. From them did descend the

writer of this history."

In the midst of Irving's mock-heroics, he always preserves a substratum

of good sense. An instance of this is the address of the redoubtable

wooden-legged governor, on his departure at the head of his warriors to

chastise the Swedes:--

"Certain it is, not an old woman in New Amsterdam but considered

Peter Stuyvesant as a tower of strength, and rested satisfied that

the public welfare was secure so long as he was in the city. It is

not surprising, then, that they looked upon his departure as a sore

affliction. With heavy hearts they draggled at the heels of his

troop, as they marched down to the river-side to embark. The

governor, from the stern of his schooner, gave a short but truly

patriarchal address to his citizens, wherein he recommended them to

comport like loyal and peaceable subjects--to go to church

regularly on Sundays, and to mind their business all the week

besides. That the women should be dutiful and affectionate to their

husbands,--looking after nobody's concerns but their

own,--eschewing all gossipings and morning gaddings,--and carrying

short tongues and long petticoats. That the men should abstain from

intermeddling in public concerns, intrusting the cares of

government to the officers appointed to support them,--staying at

home, like good citizens, making money for themselves, and getting

children for the benefit of their country. That the burgomasters

should look well to the public interest,--not oppressing the poor

nor indulging the rich,--not tasking their ingenuity to devise new

laws, but faithfully enforcing those which were already

made,--rather bending their attention to prevent evil than to

punish it; ever recollecting that civil magistrates should consider

themselves more as guardians of public morals than rat-catchers

employed to entrap public delinquents. Finally, he exhorted them,

one and all, high and low, rich and poor, to conduct themselves _as

well as they could_, assuring them that if they faithfully and

conscientiously complied with this golden rule, there was no danger

but that they would all conduct themselves well enough. This done,

he gave them a paternal benediction, the sturdy Antony sounded a

most loving farewell with his trumpet, the jolly crews put up a

shout of triumph, and the invincible armada swept off proudly down

the bay."

The account of an expedition against Fort Christina deserves to be

quoted in full, for it is an example of what war might be, full of

excitement, and exercise, and heroism, without danger to life. We take

up the narrative at the moment when the Dutch host,--

"Brimful of wrath and cabbage,"--

and excited by the eloquence of the mighty Peter, lighted their pipes,

and charged upon the fort.

"The Swedish garrison, ordered by the cunning Risingh not to fire

until they could distinguish the whites of their assailants' eyes,

stood in horrid silence on the covert-way, until the eager Dutchmen

had ascended the glacis. Then did they pour into them such a

tremendous volley, that the very hills quaked around, and were

terrified even unto an incontinence of water, insomuch that certain

springs burst forth from their sides, which continue to run unto

the present day. Not a Dutchman but would have bitten the dust

beneath that dreadful fire, had not the protecting Minerva kindly

taken care that the Swedes should, one and all, observe their usual

custom of shutting their eyes and turning away their heads at the

moment of discharge.

"The Swedes followed up their fire by leaping the counterscarp, and

falling tooth and nail upon the foe with curious outcries. And now

might be seen prodigies of valor, unmatched in history or song.

Here was the sturdy Stoffel Brinkerhoff brandishing his

quarter-staff, like the giant Blanderon his oak-tree (for he

scorned to carry any other weapon), and drumming a horrific tune

upon the hard heads of the Swedish soldiery. There were the Van

Kortlandts, posted at a distance, like the Locrian archers of yore,

and plying it most potently with the long-bow, for which they were

so justly renowned. On a rising knoll were gathered the valiant

men of Sing-Sing, assisting marvelously in the fight by chanting

the great song of St. Nicholas; but as to the Gardeniers of Hudson,

they were absent on a marauding party, laying waste the neighboring

water-melon patches.

"In a different part of the field were the Van Grolls of Antony's

Nose, struggling to get to the thickest of the fight, but horribly

perplexed in a defile between two hills, by reason of the length of

their noses. So also the Van Bunschotens of Nyack and Kakiat, so

renowned for kicking with the left foot, were brought to a stand

for want of wind, in consequence of the hearty dinner they had

eaten, and would have been put to utter rout but for the arrival of

a gallant corps of voltigeurs, composed of the Hoppers, who

advanced nimbly to their assistance on one foot. Nor must I omit to

mention the valiant achievements of Antony Van Corlear, who, for a

good quarter of an hour, waged stubborn fight with a little pursy

Swedish drummer, whose hide he drummed most magnificently, and whom

he would infallibly have annihilated on the spot, but that he had

come into the battle with no other weapon but his trumpet.

"But now the combat thickened. On came the mighty Jacobus Varra

Vanger and the fighting-men of the Wallabout; after them thundered

the Van Pelts of Esopus, together with the Van Rippers and the Van

Brunts, bearing down all before them; then the Suy Dams, and the

Van Dams, pressing forward with many a blustering oath, at the head

of the warriors of Hell-gate, clad in their thunder-and-lightning

gaberdines; and lastly, the standard-bearers and body-guard of

Peter Stuyvesant, bearing the great beaver of the Manhattoes.

"And now commenced the horrid din, the desperate struggle, the

maddening ferocity, the frantic desperation, the confusion and

self-abandonment of war. Dutchman and Swede commingled, tugged,

panted, and blowed. The heavens were darkened with a tempest of

missives. Bang! went the guns; whack! went the broad-swords; thump!

went the cudgels; crash! went the musket-stocks; blows, kicks,

cuffs, scratches, black eyes and bloody noses swelling the horrors

of the scene! Thick thwack, cut and hack, helter-skelter,

higgledy-piggledy, hurly-burly, head-over-heels, rough-and-tumble!

Dunder and blixum! swore the Dutchmen; splitter and splutter! cried

the Swedes. Storm the works! shouted Hardkoppig Peter. Fire the

mine! roared stout Risingh. Tanta-rar-ra-ra! twanged the trumpet of

Antony Van Corlear;--until all voice and sound became

unintelligible,--grunts of pain, yells of fury, and shouts of

triumph mingling in one hideous clamor. The earth shook as if

struck with a paralytic stroke; trees shrunk aghast, and withered

at the sight; rocks burrowed in the ground like rabbits; and even

Christina Creek turned from its course and ran up a hill in

breathless terror!

"Long hung the contest doubtful; for though a heavy shower of rain,

sent by the "cloud-compelling Jove," in some measure cooled their

ardor, as doth a bucket of water thrown on a group of fighting

mastiffs, yet did they but pause for a moment, to return with

tenfold fury to the charge. Just at this juncture a vast and dense

column of smoke was seen slowly rolling toward the scene of battle.

The combatants paused for a moment, gazing in mute astonishment,

until the wind, dispelling the murky cloud, revealed the flaunting

banner of Michael Paw, the Patroon of Communipaw. That valiant

chieftain came fearlessly on at the head of a phalanx of oyster-fed

Pavonians and a _corps de reserve_ of the Van Arsdales and Van

Bummels, who had remained behind to digest the enormous dinner they

had eaten. These now trudged manfully forward, smoking their pipes

with outrageous vigor, so as to raise the awful cloud that has been

mentioned, but marching exceedingly slow, being short of leg, and

of great rotundity in the belt.

"And now the deities who watched over the fortunes of the

Nederlanders having unthinkingly left the field, and stepped into a

neighboring tavern to refresh themselves with a pot of beer, a

direful catastrophe had wellnigh ensued. Scarce had the myrmidons

of Michael Paw attained the front of battle, when the Swedes,

instructed by the cunning Risingh, leveled a shower of blows full

at their tobacco-pipes. Astounded at this assault, and dismayed at

the havoc of their pipes, these ponderous warriors gave way, and

like a drove of frightened elephants broke through the ranks of

their own army. The little Hoppers were borne down in the surge;

the sacred banner emblazoned with the gigantic oyster of Communipaw

was trampled in the dirt; on blundered and thundered the

heavy-sterned fugitives, the Swedes pressing on their rear and

applying their feet _a parte poste_ of the Van Arsdales and the Van

Bummels with a vigor that prodigiously accelerated their movements;

nor did the renowned Michael Paw himself fail to receive divers

grievous and dishonorable visitations of shoe-leather.

"But what, oh Muse! was the rage of Peter Stuyvesant, when from

afar he saw his army giving way! In the transports of his wrath he

sent forth a roar, enough to shake the very hills. The men of the

Manhattoes plucked up new courage at the sound, or, rather, they

rallied at the voice of their leader, of whom they stood more in

awe than of all the Swedes in Christendom. Without waiting for

their aid, the daring Peter dashed, sword in hand, into the

thickest of the foe. Then might be seen achievements worthy of the

days of the giants. Wherever he went the enemy shrank before him;

the Swedes fled to right and left, or were driven, like dogs, into

their own ditch; but as he pushed forward, singly with headlong

courage, the foe closed behind and hung upon his rear. One aimed a

blow full at his heart; but the protecting power which watches over

the great and good turned aside the hostile blade and directed it

to a side-pocket, where reposed an enormous iron tobacco-box,

endowed, like the shield of Achilles, with supernatural powers,

doubtless from bearing the portrait of the blessed St. Nicholas.

Peter Stuyvesant turned like an angry bear upon the foe, and

seizing him, as he fled, by an immeasurable queue, 'Ah, whoreson

caterpillar,' roared he, 'here's what shall make worms' meat of

thee!' so saying he whirled his sword and dealt a blow that would

have decapitated the varlet, but that the pitying steel struck

short and shaved the queue forever from his crown. At this moment

an arquebusier leveled his piece from a neighboring mound, with

deadly aim; but the watchful Minerva, who had just stopped to tie

up her garter, seeing the peril of her favorite hero, sent old

Boreas with his bellows, who, as the match descended to the pan,

gave a blast that blew the priming from the touch-hole.

"Thus waged the fight, when the stout Risingh, surveying the field

from the top of a little ravelin, perceived his troops banged,

beaten, and kicked by the invincible Peter. Drawing his falchion,

and uttering a thousand anathemas, he strode down to the scene of

combat with some such thundering strides as Jupiter is said by

Hesiod to have taken when he strode down the spheres to hurl his

thunder-bolts at the Titans.

"When the rival heroes came face to face, each made a prodigious

start in the style of a veteran stage-champion. Then did they

regard each other for a moment with the bitter aspect of two

furious ram-cats on the point of a clapper-clawing. Then did they

throw themselves into one attitude, then into another, striking

their swords on the ground, first on the right side, then on the

left: at last at it they went with incredible ferocity. Words

cannot tell the prodigies of strength and valor displayed in this

direful encounter,--an encounter compared to which the far-famed

battles of Ajax with Hector, of Æneas with Turnus, Orlando with

Rodomont, Guy of Warwick with Colbrand the Dane, or of that

renowned Welsh knight, Sir Owen of the Mountains, with the giant

Guylon, were all gentle sports and holiday recreations. At length

the valiant Peter, watching his opportunity, aimed a blow enough to

cleave his adversary to the very chine; but Risingh, nimbly raising

his sword, warded it off so narrowly, that, glancing on one side,

it shaved away a huge canteen in which he carried his

liquor,--thence pursuing its trenchant course, it severed off a

deep coat-pocket, stored with bread and cheese,--which provant,

rolling among the armies, occasioned a fearful scrambling between

the Swedes and Dutchmen, and made the general battle to wax more

furious than ever.

"Enraged to see his military stores laid waste, the stout Risingh,

collecting all his forces, aimed a mighty blow full at the hero's

crest. In vain did his fierce little cocked hat oppose its course.

The biting steel clove through the stubborn ram beaver, and would

have cracked the crown of any one not endowed with supernatural

hardness of head; but the brittle weapon shivered in pieces on the

skull of Hardkoppig Piet, shedding a thousand sparks, like beams of

glory, round his grizzly visage.

"The good Peter reeled with the blow, and turning up his eyes

beheld a thousand suns, besides moons and stars, dancing about the

firmament; at length, missing his footing, by reason of his wooden

leg, down he came on his seat of honor with a crash which shook the

surrounding hills, and might have wrecked his frame, had he not

been received into a cushion softer than velvet, which Providence,

or Minerva, or St. Nicholas, or some cow, had benevolently prepared

for his reception.

"The furious Risingh, in despite of the maxim, cherished by all

true knights, that 'fair play is a jewel,' hastened to take

advantage of the hero's fall; but, as he stooped to give a fatal

blow, Peter Stuyvesant dealt him a thwack over the sconce with his

wooden leg, which set a chime of bells ringing triple bob-majors in

his cerebellum. The bewildered Swede staggered with the blow, and

the wary Peter seizing a pocket-pistol, which lay hard by,

discharged it full at the head of the reeling Risingh. Let not my

reader mistake; it was not a murderous weapon loaded with powder

and ball, but a little sturdy stone pottle charged to the muzzle

with a double dram of true Dutch courage, which the knowing Antony

Van Corlear carried about him by way of replenishing his valor, and

which had dropped from his wallet during his furious encounter with

the drummer. The hideous weapon sang through the air, and true to

its course as was the fragment of a rock discharged at Hector by

bully Ajax, encountered the head of the gigantic Swede with

matchless violence.

"This heaven-directed blow decided the battle. The ponderous

pericranium of General Jan Risingh sank upon his breast; his knees

tottered under him; a deathlike torpor seized upon his frame, and

he tumbled to the earth with such violence that old Pluto started

with affright, lest he should have broken through the roof of his

infernal palace.

"His fall was the signal of defeat and victory: the Swedes gave

way, the Dutch pressed forward; the former took to their heels, the

latter hotly pursued. Some entered with them, pell-mell, through

the sally-port; others stormed the bastion, and others scrambled

over the curtain. Thus in a little while the fortress of Fort

Christina, which, like another Troy, had stood a siege of full ten

hours, was carried by assault, without the loss of a single man on

either side. Victory, in the likeness of a gigantic ox-fly, sat

perched upon the cocked hat of the gallant Stuyvesant; and it was

declared by all the writers whom he hired to write the history of

his expedition that on this memorable day he gained a sufficient

quantity of glory to immortalize a dozen of the greatest heroes in

Christendom!"

In the "Sketch-Book," Irving set a kind of fashion in narrative essays,

in brief stories of mingled humor and pathos, which was followed for

half a century. He himself worked the same vein in "Bracebridge Hall,"

and "Tales of a Traveller." And there is no doubt that some of the most

fascinating of the minor sketches of Charles Dickens, such as the story

of the Bagman's Uncle, are lineal descendants of, if they were not

suggested by, Irving's "Adventure of My Uncle," and the "Bold Dragoon."

The taste for the leisurely description and reminiscent essay of the

"Sketch-Book" does not characterize the readers of this generation, and

we have discovered that the pathos of its elaborated scenes is somewhat

"literary." The sketches of "Little Britain," and "Westminster Abbey,"

and, indeed, that of "Stratford-on-Avon," will for a long time retain

their place in selections of "good reading;" but the "Sketch-Book" is

only floated, as an original work, by two papers, the "Rip Van Winkle"

and the "Legend of Sleepy Hollow;" that is to say by the use of the

Dutch material, and the elaboration of the "Knickerbocker Legend," which

was the great achievement of Irving's life. This was broadened and

deepened and illustrated by the several stories of the "Money Diggers,"

of "Wolfert Webber" and "Kidd the Pirate," in "The Tales of a

Traveller," and by "Dolph Heyliger" in "Bracebridge Hall." Irving was

never more successful than in painting the Dutch manners and habits of

the early time, and he returned again and again to the task until he not

only made the shores of the Hudson and the islands of New York harbor

and the East River classic ground, but until his conception of Dutch

life in the New World had assumed historical solidity and become a

tradition of the highest poetic value. If in the multiplicity of books

and the change of taste the bulk of Irving's works shall go out of

print, a volume made up of his Knickerbocker history and the legends

relating to the region of New York and the Hudson would survive as long

as anything that has been produced in this country.

The philosophical student of the origin of New World society may find

food for reflection in the "materiality" of the basis of the

civilization of New York. The picture of abundance and of enjoyment of

animal life is perhaps not overdrawn in Irving's sketch of the home of

the Van Tassels, in "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." It is all the extract

we can make room for from that careful study:--

"Among the musical disciples who assembled, one evening in each

week, to receive his instructions in psalmody, was Katrina Van

Tassel, the daughter and only child of a substantial Dutch farmer.

She was a blooming lass of fresh eighteen; plump as a partridge;

ripe and melting and rosy-cheeked as one of her father's peaches,

and universally famed, not merely for her beauty, but her vast

expectations. She was, withal, a little of a coquette, as might be

perceived even in her dress, which was a mixture of ancient and

modern fashions, as most suited to set off her charms. She wore the

ornaments of pure yellow gold which her great-great-grandmother had

brought over from Saardam; the tempting stomacher of the olden

time; and withal a provokingly short petticoat, to display the

prettiest foot and ankle in the country round.

"Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart towards the sex; and it

is not to be wondered at that so tempting a morsel soon found favor

in his eyes, more especially after he had visited her in her

paternal mansion. Old Baltus Van Tassel was a perfect picture of a

thriving, contented, liberal-hearted farmer. He seldom, it is true,

sent either his eyes or his thoughts beyond the boundaries of his

own farm; but within those everything was snug, happy, and

well-conditioned. He was satisfied with his wealth, but not proud

of it; and piqued himself upon the hearty abundance rather than the

style in which he lived. His stronghold was situated on the banks

of the Hudson, in one of those green, sheltered, fertile nooks in

which the Dutch farmers are so fond of nestling. A great elm-tree

spread its broad branches over it, at the foot of which bubbled up

a spring of the softest and sweetest water, in a little well,

formed of a barrel, and then stole sparkling away through the grass

to a neighboring brook, that bubbled along among alders and dwarf

willows. Hard by the farm-house was a vast barn, that might have

served for a church, every window and crevice of which seemed

bursting forth with the treasures of the farm. The flail was busily

resounding within it from morning till night; swallows and martins

skimmed twittering about the eaves; and rows of pigeons, some with

one eye turned up, as if watching the weather, some with their

heads under their wings, or buried in their bosoms, and others

swelling and cooing and bowing about their dames, were enjoying the

sunshine on the roof. Sleek, unwieldy porkers were grunting in the

repose and abundance of their pens, whence sallied forth, now and

then, troops of sucking pigs, as if to snuff the air. A stately

squadron of snowy geese were riding in an adjoining pond, convoying

whole fleets of ducks; regiments of turkeys were gobbling through

the farm-yard, and guinea fowls fretting about it, like

ill-tempered housewives, with their peevish, discontented cry.

Before the barn door strutted the gallant cock, that pattern of a

husband, a warrior, and a fine gentleman, clapping his burnished

wings, and crowing in the pride and gladness of his

heart--sometimes tearing up the earth with his feet, and then

generously calling his ever-hungry family of wives and children to

enjoy the rich morsel which he had discovered.

"The pedagogue's mouth watered as he looked upon this sumptuous

promise of luxurious winter fare. In his devouring mind's eye he

pictured to himself every roasting-pig running about with a pudding

in his belly, and an apple in his mouth; the pigeons were snugly

put to bed in a comfortable pie, and tucked in with a coverlet of

crust; the geese were swimming in their own gravy, and the ducks

pairing cosily in dishes, like snug married couples, with a decent

competency of onion-sauce. In the porkers he saw carved out the

future sleek side of bacon, and juicy relishing ham; not a turkey

but he beheld daintily trussed up, with its gizzard under its wing,

and, peradventure, a necklace of savory sausages; and even bright

chanticleer himself lay sprawling on his back, in a side-dish, with

uplifted claws, as if craving that quarter which his chivalrous

spirit disdained to ask while living.

"As the enraptured Ichabod fancied all this, and as he rolled his

great green eyes over the fat meadow-lands, the rich fields of

wheat, of rye, of buckwheat, and Indian corn, and the orchard

burdened with ruddy fruit, which surrounded the warm tenement of

Van Tassel, his heart yearned after the damsel who was to inherit

these domains, and his imagination expanded with the idea how they

might be readily turned into cash, and the money invested in

immense tracts of wild land and shingle palaces in the wilderness.

Nay, his busy fancy already realized his hopes, and presented to

him the blooming Katrina, with a whole family of children, mounted

on the top of a wagon loaded with household trumpery, with pots and

kettles dangling beneath; and he beheld himself bestriding a pacing

mare, with a colt at her heels, setting out for Kentucky,

Tennessee, or the Lord knows where.

"When he entered the house, the conquest of his heart was complete.

It was one of those spacious farm-houses, with high-ridged, but

lowly-sloping roofs, built in the style handed down from the first

Dutch settlers; the low projecting eaves forming a piazza along the

front, capable of being closed up in bad weather. Under this were

hung flails, harness, various utensils of husbandry, and nets for

fishing in the neighboring river. Benches were built along the

sides for summer use; and a great spinning-wheel at one end, and a

churn at the other, showed the various uses to which this important

porch might be devoted. From this piazza the wondering Ichabod

entered the hall, which formed the centre of the mansion and the

place of usual residence. Here, rows of resplendent pewter, ranged

on a long dresser, dazzled his eyes. In one corner stood a huge bag

of wool ready to be spun; in another a quantity of linsey-woolsey

just from the loom; ears of Indian corn, and strings of dried

apples and peaches, hung in gay festoons along the walls, mingled

with the gaud of red peppers; and a door left ajar gave him a peep

into the best parlor, where the claw-footed chairs and dark

mahogany tables shone like mirrors; and irons, with their

accompanying shovel and tongs, glistened from their covert of

asparagus tops; mock-oranges and conch-shells decorated the

mantelpiece; strings of various colored birds' eggs were suspended

above it; a great ostrich egg was hung from the centre of the room,

and a corner cupboard, knowingly left open, displayed immense

treasures of old silver and well-mended china."

It is an abrupt transition from these homely scenes, which humor

commends to our liking, to the chivalrous pageant unrolled for us in the

"Conquest of Granada." The former are more characteristic and the more

enduring of Irving's writings, but as a literary artist his genius lent

itself just as readily to Oriental and mediæval romance as to the

Knickerbocker legend; and there is no doubt that the delicate perception

he had of chivalric achievements gave a refined tone to his mock

heroics, which greatly heightened their effect. It may almost be claimed

that Irving did for Granada and the Alhambra what he did, in a totally

different way, for New York and its vicinity.

The first passage I take from the "Conquest" is the description of the

advent at Cordova of the Lord Scales, Earl of Rivers, who was brother of

the queen of Henry VII., a soldier who had fought at Bosworth field, and

now volunteered to aid Ferdinand and Isabella in the extermination of

the Saracens. The description is put into the mouth of Fray Antonio

Agapida, a fictitious chronicler invented by Irving, an unfortunate

intervention which gives to the whole book an air of unveracity:--

"'This cavalier [he observes] was from the far island of England,

and brought with him a train of his vassals; men who had been

hardened in certain civil wars which raged in their country. They

were a comely race of men, but too fair and fresh for warriors, not

having the sunburnt, warlike hue of our old Castilian soldiery.

They were huge feeders also, and deep carousers, and could not

accommodate themselves to the sober diet of our troops, but must

fain eat and drink after the manner of their own country. They were

often noisy and unruly, also, in their wassail; and their quarter

of the camp was prone to be a scene of loud revel and sudden brawl.

They were, withal, of great pride, yet it was not like our

inflammable Spanish pride: they stood not much upon the _pundonor_,

the high punctilio, and rarely drew the stiletto in their disputes;

but their pride was silent and contumelious. Though from a remote

and somewhat barbarous island, they believed themselves the most

perfect men upon earth, and magnified their chieftain, the Lord

Scales, beyond the greatest of their grandees. With all this, it

must be said of them that they were marvelous good men in the

field, dexterous archers, and powerful with the battle-axe. In

their great pride and self-will, they always sought to press in the

advance and take the post of danger, trying to outvie our Spanish

chivalry. They did not rush on fiercely to the fight, nor make a

brilliant onset like the Moorish and Spanish troops, but they went

into the fight deliberately, and persisted obstinately, and were

slow to find out when they were beaten. Withal they were much

esteemed yet little liked by our soldiery, who considered them

staunch companions in the field, yet coveted but little fellowship

with them in the camp.

"'Their commander, the Lord Scales, was an accomplished cavalier,

of gracious and noble presence and fair speech; it was a marvel to

see so much courtesy in a knight brought up so far from our

Castilian court. He was much honored by the king and queen, and

found great favor with the fair dames about the court, who indeed

are rather prone to be pleased with foreign cavaliers. He went

always in costly state, attended by pages and esquires, and

accompanied by noble young cavaliers of his country, who had

enrolled themselves under his banner, to learn the gentle exercise

of arms. In all pageants and festivals, the eyes of the populace

were attracted by the singular bearing and rich array of the

English earl and his train, who prided themselves in always

appearing in the garb and manner of their country--and were indeed

something very magnificent delectable, and strange to behold.'

"The worthy chronicler is no less elaborate in his description of

the masters of Santiago, Calatrava, and Alcantara, and their

valiant knights, armed at all points, and decorated with the badges

of their orders. These, he affirms, were the flower of Christian

chivalry; being constantly in service they became more steadfast

and accomplished in discipline than the irregular and temporary

levies of feudal nobles. Calm, solemn, and stately, they sat like

towers upon their powerful chargers. On parades they manifested

none of the show and ostentation of the other troops: neither, in

battle, did they endeavor to signalize themselves by any fiery

vivacity, or desperate and vainglorious exploit,--everything, with

them, was measured and sedate; yet it was observed that none were

more warlike in their appearance in the camp, or more terrible for

their achievements in the field.

"The gorgeous magnificence of the Spanish nobles found but little

favor in the eyes of the sovereigns. They saw that it caused a

competition in expense ruinous to cavaliers of moderate fortune;

and they feared that a softness and effeminacy might thus be

introduced, incompatible with the stern nature of the war. They

signified their disapprobation to several of the principal

noblemen, and recommended a more sober and soldier-like display

while in actual service.

"'These are rare troops for a tournay, my lord [said Ferdinand to

the Duke of Infantado, as he beheld his retainers glittering in

gold and embroidery]; but gold, though gorgeous, is soft and

yielding: iron is the metal for the field.'

"'Sire [replied the duke], if my men parade in gold, your majesty

will find they fight with steel.' The king smiled, but shook his

head, and the duke treasured up his speech in his heart."

Our author excels in such descriptions as that of the progress of

Isabella to the camp of Ferdinand after the capture of Loxa, and of the

picturesque pageantry which imparted something of gayety to the brutal

pastime of war:--

"It was in the early part of June that the queen departed from

Cordova, with the Princess Isabella and numerous ladies of her

court. She had a glorious attendance of cavaliers and pages, with

many guards and domestics. There were forty mules for the use of

the queen, the princess and their train.

"As this courtly cavalcade approached the Rock of the Lovers, on

the banks of the river Yeguas, they beheld a splendid train of

knights advancing to meet them. It was headed by that accomplished

cavalier the Marques Duke de Cadiz, accompanied by the adelantado

of Andalusia. He had left the camp the day after the capture of

Illora, and advanced thus far to receive the queen and escort her

over the borders. The queen received the marques with distinguished

honor, for he was esteemed the mirror of chivalry. His actions in

this war had become the theme of every tongue, and many hesitated

not to compare him in prowess with the immortal Cid.

"Thus gallantly attended, the queen entered the vanquished frontier

of Granada, journeying securely along the pleasant banks of the

Xenel, so lately subject to the scourings of the Moors. She stopped

at Loxa, where she administered aid and consolation to the wounded,

distributing money among them for their support, according to their

rank.

"The king, after the capture of Illora, had removed his camp before

the fortress of Moclin, with an intention of besieging it. Thither

the queen proceeded, still escorted through the mountain roads by

the Marques of Cadiz. As Isabella drew near to the camp, the Duke

del Infantado issued forth a league and a half to receive her,

magnificently arrayed, and followed by all his chivalry in glorious

attire. With him came the standard of Seville, borne by the

men-at-arms of that renowned city, and the Prior of St. Juan, with

his followers. They ranged themselves in order of battle, on the

left of the road by which the queen was to pass.

"The worthy Agapida is loyally minute in his description of the

state and grandeur of the Catholic sovereigns. The queen rode a

chestnut mule, seated in a magnificent saddle-chair, decorated with

silver gilt. The housings of the mule were of fine crimson cloth;

the borders embroidered with gold; the reins and head-piece were of

satin, curiously embossed with needlework of silk, and wrought with

golden letters. The queen wore a brial or regal skirt of velvet,

under which were others of brocade; a scarlet mantle, ornamented in

the Moresco fashion; and a black hat, embroidered round the crown

and brim.

"The infanta was likewise mounted on a chestnut mule, richly

caparisoned. She wore a brial or skirt of black brocade, and a

black mantle ornamented like that of the queen.

"When the royal cavalcade passed by the chivalry of the Duke del

Infantado, which was drawn out in battle array, the queen made a

reverence to the standard of Seville, and ordered it to pass to the

right hand. When she approached the camp, the multitude ran forth

to meet her, with great demonstrations of joy; for she was

universally beloved by her subjects. All the battalions sallied

forth in military array, bearing the various standards and banners

of the camp, which were lowered in salutation as she passed.

"The king now came forth in royal state, mounted on a superb

chestnut horse, and attended by many grandees of Castile. He wore a

jubon or close vest of crimson cloth, with cuisses or short skirts

of yellow satin, a loose cassock of brocade, a rich Moorish

scimiter, and a hat with plumes. The grandees who attended him were

arrayed with wonderful magnificence, each according to his taste

and invention.

"These high and mighty princes [says Antonio Agapida] regarded each

other with great deference, as allied sovereigns rather than with

connubial familiarity, as mere husband and wife. When they

approached each other, therefore, before embracing, they made three

profound reverences, the queen taking off her hat, and remaining in

a silk net or cawl, with her face uncovered. The king then

approached and embraced her, and kissed her respectfully on the

cheek. He also embraced his daughter the princess; and, making the

sign of the cross, he blessed her, and kissed her on the lips.

"The good Agapida seems scarcely to have been more struck with the

appearance of the sovereigns than with that of the English earl. He

followed [says he] immediately after the king, with great pomp,

and, in an extraordinary manner, taking precedence of all the rest.

He was mounted '_a la guisa_,' or with long stirrups, on a superb

chestnut horse, with trappings of azure silk which reached to the

ground. The housings were of mulberry, powdered with stars of gold.

He was armed in proof, and wore over his armor a short French

mantle of black brocade; he had a white French hat with plumes, and

carried on his left arm a small round buckler, banded with gold.

Five pages attended him, apparelled in silk and brocade, and

mounted on horses sumptuously caparisoned; he had also a train of

followers, bravely attired after the fashion of his country.

"He advanced in a chivalrous and courteous manner, making his

reverences first to the queen and infanta, and afterwards to the

king. Queen Isabella received him graciously, complimenting him on

his courageous conduct at Loxa, and condoling with him on the loss

of his teeth. The earl, however, made light of his disfiguring

wound, saying that 'our blessed Lord, who had built all that house,

had opened a window there, that he might see more readily what

passed within;' whereupon the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida is more

than ever astonished at the pregnant wit of this island cavalier.

The earl continued some little distance by the side of the royal

family, complimenting them all with courteous speeches, his horse

curveting and caracoling, but being managed with great grace and

dexterity,--leaving the grandees and the people at large not more

filled with admiration at the strangeness and magnificence of his

state than at the excellence of his horsemanship.

"To testify her sense of the gallantry and services of this noble

English knight, who had come from so far to assist in their wars,

the queen sent him the next day presents of twelve horses, with

stately tents, fine linen, two beds with coverings of gold brocade,

and many other articles of great value."

The protracted siege of the city of Granada was the occasion of feats of

arms and hostile courtesies which rival in brilliancy any in the

romances of chivalry. Irving's pen is never more congenially employed

than in describing these desperate but romantic encounters. One of the

most picturesque of these was known as "the queen's skirmish." The royal

encampment was situated so far from Granada that only the general aspect

of the city could be seen as it rose from the vega, covering the sides

of the hills with its palaces and towers. Queen Isabella expressed a

desire for a nearer view of the city, whose beauty was renowned

throughout the world, and the courteous Marques of Cadiz proposed to

give her this perilous gratification.

"On the morning of June the 18th, a magnificent and powerful train

issued from the Christian camp. The advanced guard was composed of

legions of cavalry, heavily armed, looking like moving masses of

polished steel. Then came the king and queen, with the prince and

princesses, and the ladies of the court, surrounded by the royal

body-guard, sumptuously arrayed, composed of the sons of the most

illustrious houses of Spain; after these was the rear-guard, a

powerful force of horse and foot; for the flower of the army

sallied forth that day. The Moors gazed with fearful admiration at

this glorious pageant, wherein the pomp of the court was mingled

with the terrors of the camp. It moved along in radiant line,

across the vega, to the melodious thunders of martial music, while

banner and plume, and silken scarf, and rich brocade, gave a gay

and gorgeous relief to the grim visage of iron war that lurked

beneath.

"The army moved towards the hamlet of Zubia, built on the skirts of

the mountain to the left of Granada, and commanding a view of the

Alhambra, and the most beautiful quarter of the city. As they

approached the hamlet, the Marques of Villena, the Count Ureña, and

Don Alonzo de Aguilar filed off with their battalions, and were

soon seen glittering along the side of the mountain above the

village. In the mean time the Marques of Cadiz, the Count de

Tendilla, the Count de Cabra, and Don Alonzo Fernandez, senior of

Alcaudrete and Montemayor, drew up their forces in battle array on

the plain below the hamlet, presenting a living barrier of loyal

chivalry between the sovereigns and the city.

"Thus securely guarded, the royal party alighted, and, entering one

of the houses of the hamlet, which had been prepared for their

reception, enjoyed a full view of the city from its terraced roof.

The ladies of the court gazed with delight at the red towers of the

Alhambra, rising from amid shady groves, anticipating the time when

the Catholic sovereigns should be enthroned within its walls, and

its courts shine with the splendor of Spanish chivalry. 'The

reverend prelates and holy friars, who always surrounded the queen,

looked with serene satisfaction,' says Fray Antonio Agapida, 'at

this modern Babylon, enjoying the triumph that awaited them, when

those mosques and minarets should be converted into churches, and

goodly priests and bishops should succeed to the infidel alfaquis.'

"When the Moors beheld the Christians thus drawn forth in full

array in the plain, they supposed it was to offer battle, and

hesitated not to accept it. In a little while the queen beheld a

body of Moorish cavalry pouring into the vega, the riders managing

their fleet and fiery steeds with admirable address. They were

richly armed, and clothed in the most brilliant colors, and the

caparisons of their steeds flamed with gold and embroidery. This

was the favorite squadron of Muza, composed of the flower of the

youthful cavaliers of Granada. Others succeeded, some heavily

armed, others _à la gineta_, with lance and buckler; and lastly

came the legions of foot-soldiers, with arquebus and cross-bow, and

spear and scimiter.

"When the queen saw this army issuing from the city, she sent to

the Marques of Cadiz, and forbade any attack upon the enemy, or the

acceptance of any challenge to a skirmish; for she was loth that

her curiosity should cost the life of a single human being.

"The marques promised to obey, though sorely against his will; and

it grieved the spirit of the Spanish cavaliers to be obliged to

remain with sheathed swords while bearded by the foe. The Moors

could not comprehend the meaning of this inaction of the

Christians, after having apparently invited a battle. They sallied

several times from their ranks, and approached near enough to

discharge their arrows; but the Christians were immovable. Many of

the Moorish horsemen galloped close to the Christian ranks,

brandishing their lances and scimiters, and defying various

cavaliers to single combat; but Ferdinand had rigorously prohibited

all duels of this kind, and they dared not transgress his orders

under his very eye.

"Here, however, the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida, in his enthusiasm

for the triumphs of the faith, records the following incident,

which we fear is not sustained by any grave chronicler of the

times, but rests merely on tradition, or the authority of certain

poets and dramatic writers, who have perpetuated the tradition in

their works. While this grim and reluctant tranquillity prevailed

along the Christian line, says Agapida, there rose a mingled shout

and sound of laughter near the gate of the city. A Moorish

horseman, armed at all points, issued forth, followed by a rabble,

who drew back as he approached the scene of danger. The Moor was

more robust and brawny than was common with his countrymen. His

visor was closed; he bore a huge buckler and a ponderous lance; his

scimiter was of a Damascus blade, and his richly ornamented dagger

was wrought by an artificer of Fez. He was known by his device to

be Tarfe, the most insolent, yet valiant, of the Moslem

warriors--the same who had hurled into the royal camp his lance,

inscribed to the queen. As he rode slowly along in front of the

army, his very steed, prancing with fiery eye and distended

nostril, seemed to breathe defiance to the Christians.

"But what were the feelings of the Spanish cavaliers when they

beheld, tied to the tail of his steed, and dragged in the dust, the

very inscription, 'AVE MARIA,' which Hernan Perez del Pulgar had

affixed to the door of the mosque! A burst of horror and

indignation broke forth from the army. Hernan was not at hand to

maintain his previous achievement; but one of his young companions

in arms, Garcilasso de la Vega by name, putting spurs to his horse,

galloped to the hamlet of Zubia, threw himself on his knees before

the king, and besought permission to accept the defiance of this

insolent infidel, and to revenge the insult offered to our Blessed

Lady. The request was too pious to be refused. Garcilasso remounted

his steed, closed his helmet, graced by four sable plumes, grasped

his buckler of Flemish workmanship, and his lance of matchless

temper, and defied the haughty Moor in the midst of his career. A

combat took place in view of the two armies and of the Castilian

court. The Moor was powerful in wielding his weapons, and

dexterous in managing his steed. He was of larger frame than

Garcilasso, and more completely armed, and the Christians trembled

for their champion. The shock of their encounter was dreadful;

their lances were shivered and sent up splinters in the air.

Garcilasso was thrown back in his saddle--his horse made a wide

career before he could recover, gather up the reins, and return to

the conflict. They now encountered each other with swords. The Moor

circled round his opponent, as a hawk circles when about to make a

swoop; his steed obeyed his rider with matchless quickness; at

every attack of the infidel, it seemed as if the Christian knight

must sink beneath his flashing scimiter. But if Garcilasso was

inferior to him in power, he was superior in agility; many of his

blows he parried; others he received upon his Flemish shield, which

was proof against the Damascus blade. The blood streamed from

numerous wounds received by either warrior. The Moor, seeing his

antagonist exhausted, availed himself of his superior force, and,

grappling, endeavored to wrest him from his saddle. They both fell

to earth; the Moor placed his knee upon the breast of his victim,

and, brandishing his dagger, aimed a blow at his throat. A cry of

despair was uttered by the Christian warriors, when suddenly they

beheld the Moor rolling lifeless in the dust. Garcilasso had

shortened his sword, and, as his adversary raised his arm to

strike, had pierced him to the heart. 'It was a singular and

miraculous victory,' says Fray Antonio Agapida; 'but the Christian

knight was armed by the sacred nature of his cause, and the Holy

Virgin gave him strength, like another David, to slay this gigantic

champion of the Gentiles.'

"The laws of chivalry were observed throughout the combat--no one

interfered on either side. Garcilasso now despoiled his adversary;

then, rescuing the holy inscription of 'AVE MARIA' from its

degrading situation, he elevated it on the point of his sword, and

bore it off as a signal of triumph, amidst the rapturous shouts of

the Christian army.

"The sun had now reached the meridian, and the hot blood of the

Moors was inflamed by its rays, and by the sight of the defeat of

their champion. Muza ordered two pieces of ordnance to open a fire

upon the Christians. A confusion was produced in one part of their

ranks: Muza called to the chiefs of the army, 'Let us waste no more

time in empty challenges--let us charge upon the enemy: he who

assaults has always an advantage in the combat.' So saying, he

rushed forward, followed by a large body of horse and foot, and

charged so furiously upon the advance guard of the Christians, that

he drove it in upon the battalion of the Marques of Cadiz.

"The gallant marques now considered himself absolved from all

further obedience to the queen's commands. He gave the signal to

attack. 'Santiago!' was shouted along the line; and he pressed

forward to the encounter, with his battalion of twelve hundred

lances. The other cavaliers followed his example, and the battle

instantly became general.

"When the king and queen beheld the armies thus rushing to the

combat, they threw themselves on their knees, and implored the Holy

Virgin to protect her faithful warriors. The prince and princess,

the ladies of the court, and the prelates and friars who were

present, did the same; and the effect of the prayers of these

illustrious and saintly persons was immediately apparent. The

fierceness with which the Moors had rushed to the attack was

suddenly cooled; they were bold and adroit for a skirmish, but

unequal to the veteran Spaniards in the open field. A panic seized

upon the foot-soldiers--they turned and took to flight. Muza and

his cavaliers in vain endeavored to rally them. Some took refuge in

the mountains; but the greater part fled to the city, in such

confusion that they overturned and trampled upon each other. The

Christians pursued them to the very gates. Upwards of two thousand

were either killed, wounded, or taken prisoners; and the two pieces

of ordnance were brought off as trophies of the victory. Not a

Christian lance but was bathed that day in the blood of an infidel.

"Such was the brief but bloody action which was known among the

Christian warriors by the name of "The Queen's Skirmish;" for when

the Marques of Cadiz waited upon her majesty to apologize for

breaking her commands, he attributed the victory entirely to her

presence. The queen, however, insisted that it was all owing to her

troops being led on by so valiant a commander. Her majesty had not

yet recovered from her agitation at beholding so terrible a scene

of bloodshed, though certain veterans present pronounced it as gay

and gentle a skirmish as they had ever witnessed."

The charm of "The Alhambra" is largely in the leisurely, loitering,

dreamy spirit in which the temporary American resident of the ancient

palace-fortress entered into its mouldering beauties and romantic

associations, and in the artistic skill with which he wove the

commonplace daily life of his attendants there into the more brilliant

woof of its past. The book abounds in delightful legends, and yet these

are all so touched with the author's airy humor that our credulity is

never overtaxed; we imbibe all the romantic interest of the place

without for a moment losing our hold upon reality. The enchantments of

this Moorish paradise become part of our mental possessions, without the

least shock to our common sense. After a few days of residence in the

part of the Alhambra occupied by Dame Tia Antonia and her family, of

which the handmaid Dolores was the most fascinating member, Irving

succeeded in establishing himself in a remote and vacant part of the

vast pile, in a suite of delicate and elegant chambers, with secluded

gardens and fountains, that had once been occupied by the beautiful

Elizabeth of Farnese, daughter of the Duke of Parma, and more than four

centuries ago by a Moorish beauty named Lindaraxa, who flourished in the

court of Muhamed the Left-Handed. These solitary and ruined chambers had

their own terrors and enchantments, and for the first nights gave the

author little but sinister suggestions and grotesque food for his

imagination. But familiarity dispersed the gloom and the superstitious

fancies.

"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 splendor above the towers, pouring a flood of tempered

light 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 fullness, 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 musing 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; everything called up pleasing and romantic fancies;

Lindaraxa 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

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 mountains 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 rise 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 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 steal 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."

One of the writer's vantage points of observation was a balcony of the

central window of the Hall of Ambassadors, from which he had a

magnificent prospect of mountain, valley, and vega, and could look down

upon a busy scene of human life in an alameda, or public walk, at the

foot of the hill, and the suburb of the city, filling the narrow gorge

below. Here the author used to sit for hours, weaving histories out of

the casual incidents passing under his eye, and the occupations of the

busy mortals below. The following passage exhibits his power in

transmuting the commonplace life of the present into material perfectly

in keeping with the romantic associations of the place:--

"There was scarce a pretty face or a striking figure that I daily

saw, about which I had not thus gradually framed a dramatic story,

though some of my characters would occasionally act in direct

opposition to the part assigned them, and disconcert the whole

drama. Reconnoitring one day with my glass the streets of the

Albaycin, I beheld the procession of a novice about to take the

veil; and remarked several circumstances which excited the

strongest sympathy in the fate of the youthful being thus about to

be consigned to a living tomb. I ascertained to my satisfaction

that she was beautiful, and, from the paleness of her cheek, that

she was a victim rather than a votary. She was arrayed in bridal

garments, and decked with a chaplet of white flowers, but her heart

evidently revolted at this mockery of a spiritual union, and

yearned after its earthly loves. A tall stern-looking man walked

near her in the procession: it was, of course, the tyrannical

father, who, from some bigoted or sordid motive, had compelled this

sacrifice. Amid the crowd was a dark handsome youth, in Andalusian

garb, who seemed to fix on her an eye of agony. It was doubtless

the secret lover from whom she was forever to be separated. My

indignation rose as I noted the malignant expression painted on the

countenances of the attendant monks and friars. The procession

arrived at the chapel of the convent; the sun gleamed for the last

time upon the chaplet of the poor novice, as she crossed the fatal

threshold and disappeared within the building. The throng poured in

with cowl, and cross, and minstrelsy; the lover paused for a moment

at the door. I could divine the tumult of his feelings; but he

mastered them, and entered. There was a long interval. I pictured

to myself the scene passing within: the poor novice despoiled of

her transient finery, and clothed in the conventual garb; the

bridal chaplet taken from her brow, and her beautiful head shorn of

its long silken tresses. I heard her murmur the irrevocable vow. I

saw her extended on a bier; the death-pall spread over her; the

funeral service performed that proclaimed her dead to the world;

her sighs were drowned in the deep tones of the organ, and the

plaintive requiem of the nuns; the father looked on, unmoved,

without a tear; the lover--no--my imagination refused to portray

the anguish of the lover--there the picture remained a blank.

"After a time the throng again poured forth and dispersed various

ways, to enjoy the light of the sun and mingle with the stirring

scenes of life; but the victim, with her bridal chaplet, was no

longer there. The door of the convent closed that severed her from

the world forever. I saw the father and the lover issue forth; they

were in earnest conversation. The latter was vehement in his

gesticulations; I expected some violent termination to my drama;

but an angle of a building interfered and closed the scene. My eye

afterwards was frequently turned to that convent with painful

interest. I remarked late at night a solitary light twinkling from

a remote lattice of one of its towers. 'There,' said I, 'the

unhappy nun sits weeping in her cell, while perhaps her lover paces

the street below in unavailing anguish.'

"--The officious Mateo interrupted my meditations and destroyed in

an instant the cobweb tissue of my fancy. With his usual zeal he

had gathered facts concerning the scene, which put my fictions all

to flight. The heroine of my romance was neither young nor

handsome; she had no lover; she had entered the convent of her own

free will, as a respectable asylum, and was one of the most

cheerful residents within its walls.

"It was some little while before I could forgive the wrong done me

by the nun in being thus happy in her cell, in contradiction to all

the rules of romance; I diverted my spleen, however, by watching,

for a day or two, the pretty coquetries of a dark-eyed brunette,

who, from the covert of a balcony shrouded with flowering shrubs

and a silken awning, was carrying on a mysterious correspondence

with a handsome, dark, well-whiskered cavalier, who lurked

frequently in the street beneath her window. Sometimes I saw him at

an early hour, stealing forth wrapped to the eyes in a mantle.

Sometimes he loitered at a corner, in various disguises, apparently

waiting for a private signal to slip into the house. Then there was

the tinkling of a guitar at night, and a lantern shifted from place

to place in the balcony. I imagined another intrigue like that of

Almaviva, but was again disconcerted in all my suppositions. The

supposed lover turned out to be the husband of the lady, and a

noted contrabandista; and all his mysterious signs and movements

had doubtless some smuggling scheme in view.

"--I occasionally amused myself with noting from this balcony the

gradual changes of the scenes below, according to the different

stages of the day.

"Scarce has the gray dawn streaked the sky, and the earliest cock

crowed from the cottages of the hill-side, when the suburbs give

sign of reviving animation; for the fresh hours of dawning are

precious in the summer season in a sultry climate. All are anxious

to get the start of the sun, in the business of the day. The

muleteer drives forth his loaded train for the journey; the

traveler slings his carbine behind his saddle, and mounts his steed

at the gate of the hostel; the brown peasant from the country urges

forward his loitering beasts, laden with panniers of sunny fruit

and fresh dewy vegetables, for already the thrifty housewives are

hastening to the market.

"The sun is up and sparkles along the valley, tipping the

transparent foliage of the groves. The matin bells resound

melodiously through the pure bright air, announcing the hour of

devotion. The muleteer halts his burdened animals before the

chapel, thrusts his staff through his belt behind, and enters with

hat in hand, smoothing his coal-black hair, to hear a mass, and to

put up a prayer for a prosperous wayfaring across the sierra. And

now steals forth on fairy foot the gentle Señora, in trim basquiña,

with restless fan in hand, and dark eye flashing from beneath the

gracefully folded mantilla; she seeks some well-frequented church

to offer up her morning orisons; but the nicely adjusted dress, the

dainty shoe and cobweb stocking, the raven tresses exquisitely

braided, the fresh-plucked rose, gleaming among them like a gem,

show that earth divides with Heaven the empire of her thoughts.

Keep an eye upon her, careful mother, or virgin aunt, or vigilant

duenna, whichever you may be, that walk behind!

"As the morning advances, the din of labor augments on every side;

the streets are thronged with man, and steed, and beast of burden,

and there is a hum and murmur, like the surges of the ocean. As the

sun ascends to his meridian, the hum and bustle gradually decline;

at the height of noon there is a pause. The panting city sinks into

lassitude, and for several hours there is a general repose. The

windows are closed, the curtains drawn, the inhabitants retired

into the coolest recesses of their mansions; the full-fed monk

snores in his dormitory; the brawny porter lies stretched on the

pavement beside his burden; the peasant and the laborer sleep

beneath the trees of the Alameda, lulled by the sultry chirping of

the locust. The streets are deserted, except by the water-carrier,

who refreshes the ear by proclaiming the merits of his sparkling

beverage, 'colder than the mountain snow (_mas fria que la

nieve_).'

"As the sun declines, there is again a gradual reviving, and when

the vesper bell rings out his sinking knell, all nature seems to

rejoice that the tyrant of the day has fallen. Now begins the

bustle of enjoyment, when the citizens pour forth to breathe the

evening air, and revel away the brief twilight in the walks and

gardens of the Darro and Xenil.

"As night closes, the capricious scene assumes new features. Light

after light gradually twinkles forth; here a taper from a balconied

window; there a votive lamp before the image of a saint. Thus, by

degrees, the city emerges from the pervading gloom, and sparkles

with scattered lights, like the starry firmament. Now break forth

from court and garden, and street and lane, the tinkling of

innumerable guitars, and the clicking of castanets; blending, at

this lofty height, in a faint but general concert. 'Enjoy the

moment' is the creed of the gay and amorous Andalusian, and at no

time does he practice it more zealously than on the balmy nights of

summer, wooing his mistress with the dance, the love-ditty, and

the passionate serenade."

How perfectly is the illusion of departed splendor maintained in the

opening of the chapter on "The Court of Lions."

"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 foundations 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 colonnade given

way, and all the fairy fretwork of these domes, apparently as

unsubstantial as the crystal fabrics of a morning's frost, exist

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

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 calculated 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 twittering 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 upon

the wall, where the altar was erected, and where 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 Columbus, the future discoverer of a world,

taking his modest stand in a remote corner, the humble and

neglected spectator 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 desolate. The bat flits about its twilight vault, and the

owl hoots from the neighboring tower of Comares."

It is a Moslem tradition that the court and army of Boabdil, the

Unfortunate, the last Moorish King of Granada, are shut up in the

mountain by a powerful enchantment, and that it is written in the book

of fate that when the enchantment is broken, Boabdil will descend from

the mountain at the head of his army, resume his throne in the Alhambra,

and gathering together the enchanted warriors from all parts of Spain,

reconquer the Peninsula. Nothing in this volume is more amusing and at

the same time more poetic and romantic than the story of "Governor Manco

and the Soldier," in which this legend is used to cover the exploit of a

dare-devil contrabandista. But it is too long to quote. I take,

therefore, another story, which has something of the same elements, that

of a merry, mendicant student of Salamanca, Don Vicente by name, who

wandered from village to village, and picked up a living by playing the

guitar for the peasants, among whom, he was sure of a hearty welcome.

In the course of his wandering he had found a seal-ring, having for its

device the cabalistic sign, invented by King Solomon the Wise, and of

mighty power in all cases of enchantment.

"At length he arrived at the great object of his musical

vagabondizing, the far-famed city of Granada, and hailed with

wonder and delight its Moorish towers, its lovely vega, and its

snowy mountains glistening through a summer atmosphere. It is

needless to say with what eager curiosity he entered its gates and

wandered through its streets, and gazed upon its Oriental

monuments. Every female face peering through a window or beaming

from a balcony was to him a Zorayda or a Zelinda, nor could he meet

a stately dame on the Alameda but he was ready to fancy her a

Moorish princess, and to spread his student's robe beneath her

feet.

"His musical talent, his happy humor, his youth and his good looks,

won him a universal welcome in spite of his ragged robes, and for

several days he led a gay life in the old Moorish capital and its

environs. One of his occasional haunts was the fountain of

Avellanos, in the valley of Darro. It is one of the popular resorts

of Granada, and has been so since the days of the Moors; and here

the student had an opportunity of pursuing his studies of female

beauty; a branch of study to which he was a little prone.

"Here he would take his seat with his guitar, improvise

love-ditties to admiring groups of majos and majas, or prompt with

his music the ever-ready dance. He was thus engaged one evening

when he beheld a padre of the church advancing, at whose approach

every one touched the hat. He was evidently a man of consequence;

he certainly was a mirror of good if not of holy living; robust and

rosy-faced, and breathing at every pore with the warmth of the

weather and the exercise of the walk. As he passed along he would

every now and then draw a maravedi out of his pocket and bestow it

on a beggar, with an air of signal beneficence. 'Ah, the blessed

father!' would be the cry; 'long life to him, and may he soon be a

bishop!'

"To aid his steps in ascending the hill he leaned gently now and

then on the arm of a handmaid, evidently the pet-lamb of this

kindest of pastors. Ah, such a damsel! Andalus from head to foot;

from the rose in her hair, to the fairy shoe and lacework stocking;

Andalus in every movement; in every undulation of the body:--ripe,

melting Andalus! But then so modest!--so shy!--ever, with downcast

eyes, listening to the words of the padre; or, if by chance she let

flash a side glance, it was suddenly checked and her eyes once more

cast to the ground.

"The good padre looked benignantly on the company about the

fountain, and took his seat with some emphasis on a stone bench,

while the handmaid hastened to bring him a glass of sparkling

water. He sipped it deliberately and with a relish, tempering it

with one of those spongy pieces of frosted eggs and sugar so dear

to Spanish epicures, and on returning the glass to the hand of the

damsel pinched her cheek with infinite loving-kindness.

"'Ah, the good pastor!' whispered the student to himself; 'what a

happiness would it be to be gathered into his fold with such a

pet-lamb for a companion!'

"But no such good fare was likely to befall him. In vain he essayed

those powers of pleasing which he had found so irresistible with

country curates and country lasses. Never had he touched his guitar

with such skill; never had he poured forth more soul-moving

ditties, but he had no longer a country curate or country lass to

deal with. The worthy priest evidently did not relish music, and

the modest damsel never raised her eyes from the ground. They

remained but a short time at the fountain; the good padre hastened

their return to Granada. The damsel gave the student one shy glance

in retiring; but it plucked the heart out of his bosom!

"He inquired about them after they had gone. Padre Tomás was one

of the saints of Granada, a model of regularity; punctual in his

hour of rising; his hour of taking a paseo for an appetite; his

hours of eating; his hour of taking his siesta; his hour of playing

his game of tresillo, of an evening, with some of the dames of the

cathedral circle; his hour of supping, and his hour of retiring to

rest, to gather fresh strength for another day's round of similar

duties. He had an easy sleek mule for his riding; a matronly

housekeeper skilled in preparing tidbits for his table; and the

pet-lamb, to smooth his pillow at night and bring him his chocolate

in the morning.

"Adieu now to the gay, thoughtless life of the student; the

side-glance of a bright eye had been the undoing of him. Day and

night he could not get the image of this most modest damsel out of

his mind. He sought the mansion of the padre. Alas! it was above

the class of houses accessible to a strolling student like himself.

The worthy padre had no sympathy with him; he had never been

_Estudiante sopista_, obliged to sing for his supper. He blockaded

the house by day, catching a glance of the damsel now and then as

she appeared at a casement; but these glances only fed his flame

without encouraging his hope. He serenaded her balcony at night,

and at one time was flattered by the appearance of something white

at a window. Alas, it was only the night-cap of the padre.

"Never was lover more devoted; never damsel more shy: the poor

student was reduced to despair. At length arrived the eve of St.

John, when the lower classes of Granada swarm into the country,

dance away the afternoon, and pass midsummer's night on the banks

of the Darro and the Xenil. Happy are they who on this eventful

night can wash their faces in those waters just as the cathedral

bell tells midnight; for at that precise moment they have a

beautifying power. The student, having nothing to do, suffered

himself to be carried away by the holiday-seeking throng until he

found himself in the narrow valley of the Darro, below the lofty

hill and ruddy towers of the Alhambra. The dry bed of the river;

the rocks which border it; the terraced gardens which overhang it,

were alive with variegated groups, dancing under the vines and

fig-trees to the sound of the guitar and castanets.

"The student remained for some time in doleful dumps, leaning

against one of the huge misshapen stone pomegranates which adorn

the ends of the little bridge over the Darro. He cast a wistful

glance upon the merry scene, where every cavalier had his dame; or,

to speak more appropriately, every Jack his Jill; sighed at his

own solitary state, a victim to the black eye of the most

unapproachable of damsels, and repined at his ragged garb, which

seemed to shut the gate of hope against him.

"By degrees his attention was attracted to a neighbor equally

solitary with himself. This was a tall soldier, of a stern aspect

and grizzled beard, who seemed posted as a sentry at the opposite

pomegranate. His face was bronzed by time; he was arrayed in

ancient Spanish armor, with buckler and lance, and stood immovable

as a statue. What surprised the student was, that though thus

strangely equipped, he was totally unnoticed by the passing throng,

albeit that many almost brushed against him.

"'This is a city of old time peculiarities,' thought the student,

'and doubtless this is one of them with which the inhabitants are

too familiar to be surprised.' His own curiosity, however, was

awakened, and being of a social disposition, he accosted the

soldier.

"'A rare old suit of armor that which you wear, comrade. May I ask

what corps you belong to?'

"The soldier gasped out a reply from a pair of jaws which seemed to

have rusted on their hinges.

"'The royal guard of Ferdinand and Isabella.'

"'Santa Maria! Why, it is three centuries since that corps was in

service.'

"'And for three centuries have I been mounting guard. Now I trust

my tour of duty draws to a close. Dost thou desire fortune?'

"The student held up his tattered cloak in reply.

"'I understand thee. If thou hast faith and courage, follow me, and

thy fortune is made.'

"'Softly, comrade, to follow thee would require small courage in

one who has nothing to lose but life and an old guitar, neither of

much value; but my faith is of a different matter, and not to be

put in temptation. If it be any criminal act by which I am to mend

my fortune, think not my ragged cloak will make me undertake it.'

"The soldier turned on him a look of high displeasure. 'My sword,'

said he, 'has never been drawn but in the cause of the faith and

the throne. I am a _Cristiano viejo_; trust in me and fear no

evil.'

"The student followed him wondering. He observed that no one heeded

their conversation, and that the soldier made his way through the

various groups of idlers unnoticed, as if invisible.

"Crossing the bridge, the soldier led the way by a narrow and steep

path past a Moorish mill and aqueduct, and up the ravine which

separates the domains of the Generalife from those of the Alhambra.

The last ray of the sun shone upon the red battlements of the

latter, which beetled far above; and the convent-bells were

proclaiming the festival of the ensuing day. The ravine was

overshadowed by fig-trees, vines, and myrtles, and the outer towers

and walls of the fortress. It was dark and lonely, and the

twilight-loving bats began to flit about. At length the soldier

halted at a remote and ruined tower apparently intended to guard a

Moorish aqueduct. He struck the foundation with the butt-end of his

spear. A rumbling sound was heard, and the solid stones yawned

apart, leaving an opening as wide as a door.

"'Enter in the name of the Holy Trinity', said the soldier, 'and

fear nothing.' The student's heart quaked, but he made the sign of

the cross, muttered his Ave Maria, and followed his mysterious

guide into a deep vault cut out of the solid rock under the tower,

and covered with Arabic inscriptions. The soldier pointed to a

stone seat hewn along one side of the vault. 'Behold,' said he, 'my

couch for three hundred years.' The bewildered student tried to

force a joke. 'By the blessed St. Anthony,' said he, 'but you must

have slept soundly, considering the hardness of your couch.'

"'On the contrary, sleep has been a stranger to these eyes;

incessant watchfulness has been my doom. Listen to my lot. I was

one of the royal guards of Ferdinand and Isabella; but was taken

prisoner by the Moors in one of their sorties, and confined a

captive in this tower. When preparations were made to surrender the

fortress to the Christian sovereigns, I was prevailed upon by an

alfaqui, a Moorish priest, to aid him in secreting some of the

treasures of Boabdil in this vault. I was justly punished for my

fault. The alfaqui was an African necromancer, and by his infernal

arts cast a spell upon me--to guard his treasures. Something must

have happened to him, for he never returned, and here have I

remained ever since, buried alive. Years and years have rolled

away; earthquakes have shaken this hill; I have heard stone by

stone of the tower above tumbling to the ground, in the natural

operation of time; but the spell-bound walls of this vault set both

time and earthquakes at defiance.

"'Once every hundred years, on the festival of St. John, the

enchantment ceases to have thorough sway; I am permitted to go

forth and post myself upon the bridge of the Darro, where you met

me, waiting until some one shall arrive who may have power to break

this magic spell. I have hitherto mounted guard there in vain. I

walk as in a cloud, concealed from mortal sight. You are the first

to accost me for now three hundred years. I behold the reason. I

see on your finger the seal-ring of Solomon the Wise, which is

proof against all enchantment. With you it remains to deliver me

from this awful dungeon, or to leave me to keep guard here for

another hundred years.'

"The student listened to this tale in mute wonderment. He had heard

many tales of treasures shut up under strong enchantment in the

vaults of the Alhambra, but had treated them as fables. He now felt

the value of the seal-ring, which had, in a manner, been given to

him by St. Cyprian. Still, though armed by so potent a talisman, it

was an awful thing to find himself _tête-à-tête_ in such a place

with an enchanted soldier, who, according to the laws of nature,

ought to have been quietly in his grave for nearly three centuries.

"A personage of this kind, however, was quite out of the ordinary

run, and not to be trifled with, and he assured him he might rely

upon his friendship and good will to do everything in his power for

his deliverance.

"'I trust to a motive more powerful than friendship,' said the

soldier.

"He pointed to a ponderous iron coffer, secured by locks inscribed

with Arabic characters. 'That coffer,' said he, 'contains countless

treasure in gold and jewels and precious stones. Break the magic

spell by which I am enthralled, and one half of this treasure shall

be thine.'

"'But how am I to do it?'

"'The aid of a Christian priest and a Christian maid is necessary.

The priest to exorcise the powers of darkness; the damsel to touch

this chest with the seal of Solomon. This must be done at night.

But have a care. This is solemn work, and not to be effected by the

carnal-minded. The priest must be a _Cristiano viejo_, a model of

sanctity; and must mortify the flesh before he comes here, by a

rigorous fast of four-and-twenty hours: and as to the maiden, she

must be above reproach, and proof against temptation. Linger not in

finding such aid. In three days my furlough is at an end; if not

delivered before midnight of the third, I shall have to mount guard

for another century.'

"'Fear not,' said the student, 'I have in my eye the very priest

and damsel you describe; but how am I to regain admission to this

tower?'

"'The seal of Solomon will open the way for thee.'

"The student issued forth from the tower much more gayly than he

had entered. The wall closed behind him, and remained solid as

before.

"The next morning he repaired boldly to the mansion of the priest,

no longer a poor strolling student, thrumming his way with a

guitar; but an ambassador from the shadowy world, with enchanted

treasures to bestow. No particulars are told of his negotiation,

excepting that the zeal of the worthy priest was easily kindled at

the idea of rescuing an old soldier of the faith and a strong box

of King Chico from the very clutches of Satan; and then what alms

might be dispensed, what churches built, and how many poor

relatives enriched with the Moorish treasure!

"As to the immaculate handmaid, she was ready to lend her hand,

which was all that was required, to the pious work; and if a shy

glance now and then might be believed, the ambassador began to find

favor in her modest eyes.

"The greatest difficulty, however, was the fast to which the good

padre had to subject himself. Twice he attempted it, and twice the

flesh was too strong for the spirit. It was only on the third day

that he was enabled to withstand the temptations of the cupboard;

but it was still a question whether he would hold out until the

spell was broken.

"At a late hour of the night the party groped their way up the

ravine by the light of a lantern, and bearing a basket with

provisions for exorcising the demon of hunger so soon as the other

demons should be laid in the Red Sea.

"The seal of Solomon opened their way into the tower. They found

the soldier seated on the enchanted strong-box, awaiting their

arrival. The exorcism was performed in due style. The damsel

advanced and touched the locks of the coffer with the seal of

Solomon. The lid flew open; and such treasures of gold and jewels

and precious stones as flashed upon the eye!

"'Here's cut and come again!' cried the student, exultingly, as he

proceeded to cram his pockets.

"'Fairly and softly,' exclaimed the soldier. 'Let us get the coffer

out entire, and then divide.'

"They accordingly went to work with might and main; but it was a

difficult task; the chest was enormously heavy, and had been

imbedded there for centuries. While they were thus employed the

good dominie drew on one side and made a vigorous onslaught on the

basket, by way of exorcising the demon of hunger which was raging

in his entrails. In a little while a fat capon was devoured, and

washed down by a deep potation of Val de peñas; and, by way of

grace after meat, he gave a kind-hearted kiss to the pet-lamb who

waited on him. It was quietly done in a corner, but the tell-tale

walls babbled it forth as if in triumph. Never was chaste salute

more awful in its effects. At the sound the soldier gave a great

cry of despair; the coffer, which was half raised, fell back in its

place and was locked once more. Priest, student, and damsel found

themselves outside of the tower, the wall of which closed with a

thundering jar. Alas! the good padre had broken his fast too soon!

"When recovered from his surprise, the student would have reëntered

the tower, but learnt to his dismay that the damsel, in her fright,

had let fall the seal of Solomon; it remained within the vault.

"In a word, the cathedral bell tolled midnight; the spell was

renewed; the soldier was doomed to mount guard for another hundred

years, and there he and the treasure remain to this day--and all

because the kind-hearted padre kissed his handmaid. 'Ah, father!

father!' said the student, shaking his head ruefully, as they

returned down the ravine, 'I fear there was less of the saint than

the sinner in that kiss!'

* * * * *

"Thus ends the legend as far as it has been authenticated. There is

a tradition, however, that the student had brought off treasure

enough in his pocket to set him up in the world; that he prospered

in his affairs, that the worthy padre gave him the pet-lamb in

marriage, by way of amends for the blunder in the vault; that the

immaculate damsel proved a pattern for wives as she had been for

handmaids, and bore her husband a numerous progeny; that the first

was a wonder; it was born seven months after her marriage, and

though a seven-months' boy, was the sturdiest of the flock. The

rest were all born in the ordinary course of time.

"The story of the enchanted soldier remains one of the popular

traditions of Granada, though told in a variety of ways; the common

people affirm that he still mounts guard on mid-summer eve, beside

the gigantic stone pomegranate on the bridge of the Darro; but

remains invisible excepting to such lucky mortal as may possess the

seal of Solomon."

These passages from the most characteristic of Irving's books, do not by

any means exhaust his variety, but they afford a fair measure of his

purely literary skill, upon which his reputation must rest. To my

apprehension this "charm" in literature is as necessary to the

amelioration and enjoyment of human life as the more solid achievements

of scholarship. That Irving should find it in the prosaic and

materialistic conditions of the New World as well as in the

tradition-laden atmosphere of the Old, is evidence that he possessed

genius of a refined and subtle quality if not of the most robust order.