{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3496", "width": "2256", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "Pass ?S 2L\\nBook Al\\nCoRyiightN\\nn.ol\\nCOPYRIGHT DEPOSIT.", "height": "3322", "width": "2069", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3322", "width": "2069", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3322", "width": "2069", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "THE SKETCH BOOK", "height": "3322", "width": "2069", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3322", "width": "2069", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3322", "width": "2069", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "(After a daguerreotype by PLUMB, about 1850.)", "height": "3322", "width": "2232", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "V\\nIRVING S\\nSKETCH BOOK\\nCOMPLETE EDITION\\nEdited with Introduction and Notes\\nMARY E. LITCHFIELD\\nBOSTON, U.S.A.\\nGINN COMPANY, PUBLISHERS\\nC e ^tfjenaettm $3ress\\n1 90 1", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "^6\\nTHE LIBRARY OF\\nCONGRESS,\\nTwo Copies Received\\nMAY. 1 1901\\nCopyright entry\\nICLASS^XXc. N\u00c2\u00bb.\\nCOPY B.\\nV\\nCopyright, 1901, by\\nMARY E. LITCHFIELD\\nALL RIGHTS RESERVED", "height": "3322", "width": "2069", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "PREFACE\\nThe text of the present edition of the Sketch Book is\\nexactly like that of the author s revised edition, except\\nthat modern standards have been followed in the matter\\nof spelling and punctuation. As the book is intended for\\nyounger as well as older students, the notes are rather\\nfull, and therefore should be used with discretion. Among\\nthem will be found critical remarks on the author s style.\\nThese have been inserted because the sketches are of\\nspecial value in connection with the study of English\\ncomposition. All the footnotes referring to the text are\\nIrving s. In the preparation of this edition help has\\nbeen received in the form of criticism, and occasionally a\\nvaluable suggestion has been found in the work of some\\nother editor. Many of the books used are named in the\\nSuggestions for Students, but special mention should\\nbe made of Charles Dudley Warner s works relating to\\nIrving, and of the Life and Letters of Washington Lrving,\\nby his nephew, Pierre M. Irving.\\nBoston, February, 1901.", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3322", "width": "2069", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS\\nPAGE\\nIntroduction vii\\nChronological Table xx\\nSuggestions for Students xxx\\nThe Author s Preface to the Revised Edition 3\\nThe Author s Account of Himself ir^\\nThe Voyage 15\\nRoscoe 23\\nThe Wife 31\\n~^Rip Van Winkle 40\\nEnglish Writers on America 63\\nRural Life in England 74\\nThe Broken Heart 83\\nThe Art of Book-Making 90\\nA Royal Poet 99\\nThe Country Church 116\\nThe Widow and her Son 123\\nA Sunday in London 132\\nThe Boar s Head Tavern, Eastcheap 135\\nThe Mutability of Literature 149\\nRural Funerals .162\\nThe Inn Kitchen 177\\nThe Spectre Bridegroom 180\\nWestminster Abbey 199\\nChristmas 213\\n,^-The Stage Coach 22on\\n_\u00c2\u00a3hristmas Eve 228\\n_ .X^hhstmas Day 242\\nv", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "vi CONTENTS\\nPAGE\\nThe Christmas Dinner 259\\nLondon Antiques 277\\nLittle Britain 284\\nStratford-on-Avon 302\\n-Traits of Indian Character 326\\nPhilip of Pokanoket 340\\nJohn Bull 361\\nThe Pride of the Village 375\\nThe Angler 386\\nThe Legend of Sleepy Hollow 397\u00e2\u0080\u0094 ^\u00e2\u0080\u0094U~\\nL Envoy 437\\nAppendix (Irving s) 440\\nNotes 447", "height": "3322", "width": "2069", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION\\nWashington Irving was born in the city of New\\nYork, on the third of April, 1783; the same year that\\nthe British evacuated the city and that England acknowl-\\nedged the independence of the thirteen colonies. Wash-\\nington s work is ended, said the mother, and the child\\nshall be named after him. One morning a few years\\nlater, as a Scotch maid who lived in the Irving family\\nwas walking out with her charge, she saw the great man\\nenter a shop for Washington was then living in New\\nYork as President of the United States. Following him\\nin, she pointed to the boy, saying, Please, your honor,\\nhere s a bairn was named for you. Whereupon the\\nPresident placed his hand on the head of his future\\nbiographer and gave him his blessing.\\nIrving s father, a native of the Orkney Islands, was an\\nupright, conscientious man and a believer in strict family\\ndiscipline, while the mother, who came from the south of\\nEngland, was sympathetic and vivacious. The strongest\\nties of affection united their large family of children,\\neight of whom lived to mature years.\\nAs a boy Irving was given to roguish pranks. Some-\\ntimes after one of his escapades his mother would look\\nat him mournfully and say, Oh, Washington, if you were\\nonly good One of his teachers dubbed him the\\ngeneral, because although constantly in mischief he\\nnever sought to shield himself by telling a lie. This", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "Vlll THE SKETCH BOOK\\nspirit, of truthfulness existed in connection with a sensi-\\ntiveness to suffering so keen that he was allowed to leave\\nschool with the girls whenever an unlucky schoolmate\\nwas to suffer punishment. At the age of eleven he was\\nrevelling in Sindbad the Sailor, Robinson Crusoe, and The\\nWorld Displayed, the last a collection of voyages that\\nmade him long to fly to the ends of the earth. A few\\nyears later his desire to become a sailor drove him to a\\ndiet of salt pork and a bed on the hard floor but the\\npreparatory discipline proving too severe, his imagination\\nsought an outlet through other channels.\\nThe New York of Irving s boyhood was a community\\nof varied interests and marked social contrasts a minia-\\nture metropolis where staid Dutch families lived side by\\nside with comers from every quarter of the globe. In\\n1789, when Irving was six years old, the city had a popu-\\nlation of twenty-nine thousand souls, of whom two thou-\\nsand three hundred were negro slaves. Slave labor was\\nemployed in every household of importance. 1\\nExcept in the business sections the houses were scat-\\ntered and surrounded by gardens. There were a number\\nof the old Dutch dwellings, with peaked roofs and gable\\nends toward the street, but frame buildings with brick\\nfronts and tiled roofs predominated. The streets were\\nlighted with oil lamps, for gas was not introduced until\\n1825. Perhaps the most primitive institution of all was\\nthe sewerage system, which consisted of negro slaves, a\\nlong line of whom might be seen late at night wending\\ntheir way to the river, each with a tub on his head.\\nThe gallows, which was much used in those days on\\naccount of the large number of crimes punished with\\ndeath, was placed in a gaudily painted Chinese pagoda.\\n1 For further details consult The Work of Washington Irving,\\nby Charles Dudley Warner (1893).", "height": "3322", "width": "2069", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "INTR OD UC TION ix\\nNear this were the stocks and the whipping post. An\\nhour in the stocks was the penalty for profane swearing\\nif the offender could not pay the fine of three shillings.\\nIn 1789 the city could boast of but one bank, one fire\\ninsurance company, and one theatre, while it had twenty-\\ntwo churches representing thirteen denominations. At\\nthis time Columbia College had about thirty students.\\nThe costumes of the early New Yorkers must have\\ngiven to their city a touch of the picturesque. A man\\nwas considered simply dressed who wore a long blue\\nriding-coat with steel buttons, a scarlet waistcoat, and\\nyellow kerseymere knee-breeches. John Ramage, the\\nminiature-painter, is described as wearing a scarlet coat\\nwith mother-of-pearl buttons, a white silk waistcoat em-\\nbroidered with colored flowers, black satin breeches with\\npaste knee buckles, white silk stockings, large silver shoe\\nbuckles, and, on the upper part of his powdered hair, a\\nsmall cocked hat which left the curls at his ears displayed.\\nHe carried a gold snuff-box and a gold-headed cane.\\nThe costumes of the women were as varied and as gay\\nin color as those of the men, and it is interesting to learn\\nthat the size and height of their hats called forth fre-\\nquent remonstrances.\\nAlthough there were in the community many persons\\nof intelligence and good breeding, the social customs\\nwere not over-refined. Drinking to excess was a common\\nvice, and in their amusements the young men were free,\\neven boisterous. The people were keenly interested in\\npolitics but cared little for art, literature, or music.\\nTravelling by land in Irving s youth was something of\\na hardship. The lumbering stage coach made slow prog-\\nress over almost impassable roads and across dangerous\\nstreams. The trip from New York to Philadelphia occu-\\npied three days; Albany could be reached in three or", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "X THE SKETCH BOOK\\nfour, according to the season of the year but whoever\\nwas daring enough to attempt the journey to Boston was\\nobliged to travel from three o clock in the morning till ten\\nat night, for six days, before reaching his destination. 1\\nWhen Irving was sixteen he left school and entered a\\nlawyer s office not following the example of his brothers,\\nwho went to Columbia College. His biographer asserts\\nthat he learned more literature than law while preparing\\nfor his profession. Ill health was no doubt one cause of\\nhis lack of close application for when he came of age,\\nhe was so far from robust that his brothers sent him\\nabroad, hoping that he might benefit by change of air\\nand scene.\\nHe possessed in a high degree the qualities that make\\na good traveller. Hard beds and poor fare the fre-\\nquent portion of the wanderer in those days. could not\\ndisturb his equanimity. He wrote to one of his brothers\\nFor my part I endeavor to take things as they come,\\nwith cheerfulness when I cannot get a dinner to suit\\nmy taste, I endeavor to get a taste to suit my dinner.\\nThere is nothing I dread more than to be one of the\\nSmell-fungi of this world.\\nSome adventures not altogether pleasant fell to his lot.\\nWhile he was on his way to Sicily, pirates boarded the\\nvessel and opened all the trunks and portmanteaus and\\nduring the first part of his stay in France, he suffered\\nmuch annoyance because the authorities suspected him\\nof being an English spy. The social life which he\\nenjoyed in the large centres compensated him for all\\n1 The distance between New York and Philadelphia by rail is\\na little over ninety miles. At present the fastest trains make the\\ndistance in about two hours. Boston, which is two hundred and\\nfourteen miles from New York by the shortest route, can be\\nreached in five hours.", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "INTRODUCTION XI\\nvexations. He saw many distinguished people. In\\nRome the charm of Allston s society almost induced him\\nto turn painter; in London Siddons 1 froze [his] heart\\nand melted it by turns.\\nSeveral years before his trip to Europe he had con-\\ntributed some juvenile essays to the Morning Chro7iide,\\nhis brother William s paper, over the signature of Jona-\\nthan Oldstyle but the first productions that gave\\npromise of his future powers were articles written after\\nhis return, for a periodical known as the Salmagu/idi,\\nedited by James K. Paulding and William Irving. Not\\nlong after the Salmagundi had run its short course, he\\nwas at work upon a book that will doubtless live when\\nmany of his more serious productions have been for-\\ngotten, the History of New York, by Diedrich Knicker-\\nbocker. Before it came out humorous notices appeared\\nin the newspapers concerning the disappearance from his\\nlodgings of a small elderly gentleman, dressed in an old\\nblack coat and cocked hat, by the name of Knicker-\\nbocker. Later it was stated that he had left behind\\nhim a very curious kind of a written book which\\nwould be sold to pay his bills. The History was pub-\\nlished in Philadelphia and gravely dedicated to the New\\nYork Historical Society. Some of the old Dutch inhabit-\\nants of New York were indignant at the author s carica-\\nture of their ancestors, but in other quarters the book\\nwas warmly received. Mr. Charles Dudley Warner calls\\nit one of the few masterpieces of humor, and asserts\\nthat it has entered the popular mind as no other\\nAmerican book ever has.\\nWhile Irving was at work upon his History an event\\noccurred which cast a shadow over his future life the\\ndeath of Matilda Hoffman, the young lady whom he was\\n1 Sarah Kemble Siddons, a celebrated English actress (17 55-1 S31).", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "Xil THE SKETCH BOOK\\nto have married. Writing of his early love long after-\\nwards, he said For years I could not talk on the sub-\\nject of this hopeless regret I could not even mention\\nher name but her image was continually before me, and\\nI dreamt of her incessantly. He never married, and in\\nall his wanderings he carried with him her Bible and\\nPrayer Book.\\nAt the age of twenty-three Irving was admitted to the\\nbar, but he never practised law. Four years later he\\nwent into partnership with his brothers, who carried on\\nthe hardware business in New York and Liverpool. The\\nintention of his brothers in making this arrangement was\\nto provide for his support and at the same time leave him\\nfree to devote himself to literary pursuits. In the autumn\\nof 1812, after the United States had declared war against\\nEngland, he made one of a committee of merchants who\\nwent to Washington seeking measures of relief. For\\nseveral years business men had been suffering on account\\nof the unfortunate relations existing between the two\\ncountries. The destruction of the public buildings in\\nWashington by the British, in 18 14, fired his soul with\\nmilitary ardor, and he immediately offered his services to\\nGovernor Tompkins of New York, who made him his aid\\nand military secretary. Although he did not once smell\\npowder in the four months during which he held this\\nposition, he did a good deal of rough riding and saw\\nsomething of camp life on the frontier.\\nIn May, 1815, the year made memorable by the\\nBattle of Waterloo, he sailed for England, with the\\nintention of returning in a few months. He remained\\nabroad seventeen years. Not long after his arrival in\\nLiverpool the illness of his brother Peter made it neces-\\nsary for him to take charge of the affairs of the Irving\\nbrothers in that city. This was a trying experience for a", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "INTR OD UC TION xin\\nman of his temperament, and it was made the more trying\\nfrom the fact that the firm was embarrassed and in 1818\\nwas obliged to go into bankruptcy. Irving was now\\nthrown upon his own resources indeed, besides support-\\ning himself, he felt that he must do what he could for\\nhis brothers who had so generously provided for him in\\nformer years. Peter, because of his ill health, was his\\nspecial care.\\nWhile literature had always been his chief interest, he\\nhad never devoted himself to it seriously. He now deter-\\nmined to make writing his profession and instead of\\nreturning to New York he decided to settle in London.\\nThis was a wise choice. In his native city, where he had\\nscores of relatives and friends, it would have been difrl-\\ncult for him to lead the life of a hard-working author\\nand, besides, he needed the stimulus that a writer finds\\nin one of the great intellectual and literary centres. His\\nfirst production after he had entered upon his new life\\nwas The Sketch Book, by Geoffrey Crayon. The first\\nnumber was published in America in 18 19, and the series\\nwas completed during the following year. The popu-\\nlarity of the book in his own country led to its speedy\\npublication in London, where it was equally successful.\\nAs soon as he was known to be the author, he was\\nwarmly received in literary and fashionable circles. Les-\\nlie, the painter, wrote Geoffrey Crayon is the most\\nfashionable fellow of the day. Lord Byron declared\\nthat he knew the Crayon by heart, or, at least, that there\\nwas not a passage in it to which he could not easily refer.\\nIn Scott, Irving had found a valuable friend while he was\\nstill an obscure author, and with Moore he became inti-\\nmate later, in Paris. Campbell, Rogers, Hallam, Milman,\\nGifford, Isaac DTsraeli, these were some of the men\\nwhom he met in society.", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "Xiv THE SKETCH BOOK\\nIt is worthy of note that he won recognition, not in a\\nperiod of literary sterility, but when these and many\\nother able writers were in the field. Hazlitt, Charles\\nLamb, and De Quincey his rivals on his own ground\\nwere finding new possibilities in English prose Landor\\nwas re-creating in his imagination the heroes of classical\\nantiquity Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey were\\nstill writing Shelley and Keats, soon to be silenced by\\ndeath, were uttering their swan songs in America,\\nCooper and Bryant were becoming well known France\\nwas soon to be startled by the daring note of Victor\\nHugo and in Germany, Goethe, towering above all\\nhis fellow- writers through the breadth and power of his\\nintellect, was giving to the world the last fruits of his\\nrich experience. When we think of Irving as one of\\nthis distinguished company, we are a little surprised at\\nhis wide and long-continued popularity. There seemed\\nto be, as some one has said, a kind of conspiracy to\\nhoist him over the heads of his contemporaries.\\nThe next few years, during which he spent some time\\nin France and Germany, saw the production of Brace-\\nbridge Hall and The Tales of a Traveller, both similar to\\nthe Sketch Book in their general tone.\\nHe had reached the point where he needed fresh\\ninspiration, and the inspiration came from a sojourn\\nin Spain. In 1826 he went to Madrid as member of\\nthe American Legation and remained in the country\\nthree years the most productive years of his life. To\\nthis period we owe The Life of Columbus, The Voyages\\nof the Companions of Columbus, The Alhambra, The Con-\\nquest of Granada, and The Lege?ids of the Conquest of Spain.\\nThe romantic episodes of Spanish and Moorish history\\ndelighted his inmost soul never had author food more\\nfit for his imagination. From the palace of the Alhambra", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "INTR OD UC TION x v\\nhe wrote Here, then, I am nestled in one of the\\nmost remarkable, romantic, and delicious spots in the\\nworld. It absolutely appears to me like a dream,\\nor as if I am spell-bound in some fairy palace.\\nIn 1829 he left Spain and went to London as Secre-\\ntary of Legation to the Court of St. James. His English\\nfriends gave him a warm welcome. In recognition of his\\nvaluable work as a writer, the Royal Society of Litera-\\nture presented him with a medal, and the University of\\nOxford gave him the degree of D.C.L. In 1832 he\\nleft England for America.\\nHis long sojourn abroad had not weakened his love for\\nhis native land. Soon after reaching New York he wrote\\nto his brother Peter that he had been in a tumult of\\nenjoyment ever since his arrival, was pleased with every-\\nthing and everybody, and was as happy as mortal could\\nbe. During the year he made a tour in the West, in\\ncompany with a party of commissioners who were to\\ntreat with the Indians. Astoria, written at the suggestion\\nof John Jacob Astor, in part the work of Mr. Pierre M.\\nIrving, the Tour on the Prairies, and the Adventures of\\nCaptain Bonneville, give many of his western experiences.\\nIn 1842 he went again to Spain this time as United\\nStates Minister. The appointment was made through\\nthe influence of Daniel Webster. Already the now dis-\\ntinguished author had refused to run for Congress, had\\nobjected to the use of his name in the election of mayor,\\nin New York, and had declined the secretaryship of the\\nNavy. Nothing but the sense of duty and the conscious-\\nness of his special fitness for the position could have\\ninduced him to leave again his native land, above all to\\ntear himself from Sunnyside, the home he had made\\nfor himself and his nieces at Tarrytown on the Hudson.\\nHis warm interest in Spanish affairs and his friendly", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "xvi THE SKETCH BOOK\\nrelations with Spaniards of high position caused him to\\nbe most successful in discharging his duties as minister\\nthrough a somewhat troubled period.\\nHe returned to New York in 1846, having reached\\nthe age of sixty-three. Increasing years failed to lessen\\nhis literary activity. The Life of Washington, begun\\nbefore his mission to Spain, engaged his attention for\\nthe remainder of his life. The Life of Goldsmith and\\nMahomet and His Successors both appeared in 1849, an d\\na collection of sketches, entitled Wolf erf s Roost, in 1855.\\nHe died at Sunnyside on the 28th of November,\\n1859.\\nIrving s life of seventy-six years covers a period char-\\nacterized by momentous changes social, intellectual,\\nand political. He was born in the early days of the\\nRepublic, when the stage coach and the sailing vessel\\nfurnished the most rapid means of conveyance and com-\\nmunication. When he died, the slow-going world of his\\nboyhood was no more done away by steam and elec-\\ntricity. The wilderness, which in his youth lay distant\\nbut a few hours from New York, had retreated to the\\nfar West. A great conflict was about to free his native\\nland from the system of slavery, one of the familiar insti-\\ntutions of his boyhood. As a young man he had watched\\nthe early triumphs and the fall of the first Napoleon and as\\nan old man he had seen the rise to power of Napoleon III.\\nand Eugenie, one of whom had been his guest at Sunny-\\nside, while the other, when a child in Granada, had sat\\nupon his knee. When he began to write there was but\\none man in America who had made a reputation in the\\ndomain of pure literature Charles Brockden Brown;\\nin his later years the names of those now best known in\\nAmerican letters Emerson, Hawthorne, Longfellow,\\nand their contemporaries were on the lips of all.", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "INTR OD UC TION XVll\\nIn reading the biography and the letters of this first\\ndistinguished American writer, one is struck by his aloof-\\nness from the strenuous life of the century. He, the\\nspokesman of the youngest of the nations, looked ever\\ntoward the past. The great intellectual movement which\\nowed its origin to the discoveries of modern science and\\nto rapid changes in social conditions left him almost\\nuntouched. This seems the more strange from the fact\\nthat his public duties took him frequently to the centres\\nof thought and action, while the positions which he held\\nmade it impossible for him to keep entirely out of con-\\ntemporary politics. He followed of necessity the bent of\\nhis genius. By nature he was the contemplator of man-\\nkind, not the participator in man s struggles. He loved\\nto withdraw from the present, with its bare and often ugly\\nfacts, to a past sufficiently remote to have about it the\\nhalo of romance. This is why he cared for Spain, with\\nits tales of Moor and Christian, with its dream-haunted\\nAlhambra why when a youth he wandered, gun in hand,\\non the shores of the Hudson or among the valleys of the\\nCatskills, peopling the solitudes with the creatures of his\\nimagination.\\nIf Irving felt small interest in important movements, he\\ncared greatly for human beings. He lived at Sunny-\\nside, surrounded by those whom he loved his brothers\\nwere as dear to him as his own life his friendships\\nstood the test of time and change. He would often\\nspeak of some charming woman or of some noble man\\nwhom he had chanced to meet, recalling them through\\nlong stretches of years, as one recalls a delightful vision.\\nHis letters abound in references to children for in every\\nland he found youthful comrades who listened with wide-\\neyed wonder to his tales of knights or fairies. Even the\\nlittle Queen of Spain was first of all a dear child, not", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "XVlll THE SKETCH BOOK\\na royal personage, in the thought of the kindly American\\nminister.\\nIt is this human sympathy, this social quality, that\\ngives to his productions their characteristic flavor. In\\nreading him we enjoy the companionship of one who\\nshows us with sincere delight the beauty in nature and in\\nhuman life that has made his own existence a joy. He\\nreminds one of Addison but he is more simple and more\\nbroadly human, a friend rather than a teacher. His\\nhumor is less subtle than Addison s his intellect less keen.\\nIn the lives of his own countrymen Irving has been an\\ninfluence of much importance. Coming, as he did, at a\\ntime when Americans in general had little appreciation of\\nbeauty in any form, he opened their eyes to the loveliness\\nthat lay at their very doors the loveliness of wild\\nnature. He made them feel the glory of the Hudson\\nand the charm of the Catskills. At his transmuting touch\\nthe legends that clung to the secluded valleys of Eastern\\nNew York became the folklore of the American people.\\nHis countrymen were provincial, and he broadened their\\nhorizon. Through his eyes they looked beyond the\\nAtlantic, and across that wider and deeper sea which\\ndivides the present from the past. In his writings he\\ngave them one of the best gifts that a man can bestow upon\\nhis fellows a source of refined and ennobling pleasure.\\nWhile the Knickerbocker History is the most purely\\noriginal of Irving s productions, while the biographies\\nand histories have the value that results from conscien-\\ntious work combined with literary skill, the Sketch Book\\nis on the whole the most characteristic expression of the\\nauthor s genius. Irving was at his best in short sketches.\\nIf not the originator of the modern short story, he was\\ncertainly the writer who gave to that species of literary\\ncomposition its artistic form.^ There are greater histories", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "INTR OD UC TION xix\\nthan the Conqicest of Granada, and biographies that show\\na stronger grasp than the Columbus or the Washington\\nbut it is not easy to find a short story that excels Rip\\nVan Winkle.\\nSome of the articles in the Sketch Book have lost their\\nfreshness because the themes of which they treat have\\nbecome hackneyed others, like the Little Britai7i and the\\nMutability of Literal u?-e, possess an interest only for those\\nwho love to get away from the actual world and lose them-\\nselves in a dreamy past. The Wife, a sketch that in its\\nday was fervently admired, rings false in the ear of the\\naverage modern reader although he who knows Irving\\nwell cannot but feel that the sentiment which inspired\\nit was genuine. yC Notwithstanding these drawbacks the\\nSketch Book as a whole possesses rare literary merit. The\\nlanguage in which it is written is a trifle antiquated\\nbecause of its leisurely flow and its swelling periods but\\nthe reader who delights in musical prose, in prose which\\nexpresses by its form the varying mood of the writer,\\nmay well go to this volume. /^The Rip Van Winkle is an\\nartistic gem the sketch of Westminster in its solemn\\nharmony suggests the very spirit of the ancient abbey\\nthe description of Baltus Van Tassel s farm, in the\\nLegend of Sleepy Hollow, is the work of a master and\\nthere is scarcely apiece in the book that does not contain\\npassages of genuine beauty.\\nLike all true artists, Irving at his best has a style that\\ndefies analysis. It is the expression of the whole nature\\nof the man. His goodness, his kindliness, his love of\\nbeauty, his sense of humor, all these and something\\nmore which cannot be defined go to produce what we\\nknow as Irving s style. It is these qualities embodied\\nin literary form that make the Sketch Book one of the\\ntreasures of American literature.", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "XX\\nCHRONOLOGICAL TABLE\\n3s\u00c2\u00a3\\na \u00c2\u00a742\\nE\\nf3 se\\nf b\\n4) bC^J\\n4 O k\\na M .-S\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a24) \u00e2\u0096\u00a0\u00e2\u0096\u00baw\\n,o\\n4) J\\nO MlS\\n^s\\nrt.C\\nB-g b\\ni C\\nb\\n2 2\\nD B \u00c2\u00abi\\n\u00c2\u00a33 6\\nb b a\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0G B B\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2sis\\n4 .C,\u00c2\u00b0,Q\\ndj.2 Dp* 1\\n-S B \u00c2\u00abJ\\no v\\ntz 6\\nOJ K* 1\\nft\\nu\\nto Z\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a22 H ~-5\\n\u00e2\u0080\u009ePQft\\nr\u00c2\u00ab U 2\\nOJ u o\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2gs-jg-g\\n6w-\u00c2\u00a7w:a\\nw\\nR\\na u!z; 15\\n\u00c2\u00a3^ft\\na 5 o o\\nEft Sc3\\nB \u00c2\u00ab-i\\n0) 14_, O\\n\u00c2\u00b02\\n-S.2 S o\\nS Sft ft\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0S a\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2I fl w Sg\\nm o -2 J\u00c2\u00a7 -3 2 e o\\nO O jj ^j a oj\\na C K gps a S3 5\\nO fl O nl c\\noOrt a\\n*irt yo u l4H to\\n^^S|g^2\\n:a.S ft H ft\\n.aftjjwftnsw\\n-1-rt [It \u00c2\u00ab1 4)\\nHftUfiw w\\no u\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0all\\nni rt u\\n4) p a!\\nco apq o\\nbS\\n1) o\u00c2\u00bb to\\no o\\nMl (O ~M\\nSh\u00c2\u00ab\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0w S\\n13 So e J 3\\nJ o.Sft\\nEH\\nOJ rt 4)15 -3\\n|b\\ni 4) aT 4) J5\\n4) M^2 w bfl.5\\noj OP\\n2 co-U\\n-g u B M--T3\\nbJOr-H a a\\n4) JJ\\n\u00c2\u00ab2\u00c2\u00a3\\nE 2 J\\n_ 4) a\\n4) -Jl 2\\n.2\\na a\\ni) a\\nma\\n(0 4\\nM B\\n^f\\nft\\n4J bjO\\ntit\\no C OT\\nrt (U a\\no S-u\\no m\\n2i\\nOJ\\nU3\\n81\\n-S^^\\n*o\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2..ft.\\nMX*\\nc\u00c2\u00abftU\\nC i 3 J\\n^\u00e2\u0080\u00a25 Si -S\\ni3 ate c 5\\nrt 4) \u00c2\u00abJ3\\nftWfeJU\\ns\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2a s.aa\\nfa E\\n21c5\\n4)\\nIS\\n-2S\\n32\\n4) o\\nlis w\\n8", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE\\na\\nt; In 3\\nP c-o\\no u rt e C5\\naS^H \u00c2\u00a72 to\\n5^ a H m\\n3 S a gjj\\n4- u\\nto\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2a o i-\\n.a. to\\nWto to\\n_ to +j\\nOS S\\nffi\\nO 13 cti\\na \u00c2\u00abT3\\na o a\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2\u00e2\u0080\u00a2h to W)\\nin 3 a\\n6 w\\no\u00c2\u00a3\\na\u00c2\u00a3\\nI- \u00c2\u00a32\\n$8* s\\ns lift\\no \u00c2\u00b0\u00c2\u00abOy\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0rt b\u00c2\u00bb4S rt S,\\nS \u00c2\u00abi o g\\nif ^1||\\niijmii\\nftrt K-M 5^\\nSSbjS\\n\u00c2\u00ab\u00c2\u00abOftl\\no w ^ga _\\nJ*w rt\\n8 M\\n\u00c2\u00a3C/2\\nCD\\nB\\nSi\\n\u00c2\u00a3t3-\u00c2\u00a3\\n0-T3\\nO \u00c2\u00a3-0\\no m\\nO O aS\\n\u00c2\u00a3S\\n\u00c2\u00a3\u00c2\u00a3o\\nG\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0a\\n8 a.\\ntit\\n;^3 q\\nS-a\\nt 3\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2It\\ni\\n^J^\\nIt^i**\\nv?-^-^\\nfC^g^\\nj-H\\n..D J u w\\n^,a 7. -a a\\nO 3 C Uft\\nO O rt O\\n3 5\\nOS\\ngo\\nS3 a\\no\\n13 *3\\nM-m to\\nS3 -J\\nw^ so,-^ S a D\\nJi S rt ^73\\ncr2\\nr.-a\\nSSH\\nrtf jo --O O\\nS^ O tor/ W).\\nto a; .a ^^u.,\\na u c rt O\\nrt S^j a a)\\n43 a u w a\\nw m -5 -a\\n-\u00e2\u0080\u00a2r! 5 a to\\n42.^ cu g\\npi s\\nsss-s-g\\nD a.\\nU u\\nrving\\ngoes\\ni the\\n:ker\\nished\\nn,whom\\nIrving\\nperinten\\nnickerboc\\nrk, pub\\no a\\nS*3\\nsath of Matilda Hoff\\nwas to have marri\\nto Philadelphia to\\npublication of the\\nHistory of New\\nft lo a\\na^-S\\ntu-^\\nQ\\nO", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "XXI 1\\nCHRONOLOGICAL TABLE\\nHi to oo /i\\n+5 P m (U\\nC/3 rt wis\\nft UJ3\\nS073\\n.P rt 4\\nX y w d g rt\\nrt p p nj ni w\\n-oW opqjz.S\\nU P3\\n73 73 o J rt\\nrt as rt w^-\\n5 S p\\nTO OP\\n6. u P\\nOx\\np S\\n73 u\\nOH 0\\ng 5 5\\nSh-I o S g\\nJtlMi\\ni g\u00c2\u00b0 5 p\\nrt w.\u00e2\u0080\u0094 i ctf bo\\n.S c\\np tH rt S H\\np \u00c2\u00abj p5 o\\nJ2 \u00c2\u00abi .--p P\\n5 a s\\np pfi is\\n60 2t3=0 .S\\no fe (U 2\\nig p^ rt S\\nhhTS^^ -O 3\\no o 2ft +s\\n3 fc rt\\n3+3 (0\\nS 03 P\\nTO O\\no o\\nCfl g 4=.P\\nbO-P JJ p\\nP U-5\\nrv! 03\\ni3\\n4\\nr\u00c2\u00ab\\nK\\nh\\n1\\nH\\nh\\n3\\nh-1\\no\\n0) Si\\n3\\np\\nO u\\n1 v -Q\\nh 5 2\\nW\\n^u\\np\\na; d o o b\\n.p o u Z\\nOS o\\nO O rt\\nv^\\ns\\n\\\\d tC od\\n-CbO^^^\\ns s1ISS\\n3 iS y^\\ng P\\n\u00c2\u00a3;5\\ng* 2\\nS 2\\no\\nS-^2\\nrS 3 O\\nU 03\\na of2\\n8hl\\nP 03-^ rrt\\n_ P 55 S3\\n-s S a S\\n8 \u00c2\u00a3^8s\\n--S^oSw\\nOS-\\nrt 73 jh-\\np S^ a\\nC^! O O\\n^73 fe\u00c2\u00b0^\\nOj 03 \u00e2\u0096\u00a0Tj W rj-\\nrt S O\\na\\nSScn\\nfe 03\\n\u00c2\u00a3c/2\\na o\\nbO-5.03 Q\\nSg C 73\\ni S E o3 S", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE\\no2 5 \u00c2\u00a3*S r -2 u\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2flu s* |p- s ;5 .-2 pm\\nOSS\\n2\\nOJO w X\\nS--2;\\nW ^o ^fto-S gw gO ^gco g\u00c2\u00abi\\nHP* w O Hta Q\\nOS\\np.\\n8 -a s.\u00c2\u00ab\\n2^ a o fe\\nSo. S S^ -_e8 S\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a02*-\u00c2\u00b0^ fl, P.to o *i \u00c2\u00ab2 nS \u00c2\u00ab_,\\n1 ft 1\\nS 1\\nurn fi* inii^lSMiiiMi piiii\\ncoPQc/} oi co M JKfl coSO J\u00c2\u00abK(JJffl U J Sco\\n3\u00c2\u00a3\\nS\\n2\\n111\\ncq d.-S\\nto\\n5 M 1)\\n^2\\n^|-2 g\\no vi )i\\nSI c\\n\u00c2\u00a3c,J\\n2\\n^-d\\n111-5\\nc \u00c2\u00abj\\n\u00c2\u00ab^3\\n_o\\n|3 3\\nte\\nH\\nmerica\\nsuffers\\nrmany\\nr Petei\\nh\\nedinA\\nIrving\\nsin Ge\\nbrothe\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2S ;2\\n.S s\\\\\\n3^2\\nh\\ngjH-S\\n=a\\n2 T3\\ninE\\nealth\\nris.\\n*Xc i- S, ci P\\nracebr\\nand la\\nfrom i\\ngain in\\nin Ha\\nCq j\\nHH", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "XXIV\\nCHRONOLOGICAL TABLE\\nrti- u\\n0\u00c2\u00ab J3\\nu re P\\n2 g\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0so\\nKg\\nto re o\\nCOto\\nOJ- 4)\\ne f\\nCO\\nS to^B\\n^S\\nt; e\\nS^\\nre.-S\\nv B\\nd S\\nre S\\nbl\\nto\\nb a fc~\\n.2 S .to^,\\nS \u00c2\u00a3\u00c2\u00a3i:\\no -j;\\nft 60?\\nto 1)\\nre-\\nB^\\nO\\n0 0\\nS B\\n-i\\n5 C W5\\nre\\nO Ph cj *0\\nX c C\\nUS\\nuu\\n2 5 u\\n5m- re 3 g b.q\\n5 o O re\\nMil\\nJ? i\\n00 M\\na OB\\n\u00c2\u00a33-B\\n3 c S? re\\na E .y o\\n^\u00c2\u00a75 aPQ\\n3 O.\\n.S .8\\n.Q\\nO to\\n2 c\\nis el\\nJS fe i\\nv\\nO ,~n3\\nto -S re\\ni.\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a03\\n1\\n1\\nw\\nOS\\nH\\nw\\nh\\nI\\nu\\nu\\na\\no\\no\\nU\\nIf\\n1-\\n60\\nO 4,\\nBulwer: Falkland.\\nPelham.\\nHallam Constitutional History\\nEngland.\\nHeine Buch der Lieder.\\nCooper Red Rover.\\n7^* Athenaum.\\nThe Spectator. (This periodical ha\\nconnection with the old Specta\\nwritten by Addison, Steele,\\nothers.)\\nBulwer The Disowned.\\nScott Fair Maid of Perth.\\n1\\n5\\nD K\\nO.B\\n60 S\\nTennyson Poems, chiefly Lyrica\\nMoore: Life of Byron.\\nHugo Hernani.\\nComte Cours de Philosophic Post\\n(last volume in 1842).\\nPoe The Raven.\\nWhittier: Legends of New Engla\\nPeacock Crotchet Castle.\\nHugo Notre Dame.\\nHerschel On the Study of Nati\\nPhilosophy.\\n2 \u00c2\u00a3-S s\\n2 1 1\\nf s .1\\nre s\u00c2\u00a3\\ngates\\nJ2 B \u00c2\u00b0H-1\\n8 5 G C-S\\nre re\\nS\\n?S. 60^ g\\nre\\nj 5^ |re\\n10 60-Q\\n^^3 C B\\n1 S\\nP\\n3 oo 1\\nS 1^ 53 S\\n^^3 rt g-43\\n.Vg, .oS,\\n^3 Sta 2 re re\\nS 60-y^ h S -w\\n60^\\ngg 1\\nB\u00c2\u00b0M\\nIt*\\nPi\\ngo I\\nO eu 3", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE\\nn -5ti 5\\na.2\u00e2\u0080\u009e\\n3 J\\nD\\no 2 S 5 fi\\nCO\\no\\nTDS-Sr.S J ~%c^ ftO\\n2i5ii tiipi-il M 11\\nH\u00c2\u00a3 O co fo J Ph co fc 3\\n4 t i li si it* i\\nII II ife i A 1! \u00c2\u00a32 I\\ngg^^ SM 17 SktH It 11 cTu-^ o* S? M)\\n^ij^i^ .ss^ s^ s -gg ui.a ^So isi\\n4 n-t S S to Z c Js be TR ../N -m a U -H 3 \u00c2\u00b1j\\nuOigrtp- S n 4 .S2^s J S -p .o ;s T?\\nnil I if* lis t i ^i j;s*j;i\\nf i\u00c2\u00a7Sill 111 I ll 111 l!S! j!f Z \u00e2\u0080\u009eS\\n|.1ll.s13 Hz sssz sti^slWJ\\nI 3", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "XXVI\\nCHRONOLOGICAL TABLE\\nJ\\nO u\\n\u00c2\u00a71\\nT3\\nWCJ\\nS I*\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0M o\\nU C 00\\nw .5 M\\nu rt c c\\nCM o A\\n8 2\\na 1-\\nw\\n5\\nR\\nh\\nS. ti\\nM -S 00\\nJ\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2s^:\\n05 t3\\n;ken\\nime\\nfi\\ns\\ng2^\\nIt\\no nj c o y-\u00c2\u00a3 S\\ns,o.\u00c2\u00ab 2.\\n.A\\n8 .vj\\n5\\nv J: fl R?\\n\u00c2\u00a3;3\\nS^\\ncK c\\nO\\no\\nis\\nd\\n5 w\\no u\\n\u00c2\u00abs 2 o^ o^\\no 13 ,0 a o^Ph V S)^\\nQ H\\nI*\\nrrt j\u00e2\u0080\u0094 3 p\\nW^o\\nS hJ\\n^!_ ^aj\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0OR?\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2^3 rt u\\n.3 2 i", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "rt\\n3\\nween Mexico ar\\nn in London,\\ndicates. Fren\\n2d. Louis Nap\\nent of the Repu\\n03\\nEl\\nrt c\\n(0 1\\n\u00c2\u00a7s\\nS.2 o\\n5^\\ng\\ne D\\n03\\npi\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a22S.S\\nJ2 U T3\\ne war\\ndStat\\nlonstr\\nlippe\\nprocl\\ned Pr\\nd\\nu\\no c_c\\nIs?\\neH o\\ne of th\\ne Unite\\ntist dei\\nis Phi\\nepublic\\n3n elect\\n3\\n.a o\\nSf= .a\\nJ-Sssg*^\\nPP\\nPQ P\\nu uJ\\nCHRONOLOGICAL TABLE xxvil\\nrt iS a3\\nil|a\\nfe o\\nQ\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2S 2 2\\nd tJ g\\n8\\n3 .-2-S t^l\\nX 6 P H HJP5KS 0\u00c2\u00a3\u00c2\u00a3 S W* ^H P m P hW\\nII 1| |g if\\nC/3\\no u\\n5 S\\nw -QO 2 u E o IS\\noc i? 2c5 \u00e2\u0096\u00a05-2 u ^3 2\\nwe a g\u00c2\u00a3-5^\u00c2\u00a3s s^\\nS H (5\\nin so t^ CO y\\\\ O\\nf Tf T in\\n00 00 00 00 00 00", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "XXV111\\nCHRONOLOGICAL TABLE\\ne 5\\nbJOOoO\\n8\\nfig\\no\\no\\nc a\\no u\\n4!fc\\nU flfl J\\nos\\n~\u00c2\u00a38\\ns\\nre\\nu\\nre\\nrt -w\\nM\\nr^ 5\\nE?IS\\n.S\\nO\\nm bflfi\\n111\\nO\\n9 s 5\\nS SbjS\\n1)\\nWo\\npq\\nW\\n8\\n3\\na 1\\nto 4s\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00ba8\\n1\\n1\\n8*\\nW\\nH\\n8\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2Ss\\nt5 hJ\\n8 O.g 8 8\\nill i I 1\\nS e~ C_?i e \u00c2\u00abS\\ng\\nK\\ni\\nS\\ni_j\\nij is I\\ns o g\\nto h S u\\nC rt\\nte 8 H^.\u00c2\u00a7\\nr-! U .!_. O\\nw 3 O 5*S\\ncl 1 o c\\nO\\nT3 k\\n3\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a02g8", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE\\nXXIX\\nS 4,p\\nm\\n1)\\nJ5t3\\no\\nrt\\n3 3\\nW\\n\u00c2\u00abM2\\ns .S rt\\nO U\\n^.o\\n3\\nt dec\\npan\\nStat\\ntiny\\no rt D 3\\n3 \u00c2\u00abJ\\n5\u00c2\u00a72\\nDred S\\nF inane\\nUnit\\nIndian\\ng -M O\\nO\\n.O\\n1 flfel\\nH-l\\n-i 3\\nd prono\\nished me\\naulay, H,\\nocquev\\n:r, Mette\\no\\n5 3 Or. .S\\n3 W) 3\\n,3\\nof Eng\\nof India\\ng distin\\nyear IV\\nt, De\\ncey, R\\nhn Brown\\njginning of\\ntion.\\nle Queen\\nsovereign\\nle followir\\nduring the\\nPrescot\\nDe Quin\\nHumboldt\\n^PQ\\nH H\\n1*1\\nS rS -S rt\\n3 8\\n-s\\n8 S! v g^\\n_** s i\\nflan Shp o\\nJwsc\\ns S\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2I \u00e2\u0080\u00a2J^VS\\nMrs\\nm B fi u C^\\n3 0 O C\\nO O u\\nJO H\\nft H 5 9,\\n3 o 30-^\\nQOffiQS\\nI\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a05 u\\n3\\nPh\\ns\\n.5\\n1?\\nfc\\nS\\n.3\\n3\\nft\u00c2\u00a3\\nJ-S?", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDENTS\\nBOOKS AND ARTICLES RELATING TO IRVING\\nAND HIS WORKS\\nThe student who would come into sympathetic relations with\\nIrving should read, first of all, Charles Dudley Warner s Washington-\\nIrving {American Men of Letters Series, 1881) and The Work of Wash-\\nington Irving, by the same author a volume of sixty pages, pub-\\nlished in 1893. The Life and Letters of Washington Irving, by his\\nnephew, Pierre M. Irving (4 vols., 1862), makes the reader still better\\nacquainted with the dear and good Washington Irving. Thack-\\neray s sympathetic sketch, in his Roundabout Papers Nil Nisi\\nBonum, should be read without fail, and also the well-known lines\\nin Lowell s Fable for Critics. Studies of Irving, by Charles Dudley\\nWarner, William Cullen Bryant, and George P. Putnam (Irving s\\npublisher), published in 1880, is an interesting volume. (Bryant s\\narticle can also be found in his Prose Writings, vol. i., 1884, and\\nPutnam s in the Atlantic for November, i860.) There is a discrim-\\ninating and suggestive chapter on Irving in Prof. Barrett Wendell s\\nLiterary History of America (just published). The Critic for\\nMarch 31, 1883, contains several papers of value relating to\\nIrving and his works among them, one by Oliver Wendell Holmes\\nand one by Edmund W. Gosse. There is an illustrated article on\\nIrving in American Bookmen, by M. A. DeW. Howe (1898) and\\nportraits of him can be found in Harper s Magazine for April, 1883\\nin the Century for May, 1887 and in the Maclise Portrait Gallery\\n(1883). The student who desires to know more of Irving in his\\nrelations to the development of literature in the United States\\nshould read about him and his period in Professor Wendell s book,\\nalready mentioned in American Literature, by Julian Hawthorne\\nand Leonard Lemon (1891) or in Initial Studies of American\\nLetters, by Prof. Henry A. Beers (1895).", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDENTS xxxi\\nOTHER WORKS RELATING TO IRVING\\nDaniel J. Hill Washington Irving American Authors Series\\n(1879). Edwin W. Morse: Washington Irving: Warner Classics\\nHistorians and Essayists (1899). G. W. Green: Biographical\\nStudies (i860). Donald G. Mitchell: Bound Together; A Sheaf of\\nPapers (1884). Allibone Dictionary of Authors (contains a useful\\nbibliography). Tuckerman Homes of American Authors; Irving\\nand Sunny side (1853). Edward Everett: Irving and His Friends\\n(1863). Francis Jeffrey Contributions to the Edinburgh Review\\n(1846). Washington Irving: Commemoration of the 100th Anni-\\nversary of His Birth (1883). The Critic for March 31, 1883, the\\nIrving Centenary Number, contains, besides several interesting\\narticles, a fairly complete bibliography of Irving. For more recent\\nworks, see Poole s Index and the catalogues of large libraries.\\nIRVING S WORKS\\nArticles in the Daily Chronicle, by Jonathan Oldstyle (1802)\\nContributions to the Salmagundi (1807-1808); History of New York,\\nby Diedrich Knickerbocker (1809); Articles in the Analectic\\nMagazine (1813-1814); Sketch Book, by Geoffrey Crayon (1819,\\n1820); Bracebridge Hall (1822); Tales of a Traveller (1824); Life\\nand Voyages of Columbus (1828) Same abridged (1829) Chronicle\\nof the Conquest of Granada (1829) Voyages of the Companions of\\nColumbus (1831); Tales of the Alhambra (1832); Abbotsford and\\nNews lead Abbey (1835) Tour on the Prairies (1835) Legends of\\nthe Conquest of Spain (1835) Astoria (1836) Adventures of Captain\\nBonneville (1837) Life of Margaret Davidson (1840) Biography\\nof Goldsmith (1841) Life of Thomas Campbell in Stone s History\\nof Wyoming (1841) Life of Goldsmith (1849) Mahomet and His\\nSuccessors (1850) Wolf erf s Roost (1855) 5 Life of Washington\\n(1855-1859).\\nUSEFUL REFERENCE BOOKS\\nMurray s New English Dictionary (not completed), the most\\nexhaustive English dictionary ever undertaken; Century Diction-\\nary and Century Cyclopcedia of Names Webster s International", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "xxxn THE SKETCH BOOK\\nDictionary Encyclopedia Britannic a, 9th Ed. Brewer Reader s\\nHandbook and Dictionary of Phrase and Fable; Wheeler: Noted\\nNames of Fiction and Familiar Allusiotis Bartlett Familiar Quota-\\ntions Allibone Dictionary of Authors Lippincott Biographical\\nDictionary; Dictionary of National Biography (British); Ryland\\nChronological Outlines of English Literature; Haydn: Dictionary\\nof Dates Ploetz Epitome of Universal History Hassall European\\nHistory (476-187 1 Larned History for Ready Reference Harper\\nBook of Facts; Wheatley and Cunningham: Lo?idon Past and\\nPresent.", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "THE SKETCH BOOK\\nGEOFFREY CRAYON, GENT.\\nI have no wife nor children, good or bad, to provide for. A mere spectator\\nof other men s fortunes and adventures, and how they play their parts, which,\\nmethinks, are diversely presented unto me, as from a common theatre or scene.\\nBurton.", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3486", "width": "2217", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION\\nThe following papers, with two exceptions, were written in\\nEngland, and formed but part of an intended series, for which\\nI had made notes and memorandums. Before I could mature\\na plan, however, circumstances compelled me to send them\\npiece-meal to the United States, where they were published 5\\nfrom time to time in portions or numbers. It was not my\\nintention to publish them in England, being conscious that\\nmuch of their contents would be interesting only to American\\nreaders, and, in truth, being deterred by the severity with\\nwhich American productions had been treated by the British 10\\npress.\\nBy the time the contents of the first volume had appeared in\\nthis occasional manner, they began to find their way across the\\nAtlantic, and to be inserted, with many kind encomiums, in the\\nLondon Literary Gazette. It was said, also, that a London 15\\nbookseller intended to publish them in a collective form. I\\ndetermined, therefore, to bring them forward myself, that they\\nmight at least have the benefit of my superintendence and re-\\nvision. I accordingly took the printed numbers which I had\\nreceived from the United States, to Mr. John Murray, the emi- 20\\nnent publisher, from whom I had already received friendly\\nattentions, and left them with him for examination, informing\\nhim that should he be inclined to bring them before the public,\\nI had materials enough on hand for a second volume. Several\\ndays having elapsed without any communication from Mr. 25\\nMurray, I addressed a note to him, in which I construed his\\nsilence into a tacit rejection of my work.\\n3", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "4 PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION\\nnumbers I had left with him might be returned to me. The\\nfollowing was his reply\\nMy dear Sir,\\nI entreat you to believe that I feel truly obliged by your kind in-\\n5 tentions towards me, and that I entertain the most unfeigned respect\\nfor your most tasteful talents. My house is completely filled with\\nwork-people at this time, and I have only an office to transact busi-\\nness in and yesterday I was wholly occupied, or I should have done\\nmyself the pleasure of seeing you.\\nio If it would not suit me to engage in the publication of your pres-\\nent work, it is only because I do not see that scope in the nature of\\nit which would enable me to make those satisfactory accounts be-\\ntween us, without which I really feel no satisfaction in engaging\\nbut I will do all I can to promote their circulation, and shall be most\\n1 5 ready to attend to any future plan of yours.\\nWith much regard, I remain, dear sir,\\nYour faithful servant,\\nJohn Murray.\\nThis was disheartening, and might have deterred me from any\\nfurther prosecution of the matter, had the question of republi-\\ncation in Great Britain rested entirely with me but I appre-\\n20 hended the appearance of a spurious edition. I now thought\\nof Mr. Archibald Constable as publisher, having been treated\\nby him with much hospitality during a visit to Edinburgh\\nbut first I determined to submit my work to Sir Walter (then\\nMr.) Scott, being encouraged to do so by the cordial reception\\n25 I had experienced from him at Abbotsford a few years pre-\\nviously, and by the favorable opinion, he had expressed to\\nothers of my earlier writings. I accordingly sent him the\\nprinted numbers of the Sketch Book in a parcel by coach, and\\nat the same time wrote to him, hinting that since I had had the\\n30 pleasure of partaking of his hospitality, a reverse had taken\\nplace in my affairs which made the successful exercise of my\\npen all-important to me I begged him, therefore, to look over\\nthe literary articles I had forwarded to him, and, if he thought", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION 5\\nthey would bear European republication, to ascertain whether\\nMr. Constable would be inclined to be the publisher.\\nThe parcel containing my work went by coach to Scott s\\naddress in Edinburgh the letter went by mail to his residence\\nin the country. By the very first post I received a reply, before 5\\nhe had seen my work.\\nI was down at Kelso, said he, when your letter reached\\nAbbotsford. I am now on my way to town, and will converse\\nwith Constable, and do all in my power to forward your views\\nI assure you nothing will give me more pleasure. 10\\nThe hint, however, about a reverse of fortune had struck the\\nquick apprehension of Scott, and, with that practical and effi-\\ncient good will which belonged to his nature, he had already\\ndevised a way of aiding me.\\nA weekly periodical, he went on to inform me, was about to 15\\nbe set up in Edinburgh, supported by the most respectable\\ntalents, and amply furnished with all the necessary informa-\\ntion. The appointment of the editor, for which ample funds\\nwere provided, would be five hundred pounds sterling a year,\\nwith the reasonable prospect of further advantages. This situ- 20\\nation, being apparently at his disposal, he frankly offered to\\nme. The work, however, he intimated, was to have somewhat\\nof a political bearing, and he expressed an apprehension that\\nthe tone it was desired to adopt might not suit. me. Yet I\\nrisk the question, added he, because I know no man so well 25\\nqualified for this important task, and perhaps because it will\\nnecessarily bring you to Edinburgh. If my proposal does not\\nsuit, you need only keep the matter secret, and there is no harm\\ndone. And for my love I pray you wrong me not. If, on\\nthe contrary, you think it could be made to suit you, let me 30\\nknow as soon as possible, addressing Castle Street, Edinburgh.\\nIn a postscript, written from Edinburgh, he adds, I am just\\ncome here, and have glanced over the Sketch Book. It is posi-\\ntively beautiful, and increases my desire to crijnp you, if it be\\npossible. Some difficulties there always are in managing such 35\\na matter, especially at the outset but we will obviate them as\\nmuch as we possibly can.", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "6 PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION\\nThe following is from an imperfect draught of my reply,\\nwhich underwent some modifications in the copy sent\\nI cannot express how much I am gratified by your letter.\\nI had begun to feel as if I had taken an unwarrantable liberty\\n5 but, somehow or other, there is a genial sunshine about you\\nthat warms every creeping thing into heart and confidence.\\nYour literary proposal both surprises and flatters me, as it\\nevinces a much higher opinion of my talents than I have\\nmyself.\\nio I then went on to explain that I found myself peculiarly un-\\nfitted for the situation offered to me, not merely by my political\\nopinions, but by the very constitution and habits of my mind.\\nMy whole course of life, I observed, has been desultory,\\nand I am unfitted for any periodically recurring task, or any\\n15 stipulated labor of body or mind. I have no command of my\\ntalents, such as they are, and have to watch the varyings of\\nmy mind as I would those of a weather-cock. Practice and\\ntraining may bring me more into rule, but at present I am as\\nuseless for regular service as one of my own country Indians\\n20 or a Don Cossack.\\nI must, therefore, keep on pretty much as I have begun\\nwriting when I can, not when I would. I shall occasionally\\nshift my residence and write whatever is suggested by objects\\nbefore me, or whatever rises in my imagination and hope to\\n25 write better and more copiously by and by.\\nI am playing the egotist, but I know no better way of\\nanswering your proposal than by showing what a very good-\\nfor-nothing kind of being I am. Should Mr. Constable feel\\ninclined to make a bargain for the wares I have on hand, he\\n30 will encourage me to further enterprise and it will be some-\\nthing like trading with a gipsy for the fruits of his prowlings,\\nwho may at one time have nothing but a wooden bowl to offer,\\nand at another time a silver tankard.\\nIn reply, Scott expressed regret, but not surprise, at my\\n35 declining what might have proved a troublesome duty. He\\nthen recurred to the original subject of our correspondence\\nentered into a detail of the various terms upon which arrange-", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION 7\\nments were made between authors and booksellers, that I might\\ntake my choice expressing the most encouraging confidence\\nof the success of my work, and of previous works which I had\\nproduced in America. I did no more, added he, than open\\nthe trenches with Constable but I am sure if you will take the 5\\ntrouble to write to him, you will find him disposed to treat your\\novertures with every degree of attention. Or, if you think it of\\nconsequence in the first place to see me, I shall be in London\\nin the course of a month, and whatever my experience can\\ncommand is most heartily at your command. But I can add 10\\nlittle to what I have said above, except my earnest recommen-\\ndation to Constable to enter into the negotiation.\\nBefore the receipt of this most obliging letter, however, I\\nhad determined to look to no leading bookseller for a launch,\\nbut to throw my work before the public at my own risk, and 15\\nlet it sink or swim according to its merits. I wrote to that\\neffect to Scott, and soon received a reply\\nI observe with pleasure that you are going to come forth\\nin Britain. It is certainly not the very best way to publish on\\none s own account for the booksellers set their face against 20\\nthe circulation of such works as do not pay an amazing toll to\\nthemselves. But they have lost the art of altogether damming\\nup the road in such cases between the author and the public,\\nwhich they were once able to do as effectually as Diabolus in\\n1 I cannot avoid subjoining in a note a succeeding paragraph of Scott s\\nletter, which, though it does not relate to the main subject of our correspond-\\nence, was too characteristic to be omitted. Some time previously T had sent\\nMiss Sophia Scott small duodecimo American editions of her father s poems\\npublished in Edinburgh in quarto volumes; showing the nigromancy of\\nthe American press, by which a quart of wine is conjured into a pint bottle.\\nScott observes In my hurry, I have not thanked you in Sophia s name for\\nthe kind attention which furnished her with the American volumes. I am\\nnot quite sure I can add my own, since you have made her acquainted with\\nmuch more of papa s folly than she would ever otherwise have learned for I\\nhad taken special care they should never see any of those things during their\\nearlier years. I think I told you that Walter is sweeping the firmament with\\na feather like a may-pole, and indenting the pavement with a sword like a\\nscythe in other words, he has become a whiskered hussar in the 18th\\ndragoons.", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "8 PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION\\nJohn Bunyan s Holy War closed up the windows of my Lord\\nUnderstanding s mansion. I am sure of one thing, that you\\nhave only to be known to the British public to be admired by\\nthem, and I would not say so unless I really was of that opinion.\\n5 If you ever see a witty but rather local publication called\\nBlackwood s Edinburgh Magazine, you will find some notice\\nof your works in the last number the author is a friend of\\nmine, to whom I have introduced you in your literary capacity.\\nHis name is Lockhart, a young man of very considerable talent,\\n10 and who will soon be intimately connected with my family. My\\nfaithful friend Knickerbocker is to be next examined and illus-\\ntrated. Constable was extremely willing to enter into consider-\\nation of a treaty for your works, but I foresee will be still more\\nso when\\n1 5 Your name is up, and may go\\nFrom Toledo to Madrid.\\nAnd that will soon be the case. I trust to be in Lon-\\ndon about the middle of the month, and promise myself great\\npleasure in once again shaking you by the hand.\\n20 The first volume of the Sketch Book was put to press in\\nLondon as I had resolved, at my own risk, by a bookseller\\nunknown to fame, and without any of the usual arts by which\\na work is trumpeted into notice. Still some attention had been\\ncalled to it by the extracts which had previously appeared in\\n25 the Literary Gazette, and by the kind word spoken by the edi-\\ntor of that periodical, and it was getting into fair circulation,\\nwhen my worthy bookseller failed before the first month was\\nover, and the sale was interrupted.\\nAt this juncture Scott arrived in London. I called to him\\n30 for help, as I was sticking in the mire, and, more propitious\\nthan Hercules, he put his own shoulder to the wheel. Through\\nhis favorable representations, Murray was quickly induced to\\nundertake the future publication of the work which he had\\npreviously declined. A further edition of the first volume was\\n35 struck off and the second volume was put to press, and from\\nthat time Murray became my publisher, conducting himself in", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION 9\\nall his dealings with that fair, open, and liberal spirit which had\\nobtained for him the well-merited appellation of the Prince of\\nBooksellers.\\nThus, under the kind and cordial auspices of Sir Walter\\nScott, I began my literary career in Europe and I feel that I\\nam but discharging, in a trifling degree, my debt of gratitude\\nto the memory of that golden-hearted man in acknowledging\\nmy obligations to him. But who of his literary contemporaries\\never applied to him for aid or counsel that did not experience\\nthe most prompt, generous, and effectual assistance\\nW. I.", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "THE SKETCH BOOK\\nTHE AUTHOR S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF\\nI am of this mind with Homer, that as the snaile that crept out of her\\nshel was turned eftsoons into a toad, and thereby was forced to make a stoole\\nto sit on so the traveller that stragleth from his owne country is in a short\\ntime transformed into so monstrous a shape, that he is faine to alter his\\nmansion with his manners, and to live where he can, not where he would.\\nLily s Euphues.\\nI was always fond of visiting new scenes, and observ-\\ning strange characters and manners. Even when a\\nmere child I began my travels, and made many tours\\nof discovery into foreign parts and unknown regions of\\nmy native city, to the frequent alarm of my parents 5\\nand the emolument of the town-crier. As I gre^ into\\nboyhood, I extended the range of my observations. -My\\nholiday afternoons were spent in rambles about the sur-\\nrounding country. I made myself familiar with all its\\nplaces famous in history or fable. I knew every spot 10\\nwhere a murder or robbery had been committed, or a\\nghost seen. I visited the neighboring villages, and added\\ngreatly to my stock of knowledge, by noting their habits\\nand customs, and conversing with their sages and great\\nmen. I even journeyed one long summer s day to the 15\\nsummit of the most distant hill, whence I stretched\\nmy eye over many a mile of terra incognita, and was\\nastonished to find how vast a globe I inhabited.", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "12 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThis rambling propensity strengthened with my years.\\nBooks of voyages and travels became my passion, and\\nin devouring their contents I neglected the regular\\nexercises of the school. How wistfully would I wander\\n5 about the pier-heads in fine weather, and watch the\\nparting ships, bound to distant climes with what\\nlonging eyes would I gaze after their lessening sails,\\nand waft myself in imagination to the ends of the\\nearth\\n10 Further reading and thinking, though they brought\\nthis vague inclination into more reasonable bounds, only\\nserved to make it more decided. I visited various parts\\nof my own country and had I been merely a lover of\\nfine scenery, I should have felt little desire to seek\\n15 elsewhere its gratification, for on no country have the\\ncharms of nature been more prodigally lavished. Her\\nmighty lakes, like oceans of liquid silver her moun-\\ntains, with their bright aerial tints her valleys, teeming\\nwith wild fertility her tremendous cataracts, thunder-\\n20 ing in their solitudes her boundless plains, waving with\\nspontaneous verdure her broad deep rivers, rolling in\\nsolemn silence to the ocean her trackless forests, where\\nvegetation puts forth all its magnificence her skies,\\nkindling with the magic of summer clouds and glorious\\n25 sunshine; no, never need an American look beyond\\nhis own country for the sublime and beautiful of natural\\nscenery.\\nBut Europe held forth the charms of storied and\\npoetical association. There were to be seen the mas-\\n30 terpieces of art, the refinements of highly cultivated\\nsociety, the quaint peculiarities of ancient and local\\ncustom. My native country was full of youthful prom-\\nise Europe was rich in the accumulated treasures of\\nage. Her very ruins told the history of times gone by,", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "THE AUTHOR S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF 13\\nand every mouldering stone was a chronicle. I longed\\nto wander over the scenes of renowned achievement\\nto tread, as it were, in the footsteps of antiquity\\nto loiter about the ruined castle to meditate on the\\nfalling tower to escape, in short, from the common- 5\\nplace realities of the present, and lose myself among\\nthe shadowy grandeurs of the past.\\nI had, beside all this, an earnest desire to see the\\ngreat men of the earth. We have, it is true, our great\\nmen in America not a city but has an ample share of 10\\nthem. I have mingled among them in my time, and\\nbeen almost withered by the shade into which they cast\\nme for there is nothing so baleful to a small man as\\nthe shade of a great one, particularly the great man of a\\ncity. But I was anxious to see the great men of Europe 15\\nfor I had read in the works of various philosophers, that\\nall animals degenerated in America, and man among the\\nnumber. A great man of Europe, thought I, must there-\\nfore be as superior to a great man of America, as a peak\\nof the Alps to a highland of the Hudson, and in this idea 26\\nI was confirmed, by observing the comparative impor-\\ntance and swelling magnitude of many English travellers\\namong us, who, I was assured, were very little people in\\ntheir own country. I will visit this land of wonders,\\nthought I, and see the gigantic race from which I am 25\\ndegenerated.\\nIt has been either my good or evil lot to have my rov-\\ning passion gratified. I have wandered through different\\ncountries, and witnessed many of the shifting scenes of\\nlife. I cannot say that I have studied them with the eye 30\\nof a philosopher but rather with the sauntering gaze\\nwith which humble lovers of the picturesque stroll from\\nthe window of one print-shop to another caught some-\\ntimes by the delineations of beauty, sometimes by the", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "14 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ndistortions of caricature, and sometimes by the loveliness\\nof landscape. As it is the fashion for modern tourists\\nto travel pencil in hand, and bring home their port-folios\\nfilled with sketches, I am disposed to get up a few for\\n5 the entertainment of my friends. When, however, I look\\nover the hints and memorandums I have taken down for\\nthe purpose, my heart almost fails me at finding how\\nmy idle humor has led me aside from the great objects\\nstudied by every regular traveller who would make a\\n10 book. I fear I shall give equal disappointment with an\\nunlucky landscape painter, who had travelled on the\\ncontinent, but, following the bent of his vagrant inclina-\\ntion, had sketched in nooks and corners and by-places.\\nHis sketch-book was accordingly crowded with cottages\\n15 and landscapes and obscure ruins but he had neglected\\nto paint St. Peter s, or the Coliseum the Cascade of\\nTerni, or the Bay of Naples and had not a single glacier\\nor volcano in his whole collection.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "THE VOYAGE\\nShips, ships, I will descrie you\\nAmidst the main,\\nI will come and try you,\\nWhat you are protecting,\\nAnd projecting,\\nWhat s your end and aim.\\nOne goes abroad for merchandise and trading,\\nAnother stays to keep his country from invading,\\nA third is coming home with rich and wealthy lading.\\nHalloo my fancie, whither wilt thou go\\nOld Poem.\\nTo an American visiting Europe, the long voyage he\\nhas to make is an excellent preparative. The temporary-\\nabsence of worldly scenes and employments produces a\\nstate of mind peculiarly fitted to receive new and vivid\\nimpressions. The vast space of waters that separates 5\\nthe hemispheres is like a blank page in existence.\\nThere is no gradual transition, by which, as in Europe,\\nthe features and population of one country blend almost\\nimperceptibly with those of another. From the moment\\nyou lose sight of the land you have left, all is vacancy 10\\nuntil you step on the opposite shore, and are launched\\nat once into the bustle and novelties of another world.\\nIn travelling by land there is a continuity of scene\\nand a connected succession of persons and incidents,\\nthat carry on the story of life, and lessen the effect of 15\\nabsence and separation. We drag, it is true, a length-\\nening chain, at each remove of our pilgrimage; but the\\nchain is unbroken: we can trace it back link by link;\\nand we feel that the last still grapples us to home. But\\n*5", "height": "3509", "width": "2233", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "16 THE SKETCH BOOK\\na wide sea voyage severs us at once. It makes us con-\\nscious of being cast loose from the secure anchorage of\\nsettled life, and sent adrift upon a doubtful world. It\\ninterposes a gulf, not merely imaginary, but real, between\\n5 us and our homes a gulf subject to tempest and fear\\nand uncertainty, rendering distance palpable, and return\\nprecarious.\\nSuch, at least, was the case with myself. As I saw\\nthe last blue line of my native land fade away like a\\n10 cloud in the horizon, it seemed as if I had closed one\\nvolume of the world and its concerns, and had time for\\nmeditation before I opened another. That land, too,\\nnow vanishing from my view, which contained all most\\ndear to me in life what vicissitudes might occur in it\\n15 what changes might take place in me, before I should\\nvisit it again Who can tell, when he sets forth to\\nwander, whither he may be driven by the uncertain cur-\\nrents of existence or when he may return or whether\\nit may ever be his lot to revisit the scenes of his child-\\n20 hood?\\nI said that at sea all is vacancy; I should correct the\\nexpression. To one given to day-dreaming, and fond of\\nlosing himself in reveries, a sea voyage is full of subjects\\nfor meditation; but then they are the wonders of the\\n25 deep and of the air, and rather tend to abstract the\\nmind from worldly themes. I delighted to loll over\\nthe quarter-railing, or climb to the main-top of a calm\\nday, and muse for hours together on the tranquil bosom\\nof a summer s sea; to gaze upon the piles of golden\\n30 clouds just peering above the horizon, fancy them some\\nfairy realms, and people them with a creation of my\\nown; to watch the gentle undulating billows, rolling\\ntheir silver volumes, as if to die away on those happy\\nshores.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "THE VOYAGE 17\\nThere was a delicious sensation of mingled security\\nand awe with which I looked down from my giddy\\nheight, on the monsters of the deep at their uncouth\\ngambols. Shoals of porpoises tumbling about the bow\\nof the ship the grampus slowly heaving his huge form 5\\nabove the surface; or the ravenous shark, darting, like\\na spectre through the blue waters. My imagination\\nwould conjure up all that I had heard or read of the\\nwatery world beneath me; of the finny herds that roam\\nits fathomless valleys; of the shapeless monsters that 10\\nlurk among the very foundations of the earth; and of\\nthose w T ild phantasms that swell the tales of fishermen\\nand sailors.\\nSometimes a distant sail, gliding along the edge of the\\nocean, would be another theme of idle speculation. 15\\nHow interesting this fragment of a world, hastening to\\nrejoin the great mass of existence What a glorious\\nmonument of human invention, which has in a manner\\ntriumphed over wind and wave, has brought the ends\\nof the world into communion, has established an inter- 20\\nchange of blessings, pouring into the sterile regions of\\nthe north all the luxuries of the south, has diffused the\\nlight of knowledge and the charities of cultivated life,\\nand has thus bound together those scattered portions of\\nthe human race between which nature seemed to have 25\\nthrown an insurmountable barrier.\\nWe one day descried some shapeless object drifting at\\na distance. At sea everything that breaks the monotony\\nof the surrounding expanse attracts attention. It proved\\nto be the mast of a ship that must have been completely 30\\nwrecked; for there were the remains of handkerchiefs,\\nby which some of the crew had fastened themselves to\\nthis spar, to prevent their being washed off by the\\nwaves. There was no trace by which the name of the", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "18 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nship could be ascertained. The wreck had evidently\\ndrifted about for many months clusters of shellfish had\\nfastened about it, and long seaweeds flaunted at its\\nsides. But where, thought I, is the crew? Their strug-\\n5 gle has long been over they have gone down amidst\\nthe roar of the tempest their bones lie whitening\\namong the caverns of the deep. Silence, oblivion, like\\nthe waves, have closed over them, and no one can tell\\nthe story of their end. What sighs have been wafted\\n10 after that ship what prayers offered up at the deserted\\nfireside of home How often has the mistress, the wife,\\nthe mother, pored over the daily news, to catch some\\ncasual intelligence of this rover of the deep How has\\nexpectation darkened into anxiety anxiety into dread\\n15 and dread into despair! Alas! not one memento may\\never return for love to cherish. All that may ever be\\nknown is, that she sailed from her port, and was\\nnever heard of more!\\nThe sight of this wreck, as usual, gave rise to many\\n20 dismal anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the\\nevening, when the weather, which had hitherto been\\nfair, began to look wild and threatening, and gave indi-\\ncations of one of those sudden storms which will some-\\ntimes break in upon the serenity of a summer voyage.\\n25 As we sat round the dull light of a lamp in the cabin,\\nthat made the gloom more ghastly, every one had his\\ntale of shipwreck and disaster. I was particularly struck\\nwith a short one related by the captain.\\nAs I was once sailing, said he, in a fine stout ship\\n30 across the banks of Newfoundland, one of those heavy\\nfogs which prevail in those parts rendered it impossible\\nfor us to see far ahead even in the daytime; but at night\\nthe weather was so thick that we could not distinguish\\nany object at twice the length of the ship. I kept lights", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "THE VOYAGE 19\\nat the masthead, and a constant watch forward to look\\nout for fishing smacks, which are accustomed to lie at\\nanchor on the banks. The wind was blowing a smack-\\ning breeze, and we were going at a great rate through\\nthe water. Suddenly the watch gave the alarm of a 5\\nsail ahead! it was scarcely uttered before we were\\nupon her. She was a small schooner, at anchor, with\\nher broadside towards us. The crew were all asleep, and\\nhad neglected to hoist a light. We struck her just\\namidships. The force, the size, the weight of our vessel 10\\nbore her down below the waves we passed over her\\nand were hurried on our course. As the crashing wreck\\nwas sinking beneath us, I had a glimpse of two or three\\nhalf-naked wretches rushing from her cabin; they just\\nstarted from their beds to be swallowed shrieking by 15\\nthe waves. I heard their drowning cry mingling with\\nthe wind. The blast that bore it to our ears swept us\\nout of all farther hearing. I shall never forget that cry!\\nIt was some time before we could put the ship about,\\nshe was under such headway. We returned, as nearly 20\\nas we could guess, to the place where the smack had\\nanchored. We cruised about for several hours in the\\ndense fog. We fired signal guns, and listened if we\\nmight hear the halloo of any survivors: but all was\\nsilent we never saw or heard anything of them more. 25\\nI confess these stories, for a time, put an end to all my\\nfine fancies. The storm increased with the night. The\\nsea was lashed into tremendous confusion. There was\\na fearful, sullen sound of rushing waves and broken\\nsurges. Deep called unto deep. At times the black col- 3\u00c2\u00b0\\numn of clouds overhead seemed rent asunder by flashes\\nof lightning which quivered along the foaming billows\\nand made the succeeding darkness doubly terrible. The\\nthunders bellowed over the wild waste of waters, and", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "20 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwere echoed and prolonged by the mountain waves. As\\nI saw the ship staggering and plunging among these\\nroaring caverns, it seemed miraculous that she regained\\nher balance or preserved her buoyancy. Her yards\\n5 would dip into the water: her bow was almost buried\\nbeneath the waves. Sometimes an impending surge\\nappeared ready to overwhelm her, and nothing but a\\ndexterous movement of the helm preserved her from the\\nshock.\\n10 When I retired to my cabin, the awful scene still fol-\\nlowed me. The whistling of the wind through the rig-\\nging sounded like funereal wailings. The creaking of\\nthe masts, the straining and groaning of bulk-heads, as\\nthe ship labored in the weltering sea, were frightful. As\\n15 I heard the waves rushing along the sides of the ship,\\nand roaring in my very ear, it seemed as if Death were\\nraging round this floating prison, seeking for his prey\\nthe mere starting of a nail, the yawning of a seam, might\\ngive him entrance.\\n20 A line day, however, with a tranquil sea and favoring\\nbreeze, soon put all these dismal reflections to flight. It\\nis impossible to resist the gladdening influence of fine\\nweather and fair wind at sea. When the ship is decked\\nout in all her canvas, every sail swelled, and careering\\n25 gayly over the curling waves, how lofty, how gallant she\\nappears how she seems to lord it over the deep\\nI might fill a volume with the reveries of a sea voyage,\\nfor with me it is almost a continual reverie but it is\\ntime to get to shore.\\n30 It was a fine sunny morning when the thrilling cry of\\nland was given from the masthead. None but those\\nwho have experienced it can form an idea of the delicious\\nthrong of sensations which rush into an American s\\nbosom when he first comes in sight of Europe. There", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "THE VOYAGE 21\\nis a volume of associations with the very name. It is\\nthe land of promise, teeming with everything of which\\nhis childhood has heard, or on which his studious years\\nhave pondered.\\nFrom that time until the moment of arrival, it was all 5\\nfeverish excitement. The ships of war that prowled like\\nguardian giants along the coast, the headlands of Ire-\\nland stretching out into the channel, the Welsh moun-\\ntains towering into the clouds, all were objects of\\nintense interest. As we sailed up the Mersey, I recon- 10\\nnoitred the shores with a telescope. My eye dwelt with\\ndelight on neat cottages, with their trim shrubberies and\\ngreen grass plots. I saw the mouldering ruin of an\\nabbey overrun with ivy, and the taper spire of a village\\nchurch rising from the brow of a neighboring hill, all 15\\nwere characteristic of England.\\nThe tide and wind were so favorable that the ship was\\nenabled to come at once to the pier. It was thronged\\nwith people some, idle lookers-on, others, eager expect-\\nants of friends or relatives. I could distinguish the 20\\nmerchant to whom the ship was consigned. I knew\\nhim by his calculating brow and restless air. His hands\\nwere thrust into his pockets he was whistling thought-\\nfully and walking to and fro, a small space having been\\naccorded him by the crowd in deference to his tempo- 25\\nrary importance. There were repeated cheerings and\\nsalutations interchanged between the shore and the ship,\\nas friends happened to recognize each other. I particu-\\nlarly noticed one young woman of humble dress but\\ninteresting demeanor. She was leaning forward from 30\\namong the crowd her eye hurried over the ship as it\\nneared the shore, to catch some wished-for countenance.\\nShe seemed disappointed and agitated when I heard a\\nfaint voice call her name. It was from a poor sailor", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "22 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwho had been ill all the voyage, and had excited the\\nsympathy of every one on board. When the weather\\nwas fine, his messmates had spread a mattress for him\\non deck in the shade, but of late his illness had so in-\\n5 creased that he had taken to his hammock, and only\\nbreathed a wish that he might see his wife before he\\ndied. He had been helped on deck as we came up the\\nriver, and was now leaning against the shrouds, with a\\ncountenance so wasted, so pale, so ghastly, that it was no\\n10 wonder even the eye of affection did not recognize him.\\nBut at the sound of his voice, her eye darted on his fea-\\ntures it read at once a whole volume of sorrow she\\nclasped her hands, uttered a faint shriek, and stood\\nwringing them in silent agony.\\n15 All now was hurry and bustle. The meetings of ac-\\nquaintances the greetings of friends the consulta-\\ntions of men of business. I alone was solitary and idle.\\nI had no friend to meet, no cheering to receive. I\\nstepped upon the land of my forefathers but felt that\\n20 I was a stranger in the land.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "ROSCOE\\nIn the service of mankind to be\\nA guardian god below still to employ\\nThe mind s brave ardor in heroic aims,\\nSuch as may raise us o er the grovelling herd,\\nAnd make us shine forever that is life.\\nThomson.\\nOne of the first places to which a stranger is taken in\\nLiverpool is the Athenaeum. It is established on a\\nliberal and judicious plan it contains a good library\\nand spacious reading-room, and is the great literary-\\nresort of the place. Go there at what hour you may, 5\\nyou are sure to find it filled with grave-looking person-\\nages, deeply absorbed in the study of newspapers.\\nAs I was once visiting this haunt of the learned, my\\nattention was attracted to a person just entering the\\nroom. He was advanced in life, tall, and of a form- that 10\\nmight once have been commanding, but it was a little\\nbowed by time perhaps by care. He had a noble\\nRoman style of countenance a head that would have\\npleased a painter and though some slight furrows on\\nhis brow showed that wasting thought had been busy 15\\nthere, yet his eye still beamed with the fire of a poetic\\nsoul. There was something in his whole appearance\\nthat indicated a being of a different order from the\\nbustling race around him.\\nI inquired his name, and was informed that it was 20\\nRoscoe. I drew back with an involuntary feeling of\\nveneration. This, then, was an author of celebrity;\\nthis was one of those men whose voices have gone forth\\n23", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "24 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nto the ends of the earth with whose minds I have com-\\nmuned even in the solitudes of America. Accustomed,\\nas we are in our country, to know European writers only\\nby their works, we cannot conceive of them, as of other\\n5 men, engrossed by trivial or sordid pursuits, and jostling\\nwith the crowd of common minds in the dusty paths of\\nlife. They pass before our imaginations like superior\\nbeings, radiant with the emanations of their genius, and\\nsurrounded by a halo of literary glory.\\n10 To find, therefore, the elegant historian of the Medici\\nmingling among the busy sons of traffic, at first shocked\\nmy poetical ideas but it is from the very circumstances\\nand situation in which he has been placed, that Mr.\\nRoscoe derives his highest claims to admiration. It is\\n15 interesting to notice how some minds seem almost to\\ncreate themselves, springing up under every disadvan-\\ntage, and working their solitary but irresistible way\\nthrough a thousand obstacles. Nature seems to delight\\nin disappointing the assiduities of art, with which it\\n20 would rear legitimate dulness to maturity, and to glory\\nin the vigor and luxuriance of her chance productions.\\nShe scatters the seeds of genius to the winds, and though\\nsome may perish among the stony places of the world,\\nand some be choked by the thorns and brambles of early\\n25 adversity, yet others will now and then strike root even\\nin the clefts of the rock, struggle bravely up into sun-\\nshine, and spread over their sterile birthplace all the\\nbeauties of vegetation.\\nSuch has been the case with Mr. Roscoe. Born in\\n30 a place apparently ungenial to the growth of literary\\ntalent in the very market-place of trade without for-\\ntune, family connections, or patronage self-prompted,\\nself-sustained, and almost self-taught; he has conquered\\nevery obstacle, achieved his way to eminence, and, hav-", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "ROSCOE 25\\ning become one of the ornaments of the nation, has\\nturned the whole force of his talents and influence to\\nadvance and embellish his native town.\\nIndeed, it is this last trait in his character which has\\ngiven him the greatest interest in my eyes, and induced 5\\nme particularly to point him out to my countrymen.\\nEminent as are his literary merits, he is but one among\\nthe many distinguished authors of this intellectual na-\\ntion. They, however, in general, live but for their own\\nfame or their own pleasures. Their private history pre- 10\\nsents no lesson to the world, or perhaps a humiliating\\none of human frailty and inconsistency. At best, they\\nare prone to steal away from the bustle and common-\\nplace of busy existence to indulge in the selfishness\\nof lettered ease; and to revel in scenes of mental, but 15\\nexclusive enjoyment.\\nMr. Roscoe, on the contrary, has claimed none of the\\naccorded privileges of talent. He has shut himself up\\nin no garden of thought, nor elysium of fancy but has\\ngone forth into the highways and thoroughfares of life 20\\nhe has planted bowers by the wayside for the refresh-\\nment of the pilgrim and the sojourner, and has opened\\npure fountains where the laboring man may turn aside\\nfrom the dust and heat of the day, and drink of the\\nliving streams of knowledge. There is a daily beauty 25\\nin his life, on which mankind may meditate and grow\\nbetter. It exhibits no lofty and almost useless, because\\ninimitable, example of excellence but presents a picture\\nof active, yet simple and imitable virtues, which are within\\nevery man s reach, but which, unfortunately, are not 30\\nexercised by many, or this world would be a paradise.\\nBut his private life is peculiarly worthy the attention\\nof the citizens of our young and busy country, where\\nliterature and the elegant arts must grow up side by side", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "26 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwith the coarser plants of daily necessity and must\\ndepend for their culture, not on the exclusive devotion\\nof time and wealth, nor the quickening rays of titled\\npatronage, but on hours and seasons snatched from the\\n5 pursuit of worldly interests, by intelligent and public-\\nspirited individuals.\\nHe has shown how much may be done for a place in\\nhours of leisure by one master spirit, and how completely\\nit can give its own impress to surrounding objects. Like\\n10 his own Lorenzo de Medici, on whom he seems to have\\nfixed his eye as on a pure model of antiquity, he has\\ninterwoven the history of his life with the history of his\\nnative town, and has made the foundations of its fame\\nthe monuments of his virtues. Wherever you go in Liv-\\n15 erpool, you perceive traces of his footsteps in all that is\\nelegant and liberal. He found the tide of wealth flowing\\nmerely in the channels of traffic he has diverted from\\nit invigorating rills to refresh the garden of literature.\\nBy his own example and constant exertions he has\\n20 effected that union of commerce and the intellectual\\npursuits so eloquently recommended in one of his latest\\nwritings, 1 and has practically proved how beautifully\\nthey may be brought to harmonize, and to benefit each\\nother. The noble institutions for literary and scientific\\n25 purposes, which reflect such credit on Liverpool, and are\\ngiving such an impulse to the public, mind, have mostly\\nbeen originated, and have all been effectively promoted,\\nby Mr. Roscoe and when we consider the rapidly in-\\ncreasing opulence and magnitude of that town, which\\n30 promises* to vie in commercial importance with the me-\\ntropolis, it will be perceived that in awakening an ambi-\\ntion of mental improvement among its inhabitants, he has\\neffected a great benefit to the cause of British literature.\\n1 Address on the opening of the Liverpool Institution.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "ROSCOE 27\\nIn America we know Mr. Roscoe only as the author\\nin Liverpool he is spoken of as the banker and I was\\ntold of his having been unfortunate in business. I could\\nnot pity him, as I heard some rich men do. I consid-\\nered him far above the reach of pity. Those who live 5\\nonly for the world and in the world may be cast down\\nby the frowns of adversity but a man like Roscoe is not\\nto be overcome by the reverses of fortune. They do but\\ndrive him in upon the resources of his own mind to the\\nsuperior society of his own thoughts which the best of 10\\nmen are apt sometimes to neglect, and to roam abroad\\nin search of less worthy associates. He is independent\\nof the world around him. He lives with antiquity and\\nposterity with antiquity, in the sweet communion of\\nstudious retirement; and with posterity, in the generous 15\\naspirings after future renown. The solitude of such a\\nmind is its state of highest enjoyment. It is then visited\\nby those elevated meditations which are the proper ali-\\nment of noble souls, and are, like manna, sent from\\nheaven, in the wilderness of this world. 20\\nWhile my feelings were yet alive on the subject, it was\\nmy fortune to light on further traces of Mr. Roscoe. I\\nwas riding out with a gentleman, to view the environs of\\nLiverpool, when he turned off, through a gate, into some\\nornamented grounds. After riding a short distance, we 25\\ncame to a spacious mansion of freestone, built in the\\nGrecian style. It was not in the purest taste, yet it\\nhad an air of elegance, and the situation was delightful.\\nA fine lawn sloped away from it, studded with clumps of\\ntrees, so disposed as to break a soft fertile country into 30\\na variety of landscapes. The Mersey was seen winding a\\nbroad quiet sheet of water through an expanse of green\\nmeadowland while the Welsh mountains, blended with\\nclouds and melting into distance, bordered the horizon.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "28 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThis was Roscoe s favorite residence during the days\\nof his prosperity. It had been the seat of elegant\\nhospitality and literary retirement. The house was\\nnow silent and deserted. I saw the windows of the\\n5 study, which looked out upon the soft scenery I have\\nmentioned. The windows were closed the library was\\ngone. Two or three ill-favored beings were loitering\\nabout the place, whom my fancy pictured into retainers\\nof the law. It was like visiting some classic fountain\\nio that had once welled its pure waters in a sacred shade,\\nbut finding it dry and dusty, with the lizard and the\\ntoad brooding over the shattered marbles.\\nI inquired after the fate of Mr. Roscoe s library,\\nwhich had consisted of scarce and foreign books, from\\n15 many of which he had drawn the materials for his\\nItalian histories. It had passed under the hammer of\\nthe auctioneer, and was dispersed about the country.\\nThe good people of the vicinity thronged like wreckers\\nto get some part of the noble vessel that had been\\n20 driven on shore. Did such a scene admit of ludicrous\\nassociations, we might imagine something whimsical in\\nthis strange irruption in the regions of learning. Pig-\\nmies rummaging the armory of a giant, and contending\\nfor the possession of weapons which they could not\\n25 wield. We might picture to ourselves some knot of\\nspeculators, debating with calculating brow over the\\nquaint binding and illuminated margin of an obsolete\\nauthor of the air of intense, but baffled sagacity, with\\nwhich some successful purchaser attempted to dive into\\n30 the black-letter bargain he had secured.\\nIt is a beautiful incident in the story of Mr. Roscoe s\\nmisfortunes, and one which cannot fail to interest the\\nstudious mind, that the parting with his books seems to\\nhave touched upon his tenderest feelings, and to have", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "ROSCOE 29\\nbeen the only circumstance that could provoke the\\nnotice of his muse. The scholar only knows how dear\\nthese silent, yet eloquent, companions of pure thoughts\\nand innocent hours become in the seasons of adversity.\\nWhen all that is worldly turns to dross around us, these 5\\nonly retain their steady value. When friends grow cold,\\nand the converse of intimates languishes into vapid\\ncivility and commonplace, these only continue the un-\\naltered countenance of happier days, and cheer us with\\nthat true friendship which never deceived hope, nor 10\\ndeserted sorrow.\\nI do not wish to censure but, surely, if the people of\\nLiverpool had been properly sensible of what was due\\nto Mr. Roscoe and themselves, his library would never\\nhave been sold. Good worldly reasons may, doubtless, 15\\nbe given for the circumstance, which it would be diffi-\\ncult to combat with others that might seem merely\\nfanciful but it certainly appears to me such an oppor-\\ntunity as seldom occurs, of cheering a noble mind\\nstruggling under misfortunes, by one of the most deli- 20\\ncate, but most expressive tokens of public sympathy.\\nIt is difficult, however, to estimate a man of genius\\nproperly who is daily before our eyes. He becomes\\nmingled and confounded with other men. His great\\nqualities lose their novelty, we become too familiar 25\\nwith the common materials which form the basis even\\nof the loftiest character. Some of Mr. Roscoe s towns-\\nmen may regard him merely as a man of business\\nothers as a politician all find him engaged like them-\\nselves in ordinary occupations, and surpassed, perhaps, 30\\nby themselves on some points of worldly wisdom. Even\\nthat amiable and unostentatious simplicity of character\\nwhich gives the nameless grace to real excellence, may\\ncause him to be undervalued by some coarse minds,", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "30 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwho do not know that true worth is always void of\\nglare and pretension. But the man of letters who\\nspeaks of Liverpool, speaks of it as the residence of\\nRoscoe. The intelligent traveller who visits it inquires\\n5 where Roscoe is to be seen. He is the literary land-\\nmark of the place, indicating its existence to the distant\\nscholar. He is, like Pompey s Column at Alexandria,\\ntowering alone in classic dignity.\\nThe following sonnet, addressed by Mr. Roscoe to\\n10 his books on parting with them, is alluded to in the\\npreceding article. If anything can add effect to the\\npure feeling and elevated thought here displayed, it is\\nthe conviction that the whole is no effusion of fancy,\\nbut a faithful transcript from the writer s heart.\\nTO MY BOOKS.\\n15 As one who, destined from his friends to part,\\nRegrets his loss, but hopes again erewhile\\nTo share their converse and enjoy their smile,\\nAnd tempers as he may affliction s dart\\nThus, loved associates, chiefs of elder art,\\n20 Teachers of wisdom, who could once beguile\\nMy tedious hours, and lighten every toil,\\nI now resign you nor with fainting heart\\nFor pass a few short years, or days, or hours,\\nAnd happier seasons may their dawn unfold,\\n25 And all your sacred fellowship restore\\nWhen, freed from earth, unlimited its powers,\\nMind shall with mind direct communion hold,\\nAnd kindred spirits meet to part no more.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "_ ea z rftex I222 six t: remark the fortitude ixh\\nwhizh zmer sustain the m:s: verv xelmxxr. reverses\\nof 2 iz 222 rrrszrzre 212: in the dust, seex: rill\\nirrth all tire energies vie srfter sex, and zzive suzh\\n::::::::::y::i:e-::::::: their zharacrer that 2: times\\nit approaches to sublim i N z thing can be more touch-\\ni:\\\\z than behzld 2 szfr :z: termer female. v.: 222\\nbeea ill v-eikness 2122 2ere2ze2:e. 222 alive every\\nrruzzbmess. \u00e2\u0080\u0094jiile vtzzvz me mzsuerzus rams :z\\nlife, suddenly rismr. in 2ez:2 fzrze be me zm-\\nfzrter and surmzrt he: husband under misfzrtune.\\n22 msb ikimr; xrxmess the bitTerns: blasts\\nof adversity.\\nAs the vine 21:2 22s izxz; Ined its mmexil zzlxazze\\nabzuz :z: :2k 22:1 1:::: lifted by int: sunshine, -nil.\\nwhen the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling\\n::::.z i: izh its\\ntered boughs, so\\nt22t -vrrvtv. vt:\\nman in his happi\\nwhen smitten w:\\nbind z;: its shat-\\nI by I rovidence\\nand o rn am e 2\\nstay sola\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2vmdinz: herself", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "32 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ninto the rugged recesses of his nature, tenderly support-\\ning the drooping head, and binding up the broken heart.\\nI was once congratulating a friend, who had around\\nhim a blooming family, knit together in the strongest\\n5 affection. I can wish you no better lot, said he with\\nenthusiasm, than to have a wife and children. If you\\nare prosperous, there they are to share your prosperity\\nif otherwise, there they are to comfort you. And\\nindeed I have observed that a married man falling into\\n10 misfortune is more apt to retrieve his situation in the\\nworld than a single one; partly because he is more stim-\\nulated to exertion by the necessities of the helpless and\\nbeloved beings who depend upon him for subsistence\\nbut chiefly because his spirits are soothed and relieved\\n15 by domestic endearments, and his self-respect kept alive\\nby finding, that though all abroad is darkness and humil-\\niation, yet there is still a little world of love at home, of\\nwhich he is the monarch. Whereas a single man is apt\\nto run to waste and self-neglect; to fancy himself lonely\\n20 and abandoned, and his heart to fall to ruin like some\\ndeserted mansion, for want of an inhabitant.\\nThese observations call to mind a little domestic story,\\nof which I was once a witness. My intimate friend, Les-\\nlie, had married a beautiful and accomplished girl, who\\n25 had been brought up in the midst of fashionable life.\\nShe had, it is true, no fortune, but that of my friend was\\nample and he delighted in the anticipation of indulging\\nher in every elegant pursuit, and administering to those\\ndelicate tastes and fancies that spread a kind of witchery\\n30 about the sex. Her life, said he, shall be like a fairy\\ntale.\\nThe very difference in their characters produced an\\nharmonious combination he was of a romantic and some-\\nwhat serious cast she was all life and gladness. I have", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "THE WIFE 33\\noften noticed the mute rapture with which he would gaze\\nupon her in company, of which her sprightly powers\\nmade her the delight and how, in the midst of applause,\\nher eye would still turn to him, as if there alone she\\nsought favor and acceptance. When leaning on his arm. 5\\nher slender form contrasted finely with his tall manly\\nperson. The fond confiding air with which she looked up\\nto him seemed to call forth a flush of triumphant pride\\nand cherishing tenderness, as if he doted on his lovely\\nburden for its very helplessness. Never did a couple 10\\nset forward on the flowery path of early and well-suited\\nmarriage with a fairer prospect of felicity.\\nIt was the misfortune of my friend, however, to have\\nembarked his property in large speculations and he had\\nnot been married many months, when, by a succession of 15\\nsudden disasters, it was swept from him, and he found\\nhimself reduced almost to penury. For a time he kept\\nhis situation to himself, and went about with a haggard\\ncountenance and a breaking heart. His life was but a\\nprotracted agony and what rendered it more insupport- 20\\nable was the necessity of keeping up a smile in the\\npresence of his wife for he could not bring himself to\\noverwhelm her with the news. She saw, however, with\\nthe quick eyes of affection, that all was not well with\\nhim. She marked his altered looks and stifled sighs, 25\\nand was not to be deceived by his sickly and vapid\\nattempts at cheerfulness. She tasked all her sprightly\\npowers and tender blandishments to win him back to\\nhappiness but she only drove the arrow deeper into his\\nsoul. The more he saw cause to love her, the more 30\\ntorturing was the thought that he was soon to make her\\nwretched. A little while, thought he. u and the smile\\nwill vanish from that cheek the song will die away from\\nthose lips the lustre of those eyes will be quenched", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "34 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwith sorrow; and the happy heart, which now beats\\nlightly in that bosom, will be weighed down like mine\\nby the cares and miseries of the world.\\nAt Tength he came to me one day, and related his\\n5 whole situation in a tone of the deepest despair. When\\nI heard him through I inquired, Does your wife know\\nall this At the question he burst into an agony of\\ntears. For God s sake! cried he, if you have any\\npity on me, don t mention my wife it is the thought of\\n10 her that drives me almost to madness\\nAnd why not said I. She must know it sooner\\nor later; you cannot keep it long from her, and the intel-\\nligence may break upon her in a more startling manner\\nthan if imparted by yourself; for the accents of those\\n15 we love soften the hardest tidings. Besides, you are\\ndepriving yourself of the comforts of her sympathy and\\nnot merely that, but also endangering the only bond that\\ncan keep hearts together an unreserved community of\\nthought and feeling. She will soon perceive that some-\\n20 thing is secretly preying upon your mind and true love\\nwill not brook reserve; it feels undervalued and out-\\nraged, when even the sorrows of those it loves are con-\\ncealed from it.\\nOh, but, my friend to think what a blow I am to give\\n25 to all her future prospects how I am to strike her very\\nsoul to the earth, by telling her that her husband is a\\nbeggar! that she is to forego all the elegancies of life\\nall the pleasures of society to shrink with me into indi-\\ngence and obscurity To tell her that I have dragged\\n30 her down from the sphere in which she might have con-\\ntinued to move in constant brightness the light of every\\neye the admiration of every heart! How can she bear\\npoverty she has been brought up in all the refinements\\nof opulence. How can she bear neglect she has been", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "THE WIFE 35\\nthe idol of society. Oh it will break her heart it will\\nbreak her heart\\nI saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it have its flow;\\nfor sorrow relieves itself by words. When his paroxysm\\nhad subsided, and he had relapsed into moody silence, I 5\\nresumed the subject gently, and urged him to break his\\nsituation at once to his wife. He shook his head mourn-\\nfully, but positively.\\nBut how are you to keep it from her? It is neces-\\nsary she should know it, that you may take the steps 10\\nproper to the alteration of your circumstances. You\\nmust change your style of living nay, observing a\\npang to pass across his countenance, don t let that\\nafflict you. I am sure you have never placed your hap-\\npiness in outward show you have yet friends, warm 15\\nfriends, who will not think the worse of you for being\\nless splendidly lodged and surely it does not require\\na palace to be happy with Mary\\nI could be happy with her, cried he, convulsively,\\nin a hovel I could go down with her into poverty 20\\nand the dust! I could I could God bless her!\\nGod bless her cried he, bursting into a transport of\\ngrief and tenderness.\\nAnd believe me, my friend, said I, stepping up and\\ngrasping him warmly by the hand, believe me she can 25\\nbe the same with you. Ay, more it will be a source of\\npride and triumph to her it will call forth all the latent\\nenergies and fervent sympathies of her nature; for she\\nwill rejoice to prove that she loves you for yourself.\\nThere is in every true woman s heart a spark of heavenly 30\\nfire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosper-\\nity; but which kindles up, and beams and blazes in the\\ndark hour of adversity. No man knows what the wife of\\nhis bosom is no man knows what a ministering angel", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "36 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nshe is until he has gone with her through the fiery\\ntrials of this world.\\nThere was something in the earnestness of my manner\\nand the figurative style of my language that caught the\\n5 excited imagination of Leslie. I knew the auditor I had\\nto deal with and following up the impression I had\\nmade, I finished by persuading him to go home and\\nunburden his sad heart to his wife.\\nI must confess, notwithstanding all I had said, I felt\\n10 some little solicitude for the result. Who can calculate\\non the fortitude of one whose life has been a round of\\npleasures Her gay spirits might revolt at the dark\\ndownward path of low humility suddenly pointed out\\nbefore her, and might cling to the sunny regions in which\\n15 they had hitherto revelled. Besides, ruin in fashionable\\nlife is accompanied by so many galling mortifications, to\\nwhich in other ranks it is a stranger. In short, I could\\nnot meet Leslie the next morning without trepidation.\\nHe had made the disclosure.\\n20 And how did she bear it?\\nLike an angel It seemed rather to be a relief to her\\nmind, for she threw her arms round my neck, and asked\\nif this was all that had lately made me unhappy. But,\\npoor girl, added he, she cannot realize the change we\\n25 must undergo. She has no idea of poverty but in the\\nabstract; she has only read of it in poetry, where it is\\nallied to love. She feels as yet no privation; she suf-\\nfers no loss of accustomed conveniences nor elegancies.\\nWhen we come practically to experience its sordid cares,\\n30 its paltry wants, its petty humiliations then will be the\\nreal trial.\\nBut, said I, now that you have got over the\\nseverest task, that of breaking it to her, the sooner you\\nlet the world into the secret the better. The disclosure", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "THE WIFE 37\\nmay be mortifying; but then it is a single misery, and\\nsoon over: whereas you otherwise suffer it in anticipa-\\ntion every hour in the day. It is not poverty so much\\nas pretence, that harasses a ruined man the struggle\\nbetween a proud mind and an empty purse the keeping 5\\nup a hollow show that must soon come to an end. Have\\nthe courage to appear poor and you disarm poverty of its\\nsharpest sting. On this point I found Leslie perfectly\\nprepared. He had no false pride himself, and as to his\\nwife, she was only anxious to conform to their altered 10\\nfortunes.\\nSome days afterwards he called upon me in the even-\\ning. He had disposed of his dwelling house, and taken\\na small cottage in the country, a few miles from town.\\nHe had been busied all day in sending out furniture. 15\\nThe new establishment required few articles, and those\\nof the simplest kind. All the splendid furniture of his\\nlate residence had been sold, excepting his wife s harp.\\nThat, he said, was too closely associated with the idea\\nof herself it belonged to the little story of their loves 20\\nfor some of the sweetest moments of their courtship\\nwere those when he had leaned over that instrument,\\nand listened to the melting tones of her voice. I could\\nnot but smile at this instance of romantic gallantry in\\na doting husband. 25\\nHe was now going out to the cottage, where his wife\\nhad been all day superintending its arrangement. My\\nfeelings had become strongly interested in the progress\\nof this family story, and as it was a fine evening, I\\noffered to accompany him. 30\\nHe was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and as\\nhe walked out, fell into a fit of gloomy musing.\\nPoor Mary at length broke, with a heavy sigh,\\nfrom his lips.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "38 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nAnd what of her? asked I: has anything hap-\\npened to her\\nWhat, said he, darting an impatient glance, is it\\nnothing to be reduced to this paltry situation to be\\n5 caged in a miserable cottage to be obliged to toil almost\\nin the menial concerns of her wretched habitation?\\nHas she then repined at the change\\nRepined she has been nothing but sweetness and\\ngood humor. Indeed, she seems in better spirits than I\\n10 have ever known her; she has been to me all love and\\ntenderness and comfort\\nAdmirable girl exclaimed I. You call yourself\\npoor, my friend; you never were so rich you never\\nknew the boundless treasures of excellence you possess\\n15 in that woman.\\nOh but, my friend, if this first meeting at the\\ncottage were over, I think I could then be comfortable.\\nBut this is her first day of real experience she has\\nbeen introduced into a humble dwelling she has been\\n20 employed all day in arranging its miserable equipments\\nshe has for the first time known the fatigues of do-\\nmestic employment she has for the first time looked\\nround her on a home destitute of everything elegant,\\nalmost of everything convenient and may now be sitting\\n25 down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a prospect\\nof future poverty.\\nThere was a degree of probability in this picture that\\nI could not gainsay, so we walked on in silence.\\nAfter turning from the main road up a narrow lane,\\n30 so thickly shaded with forest trees as to give it a com-\\nplete air of seclusion, we came in sight of the cottage.\\nIt was humble enough in its appearance for the most\\npastoral poet and yet it had a pleasing rural look. A\\nwild vine had overrun one end with a profusion of", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "THE WIFE 39\\nfoliage a few trees threw their branches gracefully over\\nit and I observed several pots of flowers tastefully dis-\\nposed about the door, and on the grass-plot in front. A\\nsmall wicket gate opened upon a footpath that wound\\nthrough some shrubbery to the door. Just as we ap- 5\\nproached, we heard the sound of music Leslie grasped\\nmy arm we paused and listened. It was Mary s voice\\nsinging, in a style of the most touching simplicity, a\\nlittle air of which her husband was peculiarly fond.\\nI felt Leslie s hand tremble on my arm. He stepped 10\\nforward to hear more distinctly. His step made a\\nnoise on the gravel walk. A bright beautiful face\\nglanced out at the window and vanished a light foot-\\nstep was heard and Mary came tripping forth to meet\\nus she was in a pretty rural dress of white a few wild 15\\nflowers were twisted in her fine hair a fresh bloom was\\non her cheek her whole countenance beamed with\\nsmiles I had never seen her look so lovely.\\nMy dear George, cried she, I am so glad you are\\ncome I have been watching and watching for you and 20\\nrunning down the lane, and looking out for you. I ve set\\nout a table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage and\\nI ve been gathering some of the most delicious straw-\\nberries, for I know you are fond of them and we have\\nsuch excellent cream and everything is so sweet and 25\\nstill here Oh said she, putting her arm within his, and\\nlooking up brightly in his face, Oh, we shall be so happy\\nPoor Leslie was overcome. He caught her to his\\nbosom he folded his arms round her he kissed her\\nagain and again he could not speak, but the tears 30\\ngushed into his eyes and he has often assured me, that\\nthough the world has since gone prosperously with him,\\nand his life has indeed been a happy one, yet never has\\nhe experienced a moment of more exquisite felicity.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "RIP VAN WINKLE\\nA POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER\\nBy Woden, God of Saxons,\\nFrom whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday,\\nTruth is a thing that ever I will keep\\nUnto thylke day in which I creep into\\nMy sepulchre\\nCartwright.\\n[The following Tale was found among the papers of the\\nlate Diedrich Knickerbocker, an old gentleman of New York\\nwho was very curious in the Dutch history of the province\\nand the manners of the descendants from its primitive settlers.\\n^5 His historical researches, however, did not lie so much among\\nbooks as among men for the former are lamentably scanty\\non his favorite topics whereas he found the old burghers,\\nand still more their wives, rich in that legendary lore so in-\\nvaluable to true history. Whenever, therefore, he happened\\nro upon a genuine Dutch family, snugly shut up in its low-roofed\\nfarmhouse, under a spreading sycamore, he looked upon it as\\na little clasped volume of black-letter, and studied it with the\\nzeal of a book-worm.\\nThe result of all these researches was a history of the\\n15 province during the reign of the Dutch governors, which he\\npublished some years since. There have been various opinions\\nas to the literary character of his work, and, to tell the truth,\\nit is not a whit better than it should be. Its chief merit is its\\nscrupulous accuracy, which indeed was a little questioned on its\\n20 first appearance, but has since been completely established\\nand it is now admitted into all historical collections as a book\\nof unquestionable authority.\\nThe old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his\\nwork, and now that he is dead and gone it cannot do much\\n40", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "RIP VAN WINKLE 41\\nharm to his memory to say that his time might have been\\nmuch better employed in weightier labors. He, however, was\\napt to ride his hobby his own way and though it did now\\nand then kick up the dust a little in the eyes of his neighbors,\\nand grieve the spirit of some friends for whom he felt the 5\\ntruest deference and affection yet his errors and follies are\\nremembered more in sorrow than in anger, and it begins\\nto be suspected that he never intended to injure or offend.\\nBut however his memory may be appreciated by critics, it is\\nstill held dear by many folks whose good opinion is well 10\\nworth having; particularly by certain biscuit-bakers, who have\\ngone so far as to imprint his likeness on their new-year cakes\\nand have thus given him a chance for immortality almost\\nequal to the being stamped on a Waterloo Medal or a Queen\\nAnne s Farthing.] 15\\nWhoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must\\nremember the Kaatskill Mountains. They are a dis-\\nmembered branch of the Appalachian family, and are\\nseen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a\\nnoble height and lording it over the surrounding coun- 20\\ntry. Every change of season, every change of weather,\\nindeed, every hour of the day, produces some change\\nin the magical hues and shapes of these mountains,\\nand they are regarded by all the good wives far and\\nnear as perfect barometers. When the weather is fair 25\\nand settled, they are clothed in blue and purple, and\\nprint their bold outlines on the clear evening sky but\\nsometimes when the rest of the landscape is cloudless,\\nthey will gather a hood of gray vapors about their sum-\\nmits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will glow 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nand light up like a crown of glory.\\nAt the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager\\nmay have descried the light smoke curling up from", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "42 THE SKETCH BOOK\\na village whose shingle-roofs gleam among the trees\\njust where the blue tints of the upland melt away into\\nthe fresh green of the nearer landscape. It is a little\\nvillage of great antiquity, having been founded by some\\n5 of the Dutch colonists in the early times of the prov-\\nince, just about the beginning of the government of\\nthe good Peter Stuyvesant (may he rest in peace and\\nthere were some of the houses of the original settlers\\nstanding within a few years, built of small yellow bricks\\n10 brought from Holland, having latticed windows and\\ngable fronts, surmounted with weather-cocks.\\nIn that same village, and in one of these very houses\\n(which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn\\nand weather-beaten), there lived many years since,\\n15 while the country was yet a province of Great Britain,\\na simple good-natured fellow of the name of Rip Van\\nWinkle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who\\nfigured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter\\nStuyvesant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort\\n20 Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the\\nmartial character of his ancestors. I have observed\\nthat he was a simple good-natured man he was, more-\\nover, a kind neighbor and an obedient hen-pecked\\nhusband. Indeed, to the latter circumstance might\\n25 be owing that meekness of spirit which gained him\\nsuch universal popularity for those men are most apt\\nto be obsequious and conciliating abroad who are\\nunder the discipline of shrews at home. Their tempers,\\ndoubtless, are rendered pliant and malleable in the fiery\\n30 furnace of domestic tribulation and a curtain lecture is\\nworth all the sermons in the world for teaching the virtues\\nof patience and long-suffering. A termagant wife may,\\ntherefore, in some respects, be considered a tolerable\\nblessing and if so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "RIP VAN WINKLE 43\\nCertain it is, that he was a great favorite among all\\nthe good wives of the village, who as usual with the\\namiable sex, took his part in all family squabbles and\\nnever failed whenever they talked those matters over\\nin their evening gossipings to lay all the blame on Dame 5\\nVan Winkle. The children of the village, too, would\\nshout with joy whenever he approached. He assisted\\nat their sports, made their playthings, taught them to\\nfly kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories\\nof ghosts, witches, and Indians. Whenever he went 10\\ndodging about the village, he was surrounded by a\\ntroop of them, hanging on his skirts, clambering on\\nhis back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with\\nimpunity and not a dog would bark at him throughout\\nthe neighborhood. 15\\nThe great error in Rip s composition was an insuper-\\nable aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It could\\nnot be from the want of assiduity or perseverance for\\nhe would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and\\nheavy as a Tartar s lance, and fish all day without a 20\\nmurmur, even though he should not be encouraged by\\na single nibble. He would carry a fowling-piece on\\nhis shoulder for hours together, trudging through woods\\nand swamps, and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few\\nsquirrels or wild pigeons. He would never refuse to 25\\nassist a neighbor even in the roughest toil, and was a\\nforemost man at all country frolics for husking Indian\\ncorn, or building stone-fences the women of the vil-\\nlage, too, used to employ him to run their errands, and\\nto do such little odd jobs as their less obliging husbands 30\\nwould not do for them. In a word Rip was ready to\\nattend to anybody s business but his own but as to\\ndoing family duty and keeping his farm in order, he\\nfound it impossible.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "44 THE SKETCH BOOK-\\nIE fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his\\nfarm it was the most pestilent little piece of ground in\\nthe whole country everything about it went wrong,\\nand would go wrong, in spite of him. His fences were\\n5 continually falling to pieces his cow would either go\\nastray or get among the cabbages weeds were sure to\\ngrow quicker in his fields than anywhere else the rain\\nalways made a point of setting in just as he had some\\nout-door work to do so that though his patrimonial\\n10 estate had dwindled away under his management, acre\\nby acre, until there was little more left than a mere\\npatch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was the worst\\nconditioned farm in the neighborhood.\\nHis children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they\\n15 belonged to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten\\nin his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits, with\\nthe old clothes of his father. He was generally seen\\ntrooping like a colt at his mother s heels, equipped in\\na pair of his father s cast-off galligaskins, which he had\\n20 much ado to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does\\nher train in bad weather.\\nRip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy\\nmortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the\\nworld easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be\\n25 got with least thought or trouble, and would rather\\nstarve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to\\nhimself, he would have whistled life away in perfect con-\\ntentment but his wife kept continually dinning in his\\nears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he\\n30 was bringing on his family. Morning, noon, and night,\\nher tongue was incessantly going, and everything he said\\nor did was sure to produce a torrent of household elo-\\nquence. Rip had but one way of replying to all lectures\\nof the kind, and that, by frequent use, had grown into a", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "RIP VAN WINKLE 45\\nhabit. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, cast\\nup his eyes, but said nothing. This, however, always\\nprovoked a fresh volley from his wife so that he was\\nfain to draw off his forces, and take to the outside of the\\nhouse the only side which, in truth, belongs to a hen- 5\\npecked husband.\\nRip s sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who\\nwas as much hen-pecked as his master for Dame Van\\nWinkle regarded them as companions in idleness, and\\neven looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of 10\\nhis master s going so often astray. True it is, in all\\npoints of spirit befitting an honorable dog, he was as\\ncourageous an animal as ever scoured the woods but\\nwhat courage can withstand the ever-during and all-\\nbesetting terrors of a woman s tongue The moment 15\\nWolf entered the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to\\nthe ground or curled between his legs, he sneaked about\\nwith a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance at\\nDame Van Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broom-\\nstick or ladle, he would fly to the door with yelping 20\\nprecipitation.\\nTimes grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as\\nyears of matrimony rolled on a tart temper never mel-\\nlows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool\\nthat grows keener with constant use. For a long while 25\\nhe used to console himself, when driven from home, by\\nfrequenting a kind of perpetual club of the sages, philos-\\nophers, and other idle personages of the village, which\\nheld its sessions on a bench before a small inn, desig-\\nnated by a rubicund portrait of His Majesty George the 30\\nThird. Here they used to sit in the shade through a\\nlong lazy summer s day, talking listlessly over village\\ngossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about nothing.\\nBut it would have been worth any statesman s money to", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "46 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nhave heard the profound discussions that sometimes took\\nplace, when by chance an old newspaper fell into their\\nhands from some passing traveller. How solemnly they\\nwould listen to the contents as drawled out by Derrick\\n5 Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learned little\\nman, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic\\nword in the dictionary and how sagely they would\\ndeliberate upon public events some months after they\\nhad taken place.\\nto The opinions of this junto were completely controlled\\nby Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and land-\\nlord of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat\\nfrom morning till night, just moving sufficiently to avoid\\nthe sun and keep in the shade of a large tree so that\\n15 the neighbors could tell the hour by his movements as\\naccurately as by a sun-dial. It is true he was rarely\\nheard to speak, but smoked his pipe incessantly. His\\nadherents, however (for every great man has his adher-\\nents), perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather\\n20 his opinions. When anything that was read or related\\ndispleased him, he was observed to smoke his pipe vehe-\\nmently, and to send forth short, frequent, and angry\\npuffs but when pleased, he would inhale the smoke\\nslowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid\\n25 clouds and sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth\\nand letting the fragrant vapor curl about his nose, would\\ngravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation.\\nFrom even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was at\\nlength routed by his termagant wife, who would sud-\\n30 denly break in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage\\nand call the members all to naught nor was that august\\npersonage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the dar-\\ning tongue of this terrible virago, who charged him out-\\nright with encouraging her husband in habits of idleness.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "RIP VAN WINKLE 47\\nPoor Rij was at last reduced almost to despair and\\nhis only alternative to escape from the labor of the farm\\nand clamor of his wife, was to take gun in hand and\\nstroll away into the woods. Here he would sometimes\\nseat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the contents 5\\nof his wallet with Wolf, with whom he sympathized as\\na fellow-sufferer in persecution. Poor Wolf, he\\nwould say, thy mistress leads thee a dog s life of it\\nbut never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never\\nwant a friend to stand by thee Wolf would wag his 10\\ntail, look wistfully in his master s face, and if dogs can\\nfeel pity I verily believe he reciprocated the sentiment\\nwith all his heart.\\nIn a long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day,\\nRip had unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest 15\\nparts of the Kaatskill mountains. He was after his\\nfavorite sport of squirrel shooting, and the still solitudes\\nhad echoed and re-echoed with the reports of his gun.\\nPanting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the after-\\nnoon, on a green knoll, covered with mountain herbage, 20\\nthat crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening\\nbetween the trees he could overlook all the lower coun-\\ntry for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a dis-\\ntance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on\\nits silent but majestic course, with the reflection of a 2 5\\npurple cloud or the sail of a lagging bark here and there\\nsleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in\\nthe blue highlands.\\nOn the other side he looked down into a deep moun-\\ntain glen, wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled 30\\nwith fragments from the impending cliffs, and scarcely\\nlighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For\\nsome time Rip lay musing on this scene evening was\\ngradually advancing the mountains began to throw", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "48 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ntheir long blue shadows over the valleys h^. saw that it\\nwould be dark long before he could reach the village,\\nand he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encoun-\\ntering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle.\\n5 As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a\\ndistance, hallooing, Rip Van Winkle Rip Van Winkle\\nHe looked round, but could see nothing but a crow wing-\\ning its solitary flight across the mountain. He thought\\nhis fancy must have deceived him, and turned again to\\nio descend, when he heard the same cry ring through the\\nstill evening air, Rip Van Winkle Rip Van Winkle\\nat the same time Wolf bristled up his back, and giving\\na low growl, skulked to his master s side, looking fear-\\nfully down into the glen. Rip now felt a vague appre-\\n15 hension stealing over him he looked anxiously in the\\nsame direction, and perceived a strange figure slowly\\ntoiling up the rocks, and bending under the weight of\\nsomething he carried on his back. He was surprised to\\nsee any human being in this lonely and unfrequented\\n20 place, but supposing it to be some one of the neigh-\\nborhood in need of his assistance, he hastened down to\\nyield it.\\nOn nearer approach he was still more surprised at the\\nsingularity of the stranger s appearance. He was a short\\n25 square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, and a griz-\\nzled beard. His dress was of the antique Dutch fashion\\na cloth jerkin strapped round the waist several pairs\\nof breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorated\\nwith rows of buttons down the sides and bunches at the\\n30 knees. He bore on his shoulder a stout keg that seemed\\nfull of liquor, and made signs for Rip to approach and\\nassist him with the load. Though rather shy and dis-\\ntrustful of this new acquaintance, Rip complied with his\\nusual alacrity and mutually relieving one another, they", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "RIP VAN WINKLE 49\\nclambered up a narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of\\na mountain torrent. As they ascended, Rip every now\\nand then heard long rolling peals, like distant thunder,\\nthat seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft,\\nbetween lofty rocks, toward which their rugged path 5\\nconducted. He paused for an instant, but supposing\\nit to be the muttering of one of those transient thunder-\\nshowers which often take place in mountain heights,\\nhe proceeded. Passing through the ravine, they came to\\na hollow, like a small amphitheatre, surrounded by per- 10\\npendicular precipices, over the brinks of which impend-\\ning trees shot their branches, so that you only caught\\nglimpses of the azure sky and the bright evening cloud.\\nDuring the whole time Rip and his companion had\\nlabored on in silence; for though the former marvelled 15\\ngreatly what could be the object of carrying a keg of\\nliquor up this wild mountain, yet there was something\\nstrange and incomprehensible about the unknown that\\ninspired awe and checked familiarity.\\nOn entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder 20\\npresented themselves. On the level spot in the centre\\nwas a company of odd-looking personages playing at\\nnine-pins. They were dressed in a quaint outlandish\\nfashion some wore short doublets, others jerkins, with\\nlong knives in their belts, and most of them had enor- 25\\nmous breeches of similar style with that of the guide s.\\nTheir visages, too, were peculiar one had a large beard,\\nbroad face, and small piggish eyes; the face of another\\nseemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted\\nby a white sugar-loaf hat set off with a little red cock s 30\\ntail. They all had beards of various shapes and colors.\\nThere was one who seemed to be the commander. He\\nwas a stout old gentleman with a weather-beaten coun-\\ntenance he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger,", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "50 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nhigh-crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high-\\nheeled shoes with roses in them. The whole group\\nreminded Rip of the figures in an old Flemish painting\\nin the parlor of Dominie Van Shaick, the village parson,\\n5 and which had been brought over from Holland at the\\ntime of the settlement.\\nWhat seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though\\nthese folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they\\nmaintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious si-\\n10 lence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of\\npleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted\\nthe stillness of the scene but the noise of the balls,\\nwhich, whenever they were rolled, echoed along the\\nmountains like rumbling peals of thunder.\\n15 As Rip and his companion approached them, they sud-\\ndenly desisted from their play, and stared at him with\\nsuch fixed statue-like gaze, and such strange, uncouth,\\nlack-lustre countenances, that his heart turned within\\nhim, and his knees smote together. His companion now\\n20 emptied the contents of the keg into large flagons, and\\nmade signs to him to wait upon the company. He\\nobeyed with fear and trembling they quaffed the liquor\\nin profound silence, and then returned to their game.\\nBy degrees Rip s awe and apprehension subsided. He\\n25 even ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste\\nthe beverage, which he found had much of the flavor of\\nexcellent Hollands. He was naturally a thirsty soul,\\nand was soon tempted to repeat the draught. One taste\\nprovoked another and he reiterated his visits to the\\n30 flagon so often that at length his senses were over-\\npowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head gradually\\ndeclined, and he fell into a deep sleep.\\nOn waking, he found himself on the green knoll\\nwhence he had first seen the old man of the glen. He", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "RIP VAN WINKLE 51\\nrubbed his eyes it was a bright sunny morning. The\\nbirds were hopping and twittering among the bushes,\\nand the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure\\nmountain breeze. Surely, thought Rip, I have not\\nslept here all night. He recalled the occurrences 5\\nbefore he fell asleep. The strange man with a keg of\\nliquor the mountain ravine the wild retreat among\\nthe rocks the woe-begone party at nine-pins the\\nflagon Oh! that flagon! that wicked flagon!\\nthought Rip what excuse shall I make to Dame 10\\nVan Winkle!\\nHe looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean\\nwell-oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by\\nhim, the barrel incrusted with rust, the lock falling off,\\nand the stock worm-eaten. He now suspected that the 15\\ngrave roysters of the mountain had put a trick upon him,\\nand, having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him of\\nhis gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he might have\\nstrayed away after a squirrel or partridge. He whistled\\nafter him and shouted his name, but all in vain the 20\\nechoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was\\nto be seen.\\nHe determined to revisit the scene of the last evening s\\ngambol, and if he met with any of the party, to demand\\nhis dog and gun. As he rose to walk, he found himself 25\\nstiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual activity.\\nThese mountain beds do not agree with me, thought\\nRip, and if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of the\\nrheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with Dame Van\\nWinkle. With some difficulty he got down into the 30\\nglen he found the gully up which he and his companion\\nhad ascended the preceding evening; but to his astonish-\\nment a mountain stream was now foaming down it, leap-\\ning from rock to rock, and filling the glen with babbling", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "52 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nmurmurs. He, however, made shift to scramble up its\\nsides, working his toilsome way through thickets of\\nbirch, sassafras, and witch-hazel, and sometimes tripped\\nup or entangled by the wild grapevines that twisted their\\n5 coils or tendrils from tree to tree, and spread a kind of\\nnetwork in his path.\\nAt length he reached to where the ravine had opened\\nthrough the cliffs to the amphitheatre; but no traces of\\nsuch opening remained. The rocks presented a high im-\\nio penetrable wall over which the torrent came tumbling in\\na sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a broad deep basin,\\nblack from the shadows of the surrounding forest. Here,\\nthen, poor Rip was brought to a stand. He again called\\nand whistled after his dog he was only answered by the\\n15 cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting high in air about\\na dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice and who,\\nsecure in their elevation, seemed to look down and scoff\\nat the poor man s perplexities. What was to be done?\\nthe morning was passing away, and Rip felt famished for\\n20 want of his breakfast. He grieved to give up his dog and\\ngun; he dreaded to meet his wife; but it would not do to\\nstarve among the mountains. He shook his head, shoul-\\ndered the rusty firelock, and, with a heart full of trouble\\nand anxiety, turned his steps homeward.\\n25 As he approached the village he met a number of peo-\\npie, but none whom he knew, which somewhat surprised\\nhim, for he had thought himself acquainted with every\\none in the country round. Their dress, too, was of a\\ndifferent fashion from that to which he was accustomed.\\n30 They all stared at him with equal marks of surprise, and\\nwhenever they cast their eyes upon him invariably stroked\\ntheir chins. The constant recurrence of this gesture in-\\nduced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when, to his\\nastonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "RIP VAN WINKLE 53\\nHe had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop\\nof strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him,\\nand pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one\\nof which he recognized for an old acquaintance, barked at\\nhim as he passed. The very village was altered it was 5\\nlarger and more populous. There were rows of houses\\nwhich he had never seen before, and those which had\\nbeen his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange\\nnames were over the doors strange faces at the windows\\neverything was strange. His mind now misgave him; 10\\nhe began to doubt whether both he and the world around\\nhim were not bewitched. Surely this was his native vil-\\nlage, which he had left but the day before. There stood\\nthe Kaatskill mountains there ran the silver Hudson at\\na distance there was every hill and dale precisely a*s it 15\\nhad always been Rip was sorely perplexed That\\nflagon last night, thought he, has addled my poor head\\nsadly\\nIt was with some difficulty that he found the way to his\\nown house, which he approached with silent awe, expect- 20\\ning every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van\\nWinkle. He found the house gone to decay the roof\\nfallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the\\nhinges. A half-starved dog that looked like Wolf was\\nskulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur 25\\nsnarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was an\\nunkind cut indeed My very dog, sighed poor Rip,\\nhas forgotten me\\nHe entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame\\nVan Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, 30\\nforlorn, and apparently abandoned. This desolateness\\novercame all his connubial fears he called loudly for\\nhis wife and children the lonely chambers rang for a\\nmoment with his voice, and then all again was silence.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "54 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nHe now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort,\\nthe village inn but it too was gone. A large rickety-\\nwooden building stood in its place, with great gaping\\nwindows, some of them broken and mended with old hats\\n5 and petticoats, and over the door was painted, the\\nUnion Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle. Instead of the\\ngreat tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn\\nof yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, with\\nsomething on the top that looked like a red night-cap,\\n10 and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular\\nassemblage of stars and stripes all this was strange and\\nincomprehensible. He recognized on the sign, however,\\nthe ruby face of King George, under which he had\\nsmoked so many a peaceful pipe but even this was sin-\\n15 gularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed for\\none of blue and buff, a sword was held in the hand in-\\nstead of a sceptre, the head was decorated with a cocked\\nhat, and underneath was painted in large characters,\\nGeneral Washington.\\n20 There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door,\\nbut none that Rip recollected. The very character of the\\npeople seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling,\\ndisputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed\\nphlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain for\\n25 the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, double\\nchin, and fair long pipe, uttering, clouds of tobacco-\\nsmoke instead of idle speeches; or Van Bummel, the\\nschoolmaster, doling forth the contents of an ancient\\nnewspaper. In place of these, a lean, bilious-looking\\n30 fellow, with his pockets full of handbills, was haranguing\\nvehemently about rights of citizens elections mem-\\nbers of congress liberty Bunker s Hill heroes of\\nseventy-six and other words, which were a perfect\\nBabylonish jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "RIP VAN WIN-RLE 55\\nThe appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled beard,\\nhis rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army\\nof women and children at his heels, soon attracted the\\nattention of the tavern politicians. They crowded round\\nhim, eyeing him from head to foot with great curiosity. 5\\nThe orator bustled up to him, and, drawing him partly\\naside, inquired on which side he voted? Rip stared in\\nvacant stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow\\npulled him by the arm, and, rising on tiptoe, inquired in\\nhis ear, Whether he was Federal or Democrat? Rip 10\\nwas equally at a loss to comprehend the question; when a\\nknowing, self-important old gentleman in a sharp cocked\\nhat made his way through the crowd, putting them to\\nthe right and left with his elbows as he passed, and\\nplanting himself before Van Winkle, with one arm 15\\nakimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes\\nand sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul,\\ndemanded in an austere tone, what brought him to\\nthe election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at\\nhis heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the 20\\nvillage? Alas! gentlemen, cried Rip, somewhat\\ndismayed, I am a poor quiet man, a native of the place,\\nand a loyal subject of the king, God bless him\\nHere a general shout burst from the by-standers A\\ntory a tory a spy a refugee hustle him away with 25\\nhim It was with great difficulty that the self-important\\nman in the cocked hat restored order and, having\\nassumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again\\nof the unknown culprit, what he came there for, and\\nwhom he was seeking The poor man humbly assured 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nhim that he meant no harm, but merely came there in\\nsearch of some of his neighbors who used to keep about\\nthe tavern.\\nWell who are they? name them.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "56 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nRip bethought himself a moment, and inquired,\\nWhere s Nicholas Vedder\\nThere was a silence for a little while, when an old man\\nreplied, in a thin piping voice, Nicholas Vedder why,\\n5 he is dead and gone these eighteen years There was\\na wooden tombstone in the churchyard that used to tell\\nall about him, but that s rotten and gone too.\\nWhere s Brom Dutcher?\\nOh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the\\nio war; some say he was killed at the storming of Stony\\nPoint others say he was drowned in a squall at the foot\\nof Anthony s Nose. I don t know he never came back\\nagain.\\nWhere s Van Bummel, the schoolmaster\\n15 He went off to the wars too, was a great militia gen-\\neral, and is now in congress.\\nRip s heart died away at hearing of these sad changes\\nin his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone\\nin the world. Every answer puzzled him too, by treat-\\n20 ing of such enormous lapses of time, and of matters\\nwhich he could not understand: war congress Stony\\nPoint he had no courage to ask after any more friends,\\nbut cried out in despair, Does nobody here know Rip\\nVan Winkle?\\n25 Oh, Rip Van Winkle exclaimed two or three, Oh,\\nto be sure that s Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning\\nagainst the tree.\\nRip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of him-\\nself, as he went up the mountain; apparently as lazy,\\n30 and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now com-\\npletely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and\\nwhether he was himself or another man. In the midst\\nof his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded\\nwho he was, and what was his name?", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "RIP VAN WINKLE 57\\nGod knows, exclaimed he, at his wit s end; I m\\nnot myself I m somebody else that s me yonder no\\nthat s somebody else got into my shoes I was myself\\nlast night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and they ve\\nchanged my gun, and everything s changed, and I m 5\\nchanged, and I can t tell what s my name, or who I am\\nThe by-standers began now to look at each other, nod,\\nwink significantly, and tap their fingers against their\\nforeheads. There was a whisper, also, about securing the\\ngun, and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief, at 10\\nthe very suggestion of. which the self-important man in\\nthe cocked hat retired with some precipitation. At this\\ncritical moment a fresh comely woman pressed through\\nthe throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded man. She\\nhad a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his 15\\nlooks, began to cry. Hush, Rip, cried she, hush, you\\nlittle fool the old man won t hurt you. The name of\\nthe child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice,\\nall awakened a train of recollections in his mind. What\\nis your name, my good woman? asked he. 20\\nJudith Gardenier.\\nAnd your father s name\\nAh, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but it s\\ntwenty years since he went away from home with his\\ngun, and never has been heard of since his dog came 25\\nhome without him but whether he shot himself, or was\\ncarried away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I was\\nthen but a little girl.\\nRip had but one question more to ask but he put it\\nwith a faltering voice 3c\\nWhere s your mother\\nOh, she too had died but a short time since; she\\nbroke a blood-vessel in a fit of passion at a New-England\\npeddler.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "58 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThere was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelli-\\ngence. The honest man could contain himself no longer.\\nHe caught his daughter and her child in his arms. I\\nam your father! cried he Young Rip Van Winkle\\n5 once old Rip Van Winkle now Does nobody know\\npoor Rip Van Winkle\\nAll stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out\\nfrom among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and\\npeering under it in his face for a moment, exclaimed,\\n10 Sure enough! it is Rip Van Winkle it is himself!\\nWelcome home again, old neighbor Why, where have\\nyou been these twenty long years?\\nRip s story was soon told, for the whole twenty years\\nhad been to him but as one night. The neighbors stared\\n15 when they heard it; some were seen to wink at each\\nother, and put their tongues in their cheeks and the\\nself-important man in the cocked hat, who, when the\\nalarm was over, had returned to the field, screwed down\\nthe corners of his mouth, and shook his head upon\\n20 which there was a general shaking of the head through-\\nout the assemblage.\\nIt was determined, however, to take the opinion of old\\nPeter Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing up\\nthe road. He was a descendant of the historian of that\\n25 name who wrote one of the earliest accounts of the prov-\\nince. Peter was the most ancient inhabitant of the\\nvillage, and well versed in all the wonderful events and\\ntraditions of the neighborhood. He recollected Rip at\\nonce, and corroborated his story in the most satisfactory\\n30 manner. He assured the company that it was a fact,\\nhanded down from his ancestor the historian, that the\\nKaatskill mountains had always been haunted by strange\\nbeings. That it was affirmed that the great Hendrick\\nHudson, the first discoverer of the river and country,", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "RIP VAN WINKIE 59\\nkept a kind of vigil there every twenty years, with his\\ncrew of the Half-moon being permitted in this way to\\nrevisit the scenes of his enterprise, and keep a guardian\\neye upon the river and the great city called by his name.\\nThat his father had once seen them in their old Dutch 5\\ndresses playing at nine-pins in a hollow of the mountain\\nand that he himself had heard one summer afternoon\\nthe sound of their balls, like distant peals of thunder.\\nTo make a long story short, the company broke up,\\nand returned to the more important concerns of the elec- 10\\ntion. Rip s daughter took him home to live with her\\nshe had a snug, well-furnished house, and a stout cheery\\nfarmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected for one of\\nthe urchins that used to climb upon his back. As to\\nRip s son and heir, who was the ditto of himself, seen 1*5\\nleaning against the tree, he was employed to work on the\\nfarm but evinced an hereditary disposition to attend to\\nanything else but his business.\\nRip now resumed his old walks and habits he soon\\nfound many of his former cronies, though all rather the 20\\nworse for the wear and tear of time and preferred mak-\\ning friends among the rising generation, with whom he\\nsoon grew into great favor.\\nHaving nothing to do at home, and being arrived at\\nthat happy age when a man can be idle with impunity, 25\\nhe took his place once more on the bench at the inn\\ndoor, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of the\\nvillage, and a chronicle of the old times before the war.\\nIt was some time before he could get into the regular\\ntrack of gossip, or could be made to comprehend the 30\\nstrange events that had taken place during his torpor.\\nHow that there had been a revolutionary war that the\\ncountry had thrown off the yoke of old England and\\nthat instead of being a subject of his Majesty George", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "60 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nthe Third, he was now a free citizen of the United\\nStates. Rip, in fact, was no politician the changes of\\nstates and empires made but little impression on him\\nbut there was one species of despotism under which he\\n5 had long groaned, and that was petticoat government.\\nHappily that was at an end he had got his neck out of\\nthe yoke of matrimony, and could go in and out when-\\never he pleased without dreading the tyranny of Dame\\nVan Winkle. Whenever her name was mentioned, how-\\n10 ever, he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and cast\\nup his eyes which might pass either for an expression\\nof resignation to his fate or joy at his deliverance.\\nHe used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived\\nat Mr. Doolittle s hotel. He was observed at first to\\n15 vary on some points every time he told it, which was\\ndoubtless owing to his having so recently awaked. It\\nat last settled down precisely to the tale I have related,\\nand not a man, woman, or child in the neighborhood but\\nknew it by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the\\n20 reality of it, and insisted that Rip had been out of his\\nhead, and that this was one point on which he always\\nremained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however,\\nalmost universally gave it full credit. Even to this day\\nthey never hear a thunderstorm of a summer afternoon\\n25 about the Kaatskill, but they say Hendrick Hudson and\\nhis crew are at their game of nine-pins and it is a com-\\nmon wish of all hen-pecked husbands in the neighbor-\\nhood, when life hangs heavy on their hands, that they\\nmight have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle s\\n30 flagon.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "RIP VAN WINKLE 61\\nNOTE\\nThe foregoing Tale, one would suspect, had been suggested\\nto Mr. Knickerbocker by a little German superstition about the\\nEmperor Frederick der Rothbart, and the Kyffhauser Moun-\\ntain the subjoined note, however, which he had appended to\\nthe tale, shows that it is an absolute fact, narrated with his 5\\nusual fidelity\\nThe story of Rip Van Winkle may seem incredible to\\nmany, but nevertheless I give it my full belief, for I know the\\nvicinity of our old Dutch settlements to have been very subject\\nto marvellous events and appearances. Indeed, I have heard 10\\nmany stranger stories than this, in the villages along the Hud-\\nson all of which were too well authenticated to admit of a\\ndoubt. I have even talked with Rip Van Winkle myself, who,\\nwhen last I saw him, was a very venerable old man, and so\\nperfectly rational and consistent on every other point that I 15\\nthink no conscientious person could refuse to take this into the\\nbargain nay, I have seen a certificate on the subject taken\\nbefore a country justice and signed with a cross in the justice s\\nown handwriting. The story, therefore, is beyond the possi-\\nbility of doubt. 20\\nD. K.\\nPOSTSCRIPT\\nThe following are travelling notes from a memorandum-book\\nof Mr. Knickerbocker\\nThe Kaatsberg, or Catskill Mountains, have always been a\\nregion full of fable. The Indians considered them the abode 25\\nof spirits, who influenced the weather, spreading sunshine or\\nclouds over the landscape, and sending good or bad hunting\\nseasons. They were ruled by an old squaw spirit, said to be\\ntheir mother. She dwelt on the highest peak of the Catskills,\\nand had charge of the doors of day and night to open and shut 30\\nthem at the proper hour. She hung up the new moons in the\\nskies, and cut up the old ones into stars. In times of drought,\\nif properly propitiated, she would spin light summer clouds out", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "62 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nof cobwebs and morning dew, and send them off from the\\ncrest of the mountain, flake after flake, like flakes of carded\\ncotton, to float in the air until, dissolved by the heat of the\\nsun, they would fall in gentle showers, causing the grass to\\n5 spring, the fruits to ripen, and the corn to grow an inch an\\nhour. If displeased, however, she would brew up clouds black\\nas ink, sitting in the midst of them like a bottle-bellied spider\\nin the midst of its web and when these clouds broke, woe\\nbetide the valleys\\n10 In old times, say the Indian traditions, there was a kind of\\nManitou or Spirit, who kept about the wildest recesses of the\\nCatskill Mountains, and took a mischievous pleasure in wreaking\\nall kinds of evils and vexations upon the red men. Sometimes\\nhe would assume the form of a bear, a panther, or a deer, lead\\n15 the bewildered hunter a weary chase through tangled forests\\nand among ragged rocks and then spring off with a loud ho\\nho leaving him aghast on the brink of a beetling precipice or\\nraging torrent.\\nThe favorite abode of this Manitou is still shown. It is a\\n20 great rock or cliff on the loneliest part of the mountains, and,\\nfrom the flowering vines which clamber about it, and the wild\\nflowers which abound in its neighborhood, is known by the\\nname of the Garden Rock. Near the foot of it is a small lake,\\nthe haunt of the solitary bittern, with water-snakes basking in\\n25 the sun on the leaves of the pond-lilies which lie on the surface.\\nThis place was held in great awe by the Indians, insomuch\\nthat the boldest hunter would not pursue his game within its\\nprecincts. Once upon a time, however, a hunter who had lost\\nhis way, penetrated to the garden rock, where he beheld a\\n30 number of gourds placed in the crotches of trees. One of\\nthese he seized and made off with it, but in the hurry of his\\nretreat he let it fall among the rocks, when a great stream\\ngushed forth, which washed him away and swept him down\\nprecipices, where he was dashed to pieces, and the stream\\n35 made its way to the Hudson, and continues to flow to the\\npresent day being the identical stream known by the name\\nof the Kaaters-kill.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "ENGLISH WRITERS ON AMERICA\\nMethinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation, rousing herself\\nlike a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks methinks I\\nsee her as an eagle, mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled\\neyes at the full midday beam.\\nMilton on the Liberty of the Press.\\nIt is with feelings of deep regret that I observe the\\nliterary animosity daily growing up between England\\nand America. Great curiosity has been awakened of\\nlate with respect to the United States, and the London\\npress has teemed with volumes of travels through the 5\\nRepublic but they seem intended to diffuse error rather\\nthan knowledge and so successful have they been, that,\\nnotwithstanding the constant intercourse between the\\nnations, there is no people concerning whom the great\\nmass of the British public have less pure information, 10\\nor entertain more numerous prejudices.\\nEnglish travellers are the best and the worst in the\\nworld. Where no motives of pride or interest intervene,\\nnone can equal them for profound and philosophical\\nviews of society, or faithful and graphical descriptions 15\\nof external objects but when either the interest or repu-\\ntation of their own country comes in collision with that\\nof another, they go to the opposite extreme, and forget\\ntheir usual probity and candor, in the indulgence of\\nsplenetic remark and an illiberal spirit of ridicule. 20\\nHence, their travels are more honest and accurate, the\\nmore remote the country described. I would place im-\\nplicit confidence in an Englishman s descriptions of the\\n63", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "64 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nregions beyond the cataracts of the Nile of unknown\\nislands in the Yellow Sea of the interior of India or\\nof any other tract which other travellers might be apt to\\npicture out with the illusions hi their fancies but I\\n5 would cautiously receive his account of his immediate\\nneighbors, and of those nations with which he is in\\nhabits of most frequent intercourse. However I might\\nbe disposed to trust his probity, I dare not trust his\\nprejudices.\\n10 It has also been the particular lot of our country to be\\nvisited by the worst kind of English travellers. While\\nmen of philosophical spirit and cultivated minds have\\nbeen sent from England to ransack the poles, to pene-\\ntrate the deserts, and to study the manners and customs\\n15 of barbarous nations with which she can have no per-\\nmanent intercourse of profit or pleasure it has been left\\nto the broken-down tradesman, the scheming adventurer,\\nthe wandering mechanic, the Manchester and Birming-\\nham agent, to be her oracles respecting America. From\\n20 such sources she is content to receive her information\\nrespecting a country in a singular state of moral and\\nphysical development a country in which one of the\\ngreatest political experiments in the history of the world\\nis now performing and which presents the most pro-\\n25 found and momentous studies to the statesman and the\\nphilosopher.\\nThat such men should give prejudicial accounts of\\nAmerica is not a matter of surprise. The themes it\\noffers for contemplation are too vast and elevated for\\n30 their capacities. The national character is yet in a\\nstate of fermentation it may have its frothiness and\\nsediment, but its ingredients are sound and wholesome\\nit has already given proofs of powerful and generous\\nqualities and the whole promises to settle down into", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "ENGLISH WRITERS ON AMERICA 65\\nsomething substantially excellent. But the causes which\\nare operating to strengthen and ennoble it, and its\\ndaily indications of admirable properties, are all lost\\nupon these purblind observers who are only affected\\nby the little asperities incident to its present situation. 5\\nThey are capable of judging only of the surface of\\nthings of those matters which come in contact with\\ntheir private interests and personal gratifications. They\\nmiss some of the snug conveniences and petty comforts\\nwhich belong to an old, highly finished, and over popu- 10\\nlous state of society where the ranks of useful labor are\\ncrowded, and many earn a painful and servile subsist-\\nence by studying the very caprices of appetite and\\nself-indulgence. These minor comforts, however, are\\nall-important in the estimation of narrow minds; which 15\\neither do not perceive, or will not acknowledge, that\\nthey are more than counterbalanced among us by great\\nand generally diffused blessings.\\nThey may, perhaps, have been disappointed in some\\nunreasonable expectation of sudden gain. They may 20\\nhave pictured America to themselves an El Dorado,\\nwhere gold and silver abounded and the natives were\\nlacking in sagacity and where they were to become\\nstrangely and suddenly rich in some unforeseen but\\neasy manner. The same weakness of mind that indulges 25\\nabsurd expectations produces petulance in disappoint-\\nment. Such persons become embittered against the\\ncountry on finding that there, as everywhere else, a\\nman must sow before he can reap must win wealth\\nby industry and talent; and must contend with the 30\\ncommon difficulties of nature and the shrewdness of\\nan intelligent and enterprising people.\\nPerhaps, through mistaken or ill-directed hospitality,\\nor from the prompt disposition to cheer and counte-", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "66 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nnance the stranger, prevalent among my countrymen,\\nthey may have been treated with unwonted respect in\\nAmerica and having been accustomed all their lives to\\nconsider themselves below the surface of good society,\\n5 and brought up in a servile feeling of inferiority, they\\nbecome arrogant on the common boon of civility; they\\nattribute to the lowliness of others their own elevation\\nand underrate a society where there are no artificial\\ndistinctions, and where by any chance such individuals\\nio as themselves can rise to consequence.\\nOne would suppose, however, that information com-\\ning from such sources, on a subject where the truth is\\nso desirable, would be received with caution by the\\ncensors of the press; that the motives of these men,\\n15 their veracity, their opportunities of inquiry and obser-\\nvation, and their capacities for judging correctly, would\\nbe rigorously scrutinized before their evidence was\\nadmitted in such sweeping extent against a kindred\\nnation. The very reverse, however, is the case, and it\\n20 furnishes a striking instance of human inconsistency.\\nNothing can surpass the vigilance with which English\\ncritics will examine the credibility of the traveller who\\npublishes an account of some distant and comparatively\\nunimportant country. How warily will they compare\\n25 the measurements of a pyramid or the descriptions of\\na ruin and how sternly will they censure any inaccuracy\\nin these contributions of merely curious knowledge\\nwhile they will receive, with eagerness and unhesitating\\nfaith, the gross misrepresentations of coarse and obscure\\n30 writers, concerning a country with which their own is\\nplaced in the most important and delicate relations.\\nNay, they will even make these apocryphal volumes\\ntext-books, on which to enlarge with a zeal and an\\nability worthy of a more generous cause.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "ENGLISH WRITERS ON AMERICA 67\\nI shall not, however, dwell on this irksome and hack-\\nneyed topic nor should I have adverted to it, but for\\nthe undue interest apparently taken in it by my country-\\nmen, and certain injurious effects which I apprehend it\\nmight produce upon the national feeling. We attach 5\\ntoo much consequence to these attacks. They cannot\\ndo us any essential injury. The tissue of misrepresenta-\\ntions attempted to be woven round us are like cobwebs\\nwoven round the limbs of an infant giant. Our country\\ncontinually outgrows them. One falsehood after an- 10\\nother falls off of itself. We have but to live on, and\\nevery day we live a whole volume of refutation.\\nAll the writers of England united, if we could for\\na moment suppose their great minds stooping to so\\nunworthy a combination, could not conceal our rapidly 15\\ngrowing importance and matchless prosperity. They\\ncould not conceal that these are owing, not merely to\\nphysical and local, but also to moral causes, to the\\npolitical liberty, the general diffusion of knowledge, the\\nprevalence of sound moral and religious principles, 20\\nwhich give force and sustained energy to the character\\nof a people and which, in fact, have been the acknowl-\\nedged and wonderful supporters of their own national\\npower and glory.\\nBut why are we so exquisitely alive to the aspersions 25\\nof England Why do we suffer ourselves to be so\\naffected by the contumely she has endeavored to cast\\nupon us It is not in the opinion of England alone\\nthat honor lives and reputation has its being. The\\nworld at large is the arbiter of a nation s fame with its 30\\nthousand eyes it witnesses a nation s deeds, and from\\ntheir collective testimony is national glory or national\\ndisgrace established.\\nFor ourselves, therefore, it is comparatively of but", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "68 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nlittle importance whether England does us justice or\\nnot it is perhaps of far more importance to herself.\\nShe is instilling anger and resentment into the bosom\\nof a youthful nation, to grow with its growth and\\n5 strengthen with its strength. If in America, as some\\nof her writers are laboring to convince her, she is here-\\nafter to find an invidious rival and a gigantic foe, she\\nmay thank those very writers for having provoked rival-\\nship and irritated hostility. Every one knows the all-\\n10 pervading influence of literature at the present day,\\nand how much the opinions and passions of mankind\\nare under its control. The mere contests of the sword\\nare temporary their wounds are but in the flesh, and\\nit is the pride of the generous to forgive and forget\\n15 them; but the slanders of the pen pierce to the heart;\\nthey rankle longest in the noblest spirits they dwell\\never present in the mind, and render it morbidly sensi-\\ntive to the most trifling collision. It is but seldom that\\nany one overt act produces hostilities between two\\n20 nations there exists, most commonly, a previous jeal-\\nousy and ill-will a predisposition to take offence.\\nTrace these to their cause, and how often will they\\nbe found to originate in the mischievous effusions of\\nmercenary writers who, secure in their closets, and\\n25 for ignominious bread, concoct and circulate the venom\\nthat is to inflame the generous and the brave.\\nI am not laying too much stress upon this point for\\nit applies most emphatically to our particular case.\\nOver no nation does the press hold a more absolute\\n30 control than over the people of America for the uni-\\nversal education of the poorest classes makes every\\nindividual a reader. There is nothing published in\\nEngland on the subject of our country that does not\\ncirculate through every part of it. There is not a cal-", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "ENGLISH WRITERS ON AMERICA 69\\numny dropped from English pen, nor an unworthy sar-\\ncasm uttered by an English statesman, that does not\\ngo to blight good-will, and add to the mass of latent\\nresentment. Possessing, then, as England does, the\\nfountain-head whence the literature of the language 5\\nflows, how completely is it in her power, and how truly\\nis it her duty, to make it the medium of amiable and\\nmagnanimous feeling a stream where the two nations\\nmight meet together, and drink in peace and kindness.\\nShould she, however, persist in turning it to waters of 10\\nbitterness, the time may come when she may repent\\nher folly. The present friendship of America may be of\\nbut little moment to her but the future destinies of\\nthat country do not admit of a doubt over those\\nof England there lower some shadows of uncertainty. 15\\nShould, then, a day of gloom arrive should these\\nreverses overtake her, from which the proudest empires\\nhave not been exempt she may look back with regret\\nat her infatuation, in repulsing from her side a nation\\nshe might have grappled to her bosom, and thus de- 20\\nstroying her only chance for real friendship beyond\\nthe boundaries of her own dominions.\\nThere is a general impression in England, that the\\npeople of the United States are inimical to the parent\\ncountry. It is one of the errors which have been 25\\ndiligently propagated by designing writers. There is,\\ndoubtless, considerable political hostility, and a gen-\\neral soreness at the illiberality of the English press\\nbut, generally speaking, the prepossessions of the people\\nare strongly in favor of England. Indeed, at one time, 30\\nthey amounted, in many parts of the Union, to an\\nabsurd degree of bigotry. The bare name of English-\\nman was a passport to the confidence and hospitality\\nof every family, and too often gave a transient currency", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "70 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nto. the worthless and the ungrateful. Throughout the\\ncountry there was something of enthusiasm connected\\nwith the idea of England. We looked to it with a\\nhallowed feeling of tenderness and veneration, as the\\n5 land of our forefathers the august repository of the\\nmonuments and antiquities of our race the birthplace\\nand mausoleum of the sages and heroes of our paternal\\nhistory. After our own country, there was none in whose\\nglory we more delighted none whose good opinion\\n10 we were more anxious to possess none towards which\\nour hearts yearned with such throbbings of warm consan-\\nguinity. Even during the late war, whenever there was\\nthe least opportunity for kind feelings to spring forth,\\nit was the delight of the generous spirits of our country\\n15 to show that, in the midst of hostilities, they still kept\\nalive the sparks of future friendship.\\nIs all this to be at an end Is this golden band of\\nkindred sympathies, so rare between nations, to be\\nbroken forever Perhaps it is for the best it may\\n20 dispel an illusion which might have kept us in mental\\nvassalage which might have interfered occasionally\\nwith our true interests, and prevented the growth of\\nproper national pride. But it is hard to give up the\\nkindred tie and there are feelings dearer than interest\\n25 closer to the heart than pride that will still make\\nus cast .back a look of regret, as we wander farther and\\nfarther from the paternal roof, and lament the wayward-\\nness of the parent that would repel the affections of the\\nchild.\\n30 Short-sighted and injudicious, however, as the con-\\nduct of England may be in this system of aspersion,\\nrecrimination on our part would be equally ill-judged.\\nI speak not of a prompt and spirited vindication of\\nour country, nor the keenest castigation of her slan-", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "ENGLISH WRITERS ON AMERICA 71\\nderers but I allude to a disposition to retaliate in\\nkind, to retort sarcasm and inspire prejudice, which\\nseems to be spreading widely among our writers. Let\\nus guard particularly against such a temper, for it\\nwould double the evil instead of redressing the wrong. 5\\nNothing is so easy and inviting as the retort of abuse\\nand sarcasm but it is a paltry and an unprofitable\\ncontest. It is the alternative of a morbid mind, fretted\\ninto petulance, rather than warmed into indignation.\\nIf England is willing to permit the mean jealousies of 10\\ntrade or the rancorous animosities of politics to deprave\\nthe integrity of her press and poison the fountain of\\npublic opinion, let us beware of her example. She may\\ndeem it her interest to diffuse error and engender\\nantipathy for the purpose of checking emigration; we 15\\nhave no purpose of the kind to serve. Neither have\\nwe any spirit of national jealousy to gratify, for as yet,\\nin all our rivalships with England, we are the rising\\nand the gaining party. There can be no end to answer,\\ntherefore, but the gratification of resentment a mere 20\\nspirit of retaliation and even that is impotent. Our\\nretorts are never republished in England they fall\\nshort, therefore, of their aim but they foster a queru-\\nlous and peevish temper among our writers they sour\\nthe sweet flow of our early literature, and sow thorns 25\\nand brambles among its blossoms. What is still worse,\\nthey circulate through our own country, and, as far as\\nthey have effect, excite virulent national prejudices. This\\nlast is the evil most especially to be deprecated. Governed\\nas we are entirely by public opinion, the utmost care 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nshould be taken to preserve the purity of the public mind.\\nKnowledge is power and truth is knowledge whoever,\\ntherefore, knowingly propagates a prejudice, wilfully saps\\nthe foundation of his country s strength.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "72 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThe members of a republic, above all other men,\\nshould be candid and dispassionate. They are, individ-\\nually, portions of the sovereign mind and sovereign will,\\nand should be enabled to come to all questions of\\n5 national concern with calm and unbiased judgments.\\nFrom the peculiar nature of our relations with England,\\nwe must have more frequent questions of a difficult and\\ndelicate character with her than with any other nation\\nquestions that affect the most acute and excitable feel-\\n10 ings and as in the adjusting of these our national\\nmeasures must ultimately be determined by popular\\nsentiment, we cannot be too anxiously attentive to\\npurify it from all latent passion or prepossession.\\nOpening, too, as we do, an asylum for strangers from\\n15 every portion of the earth, we should receive all with im-\\npartiality. It should be our pride to exhibit an example\\nof one nation, at least, destitute of national antipathies,\\nand exercising not merely the overt acts of hospitality,\\nbut those more rare and noble courtesies which spring\\n20 from liberality of opinion.\\nWhat have we to do with national prejudices They\\nare the inveterate diseases of old countries, contracted in\\nrude and ignorant ages when nations knew but little\\nof each other, and looked beyond their own boundaries\\n25 with distrust and hostility. We, on the contrary, have\\nsprung into national existence in an enlightened and\\nphilosophic age, when the different parts of the habitable\\nworld and the various branches of the human family\\nhave been indefatigably studied and made known to each\\n30 other and we forego the advantages of our birth, if we\\ndo not shake off the national prejudices, as we would the\\nlocal superstitions of the old world.\\nBut above all let us not be influenced by any angry\\nfeelings, so far as to shut our eyes to the perception of", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "ENGLISH WRITERS ON AMERICA 73\\nwhat is really excellent and amiable in the English char-\\nacter. We are a young people, necessarily an imitative\\none, and must take our examples and models in a great\\ndegree from the existing nations of Europe. There is no\\ncountry more worthy of our study than England. The 5\\nspirit of her constitution is most analogous to ours. The\\nmanners of her people their intellectual activity their\\nfreedom of opinion their habits of thinking on those\\nsubjects which concern the dearest interests and most\\nsacred charities of private life, are all congenial to the 10\\nAmerican character and, in fact, are all intrinsically\\nexcellent for it is in the moral feeling of the people that\\nthe deep foundations of British prosperity are laid and\\nhowever the superstructure may be time-worn, or over-\\nrun by abuses, there must be something solid in the 15\\nbasis, admirable in the materials, and stable in the struc-\\nture of an edifice, that so long has towered unshaken\\namidst the tempests of the world.\\nLet it be the pride of our writers, therefore, discarding\\nall feelings of irritation, and disdaining to retaliate the 20\\nilliberality of British authors, to speak of the English\\nnation without prejudice and with determined candor.\\nWhile they rebuke the indiscriminating bigotry with\\nwhich some of our countrymen admire and imitate every-\\nthing English merely because it is English, let them 25\\nfrankly point out what is really worthy of approbation.\\nWe may thus place England before us as a perpetual vol-\\nume of reference, wherein are recorded sound deductions\\nfrom ages of experience; and while we avoid the errors\\nand absurdities which may have crept into the page, we 30\\nmay draw thence golden maxims of practical wisdom,\\nwherewith to strengthen and to embellish our national\\ncharacter,", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "RURAL LIFE IN ENGLAND\\nOh friendly to the best pursuits of man,\\nFriendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace,\\nDomestic life in rural pleasures past\\nCOWPER.\\nThe stranger who would form a correct opinion of the\\nEnglish character must not confine his observations to\\nthe metropolis. He must go forth into the country he\\nmust sojourn in villages and hamlets he must visit\\n5 castles, villas, farmhouses, cottages he must wander\\nthrough parks and gardens along hedges and green\\nlanes he must loiter about country churches attend\\nwakes and fairs and other rural festivals and cope with\\nthe people in all their conditions and all their habits and\\nio humors.\\nIn some countries the large cities absorb the wealth\\nand fashion of the nation they are the only fixed abodes\\nof elegant and intelligent society, and the country is\\ninhabited almost entirely by boorish peasantry. In Eng-\\n15 land, on the contrary, the metropolis is a mere gathering-\\nplace, or general rendezvous, of the polite classes, where\\nthey devote a small portion of the year to a hurry of\\ngayety and dissipation, and, having indulged this kind of\\ncarnival, return again to the apparently more congenial\\n20 habits of rural life. The various orders of society are\\ntherefore diffused over the whole surface of the kingdom,\\nand the most retired neighborhoods afford specimens of\\nthe different ranks.\\nThe English, in fact, are strongly gifted with the rural\\n25 feeling. They possess a quick sensibility to the beau-\\n74", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "RURAL LIFE IN ENGLAND 75\\nties of nature and a keen relish for the pleasures and\\nemployments of the country. This passion seems inher-\\nent in them. Even the inhabitants of cities, born and\\nbrought up among brick walls and bustling streets, enter\\nwith facility into rural habits, and evince a tact for rural 5\\noccupation. The merchant has his snug retreat in the\\nvicinity of the metropolis, where he often displays as\\nmuch pride and zeal in the cultivation of his flower-\\ngarden and the maturing of his fruits, as he does in the\\nconduct of his business and the success of a commercial 10\\nenterprise. Even those less fortunate individuals who\\nare doomed to pass their lives in the midst of din and\\ntraffic, contrive to have something that shall remind\\nthem of the green aspect of nature. In the most dark\\nand dingy quarters of the city, the drawing-room win- 15\\ndow resembles frequently a bank of flowers every spot\\ncapable of vegetation has its grass-plot and flower-bed\\nand every square its mimic park, laid out with pictur-\\nesque taste and gleaming with refreshing verdure.\\nThose who see the Englishman only in town are apt 20\\nto form an unfavorable opinion of his social character.\\nHe is either absorbed in business, or distracted by the\\nthousand engagements that dissipate time, thought, and\\nfeeling, in this huge metropolis. He has, therefore, too\\ncommonly a look of hurry and abstraction. Wherever he 25\\nhappens to be, he is on the point of going somewhere\\nelse at the moment he is talking on one subject, his\\nmind is wandering to another and while paying a\\nfriendly visit, he is calculating how he shall economize\\ntime so as to pay the other visits allotted in the morning. 30\\nAn immense metropolis like London is calculated to\\nmake men selfish and uninteresting. In their casual and\\ntransient meetings they can but deal briefly in common-\\nplaces. They present but the cold superficies of charac-", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "76 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nter its rich and genial qualities have no time to be\\nwarmed into a flow.\\nIt is in the country that the Englishman gives scope to\\nhis natural feelings. He breaks loose gladly from the\\n5 cold formalities and negative civilities of town throws\\noff his habits of shy reserve, and becomes joyous and\\nfree-hearted. He manages to collect round him all the\\nconveniences and elegancies of polite life, and to banish\\nits restraints. His country-seat abounds with every req-\\n10 uisite, either for studious retirement, tasteful gratifica-\\ntion, or rural exercise. Books, paintings, music, horses,\\ndogs, and sporting implements of all kinds, are at hand.\\nHe puts no constraint either upon his guests or himself,\\nbut in the true spirit of hospitality provides the means\\n15 of enjoyment, and leaves every one to partake according\\nto his inclination.\\nThe taste of the English in the cultivation of land,\\nand in what is called landscape gardening, is unrivalled.\\nThey have studied nature intently, and discover an ex-\\n20 quisite sense of her beautiful forms and harmonious com-\\nbinations. Those charms, which in other countries she\\nlavishes in wild solitudes, are here assembled round the\\nhaunts of domestic life. They seem to have caught her\\ncoy and furtive graces, and spread them like witchery\\n25 about their rural abodes.\\nNothing can be more imposing than the magnificence\\nof English park scenery. Vast lawns that extend like\\nsheets of vivid green, with here and there clumps of\\ngigantic trees heaping up rich piles of foliage the\\n30 solemn pomp of groves and woodland glades with the\\ndeer trooping in silent herds across them, the hare\\nbounding away to the covert, or the pheasant suddenly\\nbursting upon the wing the brook, taught to wind in\\nnatural meanderings or expand into a glassy lake the", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "RURAL LIFE LN ENGLAND 77\\nsequestered pool, reflecting the quivering trees, with the\\nyellow leaf sleeping on its bosom, and the trout roaming\\nfearlessly about its limpid waters while some rustic\\ntemple or sylvan statue, grown green and dank with\\nage, gives an air of classic sanctity to the seclusion. 5\\nThese are but a few of the features of park scenery\\nbut what most delights me is the creative talent with\\nwhich the English decorate the unostentatious abodes of\\nmiddle life. The rudest habitation, the most unpromis-\\ning and scanty portion of land, in the hands of an Eng- 10\\nlishman of taste, becomes a little paradise. With a nicely\\ndiscriminating eye, he seizes at once upon its capabili-\\nties, and pictures in his mind the future landscape. The\\nsterile spot grows into loveliness under his hand and\\nyet the operations of art which produce the effect are 15\\nscarcely to be perceived. The cherishing and training\\nof some trees the cautious pruning of others the nice\\ndistribution of flowers and plants of tender and graceful\\nfoliage the introduction of a green slope of velvet turf\\nthe partial opening to a peep of blue distance or silver 20\\ngleam of water: all these are managed with a delicate\\ntact, a pervading yet quiet assiduity, like the magic\\ntouchings with which a painter finishes up a favorite\\npicture.\\nThe residence of people of fortune and refinement in 25\\nthe country has diffused a degree of taste and elegance\\nin rural economy that descends to the lowest class.\\nThe very laborer, with his thatched cottage and narrow\\nslip of ground, attends to their embellishment. The\\ntrim hedge, the grass-plot before the door, the little 30\\nflower-bed bordered with snug box, the woodbine trained\\nup against the wall and hanging its blossoms about the\\nlattice, the pot of flowers in the window, the holly\\nprovidently planted about the house to cheat winter", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "78 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nof its dreariness, and to throw in a semblance of green\\nsummer to cheer the fireside all these bespeak the\\ninfluence of taste, flowing down from high sources, and\\npervading the lowest levels of the public mind. If ever\\n5 Love, as poets sing, delights to visit a cottage, it must\\nbe the cottage of an English peasant.\\nThe fondness for rural life among the higher classes\\nof the English has had a great and salutary effect upon\\nthe national character. I do not know a finer race of\\nio men than the English gentlemen. Instead of the soft-\\nness and effeminacy which characterize the men of rank\\nin most countries, they exhibit a union of elegance and\\nstrength, a robustness of frame and freshness of com-\\nplexion, which I am inclined to attribute to their living\\n15 so much in the open air, and pursuing so eagerly the\\ninvigorating recreations of the country. These hardy ex-\\nercises produce also a healthful tone of mind and spirits,\\nand a manliness and simplicity of manners, which even\\nthe follies and dissipations of the town cannot easily\\n20 pervert, and can never entirely destroy. In the country,\\ntoo, the different orders of society seem to approach\\nmore freely, to be more disposed to blend and operate\\nfavorably upon each other. The distinctions between\\nthem do not appear to be so marked and impassable as\\n25 in the cities. The manner in which property has been\\ndistributed into small estates and farms has established\\na regular gradation from the nobleman, through the\\nclasses of gentry, small landed proprietors, and substan-\\ntial farmers, down to the laboring peasantry and while\\n30 it has thus banded the extremes of society together, has\\ninfused into each intermediate rank a spirit of independ-\\nence. This, it must be confessed, is not so universally\\nthe case at present as it was formerly the larger estates\\nhaving, in late years of distress, absorbed the smaller,", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "RURAL LIFE IN ENGLAND 79\\nand, in some parts of the country, almost annihilated the\\nsturdy race of small farmers. These, however, I believe,\\nare but casual breaks in the general system I have men-\\ntioned.\\nIn rural occupation there is nothing mean and debas- 5\\ning. It leads a man forth among scenes of natural\\ngrandeur and beauty it leaves him to the workings of\\nhis own mind, operated upon by the purest and most\\nelevating of external influences. Such a man may be\\nsimple and rough, but he cannot be vulgar. The man 10\\nof refinement, therefore, finds nothing revolting in an\\nintercourse with the lower orders in rural life, as he does\\nwhen he casually mingles with the lower orders of cities.\\nHe lays aside his distance and reserve, and is glad to\\nwaive the distinctions of rank, and to enter into the 15\\nhonest, heartfelt enjoyments of common life. Indeed\\nthe very amusements of the country bring men more and\\nmore together and the sound of hound and horn blend\\nall feelings into harmony. I believe this is one great\\nreason why the nobility and gentry are more popular 20\\namong the inferior orders in England than they are in\\nany other country and why the latter have endured so\\nmany excessive pressures and extremities, without repin-\\ning more generally at the unequal distribution of fortune\\nand privilege. 25\\nTo this mingling of cultivated and rustic society may\\nalso be attributed the rural feeling that runs through\\nBritish literature the frequent use of illustrations from\\nrural life those incomparable descriptions of nature that\\nabound in the British poets, that have continued down 30\\nfrom The Flower and the Leaf of Chaucer, and have\\nbrought into our closets all the freshness and fragrance\\nof the dewy landscape. The pastoral writers of other\\ncountries appear as if they had paid nature an occa-", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "80 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nsional visit, and become acquainted with her general\\ncharms but the British poets have lived and revelled\\nwith her they have wooed her in her most secret\\nhaunts they have watched her minutest caprices. A\\n5 spray could not tremble in the breeze a leaf could not\\nrustle to the ground a diamond drop could not patter\\nin the stream a fragrance could not exhale from the\\nhumble violet, nor a daisy unfold its crimson tints to the\\nmorning, but it has been noticed by these impassioned\\nio and delicate observers, and wrought up into some beauti-\\nful morality.\\nThe effect of this devotion of elegant minds to rural\\noccupations has been wonderful on the face of the coun-\\ntry. A great part of the island is rather level, and would\\n15 be monotonous were it not for the charms of culture:\\nbut it is studded and gemmed, as it were, with castles\\nand palaces, and embroidered with parks and gardens.\\nIt does not abound in grand and sublime prospects, but\\nrather in little home scenes of rural repose and sheltered\\n20 quiet. Every antique farmhouse and moss-grown cot-\\ntage is a picture and as the roads are continually wind-\\ning, and the view is shut in by groves and hedges, the\\neye is delighted by a continual succession of small land-\\nscapes of captivating loveliness.\\n25 The great charm, however, of English scenery is the\\nmoral feeling that seems to pervade it. It is associated\\nin the mind with ideas of order, of quiet, of sober well-\\nestablished principles, of hoary usage and reverend cus-\\ntom. Everything seems to be the growth of ages of\\n30 regular and peaceful existence. The old church of re-\\nmote architecture, with its low massive portal, its Gothic\\ntower, its windows rich with tracery and painted glass,\\nin scrupulous preservation, its stately monuments of\\nwarriors and worthies of the olden time, ancestors of the", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "RURAL LIFE IN ENGLAND 81\\npresent lords of the soil, its tombstones recording suc-\\ncessive generations of sturdy yeomanry whose progeny\\nstill plough the same fields and kneel at the same\\naltar; the parsonage, a quaint irregular pile, partly anti-\\nquated, but repaired and altered in the tastes of vari- 5\\nous ages and occupants the stile and footpath leading\\nfrom the churchyard across pleasant fields and along\\nshady hedgerows, according to an immemorial right of\\nway the neighboring village, with its venerable cot-\\ntages, its public green sheltered by trees, under which 10\\nthe forefathers of the present race have sported; the\\nantique family mansion, standing apart in some little\\nrural domain, but looking down with a protecting air on\\nthe surrounding scene all these common features of\\nEnglish landscape evince a calm and settled security, 15\\nand hereditary transmission of homebred virtues and\\nlocal attachments, that speak deeply and touchingly for\\nthe moral character of the nation.\\nIt is a pleasing sight of a Sunday morning, when the\\nbell is sending its sober melody across the quiet fields, 20\\nto behold the peasantry in their best finery, with ruddy\\nfaces and modest cheerfulness, thronging tranquilly along\\nthe green lanes to church but it is still more pleasing\\nto see them in the evenings, gathering about their cot-\\ntage doors, and appearing to exult in the humble com- 25\\nforts and embellishments which their own hands have\\nspread around them.\\nIt is this sweet home feeling, this settled repose of\\naffection in the domestic scene, that is, after all,\\nthe parent of the steadiest virtues and purest en- 30\\njoyments and I cannot close these desultory re-\\nmarks better, than by quoting the words of a modern\\nEnglish poet, who has depicted it with remarkable\\nfelicity:", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "82 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThrough each gradation, from the castled hall,\\nThe city dome, the villa crown d with shade,\\nBut chief from modest mansions numberless,\\nIn town or hamlet, shelt ring middle life,\\n5 Down to the cottaged vale and straw-roof d shed\\nThis western isle hath long been famed for scenes\\nWhere bliss domestic finds a dwelling-place\\nDomestic bliss, that, like a harmless dove,\\n(Honor and sweet endearment keeping guard,)\\n10 Can centre in a little quiet nest\\nAll that desire would fly for through the earth\\nThat can, the world eluding, be itself\\nA world enjoy d that wants no witnesses\\nBut its own sharers and approving heaven\\n15 That, like a flower deep hid in rocky cleft,\\nSmiles, though tis looking only at the sky. 1\\n1 From a Poem on the death of the Princess Charlotte, by the\\nReverend Rann Kennedy, A.M.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "THE BROKEN HEART\\nI never heard\\nOf any true affection, but twas nipt\\nWith care, that, like the caterpillar, eats\\nThe leaves of the spring s sweetest book, the rose.\\nMlDDLETON.\\nIt is a common practice with those who have out-\\nlived the susceptibility of early feeling, or have been\\nbrought up in the gay heartlessness of dissipated life,\\nto laugh at all love stories, and to treat the tales of\\nromantic passion as mere fictions of novelists and poets. 5\\nMy observations on human nature have induced me to\\nthink otherwise. They have convinced me, that how-\\never the surface of the character may be chilled and\\nfrozen by the cares of the world, or cultivated into mere\\nsmiles by the arts of society, still there are dormant 10\\nfires lurking in the depths of the coldest bosom, which,\\nwhen once enkindled, become impetuous, and are some-\\ntimes desolating in their effects. Indeed, I am a true\\nbeliever in the blind deity, and go to the full extent of\\nhis doctrines. Shall I confess it? I believe in broken I S\\nhearts, and the possibility of dying of disappointed love.\\nI do not, however, consider it a malady often fatal to\\nmy own sex but I firmly believe that it withers down\\nmany a lovely woman into an early grave.\\nMan is the creature of interest and ambition. His 20\\nnature leads him forth into the struggle and bustle of\\nthe world. Love is but the embellishment of his early\\nlife, or a song piped in the intervals of the acts. He seeks\\nfor fame, for fortune, for space in- the world s thought,\\n83", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "84 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nand dominion over his fellow-men. But a woman s whole\\nlife is a history of the affections. The heart is her world\\nit is there her ambition strives for empire it is there her\\navarice seeks for hidden treasures. She sends forth her\\n5 sympathies on adventure she embarks her whole soul\\nin the traffic of affection and if shipwrecked, her case\\nis hopeless for it is a bankruptcy of the heart.\\nTo a man the disappointment of love may occasion\\nsome bitter pangs it wounds some feelings of tenderness\\nio it blasts some prospects of felicity but he is an active\\nbeing he may dissipate his thoughts in the whirl of\\nvaried occupation, or may plunge into the tide of pleas-\\nure or, if the scene of disappointment be too full of\\npainful associations, he can shift his abode at will, and\\n15 taking as it were the wings of the morning, can fly to\\nthe uttermost parts of the earth, and be at rest.\\nBut woman s is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, and\\nmeditative life. She is more the companion of her own\\nthoughts and feelings and if they are turned to minis-\\n20 ters of sorrow, where shall she look for consolation\\nHer lot is to be wooed and won; and if unhappy in her\\nlove, her heart is like some fortress that has been cap-\\ntured and sacked and abandoned, and left desolate.\\nHow many bright eyes grow dim how many soft\\n25 cheeks grow pale how many lovely forms fade away\\ninfo the tomb, and none can tell the cause that blighted\\ntheir loveliness As the dove will clasp its wings to its\\nside, and cover and conceal the arrow that is preying\\non its vitals, so is it the nature of woman to hide from\\n30 the world the pangs of wounded affection. The love of\\na delicate female is always shy and silent. Even when\\nfortunate, she scarcely breathes it to herself but when\\notherwise, she buries it in the recesses of her bosom,\\nand there lets it cower and brood among the ruins of her", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "THE BROKEN HEART 85\\npeace. With her the desire of the heart has failed. The\\ngreat charm of existence is at an end. She neglects all\\nthe cheerful exercises which gladden the spirits, quicken\\nthe pulses, and send the tide of life in healthful currents\\nthrough the veins. Her rest is broken the sweet re- 5\\nfreshment of sleep is poisoned by melancholy dreams\\ndry sorrow drinks her blood, until her enfeebled frame\\nsinks under the slightest external injury. Look for her,\\nafter a little while, and you find friendship weeping over\\nher untimely grave, and wondering that one who but 10\\nlately glowed with all the radiance of health and beauty\\nshould so speedily be brought down to darkness and\\nthe worm. You will be told of some wintry chill, some\\ncasual indisposition, that laid her low; but no one\\nknows of the mental malady which previously sapped 15\\nher strength, and made her so easy a prey to the spoiler.\\nShe is like some tender tree, the pride and beauty of\\nthe grove graceful in its form, bright in its foliage, but\\nwith the worm preying at its heart. We find it suddenly\\nwithering, when it should be most fresh and luxuriant. 20\\nWe see it drooping its branches to the earth, and shed-\\nding leaf by leaf, until, wasted and perished away, it falls\\neven in the stillness of the forest and as we muse over\\nthe beautiful ruin, we strive in vain to recollect the blast\\nor thunderbolt that could have smitten it with decay. 25\\nI have seen many instances of women running to\\nwaste and self-neglect, and disappearing gradually from\\nthe earth, almost as if they had been exhaled to heaven;\\nand have repeatedly fancied that I could trace their\\ndeath through the various declensions of consumption, 30\\ncold, debility, languor, melancholy, until I reached the\\nfirst symptom of disappointed love. But an instance of\\nthe kind was lately told to me the circumstances are\\nwell known in the country where they happened, and", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "86 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nI shall but give them in the manner in which they were\\nrelated.\\nEvery one must recollect the tragical story of young\\nE the Irish patriot it was too touching to be soon\\n5 forgotten. During the troubles in Ireland, he was tried,\\ncondemned, and executed, on a charge of treason. His\\nfate made a deep impression on public sympathy. He\\nwas so young so intelligent so generous so brave\\nso everything that we are apt to like in a young man.\\n10 His conduct under trial, too, was so lofty and intrepid.\\nThe noble indignation with which he repelled the charge\\nof treason against his country the eloquent vindication\\nof his name and his pathetic appeal to posterity in\\nthe hopeless hour of condemnation, all these entered\\n15 deeply into every generous bosom, and even his enemies\\nlamented the stern policy that dictated his execution.\\nBut there was one heart whose anguish it would be\\nimpossible to describe. In happier days and fairer for-\\ntunes, he had won the affections of a beautiful and\\n20 interesting girl, the daughter of a late celebrated Irish\\nbarrister. She loved him with the disinterested fervor\\nof a woman s first and early love. When every worldly\\nmaxim arrayed itself against him when blasted in for-\\ntune, and disgrace and danger darkened around his\\n25 name, she loved him the more ardently for his very\\nsufferings. If, then, his fate could awaken the sympathy\\neven of his foes, what must have been the agony of her\\nwhose whole soul was occupied by his image Let those\\ntell who have had the portals of the tomb suddenly closed\\n30 between them and the being they most loved on earth\\nwho have sat at its threshold, as one shut out in a\\ncold and lonely world, whence all that was most lovely\\nand loving had departed.\\nBut then the horrors of such a grave so frightful, so", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "THE BROKEN HEART 87\\ndishonored there was nothing for memory to dwell on\\nthat could soothe the pang of separation none of those\\ntender though melancholy circumstances, which endear\\nthe parting scene nothing to melt sorrow into those\\nblessed tears, sent like the dews of heaven to revive the 5\\nheart in the parting hour of anguish.\\nTo render her widowed situation more desolate, she\\nhad incurred her father s displeasure by her unfortunate\\nattachment, and was an exile from the paternal roof.\\nBut could the sympathy and kind offices of friends have 10\\nreached a spirit so shocked and driven in by horror, she\\nwould have experienced no want of consolation, for the\\nIrish are a people of quick and generous sensibilities.\\nThe most delicate and cherishing attentions were paid\\nher by families of wealth and distinction. She was led 15\\ninto society, and they tried by all kinds of occupation\\nand amusement to dissipate her grief, and wean her from\\nthe tragical story of her loves. But it was all in vain.\\nThere are some strokes of calamity which scathe and\\nscorch the soul which penetrate to the vital seat of 20\\nhappiness and blast it, never again to put forth bud\\nor blossom. She never objected to frequent the haunts\\nof pleasure, but was as much alone there as in the depths\\nof solitude walking about in a sad reverie, apparently\\nunconscious of the world around her. She carried with 25\\nher an inward woe that mocked at all the blandishments\\nof friendship, and heeded not the song of the charmer,\\ncharm he never so wisely.\\nThe person who told me her story had seen her at\\na masquerade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone 30\\nwretchedness more striking and painful than to meet it\\nin such a scene. To find it wandering like a spectre,\\nlonely and joyless, where all around is gay to see it\\ndressed out in the trappings of mirth, and looking so", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "88 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwan and woe-begone, as if it had tried in vain to cheat\\nthe poor heart into a momentary forgetfulness of sorrow.\\nAfter strolling through the splendid rooms and giddy\\ncrowd with an air of utter abstraction, she sat herself\\n5 down on the steps of an orchestra, and looking about\\nfor some time with a vacant air that showed her insensi-\\nbility to the garish scene, she began, with the capricious-\\nness of a sickly heart, to warble a little plaintive air.\\nShe had an exquisite voice but on this occasion it was\\n10 so simple, so touching, it breathed forth such a soul of\\nwretchedness, that she drew a crowd mute and silent\\naround her, and melted every one into tears.\\nThe story of one so true and tender could not but\\nexcite great interest in a country remarkable for enthu-\\n15 siasm. It completely won the heart of a brave officer,\\nwho paid his addresses to her, and thought that one so\\ntrue to the dead could not but prove affectionate to the\\nliving. She declined his attentions, for her thoughts\\nwere irrevocably engrossed by the memory of her former\\n20 lover. He, however, persisted in his suit. He solicited\\nnot her tenderness, but her esteem. He was assisted by\\nher conviction of his worth and her sense of her own\\ndestitute and dependent situation, for she was existing on\\nthe kindness of friends. In a word, he at length suc-\\n25 ceeded in gaining her hand, though with the solemn\\nassurance that her heart was unalterably another s.\\nHe took her with him to Sicily, hoping that a change\\nof scene might wear out the remembrance of early woes.\\nShe was an amiable and exemplary wife, and made an\\n30 effort to be a happy one but nothing could cure the\\nsilent and devouring melancholy that had entered into\\nher very soul. She wasted away in a slow, but hopeless\\ndecline, and at length sunk into the grave, the victim of\\na broken heart.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "THE BROKEN HEART 89\\nIt was on her that Moore, the distinguished Irish\\npoet, composed the following lines\\nShe is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,\\nAnd lovers around her are sighing\\nBut coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, 5\\nFor her heart in his grave is lying.\\nShe sings the wild songs of her dear native plains,\\nEvery note which he loved awaking\\nAh little they think, who delight in her strains,\\nHow the heart of the minstrel is breaking 10\\nHe had lived for his love for his country he died,\\nThey were all that to life had entwined him\\nNor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,\\nNor long will his love stay behind him\\nOh make her a grave where the sunbeams rest, 15\\nWhen they promise a glorious morrow\\nThey ll shine o er her sleep, like a smile from the west,\\nFrom her own loved island of sorrow", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "THE ART OF BOOK-MAKING\\nIf that severe doom of Synesius be true It is a greater offence to steal\\ndead men s labor, than their clothes, what shall become of most writers\\nBurton s Anatomy of Melancholy.\\nI have often wondered at the extreme fecundity of\\nthe press, and how it comes to pass that so many heads\\non which nature seemed to have inflicted the curse of\\nbarrenness should teem with voluminous productions.\\n5 As a man travels on, however, in the journey of life, his\\nobjects of wonder daily diminish, and he is continually\\nfinding out some very simple cause for some great matter\\nof marvel. Thus have I chanced, in my peregrinations\\nabout this great metropolis, to blunder upon a scene\\nio which unfolded to me some of the mysteries of the book-\\nmaking craft, and at once put an end to my astonish-\\nment.\\nI was one summer s day loitering through the great\\nsaloons of the British Museum, with that listlessness\\n15 with which one is apt to saunter about a museum in\\nwarm weather sometimes lolling over the glass cases\\nof minerals, sometimes studying the hieroglyphics on an\\nEgyptian mummy, and sometimes trying with nearly\\nequal success to comprehend the allegorical paintings\\n20 on the lofty ceilings. Whilst I was gazing about in this\\nidle way, my attention was attracted to a distant door\\nat the end of a suite of apartments. It was closed, but\\nevery now and then it would open, and some strange-\\nfavored being, generally clothed in black, would steal\\n25 forth and glide through the rooms without noticing\\n90", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "THE ART OF BOOK-MAKING 91\\nany of the surrounding objects. There was an air of\\nmystery about this that piqued my languid curiosity,\\nand I determined to attempt the passage of that strait,\\nand to explore the unknown regions beyond. The door\\nyielded to my hand with that facility with which the 5\\nportals of enchanted castles yield to the adventurous\\nknight-errant. I found myself in a spacious chamber,\\nsurrounded with great cases of venerable books. Above\\nthe cases, and just under the cornice, were arranged\\na great number of black-looking portraits of ancient 10\\nauthors. About the room were placed long tables, with\\nstands for reading and writing, at which sat many pale,\\nstudious personages, poring intently over dusty volumes,\\nrummaging among mouldy manuscripts, and taking copi-\\nous notes of their contents. A hushed stillness reigned 15\\nthrough this mysterious apartment, excepting that you\\nmight hear the racing of pens over sheets of paper, or\\noccasionally the deep sigh of one of these sages, as he\\nshifted his position to turn over the page of an old folio\\ndoubtless arising from that hollowness and flatulency 20\\nincident to learned research.\\nNow and then one of these personages would write\\nsomething on a small slip of paper, and ring a bell\\nwhereupon a familiar would appear, take the paper in\\nprofound silence, glide out of the room, and return 25\\nshortly loaded with ponderous tomes, upon which the\\nother would fall tooth and nail with famished voracity.\\nI had no longer a doubt that I had happened upon a\\nbody of magi, deeply engaged in the study of occult\\nsciences. The scene reminded me of an old Arabian 30\\ntale, of a philosopher shut up in an enchanted library\\nin the bosom of a mountain, which opened only once\\na year where he made the spirits of the place bring.\\nhim books of all kinds of dark knowledge, so that at", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "92 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nthe end of the year, when the magic portal once more\\nswung open on its hinges, he issued forth so versed in\\nforbidden lore, as to be able to soar above the heads of\\nthe multitude, and to control the powers of nature.\\n5 My curiosity being now fully aroused, I whispered to\\none of the familiars as he was about to leave the room,\\nand begged an interpretation of the strange scene before\\nme. A few words were sufficient for the purpose. I\\nfound that these mysterious personages, whom I had\\n10 mistaken for magi, were principally authors, and in the\\nvery act of manufacturing books. I was, in fact, in the\\nreading-room of the great British Library an immense\\ncollection of volumes of all ages and languages, many of\\nwhich are now forgotten, and most of which are seldom\\n15 read: one of these sequestered pools of obsolete litera-\\nture, to which modern authors repair, and draw buckets\\nfull of classic lore, or pure English, undenled, where-\\nwith to swell their own scanty rills of thought.\\nBeing now in possession of the secret, I sat down in a\\n20 corner, and watched the process of this book manufac-\\ntory. I noticed one lean, bilious-looking wight, who\\nsought none but the most worm-eaten volumes printed\\nin black-letter. He was evidently constructing some\\nwork of profound erudition, that would be purchased\\n25 by every man who wished to be thought learned, placed\\nupon a conspicuous shelf of his library, or laid open\\nupon his table, but never read. I observed him now\\nand then draw a large fragment of biscuit out of his\\npocket, and gnaw whether it was his dinner, or whether\\n30 he was endeavoring to keep off that exhaustion of the\\nstomach produced by much pondering over dry works, I\\nleave to harder students than myself to determine.\\nThere was one dapper little gentleman in bright-\\ncolored clothes, with a chirping, gossiping expression of", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "THE ART OF BOOK-MAKING 93\\ncountenance, who had all the appearance of an author\\non good terms with his bookseller. After considering\\nhim attentively, I recognized in him a diligent getter-up\\nof miscellaneous works, which bustled off well with the\\ntrade. I was curious to see how he manufactured his 5\\nwares. He made more stir and show of business than\\nany of the others dipping into various books, fluttering\\nover the leaves of manuscripts, taking a morsel out of\\none, a morsel out of another, line upon line, precept\\nupon precept, here a little and there a little. The con- 10\\ntents of his book seemed to be as heterogeneous as those\\nof the witches caldron in Macbeth. It was here a finger\\nand there a thumb, toe of frog and blind-worm s\\nsting, with his own gossip poured in like baboon s\\nblood, to make the medley slab and good. 15\\nAfter all, thought I, may not this pilfering disposition\\nbe implanted in authors for wise purposes may it not\\nbe the way in which Providence has taken care that the\\nseeds of knowledge and wisdom shall be preserved from\\nage to age, in spite of the inevitable decay of the works 20\\nin which they were first produced We see that nature\\nhas wisely, though whimsically, provided for the convey-\\nance of seeds from clime to clime in the maws of certain\\nbirds so that animals which in themselves are little\\nbetter than carrion, and apparently the lawless plunder- 25\\ners of the orchard and the cornfield, are, in fact, nature s\\ncarriers to disperse and perpetuate her blessings. In\\nlike manner, the beauties and fine thoughts of ancient\\nand obsolete authors are caught up by these flights of\\npredatory writers, and cast forth again to flourish and 30\\nbear fruit in a remote and distant tract .of time. Many\\nof their works, also, undergo a kind of metempsychosis,\\nand spring up under new forms. What was formerly a\\nponderous history revives in the shape of a romance,", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "94 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nan old legend changes into a modern play, and a sober\\nphilosophical treatise furnishes the body for a whole\\nseries of bouncing and sparkling essays. Thus it is in\\nthe clearing of our American woodlands where we burn\\n5 down a forest of stately pines, a progeny of dwarf oaks\\nstart up in their place and we never see the prostrate\\ntrunk of a tree mouldering into soil, but it gives birth to\\na whole tribe of fungi.\\nLet us not, then, lament over the decay and oblivion\\n10 into which ancient writers descend they do but submit\\nto the great law of nature which declares that all sublu-\\nnary shapes of matter shall be limited in their duration,\\nbut which decrees also that their elements shall never\\nperish. Generation after generation, both in animal and\\n15 vegetable life, passes away, but the vital principle is\\ntransmitted to posterity, and the species continue to\\nflourish. Thus also do authors beget authors, and hav-\\ning produced a numerous progeny, in a good old age\\nthey sleep with their fathers, that is to say, with the\\n20 authors who preceded them and from whom they had\\nstolen.\\nWhilst I was indulging in these rambling fancies, I\\nhad leaned my head against a pile of reverend folios.\\nWhether it was owing to the soporific emanations from\\n25 these works, or to the profound quiet of the room, or to\\nthe lassitude arising from much wandering, or to an\\nunlucky habit of napping at improper times and places\\nwith which I am grievously afflicted, so it was that I\\nfell into a doze. Still, however, my imagination con-\\n3\u00c2\u00b0 tinued busy, and indeed the same scene remained before\\nmy mind s eye, .only a little changed in some of the de-\\ntails. I dreamt that the chamber was still decorated\\nwith the portraits of ancient authors, but that the num-\\nber was increased. The long tables had disappeared,", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "THE ART OF BOOK-MAKING 95\\nand in place of the sage magi I beheld a ragged, thread-\\nbare throng, such as may be seen plying about the great\\nrepository of cast-off clothes, Monmouth Street. When-\\never they seized upon a book, by one of those incongru-\\nities common to dreams, methought it turned into a 5\\ngarment of foreign or antique fashion, with which they\\nproceeded to equip themselves. I noticed, however, that\\nno one pretended to clothe himself from any particular\\nsuit, but took a sleeve from one, a cape from another, a\\nskirt from a third, thus decking himself out piecemeal, 10\\nwhile some of his original rags would peep out from\\namong his borrowed finery.\\nThere was a portly, rosy, well-fed parson, whom I ob-\\nserved ogling several mouldy polemical writers through\\nan eye-glass. He soon contrived to slip on the volumi- 15\\nnous mantle of one of the old fathers, and, having pur-\\nloined the gray beard of another, endeavored to look\\nexceedingly wise but the smirking commonplace of his\\ncountenance set at naught all the trappings of wisdom.\\nOne sickly looking gentleman was busied embroidering a 20\\nvery flimsy garment with gold thread drawn out of sev-\\neral old court-dresses of the reign of Queen Elizabeth.\\nAnother had trimmed himself magnificently from an illu-\\nminated manuscript, had stuck a nosegay in his bosom,\\nculled from The Pa?-adise of Daintie Devices, and hav- 25\\ning put Sir Philip Sidney s hat on one side of his head,\\nstrutted off with an exquisite air of vulgar elegance.\\nA third, who was but of puny dimensions, had bolstered\\nhimself out bravely with the spoils from several obscure\\ntracts of philosophy, so that he had a very imposing 30\\nfront but he was lamentably tattered in rear, and I\\nperceived that he had patched his small-clothes with\\nscraps of parchment from a Latin author.\\nThere were some well-dressed gentlemen, it is true,", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "96 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwho only helped themselves to a gem or so, which\\nsparkled among their own ornaments without eclipsing\\nthem. Some, too, seemed to contemplate the costumes\\nof the old writers merely to imbibe their principles of\\n5 taste, and to catch their air and spirit but I grieve to\\nsay that too many were apt to array themselves from\\ntop to toe in the patchwork manner I have mentioned.\\nI shall not omit to speak of one genius, in drab breeches\\nand gaiters and an Arcadian hat, who had a violent\\nio propensity to the pastoral, but whose rural wanderings\\nhad been confined to the classic haunts of Primrose Hill\\nand the solitudes of the Regent s Park. He had decked\\nhimself in wreaths and ribbons from all the old pastoral\\npoets, and, hanging his head on one side, went about\\n15 with a fantastical lackadaisical air, babbling about\\ngreen fields. But the personage that most struck my\\nattention was a pragmatical old gentleman in clerical\\nrobes, with a remarkably large and square but bald\\nhead. He entered the room wheezing and puffing,\\n20 elbowed his way through the throng with a look of\\nsturdy self-confidence, and having laid hands upon a\\nthick Greek quarto, clapped it upon his head, and swept\\nmajestically away in a formidable frizzled wig.\\nIn the height of this literary masquerade, a cry sud-\\n25 denly resounded from every side, of Thieves! thieves!\\nI looked, and lo the portraits about the wall became\\nanimated The old authors thrust out, first a head,\\nthen a shoulder, from the canvas, looked down curiously\\nfor an instant upon the motley throng, and then de-\\n30 scended, with fury in their eyes to claim their rifled prop-\\nerty. The scene of scampering and hubbub that ensued\\nbaffles all description. The unhappy culprits endeavored\\nin vain to escape with their plunder. On one side might\\nbe seen half a dozen old monks stripping a modern", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "THE ART OF BOOK-MAKING 97\\nprofessor on another there was sad devastation carried\\ninto the ranks of modern dramatic writers. Beaumont\\nand Fletcher, side by side, raged round the field like\\nCastor and Pollux, and sturdy Ben Jonson enacted more\\nwonders than when a volunteer with the army in Flan- 5\\nders. As to the dapper little compiler of farragos, men-\\ntioned some time since, he had arrayed himself in as\\nmany patches and colors as Harlequin, and there was as\\nfierce a contention of claimants about him as about the\\ndead body of Patroclus. I was grieved to see many men 10\\nto whom I had been accustomed to look up with awe\\nand reverence fain to steal off with scarce a rag to cover\\ntheir nakedness. Just then my eye was caught by the\\npragmatical old gentleman in the Greek grizzled wig,\\nwho was scrambling away in sore affright with half a 15\\nscore of authors in full cry after him They were close\\nupon his haunches: in a twinkling off went his wig; at\\nevery turn some strip of raiment was peeled away until\\nin a few moments, from his domineering pomp, he shrunk\\ninto a little, pursy, chopped bald shot, and made his 20\\nexit with only a few tags and rags fluttering at his back.\\nThere was something so ludicrous in the catastrophe\\nof this learned Theban that I burst into an immoderate\\nfit of laughter, which broke the whole illusion. The\\ntumult and the scuffle were at an end. The chamber 25\\nresumed its usual appearance. The old authors shrunk\\nback into their picture-frames, and hung in shadowy\\nsolemnity along the walls. In short, I found myself\\nwide awake in my corner, with the whole assemblage of\\nbook-worms gazing at me with astonishment. Nothing 30\\nof the dream had been real but my burst of laughter, a\\nsound never before heard in that grave sanctuary, and\\nso abhorrent to the ears of wisdom as to electrify the\\nfraternity.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "98 THE SKE TCH BOOK\\nThe librarian now stepped up to me, and demanded\\nwhether I had a card of admission. At first I did not\\ncomprehend him, but I soon found that the library was\\na kind of literary preserve subject to game-laws, and\\n5 that no one must presume to hunt there without special\\nlicense and permission. In a word I stood convicted\\nof being an arrant poacher, and was glad to make a\\nprecipitate retreat, lest I should have a whole pack of\\nauthors let loose upon me.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "A ROYAL POET\\nThough your body be confined,\\nAnd soft love a prisoner bound\\nYet the beauty of your mind\\nNeither check nor chain hath found.\\nLook out nobly, then, and dare\\nEven the fetters that you wear.\\nFletcher.\\nOn a soft sunny morning in the genial month of May,\\nI made an excursion to Windsor Castle. It is a place\\nfull of storied and poetical associations. The very ex-\\nternal aspect of the proud old pile is enough to inspire\\nhigh thought. It rears its irregular walls and massive 5\\ntowers like a mural crown round the brow of a lofty\\nridge, waves its royal banner in the clouds, and looks\\ndown with a lordly air upon the surrounding world.\\nOn this morning the weather was of that voluptuous\\nvernal kind which calls forth all the latent romance of 10\\na man s temperament, filling his mind with music, and\\ndisposing him to quote poetry and dream of beauty.\\nIn wandering through the magnificent saloons and long\\nechoing galleries of the castle, I passed with indifference\\nby whole rows of portraits of warriors and statesmen, 15\\nbut lingered in the chamber where hang the likenesses\\nof the beauties which graced the gay court of Charles\\nthe Second and as I gazed upon them, depicted with\\namorous, half-dishevelled tresses, and the sleepy eye of\\nlove, I blessed the pencil of Sir Peter Lely, which had 20\\nthus enabled me to bask in the reflected rays of beauty.\\nIn traversing also the large green courts, with sun-\\nLofC. 99", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "100 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nshine beaming on the gray walls, and glancing along the\\nvelvet turf, my mind was engrossed with the image of\\nthe tender, the gallant, but hapless Surrey, and his\\naccount of his loiterings about them in his stripling\\n5 days, when enamored of the Lady Geraldine\\nWith eyes cast up unto the maiden s tower,\\nWith easie sighs, such as men draw in love.\\nIn this mood of mere poetical susceptibility, I visited\\nthe ancient Keep of the Castle, where James the First\\nio of Scotland, the pride and theme of Scottish poets and\\nhistorians, was for many years of his youth detained a\\nprisoner of state. It is a large gray tower that has\\nstood the brunt of ages, and is still in good preserva-\\ntion. It stands on a mound, which elevates it above\\n15 the other parts of the castle, and a great flight of steps\\nleads to the interior. In the armory, a Gothic hall,\\nfurnished with weapons of various kinds and ages, I\\nwas shown a coat of armor hanging against the wall,\\nwhich had once belonged to James. Hence I was con-\\n20 ducted up a staircase to a suite of apartments of faded\\nmagnificence, hung with storied tapestry, which formed\\nhis prison, and the scene of that passionate and fanci-\\nful amour, which has woven into the web of his story\\nthe magical hues of poetry and fiction.\\n25 The whole history of this amiable but unfortunate\\nprince is highly romantic. At the tender age of eleven\\nhe was sent from home by his father, Robert Third, and\\ndestined for the French court, to be reared under the\\neye of the French monarch, secure from the treachery\\n30 and danger that surrounded the royal house of Scot-\\nland. It was his mishap in the course of his voyage to\\nfall into the hafi ds of the English, and he was detained", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0140.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "A ROYAL POET 101\\nprisoner by Henry Fourth, notwithstanding that a truce\\nexisted between the two countries.\\nThe intelligence of his capture, coming in the train\\nof many sorrows and disasters, proved fatal to his un-\\nhappy father. The news, we are told, was brought 5\\nto him while at supper, and did so overwhelm him with\\ngrief, that he was almost ready to give up the ghost\\ninto the hands of the servant that attended him. But\\nbeing carried to his bed-chamber, he abstained from\\nall food, and in three days died of hunger and grief 10\\nat Rothesay. 1\\nJames was detained in captivity above eighteen years\\nbut though deprived of personal liberty, he was treated\\nwith the respect due to his rank. Care was taken to\\ninstruct him in all the branches of useful knowledge 15\\ncultivated at that period, and to give him those mental\\nand personal accomplishments deemed proper for a\\nprince. Perhaps in this respect his imprisonment was\\nan advantage, as it enabled him to apply himself the\\nmore exclusively to his improvement, and quietly to 20\\nimbibe that rich fund of knowledge and to cherish\\nthose elegant tastes which have given such a lustre to\\nhis memory. The picture drawn of him in early life,\\nby the Scottish historians, is highly captivating, and\\nseems rather the description of a hero of romance than 25\\nof a character in real history. He was well learnt, we\\nare told, to fight with the sword, to joust, to tournay,\\nto wrestle, to sing and dance he was an expert medici-\\nner, right crafty in playing both of lute and harp, and\\nsundry other instruments of music, and was expert in 30\\ngrammar, oratory, and poetry. 2\\nWith this combination of manly and delicate accom-\\n1 Buchanan.\\n2 Ballenden s Translation of Hector Boyce.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0141.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "102 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nplishments, fitting him to shine both in active and ele-\\ngant life and calculated to give him an intense relish for\\njoyous existence, it must have been a severe trial, in an\\nage of bustle and chivalry, to pass the spring-time of\\n5 his years in monotonous captivity. It was the good\\nfortune of James, however, to be gifted with a powerful\\npoetic fancy, and to be visited in his prison by the\\nchoicest inspirations of the muse. Some minds corrode\\nand grow inactive under the loss of personal liberty\\n10 others grow morbid and irritable but it is the nature\\nof the poet to become tender and imaginative in the\\nloneliness of confinement. He banquets upon the honey\\nof his own thoughts, and, like the captive bird, pours\\nforth his soul in melody.\\n15 Have you not seen the nightingale,\\nA pilgrim coop d into a cage,\\nHow doth she chant her wonted tale,\\nIn that her lonely hermitage\\nEven there her charming melody doth prove\\n20 That all her boughs are trees, her cage a grove. 1\\nIndeed, it is the divine attribute of the imagination,\\nthat it is irrepressible, unconfmable; that when the\\nreal world is shut out, it can create a world for itself,\\nand with a necromantic power can conjure up glorious\\n25 shapes and forms and brilliant visions, to make soli-\\ntude populous and irradiate the gloom of the dungeon.\\nSuch was the world of pomp and pageant that lived\\nround Tasso in his dismal cell at Ferrara, when he\\nconceived the splendid scenes of his Jerusalem and\\n30 we may consider the King s Quair, composed by James\\nduring his captivity at Windsor, as another of those\\n1 Roger L Estrange.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0142.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "A ROYAL POET 103\\nbeautiful breakings-forth of the soul from the restraint\\nand gloom of the prison house.\\nThe subject of the poem is his love for the Lady\\nJane Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset, and\\na princess of the blood royal of England, of whom he 5\\nbecame enamored in the course of his captivity. What\\ngives it a peculiar value is that it may be considered\\na transcript of the royal bard s true feelings, and the\\nstory of his real loves and fortunes. It is not often\\nthat sovereigns write poetry, or that poets deal in fact. 10\\nIt is gratifying to the pride of a common man to find\\na monarch thus suing, as it were, for admission into\\nhis closet, and seeking to win his favor by adminis-\\ntering to his pleasures. It is a proof of the honest\\nequality of intellectual competition, which strips off all 15\\nthe trappings of factitious dignity, brings the candi-\\ndate down to a level with his fellow-men, and obliges\\nhim to depend on his own native powers for distinction.\\nIt is curious, too, to get at the history of a monarch s\\nheart, and to find the simple affections of human nature 20\\nthrobbing under the ermine. But James had learnt to\\nbe a poet before he was a king he was schooled in ad-\\nversity, and reared in the company of his own thoughts.\\nMonarchs have seldom time to parley with their hearts,\\nor to meditate their minds into poetry and had James 25\\nbeen brought up amidst the adulation and gayety of a\\ncourt, we should never, in all probability, have had such\\na poem as the Quair.\\nI have been particularly interested by those parts\\nof the poem which breathe his immediate thoughts 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nconcerning his situation, or which are connected\\nwith the apartment in the tower. They have thus\\na personal and local charm, and are given with such\\ncircumstantial truth as* to make the reader present", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0143.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "104 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwith the captive in his prison, and the companion of\\nhis meditations.\\nSuch is the account which he gives of his weariness\\nof spirit, and of the incident which first suggested the\\n5 idea of writing the poem. It was the still midwatch\\nof a clear moonlight night the stars, he says, were\\ntwinkling as fire in the high vault of heaven and\\nCynthia rinsing her golden locks in Aquarius. He\\nlay in bed wakeful and restless, and took a book to\\nio beguile the tedious hours. The book he chose was\\nBoetius Co7isolations of Philosophy, a work popular\\namong the writers of that day, and which had been\\ntranslated by his great prototype Chaucer. From the\\nhigh eulogium in which he indulges, it is evident this\\n15 was one of his favorite volumes while in prison: and\\nindeed it is an admirable text-book for meditation\\nunder adversity. It is the legacy of a noble and endur-\\ning spirit, purified by sorrow and suffering, bequeath-\\ning to its successors in calamity the maxims of sweet\\n20 morality and the trains of eloquent but simple reason-\\ning by which it was enabled to bear up against the\\nvarious ills of life. It is a talisman which the unfortu-\\nnate may treasure up in his bosom, or, like the good\\nKing James, lay upon his nightly pillow.\\n25 After closing the volume, he turns its contents over\\nin his mind, and gradually falls into a fit of musing on\\nthe fickleness of fortune, the vicissitudes of his own\\nlife, and the evils that had overtaken him even in his\\ntender youth. Suddenly he hears the bell ringing to\\n30 matins but its sound, chiming in with his melancholy\\nfancies, seems to him like a voice exhorting him to\\nwrite his story. In the spirit of poetic errantry he\\ndetermines to comply with this intimation: he there-\\nfore takes pen in hand, maizes with it a sign of the", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0144.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "A ROYAL POET 105\\ncross to implore a benediction, and sallies forth into\\nthe fairy land of poetry. There is something extremely\\nfanciful in all this, and it is interesting as furnishing a\\nstriking and beautiful instance of the simple manner in\\nwhich whole trains of poetical thought are sometimes 5\\nawakened, and literary enterprises suggested to the mind.\\nIn the course of his poem he more than once bewails\\nthe peculiar hardness of his fate thus doomed to lonely\\nand inactive life, and shut up from the freedom and\\npleasure of the world in which the meanest animal 10\\nindulges unrestrained. There is a sweetness, however,\\nin his very complaints they are the lamentations of\\nan amiable and social spirit at being denied the indul-\\ngence of its kind and generous propensities there is\\nnothing in them harsh nor exaggerated; they flow with 15\\na natural and touching pathos, and are perhaps ren-\\ndered more touching by their simple brevity. They\\ncontrast finely with those elaborate and iterated repin-\\nings which we sometimes meet with in poetry, the\\neffusions of morbid minds sickening under miseries of 20\\ntheir own creating, and venting their bitterness upon\\nan unoffending world. James speaks of his privations\\nwith acute sensibility, but having mentioned them\\npasses on, as if his manly mind disdained to brood\\nover unavoidable calamities. When such a spirit breaks 25\\nforth into complaint, however brief, we are aware how\\ngreat must be the suffering that extorts the murmur.\\nWe sympathize with James, a romantic, active, and\\naccomplished prince, cut off in the lustihood of youth\\nfrom all the enterprise, the noble uses, and vigorous 3\u00c2\u00b0\\ndelights of life as we do with Milton, alive to all the\\nbeauties of nature and glories of art, when he breathes\\nforth brief, but deep-toned lamentations over his per-\\npetual blindness.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0145.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "106 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nHad not James evinced a deficiency of poetic artifice,\\nwe might almost have suspected that these lowerings\\nof gloomy reflection were meant as preparative to the\\nbrightest scene of his story and to contrast with that\\n5 refulgence of light and loveliness, that exhilarating ac-\\ncompaniment of bird and song, and foliage and flower,\\nand all the revel of the year, with which he ushers in\\nthe lady of his heart. It is this scene, in particular,\\nwhich throws all the magic of romance about the old\\n10 Castle Keep. He had risen, he says, at daybreak,\\naccording to custom, to escape from the dreary medi-\\ntations of a sleepless pillow. Bewailing in his cham-\\nber thus alone, despairing of all joy and remedy,\\nfortired of thought and wobegone, he had wandered\\n15 to the window, to indulge the captive s miserable solace\\nof gazing wistfully upon the world from which he is\\nexcluded. The window looked forth upon a small gar-\\nden which lay at the foot of the tower. It was a quiet,\\nsheltered spot, adorned with arbors and green alleys,\\n20 and protected from the passing gaze by trees and haw-\\nthorn hedges.\\nNow was there made, fast by the tower s wall,\\nA garden faire, and in the corners set\\nAn arbour green with wandis long and small\\n2 e Railed about, and so with leaves beset\\nWas all the place and hawthorn hedges knet,\\n4 That lyf was none, walkyng there forbye\\nThat might within scarce any wight espye.\\nSo thick the branches and the leves grene,\\n30 Beshaded all the alleys that there were,\\nAnd midst of every arbour might be sene\\nThe sharpe, grene, swete juniper,\\n1 Lyf Person.\\nNote. -The language of the quotations is generally modernized.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0146.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "A ROYAL POET 107\\nGrowing so fair, with branches here and there,\\nThat as it seemed to a lyf without,\\nThe boughs did spread the arbour all about.\\nAnd on the small grene twistis 1 set\\nThe lytel swete nightingales, and sung 5\\nSo loud and clear, the hymnis consecrate\\nOf lovis use, now soft, now loud among,\\nThat all the garden and the wallis rung\\nRight of their song\\nIt was the month of May, when everything was in 10\\nbloom and he interprets the song of the nightingale\\ninto the language of his enamored feeling\\nWorship, all ye that lovers be, this May,\\nFor of your bliss the kalends are begun,\\nAnd sing with us, away, winter, away, 15\\nCome, summer, come, the sweet season and sun.\\nAs he gazes on the scene and listens to the notes of\\nthe birds, he gradually relapses into one of those tender\\nand undefinable reveries which fill the youthful bosom\\nin this delicious season. He wonders what this love 20\\nmay be of which he has so often read, and which thus\\nseems breathed forth in the quickening breath of May,\\nand melting all nature into ecstasy and song. If it\\nreally be so great a felicity, and if it be a boon thus\\ngenerally dispensed to the most insignificant beings, 25\\nwhy is he alone cut off from its enjoyments\\nOft would I think, O Lord, what may this be,\\nThat love is of such noble myght and kynde\\nLoving his folke, and such prosperitee\\nIs it of him, as we in books do find 30\\n1 Twistis, small boughs or twigs.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0147.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "108 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nl\\nMay he oure hertes setten 1 and unbynd\\nHath he upon our hertes such maistrye\\nOr is all this but feynit f antasye\\nFor giff he be of so grete excellence,\\n5 That he of every wight hath care and charge,\\nWhat have I gilt 2 to him, or done offense,\\nThat I am thral d, and birdis go at large\\nIn the midst of his musing, as he casts his eye down-\\nward, he beholds the fairest and the freshest young\\n10 floure that ever he had seen. It is the lovely Lady\\nJane, walking in the garden to enjoy the beauty of that\\nfresh May morrowe. Breaking thus suddenly upon\\nhis sight, in the moment of loneliness and excited sus-\\nceptibility, she at once captivates the fancy of the\\n15 romantic prince, and becomes the object of his wander-\\ning wishes, the sovereign of his ideal world.\\nThere is, in this charming scene, an evident resem-\\nblance to the early part of Chaucer s Knighfs Tale;\\nwhere Palamon and Arcite fall in love with Emilia,\\n20 whom they see walking in the garden of their prison.\\nPerhaps the similarity of the actual fact to the incident\\nwhich he had read in Chaucer may have induced James\\nto dwell on it in his poem. His description of the Lady\\nJane is given in the picturesque and minute manner of\\n25 his master and being doubtless taken from the life, is\\na perfect portrait of a beauty of that day. He dwells\\nwith the fondness of a lover on every article of her\\napparel, from the net of pearl splendent with emeralds\\nand sapphires that confined her golden hair, even to\\n30 the goodly chaine of small orfeverye 3 about her neck,\\nwhereby there hung a ruby in shape of a heart, that\\n1 Setten, incline. 3 Wrought gold.\\n2 Gilt, what injury have I done, etc.", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0148.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "A ROYAL POET 109\\nseemed, he says, like a spark of fire burning upon her\\nwhite bosom. Her dress of white tissue was looped up\\nto enable her to walk with more freedom. She was\\naccompanied by two female attendants, and about her\\nsported a little hound decorated with bells probably 5\\nthe small Italian hound of exquisite symmetry, which\\nwas a parlor favorite and pet among the fashionable\\ndames of ancient times. James closes his description\\nby a burst of general eulogium\\nIn her was youth, beauty, with humble port, 10\\nBounty, richesse, and womanly feature\\nGod better knows than my pen can report,\\nWisdom, largesse, 1 estate, 2 and cunning 3 sure,\\nIn every point so guided her measure,\\nIn word, in deed, in shape, in countenance, 15\\nThat nature might no more her child advance.\\nThe departure of the Lady Jane from the garden puts an\\nend to this transient riot of the heart. With her departs\\nthe amorous illusion that had shed a temporary charm\\nover the scene of his captivity, and he relapses into lone- 20\\nliness, now rendered tenfold more intolerable by this\\npassing beam of unattainable beauty. Through the\\nlong and weary day he repines at his unhappy lot, and\\nwhen evening approaches, and Phcebus, as he beautifully\\nexpresses it, had bade farewell to every leaf and flower, 25\\nhe still lingers at the window, and, laying his head upon\\nthe cold stone, gives vent to a mingled flow of love and\\nsorrow, until, gradually lulled by the mute melancholy of\\nthe twilight hour, he lapses, half sleeping, half swoon,\\ninto a vision, which occupies the remainder of the poem, 30\\nand in which is allegorically shadowed out the history\\nof his passion.\\n1 Largesse, bounty. 2 Estate, dignity. 3 Cunning, discretion.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0149.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "110 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nWhen he wakes from his trance, he rises from his\\nstony pillow, and, pacing his apartment, full of dreary\\nreflections, questions his spirit, whither it has been\\nwandering whether, indeed, all that has passed before\\n5 his dreaming fancy has been conjured up by preceding\\ncircumstances or whether it is a vision intended to\\ncomfort and assure him in his despondency. If the\\nlatter, he prays that some token may be sent to confirm\\nthe promise of happier days given him in his slumbers.\\n10 Suddenly a turtle dove of the purest whiteness comes\\nflying in at the window, and alights upon his hand,\\nbearing in her bill a branch of red gilliflower, on the\\nleaves of which is written in letters of gold the follow-\\ning sentence\\n1 5 Awake awake I bring, lover, I bring\\nThe newis glad that blissful is, and sure\\nOf thy comfort now laugh, and play, and sing,\\nFor in the heaven decretit is thy cure.\\nHe receives the branch with mingled hope and dread;\\n20 reads it with rapture and this, he says, was the first\\ntoken of his succeeding happiness. Whether this is a\\nmere poetic fiction, or whether the Lady Jane did ac-\\ntually send him a token of her favor in this romantic\\nway, remains to be determined according to the faith\\n25 or fancy of the reader. He concludes his poem by\\nintimating that the promise conveyed in the vision and\\nby the flower is fulfilled by his being restored to liberty,\\nand made happy in the possession of the sovereign of\\nhis heart.\\n30 Such is the poetical account given by James of his\\nlove adventures in Windsor Castle. How much of it is\\nabsolute fact, and how much the embellishment of fancy,\\nit is fruitless to conjecture let us not, however, reject", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0150.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "A ROYAL POET 111\\nevery romantic incident as incompatible with real life\\nbut let us sometimes take a poet at his word. I have\\nnoticed merely those parts of the poem immediately\\nconnected with the tower, and have passed over a large\\npart written in the allegorical vein so much cultivated 5\\nat that day. The language, of course, is quaint and\\nantiquated, so that the beauty of many of its golden\\nphrases will scarcely be perceived at the present day\\nbut it is impossible not to be charmed with the genu-\\nine sentiment, the delightful artlessness and urbanity, 10\\nwhich prevail throughout it. The descriptions of nature\\ntoo, with which it is embellished, are given with a truth,\\na discrimination, and a freshness, worthy of the most\\ncultivated periods of the art.\\nAs an amatory poem, it is edifying in tnese days of 15\\ncoarser thinking, to notice the nature, refinement, and\\nexquisite delicacy which pervade it banishing every\\ngross thought or immodest expression, and presenting\\nfemale loveliness clothed in all its chivalrous attributes\\nof almost supernatural purity and grace. 20\\nJames nourished nearly about the time of Chaucer\\nand Gower, and was evidently an admirer and studier\\nof their writings. Indeed in one of his stanzas he\\nacknowledges them as his masters and in some parts\\nof his poem we find traces of similarity to their produc- 25\\ntions, more especially to those of Chaucer. There are\\nalways, however, general features of resemblance in the\\nworks of contemporary authors which are not so much\\nborrowed from each other as from the times. Writers,\\nlike bees, toll their sweets in the wide world they incor- 30\\nporate with their own conceptions the anecdotes and\\nthoughts current in society and thus each generation\\nhas some features in common, characteristic of the age\\nin which it lived.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0151.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "112 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nJames belongs to one of the most brilliant eras of\\nour literary history, and establishes the claims of his\\ncountry to a participation in its primitive honors.\\nWhilst a small cluster of English writers are con-\\n5 stantly cited as the fathers of our verse, the name of\\ntheir great Scottish compeer is apt to be passed over in\\nsilence but he is evidently worthy of being enrolled in\\nthat little constellation of remote but never-failing lumi-\\nnaries who shine in the highest firmament of literature,\\nio and who, like morning stars, sang together at the bright\\ndawning of British poesy.\\nSuch of my readers as may not be familiar with Scot-\\ntish history (though the manner in which it has of late\\nbeen woven with captivating fiction has made it a uni-\\n15 versal study) may be curious to learn something of the\\nsubsequent history of James and the fortunes of his\\nlove. His passion for the Lady Jane, as it was the\\nsolace of his captivity, so it facilitated his release, it\\nbeing imagined by the court that a connection with\\n20 the blood royal of England would attach him to its\\nown interests. He was ultimately restored to his lib-\\nerty and crown, having previously espoused the Lady\\nJane, who accompanied him to Scotland, and made him\\na most tender and devoted wife.\\n25 He found his kingdom in great confusion, the feudal\\nchieftains having taken advantage of the troubles and\\nirregularities of a long interregnum to strengthen them-\\nselves in their possessions, and place themselves above\\nthe power of the laws. James sought to found the basis\\n30 of his power in the affections of his people. He attached\\nthe lower orders to him by the reformation of abuses, the\\ntemperate and equable administration of justice, the en-\\ncouragement of the arts of peace, and the promotion of\\neverything that could diffuse comfort, competency, and", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0152.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "A ROYAL POET 113\\ninnocent enjoyment through the humblest ranks of soci-\\nety. He mingled occasionally among the common people\\nin disguise visited their firesides entered into their\\ncares, their pursuits, and their amusements informed\\nhimself of the mechanical arts, and how they could 5\\nbest be patronized and improved and was thus an all-\\npervading spirit watching with a benevolent eye over\\nthe meanest of his subjects. Having in this generous\\nmanner made himself strong in the hearts of the com-\\nmon people, he turned himself to curb the power of the ic\\nfactious nobility to strip them of those dangerous im-\\nmunities which they had usurped to punish such as had\\nbeen guilty of flagrant offences and to bring the whole\\ninto proper obedience to the crown. For some time\\nthey bore this with outward submission, but with secret 15\\nimpatience and brooding resentment. A conspiracy was\\nat length formed against his life, at the head of which\\nwas his own uncle, Robert Stewart, Earl of Athol, who,\\nbeing too old himself for the perpetration of the deed\\nof blood, instigated his grandson Sir Robert Stewart, 20\\ntogether with Sir Robert Graham and others of less\\nnote, to commit the deed. They broke into his bed-\\nchamber at the Dominican Convent near Perth, where\\nhe was residing, and barbarously murdered him by oft-\\nrepeated wounds. His faithful queen, rushing to throw 25\\nher tender body between him and the sword, was twice\\nwounded in the ineffectual attempt to shield him from\\nthe assassin and it was not until she had been forcibly\\ntorn from his person that the murder was accomplished.\\nIt was the recollection of this romantic tale of former 30\\ntimes, and of the golden little poem which had its birth-\\nplace in this Tower, that made me visit the old pile with\\nmore than common interest. The suit of armor hanging\\nup in the hall, richly gilt and embellished, as if to figure", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0153.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "114 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nin the tournay, brought the image of the gallant and\\nromantic prince vividly before my imagination. I paced\\nthe deserted chambers where he had composed his poem;\\nI leaned upon the window, and endeavored to persuade\\n5 myself it was the very one where he had been visited by\\nhis vision I looked out upon the spot where he had\\nfirst seen the Lady Jane. It was the same genial and\\njoyous month the birds were again vying with each\\nother in strains of liquid melody everything was burst-\\n10 ing into vegetation, and budding forth the tender prom-\\nise of the year. Time, which delights to obliterate the\\nsterner memorials of human pride, seems to have passed\\nlightly over this little scene of poetry and love, and to\\nhave withheld his desolating hand. Several centuries\\n15 have gone by, yet the garden still flourishes at the foot\\nof the Tower. It occupies what was once the moat of\\nthe Keep and though some parts have been separated\\nby dividing walls, yet others have still their arbors and\\nshaded walks, as in the days of James, and the whole\\n20 is sheltered, blooming, and retired. There is a charm\\nabout a spot that has been printed by the footsteps of\\ndeparted beauty, and consecrated by the inspirations of\\nthe poet, which is heightened, rather than impaired, by\\nthe lapse of ages. It is, indeed, the gift of poetry to\\n25 hallow every place in which it moves-; to breathe around\\nnature an odor more exquisite than the perfume of the\\nrose, and to shed over it a tint more magical than the\\nblush of morning.\\nOthers may dwell on the illustrious deeds of James as\\n30 a warrior and legislator but I have delighted to view\\nhim merely as the companion of his fellow-men, the\\nbenefactor of the human heart, stooping from his high\\nestate to sow the sweet flowers of poetry and song in the\\npaths of common life. He was the first to cultivate the", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0154.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "A ROYAL POET 115\\nvigorous and hardy plant of Scottish genius, which has\\nsince become so prolific of the most wholesome and\\nhighly flavored fruit. He carried with him into the\\nsterner regions of the north all the fertilizing arts of\\nsouthern refinement. He did everything in his power 5\\nto win his countrymen to the gay, the elegant, and gentle\\narts, which soften and refine the character of a people,\\nand wreathe a grace round the loftiness of a proud and\\nwarlike spirit. He wrote many poems, which, unfortu-\\nnately for the fulness of his fame, are now lost to the 10\\nworld one, which is still preserved, called Christ s Kirk\\nof the Green shows how diligently he had made himself\\nacquainted with the rustic sports and pastimes which\\nconstitute such a source of kind and social feeling\\namong the Scottish peasantry; and with what simple 15\\nand happy humor he could enter into their enjoyments.\\nHe contributed greatly to improve the national music\\nand traces of his tender sentiment and elegant taste are\\nsaid to exist in those witching airs still piped among the\\nwild mountains and lonely glens of Scotland. He has 20\\nthus connected his image with whatever is most gracious\\nand endearing in the national character he has embalmed\\nhis memory in song, and floated his name to after ages\\nin the rich streams of Scottish melody. The recollection\\nof these things was kindling at my heart as I paced the 25\\nsilent scene of his imprisonment. I have visited Vau-\\ncluse with as much enthusiasm as a pilgrim would visit\\nthe shrine at Loretto; but I have never felt more poet-\\nical devotion than when contemplating the old Tower\\nand the little garden at Windsor, and musing over the 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nromantic loves of the Lady Jane and the Royal Poet of\\nScotland.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0155.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "THE COUNTRY CHURCH\\nA gentleman\\nWhat, o the woolpack or the sugar-chest\\nOr lists of velvet which is t, pound or yard,\\nYou vend your gentry by\\nBeggar s Bush.\\nThere are few places more favorable to the study of\\ncharacter than an English country church. I was once\\npassing a few weeks at the seat of a friend who resided\\nin the vicinity of one, the appearance of which particu-\\n5 larly struck my fancy. It was one of those rich morsels\\nof quaint antiquity which give such a peculiar charm to\\nEnglish landscape. It stood in the midst of a country\\nfilled with ancient families, and contained within its\\ncold and silent aisles the congregated dust of many noble\\nio generations. The interior walls were incrusted with mon-\\numents of every age and style. The light streamed\\nthrough windows dimmed with armorial bearings, richly\\nemblazoned in stained glass. In various parts of the\\nchurch were tombs of knights and high-born dames, of\\n15 gorgeous workmanship, with their effigies in colored\\nmarble. On every side the eye was struck with some\\ninstance of aspiring mortality some haughty memorial\\nwhich human pride had erected over its kindred dust, in\\nthis temple of the most humble of all religions.\\n20 The congregation was composed of the neighboring\\npeople of rank, who sat in pews sumptuously lined and\\ncushioned, furnished with richly gilded prayer-books, and.\\ndecorated with their arms upon the pew doors of the\\nvillagers and peasantry, who filled the back seats and a\\n116", "height": "3486", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0156.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "THE COUNTRY CHURCH 117\\nsmall gallery beside the organ and of the poor of the\\nparish, who were ranged on benches in the aisles.\\nThe service was performed by a snuffling well-fed\\nvicar, who had a snug dwelling near the church. He\\nwas a privileged guest at all the tables of the neighbor- 5\\nhood, and had been the keenest fox-hunter in the coun-\\ntry until age and good living had disabled him from\\ndoing anything more than ride to see the hounds throw\\noff, and make one at the hunting dinner.\\nUnder the ministry of such a pastor, I found it impos- 10\\nsible to get into the train of thought suitable to the time\\nand place so, having like many other feeble Christians\\ncompromised with my conscience by laying the sin of\\nmy own delinquency at another person s threshold, I\\noccupied myself by making observations on my neigh- 15\\nbors.\\nI was as yet a stranger in England, and curious to\\nnotice the manners of its fashionable classes. I found, as\\nusual, that there was the least pretension where there was\\nthe most acknowledged title to respect. I was particu- 20\\nlarly struck, for instance, with the family of a nobleman\\nof high rank, consisting of several sons and daughters.\\nNothing could be more simple and unassuming than\\ntheir appearance. They generally came to church in\\nthe plainest equipage, and often on foot. The young 25\\nladies would stop and converse in the kindest manner\\nwith the peasantry, caress the children, and listen to the\\nstories of the humble cottagers. Their countenances\\nwere open and beautifully fair, with an expression of\\nhigh refinement, but at the same time a frank cheerful- 30\\nness and an engaging affability. Their brothers were\\ntall, and elegantly formed. They were dressed fashion-\\nably, but simply with strict neatness and propriety, but\\nwithout any mannerism or foppishness. Their whole", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0157.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "118 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ndemeanor was easy and natural, with that lofty grace\\nand noble frankness which bespeak freeborn souls that\\nhave never been checked in their growth by feelings of\\ninferiority. There is a healthful hardiness about real\\n5 dignity that never dreads contact and communion with\\nothers, however humble. It is only spurious pride that\\nis morbid and sensitive, and shrinks from every touch.\\nI was pleased to see the manner in which they would\\nconverse with the peasantry about those rural concerns\\n10 and field-sports in which the gentlemen of this coun-\\ntry so much delight. In these conversations there was\\nneither haughtiness on the one part nor servility on the\\nother and you were only reminded of the difference of\\nrank by the habitual respect of the peasant.\\n15 In contrast to these was the family of a wealthy citi-\\nzen, who had amassed a vast fortune and, having pur-\\nchased the estate and mansion of a ruined nobleman in\\nthe neighborhood, was endeavoring to assume all the\\nstyle and dignity of an hereditary lord of the soil. The\\n20 family always came to church en prince. They were\\nrolled majestically along in a carriage emblazoned with\\narms. The crest glittered in silver radiance from every\\npart of the harness where a crest could possibly be\\nplaced. A fat coachman in a three-cornered hat richly\\n25 laced, and a flaxen wig curling close round his rosy\\nface, was seated on the box, with a sleek Danish dog\\nbeside him. Two footmen in gorgeous liveries, with\\nhuge bouquets and gold-headed canes, lolled behind.\\nThe carriage rose and sunk on its long springs with\\n3\u00c2\u00b0 peculiar stateliness of motion. The very horses champed\\ntheir bits, arched their necks, and glanced their eyes\\nmore proudly than common horses either because they\\nhad caught a little of the family feeling, or were reined\\nup more tightly than ordinary,", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0158.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "THE COUNTRY CHURCH 119\\nI could not but admire the style with which this splen-\\ndid pageant was brought up to the gate of the church-\\nyard. There was a vast effect produced at the turning\\nof an angle of the wall, a great smacking of the whip,\\nstraining and scrambling of horses, glistening of harness, 5\\nand flashing of wheels through gravel. This was the\\nmoment of triumph and vainglory to the coachman. The\\nhorses were urged and checked until they were fretted\\ninto a foam. They threw out their feet in a prancing\\ntrot, dashing about pebbles at every step. The crowd 10\\nof villagers sauntering quietly to church, opened precipi-\\ntately to the right and left, gaping in vacant admiration.\\nOn reaching the gate, the horses were pulled up with\\na suddenness that produced an immediate stop, and\\nalmost threw them on their haunches. 15\\nThere was an extraordinary hurry of the footman to\\nalight, pull down the steps, and prepare everything for\\nthe descent on earth of this august family. The old\\ncitizen first emerged his round red face from out the\\ndoor, looking about him with the pompous air of a man 20\\naccustomed to rule on Change, and shake the Stock\\nMarket with a nod. His consort, a fine, fleshy, com-\\nfortable dame, followed him. There seemed, I must\\nconfess, but little pride in her composition. She was\\nthe picture of broad, honest, vulgar enjoyment. The 25\\nworld went well with her, and she liked the world. She\\nhad fine clothes, a fine house, a fine carriage, fine chil-\\ndren, everything was fine about her it was nothing\\nbut driving about and visiting and feasting. Life was\\nto her a perpetual revel it was one long Lord Mayor s 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nDay.\\nTwo daughters succeeded to this goodly couple. They\\ncertainly were handsome but had a supercilious air\\nthat chilled admiration, and disposed the spectator to", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0159.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "120 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nbe critical. They were ultra-fashionable in dress and,\\nthough no one could deny the richness of their decora-\\ntions, yet their appropriateness might be questioned\\namidst the simplicity of a country church. They de-\\n5 scended loftily from the carriage, and moved up the line\\nof peasantry with a step that seemed dainty of the soil\\nit trod on. They cast an excursive glance around, that\\npassed coldly over the burly faces of the peasantry, until\\nthey met the eyes of the nobleman s family, when their\\n10 countenances immediately brightened into smiles, and\\nthey made the most profound and elegant courtesies,\\nwhich were returned in a manner that showed they were\\nbut slight acquaintances.\\nI must not forget the two sons of this aspiring citizen,\\n15 who came to church in a dashing curricle, with outriders.\\nThey were arrayed in the extremity of the mode, with all\\nthat pedantry of dress which marks the man of question-\\nable pretensions to style. They kept entirely by them-\\nselves, eyeing every one askance that came near them\\n20 as if measuring his claims to respectability yet they\\nwere without conversation, except the exchange of an\\noccasional cant phrase. They even moved artificially\\nfor their bodies in compliance with the caprice of the\\nday had been disciplined into the absence of all ease\\n25 and freedom. Art had done everything to accomplish\\nthem as men of fashion, but nature had denied them the\\nnameless grace. They were vulgarly shaped, like men\\nformed for the common purposes of life, and had that\\nair of supercilious assumption which is never seen in the\\n30 true gentleman.\\nI have been rather minute in drawing the pictures of\\nthese two families, because I considered them specimens\\nof what is often to be met with in this country the\\nunpretending great and the arrogant little. I have no", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0160.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "THE COUNTRY CHURCH 121\\nrespect for titled rank, unless it be accompanied with true\\nnobility of soul, but I have remarked in all countries\\nwhere artificial distinctions exist, that the very highest\\nclasses are always the most courteous and unassuming.\\nThose who are well assured of their own standing are 5\\nleast apt to trespass on that of others whereas nothing\\nis so offensive as the aspirings of vulgarity, which thinks\\nto elevate itself by humiliating its neighbor.\\nAs I have brought these families into contrast, I must\\nnotice their behavior in church. That of the nobleman s 10\\nfamily was quiet, serious, and attentive. Not that they\\nappeared to have any fervor of devotion, but rather a\\nrespect for sacred things and sacred places, inseparable\\nfrom good breeding. The others, on the contrary, were\\nin perpetual nutter and whisper they betrayed a con- 15\\ntinual consciousness of finery and a sorry ambition of\\nbeing the wonders of a rural congregation.\\nThe old gentleman was the only one really attentive\\nto the service. He took the whole burden of family\\ndevotion upon himself, standing bolt upright, and utter- 20\\ning the responses with a loud voice that might be heard\\nall over the church. It was evident that he was one of\\nthose thorough church and king men who connect the\\nidea of devotion and loyalty who consider the Deity,\\nsomehow or other, of the government party, and religion 25\\na very excellent sort of thing that ought to be coun-\\ntenanced and kept up.\\nWhen he joined so loudly in the service, it seemed\\nmore by way of example to the lower orders, to show\\nthem that though so great and wealthy he was not 30\\nabove being religious as I have seen a turtle-fed alder-\\nman swallow publicly a basin of charity soup, smacking\\nhis lips at every mouthful, and pronouncing it excellent\\nfood for the poor.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0161.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "122 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nWhen the service was at an end, I was curious to\\nwitness the several exits of my groups. The young\\nnoblemen and their sisters, as the day was fine, pre-\\nferred strolling home across the fields, chatting with\\n5 the country people as they went. The others departed\\nas they came, in grand parade. Again were the equi-\\npages wheeled up to the gate. There was again the\\nsmacking of whips, the clattering of hoofs, and the\\nglittering of harness. The horses started off almost at\\nio a bound the villagers again hurried to right and left\\nthe wheels threw up a cloud of dust and the aspiring\\nfamily was rapt out of sight in a whirlwind.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0162.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "THE WIDOW AND HER SON\\nPittie olde age, within whose silver haires\\nHonour and reverence evermore have rain d.\\nMarlowe s Tamburlaine.\\nThose who are in the habit of remarking such mat-\\nters must have noticed the passive quiet of an English\\nlandscape on Sunday. The clacking of the mill, the\\nregularly recurring stroke of the flail, the din of the\\nblacksmith s hammer, the whistling of the ploughman, 5\\nthe rattling of the cart, and all other sounds of rural\\nlabor are suspended. The very farm dogs bark less\\nfrequently, being less disturbed by passing travellers.\\nAt such times I have almost fancied the winds sunk\\ninto quiet, and that the sunny landscape, with its fresh 10\\ngreen tints melting into blue haze, enjoyed the hal-\\nlowed calm.\\nSweet day, so pure, so calm, so bright,\\nThe bridal of the earth and sky.\\nWell was it ordained that the day of devotion should 15\\nbe a day of rest. The holy repose which reigns over\\nthe face of nature has its moral influence every rest-\\nless passion is charmed down, and we feel the natural\\nreligion of the soul gently springing up within us. For\\nmy part, there are feelings that visit me in a country 20\\nchurch amid the beautiful serenity of nature which I\\nexperience nowhere else and if not a more religious,\\nI think I am a better man on Sunday than on any-\\nother day of the seven.\\n123", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0163.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "124 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nDuring my recent residence in the country, I used\\nfrequently to attend at the old village church. Its\\nshadowy aisles, its mouldering monuments, its dark\\noaken panelling all reverend with the gloom of de-\\n5 parted years, seemed to fit it for the haunt of solemn\\nmeditation but being in a wealthy aristocratic neigh-\\nborhood, the glitter of fashion penetrated even into\\nthe sanctuary and I felt myself continually thrown\\nback upon the world by the frigidity and pomp of the\\nio poor worms around me. The only being in the whole\\ncongregation who appeared thoroughly to feel the hum-\\nble and prostrate piety of a true Christian was a poor\\ndecrepit old woman, bending under the weight of years\\nand infirmities. She bore the traces of something better\\n15 than abject poverty. The lingerings of decent pride\\nwere visible in her appearance. Her dress, though\\nhumble in the extreme, was scrupulously clean. Some\\ntrivial respect, too, had been awarded her, for she\\ndid not take her seat among the village poor, but sat\\n20 alone on the steps of the altar. She seemed to have\\nsurvived all love, all friendship, all society and to\\nhave nothing left her but the hopes of heaven. When\\nI saw her feebly rising and bending her aged form in\\nprayer habitually conning her prayer-book, which her\\n25 palsied hand and failing eyes would not permit her\\nto read, but which she evidently knew by heart I\\nfelt persuaded that the faltering voice of that poor\\nwoman arose to heaven far before the responses of\\nthe clerk, the swell of the organ, or the chanting of\\n3\u00c2\u00b0 the choir.\\nI am fond of loitering about country churches, and\\nthis was so delightfully situated that it frequently at-\\ntracted me. It stood on a knoll round which a small\\nstream made a beautiful bend, and then wound its way", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0164.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "THE WIDOW AND HER SON 125\\nthrough a long reach of soft meadow scenery. The\\nchurch was surrounded by yew trees which seemed al-\\nmost coeval with itself. Its tall Gothic spire shot up\\nlightly from among them, with rooks and crows gener-\\nally wheeling about it. I was seated there one still 5\\nsunny morning, watching two laborers who were dig-\\nging a grave. They had chosen one of the most remote\\nand neglected corners of the churchyard, where, from\\nthe number of nameless graves around, it would appear\\nthat the indigent and friendless were huddled into the 10\\nearth. I was told that the new-made grave was for the\\nonly son of a poor widow. While I was meditating\\non the distinctions of worldly rank, which extend thus\\ndown into the very dust, the toll of the bell announced\\nthe approach of the funeral. They were the obsequies 15\\nof poverty, with which pride had nothing to do. A\\ncoffin of the plainest materials, without pall or other\\ncovering, was borne by some of the villagers. The\\nsexton walked before with an air of cold indifference.\\nThere were no mock mourners in the trappings of af- 20\\nfected woe but there was one real mourner who feebly\\ntottered after the corpse. It was the aged mother of\\nthe deceased the poor old woman whom I had seen\\nseated on the steps of the altar. She was supported\\nby a humble friend who was endeavoring to comfort 25\\nher. A few of the neighboring poor had joined the\\ntrain, and some children of the village were running\\nhand in hand, now shouting with unthinking mirth,\\nand now pausing to gaze with childish curiosity on\\nthe grief of the mourner. 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nAs the funeral train approached the grave, the parson\\nissued from the church porch arrayed in the surplice,\\nwith prayer-book in hand, and attended by the clerk.\\nThe service, however, was a mere act of charity. The", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0165.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "126 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ndeceased had been destitute, and the survivor was\\npenniless. It was shuffled through, therefore, in form,\\nbut coldly and unfeelingly. The well-fed priest moved\\nbut a few steps from the church door his voice\\n5 could scarcely be heard at the grave and never\\ndid I hear the funeral service, that sublime and touch-\\ning ceremony, turned into such a frigid mummery of\\nwords.\\nI approached the grave. The coffin was placed on\\n10 the ground. On it were inscribed the name and age\\nof the deceased George Somers, aged 26 years.\\nThe poor mother had been assisted to kneel down at\\nthe head of it. Her withered hands were clasped as\\nif in prayer, but I could perceive by a feeble rocking\\n15 of the body and a convulsive motion of her lips that\\nshe was gazing on the last relics of her son with the\\nyearnings of a mother s heart.\\nPreparations were made to deposit the coffin in the\\nearth. There was that bustling stir which breaks so\\n20 harshly on the feelings of grief and affection, direc-\\ntions given in the cold tones of business, the striking\\nof spades into sand and gravel, which, at the grave of\\nthose we love, is of all sounds the most withering.\\nThe bustle around seemed to waken the mother from\\n25 a wretched reverie. She raised her glazed eyes and\\nlooked about with a faint wildness. As the men ap-\\nproached with cords to lower the coffin into the grave,\\nshe wrung her hands and broke into an agony of grief.\\nThe poor woman who attended her took her by the\\n30 arm, endeavoring to raise her from the earth, and to\\nwhisper something like consolation Nay, now nay,\\nnow don t take it so sorely to heart. She could\\nonly shake her head and wring her hands, as one not\\nto be comforted.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0166.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "THE WIDOW AND HER SON 127\\nAs they lowered the body into the earth, the creak-\\ning of the cords seemed to agonize her but when on\\nsome accidental obstruction there was a justling of the\\ncoffin, all the tenderness of the mother burst forth as\\nif any harm could come to him who was far beyond the 5\\nreach of worldly suffering.\\nI could see no more my heart swelled into my\\nthroat my eyes filled with tears I felt as if I were\\nacting a barbarous part in standing by and gazing\\nidly on this scene of maternal anguish. I wandered 10\\nto another part of the churchyard, where I remained\\nuntil the funeral train had dispersed-\\nWhen I saw the mother slowly and painfully quitting\\nthe grave, leaving behind her the remains of all that\\nwas dear to her on earth, and returning to silence and 15\\ndestitution, my heart ached for her. What, thought\\nI, are the distresses of the rich they have friends to\\nsoothe pleasures to beguile a world to divert and\\ndissipate their griefs. What are the sorrows of the\\nyoung Their growing minds soon close above the 20\\nwound their elastic spirits soon rise beneath the pres-\\nsure their green and ductile affections soon twine\\nround new objects. But the sorrows of the poor, who\\nhave no outward appliances to soothe the sorrows\\nof the aged, with whom life at best is but a wintry 25\\nday, and who can look for no after-growth of joy\\nthe sorrows of a widow, aged, solitary, destitute, mourn-\\ning over an only son, the last solace of her years\\nthese are indeed sorrows which make us feel the impo-\\ntency of consolation. 30\\nIt was some time before I left the churchyard. On\\nmy way homeward I met with the woman who had\\nacted as comforter she was just returning from accom-\\npanying the mother to her lonely habitation, and I", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0167.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "128 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ndrew from her some particulars connected with the\\naffecting scene I had witnessed.\\nThe parents of the deceased had resided in the village\\nfrom childhood. They had inhabited one of the neat-\\n5 est cottages, and by various rural occupations and the\\nassistance of a small garden had supported themselves\\ncreditably and comfortably, and led a happy and a\\nblameless life. They had one son, who had grown up\\nto be the staff and pride of their age. Oh, sir said\\n10 the good woman, he was such a comely lad, so sweet-\\ntempered, so kind to every one around him, so dutiful\\nto his parents It did one s heart good to see him of\\na Sunday, dressed out in his best, so tall, so straight,\\nso cheery, supporting his old mother to church for\\n15 she was always fonder of leaning on George s arm\\nthan on her good man s and poor soul she might\\nwell be proud of him, for a finer lad there was not in\\nthe country round.\\nUnfortunately the son was tempted during a year\\n20 of scarcity and agricultural hardship to enter into the\\nservice of one of the small craft that plied on a neigh-\\nboring river. He had not been long in this employ\\nwhen he was entrapped by a press-gang and carried off\\nto sea. His parents received tidings of his seizure,\\n25 but beyond that they could learn nothing. It was the\\nloss of their main prop. The father, who was already\\ninfirm, grew heartless and melancholy, and sunk into\\nhis grave. The widow, left lonely in her age and\\nfeebleness, could no longer support herself, and came\\n30 upon the parish. Still there was a kind feeling toward\\nher throughout the village, and a certain respect as\\nbeing one of the oldest inhabitants. As no one applied\\nfor the cottage in which she had passed so many\\nhappy days, she was permitted to remain in it, where", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0168.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "THE WIDOW AND HER SON 129\\nshe lived solitary and almost helpless. The few wants\\nof nature were chiefly supplied from the scanty pro-\\nductions of her little garden, which the neighbors would\\nnow and then cultivate for her. It was but a few days\\nbefore the time at which these circumstances were told 5\\nme, that she was gathering some vegetables for her\\nrepast, when she heard the cottage door which faced\\nthe garden suddenly opened. A stranger came out, and\\nseemed to be looking eagerly and wildly around. He was\\ndressed in seaman s clothes, was emaciated and ghastly 10\\npale, and bore the air of one broken by sickness and\\nhardships. He saw her and hastened towards her, but\\nhis steps were faint and faltering he sank on his knees\\nbefore her and sobbed like a child. The poor woman\\ngazed upon him with a vacant and wandering eye 15\\nOh, my dear, dear mother don t you know your son\\nyour poor boy, George It was indeed the wreck of\\nher once noble lad, who, shattered by wounds, by sick-\\nness and foreign imprisonment, had, at length, dragged\\nhis wasted limbs homeward, to repose among the scenes 20\\nof his childhood.\\nI will not attempt to detail the particulars of such\\na meeting, where joy and sorrow were so completely\\nblended still he was alive he was come home he\\nmight yet live to comfort and cherish her old age Na- 25\\nture, however, was exhausted in him and if anything\\nhad been wanting to finish the work of fate, the desola-\\ntion of his native cottage would have been sufficient.\\nHe stretched himself on the pallet on which his widowed\\nmother had passed many a sleepless night, and he never 30\\nrose from it again.\\nThe villagers, when they heard that George Somers\\nhad returned, crowded to see him, offering every com-\\nfort and assistance that their humble means afforded.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0169.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "130 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nHe was too weak, however, to talk he could only look\\nhis thanks. His mother was his constant attendant,\\nand he seemed unwilling to be helped by any other\\nhand.\\n5 There is something in sickness that breaks down the\\npride of manhood that softens the heart, and brings\\nit back to the feelings of infancy. Who that has lan-\\nguished even in advanced life in sickness and despond-\\nency, who that has pined on a weary bed in the neglect\\n10 and loneliness of a foreign land, but has thought on the\\nmother that looked on his childhood, that smoothed\\nhis pillow and administered to his helplessness Oh,\\nthere is an enduring tenderness in the love of a mother\\nto her son that transcends all other affections of the\\n15 heart It is neither to be chilled by selfishness, nor\\ndaunted by danger, nor weakened by worthlessness, nor\\nstifled by ingratitude. She will sacrifice every comfort\\nto his convenience, she will surrender every pleasure to\\nhis enjoyment, she will glory in his fame and exult in\\n20 his prosperity and if misfortune overtake him he will\\nbe the dearer to her from misfortune and if disgrace\\nsettle upon his name, she will still love and cherish him\\nin spite of his disgrace and if all the world beside cast\\nhim off, she will be all the world to him.\\n25 Poor George Somers had known what it was to be in\\nsickness, and none to soothe lonely and in prison, and\\nnone to visit him. He could not endure his mother from\\nhis sight if she moved away, his eye would follow her.\\nShe would sit for hours by his bed, watching him as he\\n30 slept. Sometimes he would start from a feverish dream,\\nand look anxiously up until he saw her bending over\\nhim when he would take her hand, lay it on his bosom,\\nand fall asleep with the tranquillity of a child. In this\\nway he died.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0170.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "THE WIDOW AND HER SON 131\\nMy first impulse on hearing this humble tale of afflic-\\ntion was to visit the cottage of the mourner, and admin-\\nister pecuniary assistance, and if possible comfort. I\\nfound however on inquiry, that the good feelings of the\\nvillagers had prompted them to do everything that the 5\\ncase admitted and as the poor know best how to console\\neach other s sorrows, I did not venture to intrude.\\nThe next Sunday I was at the village church when to\\nmy surprise, I saw the poor old woman tottering down\\nthe aisle to her accustomed seat on the steps of the altar. 10\\nShe had made an effort to put on something like\\nmourning for her son and nothing could be more touch-\\ning than this struggle between pious affection and utter\\npoverty: a black ribbon or so, a faded black handker-\\nchief, and one or two more such humble attempts to 15\\nexpress by outward signs that grief which passes show.\\nWhen I looked round upon the storied monuments, the\\nstately hatchments, the cold marble pomp with which\\ngrandeur mourned magnificently over departed pride, and\\nturned to this poor widow, bowed down by age and sor- 20\\nrow at the altar of her God, and offering up the prayers\\nand praises of a pious though a broken heart, I felt that\\nthis living monument of real grief was worth them all.\\nI related her story to some of the wealthy members of\\nthe congregation, and they were moved by it. They 25\\nexerted themselves to render her situation more com-\\nfortable, and to lighten her afflictions. It was, however,\\nbut smoothing a few steps to the grave. In the course\\nof a Sunday or two after she was missed from her usual\\nseat at church, and before I left the neighborhood I 30\\nheard with a feeling of satisfaction that she had quietly\\nbreathed her last, and had gone to rejoin those she\\nloved, in that world where sorrow is never known and\\nfriends are never parted.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0171.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "A SUNDAY IN LONDON 1\\nIn a preceding paper I have spoken of an English\\nSunday in the country, and its tranquillizing effect upon\\nthe landscape but where is its sacred influence more\\nstrikingly apparent than in the very heart of that great\\n5 Babel, London? On this sacred day the gigantic mon-\\nster is charmed into repose. The intolerable din and\\nstruggle of the week are at an end. The shops are shut.\\nThe fires of forges and manufactories are extinguished\\nand the sun, no longer obscured by murky clouds of\\n10 smoke, pours down a sober, yellow radiance into the\\nquiet streets. The few pedestrians we meet, instead of\\nhurrying forward with anxious countenances, move lei-\\nsurely along; their brows are smoothed from the wrinkles\\nof business and care they have put on their Sunday\\n15 looks and Sunday manners with their Sunday clothes,\\nand are cleansed in mind as well as in person.\\nAnd now the melodious clangor of bells from church\\ntowers summons their several flocks to the fold. Forth\\nfrom his mansion issues the family of the decent trades-\\n20 man, the small children in the advance then the citizen\\nand his comely spouse followed by the grown-up daugh-\\nters, with small morocco-bound prayer-books laid in the\\nfolds of their pocket-handkerchiefs. The housemaid\\nlooks after them from the window admiring the finery\\n25 of the family, and receiving perhaps a nod and smile\\nfrom her young mistresses at whose toilet she has\\nassisted.\\n1 Part of a sketch omitted in the preceding editions.\\n132", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0172.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "A SUNDAY IN LONDON 133\\nNow rumbles along the carriage of some magnate of\\nthe city, peradventure an alderman or a sheriff and\\nnow the patter of many feet announces a procession of\\ncharity scholars, in uniforms of antique cut, and each\\nwith a prayer-book under his arm. 5\\nThe ringing of bells is at an end, the rumbling of\\nthe carriage has ceased, the pattering of feet is heard\\nno more the flocks are folded in ancient churches,\\ncramped up in by-lanes and corners of the crowded\\ncity, where the vigilant beadle keeps watch, like the 10\\nshepherd s dog, round the threshold of the sanctuary.\\nFor a time everything is hushed but soon is heard\\nthe deep, pervading sound of the organ, rolling and\\nvibrating through the empty lanes and courts and the\\nsweet chanting of the choir making them resound with 15\\nmelody and praise. Never have I been more sensible\\nof the sanctifying effect of church music than when\\nI have heard it thus poured forth like a river of joy\\nthrough the inmost recesses of this great metropolis,\\nelevating it, as it were, from all the sordid pollutions 20\\nof the week, and bearing the poor world-worn soul on\\na tide of triumphant harmony to heaven.\\nThe morning service is at an end. The streets are\\nagain alive with the congregations returning to their\\nhomes, but soon again relapse into silence. Now comes 25\\non the Sunday dinner, which to the city tradesman is\\na meal of some importance. There is more leisure for\\nsocial enjoyment at the board. Members of the family\\ncan now gather together who are separated by the labo-\\nrious occupations of the week. A schoolboy may be 30\\npermitted on that day to come to the paternal home\\nan old friend of the family takes his accustomed Sun-\\nday seat at the board, tells over his well-known stories,\\nand rejoices young and old with his well-known jokes.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0173.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "134 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nOn Sunday afternoon the city pours forth its legions\\nto breathe the fresh air and enjoy the sunshine of the\\nparks and rural environs. Satirists may say what they\\nplease about the rural enjoyments of a London citizen\\n5 on Sunday, but to me there is something delightful in\\nbeholding the poor prisoner of the crowded and dusty\\ncity enabled thus to come forth once a week and throw\\nhimself upon the green bosom of nature. He is like a\\nchild restored to the mother s breast and they who first\\nto spread out these noble parks and magnificent pleasure-\\ngrounds which surround this huge metropolis have\\ndone at least as much for its health and morality as\\nif they had expended the amount of cost in hospitals,\\nprisons, and penitentiaries.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0174.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "THE BOAR S HEAD TAVERN, EASTCHEAP\\nA SHAKESPEARIAN RESEARCH\\nA tavern is the rendezvous, the exchange, the staple of good fellows. I\\nhave heard my great-grandfather tell, how his great-great-grandfather should\\nsay, that it was an old proverb when his great-grandfather was a child, that\\nit was a good wind that blew a man to the wine.\\nMother Bombie.\\nIt is a pious custom in some Catholic countries to\\nhonor the memory of saints by votive lights burnt before\\ntheir pictures. The popularity of a saint, therefore, may\\nbe known by the number of these offerings. One per-\\nhaps is left to moulder in the darkness of his little 5\\nchapel another may have a solitary lamp to throw its\\nblinking rays athwart his effigy while the whole blaze\\nof adoration is lavished at the shrine of some beatified\\nfather of renown. The wealthy devotee brings his huge\\nluminary of wax; the eager zealot his seven-branched 10\\ncandlestick, and even the mendicant pilgrim is by no\\nmeans satisfied that sufficient light is thrown upon the\\ndeceased unless he hangs up his little lamp of smok-\\ning oil. The consequence is, that in the eagerness to\\nenlighten they are often apt to obscure; and I have 15\\noccasionally seen an unlucky saint almost smoked out\\nof countenance by the officiousness of his followers.\\nIn like manner has it fared with the immortal Shake-\\nspeare. Every writer considers it his bounden duty to\\nlight up some portion of his character or works, and to 20\\nrescue some merit from oblivion. The commentator,\\nopulent in words, produces vast tomes of dissertations\\ni35", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0175.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "136 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nthe common herd of editors send up mists of obscurity\\nfrom their notes at the bottom of each page and every\\ncasual scribbler brings his farthing rushlight of eulogy\\nor research to swell the cloud of incense and of smoke.\\n5 As I honor all established usages of my brethren of\\nthe quill, I thought it but proper to contribute my mite\\nof homage to the memory of the illustrious bard. I was\\nfor some time, however, sorely puzzled in what way I\\nshould discharge this duty. I found myself anticipated\\n10 in every attempt at a new reading; every doubtful line\\nhad been explained a dozen different ways, and per-\\nplexed beyond the reach of elucidation; and as to fine\\npassages, they had all been amply praised by previous\\nadmirers nay, so completely had the bard of late been\\n15 overlarded with panegyric by a great German critic, that\\nit was difficult now to find even a fault that had not been\\nargued into a beauty.\\nIn this perplexity I was one morning turning over his\\npages, when I casually opened upon the comic scenes of\\n20 Henry IV., and was in a moment completely lost in the\\nmadcap revelry of the Boar s Head Tavern. So vividly\\nand naturally are these scenes of humor depicted, and\\nwith such force and consistency are the characters sus-\\ntained, that they become mingled up in the mind with\\n25 the facts and personages of real life. To few readers\\ndoes it occur that these are all ideal creations of a poet s\\nbrain, and that in sober truth no such knot of merry\\nroysters ever enlivened the dull neighborhood of East-\\ncheap.\\n30 For my part I love to give myself up to the illusions of\\npoetry. A hero of fiction that never existed is just as\\nvaluable to me as a hero of history that existed a thou-\\nsand years since and if I may be excused such an in-\\nsensibility to the common ties of human nature, I would", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0176.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "THE BOAR S HEAD TAVERN 137\\nnot give up fat Jack for half the great men of ancient\\nchronicle. What have the heroes of yore done for me,\\nor men like me They have conquered countries of\\nwhich I do not enjoy an acre or they have gained\\nlaurels of which I do not inherit a leaf or they have 5\\nfurnished examples of hair-brained prowess which I have\\nneither the opportunity nor the inclination to follow.\\nBut old Jack Falstaff kind Jack Falstaff sweet\\nJack Falstaff has enlarged the boundaries of human\\nenjoyment he has added vast regions of wit and good 10\\nhumor in which the poorest man may revel and has\\nbequeathed a never-failing inheritance of jolly laugh-\\nter to make mankind merrier and better to the latest\\nposterity.\\nA thought suddenly struck me I will make a pil- 15\\ngrimage to Eastcheap, said I, closing the book, and\\nsee if the old Boar s Head Tavern still exists. Who\\nknows but I may light upon some legendary traces of\\nDame Quickly and her guests at any rate there will\\nbe a kindred pleasure in treading the halls once vocal 20\\nwith their mirth to that the toper enjoys in smelling to\\nthe empty cask once filled with generous wine.\\nThe resolution was no sooner formed than put in exe-\\ncution. I forbear to treat of the various adventures and\\nwonders I encountered in my travels of the haunted 25\\nregions of Cock Lane of the faded glories of Little\\nBritain and the parts adjacent; what perils I ran in\\nCateaton Street and old Jewry of the renowned Guild-\\nhall and its two stunted giants, the pride and wonder of\\nthe city and the terror of all unlucky urchins and how 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nI visited London Stone and struck my staff upon it, in\\nimitation of that arch rebel, Jack Cade.\\nLet it suffice to say, that I at length arrived in merry\\nEastcheap, that ancient region of wit and wassail where", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0177.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "138 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nthe very names of the streets relished of good cheer, as\\nPudding Lane bears testimony even at the present day.\\nFor Eastcheap, says old Stow, was always famous for\\nits convivial doings. The cookes cried hot ribbes of beef\\n5 roasted, pies well baked, and other victuals there was\\nclattering of pewter pots, harpe, pipe, and sawtrie.\\nAlas how sadly is the scene changed since the roaring\\ndays of Falstaff and old Stowe The madcap royster\\nhas given place to the plodding tradesman; the clatter-\\n10 ing of pots and the sound of harpe and sawtrie to\\nthe din of carts and the accursed dinging of the dust-\\nman s bell and no song is heard, save haply the strain\\nof some siren from Billingsgate chanting the eulogy of\\ndeceased mackerel.\\n15 I sought in vain for the ancient abode of Dame\\nQuickly. The only relic of it is a boar s head carved in\\nrelief in stone, which formerly served as the sign, but at\\npresent is built into the parting line of two houses which\\nstand on the site of the renowned old tavern.\\n20 For the history of this little abode of good fellowship,\\nI was referred to a tallow-chandler s widow opposite,\\nwho had been born and brought up on the spot, and was\\nlooked up to as the indisputable chronicler of the neigh-\\nborhood. I found her seated in a little back parlor, the\\n25 window of which looked out upon a yard about eight\\nfeet square, laid out as a flower-garden while a glass\\ndoor opposite afforded a distant peep of the street\\nthrough a vista of soap and tallow candles the two\\nviews which comprised in all probability her prospects\\n30 in life, and the little world in which she had lived and\\nmoved and had her being for the better part of a\\ncentury.\\nTo be versed in the history of Eastcheap great and\\nlittle, from London Stone even unto the Monument, was", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0178.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "THE BOAR S HEAD TAVERN 139\\ndoubtless in her opinion to be acquainted with the his-\\ntory of the universe. Yet with all this she possessed\\nthe simplicity of true wisdom, and that liberal communi-\\ncative disposition which I have generally remarked in\\nintelligent old ladies knowing in the concerns of their 5\\nneighborhood.\\nHer information, however, did not extend far back\\ninto antiquity. She could throw no light upon the his-\\ntory of the Boar s Head, from the time that Dame\\nQuickly espoused the valiant Pistol until the great fire 10\\nof London, when it was unfortunately burnt down. It\\nwas soon rebuilt, and continued to flourish under the old\\nname and sign, until a dying landlord, struck with re-\\nmorse for double scores, bad measures, and other iniqui-\\nties which are incident to the sinful race of publicans, 15\\nendeavored to make his peace with heaven by bequeath-\\ning the tavern to St. Michael s Church, Crooked Lane,\\ntowards the supporting of a chaplain. For some time\\nthe vestry meetings were regularly held there but it was\\nobserved that the old Boar never held up his head under 20\\nchurch government. He gradually declined, and finally\\ngave his last gasp about thirty years since. The tavern\\nwas then turned into shops but she informed me that a\\npicture of it was still preserved in St. Michael s Church,\\nwhich stood just in the rear. To get a sight of this 25\\npicture was now my determination so, having informed\\nmyself of the abode of the sexton, I took my leave of the\\nvenerable chronicler of Eastcheap, my visit having doubt-\\nless raised greatly her opinion of her legendary lore, and\\nfurnished an important incident in the history of her 30\\nlife.\\nIt cost me some difficulty and much curious inquiry\\nto ferret out the humble hanger-on to the church. I had\\nto explore Crooked Lane, and diverse little alleys and", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0179.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "140 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nelbows and dark passages with which this old city is\\nperforated, like an ancient cheese or a worm-eaten chest\\nof drawers. At length I traced him to a corner of a\\nsmall court surrounded by lofty houses, where the inhab-\\n5 itants enjoy about as much of the face of heaven as\\na community of frogs at the bottom of a well.\\nThe sexton was a meek, acquiescing little man, of a\\nbowing, lowly habit yet he had a pleasant twinkling in\\nhis eye, and if encouraged would now and then hazard\\n10 a small pleasantry, such as a man of his low estate\\nmight venture to make in the company of high church-\\nwardens and other mighty men of the earth. I found\\nhim in company with the deputy organist, seated apart,\\nlike Milton s angels, discoursing no doubt on high doc-\\n15 trinal points, and settling the affairs of the church over\\na friendly pot of ale, for the lower classes of English\\nseldom deliberate on any weighty matter without the\\nassistance of a cool tankard to clear their understand-\\nings. I arrived at the moment when they had finished\\n20 their ale and their argument, and were about to repair to\\nthe church to put it in order so having made known\\nmy wishes, I received their gracious permission to\\naccompany them.\\nThe church of St. Michael s, Crooked Lane, standing\\n25 a short distance from Billingsgate, is enriched with the\\ntombs of many fishmongers of renown and as every\\nprofession has its galaxy of glory and its constellation\\nof great men, I presume the monument of a mighty\\nfishmonger of the olden time is regarded with as much\\n30 reverence by succeeding generations of the craft, as poets\\nfeel on contemplating the tomb of Virgil, or soldiers the\\nmonument of a Marlborough or Turenne.\\nI cannot but turn aside while thus speaking of illus-\\ntrious men, to observe that St. Michael s, Crooked Lane,", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0180.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "THE BOAR S HEAD TAVERN 141\\ncontains also the ashes of that doughty champion, Wil-\\nliam Walworth, knight, who so manfully clove down the\\nsturdy wight, Wat Tyler, in Smithfield a hero worthy\\nof honorable blazon, as almost the only Lord Mayor on\\nrecord famous for deeds of arms, the sovereigns of 5\\nCockney being generally renowned as the most pacific\\nof all potentates. 1\\nAdjoining the church, in a small cemetery, immedi-\\nately under the back window of what was once the Boar s\\nHead, stands the tombstone of Robert Preston, whilom 10\\ndrawer at the tavern. It is now nearly a century since\\nthis trusty drawer of good liquor closed his bustling\\ncareer, and was thus quietly deposited within call of\\n1 The following was the ancient inscription on the monument of\\nthis worthy which, unhappily, was destroyed in the great confla-\\ngration.\\nHereunder lyth a man of Fame,\\nWilliam Walworth callyd by name\\nFishmonger he was in lyfftime here,\\nAnd twise Lord Maior, as in books appere\\nWho, with courage stout and manly myght,\\nSlew Jack Straw in Kyng Richard s sight.\\nFor which act done, and trew entent,\\nThe Kyng made him knyght incontinent\\nAnd gave him armes, as here you see,\\nTo declare his fact and chivaldrie.\\nHe left this lyff the yere of our God\\nThirteen hundred fourscore and three odd.\\nAn error in the foregoing inscription has been corrected by the\\nvenerable Stowe. Whereas, saith he, it hath been far spread\\nabroad by vulgar opinion, that the rebel smitten down so manfully\\nby Sir William Walworth, the then worthy Lord Maior, was named\\nJack Straw, and not Wat Tyler, I thought good to reconcile this\\nrash-conceived doubt by such testimony as I find in ancient and\\ngood records. The principal leaders, or captains, of the commons,\\nwere Wat Tyler, as the first man the second was John, or Jack,\\nStraw, etc., etc.\\nStowe s London.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0181.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "142 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nhis customers. As I was clearing away the weeds from\\nhis epitaph, the little sexton drew me on one side with a\\nmysterious air, and informed me in a low voice that\\nonce upon a time, on a dark wintry night, when the wind\\nwas unruly, howling, and whistling, banging about doors\\nand windows and twirling weathercocks, so that the liv-\\ning were frightened out of their beds, and even the dead\\ncould not sleep quietly in their graves, the ghost of\\nhonest Preston, which happened to be airing itself in\\n10 the churchyard, was attracted by the well-known call of\\nWaiter from the Boar s Head, and made its sudden\\nappearance in the midst of a roaring club, just as the\\nparish clerk was singing a stave from the mirre gar-\\nland of Captain Death to the discomfiture of sundry\\n15 train-band captains and the conversion of an infidel\\nattorney, who became a zealous Christian on the spot,\\nand was never known to twist the truth afterwards,\\nexcept in the way of business.\\nI beg it may be remembered that I do not pledge my-\\n20 self for the authenticity of this anecdote though it is\\nwell known that the churchyards and by-corners of this\\nold metropolis are very much infested with perturbed\\nspirits and every one must have heard of the Cock\\nLane ghost, and the apparition that guards the regalia\\n25 in the Tower, which has frightened so many bold sen-\\ntinels almost out of their wits.\\nBe all this as it may, this Robert Preston seems to\\nhave been a worthy successor to the nimble-tongued\\nFrancis who attended upon the revels of Prince Hal\\n30 to have been equally prompt with his Anon, anon, sir\\nand to have transcended his predecessor in honesty; for\\nFalstaff the veracity of whose taste no man will venture\\nto impeach, flatly accuses Francis of putting lime in his\\nsack; whereas honest Preston s epitaph lauds him for", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0182.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "THE BOAR S HEAD TAVERN 143\\nthe sobriety of his conduct, the soundness of his wine,\\nand the fairness of his measure. 1 The worthy dignitaries\\nof the church, however, did not appear much captivated\\nby the sober virtues of the tapster the deputy organist,\\nwho had a moist look out of the eye, made some shrewd 5\\nremark on the abstemiousness of a man brought up\\namong full hogsheads and the little sexton corroborated\\nhis opinion by a significant wink and a dubious shake\\nof the head.\\nThus far my researches, though they threw much light 10\\non the history of tapsters, fishmongers, and Lord Mayors,\\nyet disappointed me in the great object of my quest, the\\npicture of the Boar s Head Tavern. No such painting\\nwas to be found in the church of St. Michael. Marry\\nand amen! said I, here endeth my research! So 15\\nI was giving the matter up with the air of a baffled\\nantiquary, when my friend the sexton, perceiving me\\nto be curious in everything relative to the old tavern,\\noffered to show me the choice vessels of the vestry, which\\nhad been handed down from remote times when the 20\\nparish meetings were held at the Boar s Head. These\\nwere deposited in the parish club-room, which had been\\n1 As this inscription is rife with excellent morality, I transcribe\\nit for the admonition of delinquent tapsters. It is, no doubt, the\\nproduction of some choice spirit, who once frequented the Boar s\\nHead.\\nBacchus, to give the toping world surprise,\\nProduced one sober son, and here he lies.\\nThough rear d among full hogsheads, he defy d\\nThe charms of wine, and every one beside.\\nO reader, if to justice thou rt inclined,\\nKeep honest Preston daily in thy mind.\\nHe drew good wine, took care to fill his pots,\\nHad sundry virtues that excused his faults.\\nYou that on Bacchus have the like dependence.\\nPray copy Bob in measure and attendance.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0183.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "144 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ntransferred, on the decline of the ancient establishment,\\nto a tavern in the neighborhood.\\nA few steps brought us to the house which stands\\nNo. 12 Miles Lane, bearing the title of The Mason s\\n5 Arms, and is kept by Master Edward Honeyball, the\\nbully-rook of the establishment. It is one of those\\nlittle taverns which abound in the heart of a city, and\\nform the centre of gossip and intelligence of the neigh-\\nborhood. We entered the bar-room, which was narrow\\nio and darkling for in these close lanes but few rays of\\nreflected light are enabled to struggle down to the inhab-\\nitants, whose broad day is at best but a tolerable twilight.\\nThe room was partitioned into boxes, each containing\\na table spread with a clean white cloth ready for dinner.\\n15 This showed that the guests were of the good old stamp,\\nand divided their day equally, for it was but just one\\no clock. At the lower end of the room was a clear coal\\nfire before which a breast of lamb was roasting. A row\\nof bright brass candlesticks and pewter mugs glistened\\n20 along the mantelpiece, and an old-fashioned clock ticked\\nin one corner. There was something primitive in this\\nmedley of kitchen, parlor, and hall, that carried me back\\nto earlier times, and pleased me. The place, indeed,\\nwas humble, but everything had that look of order and\\n25 neatness which bespeaks the superintendence of a not-\\nable English housewife. A group of amphibious-looking\\nbeings, who might be either fishermen or sailors, were\\nregaling themselves in one of the boxes. As I was a\\nvisitor of rather high pretensions, I was ushered into a\\n30 little misshapen back-room, having at least nine corners.\\nIt was lighted by a skylight, furnished with antiquated\\nleathern chairs, and ornamented with the portrait of\\na fat pig. It was evidently appropriated to particular\\ncustomers, and I found a shabby gentleman in a red", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0184.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "THE BOAR S HEAD TAVERN 145\\nnose and oil-cloth hat seated in one corner, meditating\\non a half-empty pot of porter.\\nThe old sexton had taken the landlady aside, and\\nwith an air of profound importance imparted to her\\nmy errand. Dame Honeyball was a likely, plump, bus- 5\\ntling little woman, and no bad substitute for that para-\\ngon of hostesses, Dame Quickly. She seemed delighted\\nwith an opportunity to oblige and hurrying up-stairs to\\nthe archives of her house, where the precious vessels of\\nthe parish club were deposited, she returned, smiling and 10\\ncourtesying, with them in her hands.\\nThe first she presented me was a japanned iron to-\\nbacco-box of gigantic size, out of which, I was told, the\\nvestry had smoked at their stated meetings since time\\nimmemorial; and which was never suffered to be pro- 15\\nfaned by vulgar hands, or used on common occasions.\\nI received it with becoming reverence but what was my\\ndelight at beholding on its cover the identical painting\\nof which I was in quest There was displayed the out-\\nside of the Boar s Head Tavern, and before the door was 20\\nto be seen the whole convivial group, at table, in full\\nrevel pictured with that wonderful fidelity and force\\nwith which the portraits of renowned generals and com-\\nmodores are illustrated on tobacco-boxes, for the benefit of\\nposterity. Lest, however, there should be any mistake, 25\\nthe cunning limner had warily inscribed the names of\\nPrince Hal and Falstaff on the bottoms of their chairs.\\nOn the inside of the cover was an inscription, nearly\\nobliterated, recording that this box was the gift of Sir\\nRichard Gore, for the use of the vestry meetings at the 30\\nBoar s Head Tavern, and that it was repaired and beau-\\ntified by his successor, Mr. John Packard, 1767. Such\\nis a faithful description of this august and venerable\\nrelic and I question whether the learned Scriblerus", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0185.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "146 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ncontemplated his Roman shield, or the Knights of the\\nRound Table the long-sought Sangreal, with more exul-\\ntation.\\nWhile I was meditating on it with enraptured gaze,\\n5 Dame Honeyball, who was highly gratified by the inter-\\nest it excited, put in my hands a drinking cup or goblet\\nwhich also belonged to the vestry, and was descended\\nfrom the old Boar s Head. It bore the inscription of\\nhaving been the gift of Francis Wythers, knight, and\\n10 was held, she told me, in exceeding great value, being\\nconsidered very antyke. This last opinion was\\nstrengthened by the shabby gentleman in the red nose\\nand oil-cloth hat, and whom I strongly suspected of\\nbeing a lineal descendant from the valiant Bardolph.\\n15 He suddenly roused from his meditation on the pot of\\nporter, and casting a knowing look at the goblet,\\nexclaimed, Ay, ay the head don t ache now that\\nmade that there article\\nThe great importance attached to this memento of\\n20 ancient revelry by modern churchwardens at first puz-\\nzled me but there is nothing sharpens the apprehension\\nso much as antiquarian research for I immediately per-\\nceived that this could be no other than the identical\\nparcel-gilt goblet on which Falstaff made his loving\\n25 but faithless vow to Dame Quickly and which would,\\nof course, be treasured up with care among the regalia of\\nher domains, as a testimony of that solemn contract. 1\\nMine hostess, indeed, gave me a long history how the\\n1 Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my\\nDolphin chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, on Wednes-\\nday, in Whitsunweek, when the prince broke thy head for likening\\nhis father to a singing man at Windsor; thou didst swear to me\\nthen, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make me my\\nlady, thy wife. Canst thou deny it Henry IV., Part II", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0186.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "THE BOAR S HEAD TAVERN 147\\ngoblet had been handed down from generation to gener-\\nation. She also entertained me with many particulars\\nconcerning the worthy vestrymen who have seated them-\\nselves thus quietly on the stools of the ancient roysters\\nof Eastcheap, and like so many commentators, utter 5\\nclouds of smoke in honor of Shakespeare. These I for-\\nbear to relate, lest my readers should not be as curious\\nin these matters as myself. Suffice it to say, the neigh-\\nbors one and all about Eastcheap believe that Falstaff\\nand his merry crew actually lived and revelled there. 10\\nNay, there are several legendary anecdotes concerning\\nhim still extant among the oldest frequenters of the\\nMason s Arms, which they give as transmitted down\\nfrom their forefathers and Mr. M Kash, an Irish hair-\\ndresser, whose shop stands on the site of the old Boar s 15\\nHead, has several dry jokes of Fat Jack s, not laid down\\nin the books, with which he makes his customers ready\\nto die of laughter.\\nI now turned to my friend the sexton to make some\\nfurther inquiries, but I found him sunk in pensive medi- 20\\ntation. His head had declined a little on one side a\\ndeep sigh heaved from the very bottom of his stomach\\nand though I could not see a tear trembling in his eye,\\nyet a moisture was evidently stealing from a corner of\\nhis mouth. I followed the direction of his eye through 25\\nthe door which stood open, and found it fixed wistfully\\non the savory breast of lamb roasting in dripping rich-\\nness before the fire.\\nI now called to mind that in the eagerness of my\\nrecondite investigation I was keeping the poor man 30\\nfrom his dinner. My bowels yearned with sympathy,\\nand putting in his hand a small token of my gratitude\\nand goodness, I departed, with a hearty benediction on\\nhim, Dame Honeyball, and the Parish Club of Crooked", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0187.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "148 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nLane not forgetting my shabby but sententious friend\\nin the oil-cloth hat and copper nose.\\nThus have I given a tedious brief account of this\\ninteresting research, for which, if it prove too short and\\n5 unsatisfactory, I can only plead my inexperience in this\\nbranch of literature so deservedly popular at the present\\nt day. I am aware that a more skilful illustrator of the\\nimmortal bard would have swelled the materials I have\\ntouched upon to a good merchantable bulk comprising\\n10 the biographies of William Walworth, Jack Straw, and\\nRobert Preston some notice of the eminent fishmongers\\nof St. Michael s the history of Eastcheap, great and\\nlittle private anecdotes of Dame Honeyball and her\\npretty daughter, whom I have not even mentioned to\\n15 say nothing of a damsel tending the breast of lamb (and\\nwhom by the way I remarked to be a comely lass, with\\na neat foot and ankle), the whole enlivened by the\\nriots of Wat Tyler, and illuminated by the great fire of\\nLondon.\\n20 All this I leave as a rich mine to be worked by future\\ncommentators nor do I despair of seeing the tobacco-\\nbox and the parcel-gilt goblet which I have thus\\nbrought to light the subjects of future engravings, and\\nalmost as fruitful of voluminous dissertations and dis-\\n25 putes as the shield of Achilles or the far-famed Portland\\nvase.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0188.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "THE MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE\\nA COLLOQUY IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY\\nI know that all beneath the moon decays,\\nAnd what by mortals in this world is brought,\\nIn time s great period shall return to nought.\\nI know that all the muse s heavenly lays,\\nWith toil of sprite which are so dearly bought,\\nAs idle sounds, of few or none are sought,\\nThat there is nothing lighter than mere praise.\\nDrummond of Hawthornden.\\nThere are certain half-dreaming moods of mind in\\nwhich we naturally steal away from noise and glare, and\\nseek some quiet haunt where we may indulge our reveries\\nand build our air castles undisturbed. In such a mood\\nI was loitering about the old gray cloisters of Westmin- 5\\nster Abbey, enjoying that luxury of wandering thought\\nwhich one is apt to dignify with the name of reflection\\nwhen suddenly an interruption of madcap boys from\\nWestminster School, playing at football, broke in upon\\nthe monastic stillness of the place, making the vaulted 10\\npassages and mouldering tombs echo with their merri-\\nment. I sought to take refuge from their noise by\\npenetrating still deeper into the solitudes of the pile,\\nand applied to one of the vergers for admission to the\\nlibrary. He conducted me through a portal rich with 15\\nthe crumbling sculpture of former ages, which opened\\nupon a gloomy passage leading to the chapter-house and\\nthe chamber in which Doomsday Book is deposited.\\nJust within the passage is a small door on the left. To\\nthis the verger applied a key it was double locked, and 20\\n149", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0189.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "150 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nopened with some difficulty, as if seldom used. We now\\nascended a dark narrow staircase, and passing through\\na second door, entered the library.\\nI found myself in a lofty antique hall, the roof sup-\\n5 ported by massive joists of old English oak. It was\\nsoberly lighted by a row of Gothic windows at a con-\\nsiderable height from the floor, and which apparently\\nopened upon the roofs of the cloisters. An ancient\\npicture of some reverend dignitary of the Church in his\\n10 robes hung over the fireplace. Around the hall and\\nin a small gallery were the books, arranged in carved\\noaken cases. They consisted principally of old polem-\\nical writers, and were much more worn by time than\\nuse. In the centre of the library was a solitary table\\n15 with two or three books on it, an inkstand without\\nink, and a few pens parched by long disuse. The place\\nseemed fitted for quiet study and profound meditation.\\nIt was buried deep among the massive walls of the\\nabbey, and shut up from the tumult of the world. I\\n20 could only hear now and then the shouts of the school-\\nboys faintly swelling from the cloisters, and the sound of\\na bell tolling for prayers echoing soberly along the roofs\\nof the abbey. By degrees the shouts of merriment grew\\nfainter and fainter, and at length died away; the bell\\n25 ceased to toll, and a profound silence reigned through\\nthe dusky hall.\\nI had taken down a little thick quarto, curiously\\nbound in parchment, with brass clasps, and seated my-\\nself at the table in a venerable elbow-chair. Instead\\n30 of reading, however, I was beguiled by the solemn\\nmonastic air and lifeless quiet of the place into a\\ntrain of musing. As I looked around upon the old\\nvolumes in their mouldering covers, thus ranged on the\\nshelves and apparently never disturbed in their repose,", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0190.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "THE MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE 151\\nI could not but consider the library a kind of liter-\\nary catacomb, where authors like mummies are piously\\nentombed, and left to blacken and moulder in dusty\\noblivion.\\nHow much, thought I, has each of these volumes, 5\\nnow thrust aside with such indifference, cost some\\naching head how many weary days how many sleep-\\nless nights How have their authors buried themselves\\nin the solitude of cells and cloisters, shut themselves up\\nfrom the face of man and the still more blessed face of 10\\nnature, and devoted themselves to painful research and\\nintense reflection And all for what to occupy an inch\\nof dusty shelf to have the title of their works read\\nnow and then in a future age by some drowsy church-\\nman or casual straggler like myself; and in another age 15\\nto be lost even to remembrance. Such is the amount of\\nthis boasted immortality. A mere temporary rumor, a\\nlocal sound like the tone of that bell which has just\\ntolled among these towers, filling the earior a moment\\nlingering transiently in echo and then passing away 20\\nlike a thing that was not.\\nWhile I sat half murmuring, half meditating these\\nunprofitable speculations with my head resting on my\\nhand, I was thrumming with the other hand upon the\\nquarto, until I accidentally loosened the clasps when, 25\\nto my utter astonishment, the little book gave two or\\nthree yawns like one awaking from a deep sleep, then\\na husky hem, and at length began to talk. At first\\nits voice was very hoarse and broken, being much\\ntroubled by a cobweb which some studious spider had 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nwoven across it, and having probably contracted a\\ncold from long exposure to the chills and damps of\\nthe abbey. In a short time, however, it became more\\ndistinct, and I soon found it an exceedingly fluent", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0191.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "152 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nconversable little tome. Its language, to be sure, was\\nrather quaint and obsolete, and its pronunciation what\\nin the present day would be deemed barbarous but\\nI shall endeavor, as far as I am able, to render it in\\n5 modern parlance.\\nIt began with railings about the neglect of the world\\nabout merit being suffered to languish in obscurity, and\\nother such commonplace topics of literary repining, and\\ncomplained bitterly that it had not been opened for more\\n10 than two centuries. That the dean only looked now and\\nthen into the library, sometimes took down a volume\\nor two, trifled with them for a few moments, and then\\nreturned them to their shelves. What a plague do they\\nmean, said the little quarto, which I began to perceive\\n15 was somewhat choleric, what a plague do they mean by\\nkeeping several thousand volumes of us shut up here\\nand watched by a set of old vergers, like so many beau-\\nties in a harem, merely to be looked at now and then by\\nthe dean Books were written to give pleasure and to\\n20 be enjoyed; and I would have a rule passed that the dean\\nshould pay each of us a visit at least once a year or if\\nhe is not equal to the task, let them once in a while turn\\nloose the whole school of Westminster among us, that at\\nany rate we may now and then have an airing.\\n25 Softly, my worthy friend, replied I, you are not\\naware how much better you are off than most books of\\nyour generation. By being stored away in this ancient\\nlibrary, you are like the treasured remains of those saints\\nand monarchs which lie enshrined in the adjoining chap-\\n30 els; while the remains of your contemporary mortals, left\\nto the ordinary course of nature, have long since returned\\nto dust.\\nSir, said the little tome, ruffling his leaves and look-\\ning big, I was written for all the world, not for the", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0192.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "THE MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE 153\\nbook-worms of an abbey. I was intended to circulate\\nfrom hand to hand like other great contemporary\\nworks but here have I been clasped up for more than\\ntwo centuries, and might have silently fallen a prey to\\nthese worms that are playing the very vengeance with 5\\nmy intestines, if you had not by chance given me an\\nopportunity of uttering a few last words before I go to\\npieces.\\nMy good friend, rejoined I, had you been left to\\nthe circulation of which you speak, you would long ere 10\\nthis have been no more. To judge from your physiog-\\nnomy, you are now well stricken in years very few of\\nyour contemporaries can be at present in existence; and\\nthose few owe their longevity to being immured like your-\\nself in old libraries which, suffer me to add, instead of 15\\nlikening to harems,. you might more properly and grate-\\nfully have compared to those infirmaries attached to\\nreligious establishments, for the benefit of the old and\\ndecrepit, and where, by quiet fostering and no employ-\\nment, they often endure to an amazingly good-for- 20\\nnothing old age. You talk of your contemporaries as\\nif in circulation where do we meet with their works\\nwhat do we hear of Robert Grosseteste, of Lincoln No\\none could have toiled harder than he for immortality.\\nHe is said to have written nearly two hundred volumes. 25\\nHe built, as it were, a pyramid of books to perpetuate\\nhis name but, alas the pyramid has long since fallen,\\nand only a few fragments are scattered in various libra-\\nries, where they are scarcely disturbed even by the anti-\\nquarian. What do we hear of Giraldus Cambrensis, the 30\\nhistorian, antiquary, philosopher, theologian, and poet?\\nHe declined two bishoprics that he might shut himself\\nup and write for posterity but posterity never inquires\\nafter his labors. What of Henry of Huntingdon, who", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0193.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "154 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nbesides a learned history of England wrote a treatise\\non the contempt of the world, which the world has\\nrevenged by forgetting him What is quoted of Joseph\\nof Exeter, styled the miracle of his age in classical com-\\n5 position Of his three great heroic poems one is lost\\nforever, excepting a mere fragment the others are\\nknown only to a few of the curious in literature and as\\nto his love verses and epigrams, they have entirely dis-\\nappeared. What is in current use of John Wallis, the\\n10 Franciscan, who acquired the name of the Tree of Life\\nOf William of Malmesbury of Simeon of Durham\\nof Benedict of Peterborough of John Hanvill of St.\\nAlbans of\\nPrithee, friend, cried the quarto, in a testy tone,\\n15 how old do you think me You are talking of authors\\nthat lived long before my time, and wrote either in\\nLatin or French, so that they in a manner expatriated\\nthemselves and deserved to be forgotten; 1 but I, sir, was\\nushered into the world from the press of the renowned\\n20 Wynkyn de Worde. I was written in my own native\\ntongue at a time when the language had become fixed\\nand indeed I was considered a model of pure and\\nelegant English.\\n(I should observe that these remarks were couched\\n25 in such intolerably antiquated terms that I have had\\ninfinite difficulty in rendering them into modern phrase-\\nology.)\\nI cry you mercy, said I, for mistaking your age;\\nbut it matters little almost all the writers of your time\\n1 In Latin and French hath many soueraine wittes had great\\ndelyte to endite, and have many noble thinges fulfilde, but certes\\nthere ben some that speaken their poisye in French, of which\\nspeche the Frenchmen have as good a fantasye as we have in\\nhearying of Frenchmen s Englishe. Chaucer s Testament of Love,", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0194.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "THE MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE 155\\nhave likewise passed into forgetfulness and De Worde s\\npublications are mere literary rarities among book-col-\\nlectors. The purity and stability of language, too, on\\nwhich you found your claims to perpetuity, have been\\nthe fallacious dependence of authors of every age, even 5\\nback to the times of the worthy Robert of Gloucester,\\nwho wrote his history in rhymes of mongrel Saxon. 1\\nEven now many talk of Spenser s well of pure English\\nundefiled, as if the language ever sprang from a well\\nor fountain-head, and was not rather a mere confluence 10\\nof various tongues perpetually subject to changes and\\nintermixtures. It is this which has made English liter-\\nature so extremely mutable, and the reputation built\\nupon it so fleeting. Unless thought can be committed\\nto something more permanent and unchangeable than 15\\nsuch a medium, even thought must share the fate of\\neverything else, and fall into decay. This should serve\\nas a check upon the vanity and exultation of the most\\npopular writer. He finds the language in which he has\\nembarked his fame gradually altering, and subject to 20\\nthe dilapidations of time and the caprice of fashion.\\nHe looks back and beholds the early authors of his\\ncountry, once the favorites of their day, supplanted by\\nmodern writers. A few short ages have covered them\\nwith obscurity, and their merits can only be relished 25\\nby the quaint taste of the book-worm. And such, he\\n1 Holinshed, in his Chronicle, observes, Afterwards, also, by\\ndeligent travell of Geffry Chaucer and of John Gowre, in the time\\nof Richard the Second, and after them of John Scogan and John\\nLydgate, monke of Berrie, our said toong was brought to an excel-\\nlent passe, notwithstanding that it never came unto the type of\\nperfection until the time of Queen Elizabeth, wherein John Jewell,\\nBishop of Sarum, John Fox, and sundrie learned and excellent\\nwriters, have fully accomplished the ornature of the same, to their\\ngreat praise and immortal commendation.", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0195.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "156 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nanticipates, will be the fate of his own work, which,\\nhowever it may be admired in its day and held up as\\na model of purity, will in the course of years grow anti-\\nquated and obsolete, until it shall become almost as\\n5 unintelligible in its native land as an Egyptian obelisk,\\nor one of those Runic inscriptions said to exist in the\\ndeserts of Tartary. I declare, added I, with some\\nemotion, when I contemplate a modern library filled\\nwith new works in all the bravery of rich gilding and\\n10 binding, I feel disposed to sit down and weep like the\\ngood Xerxes when he surveyed his army pranked out\\nin all the splendor of military array, and reflected that\\nin one hundred years not one of them would be in\\nexistence\\n15 Ah, said the little quarto with a heavy sigh, I\\nsee how it is these modern scribblers have superseded\\nall the good old authors. I suppose nothing is read\\nnowadays but Sir Philip Sidney s Arcadia, Sackville s\\nstately plays, and Mirror for Magistrates, or the fine-\\n20 spun euphuisms of the unparalleled John Lily.\\nThere you are again mistaken, said I; the writers\\nwhom you suppose in vogue, because they happened to\\nbe so when you were last in circulation, have long since\\nhad their day. Sir Philip Sidney s Arcadia, the immor-\\n25 tality of which was so fondly predicted by his admirers, 1\\nand which in truth is full of noble thoughts, delicate\\nimages, and graceful turns of language, is now scarcely\\n1 Live ever sweete booke the simple image of his gentle witt,\\nand the golden-pillar of his noble courage and ever notify unto\\nthe world that thy writer was the secretary of eloquence, the breath\\nof the muses, the honey-bee of the daintyest flowers of witt and\\narte, the pith of morale and intellectual virtues, the arme of Bellona\\nin the field, the tonge of Suada in the chamber, the sprite of Prac-\\ntice in esse, and the paragon of excellency in print. Harvey s\\nPierce s Supererogation.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0196.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "THE MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE 157\\never mentioned. Sackville has strutted into obscurity;\\nand even Lyly, though his writings were once the\\ndelight of a court and apparently perpetuated by a\\nproverb, is now scarcely known even by name. A\\nwhole crowd of authors who wrote and wrangled at the 5\\ntime have likewise gone down, with all their writings\\nand their controversies. Wave after wave of succeed-\\ning literature has rolled over them, until they are buried\\nso deep that it is only now and then that some indus-\\ntrious diver after fragments of antiquity brings up a 10\\nspecimen for the gratification of the curious.\\nFor my part, I continued, I consider this muta-\\nbility of language a wise precaution of Providence for\\nthe benefit of the world at large, and of authors in\\nparticular. To reason from analogy, we daily behold 15\\nthe varied and beautiful tribes of vegetables springing\\nup, flourishing, adorning the fields for a short time, and\\nthen fading into dust to make way for their successors.\\nWere not this the case, the fecundity of nature would\\nbe a grievance instead of a blessing. The earth would 20\\ngroan with rank and excessive vegetation, and its sur-\\nface become a tangled wilderness. In like manner the\\nworks of genius and learning decline, and make way for\\nsubsequent productions. Language gradually varies,\\nand with it fade away the writings of authors who have 25\\nflourished their allotted time; otherwise, the creative\\npowers of genius would overstock the world, and the\\nmind would be completely bewildered in the endless\\nmazes of literature. Formerly there were some restraints\\non this excessive multiplication. Works had to be tran- 30\\nscribed by hand, which was a slow and laborious opera-\\ntion they were written either on parchment, which was\\nexpensive, so that one work was often erased to make\\nway for another or on papyrus, which was fragile and", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0197.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "158 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nextremely perishable. Authorship was a limited and\\nunprofitable craft, pursued chiefly by monks in the\\nleisure and solitude of their cloisters. The accumula-\\ntion of manuscripts was slow and costly, and confined\\n5 almost entirely to monasteries. To these circumstances\\nit may, in some measure, be owing that we have not\\nbeen inundated by the intellect of antiquity that the\\nfountains of thought have not been broken up, and\\nmodern genius drowned in the deluge. But the inven-\\nro tions of paper and the press have put an end to all\\nthese restraints. They have made every one a writer,\\nand enabled every mind to pour itself into print and\\ndiffuse itself over the whole intellectual world. The\\nconsequences are alarming. The stream of literature\\n15 has swollen into a torrent augmented into a river\\nexpanded into a sea. A few centuries since, five or\\nsix hundred manuscripts constituted a great library\\nbut what would you say to libraries such as actually\\nexist containing three or four hundred thousand vol-\\n20 umes, legions of authors at the same time busy, and\\nthe press going on with fearfully increasing activity\\nto double and quadruple the number Unless some\\nunforeseen mortality should break out among the\\nprogeny of the muse, now that she has become so\\n25 prolific, I tremble for posterity. I fear the mere fluctu-\\nation of language will not be sufficient. Criticism may\\ndo much. It increases with the increase of literature,\\nand resembles one of those salutary checks on popu-\\nlation spoken of by economists. All possible encour-\\n30 agement, therefore, should be given to the growth of\\ncritics, good or bad. But I fear all will be in vain\\nlet criticism do what it may, writers will write, printers\\nwill print, and the world will inevitably be overstocked\\nwith good books. It will soon be the employment of a", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0198.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "THE MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE 159\\nlifetime merely to learn their names. Many a man of\\npassable information at the present day reads scarcely\\nanything but reviews and before long a man of erudi-\\ntion will be little better than a mere walking catalogue.\\nMy very good sir, said the little quarto, yawning 5\\nmost drearily in my face, excuse my interrupting you,\\nbut I perceive you are rather given to prose. I would\\nask the fate of an author who was making some noise\\njust as I left the world. His reputation, however, was\\nconsidered quite temporary. The learned shook their 10\\nheads at him, for he was a poor half-educated varlet\\nthat knew little of Latin and nothing of Greek, and\\nhad been obliged to run the country for deer-stealing.\\nI think his name was Shakespeare. I presume he soon\\nsunk into oblivion. 15\\nOn the contrary, said I, it is owing to that very\\nman that the literature of his period has experienced\\na duration beyond the ordinary term of English litera-\\nture. There rise authors now and then who seem\\nproof against the mutability of language, because they 20\\nhave rooted themselves in the unchanging principles\\nof human nature. They are like gigantic trees that\\nwe sometimes see on the banks of a stream which,\\nby their vast and deep roots, penetrating through the\\nmere surface and laying hold on the very foundations 25\\nof the earth, preserve the soil around them from being\\nswept away by the overflowing current, and hold up\\nmany a neighboring plant and perhaps worthless weed\\nto perpetuity. Such is the case with Shakespeare,\\nwhom we behold defying the encroachments of time, 30\\nretaining in modern use the language and literature\\nof his day, and giving duration to many an indifferent\\nauthor, merely from having flourished in his vicinity.\\nBut even he, I grieve to say, is gradually assuming the", "height": "3509", "width": "2311", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0199.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "160 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ntint of age, and his whole form is overrun by a profusion\\nof commentators, who, like clambering vines and creep-\\ners, almost bury the noble plant that upholds them.\\nHere the little quarto began to heave his sides and\\n5 chuckle, until at length he broke out in a plethoric fit\\nof laughter that had well-nigh choked him by reason\\nof his excessive corpulency. Mighty well cried he,\\nas soon as he could recover breath, mighty well and\\nso you would persuade me that the literature of an age\\n10 is to be perpetuated by a vagabond deer-stealer by a\\nman without learning; by a poet, forsooth a poet!\\nAnd here he wheezed forth another fit of laughter.\\nI confess that I felt somewhat nettled at this rude-\\nness, which, however, I pardoned on account of his\\n15 having nourished in a less polished age. I determined,\\nnevertheless, not to give up my point.\\nYes, resumed I positively, a poet; for of all\\nwriters he has the best chance for immortality. Others\\nmay write from the head, but he writes from the heart,\\n20 and the heart will always understand him. He is the\\nfaithful portrayer of nature, whose features are always\\nthe same and always interesting. Prose writers are\\nvoluminous and unwieldy; their pages are crowded with\\ncommonplaces and their thoughts expanded into tedi-\\n25 ousness. But with the true poet everything is terse,\\ntouching, or brilliant. He gives the choicest thoughts\\nin the choicest language. He illustrates them by every-\\nthing that he sees most striking in nature and art. He\\nenriches them by pictures of human life, such as it is\\n30 passing before him. His writings, therefore, contain\\nthe spirit, the aroma, if I may use the phrase, of the age\\nin which he lives. They are caskets which enclose\\nwithin a small compass the wealth of the language its\\nfamily jewels, which are thus transmitted in a portable", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0200.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "THE MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE 161\\nform to posterity. The setting may occasionally be anti-\\nquated, and require now and then to be renewed, as in\\nthe case of Chaucer but the brilliancy and intrinsic\\nvalue of the gems continue unaltered. Cast a look back\\nover the long reach of literary history. What vast valleys 5\\nof dulness filled with monkish legends and academical\\ncontroversies what bogs of theological speculations\\nwhat dreary wastes of metaphysics! Here and there\\nonly do we behold the heaven-illuminated bards, elevated\\nlike beacons on their widely separate heights, to transmit 10\\nthe pure light of poetical intelligence from age to age.\\nI was just about to launch forth into eulogiums upon\\nthe poets of the day, when the sudden opening of the\\ndoor caused me to turn my head. It was the verger, who\\ncame to inform me that it was time to close the library. 15\\nI sought to have a parting word with the quarto, but\\nthe worthy little tome was silent the clasps were\\nclosed and it looked perfectly unconscious of all that\\nhad passed. I have been to the library two or three\\ntimes since, and have endeavored to draw it into fur- 20\\nther conversation, but in vain; and whether all this ram-\\nbling colloquy actually took place, or whether it was\\nanother of those odd day-dreams to which I am subject,\\nI have never to this moment been able to discover.\\n1 Thorow earth and waters deepe,\\nThe pen by skill doth passe\\nAnd featly nyps the worldes abuse,\\nAnd shoes us in a glasse,\\nThe vertu and the vice\\nOf every wight alyve\\nThe honey comb that bee doth make\\nIs not so sweet in hyve,\\nAs are the golden leves\\nThat drop from poet s head\\nWhich doth surmount our common talke\\nAs farre as dross doth lead.\\nChurchyard.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0201.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "RURAL FUNERALS\\nHere s a few flowers but about midnight more\\nThe herbs that have on them cold dew o the night\\nAre strewings fitt st for graves\\nYou were as flowers now wither d even so\\nThese herblets shall, which we upon you strow.\\nCymbeline.\\nAmong the beautiful and simple-hearted customs of\\nrural life which still linger in some parts of England,\\nare those of strewing flowers before the funerals, and\\nplanting them at the graves of departed friends. These,\\n5 it is said, are the remains of some of the rites of the\\nprimitive church but they are of still higher antiquity,\\nhaving been observed among the Greeks and Romans,\\nand frequently mentioned by their writers, and were, no\\ndoubt, the spontaneous tributes of unlettered affection,\\n10 originating long before art had tasked itself to modulate\\nsorrow into song, or story it on the monument. They\\nare now only to be met with in the most distant and\\nretired places of the kingdom, where fashion and inno-\\nvation have not been able to throng in, and trample out\\n15 all the curious and interesting traces of the olden time.\\nIn Glamorganshire, we are told, the bed whereon the\\ncorpse lies is covered with flowers, a custom alluded to\\nin one of the wild and plaintive ditties of Ophelia\\nWhite his shroud as the mountain snow\\n20 Larded all with sweet flowers\\nWhich be-wept to the grave did go,\\nWith true love showers.\\n162", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0202.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "RURAL FUNERALS 163\\nThere is also a most delicate and beautiful rite ob-\\nserved in some of the remote villages of the south, at the\\nfuneral of a female who has died young and unmarried.\\nA chaplet of white flowers is borne before the corpse by\\na young girl nearest in age, size, and resemblance, and is 5\\nafterwards hung up in the church over the accustomed\\nseat of the deceased. These chaplets are sometimes\\nmade of white paper, in imitation of flowers, and inside\\nof them is generally a pair of white gloves. They are\\nintended as emblems of the purity of the deceased and 10\\nthe crown of glory which she has received in heaven.\\nIn some parts of the country, also, the dead are carried\\nto the grave with the singing of psalms and hymns a\\nkind of triumph, to show, says Bourne, that they\\nhave finished their course with joy, and are become con- 15\\nquerors. This, I am informed, is observed in some of\\nthe northern counties, particularly in Northumberland,\\nand it has a pleasing, though melancholy effect, to hear\\nof a still evening in some lonely country scene the\\nmournful melody of a funeral dirge swelling from a dis- 20\\ntance, and to see the train slowly moving along the\\nlandscape.\\nThus, thus, and thus, we compass round\\nThy harmlesse and unhaunted ground,\\nAnd as we sing thy dirge, we will 25\\nThe daffodill\\nAnd other flowers lay upon\\nThe altar of our love, thy stone.\\nHerrick.\\nThere is also a solemn respect paid by the traveller to\\nthe passing funeral in these sequestered places for such 30\\nspectacles, occurring among the quiet abodes of nature,\\nsink deep into the soul. As the mourning train ap-\\nproaches, he pauses, uncovered, to let it go by he then", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0203.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "164 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nfollows silently in the rear sometimes quite to the\\ngrave, at other times for a few hundred yards, and\\nhaving paid this tribute of respect to the deceased,\\nturns and resumes his journey.\\n5 The rich vein of melancholy which runs through the\\nEnglish character and gives it some of its most touch-\\ning and ennobling graces, is finely evidenced in these\\npathetic customs, and in the solicitude shown by the\\ncommon people for an honored and a peaceful grave.\\n10 The humblest peasant, whatever may be his lowly lot\\nwhile living, is anxious that some little respect may be\\npaid to his remains. Sir Thomas Overbury, describing\\nthe faire and happy milkmaid, observes, thus lives\\nshe, and all her care is, that she may die in the spring-\\n1 5 time, to have store of flowers stucke upon her winding-\\nsheet. The poets, too, who always breathe the feeling\\nof a nation, continually advert to this fond solicitude\\nabout the grave. In The Maid s Tragedy, by Beaumont\\nand Fletcher, there is a beautiful instance of the kind,\\n20 describing the capricious melancholy of a broken-\\nhearted girl:\\nWhen she sees a bank\\nStuck full of flowers, she, with a sigh, will tell\\nHer servants, what a pretty place it were\\n2 r To bury lovers in and make her maids\\nPluck em, and strew her over like a corse.\\nThe custom of decorating graves was once universally\\nprevalent osiers were carefully bent over them to keep\\nthe turf uninjured, and about them were planted ever-\\n30 greens and flowers. We adorn their graves, says\\nEvelyn, in his Sylva, with flowers and redolent plants,\\njust emblems of the life of man, which has been com-\\npared in Holy Scriptures to those fading beauties, whose\\nroots being buried in dishonor, rise again in glory.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0204.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "RURAL FUNERALS 165\\nThis usage has now become extremely rare in England\\nbut it may still be met with in the churchyards of\\nretired villages among the Welsh mountains and I\\nrecollect an instance of it at the small town of Ruthen,\\nwhich lies at the head of the beautiful vale of Clewyd. 5\\nI have been told also by a friend, who was present at\\nthe funeral of a young girl in Glamorganshire, that\\nthe female attendants had their aprons full of flowers,\\nwhich, as soon as the body was interred, they stuck\\nabout the grave. 10\\nHe noticed several graves which had been decorated\\nin the same manner. As the flowers had been merely\\nstuck in the ground, and not planted, they had soon\\nwithered, and might be seen in various states of decay\\nsome drooping, others quite perished. They were after- 15\\nwards to be supplanted by holly, rosemary, and other\\nevergreens, which on some graves had grown to great\\nluxuriance, and overshadowed the tombstones.\\nThere was formerly a melancholy fancifulness in the\\narrangement of these rustic offerings, that had some- 20\\nthing in it truly poetical. The rose was sometimes\\nblended with the lily, to form a general emblem of frail\\nmortality. This sweet flower, said Evelyn, borne\\non a branch set with thorns and accompanied with the\\nlily, are natural hieroglyphics of our fugitive, umbratile, 25\\nanxious, and transitory life, which, making so fair a\\nshow for a time, is not yet without its thorns and\\ncrosses. The nature and color of the flowers and of\\nthe ribbons with which they were tied had often a\\nparticular reference to the qualities or story of the 30\\ndeceased, or were expressive of the feelings of the\\nmourner. In an old poem, entitled Corydon s Doleful\\nKnell, a lover specifies the decorations he intends to\\nuse:", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0205.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "166 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nA garland shall be framed\\nBy art and nature s skill,\\nOf sundry-color d flowers,\\nIn token of good-will.\\n5 And sundry-color d ribands\\nOn it I will bestow\\nBut chiefly blacke and yellowe\\nWith her to grave shall go.\\nI ll deck her tomb with flowers,\\n10 The rarest ever seen\\nAnd with my tears as showers,\\nI ll keep them fresh and green.\\nThe white rose, we are told, was planted at the grave\\nof a virgin her chaplet was tied with white ribbons\\n15 in token of her spotless innocence, though sometimes\\nblack ribbons were intermingled to bespeak the grief of\\nthe survivors. The red rose was occasionally used in\\nremembrance of such as had been remarkable for benev-\\nolence but roses in general were appropriated to the\\n20 graves of lovers. Evelyn tells us that the custom was not\\naltogether extinct in his time, near his dwelling in the\\ncounty of Surrey, where the maidens yearly planted\\nand decked the graves of their defunct sweethearts with\\nrose-bushes. And Camden likewise remarks, in his\\n25 Britannia: Here is also a certain custom, observed\\ntime out of mind, of planting rose-trees upon the graves,\\nespecially by the young men and maids who have lost\\ntheir loves so that this churchyard is now full of\\nthem.\\n30 When the deceased had been unhappy in their loves,\\nemblems of a more gloomy character were used, such as\\nthe yew and cypress and if flowers were strewn, they\\nwere of the most melancholy colors. Thus, in poems", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0206.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "RURAL FUNERALS 167\\nby Thomas Stanley, Esq. (published in 1651), is the\\nfollowing stanza\\nYet strew\\nUpon my dismall grave\\nSuch offerings as you have, 5\\nForsaken cypresse and sad yewe\\nFor kinder flowers can take no birth\\nOr growth from such unhappy earth.\\nIn The Maid s Tragedy a pathetic little air is intro-\\nduced, illustrative of this mode of decorating the 10\\nfunerals of females who had been disappointed in\\nlove\\nLay a garland on my hearse,\\nOf the dismall yew,\\nMaidens, willow branches wear, 15\\nSay I died true.\\nMy love was false, but I was firm,\\nFrom my hour of birth,\\nUpon my buried body lie\\nLightly, gentle earth. 20\\nThe natural effect of sorrow over the dead is to refine\\nand elevate the mind and we have a proof of it in\\nthe purity of sentiment and the unaffected elegance\\nof thought which pervaded the whole of these funeral\\nobservances. Thus, it was an especial precaution that 25\\nnone but sweet-scented evergreens and flowers should\\nbe employed. The intention seems to have been to\\nsoften the horrors of the tomb, to beguile the mind\\nfrom brooding over the disgraces of perishing mor-\\ntality, and to associate the memory of the deceased 30\\nwith the most delicate and beautiful objects in nature.\\nThere is a dismal process going on in the grave ere\\ndust can return to its kindred dust, which the imagi-", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0207.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "168 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nnation shrinks from contemplating and we seek still to\\nthink of the form we have loved with those refined\\nassociations which it awakened when blooming before\\nus in youth and beauty. Lay her i the earth, says\\n5 Laertes, of his virgin sister,\\nAnd from her fair and unpolluted flesh\\nMay violets spring\\nHerrick, also, in his Dirge of fephtha, pours forth a\\nfragrant flow of poetical thought and image, which in\\n10 a manner embalms the dead in the recollections of the\\nliving.\\nSleep in thy peace, thy bed of spice,\\nAnd make this place all Paradise\\nMay sweets grow here and smoke from hence\\nFat frankincense.\\nLet balme and cassia send their scent\\nFrom out thy maiden monument.\\nl S\\nMay all shie maids at wonted hours\\nCome forth to strew thy tombe with flowers\\n20 May virgins, when they come to mourn,\\nMale incense burn\\nUpon thine altar then return\\nAnd leave thee sleeping in thine urn.\\nI might crowd my pages with extracts from the older\\n25 British poets who wrote when these rites were more\\nprevalent, and delighted frequently to allude to them\\nbut I have already quoted more than is necessary. I\\ncannot, however, refrain from giving a passage from\\nShakespeare, even though it should appear trite, which\\n30 illustrates the emblematical meaning often conveyed in\\nthese floral tributes, and at the same time possesses", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0208.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "RURAL FUNERALS 169\\nthat magic of language and appositeness of imagery\\nfor which he stands pre-eminent.\\nWith fairest flowers,\\nWhilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,\\nI ll sweeten thy sad grave thou shalt not lack 5\\nThe flower that s like thy face, pale primrose nor\\nThe azured harebell, like thy veins no, nor\\nThe leaf of eglantine whom not to slander,\\nOutsweeten d not thy breath.\\nThere is certainly something more affecting in these 10\\nprompt and spontaneous offerings of nature than in the\\nmost costly monuments of art the hand strews the\\nflower while the heart is warm, and the tear falls on\\nthe grave as affection is binding the osier round the\\nsod; but pathos expires under the slow labor of the 15\\nchisel, and is chilled among the cold conceits of sculp-\\ntured marble.\\nIt is greatly to be regretted that a custom so truly\\nelegant and touching has disappeared from general use,\\nand exists only in the most remote and insignificant vil- 20\\nlages. But it seems as if poetical custom always shuns\\nthe walks of cultivated society. In proportion as people\\ngrow polite they cease to be poetical. They talk of\\npoetry, but they have learnt to check its free impulses,\\nto distrust its sallying emotions, and to supply its most 25\\naffecting and picturesque usages by studied form and\\npompous ceremonial. Few pageants can be more stately\\nand frigid than an English funeral in town. It is made\\nup of show and* gloomy parade mourning carriages,\\nmourning horses, mourning plumes, and hireling mourn- 30\\ners who make a mockery of grief. There is a grave\\ndigged, says Jeremy Taylor, and a solemn mourn-\\ning and a great talk in the neighborhood, and when", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0209.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "170 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nthe daies are finished, they shall be, and they shall be\\nremembered no more. The associate in the gay and\\ncrowded city is soon forgotten the hurrying succes-\\nsion of new intimates and new pleasures effaces him\\n5 from our minds, and the very scenes and circles in\\nwhich he moved are incessantly fluctuating. But funer-\\nals in the country are solemnly impressive. The stroke\\nof death makes a wider space in the village circle, and\\nis an awful event in the tranquil uniformity of rural life.\\n10 The passing bell tolls its knell in every ear it steals\\nwith its pervading melancholy over hill and vale, and\\nsaddens all the landscape.\\nThe fixed and unchanging features of the country also\\nperpetuate the memory of the friend with whom we once\\n15 enjoyed them; who was the companion of our most\\nretired walks, and gave animation to every lonely scene.\\nHis idea is associated with every charm of nature we\\nhear his voice in the echo which he once delighted to\\nawaken his spirit haunts the grove which he once\\n20 frequented we think of him in the wild upland soli-\\ntude or amidst the pensive beauty of the valley. In the\\nfreshness of joyous morning, we remember his beaming\\nsmiles and bounding gayety and when sober evening\\nreturns with its gathering shadows and subduing quiet,\\n25 we call to mind many a twilight hour of gentle talk and\\nsweet-souled melancholy.\\nEach lonely place shall him restore,\\nFor him the tear be duly shed\\nBelov d, till life can charm no more\\n3 o And mournM till pity s self be dead.\\nAnother cause that perpetuates the memory of the\\ndeceased in the country is that the grave is more imme-\\ndiately in sight of the survivors. They pass it on their", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0210.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "RURAL FUNERALS 171\\nway to prayer, it meets their eyes when their hearts are\\nsoftened by the exercises of devotion they linger about\\nit on the Sabbath, when the mind is disengaged from\\nworldly cares, and most disposed to turn aside from\\npresent pleasures and present loves and to sit down 5\\namong the solemn mementos of the past. In North\\nWales the peasantry kneel and pray over the graves of\\ntheir deceased friends for several Sundays after the\\ninterment and where the tender rite of strewing and\\nplanting flowers is still practised, it is always renewed 10\\non Easter, Whitsuntide, and other festivals, when the\\nseason brings the companion of former festivity more\\nvividly to mind. It is also invariably performed by the\\nnearest relatives and friends no menials nor hirelings\\nare employed; and if a neighbor yields assistance, it 15\\nwould be deemed an insult to offer compensation.\\nI have dwelt upon this beautiful rural custom, because,\\nas it is one of the last, so is it one of the holiest offices\\nof love. The grave is the ordeal of true affection. It\\nis there that the divine passion of the soul manifests its 20\\nsuperiority to the instinctive impulse of mere animal\\nattachment. The latter must be continually refreshed\\nand kept alive by the presence of its object but the\\nlove that is seated in the soul can live on long remem-\\nbrance. The mere inclinations of sense languish and 25\\ndecline with the charms that excited them, and turn with\\nshuddering disgust from the dismal precincts of the\\ntomb but it is thence that truly spiritual affection\\nrises, purified from every sensual desire, and returns\\nlike a holy flame to illumine and sanctify the heart of 30\\nthe survivor.\\nThe sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which\\nwe refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek\\nto heal every other affliction to forget but this wound", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0211.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "172 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwe consider it a duty to keep open this affliction we\\ncherish and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother\\nwho would willingly forget the infant that perished like\\na blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a\\n5 pang Where is the child that would willingly forget\\nthe most tender of parents, though to remember be but\\nto lament Who, even in the hour of agony, would\\nforget the friend over whom he mourns Who, even\\nwhen the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he\\n10 most loved, when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed\\nin the closing of its portal, would accept of consolation\\nthat must be bought by forgetfulness No, the love\\nwhich survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes\\nof the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights\\n15 and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into\\nthe gentle tear of recollection, when the sudden anguish\\nand the convulsive agony over the present ruins of all\\nthat we most loved is softened away into pensive medi-\\ntation on all that it was in the days of its loveliness\\n20 who would root out such a sorrow from the heart\\nThough it may sometimes throw a passing cloud over\\nthe bright hour of gayety, or spread a deeper sadness\\nover the hour of gloom, yet who would exchange it even\\nfor the song of pleasure or the burst of revelry No,\\n25 there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song. There\\nis a remembrance of the dead to which we turn even\\nfrom the charms of the living. Oh, the grave the\\ngrave It buries every error covers every defect\\nextinguishes every resentment From its peaceful bosom\\n30 spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections.\\nWho can look down upon the grave even of an enemy,\\nand not feel a compunctious throb, that he should ever\\nhave warred with the poor handful of earth that lies\\nmouldering before him", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0212.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "RURAL FUNERALS 173\\nBut the grave of those we loved what a place for\\nmeditation There it is that we call up in long review\\nthe whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thou-\\nsand endearments lavished upon us almost unheeded in\\nthe daily intercourse of intimacy there it is that we 5\\ndwell upon the tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness\\nof the parting scene. The bed of death, with all its\\nstifled griefs its noiseless attendance its mute,\\nwatchful assiduities. The last testimonies of expiring\\nlove! The feeble, fluttering, thrilling oh! how thrill- 10\\ning pressure of the hand The faint, faltering\\naccents, struggling in death to give one more assurance\\nof affection The last fond look of the glazing eye,\\nturned upon us even from the threshold of existence\\nAy, go to the grave of buried love and meditate 1 5\\nThere settle the account with thy conscience for every\\npast benefit unrequited every past endearment unre-\\ngarded of that departed being who can never never\\nnever return to be soothed by thy contrition\\nIf thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to 20\\nthe soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affec-\\ntionate parent if thou art a husband, and hast ever\\ncaused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness\\nin thy arms to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy\\ntruth if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged, in 25\\nthought, or word, or deed, the spirit that generously\\nconfided in thee if thou art a lover, and hast ever\\ngiven one unmerited pang to that true heart which now\\nlies cold and still beneath thy feet, then be sure that\\nevery unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle 30\\naction, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and\\nknocking dolefully at thy soul then be sure that thou\\nwilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the grave,\\nand utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0213.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "174 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ntear more deep, more bitter, because unheard and\\nunavailing.\\nThen weave thy chaplet of flowers, and strew the\\nbeauties of nature about the grave console thy broken\\n5 spirit, if thou canst, with these tender, yet futile tributes\\nof regret but take warning by the bitterness of this thy\\ncontrite affliction over the dead, and henceforth be more\\nfaithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duties to\\nthe living.\\n10 In writing the preceding article, it was not intended\\nto give a full detail of the funeral customs of the English\\npeasantry, but merely to furnish a few hints and quota-\\ntions illustrative of particular rites, to be appended by\\nway of note to another paper, which has been withheld.\\n15 The article swelled insensibly into its present form, and\\nthis is mentioned as an apology for so brief and casual\\na notice of these usages, after they have been amply and\\nlearnedly investigated in other works.\\nI must observe, also, that I am well aware that this\\n20 custom of adorning graves with flowers prevails in other\\ncountries besides England. Indeed, in some it is much\\nmore general, and is observed even by the rich and\\nfashionable but it is then apt to lose its simplicity\\nand to degenerate into affectation. Bright, in his travels\\n25 in Lower Hungary, tells of monuments of marble, and\\nrecesses formed for retirement with seats placed among\\nbowers of greenhouse plants and that the graves gener-\\nally are covered with the gayest flowers of the season.\\nHe gives a casual picture of filial piety which I cannot\\n30 but transcribe, for I trust it is as useful as it is delight-\\nful to illustrate the amiable virtues of the sex. When\\nI was at Berlin, says he, I followed the celebrated", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0214.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "RURAL FUNERALS 175\\nIffland to the grave. Mingled with some pomp you\\nmight trace much real feeling. In the midst of the\\nceremony, my attention was attracted by a young\\nwoman who stood on a mound of earth newly covered\\nwith turf, which she anxiously protected from the feet 5\\nof the passing crowd. It was the tomb of her parent\\nand the figure of this affectionate daughter presented\\na monument more striking than the most costly work\\nof art.\\nI will barely add an instance of sepulchral decoration 10\\nthat I once met with among the mountains of Switzer-\\nland. It was at the villa of Gersau, which stands on\\nthe borders of the Lake of Lucerne at the foot of Mount\\nRigi. It was once the capital of a miniature republic,\\nshut up between the Alps and the Lake, and accessible 15\\non the land side only by footpaths. The whole force of\\nthe republic did not exceed six hundred fighting men\\nand a few miles of circumference, scooped out as it were\\nfrom the bosom of the mountains, comprised its terri-\\ntory. The village of Gersau seemed separated from the 20\\nrest of the world, and retained the golden simplicity of a\\npurer age. It had a small church, with a burying-ground\\nadjoining. At the heads of the graves were placed\\ncrosses of wood or iron. On some were affixed minia-\\ntures, rudely executed, but evidently attempts at like- 25\\nnesses of the deceased. On the crosses were hung\\nchaplets of flowers, some withering, others fresh, as if\\noccasionally renewed. I paused with interest at this\\nscene I felt that I was at the source of poetical descrip-\\ntion, for these were the beautiful but unaffected offerings 30\\nof the heart which poets are fain to record. In a gayer\\nand more populous place, I should have suspected them\\nto have been suggested by factitious sentiment derived\\nfrom books but the good people of Gersau knew little", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0215.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "176 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nof books there was not a novel nor a love-poem in the\\nvillage and I question whether any peasant of the place\\ndreamt, while he was twining a fresh chaplet for the\\ngrave of his mistress, that he was fulfilling one of the\\n5 most fanciful rites of poetical devotion, and that he was\\npractically a poet.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0216.jp2"}, "217": {"fulltext": "THE INN KITCHEN\\nShall I not take mine ease in mine inn?\\nFalstaff.\\nDuring a journey that I once made through the\\nNetherlands, I arrived one evening at the Pomme d Or,\\nthe principal inn of a small Flemish village. It was\\nafter the hour of the table d hote, so that I was obliged\\nto make a solitary supper from the relics of its ampler 5\\nboard. The weather was chilly I was seated alone in\\none end of a great gloomy dining-room, and my repast\\nbeing over, I had the prospect before me of a long dull\\nevening, without any visible means of enlivening it. I\\nsummoned mine host, and requested something to read 10\\nhe brought me the whole literary stock of his household\\na Dutch family Bible, an almanac in the same language,\\nand a number of old Paris newspapers. As I sat dozing\\nover one of the latter, reading old and stale criticisms,\\nmy ear was now and then struck with bursts of laughter 15\\nwhich seemed to proceed from the kitchen. Every one\\nthat has travelled on the continent must know how\\nfavorite a resort the kitchen of a country inn is to the\\nmiddle and inferior order of travellers particularly in\\nthat equivocal kind of weather when a fire becomes 20\\nagreeable toward evening. I threw aside the newspaper\\nand explored my way to the kitchen, to take a peep at\\nthe group that appeared to be so merry. It was com-\\nposed partly of travellers who had arrived some hours\\nbefore in a diligence, and partly of the usual attendants 25\\n177", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0217.jp2"}, "218": {"fulltext": "178 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nand hangers-on of inns. They were seated round a great\\nburnished stove, that might have been mistaken for an\\naltar at which they were worshipping. It was covered\\nwith various kitchen vessels of resplendent brightness,\\n5 among which steamed and hissed a huge copper tea-\\nkettle. A large lamp threw a strong mass of light upon\\nthe group, bringing out many odd features in strong\\nrelief. Its yellow rays partially illumined the spacious\\nkitchen, dying duskily away into remote corners, except\\nio where they settled in mellow radiance on the broad side\\nof a flitch of bacon, or were reflected back from well-\\nscoured utensils that gleamed from the midst of obscur-\\nity. A strapping Flemish lass, with long golden pendants\\nin her ears and a necklace with a golden heart suspended\\n15 to it, was the presiding priestess of the temple.\\nMany of the company were furnished with pipes, and\\nmost of them with some kind of evening potation. I\\nfound their mirth was occasioned by anecdotes which\\na little swarthy Frenchman, with a dry weazen face and\\n20 large whiskers, was giving of his love adventures at the\\nend of each of which there was one of those bursts of\\nhonest unceremonious laughter in which a man indulges\\nin that temple of true liberty, an inn.\\nAs I had no better mode of getting through a tedious\\n25 blustering evening, I took my seat near the stove, and\\nlistened to a variety of traveller s tales, some very extrav-\\nagant and most very dull. All of them, however, have\\nfaded from my treacherous memory except one, which I\\nwill endeavor to relate. I fear, however, it derived its\\n30 chief zest from the manner in which it was told, and the\\npeculiar air and appearance of the narrator. He was a\\ncorpulent old Swiss, who had the look of a veteran trav-\\neller. He was dressed in a tarnished green travelling-\\njacket, with a broad belt round his waist, and a pair of", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0218.jp2"}, "219": {"fulltext": "THE INN KITCHEN 179\\noveralls with buttons from the hips to the ankles. He\\nwas of a full, rubicund countenance, with a double chin,\\naquiline nose, and a pleasant, twinkling eye. His hair\\nwas light, and curled from under an old green velvet\\ntravelling-cap stuck on one side of his head. He was\\ninterrupted more than once by the arrival of guests or\\nthe remarks of his auditors, and paused now and then\\nto replenish his pipe, at which times he had generally a\\nroguish leer and a sly joke for the buxom kitchen-maid.\\nI wish my readers could imagine the old fellow lolling\\nin a huge armchair, one arm akimbo, the other holding\\na curiously twisted tobacco pipe formed of genuine ecume\\nde mer, decorated with silver chain and silken tassel, his\\nhead cocked on one side, and the whimsical cut of the\\neye occasionally, as he related the following story.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0219.jp2"}, "220": {"fulltext": "THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM\\nA TRAVELLER S TALE 1\\nHe that supper for is dight,\\nHe lyes full cold, I trow, this night\\nYestreen to chamber I him led,\\nThis night Gray-Steel has made his bed.\\nSir Eger, Sir Grahame, and Sir Gray-Steel.\\nOn the summit of one of the heights of the Odenwald,\\na wild and romantic tract of Upper Germany that lies\\nnot far from the confluence of the Main and the Rhine,\\nthere stood, many, many years since, the castle of the\\n5 Baron Von Landshort. It is now quite fallen to decay\\nand almost buried among beech trees and dark firs\\nabove which, however, its old watchtower may still be\\nseen, struggling, like the former possessor I have men-\\ntioned, to carry a high head and look down upon the\\nio neighboring country.\\nThe baron was a dry branch of the great family of\\nKatzenellenbogen, 2 and inherited the relics of the prop-\\nerty and all the pride of his ancestors. Though the\\nwarlike disposition of his predecessors had much im-\\n15 paired the family possessions, yet the baron still endeav-\\n1 The erudite reader, well versed in good-for-nothing lore, will\\nperceive that the above Tale must have been suggested to the old\\nSwiss by a little French anecdote, a circumstance said to have taken\\nplace at Paris.\\n2 I.e., Cat s-Elbow. The name of a family of those parts very\\npowerful in former times. The appellation, we are told, was given\\nin compliment to a peerless dame of the family, celebrated for her\\nfine arm.\\n180", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0220.jp2"}, "221": {"fulltext": "THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 181\\nored to keep up some show of former state. The times\\nwere peaceable, and the German nobles in general had\\nabandoned their inconvenient old castles, perched like\\neagles nests among the mountains, and had built more\\nconvenient residences in the valleys still the baron 5\\nremained proudly drawn up in his little fortress, cher-\\nishing with hereditary inveteracy all the old family\\nfeuds so that he was on ill terms with some of his\\nnearest neighbors, on account of disputes that had hap-\\npened between their great-great-grandfathers. 10\\nThe baron had but one child, a daughter but nature\\nwhen she grants but one child always compensates by\\nmaking it a prodigy and so it was with the daughter of\\nthe baron. All the nurses, gossips, and country cousins\\nassured her father that she had not her equal for beauty 15\\nin all Germany; and who should know better than they\\nShe had, moreover, been brought up with great care\\nunder the superintendence of two maiden aunts, who\\nhad spent some years of their early life at one of the\\nlittle German courts, and were skilled in all the branches 20\\nof knowledge necessary to the education of a fine lady.\\nUnder their instructions she became a miracle of accom-\\nplishments. By the time she was eighteen she could\\nembroider to admiration, and had worked whole histories\\nof the saints in tapestry, with such strength of expres- 25\\nsion in their countenances that they looked like so\\nmany souls in purgatory. She could read without great\\ndifficulty, and had spelled her way through several\\nchurch legends, and almost all the chivalric wonders of\\nthe Heldenbuch. She had even made considerable pro- 30\\nficiency in writing could sign her own name without\\nmissing a letter, and so legibly that her aunts could\\nread it without spectacles. She excelled in making little\\nelegant good-for-nothing lady-like knickknacks of all", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0221.jp2"}, "222": {"fulltext": "182 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nkinds, was versed in the most abstruse dancing of the\\nday, played a number of airs on the harp and guitar,\\nand knew all the tender ballads of the Minnelieders by\\nheart.\\n5 Her aunts, too, having been great flirts and coquettes\\nin their younger days, were admirably calculated to be\\nvigilant guardians and strict censors of the conduct of\\ntheir niece for there is no duenna so rigidly prudent\\nand inexorably decorous as a superannuated coquette.\\nio She was rarely suffered out of their sight never went\\nbeyond the domains of the castle, unless well attended,\\nor rather well watched had continual lectures read to\\nher about strict decorum and implicit obedience and\\nas to the men pah she was taught to hold them\\n15 at such a distance and in such absolute distrust, that\\nunless properly authorized, she would not have cast a\\nglance upon the handsomest cavalier in the world no,\\nnot if he were even dying at her feet.\\nThe good effects of this system were wonderfully\\n20 apparent. The young lady was a pattern of docility\\nand correctness. While others were wasting their sweet-\\nness in the glare of the world, and liable to be plucked\\nand thrown aside by every hand, she was coyly blooming\\ninto fresh and lovely womanhood under the protection\\n25 of those immaculate spinsters, like a rosebud blushing\\nforth among guardian thorns. Her aunts looked upon\\nher with pride and exultation, and vaunted that though\\nall the other young ladies in the world might go astray,\\nyet, thank Heaven, nothing of the kind could happen to\\n30 the heiress of Katzenellenbogen.\\nBut, however scantily the Baron Von Landshort might\\nbe provided with children, his household was by no\\nmeans a small one for Providence had enriched him\\nwith abundance of poor relations. They, one and all,", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0222.jp2"}, "223": {"fulltext": "THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 183\\npossessed the affectionate disposition common to humble\\nrelatives were wonderfully attached to the baron, and\\ntook every possible occasion to come in swarms and\\nenliven the castle. All family festivals were commemo-\\nrated by these good people at the baron s expense and 5\\nwhen they were filled with good cheer, they would\\ndeclare that there was nothing on earth so delightful\\nas these family meetings, these jubilees of the heart.\\nThe baron, though a small man, had a large soul, and\\nit swelled with satisfaction at the consciousness of being 10\\nthe greatest man in the little world about him. He loved\\nto tell long stories about the dark old warriors whose\\nportraits looked grimly down from the walls around,\\nand he found no listeners equal to those that fed at his\\nexpense. He was much given to the marvellous, and a 15\\nfirm believer in all those supernatural tales with which\\nevery mountain and valley in Germany abounds. The\\nfaith of his guests exceeded even his own they listened\\nto every tale of wonder with open eyes and mouth, and\\nnever failed to be astonished, even though repeated for 20\\nthe hundredth time. Thus lived the Baron Von Land-\\nshort, the oracle of his table, the absolute monarch of\\nhis little territory, and happy above all things in the\\npersuasion that he was the wisest man of the age.\\nAt the time of which my story treats there was a 25\\ngreat family gathering at the castle, on an affair of the\\nutmost importance it was to receive the destined bride-\\ngroom of the baron s daughter. A negotiation had been\\ncarried on between the father and an old nobleman of\\nBavaria, to unite the dignity of their houses by the mar- 30\\nriage of their children. The preliminaries had been con-\\nducted with proper punctilio. The young people were\\nbetrothed without seeing each other and the time was\\nappointed for the marriage ceremony. The young Count", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0223.jp2"}, "224": {"fulltext": "184 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nVon Altenburg had been recalled from the army for the\\npurpose, and was actually on his way to the baron s to\\nreceive his bride. Missives had even been received from\\nhim, from Wurtzburg, where he was accidentally detained,\\n5 mentioning the day and hour when he might be expected\\nto arrive.\\nThe castle was in a tumult of preparation to give him\\na suitable welcome. The fair bride had been decked out\\nwith uncommon care. The two aunts had superintended\\nio her toilet, and quarrelled the whole morning about every\\narticle of her dress. The young lady had taken advan-\\ntage of their contest to follow the bent of her own taste\\nand fortunately it was a good one. She looked as lovely\\nas youthful bridegroom could desire and the flutter of\\n15 expectation heightened the lustre of her charms.\\nThe suffusions that mantled her face and neck, the\\ngentle heaving of the bosom, the eye now and then lost\\nin reverie, all betrayed the soft tumult that was going on\\nin her little heart. The aunts were continually hovering\\n20 around her; for maiden aunts are apt to take great\\ninterest in affairs of this nature. They were giving her\\na world of staid counsel how to deport herself, what to\\nsay, and in what manner to receive the expected lover.\\nThe baron was no less busied in preparations. He\\n25 had in truth nothing exactly to do but he was natu-\\nrally a fuming, bustling little man, and could not remain\\npassive when all the world was in a hurry. He worried\\nfrom top to bottom of the castle with an air of infinite\\nanxiety he continually called the servants from their\\n30 work to exhort them to be diligent; and buzzed about\\nevery hall and chamber, as idly restless and importunate\\nas a blue-bottle fly on a warm summer s day.\\nIn the mean time the fatted calf had been killed the\\nforests had rung with the clamor of the huntsmen; the", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0224.jp2"}, "225": {"fulltext": "THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 185\\nkitchen was crowded with good cheer the cellars had\\nyielded up whole oceans of Rhein-wein and Ferne-wein\\nand even the great Heidelberg tun had been laid under\\ncontribution. Everything was ready to receive the dis-\\ntinguished guest with Saus unci #raus in the true spirit 5\\nof German hospitality but the guest delayed to make\\nhis appearance. Hour rolled after hour. The sun, that\\nhad poured his downward rays upon the rich forest of\\nthe Odenwald, now just gleamed along the summits of\\nthe mountains. The baron mounted the highest tower, 10\\nand strained his eyes in hope of catching a distant\\nsight of the count and his attendants. Once he thought\\nhe beheld them the sound of horns came floating from\\nthe valley, prolonged by the mountain echoes. A num-\\nber of horsemen were seen far below, slowly advancing 15\\nalong the road; but when they had nearly reached the\\nfoot of the mountain, they suddenly struck off in a\\ndifferent direction. The last ray of sunshine departed\\nthe bats began to flit by in the twilight the road\\ngrew dimmer and dimmer to the view and nothing 20\\nappeared stirring in it but now and then a peasant\\nlagging homeward from his labor.\\nWhile the old castle of Landshort was in this state of\\nperplexity, a very interesting scene was transacting in a\\ndifferent part of the Odenwald. 25\\nThe young Count Von Altenburg was tranquilly pur-\\nsuing his route in that sober jog-trot way in which a\\nman travels toward matrimony when his friends have\\ntaken all the trouble and uncertainty of courtship off his\\nhands, and a bride is waiting for him as certainly as a 3\u00c2\u00b0\\ndinner at the end of his journey. He had encountered\\nat Wurtzburg a youthful companion in arms with whom\\nhe had seen some service on the frontiers Hermann\\nVon Starkenfaust, one of the stoutest hands and worthi-", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0225.jp2"}, "226": {"fulltext": "1S6 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nest hearts of German chivalry, who was now returning\\nfrom the army. His father s castle was not far distant\\nfrom the old fortress of Landshort, although an heredi-\\ntary feud rendered the families hostile and strangers to\\n5 each other.\\nIn the warm-hearted moment of recognition the young\\nfriends related all their past adventures and fortunes,\\nand the count gave the whole history of his intended\\nnuptials with a young lady whom he had never seen, but\\n10 of whose charms he had received the most enrapturing\\ndescriptions.\\nAs the route of the friends lay in the same direction,\\nthey agreed to perform the rest of their journey together;\\nand that they might do it the more leisurely, set off\\n15 from Wurtzburg at an early hour, the count having given\\ndirections for his retinue to follow and overtake him.\\nThey beguiled their wayfaring with recollections of\\ntheir military scenes and adventures but the count was\\napt to be a little tedious now and then about the reputed\\n20 charms of his bride and the felicity that awaited him.\\nIn this way they had entered among the mountains of\\nthe Odenwald, and were traversing one of its most lonely\\nand thickly wooded passes. It is well known that the\\nforests of Germany have always been as much infested\\n25 by robbers as its castles by spectres and at this time\\nthe former were particularly numerous, from the hordes\\nof disbanded soldiers wandering about the country. It\\nwill not appear extraordinary, therefore, that the cava-\\nliers were attacked by a gang of these stragglers in the\\n30 midst of the forest. They defended themselves with\\nbravery, but were nearly overpowered when the count s\\nretinue arrived to their assistance. At sight of them\\nthe robbers fled, but not until the count had received\\na mortal wound. He was slowly and carefully conveyed", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0226.jp2"}, "227": {"fulltext": "THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 187\\nback to the city of Wurtzburg, and a friar summoned\\nfrom a neighboring convent, who was famous for his\\nskill in administering to both soul and body but half\\nof his skill was superfluous the moments of the unfor-\\ntunate count were numbered. 5\\nWith his dying breath he entreated his friend to\\nrepair instantly to the castle of Landshort, and explain\\nthe fatal cause of his not keeping his appointment with\\nhis bride. Though not the most ardent of lovers, he\\nwas one of the most punctilious of men, and appeared 10\\nearnestly solicitous that his mission should be speedily\\nand courteously executed. Unless this is done, said\\nhe, I shall not sleep quietly in my grave He repeated\\nthese last words with peculiar solemnity. A request at\\na moment so impressive admitted no hesitation. Star- 15\\nkenf aust endeavored to soothe him to calmness, promised\\nfaithfully to execute his wish, and gave him his hand in\\nsolemn pledge. The dying man pressed it in acknowl-\\nedgment, but soon lapsed into delirium raved about his\\nbride his engagements his plighted word ordered 20\\nhis horse, that he might ride to the castle of Landshort\\nand expired in the fancied act of vaulting into the saddle.\\nStarkenfaust bestowed a sigh and a soldier s tear on\\nthe untimely fate of his comrade, and then pondered on\\nthe awkward mission he had undertaken. His heart was 25\\nheavy and his head perplexed for he was to present\\nhimself an unbidden guest among hostile people, and to\\ndamp their festivity with tidings fatal to their hopes.\\nStill there were certain whisperings of curiosity in his\\nbosom to see this far-famed beauty of Katzenellenbogen, 30\\nso cautiously shut up from the world for he was a\\npassionate admirer of the sex, and there was a dash of\\neccentricity and enterprise in his character that made\\nhim fond of all singular adventure.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0227.jp2"}, "228": {"fulltext": "188 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nPrevious to his departure he made all due arrange-\\nments with the holy fraternity of the convent for the\\nfuneral solemnities of his friend, who was to be buried\\nin the cathedral of Wurtzburg, near some of his illus-\\n5 trious relatives and the mourning retinue of the count\\ntook charge of his remains.\\nIt is now high time that we should return to the\\nancient family of Katzenellenbogen, who were impatient\\nfor their guest, and still more for their dinner and to\\n10 the worthy little baron, whom we left airing himself on\\nthe watch-tower.\\nNight closed in, but still no guest arrived. The baron\\ndescended from the tower in despair. The banquet,\\nwhich had been delayed from hour to hour, could no\\n15 longer be postponed. The meats were already over-\\ndone the cook in an agony and the whole household\\nhad the look of a garrison that had been reduced by\\nfamine. The baron was obliged reluctantly to give\\norders for the feast without the presence of the guest.\\n20 All were seated at table, and just on the point of com-\\nmencing, when the sound of a horn from without the\\ngate gave notice of the approach of a stranger. Another\\nlong blast filled the old courts of the castle with its\\nechoes, and was answered by the warder from the walls.\\n25 The baron hastened to receive his future son-in-law.\\nThe drawbridge had been let down, and the stranger\\nwas before the gate. He was a tall, gallant cavalier,\\nmounted on a black steed. His countenance was pale,\\nbut he had a beaming, romantic eye, and an air of stately\\n30 melancholy. The baron was a little mortified that he\\nshould have come in this simple, solitary style. His\\ndignity for a moment was ruffled, and he felt disposed\\nto consider it a want of proper respect for the important\\noccasion, and the important family with which he was to", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0228.jp2"}, "229": {"fulltext": "THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 189\\nbe connected. He pacified himself, however, with the\\nconclusion that it must have been youthful impatience\\nwhich had induced him thus to spur on sooner than his\\nattendants.\\nI am sorry, said the stranger, to break in upon 5\\nyou thus unseasonably\\nHere the baron interrupted him with a world of com-\\npliments and greetings; for, to tell the truth, he prided\\nhimself upon his courtesy and eloquence. The stranger\\nattempted once or twice to stem the torrent of words, 10\\nbut in vain, so he bowed his head and suffered it to flow\\non. By the time the baron had come to a pause they\\nhad reached the inner court of the castle and the\\nstranger was again about to speak, when he was once\\nmore interrupted by the appearance of the female part 15\\nof the family, leading forth the shrinking and blushing\\nbride. He gazed on her for a moment as one entranced\\nit seemed as if his whole soul beamed forth in the gaze,\\nand rested upon that lovely form. One of the maiden\\naunts whispered something in her ear she made an 20\\neffort to speak her moist blue eye was timidly raised,\\ngave a shy glance of inquiry on the stranger, and was\\ncast again to the ground. The words died away but\\nthere was a sweet smile playing about her lips, and a soft\\ndimpling of the cheek that showed her glance had not 25\\nbeen unsatisfactory. It was impossible for a girl of the\\nfond age of eighteen, highly predisposed for love and\\nmatrimony, not to be pleased with so gallant a cavalier.\\nThe late hour at which the guest had arrived left\\nno time for parley. The baron was peremptory, and 30\\ndeferred all particular conversation until the morning,\\nand led the way to the untasted banquet.\\nIt was served up in the great hall of the castle.\\nAround the walls hung the hard-favored portraits of the", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0229.jp2"}, "230": {"fulltext": "190 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nheroes of the house of Katzenellenbogen, and the tro-\\nphies which they had gained in the field and in the\\nchase. Hacked corselets, splintered jousting spears, and\\ntattered banners were mingled with the spoils of sylvan\\n5 warfare; the jaws of the wolf and the tusks of the boar\\ngrinned horribly among crossbows and battle-axes, and\\na huge pair of antlers branched immediately over the\\nhead of the youthful bridegroom.\\nThe cavalier took but little notice of the company or\\n10 the entertainment. He scarcely tasted the banquet, but\\nseemed absorbed in admiration of his bride. He con-\\nversed in a low tone that could not be overheard for\\nthe language of love is never loud but where is the\\nfemale ear so dull that it cannot catch the softest whis-\\n15 per of the lover? There was a mingled tenderness and\\ngravity in his manner, that appeared to have a powerful\\neffect upon the young lady. Her color came and went\\nas she listened with deep attention. Now and then\\nshe made some blushing reply, and when his eye was\\n20 turned away, she would steal a sidelong glance at his\\nromantic countenance, and heave a gentle sigh of tender\\nhappiness. It was evident that the young couple were\\ncompletely enamored. The aunts, who were deeply\\nversed in the mysteries of the heart, declared that they\\n25 had fallen in love with each other at first sight.\\nThe feast went on merrily, or at least noisily, for the\\nguests were all blessed with those keen appetites that\\nattend upon light purses and mountain air. The baron\\ntold his best and longest stories, and never had he told\\n30 them so well or with such great effect. If there was any-\\nthing marvellous, his auditors were lost in astonishment\\nand if anything facetious, they were sure to laugh exactly\\nin the right place. The baron, it is true, like most great\\nmen, was too dignified to utter any joke but a dull one", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0230.jp2"}, "231": {"fulltext": "THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 191\\nit was always enforced, however, by a bumper of excel-\\nlent Hochheimer; and even a dull joke, at one s own\\ntable, served up with jolly old wine, is irresistible. Many\\ngood things were said by poorer and keener wits that\\nwould not bear repeating, except on similar occasions 5\\nmany sly speeches whispered in ladies ears that almost\\nconvulsed them with suppressed laughter and a song or\\ntwo roared out by a poor, but merry and broad-faced\\ncousin of the baron that absolutely made the maiden\\naunts hold up their fans. 10\\nAmidst all this revelry the stranger guest maintained\\na most singular and unseasonable gravity. His coun-\\ntenance assumed a deeper cast of dejection as the evening\\nadvanced and, strange as it may appear, even the\\nbaron s jokes seemed only to render him the more 15\\nmelancholy. At times he was lost in thought, and at\\ntimes there was a perturbed and restless wandering of the\\neye that bespoke a mind but ill at ease. His conversa-\\ntions with the bride became more and more earnest and\\nmysterious. Lowering clouds began to steal over the 20\\nfair serenity of her brow, and tremors to run through\\nher tender frame.\\nAll this could not escape the notice of the company.\\nTheir gayety was chilled by the unaccountable gloom of\\nthe bridegroom their spirits were infected whispers 25\\nand glances were interchanged, accompanied by shrugs\\nand dubious shakes of the head. The song and the\\nlaugh grew less and less frequent there were dreary\\npauses in the conversation, which were at length suc-\\nceeded by wild tales and supernatural legends. One 30\\ndismal story produced another still more dismal, and the\\nbaron nearly frightened some of the ladies into hysterics\\nwith the history of the goblin horseman that carried\\naway the fair Leonora a dreadful story, which has since", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0231.jp2"}, "232": {"fulltext": "192 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nbeen put into excellent verse, and is read and believed\\nby all the world.\\nThe bridegroom listened to this tale with profound\\nattention. He kept his eyes steadily fixed on the baron,\\n5 and as the story drew to a close began gradually to rise\\nfrom his seat, growing taller and taller, until in the\\nbaron s entranced eye he seemed almost to tower into\\na giant. The moment the tale was finished he heaved a\\ndeep sigh and took a solemn farewell of the company.\\n10 They were all amazement. The baron was perfectly\\nthunderstruck.\\nWhat going to leave the castle at midnight why,\\neverything was prepared for his reception a chamber\\nwas ready for him if he wished to retire.\\n15 The stranger shook his head mournfully and mysteri-\\nously I must lay my head in a different chamber\\nto-night\\nThere was something in this reply and the tone in\\nwhich it was uttered that made the baron s heart mis-\\n20 give him but he rallied his forces and repeated his\\nhospitable entreaties.\\nThe stranger shook his head silently but positively\\nat every offer and waving his farewell to the company,\\nstalked slowly out of the hall. The maiden aunts were\\n25 absolutely petrified the bride hung her head and a\\ntear stole to her eye.\\nThe baron followed the stranger to the great court of\\nthe castle, where the black charger stood pawing the\\nearth and snorting with impatience. When they had\\n30 reached the portal, whose deep archway was dimly\\nlighted by a cresset, the stranger paused, and addressed\\nthe baron in a hollow tone of voice which the vaulted\\nroof rendered still more sepulchral.\\nNow that we are alone, said he, I will impart to", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0232.jp2"}, "233": {"fulltext": "THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 193\\nyou the reason of my going. I have a solemn, an indis-\\npensable engagement\\nWhy, said the baron, cannot you send some one\\nin your place\\nIt admits of no substitute I must attend it in 5\\nperson I must away to Wurtzburg cathedral\\nAy, said the baron, plucking up spirit, but not\\nuntil to-morrow to-morrow you shall take your bride\\nthere.\\nNo no replied the stranger, with tenfold solem- 10\\nnity, my engagement is with no bride the worms\\nthe worms expect me I am a dead man I have been\\nslain by robbers my body lies at Wurtzburg at mid-\\nnight I am to be buried the grave is waiting for me\\nI must keep my appointment 15\\nHe sprang on his black charger, dashed over the\\ndrawbridge, and the clattering of his horse s hoofs was\\nlost in the whistling of the night blast.\\nThe baron returned to the hall in the utmost con-\\nsternation and related what had passed. Two ladies 20\\nfainted outright, others sickened at the idea of having\\nbanqueted with a spectre. It was the opinion of some\\nthat this might be the wild huntsman, famous in Ger-\\nman legend. Some talked of mountain sprites, of wood-\\ndemons, and of other supernatural beings with which 25\\nthe good people of Germany have been so grievously\\nharassed since time immemorial. One of the poor\\nrelations ventured to suggest that it might be some\\nsportive evasion of the young cavalier, and that the\\nvery gloominess of the caprice seemed to accord with 30\\nso melancholy a personage. This, however, drew on\\nhim the indignation of the whole company, and espe-\\ncially of the baron, who looked upon him as little better\\nthan an infidel so that he was fain to abjure his heresy", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0233.jp2"}, "234": {"fulltext": "194 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nas speedily as possible and come into the faith of the\\ntrue believers.\\nBut whatever may have been the doubts entertained,\\nthey were completely put to an end by the arrival, next\\n5 day, of regular missives confirming the intelligence of\\nthe young count s murder and his interment in Wurtz-\\nburg cathedral.\\nThe dismay at the castle may well be imagined. The\\nbaron shut himself up in his chamber. The guests, who\\n10 had come to rejoice with him, could not think of aban-\\ndoning him in his distress. They wandered about the\\ncourts or collected in groups in the hall, shaking their\\nheads and shrugging their shoulders at the troubles of\\nso good a man and sat longer than ever at table, and\\n15 ate and drank more stoutly than ever, by way of keeping\\nup their spirits. But the situation of the widowed bride\\nwas the most pitiable. To have lost a husband before\\nshe had even embraced him and such a husband if\\nthe very spectre could be so gracious and noble, what\\n20 must have been the living man She filled the house\\nwith lamentations.\\nOn the night of the second day of her widowhood\\nshe had retired to her chamber, accompanied by one\\nof her aunts, who insisted on sleeping with her. The\\n25 aunt, who was one of the best tellers of ghost stories\\nin all Germany, had just been recounting one of her\\nlongest, and had fallen asleep in the very midst of\\nit. The chamber was remote and overlooked a small\\ngarden. The niece lay pensively gazing at the beams of\\n30 the rising moon, as they trembled on the leaves of an\\naspen tree before the lattice. The castle clock had just\\ntolled midnight when a soft strain of music stole up\\nfrom the garden. She rose hastily from her bed and\\nstepped lightly to the window. A tall figure stood", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0234.jp2"}, "235": {"fulltext": "THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 195\\namong the shadows of the trees. As it raised its head\\na beam of moonlight fell upon the countenance. Heaven\\nand earth she beheld the Spectre Bridegroom A loud\\nshriek at that moment burst upon her ear, and her aunt,\\nwho had been awakened by the music and had followed 5\\nher silently to the window, fell into her arms. When\\nshe looked again the spectre had disappeared.\\nOf the two females, the aunt now required the most\\nsoothing, for she was perfectly beside herself with ter-\\nror. As to the young lady, there was something, even 10\\nin the spectre of her lover, that seemed endearing.\\nThere was still the semblance of manly beauty and\\nthough the shadow of a man is but little calculated to\\nsatisfy the affections of a love-sick girl, yet, where the\\nsubstance is not to be had, even that is consoling. 15\\nThe aunt declared she would never sleep in that cham-\\nber again the niece for once was refractory, and\\ndeclared as strongly that she would sleep in no other\\nin the castle the consequence was, that she had to\\nsleep in it alone but she drew a promise from her 20\\naunt not to relate the story of the spectre, lest she\\nshould be denied the only melancholy pleasure left her\\non earth that of inhabiting the chamber over which\\nthe guardian shade of her lover kept its nightly\\nvigils. 25\\nHow long the good old lady would have observed\\nthis promise is uncertain, for she dearly loved to talk\\nof the marvellous, and there is a triumph in being the\\nfirst to tell a frightful story it is, however, still quoted\\nin the neighborhood as a memorable instance of female 30\\nsecrecy that she kept it to herself for a whole week\\nwhen she was suddenly absolved from all further re-\\nstraint, by intelligence brought to the breakfast table\\none morning that the young lady was not to be found.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0235.jp2"}, "236": {"fulltext": "196 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nHer room was empty the bed had not been slept in\\nthe window was open, and the bird had flown\\nThe astonishment and concern with which the intelli-\\ngence was received can only be imagined by those who\\n5 have witnessed the agitation which the mishaps of a\\ngreat man cause among his friends. Even the poor\\nrelations paused for a moment from the indefatigable\\nlabors of the trencher when the aunt, who had at first\\nbeen struck speechless, wrung her hands and shrieked\\n10 out, The goblin the goblin she s carried away by\\nthe goblin.\\nIn a few words she related the fearful scene of the\\ngarden, and concluded that the spectre must have car-\\nried off his bride. Two of the domestics corroborated\\n15 the opinion, for they had heard the clattering of a\\nhorse s hoofs down the mountain about midnight, and\\nhad no doubt that it was the spectre on his black\\ncharger bearing her away to the tomb. All present\\nwere struck with the direful probability for events of\\n20 the kind are extremely common in Germany, as many\\nwell-authenticated histories bear witness.\\nWhat a lamentable situation was that of the poor\\nbaron What a heartrending dilemma for a fond\\nfather and a member of the great family of Katzen-\\n25 ellenbogen His only daughter had either been rapt\\naway to the grave, or he was to have some wood-\\ndemon for a son-in-law, and perchance a troop of goblin\\ngrandchildren. As usual, he was completely bewildered,\\nand all the castle in an uproar. The men were ordered\\n30 to take horse and scour every road and path and glen\\nof the Odenwald. The baron himself had just drawn\\non his jack-boots, girded on his sword, and was about\\nto mount his steed to sally forth on the doubtful quest,\\nwhen he was brought to a pause by a new apparition.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0236.jp2"}, "237": {"fulltext": "THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM 197\\nA lady was seen approaching the castle, mounted on\\na palfrey, attended by a cavalier on horseback. She\\ngalloped up to the gate, sprang from her horse, and\\nfalling at the baron s feet embraced his knees. It was\\nhis lost daughter and her companion the Spectre 5\\nBridegroom The baron was astounded. He looked\\nat his daughter, then at the spectre, and almost doubted\\nthe evidence of his senses. The latter, too, was won-\\nderfully improved in his appearance since his visit to\\nthe world of spirits. His dress was splendid, and set 10\\noff a noble figure of manly symmetry. He was no\\nlonger pale and melancholy. His fine countenance\\nwas flushed with the glow of youth, and joy rioted\\nin his large dark eye.\\nThe mystery was soon cleared up. The cavalier (for 15\\nin truth as you must have known all the while, he was no\\ngoblin) announced himself as Sir Hermann Von Starken-\\nfaust. He related his adventure with the young count.\\nHe told how he had hastened to the castle to deliver\\nthe unwelcome tidings, but that the eloquence of the 20\\nbaron had interrupted him in every attempt to tell his\\ntale. How the sight of the bride had completely capti-\\nvated him, and that to pass a few hours near her he\\nhad tacitly suffered the mistake to continue. How he\\nhad been sorely perplexed in what way to make a 25\\ndecent retreat, until the baron s goblin stories had sug-\\ngested his eccentric exit. How, fearing the feudal hos-\\ntility of the family, he had repeated his visits by stealth\\nhad haunted the garden beneath the young lady s\\nwindow had wooed had won had borne away in 30\\ntriumph and, in a word, had wedded the fair.\\nUnder any other circumstances the baron would have\\nbeen inflexible, for he was tenacious of paternal author-\\nity and devoutly obstinate in all family feuds but he", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0237.jp2"}, "238": {"fulltext": "198 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nloved his daughter he had lamented her as lost he\\nrejoiced to find her still alive and though her husband\\nwas of a hostile house, yet, thank Heaven, he was not a\\ngoblin. There was something, it must be acknowledged,\\n5 that did not exactly accord with his notions of strict\\nveracity in the joke the knight had passed upon him of\\nhis being a dead man but several old friends present\\nwho had served in the wars assured him that every\\nstratagem was excusable in love, and that the cavalier\\n10 was entitled to especial privilege, having lately served\\nas a trooper.\\nMatters, therefore, were happily arranged. The baron\\npardoned the young couple on the spot. The revels\\nat the castle were resumed. The poor relations over-\\n15 whelmed this new member of the family with loving\\nkindness he was so gallant, so generous and so rich.\\nThe aunts, it is true, were somewhat scandalized that\\ntheir system of strict seclusion and passive obedience\\nshould be so badly exemplified, but attributed it all to\\n20 their negligence in not having the windows grated.\\nOne of them was particularly mortified at having her\\nmarvellous story marred, and that the only spectre she\\nhad ever seen should turn out a counterfeit but the\\nniece seemed perfectly happy at having found him sub-\\n25 stantial flesh and blood and so the story ends.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0238.jp2"}, "239": {"fulltext": "WESTMINSTER ABBEY\\nWhen I behold, with deep astonishment,\\nTo famous Westminster how there resorte\\nLiving in brasse or stoney monument,\\nThe princes and the worthies of all sorte\\nDoe not I see reformde nobilitie,\\nWithout contempt, or pride, or ostentation,\\nAnd looke upon offenselesse majesty,\\nNaked of pomp or earthly domination\\nAnd how a play-game of a painted stone\\nContents the quiet now and silent sprites,\\nWhome all the world which late they stood upon\\nCould not content or quench their appetites.\\nLife is a frost of cold felicitie,\\nAnd death the thaw of all our vanitie.\\nChristolero s Epigrams, by T. B., 1598.\\nOn one of those sober and rather melancholy days in\\nthe latter part of autumn, when the shadows of morning\\nand evening almost mingle together and throw a gloom\\nover the decline of the year, I passed several hours in\\nrambling about Westminster Abbey. There was some- 5\\nthing congenial to the season in the mournful magnifi-\\ncence of the old pile and as I passed its threshold it\\nseemed like stepping back into the regions of antiquity\\nand losing myself among the shades of former ages.\\nI entered from the inner court of Westminster School, 10\\nthrough a long, low, vaulted passage that had an almost\\nsubterranean look, being dimly lighted in one part by\\ncircular perforations in the massive walls. Through this\\ndark avenue I had a distant view of the cloisters, with\\nthe figure of an old verger in his black gown moving 15\\nalong their shadowy vaults, and seeming like a spectre\\n199", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0239.jp2"}, "240": {"fulltext": "200 THE SKE TCH BOOM\\nfrom one of the neighboring tombs. The approach to\\nthe abbey through these gloomy monastic remains pre-\\npares the mind for its solemn contemplation. The clois-\\nters still retain something of the quiet and seclusion of\\n5 former days. The gray walls are discolored by damps\\nand crumbling with age a coat of hoary moss has gath-\\nered over the inscriptions of the mural monuments and\\nobscured the death s head and other funereal emblems.\\nThe sharp touches of the chisel are gone from the rich\\n10 tracery of the arches the roses which adorned the key-\\nstones have lost their leafy beauty everything bears\\nmarks of the gradual dilapidations of time, which yet\\nhas something touching and pleasing in its very decay.\\nThe sun was pouring down a yellow autumnal ray into\\n15 the square of the cloisters; beaming upon a scanty plot\\nof grass in the centre, and lighting up an angle of the\\nvaulted passage with a kind of dusky splendor. From\\nbetween the arcades the eye glanced up to a bit of blue\\nsky or a passing cloud and beheld the sun-gilt pinnacles\\n20 of the abbey towering into the azure heaven.\\nAs I paced the cloisters, sometimes contemplating\\nthis mingled picture of glory and decay, and sometimes\\nendeavoring to decipher the inscriptions on the tomb-\\nstones which formed the pavement beneath my feet, my\\n25 eye was attracted to three figures, rudely carved in relief,\\nbut nearly worn away by the footsteps of many genera-\\ntions. They were the effigies of three of the early abbots\\nthe epitaphs were entirely effaced; the names alone\\nremained, having no doubt been renewed in later times\\n30 Vitalis. Abbas. 1082, and Gislebertus Crispinus. Abbas.\\n1 1 14, and Laurentius. Abbas, n 76. I remained some\\nlittle while musing over these casual relics of antiquity\\nthus left like wrecks upon this distant shore of time,\\ntelling no tale but that such beings had been, and had", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0240.jp2"}, "241": {"fulltext": "WESTMINSTER ABBEY 201\\nperished teaching no moral but the futility of that pride\\nwhich hopes still to exact homage in its ashes and to\\nlive in an inscription. A little longer and even these\\nfaint records will be obliterated, and the monument\\nwill cease to be a memorial. Whilst I was yet looking 5\\ndown upon these gravestones I was roused by the sound\\nof the abbey clock reverberating from buttress to but-\\ntress and echoing among the cloisters. It is almost\\nstartling to hear this warning of departed time sounding\\namong the tombs and telling the lapse of the hour, which, 10\\nlike a billow, has rolled us onward towards the grave.\\nI pursued my walk to an arched door opening to the\\ninterior of the abbey. On entering here the magnitude\\nof the building breaks fully upon the mind, contrasted\\nwith the vaults of the cloisters. The eyes gaze with 15\\nwonder at clustered columns of gigantic dimensions,\\nwith arches springing from them to such an amazing\\nheight, and man wandering about their bases, shrunk into\\ninsignificance in comparison with his own handiwork.\\nThe spaciousness and gloom of this vast edifice produce 20\\na profound and mysterious awe. We step cautiously\\nand softly about, as if fearful of disturbing the hallowed\\nsilence of the tomb while every footfall whispers along\\nthe walls and chatters among the sepulchres, making us\\nmore sensible of the quiet we have interrupted. 25\\nIt seems as if the awful nature of the place presses\\ndown upon the soul and hushes the beholder into noise-\\nless reverence. We feel that we are surrounded by the\\ncongregated bones of the great men of past times who\\nhave filled history with their deeds and the earth with 30\\ntheir renown.\\nAnd yet it almost provokes a smile at the vanity of\\nhuman ambition to see how they are crowded together\\nand jostled in the dust what parsimony is observed in", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0241.jp2"}, "242": {"fulltext": "202 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ndoling out a scanty nook, a gloomy corner, a little por-\\ntion of earth, to those whom, when alive, kingdoms could\\nnot satisfy and how many shapes and forms and arti-\\nfices are devised to catch the casual notice of the\\n5 passenger, and save from forgetfulness for a few short\\nyears a name which once aspired to occupy ages of the\\nworld s thought and admiration.\\nI passed some time in Poet s Corner, which occupies\\nan end of one of the transepts or cross aisles of the abbey.\\nio The monuments are generally simple, for the lives of\\nliterary men afford no striking themes for the sculptor.\\nShakespeare and Addison have statues erected to their\\nmemories, but the greater part have busts, medallions,\\nand sometimes mere inscriptions. Notwithstanding the\\n15 simplicity of these memorials, I have always observed\\nthat the visitors to the abbey remained longest about\\nthem. A kinder and fonder feeling takes place of that\\ncold curiosity or vague admiration with which they gaze\\non the splendid monuments of the great and the heroic.\\n20 They linger about these as about the tombs of friends\\nand companions for indeed there is something of com-\\npanionship between the author and the reader. Other\\nmen are known to posterity only through the medium of\\nhistory, which is continually growing faint and obscure\\n25 but the intercourse between the author and his fellow-\\nmen is ever new, active, and immediate. He has lived\\nfor them more than for himself he has sacrificed sur-\\nrounding enjoyments and shut himself up from the\\ndelights of social life, that he might the more intimately\\n30 commune with distant minds and distant ages. Well\\nmay the world cherish his renown for it has been pur-\\nchased, not by deeds of violence and blood, but by the\\ndiligent dispensation of pleasure. Well may posterity be\\ngrateful to his memory for he has left it an inheritance,", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0242.jp2"}, "243": {"fulltext": "WESTMINSTER ABBEY 203\\nnot of empty names and sounding actions, but whole\\ntreasures of wisdom, bright gems of thought, and golden\\nveins of language.\\nFrom Poet s Corner I continued my stroll towards\\nthat part of the abbey which contains the sepulchres of 5\\nthe kings. I wandered among what once were chapels,\\nbut which are now occupied by the tombs and monu-\\nments of the great. At every turn I met with some\\nillustrious name, or the cognizance of some powerful\\nhouse renowned in history. As the eye darts into these 10\\ndusky chambers of death it catches glimpses of quaint\\neffigies some kneeling in niches, as if in devotion\\nothers stretched upon the tombs, with hands piously\\npressed together warriors in armor, as if reposing after\\nbattle; prelates with crosiers and mitres and nobles in 15\\nrobes and coronets, lying as it were in state. In glancing\\nover this scene, so strangely populous, yet where every\\nform is so still and silent, it seems almost as if we were\\ntreading a mansion of that fabled city where every being\\nhad been suddenly transmuted into stone. 20\\nI paused to contemplate a tomb on which lay the\\neffigy of a knight in complete armor. A large buckler\\nwas on one arm the hands were pressed together in\\nsupplication upon the breast the face was almost cov-\\nered by the morion the legs were crossed, in token of 25\\nthe warrior s having been engaged in the holy war. It\\nwas the tomb of a crusader of one of those military\\nenthusiasts who so strangely mingled religion and ro-\\nmance, and whose exploits form the connecting link\\nbetween fact and fiction, between the history and the 30\\nfairy tale. There is something extremely picturesque in\\nthe tombs of these adventurers, decorated as they are\\nwith rude armorial bearings and Gothic sculpture. They\\ncomport with the antiquated chapels in which they are", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0243.jp2"}, "244": {"fulltext": "204 THE SKE TCH BOOK\\ngenerally found and in considering them the imagina-\\ntion is apt to kindle with the legendary associations, the\\nromantic fiction, the chivalrous pomp and pageantry\\nwhich poetry has spread over the wars for the sepulchre\\n5 of Christ. They are the relics of time utterly gone by,\\nof beings passed from recollection, of customs and man-\\nners with which ours have no affinity. They are like\\nobjects from some strange and distant land of which we\\nhave no certain knowledge, and about which all our con-\\n10 ceptions are vague and visionary. There is something\\nextremely solemn and awful in those effigies on Gothic\\ntombs, extended as if in the sleep of death, or in the\\nsupplication of the dying hour. They have an effect\\ninfinitely more impressive on my feelings than the fanci-\\n15 ful attitudes, the overwrought conceits, and allegorical\\ngroups which abound on modern monuments. I have\\nbeen struck, also, with the superiority of many of the\\nold sepulchral inscriptions. There was a noble way, in\\nformer times, of saying things simply, and yet say-\\n20 ing them proudly and I do not know an epitaph that\\nbreathes a loftier consciousness of family worth and\\nhonorable lineage than one which affirms of a noble\\nhouse that all the brothers were brave and all the\\nsisters virtuous.\\n25 In the opposite transept to Poet s. Corner stands a\\nmonument which is among the most renowned achieve-\\nments of modern art, but which to me appears horrible\\nrather than sublime. It is the tomb of Mrs. Nightingale,\\nby Roubiliac. The bottom of the monument is repre-\\n50 sented as throwing open its marble doors, and a sheeted\\nskeleton is starting forth. The shroud is falling from his\\nfleshless frame as he launches his dart at his victim.\\nShe is sinking into her affrighted husband s arms, who\\nstrives with vain and frantic effort to avert the blow.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0244.jp2"}, "245": {"fulltext": "WESTMINSTER ABBEY 205\\nThe whole is executed with terrible truth and spirit we\\nalmost fancy we hear the gibbering yell of triumph burst-\\ning from the distended jaws of the spectre. But why\\nshould we thus seek to clothe death with unnecessary\\nterrors, and to spread horrors round the tomb of those 5\\nwe love The grave should be surrounded by every-\\nthing that might inspire tenderness and veneration for\\nthe dead, or that might win the living to virtue. It is\\nthe place, not of disgust and dismay, but of sorrow and\\nmeditation. 10\\nWhile wandering about these gloomy vaults and silent\\naisles, studying the records of the dead, the sound of\\nbusy existence from without occasionally reaches the\\near, the rumbling of the passing equipage, the murmur\\nof the multitude, or perhaps the light laugri of pleasure. 15\\nThe contrast is striking with the deathlike repose around\\nand it has a strange effect upon the feelings thus to hear\\nthe surges of active life hurrying along and beating\\nagainst the very walls of the sepulchre.\\nI continued in this way to move from tomb to tomb 20\\nand from chapel to chapel. The day was gradually\\nwearing away the distant tread of loiterers about the\\nabbey grew less and less frequent the sweet-tongued\\nbell was summoning to evening prayers and I saw at a\\ndistance the choristers in their white surplices crossing 25\\nthe aisle and entering the choir. I stood before the\\nentrance to Henry the Seventh s Chapel. A flight of\\nsteps lead up to it, through a deep and gloomy but\\nmagnificent arch. Great gates of brass, richly and deli-\\ncately wrought, turn heavily upon their hinges, as if 30\\nproudly reluctant to admit the feet of common mortals\\ninto this most gorgeous of sepulchres.\\nOn entering, the eye is astonished by the pomp of\\narchitecture and the elaborate beauty of sculptured", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0245.jp2"}, "246": {"fulltext": "206 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ndetail. The very walls are wrought into universal orna-\\nment, incrusted with tracery, and scooped into niches\\ncrowded with the statues of saints and martyrs. Stone\\nseems by the cunning labor of the chisel to have been\\n5 robbed of its weight and density, suspended aloft as if\\nby magic, and the fretted roof achieved with the wonder-\\nful minuteness and airy security of a cobweb.\\nAlong the sides of the chapel are the lofty stalls of the\\nKnights of the Bath, richly carved of oak, though with\\n10 the grotesque decorations of Gothic architecture. On\\nthe pinnacles of the stalls are affixed the helmets and\\ncrests of the knights, with their scarfs and swords and\\nabove them are suspended their banners, emblazoned\\nwith armorial bearings, and contrasting the splendor of\\n15 gold and purple and crimson with the cold gray fret-\\nwork of the roof. In the midst of this grand mausoleum\\nstands the sepulchre of its founder, his effigy, with that\\nof his queen, extended on a sumptuous tomb, and the\\nwhole surrounded by a superbly wrought brazen railing.\\n20 There is a sad dreariness in this magnificence, this\\nstrange mixture of tombs and trophies, these emblems\\nof living and aspiring ambition close beside mementos\\nwhich show the dust and oblivion in which all must\\nsooner or later terminate. Nothing impresses the mind\\n25 with a deeper feeling of loneliness than to tread the\\nsilent and deserted scene of former throng and pageant.\\nOn looking round on the vacant stalls of the knights and\\ntheir esquires, and on the rows of dusty but gorgeous\\nbanners that were once borne before them, my imagina-\\n30 tion conjured up the scene when this hall was bright\\nwith the valor and beauty of the land glittering with\\nthe splendor of jewelled rank and military array; alive\\nwith the tread of many feet and the hum of an admiring\\nmultitude. All had passed away; the silence of death", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0246.jp2"}, "247": {"fulltext": "WESTMINSTER ABBEY 207\\nhad settled again upon the place, interrupted only by the\\ncasual chirping of birds which had found their way into\\nthe chapel and built their nests among its friezes and\\npendants sure signs of solitariness and desertion.\\nWhen I read the names inscribed on the banners, they 5\\nwere those of men scattered far and wide about the\\nworld some tossing upon distant seas, some under arms\\nin distant lands, some mingling in the busy intrigues\\nof courts and cabinets, all seeking to deserve one more\\ndistinction in this mansion of shadowy honors, the 10\\nmelancholy reward of a monument.\\nTwo small aisles on each side of this chapel present\\na touching instance of the equality of the grave, which\\nbrings down the oppressor to a level with the oppressed,\\nand mingles the dust of the bitterest enemies together. 15\\nIn one is the sepulchre of the haughty Elizabeth in the\\nother is that of her victim, the lovely and unfortunate\\nMary. Not an hour in the day but some ejaculation of\\npity is uttered over the fate of the latter, mingled with\\nindignation at her oppressor. The walls of Elizabeth s 20\\nsepulchre continually echo with the sighs of sympathy\\nheaved at the grave of her rival.\\nA peculiar melancholy reigns over the aisle where\\nMary lies buried. The light struggles dimly through\\nwindows darkened by dust. The greater part of the 25\\nplace is in deep shadow, and the walls are stained and\\ntinted by time and weather. A marble figure of Mary\\nis stretched upon the tomb, round which is an iron\\nrailing, much corroded, bearing her national emblem\\nthe thistle. I was weary with wandering, and sat down 30\\nto rest myself by the monument, revolving in my mind\\nthe chequered and disastrous story of poor Mary.\\nThe sound of casual footsteps had ceased from the\\nabbey. I could only hear, now and then, the distant", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0247.jp2"}, "248": {"fulltext": "208 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nvoice of the priest repeating the evening service, and the\\nfaint responses of the choir; these paused for a time,\\nand all was hushed. The stillness, the desertion and\\nobscurity that were gradually prevailing around, gave a\\n5 deeper and more solemn interest to the place\\nFor in the silent grave no conversation,\\nNo joyful tread of friends, no voice of lovers,\\nNo careful father s counsel nothing s heard,\\nFor nothing is, but all oblivion,\\n10 Dust, and an endless darkness.\\nSuddenly the notes of the deep-laboring organ burst\\nupon the ear, falling with doubled and redoubled inten-\\nsity, and rolling, as it were, huge billows of sound. How\\nwell do their volume and grandeur accord with this\\n15 mighty building With what pomp do they swell through\\nits vast vaults and breathe their awful harmony through\\nthese caves of death, and make the silent sepulchre\\nvocal And now they rise in triumph and acclama-\\ntion, heaving higher and higher their accordant notes,\\n20 and piling sound on sound. And now they pause, and\\nthe soft voices of the choir break out into sweet gushes\\nof melody they soar aloft and warble along the roof,\\nand seem to play about these lofty vaults like the pure\\nairs of heaven. Again the pealing organ heaves its\\n25 thrilling thunders, compressing air into music, and roll-\\ning it forth upon the soul. What long-drawn cardences\\nWhat solemn sweeping concords It grows more and\\nmore dense and powerful it fills the vast pile, and\\nseems to jar the very walls the ear is stunned the\\n30 senses are overwhelmed. And now it is winding up in\\nfull jubilee it is rising from the earth to heaven the\\nvery soul seems rapt away and floated upwards on this\\nswelling tide of harmony", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0248.jp2"}, "249": {"fulltext": "WESTMINSTER ABBEY 209\\nI sat for some time lost in that kind of reverie which a\\nstrain of music is apt sometimes to inspire the shadows\\nof evening were gradually thickening round me, the\\nmonuments began to cast deeper and deeper gloom, and\\nthe distant clock again gave token of the slowly waning 5\\nday.\\nI rose and prepared to leave the abbey. As I de-\\nscended the flight of steps which lead into the body of\\nthe building, my eye was caught by the shrine of Edward\\nthe Confessor, and I ascended the small staircase that 10\\nconducts to it, to take from thence a general survey of\\nthis wilderness of tombs. The shrine is elevated upon a\\nkind of platform, and close around it are the sepulchres\\nof various kings and queens. From this eminence the\\neye looks down between pillars and funeral trophies to 15\\nthe chapels and chambers below, crowded with tombs,\\nwhere warriors, prelates, courtiers, and statesmen lie\\nmouldering in their beds of darkness. Close by me\\nstood the great chair of coronation, rudely carved of\\noak in the barbarous taste of a remote and Gothic age. 20\\nThe scene seemed almost as if contrived with theatrical\\nartifice to produce an effect upon the beholder. Here\\nwas a type of the beginning and the end of human\\npomp and power here it was literally but a step from\\nthe throne to the sepulchre. Would not one think that 25\\nthese incongruous mementos had been gathered together\\nas a lesson to living greatness to show it, even in the\\nmoment of its proudest exaltation, the neglect and dis-\\nhonor to which it must soon arrive how soon that crown\\nwhich encircles its brow must pass away, and it must lie 30\\ndown in the dust and disgraces of the tomb, and be\\ntrampled upon by the feet of the meanest of the multi-\\ntude. For, strange to tell, even the grave is here no\\nlonger a sanctuary. There is a shocking levity in some", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0249.jp2"}, "250": {"fulltext": "210 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nnatures which leads them to sport with awful and hal-\\nlowed things and there are base minds which delight\\nto revenge on the illustrious dead the abject homage\\nand grovelling servility which they pay to the living.\\n5 The coffin of Edward the Confessor has been broken\\nopen, and his remains despoiled of their funereal orna-\\nments the sceptre has been stolen from the hand of\\nthe imperious Elizabeth, and the effigy of Henry the\\nFifth lies headless. Not a royal monument but bears\\n10 some proof how false and fugitive is the homage of\\nmankind. Some are plundered, some mutilated, some\\ncovered with ribaldry and insult all more or less out-\\nraged and dishonored\\nThe last beams of day were now faintly streaming\\n15 through the painted windows in the high vaults above\\nme the lower parts of the abbey were already wrapped\\nin the obscurity of twilight. The chapels and aisles grew\\ndarker and darker. The effigies of the kings faded into\\nshadows, the marble figures of the monuments assumed\\n20 strange shapes in the uncertain light, the evening breeze\\ncrept through the aisles like the cold breath of the grave,\\nand even the distant footfall of a verger traversing the\\nPoets Corner had something strange and dreary in its\\nsound. I slowly retraced my morning s walk, and as I\\n25 passed out at the portal of the cloisters, the door closing\\nwith a jarring noise behind me filled the whole building\\nwith echoes.\\nI endeavored to form some arrangement in my mind\\nof the objects I had been contemplating, but found they\\n30 were already fallen into indistinctness and confusion.\\nNames, inscriptions, trophies, had all become confounded\\nin my recollection, though I had scarcely taken my foot\\nfrom off the threshold. What, thought I, is this vast\\nassemblage of sepulchres but a treasury of humiliation", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0250.jp2"}, "251": {"fulltext": "WESTMINSTER ABBEY 211\\na huge pile of reiterated homilies on the emptiness of\\nrenown and the certainty of oblivion It is indeed the\\nempire of death his great shadowy palace where he\\nsits in state mocking at the relics of human glory, and\\nspreading dust and forgetfulness on the monuments of 5\\nprinces. How idle a boast, after all, is the immortality\\nof a name Time is ever silently turning over his pages\\nwe are too much engrossed by the story of the present to\\nthink of the characters and anecdotes that gave interest\\nto the past; and each age is a volume thrown aside to 10\\nbe speedily forgotten. The idol of to-day pushes the\\nhero of yesterday out of our recollection and will in\\nturn be supplanted by his successor of to-morrow. Our\\nfathers, says Sir Thomas Browne, find their graves in\\nour short memories, and sadly tell us how we may be 15\\nburied in our survivors. History fades into fable,\\nfact becomes clouded with doubt and controversy, the\\ninscription moulders from the tablet, the statue falls\\nfrom the pedestal. Columns, arches, pyramids what\\nare they but heaps of sand and their epitaphs, but 20\\ncharacters written in the dust What is the security\\nof a tomb, or the perpetuity of an embalmment The\\nremains of Alexander the Great have been scattered to\\nthe wind, and his empty sarcophagus is now the mere\\ncuriosity of a museum. The Egyptian mummies, which 25\\nCambyses or time hath spared, avarice now consumeth\\nMizraim cures wounds, and Pharaoh is sold for bal-\\nsams.\\nWhat then is to insure this pile which now towers\\nabove me from sharing the fate of mightier mauso- 30\\nleums The time must come when its gilded vaults\\nwhich now spring so loftily shall lie in rubbish beneath\\nthe feet when instead of the sound of melody and\\n1 Sir T. Browne.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0251.jp2"}, "252": {"fulltext": "212\\npraise, the wind shall whistle through the broken arches\\nand the owl hoot from the shattered tower when the\\ngarish sunbeam shall break into these gloomy mansions\\nof death, and the ivy twine round the fallen column\\n5 and the foxglove hang its blossoms about the nameless\\nurn, as if in mockery of the dead. Thus man passes\\naway his name perishes from record and recollection\\nhis history is as a tale that is told, and his very monu-\\nment becomes a ruin. 1\\nL For notes on Westminster Abbey, see Appendix.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0252.jp2"}, "253": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS\\nBut is old, old, good old Christmas gone Nothing but the hair of his\\ngood, gray old head and beard left Well, I will have that, seeing 1 cannot\\nhave more of him. TT\\nHue and Cry after Christmas.\\nA man might then behold\\nAt Christmas, in each hall\\nGood fires to curb the cold,\\nAnd meat for great and small.\\nThe neighbors were friendly bidden,\\nAnd all had welcome true,\\nThe poor from the gates were not chidden\\nWhen this old cap was new.\\nOld Song.\\nNothing in England exercises a more delightful spell\\nover my imagination than the lingerings of the holiday\\ncustoms and rural games of former times. They recall\\nthe pictures my fancy used to draw in the May morning\\nof life, when as yet I only knew the world through books, 5\\nand believed it to be all that poets had painted it and\\nthey bring with them the flavor of those honest days of\\nyore, in which, perhaps with equal fallacy, I am apt to\\nthink the world was more home-bred, social, and joyous\\nthan at present. I regret to say that they are daily 10\\ngrowing more and more faint, being gradually worn\\naway by time, but still more obliterated by modern\\nfashion. They resemble those picturesque morsels of\\nGothic architecture which we see crumbling in various\\nparts of the country, partly dilapidated by the waste of 15\\nages, and partly lost in the additions and alterations\\nof later days. Poetry, however, clings with cherishing\\nfondness about the rural game and holiday revel from\\n213", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0253.jp2"}, "254": {"fulltext": "214 THE SKETCH BCQK\\nwhich it has derived so many of itJ^nemes as the\\nivy winds its rich foliage about the Gothic arch and\\nmouldering tower, gratefully repaying their support by\\nclasping together their tottering remains, and, as it\\n5 were, embalming them in verdure.\\nOf all the old festivals, however, that of Christmas\\nawakens the strongest and most heartfelt associations.\\nThere is a tone of solemn and sacred feeling that blends\\nwith our conviviality, and lifts the spirit to a state of\\nio hallowed and elevated enjoyment. The services of the\\nChurch about this season are extremely tender and inspir-\\ning. They dwell on the beautiful story of the origin of\\nour faith, and the pastoral scenes that accompanied its\\nannouncement. They gradually increase in fervor and\\n15 pathos during the season of Advent, until they break\\nforth in full jubilee on the morning that brought peace\\nand good-will to men. I do not know a grander effect\\nof music on the moral feelings than to hear the full\\nchoir and the pealing organ performing a Christmas\\n20 anthem in a cathedral, and filling every part of the\\nvast pile with triumphant harmony.\\nIt is a beautiful arrangement, also, derived from\\ndays of yore, that this festival which commemorates\\nthe announcement of the religion of peace and love\\n25 has been made the season for gathering together of\\nfamily connections, and drawing closer again those\\nbands of kindred hearts, which the cares and pleasures\\nand sorrows of the world are continually operating to\\ncast loose of calling back the children of a family\\n30 who have launched forth in life and wandered widely\\nasunder, once more to assemble about the paternal\\nhearth, that rallying place of the affections, there to\\ngrow young and loving again among the endearing\\nmementos of childhood.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0254.jp2"}, "255": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS 215\\nThere is something in the very season of the year\\nthat gives a charm to the festivity of Christmas. At\\nother times we derive a great portion of our pleasures\\nfrom the mere beauties of nature. Our feelings sally\\nforth and dissipate themselves over the sunny land- 5\\nscape, and we live abroad and everywhere. The\\nsong of the bird, the murmur of the stream, the breath-\\ning fragrance of spring, the soft voluptuousness of sum-\\nmer, the golden pomp of autumn, earth with its mantle\\nof refreshing green, and heaven with its deep delicious 10\\nblue and its cloudy magnificence, all fill us with mute\\nbut exquisite delight, and we revel in the luxury of mere\\nsensation. But in the depth of winter, when nature lies\\ndespoiled of every charm and wrapped in her shroud of\\nsheeted snow, we turn for our gratifications to moral 15\\nsources. The dreariness and desolation of the land-\\nscape, the short gloomy days and darksome nights,\\nwhile they circumscribe our wanderings, shut in our\\nfeelings also from rambling abroad, and make us more\\nkeenly disposed for the pleasure of the social circle. 20\\nOur thoughts are more concentrated, our friendly sym-\\npathies more aroused. We feel more sensibly the charm\\nof each other s society, and are brought more closely\\ntogether by dependence on each other for enjoyment.\\nHeart calleth unto heart and we draw our pleasures 25\\nfrom the deep wells of loving-kindness which lie in the\\nquiet recesses of our bosoms, and which, when resorted\\nto, furnish forth the pure element of domestic felicity.\\nThe pitchy gloom without makes the heart dilate on\\nentering the room filled with the glow and warmth of 30\\nthe evening fire. The ruddy blaze diffuses an artificial\\nsummer and sunshine through the room, and lights up\\neach countenance in a kindlier welcome. Where does\\nthe honest face of hospitality expand into a broader", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0255.jp2"}, "256": {"fulltext": "216 TTTE SKETCH BOOK\\nand more cordial smile where is the shy glance of\\nlove more sweetly eloquent than by the winter fire-\\nside and as the hollow blast of wintry wind rushes\\nthrough the hall, claps the distant door, whistles about\\n5 the casement, and rumbles down the chimney, what can\\nbe more grateful than that feeling of sober and shel-\\ntered security with which we look round upon the com-\\nfortable chamber and the scene of domestic hilarity\\nThe English, from the great prevalence of rural habit\\nio throughout every class of society, have always been\\nfond of those festivals and holidays which agreeably\\ninterrupt the stillness of country life and they were in\\nformer days particularly observant of the religious and\\nsocial rites of Christmas. It is inspiring to read even\\n15 the dry details which some antiquaries have given of\\nthe quaint humors, the burlesque pageants, the complete\\nabandonment to mirth and good-fellowship with which\\nthis festival was celebrated. It seemed to throw open\\nevery door and unlock every heart. It brought the\\n20 peasant and the peer together, and blended all ranks in\\none warm, generous flow of joy and kindness. The old\\nhalls of castles and manor houses resounded with the\\nharp and the Christmas carol, and their ample boards\\ngroaned under the weight of hospitality. Even the\\n25 poorest cottage welcomed the festive season with green\\ndecorations of bay and holly the cheerful fire glanced\\nits rays through the lattice, inviting the passengers to\\nraise the latch and join the gossip knot huddled round\\nthe hearth, beguiling the long evening with legendary\\n30 jokes and oft-told Christmas tales.\\nOne of the least pleasing effects of modern refinement\\nis the havoc it has made among the hearty old holiday\\ncustoms. It has completely taken off the sharp touch-\\nings and spirited reliefs of these embellishments of life,", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0256.jp2"}, "257": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS 217\\nand has worn down society into a more smooth and pol-\\nished, but certainly a less characteristic surface. Many\\nof the games and ceremonials of Christmas have entirely\\ndisappeared, and like the sherris sack of old Falstaff\\nare become matters of speculation and dispute among 5\\ncommentators. They nourished in times full of spirit\\nand lustihood, when men enjoyed life roughly, but heart-\\nily and vigorously times wild and picturesque, which\\nhave furnished poetry with its richest materials, and\\nthe drama with its most attractive variety of characters 10\\nand manners. The world has become more worldly.\\nThere is more of dissipation and less of enjoyment.\\nPleasure has expanded into a broader, but a shallower\\nstream, and has forsaken many of those deep and quiet\\nchannels where it flowed sweetly through the calm bosom 15\\nof domestic life. Society has acquired a more enlight-\\nened and elegant tone but it has lost many of its\\nstrong local peculiarities, its home-bred feelings, its\\nhonest fireside delights. The traditionary customs of\\ngolden-hearted antiquity, its feudal hospitalities and 20\\nlordly wassailings, have passed away with the baronial\\ncastles and stately manor houses in which they were\\ncelebrated. They comported with the shadowy hall,\\nthe great oaken gallery, and the tapestried parlor, but\\nare unfitted to the light showy saloons and gay drawing- 25\\nrooms of the modern villa.\\nShorn, however, as it is, of its ancient and festive\\nhonors, Christmas is still a period of delightful excite-\\nment in England. It is gratifying to see that home feel-\\ning completely aroused which holds so powerful a place 30\\nin every English bosom. The preparations making on\\nevery side for the social board that is again to unite\\nfriends and kindred the presents of good cheer passing\\nand repassing, those tokens of regard and quickeners", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0257.jp2"}, "258": {"fulltext": "218 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nof kind feelings the evergreens distributed about houses\\nand churches, emblems of peace and gladness all these\\nhave the most pleasing effect in producing fond associ-\\nations and kindling benevolent sympathies. Even the\\n5 sound of the waits, rude as may be their minstrelsy,\\nbreaks upon the mid-watches of a winter night with the\\neffect of perfect harmony. As I have been awakened\\nby them in that still and solemn hour, when deep sleep\\nfalleth upon man, I have listened with a hushed delight,\\n10 and connecting them with the sacred and joyous occa-\\nsion, have almost fancied them into another celestial\\nchoir announcing peace and good-will to mankind.\\nHow delightfully the imagination when wrought upon\\nby these moral influences turns everything to melody\\n15 and beauty The very crowing of the cock, heard some-\\ntimes in the profound repose of the country, telling the\\nnight watches to his feathery dames, was thought by\\nthe common people to announce the approach of this\\nsacred festival.\\n20 Some say that ever gainst that season comes\\nWherein our Saviour s birth is celebrated,\\nThis bird of dawning singeth all night long\\nAnd then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad\\nThe nights are wholesome then no planets strike,\\n25 No fairy takes, no witch hath power to charm,\\nSo hallow d and so gracious is the time.\\nAmidst the general call to happiness, the bustle of the\\nspirits, and stir of the affections, which prevail at this\\nperiod, what bosom can remain insensible It is indeed\\n30 the season of regenerated feeling the season for kin-\\ndling, not merely the fire of hospitality in the hall, but\\nthe genial flame of charity in the heart.\\nThe scene of early love again rises green to memory", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0258.jp2"}, "259": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS 219\\nbeyond the sterile waste of years; and the idea of home,\\nfraught with the fragrance of home-dwelling joys, reani-\\nmates the drooping spirit, as the Arabian breeze will\\nsometimes waft the freshness of the distant fields to the\\nweary pilgrim of the desert. 5\\nStranger and sojourner as I am in the land, though\\nfor me no social hearth may blaze, no hospitable roof\\nthrow open its doors, nor the warm grasp of friendship\\nwelcome me at the threshold, yet I feel the influence\\nof the season beaming into my soul from the happy 10\\nlooks of those around me. Surely happiness is reflect-\\nive, like the light of heaven and every countenance\\nbright with smiles and glowing with innocent enjoyment\\nis a mirror transmitting to others the rays of a supreme\\nand ever-shining benevolence. He who can turn churl- 15\\nishly away from contemplating the felicity of his fellow-\\nbeings, and can sit down darkling and repining in his\\nloneliness when all around is joyful, may have his\\nmoments of strong excitement and selfish gratification,\\nbut he wants the genial and social sympathies which 20\\nconstitute the charm of a merry Christmas.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0259.jp2"}, "260": {"fulltext": "THE STAGE COACH\\nOmne bene\\nSine poena\\nTempus est ludendi\\nVenit hora\\nAbsque mora\\nLibros deponendi.\\nOld Holiday School Song.\\nIn the preceding paper I have made some general\\nobservations on the Christmas festivities of England,\\nand am tempted to illustrate them by some anecdotes of\\na Christmas passed in the country in perusing which\\n5 I would most courteously invite my reader to lay aside\\nthe austerity of wisdom, and to put on that genuine\\nholiday spirit which is tolerant of folly and anxious\\nonly for amusement.\\nIn the course of a December tour in Yorkshire, I rode\\nio for a long distance in one of the public coaches on\\nthe day preceding Christmas. The coach was crowded\\nboth inside and out with passengers who, by their talk,\\nseemed principally bound to the mansions of relations\\nor friends to eat the Christmas dinner. It was loaded\\n15 also with hampers of game and baskets and boxes of\\ndelicacies and hares hung dangling their long ears\\nabout the coachman s box, presents from distant friends\\nfor the impending feast. I had three fine rosy-cheeked\\nboys for my fellow-passengers inside, full of the buxom\\n20 health and manly spirit which I have observed in the\\nchildren of this country. They were returning home\\nfor the holidays in high glee, and promising themselves", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0260.jp2"}, "261": {"fulltext": "THE STAGE COACH 111\\na world of enjoyment. It was delightful to hear the\\ngigantic plans of the little rogues and the impracti-\\ncable feats they were to perform during their six weeks\\nemancipation from the abhorred thraldom of book, birch,\\nand pedagogue. They were full of anticipations of the 5\\nmeeting with the family and household, down to the\\nvery cat and dog and of the joy they were to give\\ntheir little sisters by the presents with which their\\npockets were crammed but the meeting to which they\\nseemed to look forward with the greatest impatience 10\\nwas with Bantam, which I found to be a pony, and\\naccording to their talk possessed of more virtues than\\nany steed since the days of Bucephalus. How he could\\ntrot how he could run and then such leaps as he\\nwould take there was not a hedge in the whole coun- 15\\ntry that he could not clear.\\nThey were under the particular guardianship of the\\ncoachman, to whom whenever an opportunity presented\\nthey addressed a host of questions, and pronounced him\\none of the best fellows in the world. Indeed, I could 20\\nnot but notice the more than ordinary air of bustle and\\nimportance of the coachman, who wore his hat a little\\non one side, and had a large bunch of Christmas greens\\nstuck in the buttonhole of his coat. He is always a\\npersonage full of mighty care and business, but he is 25\\nparticularly so during this season, having so many com-\\nmissions to execute in consequence of the great inter-\\nchange of presents. And here, perhaps, it may not be\\nunacceptable to my untravelled readers to have a sketch\\nthat may serve as a general representation of this very 30\\nnumerous and important class of functionaries, who\\nhave a dress, a manner, a language, an air, peculiar to\\nthemselves, and prevalent throughout the fraternity so\\nthat wherever an English stage coachman may be seen,", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0261.jp2"}, "262": {"fulltext": "222 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nhe cannot be mistaken for one of any other craft or\\nmystery.\\nHe has commonly a broad, full face, curiously mottled\\nwith red, as if the blood had been forced by hard feed-\\n5 ing into every vessel of the skin he is swelled into jolly\\ndimensions by frequent potations of malt liquors, and\\nhis bulk is still further increased by a multiplicity of\\ncoats, in which he is buried like a cauliflower, the upper\\none reaching to his heels. He wears a broad-brimmed,\\n10 low-crowned hat a huge roll of colored handkerchief\\nabout his neck, knowingly knotted and tucked in at the\\nbosom; and has in summer time a large bouquet of\\nflowers in his buttonhole the present, most probably,\\nof some enamored country lass. His waistcoat is com-\\n15 monly of some bright color, striped, and his small\\nclothes extend far below the knees to meet a pair of\\njockey boots which reach about halfway up his legs.\\nAll this costume is maintained with much precision\\nhe has a pride in having his clothes of excellent mate-\\n20 rials and notwithstanding the seeming grossness of his\\nappearance, there is still discernible that neatness and\\npropriety of person which is almost inherent in an\\nEnglishman. He enjoys great consequence and consid-\\neration along the road has frequent conferences with\\n25 the village housewives, who look upon him as a man\\nof great trust and dependence and he seems to have\\na good understanding with every bright-eyed country\\nlass. The moment he arrives where the horses are to\\nbe changed, he throws down the reins with something\\n30 of an air and abandons the cattle to the care of the\\nhostler, his duty being merely to drive from one stage\\nto another. When off the box his hands are thrust\\ninto the pockets of his greatcoat, and he rolls about\\nthe inn yard with an air of the most absolute lordliness.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0262.jp2"}, "263": {"fulltext": "THE STAGE COACH 223\\nHere he is generally surrounded by an admiring throng\\nof hostlers, stableboys, shoeblacks, and those nameless\\nhangers-on that infest inns and taverns and run errands\\nand do all kind of odd jobs for the privilege of batten-\\ning on the drippings of the kitchen and the leakage of 5\\nthe taproom. These all look up to him as to an oracle,\\ntreasure up his cant phrases, echo his opinions about\\nhorses and other topics of jockey lore, and above all\\nendeavor to imitate his air and carriage. Every raga-\\nmuffin that has a coat to his back thrusts his hands 10\\nin the pockets, rolls in his gait, talks slang, and is an\\nembryo coachey.\\nPerhaps it might be owing to the pleasing serenity\\nthat reigned in my own mind that I fancied I saw cheer-\\nfulness in every countenance throughout the journey. 15\\nA stage coach, however, carries animation always with it,\\nand puts the world in motion as it whirls along. The\\nhorn sounded at the entrance of a village produces a\\ngeneral bustle. Some hasten forth to meet friends some\\nwith bundles and bandboxes to secure places, and in the 20\\nhurry of the moment can hardly take leave of the group\\nthat accompanies them. In the mean time the coach-\\nman has a world of small commissions to execute. Some-\\ntimes he delivers a hare or pheasant sometimes jerks a\\nsmall parcel or newspaper to the door of a public house 25\\nand sometimes, with knowing leer and words of sly\\nimport, hands to some half-blushing, half-laughing house-\\nmaid an odd-shaped billet-doux from some rustic ad-\\nmirer. As the coach rattles through the village every\\none runs to the window, and you have glances on every 30\\nside of fresh country faces and blooming, giggling girls.\\nAt the corners are assembled juntos of village idlers\\nand wise men, who take their stations there for the\\nimportant purpose of seeing company pass but the", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0263.jp2"}, "264": {"fulltext": "224 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nsagest knot is generally at the blacksmith s, to whom\\nthe passing of the coach is an event fruitful of much\\nspeculation. The smith, with the horse s heel in his\\nlap, pauses as the vehicle whirls by the Cyclops round\\n5 the anvil suspend their ringing hammers and suffer the\\niron to grow cool and the sooty spectre, in brown\\npaper cap laboring at the bellows, leans on the handle\\nfor a moment and permits the asthmatic engine to heave\\na long-drawn sigh, while he glares through the murky\\nio smoke and sulphureous gleams of the smithy.\\nPerhaps the impending holiday might have given a\\nmore than usual animation to the country, for it seemed\\nto me as if everybody was in good looks and good\\nspirits. Game, poultry, and other luxuries of the table\\n15 were in brisk circulation in the villages; the grocers\\nbutchers and fruiterers shops were thronged with cus-\\ntomers. The housewives were stirring briskly about, put-\\nting their dwellings in order and the glossy branches of\\nholly with their bright-red berries began to appear at\\n20 the windows. The scene brought to mind an old writer s\\naccount of Christmas preparations Now capons and\\nhens, beside turkeys, geese, and ducks, with beef and\\nmutton, must all die, for in twelve days a multitude\\nof people will not be fed with a little. Now plums and\\n25 spice, sugar and honey, square it among pies and broth.\\nNow or never must music be in tune, for the youth must\\ndance and sing to get them a heat, while the aged sit by\\nthe fire. The country maid leaves half her market, and\\nmust be sent again if she forgets a pack of cards on\\n30 Christmas eve. Great is the contention of holly and\\nivy, whether master or dame wears the breeches. Dice\\nand cards benefit the butler and if the cook do not\\nlack wit, he will sweetly lick his fingers.\\nI was roused from this fit of luxurious meditation by", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0264.jp2"}, "265": {"fulltext": "THE STAGE COACH 225\\na shout from my little travelling companions. They\\nhad been looking out of the coach windows for the last\\nfew miles, recognizing every tree and cottage as they\\napproached home, and now there was a general burst\\nof joy There s John! and there s old Carlo! and\\nthere s Bantam cried the happy little rogues, clap-\\nping their hands.\\nAt the end of the lane there was an old sober-looking\\nservant in livery waiting for them he was accompanied\\nby a superannuated pointer and by the redoubtable Ban-\\ntam, a little old rat of a pony with a shaggy mane and\\nlong rusty tail, who stood dozing quietly by the roadside,\\nlittle dreaming of the bustling times that awaited him.\\nI was pleased to see the fondness with which the little\\nfellows leaped about the steady old footman and hugged\\nthe pointer, who wriggled his whole body for joy. But\\nBantam was the great object of interest all wanted to\\nmount at once, and it was with some difficulty that John\\narranged that they should ride by turns, and the eldest\\nshould ride first.\\nOff they set at last one on the pony, with the dog\\nbounding and barking before him, and the others hold-\\ning John s hands both talking at once, and overpower-\\ning him with questions about home and with school\\nanecdotes. I looked after them with a feeling in which\\nI do not know whether pleasure or melancholy predomi-\\nnated for I was reminded of those days when, like\\nthem, I had neither known care nor sorrow, and a holiday\\nwas the summit of earthly felicity. We stopped a few\\nmoments afterwards to water the horses, and on resum-\\ning our route, a turn of the road brought us in sight of\\na neat country seat. I could just distinguish the forms\\nof a lady and two young girls in the portico, and I saw\\nmy little comrades, with Bantam, Carlo, and old John,", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0265.jp2"}, "266": {"fulltext": "226 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ntrooping along the carriage road. I leaned out of the\\ncoach window in hopes of witnessing the happy meeting,\\nbut a grove of trees shut it from my sight.\\nIn the evening we reached a village where I had deter-\\n5 mined to pass the night. As we drove into the great\\ngateway of the inn, I saw on one side the light of a\\nrousing kitchen fire beaming through a window. I\\nentered, and admired for the hundredth time that picture\\nof convenience, neatness, and broad honest enjoyment\\nio the kitchen of an English inn. It was of spacious\\ndimensions, hung round with copper and tin vessels\\nhighly polished, and decorated here and there with a\\nChristmas green. Hams, tongues, and flitches of bacon\\nwere suspended from the ceiling a smokejack made its\\n15 ceaseless clanking beside the fireplace, and a clock ticked\\nin one corner. A well-scoured deal table extended along\\none side of the kitchen, with a cold round of beef and\\nother hearty viands upon it, over which two foaming\\ntankards of ale seemed mounting guard. Travellers\\n20 of inferior order were preparing to attack this stout\\nrepast, while others sat smoking and gossiping over their\\nale on two high-backed oaken settles beside the fire.\\nTrim housemaids were hurrying backwards and forwards\\nunder the directions of a fresh, bustling landlady, but\\n25 still seizing an occasional moment to exchange a flip-\\npant word and have a rallying laugh with the group\\nround the fire. The scene completely realized Poor\\nRobin s humble idea of the comforts of midwinter:\\nNow trees their leafy hats do bare\\n30 To reverence Winter s silver hair\\nA handsome hostess, merry host,\\nA pot of ale now and a toast,\\nTobacco and a good coal fire,\\nAre things this season doth require. 1\\n1 Toor Robin s Almanac, 1684.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0266.jp2"}, "267": {"fulltext": "THE STAGE COACH 227\\nI had not been long at the inn when a post-chaise\\ndrove up to the door. A young gentleman stept out,\\nand by the light of the lamps I caught a glimpse of a\\ncountenance which I thought I knew. I moved forward\\nto get a nearer view, when his eye caught mine. I was 5\\nnot mistaken it was Frank Eracebridge, a sprightly,\\ngood-humored young fellow with whom I had once\\ntravelled on the continent. Our meeting was extremely\\ncordial, for the countenance of an old fellow-traveller\\nalways brings up the recollection of a thousand pleasant 10\\nscenes, odd adventures, and excellent jokes. To dis-\\ncuss all these in a transient interview at an inn was\\nimpossible and finding that I was not pressed for time,\\nand was merely making a tour of observation, he insisted\\nthat I should give him a day or two at his father s coun- 15\\ntry seat, to which he was going to pass the holidays, and\\nwhich lay at a few miles distance. It is better than\\neating a solitary Christmas dinner at an inn, said he,\\ntf and I can assure you of a hearty welcome in some-\\nthing of the old-fashioned style. His reasoning was 20\\ncogent, and I must confess the preparation I had seen\\nfor universal festivity and social enjoyment had made\\nme feel a little impatient of my loneliness. I closed\\ntherefore at once with his invitation the chaise drove\\nup to the door, and in a few moments I was on my way 25\\nto the family mansion of the Bracebridges.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0267.jp2"}, "268": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS EVE\\nSaint Francis and Saint Benedight\\nBlesse this house from wicked wight\\nFrom the night-mare and the goblin,\\nThat is hight good fellow Robin\\nKeep it from all evil spirits,\\nFairies, weezels, rats, and ferrets\\nFrom curfew time\\nTo the next prime.\\nCartwright.\\nIt was a brilliant moonlight night, but extremely\\ncold our chaise whirled rapidly over the frozen ground\\nthe postboy smacked his whip incessantly, and a part\\nof the time his horses were on a gallop. He knows\\n5 where he is going, said my companion, laughing, and\\nis eager to arrive in time for some of the merriment and\\ngood cheer of the servants hall. My father, you must\\nknow, is a bigoted devotee of the old school, and prides\\nhimself upon keeping up something of old English hos-\\nio pitality. He is a tolerable specimen of what you will\\nrarely meet with nowadays in its purity, the old English\\ncountry gentleman for our men of fortune spend so\\nmuch of their time in town, and fashion is carried so\\nmuch into the country, that the strong, rich peculiari-\\n15 ties of ancient rural life are almost polished away. My\\nfather, however, from early years, took honest Peacham 1\\nfor his text-book instead of Chesterfield he determined\\nin his own mind that there was no condition more truly\\nhonorable and enviable than that of a country gentle-\\n20 man on his paternal lands, and therefore passes the\\nwhole of his time on his estate. He is a strenuous\\n1 Peacham s Complete Gentleman, 1622.\\n228", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0268.jp2"}, "269": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS EVE 229\\nadvocate for the revival of the old rural games and\\nholiday observances, and is deeply read in the writers,\\nancient and modern, who have treated on the subject.\\nIndeed his favorite range of reading is among the authors\\nwho flourished at least two centuries since who, he in- 5\\nsists, wrote and thought more like true Englishmen than\\nany of their successors. He even regrets sometimes that\\nhe had not been born a few centuries earlier, when Eng-\\nland was itself and had its peculiar manners and cus-\\ntoms. As he lives at some distance from the main road, 10\\nin rather a lonely part of the country, without any rival\\ngentry near him, he has that most enviable of all bless-\\nings to an Englishman, an opportunity of indulging the\\nbent of his own humor without molestation. Being rep-\\nresentative of the oldest family in the neighborhood, 15\\nand a great part of the peasantry being his tenants, he\\nis much looked up to, and in general is known simply\\nby the appellation of The Squire, a title which has been\\naccorded to the head of the family since time imme-\\nmorial. I think it best to give you these hints about 20\\nmy worthy old father, to prepare you for any eccen-\\ntricities that might otherwise appear absurd.\\nWe had passed for some time along the wall of a park,\\nand at length the chaise stopped at the gate. It was in\\na heavy magnificent old style, of iron bars, fancifully 25\\nwrought at top into flourishes and flowers. The huge\\nsquare columns that supported the gate were surmounted\\nby the family crest. Close adjoining was the porter s\\nlodge, sheltered under dark fir trees, and almost buried\\nin shrubbery. 30\\nThe postboy rang a large porter s bell, which re-\\nsounded through the still frosty air, and was answered\\nby the distant barking of dogs with which the mansion\\nhouse seemed garrisoned. An old woman immediately", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0269.jp2"}, "270": {"fulltext": "230 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nappeared at the gate. As the moonlight fell strongly\\nupon her, I had a full view of a little primitive dame\\ndressed very much in the antique taste, with a neat\\nkerchief and stomacher, and her silver hair peeping from\\n5 under a cap of snowy whiteness. She came courtesying\\nforth with many expressions of simple joy at seeing her\\nyoung master. Her husband, it seemed, was up at the\\nhouse keeping Christmas eve in the servants hall they\\ncould not do without him, as he was the best hand at a\\n10 song and story in the household.\\nMy friend proposed that we should alight and walk\\nthrough the park to the hall, which was at no great dis-\\ntance, while the chaise should follow on. Our road\\nwound through a noble avenue of trees, among the\\n15 naked branches of which the moon glittered as she\\nrolled through the deep vault of a cloudless sky. The\\nlawn beyond was sheeted with a slight covering of snow,\\nwhich here and there sparkled as the moonbeams caught\\na frosty crystal and at a distance might be seen a thin\\n20 transparent vapor stealing up from the low grounds and\\nthreatening gradually to shroud the landscape.\\nMy companion looked around him with transport:\\nHow often, said he, have I scampered up this\\navenue on returning home on school vacations! How\\n25 often have I played under these trees when a boy I\\nfeel a degree of filial reverence for them, as we look up\\nto those who have cherished us in childhood. My father\\nwas always scrupulous in exacting our holidays and hav-\\ning us around him on family festivals. He used to direct\\n30 and superintend our games with the strictness that some\\nparents do the studies of their children. He was very\\nparticular that we should play the old English games\\naccording to their original form and consulted old\\nbooks for precedent and authority for every merrie", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0270.jp2"}, "271": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS EVE 231\\ndisport yet I assure you there never was pedantry\\nso delightful. It was the policy of the good old gentle-\\nman to make his children feel that home was the happiest\\nplace in the world and I value this delicious home feel-\\ning as one of the choicest gifts a parent could bestow. 5\\nWe were interrupted by the clamor of a troop of\\ndogs of all sorts and sizes, mongrel, puppy, whelp, and\\nhound, and curs of low degree, that, disturbed by the\\nring of the porter s bell and the rattling of the chaise,\\ncame bounding open-mouthed across the lawn. 10\\nThe little dogs and all,\\nTray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me!\\ncried Bracebridge, laughing. At the sound of his voice\\nthe bark was changed into a yelp of delight, and in a\\nmoment he was surrounded and almost overpowered by 15\\nthe caresses of the faithful animals.\\nWe had now come in full view of the old family man-\\nsion, partly thrown in deep shadow, and partly lit up by\\nthe cold moonshine. It was an irregular building of\\nsome magnitude, and seemed to be of the architecture of 20\\ndifferent periods. One wing was evidently very ancient,\\nwith heavy stone-shafted bow windows jutting out and\\noverrun with ivy, from among the foliage of which the\\nsmall diamond-shaped panes of glass glittered with the\\nmoonbeams. The rest of the house was in the French 25\\ntaste of Charles the Second s time, having been repaired\\nand altered, as my friend told me, by one of his ances-\\ntors who returned with that monarch at the Restoration.\\nThe grounds about the house were laid out in the old\\nformal manner of artificial flower-beds, clipped shrubber- 30\\nies, raised terraces, and heavy stone balustrades, orna-\\nmented with urns, a leaden statue or two, and a jet of\\nwater. The old gentleman, I was told, was extremely", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0271.jp2"}, "272": {"fulltext": "232 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ncareful to preserve this obsolete finery in all its original\\nstate. He admired this fashion in gardening it had an\\nair of magnificence, was courtly and noble, and befitting\\ngood old family style. The boasted imitation of nature\\n5 in modern gardening had sprung up with modern repub-\\nlican notions, but did not suit a monarchical govern-\\nment it smacked of the levelling system I could not\\nhelp smiling at this introduction of politics into garden-\\ning, though I expressed some apprehension that I should\\nio find the old gentleman rather intolerant in his creed.\\nFrank assured me, however, that it was almost the only\\ninstance in which he had ever heard his father meddle\\nwith politics and he believed that he had got this\\nnotion from a member of Parliament who once passed a\\n15 few weeks with him. The squire was glad of any argu-\\nment to defend his clipped yew trees and formal terraces,\\nwhich had been occasionally attacked by modern land-\\nscape gardeners.\\nAs we approached the house we heard the sound of\\n20 music, and now and then a burst of laughter from one\\nend of the building. This, Bracebridge said, must pro-\\nceed from the servants hall, where a great deal of rev-\\nelry was permitted and even encouraged by the squire\\nthroughout the twelve days of Christmas, provided every-\\n25 thing was done conformably to ancient usage. Here\\nwere kept up the old games of hoodman blind, shoe the\\nwild mare, hot cockles, steal the white loaf, bob apple,\\nand snap dragon the Yule clog and Christmas candle\\nwere regularly burnt, and the mistletoe with its white\\n30 berries hung up, to the imminent peril of all the pretty\\nhousemaids. 1\\nSo intent were the servants upon their sports that we\\n1 The mistletoe is still hung up in farmhouses and kitchens at\\nChristmas; and the young men have the privilege of kissing the", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0272.jp2"}, "273": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS EVE 233\\nhad to ring repeatedly before we could make ourselves\\nheard. On our arrival being announced, the squire\\ncame out to receive us, accompanied by his two other\\nsons one a young officer in the army, home on leave\\nof absence the other an Oxonian, just from the uni- 5\\nversity. The squire was a fine, healthy-looking old gen-\\ntleman, with silver hair curling lightly round an open\\nflorid countenance, in which the physiognomist, with the\\nadvantage like myself of a previous hint or two, might\\ndiscover a singular mixture of whim and benevolence. 10\\nThe family meeting was warm and affectionate. As the\\nevening was far advanced, the squire would not permit\\nus to change our travelling dresses, but ushered us at\\nonce to the company, which was assembled in a large old-\\nfashioned hall. It was composed of different branches 15\\nof a numerous family connection, where there were the\\nusual proportion of old uncles and aunts, comfortable\\nmarried dames, superannuated spinsters, blooming coun-\\ntry cousins, half-fledged striplings, and bright-eyed board-\\ning-school hoydens. They were variously occupied: some 20\\nat a round game of cards, others conversing around the\\nfireplace at one end of the hall was a group of the young\\nfolks, some nearly grown up, others of a more tender and\\nbudding age, fully engrossed by a merry game; and a pro-\\nfusion of wooden horses, penny trumpets, and tattered dolls 25\\nabout the floor showed traces of a troop of little fairy\\nbeings, who, having frolicked through a happy day, had\\nbeen carried off to slumber through a peaceful night.\\nWhile the mutual greetings were going on between\\nyoung Bracebridge and his relatives, I had time to scan 30\\nthe apartment. I have called it a hall, for so it had cer-\\ntainly been in old times, and the squire had evidently\\ngirls under it, plucking each time a berry from the bush. When\\nthe berries are all plucked, the privilege ceases.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0273.jp2"}, "274": {"fulltext": "234 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nendeavored to restore it to something of its primitive state.\\nOver the heavy projecting fireplace was suspended a pic-\\nture of a warrior in armor, standing by a white horse,\\nand on the opposite wall hung a helmet, buckler, and\\n5 lance. At one end an enormous pair of antlers were\\ninserted in the wall, the branches serving as hooks on\\nwhich to suspend hats, whips, and spurs and in the\\ncorners of the apartment were fowling-pieces, fishing-\\nrods, and other sporting implements. The furniture\\n10 was of the cumbrous workmanship of former days,\\nthough some articles of modern convenience had been\\nadded, and the oaken floor had been carpeted so that\\nthe whole presented an odd mixture of parlor and hall.\\nThe grate had been removed from the wide over-\\n15 whelming fireplace, to make way for a fire of wood, in\\nthe midst of which was an enormous log glowing and blaz-\\ning, and sending forth a vast volume of light and heat\\nthis I understood was the Yule clog, which the squire\\nwas particular in having brought in and illumined on a\\n20 Christmas eve according to ancient custom. 1\\n1 The Yule clog is a great log of wood, sometimes the root of a tree,\\nbrought into the house with great ceremony on Christmas eve, laid in\\nthe fireplace, and lighted with the brand of last year s clog. While\\nit lasted, there was great drinking, singing, and telling of tales.\\nSometimes it was accompanied by Christmas candles but in the\\ncottages the only light was from the ruddy blaze of the great wood\\nfire. The Yule clog was to burn all night if it went out, it was\\nconsidered a sign of ill luck.\\nHerrick mentions it in one of his songs\\nCome, bring with a noise,\\nMy merrie, merrie boyes,\\nThe Christmas log to the firing\\nWhile my good dame, she\\nBids ye all be free,\\nAnd drink to your hearts desiring.\\nThe Yule clog is still burnt in many farmhouses and kitchens in", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0274.jp2"}, "275": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS E VE 235\\nIt was really delightful to see the old squire seated in\\nhis hereditary elbow chair by the hospitable fireside of\\nhis ancestors, and looking around him like the sun of a\\nsystem, beaming warmth and gladness to every heart.\\nEven the very dog that lay stretched at his feet, as he 5\\nlazily shifted his position and yawned, would look fondly\\nup in his master s face, wag his tail against the floor,\\nand stretch himself again to sleep, confident of kindness\\nand protection. There is an emanation from the heart\\nin genuine hospitality which cannot be described, but 10\\nis immediately felt, and puts the stranger at once at\\nhis ease. I had not been seated many minutes by the\\ncomfortable hearth of the worthy old cavalier before I\\nfound myself as much at home as if I had been one of\\nthe family. 15\\nSupper was announced shortly after our arrival. It\\nwas served up in a spacious oaken chamber, the panels\\nof which shone with wax, and around which were several\\nfamily portraits decorated with holly and ivy. Besides\\nthe accustomed lights, two great wax tapers called 20\\nChristmas candles, wreathed with greens, were placed\\non a highly polished beaufet among the family plate.\\nThe table was abundantly spread with substantial fare\\nbut the squire made his supper of frumenty, a dish made\\nof wheat cakes boiled in milk, with rich spices, being a 25\\nstanding dish in old times for Christmas eve.\\nI was happy to find my old friend, minced pie, in the\\nretinue of the feast and finding him to be perfectly\\northodox, and that I need not be ashamed of my pre-\\nEngland, particularly in the north, and there are several superstitions\\nconnected with it among the peasantry. If a squinting person come\\nto the house while it is burning, or a person barefooted, it is con-\\nsidered an ill omen. The brand remaining from the Yule clog is\\ncarefully put away to light the next year s Christmas fire.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0275.jp2"}, "276": {"fulltext": "236 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ndilection, I greeted him with all the warmth where-\\nwith we usually greet an old and very genteel acquain-\\ntance.\\nThe mirth of the company was greatly promoted by\\n5 the humors of an eccentric personage whom Mr. Brace-\\nbridge always addressed with the quaint appellation of\\nMaster Simon. He was a tight, brisk little man, with\\nthe air of an arrant old bachelor. His nose was shaped\\nlike the bill of a parrot his face slightly pitted with the\\nro small-pox, with a dry perpetual bloom on it like a frost-\\nbitten leaf in autumn. He had an eye of great quick-\\nness and vivacity, with a drollery and lurking waggery\\nof expression that was irresistible. He was evidently\\nthe wit of the family, dealing very much in sly jokes\\n15 and innuendoes with the ladies, and making infinite mer-\\nriment by harping upon old themes, which, unfortu-\\nnately, my ignorance of the family chronicles did not\\npermit me to enjoy. It seemed to be his great delight\\nduring supper to keep a young girl next him in a con-\\n20 tinual agony of stifled laughter, in spite of her awe\\nof the reproving looks of her mother, who sat opposite.\\nIndeed, he was the idol of the younger part of the com-\\npany, who laughed at everything he said or did, and at\\nevery turn of his countenance I could not wonder at\\n25 it, for he must have been a miracle of accomplishments\\nin their eyes. He could imitate Punch and Judy make\\nan old woman of his hand, with the assistance of a burnt\\ncork and pocket handkerchief and cut an orange into\\nsuch a ludicrous caricature that the young folks were\\n30 ready to die with laughing.\\nI was let briefly into his history by Frank Brace-\\nbridge. He was an old bachelor, of a small independent\\nincome, which by careful management was sufficient for\\nall his wants. He revolved through the family system", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0276.jp2"}, "277": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS EVE 111\\nlike a vagrant comet in its orbit sometimes visiting\\none branch, and sometimes another quite remote as\\nis often the case with gentlemen of extensive connec-\\ntions and small fortunes in England. He had a chirp-\\ning buoyant disposition, always enjoying the present 5\\nmoment and his frequent change of scene and company\\nprevented his acquiring those rusty unaccommodating\\nhabits with which old bachelors are so uncharitably\\ncharged. He was a complete family chronicle, being\\nversed in the genealogy, history, and intermarriages of 10\\nthe whole house of Bracebridge, which made him a\\ngreat favorite with the old folks he was a beau of all\\nthe elder ladies and superannuated spinsters, among\\nwhom he was habitually considered rather a young\\nfellow; and he was master of the revels among the 15\\nchildren so that there was not a more popular being\\nin the sphere in which he moved than Mr. Simon Brace-\\nbridge. Of late years he had resided almost entirely\\nwith the squire, to whom he had become a factotum,\\nand whom he particularly delighted by jumping with 20\\nhis humor in respect to old times, and by having a\\nscrap of an old song to suit every occasion. We had\\npresently a specimen of his last-mentioned talent, for\\nno sooner was supper removed and spiced wines and\\nother beverages peculiar to the season introduced than 25\\nMaster Simon was called on for a good old Christmas\\nsong. He bethought himself for a moment, and then,\\nwith a sparkle of the eye and a voice that was by no\\nmeans bad, excepting that it ran occasionally into a fal-\\nsetto like the notes of a split reed, he quavered forth a 30\\nquaint old ditty\\nNow Christmas is come,\\nLet us beat up the drum,\\nAnd call all our neighbors together,", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0277.jp2"}, "278": {"fulltext": "238 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nAnd when they appear,\\nLet us make them such cheer,\\nAs will keep out the wind and the weather, etc.\\nThe supper had disposed every one to gayety, and an\\n5 old harper was summoned from the servants hall, where\\nhe had been strumming all the evening, and to all ap-\\npearance comforting himself with some of the squire s\\nhome-brewed. He was a kind of hanger-on, I was told,\\nof the establishment, and, though ostensibly a resident\\nio of the village, was oftener to be found in the squire s\\nkitchen than his own home, the old gentleman being\\nfond of the sound of harp in hall.\\nThe dance, like most dances after supper, was a merry\\none some of the older folks joined in it, and the squire\\n15 himself figured down several couple with a partner with\\nwhom he affirmed he had danced at every Christmas for\\nnearly half a century. Master Simon, who seemed to be\\na kind of connecting link between the old times and the\\nnew, and to be withal a little antiquated in the taste of\\n20 his accomplishments, evidently piqued himself on his\\ndancing, and was endeavoring to gain credit by the heel\\nand toe, rigadoon, and other graces of the ancient school\\nbut he had unluckily assorted himself with a little romp-\\ning girl from boarding-school, who by her wild vivacity\\n25 kept him continually on the stretch, and defeated all his\\nsober attempts at elegance, such are the ill-assorted\\nmatches to which antique gentlemen are unfortunately\\nprone\\nThe young Oxonian, on the contrary, had led out one\\n30 of his maiden aunts, on whom the rogue played a thou-\\nsand little knaveries with impunity; he was full of prac-\\ntical jokes, and his delight was to tease his aunts and\\ncousins yet, like all madcap youngsters, he was a uni-\\nversal favorite among the women. The most interesting", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0278.jp2"}, "279": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS EVE 239\\ncouple in the dance was the young officer and a ward of\\nthe squire s, a beautiful blushing girl of seventeen. From\\nseveral shy glances which I had noticed in the course\\nof the evening, I suspected there was a little kindness\\ngrowing up between them and indeed the young sol- 5\\ndier was just the hero to captivate a romantic girl. He\\nwas tall, slender, and handsome, and, like most young\\nBritish officers of late years, had picked up various\\nsmall accomplishments on the continent he could talk\\nFrench and Italian draw landscapes, sing very tol- 10\\nerably dance divinely; but above all he had been\\nwounded at Waterloo. What girl of seventeen, well read\\nin poetry and romance, could resist such a mirror of\\nchivalry and perfection\\nThe moment the dance was over, he caught up a 15\\nguitar, and lolling against the old marble fireplace, in an\\nattitude which I am half inclined to suspect was studied,\\nbegan the little French air of the Troubadour. The\\nsquire, however, exclaimed against having anything on\\nChristmas eve but good old English; upon which the 20\\nyoung minstrel, casting up his eye for a moment as if\\nin an effort of memory, struck into another strain, and\\nwith a charming air of gallantry gave Herrick s Night-\\nPiece to Julia\\nHer eyes the glow-worm lend thee, 25\\nThe shooting stars attend thee,\\nAnd the elves also,\\nWhose little eyes glow\\nLike the sparks of fire, befriend thee.\\nNo Will o the Wisp mislight thee 30\\nNor snake nor slow-worm bite thee\\nBut on, on thy way,\\nNot making a stay,\\nSince ghost there is none to affright thee.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0279.jp2"}, "280": {"fulltext": "240 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThen let not the dark thee cumber\\nWhat though the moon does slumber,\\nThe stars of the night\\nWill lend thee their light,\\n5 Like tapers clear without number.\\nThen, Julia, let me woo thee,\\nThus, thus to come unto me,\\nAnd when I shall meet\\nThy silvery feet,\\n10 My soul I ll pour into thee.\\nThe song might or might not have been intended in\\ncompliment to the fair Julia, for so I found his partner\\nwas called she, however, was certainly unconscious of\\nany such application, for she never looked at the singer,\\n15 but kept her eyes cast upon the floor. Her face was\\nsuffused, it is true, with a beautiful blush, and there was\\na gentle heaving of the bosom, but all that was doubt-\\nless caused by the exercise of the dance; indeed, so\\ngreat was her indifference, that she amused herself with\\n20 plucking to pieces a choice bouquet of hothouse flowers,\\nand by the time the song was concluded the nosegay\\nlay in ruins on the floor.\\nThe party now broke up for the night with the kind-\\nhearted old custom of shaking hands. As I passed\\n25 through the hall on my way to my chamber, the dying\\nembers of the Yule clog still sent forth a dusky glow,\\nand had it not been the season when no spirit dares\\nstir abroad, I should have been half tempted to steal\\nfrom my room at midnight, and peep whether the fairies\\n30 might not be at their revels about the hearth.\\nMy chamber was in the old part of the mansion, the\\nponderous furniture of which might have been fabricated\\nin the days of the giants. The room was panelled with", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0280.jp2"}, "281": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS EVE 241\\ncornices of heavy carved work, in which flowers and gro-\\ntesque faces were strangely intermingled and a row of\\nblack-looking portraits stared mournfully at me from the\\nwalls. The bed was of rich though faded damask, with\\na lofty tester, and stood in a niche opposite a bow win- 5\\ndow. I had scarcely got into bed when a strain of\\nmusic seemed to break forth in the air just below the\\nwindow. I listened, and found it proceeded from a band\\nwhich I concluded to be the waits from some neighbor-\\ning village. They went round the house, playing under 10\\nthe windows. I drew aside the curtains to hear them\\nmore distinctly. The moonbeams fell through the upper\\npart of the casement, partially lighting up the antiquated\\napartment. The sounds as they receded became more\\nsoft and aerial, and seemed to accord with the quiet 15\\nand moonlight. I listened and listened they became\\nmore and more tender and remote, and as they gradu-\\nally died away my head sunk upon the pillow and I fell\\nasleep.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0281.jp2"}, "282": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS DAY\\nDark and dull night, flie hence away,\\nAnd give the honor to this day\\nThat sees December turn d to May.\\nWhy does the chilling winter s morne\\nSmile like a field beset with corn\\nOr smell like to a meade new-shorne,\\nThus on the sudden Come and see\\nThe cause why things thus fragrant be.\\nHerrick.\\nWhen I woke the next morning, it seemed as if all\\nthe events of the preceding evening had been a dream,\\nand nothing but the identity of the ancient chamber\\nconvinced me of their reality. While I lay musing on\\n5 my pillow, I heard the sound of little feet pattering out-\\nside of the door and a whispering consultation. Pres-\\nently a choir of small voices chanted forth an old\\nChristmas carol, the burden of which was\\nRejoice, our Saviour he was born\\nIO On Christmas day in the morning.\\nI rose softly, slipt on my clothes, opened the door\\nsuddenly, and beheld one of the most beautiful little\\nfairy groups that a painter could imagine. It consisted\\nof a boy and two girls, the eldest not more than six,\\n15 and lovely as seraphs. They were going the rounds of\\nthe house, and singing at every chamber door; but my\\nsudden appearance frightened them into mute bashful-\\nness. They remained for a moment playing on their\\n242", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0282.jp2"}, "283": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS DAY 243\\nlips with their fingers, and now and then stealing a shy\\nglance from under their eyebrows, until as if by one\\nimpulse they scampered away, and as they turned an\\nangle of the gallery I heard them laughing in triumph\\nat their escape. 5\\nEverything conspired to produce kind and happy feel-\\nings in this stronghold of old-fashioned hospitality.\\nThe window of my chamber looked out upon what in\\nsummer would have been a beautiful landscape. There\\nwas a sloping lawn, a fine stream winding at the foot 10\\nof it, and a track of park beyond with noble clumps of\\ntrees and herds of deer. At a distance was a neat ham-\\nlet with the smoke from the cottage chimneys hanging\\nover it, and a church with its dark spire in strong relief\\nagainst the clear, cold sky. The house was surrounded 15\\nwith evergreens, according to the English custom, which\\nwould have given almost an appearance of summer, but\\nthe morning was extremely frosty the light vapor of\\nthe preceding evening had been precipitated by the cold,\\nand covered all the trees and every blade of grass with 20\\nits fine crystallizations. The rays of a bright morning\\nsun had a dazzling effect among the glittering foliage.\\nA robin perched upon the top of a mountain ash that\\nhung its clusters of red berries just before my window\\nwas basking himself in the sunshine, and piping a few 25\\nquerulous notes; and a peacock was displaying all the\\nglories of his train, and strutting with the pride and\\ngravity of a Spanish grandee on the terrace walk below.\\nI had scarcely dressed myself when a servant appeared\\nto invite me to family prayers. He showed me the way 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nto a small chapel in the old wing of the house, where I\\nfound the principal part of the family already assembled\\nin a kind of gallery furnished with cushions, hassocks,\\nand large prayer-books; the servants were seated on", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0283.jp2"}, "284": {"fulltext": "244 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nbenches below. The old gentleman read prayers from\\na desk in front of the gallery, and Master Simon acted\\nas clerk and made the responses and I must do him\\nthe justice to say that he acquitted himself with great\\n5 gravity and decorum.\\nThe service was followed by a Christmas carol which\\nMr. Bracebridge himself had constructed from a poem\\nof his favorite author, Herrick and it had been adapted\\nto an old church melody by Master Simon. As there\\nio were several good voices among the household, the effect\\nwas extremely pleasing but I was particularly gratified\\nby the exaltation of heart and sudden sally of grateful\\nfeeling with which the worthy squire delivered one stanza,\\nhis eye glistening, and his voice rambling out of all the\\n15 bounds of time and tune\\nTis thou that crown st my glittering hearth\\nWith guiltlesse mirth,\\nAnd giv st me Wassaile bowles to drink\\nSpiced to the brink\\n20 Lord, tis thy plenty-dropping hand\\nThat soiles my land\\nAnd giv st me for my bushell sowne,\\nTwice ten for one.\\nI afterwards understood that early morning service\\n25 was read on every Sunday and saints day throughout\\nthe year either by Mr. Bracebridge or by some member\\nof the family. It was once almost universally the case\\nat the seats of the nobility and gentry of England, and\\nit is much to be regretted that the custom is falling into\\n30 neglect for the dullest observer must be sensible of the\\norder and serenity prevalent in those households where\\nthe occasional exercise of a beautiful form of worship\\nin the morning gives, as it were, the keynote to every\\ntemper for the day, and attunes every spirit to harmony.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0284.jp2"}, "285": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS DAY 245\\nOur breakfast consisted of what the squire denomi-\\nnated true old English fare. He indulged in some\\nbitter lamentations over modern breakfasts of tea and\\ntoast, which he censured as among the causes of mod-\\nern effeminacy and weak nerves, and the decline of old 5\\nEnglish heartiness; and though he admitted them to\\nhis table to suit the palates of his guests, yet there\\nwas a brave display of cold meats, wine, and ale, on\\nthe sideboard.\\nAfter breakfast I walked about the grounds with Frank 10\\nBracebridge and Master Simon, or Mr. Simon, as he was\\ncalled by everybody but the squire. We were escorted\\nby a number of gentlemanlike dogs that seemed loungers\\nabout the establishment, from the frisking spaniel to the\\nsteady old stag-hound the last of which was of a race 15\\nthat had been in the family time out of mind. They\\nwere all obedient to a dog-whistle which hung to Master\\nSimon s buttonhole, and in the midst of their gambols\\nwould glance an eye occasionally upon a small switch he\\ncarried in his hand. 20\\nThe old mansion had a still more venerable look in\\nthe yellow sunshine than by pale moonlight and I could\\nnot but feel the force of the squire s idea, that the formal\\nterraces, heavily moulded balustrades, and clipped yew\\ntrees carried with them an air of proud aristocracy. 25\\nThere appeared to be an unusual number of peacocks\\nabout the place, and I was making some remarks upon\\nwhat I termed a flock of them that were basking under\\na sunny wall, when I was gently corrected in my phrase-\\nology by Master Simon, who told me that according to 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nthe most ancient and approved treatise on hunting, I\\nmust say a muster of peacocks. In the same way,\\nadded he with a slight air of pedantry, we say a flight\\nof doves or swallows, a bevy of quails, a herd of deer, of", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0285.jp2"}, "286": {"fulltext": "246 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwrens, or cranes, a skulk of foxes, or a building of rooks.\\nHe went on to inform me that according to Sir Anthony\\nFitzherbert we ought to ascribe to this bird both under-\\nstanding and glory for being praised he will presently\\n5 set up his tail, chiefly against the sun, to the intent you\\nmay the better behold the beauty thereof. But at the\\nfall of the leaf when his tail falleth, he will mourn and\\nhide himself in corners till his tail come again as it\\nwas.\\nio I could not help smiling at this display of small erudi-\\ntion on so whimsical a subject but I found that the pea-\\ncocks were birds of some consequence at the hall, for\\nFrank Bracebridge informed me that they were great\\nfavorites with his father, who was extremely careful to\\n15 keep up the breed partly because they belonged to chiv-\\nalry, and were in great request at the stately banquets\\nof the olden time and partly because they had a pomp\\nand magnificence about them highly becoming an old\\nfamily mansion. Nothing, he was accustomed to say,\\n20 had an air of greater state and dignity than a peacock\\nperched upon an antique stone balustrade.\\nMaster Simon had now to hurry off, having an appoint-\\nment at the parish church with the village choristers, who\\nwere to perform some music of his selection. There was\\n25 something extremely agreeable in the cheerful flow of\\nanimal spirits of the little man and I confess I had\\nbeen somewhat surprised at his apt quotations from\\nauthors who certainly were not in the range of every-\\nday reading. I mentioned this last circumstance to\\n30 Frank Bracebridge, who told me with a smile that\\nMaster Simon s whole stock of erudition was confined\\nto some half a dozen old authors which the squire had\\nput into his hands, and which he read over and over\\nwhenever he had a studious fit, as he sometimes had", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0286.jp2"}, "287": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS DAY 247\\non a rainy day or a long winter evening. Sir Anthony\\nFitzherbert s Book of Husbandry, Markham s Country Con-\\ntentments, the Tretyse of Hunting, by Sir Thomas Cockayne,\\nKnight, Izaak Walton s Angler, and two or three more\\nsuch ancient worthies of the pen, were his standard 5\\nauthorities and like all men who know but a few books,\\nhe looked up to them with a kind of idolatry, and quoted\\nthem on all occasions. As to his songs, they were\\nchiefly picked out of old books in the squire s library,\\nand adapted to tunes that were popular among the 10\\nchoice spirits of the last century. His practical appli-\\ncation of scraps of literature, however, had caused him\\nto be looked upon as a prodigy of book knowledge by\\nall the grooms, huntsmen, and small sportsmen of the\\nneighborhood. 15\\nWhile we were talking we heard the distant tolling of\\nthe village bell, and I was told that the squire was a\\nlittle particular in having his household at church on a\\nChristmas morning, considering it a day of pouring out\\nof thanks and rejoicing for, as old Tusser observed 20\\nAt Christmas be merry, and thankful withal,\\nAnd feast thy poor neighbors, the great with the small.\\nIf you are disposed to go to church, said Frank\\nBracebridge, I can promise you a specimen of my\\ncousin Simon s musical achievements. As the church 25\\nis destitute of an organ, he has formed a i and from the\\nvillage amateurs and established a musical club for their\\nimprovement. He has also sorted a choir, as he sorted\\nmy father s pack of hounds, according to the directions\\nof Gervase Markham, in his Country Contentments. For 30\\nthe bass he has sought out all the deep, solemn mouths,\\nand for the tenor the loud-ringing mouths, among the\\ncountry bumpkins and for sweet mouths, he has culled", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0287.jp2"}, "288": {"fulltext": "248 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwith curious taste among the prettiest lasses in the neigh-\\nborhood though these last, he affirms, are the most dif-\\nficult to keep in tune your pretty female singer being\\nexceedingly wayward and capricious, and very liable to\\n5 accident.\\nAs the morning, though frosty, was remarkably fine\\nand clear, the most of the family walked to the church,\\nwhich was a very old building of gray stone, and stood\\nnear a village, about half a mile from the park gate.\\nio Adjoining it was a low snug parsonage, which seemed\\ncoeval with the church. The front of it was perfectly\\nmatted with a yew tree that had been trained against\\nits walls, through the dense foliage of which apertures\\nhad been formed to admit light into the small antique\\n15 lattices. As we passed this sheltered nest, the parson\\nissued forth and preceded us.\\nI had expected to see a sleek, well-conditioned pastor,\\nsuch as is often found in a snug living in the vicinity of\\na rich patron s table, but I was disappointed. The par-\\n20 son was a little, meagre, black-looking man, with a griz-\\nzled wig that was too wide and stood off from each ear;\\nso that his head seemed to have shrunk away within it,\\nlike a dried filbert in its shell. He wore a rusty coat,\\nwith great skirts, and pockets that would have held the\\n25 church Bible and prayer-book; and his small legs seemed\\nstill smaller from being planted in large shoes, decorated\\nwith enormous buckles.\\nI was informed by Frank Bracebridge that the parson\\nhad been a chum of his father s at Oxford, and had\\n30 received this living shortly after the latter had come\\nto his estate. He was a complete black-letter hunter,\\nand would scarcely read a work printed in the Roman\\ncharacter. The editions of Caxton and Wynkyn de\\nWorde were his delight and he was indefatigable in", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0288.jp2"}, "289": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS DAY 249\\nhis researches after such old English writers as have\\nfallen into oblivion from their worthlessness. In def-\\nerence perhaps to the notions of Mr. Bracebridge, he\\nhad made diligent investigations into the festive rites\\nand holiday customs of former times and had been as\\nzealous in the inquiry as if he had been a boon com-\\npanion but it was merely with that plodding spirit with\\nwhich men of adust temperament follow up any track\\nof study, merely because it is denominated learning\\nindifferent to its intrinsic nature, whether it be the illus- 10\\ntration of the wisdom, or of the ribaldry and obscenity\\nof antiquity. He had pored over these old volumes so\\nintensely that they seemed to have been reflected in his\\ncountenance; which, if the face be indeed an index of\\nthe mind, might be compared to a title-page of black- 1 5\\nletter.\\nOn reaching the church porch we found the parson\\nrebuking the gray-headed sexton for having used mistle-\\ntoe among the greens with which the church was deco-\\nrated. It was, he observed, an unholy plant, profaned by 20\\nhaving been used by the Druids in their mystic ceremo-\\nnies and though it might be innocently employed in\\nthe festive ornamenting of halls and kitchens, yet it\\nhad been deemed by the Fathers of the Church as\\nunhallowed, and totally unfit for sacred purposes. So 25\\ntenacious was he on this point that the poor sexton\\nwas obliged to strip down a great part of the humble\\ntrophies of his taste before the parson would consent to\\nenter upon the service of the day.\\nThe interior of the church was venerable but simple 30\\non the walls were several mural monuments of the Brace-\\nbridges, and just beside the altar was a tomb of ancient\\nworkmanship on which lay the effigy of a warrior in\\narmor, with his legs crossed, a sign of his having been", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0289.jp2"}, "290": {"fulltext": "250 THE SKETCH BOOK\\na crusader. I was told it was one of the family who\\nhad signalized himself in the Holy Land, and the same\\nwhose picture hung over the fireplace in the hall.\\nDuring service Master Simon stood up in the pew and\\n5 repeated the responses very audibly, evincing that kind\\nof ceremonious devotion punctually observed by a gentle-\\nman of the old school and a man of old family connec-\\ntions. I observed too that he turned over the leaves of\\na folio prayer-book with something of a flourish possibly\\nio to show off an enormous seal ring which enriched one of\\nhis fingers, and which had the look of a family relic.\\nBut he was evidently most solicitous about the mu-\\nsical part of the service, keeping his eye fixed intently\\non the choir, and beating time with much gesticulation\\n15 and emphasis.\\nThe orchestra was in a small gallery, and presented a\\nmost whimsical grouping of heads piled one above the\\nother, among which I particularly noticed that of the\\nvillage tailor, a pale fellow with a retreating forehead\\n20 and chin, who played on the clarionet, and seemed to\\nhave blown his face to a point and there was another,\\na short pursy man, stooping and laboring at a bass-viol,\\nso as to show nothing but the top of a round bald head,\\nlike the egg of an ostrich. There were two or three\\n25 pretty faces among the female singers, to which the\\nkeen air of a frosty morning had given a bright rosy\\ntint but the gentlemen choristers had evidently been\\nchosen, like old Cremona fiddles, more for tone than\\nlooks and as several had to sing from the same book,\\n30 there were clusterings of odd physiognomies, not unlike\\nthose groups of cherubs we sometimes see on country\\ntombstones.\\nThe usual services of the choir were managed toler-\\nably well, the vocal parts generally lagging a little behind", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0290.jp2"}, "291": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS DAY 251\\nthe instrumental, and some loitering fiddler now and\\nthen making up for lost time by travelling over a pas-\\nsage with prodigious celerity, and clearing more bars\\nthan the keenest fox-hunter to be in at the death. But\\nthe great trial was an anthem that had been prepared 5\\nand arranged by Master Simon, and on which he had\\nfounded great expectation. Unluckily there was a blun-\\nder at the very outset the musicians became flurried\\nMaster Simon was in a fever; everything went on lamely\\nand irregularly until they came to a chorus beginning, 10\\nNow let us sing with one accord, which seemed to be\\na signal for parting company. All became discord and\\nconfusion each shifted for himself, and got to the end\\nas well, or, rather, as soon as he could, excepting one\\nold chorister in a pair of horn spectacles bestriding and 15\\npinching a long sonorous nose, who happened to stand\\na little apart, and being wrapped up in his own melody\\nkept on a quavering course, wriggling his head, ogling\\nhis book, and winding all up by a nasal solo of at least\\nthree bars duration. 20\\nThe parson gave us a most erudite sermon on the\\nrites and ceremonies of Christmas, and the propriety of\\nobserving it not merely as a day of thanksgiving, but\\nof rejoicing supporting the correctness of his opinions\\nby the earliest usages of the church, and enforcing them 25\\nby the authorities of Theophilus of Cesarea, St. Cyprian,\\nSt. Chrysostom, St. Augustine, and a cloud more of\\nsaints and fathers from whom he made copious quota-\\ntions. I was a little at a loss to perceive the necessity\\nof such a mighty array of forces to maintain a point 30\\nwhich no one present seemed inclined to dispute; but\\nI soon found that the good man had a legion of ideal\\nadversaries to contend with having in the course of his\\nresearches on the subject of Christmas got completely", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0291.jp2"}, "292": {"fulltext": "252 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nembroiled in the sectarian controversies of the Revolu-\\ntion, when the Puritans made such a fierce assault upon\\nthe ceremonies of the church, and poor old Christmas\\nwas driven out of the land by proclamation of Parlia-\\n5 ment. 1 The worthy parson lived but with times past,\\nand knew but little of the present.\\nShut up among worm-eaten tomes in the retirement of\\nhis antiquated little study, the pages of old times were\\nto him as the gazettes of the day; while the era of the\\n10 Revolution was mere modern history. He forgot that\\nnearly two centuries had elapsed since the fiery persecu-\\ntion of poor mince-pie throughout the land when plum\\nporridge was denounced as mere popery, and roast-\\nbeef as anti-christian and that Christmas had been\\n15 brought in again triumphantly with the merry court of\\nKing Charles at the Restoration. He kindled into\\nwarmth with the ardor of his contest, and the host of\\nimaginary foes with whom he had to combat he had a\\nstubborn conflict with old Prynne and two or three other\\n20 forgotten champions of the Roundheads, on the subject\\nof Christmas festivity; and concluded by urging his\\nhearers in the most solemn and affecting manner to\\n1 From the Elying Eagle, a small gazette, published December\\n24, 1652: The House spent much time this day about the busi-\\nness of the Navy, for settling the affairs at sea, and before they rose,\\nwere presented with a terrible remonstrance against Christmas day,\\ngrounded upon divine Scriptures, 2 Cor. v. 16 1 Cor. xv. 14, 17\\nand in honor of the Lord s Day, grounded upon these Scriptures, John\\nxx. 1; Rev. i. 10; Psalm cxviii. 24; Lev. xxiii. 7, n Mark xv. 8;\\nPsalm lxxxiv. 10, in which Christmas is called Antichrist s masse,\\nand those Massemongers and Papists who observe it, etc. In con-\\nsequence of which Parliament spent some time in consultation about\\nthe abolition of Christmas day, passed orders to that effect, and\\nresolved to sit on the following day, which was commonly called\\nChristmas day.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0292.jp2"}, "293": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS DAY 253\\nstand to the traditional customs of their fathers, and\\nfeast and make merry on this joyful anniversary of the\\nChurch.\\nI have seldom known a sermon attended apparently\\nwith more immediate effects for on leaving the church 5\\nthe congregation seemed one and all possessed with the\\ngayety of spirit so earnestly enjoined by their pastor. The\\nelder folks gathered in knots in the churchyard, greet-\\ning and shaking hands and the children ran about cry-\\ning Ule Ule and repeating some uncouth rhymes, 1 10\\nwhich the parson, who had joined us, informed me had\\nbeen handed down from days of yore. The villagers\\ndoffed their hats to the squire as he passed, giving him\\nthe good wishes of the season with every appearance of\\nheartfelt sincerity, and were invited by him to the hall 1 S\\nto take something to keep out the cold of the weather\\nand I heard blessings uttered by several of the poor,\\nwhich convinced me that in the midst of his enjoyments\\nthe worthy old cavalier had not forgotten the true Christ-\\nmas virtue of charity. 20\\nOn our way homeward his heart seemed overflowed\\nwith generous and happy feelings. As we passed over a\\nrising ground which commanded something of a pros-\\npect, the sounds of rustic merriment now and then\\nreached our ears. The squire paused for a few moments, 25\\nand looked around with an air of inexpressible benignity.\\nThe beauty of the day was of itself sufficient to inspire\\nphilanthropy. Notwithstanding the frostiness of the\\nmorning, the sun in his cloudless journey had acquired\\nsufficient power to melt away the thin covering of snow 30\\nfrom every southern declivity, and to bring out the living\\n1 Ule I Ule\\nThree puddings in a pule\\nCrack nuts and cry ule", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0293.jp2"}, "294": {"fulltext": "254 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ngreen which adorns an English landscape even in mid-\\nwinter. Large tracts of smiling verdure contrasted with\\nthe dazzling whiteness of the shaded slopes and hollows.\\nEvery sheltered bank on which the broad rays rested\\n5 yielded its silver rill of cold and limpid water glittering\\nthrough the dripping grass, and sent up slight exhala-\\ntions to contribute to the thin haze that hung just above\\nthe surface of the earth. There was something truly\\ncheering in this triumph of warmth and verdure over the\\nio frosty thraldom of winter it was, as the squire observed,\\nan emblem of Christmas hospitality breaking through\\nthe chills of ceremony and selfishness and thawing every\\nheart into a flow. He pointed with pleasure to the indi-\\ncations of good cheer reeking from the chimneys of the\\n15 comfortable farmhouses and low thatched cottages. I\\nlove, said he, to see this day well kept by rich and.\\npoor it is a great thing to have one day in the year, at\\nleast, when you are sure of being welcome wherever you\\ngo, and of having, as it were, the world thrown all open\\n20 to you and I am almost disposed to join with Poor\\nRobin in his malediction on every churlish enemy to\\nthis honest festival\\nThose who at Christmas do repine\\nAnd would fain hence dispatch him,\\n25 May they with old Duke Humphry dine,\\nOr else may Squire Ketch catch em.\\nThe squire went on to lament the deplorable decay of\\nthe games and amusements which were once prevalent at\\nthis season among the lower orders and countenanced by\\n30 the higher when the old halls of the castles and manor-\\nhouses were thrown open at daylight when the tables\\nwere covered with brawn and beef and humming ale\\nwhen the harp and the carol resounded all day long, and", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0294.jp2"}, "295": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS DAY 255\\nwhen rich and poor were alike welcome to enter and\\nmake merry. 1 Our old games and local customs, said\\nhe, had a great effect in making the peasant fond of\\nhis home, and the promotion of them by the gentry\\nmade him fond of his lord. They made the times mer- 5\\nrier and kinder and better, and I can truly say, with one\\nof our old poets\\nI like them well the curious preciseness\\nAnd all-pretended gravity of those\\nThat seek to banish hence these harmless sports, 10\\nHave thrust away much ancient honesty.\\nThe nation, continued he, is altered; we have\\nalmost lost our simple true-hearted peasantry. They\\nhave broken asunder from the higher classes, and seem\\nto think their interests are separate. They have become 15\\ntoo knowing, and begin to read newspapers, listen to\\nale-house politicians, and talk of reform. I think one\\nmode to keep them in good humor in these hard times\\nwould be for the nobility and gentry to pass more time\\non their estates, mingle more among the country people, 20\\nand set the merry old English games going again.\\nSuch was the good squire s project for mitigating pub-\\nlic discontent and indeed he had once attempted to put\\nhis doctrine in practice, and a few years before had kept\\nopen house during the holidays in the old style. The 25\\ncountry people, however, did not understand how to play\\n1 An English gentleman, at the opening of the great day, i.e., on\\nChristmas day in the morning, had all his tenants and neighbors\\nenter his hall by daybreak. The strong beer was broached, and the\\nblackjacks went plentifully about with toast, sugar and nutmeg, and\\ngood Cheshire cheese. The Hackin (the great sausage) must be\\nboiled by daybreak, or else two young men must take the maiden\\n{i.e., the cook) by the arms, and run her round the market-place till\\nshe is shamed of her laziness. Round about otcr Sea-Coal Fire,", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0295.jp2"}, "296": {"fulltext": "256 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ntheir parts in the scene of hospitality; many uncouth\\ncircumstances occurred; the manor was overrun by all\\nthe vagrants of the country, and more beggars drawn\\ninto the neighborhood in one week than the parish\\n5 officers could get rid of in a year. Since then he had\\ncontented himself with inviting the decent part of the\\nneighboring peasantry to call at the hall on Christ-\\nmas day, and with distributing beef and bread and ale\\namong the poor, that they might make merry in their\\n10 own dwellings.\\nWe had not been long home when the sound of music\\nwas heard from a distance. A band of country lads\\nwithout coats, their shirt sleeves fancifully tied with rib-\\nbons, their hats decorated with greens, and clubs in their\\n15 hands, were seen advancing up the avenue, followed by a\\nlarge number of villagers and peasantry. They stopped\\nbefore the hall door, where the music struck up a pecul-\\niar air, and the lads performed a curious and intricate\\ndance, advancing, retreating, and striking their clubs\\n20 together, keeping exact time to the music while one,\\nwhimsically crowned with a fox s skin, the tail of which\\nflaunted down his back, kept capering round the skirts\\nof the dance, and rattling a Christmas box with many\\nantic gesticulations.\\n25 The squire eyed this fanciful exhibition with great\\ninterest and delight, and gave me a full account of its\\norigin, which he traced to the times when the Romans\\nheld possession of the island plainly proving that this\\nwas a lineal descendant of the sword dance of the\\n30 ancients. It was now, he said, nearly extinct, but\\nhe had accidentally met with traces of it in the neigh-\\nborhood, and had encouraged its revival though, to tell\\nthe truth, it was too apt to be followed up by the rough\\ncudgel play, and broken heads in the evening.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0296.jp2"}, "297": {"fulltext": "CHRISTMAS DAY 257\\nAfter the dance was concluded, the whole party was\\nentertained with brawn and beef and stout home-brewed.\\nThe squire himself mingled among the rustics, and was\\nreceived with awkward demonstrations of deference and\\nregard. It is true I perceived two or three of the 5\\nyounger peasants, as they were raising their tankards to\\ntheir mouths when the squire s back was turned, mak-\\ning something of a grimace and giving each other the\\nwink but the moment they caught my eye they pulled\\ngrave faces, and were exceedingly demure. With Mas- 10\\nter Simon, however, they all seemed more at their ease.\\nHis varied occupations and amusements had made him\\nwell known throughout the neighborhood. He was a\\nvisitor at every farmhouse and cottage, gossiped with\\nthe farmers and their wives, romped with their daughters, 15\\nand like that type of a vagrant bachelor, the humblebee,\\ntolled the sweets from all the rosy lips of the country\\nround.\\nThe bashfulness of the guests soon gave way before\\ngood cheer and affability. There is something genuine 20\\nand affectionate in the gayety of the lower orders when\\nit is excited by the bounty and familiarity of those above\\nthem the warm glow of gratitude enters into their mirth,\\nand a kind word or a small pleasantry frankly uttered by\\na patron gladdens the heart of the dependant more than 25\\noil and wine. When the squire had retired, the merri-\\nment increased, and there was much joking and laughter,\\nparticularly between Master Simon and a hale, ruddy-\\nfaced, white-headed farmer, who appeared to be the wit\\nof the village for I observed all his companions to wait 30\\nwith open mouths for his retorts, and burst into a gra-\\ntuitous laugh before they could well understand them.\\nThe whole house indeed seemed abandoned to merri-\\nment as I passed to my room to dress for dinner, I", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0297.jp2"}, "298": {"fulltext": "258 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nheard the sound of music in a small court, and looking\\nthrough a window that commanded it, I perceived a band\\nof wandering musicians, with pandean pipes and tam-\\nbourine a pretty coquettish housemaid was dancing a\\n5 jig with a smart country lad, while several of the other\\nservants were looking on. In the midst of her sport the\\ngirl caught a glimpse of my face at the window, and,\\ncoloring up, ran off with an air of roguish affected\\nconfusion.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0298.jp2"}, "299": {"fulltext": "THE CHRISTMAS DINNER\\nLo, now is come our joyful st feast\\nLet every man be jolly.\\nEache roome with yvie leaves is drest,\\nAnd every post with holly.\\nNow all our neighbors chimneys smoke,\\nAnd Christmas blocks are burning\\nTheir ovens they with bak t meats choke\\nAnd all their spits are turning.\\nWithout the door let sorrow lie,\\nAnd if, for cold, it hap to die,\\nWee le bury t in a Christmas pye,\\nAnd evermore be merry.\\nWithers s Juvenilia.\\nI had finished my toilet, and was loitering with\\nFrank Bracebridge in the library, when we heard a\\ndistant thwacking sound, which he informed me was\\na signal for the serving up of the dinner. The squire\\nkept up old customs in kitchen as well as hall and the 5\\nrolling-pin struck upon the dresser by the cook sum-\\nmoned the servants to carry in the meats.\\nJust in this nick the cook knock d thrice,\\nAnd all the waiters in a trice\\nHis summons did obey; 10\\nEach serving-man, with dish in hand,\\nMarch d boldly up, like our train band,\\nPresented, and away. 1\\nThe dinner was served up in the great hall, where the\\nsquire always held his Christmas banquet. A blazing, 15\\ncrackling fire of logs had been heaped on to warm the\\n1 Sir John Suckling.\\n259", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0299.jp2"}, "300": {"fulltext": "260 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nspacious apartment, and the name went sparkling and\\nwreathing up the wide-mouthed chimney. The great\\npicture of the crusader and his white horse had been\\nprofusely decorated with greens for the occasion and\\n5 holly and ivy had likewise been wreathed round the hel-\\nmet and weapons on the opposite wall, which I under-\\nstood were the arms of the same warrior. I must own,\\nby the by, I had strong doubts about the authenticity\\nof the painting and armor as having belonged to the\\n10 crusader, they certainly having the stamp of more recent\\ndays but I was told that the painting had been so con-\\nsidered time out of mind and that, as to the armor, it\\nhad been found in a lumber room and elevated to its\\npresent situation by the squire, who at once determined\\n15 it to be the armor of the family hero and as he was\\nabsolute authority on all such subjects in his own house-\\nhold, the matter had passed into current acceptation.\\nA sideboard was set out just under this chivalric trophy,\\non which was a display of plate that might have vied\\n20 (at least in variety) with Belshazzar s parade of the\\nvessels of the temple flagons, cans, cups, beakers, gob-\\nlets, basins, and ewers, the gorgeous utensils of good\\ncompanionship that had gradually accumulated through\\nmany generations of jovial housekeepers. Before these\\n25 stood the two Yule candles, beaming like two stars of\\nthe first magnitude other lights were distributed in\\nbranches, and the whole array glittered like a firma-\\nment of silver.\\nWe were ushered into this banqueting scene with the\\n30 sound of minstrelsy, the old harper being seated on a\\nstool beside the fireplace, and twanging his instrument\\nwith a vast deal more power than melody. N did\\nUfa\\nChristmas board display a more goodly and us\\nassemblage of countenances those who were md-", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0300.jp2"}, "301": {"fulltext": "THE CHRISTMAS DINNER 261\\nsome were at least happy and happiness is a rare im-\\nprover of your hard-favored visage. I always consider\\nan old English family as well worth studying as a col-\\nlection of Holbein s portraits or Albert Diirer s prints.\\nThere is much antiquarian lore to be acquired much 5\\nknowledge of the physiognomies of former times. Per-\\nhaps it may be from having continually before their eyes\\nthose rows of old family portraits with which the man-\\nsions of this country are stocked certain it is that the\\nquaint features of antiquity are often most faithfully 10\\nperpetuated in these ancient lines and I have traced an\\nold family nose through a whole picture gallery, legiti-\\nmately handed down from generation to generation,\\nalmost from the time of the Conquest. Something of\\nthe kind was to be observed in the worthy company 15\\naround me. Many of their faces had evidently origi-\\nnated in a Gothic age, and been merely copied by suc-\\nceeding generations and there was one little girl in\\nparticular, of staid demeanor, with a high Roman nose\\nand an antique vinegar aspect, who was a great favorite 20\\nof the squire s, being, as he said, a Bracebridge all over,\\nand the very counterpart of one of his ancestors who\\nfigured in the court of Henry VIII.\\nThe parson said grace, which was not a short familiar\\none, such as is commonly addressed to the Deity in these 25\\nunceremonious days, but a long, courtly, well-worded\\none of the ancient school. There was now a pause, as\\nif something was expected, when suddenly the butler\\nentered the hall with some degree of bustle he was\\nattended by a servant on each side with a large wax- 30\\nlight, and bore a silver dish on which was an enormous\\npig s head decorated with rosemary, with a lemon in its\\nmouth, which was placed with great formality at the\\nhead of the table. The moment this pageant made its", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0301.jp2"}, "302": {"fulltext": "262 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nappearance, the harper struck up a flourish at the con-\\nclusion of which the young Oxonian, on receiving a hint\\nfrom the squire, gave, with an air of the most comic\\ngravity, an old carol, the first verse of which was as\\n5 follows\\nCaput apri defero\\nReddens laudes Domino.\\nThe boar s head in hand bring I,\\nWith garlands gay and rosemary.\\n10 I pray you all synge merrily\\nQui estis in convivio.\\nThough prepared to witness many of these little\\neccentricities, from being apprised of the peculiar hobby\\nof mine host, yet I confess the parade with which so odd\\nr5 a dish was introduced somewhat perplexed me, until I\\ngathered from the conversation of the squire and the\\nparson that it was meant to represent the bringing in of\\nthe boar s head, a dish formerly served up with much\\nceremony and the sound of minstrelsy and song, at\\n20 great tables on Christmas day. I like the old custom,\\nsaid the squire, not merely because it is stately and\\npleasing in itself, but because it was observed at the col-\\nlege at Oxford at which I was educated. When I hear\\nthe old song chanted, it brings to mind the time when\\n25 I was young and gamesome and the noble old college\\nhall and my fellow-students loitering about in their\\nblack gowns many of whom, poor lads, are now in\\ntheir graves\\nThe parson, however, whose mind was not haunted\\n30 by such associations, and who was always more taken\\nup with the text than the sentiment, objected to the\\nOxonian s version of the carol, which he affirmed was\\ndifferent from that sung at college. He went on, with\\nthe dry perseverance of a commentator, to give the", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0302.jp2"}, "303": {"fulltext": "THE CHRISTMAS DINNER 263\\ncollege reading, accompanied by sundry annotations,\\naddressing himself at first to the company at large but\\nfinding their attention gradually diverted to other talk\\nand other objects, he lowered his tone as his number of\\nauditors diminished, until he concluded his remarks in 5\\nan under voice to a fat-headed old gentleman next him,\\nwho was silently engaged in the discussion of a huge\\nplateful of turkey. 1\\nThe table was literally loaded with good cheer, and\\npresented an epitome of country abundance in this sea- 10\\nson of overflowing larders. A distinguished post was\\nallotted to ancient sirloin, as mine host termed it;\\nbeing, as he added, the standard of old English hospi-\\ntality, and a joint of goodly presence, and full of expec-\\ntation. There were several dishes quaintly decorated, 15\\n1 The old ceremony of serving up the boar s head on Christmas\\nday is still observed in the hall of Queen s College, Oxford. I was\\nfavored by the parson with a copy of the carol as now sung, and as\\nit may be acceptable to such of my readers as are curious in these\\ngrave and learned matters, I give it entire.\\nThe boar s head in hand bear I,\\nBedeck d with bays and rosemary\\nAnd I pray you, my masters, be merry\\nQuot estis in convivio.\\nCaput apri defero,\\nReddens laudes Domino.\\nThe boar s head, as I understand,\\nIs the rarest dish in all this land,\\nWhich thus bedeck d with a gay garland\\nLet us servire cantico.\\nCaput apri defero, etc.\\nOur steward hath provided this\\nIn honor of the King of Bliss,\\nWhich on this day to be served is\\nIn Reginensi Atrio.\\nCaput apri defero,\\netc., etc., etc.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0303.jp2"}, "304": {"fulltext": "264 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nand which had evidently something traditional in their\\nembellishments but about which, as I did not like to\\nappear over-curious, I asked no questions.\\nI could not, however, but notice a pie, magnificently\\n5 decorated with peacock s feathers, in imitation of the\\ntail of that bird, which overshadowed a considerable\\ntract of the table. This, the squire confessed with some\\nlittle hesitation, was a pheasant pie, though a peacock\\npie was certainly the most authentical but there had\\nio been such a mortality among the peacocks this season\\nthat he could not prevail upon himself to have one\\nkilled. 1\\nIt would be tedious, perhaps, to my wiser readers,\\nwho may not have that foolish fondness for odd and\\n15 obsolete things to which I am a liitle given, were I to\\nmention the other makeshifts of this worthy old humor-\\nist, by which he was endeavoring to follow up, though\\nat humble distance, the quaint customs of antiquity. I\\nwas pleased, however, to see the respect shown to his\\n20 whims by his children and relatives, who, indeed, entered\\n1 The peacock was anciently in great demand for stately enter-\\ntainments. Sometimes it was made into a pie, at one end of which\\nthe head appeared above the crust in all its plumage, with the beak\\nrichly gilt at the other end the tail was displayed. Such pies were\\nserved up at the solemn banquets of chivalry, when knights-errant\\npledged themselves to undertake any perilous enterprise, whence\\ncame the ancient oath, used by Justice Shallow, by cock and\\npie.\\nThe peacock was also an important dish for the Christmas\\nfeast and Massinger, in his City Madam, gives some idea of the\\nextravagance with which this, as well as other dishes, was prepared\\nfor the gorgeous revels of the olden times\\nMen may talk of Country Christmasses,\\nTheir thirty pound butter d eggs, their pies of carps tongues\\nTheir pheasants drench d with ambergris the carcases of three fat -wethers\\nbruised for gravy to make sauce for a single peacock.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0304.jp2"}, "305": {"fulltext": "THE CHRISTMAS DINNER 265\\nreadily into the full spirit of them, and seemed all well\\nversed in their parts, having doubtless been present at\\nmany a rehearsal. I was amused, too, at the air of pro-\\nfound gravity with which the butler and other servants\\nexecuted the duties assigned them, however eccentric. 5\\nThey had an old-fashioned look, having, for the most\\npart, been brought up in the household, and grown into\\nkeeping with the antiquated mansion and the humors\\nof its lord, and most probably looked upon all his\\nwhimsical regulations as the established laws of honor- 10\\nable housekeeping.\\nWhen the cloth was removed, the butler brought in\\na huge silver vessel of rare and curious workmanship,\\nwhich he placed before the squire. Its appearance was\\nhailed with acclamation, being the Wassail Bowl, so 15\\nrenowned in Christmas festivity. The contents had\\nbeen prepared by the squire himself for it was a bev-\\nerage in the skilful mixture of which he particularly\\nprided himself, alleging that it was too abstruse and\\ncomplex for the comprehension of an ordinary servant. 20\\nIt was a potation, indeed, that might well make the\\nheart of a toper leap within him, being composed of\\nthe richest and raciest wines, highly spiced and sweet-\\nened, with roasted apples bobbing about the surface. 1\\n1 The Wassail Bowl was sometimes composed of ale instead of\\nwine, with nutmeg, sugar, toast, ginger, and roasted crabs in this\\nway the nut-brown beverage is still prepared in some old families,\\nand round the hearths of substantial farmers at Christmas. It is\\nalso called Lamb s Wool, and is celebrated by Herrick in his\\nTwelfth Night\\nNext crowne the bowle full\\nWith gentle Lamb s Wool\\nAdd sugar, nutmeg, and ginger,\\nWith store of ale too\\nAnd thus ye must doe", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0305.jp2"}, "306": {"fulltext": "266 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThe old gentleman s whole countenance beamed with\\na serene look of indwelling delight, as he stirred this\\nmighty bowl. Having raised it to his lips, with a hearty\\nwish of a merry Christmas to all present, he sent it\\n5 brimming round the board for every one to follow his\\nexample, according to the primitive style pronouncing\\nit the ancient fountain of good feeling, where all\\nhearts met together. 1\\nThere was much laughing and rallying as the honest\\n10 emblem of Christmas joviality circulated, and was kissed\\nrather coyly by the ladies. When it reached Master\\nSimon, he raised it in both hands, and with the^air of a\\nboon companion struck up an old Wassail chanson.\\nThe brown bowle,\\n15 The merry brown bowle,\\nAs it goes round about-a,\\nFill\\nStill,\\nLet the world say what it will,\\n20 And drink your fill all out-a.\\nThe deep canne,\\nThe merry deep canne,\\nAs thou dost freely quaff-a,\\nSing\\n25 Fling,\\nBe as merry as a king,\\nAnd sound a lusty laugh-a. 2\\nMuch of the conversation during dinner turned upon\\nfamily topics to which I was a stranger. There was,\\n1 The custom of drinking out of the same cup gave place to\\neach having his cup. When the steward came to the doore with\\nthe Wassel, he was to cry three times, IVassel, Wassel, Wassel, and\\nthen the chappell (chaplein) was to answer with a song. Arch^E-\\nOLOGIA. 2 From Poor Robin s Almanac.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0306.jp2"}, "307": {"fulltext": "THE CHRISTMAS DINNER 269\\nhowever, a great deal of rallying of Master Simon abn,\\nsome gay widow, with whom he was accused of having\\na flirtation. This attack was commenced by the ladies;\\nbut it was continued throughout the dinner by the fat-\\nheaded old gentleman next the parson, with the perse- 5\\nvering assiduity of a slow hound; being one of those\\nlong-winded jokers who, though rather dull at starting\\ngame, are unrivalled for their talents in hunting it down.\\nAt every pause in the general conversation he renewed\\nhis bantering in pretty much the same terms, winking 10\\nhard at me with both eyes whenever he gave Master\\nSimon what he considered a home thrust. The latter,\\nindeed, seemed fond of being teased on the subject, as\\nold bachelors are apt to be and he took occasion to\\ninform me, in an undertone, that the lady in question 15\\nwas a prodigiously fine woman and drove her own\\ncurricle.\\nThe dinner-time passed away in this flow of innocent\\nhilarity, and though the old hall may have resounded in\\nits time with many a scene of broader rout and revel, 20\\nyet I doubt whether it ever witnessed more honest and\\ngenuine enjoyment. How easy it is for one benevolent\\nbeing to diffuse pleasure around him; and how truly is\\na kind heart a fountain of gladness, making everything\\nin its vicinity to freshen into smiles! The joyous dis- 25\\nposition of the worthy squire was perfectly contagious;\\nhe was happy himself, and disposed to make all the\\nworld happy and the little eccentricities of his humor\\ndid but season, in a manner, the sweetness of his\\nphilanthropy. 30\\nWhen the ladies had retired, the conversation, as\\nusual, became still more animated many good things\\nwere broached which had been thought of during din-\\nner, but which would not exactly do for a lady s ear", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0307.jp2"}, "308": {"fulltext": "266 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nd though I cannot positively affirm that there was\\nmuch wit uttered, yet I have certainly heard many con-\\ntests of rare wit produce much less laughter. Wit, after\\nall, is a mighty tart, pungent ingredient, and much too\\n5 acid for some stomachs but honest good humor is the\\noil and wine of a merry meeting, and there is no jovial\\ncompanionship equal to that where the jokes are rather\\nsmall and the laughter abundant.\\nThe squire told several long stories of early college\\nio pranks and adventures, in some of which the parson had\\nbeen a sharer though in looking at the latter it required\\nsome effort of imagination to figure such a little, dark\\nanatomy of a man into the perpetrator of a madcap\\ngambol. Indeed, the two college chums presented pic-\\n15 tures of what men may be made by their different lots\\nin life. The squire had left the university to live lustily\\non his paternal domains, in the vigorous enjoyment of\\nprosperity and sunshine, and had flourished on to a\\nhearty and florid old age whilst the poor parson, on\\n20 the contrary, had dried and withered away, among dusty\\ntomes, in the silence and shadows of his study. Still\\nthere seemed to be a spark of almost extinguished fire\\nfeebly glimmering in the bottom of his soul and as the\\nsquire hinted at a sly story of the parson and a pretty\\n25 milkmaid, whom they once met on the banks of the Isis,\\nthe old gentleman made an alphabet of faces, which,\\nas far as I could decipher his physiognomy, I verily\\nbelieve was indicative of laughter; indeed, I have\\nrarely met with an old gentleman that took absolute\\n30 offence at the imputed gallantries of his youth.\\nI found the tide of wine and wassail fast gaining on\\nthe dry land of sober judgment. The company grew\\nmerrier and louder as their jokes grew duller. Master\\nSimon was in as chirping a humor as a grasshopper filled", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0308.jp2"}, "309": {"fulltext": "THE CHRISTMAS DINNER 269\\nwith dew his old songs grew of a warmer complexion,\\nand he began to talk maudlin about the widow. He\\neven gave a long song about the wooing of a widow,\\nwhich he informed me he had gathered from an excel-\\nlent black-letter work, entitled Cupid s Solicitor for Love, 5\\ncontaining store of good advice for bachelors, and\\nwhich he promised to lend me. The first verse was to\\nthis effect\\nHe that will woo a widow must not dally,\\nHe must make hay while the sun doth shine 10\\nHe must not stand with her, shall I, shall I,\\nBut boldly say, Widow, thou must be mine.\\nThis song inspired the fat-headed old gentleman, who\\nmade several attempts to tell a rather broad story out of\\nJoe Miller, that was pat to the purpose; but he always 15\\nstuck in the middle, everybody recollecting the latter\\npart excepting himself. The parson, too, began to show\\nthe effects of good cheer, having gradually settled down\\ninto a doze, and his wig sitting most suspiciously on\\none side. Just at this juncture we were summoned to 20\\nthe drawing-room, and, I suspect, at the private instiga-\\ntion of mine host, whose joviality seemed always tem-\\npered with a proper love of decorum.\\nAfter the dinner table was removed, the hall was\\ngiven up to the younger members of the family, who, 25\\nprompted to all kind of noisy mirth by the Oxonian and\\nMaster Simon, made its old walls ring with their merri-\\nment, as they played at romping games. I delight in\\nwitnessing the gambols of children, and particularly at\\nthis happy holiday season, and could not help stealing 30\\nout of the drawing-room on hearing one of their peals\\nof laughter. I found them at the game of blindman s-\\nbuff. Master Simon, who was the leader of their revels,", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0309.jp2"}, "310": {"fulltext": "270 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nand seemed on all occasions to fulfil the office of that\\nancient potentate, the Lord of Misrule, 1 was blinded in\\nthe midst of the hall. The little beings were as busy\\nabout him as the mock fairies about Falstaff; pinching\\n5 him, plucking at the skirts of his coat, and tickling him\\nwith straws. One fine blue-eyed girl of about thirteen,\\nwith her flaxen hair all in beautiful confusion, her frolic\\nface in a glow, her frock half torn off her shoulders, a\\ncomplete picture of a romp, was the chief tormentor\\n10 and, from the slyness with which Master Simon avoided\\nthe smaller game, and hemmed this wild little nymph in\\ncorners, and obliged her to jump shrieking over chairs,\\nI suspected the rogue of being not a whit more blinded\\nthan was convenient.\\n15 When I returned to the drawing-room, I found the\\ncompany seated round the fire, listening to the parson,\\nwho was deeply ensconced in a high-backed oaken chair,\\nthe work of some cunning artificer of yore, which had\\nbeen brought from the library for his particular accom-\\n20 modation. From this venerable piece of furniture, with\\nwhich his shadowy figure and dark weazen face so admi-\\nrably accorded, he was dealing out strange accounts of\\nthe popular superstitions and legends of the surrounding\\ncountry, with which he had become acquainted in the\\n25 course of his antiquarian researches. I am half inclined\\nto think that the old gentleman was himself somewhat\\ntinctured with superstition, as men are very apt to be\\nwho live a recluse and studious life in a sequestered\\npart of the country, and pore over black-letter tracts,\\n30 so often filled with the marvellous and supernatural.\\n1 At Christmasse there was in the Kinge s house, wheresoever\\nhee was lodged, a lorde of misrule, or mayster of merie disportes,\\nand the like had ye in the house of every nobleman of honor, or\\ngood worshippe, were he spirituall or temporall. Stowe.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0310.jp2"}, "311": {"fulltext": "THE CHRISTMAS DIXXER 271\\nHe gave us several anecdotes of the fancies of the\\nneighboring peasantry concerning the effigy of the cru-\\nsader which lay on the tomb by the church altar. As\\nit was the only monument of the kind in that part of\\nthe country, it had always been regarded with feelings 5\\nof superstition by the good wives of the village. It was\\nsaid to get up from the tomb and walk the rounds of\\nthe churchyard in stormy nights, particularly when it\\nthundered; and one old woman, whose cottage bordered\\non the churchyard, had seen it through the windows of 10\\nthe church when the moon shone, slowly pacing up and\\ndown the aisles. It was the belief that some wrong had\\nbeen left unredressed by the deceased, or some treasure\\nhidden, which kept the spirit in a state of trouble and\\nrestlessness. Some talked of gold and jewels buried in 15\\nthe tomb, over which the spectre kept watch and there\\nwas a story current of a sexton in old times who endeav-\\nored to break his way to the coffin at night, but, just as\\nhe reached it, received a violent blow from the marble\\nhand of the effigy, which stretched him senseless on the 20\\npavement. These tales were often laughed at by some\\nof the sturdier among the rustics, yet, when night came\\non, there were many of the stoutest unbelievers that were\\nshy of venturing alone in the footpath that led across\\nthe churchyard. 25\\nFrom these and other anecdotes that followed, the cru-\\nsader appeared to be the favorite hero of ghost stories\\nthroughout the vicinity. His picture, which hung up in\\nthe hall, was thought by the servants to have something\\nsupernatural about it for they remarked that in what- 30\\never part of the hall you went, the eyes of the warrior\\nwere still fixed on you. The old porter s wife, too, at the\\nlodge, who had been born and brought up in the family,\\nand was a great gossip among the maid servants, affirmed", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0311.jp2"}, "312": {"fulltext": "272 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nthat in her young days she had often heard say that on\\nMidsummer eve, when it was well known all kinds of\\nghosts, goblins, and fairies become visible and walk\\nabroad, the crusader used to mount his horse, come\\n5 down from his picture, ride about the house, down the\\navenue, and so to the church to visit the tomb on which\\noccasion the church door most civilly swung open of\\nitself not that he needed it, for he rode through closed\\ngates and even stone walls, and had been seen by one of\\n10 the dairymaids to pass between two bars of the great\\npark gate, making himself as thin as a sheet of paper.\\nAll these superstitions I found had been very much\\ncountenanced by the squire, who, though not supersti-\\ntious himself, was very fond of seeing others so. He\\n15 listened to every goblin tale of the neighboring gossips\\nwith infinite gravity, and held the porter s wife in high\\nfavor on account of her talent for the marvellous. He\\nwas himself a great reader of old legends and romances,\\nand often lamented that he could not believe in them;\\n20 for a superstitious person, he thought, must live in a\\nkind of fairyland.\\nWhilst we were all attention to the parson s stories,\\nour ears were suddenly assailed by a burst of heteroge-\\nneous sounds from the hall, in which were mingled some-\\n25 thing like the clang of rude minstrelsy with the uproar\\nof many small voices and girlish laughter. The door\\nsuddenly flew open, and a train came trooping into the\\nroom that might almost have been mistaken for the\\nbreaking up of the court of Fairy. That indefati-\\n30 gable spirit, Master Simon, in the faithful discharge of\\nhis duties as Lord of Misrule, had conceived the idea of\\na Christmas mummery, or masking and having called\\nin to his assistance the Oxonian and the young officer,\\nwho were equally ripe for anything that should occasion", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0312.jp2"}, "313": {"fulltext": "THE CHRISTMAS DINNER 273\\nromping and merriment, they had carried it into instant\\neffect. The old housekeeper had been consulted; the\\nantique clothespresses and wardrobes rummaged, and\\nmade to yield up the relics of finery that had not seen\\nthe light for several generations the younger part of the 5\\ncompany had been privately convened from the parlor\\nand hall, and the whole had been bedizened out into a\\nburlesque imitation of an antique mask. 1\\nMaster Simon led the van, as Ancient Christmas,\\nquaintly apparelled in a ruff, a short cloak which had 10\\nvery much the aspect of one of the old housekeeper s\\npetticoats, and a hat that might have served for a village\\nsteeple, and must indubitably have figured in the days\\nof the Covenanters. From under this his nose curved\\nboldly forth, flushed with a frost-bitten bloom that 15\\nseemed the very trophy of a December blast. He was\\naccompanied by the blue-eyed romp, dished up as\\nDame Mince Pie, in the venerable magnificence of a\\nfaded brocade, long stomacher, peaked hat, and high-\\nheeled shoes. The young officer appeared as Robin 20\\nHood, in a sporting dress of Kendal Green, and a\\nforaging cap with a gold tassel.\\nThe costume, to be sure, did not bear testimony to\\ndeep research, and there was an evident eye to the pic-\\nturesque, natural to a young gallant in the presence of 25\\nhis mistress. The fair Julia hung on his arm in a pretty\\nrustic dress as Maid Marian. The rest of the train\\nhad been metamorphosed in various ways the girls\\ntrussed up in the finery of the ancient belles of the\\n1 Maskings, or mummeries, were favorite sports at Christmas in\\nold times and the wardrobes at halls and manor houses were often\\nlaid under contribution to furnish dresses and fantastic disguisings.\\nI strongly suspect Master Simon to have taken the idea of his from\\nBen Jonson s Masque of Christmas.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0313.jp2"}, "314": {"fulltext": "274 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nBracebridge line, and the striplings bewhiskered with\\nburnt cork, and gravely clad in broad skirts, hanging\\nsleeves, and full-bottomed wigs, to represent the char-\\nacter of Roast Beef, Plum-pudding, and other worthies\\n5 celebrated in ancient maskings. The whole was under\\nthe control of the Oxonian, in the appropriate character\\nof Misrule; and I observed that he exercised rather a\\nmischievous sway with his wand over the smaller per-\\nsonages of the pageant.\\n10 The irruption of this motley crew with beat of drum,\\naccording to ancient custom, was the consummation of\\nuproar and merriment. Master Simon covered himself\\nwith glory by the stateliness with which, as Ancient\\nChristmas, he walked a minuet with the peerless, though\\n15 giggling, Dame Mince Pie. It was followed by a dance\\nof all the characters, which from its medley of costumes\\nseemed as though the old family portraits had skipped\\ndown from their frames to join in the sport. Different\\ncenturies were figuring at cross hands and right and\\n20 left the dark ages were cutting pirouettes, and riga-\\ndoons and the days of Queen Bess jigging merrily\\ndown the middle, through a line of succeeding genera-\\ntions.\\nThe worthy squire contemplated these fantastic sports\\n25 and this resurrection of his old wardrobe with the simple\\nrelish of childish delight. He stood chuckling and rub-\\nbing his hands, and scarcely hearing a word the parson\\nsaid, notwithstanding that the latter was discoursing\\nmost authentically on the ancient and stately dance of\\n30 the Paon, or peacock, from which he conceived the min-\\nuet to be derived. 1 For my part, I was in a continual\\n1 Sir John Hawkins, speaking of the dance called the Pavon,\\nfrom pavo, a peacock, says It is a grave and majestic dance the\\nmethod of dancing it anciently was by gentlemen dressed with caps", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0314.jp2"}, "315": {"fulltext": "THE CHRISTMAS DINNER 215\\nexcitement from the varied scenes of whim and innocent\\ngayety passing before me. It was inspiring to see wild-\\neyed frolic and warm-hearted hospitality breaking out\\nfrom among the chills and glooms of winter, and old age\\nthrowing off his apathy and catching once more the 5\\nfreshness of youthful enjoyment. I felt also an interest\\nin the scene from the consideration that these fleeting\\ncustoms were posting fast into oblivion, and that this\\nwas, perhaps, the only family in England in which the\\nwhole of them was still punctiliously observed. There 10\\nwas a quaintness, too, mingled with all this revelry that\\ngave it a peculiar zest it was suited to the time and\\nplace and as the old manor house almost reeled with\\nmirth and wassail, it seemed echoing back the joviality\\nof long departed years. 1 15\\nBut enough of Christmas and its gambols it is time\\nfor me to pause in this garrulity. Methinks I hear the\\nquestions asked by my graver readers, To what pur-\\npose is all this how is the world to be made wiser by\\nthis talk Alas is there not wisdom enough extant 20\\nfor the instruction of the world And if not, are there\\nnot thousands of abler pens laboring for its improve-\\nment It is so much pleasanter to please than to in-\\nstruct to play the companion rather than the preceptor.\\nand swords, by those of the long robe in their gowns, by the peers\\nin their mantles, and by the ladies in gowns with long trains, the\\nmotion whereof, in dancing, resembled that of a peacock. His-\\ntory of Music.\\n1 At the time of the first publication of this paper, the picture of\\nan old-fashioned Christmas in the country was pronounced by some\\nas out of date. The author had afterwards an opportunity of wit-\\nnessing almost all the customs above described, existing in unex-\\npected vigor in the skirts of Derbyshire and Yorkshire, where he\\npassed the Christmas holidays. The reader will find some notice of\\nthem in the author s account of his sojourn at Newstead Abbey.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0315.jp2"}, "316": {"fulltext": "276 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nWhat, after all, is the mite of wisdom that I could\\nthrow into the mass of knowledge or how am I sure\\nthat my sagest deductions may be safe guides for the\\nopinions of others But in writing to amuse, if I fail,\\n5 the only evil is in my own disappointment. If, however,\\nI can by any lucky chance, in these days of evil, rub out\\none wrinkle from the brow of care, or beguile the heavy\\nheart of one moment of sorrow if I can now and then\\npenetrate through the gathering film of misanthropy,\\n10 prompt a benevolent view of human nature, and make\\nmy reader more in good humor with his fellow-beings\\nand himself, surely, surely, I shall not then have written\\nentirely in vain.", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0316.jp2"}, "317": {"fulltext": "LONDON ANTIQUES\\nI do walk\\nMethinks like Guido Vaux, with my dark lanthorn,\\nStealing to set the town o fire i th country\\nI should be taken for William o the Wisp\\nOr Robin Goodfellow.\\nFletcher.\\nI am somewhat of an antiquity hunter, and am fond\\nof exploring London in quest of the relics of old times.\\nThese are principally to be found in the depths of the\\ncity, swallowed up and almost lost in a wilderness of\\nbrick and mortar, but deriving poetical and romantic 5\\ninterest from the commonplace prosaic world around\\nthem. I was struck with an instance of the kind in\\nthe course of a recent summer ramble into the city\\nfor the city is only to be explored to advantage in\\nsummer time, when free from the smoke and fog and 10\\nrain and mud of winter. I had been buffeting for\\nsome time against the current of population setting\\nthrough Fleet Street. The warm weather had unstrung\\nmy nerves, and made me sensitive to every jar and jostle\\nand discordant sound. The flesh was weary, the spirit 15\\nfaint, and I was getting out of humor with the bustling,\\nbusy throng through which I had to struggle, when in\\na fit of desperation I tore my way through the crowd,\\nplunged into a by-lane, and, after passing through several\\nobscure nooks and angles, emerged into a quaint and 20\\nquiet court with a grassplot in the centre overhung by\\nelms, and kept perpetually fresh and green by a fountain\\nwith its sparkling jet of water. A student with book\\n277", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0317.jp2"}, "318": {"fulltext": "278 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nin hand was seated on a stone bench, partly reading,\\npartly meditating on the movements of two or three\\ntrim nursery maids with their infant charges.\\nI was like an Arab who had suddenly come upon\\n5 an oasis amid the panting sterility of the desert. By\\ndegrees the quiet and coolness of the place soothed my\\nnerves and refreshed my spirit. I pursued my walk,\\nand came hard by to a very ancient chapel with a low-\\nbrowed Saxon portal of massive and rich architecture.\\nio The interior was circular and lofty, and lighted from\\nabove. Around were monumental tombs of ancient date,\\non which were extended the marble effigies of warriors\\nin armor. Some had the hands devoutly crossed upon\\nthe breast others grasped the pommel of the sword,\\n15 menacing hostility even in the tomb while the crossed\\nlegs of several indicated soldiers of the Faith who had\\nbeen on crusades to the Holy Land.\\nI was, in fact, in the chapel of the Knights Templars,\\nstrangely situated in the very centre of sordid traffic\\n20 and I do not know a more impressive lesson for the man\\nof the world than thus suddenly to turn aside from the\\nhighway of busy money-seeking life, and sit down among\\nthese shadowy sepulchres, where all is twilight, dust, and\\nforgetfulness.\\n25 In a subsequent tour of observation I encountered\\nanother of these relics of a foregone world locked up\\nin the heart of the city. I had been wandering for some\\ntime through dull monotonous streets destitute of any-\\nthing to strike the eye or excite the imagination, when I\\n30 beheld before me a Gothic gateway of mouldering antiq-\\nuity. It opened into a spacious quadrangle forming the\\ncourtyard of a stately Gothic pile, the portal of which\\nstood invitingly open.\\nIt was apparently a public edifice, and as I was antiq-", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0318.jp2"}, "319": {"fulltext": "LONDON ANTIQUES 279\\nuity hunting I ventured in, though with dubious steps.\\nMeeting no one either to oppose or rebuke my intrusion,\\nI continued on until I found myself in a great hall with\\na lofty arched roof and oaken gallery, all of Gothic archi-\\ntecture. At one end of the hall was an enormous fire- 5\\nplace with wooden settles on each side at the other end\\nwas a raised platform, or dais, the seat of state, above\\nwhich was the portrait of a man in antique garb, with a\\nlong robe, a ruff, and a venerable gray beard.\\nThe whole establishment had an air of monastic quiet 10\\nand seclusion, and what gave it a mysterious charm was,\\nthat I had not met with a human being since I had passed\\nthe threshold.\\nEncouraged by this loneliness, I seated myself in a\\nrecess of a large bow window, which admitted a broad 15\\nflood of yellow sunshine checkered here and there by\\ntints from panes of colored glass, while an open case-\\nment let in the soft summer air. Here, leaning my\\nhead on my hand and my arm on an old oaken table,\\nI indulged in a sort of reverie about what might have 20\\nbeen the ancient uses of this edifice. It had evidently\\nbeen of monastic origin perhaps one of those collegiate\\nestablishments built of yore for the promotion of learn-\\ning, where the patient monk in the ample solitude of the\\ncloister added page to page and volume to volume, emu- 25\\nlating in the productions of his brain the magnitude of\\nthe pile he inhabited.\\nAs I was seated in this musing mood, a small panelled\\ndoor in an arch at the upper end of the hall was opened,\\nand a number of gray-headed old men clad in long black 30\\ncloaks came forth one by one proceeding in that man-\\nner through the hall, without uttering a word, each turn-\\ning a pale face on me as he passed, and disappearing\\nthrough a door at the lower end.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0319.jp2"}, "320": {"fulltext": "280 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nI was singularly struck with their appearance their\\nblack cloaks and antiquated air comported with the style\\nof this most venerable -and mysterious pile. It was as\\nif the ghosts of the departed years about which I had\\n5 been musing were passing in review before me. Pleas-\\ning myself with such fancies, I set out, in the spirit of\\nromance, to explore what I pictured to myself a realm\\nof shadows, existing in the very centre of substantial\\nrealities.\\nio My ramble led me through a labyrinth of interior\\ncourts and corridors and dilapidated cloisters, for the\\nmain edifice had many additions and dependencies, built\\nat various times and in various styles in one open space\\na number of boys, who evidently belonged to the estab-\\n15 lishment, were at their sports but everywhere I observed\\nthose mysterious old gray men in black mantles, some-\\ntimes sauntering alone, sometimes conversing in groups\\nthey appeared to be the pervading genii of the place.\\nI now called to mind what I had read of certain colleges\\n20 in old times, where judicial astrology, geomancy, necro-\\nmancy, and other forbidden and magical sciences were\\ntaught. Was this an establishment of the kind, and\\nwere these black-cloaked old men really professors of\\nthe black art\\n25 These surmises were passing through my mind as my\\neye glanced into a chamber hung round with all kinds of\\nstrange and uncouth objects, implements of savage war-\\nfare, strange idols and stuffed alligators bottled ser-\\npents and monsters decorated the mantelpiece while\\n30 on the high tester of an old-fashioned bedstead grinned\\na human skull, flanked on each side by a dried cat.\\nI approached to regard more narrowly this mystic\\nchamber, which seemed a fitting laboratory for a necro-\\nmancer, when I was startled at beholding a human coun-", "height": "3548", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0320.jp2"}, "321": {"fulltext": "LONDON AXTIQUES 281\\ntenance staring at me from a dusk)* corner. It was that\\nof a small, shrivelled old man with thin cheeks, bright\\neyes, and gray, wiry, projecting eyebrows. I at first\\ndoubted whether it were not a mummy curiously pre-\\nserved, but it moved, and I saw that it was alive. It 5\\nwas another of those black-cloaked old men, and as\\nI regarded his quaint physiognomy, his obsolete garb,\\nand the hideous and sinister objects by which he was\\nsurrounded, I began to persuade myself that I had\\ncome upon the arch-mago who ruled over this magical 10\\nfraternity.\\nSeeing me pausing before the door, he rose and invited\\nme to enter. I obeyed with singular hardihood, for how\\ndid I know whether a wave of his wand might not meta-\\nmorphose me into some strange monster, or conjure me 15\\ninto one of the bottles on his mantelpiece He proved,\\nhowever, to be anything but a conjurer, and his simple\\ngarrulity soon dispelled all the magic and mystery with\\nwhich I had enveloped this antiquated pile and its no\\nless antiquated inhabitants. 20\\nIt appeared that I had made my way into the centre\\nof an ancient asylum for superannuated tradesmen and\\ndecayed householders, with which was connected a school\\nfor a limited number of boys. It was founded upwards\\nof two centuries since on an old monastic establishment, 25\\nand retained somewhat of the conventual air and charac-\\nter. The shadowy line of old men in black mantles who\\nhad passed before me in the hall, and whom I had ele-\\nvated into magi, turned out to be the pensioners return-\\ning from morning service in the chapel. 30\\nJohn Hallum, the little collector of curiosities whom I\\nhad made the arch magician, had been for six years a\\nresident of the place, and had decorated this final nes-\\ntling-place of his old age with relics and rarities picked up", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0321.jp2"}, "322": {"fulltext": "282 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nin the course of his life. According to his own account\\nhe had been somewhat of a traveller, having been once\\nin France, and very near making a visit to Holland. He\\nregretted not having visited the latter country, as then\\n5 he might have said he had been there. He was evi-\\ndently a traveller of the simplest kind.\\nHe was aristocratical too in his notions, keeping\\naloof, as I found, from the ordinary run of pensioners.\\nHis chief associates were a blind man who spoke Latin\\nio and Greek of both which languages Hallum was pro-\\nfoundly ignorant and a broken-down gentleman who\\nhad run through a fortune of forty thousand pounds\\nleft him by his father, and ten thousand pounds, the\\nmarriage portion of his wife. Little Hallum seemed to\\n15 consider it an indubitable sign of gentle blood as well\\nas of lofty spirit to be able to squander such enormous\\nsums.\\nP. S. The picturesque remnant of old times into\\nwhich I have thus beguiled the reader is what is called\\n20 the Charter House, originally the Chartreuse. It was\\nfounded in 161 1, on the remains of an ancient convent,\\nby Sir Thomas Sutton, being one of those noble chari-\\nties set on foot by individual munificence, and kept up\\nwith the quaintness and sanctity of ancient times amidst\\n25 the modern changes and innovations of London. Here\\neighty broken-down men who have seen better days are\\nprovided in their old age with food, clothing, fuel, and\\na yearly allowance for private expenses. They dine\\ntogether, as did the monks of old, in the hall which had\\n30 been the refectory of the original convent. Attached\\nto the establishment is a school for forty-four boys.\\nStow, whose work I have consulted on the subject,\\nspeaking of the obligations of the gray-headed pension-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0322.jp2"}, "323": {"fulltext": "LONDON ANTIQUES 283\\ners, says They are not to intermeddle with any busi-\\nness touching the affairs of the hospital, but to attend\\nonly to the service of God, and take thankfully what\\nis provided for them, without muttering, murmuring, or\\ngrudging. None to wear weapon, long hair, colored 5\\nboots, spurs, or colored shoes, feathers in their hats,\\nor any ruffian-like or unseemly apparel, but such as\\nbecomes hospital men to wear. And in truth, adds\\nStow, happy are they that are so taken from the cares\\nand sorrows of the world, and fixed in so good a place 10\\nas these old men are having nothing to care for but the\\ngood of their souls, to serve God, and to live in brotherly\\nlove.\\nFor the amusement of such as have been interested\\nby the preceding sketch, taken down from my own 15\\nobservation,* and who may wish to know a little more\\nabout the mysteries of London, I subjoin a modicum of\\nlocal history, put into my hands by an odd-looking old\\ngentleman in a small brown wig and a snuff-colored\\ncoat, with whom I became acquainted shortly after my 20\\nvisit to the Charter House. I confess I was a little\\ndubious at first whether it was not one of those apocry-\\nphal tales often passed off upon inquiring travellers like\\nmyself, and which have brought our general character\\nfor veracity into such unmerited reproach. On making 25\\nproper inquiries, however, I have received the most sat-\\nisfactory assurances of the author s probity; and indeed\\nhave been told that he is actually engaged in a full and\\nparticular account of the very interesting region in\\nwhich he resides, of which the following may be con- 30\\nsidered merely as a foretaste.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0323.jp2"}, "324": {"fulltext": "LITTLE BRITAIN\\nWhat I write is most true I have a whole booke of cases lying by\\nme which if I should sette foorth, some grave auntients (within the hearing\\nof Bow bell) would be out of charity with me.\\nIn the centre of the great city of London lies a small\\nneighborhood, consisting of a cluster of narrow streets\\nand courts, of very venerable and debilitated houses,\\nwhich goes by the name of Little Britain. Christ\\n5 Church School and St. Bartholomew s Hospital bound\\nit on the west, Smithneld and Long Lane on the north,\\nAldersgate Street like an arm of the sea divides it from\\nthe eastern part of the city, whilst the yawning gulf of\\nBull-and-Mouth Street separates it from Butcher Lane\\n10 and the regions of Newgate. Over this little territory,\\nthus bounded and designated, the great dome of St.\\nPaul s, swelling above the intervening houses of Pater-\\nnoster Row, Amen Corner, and Ave Maria Lane, looks\\ndown with an air of motherly protection.\\n15 This quarter derives its appellation from having been\\nin ancient times the residence of the Dukes of Brittany.\\nAs London increased, however, rank and fashion rolled\\noff to the west, and trade creeping on at their heels took\\npossession of their deserted abodes. For some time Little\\n20 Britain became the great mart of learning, and was peopled\\nby the busy and prolific race of booksellers these also\\ngradually deserted it, and emigrating beyond the great\\nstrait of Newgate Street, settled down in Paternoster Row\\nand St. Paul s Churchyard, where they continue to in-\\n25 crease and multiply even at the present day.\\n284", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0324.jp2"}, "325": {"fulltext": "LITTLE BRITAIN 285\\nBut though thus fallen into decline, Little Britain still\\nbears traces of its former splendor. There are several\\nhouses ready to tumble down, the fronts of which are\\nmagnificently enriched with old oaken carvings of hid-\\neous faces, unknown birds, beasts, and fishes, and fruits 5\\nand flowers which it would perplex a naturalist to clas-\\nsify. There are also, in Aldersgate Street, certain re-\\nmains of what were once spacious and lordly family\\nmansions, but which have in latter days been subdivided\\ninto several tenements. Here may often be found the 10\\nfamily of a petty tradesman, with its trumpery furniture,\\nburrowing among the relics of antiquated finery, in\\ngreat rambling time-stained apartments with fretted\\nceilings, gilded cornices, and enormous marble fire-\\nplaces. The lanes and courts also contain many smaller 15\\nhouses, not on so grand a scale, but like your small\\nancient gentry, sturdily maintaining their claims to\\nequal antiquity. These have their gable ends to the\\nstreet great bow windows with diamond panes set in\\nlead, grotesque carvings, and low arched doorways. 1 20\\nIn this most venerable and sheltered little nest have\\nI passed several quiet years of existence, comfortably\\nlodged in the second floor of one of the smallest but\\noldest edifices. My sitting-room is an old wainscoted\\nchamber with small panels, and set off with a miscella- 25\\nneous array of furniture. I have a particular respect\\nfor three or four high-backed claw-footed chairs covered\\nwith tarnished brocade, which bear the marks of having\\nseen better days, and have doubtless figured in some of\\nthe old palaces of Little Britain. They seem to me to 30\\nkeep together, and to look down with sovereign con-\\n1 It is evident that the author of this interesting communication\\nhas included, in his general title of Little Britain, many of those\\nlittle lanes and courts that belong immediately to Cloth Fair.", "height": "3571", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0325.jp2"}, "326": {"fulltext": "286 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ntempt upon their leathern-bottomed neighbors as I\\nhave seen decayed gentry carry a high head among the\\nplebeian society with which they were reduced to asso-\\nciate. The whole front of my sitting-room is taken up\\n5 with a bow window, on the panes of which are recorded\\nthe names of previous occupants for many generations,\\nmingled with scraps of very indifferent gentlemanlike\\npoetry written in characters which I can scarcely deci-\\npher, and which extol the charms of many a beauty of\\n10 Little Britain, who has long, long since bloomed, faded,\\nand passed away. As I am an idle personage with no\\napparent occupation, and pay my bill regularly every\\nweek, I am looked upon as the only independent gentle-\\nman of the neighborhood and being curious to learn\\n15 the internal state of a community so apparently shut up\\nwithin itself, I have managed to work my way into all\\nthe concerns and secrets of the place.\\nLittle Britain may truly be called the heart s core of\\nthe city, the stronghold of true John Bullism. It is a\\n20 fragment of London as it was in its better days, with its\\nantiquated folks and fashions. Here flourish in great\\npreservation many of the holiday games and customs of\\nyore. The inhabitants most religiously eat pancakes on\\nShrove Tuesday, hot cross-buns on Good Friday, and\\n25 roast goose at Michaelmas; they send love-letters on\\nValentine s Day, burn the pope on the fifth of Novem-\\nber, and kiss all the girls under the mistletoe at Christ-\\nmas. Roast beef and plum-pudding are also held in\\nsuperstitious veneration, and port and sherry maintain\\n30 their grounds as the only true English wines, all others\\nbeing considered vile outlandish beverages.\\nLittle Britain has its long catalogue of city wonders,\\nwhich its inhabitants consider the wonders of the world;\\nsuch as the great bell of St. Paul s, which sours all the", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0328.jp2"}, "327": {"fulltext": "LITTLE BRITAIN 287\\nbeer when it tolls the figures that strike the hours at\\nSt. Dunstan s clock the Monument the lions in the\\nTower; and the wooden giants in Guildhall. They still\\nbelieve in dreams and fortune telling, and an old woman\\nthat lives in Bull-and-Mouth Street makes a tolerable 5\\nsubsistence by detecting stolen goods and promising\\nthe girls good husbands. They are apt to be rendered\\nuncomfortable by comets and eclipses and if a dog\\nhowls dolefully at night, it is looked upon as a sure sign\\nof a death in the place. There are even many ghost 10\\nstories current, particularly concerning the old mansion\\nhouses, in several of which it is said strange sights are\\nsometimes seen. Lords and ladies the former in full-\\nbottomed wigs, hanging sleeves, and swords, the latter\\nin lappets, stays, hoops, and brocade have been seen 1 5\\nwalking up and down the great waste chambers on\\nmoonlight nights, and are supposed to be the shades of\\nthe ancient proprietors in their court dresses.\\nLittle Britain has likewise its sages and great men.\\nOne of the most important of the former is a tall, dry 20\\nold gentleman, of the name of Skryme, who keeps a\\nsmall apothecary s shop. He has a cadaverous counte-\\nnance full of cavities and projections, with a brown cir-\\ncle round each eye, like a pair of horn spectacles. He\\nis much thought of by the old women, who consider 25\\nhim as a kind of conjurer, because he has two or three\\nstuffed alligators hanging up in his shop and several\\nsnakes in bottles. He is a great reader of almanacs\\nand newspapers, and is much given to pore over alarm-\\ning accounts of plots, conspiracies, fires, earthquakes, 30\\nand volcanic eruptions which last phenomena he con-\\nsiders as signs of the times. He has always some dis-\\nmal tale of the kind to deal out to his customers with\\ntheir doses, and thus at the same time puts both soul", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0329.jp2"}, "328": {"fulltext": "288 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nand body into an uproar. He is a great believer in\\nomens and predictions, and has the prophecies of Rob-\\nert Nixon and Mother Shipton by heart. No man can\\nmake so much out of an eclipse, or even an unusually\\n5 dark day and he shook the tail of the last comet over\\nthe heads of his customers and disciples until they were\\nnearly frightened out of their wits. He has lately got\\nhold of a popular legend or prophecy, on which he has\\nbeen unusually eloquent. There has been a saying cur-\\nio rent among the ancient sibyls who treasure up these\\nthings, that when the grasshopper on the top of the\\nExchange shook hands with the dragon on the top of\\nBow Church steeple, fearful events would take place.\\nThis strange conjunction, it seems, has as strangely\\n15 come to pass. The same architect has been engaged\\nlately on the repairs of the cupola of the Exchange and\\nthe steeple of Bow Church; and, fearful to relate, the\\ndragon and the grasshopper actually lie, cheek by jole,\\nin the yard of his workshop.\\n20 Others, as Mr. Skryme is accustomed to say, may\\ngo star-gazing and look for conjunctions in the heavens,\\nbut here is a conjunction on the earth, near at home, and\\nunder our own eyes, which surpasses all the signs and\\ncalculations of astrologers. Since these portentous\\n25 weathercocks have thus laid their, heads together, won-\\nderful events had already occurred. The good old king,\\nnotwithstanding that he had lived eighty-two years, had\\nall at once given up the ghost another king had mounted\\nthe throne a royal duke had died suddenly, another in\\n30 France had been murdered there had been radical\\nmeetings in all parts of the kingdom the bloody scenes\\nat Manchester the great plot in Cato Street, and, above\\nall, the Queen had returned to England All these sin-\\nister events are recounted by Mr. Skryme with a myste-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0330.jp2"}, "329": {"fulltext": "LITTLE BRITAIN 289\\nrious look and a dismal shake of the head and being\\ntaken with his drugs, and associated in the minds of his\\nauditors with stuffed sea monsters, bottled serpents, and\\nhis own visage, which is a title-page of tribulation,\\nthey have spread great gloom through the minds of the 5\\npeople of Little Britain. They shake their heads when-\\never they go by Bow Church, and observe that they never\\nexpected any good to come of taking down that steeple,\\nwhich in old times told nothing but glad tidings, as the\\nhistory of Whittington and his Cat bears witness. 10\\nThe rival oracle of Little Britain is a substantial\\ncheesemonger, who lives in a fragment of one of the\\nold family mansions, and is as magnificently lodged\\nas a round-bellied mite in the midst of one of his own\\nCheshires. Indeed he is a man of no little standing and 15\\nimportance and his renown extends through Huggin\\nLane and Lad Lane, and even unto Aldermanbury. His\\nopinion is very much taken in affairs of state, having\\nread the Sunday papers for the last half century, together\\nwith the Gentleman s Magazine, Rapin s History of Eng- 20\\nland, and the Naval Chronicle. His head is stored with\\ninvaluable maxims which have borne the test of time\\nand use for centuries. It is his firm opinion that it is\\na moral impossible, so long as England is true to her-\\nself, that anything can shake her and he has much to 25\\nsay on the subject of the national debt, which, somehow\\nor other, he proves to be a great national bulwark and\\nblessing. He passed the greater part of his life in the\\npurlieus of Little Britain, until of late years, when, hav-\\ning become rich and grown into the dignity of a Sunday 30\\ncane, he begins to take his pleasure and see the world.\\nHe has therefore made several excursions to Hampstead,\\nHighgate, and other neighboring towns, where he has\\npassed whole afternoons in looking back upon the me-", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0331.jp2"}, "330": {"fulltext": "290 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ntropolis through a telescope, and endeavoring to descry\\nthe steeple of St. Bartholomew s. Not a stage coachman\\nof Bull-and-Mouth Street but touches his hat as he passes\\nand he is considered quite a patron at the coach office\\n5 of the Goose and Gridiron, St. Paul s Churchyard. His\\nfamily have been very urgent for him to make an expe-\\ndition to Margate, but he has great doubts of those new\\ngimcracks, the steamboats, and indeed thinks himself\\ntoo advanced in life to undertake sea voyages.\\nio Little Britain has occasionally its factions and divi-\\nsions, and party spirit ran very high at one time in con-\\nsequence of two rival Burial Societies being set up in\\nthe place. One held its meeting at the Swan and Horse-\\nshoe, and was patronized by the cheesemonger the\\n15 other at the Cock and Crown, under the auspices of\\nthe apothecary it is needless to say that the latter was\\nthe most flourishing. I have passed an evening or two\\nat each, and have acquired much valuable information\\nas to the best mode of being buried, the comparative\\n20 merits of churchyards, together with divers hints on the\\nsubject of patent iron coffins. I have heard the ques-\\ntion discussed in all its bearings as to the legality of\\nprohibiting the latter on account of their durability.\\nThe feuds occasioned by these societies have happily\\n25 died of late but they were for a long time prevailing\\nthemes of controversy, the people of Little Britain being\\nextremely solicitous of funereal honors, and of lying\\ncomfortably in their graves.\\nBesides these two funeral societies there is a third of\\n30 quite a different cast, which tends to throw the sunshine\\nof good humor over the whole neighborhood. It meets\\nonce a week at a little old-fashioned house kept by a\\njolly publican of the name of Wagstaff, and bearing\\nfor insignia a resplendent half-moon, with a most seduc-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0332.jp2"}, "331": {"fulltext": "LITTLE BRITAIiV 291\\ntive bunch of grapes. The old edifice is covered with\\ninscriptions to catch the eye of the thirsty wayfarer, such\\nas Truman, Hanbury and Co. s Entire, Wine, Rum,\\nand Brandy Vaults, Old Tom, Rum, and Compounds,\\netc. This indeed has been a temple of Bacchus and 5\\nMomus from time immemorial. It has always been in\\nthe family of the Wagstaffs, so that its history is toler-\\nably preserved by the present landlord. It was much\\nfrequented by the gallants and cavalieros of the reign of\\nElizabeth, and was looked into now and then by the 10\\nwits of Charles the Second s day. But what Wagstaff\\nprincipally prides himself upon is, that Henry the Eighth,\\nin one of his nocturnal rambles, broke the head of one of\\nhis ancestors with his famous walking-staff. This, how-\\never, is considered as rather a dubious and vainglorious 15\\nboast of the landlord.\\nThe club which now holds its weekly sessions here\\ngoes by the name of The Roaring Lads of Little Brit-\\nain. They abound in old catches, glees, and choice\\nstories that are traditional in the place, and not to be 20\\nmet with in any other part of the metropolis. There is\\na madcap undertaker who is inimitable at a merry song\\nbut the life of the club, and indeed the prime wit of\\nLittle Britain, is bully Wagstaff himself. His ancestors\\nwere all wags before him, and he has inherited with the 25\\ninn a large stock of songs and jokes which go with it\\nfrom generation to generation as heirlooms. He is a\\ndapper little fellow with bandy legs and pot belly, a red\\nface with a moist merry eye, and a little shock of gray\\nhair behind. At the opening of every club night he is 30\\ncalled in to sing his Confession of Faith, which is the\\nfamous old drinking troll from Gammer Gut-ton s Needle.\\nHe sings it, to be sure, with many variations, as he\\nreceived it from his father s lips, for it has been a stand-", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0333.jp2"}, "332": {"fulltext": "292\\nTHE SKETCH BOOK\\ning favorite at the Half-Moon and Bunch of Grapes\\never since it was written nay, he affirms that his prede-\\ncessors have often had the honor of singing it before\\nthe nobility and gentry at Christmas mummeries, when\\n5 Little Britain was in all its glory. 1\\n1 As mine host of the Half-Moon s Confession of Faith may\\nnot be familiar to the majority of readers, and as it is a specimen of\\nthe current songs of Little Britain, I subjoin it in its original orthog-\\nraphy. I would observe that the whole club always join in the\\nchorus with a fearful thumping on the table and clattering of pewter\\npots.\\nI cannot eate but lytle meate,\\nMy stomacke is not good,\\nBut sure I thinke that I can drinke\\nWith him that weares a hood.\\nThough I go bare, take ye no care,\\nI nothing am a colde,\\nI stuff my skyn so full within,\\nOf joly good ale and olde.\\nChorus. Backe and syde go bare, go bare,\\nBooth foote and hand go colde,\\nBut belly, God send thee good ale ynoughe\\nWhether it be new or olde.\\nI have no rost, but a nut brawne toste,\\nAnd a crab laid in the f yre\\nA little breade shall do me steade,\\nMuch breade I not desyre.\\nNo frost nor snow, nor winde, I trowe,\\nCan hurte mee, if I wolde,\\nI am so wrapt and throwly lapt\\nOf joly good ale and olde.\\nChorus. Backe and syde go bare, go bare, etc.\\nAnd Tyb my wife, that, as her lyfe,\\nLoveth well good ale to seeke,\\nFull oft drynkes shee, tyll ye may see,\\nThe teares run downe her cheeke.\\nThen doth she trowle to me the bowle,\\nEven as a mault-worme sholde,\\nAnd sayth, sweete harte, I tooke my parte\\nOf this joly good ale and olde.\\nChorus. Backe and syde go bare, go bare, etc.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0334.jp2"}, "333": {"fulltext": "LITTLE BRITAIX 293\\nIt would do one s heart good to hear, on a club night,\\nthe shouts of merriment, the snatches of song, and now\\nand then the choral bursts of half a dozen discordant\\nvoices, which issue from this jovial mansion. At such\\ntimes the street is lined with listeners, who enjoy a delight 5\\nequal to that of gazing into a confectioners window, or\\nsnuffing up the steams of a cookshop.\\nThere are two annual events which produce great stir\\nand sensation in Little Britain these are St. Bartholo-\\nmew s Fair and the Lord Mayor s Day. During the time 10\\nof the fair, which is held in the adjoining regions of\\nSmithfield, there is nothing going on but gossiping and\\ngadding about. The late quiet streets of Little Britain\\nare overrun with an irruption of strange figures and\\nfaces; every tavern is a scene of rout and revel. The 15\\nfiddle and the song are heard from the taproom, morn-\\ning, noon, and night and at each window may be seen\\nsome group of boon companions, with half-shut eyes,\\nhats on one side, pipe in mouth, and tankard in hand,\\nfondling and prosing, and singing maudlin songs over 20\\ntheir liquor. Even the sober decorum of private families,\\nwhich I must say is rigidly kept up at other times among\\nmy neighbors, is no proof against this Saturnalia. There\\nis no such thing as keeping maidservants within doors.\\nTheir brains are absolutely set madding with Punch and 25\\nthe Puppet Show, the Flying Horses, Signior Polito,\\nNow let them drynke. tyll they nod and winke,\\nEven as goode fellowes sholde doe,\\nThey shall not mysse to have the blisse,\\nGood ale doth bring men to\\nAnd all poore soules that have scowred bowles.\\nOr have them lustily trolde,\\nGod save the lyves of them and their wives,\\nWhether they be yonge or olde.\\nChorus. Backe and syde go bare, go bare, etc.", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0335.jp2"}, "334": {"fulltext": "294 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nthe Fire-Eater, the celebrated Mr. Paap, and the Irish\\nGiant. The children, too, lavish all their holiday money\\nin toys and gilt gingerbread, and fill the house with the\\nLilliputian din of drums, trumpets, and penny whistles.\\n5 But the Lord Mayor s day is the great anniversary.\\nThe Lord Mayor is looked up to by the inhabitants of\\nLittle Britain as the greatest potentate upon earth; his\\ngilt coach with six horses as the summit of human splen-\\ndor and his procession, with all the sheriffs and alder-\\nio men in his train, as the grandest of earthly pageants.\\nHow they exult in the idea that the King himself dare\\nnot enter the city without first knocking at the gate of\\nTemple Bar, and asking permission of the Lord Mayor\\nfor if he did, heaven and earth there is no knowing\\n1 5 what might be the consequence. The man in armor who\\nrides before the Lord Mayor, and is the city champion,\\nhas orders to cut down everybody that offends against\\nthe dignity of the city and then there is the little man\\nwith a velvet porringer on his head, who sits at the win-\\n20 dow of the state coach and holds the city sword, as long\\nas a pike-staff Odd s blood If he once draws that\\nsword, Majesty itself is not safe\\nUnder the protection of this mighty potentate, there-\\nfore, the good people of Little Britain sleep in peace.\\n25 Temple Bar is an effectual barrier, against all interior\\nfoes and as to foreign invasion, the Lord Mayor has but\\nto throw himself into the Tower, call in the train bands,\\nand put the standing army of beef-eaters under arms,\\nand he may bid defiance to the world\\n30 Thus wrapped up in its own concerns, its own habits,\\nand its own opinions, Little Britain has long flourished\\nas a sound heart to this great fungous metropolis. I\\nhave pleased myself with considering it as a chosen spot,\\nwhere the principles of sturdy John Bullism were gar-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0336.jp2"}, "335": {"fulltext": "LITTLE BRITAIJV 295\\nnered up, like seed corn, to renew the national character\\nwhen it had run to waste and degeneracy. I have re-\\njoiced also in the general spirit of harmony that pre-\\nvailed throughout it; for though there might now and\\nthen be a few clashes of opinion between the adherents 5\\nof the cheesemonger and the apothecary, and an occa-\\nsional feud between the burial societies, yet these were\\nbut transient clouds, and soon passed away. The neigh-\\nbors met with good-will, parted with a shake of the hand,\\nand never abused each other except behind their backs. 10\\nI could give rare descriptions of snug junketing parties\\nat which I have been present, where we played at All-\\nFours, Pope- Joan, Tom-come-tickle-me, and other choice\\nold games and where we sometimes had a good old Eng-\\nlish country dance to the tune of Sir Roger de Coverley. 15\\nOnce a year also the neighbors would gather together\\nand go on a gipsy party to Epping Forest. It would\\nhave done any man s heart good to see the merriment\\nthat took place here as we banqueted on the grass under\\nthe trees. How we made the woods ring with bursts of 20\\nlaughter at the songs of little Wagstaff and the merry\\nundertaker After dinner, too, the young folks would\\nplay at blind-man s-buff and hide-and-seek and it was\\namusing to see them tangled among the briers, and\\nto hear a fine romping girl now and then squeak from 25\\namong the bushes. The elder folks would gather round\\nthe cheesemonger and the apothecary to hear them talk\\npolitics, for they generally brought out a newspaper in\\ntheir pockets to pass away time in the country. They\\nwould now and then, to be sure, get a little warm in 30\\nargument but their disputes were always adjusted by\\nreference to a worthy old umbrella-maker in a double chin,\\nwho, never exactly comprehending the subject, managed\\nsomehow or other to decide in favor of both parties.", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0337.jp2"}, "336": {"fulltext": "296 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nAll empires, however, says some philosopher or histo-\\nrian, are doomed to changes and revolutions. Luxury\\nand innovation creep in, factions arise, and families\\nnow and then spring up whose ambition and intrigues\\n5 throw the whole system into confusion. Thus in latter\\ndays has the tranquillity of Little Britain been griev-\\nously disturbed, and its golden simplicity of manners\\nthreatened with total subversion, by the aspiring family\\nof a retired butcher.\\nio The family of the Lambs had long been among the\\nmost thriving and popular in the neighborhood the\\nMiss Lambs were the belles of Little Britain, and every-\\nbody was pleased when old Lamb had made money\\nenough to shut up shop and put his name on a brass\\n15 plate on his door. In an evil hour, however, one of the\\nMiss Lambs had the honor of being a lady in attendance\\non the Lady Mayoress at her grand annual ball, on\\nwhich occasion she wore three towering ostrich feathers\\non her head. The family never got over it they were\\n20 immediately smitten with a passion for high life set up\\na one-horse carriage, put a bit of gold lace round the\\nerrand boy s hat, and have been the talk and detestation\\nof the whole neighborhood ever since. They could no\\nlonger be induced to play at Pope-Joan or blind-man s-\\n25 buff; they could endure no dances but quadrilles, which\\nnobody had ever heard of in Little Britain and they\\ntook to reading novels, talking bad French, and playing\\nupon the piano. Their brother, too, who had been\\narticled to an attorney, set up for a dandy and a critic,\\n30 characters hitherto unknown in these parts and he con-\\nfounded the worthy folks exceedingly by talking about^\\nKean, the opera, and the Edinburgh Review.\\nWhat was still worse the Lambs gave a grand ball, to\\nwhich they neglected to invite any of their old neigh-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0338.jp2"}, "337": {"fulltext": "LITTLE BRITAIN 297\\nbors, but they had a great deal of genteel company from\\nTheobald s Road, Red-Lion Square, and other parts\\ntowards the west. There were several beaux of their\\nbrother s acquaintance from Gray s Inn Lane and Hatton\\nGarden, and not less than three aldermen s ladies with 5\\ntheir daughters. This was not to be forgotten or for-\\ngiven. All Little Britain was in an uproar with the\\nsmacking of whips, the lashing of miserable horses, and\\nthe rattling and the jingling of hackney coaches. The\\ngossips of the neighborhood might be seen popping their 10\\nnightcaps out at every window, watching the crazy vehi-\\ncles rumble by and there was a knot of virulent old\\ncronies that kept a lookout from a house just opposite\\nthe retired butcher s, and scanned and criticised every\\none that knocked at the door. 15\\nThis dance was a cause of almost open war, and the\\nwhole neighborhood declared they would have nothing\\nmore to say to the Lambs. It is true that Mrs. Lamb,\\nwhen she had no engagements with her quality acquaint-\\nance, would give little humdrum tea junketings to some 20\\nof her old cronies, quite, as she would say, in a\\nfriendly way and it is equally true that her invita-\\ntions were always accepted, in spite of all previous vows\\nto the contrary. Nay, the good ladies would sit and be\\ndelighted with the music of the Miss Lambs, who would 25\\ncondescend to strum an Irish melody for them on the\\npiano and they would listen with wonderful interest to\\nMrs. Lamb s anecdotes of Alderman Plunket s family,\\nof Portsokenward, and the Miss Timberlakes, the rich\\nheiresses of Crutched-Friars but then they relieved their 30\\nconsciences, and averted the reproaches of their confed-\\nerates, by canvassing at the next gossiping convocation\\neverything that had passed, and pulling the Lambs and\\ntheir rout all to pieces.", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0339.jp2"}, "338": {"fulltext": "298 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThe only one of the family that could not be made\\nfashionable was the retired butcher himself. Honest\\nLamb, in spite of the meekness of his name, was a\\nrough, hearty old fellow, with the voice of a lion, a head\\n5 of black hair like a shoe-brush, and a broad face mottled\\nlike his own beef. It was in vain that the daughters\\nalways spoke of him as the old gentleman, addressed\\nhim as papa, in tones of infinite softness, and endeav-\\nored to coax him into a dressing-gown and slippers and\\nto other gentlemanly habits. Do what they might, there\\nwas no keeping down the butcher. His sturdy nature\\nwould break through all their glozings. He had a hearty,\\nvulgar good-humor that was irrepressible. His very\\njokes made his sensitive daughters shudder and he per-\\n15 sisted in wearing his blue cotton coat of a morning, din-\\ning at two o clock, and having a bit of sausage with\\nhis tea.\\nHe was doomed, however, to share the unpopularity\\nof his family. He found his old comrades gradually\\n20 growing cold and civil to him, no longer laughing at his\\njokes, and now and then throwing out a fling at some\\npeople, and a hint about quality binding. This\\nboth nettled and perplexed the honest butcher and his\\nwife and daughters, with the consummate policy of the\\n25 shrewder sex, taking advantage of trie circumstance, at\\nlength prevailed upon him to give up his afternoon s\\npipe and tankard at Wagstaff s, to sit after dinner by\\nhimself and take his pint of port a liquor he detested,\\nand to nod in his chair in solitary and dismal gentility.\\n30 The Miss Lambs might now be seen flaunting along\\nthe streets in French bonnets, with unknown beaux, and\\ntalking and laughing so loud that it distressed the nerves\\nof every good lady within hearing. They even went\\nso far as to attempt patronage, and actually induced a", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0340.jp2"}, "339": {"fulltext": "LITTLE BRITAIN 299\\nFrench dancing-master to set up in the neighborhood\\nbut the worthy folks of Little Britain took fire at it, and\\ndid so persecute the poor Gaul that he was fain to pack\\nup fiddle and dancing-pumps, and decamp with such\\nprecipitation that he absolutely forgot to pay for his 5\\nlodgings.\\nI had flattered myself, at first, with the idea that all\\nthis fiery indignation on the part of the community was\\nmerely the overflowing of their zeal for good old English\\nmanners, and their horror of innovation and I ap- 10\\nplauded the silent contempt they were so vociferous in\\nexpressing for upstart pride, French fashions, and the\\nMiss Lambs. But I grieve to say that I soon perceived\\nthe infection had taken hold, and that my neighbors,\\nafter condemning, were beginning to follow their example. 1 5\\nI overheard my landlady importuning her husband to let\\ntheir daughters have one quarter at French and music,\\nand that they might take a few lessons in quadrille. I\\neven saw, in the course of a few Sundays, no less than\\nfive French bonnets precisely like those of the Miss 20\\nLambs parading about Little Britain.\\nI still had my hopes that all this folly would gradually\\ndie away that the Lambs might move out of the neigh-\\nborhood, might die, or might run away with attorneys\\napprentices and that quiet and simplicity might be 25\\nagain restored to the community. But unluckily a rival\\npower arose. An opulent oilman died, and left a widow\\nwith a large jointure and a family of buxom daughters.\\nThe young ladies had long been repining in secret at the\\nparsimony of a prudent father, which kept down all their 30\\nelegant aspirings. Their ambition, being now no longer\\nrestrained, broke out into a blaze, and they openly took\\nthe field against the family of the butcher. It is true\\nthat the Lambs, having had the first start, had naturally", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0341.jp2"}, "340": {"fulltext": "300 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nan advantage of them in the fashionable career. They\\ncould speak a little bad French, play the piano, dance\\nquadrilles, and had formed high acquaintances but the\\nTrotters were not to be distanced. When the Lambs\\n5 appeared with two feathers in their hats, the Miss Trot-\\nters mounted four, and of twice as fine colors. If the\\nLambs gave a dance, the Trotters were sure not to be\\nbehindhand and though they might not boast of as\\ngood company, yet they had double the number and\\nio were twice as merry.\\nThe whole community has at length divided itself into\\nfashionable factions, under the banners of these two\\nfamilies. The old games of Pope-Joan and Tom-come-\\ntickle-me are entirely discarded, there is no such thing\\n15 as getting up an honest country dance, and on my\\nattempting to kiss a young lady under the mistletoe last\\nChristmas, I was indignantly repulsed, the Miss Lambs\\nhaving pronounced it shocking vulgar. Bitter rivalry\\nhas also broken out as to the most fashionable part of\\n20 Little Britain, the Lambs standing up for the dignity of\\nCross-Keys Square, and the Trotters for the vicinity\\nof St. Bartholomew s.\\nThus is this little territory torn by factions and inter-\\nnal dissensions, like the great empire whose name it\\n25 bears and what will be the result would puzzle the\\napothecary himself, with all his talent at prognostics, to\\ndetermine, though I apprehend that it will terminate in\\nthe total downfall of genuine John Bullism.\\nThe immediate effects are extremely unpleasant to me.\\n30 Being a single man, and, as I observed before, rather an\\nidle good-for-nothing personage, I have been considered\\nthe only gentleman by profession in the place. I stand\\ntherefore in high favor with both parties, and have to\\nhear all their cabinet councils and mutual backbitings.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0342.jp2"}, "341": {"fulltext": "LITTLE BRITAIN 301\\nAs I am too civil not to agree with the ladies on all\\noccasions, I have committed myself most horribly with\\nboth parties by abusing their opponents. I might man-\\nage to reconcile this to my conscience, which is a truly\\naccommodating one, but I cannot to my apprehension 5\\nif the Lambs and Trotters ever come to a reconciliation\\nand compare notes, I am ruined\\nI have determined, therefore, to beat a retreat in time,\\nand am actually looking out for some other nest in this\\ngreat city where old English manners are still kept up, 10\\nwhere French is neither eaten, drunk, danced, nor spoken,\\nand where there are no fashionable families of retired\\ntradesmen. This found, I will, like a veteran rat, hasten\\naway before I have an old house about my ears bid\\na long, though a sorrowful adieu to my present abode, 15\\nand leave the rival factions of the Lambs and the Trot-\\nters to divide the distracted empire of Little Britain.", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0343.jp2"}, "342": {"fulltext": "STRATFORD-ON-AVON\\nThou soft-flowing Avon,, by thy silver stream\\nOf things more than mortal sweet Shakespeare would dream\\nThe fairies by moonlight dance round his green bed,\\nFor hallow d the turf is which pillow d his head.\\nGarrick.\\nTo a homeless man, who has no spot on this wide\\nworld which he can truly call his own, there is a momen-\\ntary feeling of something like independence and terri-\\ntorial consequence, when, after a weary day s travel, he\\n5 kicks off his boots, thrusts his feet into slippers, and\\nstretches himself before an inn fire. Let the world with-\\nout go as it may, let kingdoms rise or fall, so long as he\\nhas the wherewithal to pay his bill, he is for the time\\nbeing the very monarch of all he surveys. The arm-\\n10 chair is his throne, the poker his sceptre, and the little\\nparlor, some twelve feet square, his undisputed empire.\\nIt is a morsel of certainty snatched from the midst of the\\nuncertainties of life, it is a sunny moment gleaming out\\nkindly on a cloudy day and he who has advanced some\\n15 way on the pilgrimage of existence knows the impor-\\ntance of husbanding even morsels and moments of enjoy-\\nment. Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn\\nthought I, as I gave the fire a stir, lolled back in my\\nelbow-chair, and cast a complacent look about the little\\n20 parlor of the Red Horse at Stratford-on-Avon.\\nThe words of sweet Shakespeare were just passing\\nthrough my mind as the clock struck midnight from\\nthe tower of the church in which he lies buried. There\\nwas a gentle tap at the door, and a pretty chambermaid,\\n302", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0344.jp2"}, "343": {"fulltext": "S TRA TFORD- ON- A VON 303\\nputting in her smiling face, inquired with a hesitating\\nair whether I had rung. I understood it as a modest\\nhint that it was time to retire. My dream of absolute\\ndominion was at an end; so abdicating my throne like\\na prudent potentate to avoid being deposed, and putting 5\\nthe Stratford Guide-Book under my arm as a pillow\\ncompanion, I went to bed, and dreamt all night of Shakes-\\npeare, the Jubilee, and David Garrick.\\nThe next morning was one of those quickening morn-\\nings which we sometimes have in early spring, for it was 10\\nabout the middle of March. The chills of a long winter\\nhad suddenly given way, the north wind had spent its\\nlast gasp, and a mild air came stealing from the west,\\nbreathing the breath of life into nature and wooing\\nevery bud and flower to burst forth into fragrance and 15\\nbeauty.\\nI had come to Stratford on a poetical pilgrimage. My\\nfirst visit was to the house where Shakespeare was born,\\nand where, according to tradition, he was brought up to\\nhis father s craft of wool-combing. It is a small, mean- 20\\nlooking edifice of wood and plaster, a true nestling-place\\nof genius, which seems to delight in hatching its off-\\nspring in by-corners. The walls of its squalid chambers\\nare covered with names and inscriptions in every lan-\\nguage, by pilgrims of all nations, ranks, and conditions, 25\\nfrom the prince to the peasant, and present a simple\\nbut striking instance of the spontaneous and universal\\nhomage of mankind to the great poet of nature.\\nThe house is shown by a garrulous old lady in a frosty\\nred face lighted up by a cold blue, anxious eye, and gar- 30\\nnished with artificial locks of flaxen hair curling from\\nunder an exceedingly dirty cap. She was peculiarly\\nassiduous in exhibiting the relics with which this, like\\nall other celebrated shrines, abounds. There was the", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0345.jp2"}, "344": {"fulltext": "304 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nshattered stock of the very matchlock with which Shakes-\\npeare shot the deer on his poaching exploits. There,\\ntoo, was his tobacco box, which proves that he was\\na rival smoker of Sir Walter Raleigh; the sword also\\n5 with which he played Hamlet; and the identical lan-\\ntern with which Friar Laurence discovered Romeo and\\nJuliet at the tomb! There was an ample supply also\\nof Shakespeare s mulberry tree, which seems to have as\\nextraordinary powers of self-multiplication as the wood\\n10 of the true cross, of which there is enough extant to\\nbuild a ship of the line.\\nThe most favorite object of curiosity, however, is\\nShakespeare s chair. It stands in the chimney nook of\\na small gloomy chamber, just behind what was his father s\\n15 shop. Here he may many a time have sat when a boy,\\nwatching the slowly revolving spit with all the longing\\nof an urchin, or of an evening listening to the cronies and\\ngossips of Stratford dealing forth churchyard tales and\\nlegendary anecdotes of the troublesome times of Eng-\\n20 land. In this chair it is the custom of every one that\\nvisits the house to sit, whether this be done with the\\nhope of imbibing any of the inspiration of the bard I am\\nat a loss to say, I merely mention the fact, and mine\\nhostess privately assured me that, though built of solid\\n25 oak, such was the fervent zeal of devotees that the chair\\nhad to be new bottomed at least once in three years. It\\nis worthy of notice also, in the history of this extraordi-\\nnary chair, that it partakes something of the volatile\\nnature of the Santa Casa of Loretto or the flying chair\\n30 of the Arabian enchanter for though sold some few\\nyears since to a northern princess, yet, strange to tell, it\\nhas found its way back again to the old chimney corner.\\nI am always of easy faith in such matters, and am ever\\nwilling to be deceived where the deceit is pleasant and", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0346.jp2"}, "345": {"fulltext": "STRA TFORD- ON- A VON 305\\ncosts nothing. I am therefore a ready believer in relics,\\nlegends, and local anecdotes of goblins and great men,\\nand would advise all travellers who travel for their grati-\\nfication to be the same. What is it to us whether these\\nstories be true or false, so long as we can persuade our- 5\\nselves into the belief of them and enjoy all the charm\\nof the reality There is nothing like resolute, good-\\nhumored credulity in these matters and on this occa-\\nsion I went even so far as willingly to believe the claims\\nof mine hostess to a lineal descent from the poet, when, 10\\nluckily for my faith, she put into my hands a play of her\\nown composition which set all belief in her consan-\\nguinity at defiance.\\nFrom the birthplace of Shakespeare a few paces\\nbrought me to his grave. He lies buried in the chancel 15\\nof the parish church, a large and venerable pile, moul-\\ndering with age, but richly ornamented. It stands on\\nthe banks of the Avon, on an embowered point, and\\nseparated by adjoining gardens from the suburbs of the\\ntown. Its situation is quiet and retired the river runs 20\\nmurmuring at the foot of the churchyard, and the elms\\nwhich grow upon its banks droop their branches into its\\nclear bosom. An avenue of limes, the boughs of which\\nare curiously interlaced so as to form in summer an\\narched way of foliage, leads up from the gate of the yard 25\\nto the church porch. The graves are overgrown with\\ngrass; the gray tombstones, some of them nearly sunk\\ninto the earth, are half covered with moss, which has\\nlikewise tinted the reverend old building. Small birds\\nhave built their nests among the cornices and fissures of 30\\nthe walls, and keep up a continual flutter and chirping,\\nand rooks are sailing and cawing about its lofty gray\\nspire.\\nIn the course of my rambles I met with the gray-", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0347.jp2"}, "346": {"fulltext": "306 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nheaded sexton, Edmonds, and accompanied him home\\nto get the key of the church. He had lived in Stratford,\\nman and boy, for eighty years, and seemed still to con-\\nsider himself a vigorous man, with the trivial exception\\n5 that he had nearly lost the use of his legs for a few\\nyears past. His dwelling was a cottage looking out\\nupon the Avon and its bordering meadows, and was a\\npicture of that neatness, order, and comfort which per-\\nvade the humblest dwellings in this country. A low\\n10 white-washed room, with a stone floor carefully scrubbed,\\nserved for parlor, kitchen, and hall. Rows of pewter\\nand earthen dishes glittered along the dresser. On an\\nold oaken table, well rubbed and polished, lay the family\\nBible and prayer-book, and the drawer contained the\\n15 family library, composed of about half a score of well-\\nthumbed volumes. An ancient clock, that important\\narticle of cottage furniture, ticked on the opposite side\\nof the room, with a bright warming-pan hanging on one\\nside of it, and the old man s horn-handled Sunday cane\\n20 on the other. The fireplace, as usual, was wide and\\ndeep enough to admit a gossip knot within its jambs. In\\none corner sat the old man s granddaughter sewing, a\\npretty blue-eyed girl and in the opposite corner was a\\nsuperannuated crony whom he addressed by the name\\n25 of John Ange, and who, I found, had been his compan-\\nion from childhood. They had played together in\\ninfancy; they had worked together in manhood; they\\nwere now tottering about and gossiping away the even-\\ning of life; and in a short time they will probably be\\n30 buried together in the neighboring churchyard. It is\\nnot often that we see two streams of existence running\\nthus evenly and tranquilly side by side; it is only in\\nsuch quiet bosom scenes of life that they are to be\\nmet with.\\n1", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0348.jp2"}, "347": {"fulltext": "S TRA TFORD- ON- A VON 307\\nI had hoped to gather some traditionary anecdotes of\\nthe bard from these ancient chroniclers, but they had\\nnothing new to impart. The long interval during which\\nShakespeare s writings lay in comparative neglect has\\nspread its shadow over his history, and it is his good or 5\\nevil lot that scarcely anything remains to his biogra-\\nphers but a scanty handful of conjectures.\\nThe sexton and his companion had been employed as\\ncarpenters on the preparations for the celebrated Strat-\\nford Jubilee, and they remembered Garrick, the prime 10\\nmover of the fete, who superintended the arrangements,\\nand who, according to the sexton, was a short punch\\nman, very lively and bustling. John Ange had assisted\\nalso in cutting down Shakespeare s mulberry tree, of\\nwhich he had a morsel in his pocket for sale, no doubt 15\\na sovereign quickener of literary conception.\\nI was grieved to hear these two worthy wights speak\\nvery dubiously of the eloquent dame who shows the\\nShakespeare house. John Ange shook his head when I\\nmentioned her valuable collection of relics, particularly 20\\nher remains of the mulberry tree; and the old sexton\\neven expressed a doubt as to Shakespeare having been\\nborn in her house. I soon discovered that he looked\\nupon her mansion with an evil eye as a rival to the\\npoet s tomb, the latter having comparatively but few 25\\nvisitors. Thus it is that historians differ at the very\\noutset, and mere pebbles make the stream of truth\\ndiverge into different channels even at the fountain\\nhead.\\nWe approached the church through the avenue of 30\\nlimes, and entered by a Gothic porch, highly orna-\\nmented, with carved doors of massive oak. The inte-\\nrior is spacious, and the architecture and embellishments\\nsuperior to those of most country churches. There are", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0349.jp2"}, "348": {"fulltext": "308 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nseveral ancient monuments of nobility and gentry, over\\nsome of which hang funeral escutcheons, and banners\\ndropping piecemeal from the walls. The tomb of Shakes-\\npeare is in the chancel. The place is solemn and sepul-\\n5 chral. Tall elms wave before the pointed windows, and\\nthe Avon, which runs at a short distance from the walls,\\nkeeps up a low perpetual murmur. A flat stone marks\\nthe spot where the bard is buried. There are four lines\\ninscribed on it, said to have been written by himself,\\nio and which have in them something extremely awful. If\\nthey are indeed his own, they show that solicitude about\\nthe quiet of the grave which seems natural to fine sensi-\\nbilities and thoughtful minds.\\nGood friend, for Jesus sake forbeare\\n15 To dig the dust enclosed here.\\nBlessed be he that spares these stones,\\nAnd curst be he that moves my bones.\\nJust over the grave, in a niche of the wall, is a bust\\nof Shakespeare, put up shortly after his death, and con-\\n20 sidered as a resemblance. The aspect is pleasant and\\nserene, with a finely arched forehead, and I thought I\\ncould read in it clear indications of that cheerful, social\\ndisposition by which he was as much characterized\\namong his contemporaries as by the vastness of his\\n25 genius. The inscription mentions his age at the time\\nof his decease, fifty-three years, an untimely death\\nfor the world for what fruit might not have been ex-\\npected from the golden autumn of such a mind, sheltered\\nas it was from the stormy vicissitudes of life, and flour-\\n30 ishing in the sunshine of popular and royal favor.\\nThe inscription on the tombstone has not been with-\\nout its effect. It has prevented the removal of his\\nremains from the bosom of his native place to West-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0350.jp2"}, "349": {"fulltext": "S TRA TFORD- ON- A VON 309\\nminster Abbey, which was at one time contemplated.\\nA few years since, also, as some laborers were digging to\\nmake an adjoining vault, the earth caved in so as to leave\\na vacant space almost like an arch, through which one\\nmight have reached into his grave. No one, however, 5\\npresumed to meddle with his remains so awfully guarded\\nby a malediction and lest any of the idle or the curious,\\nor any collector of relics, should be tempted to commit\\ndepredations, the old sexton kept watch over the place\\nfor two days, until the vault was finished and the aper- 10\\nture closed again. He told me that he had made bold\\nto look in at the hole, but could see neither coffin nor\\nbones nothing but dust. It was something, I thought,\\nto have seen the dust of Shakespeare.\\nNext to this grave are those of his wife, his favorite 15\\ndaughter, Mrs. Hall, and others of his family. On a\\ntomb close by, also, is a full-length effigy of his old\\nfriend, John Combe of usurious memory, on whom he\\nis said to have written a ludicrous epitaph. There are\\nother monuments around, but the mind refuses to dwell 20\\non anything that is not connected with Shakespeare.\\nHis idea pervades the place, the whole pile seems but\\nas his mausoleum. The feelings, no longer checked and\\nthwarted by doubt, here indulge in perfect confidence\\nother traces of him may be false or dubious, but here is 25\\npalpable evidence and absolute certainty. As I trod the\\nsounding pavement, there was something intense and\\nthrilling in the idea that in very truth the remains of\\nShakespeare were mouldering beneath my feet. It was\\na long time before I could prevail upon myself to leave 30\\nthe place and as I passed through the churchyard I\\nplucked a branch from one of the yew trees, the only\\nrelic that I have brought from Stratford.\\nI had now visited the usual objects of a pilgrim s", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0351.jp2"}, "350": {"fulltext": "310 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ndevotion, but I had a desire to see the old family seat\\nof the Lucys, at Charlecote, and to ramble through the\\npark where Shakespeare, in company with some of the\\nroysters of Stratford, committed his youthful offence of\\n5 deer-stealing. In this hairbrained exploit we are told\\nthat he was taken prisoner and carried to the keeper s\\nlodge, where he remained all night in doleful captivity.\\nWhen brought into the presence of Sir Thomas Lucy his\\ntreatment must have been galling and humiliating, for\\nio it so wrought upon his spirit as to produce a rough\\npasquinade, which was affixed to the park gate at\\nCharlecot. 1\\nThis flagitious attack upon the dignity of the knight\\nso incensed him, that he applied to a lawyer at Warwick\\n15 to put the severity of the laws in force against the rhym-\\ning deer-stalker. Shakespeare did not wait to brave the\\nunited puissance of a knight of the shire and a country\\nattorney. He forthwith abandoned the pleasant banks of\\nthe Avon and his paternal trade, wandered away to Lon-\\n20 don, became a hanger-on to the theatres, then an actor,\\nand finally wrote for the stage and thus, through the\\npersecution of Sir Thomas Lucy, Stratford lost an indif-\\nferent wool-comber, and the world gained an immortal\\npoet. He retained, however, for a long time, a sense of\\n25 the harsh treatment of the Lord of Charlecote, and re-\\n1 The following is the only stanza extant of this lampoon\\nA parliament member, a justice of peace,\\nAt home a poor scarecrow, at London an asse,\\nIf lowsie is Lucy, as some volke miscalle it,\\nThen Lucy is lowsie, whatever befall it.\\nHe thinks himself great,\\nYet an asse in his state,\\nWe allow by his ears but with asses to mate,\\nIf Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscalle it,\\nThen sing lowsie Lucy whatever befall it.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0352.jp2"}, "351": {"fulltext": "STRA TFORD-ON-A VON 3 1 1\\nvenged himself in his writings, but in the sportive way\\nof a good-natured mind. Sir Thomas is said to be the\\noriginal Justice Shallow, and the satire is slyly fixed\\nupon him by the justice s armorial bearings, which, like\\nthose of the knight, had white luces x in the quarterings. 5\\nVarious attempts have been made by his biographers\\nto soften and explain away this early transgression of\\nthe poet but I look upon it as one of those thought-\\nless exploits natural to his situation and turn of mind.\\nShakespeare, when young, had doubtless all the wildness 10\\nand irregularity of an ardent, undisciplined, and undi-\\nrected genius. The poetic temperament has naturally\\nsomething in it of the vagabond. When left to itself it\\nruns loosely and wildly, and delights in everything\\neccentric and licentious. It is often a turn-up of a die, 15\\nin the gambling freaks of fate, whether a natural genius\\nshall turn out a great rogue or a great poet and had\\nnot Shakespeare s mind fortunately taken a literary bias,\\nhe might have as daringly transcended all civil, as he has\\nall dramatic laws. 20\\nI have little doubt that in early life, when running,\\nlike an unbroken colt about the neighborhood of Strat-\\nford, he was to be found in the company of all kinds of\\nodd anomalous characters that he associated with all\\nthe madcaps of the place, and was one of those unlucky 25\\nurchins at mention of whom old men shake their heads,\\nand predict that they will one day come to the gallows.\\nTo him the poaching in Sir Thomas Lucy s park was\\ndoubtless like a foray to a Scottish knight, and struck\\nhis eager and as yet untamed imagination as something 30\\ndelightfully adventurous. 2\\n1 The luce is a pike or jack, and abounds in the Avon about\\nCharlecote.\\n2 A proof of Shakespeare s random habits and associates in his", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0353.jp2"}, "352": {"fulltext": "312 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThe old mansion of Charlecote and its surrounding\\npark still remain in the possession of the Lucy family,\\nand are peculiarly interesting from being connected\\nwith this whimsical but eventful circumstance in the\\n5 scanty history of the bard. As the house stood but\\nlittle more than three miles distance from Stratford,\\nI resolved to pay it a pedestrian visit, that I might\\nstroll leisurely through some of those scenes from\\nwhich Shakespeare must have derived his earliest ideas\\n10 of rural imagery.\\nyouthful days may be found in a traditionary anecdote, picked up at\\nStratford by the elder Ireland, and mentioned in his Picturesque\\nViews on the Avon.\\nAbout seven miles from Stratford lies the thirsty little market\\ntown of Bedford, famous for its ale. Two societies of the village\\nyeomanry used to meet, under the appellation of the Bedford\\ntopers, and to challenge the lovers of good ale of the neighboring\\nvillages to a contest of drinking. Among others, the people of\\nStratford were called out to prove the strength of their heads, and\\nin the number of the champions was Shakespeare, who, in spite of\\nthe proverb that they who drink beer will think beer, was as true\\nto his ale as Falstaff to his sack. The chivalry of Stratford was\\nstaggered at the first onset, and sounded a retreat while they had\\nyet legs to carry them off the field. They had scarcely marched a\\nmile when, their legs failing them, they were forced to lie down under\\na crab tree, where they passed the night. It is still standing, and\\ngoes by the name of Shakespeare s tree.\\nIn the morning his companions awaked the bard, and proposed\\nreturning to Bedford, but he declined, saying he had had enough,\\nhaving drank with\\nPiping Pebworth, Dancing Marston,\\nHaunted Hilbro Hungry Grafton,\\nDudging Exhall, Papist Wicksford,\\nBeggarly Broom, and Drunken Bedford.\\nThe villages here alluded to, says Ireland, still bear the\\nepithets thus given them the people of Pebworth are still famed for\\ntheir skill on the pipe and tabor Hilborough is now called Haunted\\nHilborough, and Grafton is famous for the poverty of its soil.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0354.jp2"}, "353": {"fulltext": "STRA TFORD-ON-A VON 313\\nThe country was yet naked and leafless, but English\\nscenery is always verdant, and the sudden change in the\\ntemperature of the weather was surprising in its quicken-\\ning effects upon the landscape. It was inspiring and\\nanimating to witness this first awakening of spring, to 5\\nfeel its warm breath stealing over the senses, to see the\\nmoist mellow earth beginning to put forth the green\\nsprout and the tender blade, and the trees and shrubs\\nin their reviving tints and bursting buds giving the\\npromise of returning foliage and flower. The cold snow- 10\\ndrop, that little borderer on the skirts of winter, was\\nto be seen with its chaste white blossoms in the small\\ngardens before the cottages. The bleating of the new-\\ndropt lambs was faintly heard from the fields. The\\nsparrow twittered about the thatched eaves and budding 15\\nhedges the robin threw a livelier note into his late\\nquerulous wintry strain and the lark, springing up\\nfrom the reeking bosom of the meadow, towered\\naway into the bright fleecy cloud, pouring forth torrents\\nof melody. As I watched the little songster, mounting 20\\nup higher and higher until his body was a mere speck\\non the white bosom of the cloud, while the ear was still\\nfilled with his music, it called to mind Shakespeare s\\nexquisite little song in Cymbeline\\nHark! hark the lark at heaven s gate sings, 25\\nAnd Phoebus gins arise,\\nHis steeds to water at those springs,\\nOn chaliced flowers that lies.\\nAnd winking mary-buds begin\\nTo ope their golden eyes 30\\nWith everything that pretty bin,\\nMy lady sweet arise", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0355.jp2"}, "354": {"fulltext": "314 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nIndeed the whole country about here is poetic ground\\neverything is associated with the idea of Shakespeare.\\nEvery old cottage that I saw, I fancied into some resort\\nof his boyhood, where he had acquired his intimate\\n5 knowledge of rustic life and manners, and heard those\\nlegendary tales and wild superstitions which he has\\nwoven like witchcraft into his dramas. For in his time,\\nwe are told, it was a popular amusement in winter even-\\nings to sit round the fire and tell merry tales of errant\\n10 knights, queens, lovers, lords, ladies, giants, dwarfs,\\nthieves, cheaters, witches, fairies, goblins, and friars. x\\nMy route for a part of the way lay in sight of the\\nAvon, which made a variety of the most fancy doublings\\nand windings through a wide and fertile valley some-\\n15 times glittering from among willows which fringed its\\nborders, sometimes disappearing among groves or be-\\nneath green banks, and sometimes rambling out into\\nfull view, and making an azure sweep round a slope of\\nmeadow land. This beautiful bosom of country is called\\n20 the Vale of the Red Horse. A distant line of undulat-\\ning blue hills seems to be its boundary, whilst all the\\nsoft intervening landscape lies in a manner enchained\\nin the silver links of the Avon.\\nAfter pursuing the road for about three miles, I\\n25 turned off into a footpath which led along the borders\\nof fields and under hedgerows to a private gate of the\\n1 Scot, in his Discoverie of Witchcraft, enumerates a host of these\\nfireside fancies. And they have so fraid us with bull-beggars,\\nspirits, witches, urchins, elves, hags, fairies, satyrs, pans, faunes,\\nsyrens, kit with the can sticke, tritons, centaurs, dwarfes, giantes,\\nimps, calcars, conjurors, nymphes, changelings, incubus, Robin-\\ngood-fellow, the spoorne, the mare, the man in the oke, the hell-\\nwaine, the fier-drake, the puckle, Tom Thombe, hobgoblins, Tom\\nTumbler, boneless, and such other bugs, that we were afraid of our\\nown shadowes.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0356.jp2"}, "355": {"fulltext": "S TRA TFORD- ON- A VON 3 1 5\\npark there was a stile, however, for the benefit of the\\npedestrian, there being a public right of way through\\nthe grounds. I delight in these hospitable estates, in\\nwhich every one has a kind of property at least as far\\nas the footpath is concerned. It in some measure recon- 5\\nciles a poor man to his lot, and what is more to the bet-\\nter lot of his neighbor, thus to have parks and pleasure\\ngrounds thrown open for his recreation. He breathes\\nthe pure air as freely and lolls as luxuriously under the\\nshade as the lord of the soil and if he has not the 10\\nprivilege of calling all that he sees his own, he has not\\nat the same time the trouble of paying for it and keep-\\ning it in order.\\nI now found myself among noble avenues of oaks and\\nelms whose vast size bespoke the growth of centuries. 15\\nThe wind sounded solemnly among their branches, and\\nthe rooks cawed from their hereditary nests in the tree-\\ntops. The eye ranged through a long lessening vista,\\nwith nothing to interrupt the view but a distant statue\\nand a vagrant deer stalking like a shadow across the 20\\nopening.\\nThere is something about these stately old avenues\\nthat has the effect of Gothic architecture, not merely\\nfrom the pretended similarity of form, but from their\\nbearing the evidence of long duration, and of having had 25\\ntheir origin in a period of time with which we associate\\nideas of romantic grandeur. They betoken also the\\nlong settled dignity and proudly concentrated independ-\\nence of an ancient family; and I have heard a worthy\\nbut aristocratic old friend observe, when speaking of the 30\\nsumptuous palaces of modern gentry, that money could\\ndo much with stone and mortar, but, thank Heaven,\\nthere was no such thing as suddenly building up an\\navenue of oaks.", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0357.jp2"}, "356": {"fulltext": "316 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nIt was from wandering in early life among this rich\\nscenery and about the romantic solitudes of the adjoin-\\ning park of Fullbroke, which then formed a part of the\\nLucy estate, that some of Shakespeare s commentators\\n5 have supposed he derived his noble forest meditations\\nof Jaques and the enchanting woodland pictures in As\\nYou Like It. It is in lonely wanderings through such\\nscenes that the mind drinks deep but quiet draughts of\\ninspiration and becomes intensely sensible of the beauty\\n10 and majesty of nature. The imagination kindles into\\nreverie and rapture, vague but exquisite images and\\nideas keep breaking upon it and we revel in a mute and\\nalmost incommunicable luxury of thought. It was in\\nsome such mood, and perhaps under one of those very\\n15 trees before me which threw their broad shades over\\nthe grassy banks and quivering waters of the Avon, that\\nthe poet s fancy may have sallied forth into that little\\nsong which breathes the very soul of a rural voluptuary\\nUnder the greenwood tree,\\n20 Who loves to lie with me,\\nAnd tune his merry throat\\nUnto the sweet bird s note,\\nCome hither, come hither, come hither.\\nHere shall he see\\n25 No enemy,\\nBut winter and rough weather.\\nI had now come in sight of the house. It is a large\\nbuilding of brick, with stone quoins, and is in the Gothic\\nstyle of Queen Elizabeth s day, having been built in the\\n30 first year of her reign. The exterior remains very nearly\\nin its original state, and may be considered a fair speci-\\nmen of the residence of a wealthy country gentleman of\\nthose days. A great gateway opens from the park into", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0358.jp2"}, "357": {"fulltext": "STRA TFORD-ON-A VON 317\\na kind of courtyard in front of the house, ornamented\\nwith a grass-plot, shrubs, and flower-beds. The gateway\\nis in imitation of the ancient barbican, being a kind of\\noutpost, and flanked by towers, though evidently for\\nmere ornament instead of defence. The front of the 5\\nhouse is completely in the old style, with stone-shafted\\ncasements, a great bow-window of heavy stone-work, and\\na portal with armorial bearings over it carved in stone.\\nAt each corner of the building is an octagon tower sur-\\nmounted by a gilt ball and weathercock. 10\\nThe Avon, which winds through the park, makes a\\nbend just at the foot of a gently sloping bank which\\nsweeps down from the rear of the house. Large herds\\nof deer were feeding or reposing upon its borders, and\\nswans were sailing majestically upon its bosom. As I 15\\ncontemplated the venerable old mansion, I called to\\nmind FalstafT s encomium on Justice Shallow s abode,\\nand the affected indifference and real vanity of the\\nlatter:\\nFalstaff. You have a goodly dwelling and a rich. 20\\nShallow. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all,\\nSir John marry, good air.\\nWhatever may have been the joviality of the old man-\\nsion in the days of Shakespeare, it had now an air of still-\\nness and solitude. The great iron gateway that opened 25\\ninto the courtyard was locked there was no show of ser-\\nvants bustling about the place the deer gazed quietly\\nat me as I passed, being no longer harried by the moss-\\ntroopers of Stratford. The only sign of domestic life\\nthat I met with was a white cat stealing with wary look 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nand stealthy pace toward the stables, as if on some\\nnefarious expedition. I must not omit to mention the\\ncarcase of a scoundrel crow which I saw suspended", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0359.jp2"}, "358": {"fulltext": "318 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nagainst the barn wall, as it shows that the Lucys still\\ninherit that lordly abhorrence of poachers and maintain\\nthat rigorous exercise of territorial power which was so\\nstrenuously manifested in the case of the bard.\\n5 After prowling about for some time, I at length found\\nmy way to a lateral portal which was the everyday\\nentrance to the mansion. I was courteously received by\\na worthy old housekeeper, who, with the civility and\\ncommunicativeness of her order, showed me the interior\\nio of the house. The greater part has undergone altera-\\ntions and been adapted to modern tastes and modes of\\nliving. There is a fine old oaken staircase, and the\\ngreat hall, that noble feature in an ancient manor-house,\\nstill retains much of the appearance it must have had in\\n15 the days of Shakespeare. The ceiling is arched and\\nlofty, and at one end is a gallery in which stands an\\norgan. The weapons and trophies of the chase, which\\nformerly adorned the hall of a country gentleman, have\\nmade way for family portraits. There is a wide, hospi-\\n20 table fireplace, calculated for an ample, old-fashioned\\nwood fire, formerly the rallying-place of winter festivity.\\nOn the opposite side of the hall is the huge Gothic bow-\\nwindow with stone shafts, which looks out upon the\\ncourtyard. Here are emblazoned in stained glass the\\n25 armorial bearings of the Lucy family for many genera-\\ntions, some being dated in 1558. I was delighted to\\nobserve in the quarterings the three white luces by which\\nthe character of Sir Thomas was first identified with\\nthat of Justice Shallow. They are mentioned in the\\n30 first scene of the Merry Wives of Windsor, where the\\nJustice is in a rage with Falstaff for having beaten his\\nmen, killed his deer, and broken into his lodge. The\\npoet had no doubt the offences of himself and his com-\\nrades in mind at the time, and we may suppose the", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0360.jp2"}, "359": {"fulltext": "S TRA TFORD- ON- A VON 319\\nfamily pride and vindictive threats of the puissant Shal-\\nlow to be a caricature of the pompous indignation of\\nSir Thomas.\\nShallow. Sir Hugh, persuade me not I will make a Star\\nChamber matter of it if he were twenty John Falstaffs, he 5\\nshall not abuse Sir Robert Shallow, Esq.\\nSlender. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace, and\\ncoram,.\\nShallow. Ay, cousin Slender, and custalorwn.\\nSlender. Ay, and ratalorum, too, and a gentleman born, 10\\nmaster parson who writes himself Armigero in any bill, war-\\nrant, quittance, or obligation, Armigero.\\nShallow. Ay, that I do and have done any time these\\nthree hundred years.\\nSlender. All his successors gone before him have done t, 1 5\\nand all his ancestors that come after him may they may give\\nthe dozen white luces in their coat.\\nShallow. The council shall hear it it is a riot.\\nEvans. It is not meet the council hear of a riot there is\\nno fear of Got in a riot the council, hear you, shall desire to 20\\nhear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot take your viza-\\nments in that.\\nShallow. Ha o my life, if I were young again, the sword\\nshould end it\\nNear the window thus emblazoned hung a portrait by 25\\nSir Peter Lely of one of the Lucy family, a great beauty\\nof the time of Charles the Second. The old housekeeper\\nshook her head as she pointed to the picture, and informed\\nme that this lady had been sadly addicted to cards, and\\nhad gambled away a great portion of the family estate, 30\\namong which was that part of the park where Shakes-\\npeare and his comrades had killed the deer. The lands\\nthus lost had not been entirely regained by the family\\neven at the present day. It is but justice to this recreant", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0361.jp2"}, "360": {"fulltext": "320 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ndame to confess that -she had a surpassingly fine hand\\nand arm.\\nThe picture which most attracted my attention was a\\ngreat painting over the fireplace, containing likenesses\\n5 of Sir Thomas Lucy and his family, who inhabited the\\nhall in the latter part of Shakespeare s lifetime. I at\\nfirst thought that it was the vindictive knight himself,\\nbut the housekeeper assured me that it was his son, the\\nonly likeness extant of the former being an effigy upon\\n10 his tomb in the church of the neighboring hamlet of\\nCharlecote. 1 The picture gives a lively idea of the cos-\\ntume and manners of the time. Sir Thomas is dressed\\nin ruff and doublet, white shoes with roses in them, and\\nhas a peaked yellow, or as Master Slender would say,\\n1 This effigy is in white marble, and represents the knight in com-\\nplete armor. Near him lies the effigy of his wife, and on her tomb\\nis the following inscription, which, if really composed by her hus-\\nband, places him quite above the intellectual level of Master Shallow\\nHere lyeth the Lady Joyce Lucy wife of Sir Thomas Lucy of\\nCharlecot in ye county of Warwick, Knight, Daughter and heir of\\nThomas Acton of Sutton in ye county of Worcester Esquire who\\ndeparted out of this wretched world to her heavenly kingdom ye\\nio day of February in ye yeare of our Lord God 1595 and of her\\nage 60 and three. All the time of her lyfe a true and faythful ser-\\nvant of her good God, never detected of any.cryme or vice. In reli-\\ngion most sounde, in love to her husband most faythful and true.\\nIn friendship most constant to what in trust was committed unto\\nher most secret. In wisdom excelling. In governing of her house,\\nbringing up of youth in ye fear of God that did converse with her\\nmoste rare and singular. A great maintayner of hospitality.\\nGreatly esteemed of her betters misliked of none unless of the\\nenvyous. When all is spoken that can be saide a woman so gar-\\nnished with virtue as not to be bettered and hardly to be equalled\\nby any. As shee lived most virtuously so shee died most Godly.\\nSet downe by him yt best did knowe what hath byn written to be\\ntrue.\\nThomas Lucye.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0362.jp2"}, "361": {"fulltext": "S TEA TFORD-ON-A VON 321\\na cane-colored beard. His lady is seated on the\\nopposite side of the picture, in wide ruff and long stom-\\nacher, and the children have a most venerable stiffness\\nand formality of dress. Hounds and spaniels are mingled\\nin the family group a hawk is seated on his perch in 5\\nthe foreground, and one of the children holds a bow\\nall intimating the knight s skill in hunting, hawking,\\nand archery, so indispensable to an accomplished gentle-\\nman in those days. 1\\nI regretted to find that the ancient furniture of the 10\\nhall had disappeared for I had hoped to meet with the\\nstately elbow-chair of carved oak in which the country\\nsquire of former days was wont to sway the sceptre of\\nempire over his rural domains, and in which it might\\nbe presumed the redoubted Sir Thomas sat enthroned in 15\\nawful state when the recreant Shakespeare was brought\\nbefore him. As I like to deck out pictures for my own\\nentertainment, I pleased myself with the idea that this\\nvery hall had been the scene of the unlucky bard s exam-\\nination on the morning after his captivity in the lodge. 20\\nI fancied to myself the rural potentate surrounded by\\nhis body-guard of butler, pages, and blue-coated serving-\\n1 Bishop Earle, speaking of the country gentleman of his time,\\nobserves His housekeeping is seen much in the different families\\nof dogs and serving-men attendant on their kennels and the deep-\\nness of their throats is the depth of his discourse. A hawk he\\nesteems the true burden of nobility, and is exceedingly ambitious to\\nseem delighted with the sport, and have his fist gloved with his\\njesses. And Gilpin, in his description of a Mr. Hastings, remarks:\\nHe kept all sorts of hounds that run buck, fox, hare, otter, and\\nbadger; and had hawks of all kinds, both long and short winged.\\nHis great hall was commonly strewed with marrow-bones, and full\\nof hawk perches, hounds, spaniels, and terriers. On a broad\\nhearth, paved with brick, lay some of the choicest terriers, hounds,\\nand spaniels.", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0363.jp2"}, "362": {"fulltext": "322 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nmen, with their badges while the luckless culprit was\\nbrought in, forlorn and chopfallen, in the custody of\\ngamekeepers, huntsmen, and whippers-in, and followed\\nby a rabble rout of country clowns. I fancied bright\\n5 faces of curious housemaids peeping from the half-opened\\ndoors, while from the gallery the fair daughters of the\\nknight leaned gracefully forward, eyeing the youthful\\nprisoner with that pity that dwells in womanhood.\\nWho would have thought that this poor varlet, thus\\n10 trembling before the brief authority of a country squire,\\nand the sport of rustic boors, was soon to become the\\ndelight of princes, the theme of all tongues and ages,\\nthe dictator to the human mind, and was to confer\\nimmortality on his oppressor by a caricature and a\\n15 lampoon\\nI was now invited by the butler to walk into the gar-\\nden, and I felt inclined to visit the orchard and arbor\\nwhere the justice treated Sir John Falstaff and Cousin\\nSilence to a last year s pippin of his own grafting,\\n20 with a dish of caraways but I had already spent so\\nmuch of the day in my ramblings that I was obliged to\\ngive up any further investigations. When about to take\\nmy leave, I was gratified by the civil entreaties of the\\nhousekeeper and butler that I would take some refresh-\\n25 ment an instance of good old hospitality which, I\\ngrieve to say, we castle-hunters seldom meet with in\\nmodern days. I make no doubt it is a virtue which the\\npresent representative of the Lucys inherits from his\\nancestors for Shakespeare, even in his caricature, makes\\n30 Justice Shallow importunate in this respect, as witness\\nhis pressing instances to Falstaff.\\nBy cock and pye, sir, you shall not away to-night. I\\nwill not excuse you you shall not be excused excuses shall\\nnot be admitted there is no excuse shall serve you shall not", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0364.jp2"}, "363": {"fulltext": "STRA TFORD-OX-A VOX\\n323\\nbe excused. Some pigeons. Davy a couple of short-\\nlegged hens a joint of mutton and any pretty little tiny kick-\\nshaws, tell William Cook.\\nI now bade a reluctant farewell to the old hall. My\\nmind had become so completely possessed by the imag- 5\\ninary scenes and characters connected with it that I\\nseemed to be actually living among them. Everything\\nbrought them as it were before my eyes and as the\\ndoor of the dining-room opened. I almost expected to\\nhear the feeble voice of Master Silence quavering forth 10\\nhis favorite ditty\\nT is merry in hall, when beards wag all.\\nAnd welcome merrv Shrove-tide\\nOn returning to my inn, I could not but reflect on the\\nsingular gift of the poet to be able thus to spread the 15\\nmasfic of his mind over the verv face of nature, to ofive\\nto things and places a charm and character not their\\nown, and to turn this working-day world into a per-\\nfect fairy-land. He is indeed the true enchanter, whose\\nspell operates, not upon the senses, but upon the imagi- 20\\nnation and the heart. Under the wizard influence of\\nShakespeare I had been walking all day in a complete\\ndelusion. I had surveyed the landscape through the\\nprism of poetry which tinged every object with the hues\\nof the rainbow. I had been surrounded with fancied 25\\nbeings, with mere airy nothings conjured up by poetic\\npower, yet which to me had all the charm of reality.\\nI had heard Jaques soliloquize beneath his oak, had\\nbeheld the fair Rosalind and her companion adventur-\\ning through the woodlands, and above all had been once 3\u00c2\u00b0\\nmore present in spirit with fat Jack Falstaff and his con-\\ntemporaries, from the august Justice Shallow down to", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0365.jp2"}, "364": {"fulltext": "324 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nthe gentle Master Slender and the sweet Anne Page.\\nTen thousand honors and blessings on the bard who has\\nthus gilded the dull realities of life with innocent illu-\\nsions, who has spread exquisite and unbought pleasures\\n5 in my chequered path, and beguiled my spirit in many\\na lonely hour with all the cordial and cheerful sympathies\\nof social life\\nAs I crossed the bridge over the Avon on my return,\\nI paused to contemplate the distant church in which the\\nio poet lies buried, and could not but exult in the maledic-\\ntion which has kept his ashes undisturbed in its quiet\\nand hallowed vaults. What honor could his name have\\nderived from being mingled in dusty companionship with\\nthe epitaphs and escutcheons and venal eulogiums of a\\n15 titled multitude What would a crowded corner in\\nWestminster Abbey have been, compared with this rev-\\nerend pile which seems to stand in beautiful loneliness\\nas his sole mausoleum The solicitude about the grave\\nmay be but the offspring of an overwrought sensibility\\n20 but human nature is made up of foibles and prejudices,\\nand its best and tenderest affections are mingled with\\nthese factitious feelings. He who has sought renown\\nabout the world, and has reaped a full harvest of worldly\\nfavor, will find after all that there is no love, no admira-\\n25 tion, no applause so sweet to the soul as that which\\nsprings up in his native place. It is there that he seeks\\nto be gathered in peace and honor among his kindred\\nand his early friends. And when the weary heart and\\nfailing head begin to warn him that the evening of life\\n30 is drawing on, he turns as fondly as does the infant to\\nthe mother s arms, to sink to sleep in the bosom of the\\nscene of his childhood.\\nHow would it have cheered the spirit of the youthful\\nbard when, wandering forth in disgrace upon a doubtful", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0366.jp2"}, "365": {"fulltext": "S TRA TFORD- ON- A VON 325\\nworld, he cast back a heavy look upon his paternal home,\\ncould he have foreseen that before many years he should\\nreturn to it covered with renown that his name should\\nbecome the boast and glory of his native place that his\\nashes should be religiously guarded as its most precious 5\\ntreasure and that its lessening spire, on which his eyes\\nwere fixed in tearful contemplation, should one day\\nbecome the beacon, towering amidst the gentle land-\\nscape, to guide the literary pilgrim of every nation to\\nhis tomb 10", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0367.jp2"}, "366": {"fulltext": "TRAITS OF INDIAN CHARACTER\\nI appeal to any white man if ever he entered Logan s cabin hungry, and\\nhe gave him not to eat if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him\\nnot\\nSpeech of an Indian Chief.\\nThere is something in the character and habits of\\nthe North American savage, taken in connection with\\nthe scenery over which he is accustomed to range,\\nits vast lakes, boundless forests, majestic rivers, and\\n5 trackless plains, that is to my mind wonderfully strik-\\ning and sublime. He is formed for the wilderness, as\\nthe Arab is for the desert. His nature is stern, simple,\\nand enduring fitted to grapple with difficulties and to\\nsupport privations. There seems but little soil in his\\n10 heart for the support of the kindly virtues and yet, if\\nwe would but take the trouble to penetrate through that\\nproud stoicism and habitual taciturnity which lock up\\nhis character from casual observation, we should find\\nhim linked to his fellow-man of civilized life by more of\\n15 those sympathies and affections than are usually ascribed\\nto him.\\nIt has been the lot of the unfortunate aborigines of\\nAmerica, in the early periods of colonization, to be doubly\\nwronged by the white men they have been dispossessed\\n20 of their hereditary possessions by mercenary and fre-\\nquently wanton warfare, and their characters have been\\ntraduced by bigoted and interested writers. The colo-\\nnist often treated them like beasts of the forest, and the\\nauthor has endeavored to justify him in his outrages.\\n25 The former found it easier to exterminate than to civil-\\n326", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0368.jp2"}, "367": {"fulltext": "TRAITS OF INDIAN CHARACTER 327\\nize, the latter to vilify than to discriminate. The appel-\\nlations of savage and pagan were deemed sufficient to\\nsanction the hostilities of both and thus the poor\\nwanderers of the forest, were persecuted and defamed,\\nnot because they were guilty, but because they were 5\\nignorant.\\nThe rights of the savage have seldom been properly\\nappreciated or respected by the white man. In peace he\\nhas too often been the dupe of artful traffic in war he\\nhas been regarded as a ferocious animal whose life or 10\\ndeath was a question of mere precaution and conven-\\nience. Man is cruelly wasteful of life when his own\\nsafety is endangered and he is sheltered by impunity,\\nand little mercy is to be expected from him when he\\nfeels the sting of the reptile and is conscious of the 15\\npower to destroy.\\nThe same prejudices which were indulged thus early\\nexist in common circulation at the present day. Certain\\nlearned societies have, it is true, with laudable diligence\\nendeavored to investigate and record the real characters 20\\nand manners of the Indian tribes the American govern-\\nment, too, has wisely and humanely exerted itself to\\ninculcate a friendly and forbearing spirit towards them,\\nand to protect them from fraud and injustice. 1 The\\ncurrent opinion of the Indian character, however, is too 25\\napt to be formed from the miserable hordes which infest\\nthe frontiers and hang on the skirts of the settlements.\\n1 The American government has been indefatigable in its exer-\\ntions to ameliorate the situation of the Indians, and to introduce\\namong them the arts of civilization and civil and religious knowl-\\nedge. To protect them from the frauds of the white traders, no\\npurchase of land from them by individuals is permitted nor is any\\nperson allowed to receive lands from them as a present, without the\\nexpress sanction of government. These precautions are strictly\\nenforced.", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0369.jp2"}, "368": {"fulltext": "328 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThese are too commonly composed of degenerate beings,\\ncorrupted and enfeebled by the vices of society, without\\nbeing benefited by its civilization. That proud inde-\\npendence which formed the main pillar of savage virtue\\n5 has been shaken down, and the whole moral fabric lies\\nin ruins. Their spirits are humiliated and debased by\\na sense of inferority, and their native courage cowed\\nand daunted by the superior knowledge and power of\\ntheir enlightened neighbors. Society has advanced upon\\nio them like one of those withering airs that will sometimes\\nbreed desolation over a whole region of fertility. It\\nhas enervated their strength, multiplied their diseases,\\nand superinduced upon their original barbarity the low\\nvices of artificial life. It has given them a thousand\\n15 superfluous wants, whilst it has diminished their means\\nof mere existence. It has driven before it the animals\\nof the chase, who fly from the sound of the axe and the\\nsmoke of the settlement, and seek refuge in the depths\\nof remoter forests and yet untrodden wilds. Thus do we\\n20 too often find the Indians on our frontiers to be the mere\\nwrecks and remnants of once powerful tribes, who have\\nlingered in the vicinity of the settlements, and sunk into\\nprecarious and vagabond existence. Poverty, repining\\nand hopeless poverty, a canker of the mind unknown\\n25 in savage life, corrodes their spirits and blights every\\nfree and noble quality of their natures. They become\\ndrunken, indolent, feeble, thievish, and pusillanimous.\\nThey loiter like vagrants about the settlements, among\\nspacious dwellings replete with elaborate comforts which\\n30 only render them sensible of the comparative wretched-\\nness of their own condition. Luxury spreads its ample\\nboard before their eyes, but they are excluded from the\\nbanquet. Plenty revels over the fields but they are\\nstarving in the midst of its abundance the whole wild-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0370.jp2"}, "369": {"fulltext": "TRAITS OF INDIAN CHARACTER 329\\nerness has blossomed into a garden, but they feel as\\nreptiles that infest it.\\nHow different was their state while yet the undisputed\\nlords of the soil Their wants were few, and the means\\nof gratification within their reach. They saw every one 5\\naround them sharing the same lot, enduring the same\\nhardships, feeding on the same aliments, arrayed in the\\nsame rude garments. No roof then rose but was open\\nto the homeless stranger no smoke curled among the\\ntrees but he was welcome to sit down by its fire and 10\\njoin the hunter in his repast. For, says an old his-\\ntorian of New England, their life is so void of care,\\nand they are so loving also, that they make use of those\\nthings they enjoy as common goods, and are therein so\\ncompassionate that rather than one should starve through 15\\nwant, they would starve all thus they pass their time\\nmerrily, not regarding our pomp, but are better content\\nwith their own, which some men esteem so meanly of.\\nSuch were the Indians whilst in the pride and energy of\\ntheir primitive natures; they resembled those wild plants 20\\nwhich thrive best in the shades of the forest, but shrink\\nfrom the hand of cultivation and perish beneath the\\ninfluence of the sun.\\nIn discussing the savage character, writers have been\\ntoo prone to indulge in vulgar prejudice and passionate 25\\nexaggeration, instead of the candid temper of true phi-\\nlosophy. They have not sufficiently considered the pe-\\nculiar circumstances in which the Indians have been\\nplaced, and the peculiar principles under which they\\nhave been educated. No being acts more rigidly from 30\\nrule than the Indian. His whole conduct is regulated\\naccording to some general maxims early implanted in\\nhis mind. The moral laws that govern him are, to be\\nsure, but few but then he conforms to them all; the", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0371.jp2"}, "370": {"fulltext": "330 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwhite man abounds in laws of religion, morals, and man-\\nners but how many does he violate\\nA frequent ground of accusation against the Indians\\nis their disregard of treaties, and the treachery and wan-\\n5 tonness with which, in time of apparent peace, they will\\nsuddenly fly to hostilities. The intercourse of the white\\nmen with the Indians, however, is too apt to be cold,\\ndistrustful, oppressive, and insulting. They seldom treat\\nthem with that confidence and frankness which are in-\\n10 dispensable to real friendship, nor is sufficient caution\\nobserved not to offend against those feelings of pride or\\nsuperstition which often prompt the Indian to hostility\\nquicker than mere considerations of interest. The soli-\\ntary savage feels silently, but acutely. His sensibilities\\n15 are not diffused over so wide a surface as those of the\\nwhite man, but they run in steadier and deeper chan-\\nnels. His pride, his affections, his superstitions, are all\\ndirected towards fewer objects but the wounds inflicted\\non them are proportionately severe, and furnish motives\\n20 of hostility which we cannot sufficiently appreciate.\\nWhere a community is also limited in number, and\\nforms one great patriarchal family, as in an Indian\\ntribe, the injury of an individual is the injury of the\\nwhole, and the sentiment of vengeance is almost instan-\\n25 taneously diffused. One council fire is sufficient for the\\ndiscussion and arrangement of a plan of hostilities.\\nHere all the fighting men and sages assemble. Elo-\\nquence and superstition combine to inflame the minds\\nof the warriors. The orator awakens their martial ardor,\\n30 and they are wrought up to a kind of religious despera-\\ntion by the visions of the prophet and the dreamer.\\nAn instance of one of those sudden exasperations, aris-\\ning from a motive peculiar to the Indian character, is\\nextant in an old record of the early settlement of Massa-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0372.jp2"}, "371": {"fulltext": "TRAITS OF INDIAN CHARACTER 331\\nchusetts. The planters of Plymouth had defaced the\\nmonuments of the dead at Passonagessit, and had plun-\\ndered the grave of the sachem s mother of some skins\\nwith which it had been decorated. The Indians are\\nremarkable for the reverence which they entertain for 5\\nthe sepulchres of their kindred. Tribes that have passed\\ngenerations exiled from the abodes of their ancestors,\\nwhen by chance they have been travelling in the vicin-\\nity, have been known to turn aside from the highway,\\nand guided by wonderfully accurate tradition have 10\\ncrossed the country for miles to some tumulus, buried\\nperhaps in woods, where the bones of their tribe were\\nanciently deposited, and there have passed hours in\\nsilent meditation. Influenced by this sublime and holy\\nfeeling, the sachem whose mother s tomb had been vio- 15\\nlated gathered his men together and addressed them in\\nthe following beautifully simple and pathetic harangue\\na curious specimen of Indian eloquence, and an affecting\\ninstance of filial piety in a savage\\nWhen last the glorious light of all the sky was under- 20\\nneath this globe, and birds grew silent, I began to settle,\\nas my custom is, to take repose. Before mine eyes were\\nfast closed, methought I saw a vision, at which my spirit\\nwas much troubled and trembling at that doleful sight,\\na spirit cried aloud Behold, my son, whom I have cher- 25\\nished, see the breasts that gave thee suck, the hands that\\nlapped thee warm, and fed thee oft. Canst thou forget\\nto take revenge of those wild people who have defaced\\nmy monument in a despiteful manner, disdaining our\\nantiquities and honorable customs See now the sa- 30\\nchem s grave lies like the common people, defaced by\\nan ignoble race. Thy mother doth complain, and im-\\nplores thy aid against this thievish people who have\\nnewly intruded on our land. If this be suffered, I shall", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0373.jp2"}, "372": {"fulltext": "332 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nnot rest quiet in my everlasting habitation. This said,\\nthe spirit vanished, and I, all in a sweat, not able scarce\\nto speak, began to get some strength and recollect my\\nspirits that were fled, and determined to demand your\\n5 counsel and assistance.\\nI have adduced this anecdote at some length, as it\\ntends to show how these sudden acts of hostility, which\\nhave been attributed to caprice and perfidy, may often\\narise from deep and generous motives which our inatten-\\n10 tion to Indian character and customs prevents our prop-\\nerly appreciating.\\nAnother ground of violent outcry against the Indians\\nis their barbarity to the vanquished. This had its origin\\npartly in policy and partly in superstition. The tribes,\\n15 though sometimes called nations, were never so formi-\\ndable in their numbers but that the loss of several war-\\nriors was sensibly felt. This was particularly the case\\nwhen they had frequently been engaged in warfare and\\nmany an instance occurs in Indian history, where a tribe\\n20 that had long been formidable to its neighbors has been\\nbroken up and driven away by the capture and massacre\\nof its principal fighting men. There was a strong temp-\\ntation, therefore, to the victor to be merciless not so\\nmuch to gratify any cruel revenge, as to provide for\\n25 future security. The Indians had also the superstitious\\nbelief, frequent among barbarous nations and prevalent\\nalso among the ancients, that the manes of their friends\\nwho had fallen in battle were soothed by the blood of\\nthe captives. The prisoners, however, who are not thus\\n30 sacrificed, are adopted into their families in the place of\\nthe slain, and are treated with the confidence and affec-\\ntion of relatives and friends nay, so hospitable and\\ntender is their entertainment, that when the alternative\\nis offered them, they will often prefer to remain with", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0374.jp2"}, "373": {"fulltext": "TRAITS OF INDIAN CHARACTER 333\\ntheir adopted brethren rather than return to the home\\nand the friends of their youth.\\nThe cruelty of the Indians towards their prisoners has\\nbeen heightened since the colonization of the whites.\\nWhat was formerly a compliance with policy and super- 5\\nstition has been exasperated into a gratification of ven-\\ngeance. They cannot but be sensible that the white men\\nare the usurpers of their ancient dominion, the cause of\\ntheir degradation, and the gradual destroyers of their\\nrace. They go forth to battle smarting with injuries 10\\nand indignities which they have individually suffered,\\nand they are driven to madness and despair by the\\nwide-spreading desolation and the overwhelming ruin\\nof European warfare. The whites have too frequently\\nset them an example of violence, by burning their vil- 15\\nlages and laying waste their slender means of subsist-\\nence and yet they wonder that savages do not show\\nmoderation and magnanimity towards those who have\\nleft them nothing but mere existence and wretchedness.\\nWe stigmatize the Indians, also, as cowardly and 20\\ntreacherous, because they use stratagem in warfare in\\npreference to open force but in this they are fully jus-\\ntified by their rude code of honor. They are early\\ntaught that stratagem is praiseworthy. The bravest\\nwarrior thinks it no disgrace to lurk in silence and take 25\\nevery advantage of his foe he triumphs in the superior\\ncraft and sagacity by which he has been enabled to sur-\\nprise and destroy an enemy. Indeed, man is naturally\\nmore prone to subtilty than open valor, owing to his\\nphysical .weakness in comparison with other animals. 30\\nThey are endowed with natural weapons of defence\\nwith horns, with tusks, with hoofs, and talons but man\\nhas to depend on his superior sagacity. In all his\\nencounters with these, his proper enemies, he resorts to", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0375.jp2"}, "374": {"fulltext": "334 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nstratagem and when he perversely turns his hostility\\nagainst his fellow-man, he at first continues the same\\nsubtle mode of warfare.\\nThe natural principle of war is to do the most harm to\\n5 our enemy with the least harm to ourselves and this, of\\ncourse, is to be effected by stratagem. That chivalrous\\ncourage which induces us to despise the suggestions of\\nprudence and to rush in the face of certain danger is the\\noffspring of society, and produced by education. It is\\nio honorable, because it is in fact the triumph of lofty sen-\\ntiment over an instinctive repugnance to pain, and over\\nthose yearnings after personal ease and security which\\nsociety has condemned as ignoble. It is kept alive by\\npride and the fear of shame, and thus the dread of real\\n15 evil is overcome by the superior dread of an evil which\\nexists but in the imagination. It has been cherished\\nand stimulated also by various means. It has been the\\ntheme of spirit-stirring song and chivalrous story. The\\npoet and minstrel have delighted to shed round it the\\n20 splendors of fiction, and even the historian has for-\\ngotten the sober gravity of narration, and broken forth\\ninto enthusiasm and rhapsody in its praise. Triumphs\\nand gorgeous pageants have been its reward monu-\\nments on which art has exhausted its skill, and opulence\\n25 its treasures, have been erected to perpetuate a nation s\\ngratitude and admiration. Thus artificially excited,\\ncourage has risen to an extraordinary and factitious\\ndegree of heroism and arrayed in all the glorious\\npomp and circumstance of war, this turbulent qual-\\n30 ity has even been able to eclipse many of those quiet\\nbut invaluable virtues which silently ennoble the human\\ncharacter and swell the tide of human happiness.\\nBut if courage intrinsically consists in the defiance of\\ndanger and pain, the life of the Indian is a continual", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0376.jp2"}, "375": {"fulltext": "TRAITS OF INDIAN CHARACTER 335\\nexhibition of it. He lives in a state of perpetual hostil-\\nity and risk. Peril and adventure are congenial to his\\nnature, or rather seem necessary to arouse his faculties\\nand to give an interest to his existence. Surrounded by\\nhostile tribes whose mode of warfare is by ambush and 5\\nsurprisal, he is always prepared for fight, and lives with\\nhis weapons in his hands. As the ship careers in fear-\\nful singleness through the solitudes of ocean, as the bird\\nmingles among clouds and storms, and wings its way, a\\nmere speck, across the pathless fields of air, so the Indian 10\\nholds his course, silent, solitary, but undaunted, through\\nthe boundless bosom of the wilderness. His expeditions\\nmay vie in distance and danger with the pilgrimage of\\nthe devotee or the crusade of the knight-errant. He\\ntraverses vast forests, exposed to the hazards of lonely 15\\nsickness, of lurking enemies, and pining famine. Stormy\\nlakes, those great inland seas, are no obstacles to his\\nwanderings in his light canoe of bark he sports like a\\nfeather on their waves, and darts with the swiftness of\\nan arrow down the roaring rapids of the rivers. His 20\\nvery subsistence is snatched from the midst of toil and\\nperil. He gains his food by the hardships and dangers\\nof the chase he wraps himself in the spoils of the bear,\\nthe panther, and the buffalo, and sleeps among the\\nthunders of the cataract. 25\\nNo hero of ancient or modern days can surpass the\\nIndian in his lofty contempt of death and the fortitude\\nwith which he sustains its crudest infliction. Indeed,\\nwe here behold him rising superior to the white man in\\nconsequence of his peculiar education. The latter rushes 3c\\nto glorious death at the cannon s mouth the former\\ncalmly contemplates its approach, and triumphantly\\nendures it, amidst the varied torments of surrounding\\nfoes and the protracted agonies of fire. He even takes", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0377.jp2"}, "376": {"fulltext": "336 THE SKETCH BOOK\\na pride in taunting his persecutors and provoking their\\ningenuity of torture and as the devouring flames prey\\non his very vitals and the flesh shrinks from the sinews,\\nhe raises his last song of triumph, breathing the defiance\\n5 of an unconquered heart and invoking the spirits of his\\nfathers to witness that he dies without a groan.\\nNotwithstanding the obloquy with which the early\\nhistorians have overshadowed the characters of the\\nunfortunate natives, some bright gleams occasionally\\n10 break through which throw a degree of melancholy\\nlustre on their memories. Facts are occasionally to be\\nmet with in the rude annals of the eastern provinces,\\nwhich, though recorded with the coloring of prejudice\\nand bigotry, yet speak for themselves, and will be dwelt\\n15 on with applause and sympathy when prejudice shall\\nhave passed away.\\nIn one of the homely narratives of the Indian wars in\\nNew England, there is a touching account of the deso-\\nlation carried into the tribe of the Pequod Indians.\\n20 Humanity shrinks from the cold-blooded detail of indis-\\ncriminate butchery. In one place we read of the sur-\\nprisal of an Indian fort in the night, when the wigwams\\nwere wrapped in flames, and the miserable inhabitants\\nshot down and slain in attempting to escape, all being\\n25 despatched and ended in the course of an hour. After\\na series of similar transactions, our soldiers, as the\\nhistorian piously observes, being resolved by God s\\nassistance to make a final destruction of them, the\\nunhappy savages being hunted from their homes and\\n30 fortresses and pursued with fire and sword, a scanty\\nbut gallant band, the sad remnant of the Pequod war-\\nriors, with their wives and children, took refuge in a\\nswamp.\\nBurning with indignation and rendered sullen by", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0378.jp2"}, "377": {"fulltext": "TRAITS OF INDIAN CHARACTER 337\\ndespair, with hearts bursting with grief at the destruc-\\ntion of their tribe and spirits galled and sore at the\\nfancied ignominy of their defeat, they refused to ask\\ntheir lives at the hands of an insulting foe, and preferred\\ndeath to submission. 5\\nAs the night drew on they were surrounded in their\\ndismal retreat so as to render escape impracticable.\\nThus situated, their enemy plied them with shot all\\nthe time, by which means many were killed and buried\\nin the mire. In the darkness and fog that preceded the 10\\ndawn of day some few broke through the besiegers and\\nescaped into the woods the rest were left to the con-\\nquerors, of which many were killed in the swamp, like\\nsullen dogs who would rather, in their self-willedness\\nand madness, sit still and be shot through or cut to 15\\npieces, than implore for mercy. When the day broke\\nupon this handful of forlorn but dauntless spirits, the\\nsoldiers, we are told, entering the swamp, saw several\\nheaps of them sitting close together, upon whom they\\ndischarged their pieces laden with ten or twelve pistol 20\\nbullets at a time, putting the muzzles of the pieces under\\nthe boughs within a few yards of them; so as, besides\\nthose that were found dead, many more were killed and\\nsunk into the mire, and never were minded more by\\nfriend or foe. 25\\nCan any one read this plain unvarnished tale without\\nadmiring the stern resolution, the unbending pride, the\\nloftiness of spirit that seemed to nerve the hearts of\\nthese self-taught heroes and to raise them above the\\ninstinctive feelings of human nature When the Gauls 30\\nlaid waste the city of Rome, they found the senators\\nclothed in their robes and seated with stern tranquil-\\nlity in their curule chairs in this manner they suffered\\ndeath without resistance or even supplication. Such", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0379.jp2"}, "378": {"fulltext": "33S THE SKETCH BOOK\\nconduct was, in them, applauded as noble and magnani-\\nmous; in the hapless Indian it was reviled as obstinate\\nand sullen How truly are we the dupes of show and\\ncircumstance How different is virtue clothed in purple\\n5 and enthroned in state from virtue naked and destitute\\nand perishing obscurely in a wilderness!\\nBut I forbear to dwell on these gloomy pictures. The\\nEastern tribes have long since disappeared the forests\\nthat sheltered them have been laid low, and scarce any\\n10 traces remain of them in the thickly settled states of\\nNew England, excepting here and there the Indian\\nname of a village or a stream. And such must, sooner\\nor later, be the fate of those other tribes which skirt the\\nfrontiers, and have occasionally been inveigled from\\n15 their forests to mingle in the wars of white men. In a\\nlittle while, and they will go the way that their brethren\\nhave gone before. The few hordes which still linger\\nabout the shores of Huron and Superior and the tribu-\\ntary streams of the Mississippi will share the fate of\\n20 those tribes that once spread over Massachusetts and\\nConnecticut and lorded it along the proud banks of the\\nHudson, of that gigantic race said to have existed on\\nthe borders of the Susquehanna, and of those various\\nnations that nourished about the Potomac and the Rap-\\n25 pahannock, and that peopled the forests of the\\nvalley of Shenandoah. They will vanish like a vapor\\nfrom the face of the earth, their very history will be lost\\nin forgetfulness, and the places that now know them\\nwill know them no more forever. Or if, perchance,\\n30 some dubious memorial of tneni should survive, it may\\nbe in the romantic dreams of the poet, to people in\\nimagination his glades and groves, like the fauns and\\n;s of antiquity. But should he\\nventure upon the dark story of their wrongs and wretch-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0380.jp2"}, "379": {"fulltext": "Si\\nt ib ode\\nranted 2 t beast\\nthe e -_ t SSE I\\nHe 1\\n7 from,\\nm\\ncr hatchet\\nEce meal 12.\\nE9S", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0381.jp2"}, "380": {"fulltext": "PHILIP OF POKANOKET\\nAN INDIAN MEMOIR\\nAs monumental bronze unchanged his look\\nA soul that pity touch d but never shook\\nTrain d from his tree-rock d cradle to his bier,\\nThe fierce extremes of good and ill to brook\\nImpassive fearing but the shame of fear\\nA stoic of the woods a man without a tear.\\nCampbell.\\nIt is to be regretted that those early writers who\\ntreated of the discovery and settlement of America have\\nnot given us more particular and candid accounts of\\nthe remarkable characters that nourished in savage life.\\n5 The scanty anecdotes which have reached us are full\\nof peculiarity and interest they furnish us with nearer\\nglimpses of human nature, and show what man is in a\\ncomparatively primitive state and what he owes to civi-\\nlization. There is something of the charm of discovery\\n10 in lighting upon these wild and unexplored tracts of\\nhuman nature in witnessing, as it were, the native\\ngrowth of moral sentiment, and perceiving those gen-\\nerous and romantic qualities which have been artificially\\ncultivated by society, vegetating in spontaneous hardi-\\n15 hood and rude magnificence.\\nIn civilized life, where the happiness, and indeed\\nalmost the existence of man, depends so much upon the\\nopinion of his fellow-men, he is constantly acting a\\nstudied part. The bold and peculiar traits of native\\n20 character are refined away or softened down by the\\nlevelling influence of what is termed good breeding; and\\n340", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0382.jp2"}, "381": {"fulltext": "PHILIP OF POKANOKET 341\\nhe practises so many petty deceptions and affects so\\nmany generous sentiments for the purposes of popular-\\nity that it is difficult to distinguish his real from his\\nartificial character. The Indian, on the contrary, free\\nfrom the restraints and refinements of polished life, and 5\\nin a great degree a solitary and independent being, obeys\\nthe impulses of his inclination or the dictates of his\\njudgment and thus the attributes of his nature, being\\nfreely indulged, grow singly great and striking. Society\\nis like a lawn, where every roughness is smoothed, every 10\\nbramble eradicated, and where the eye is delighted by\\nthe smiling verdure of a velvet surface he, however,\\nwho would study nature in its wildness and variety must\\nplunge into the forest, must explore the glen, must stem\\nthe torrent and dare the precipice. 15\\nThese reflections arose on casually looking through a\\nvolume of early colonial history wherein are recorded,\\nwith great bitterness, the outrages of the Indians and\\ntheir wars with the settlers of New England. It is\\npainful to perceive even from these partial narratives 20\\nhow the footsteps of civilization may be traced in the\\nblood of the aborigines, how easily the colonists were\\nmoved to hostility by the lust of conquest, how merci-\\nless and exterminating was their warfare. The imagi-\\nnation shrinks at the idea how many intellectual beings 25\\nwere hunted from the earth, how many brave and noble\\nhearts of nature s sterling coinage were broken down\\nand trampled in the dust!\\nSuch was the fate of Philip of Pokanoket, an Indian\\nwarrior whose name was once a terror throughout Mas- 30\\nsachusetts and Connecticut. He was the most dis-\\ntinguished of a number of contemporary sachems who\\nreigned over the Pequods, the Narragansetts, the Wam-\\npanoags, and the other Eastern tribes, at the time of", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0383.jp2"}, "382": {"fulltext": "342 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nthe first settlement of New England; a band of native\\nuntaught heroes who made the most generous struggle\\nof which human nature is capable, fighting to the last\\ngasp in the cause of their country, without a hope of\\n5 victory or a thought of renown. Worthy of an age of\\npoetry, and fit subjects for local story and romantic\\nfiction, they have left scarcely any authentic traces on\\nthe page of history, but stalk like gigantic shadows in\\nthe dim twilight of tradition. 1\\n10 When the Pilgrims, as the Plymouth settlers are\\ncalled by their descendants, first took refuge on the\\nshores of the New World from the religious persecutions\\nof the Old, their situation was to the last degree gloomy\\nand disheartening. Few in number, and that number\\n15 rapidly perishing away through sickness and hardships,\\nsurrounded by a howling wilderness and savage tribes,\\nexposed to the rigors of an almost arctic winter and\\nthe vicissitudes of an ever-shifting climate, their minds\\nwere filled with doleful forebodings, and nothing pre-\\n20 served them from sinking into despondency but the\\nstrong excitement of religious enthusiasm. In this for-\\nlorn situation they were visited by Massasoit, chief\\nsagamore of the Wampanoags, a powerful chief who\\nreigned over a great extent of country. Instead of tak-\\n25 ing advantage of the scanty number of the strangers and\\nexpelling them from his territories, into which they had\\nintruded, he seemed at once to conceive for them a gen-\\nerous friendship, and extended towards them the rites\\nof primitive hospitality. He came early in the spring\\n30 to their settlement of New Plymouth, attended by a\\nmere handful of followers, entered into a solemn league\\n1 While correcting the proof sheets of this article, the author is\\ninformed that a celebrated English poet has nearly finished an heroic\\npoem on the story of Philip of Pokanoket.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0384.jp2"}, "383": {"fulltext": "PHILIP OF POKANOKET 343\\nof peace and amity, sold them a portion of the soil, and\\npromised to secure for them the good-will of his savage\\nallies. Whatever may be said of Indian perfidy, it is\\ncertain that the integrity and good faith of Massasoit\\nhave never been impeached. He continued a firm and 5\\nmagnanimous friend of the white men, suffering them to\\nextend their possessions and to strengthen themselves\\nin the land, and betraying no jealousy of their increas-\\ning power and prosperity. Shortly before his death he\\ncame once more to New Plymouth, with his son Alexan- 10\\nder, for the purpose of renewing the covenant of peace\\nand of securing it to his posterity.\\nAt this conference he endeavored to protect the reli-\\ngion of his forefathers from the encroaching zeal of the\\nmissionaries, and stipulated that no further attempt 15\\nshould be made to draw off his people from their ancient\\nfaith; but finding the English obstinately opposed to\\nany such condition, he mildly relinquished the demand.\\nAlmost the last act of his life was to bring his two sons,\\nAlexander and Philip (as they had been named by the 20\\nEnglish), to the residence of a principal settler, recom-\\nmending mutual kindness and confidence, and entreating\\nthat the same love and amity which had existed between\\nthe white men and himself might be continued afterwards\\nwith his children. The good old sachem died in peace 25\\nand was happily gathered to his fathers before sorrow\\ncame upon his tribe; his children remained behind to\\nexperience the ingratitude of white men.\\nHis eldest son, Alexander, succeeded him. He was\\nof a quick and impetuous temper, and proudly tenacious 30\\nof his hereditary rights and dignity. The intrusive\\npolicy and dictatorial conduct of the strangers excited\\nhis indignation, and he beheld with uneasiness their ex-\\nterminating wars with the neighboring tribes. He was", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0385.jp2"}, "384": {"fulltext": "344 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ndoomed soon to incur their hostility, being accused of\\nplotting with the Narragansetts to rise against the Eng-\\nlish and drive them from the land. It is impossible to\\nsay whether this accusation was warranted by facts or\\n5 was grounded on mere suspicion. It is evident, how-\\never, by the violent and overbearing measures of the\\nsettlers, that they had by this time begun to feel con-\\nscious of the rapid increase of their power, and to grow\\nharsh and inconsiderate in their treatment of the natives.\\n10 They despatched an armed force to seize upon Alexan-\\nder and to bring him before their courts. He was traced\\nto his woodland haunts and surprised at a hunting\\nhouse, where he was reposing with a band of his fol-\\nlowers, unarmed, after the toils of the chase. The\\n15 suddenness of his arrest and the outrage offered to his\\nsovereign dignity so preyed upon the irascible feelings\\nof this proud savage as to throw him into a raging fever.\\nHe was permitted to return home on condition of send-\\ning his son as a pledge for his reappearance; but the\\n20 blow he had received was fatal, and before he had\\nreached his home he fell a victim to the agonies of a\\nwounded spirit.\\nThe successor of Alexander was Metacomet, or King\\nPhilip, as he was called by the settlers on account of his\\n25 lofty spirit and ambitious temper. These, together with\\nhis well-known energy and enterprise, had rendered him\\nan object of great jealousy and apprehension, and he\\nwas accused of having always cherished a secret and\\nimplacable hostility towards the whites. Such may very\\n30 probably and very naturally have been the case. He\\nconsidered them as originally but mere intruders into\\nthe country, who had presumed upon indulgence and\\nwere extending an influence baneful to savage life. He\\nsaw the whole race of his countrymen melting before", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0386.jp2"}, "385": {"fulltext": "PHILIP OF POKANOKET 345\\nthem from the face of the earth, their territories slipping\\nfrom their hands, and their tribes becoming feeble, scat-\\ntered, and dependent. It may be said that the soil was\\noriginally purchased by the settlers but who does not\\nknow the nature of Indian purchases in the early periods 5\\nof colonization? The Europeans always made thrifty\\nbargains through their superior adroitness in traffic, and\\nthey gained vast accessions of territory by easily pro-\\nvoked hostilities. An uncultivated savage is never a\\nnice inquirer into the refinements of law by which an 10\\ninjury may be gradually and legally inflicted. Leading\\nfacts are all by which he judges and it was enough for\\nPhilip to know that before the intrusion of the Euro-\\npeans his countrymen were lords of the soil, and that\\nnow they were becoming vagabonds in the land of their 15\\nfathers.\\nBut whatever may have been his feelings of general\\nhostility, and his particular indignation at the treatment\\nof his brother, he suppressed them for the present,\\nrenewed the contract with the settlers, and resided 20\\npeaceably for many years at Pokanoket, or, as it was\\ncalled by the English, Mount Hope, 1 the ancient seat of\\ndominion of his tribe. Suspicions-, however, which were\\nat first but vague and indefinite, began to acquire form\\nand substance and he was at length charged with 25\\nattempting to instigate the various Eastern tribes to rise\\nat once, and by a simultaneous effort to throw off the\\nyoke of their oppressors. It is difficult at this distant\\nperiod to assign the proper credit due to these early\\naccusations against the Indians. There was a prone- 30\\nness to suspicion and an aptness to acts of violence\\non the part of the whites that gave weight and impor-\\ntance to every idle tale. Informers abounded where\\n1 Now Bristol, Rhode Island.", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0387.jp2"}, "386": {"fulltext": "346 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ntalebearing met with countenance and reward, and the\\nsword was readily unsheathed when its success was cer-\\ntain and it carved out empire.\\nThe only positive evidence on record against Philip\\n5 is the accusation of one Sausaman, a renegado Indian,\\nwhose natural cunning had been quickened by a partial\\neducation which he had received among the settlers.\\nHe changed his faith and his allegiance two or three\\ntimes with a facility that evinced the looseness of his\\n10 principles. He had acted for some time as Philip s con-\\nfidential secretary and counsellor, and had enjoyed his\\nbounty and protection. Finding, however, that the\\nclouds of adversity were gathering round his patron, he\\nabandoned his service and went over to the whites and\\nj- in order to gain their favor charged his former bene-\\nfactor with plotting against their safety. A rigorous\\ninvestigation took place. Philip and several of his sub-\\njects submitted to be examined, but nothing was proved\\nagainst them. The settlers, however, had now gone too\\n20 far to retract they had previously determined that\\nPhilip was a dangerous neighbor, they had publicly\\nevinced their distrust, and had done enough to insure\\nhis hostility according, therefore, to the usual mode of\\nreasoning in these cases, his destruction had become\\n25 necessary to their security. Sausaman, the treacherous\\ninformer, was shortly afterwards found dead in a pond,\\nhaving fallen a victim to the vengeance of his tribe.\\nThree Indians, one of whom was a friend and counsellor\\nof Philip, were apprehended and tried, and, on the testi-\\n30 mony of one very questionable witness, were condemned\\nand executed as murderers.\\nThis treatment of his subjects and ignominious pun-\\nishment of his friend outraged the pride and exasperated\\nthe passions of Philip. The bolt which had fallen thus", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0388.jp2"}, "387": {"fulltext": "PHILIP OF POKANOKET 347\\nat his very feet awakened him to the gathering storm,\\nand he determined to trust himself no longer in the\\npower of the white men. The fate of his insulted and\\nbroken-hearted brother still rankled in his mind and\\nhe had a further warning in the tragical story of Mian- 5\\ntonimo, a great sachem of the Narragansetts, who, after\\nmanfully facing his accusers before a tribunal of the\\ncolonists, exculpating himself from a charge of con-\\nspiracy and receiving assurances of amity, had been\\nperfidiously despatched at their instigation. Philip, 10\\ntherefore, gathered his fighting men about him, per-\\nsuaded all strangers that he could to join his cause, sent\\nthe women and children to the Narragansetts for safety,\\nand wherever he appeared was continually surrounded\\nby armed warriors. 15\\nWhen the two parties were thus in a state of distrust\\nand irritation, the least spark was sufficient to set them\\nin a flame. The Indians, having weapons in their\\nhands, grew mischievous and committed various petty\\ndepredations. In one of their maraudings a warrior 20\\nwas fired on and killed by a settler. This was the\\nsignal for open hostilities the Indians pressed to re-\\nvenge the death of their comrade, and the alarm of war\\nresounded through the Plymouth colony.\\nIn the early chronicles of these dark and melancholy 25\\ntimes we meet with many indications of the diseased\\nstate of the public mind. The gloom of religious abstrac-\\ntion, and the wildness of their situation among trackless\\nforests and savage tribes, had disposed the colonists to\\nsuperstitious fancies, and had filled their imaginations 30\\nwith the frightful chimeras of witchcraft and spectrology.\\nThey were much given also to a belief in omens. The\\ntroubles with Philip and his Indians were preceded, we\\nare told, by a variety of those awful warnings which", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0389.jp2"}, "388": {"fulltext": "348 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nforerun great and public calamities. The perfect form\\nof an Indian bow appeared in the air at New Plymouth,\\nwhich was looked upon by the inhabitants as a prodi-\\ngious apparition. At Hadley, Northampton, and other\\n5 towns in their neighborhood was heard the report of\\na great piece of ordnance, with a shaking of the earth\\nand a considerable echo. 1 Others were alarmed on a\\nstill, sunshiny morning by the discharge of guns and\\nmuskets, bullets seemed to whistle past them, and the\\n10 noise of drums resounded in the air, seeming to pass\\naway to the westward others fancied that they heard\\nthe galloping of horses over their head and certain\\nmonstrous births which took place about the time filled\\nthe superstitious in some towns with doleful forebodings.\\n15 Many of these portentous sights and sounds may be\\nascribed to natural phenomena to the northern lights\\nwhich occur vividly in those latitudes, the meteors which\\nexplode in the air, the casual rushing of a blast through\\nthe top branches of the forest, the crash of fallen trees\\n20 or disrupted rocks, and to those other uncouth sounds\\nand echoes which will sometimes strike the ear so\\nstrangely amidst the profound stillness of woodland\\nsolitudes. These may have startled some melancholy\\nimaginations, may have been exaggerated by the love of\\n25 the marvellous, and listened to with that avidity with\\nwhich we devour whatever is fearful and mysterious.\\nThe universal currency of these superstitious fancies and\\nthe grave record made of them by one of the learned\\nmen of the day are strongly characteristic of the times.\\n30 The nature of the contest that ensued was such as too\\noften distinguishes the warfare between civilized men\\nand savages. On the part of the whites it was con-\\nducted with superior skill and success, but with a\\n1 The Rev. Increase Mather s History.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0390.jp2"}, "389": {"fulltext": "PHILIP OF POKANOKET 349\\nwastefulness of the blood and a disregard of the natural\\nrights of their antagonists; on the part of the Indians\\nit was waged with the desperation of men fearless of\\ndeath, and who had nothing to expect from peace but\\nhumiliation, dependence, and decay. 5\\nThe events of the war are transmitted to us by a\\nworthy clergyman of the time, who dwells with horror\\nand indignation on every hostile act of the Indians,\\nhowever justifiable, whilst he mentions with applause\\nthe most sanguinary atrocities of the whites. Philip is 10\\nreviled as a murderer and a traitor, without considering\\nthat he was a true-born prince gallantly fighting at the\\nhead of his subjects to avenge the wrongs of his family,\\nto retrieve the tottering power of his line, and to deliver\\nhis native land from the oppression of usurping strangers. 15\\nThe project of a wide and simultaneous revolt, if such\\nhad really been formed, was worthy of a capacious mind,\\nand, had it not been prematurely discovered, might have\\nbeen overwhelming in its consequences. The war that\\nactually broke out was but a war of detail, a mere sue- 20\\ncession of casual exploits and unconnected enterprises.\\nStill it sets forth the military genius and daring prowess\\nof Philip and wherever, in the prejudiced and passion-\\nate narrations that have been given of it, we can arrive\\nat simple facts, we find him displaying a vigorous mind, 25\\na fertility of expedients, a contempt of suffering and\\nhardship, and an unconquerable resolution that com-\\nmand our sympathy and applause.\\nDriven from his paternal domains at Mount Hope, he\\nthrew himself into the depths of those vast and trackless 30\\nforests that skirted the settlements and were almost\\nimpervious to anything but a wild beast or an Indian.\\nHere he gathered together his forces, like the storm\\naccumulating its stores of mischief in the bosom of the", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0391.jp2"}, "390": {"fulltext": "350 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nthunder cloud, and would suddenly emerge at a time\\nand place least expected, carrying havoc and dismay\\ninto the villages. There were now and then indications\\nof these impending ravages that filled the minds of the\\n5 colonists with awe and apprehension. The report of a\\ndistant gun would perhaps be heard from the solitary\\nwoodland where there was known to be no white man\\nthe cattle which had been wandering in the woods would\\nsometimes return home wounded or an Indian or two\\n10 would be seen lurking about the skirts of the forests\\nand suddenly disappearing, as the lightning will some-\\ntimes be seen playing silently about the edge of the\\ncloud that is brewing up the tempest.\\nThough sometimes pursued and even surrounded by\\n15 the settlers, yet Philip as often escaped almost miracu-\\nlously from their toils, and, plunging into the wilderness,\\nwould be lost to all search or inquiry until he again\\nemerged at some far-distant quarter, laying the country\\ndesolate. Among his strongholds were the great swamps\\n20 or morasses which extend in some parts of New Eng-\\nland, composed of loose bogs of deep black mud, per-\\nplexed with thickets, brambles, rank weeds, the shattered\\nand mouldering trunks of fallen trees, overshadowed\\nby lugubrious hemlocks. The uncertain footing and\\n25 the tangled mazes of these shaggy wilds rendered them\\nalmost impracticable to the white man, though the\\nIndian could thrid their labyrinths with the agility of\\na deer. Into one of these, the great swamp of Pocasset\\nNeck, was Philip once driven with a band of his follow-\\n30 ers. The English did not dare to pursue him, fearing\\nto venture into these dark and frightful recesses where\\nthey might perish in fens and miry pits or be shot down\\nby lurking foes. They therefore invested the entrance\\nto the Neck and began to build a fort, with the thought", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0392.jp2"}, "391": {"fulltext": "PHILIP OF POKANOKET 351\\nof starving out the foe but Philip and his warriors\\nwafted themselves on a raft over an arm of the sea, in\\nthe dead of the night, leaving the women and children\\nbehind, and escaped away to the westward, kindling the\\nflames of war among the tribes of Massachusetts and 5\\nthe Nipmuck country, and threatening the colony of\\nConnecticut.\\nIn this way Philip became a theme of universal appre-\\nhension. The mystery in which he was enveloped exag-\\ngerated his real terrors. He was an evil that walked in 10\\ndarkness, whose coming none could foresee, and against\\nwhich none knew when to be on the alert. The whole\\ncountry abounded with rumors and alarms. Philip\\nseemed almost possessed of ubiquity for, in whatever\\npart of the widely extended frontier an irruption from 15\\nthe forest took place, Philip was said to be its leader.\\nMany superstitious notions also were circulated con-\\ncerning him. He was said to deal in necromancy and\\nto be attended by an old Indian witch, or prophetess,\\nwhom he consulted and who assisted him by her charms 20\\nand incantations. This indeed was frequently the case\\nwith Indian chiefs, either through their own credulity\\nor to act upon that of their followers and the influence\\nof the prophet and dreamer over Indian superstition\\nhas been fully evidenced in recent instances of savage 25\\nwarfare.\\nAt the time that Philip effected his escape from Pocas-\\nset his fortunes were in a desperate condition. His\\nforces had been thinned by repeated fights and he had\\nlost almost the whole of his resources. In this time of 30\\nadversity he found a faithful friend in Canonchet, chief\\nsachem of all the Narragansetts. He was the son and\\nheir of Miantonimo, the great sachem who, as already\\nmentioned, after an honorable acquittal of the charge of", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0393.jp2"}, "392": {"fulltext": "352 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nconspiracy, had been privately put to death at the per-\\nfidious instigations of the settlers. He was the heir,\\nsays the old chronicler, of all his father s pride and\\ninsolence, as well as of his malice towards the English\\n5 he certainly was the heir of his insults and injuries,\\nand the legitimate avenger of his murder. Though he\\nhad forborne to take an active part in this hopeless war,\\nyet he received Philip and his broken forces with open\\narms, and gave them the most generous countenance\\n10 and support. This at once drew upon him the hostility\\nof the English, and it was determined to strike a signal\\nblow that should involve both the sachems in one com-\\nmon ruin. A great force was therefore gathered together\\nfrom Massachusetts, Plymouth, and Connecticut, and\\n15 was sent into the Narragansett country in the depth of\\nwinter, when the swamps, being frozen and leafless,\\ncould be traversed with comparative facility and would\\nno longer afford dark and impenetrable fastnesses to\\nthe Indians.\\n20 Apprehensive of attack, Canonchet had conveyed\\nthe greater part of his stores, together with the old, the\\ninfirm, the women and children of his tribe, to a strong\\nfortress, where he and Philip had likewise drawn up\\nthe flower of their forces. This fortress, deemed by the\\n25 Indians impregnable, was situated upon a rising mound,\\nor kind of island, of five or six acres, in the midst of a\\nswamp it was constructed with a degree of judgment\\nand skill vastly superior to what is usually displayed in\\nIndian fortification, and indicative of the martial genius\\n30 of these two chieftains.\\nGuided by a renegado Indian, the English penetrated\\nthrough December snows to this stronghold and came\\nupon the garrison by surprise. The fight was fierce and\\ntumultuous. The assailants were repulsed in their first", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0394.jp2"}, "393": {"fulltext": "PHILIP OF POKANOKET 353\\nattack, and several of their bravest officers were shot\\ndown in the act of storming the fortress, sword in hand.\\nThe assault was renewed with greater success. A lodg-\\nment was effected. The Indians were driven from one\\npost to another. They disputed their ground inch by 5\\ninch, fighting with the fury of despair. Most of their\\nveterans were cut to pieces and after a long and bloody\\nbattle, Philip and Canonchet, with a handful of surviv-\\ning warriors, retreated from the fort and took refuge in\\nthe thickets of the surrounding forest. 10\\nThe victors set fire to the wigwams and the fort, the\\nwhole was soon in a blaze many of the old men, the\\nwomen, and the children perished in the flames. This\\nlast outrage overcame even the stoicism of the savage.\\nThe neighboring woods resounded with the yells of rage 15\\nand despair uttered by the fugitive warriors as they\\nbeheld the destruction of their dwellings and heard the\\nagonizing cries of their wives and offspring. The\\nburning of the wigwams, says a contemporary writer,\\nthe shrieks and cries of the women and children, and 20\\nthe yelling of the warriors, exhibited a most horrible\\nand affecting scene, so that it greatly moved some of\\nthe soldiers. The same writer cautiously adds They\\nwere in much doubt then, and afterwards seriously in-\\nquired whether burning their enemies alive could be 25\\nconsistent with humanity and the benevolent principles\\nof the Gospel. 1\\nThe fate of the brave and generous Canonchet is\\nworthy of particular mention the last scene of his life\\nis one of the noblest instances on record of Indian 30\\nmagnanimity.\\nBroken down in his power and resources by this signal\\ndefeat, yet faithful to his ally and to the hapless cause\\n1 MS. of the Rev. W. Ruggles.", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0395.jp2"}, "394": {"fulltext": "354 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwhich he had espoused, he rejected all overtures of\\npeace offered on condition of betraying Philip and his\\nfollowers, and declared that he would fight it out to\\nthe last man rather than become a servant to the Eng-\\n5 lish. His home being destroyed, his country harassed\\nand laid waste by the incursions of the conquerors, he\\nwas obliged to wander away to the banks of the Con-\\nnecticut, where he formed a rallying point to the whole\\nbody of Western Indians and laid waste several of the\\nio English settlements.\\nEarly in the spring he departed on a hazardous expe-\\ndition, with only thirty chosen men, to penetrate to\\nSeaconck, in the vicinity of Mount Hope, and to procure\\nseed corn to plant for the sustenance of his troops. This\\n15 little band of adventurers had passed safely through the\\nPequod country, and were in the centre of the Narra-\\ngansett, resting at some wigwams near Pawtucket River,\\nwhen an alarm was given of an approaching enemy.\\nHaving but seven men by him at the time, Canonchet\\n20 despatched two of them to the top of a neighboring hill\\nto bring intelligence of the foe.\\nPanic-struck by the appearance of a troop of English\\nand Indians rapidly advancing, they fled in breathless\\nterror past their chieftain without stopping to inform\\n25 him of the danger. Canonchet sent another scout, who\\ndid the same. He then sent two more, one of whom,\\nhurrying back in confusion and affright, told him that\\nthe whole British army was at hand. Canonchet saw\\nthere was no choice but immediate flight. He attempted\\n30 to escape round the hill, but was perceived and hotly\\npursued by the hostile Indians and a few of the fleetest\\nof the English. Finding the swiftest pursuer close upon\\nhis heels, he threw off, first his blanket, then his silver-\\nlaced coat and belt of peag, by which his enemies", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0396.jp2"}, "395": {"fulltext": "PHILIP OF POKANOKET 355\\nknew him to be Canonchet and redoubled the eager-\\nness of pursuit.\\nAt length, in dashing through the river, his foot slipped\\nupon a stone, and he fell so deep as to wet his gun. This\\naccident so struck him with despair that, as he after- 5\\nwards confessed, his heart and his bowels turned\\nwithin him, and he became like a rotten stick, void\\nof strength.\\nTo such a degree was he unnerved that, being seized\\nby a Pequod Indian within a short distance of the river, 10\\nhe made no resistance, though a man of great vigor of\\nbody and boldness of heart. But on being made pris-\\noner the whole pride of his spirit arose within him, and\\nfrom that moment we find, in the anecdotes given by\\nhis enemies, nothing but repeated flashes of elevated 15\\nand prince-like heroism. Being questioned by one of\\nthe English who first came up with him, and who had\\nnot attained his twenty-second year, the proud-hearted\\nwarrior, looking with lofty contempt upon his youthful\\ncountenance, replied You are a child you cannot 20\\nunderstand matters of war let your brother or your\\nchief come him will I answer.\\nThough repeated offers were made to him of his life,\\non condition of submitting with his nation to the Eng-\\nlish, yet he rejected them with disdain and refused to 25\\nsend any proposals of the kind to the great body of his\\nsubjects, saying that he knew none of them would com-\\nply. Being reproached with his breach of faith towards\\nthe whites, his boast that he would not deliver up a\\nWampanoag nor the paring of a Wampanoag s nail, and 30\\nhis threat that he would burn the English alive in their\\nhouses, he disdained to justify himself, haughtily answer-\\ning that others were as forward for the war as himself,\\nand he desired to hear no more thereof.", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0397.jp2"}, "396": {"fulltext": "356 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nSo noble and unshaken a spirit, so true a fidelity to\\nhis cause and his friend, might have touched the feel-\\nings of the generous and the brave but Canonchet was\\nan Indian, a being towards whom war had no courtesy,\\n5 humanity no law, religion no compassion he was\\ncondemned to die. The last words of him that are\\nrecorded are worthy the greatness of his soul. When\\nsentence of death was passed upon him, he observed\\nthat he liked it well, for he should die before his heart\\n10 was soft or he had spoken anything unworthy of him-\\nself. His enemies gave him the death of a soldier, for\\nhe was shot at Stoningham by three young sachems of\\nhis own rank.\\nThe defeat at the Narragansett fortress and the death\\n15 of Canonchet were fatal blows to the fortunes of King\\nPhilip. He made an ineffectual attempt to raise a head\\nof war by stirring up the Mohawks to take arms but\\nthough possessed of the native talents of a statesman,\\nhis arts were counteracted by the superior arts of his\\n20 enlightened enemies, and the terror of their warlike skill\\nbegan to subdue the resolution of the neighboring tribes.\\nThe unfortunate chieftain saw himself daily stripped of\\npower and his ranks rapidly thinning around him.\\nSome were suborned by the whites, others fell victims to\\n25 hunger and fatigue and to the frequent attacks by which\\nthey were harassed. His stores were all captured, his\\nchosen friends were swept away from before his eyes,\\nhis uncle was shot down by his side, his sister was\\ncarried into captivity, and in one of his narrow escapes\\n30 he was compelled to leave his beloved wife and only\\nson to the mercy of the enemy. His ruin, says the\\nhistorian, being thus gradually carried on, his misery\\nwas not prevented, but augmented thereby being him-\\nself made acquainted with the sense and experimental", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0398.jp2"}, "397": {"fulltext": "PHILIP OF POKANOKET 357\\nfeeling of the captivity of his children, loss of friends,\\nslaughter of his subjects, bereavement of all family rela-\\ntions, and being stripped of all outward comforts before\\nhis own life should be taken away.\\nTo fill up the measure of his misfortunes, his own fol- 5\\nlowers began to plot against his life, that by sacrificing\\nhim they might purchase dishonorable safety. Through\\ntreachery a number of his faithful adherents, the sub-\\njects of Wetamoe, an Indian princess of Pocasset, a near\\nkinswoman and confederate of Philip, were betrayed 10\\ninto the hands of the enemy. Wetamoe was among\\nthem at the time and attempted to make her escape by\\ncrossing a neighboring river either exhausted by swim-\\nming or starved by cold and hunger, she was found dead\\nand naked near the water side. But persecution ceased 15\\nnot at the grave. Even death, the refuge of the wretched,\\nwhere the wicked commonly cease from troubling, was\\nno protection to this outcast female, whose great crime\\nwas affectionate fidelity to her kinsman and her friend.\\nHer corpse was the object of unmanly and dastardly 20\\nvengeance the head was severed from the body and\\nset upon a pole, and was thus exposed at Taunton to\\nthe view of her captive subjects. They immediately\\nrecognized the features of their unfortunate queen, and\\nwere so affected at this barbarous spectacle that, we 25\\nare told, they broke forth into the most horrible and\\ndiabolical lamentations.\\nHowever Philip had borne up against the compli-\\ncated miseries and misfortunes that surrounded him, the\\ntreachery of his followers seemed to wring his heart and 30\\nreduce him to despondency. It is said that he never\\nrejoiced afterwards, nor had success in any of his de-\\nsigns. The spring of hope was broken, the ardor of\\nenterprise was extinguished he looked around, and all", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0399.jp2"}, "398": {"fulltext": "358 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nwas danger and darkness there was no eye to pity, nor\\nany arm that could bring deliverance. With a scanty\\nband of followers who still remained true to his desper-\\nate fortunes, the unhappy Philip wandered back to the\\n5 vicinity of Mount Hope, the ancient dwelling of his\\nfathers. Here he lurked about like a spectre among\\nthe scenes of former power and prosperity, now bereft\\nof home, of family and friend. There needs no better\\npicture of his destitute and piteous situation than that\\nio furnished by the homely pen of the chronicler who is\\nunwarily enlisting the feelings of the reader in favor of\\nthe hapless warrior whom he reviles. Philip, he\\nsays, like a savage wild beast, having been hunted by\\nthe English forces through the woods above a hundred\\n15 miles backward and forward, at last was driven to his\\nown den upon Mount Hope, where he retired with a\\nfew of his best friends into a swamp, which proved but\\na prison to keep him fast till the messengers of death\\ncame by divine permission to execute vengeance upon\\n20 him.\\nEven in this last refuge of desperation and despair, a\\nsullen grandeur gathers round his memory. We picture\\nhim to ourselves seated among his care-worn followers,\\nbrooding in silence over his blasted fortunes, and acquir-\\n25 ing a savage sublimity from the wildness and dreari-\\nness of his lurking-place. Defeated, but not dismayed\\ncrushed to the earth, but not humiliated he seemed\\nto grow more haughty beneath disaster, and to experi-\\nence a fierce satisfaction in draining the last dregs of\\n30 bitterness. Little minds are tamed and subdued by\\nmisfortune, but great minds rise above it. The very\\nidea of submission awakened the fury of Philip, and he\\nsmote to death one of his followers who proposed an\\nexpedient of peace. The brother of the victim made", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0400.jp2"}, "399": {"fulltext": "PHILIP OF POKANOKET 359\\nhis escape, and in revenge betrayed the retreat of his\\nchieftain. A body of white men and Indians were\\nimmediately despatched to the swamp where Philip lay\\ncrouched, glaring with fury and despair. Before he was\\naware of their approach they had begun to surround 5\\nhim. In a little while he saw five of his trustiest fol-\\nlowers laid dead at his feet all resistance was vain he\\nrushed forth from his covert and made a headlong\\nattempt to escape, but was shot through the heart by\\na renegado Indian of his own nation. 10\\nSuch is the scanty story of the brave but unfortunate\\nKing Philip persecuted while living, slandered and dis-\\nhonored when dead. If, however, we consider even the\\nprejudiced anecdotes furnished us by his enemies, we\\nmay perceive in them traces of amiable and lofty char- 15\\nacter sufficient to awaken sympathy for his fate and\\nrespect for his memory. We find that amidst all the\\nharassing cares and ferocious passions of constant war-\\nfare he was alive to the softer feelings of connubial love\\nand paternal tenderness, and to the generous sentiment 20\\nof friendship. The captivity of his beloved wife and\\nonly son are mentioned with exultation as causing him\\npoignant misery the death of any near friend is trium-\\nphantly recorded as a new blow on his sensibilities\\nbut the treachery and desertion of many of his followers 25\\nin whose affections he had confided is said to have deso-\\nlated his heart, and to have bereaved him of all further\\ncomfort. He was a patriot attached to his native soil\\na prince true to his subjects, and indignant of their\\nwrongs a soldier daring in battle, firm in adversity, 30\\npatient of fatigue, of hunger, of every variety of bodily\\nsuffering, and ready to perish in the cause he had es-\\npoused. Proud of heart and with an untamable love\\nof natural liberty, he preferred to enjoy it among the", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0401.jp2"}, "400": {"fulltext": "360 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nbeasts of the forests or in the dismal and famished\\nrecesses of swamps and morasses, rather than bow his\\nhaughty spirit to submission, and live dependent and\\ndespised in the ease and luxury of the settlements.\\n5 With heroic qualities and bold achievements that would\\nhave graced a civilized warrior and have rendered him\\nthe theme of the poet and historian, he lived a wanderer\\nand a fugitive in his native land, and went down like a\\nlonely bark foundering amid darkness and tempest\\n10 without a pitying eye to weep his fall, or a friendly\\nhand to record his struggle.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0402.jp2"}, "401": {"fulltext": "JOHN BULL\\nAn old song, made by an aged old pate,\\nOf an old worshipful gentleman who had a great estate,\\nThat kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate,\\nAnd an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate. fc\\nWith an old study fill d full of learned old books,\\nWith an old reverend chaplain, you might know him by his looks,\\nWith an old buttery hatch worn quite off the hooks,\\nAnd an old kitchen that maintained half-a-dozen old cooks.\\nLike an old courtier, etc.\\nOld Song.\\nThere is no species of humor in which the English\\nmore excel than that which consists in caricaturing and\\ngiving ludicrous appellations or nicknames. In this\\nway they have whimsically designated, not merely indi-\\nviduals, but nations and in their fondness for pushing 5\\na joke they have not spared even themselves. One\\nwould think that in personifying itself a nation would\\nbe apt to picture something grand, heroic, and impos-\\ning; but it is characteristic of the peculiar humor of\\nthe English, and of their love for what is blunt, comic, 10\\nand familiar, that they have embodied their national\\noddities in the figure of a sturdy, corpulent old fellow,\\nwith a three-cornered hat, red waistcoat, leather breeches,\\nand stout oaken cudgel. Thus they have taken a singu-\\nlar delight in exhibiting their most private foibles in a 15\\nlaughable point of view; and have been so successful\\nin their delineations that there is scarcely a being in\\nactual existence more absolutely present to the public\\nmind than that eccentric personage, John Bull.\\nPerhaps the continual contemplation of the character 20\\nthus drawn of them has contributed to fix it upon the\\n361", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0403.jp2"}, "402": {"fulltext": "362 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nnation, and thus to give reality to what at first may-\\nhave been painted in a great measure from the imagina-\\ntion. Men are apt to acquire peculiarities that are\\ncontinually ascribed to them. The common orders of\\n5 English seem wonderfully captivated with the beau ideal\\nwhich they have formed of John Bull, and endeavor to\\nact up to the broad caricature that is perpetually before\\ntheir eyes. Unluckily, they sometimes make their boasted\\nBull-ism an apology for their prejudice or grossness and\\n10 this I have especially noticed among those truly home-\\nbred and genuine sons of the soil who have never migrated\\nbeyond the sound of Bow-bells. If one of these should\\nbe a little uncouth in speech and apt to utter imperti-\\nnent truths, he confesses that he is a real John Bull and\\n15 always speaks his mind. If he now and then flies into\\nan unreasonable burst of passion about trifles, he ob-\\nserves that John Bull is a choleric old blade, but then\\nhis passion is over in a moment and he bears no malice.\\nIf he betrays a coarseness of taste and an insensibility\\n20 to foreign refinements, he thanks Heaven for his igno-\\nrance he is a plain John Bull and has no relish for\\nfrippery and knickknacks. His very proneness to be\\ngulled by strangers and to pay extravagantly for ab-\\nsurdities, is excused under the plea of munificence\\n25 for John is always more generous than wise.\\nThus, under the name of John Bull, he will contrive\\nto argue every fault into a merit, and will frankly con-\\nvict himself of being the honestest fellow in existence.\\nHowever little, therefore, the character may have\\n30 suited in the first instance, it has gradually adapted\\nitself to the nation, or rather they have adapted them-\\nselves to each other and a stranger who wishes to\\nstudy English peculiarities may gather much valuable\\ninformation from the innumerable portraits of John Bull", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0404.jp2"}, "403": {"fulltext": "JOHN BULL 363\\nas exhibited in the windows of the caricature-shops.\\nStill, however, he, is one of those fertile humorists that\\nare continually throwing out new portraits and present-\\ning different aspects from different points of view and,\\noften as he has been described, I cannot resist the temp- 5\\ntation to give a slight sketch of him, such as he has\\nmet my eye.\\nJohn Bull, to all appearance, is a plain, downright,\\nmatter-of-fact fellow, with much less of poetry about\\nhim than rich prose. There is little of romance in his 10\\nnature, but a vast deal of strong natural feeling. He\\nexcels in humor more than in wit, is jolly rather than\\ngay, melancholy rather than morose can easily be\\nmoved to a sudden tear, or surprised into a broad\\nlaugh; but he loathes sentiment and has no turn for 15\\nlight pleasantry. He is a boon companion if you allow\\nhim to have his humor and to talk about himself and\\nhe will stand by a friend in a quarrel, with life and\\npurse, however soundly he may be cudgelled.\\nIn this last respect, to tell the truth, he has a propen- 20\\nsity to be somewhat too ready. He is a busy-minded\\npersonage, who thinks not merely for himself and fam-\\nily, but for all the country round, and is most generously\\ndisposed to be everybody s champion. He is continu-\\nally volunteering his services to settle his neighbors 25\\naffairs, and takes it in great dudgeon if they engage in\\nany matter of consequence without asking his advice,\\nthough he seldom engages in any friendly office of the\\nkind without finishing by getting into a squabble with\\nall parties, and then railing bitterly at their ingratitude. 30\\nHe unluckily took lessons in his youth in the noble sci-\\nence of defence, and having accomplished himself in\\nthe use of his limbs and his weapons, and become a\\nperfect master at boxing and cudgel play, he has had", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0405.jp2"}, "404": {"fulltext": "364 THE SKETCH BOOK\\na troublesome life of it ever since. He cannot hear of\\na quarrel between the most distant o\u00c2\u00a3 his neighbors but\\nhe begins incontinently to fumble with the head of his\\ncudgel, and consider whether his interest or honor does\\n5 not require that he should meddle in the broil. Indeed,\\nhe has extended his relations of pride and policy so\\ncompletely over the whole country that no event can\\ntake place without infringing some of his finely spun\\nrights and dignities. Couched in his little domain,\\nio with these filaments stretching forth in every direction,\\nhe is like some choleric, bottle-bellied old spider who has\\nwoven his web over a whole chamber, so that a fly can-\\nnot buzz, nor a breeze blow, without startling his repose\\nand causing him to sally forth wrathfully from his den.\\n15 Though really a good-hearted, good-tempered old fel-\\nlow at bottom, yet he is singularly fond of being in the\\nmidst of contention. It is one of his peculiarities, how-\\never, that he only relishes the beginning of an affray\\nhe always goes into a fight with alacrity, but comes out\\n20 of it grumbling even when victorious and though no\\none fights with more obstinacy to carry a contested\\npoint, yet when the battle is over and he comes to the\\nreconciliation, he is so much taken up with the mere\\nshaking of hands that he is apt to. let his antagonist\\n25 pocket all that they have been quarrelling about. It is\\nnot, therefore, fighting that he ought so much to be on\\nhis guard against as making friends. It is difficult to\\ncudgel him out of a farthing, but, put him in good humor,\\nand you may bargain him out of all the money in his\\n30 pocket. He is like a stout ship, which will weather the\\nroughest storm uninjured, but roll its masts overboard\\nin the succeeding calm.\\nHe is a little fond of playing the magnifico abroad, of\\npulling out a long purse, flinging his money bravely", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0406.jp2"}, "405": {"fulltext": "JOHN BULL 365\\nabout at boxing matches, horse races, cock fights, and\\ncarrying a high head among gentlemen of the fancy\\nbut immediately after one of these fits of extravagance,\\nhe will be taken with violent qualms of economy, stop\\nshort at the most trivial expenditure, talk desperately 5\\nof being ruined and brought upon the parish, and in\\nsuch moods will not pay the smallest tradesman s bill\\nwithout violent altercation. He is, in fact, the most\\npunctual and discontented paymaster in the world\\ndrawing his coin out of his breeches pocket with infinite 10\\nreluctance, paying to the uttermost farthing, but accom-\\npanying every guinea with a growl.\\nWith all his talk of economy, however, he is a bounti-\\nful provider and a hospitable housekeeper. His econ-\\nomy is a whimsical kind, its chief object being to devise 15\\nhow he may afford to be extravagant for he will be-\\ngrudge himself a beefsteak and a pint of port one day,\\nthat he may roast an ox whole, broach a hogshead of\\nale, and treat all his neighbors on the next.\\nHis domestic establishment is enormously expensive 20\\nnot so much from any great outward parade as from the\\ngreat consumption of solid beef and pudding, the vast\\nnumber of followers he feeds and clothes, and his singu-\\nlar disposition to pay hugely for small services. He is\\na most kind and indulgent master, and provided his ser- 25\\nvants humor his peculiarities, flatter his vanity a little\\nnow and then, and do not peculate grossly on him before\\nhis face, they may manage him to perfection. Every-\\nthing that lives on him seems to thrive and grow fat.\\nHis house-servants are well paid, and pampered, and 30\\nhave little to do. His horses are sleek and lazy, and\\nprance slowly before his state carriage and his house-\\ndogs sleep quietly about the door, and will hardly bark\\nat a house-breaker.", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0407.jp2"}, "406": {"fulltext": "366 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nHis family mansion is an old castellated manor-house,\\ngray with age, and of a most venerable though weather-\\nbeaten appearance. It has been built upon no regular\\nplan, but is a vast accumulation of parts erected in vari-\\n5 ous tastes and ages. The centre bears evident traces of\\nSaxon architecture, and is as solid as ponderous stone\\nand old English oak can make it. Like all the relics of\\nthat style, it is full of obscure passages, intricate mazes,\\nand dusky chambers and though these have been par-\\nio tially lighted up in modern days, yet there are many\\nplaces where you must still grope in the dark. Addi-\\ntions have been made to the original edifice from time\\nto time, and great alterations have taken place towers\\nand battlements have been erected during wars and\\n15 tumults, wings built in time of peace, and outhouses,\\nlodges, and offices run up according to the whim or con-\\nvenience of different generations, until it has become one\\nof the most spacious, rambling tenements imaginable.\\nAn entire wing is taken up with the family chapel, a\\n20 reverend pile that must have been exceedingly sumptu-\\nous, and indeed in spite of having been altered and\\nsimplified at various periods has still a look of solemn\\nreligious pomp. Its walls within are stored with the\\nmonuments of John s ancestors and it is snugly fitted\\n25 up with soft cushions and well-lined chairs, where such\\nof his family as are inclined to church services may doze\\ncomfortably in the discharge of their duties.\\nTo keep up this chapel has cost John much money;\\nbut he is staunch in his religion and piqued in his zeal,\\n30 from the circumstance that many dissenting chapels\\nhave been erected in his vicinity, and several of his\\nneighbors, with whom he has had quarrels, are strong\\npapists.\\nTo do the duties of the chapel, he maintains at a large", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0408.jp2"}, "407": {"fulltext": "JOHX BULL 367\\nexpense a pious and portly family chaplain. He is a\\nmost learned and decorous personage and a truly well-\\nbred Christian, who always backs the old gentleman in\\nhis opinions, winks discreetly at his little peccadilloes,\\nrebukes the children when refractory, and is of great use 5\\nin exhorting the tenants to read their Bibles, say their\\nprayers, and. above all, to pay their rents punctually and\\nwithout grumbling.\\nThe family apartments are in a very antiquated taste,\\nsomewhat heavy and often inconvenient, but full of the 10\\nsolemn magnificence of former times fitted up with rich\\nthough faded tapestry, unwieldy furniture, and loads of\\nmassive, gorgeous old plate. The vast fireplaces, ample\\nkitchens, extensive cellars, and sumptuous banqueting\\nhalls all speak of the roaring hospitality of days of 15\\nyore, of which the modern festivity at the manor-house\\nis but a shadow. There are, however, complete suites of\\nrooms apparently deserted and time-worn, and towers\\nand turrets that are tottering to decay, so that in high\\nwinds there is danger of their tumbling about the ears 20\\nof the household.\\nJohn has frequently been advised to have the old\\nedifice thoroughly overhauled, and to have some of the\\nuseless parts pulled down, and the others strengthened\\nwith their materials but the old gentleman always grows 25\\ntesty on this subject. He swears the house is an excel-\\nlent house, that it is tight and weatherproof, and not to\\nbe shaken by tempests that it has stood for several hun-\\ndred years, and therefore is not likely to tumble down\\nnow that as to its being inconvenient, his family is 30\\naccustomed to the inconveniences, and would not be\\ncomfortable without them that as to its unwieldy size\\nand irregular construction, these result from its being\\nthe growth of centuries, and being improved by the wis-", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0409.jp2"}, "408": {"fulltext": "368 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ndom of every generation that an old family like his\\nrequires a large house to dwell in new, upstart families\\nmay live in modern cottages and snug boxes, but an old\\nEnglish family should inhabit an old English manor-\\n5 house. If you point out any part of the building as\\nsuperfluous, he insists that it is material to the strength\\nor decoration of the rest and the harmony of the whole,\\nand swears that the parts are so built into each other\\nthat if you pull down one, you run the risk of having the\\n10 whole about your ears.\\nThe secret of the matter is, that John has a great dis-\\nposition to protect anch patronize. He thinks it indispen-\\nsable to the dignity of an ancient and honorable family to\\nbe bounteous in its appointments and to be eaten up by\\n15 dependents and so, partly from pride and partly from\\nkind-heartedness, he makes it a rule always to give shelter\\nand maintenance to his superannuated servants.\\nThe consequence is, that like many other venerable\\nfamily establishments, his manor is encumbered by old\\n20 retainers whom he cannot turn off, and an old style\\nwhich he cannot lay down. His mansion is like a great\\nhospital of invalids, and with all its magnitude is not\\na whit too large for its inhabitants. Not a nook or\\ncorner but is of use in housing some useless personage.\\n25 Groups of veteran beef-eaters, gouty pensioners, and re-\\ntired heroes of the buttery and the larder are seen loll-\\ning about its walls, crawling over its lawns, dozing under\\nits trees, or sunning themselves upon the benches at its\\ndoors. Every office and outhouse is garrisoned by these\\n30 supernumeraries and their families, for they are amaz-\\ningly prolific, and when they die off are sure to leave\\nJohn a legacy of hungry mouths to be provided for. A\\nmattock cannot be struck against the most mouldering\\ntumble-down tower, but out pops, from some cranny or", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0410.jp2"}, "409": {"fulltext": "JOHN BULL 369\\nloophole, the gray pate of some superannuated hanger-on,\\nwho has lived at John s expense all his life, and makes\\nthe most grievous outcry at their pulling down the roof\\nfrom over the head of a worn-out servant of the family.\\nThis is an appeal that John s honest heart never can 5\\nwithstand, so that a man who has faithfully eaten his\\nbeef and pudding all his life is sure to be rewarded with\\na pipe and tankard in his old days.\\nA great part of his park, also, is turned into paddocks,\\nwhere his broken-down chargers are turned loose to graze 10\\nundisturbed for the remainder of their existence a\\nworthy example of grateful recollection, which if some\\nof his neighbors were to imitate would not be to their\\ndiscredit. Indeed, it is one of his great pleasures to\\npoint out these old steeds to his visitors, to dwell on 15\\ntheir good qualities, extol their past services, and boast\\nwith some little vainglory of the perilous adventures and\\nhardy exploits through which they have carried him.\\nHe is given, however, to indulge his veneration for\\nfamily usages and family incumbrances to a whimsical 20\\nextent. His manor is infested by gangs of gypsies, yet\\nhe will not suffer them to be driven off, because they\\nhave infested the place time out of mind, and been\\nregular poachers upon every generation of the family.\\nHe will scarcely permit a dry branch to be lopped from 25\\nthe great trees that surround the house, lest it should\\nmolest the rooks that have bred there for centuries.\\nOwls have taken possession of the dovecote, but they\\nare hereditary owls and must not be disturbed. Swal-\\nlows have nearly choked up every chimney with their 30\\nnests, martins build in every frieze and cornice, crows\\nnutter about the towers and perch on every weather-\\ncock, and old gray-headed rats may be seen in every\\nquarter of the house running in and out of their holes", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0411.jp2"}, "410": {"fulltext": "370 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nundauntedly in broad daylight. In short, John has such\\na reverence for everything that has been long in the\\nfamily that he will not hear even of abuses being re-\\nformed, because they are good old family abuses.\\n5 All those whims and habits have concurred wofully to\\ndrain the old gentleman s purse, and as he prides him-\\nself on punctuality in money matters and wishes to\\nmaintain his credit in the neighborhood, they have\\ncaused him great perplexity in meeting his engage-\\n10 ments. This, too, has been increased by the alterca-\\ntions and heart-burnings which are continually taking\\nplace in his family. His children have been brought\\nup to different callings and are of different ways of\\nthinking, and as they have always been allowed to\\n15 speak their minds freely, they do not fail to exercise\\nthe privilege most clamorously in the present posture\\nof his affairs. Some stand up for the honor of the\\nrace, and are clear that the old establishment should\\nbe kept up in all its state, whatever may be the cost\\n20 others, who are more prudent and considerate, entreat\\nthe old gentleman to retrench his expenses and to put\\nhis whole system of housekeeping on a more moderate\\nfooting. He has, indeed, at times seemed inclined to\\nlisten to their opinions, but their wholesome advice has\\n25 been completely defeated by the obstreperous conduct\\nof one of his sons. This is a noisy, rattle-pated fellow\\nof rather low habits, who neglects his business to fre-\\nquent alehouses, is the orator of village clubs, and a\\ncomplete oracle among the poorest of his father s ten-\\n30 ants. No sooner does he hear any of his brothers\\nmention reform or retrenchment, than up he jumps,\\ntakes the words out of their mouths, and roars out for\\nan overturn. When his tongue is once going nothing\\ncan stop it. He rants about the room, hectors the old", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0412.jp2"}, "411": {"fulltext": "JOHN BULL 371\\nman about his spendthrift practices, ridicules his tastes\\nand pursuits, insists that he shall turn the old servants\\nout of doors, give the broken-down horses to the hounds,\\nsend the fat chaplain packing, and take a field-preacher\\nin his place nay, that the whole family mansion shall 5\\nbe levelled with the ground, and a plain one of brick\\nand mortar built in its place. He rails at every social\\nentertainment and family festivity, and skulks away\\ngrowling to the alehouse whenever an equipage drives\\nup to the door. Though constantly complaining of the 10\\nemptiness of his purse, yet he scruples not to spend\\nall his pocket money in these tavern convocations, and\\neven runs up scores for the liquor over which he preaches\\nabout his father s extravagance.\\nIt may readily be imagined how little such thwarting 15\\nagrees with the old cavalier s fiery temperament. He\\nhas become so irritable from repeated crossings that the\\nmere mention of retrenchment or reform is a signal for\\na brawl between him and the tavern oracle. As the\\nlatter is too sturdy and refractory for paternal disci- 20\\npline, having grown out of all fear of the cudgel, they\\nhave frequent scenes of wordy warfare, which at times\\nrun so high that John is fain to call in the aid of his\\nson Tom, an officer who has served abroad, but is at\\npresent living at home on half-pay. This last is sure to 25\\nstand by the old gentleman, right or wrong, likes nothing\\nso much as a racketing, roystering life, and is ready at a\\nwink or nod to out sabre and flourish it over the orator s\\nhead, if he dares to array himself against paternal\\nauthority. 30\\nThese family dissensions, as usual, have got abroad,\\nand are rare food for scandal in John s neighborhood.\\nPeople begin to look wise and shake their heads when-\\never his affairs are mentioned. They all hope that", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0413.jp2"}, "412": {"fulltext": "372 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nmatters are not so bad with him as represented, but\\nwhen a man s own children begin to rail at his extrava-\\ngance, things must be badly managed. They understand\\nhe is mortgaged over head and ears and is continually\\n5 dabbling with money lenders. He is certainly an open-\\nhanded old gentleman, but they fear he has lived too\\nfast indeed, they never knew any good come of this\\nfondness for hunting, racing, revelling, and prize-fight-\\ning. In short, Mr. Bull s estate is a very fine one and\\n10 has been in the family a long time, but for all that they\\nhave known many finer estates come to the hammer.\\nWhat is worst of all, is the effect which these pecuniary\\nembarrassments and domestic feuds have had on the\\npoor man himself. Instead of that jolly round corpora-\\n15 tion and smug rosy face which he used to present, he\\nhas of late become as shrivelled and shrunk as a frost-\\nbitten apple. His scarlet, gold-laced waistcoat, which\\nbellied out so bravely in those prosperous days when\\nhe sailed before the wind, now hangs loosely about him\\n20 like a mainsail in a calm. His leather breeches are all\\nin folds and wrinkles, and apparently have much ado to\\nhold up the boots that yawn on both sides of his once\\nsturdy legs.\\nInstead of strutting about as formerly, with his three-\\n25 cornered hat on one side, flourishing his cudgel and\\nbringing it down every moment with a hearty thump\\nupon the ground, looking every one sturdily in the face,\\nand trolling out a stave of a catch or a drinking song,\\nhe now goes about whistling thoughtfully to himself,\\n30 with his head drooping down, his cudgel tucked under his\\narm, and his hands thrust to the bottom of his breeches\\npockets, which are evidently empty.\\nSuch is the plight of honest John Bull at present yet\\nfor all this the old fellow s spirit is as tall and as gallant", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0414.jp2"}, "413": {"fulltext": "JOHN BULL 373\\nas ever. If you drop the least expression of sympathy\\nor concern, he takes fire in an instant, swears that\\nhe is the richest and stoutest fellow in the country,\\ntalks of laying out large sums to adorn his house or buy\\nanother estate, and, with a valiant swagger and grasping 5\\nof his cudgel, longs exceedingly to have another bout at\\nquarter-staff.\\nThough there may be something rather whimsical in\\nall this, yet I confess I cannot look upon John s situation\\nwithout strong feelings of interest. With all his odd 10\\nhumors and obstinate prejudices, he is a sterling-hearted\\nold blade. He may not be so wonderfully fine a fellow\\nas he thinks himself, but he is at least twice as good as\\nhis neighbors represent him. His virtues are all his\\nown all plain, homebred, and unaffected. His very 15\\nfaults smack of the raciness of his good qualities. His\\nextravagance savors of his generosity, his quarrelsome-\\nness of his courage, his credulity of his open faith, his\\nvanity of his pride, and his bluntness of his sincerity.\\nThey are all the redundancies of a rich and liberal char- 20\\nacter. He is like his own oak, rough without, but sound\\nand solid within whose bark abounds with excrescences\\nin proportion to the growth and grandeur of the timber;\\nand whose branches make a fearful groaning and mur-\\nmuring in the least storm, from their very magnitude 25\\nand luxuriance. There is something, too, in the appear-\\nance of his old family mansion that is extremely poet-\\nical and picturesque and as long as it can be rendered\\ncomfortably habitable, I should almost tremble to see it\\nmeddled with during the present conflict of tastes and 30\\nopinions. Some of his advisers are no doubt good archi-\\ntects that might be of service, but many, I fear, are\\nmere levellers, who, when they had once got to work\\nwith their mattocks on this venerable edifice, would", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0415.jp2"}, "414": {"fulltext": "374 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nnever stop until they had brought it to the ground, and\\nperhaps buried themselves among the ruins. All that I\\nwish is, that John s present troubles may teach him more\\nprudence in future that he may cease to distress his\\n5 mind about other people s affairs that he may give up\\nthe fruitless attempt to promote the good of his neigh-\\nbors and the peace and happiness of the world by dint\\nof the cudgel that he may remain quietly at home,\\ngradually get his house into repair, cultivate his rich\\no estate according to his fancy, husband his income if\\nhe thinks proper, bring his unruly children into order\\nif he can, renew the jovial scenes of ancient prosperity,\\nand long enjoy on his paternal lands a green, an honor-\\nable, and a merry old age.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0416.jp2"}, "415": {"fulltext": "THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE\\nMay no wolfe howle no screech owle stir\\nA wing about thy sepulchre\\nNo boysterous winds or stormes come hither,\\nTo starve or wither\\nThy soft sweet earth but, like a spring,\\nLove keep it ever flourishing.\\nHerrick.\\nIn the course of an excursion through one of the\\nremote counties of England, I had struck into one of\\nthose cross-roads that lead through the more secluded\\nparts of the country, and stopped one afternoon at a\\nvillage, the situation of which was beautifully rural and 5\\nretired. There was an air of primitive simplicity about\\nits inhabitants not to be found in the villages which lie\\non the great coach-roads. I determined to pass the night\\nthere, and having taken an early dinner, strolled out to\\nenjoy the neighboring scenery. 10\\nMy ramble, as is usually the case with travellers, soon\\nled me to the church, which stood at a little distance\\nfrom the village. Indeed, it was an object of some curi-\\nosity, its old tower being completely overrun with ivy,\\nso that only here and there a jutting buttress, an angle 15\\nof gray wall, or a fantastically carved ornament peered\\nthrough the verdant covering. It was a lovely evening.\\nThe early part of the day had been dark and showery,\\nbut in the afternoon it had cleared up, and though sul-\\nlen clouds still hung overhead, yet there was a broad 20\\ntract of golden sky in the west, from which the setting\\nsun gleamed through the dripping leaves and lit up all\\nnature with a melancholy smile. It seemed like the\\n375", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0417.jp2"}, "416": {"fulltext": "376 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nparting hour of a good Christian, smiling on the sins\\nand sorrows of the world, and giving in the serenity of\\nhis decline an assurance that he will rise again in glory.\\nI had seated myself on a half-sunken tombstone and\\n5 was musing, as one is apt to do at this sober-thoughted\\nhour, on past scenes and early friends, on those who\\nwere distant and those who were dead, and indulging\\nin that kind of melancholy fancying which has in it some-\\nthing sweeter even than pleasure. Every now and then\\n10 the stroke of a bell from the neighboring tower fell on\\nmy ear its tones were in unison with the scene, and,\\ninstead of jarring, chimed in with my feelings and it\\nwas some time before I recollected that it must be tolling\\nthe knell of some new tenant of the tomb.\\n15 Presently I saw a funeral train moving across the vil-\\nlage green it wound slowly along a lane, was lost, and\\nreappeared through the breaks of the hedges, until it\\npassed the place where I was sitting. The pall was sup-\\nported by young girls dressed in white and another,\\n20 about the age of seventeen, walked before, bearing a\\nchaplet of white flowers, a token that the deceased was\\na young and unmarried female. The corpse was followed\\nby the parents. They were a venerable couple of the\\nbetter order of peasantry. The father seemed to repress\\n25 his feelings, but his fixed eye, contracted brow, and\\ndeeply furrowed face showed the struggle that was pass-\\ning within. His wife hung on his arm, and wept aloud\\nwith the convulsive bursts of a mother s sorrow.\\nI followed the funeral into the church. The bier was\\n30 placed in the centre aisle, and the chaplet of white flow-\\ners, with a pair of white gloves, were hung over the seat\\nwhich the deceased had occupied.\\nEvery one knows the soul-subduing pathos of the\\nfuneral service, for who is so fortunate as never to have", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0418.jp2"}, "417": {"fulltext": "THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE 377\\nfollowed some one he has loved to the tomb but when\\nperformed over the remains of innocence and beauty\\nthus laid low in the bloom of existence, what can be\\nmore affecting? At that simple but most solemn con-\\nsignment of the body to the grave, Earth to earth, 5\\nashes to ashes, dust to dust, the tears of the youth-\\nful companions of the deceased flowed unrestrained.\\nThe father still seemed to struggle with his feelings,\\nand to comfort himself with the assurance that the dead\\nare blessed which die in the Lord; but the mother only 10\\nthought of her child as a flower of the field cut down\\nand withered in the midst of its sweetness she w r as like\\nRachel, mourning over her children, and would not be\\ncomforted.\\nOn returning to the inn, I learned the whole story of 15\\nthe deceased. It was a simple one, and such as has\\noften been told. She had been the beauty and pride\\nof the village. Her father had once been an opulent\\nfarmer, but was reduced in circumstances. This w r as\\nan only child, and brought up entirely at home in the 20\\nsimplicity of rural life. She had been the pupil of\\nthe village pastor, the favorite lamb of his little flock.\\nThe good man watched over her education with pater-\\nnal care. It was limited, and suitable to the sphere in\\nwhich she was to move for he only sought to make her 25\\nan ornament to her station in life, not to raise her above\\nit. The tenderness and indulgence of her parents and\\nthe exemption from all ordinary occupations had fos-\\ntered a natural grace and delicacy of character that\\naccorded with the fragile loveliness of her form. She 30\\nappeared like some tender plant of the garden, blooming\\naccidentally amid the hardier natives of the fields.\\nThe superiority of her charms was felt and acknowl-\\nedged by her companions, but without envy for it was", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0419.jp2"}, "418": {"fulltext": "378 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nsurpassed by the unassuming gentleness and winning\\nkindness of her manners. It might be truly said of her:\\nThis is the prettiest low-born lass that ever\\nRan on the green-sward; nothing she does or seems\\n5 But smacks of something greater than herself,\\nToo noble for tnis place.\\nThe village was one of those sequestered spots which\\nstill retain some vestiges of old English customs. It\\nhad its rural festivals and holiday pastimes, and still\\n10 kept up some faint observance of the once popular rites\\nof May. These, indeed, had been promoted by its pres-\\nent pastor, who was a lover of old customs and one of\\nthose simple Christians that think their mission fulfilled\\nby promoting joy on earth and good-will among man-\\n15 kind. Under his auspices the May-pole stood from year\\nto year in the centre of the village green on May-day\\nit was decorated with garlands and streamers, and a\\nqueen, or lady, of the May was appointed, as in former\\ntimes, to preside at the sports and distribute the prizes\\n20 and rewards. The picturesque situation of the village\\nand the fancifulness of its rustic fetes would often at-\\ntract the notice of casual visitors. Among these, on\\none May-day, was a young officer whose regiment had\\nbeen recently quartered in the neighborhood. He was\\n25 charmed with the native taste that pervaded this village\\npageant, but above all with the dawning loveliness of\\nthe queen of May. It was the village favorite, who was\\ncrowned with flowers, and blushing and smiling in all\\nthe beautiful confusion of girlish diffidence and delight.\\n30 The artlessness of rural habits enabled him readily to\\nmake her acquaintance he gradually won his way into\\nher intimacy, and paid his court to her in that unthink-\\ning way in which young officers are too apt to trifle\\nwith rustic simplicity.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0420.jp2"}, "419": {"fulltext": "THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE 379\\nThere was nothing in his advances to startle or alarm.\\nHe never even talked of love but there are modes of\\nmaking it more eloquent than language, and which con-\\nvey it subtilely and irresistibly to the heart. The beam\\nof the eye, the tone of voice, the thousand tendernesses 5\\nwhich emanate from every word and look and action\\nthese form the true eloquence of love, and can always\\nbe felt and understood, but never described. Can we\\nwonder that they should readily win a heart, young,\\nguileless, and susceptible As to her, she loved almost 10\\nunconsciously she scarcely inquired what was the grow-\\ning passion that was absorbing every thought and feel-\\ning, or what were to be its consequences. She, indeed,\\nlooked not to the future. When present, his looks and\\nwords occupied her whole attention; when absent, she 15\\nthought but of what had passed at their recent inter-\\nview. She would wander with him through the green\\nlanes and rural scenes of the vicinity. He taught her\\nto see new beauties in nature, he talked in the language\\nof polite and cultivated life, and breathed into her ear 20\\nthe witcheries of romance and poetry.\\nPerhaps there could not have been a passion between\\nthe sexes more pure than this innocent girl s. The gal-\\nlant figure of her youthful admirer and the splendor of\\nhis military attire might at first have charmed her eye, 25\\nbut it was not these that had captivated her heart. Her\\nattachment had something in it of idolatry. She looked\\nup to him as to a being of a superior order. She felt in\\nhis society the enthusiasm of a mind naturally delicate\\nand poetical, and now first awakened to a keen percep- 30\\ntion of the beautiful and grand. Of the sordid distinc-\\ntions of rank and fortune she thought nothing it was\\nthe difference of intellect, of demeanor, of manners,\\nfrom those of the rustic society to which she had been", "height": "3446", "width": "2365", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0421.jp2"}, "420": {"fulltext": "380 THE SKETCH BOOK\\naccustomed, that elevated him in her opinion. She\\nwould listen to him with charmed ear and downcast\\nlook of mute delight, and her cheek would mantle\\nwith enthusiasm or if ever she ventured a shy glance\\n5 of timid admiration, it was as quickly withdrawn, and\\nshe would sigh and blush at the idea of her comparative\\nunworthiness.\\nHer lover was equally impassioned, but his passion\\nwas mingled with feelings of a coarser nature. He had\\n10 begun the connection in levity, for he had often heard\\nhis brother officers boast of their village conquests, and\\nthought some triumph of the kind necessary to his repu-\\ntation as a man of spirit. But he was too full of youthful\\nfervor. His heart had not yet been rendered sufficiently\\n15 cold and selfish by a wandering and a dissipated life;\\nit caught fire from the very flame it sought to kindle,\\nand before he was aware of the nature of his situation\\nhe became really in love.\\nWhat was he to do There were the old obstacles\\n20 which so incessantly occur in these heedless attach-\\nments. His rank in life, the prejudices of titled con-\\nnections, his dependence upon a proud and unyielding\\nfather, all forbade him to think of matrimony; but\\nwhen he looked down upon this innocent being, so ten-\\n25 der and confiding, there was a purity in her manners,\\na blamelessness in her life, and a beseeching modesty in\\nher looks that awed down every licentious feeling. In\\nvain did he try to fortify himself by a thousand heart-\\nless examples of men of fashion, and to chill the glow of\\n30 generous sentiment with that cold, derisive levity with\\nwhich he had heard them talk of female virtue when-\\never he came into her presence, she was still surrounded\\nby that mysterious but impassive charm of virgin purity\\nin whose hallowed sphere no guilty thought can live.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0422.jp2"}, "421": {"fulltext": "THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE 381\\nThe sudden arrival of orders for the regiment to\\nrepair to the Continent completed the confusion of his\\nmind. He remained for a short time in a state of the\\nmost painful irresolution he hesitated to communicate\\nthe tidings until the day for marching was at hand, 5\\nwhen he gave her the intelligence in the course of an\\nevening ramble.\\nThe idea of parting had never before occurred to her.\\nIt broke in at once upon her dream of felicity; she\\nlooked upon it as a sudden and insurmountable evil, 10\\nand wept with the guileless simplicity of a child. He\\ndrew her to his bosom and kissed the tears from her\\nsoft cheek nor did he meet with a repulse, for there\\nare moments of mingled sorrow and tenderness which\\nhallow the caresses of affection. He was naturally 15\\nimpetuous, and the sight of beauty apparently yielding\\nin his arms, the confidence of his power over her, and\\nthe dread of losing her forever, all conspired to over-\\nwhelm his better feelings he ventured to propose that\\nshe should leave her home and be the companion of 20\\nhis fortunes.\\nHe was quite a novice in seduction, and blushed and\\nfaltered at his own baseness but so innocent of mind\\nwas his intended victim that she was at first at a loss to\\ncomprehend his meaning, and why she should leave her 25\\nnative village and the humble roof of her parents. When\\nat last the nature of his proposal flashed upon her pure\\nmind, the effect was withering. She did not weep she\\ndid not break forth into reproach she said not a word\\nbut she shrunk back aghast as from a viper, gave 30\\nhim a look of anguish that pierced to his very soul,\\nand, clasping her hands in agony, fled as if for refuge\\nto her father s cottage.\\nThe officer retired, confounded, humiliated, and re-", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0423.jp2"}, "422": {"fulltext": "382 THE SKETCH BOOK\\npentant. It is uncertain what might have been the\\nresult of the conflict of his feelings had not his thoughts\\nbeen diverted by the bustle of departure. New scenes,\\nnew pleasures, and new companions soon dissipated his\\n5 self-reproach and stifled his tenderness yet amidst the\\nstir of camps, the revelries of garrisons, the array of\\narmies, and even the din of battles, his thoughts would\\nsometimes steal back to the scenes of rural quiet and\\nvillage simplicity the white cottage the footpath\\n10 along the silver brook and up the hawthorn hedge, and\\nthe little village maid loitering along it leaning on his\\narm and listening to him with eyes beaming with un-\\nconscious affection.\\nThe shock which the poor girl had received in the\\n15 destruction of all her ideal world had indeed been cruel.\\nFaintings and hysterics had at first shaken her tender\\nframe, and were succeeded by a settled and pining mel-\\nancholy. She had beheld from her window the march\\nof the departing troops. She had seen her faithless\\n20 lover borne off, as if in triumph, amidst the sound of\\ndrum and trumpet and the pomp of arms. She strained\\na last aching gaze after him, as the morning sun glit-\\ntered about his figure and his plume waved in the\\nbreeze he passed away like a bright vision from her\\n25 sight and left her all in darkness.\\nIt would be trite to dwell on the particulars of her\\nafter story. It was, like other tales of love, melancholy.\\nShe avoided society and wandered out alone in the walks\\nshe had most frequented with her lover. She sought,\\n30 like the stricken deer, to weep in silence and loneliness,\\nand brood over the barbed sorrow that rankled in her\\nsoul. Sometimes she would be seen late of an evening\\nsitting in the porch of the village church, and the milk-\\nmaids returning from the fields would now and then", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0424.jp2"}, "423": {"fulltext": "THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE 383\\noverhear her singing some plaintive ditty in the haw-\\nthorn walk. She became fervent in her devotions at\\nchurch and as the old people saw her approach, so\\nwasted away, yet with a hectic bloom and that hal-\\nlowed air which melancholy diffuses round the form, 5\\nthey would make way for her as for something spiritual,\\nand looking after her would shake their heads in gloomy\\nforeboding.\\nShe felt a conviction that she was hastening to the\\ntomb, but looked forward to it as a place of rest. The 10\\nsilver cord that had bound her to existence was loosed,\\nand there seemed to be no more pleasure under the sun.\\nIf ever her gentle bosom had entertained resentment\\nagainst her lover, it was extinguished. She was inca-\\npable of angry passions, and in a moment of saddened 15\\ntenderness she penned him a farewell letter. It was\\ncouched in the simplest language, but touching from its\\nvery simplicity. She told him that she was dying, and\\ndid not conceal from him that his conduct was the cause.\\nShe even depicted the sufferings which she had experi- 20\\nenced, but concluded with saying that she could not die\\nin peace until she had sent him her forgiveness and her\\nblessing.\\nBy degrees her strength declined she could no longer\\nleave the cottage. She could only totter to the window, 25\\nwhere, propped up in her chair, it was her enjoyment\\nto sit all clay and look out upon the landscape. Still\\nshe uttered no complaint, nor imparted to any one the\\nmalady that was preying on her heart. She never even\\nmentioned her lover s name, but would lay her head on 30\\nher mother s bosom and weep in silence. Her poor\\nparents hung in mute anxiety over this fading blossom\\nof their hopes, still flattering themselves that it might\\nagain revive to freshness and that the bright unearthly", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0425.jp2"}, "424": {"fulltext": "384 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nbloom which sometimes flushed her cheek might be the\\npromise of returning health.\\nIn this way she was seated between them one Sunday-\\nafternoon her hands were clasped in theirs, the lattice\\n5 was thrown open, and the soft air that stole in brought\\nwith it the fragrance of the clustering honeysuckle which\\nher own hands had trained round the window.\\nHer father had just been reading a chapter in the\\nBible it spoke of the vanity of worldly things and of\\n10 the joys of heaven it seemed to have diffused comfort\\nand serenity through her bosom. Her eye was fixed on\\nthe distant village church the bell had tolled for the\\nevening service, the last villager was lagging into the\\nporch, and everything had sunk into that hallowed still-\\n15 ness peculiar to the day of rest. Her parents were\\ngazing on her with yearning hearts. Sickness and sor-\\nrow, which pass so roughly over some faces, had given\\nto hers the expression of a seraph s. A tear trembled\\nin her soft blue eye. Was she thinking of her faithless\\n20 lover Or were her thoughts wandering to that distant\\nchurchyard, into whose bosom she might soon be gathered\\nSuddenly the clang of hoofs was heard a horseman\\ngalloped to v the cottage he dismounted before the win-\\ndow the poor girl gave a faint exclamation and sunk\\n25 back in her chair. It was her repentant lover He\\nrushed into the house and flew to clasp her to his\\nbosom but her wasted form her deathlike counte-\\nnance so wan, and yet so lovely in its desolation\\nsmote him to the soul, and he threw himself in agony\\n30 at her feet. She was too faint to rise she attempted\\nto extend her trembling hand her lips moved as if\\nshe spoke, but no word was articulated she looked\\ndown upon him with a smile of unutterable tenderness\\nand closed her eyes forever", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0426.jp2"}, "425": {"fulltext": "THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE 385\\nSuch are the particulars which I gathered of this vil-\\nlage story. They are but scanty, and I am conscious\\nhave little novelty to recommend them. In the present\\nrage also for strange incident and high-seasoned narra-\\ntive they may appear trite and insignificant, but they 5\\ninterested me strongly at the time and, taken in con-\\nnection with the affecting ceremony which I had just\\nwitnessed, left a deeper impression on my mind than\\nmany circumstances of a more striking nature. I have\\npassed through the place since and visited the church 10\\nagain from a better motive than mere curiosity. It was\\na wintry evening the trees were stripped of their foli-\\nage, the churchyard looked naked and mournful, and the\\nwind rustled coldly through the dry grass. Evergreens,\\nhowever, had been planted about the grave of the vil- 15\\nlage favorite, and osiers were bent over it to keep the\\nturf uninjured.\\nThe church door was open and I stepped in. There\\nhung the chaplet of flowers and the gloves, as on the\\nday of the funeral. The flowers were withered, it is true, 20\\nbut care seemed to have been taken that no dust should\\nsoil their whiteness. I have seen many monuments\\nwhere art has exhausted its powers to awaken the sym-\\npathy of the spectator, but I have met with none that\\nspoke more touchingly to my heart than this simple but 25\\ndelicate memento of departed innocence.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0427.jp2"}, "426": {"fulltext": "THE ANGLER\\nThis day dame Nature seem d in love,\\nThe lusty sap began to move,\\nFresh juice did stir th embracing vines\\nAnd birds had drawn their valentines.\\nThe jealous trout that low did lie,\\nRose at a well-dissembled flie.\\nThere stood my friend, with patient skill,\\nAttending of his trembling quill.\\nSir H. Wotton.\\nIt is said that many an unlucky urchin is induced to\\nrun away from his family and betake himself to a sea-\\nfaring life from reading the history of Robinson Crusoe\\nand I suspect that, in like manner, many of those worthy\\n5 gentlemen who are given to haunt the sides of pastoral\\nstreams with angle rods in hand may trace the origin\\nof their passion to the seductive pages of honest Izaak\\nWalton. I recollect studying his Complete Angler several\\nyears since, in company with a knot of friends in Amer-\\n10 ica, and moreover that we were all completely bitten with\\nthe angling mania. It was early in the year but as\\nsoon as the weather was auspicious and that the spring\\nbegan to melt into the verge of summer, we took rod in\\nhand and sallied into the country, as stark mad as was\\n15 ever Don Quixote from reading books of chivalry.\\nOne of our party had equalled the Don in the fulness\\nof his equipments, being attired cap-a-pie for the enter-\\nprise. He wore a broad-skirted fustian coat perplexed\\nwith half a hundred pockets, a pair of stout shoes and\\n20 leathern gaiters, a basket slung on one side for fish, a\\npatent rod, a landing net, and a score of other incon-\\nveniences only to be found in the true angler s armory.\\n386", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0428.jp2"}, "427": {"fulltext": "THE AXGLER 3S7\\nThus harnessed for the field, he was as great a matter of\\nstare and wonderment among the country folk, who had\\nnever seen a regular angler, as was the steel-clad hero of\\nLa Mancha among the goatherds of the Sierra Morena.\\nOur first essay w r as along a mountain brook among 5\\nthe highlands of the Hudson, a most unfortunate place\\nfor the execution of those piscatory tactics which had\\nbeen invented along the velvet margins of quiet English\\nrivulets. It was one of those wild streams that lavish\\namong our romantic solitudes unheeded beauties enough 10\\nto fill the sketch-book of a hunter of the picturesque.\\nSometimes it would leap down rocky shelves, making\\nsmall cascades over which the trees threw their broad\\nbalancing sprays, and long nameless weeds hung in\\nfringes from the impending banks, dripping with dia- 15\\nmond drops. Sometimes it would brawl and fret along\\na ravine in the matted shade of a forest, filling it w-ith\\nmurmurs, and after this termagant career would steal\\nforth into open day with the most placid demure face\\nimaginable as I have seen some pestilent shrew of a 20\\nhousewife, after filling her home with uproar and ill-\\nhumor, come dimpling out of doors, swimming and\\ncourtesying and smiling upon all the world.\\nHow smoothly would this vagrant brook glide at such\\ntimes through some bosom of green meadow-land among 25\\nthe mountains, where the quiet w T as only interrupted by\\nthe occasional tinkling of a bell from the lazy cattle\\namong the clover, or the sound of a woodcutter s axe\\nfrom the neighboring forest.\\nFor my part, I was always a bungler at all kinds of 30\\nsport that required either patience or adroitness, and\\nhad not angled above half an hour before I had com-\\npletely satisfied the sentiment and convinced myself\\nof the truth of Izaak Walton s opinion, that angling is", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0429.jp2"}, "428": {"fulltext": "388 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nsomething like poetry a man must be born to it. I\\nhooked myself instead of the fish, tangled my line in\\nevery tree, lost my bait, broke my rod, until I gave up\\nthe attempt in despair, and passed the day under the\\n5 trees reading old Izaak, satisfied that it was his fasci-\\nnating vein of honest simplicity and rural feeling that\\nhad bewitched me, and not the passion for angling.\\nMy companions, however, were more persevering in\\ntheir delusion. I have them at this moment before my\\n10 eyes, stealing along the border of the brook where it lay\\nopen to the day or was merely fringed by shrubs and\\nbushes. I see the bittern rising with hollow scream as\\nthey break in upon his rarely invaded haunt, the king-\\nfisher watching them suspiciously from his dry tree that\\n15 overhangs the deep, black mill pond in the gorge of the\\nhills, the tortoise letting himself slip sideways from off\\nthe stone or log on which he is 9tmning himself, and\\nthe panic-struck frog plumping in headlong as they ap-\\nproach, and spreading an alarm throughout the watery\\n20 world around.\\nI recollect also that after toiling and watching and\\ncreeping about for the greater part of a day with scarcely\\nany success, in spite of all our admirable apparatus, a\\nlubberly country urchin came down from the hills with\\n25 a rod made from a branch of a tree, a few yards of\\ntwine, and, as Heaven shall help me I believe, a crooked\\npin for a hook, baited with a vile earthworm, and in\\nhalf an hour caught more fish than we had nibbles\\nthroughout the day\\n30 But above all I recollect the good, honest, whole-\\nsome, hungry repast which we made under a beech\\ntree, just by a spring of pure, sweet water that stole out\\nof the side of a hill and how, when it was over, one of\\nthe party read old Izaak Walton s scene with the milk-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0430.jp2"}, "429": {"fulltext": "THE ANGLER 389\\nmaid, while I lay on the grass and built castles in a\\nbright pile of clouds until I fell asleep. All this may\\nappear like mere egotism, yet I cannot refrain from\\nuttering these recollections which are passing like a strain\\nof music over my mind and have been called up by an 5\\nagreeable scene which I witnessed not long since.\\nIn a morning s stroll along the banks of the Alun, a\\nbeautiful little stream which flows down from the Welsh\\nhills and throws itself into the Dee, my attention was\\nattracted to a group seated on the margin. On ap- 10\\nproaching I found it to consist of a veteran angler and\\ntwo rustic disciples. The former was an old fellow\\nwith a wooden leg, with clothes very much but very\\ncarefully patched, betokening poverty honestly come by\\nand decently maintained. His face bore the marks of 15\\nformer storms but present fair weather, its furrows had\\nbeen worn into an habitual smile, his iron-gray locks\\nhung about his ears, and he had altogether the good-\\nhumored air of a constitutional philosopher who was\\ndisposed to take the world as it went. One of his com- 20\\npanions was a ragged wight with the skulking look of\\nan arrant poacher, and I 11 warrant could find his way\\nto any gentleman s fish pond in the neighborhood in the\\ndarkest night. The other was a tall, awkward country\\nlad, with a lounging gait, and apparently somewhat of 25\\na rustic beau. The old man was busy in examining the\\nmaw of a trout which he had just killed to discover by\\nits contents what insects were seasonable for bait, and\\nwas lecturing on the subject to his companions, who\\nappeared to listen with infinite deference. I have a 30\\nkind feeling towards all brothers of the angle ever\\nsince I read Izaak Walton. They are men, he affirms,\\nof a mild, sweet, and peaceable spirit, and my esteem\\nfor them has been increased since I met with an old", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0431.jp2"}, "430": {"fulltext": "390 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nTretyse of Fishing with the Angle, in which are set forth\\nmany of the maxims of their inoffensive fraternity.\\nTake good hede, sayeth this honest little tretyse,\\nthat in going about your disportes ye open no man s\\n5 gates but that ye shet them again. Also ye shall not\\nuse this forsayd crafti disport for no covetousness to\\nthe encreasing and sparing of your money only, but\\nprincipally for your solace, and to cause the helth of\\nyour body and specyally of your soule. 1\\n10 I thought that I could perceive in the veteran angler\\nbefore me an exemplification of what I had read, and\\nthere was a cheerful contentedness in his looks that\\nquite drew me towards him. I could not but remark\\nthe gallant manner in which he stumped from one part\\n15 of the brook to another, waving his rod in the air to\\nkeep the line from dragging on the ground or catching\\namong the bushes, and the adroitness with which he\\nwould throw his fly to any particular place, sometimes\\nskimming it lightly along a little rapid, sometimes cast-\\n20 ing it into one of those dark holes made by a twisted\\nroot or overhanging bank in which the large trout are\\napt to lurk. In the meanwhile he was giving instruc-\\ntions to his two disciples, showing them the manner in\\nwhich they should handle their rods, fix their flies, and\\n25 play them along the surface of the stream. The scene\\nbrought to my mind the instructions of the sage Pis-\\ncator to his scholar. The country round was of that\\n1 From this same treatise it would appear that angling is a more\\nindustrious and devout employment than it is generally considered.\\nFor. when ye purpose to go on your disportes in fishynge ye\\nwill not desyre greatlye many persons with you, which might let you\\nof your game. And that ye may serve God devoutly in sayinge\\neffectually your customable prayers. And thus doying, ye shall\\neschew and also avoyde many vices, as ydelnes, which is principall\\ncause to induce man to many other vices as it is right well known.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0432.jp2"}, "431": {"fulltext": "THE ANGLER 391\\npastoral kind which Walton is fond of describing. It\\nwas a part of the great plain of Cheshire, close by the\\nbeautiful vale of Gessford, and just where the inferior\\nWelsh hills begin to swell up from among fresh-smelling\\nmeadows. The day, too, like that recorded in his work, 5\\nwas mild and sunshiny, with now and then a soft-drop-\\nping shower that sowed the whole earth with diamonds.\\nI soon fell into conversation with the old angler, and\\nwas so much entertained that, under pretext of receiving\\ninstructions in his art, I kept company with him almost 10\\nthe whole day, wandering along the banks of the stream\\nand listening to his talk. He was very communicative,\\nhaving all the easy garrulity of cheerful old age, and I\\nfancy was a little flattered by having an opportunity of\\ndisplaying his piscatory lore for who does not like now 15\\nand then to play the sage\\nHe had been much of a rambler in his day, and had\\npassed some years of his youth in America, particularly\\nin Savannah, where he had entered into trade and had\\nbeen ruined by the indiscretion of a partner. He had 20\\nafterwards experienced many ups and downs in life, until\\nhe got into the navy, where his leg was carried away by\\na cannon-ball at the Battle of Camperdown. This was\\nthe only stroke of real good fortune he had ever expe-\\nrienced, for it got him a pension, which, together with 25\\nsome small paternal property, brought him in a revenue\\nof nearly forty pounds. On this he retired to his native\\nvillage, where he lived quietly and independently, and\\ndevoted the remainder of his life to the noble art of\\nangling. 30\\nI found that he had read Izaak Walton attentively, and\\nhe seemed to have imbibed all his simple frankness and\\nprevalent good-humor. Though he had been sorely buf-\\nfeted about the world, he was satisfied that the world in", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0433.jp2"}, "432": {"fulltext": "392 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nitself was good and beautiful. Though he had been as\\nroughly used in different countries as a poor sheep that\\nis fleeced by every hedge and thicket, yet he spoke of\\nevery nation with candor and kindness, appearing to\\n5 look only on the good side of things and, above all,\\nhe was almost the only man I had ever met with who\\nhad been an unfortunate adventurer in America and\\nhad honesty and magnanimity enough to take the fault\\nto his own door, and not to curse the country. The lad\\n10 that was receiving his instructions, I learnt, was the son\\nand heir apparent of a fat old widow who kept the vil-\\nlage inn, and of course a youth of some expectation, and\\nmuch courted by the idle gentlemanlike personages of\\nthe place. In taking him under his care, therefore, the\\n15 old man had probably an eye to a privileged corner in\\nthe taproom, and an occasional cup of cheerful ale free\\nof expense.\\nThere is certainly something in angling (if we could\\nforget, which anglers are apt to do, the cruelties and\\n20 tortures inflicted on worms and insects) that tends to\\nproduce a gentleness of spirit and a pure serenity of\\nmind. As the English are methodical even in their\\nrecreations, and are the most scientific of sportsmen, it\\nhas been reduced among them to perfect rule and sys-\\n25 tem. Indeed it is an amusement peculiarly adapted to\\nthe mild and highly cultivated scenery of England, where\\nevery roughness has been softened away from the land-\\nscape. It is delightful to saunter along those limpid\\nstreams which wander like veins of silver through the\\n30 bosom of this beautiful country, leading one through\\na diversity of small home scenery sometimes winding\\nthrough ornamented grounds, sometimes brimming along\\nthrough rich pasturage, where the fresh green is mingled\\nwith sweet smelling flowers sometimes venturing in", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0434.jp2"}, "433": {"fulltext": "THE ANGLER 393\\nsight of villages and hamlets, and then running capri-\\nciously away into shady retirements. The sweetness\\nand serenity of nature and the quiet watchfulness of\\nthe sport gradually bring on pleasant fits of musing,\\nwhich are now and then agreeably interrupted by the 5\\nsong of a bird, the distant whistle of the peasant, or\\nperhaps the vagary of some fish, leaping out of the still\\nwater and skimming transiently about its glassy surface.\\nWhen I would beget content, says Izaak Walton,\\nand increase confidence in the power and wisdom and 10\\nprovidence of Almighty God, I will walk the meadows\\nby some gliding stream, and there contemplate the lilies\\nthat take no care, and those very many other little living\\ncreatures that are not only created, but fed man\\nknows not how by the goodness of the God of nature, 15\\nand therefore trust in Him.\\nI cannot forbear to give another quotation from one of\\nthose ancient champions of angling, which breathes the\\nsame innocent and happy spirit\\nLet me live harmlessly, and near the brink 20\\nOf Trent or Avon have a dwelling-place,\\nWhere I may see my quill, or cork, down sink,\\nWith eager bite of pike, or bleak, or dace\\nAnd on the world and my Creator think\\nWhilst some men strive ill-gotten goods t embrace 25\\nAnd others spend their time in base excess\\nOf wine, or worse, in war, or wantonness.\\nLet them that will, these pastimes still pursue,\\nAnd on such pleasing fancies feed their fill\\nSo I the fields and meadows green may view, 30\\nAnd daily by fresh rivers walk at will,\\nAmong the daisies and the violets blue,\\nRed hyacinth and yellow daffodil. 1\\n1 J. Davors,", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0435.jp2"}, "434": {"fulltext": "394 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nOn parting with the old angler I inquired after his\\nplace of abode, and happening to be in the neighborhood\\nof the village a few evenings afterwards, I had the curi-\\nosity to seek him out. I found him living in a small\\n5 cottage containing only one room, but a perfect curiosity\\nin its method and arrangement. It was on the skirts of\\nthe village on a green bank, a little back from the road,\\nwith a small garden in front stocked with kitchen herbs\\nand adorned with a few flowers. The whole front of the\\nio cottage was overrun with a honeysuckle. On the top\\nwas a ship for a weathercock. The interior was fitted\\nup in a truly nautical style, his ideas of comfort and\\nconvenience having been acquired on the berth deck of\\na man-of-war. A hammock was slung from the ceiling,\\n15 which in the daytime was lashed up so as to take but\\nlittle room. From the centre of the chamber hung a\\nmodel of a ship of his own workmanship. Two or three\\nchairs, a table, and a large sea chest formed the prin-\\ncipal movables. About the wall were stuck up naval\\n20 ballads, such as Admiral Hosier s Ghost, All in the\\nDowns, and Tom Bowline, intermingled with pictures\\nof sea fights, among which the battle of Camperdown\\nheld a distinguished place. The mantelpiece was dec-\\norated with sea shells, over which hung a quadrant\\n25 flanked by two wood cuts of most bitter looking naval\\ncommanders. His implements for angling were carefully\\ndisposed on nails and hooks about the room. On a shelf\\nwas arranged his library, containing a work on angling\\nmuch worn, a Bible covered with canvas, an odd volume\\n30 or two of voyages, a nautical almanac, and a book of\\nsongs.\\nHis family consisted of a large black cat with one eye,\\nand a parrot which he had caught and tamed and edu-\\ncated himself in the course of one of his voyages, and", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0436.jp2"}, "435": {"fulltext": "THE ANGLER 395\\nwhich uttered a variety of sea phrases with the hoarse\\nbrattling tone of a veteran boatswain. The establish-\\nment reminded me of that of the renowned Robinson\\nCrusoe. It was kept in neat order, everything being\\nstowed away with the regularity of a ship of war 5\\nand he informed me that he scoured the deck every\\nmorning, and swept it between meals.\\nI found him seated on a bench before the door, smok-\\ning his pipe in the soft evening sunshine. His cat was\\npurring soberly on the threshold, and his parrot describ- 10\\ning some strange evolutions in an iron ring that swung\\nin the centre of his cage. He had been angling all day,\\nand gave me a history of his sport with as much minute-\\nness as a general would talk over a campaign, being par-\\nticularly animated in relating the manner in which he 15\\nhad taken a large trout, which had completely tasked all\\nhis skill and wariness, and which he had sent as a trophy\\nto mine hostess of the inn.\\nHow comforting it is to see a cheerful and contented\\nold age, and to behold a poor fellow like this, after being 20\\ntempest-tossed through life, safely moored in a snug\\nand quiet harbor in the evening of his days His hap-\\npiness, however, sprung from within himself, and was\\nindependent of external circumstances, for he had that\\ninexhaustible good-nature which is the most precious 25\\ngift of Heaven, spreading itself like oil over the troubled\\nsea of thought, and keeping the mind smooth and equable\\nin the roughest weather.\\nOn inquiring further about him, I learned that he was\\na universal favorite in the village and the oracle of the 30\\ntaproom, where he delighted the rustics with his songs,\\nand, like Sinbad, astonished them with his stories of\\nstrange lands and shipwrecks and sea fights. He was\\nmuch noticed, too, by gentlemen sportsmen of the neigh-", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0437.jp2"}, "436": {"fulltext": "396 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nborhood, had taught several of them the art of angling,\\nand was a privileged visitor to their kitchens. The\\nwhole tenor of his life was quiet and -inoffensive, being\\nprincipally passed about the neighboring streams when\\n5 the weather and season were favorable, and at other\\ntimes he employed himself at home, preparing his fishing\\ntackle for the next campaign, or manufacturing rods,\\nnets, and flies for his patrons and pupils among the\\ngentry.\\nio He was a regular attendant at church on Sundays,\\nthough he generally fell asleep during the sermon. He\\nhad made it his particular request that when he died he\\nshould be buried in a green spot which he could see\\nfrom his seat in church, and which he had marked out\\niS ever since he was a boy, and had thought of. when far\\nfrom home on the raging sea in danger of being food for\\nthe fishes it was the spot where his father and mother\\nhad been buried.\\nI have done, for I fear that my reader is growing\\n20 weary but I could not refrain from drawing the picture\\nof this worthy brother of the angle, who has made me\\nmore than ever in love with the theory, though I fear\\nI shall never be adroit in the practice of his art and\\nI will conclude this rambling sketch in the words of\\n25 honest Izaak Walton, by craving the blessing of St.\\nPeter s master upon my reader, and upon all that are\\ntrue lovers of virtue, and dare trust in His providence,\\nand be quiet, and go a angling.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0438.jp2"}, "437": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW\\nFOUND AMONG THE PAPERS OF THE LATE DIEDRICH\\nKNICKERBOCKER\\nA pleasing land of drowsy head it was,\\nOf dreams that wave before the half-shut eye\\nAnd of gay castles in the clouds that pass,\\nFor ever flushing round a summer sky.\\nCastle of Indolence.\\nIn the bosom of one of those spacious coves which\\nindent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad\\nexpansion of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch\\nnavigators the Tappan Zee, and where they always pru-\\ndently shortened sail and implored the protection of St. 5\\nNicholas when they crossed, there lies a small market\\ntown or rural port which by some is called Greensburgh,\\nbut which is more generally and properly known by the\\nname of Tarry town. This name was given, we are\\ntold, in former days by the good housewives of the 10\\nadjacent country, from the inveterate propensity of their\\nhusbands to linger about the village tavern on market\\ndays. Be that as it may, I do not vouch for the fact,\\nbut merely advert to it, for the sake of being precise\\nand authentic. Not far from this village, perhaps about 15\\ntwo miles, there is a little valley, or rather lap of land,\\namong high hills, which is one of the quietest places in\\nthe whole world. A small brook glides through it with\\njust murmur enough to lull one to repose, and the occa-\\nsional whistle of a quail or tapping of a woodpecker is 20\\nalmost the only sound that ever breaks in upon the uni-\\nform tranquillity.\\n397", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0439.jp2"}, "438": {"fulltext": "398 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nI recollect that when a stripling my first exploit in\\nsquirrel shooting was in a grove of tall walnut trees that\\nshades one side of the valley. I had wandered into it\\nat noontime, when all nature is peculiarly quiet, and was\\n5 startled by the roar of my own gun as it broke the Sabbath\\nstillness around and was prolonged and reverberated by\\nthe angry echoes. If ever I should wish for a retreat\\nwhither I might steal from the world and its distractions\\nand dream quietly away the remnant of a troubled life, I\\nio know of none more promising than this little valley.\\nFrom the listless repose of the place and the peculiar\\ncharacter of its inhabitants, who are descendants from\\nthe original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has\\nlong been known by the name of Sleepy Hollow, and\\n15 its rustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys\\nthroughout all the neighboring country. A drowsy,\\ndreamy influence seems to hang over the land and to\\npervade the very atmosphere. Some say that the place\\nwas bewitched by a high German doctor during the\\n20 early days of the settlement others, that an old Indian\\nchief, the prophet or wizard of his tribe, held his pow-\\nwows there before the country was discovered by Master\\nHendrick Hudson. Certain it is, the place still con-\\ntinues under the sway of some witching power that\\n25 holds a spell over the minds of the good people, causing\\nthem to walk in a continual reverie. They are given\\nto all kinds of marvellous beliefs, are subject to trances\\nand visions, and frequently see strange sights and hear\\nmusic and voices in the air. The whole neighborhood\\n30 abounds with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight\\nsuperstitions stars shoot and meteors glare oftener\\nacross the valley than in any other part of the country,\\nand the nightmare, with her whole nine fold, seems to\\nmake it the favorite scene of her gambols.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0440.jp2"}, "439": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 399\\nThe dominant spirit, however, that haunts this en-\\nchanted region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of\\nall the powers of the air, is the apparition of a figure on\\nhorseback without a head. It is said by some to be the\\nghost of a Hessian trooper whose head had been carried 5\\naway by a cannon ball in some nameless battle during\\nthe revolutionary war, and who is ever and anon seen by\\nthe country folk hurrying along in the gloom of night,\\nas if on the wings of the wind. His haunts are not con-\\nfined to the valley, but extend at times to the adjacent 10\\nroads, and especially to the vicinity of a church at no\\ngreat distance. Indeed, certain of the most authentic\\nhistorians of those parts, who have been careful in col-\\nlecting and collating the floating facts concerning this\\nspectre, allege that the body of the trooper having been 15\\nburied in the churchyard, the ghost rides forth to the\\nscene of battle in nightly quest of his head and that\\nthe rushing speed with which he sometimes passes along\\nthe Hollow, like a midnight blast, is owing to his being\\nbelated and in a hurry to get back to the churchyard 20\\nbefore daybreak.\\nSuch is the general purport of this legendary supersti-\\ntion which has furnished materials for many a wild story\\nin that region of shadows, and the spectre is known at\\nall the country firesides by the name of the Headless 25\\nHorseman of Sleepy Hollow.\\nIt is remarkable that the visionary propensity I have\\nmentioned is not confined to the native inhabitants of\\nthe valley, but is unconsciously imbibed by every one who\\nresides there for a time. However wide-awake they may 30\\nhave been before they entered that sleepy region, they\\nare sure in a little time to inhale the witching influence\\nof the air, and begin to grow imaginative, to dream\\ndreams and see apparitions.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0441.jp2"}, "440": {"fulltext": "400 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nI mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud,\\nfor it is in such little retired Dutch valleys, found here\\nand there embosomed in the great State of New York,\\nthat population, manners, and customs remain fixed,\\n5 while the great torrent of migration and improvement,\\nwhich is making such incessant changes in other parts\\nof this restless country, sweeps by them unobserved.\\nThey are like those little nooks of still water which\\nborder a rapid stream, where we may see the straw and\\n10 bubble riding quietly at anchor, or slowly revolving in\\ntheir mimic harbor, undisturbed by the rush of the\\npassing current. Though many years have elapsed since\\nI trod the drowsy shades of Sleepy Hollow, yet I ques- I\\ntion whether I should not still find the same trees and\\n15 the same families vegetating in its sheltered bosom.\\nIn this by-place of nature, there abode in a remote\\nperiod of American history, that is to say, some thirty\\nyears since, a worthy wight of the name of Ichabod\\nCrane, who sojourned, or, as he expressed it, tarried,\\n20 in Sleepy Hollow for the purpose of instructing the chil-\\ndren of the vicinity. He was a native of Connecticut, a\\nstate which supplies the Union with pioneers for the\\nmind as well as for the forest, and sends forth yearly its\\nlegions of frontier woodsmen and country schoolmasters.\\n25 The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his\\nperson. He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow\\nshoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile\\nout of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shov-\\nels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together.\\n30 His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears,\\nlarge green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that\\nit looked like a weathercock perched upon his spindle\\nneck to tell which way the wind blew. To see him strid-\\ning along the profile of a hill on a windy day with his", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0442.jp2"}, "441": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 401\\nclothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might\\nhave mistaken him for the genius of famine descending\\nupon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a corn-\\nfield.\\nHis schoolhouse was a low building of one large room, 5\\nrudely constructed of logs, the windows partly glazed\\nand partly patched with leaves of old copy-books. It\\nwas most ingeniously secured at vacant hours by a withe\\ntwisted in the handle of the door and stakes set against\\nthe window shutters so that, though a thief might get 10\\nin with perfect ease, he would find some embarrassment\\nin getting out an idea most probably borrowed by the\\narchitect, Yost Van Houten, from the mystery of an\\neel pot. The schoolhouse stood in a rather lonely but\\npleasant situation just at the foot of a woody hill, with 15\\na brook running close by, and a formidable birch tree\\ngrowing at one end of it. From hence the low murmur\\nof his pupils voices conning over their lessons might be\\nheard in a drowsy summer s day, like the hum of a bee-\\nhive, interrupted now and then by the authoritative 20\\nvoice of the master in the tone of menace or command\\nor, peradventure, by the appalling sound of the birch, as\\nhe urged some tardy loiterer along the flowery path of\\nknowledge. Truth to say, he was a conscientious man,\\nand ever bore in mind the golden maxim, Spare the rod 25\\nand spoil the child. Ichabod Crane s scholars certainly\\nwere not spoiled.\\nI would not have it imagined, however, that he was\\none of those cruel potentates of the school who joy in\\nthe smart of their subjects on the contrary, he adminis- 30\\ntered justice with discrimination rather than severity,\\ntaking the burden off the backs of the weak and laying\\nit on those of the strong. Your mere puny stripling\\nthat winced at the least flourish of the rod was passed", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0443.jp2"}, "442": {"fulltext": "402 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nby with indulgence, but the claims of justice were satis-\\nfied by inflicting a double portion on some little tough,\\nwrong-headed, broad-skirted Dutch urchin, who sulked\\nand swelled, and grew dogged and sullen beneath the\\n5 birch. All this he called doing his duty by their\\nparents and he never inflicted a chastisement without\\nfollowing it by the assurance, so consolatory to the\\nsmarting urchin, that he would remember it and thank\\nhim for it the longest day he had to live.\\n10 When school hours were over he was even the com-\\npanion and playmate of the larger boys, and on holiday\\nafternoons would convoy some of the smaller ones home,\\nwho happened to have pretty sisters, or good housewives\\nfor mothers noted for the comforts of the cupboard. In-\\n15 deed it behooved him to keep on good terms with his\\npupils. The revenue arising from his school was small,\\nand would have been scarcely sufficient to furnish him\\nwith daily bread, for he was a huge feeder, and though\\nlank, had the dilating powers of an anaconda, but to\\n20 help out his maintenance he was, according to country\\ncustom in those parts, boarded and lodged at the houses\\nof the farmers whose children he instructed. With these\\nhe lived successively a week at a time, thus going the\\nrounds of the neighborhood with all his worldly effects\\n25 tied up in a cotton handkerchief.\\nThat all this might not be too onerous on the purses\\nof his rustic patrons, who are apt to consider the costs\\nof schooling a grievous burden and schoolmasters as\\nmere drones, he had various ways of rendering himself\\n30 both useful and agreeable. He assisted the farmers\\noccasionally in the lighter labors of their farms, helped\\nto make hay, mended the fences, took the horses to\\nwater, drove the cows from pasture, and cut wood for\\nthe winter fire. He laid aside, too, all the dominant", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0444.jp2"}, "443": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEXD OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 403\\ndignity and absolute sway with which he lorded it in his\\nlittle empire, the school, and became wonderfully gentle\\nand ingratiating. He found favor in the eyes of the\\nmothers by petting the children, particularly the young-\\nest and like the lion bold, which whilom so magnani- 5\\nmously the lamb did hold, he would sit with a child on\\none knee and rock a cradle with his foot for whole hours\\ntogether.\\nIn addition to his other vocations he was the singing-\\nmaster of the neighborhood, and picked up many bright 10\\nshillings by instructing the young folks in psalmody. It\\nwas a matter of no little vanity to him on Sundays to\\ntake his station in front of the church gallery with a\\nband of chosen singers, where in his own mind he com-\\npletely carried away the palm from the parson. Certain 15\\nit is, his voice resounded far above all the rest of the\\ncongregation and there are peculiar quavers still to be\\nheard in that church, and which may even be heard half\\na mile off, quite to the opposite side of the mill-pond, on\\na still Sunday morning, which are said to be legitimately 20\\ndescended from the nose of Ichabod Crane. Thus, by\\ndivers little makeshifts in that ingenious way which is\\ncommonly denominated by hook and by crook, the\\nworthy pedagogue got on tolerably enough, and was\\nthought, by all who understood nothing of the labor of 25\\nheadwork, to have a wonderfully easy life of it.\\nThe schoolmaster is generally a man of some impor-\\ntance in the female circle of a rural neighborhood, beins:\\nconsidered a kind of idle, gentlemanlike personage, of\\nvastly superior taste and accomplishments to the rough 30\\ncountry swains, and, indeed, inferior in learning only to\\nthe parson. His appearance, therefore, is apt to occa-\\nsion some little stir at the tea table of a farmhouse and\\nthe addition of a supernumerary dish of cakes or sweet-", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0445.jp2"}, "444": {"fulltext": "404 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nmeats, or peradventure the parade of a silver teapot.\\nOur man of letters, therefore, was peculiarly happy in\\nthe smiles of all the country damsels. How he would\\nfigure among them in the churchyard between services\\n5 on Sundays gathering grapes for them from the wild\\nvines that overrun the surrounding trees, reciting for\\ntheir amusement all the epitaphs on the tombstones, or\\nsauntering with a whole bevy of them along the banks\\nof the adjacent mill pond, while the more bashful coun-\\n10 try bumpkins hung sheepishly back, envying his superior\\nelegance and address.\\nFrom his half-itinerant life, also, he was a kind of\\ntravelling gazette, carrying the whole budget of local\\ngossip from house to house, so that his appearance was\\n15 always greeted with satisfaction. He was, moreover,\\nesteemed by the women as a man of great erudition, for\\nhe had read several books quite through, and was a per-\\nfect master of Cotton Mather s History of New E?igland\\nWitchcraft, in which, by the way, he most firmly and\\n20 potently believed.\\nHe was, in fact, an odd mixture of small shrewdness\\nand simple credulity. His appetite for the marvellous\\nand his powers of digesting jit were equally extraordi-\\nnary, and both had been increased by his residence in\\n25 this spellbound region. No tale was too gross or mon-\\nstrous for his capacious swallow. It was often his de-\\nlight, after his school was dismissed in the afternoon, to\\nstretch himself on the rich bed of clover bordering the\\nlittle brook that whimpered 1 by his schoolhouse, and\\n30 there con over old Mather s direful tales, until the gath-\\nering dusk of the evening made the printed page a mere\\nmist before his eyes. Then, as he wended his way by\\nswamp and stream and awful woodland to the farmhouse\\nwhere he happened to be quartered, every sound of", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0446.jp2"}, "445": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 405\\nnature at that witching hour fluttered his excited imagi-\\nnation the moan of the whip-poor-will 1 from the hill-\\nside, the boding cry of the tree toad, that harbinger\\nof storm, the dreary hooting of the screech owl, or the\\nsudden rustling in the thicket of birds frightened from 5\\ntheir roost. The fireflies, too, which sparkled most\\nvividly in the darkest places, now and then startled him\\nas one of uncommon brightness would stream across his\\npath; and if by chance a huge blockhead of a beetle\\ncame winging his blundering flight against him, the 10\\npoor varlet was ready to give up the ghost with the idea\\nthat he was struck with a witch s token. His only\\nresource on such occasions, either to drown thought or\\ndrive away evil spirits, was to sing psalm tunes and\\nthe good people of Sleepy Hollow, as they sat by their 15\\ndoors of an evening, were often filled with awe at hear-\\ning his nasal melody, in linked sweetness long drawn\\nout, floating from the distant hill or along the dusky\\nroad.\\nAnother of his sources of fearful pleasure was to pass 20\\nlong winter evenings with the old Dutch wives as they\\nsat spinning by the fire, with a row of apples roasting\\nand spluttering along the hearth, and listen to their\\nmarvellous tales of ghosts and goblins and haunted\\nfields and haunted brooks and haunted bridges and 25\\nhaunted houses, and particularly of the headless horse-\\nmen, or galloping Hessian of the Hollow, as they some-\\ntimes called him. He would delight them equally by\\nhis anecdotes of witchcraft and of the direful omens\\nand portentous sights and sounds in the air which pre- 30\\nvailed in the earlier times of Connecticut, and would\\n1 The whip-poor-will is a bird which is only heard at night. It\\nreceives its name from its note, which is thought to resemble those\\nwords.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0447.jp2"}, "446": {"fulltext": "406 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nfrighten them wofully with speculations upon comets\\nand shooting stars, and with the alarming fact that the\\nworld did absolutely turn round, and that they were\\nhalf the time topsy-turvy\\n5 But if there was a pleasure in all this while snugly\\ncuddling in the chimney corner of a chamber that was\\nall of a ruddy glow from the crackling wood fire, and\\nwhere of course no spectre dared to show his face, it\\nwas dearly purchased by the terrors of his subsequent\\n10 walk homewards. What fearful shapes and shadows\\nbeset his path amidst the dim and ghastly glare of a\\nsnowy night With what wistful look did he eye every\\ntrembling ray of light streaming across the waste fields\\nfrom some distant window How often was he appalled\\n15 by some shrub covered with snow, which, like a sheeted\\nspectre, beset his very path How often did he shrink\\nwith curdling awe at the sound of his own steps on the\\nfrosty crust beneath his feet, and dread to look over\\nhis shoulder lest he should behold some uncouth being\\n20 tramping close behind him and how often was he\\nthrown into complete dismay by some rushing blast\\nhowling among the trees, in the idea that it was the\\nGalloping Hessian on one of his nightly scourings\\nAll these, however, were mere terrors of the night,\\n25 phantoms of the mind that walk in darkness; and\\nthough he had seen many spectres in his time, and been\\nmore than once beset by Satan in divers shapes in his\\nlonely perambulations, yet daylight put an end to all\\nthese evils, and he would have passed a pleasant life of\\n30 it in despite of the devil and all his works, if his path\\nhad not been crossed by a being that causes more per-\\nplexity to mortal man than ghosts, goblins, and the\\nwhole race of witches put together, and that was a\\nwoman.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0448.jp2"}, "447": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 407\\nAmong the musical disciples who assembled one even-\\ning in each week to receive his instructions in psalmody\\nwas Katrina Van Tassel, the daughter and only child of\\na substantial Dutch farmer. She was a blooming lass\\nof fresh eighteen, plump as a partridge, ripe and melting 5\\nand rosy-cheeked as one of her father s peaches, and\\nuniversally famed, not merely for her beauty, but her\\nvast expectations. She was withal a little of a coquette,\\nas might be perceived even in her dress, which was a\\nmixture of ancient and modern fashions, as most suited 10\\nto set off her charms. She wore the ornaments of pure\\nyellow gold which her great-great-grandmother had\\nbrought over from Saardam, the tempting stomacher\\nof the olden time, and withal a provokingly short petti-\\ncoat, to display the prettiest foot and ankle in the coun- 15\\ntry round.\\nIchabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart towards\\nthe sex, and it is not to be wondered at that so tempt-\\ning a morsel soon found favor in his eyes, more espe-\\ncially after he had visited her in her paternal mansion. 20\\nOld Baltus Van Tassel was a perfect picture of a thriv-\\ning, contented, liberal-hearted farmer. He seldom, it\\nis true, sent either his eyes or his thoughts beyond the\\nboundaries of his own farm, but within those everything\\nwas snug, happy, and well-conditioned. He was satis- 25\\nfled with his wealth, but not proud of it and piqued\\nhimself upon the hearty abundance rather than the style\\nin which he lived. His stronghold was situated on the\\nbanks of the Hudson, in one of those green, sheltered,\\nfertile nooks in which the Dutch farmers are so fond of 30\\nnestling. A great elm tree spread its broad branches\\nover it, at the foot of which bubbled up a spring of\\nthe softest and sweetest water in a little well formed\\nof a barrel, and then stole sparkling away through the", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0449.jp2"}, "448": {"fulltext": "408 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ngrass to a neighboring brook that bubbled along among\\nalders and dwarf willows. Hard by the farmhouse was\\na vast barn that might have served for a church, every\\nwindow and crevice of which seemed bursting forth with\\n5 the treasures of the farm. The flail was busily resound-\\ning within it from morning to night, swallows and mar-\\ntins skimmed twittering about the eaves, and rows of\\npigeons, some with one eye turned up as if watching\\nthe weather, some with their heads under their wings\\n10 or buried in their bosoms, and others swelling and coo-\\ning and bowing about their dames, were enjoying the\\nsunshine on the roof. Sleek, unwieldy porkers were\\ngrunting in the repose and abundance of their pens,\\nwhence sallied forth, now and then, troops of sucking\\n15 pigs, as if to snuff the air. A stately squadron of snowy\\ngeese were riding in an adjoining pond, convoying whole\\nfleets of ducks regiments of turkeys were gobbling\\nthrough the farmyard, and guinea fowls fretting about\\nit, like ill-tempered housewives, with their peevish, dis-\\n20 contented cry. Before the barn-door strutted the gallant\\ncock, that pattern of a husband, a warrior, and a fine\\ngentleman, clapping his burnished wings and crowing in\\nthe pride and gladness of his heart, sometimes tearing\\nup the earth with his feet and then generously calling\\n25 his ever-hungry family of wives and children to enjoy\\nthe rich morsel which he had discovered.\\nThe pedagogue s mouth watered as he looked upon\\nthis sumptuous promise of luxurious winter fare. In\\nhis devouring mind s eye he pictured to himself every\\n30 roasting pig running about with a pudding in his belly\\nand an apple in his mouth the pigeons were snugly put\\nto bed in a comfortable pie and tucked in with a coverlet\\nof crust the geese were swimming in their own gravy\\nand the ducks pairing cosily in dishes, like snug mar-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0450.jp2"}, "449": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 409\\nried couples, with a decent competency of onion sauce.\\nIn the porkers he saw carved out the future sleek side\\nof bacon and juicy relishing ham not a turkey but he\\nbeheld daintily trussed up with its gizzard under its wing,\\nand peradventure a necklace of savory sausages and 5\\neven bright chanticleer himself lay sprawling on his\\nback in a side-dish, with uplifted claws, as if craving\\nthat quarter which his chivalrous spirit disdained to\\nask while living.\\nAs the enraptured Ichabod fancied all this, and as he 10\\nrolled his great green eyes over the fat meadow lands,\\nthe rich fields of wheat, of rye, of buckwheat, and Indian\\ncorn, and the orchards burdened with ruddy fruit, which\\nsurrounded the warm tenement of Van Tassel, his heart\\nyearned after the damsel who was to inherit these do- 15\\nmains, and his imagination expanded with the idea how\\nthey might be readity turned into cash and the money\\ninvested in immense tracts of wild land and shingle\\npalaces in the wilderness. Nay, his busy fancy already\\nrealized his hopes and presented to him the blooming 20\\nKatrina, with a whole family of children, mounted on the\\ntop of a wagon loaded with household trumpery, with\\npots and kettles dangling beneath and he beheld him-\\nself bestriding a pacing mare with a colt at her heels,\\nsetting out for Kentucky, Tennessee, or the Lord knows 25\\nwhere.\\nWhen he entered the house the conquest of his heart\\nwas complete. It was one of those spacious farmhouses\\nwith high-ridged but lowly sloping roofs, built in the\\nstyle handed down from the first Dutch settlers, the low 30\\nprojecting eaves forming a piazza along the front capable\\nof being closed up in bad weather. Under this were\\nhung flails, harness, various utensils of husbandry, and\\nnets for fishing in the neighboring river. Benches were", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0451.jp2"}, "450": {"fulltext": "410 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nbuilt along the sides for summer use, and a great spin-\\nning-wheel at one end and a churn at the other showed\\nthe various uses to which this important porch might\\nbe devoted. From this piazza the wandering Ichabod\\n5 entered the hall, which formed the centre of the mansion\\nand the place of usual residence. Here rows of resplen-\\ndent pewter, ranged on a long dresser, dazzled his eyes.\\nIn one corner stood a huge bag of wool ready to be\\nspun, in another a quantity of linsey-woolsey just from\\n10 the loom ears of Indian corn and strings of dried\\napples and peaches hung in gay festoons along the\\nwalls, mingled with the gaud of red peppers and a\\ndoor left ajar gave him a peep into the best parlor, where\\nthe claw-footed chairs and dark mahogany tables shone\\n15 like mirrors; andirons, with their accompanying shovel\\nand tongs, glistened from their covert of asparagus tops.\\nMock oranges and conch shells decorated the mantel-\\npiece strings of various colored birds eggs were sus-\\npended above it. A great ostrich egg was hung from the\\n20 centre of the room, and a corner cupboard, knowingly\\nleft open, displayed immense treasures of old silver and\\nwell-mended china.\\nFrom the moment Ichabod laid his eyes upon these\\nregions of delight the peace of his mind Was at an end,\\n25 and his only study was how to gain the affections of the\\npeerless daughter of Van Tassel. In this enterprise, how-\\never, he had more real difficulties than generally fell to\\nthe lot of a knight-errant of yore, who seldom had any-\\nthing but giants, enchanters, fiery dragons, and such-\\n30 like easily conquered adversaries to contend with and\\nhad to make his way merely through gates of iron and\\nbrass and walls of adamant to the castle keep, where\\nthe lady of his heart was confined all which he achieved\\nas easily as a man would carve his way to the centre of", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0452.jp2"}, "451": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 411\\na Christmas pie and then the lady gave him her hand\\nas a matter of course. Ichabod, on the contrary, had\\nto win his way to the heart of a country coquette, beset\\nwith a labyrinth of whims and caprices which were for-\\never presenting new difficulties and impediments and 5\\nhe had to encounter a host of fearful adversaries of real\\nflesh and blood, the numerous rustic admirers, who beset\\nevery portal to her heart, keeping a watchful and angry\\neye upon each other, but ready to fly out in the common\\ncause against any new competitor. 10\\nAmong these the most formidable was a burly, roaring,\\nroystering blade of the name of Abraham or, according\\nto the Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van Brunt, the hero of\\nthe country round, which rang with his feats of strength\\nand hardihood. He was broad-shouldered and double- 15\\njointed, with short, curly black hair and a bluff but not\\nunpleasant countenance, having a mingled air of fun and\\narrogance. From his Herculean frame and great powers\\nof limb he had received the nickname of Brom Bones,\\nby which he was universally known. He was famed for 20\\ngreat knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being as dex-\\ntrous on horseback as a Tartar. He was foremost at\\nall races and cock fights, and, with the ascendency which\\nbodily strength acquires in rustic life, was the umpire in\\nall disputes, setting his hat on one side and giving his 25\\ndecisions with an air and tone admitting of no gainsay\\nor appeal. He was always ready for either a fight or a\\nfrolic, but had more mischief than ill-will in his compo-\\nsition, and with all his overbearing roughness there was\\na strong dash of waggish good humor at bottom. He 30\\nhad three or four boon companions who regarded him as\\ntheir model, and at the head of whom he scoured the\\ncountry, attending every scene of feud or merriment for\\nmiles around. In cold weather he was distinguished by", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0453.jp2"}, "452": {"fulltext": "412 THE SKETCH BOOK\\na fur cap surmounted with a flaunting fox s tail, and\\nwhen the folks at a country gathering descried this well-\\nknown crest at a distance whisking about among a squad\\nof hard riders, they always stood by for a squall. Some-\\n5 times his crew would be heard dashing along past the\\nfarmhouses at midnight with whoop and halloo, like a\\ntroop of Don Cossacks; and the old dames, startled\\nout of their sleep, would listen for a moment till the\\nhurry-scurry had clattered by, and then exclaim Ay,\\nio there goes Brom Bones and his gang The neighbors\\nlooked upon him with a mixture of awe, admiration, and\\ngood-will, and when any madcap prank or rustic brawl\\noccurred in the vicinity, always shook their heads and\\nwarranted Brom Bones was at the bottom of it.\\n15 This rantipole hero had for some time singled out the\\nblooming Katrina for the object of his uncouth gallan-\\ntries, and though his amorous toyings were something\\nlike the gentle caresses and endearments of a bear, yet it\\nwas whispered that she did not altogether discourage his\\n20 hopes. Certain it is, his advances were signals for rival\\ncandidates to retire who felt no inclination to cross a\\nlion in his amours insomuch that when his horse was\\nseen tied to Van Tassel s paling on a Sunday night, a\\nsure sign that his master was courting or, as it is\\n25 termed, sparking within, all other suitors passed\\nby in despair and carried the war into other quarters.\\nSuch was the formidable rival with whom Ichabod\\nCrane had to contend, and, considering all things, a\\nstouter man than he would have shrunk from the com-\\n30 petition, and a wiser man would have despaired. He\\nhad, however, a happy mixture of pliability and perse-\\nverance in his nature he was in form and spirit like\\na supple-jack, yielding but tough though he bent, he\\nnever broke, and though he bowed beneath the slightest", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0454.jp2"}, "453": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 413\\npressure, yet the moment it was away jerk he was as\\nerect and carried his head as high as ever.\\nTo have taken the field openly against his rival would\\nhave been madness, for he was not a man to be thwarted\\nin his amours, any more than that stormy lover, Achilles. 5\\nIchabod, therefore, made his advances in a quiet and\\ngently insinuating manner. Under cover of his char-\\nacter of singing-master he made frequent visits at the\\nfarmhouse not that he had anything to apprehend\\nfrom the meddlesome interference of parents, which is 10\\nso often a stumbling-block in the path of lovers. Bait\\nVan Tassel was an easy, indulgent soul he loved his\\ndaughter better even than his pipe, and, like a reason-\\nable man and an excellent father, let her have her way in\\neverything. His notable little wife, too, had enough to 15\\ndo to attend to her housekeeping and manage her poul-\\ntry for, as she sagely observed, ducks and geese are\\nfoolish things and must be looked after, but girls can\\ntake care of themselves. Thus, while the busy dame\\nbustled about the house or plied her spinning-wheel at 20\\none end of the piazza, honest Bait would sit smoking\\nhis evening pipe at the other, watching the achievements\\nof a little wooden warrior who, armed with a sword in\\neach hand, was most valiantly fighting the wind on the\\npinnacle of the barn. In the meantime Ichabod would 25\\ncarry on his suit with his daughter by the side of the\\nspring under the great elm, or sauntering along in the twi-\\nlight, that hour so favorable to the lover s eloquence.\\nI profess not to know how women s hearts are wooed\\nand won. To me they have always been matters of 30\\nriddle and admiration. Some seem to have but one\\nvulnerable point, or door of access, while others have a\\nthousand avenues and may be captured in a thousand\\ndifferent ways. It is a great triumph of skill to gain the", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0455.jp2"}, "454": {"fulltext": "414 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nformer, but a still greater proof of generalship to main-\\ntain possession of the latter, for the man must battle for\\nhis fortress at every door and window. He who wins a\\nthousand common hearts is therefore entitled to some\\n5 renown, but he who keeps undisputed sway over the\\nheart of a coquette is indeed a hero. Certain it is, this\\nwas not the case with the redoubtable Brom Bones and\\nfrom the moment Ichabod Crane made his advances, the\\ninterests of the former evidently declined his horse was\\nio no longer seen tied at the palings on Sunday nights, and\\na deadly feud gradually arose between him and the pre-\\nceptor of Sleepy Hollow.\\nBrom, who had a degree of rough chivalry in his\\nnature, would fain have carried matters to open war-\\n15 fare, and have settled their pretensions to the lady\\naccording to the mode of those most concise and simple\\nreasoners, the knights-errant of yore by single combat;\\nbut Ichabod was too conscious of the superior might of\\nhis adversary to enter the lists against him. He had\\n20 overheard a boast of Bones, that he would double the\\nschoolmaster up and lay him on a shelf of his own school-\\nhouse, and he was too wary to give him an opportu-\\nnity. There was something extremely provoking in this\\nobstinately pacific system it left Brom no alternative\\n25 but to draw upon the funds of rustic waggery in his dis-\\nposition, and to play off boorish practical jokes upon his\\nrival. Ichabod became the object of whimsical perse-\\ncution to Bones and his gang of rough riders. They\\nharried his hitherto peaceful domains, smoked out his\\n30 singing school by stopping up the chimney, broke into\\nthe schoolhouse at night, in spite of its formidable fas-\\ntenings of withe and window stakes, and turned every-\\nthing topsy-turvy, so that the poor schoolmaster began\\nto think all the witches in the country held their meet-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0456.jp2"}, "455": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 415\\nings there. But what was still more annoying, Brom\\ntook all opportunities of turning him into ridicule in\\npresence of his mistress, and had a scoundrel dog whom\\nhe taught to whine in the most ludicrous manner, and\\nintroduced as a rival of Ichabod s to instruct her in 5\\npsalmody.\\nIn this way matters went on for some time without\\nproducing any material effect on the relative situation\\nof the contending powers. On a fine autumnal after-\\nnoon, Ichabod, in pensive mood, sat enthroned on the 10\\nlofty stool whence he usually watched all the concerns\\nof his little literary realm. In his hand he swayed a\\nferule, that sceptre of despotic power the birch of jus-\\ntice reposed on three nails behind the throne, a constant\\nterror to evil-doers while on the desk before him might 15\\nbe seen sundry contraband articles and prohibited weap-\\nons detected upon the persons of idle urchins, such as\\nhalf-munched apples, popguns, whirligigs, fly cages, and\\nwhole legions of rampant little paper gamecocks. Ap-\\nparently there had been some appalling act of justice 20\\nrecently inflicted, for his scholars were all busily intent\\nupon their books, or slyly whispering behind them with\\none eye kept upon the master, and a kind of buzzing\\nstillness reigned throughout the schoolroom. It was\\nsuddenly interrupted by the appearance of a negro in 25\\ntow cloth jacket and trousers, a round-crowned frag-\\nment of a hat like the cap of Mercury, and mounted on\\nthe back of a ragged, wild, half-broken colt, which he\\nmanaged with a rope by way of halter. He came clat-\\ntering up to the school door with an invitation to Icha- 30\\nbod to attend a merrymaking, or quilting frolic, to\\nbe held that evening at Mynheer Van Tassel s and\\nhaving delivered his message with that air of importance\\nand effort at fine language which a negro is apt to dis-", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0457.jp2"}, "456": {"fulltext": "416 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nplay on petty embassies of the kind, he dashed over the\\nbrook, and was seen scampering away up the hollow,\\nfull of the importance and hurry of his mission.\\nAll was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet\\n5 schoolroom. The scholars were hurried through their\\nlessons without stopping at trifles those who were nim-\\nble skipped over half with impunity, and those who were\\ntardy had a smart application now and then in the rear\\nto quicken their speed or help them over a tall word.\\nio Books were flung aside without being put away on the\\nshelves, inkstands were overturned, benches thrown\\ndown, and the whole school was turned loose an hour\\nbefore the usual time, bursting forth like a legion of\\nyoung imps, yelping and racketing about the green in\\n15 joy at their early emancipation.\\nThe gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra half\\nhour at his toilet, brushing and furbishing up his best\\nand indeed only suit of rusty black, and arranging his\\nlooks by a bit of broken looking-glass that hung up in\\n20 the schoolhouse. That he might make his appearance\\nbefore his mistress in the true style of a cavalier, he bor-\\nrowed a horse from the farmer with whom he was domi-\\nciliated, a choleric old Dutchman of the name of Hans\\nVan Ripper, and thus gallantly mounted, issued forth\\n25 like a knight-errant in quest of adventures. But it is\\nmeet I should, in the true spirit of romantic story, give\\nsome account of the looks and equipments of my hero\\nand his steed. The animal he bestrode was a broken-\\ndown plough horse that had outlived almost everything\\n30 but his viciousness. He was gaunt and shagged, with a\\newe neck and a head like a hammer his rusty mane and\\ntail were tangled and knotted with burs one eye had\\nlost its pupil, and was glaring and spectral, but the\\nother had the gleam of a genuine devil in it. Still he", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0458.jp2"}, "457": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 417\\nmust have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge\\nfrom the name he bore of Gunpowder. He had in fact\\nbeen a favorite steed of his master s, the choleric Van\\nRipper, who was a furious rider, and had infused very\\nprobably some of his own spirit into the animal for old 5\\nand broken-down as he looked, there was more of the lurk-\\ning devil in him than- in any young filly in the country.\\nIchabod was a suitable figure for such a steed. He\\nrode with short stirrups, which brought his knees nearly\\nup to the pommel of the saddle, his sharp elbows stuck 10\\nout like grasshoppers he carried his whip perpendicu-\\nlarly in his hand like a sceptre, and as his horse jogged\\non, the motion of his arms was not unlike the flapping\\nof a pair of wings. A small wool hat rested on the top\\nof his nose, for so his scanty strip of forehead might be 15\\ncalled and the skirts of his black coat fluttered out\\nalmost to the horse s tail. Such was the appearance of\\nIchabod and his steed as they shambled out of the gate\\nof Hans Van Ripper, and it was altogether such an\\napparition as is seldom to be met with in broad day- 20\\nlight.\\nIt was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day the sky\\nwas clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and\\ngolden livery which we always associate with the idea of\\nabundance. The forests had put on their sober brown 25\\nand yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had\\nbeen nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange,\\npurple, and scarlet. Streaming files of wild ducks began\\nto make their appearance high in the air the bark of\\nthe squirrel might be heard from the groves of beech and 30\\nhickory nuts, and the pensive whistle of the quail at\\nintervals from the neighboring stubble-field.\\nThe small birds were taking their farewell banquets.\\nIn the fulness of their revelry they fluttered, chirping", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0459.jp2"}, "458": {"fulltext": "418 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nand frolicking, from bush to bush and tree to tree, capri-\\ncious from the very profusion and variety around them.\\nThere was the honest cock robin, the favorite game of\\nstripling sportsmen, with its loud querulous note and\\n5 the twittering blackbirds flying in sable clouds and the\\ngolden-winged woodpecker, with his crimson crest, his\\nbroad black gorget, and splendid plumage and the cedar\\nbird, with its red-tipt wings and yellow-tipt tail and its\\nlittle monteiro cap of feathers and the bluejay, that\\nio noisy coxcomb, in his gay light-blue coat and white\\nunderclothes, screaming and chattering, nodding and\\nbobbing and bowing, and pretending to be on good\\nterms with every songster of the grove.\\nAs Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye, ever\\n15 open to every symptom of culinary abundance, ranged\\nwith delight over the treasures of jolly autumn. On all\\nsides he beheld vast stores of apples some hanging in\\noppressive opulence on the trees, some gathered into\\nbaskets and barrels for the market, others heaped up in\\n20 rich piles for the cider press. Farther on he beheld\\ngreat fields of Indian corn, with its golden ears peeping\\nfrom their leafy coverts and holding out the promise of\\ncakes and hasty pudding and the yellow pumpkins\\nlying beneath them, turning up their fair round bellies\\n25 to the sun and giving ample prospects of the most lux-\\nurious of pies and anon he passed the fragrant buck-\\nwheat fields, breathing the odor of the beehive, and as\\nhe beheld them soft anticipations stole over his mind of\\ndainty slapjacks, well buttered and garnished with honey\\n30 or treacle by the delicate little dimpled hand of Katrina\\nVan Tassel.\\nThus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and\\nsugared suppositions, he journeyed along the sides of\\na range of hills which look out upon some of the good-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0460.jp2"}, "459": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 419\\nliest scenes of the mighty Hudson. The sun gradually\\nwheeled his broad disk down into the west. The wide\\nbosom of the Tappan Zee lay motionless and glassy,\\nexcepting that here and there a gentle undulation waved\\nand prolonged the blue shadow of the distant mountain. 5\\nA few amber clouds floated in the sky without a breath\\nof air to move them. The horizon was of a fine golden\\ntint, changing gradually into a pure apple green, and\\nfrom that into the deep blue of the mid-heaven. A slant-\\ning ray lingered on the woody crests of the precipices 10\\nthat overhung some parts of the river, giving greater\\ndepth to the dark gray and purple of their rocky sides.\\nA sloop was loitering in the distance, dropping slowly\\ndown with the tide, her sail hanging uselessly against\\nthe mast and as the reflection of the sky gleamed along 15\\nthe still water, it seemed as if the vessel was suspended\\nin the air.\\nIt was toward evening that Ichabod arrived at the\\ncastle of the Heer Van Tassel, which he found thronged\\nwith the pride and flower of the adjacent country. Old 20\\nfarmers, a spare leathern-faced race in homespun coats\\nand breeches, blue stockings, huge shoes, and magnifi-\\ncent pewter buckles. Their brisk, withered little dames\\nin close crimped caps, long-waisted short gowns, home-\\nspun petticoats, with scissors and pincushions and gay 25\\ncalico pockets hanging on the outside. Buxom lasses\\nalmost as antiquated as their mothers, excepting where\\na straw hat, a fine ribbon, or perhaps a white frock gave\\nsymptoms of city innovation. The sons in short square-\\nskirted coats with rows of stupendous brass buttons, and 30\\ntheir hair generally queued in the fashion of the times,\\nespecially if they could procure an eel skin for the pur-\\npose, it being esteemed throughout the country as a\\npotent nourisher and strengthener of the hair.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0461.jp2"}, "460": {"fulltext": "420 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nBrom Bones, however, was the hero of the scene, hav-\\ning come to the gathering on his favorite steed Dare-\\ndevil, a creature, like himself, full of mettle and mischief,\\nand which no one but himself could manage. He was,\\n5 in fact, noted for preferring vicious animals given to all\\nkinds of tricks, which kept the rider in constant risk of\\nhis neck, for he held a tractable well-broken horse as\\nunworthy of a lad of spirit.\\nFain would I pause to dwell upon the world of charms\\n10 that burst upon the enraptured gaze of my hero as he\\nentered the state parlor of Van Tassel s mansion. Not\\nthose of the bevy of buxom lasses with their luxurious\\ndisplay of red and white, but the ample charms of a gen-\\nuine Dutch country tea table in the sumptuous time of\\n15 autumn. Such heaped-up platters of cakes of various\\nand almost indescribable kinds known only to experi-\\nenced Dutch housewives There was the doughty\\ndoughnut, the tenderer olykoek, and the crisp and\\ncrumbling cruller sweet cakes and short cakes, ginger\\n20 cakes and honey cakes, and the whole family of cakes.\\nAnd then there were apple pies and peach pies and\\npumpkin pies, besides slices of ham and smoked beef,\\nand moreover delectable dishes of preserved plums and\\npeaches and pears and quinces, not to mention broiled\\n25 shad and roasted chickens, together with bowls of milk\\nand cream, all mingled higgledy-piggledy, pretty much\\nas I have enumerated them, with the motherly teapot\\nsending up its clouds of vapor from the midst Heaven\\nbless the mark I want breath and time to discuss this\\n30 banquet as it deserves, and am too eager to get on with\\nmy story. Happily Ichabod Crane was not in so great\\na hurry as his historian, but did ample justice to every\\ndainty.\\nHe was a kind and thankful creature, whose heart", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0462.jp2"}, "461": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 421\\ndilated in proportion as his skin was filled with good\\ncheer, and whose spirits rose with eating as some men s\\ndo with drink. He could not help, too, rolling his large\\neyes round him as he ate, and chuckling with the possi-\\nbility that he might one day be lord of all this scene 5\\nof almost unimaginable luxury and splendor. Then, he\\nthought, how soon he d turn his back upon the old\\nschoolhouse, snap his fingers in the face of Hans Van\\nRipper and every other niggardly patron, and kick any\\nitinerant pedagogue out of doors that should dare to call 10\\nhim comrade\\nOld Baltus Van Tassel moved about among his guests\\nwith a face dilated with content and good-humor, round\\nand jolly as the harvest moon. His hospitable atten-\\ntions were brief but expressive, being confined to a shake 15\\nof the hand, a slap on the shoulder, a loud laugh, and a\\npressing invitation to fall to and help themselves.\\nAnd now the sound of the music from the common\\nroom, or hall, summoned to the dance. The musician\\nwas an old gray-headed negro, who had been the itiner- 20\\nant orchestra of the neighborhood for more than half a\\ncentury. His instrument was as old and battered as\\nhimself. The greater part of the time he scraped on\\ntwo or three strings, accompanying every movement of\\nthe bow with a motion of the head bowing almost to 25\\nthe ground, and stamping with his foot whenever a fresh\\ncouple were to start.\\nIchabod prided himself upon his dancing as much as\\nupon his vocal powers. Not a limb, not a fibre about\\nhim was idle and to have seen his loosely hung frame 30\\nin full motion and clattering about the room, you would\\nhave thought St. Vitus himself, that blessed patron of\\nthe dance, was figuring before you in person. He was\\nthe admiration of all the negroes, who, having gathered", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0463.jp2"}, "462": {"fulltext": "422 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nof all ages and sizes from the farm and the neighbor-\\nhood, stood forming a pyramid of shining black faces at\\nevery door and window, gazing with delight at the scene,\\nrolling their white eyeballs, and showing grinning rows\\n5 of ivory from ear to ear. How could the flogger of\\nurchins be otherwise than animated and joyous the\\nlady of his heart was his partner in the dance, and smil-\\ning graciously in reply to all his amorous oglings while\\nBrom Bones, sorely smitten with love and jealousy, sat\\nio brooding by himself in one corner.\\nWhen the dance was at an end Ichabod was attracted\\nto a knot of the sager folks, who, with old Van Tassel,\\nsat smoking at one end of the piazza, gossiping over\\nformer times and drawing out long stories about the\\n15 war.\\nThis neighborhood, at the time of which I am speak-\\ning, was one of those highly favored places which abound\\nwith chronicle and great men. The British and Ameri-\\ncan line had run near it during the war it had there-\\n20 fore been the scene of marauding, and infested with\\nrefugees, cowboys, and all kinds of border chivalry.\\nJust sufficient time had elapsed to enable each story-\\nteller to dress up his tale with a little becoming fiction,\\nand in the indistinctness of his recollection to make\\n25 himself the hero of every exploit.\\nThere was the story of Doffue Martling, a large, blue-\\nbearded Dutchman, who had nearly taken a British frig-\\nate with an old iron nine-pounder from a mud breast-\\nwork, only that his gun burst at the sixth discharge.\\n30 And there was an old gentleman who shall be nameless,\\nbeing too rich a mynheer to be lightly mentioned, who,\\nin the Battle of White Plains, being an excellent master\\nof defence, parried a musket ball with a small sword,\\ninsomuch that he absolutely felt it whiz round the blade", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0464.jp2"}, "463": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 423\\nand glance off at. the hilt in proof of which he was\\nready at any time to show the sword, with the hilt a\\nlittle bent. There were several more that had been\\nequally great in the field, not one of whom but was\\npersuaded that he had a considerable hand in bringing 5\\nthe war to a happy termination.\\nBut all these were nothing to the tales of ghosts and\\napparitions that succeeded. The neighborhood is rich\\nin legendary treasures of the kind. Local tales and\\nsuperstitions thrive best in these sheltered, long-settled 10\\nretreats, but are trampled under foot by the shifting\\nthrong that forms the population of most of our country\\nplaces. Besides, there is no encouragement for ghosts\\nin most of our villages, for they have scarcely had time\\nto finish their first nap and turn themselves in their 15\\ngraves, before their surviving friends have travelled away\\nfrom the neighborhood so that when they turn out at\\nnight to walk their rounds they have no acquaintance\\nleft to call upon. This is perhaps the reason why we so\\nseldom hear of ghosts except in our long-established 20\\nDutch communities.\\nThe immediate cause, however, of the prevalence of\\nsupernatural stories in these parts was doubtless owing\\nto the vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. There was a contagion\\nin the very air that blew from that haunted region it 25\\nbreathed forth an atmosphere of dreams and fancies\\ninfecting all the land. Several of the Sleepy Hollow\\npeople were present at Van Tassel s, and as usual were\\ndoling out their wild and wonderful legends. Many dis-\\nmal tales were told about funeral trains and mourning 30\\ncries and wailings heard and seen about the great tree\\nwhere the unfortunate Major Andre was taken, and\\nwhich stood in the neighborhood. Some mention was\\nmade also of the woman in white that haunted the dark", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0465.jp2"}, "464": {"fulltext": "424 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nglen at Raven Rock and was often heard to shriek on\\nwinter nights before a storm, having perished there in\\nthe snow. The chief part of the stories, however, turned\\nupon the favorite spectre of Sleep}- Hollow, the headless\\n5 horseman, who had been heard several times of late\\npatrolling the country, and, it was said, tethered his\\nhorse nightly among the graves in the churchyard.\\nThe sequestered situation of this church seems always\\nto have made it a favorite haunt of troubled spirits. It\\n10 stands on a knoll, surrounded by locust trees and lofty\\nelms, from among which its decent whitewashed walls\\nshine modestly forth like Christian purity beaming\\nthrough the shades of retirement. A gentle slope de-\\nscends from it to a silver sheet of water bordered by\\n15 high trees, between which peeps may be caught at the\\nblue hills of the Hudson. To look upon its grass-grown\\nyard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one\\nwould think that there at least the dead might rest in\\npeace. On one side of the church extends a wide,\\n20 woody dell, along which raves a large brook among\\nbroken rocks and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep,\\nblack part of the stream, not far from the church, was\\nformerly thrown a wooden bridge. The road that led to\\nit and the bridge itself were thickly shaded by overhang-\\n25 ing trees, which cast a gloom about it even in the day-\\ntime, but occasioned a fearful darkness at night. This\\nwas one of the favorite haunts of the headless horseman,\\nand the place where he was most frequently encoun-\\ntered. The tale was told of old Brouwer, a most heret-\\n30 ical disbeliever in ghosts, how he met the horseman\\nreturning from his foray into Sleepy Hollow, and was\\nobliged to get up behind him how they galloped over\\nbush and brake, over hill and swamp, until they reached\\nthe bridge, when the horseman suddenly turned into a", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0466.jp2"}, "465": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND HOLLOW 1\\nskeleton, threw old Bret\\naway over the tree tops with a\\nThis story was immediately matched by a thrice mar-\\nvellous adventure of Brom Bones, who made light of the\\ngalloping Hessian as an arrant jockey- He affirmed 5\\nthat on returning one night from the neighboring vil-\\nlage of Sing Sing, he had 1\\nnight trooper, that he hat\\na bowl of punch, and should ha- 7, rt-\\ndevil beat the goblin horse all hollow, but jnst as they 10\\ncame to the church bridge the E 1\\nished in a flash of fire.\\nAll these tales, told in thai\\nwhich men talk in the dark, the countenances of the\\nlisteners only now and then receiving a casual gleam 15\\nfrom the glare of a pipe, sank deep in the mind of Idb-\\nabod. He repaid them in kind with large extracts from\\nhis invaluable author. 1::\\nmarvellous events that had taken place in his native\\nState of Connecticut, and fearful sights which he had 20\\nseen in his nightry walks about Sleepy Hollow.\\nThe revel now gradually V:-\\ngathered together their families in their wagons, and\\nwere heard for some tint rat: l:\\nroads and over the distant halls. Some of the damsel:\\nmounted on pillions behind their favorite swains, and\\ntheir light-hearted laughter, wwmgKng with the clatter\\nof hoofs, echoed along the silent woodlands, sounding\\nfainter and fainter until tht 1-\\nthe late scene of r.\\nserted. Ichabod\\ncustom of cou:\\naonvinced that he was now on the high\\nroad to succt 5", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0467.jp2"}, "466": {"fulltext": "426 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nnot pretend to say, for in fact I do not know. Some-\\nthing, however, I fear me, must have gone wrong, for he\\ncertainly sallied forth after no very great interval with\\nan air quite desolate and chopf alien. Oh, these women\\n5 these women Could that girl have been playing off\\nany of her coquettish tricks Was her encouragement\\nof the poor pedagogue all a mere sham to secure her\\nconquest of his rival Heaven only knows, not I Let\\nit suffice to say, Ichabod stole forth with the air of one\\nio who had been sacking a henroost rather than a fair lady s\\nheart. Without looking to the right or left to notice\\nthe scene of rural wealth on which he had so often\\ngloated, he went straight to the stable, and with several\\nhearty cuffs and kicks roused his steed most uncour-\\n15 teously from the comfortable quarters in which he was\\nsoundly sleeping, dreaming of mountains of corn and\\noats and whole valleys of timothy and clover.\\nIt was the very witching time of night that Ichabod,\\nheavy-hearted and crestfallen, pursued his travel home-\\n20 wards along the sides of the lofty hills which rise above\\nTarry Town, and which he had traversed so cheerily in\\nthe afternoon. The hour was as dismal as himself. Far\\nbelow him the Tappan Zee spread its dusky and indis-\\ntinct waste of waters, with here and there the tall mast\\n25 of a sloop riding quietly at anchor under the land. In\\nthe dead hush of midnight he could even hear the bark-\\ning of the watchdog from the opposite shore of the\\nHudson, but it was so vague and faint as only to give an\\nidea of his distance from this faithful companion of man.\\n30 Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a cock\\naccidentally awakened would sound far, far off, from\\nsome farmhouse away among the hills but it was like\\na dreaming sound in his ear. No signs of life occurred\\nnear him, but occasionally the melancholy chirp of a", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0468.jp2"}, "467": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 427\\ncricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bullfrog from\\na neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably and\\nturning suddenly in his bed.\\nAll the stories of ghosts and goblins that he had heard\\nin the afternoon now came crowding upon his recollec- 5\\ntion. The night grew darker and darker, the stars\\nseemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds\\noccasionally hid them from his sight. He had never\\nfelt so lonely and dismal. He was, moreover, approach-\\ning the very place where many of the scenes of the ghost 10\\nstories had been laid. In the centre of the road stood\\nan enormous tulip tree which towered like a giant above\\nall the other trees of the neighborhood and formed a\\nkind of landmark. Its limbs were gnarled and fantastic,\\nlarge enough to form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting 15\\ndown almost to the earth and rising again into the air.\\nIt was connected with the tragical story of the unfortu-\\nnate Andre, who had been taken prisoner hard by, and\\nwas universally known by the name of Major Andre s\\ntree. The common people regarded it with a mixture 20\\nof respect and superstition, partly out of sympathy for\\nthe fate of its ill-starred namesake, and partly from the\\ntales of strange sights and doleful lamentations told\\nconcerning it.\\nAs Ichabod approached this fearful tree he began to 25\\nwhistle. He thought his whistle was answered it was\\nbut a blast sweeping sharply through the dry branches.\\nAs he approached a little nearer he thought he saw\\nsomething white hanging in the midst of the tree he\\npaused and ceased whistling but on looking more nar- 30\\nrowly perceived that it was a place where the tree had\\nbeen scathed by lightning and the white wood laid bare.\\nSuddenly he heard a groan his teeth chattered and his\\nknees smote against the saddle it was but the rubbing", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0469.jp2"}, "468": {"fulltext": "428 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nof one huge bough upon another as they were swayed\\nabout by the breeze. He passed the tree in safety but\\nnew perils lay before him.\\nAbout two hundred yards from the tree a small brook\\n5 crossed the road and ran into a marshy and thickly\\nwooded glen known by the name of Wiley s Swamp. A\\nfew rough logs laid side by side served for a bridge over\\nthis stream. On that side of the road where the brook\\nentered the wood, a group of oaks and chestnuts matted\\n10 thick with wild grapevines threw a cavernous gloom over\\nit. To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It was\\nat this identical spot that the unfortunate Andre was\\ncaptured, and under the covert of those chestnuts and\\nvines were the sturdy yeomen concealed who surprised\\n15 him. This has ever since been considered a haunted\\nstream, and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who\\nhas to pass it alone after dark.\\nAs he approached the stream his heart began to\\nthump. He summoned up, however, all his resolution,\\n20 gave his horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and\\nattempted to dash briskly across the bridge but instead\\nof starting forward, the perverse old animal made a\\nlateral movement and ran broadside against the fence.\\nIchabod, whose fears increased with the delay, jerked\\n25 the reins on the other side and kicked lustily with the\\ncontrary foot. It was all in vain. His steed started, it\\nis true, but it was only to plunge to the opposite side of\\nthe road into a thicket of brambles and alder bushes.\\nThe schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel\\n30 upon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed\\nforward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand\\njust by the bridge with a suddenness that had nearly\\nsent his rider sprawling over his head. Just at this\\nmoment a plashy tramp by the side of the bridge caught", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0470.jp2"}, "469": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 429\\nthe sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of\\nthe grove, on the margin of the brook, he beheld some-\\nthing huge, misshapen, black, and towering. It stirred\\nnot, but seemed gathered up in the gloom like some\\ngigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveller. 5\\nThe hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his\\nhead with terror. What was to be done To turn and\\nfly was now too late, and besides, what chance was there\\nof escaping ghost or goblin, if such it was, which could\\nride upon the wings of the wind? Summoning up, there- 10\\nfore, a show of courage, he demanded in stammering\\naccents, Who are you He received no reply. He\\nrepeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. Still\\nthere was no answer. Once more he cudgelled the sides\\nof the inflexible Gunpowder, and, shutting his eyes, 15\\nbroke forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune.\\nJust then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in\\nmotion, and with a scramble and a bound stood at once\\nin the middle of the road. Though the night was dark\\nand dismal, yet the form of the unknown might now in 20\\nsome degree be ascertained. He appeared to be a horse-\\nman of large dimensions, and mounted on a black horse\\nof powerful frame. He made no offer of molestation or\\nsociability, but kept aloof on one side of the road, jog-\\nging along on the blind side of old Gunpowder, who had 25\\nnow got over his fright and waywardness.\\nIchabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight\\ncompanion, and bethought himself of the adventure of\\nBrom Bones with the galloping Hessian, now quickened\\nhis steed in hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger, 30\\nhowever, quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod\\npulled up and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind\\nthe other did the same. His heart began to sink within\\nhim. He endeavored to resume his psalm tune but his", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0471.jp2"}, "470": {"fulltext": "430 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nparched tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he\\ncould not utter a stave. There was something in the\\nmoody and dogged silence of this pertinacious compan-\\nion that was mysterious and appalling. It was soon\\n5 fearfully accounted for. On mounting a rising ground\\nwhich brought the figure of his fellow-traveller in relief\\nagainst the sky, gigantic in height and muffled in a\\ncloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving that he\\nwas headless But his horror was still more increased\\nio on observing that the head, which should have rested on\\nhis shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of\\nthe saddle. His terror rose to desperation. He rained\\na shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, hoping by\\na sudden movement to give his companion the slip but\\n15 the spectre started full jump with him. Away then they\\ndashed, through thick and thin, stones flying and sparks\\nflashing at every bound. Ichabod s flimsy garments\\nfluttered in the air as he stretched his long, lank body\\naway over his horse s head in the eagerness of his flight.\\n20 They had now reached the road which turns off to\\nSleepy Hollow but Gunpowder, who seemed possessed\\nwith a demon, instead of keeping up it, made an opposite\\nturn and plunged headlong down hill to the left. This\\nroad leads through a sandy hollow, shaded by trees for\\n25 about a quarter of a mile, where it crosses the bridge\\nfamous in goblin story, and just beyond swells the green\\nknoll on which stands the whitewashed church.\\nAs yet the panic of the steed had given his unskilful\\nrider an apparent advantage in the chase but just as he\\n30 had got halfway through the hollow, the girths of the\\nsaddle gave way, and he felt it slipping from under him.\\nHe seized it by the pommel and endeavored to hold it\\nfirm, but in vain, and had just time to save himself by\\nclasping old Gunpowder round the neck, when the saddle", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0472.jp2"}, "471": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 431\\nfell to the earth, and he heard it trampled under foot by\\nhis pursuer. For a moment the terror of Hans Van Rip-\\nper s wrath passed across his mind, for it was his Sun-\\nday saddle but this was no time for petty fears the\\ngoblin was hard on his haunches, and unskilful rider 5\\nthat he was he had much ado to maintain his seat,\\nsometimes slipping on one side, sometimes on another,\\nand sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his horse s\\nbackbone with a violence that he verily feared would\\ncleave him asunder. 10\\nAn opening in the trees now cheered him with the\\nhopes that the church bridge was at hand. The waver-\\ning reflection of a silver star in the bosom of the brook\\ntold him that he was not mistaken. He saw the walls of\\nthe church dimly glaring under the trees beyond. He 15\\nrecollected the place where Brom Bones ghostly com-\\npetitor had disappeared. If I can but reach that\\nbridge, thought Ichabod, I am safe. Just then he\\nheard the black steed panting and blowing close behind\\nhim; he even fancied that he felt his hot breath. An- 20\\nother convulsive kick in the ribs and old Gunpowder\\nsprang upon the bridge, he thundered over the resound-\\ning planks, he gained the opposite side; and now Icha-\\nbod cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should\\nvanish, according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. 25\\nJust then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in\\nthe very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod en-\\ndeavored to dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It\\nencountered his cranium with a tremendous crash; he\\nwas tumbled headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, 30\\nthe black steed, and the goblin rider passed by like a\\nwhirlwind.\\nThe next morning the old horse was found without his\\nsaddle and with the bridle under his feet, soberly crop-", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0473.jp2"}, "472": {"fulltext": "432 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nping the grass at his master s gate. Ichabod did not\\nmake his appearance at breakfast; dinner-hour came,\\nbut no Ichabod. The boys assembled at the school-\\nhouse and strolled idly about the banks of the brook,\\n5 but no schoolmaster. Hans Van Ripper now began to\\nfeel some uneasiness about the fate of poor Ichabod and\\nhis saddle. An inquiry was set on foot, and after dili-\\ngent investigation they came upon his traces. In one\\npart of the road leading to the church was found the\\n10 saddle trampled in the dirt. The tracks of horses hoofs\\ndeeply dented in the road, and evidently at furious speed,\\nwere traced to the bridge, beyond which, on the bank of\\na broad part of the brook where the water ran deep and\\nblack, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and\\n15 close beside it a shattered pumpkin.\\nThe brook was searched, but the body of the school-\\nmaster was not to be discovered. Hans Van Ripper, as\\nexecutor of his estate, examined the bundle which con-\\ntained all his worldly effects. They consisted of two\\n20 shirts and a half, two stocks for the neck, a pair or two\\nof worsted stockings, an old pair of corduroy small-\\nclothes, a rusty razor, a book of psalm tunes full of\\ndogs ears, and a broken pitch pipe. As to the books\\nand furniture of the schoolhouse, they belonged to the\\n25 community, excepting Cotton Mather s History of Witch-\\ncraft, a New England Almanac, and a book of dreams\\nand fortune telling in which last was a sheet of foolscap\\nmuch scribbled and blotted in several fruitless attempts\\nto make a copy of verses in honor of the heiress of Van\\n30 Tassel. These magic books and the poetic scrawl were\\nforthwith consigned to the flames by Hans Van Ripper,\\nwho from that time forward determined to send his chil-\\ndren no more to school, observing that he never knew\\nany good come of this same reading and writing. What-", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0474.jp2"}, "473": {"fulltext": "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW 433\\never money the schoolmaster possessed, and he had re-\\nceived his quarter s pay but a day or two before, he must\\nhave had about his person at the time of his disappear-\\nance.\\nThe mysterious event caused much speculation at the 5\\nchurch on the following Sunday. Knots of gazers and\\ngossips were collected in the churchyard, at the bridge,\\nand at the spot where the hat and pumpkin had been\\nfound. The stories of Brouwer, of Bones, and a whole\\nbudget of others, were called to mind and when they 10\\nhad diligently considered them all and compared them\\nwith the symptoms of the present case, they shook their\\nheads and came to the conclusion that Ichabod had been\\ncarried off by the galloping Hessian. As he was a bach-\\nelor and in nobody s debt, nobody troubled his head any 15\\nmore about him. The school was removed to a differ-\\nent quarter of the hollow and another pedagogue reigned\\nin his stead.\\nIt is true, an old farmer who had been down to New\\nYork on a visit several years after, and from whom this 20\\naccount of the ghostly adventure was received, brought\\nhome the intelligence that Ichabod Crane was still alive,\\nthat he had left the neighborhood partly through fear of\\nthe goblin and Hans Van Ripper and partly in mortifica-\\ntion at having been suddenly dismissed by the heiress, 25\\nthat he had changed his quarters to a distant part of the\\ncountry, had kept school and studied law at the same\\ntime, had been admitted to the bar, turned politician,\\nelectioneered, written for the newspapers, and finally had\\nbeen made a justice of the Ten Pound Court. Brom 30\\nBones too, who shortly after his rival s disappearance\\nconducted the blooming Katrina in triumph to the altar,\\nwas observed to look exceedingly knowing whenever the\\nstory of Ichabod was related, and always burst into a", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0475.jp2"}, "474": {"fulltext": "434 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nhearty laugh at the mention of the pumpkin, which led\\nsome to suspect that he knew more about the matter\\nthan he chose to tell.\\nThe old country wives, however, who are the best\\n5 judges of these matters, maintain to this day that Icha-\\nbod was spirited away by supernatural means; and it is\\na favorite story often told about, the neighborhood round\\nthe winter evening fire. The bridge became more than\\never an object of superstitious awe, and that may be the\\n10 reason why the road has been altered of late years so as\\nto approach the church by the border of the mill pond.\\nThe schoolhouse being deserted soon fell to decay, and\\nwas reported to be haunted by the ghost of the unfortu-\\nnate pedagogue and the ploughboy loitering homeward\\n15 of a still summer evening has often fancied his voice at\\na distance, chanting a melancholy psalm tune among\\nthe tranquil solitudes of Sleepy Hollow.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0476.jp2"}, "475": {"fulltext": "POSTSCRIPT\\nFOUND IN THE HANDWRITING OF MR. KNICKERBOCKER\\nThe preceding tale is given almost in the precise words in\\nwhich I heard it related at a corporation meeting of the ancient\\ncity of Manhattoes, at which were present many of its sagest\\nand most illustrious burghers. The narrator was a pleasant,\\nshabby, gentlemanly old fellow, in pepper-and-salt clothes, with 5\\na sadly humorous face and one whom I strongly suspected\\nof being poor he made such efforts to be entertaining. When\\nhis story was concluded there was much laughter and approba-\\ntion, particularly from two or three deputy aldermen who had\\nbeen asleep a greater part of the time. There was, however, 10\\none tall, dry-looking old gentleman, with beetling eyebrows,\\nwho maintained a grave and rather severe face throughout,\\nnow and then folding his arms, inclining his head, and looking\\ndown upon the floor, as if turning a doubt over in his mind. He\\nwas one of your wary men who never laugh but upon good 15\\ngrounds when they have reason and the law on their side.\\nWhen the mirth of the rest of the company had subsided and\\nsilence was restored, he leaned one arm on the elbow of his\\nchair, and sticking the other akimbo, demanded, with a slight\\nbut exceedingly sage motion of the head and contraction of the 20\\nbrow, what was the moral of the story and what it went to\\nprove.\\nThe story-teller, who was just putting a glass of wine to his\\nlips as a refreshment after his toils, paused for a moment, looked\\nat his inquirer with an air of infinite deference, and lowering 25\\nthe glass slowly to the table, observed that the story was\\nintended most logically to prove\\nThat there is no situation in life but has its advantages and\\npleasures provided we will but take a joke as we find it\\n435", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0477.jp2"}, "476": {"fulltext": "436 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThat, therefore, he that runs races with goblin troopers is\\nlikely to have rough riding of it\\nErgo, for a country schoolmaster to be refused the hand of\\na Dutch heiress is a certain step to high preferment in the\\n5 state.\\nThe cautious old gentleman knit his brows tenfold closer\\nafter this explanation, being sorely puzzled by the ratiocination\\nof the syllogism while, methought, the one in pepper-and-salt\\neyed him with something of a triumphant leer. At length he\\nio observed that all this was very well, but still he thought the\\nstory a little on the extravagant there were one or two points\\non which he had his doubts.\\nFaith, sir, replied the story-teller, as to that matter, I\\ndon t believe one-half of it myself.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0478.jp2"}, "477": {"fulltext": "L ENVOY\\nGo, little booke, God send thee good passage,\\nAnd specially let this be thy prayere,\\nUnto them all that thee will read or hear,\\nWhere thou art wrong, after their help to call,\\nThee to correct in any part or all.\\nChaucer s Belle Dame sans Mercie.\\nIn concluding a second volume of the Sketch-Book,\\nthe author cannot but express his deep sense of the\\nindulgence with which his first has been received, and of\\nthe liberal disposition that has been evinced to treat\\nhim with kindness as a stranger. Even the critics, 5\\nwhatever may be said of them by others, he has found\\nto be a singularly gentle and good-natured race. It is\\ntrue that each has in turn objected to some one or two\\narticles, and that these individual exceptions taken in\\nthe aggregate would amount almost to a total condem- 10\\nnation of his work; but then he has been consoled\\nby observing that what one has particularly censured\\nanother has as particularly praised and thus, the enco-\\nmiums being set off against the objections, he finds his\\nwork upon the whole commended far beyond its deserts. 15\\nHe is aware that he runs a risk of forfeiting much of\\nthis kind favor by not following the counsel that has\\nbeen liberally bestowed upon him, for where abundance\\nof valuable advice is given gratis it may seem a man s\\nown fault if he should go astray. He can only say, in 20\\nhis vindication, that he faithfully determined for a time\\n1 Closing the second volume of the London edition.\\n437", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0479.jp2"}, "478": {"fulltext": "438 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nto govern himself in his second volume by the opinions\\npassed upon his first, but he was soon brought to a\\nstand by the contrariety of excellent counsel. One kindly\\nadvised him to avoid the ludicrous, another to shun the\\n5 pathetic, a third assured him that he was tolerable at\\ndescription, but cautioned him to leave narrative alone,\\nwhile a fourth declared that he had a very pretty knack\\nat turning a story and was really entertaining when in a\\npensive mood, but was grievously mistaken if he imag-\\n10 ined himself to possess a spirit of humor.\\nThus perplexed by the advice of his friends, who each\\nin turn closed some particular path but left him all the\\nworld beside to range in, he found that to follow all\\ntheir counsels would, in fact, be to stand still. He\\n15 remained for a time sadly embarrassed, when all at once\\nthe thought struck him to ramble on as he had begun\\nthat his work being miscellaneous and written for differ-\\nent humors, it could not be expected that any one would\\nbe pleased with the whole, but that if it should contain\\n20 something to suit each reader his end would be com-\\npletely answered. Few guests sit down to a varied table\\nwith an equal appetite for every dish. One has an ele-\\ngant horror of a roasted pig, another holds a curry or a\\ndevil in utter abomination, a third cannot tolerate the\\n25 ancient flavor of venison and wild fowl, and a fourth, of\\ntruly masculine stomach, looks with sovereign contempt\\non those knickknacks here and there dished up for the\\nladies. Thus each article is condemned in its turn, and\\nyet, amidst this variety of appetites seldom does a dish\\n30 go away from the table without being tasted and reljshed\\nby some one or other of the guests.\\nWith these considerations he ventures to serve up this\\nsecond volume in the same heterogeneous way with his\\nfirst, simply requesting the reader, if he should find here", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0480.jp2"}, "479": {"fulltext": "V ENVOY 439\\nand there something to please him, to rest assured that\\nit was written expressly for intelligent readers like him-\\nself but entreating him, should he find anything to\\ndislike, to tolerate it as one of those articles which the\\nauthor has been obliged to write for readers of a less 5\\nrefined taste.\\nTo be serious, the author is couscious of the numer-\\nous faults and imperfections of his work, and well aware\\nhow little he is disciplined and accomplished in the arts\\nof authorship. His deficiencies are also increased by a 10\\ndiffidence arising from his peculiar situation. He finds\\nhimself writing in a strange land, and appearing before a\\npublic which he has been accustomed from childhood to\\nregard with the highest feelings of awe and reverence.\\nHe is full of solicitude to deserve their approbation, yet 15\\nfinds that very solicitude continually embarrassing his\\npowers and depriving him of that ease and confidence\\nwhich are necessary to successful exertion. Still the\\nkindness with which he is treated encourages him to go\\non, hoping that in time he may acquire a steadier foot- 20\\ning and thus he proceeds, half venturing, half shrinking,\\nsurprised at his own good fortune and wondering at his\\nown temerity.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0481.jp2"}, "480": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX\\nNotes Concerning Westminster Abbey\\nToward the end of the sixth century, when Britain under\\nthe dominion of the Saxons was in a state of barbarism and\\nidolatry, Pope Gregory the Great, struck with the beauty of\\nsome Anglo-Saxon youths exposed for sale in the market place\\n5 at Rome, conceived a fancy for the race, and determined to\\nsend missionaries to preach the gospel among these comely but\\nbenighted islanders. He was encouraged to this by learning\\nthat Ethelbert, king of Kent and the most potent of the\\nAnglo-Saxon princes, had married Bertha, a Christian prin-\\n10 cess, only daughter of the king of Paris, and that she was\\nallowed by stipulation the full exercise of her religion.\\nThe shrewd pontiff knew the influence of the sex in matters\\nof religious faith. He forthwith despatched Augustine, a\\nRoman monk, with forty associates to the court of Ethelbert at\\n15 Canterbury, to effect the conversion of the king and to obtain\\nthrough him a foothold in the island.\\nEthelbert received them warily and held a conference in the\\nopen air, being distrustful of foreign priestcraft and fearful of\\nspells and magic. They ultimately succeeded in making him\\n20 as good a Christian as his wife. The conversion of the king\\nof course produced the conversion of his loyal subjects. The\\nzeal and success of Augustine were rewarded by his being made\\nArchbishop of Canterbury and being endowed with authority\\nover all the British churches.\\n25 One of the most prominent converts was Segebert, or Sebert,\\nking of the East Saxons, a nephew of Ethelbert. He reigned\\nat London, of which Mellitus, one of the Roman monks who\\nhad come over with Augustine, was made bishop.\\nSebert, in 605, in his religious zeal, founded a monastery by\\n440", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0482.jp2"}, "481": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX 441\\nthe riverside to the west of the city, on the ruins of a temple\\nof Apollo, being, in fact, the origin of the present pile of West-\\nminster Abbey. Great preparations were made for the conse-\\ncration of the church, which was to be dedicated to St. Peter.\\nOn the morning of the appointed day, Mellitus, the bishop, 5\\nproceeded with great pomp and solemnity to perform the cere-\\nmony. On approaching the edifice he was met by a fisherman,\\nwho informed him that it was needless to proceed as the cere-\\nmony was over. The bishop stared with surprise, when the\\nfisherman went on to relate that the night before, as he was in 10\\nhis boat on the Thames, St. Peter appeared to him and told\\nhim that he intended to consecrate the church himself that\\nvery night. The apostle accordingly went into the church,\\nwhich suddenly became illuminated. The ceremony was per-\\nformed in sumptuous style, accompanied by strains of heavenly 1 5\\nmusic and clouds of fragrant incense. After this the apostle\\ncame into the boat and ordered the fisherman to cast his net.\\nHe did so, and had a miraculous draught of fishes, one of\\nwhich he was commanded to present to the bishop, and to\\nsignify to him that the apostle had relieved him from the 20\\nnecessity of consecrating the church.\\nMellitus was a wary man, slow of belief, and required con-\\nfirmation of the fisherman s tale. He opened the church doors\\nand beheld wax candles, crosses, holy water, oil sprinkled in\\nvarious places, and various other traces of a grand ceremonial. 25\\nIf he had still any lingering doubts, they were completely\\nremoved on the fisherman s producing the identical fish which\\nhe had been ordered by the apostle to present to him. To\\nresist this would have been to resist ocular demonstration.\\nThe good bishop accordingly was convinced that the church 30\\nhad actually been consecrated by St. Peter in person, so he\\nreverently abstained from proceeding further in the business.\\nThe foregoing tradition is said to be the reason why King\\nEdward the Confessor chose this place as the site of a reli-\\ngious house which he meant to endow. He pulled down the 35\\nold church and built another in its place in 1045. In this his\\nremains were deposited in a magnificent shrine.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0483.jp2"}, "482": {"fulltext": "442 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThe sacred edifice again underwent modifications, if not a\\nreconstruction, by Henry III., in 1220, and began to assume\\nits present appearance.\\nUnder Henry VIII. it lost its conventual character, that\\n5 monarch turning the monks away and seizing upon the rev-\\nenues.\\nRelics of Edward the Confessor\\nA curious narrative was printed in 1688 by one of the chor-\\nisters of the cathedral, who appears to have been the Paul Pry\\nof the sacred edifice, giving an account of his rummaging\\n10 among the bones of Edward the Confessor, after they had\\nquietly reposed in their sepulchre upwards of six hundred\\nyears, and of his drawing forth the crucifix and golden chain\\nof the deceased monarch. During eighteen years that he had\\nofficiated in the choir, it had been a common tradition, he says,\\n15 among his brother choristers and the gray-headed servants of\\nthe abbey, that the body of King Edward was deposited in a\\nkind of chest, or coffin, which was indistinctly seen in the upper\\npart of the shrine erected to his memory. None of the Abbey\\ngossips, however, had ventured upon a nearer inspection, until\\n20 the worthy narrator to gratify his curiosity mounted to the cof-\\nfin by the aid of a ladder, and found it to be made of wood,\\napparently very strong and firm, being secured by bands of\\niron.\\nSubsequently, in 1685, on taking down the scaffolding used\\n25 in the coronation of James II., the coffin was found to be\\nbroken, a hole appearing in the lid, probably made through\\naccident by the workmen. No one ventured, however, to med-\\ndle with the sacred depository of royal dust, until, several\\nweeks afterwards, the circumstance came to the knowledge of\\n30 the aforesaid chorister. He forthwith repaired to the abbey\\nin company with two friends of congenial tastes who were\\ndesirous of inspecting the tombs. Procuring a ladder he again\\nmounted to the coffin, and found, as had been represented, a\\nhole in the lid about six inches long and four inches broad, just", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0484.jp2"}, "483": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX 443\\nin front of the left breast. Thrusting in his hand, and groping\\namong the bones, he drew from underneath the shoulder a\\ncrucifix richly adorned and enameled, affixed to a gold chain\\ntwenty-four inches long. These he showed to his inquisitive\\nfriends, who were equally surprised with himself. 5\\nAt the time, says he, when I took the cross and chain\\nout of the coffin, drew the head to the hole and viewed it,\\nbeing very sound and firm, with the upper and nether jaws\\nwhole and full of teeth, and a list of gold above an inch broad,\\nin the nature of a coronet, surrounding the temples. There 10\\nwas also in the coffin white linen and gold-colored flowered\\nsilk that looked indifferent fresh, but the least stress put thereto\\nshowed it was well-nigh perished. There were all his bones,\\nand much dust likewise, which I left as I found.\\nIt is difficult to conceive a more grotesque lesson to human 15\\npride than the scull of Edward the Confessor thus irreverently\\npulled about in its coffin by a prying chorister, and brought to\\ngrin face to face with him through a hole in the lid\\nHaving satisfied his curiosity, the chorister put the crucifix\\nand chain back again into the coffin, and sought the dean, to 20\\napprise him of his discovery. The dean not being accessible\\nat the time, and fearing that the holy treasure might be\\ntaken away by other hands, he got a brother chorister to\\naccompany him to the shrine about two or three hours after-\\nwards, and in his presence again drew forth the relics. These 25\\nhe afterwards delivered on his knees to King James. The\\nking subsequently had the old coffin enclosed in a new one\\nof great strength, each plank being two inches thick and\\ncramped together with large iron wedges, where it now remains\\n(1688) as a testimony of his pious care, that no abuse might be 30\\noffered to the sacred ashes therein deposited.\\nAs the history of this shrine is full of moral, I subjoin a\\ndescription of it in modern times. The solitary and forlorn\\nshrine, says a British writer, now stands a mere skeleton of\\nwhat it was. A few faint traces of its sparkling decorations 35\\ninlaid on solid mortar catch the rays of the sun, forever set\\non its splendor. Only two of the spiral pillars remain.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0485.jp2"}, "484": {"fulltext": "444 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nThe wooden Ionic top is much broken and covered with dust.\\nThe mosaic is picked away in every part within reach only\\nthe lozenges of about a foot square and five circular pieces of\\nthe rich marble remain. Malcolm, Lond. rediv.\\nInscription on a Monument Alluded to in the\\nSketch\\n5 Here lyes the Loyal Duke of Newcastle, and his Duchess\\nhis second wife, by whom he had no issue. Her name was\\nMargaret Lucas, youngest sister to the Lord Lucas of Colches-\\nter, a noble family for all the brothers were valiant, and all\\nthe sisters virtuous. This Duchess was a wise, witty, and\\n[o learned lady, which her many Bookes do well testify she was\\na most virtuous, and loving and careful wife, and was with her\\nlord all the time of his banishment and miseries, and when he\\ncame home, never parted from him in his solitary retirement.\\nIn the winter time, when the days are short, the service in\\n15 the afternoon is performed by the light of tapers. The effect\\nis fine of the choir partially lighted up, while the main body of\\nthe cathedral and the transepts are in profound and cavernous\\ndarkness. The white dresses of the choristers gleam amidst\\nthe deep brown of the open slats and canopies. The partial\\n20 illumination makes enormous shadows from columns and\\nscreens, and darting into the surrounding gloom catches here\\nand there upon a sepulchral decoration or monumental effigy.\\nThe swelling notes of the organ accord well with the scene.\\nWhen the service is over, the dean is lighted to his dwelling\\n25 in the old conventual part of the pile by the boys of the choir\\nin their white dresses, bearing tapers, and the procession passes\\nthrough the abbey and along the shadowy cloisters, lighting up\\nangles and arches and grim sepulchral monuments, and leaving\\nall behind in darkness.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0486.jp2"}, "485": {"fulltext": "APPENDIX 445\\nOn entering the cloisters at night from what is called the\\nDean s Yard, the eye ranging through a dark vaulted passage\\ncatches a distant view of a white marble figure reclining on a\\ntomb, on which a strong glare thrown by a gas light has quite\\na spectral effect. It is a mural monument of one of the\\nPultneys.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0487.jp2"}, "486": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0488.jp2"}, "487": {"fulltext": "NOTES\\nTJie Jigures refer to pages and lines.)\\n11 The Author s Account of Himself. The first paper in the\\nSpectator has a similar title. Addison was warmly admired by Irving,\\nand traces of his influence can be detected in the Sketch Book.\\n11 Lily s Euphues. John Lily, or Lyly (1553 ?-i6oo prose\\nwriter and dramatist, is now best known by his once popular romance,\\nEuphues. This work introduced into England an affected style of\\nwriting and speaking known as euphuism, a term still applied to\\nelegant, high-flown language.\\n11 17 Terra incognita, unknown country.\\n14 16 St. Peter s the Coliseum (or Colosseum). Both\\nare in Rome. The first is the largest and most noted cathedral in\\nthe world the second is an enormous amphitheatre, mostly in ruins,\\nwhich was designed for combats of gladiators and wild beasts.\\n14 16 The Cascade of Terni (or the Cascata del Marmora) is a\\nbeautiful cascade near Terni, in Perugia, Italy.\\n15 The Voyage is not one of Trving s best sketches. He does\\nnot write of his life at sea in a way that enables the reader to share\\nhis sensations. He fails to suggest the vastness and mystery of the\\nocean, and the sense of freedom and exhilaration with which it inspires\\nthose who truly love it. The student should compare the descriptions\\nin this sketch with those in the Rip Van Winkle and the Legend of\\nSleepy Hollow, where the writer is painting scenes that lie near his\\nheart. See remarks on description in Mr. J. H. Gardiner s The\\nForms of Prose Literature (1900), pp. 154-177.\\n15 1 The long voyage. When Irving first visited Europe, in\\n1804, he was six weeks in going from New York to Bordeaux.\\nReturning, he left Gravesend on the 17th of January, and was on\\nthe water sixty-four days. Ocean steamships did not exist at that\\ntime. See Chronological Table.\\n15 16 A lengthening chain. Goldsmith: The Traveller, 1. 10.\\n447", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0489.jp2"}, "488": {"fulltext": "448 THE SKETCH BOOK\\n19 30 Deep called unto deep. Deep calleth unto deep.\\nPsalms xlii. 7.\\n23 Roscoe, William Roscoe (17 53-1 831). His most important\\nworks are The Life of Lorenzo de Medici Illustrations, etc., of the\\nLife of Lorenzo de Medici and The Life and Pontificate of Leo the\\nTenth.\\n25 19 Elysium, the supposed state or abode of the blessed after\\ndeath, in Greek mythology.\\n25 25 A daily beauty. Shakespeare Othello, Act V. Sc. 1,\\nlines 18-20.\\n26 10 Lorenzo de Medici (i449?-i492), a celebrated Florentine\\nstatesman and patron of art and letters.\\n28 7 Ill-favored, unpleasant looking. Favor was used formerly\\nto denote the appearance of the face. Such expressions as, He\\nfavors (looks like) his mother are still in colloquial use.\\n28 30 Black-letter, the Old English or Gothic letter, in which the\\nearly English manuscripts were written and the first books printed.\\n29 2 Muse. As used here, the term means poetic inspiration. It\\nis applied, in the first place, to the goddesses in Greek mythology\\nknown as the Nine Muses. These deities presided over song and\\nthe different kinds of poetry, and also over the arts and sciences.\\n30 7 Pompey s Column, or Pillar, stands about three-quarters of\\na mile from Alexandria. Nothing is positively known concerning\\nits origin, name, use, and age.\\n31 The Wife. As an artistic production, this is perhaps the most\\nfaulty piece in the Sketch Book. The sentiment is overcharged, the\\nterms used are in many instances general instead of specific, the\\ncharacters lack individuality. Still, the warm human sympathy of\\nthe author saves it from absolute inferiority. In criticising Irving s\\nstyle, it is well to remember that he wrote for a public whose taste\\nwas widely different from that of the public of to-day.\\n31 Middleton, Thomas Middleton (1570 ?-i627), English dram-\\natist.\\n40 Rip Van Winkle. This sketch deserves careful study. Its\\ncharm consists first of all in the atmosphere which pervades it an\\natmosphere whose elements are humor and the sense of natural\\nbeauty, combined with a touch of the supernatural. These are sug-\\ngested at the outset by the mention of the good wives and their\\nsuperstitions, and by the delicate picture of the Kaatskills, the fairy\\nmountains, with their magical hues and shapes. The descriptions", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0490.jp2"}, "489": {"fulltext": "XOTES 449\\nare full of life and motion. Notice the following passages When-\\never he went, etc., p. 43, 1. 10; His son Rip, etc., p. 44, 1. 15;\\nThe moment Wolf, etc., p. 45, 1. 15; From an opening, etc.,\\np. 47, 1. 21. The persons in the story are painted in broad strokes,\\nand yet they do not lack individuality. In Rip s personality there\\nis that subtle mingling of the individual with the universal wmich\\nalways distinguishes the enduring characters of fiction. As a crown-\\ning virtue, the narrative once begun does not lag, does not give place\\nto moralizing.\\nMr. Joseph Jefferson s impersonation of Rip Van Winkle has done\\nmuch to increase the popularity of Irving s sketch.\\n40 Diedrich Knickerbocker, the fictitious author of Irving s His-\\ntory of X civ York. See Introduction in the present volume.\\n40 Woden is the highest god of the Teutonic peoples. Wednes-\\nday is named after him. The Scandinavian form of the god s name\\nis Odin.\\n40 Cartwright, William Cartwright (1611-1643), a divine, and\\na poet and dramatist of note in his day.\\n41 7 More in sorrow, etc. Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 2, lines 231, 232.\\n41 14 Waterloo Medal. This medal, which was of silver, was\\nconferred on all persons serving under the English flag in the actions\\nof June 16, 17, and 18, 1S15. The Battle of Waterloo occurred\\nJune iS. The medal was the first given by an English sovereign\\nto both officers and men.\\n41 14 Queen Anne s Farthing. Dean Swift s suggestion, that\\ncurrent history should be commemorated on copper coinage, led to\\nthe issue of these famous farthings. These have been the cause of\\nan extraordinary delusion, to the effect that a very small number\\n(some say three) of these pieces were struck, and that their value is\\na thousand pounds each, instead of usually some shillings. Ency-\\nclopedia Britannica Numismatics.\\n41 it The Kaatskill Mountains (Catskill is the modern form).\\nThe eastern base of this group is about seven miles west of the\\nHudson River. These mountains abound in magnificent and pic-\\nturesque scenery, diversified by high precipices, cataracts, and deep\\nravines bordered by almost perpendicular cliffs.\\n42 7 Peter Stuy vesant, the last Dutch governor of Xew Nether-\\nlands (New York), appointed about 1645. He is a conspicuous char-\\nacter in Irving s History of A r ew York, by Diedrich Knickerbocker.\\n42 19 Siege of Fort Christina. In 1655 Stuyvesant seized this", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0491.jp2"}, "490": {"fulltext": "450 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nfort and several others erected by the Swedes on the Delaware, and\\nbroke up the Swedish colony.\\n44 ]9 Galligaskins, loose breeches.\\n48 27 Jerkin, a jacket, or short coat.\\n49 24 Doublets, close-fitting body garments, with or without\\nsleeves, worn by men from the fourteenth to the eighteenth century.\\n49 34 Hanger, a term applied, especially in the eighteenth cen-\\ntury, to a short curved sword suspended at the side.\\n50 2 Roses, rosettes. In the costume necessary for an actor\\nHamlet includes two Provincial roses on my razed shoes.\\n50 4 Dominie usually signifies schoolmaster. Among the Dutch\\nsettlers and their descendants, however, it is a title given to the min-\\nister. The term comes from the Latin dominus, master.\\n50 27 Hollands, gin made in Holland.\\n51 13 Firelock, a gun having an old form of gunlock known\\nas a firelock or flintlock, which ignites the charge by a spark. The\\ninvention of the percussion cap did away with the old form of\\nlock.\\n54 9 That looked like a red night-cap. This refers to a liberty\\ncap, a cap of the form known as Phrygian, used as a symbol of\\npolitical or personal liberty. The custom is taken from the supposed\\nuse of this cap as the token of the manumission [freeing] of a slave\\nin Rome. The bonnet rouge (red cap) was used as a symbol during\\nthe French Revolution. (See Century Dictionary of Names The\\nGoddess of Liberty is usually represented as wearing a soft, close-\\nfitting cap, and liberty poles are surmounted by a cap of the same\\nkind.\\n54 34 Babylonish jargon, confused, Babel-like jargon; an allu-\\nsion to the confusion of tongues resulting from the attempt to build\\nthe Tower of Babel. See Genesis xi.\\n55 ]0 Federal or Democrat. The Federalists, with Hamilton\\nat their head, believed in making the central government strong;\\nthe Anti-Federalists, or Democrats, wished to reserve large powers\\nof local government to the states. The last named were represented\\nby Jefferson.\\n56 10 Stony Point. Gen. Anthony Wayne captured the Eng-\\nlish garrison at Stony Point, on the Hudson, July 18, 1779. His\\nassault was one of the most brilliant exploits of the Revolution.\\n56 12 Anthony s Nose, a promontory on the Hudson, near\\nwhich there was a bloody contest in 1777.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0492.jp2"}, "491": {"fulltext": "NOTES 451\\n58 33 Hendrick Hudson (properly Henry Hudson) was an emi-\\nnent English navigator who in 1609, while in the service of the\\nDutch East India Company, discovered the river which bears his\\nname. Hudson s personality is shadowy in the extreme, and his\\nachievements have been the subject of much exaggeration and\\nmisrepresentation. See Dictionary of National Biography.\\n61 3 Frederick der Rothbart, Frederick I., Emperor of Germany\\n(1121-1190), surnamed Barbarossa, or der Rothbart (Red-beard).\\nAccording to the legend he sleeps at Kyffhauserberg in Thuringia,\\nwhere he sits at a stone table with six of his companions. When\\nhis beard shall have wound itself thrice around the table he will\\nreturn and give Germany the foremost place among the nations.\\n63 English Writers on America. This article illustrates the\\nchange that has taken place in our relations with England since the\\nWar of 181 2. Such a book as The American Commonwealth, by\\nJames Bryce, proves that in these times an Englishman may study\\nour institutions with intelligence and sympathy. After reading\\nwhat Irving says of foreign immigration, the pupil would do well to\\nlook up the various restrictive measures that have been passed by\\nCongress during the last few years, and to consider the changed\\nconditions that have made these measures necessary. Consult\\nEmigration and Immigration, by Richmond M. Smith (1892) U. S.\\nImmigration Laws and Regulations (1895) Annual Reports of the\\nU. S. Commissioner-General of Immigration Chinese Immigration,\\nby George F. Seward (1881).\\n63 Milton on the Liberty of the Press. This is perhaps the best\\nknown of Milton s prose works. It was originally entitled Areopa-\\ngitica. A Speech of Mr. John Milton for the Liberty of Unlicensed\\nPrinting, to the Parliament of England, 1644.\\n64 1 Regions beyond the cataracts of the Nile, etc. The\\nregions mentioned by Irving are no longer unknown.\\n65 21 El Dorado (the gilded), the name of a fictitious country\\nor city abounding in gold, believed by the Spaniards and by Sir\\nWalter Raleigh to exist upon the Amazon, in the region of Guiana.\\n70 12 The late war, the War of 181 2.\\n71 32 Knowledge is power Nam et ipsa scientia potestas\\nest Bacon Meditationes Sacrae de Haeresibus.\\n74 8 Wakes. In England these were festivals held yearly in\\neach parish to commemorate the completion of the parish church.\\nThere was usually an all-night vigil in the church and a festival the", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0493.jp2"}, "492": {"fulltext": "452 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nday following. The wake was sometimes held on the day of the\\nsaint to whom the church was dedicated. See Century Dictionary.\\n75 31 Immense metropolis. In 182 1, a few years after this\\nexpression was penned by Irving, the population of London was\\n1,227,590. For the year 1899, the population of greater London\\nwas estimated by the registrar-general at 6,408,321.\\n79 31 The Flower and the Leaf of Chaucer. According to\\nSkeat this poem was written not by Chaucer but by a woman.\\n80 12 Elegant minds. Elegant was formerly used of persons,\\nand signified correct and delicate in taste.\\n80 27 Ideas of order, of quiet. Irving s expression calls to\\nmind the well-known stanza in Tennyson s Palace of Art\\nAnd one, an English home gray-\\nTwilight pour d\\nOn dewy pastures, dewy trees,\\nSofter than sleep all things\\nIn order stored,\\nA haunt of ancient Peace.\\n81 8 Right of Way. A right of way is the privilege which\\nan individual or a particular description of individuals have of\\ngoing over another s ground. This right may arise in various ways.\\nSee Bouvier s Law Dictionary (1884).\\n83 The Broken Heart. Irving is not at his best in this sketch,\\nand yet his sympathy and his tenderness awaken a response in the\\nheart of the reader and make him almost forget that the writer is\\nsentimental and prolix.\\n84 15 The wings of the morning. Psalms cxxxix. 9, 10, and\\nlv. 6.\\n84 17 A fixed, a secluded, etc. If Irving were living now, he\\nwould hardly make this remark about the life of woman, at least,\\nof woman in America.\\n85 7 Dry sorrow drinks her blood. Romeo and Juliet, Act III.\\nSc. 5, 1. 59 Dry sorrow drinks our blood.\\n85 12 Darkness and the worm\\nThe knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave,\\nThe deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm.\\nYoung: Night Thoughts, Night IV. 10, n.\\n86 3 Young E. Robert Emmet (1778-1803), born in Dublin,\\ntried to bring about a general revolution in Ireland but his", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0494.jp2"}, "493": {"fulltext": "NOTES 453\\nfollowers were put to flight by a military force and he was executed\\non a charge of high treason. He might have escaped had he not\\ndetermined to have a last interview with Miss Curran.\\n86 20 Celebrated Irish barrister, John Philpot Curran (1750-\\n1817).\\n87 27 Heeded not the song, etc., Which will not hearken\\nto the voice of charmers, charming never so wisely. Psalms\\nlviii. 5.\\n89 l Moore. Thomas Moore (1779-1852). His best poetical\\nproductions are Lalla Rookh and Irish Melodies his most important\\nprose work, the Life of Byron.\\n90 Burton s Anatomy of Melancholy. Robert Burton (1577-\\n1640). Dr. Johnson said of the Anatomy that it was the only book\\nthat ever took him out of his bed two hours sooner than he had\\nintended to rise.\\n90 The Art of Book-Making. It would be well for the student\\nof composition to compare this sketch with the preceding one.\\nAlthough the subject is not calculated to arouse general interest,\\nthe piece is artistically good. Irving s delightful humor pervades\\nit, and it is free from the moralizing that occasionally mars his\\nproductions.\\n90 14 British Museum, founded in 1758. Besides numerous\\nvaluable collections the museum contains the largest library in the\\nworld next to that of the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris. In 1899\\nit was estimated that the first contained about 2,000,000 bound\\nvolumes the second, 2,600,000.\\n90 23 Strange-favored, strange-looking. See note on p. 28, 1. 7.\\n91 19 Folio, a book of the largest size, since it is made of sheets\\nfolded but once. A quarto is composed of sheets folded twice, each\\nsheet making four leaves an octavo, of sheets folded three times,\\neach sheet making eight leaves and so on.\\n91 24 Familiar, an attendant demon or evil spirit.\\n91 29 Magi, wise men, philosophers or magicians, living in the\\nEast.\\n92 17 Pure English, undefiled. Evidently Irving had in mind\\nSpenser s expression, Dan Chaucer, well of English undefiled.\\nThe Farie Queen, IV. ii. 32 but he confused it with the Bible\\nverse: Pure religion and undefiled before God, etc. fames\\ni. 27.\\n92 23 Black-letter. See note on p. 28, 1. 30.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0495.jp2"}, "494": {"fulltext": "454 THE SKETCH BOOK\\n93 9 Line upon line. Isaiah xxviii. io.\\n93 12 Witches caldron. Macbeth, Act IV. Sc. i.\\n93 32 Metempsychosis, the passage of the soul at death into\\nanother living body, whether of a brute or a human being.\\n94 ]9 Sleep with their fathers. Expressions similar to this\\noccur occasionally in the Old Testament.\\n95 22 Old court-dresses, etc. In Queen Elizabeth s time court-\\niers and men of fashion frequently wrote poems and prose works\\nfor private circulation.\\n95 25 The Paradise of Daintie Devices, a collection of sixteenth\\ncentury poetry, published first in 1576.\\n95 26 Sir Philip Sidney (1 554-1 586), statesman, soldier, and\\npoet. The Arcadia and the Apologie for Poetrie are his chief works\\nin prose. He also wrote sonnets, love songs, and other poems.\\n95 32 Small-clothes, knee-breeches.\\n96 9 An Arcadian hat. Pastoral poetry deals with country life,\\nespecially the life of shepherds. The Arcadians were a Greek people\\nnoted for their simplicity, and hence the Greek and Roman poets\\nfrequently alluded to them in their pastoral poems. In the artificial\\npastorals of more recent times the life of the shepherd is represented\\nas one of impossible felicity. Milton has made charming use of\\nthe pastoral element in his Lycidas.\\n96 11 Primrose Hill Regent s Park. Primrose Hill Park\\ncontains about fifty acres Regent s Park, which is not far distant,\\nfour hundred and three. Both are in the metropolis of London.\\n96 15 Babbling about green fields, Theobald s emendation of\\na Table of green fields. Shakespeare King Henry V. Act II.\\nSc. 3, 1. 17.\\n97 2 Beaumont and Fletcher. Francis Beaumont (1 584-1616)\\nand John Fletcher (1 579-1625) were noted Elizabethan dramatists\\nwho frequently wrote together. Among the best of their joint works\\nare Pkilaster, The Maid s Tragedy, and Cupid \\\\r Revenge. The\\nfollowing lines were written by one of their admirers\\nBeaumont and Fletcher, those twin stars that run\\nTheir glorious course round Shakespeare s golden sun.\\n97 4 Castor and Pollux, twin brothers, sometimes called Dio-\\nscuri (sons of Jove), were well-known characters in Greek mythology.\\nThe famous Helen was their sister. They took part in the Caly-\\ndonian Hunt, the Argonautic Expedition, and other daring enterprises.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0496.jp2"}, "495": {"fulltext": "NOTES z:\\nJupiter placed them in heaven, where they form the constellation\\nknown as the Gemini (the Twins).\\n97 4 Ben Jonson (1574-1637), a noted English dramatist and a\\nman of nncommon classical learning. Among his best dramas are\\nEvery Man in His Humour, Epiccene, or the Silent Woman, and 71 t\\nAlchemist. It is said that while serving in the Eng lish army in\\nthe Low Countries, Jonson engaged in single combat with an\\nenemy in the face of both camps, killed him, and stripped him of his\\narmor. See Ben Jonson, by J. A. Symonds, in the English Worthies\\nSeries.\\n97 6 Farragos, medleys, mixtures.\\n97 5 Harlequin, a buffoon dressed in party-colored clothes;\\noriginally a clown in the improvised Italian comedy, the servant of\\nPantaleone, or Pantaloon.\\n97 10 Patroclus, a hero in Homer s Iliad, the dear friend of\\nAchilles. He was killed while fighting in armor borrowed of\\nAchilles. The struggle for the possession of his body is described\\nin the last part of Book XVII.\\n97 20 Chopped bald shot. Shot signifies one who shoots.\\ngive me always a little lean, old, chopped, bald shot a remark of\\nFalstafFs descriptive of Wart, a raw recruit. Shakespeare Henry\\nIV. Part II. Act III. Sc 2. 1. 294.\\n97 23 Learned The: an. -^ise man. Speaking Ziz^r. Leai\\nsays, I Tl talk a word with this same learned Theban. Shakes-\\npeare King Lear, Act III. Sc 4, L 149. Of course Theban signi-\\nfies in the first place an inhabitant of Thebes, in Greece.\\n98 4 Literary preserve. A preserve is a place set apart for the\\n77::^::;: ir.i -::r 2.Z3.T.: r_ rajme intended t:r hunting :r dsding.\\nIn England, from the days of William the Conqueror to the pre; en\\ntime, there have been strict laws in regard to the keeping and killing\\nof game. The penalties attached to poaching are still extremely\\nsevere.\\n99 A Royal Poet, James I. of Scotland (1394 ?-i45-\u00c2\u00bb. A satis-\\n:::::rv::::;:n hi; life rr.ny :e ur.f. in the 1 X:. :z~.\\nBiography. It is known that he wrote The Kingis Quair The King s\\nBook), but other works attributed to him have not been identified.\\n99 a Windsor Castle is in Windsor, a town twenty-one miles\\nfrom London. The sovereigns of England have for many centuries\\nmade this their chief residence.\\n99 91 Sir Peter Lely 161S-1680), a Dutch artist who was I", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0497.jp2"}, "496": {"fulltext": "456 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nPainter to Charles II. The beauties of the court were the subjects\\nof his masterpieces.\\n100 3 Hapless Surrey. Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1517\\n1547), was sentenced to death on a charge of treason, and beheaded\\non Tower Hill. In a manly speech he denied that he had any\\ntreasonable intention. Surrey has an important place in English\\nliterature, for he was the first to write English blank verse, and he\\nand his master, Wyatt, introduced into England the sonnet and the\\nottava rima. In one of his poems he mentions Geraldine as the\\nname of his lady-love. See Dictionary of National Biography.\\n100 21 Storied tapestry. The finest tapestries were made at\\nBruges and Arras, in Flanders, from 1450 to 1500, and many of these\\nrepresented Scripture scenes or historical events. The Gobelin tap-\\nestry of more recent times, made in France, is also famous. See\\nEncyclopedia Britannica Textiles and Gobelin.\\n101 27 To joust, to tournay {tourney), to engage in a mock com-\\nbat on horseback. The joust was a combat between two knights\\nthe tournament, a mock battle in which many knights took part.\\nThe latter was usually held in an enclosed field known as the lists.\\nSee Scott s description of a tournament in Ivanhoe, Chap. xiii.\\n101 28 Mediciner, physician. The knight was often called upon\\nto bind up wounds and to care for the sick.\\n102 28 Tasso, Torquato Tasso (1 544-1 595), the celebrated Ital-\\nian poet, whose most important work is the Jerusalem Delivered.\\nAt one time, having offended the Duke of Ferrara, he was confined\\nfor seven years in a hospital for lunatics.\\n102 30 The King s Quair {The King s Book) was composed in\\nj 423. See The Kingis Quair, together with a Ballad of Good Coun-\\nsel, edited by W. W. Skeat (Scottish Text Society, 1884).\\n104 8 Cynthia rinsing her golden locks in Aquarius. The\\noriginal reads\\nAnd, in Aquary, Citherea [Cynthia is correct] the clere\\nRinsid hir tressis like the goldin wyre.\\nAquarius, the water-carrier, is the eleventh sign in the Zodiac. Freely\\nrendered the lines quoted would read And in Aquarius Cynthia\\n[the moon goddess], the shining one, rinsed, or cleansed, her tresses\\nwhich were like golden wire.\\n104 11 Boetius, or Boethius, a celebrated Roman philosopher\\nand statesman (a.d. 475 ?-5 2 5 His principal work, On the", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0498.jp2"}, "497": {"fulltext": "NOTES 457\\nConsolation of Philosophy, was written in prison just before his\\nexecution. It was very popular during the Middle Ages.\\n104 30 Matins, a service observed in the Roman Catholic\\nChurch, beginning at midnight, and consisting of two services, noc-\\nturns and lauds. The term applies in the first place to the hour at\\nwhich the service is held, called the first canonical hour. See\\nCenfoiry Dictionary.\\n105 33 Lamentations over his perpetual blindness. Milton s\\nexpressions are too noble to be called lamentations. See Paradise\\nLost, Book III. lines 1-55 Sonnet on his blindness, When I con-\\nsider how my light is spent Sonnet to Cyriac Skinner, Cyriac,\\nthis three years day. Certain passages in Samson Agonistes, relat-\\ning to Samson s blindness, are evidently inspired by the author s\\nstrong personal feeling.\\n106 14 Fortired, excessively tired.\\n107 14 Kalends, or calends, the first day of each month in the\\nancient Roman calendar.\\n108 12 Morrowe, morning from the Old English word morwe.\\n108 18 Chaucer s Knight s Tale, or Knightes Tale. For the\\nscene alluded to, see lines 175-328. Geoffrey Chaucer (i340?-i40o)\\nwas the first English poet of distinction. The Knightes Tale forms\\none of the Canterhiry Tales, his most important work. See Com-\\nplete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, edited by W. W. Skeat (1894).\\n109 24 Phoebus, i.e. the shining one, an epithet applied to the\\nGreek sun-god, Apollo.\\nIll 22 Gower, John Gower (1325-1400), called by Chaucer\\nmoral Gower, was an English poet highly esteemed in former\\ntimes. The Confessio Amantis (Confession of a Lover) is his only\\nEnglish poem.\\n111 22 Studier, a form not in good use.\\n112 1 One of the most brilliant eras. The student can read\\nof this era, the Age of Chaucer, in any history of English literature,\\nor in Green s History of the English People.\\n112 10 Morning stars. When the morning stars sang together,\\nand all the sons of God shouted for joy? Job xxxviii. 7. Chaucer\\nhas been called the morning star of English poetry.\\n112 14 Captivating fiction, an allusion to the writings of Sir\\nWalter Scott.\\n115 11 Christ s Kirk of the Green. It has not been established\\nthat King James wrote this poem.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0499.jp2"}, "498": {"fulltext": "458 THE SKETCH BOOK\\n115 26 Vaucluse, a village in France, once the residence of the\\nItalian poet, Petrarch.\\n115 28 Loretto, or Loreto, a city in Italy, near the Adriatic,\\nwhich contains a celebrated shrine. See note referring to p. 304,\\n1. 29.\\n116 The Country Church. This article contains a description\\nin the author s best style, the description of the family of the\\nwealthy citizen, beginning, The family always came to church\\nen prince (p. 118, 1. 20). Note the life and movement suggested,\\nthe artistic value of the epithets, and the sly touches of humor.\\n116 Beggar s Bush, a comedy by John Fletcher (1576-1625).\\n117 8 See the hounds throw off, i.e. see them make a start in a\\nhunt or race.\\n118 20 -En prince, i.e. in princely style.\\n119 21 Change, Exchange, the place where the merchants,\\nbrokers, and bankers of a city meet at certain hours to transact\\nbusiness. In large cities like London and New York the Exchange\\nis often the scene of wild excitement.\\n119 30 Lord Mayor s Day, November 9, the day when the newly\\nelected mayor is carried through the streets in a gorgeous coach,\\nattended by a splendid retinue, on his way to Westminster, where he\\ntakes the oath of office. See article on the Lord Mayor s State in\\nTimbs s Curiosities of London (1868).\\n120 15 Curricle, a light, two-wheeled carriage, usually drawn by\\ntwo horses abreast.\\n120 15 Outriders, servants on horseback attending a carriage.\\n123 The Widow and her Son. This sketch appeals so directly\\nto the heart that it is almost impossible to criticise it. There could\\nbe no better proof of its merit.\\n123 13 Sweet day, so pure, etc.\\nSweet Day, so cool, so calm, so bright,\\nThe bridal of the earth and skie\\nThe dew shall weep thy fall to-night\\nFor thou must die.\\nThe first stanza of Vertue in The Temple, by George Herbert (1593-1632).\\n128 23 Entrapped by a press-gang. The press-gang was a\\ndetachment of seamen under the command of an officer empowered\\nto force men into the naval service. The impressment of American\\nsailors by the English was one cause of the War of 18 12. Ashton,", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0500.jp2"}, "499": {"fulltext": "NOTES 459\\nin his Social Life in the Reign of Queen Anne, Vol. II., gives some\\ninteresting facts in regard to the impressment of seamen and soldiers.\\n132 5 Babel, i.e. a place of noise and confusion. See note on\\nP- 54, 1- 34-\\n132 19 Decent, respectable. This word signified originally suit-\\nable, fitting it now means fair or well enough, and also free from\\nimmodesty.\\n133 10 Beadle, an inferior parish officer in England, having\\nvarious duties, one of which is the chastisement of petty offenders.\\n135 The Boar s Head Tavern, Eastcheap. The lover of Shakes-\\npeare cannot fail to enjoy this sketch it expresses so frankly the\\nauthor s delight in Falstaff and his friends. In Shakespeare s King\\nHenry IV. Prince Hal (afterwards Henry V.) and his companions\\nchief among whom is Sir John Falstaff, fat Jack meet frequently\\nat the Boar s Head Tavern, kept by Mistress Quickly. The reader\\nmust be familiar with this play and with the first scenes of King\\nHenry V. if he would understand Irving s allusions. The Youth of\\nHenry V. in A. C. Ewald s Stories from State Papers (1882) should\\nbe read by those who wish to estimate correctly the character of\\nPrince Hal.\\n135 Mother Bombie, a play by John Lily, produced in 1594.\\nSee note referring to Lily s Euphues, p. 11.\\n137 21 Smelling to, a colloquial expression corresponding to\\nsmelling of.\\n137 26 Cock Lane. In 1762 London was thrown into a state\\nof great excitement by the report that a ghost had appeared in a\\nhouse in Cock Lane, Smithfield. Dr. Johnson was among those\\nwho made investigations. The affair was found to be a trick resorted\\nto for the purpose of obtaining money.\\n137 26 Little Britain, a short street near Bartholomew s\\nHospital.\\n137 28 Old Jewry. According to Stow, a street so called of\\nJews some time dwelling there and near adjoining. The first syna-\\ngogue in London was built at the northwest corner of Old Jewry.\\n137 28 Guildhall and its two stunted giants. Guildhall is the\\ncouncil hall of the city of London, founded in 141 1, and restored\\nafter the fire of 1666. The two stunted giants are colossal figures\\nof Gog and Magog which stand at one end of the hall.\\n137 31 London Stone, probably a fragment of the milestone of\\nthe Romans, now preserved in Cannon Street, where it stands against", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0501.jp2"}, "500": {"fulltext": "460 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nthe wall of St. S within s Church. There is evidence that it was\\nplaced in nearly the same spot over a thousand years ago, and it\\nis believed to have been the great central milestone from which\\nall the British roads radiated.\\n137 32 Jack Cade, or John Cade, the leader though perhaps\\nnot the originator of a rebellion in England in 1450, during the\\nreign of Henry VI. Cade and his followers entered London, and\\nwhen riding in procession through the streets, the leader, who called\\nhimself Mortimer, struck his sword on London Stone, saying\\nNow is Mortimer lord of this city A few days later his fol-\\nlowers were dispersed and he was executed.\\n138 3 Old Stow. John Stow, historian and antiquary, published\\na Survay of London in 1598.\\n138 6 Sawtrie, an old form for psaltery, a stringed instrument\\nused by the Hebrews.\\n138 13 Billingsgate, the great fish market of London. Stow\\nremarked in his Survay (1598) that this quarter had been a quay, if\\nnot a market, for nine hundred years.\\n138 34 The Monument, a stone column, 202 feet in height, on\\nFish Street Hill, London, erected by Sir Christopher Wren to com-\\nmemorate the great fire of 1666.\\n139 10 The great fire of London. In this fire, which occurred\\nin September, 1666, just after ravages of the plague, two-thirds\\nof the city was destroyed.\\n139 15 Publicans, a term used in England to denote those who\\nkeep a public house of entertainment. Publican signifies in the\\nfirst place a tax gatherer, and is so used in the New Testament.\\n140 31 Virgil, Publius Virgilius (or Vergilius) Maro (B.C. 70-19),\\nthe most celebrated of Latin poets. His greatest work is the ALneid.\\n140 32 Marlborough, John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough\\n(1650-1722), a great general and an able but unscrupulous states-\\nman. He reached the height of his power during the reign of Queen\\nAnne. With his name are associated the victories of Ramillies,\\nOudenarde, and Malplaquet.\\n140 32 Turenne, Henri Vicomte de Turenne (1611-1675), a\\ncelebrated French general.\\n141 1, 3 William Walworth Wat Tyler. Wat Tyler was\\nthe leader of a revolt which occurred in England in 1381, in conse-\\nquence of a poll tax. Sir William Walworth, the Mayor of Lon-\\ndon, killed Tyler while he was speaking to the king.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0502.jp2"}, "501": {"fulltext": "NOTES 461\\n141 4 Honorable blazon, honorable mention, or record. Blazon\\nmeant originally a shield, and then the heraldic bearings on a shield.\\nLater it was applied to the art of describing or depicting heraldic\\nbearings in the proper manner and finally the term came to signify\\nostentatiozis display and also description or record by words or other\\nmeans. In Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 5, the Ghost, while talking with\\nPrince Hamlet, says\\nBut this eternal blazon must not be\\nTo ears of flesh and blood.\\nEternal blazon signifies revelation or description of things pertaining\\nto eternity. The noun blazon is seldom used now but the verb, in\\nthe sense of to publish, or make public, far and wide, is frequently\\nused.\\n141 5 Sovereigns of Cockney, i.e. sovereigns of London. Irving\\nuses cockney in an unusual way. The term is a somewhat contemp-\\ntuous name for a person born in London, within the sound of\\nBow Bells, the bells on the church of St. Mary le Bow, Cheap-\\nside. The English aristocracy never consider themselves London-\\ners, although they have houses in the metropolis. Their homes are\\nalways in the country.\\n141 10 Whilom drawer, formerly tapster. The word drawer\\noccurs a number of times in Shakespeare s Henry V. Whilom is\\na favorite term with some of the older English poets, Spenser\\nespecially.\\n142 23 Cock Lane ghost. See note on p. 137, 1. 26.\\n142 24 The apparition, etc. The apparition has vanished,\\napparently. I have found nothing in regard to it. The value of\\nthe regalia, or crown jewels, kept in the Tower is estimated at\\n^3,000,000. See note on p. 287, 1. 2: The Tower.\\n143 14 Marry and amen, a strong expression for truly. Marry\\nis supposed to have come from the habit of swearing by the Virgin\\nMary amen signifies trtdy, verily.\\n144 5 Bully-rook, bully.\\n144 10 Darkling. Rather dark seems to be Irving s meaning.\\nDarkling is an old word signifying in the dark or becoming dark\\nSo out went the candle and we were left darkling. Lear, Act I.\\nSc. 4, 1. 237.\\n145 34 Scriblerus contemplated his Roman shield. The story\\nof the pedant and his shield is told in the third chapter of the", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0503.jp2"}, "502": {"fulltext": "462 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nMemoirs of the Extraordinary Life, Works, and Discoveries of Mar-\\ntinus Scriblerus, a satire that can be found in certain editions of\\nthe works of Pope, although it was probably written mostly by\\nArbuthnot.\\n146 l Knights of the Round Table, etc. These knights were\\nthe followers of the famous King Arthur, who is said to have lived\\nin Wales at the time of the Saxon invasion. He instituted the\\nRound Table. According to the mediaeval legend, the Holy Grail,\\nor Sangreal, was the cup used by Christ at the Last Supper. Many\\nknights, including the followers of Arthur, sought for it, but it could\\nbe seen only by those who, like Galahad, were wholly pure in thought\\nand deed. The story of King Arthur and of the search for the Holy\\nGrail has been told by Tennyson in his Idylls of the King.\\n146 24 Parcel-gilt, part gilt, or gilt on the embossed portions.\\n148 3 Tedious brief. A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus\\nand his love Thisbe. Shakespeare Midsummer Night s Dream,\\nAct V. Sc. i, 1. 56.\\n148 10 Jack Straw, a leader associated with Wat Tyler in his\\nrebellion. See rhyme quoted by Irving on p. 141.\\n148 25 The shield of Achilles is described in Homer s Iliad,\\nBook XVIII. The poet s account of the scenes portrayed upon it\\nhas always aroused great interest.\\n148 25 Portland vase, so called because it was the property of\\nthe Duchess of Portland. This valuable work of art was once the\\nprincipal ornament of the Barberini palace in Rome, and is now in\\nthe British Museum.\\n149 Westminster Abbey can be traced back to the early part\\nof the seventh century. A large portion of the present edifice was\\ncompleted in 1245. The western towers were added by Sir Chris-\\ntopher Wren. Many of the English sovereigns and large numbers\\nof distinguished persons are buried in the Abbey. A brief account\\nof the Abbey can be found in articles on London in standard cyclo-\\npaedias. The following books contain interesting details F. W.\\nFarrar: Westminster Abbey (illustrated, 1897); W. J. Lof tie West-\\nminster Abbey (illustrated, 1891); H. G. Feasey Westminster Abbey\\nHistorically Described (1899).\\n149 9 Westminster School, a public school founded by Queen\\nElizabeth in 1560 and still in existence. In former times the\\nWestminster boys were notorious for their rough behavior in the\\nAbbey.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0504.jp2"}, "503": {"fulltext": "NOTES 463\\n149 17 Chapter-house, a house used for the meetings of the chap-\\nter that is, the body of clergymen connected with a cathedral.\\n149 18 Doomsday Book (properly Domesday), the book contain-\\ning the survey of the lands of England made by an order of William\\nthe Conqueror. The name, which refers to the Day of the Last\\nJudgment and the book then to be used, was given to this book\\nbecause it was a conclusive authority on all matters with which it\\ndealt. See Murray s New English Dictionary.\\n150 27 Quarto. See note on Folio, p. 91, 1. 19.\\n151 1 Literary catacomb. The catacombs in Rome are sub-\\nterranean galleries which are supposed to have been formed chiefly\\nbetween the second and the sixth century expressly for the burial of\\nChristians. They often served as places of refuge for the Christians,\\nand in later times many of the chambers were used as chapels.\\n153 23 Robert Grosseteste, Bishop of Lincoln from 1235 to\\n1253, had great influence during his own time and the two centuries\\nfollowing.\\n153 30 Giraldus Cambrensis (ii46?-i22o?).\\n153 34 Henry of Huntingdon (1084 1 155)-\\n154 3 Joseph of Exeter, who lived about 1190, was one of the\\nbest of the mediaeval Latin poets.\\n154 9 John Wallis. John Wales, Wellis, or Wallensis, a noted\\ntheologian, was regent master of the Franciscan schools at Oxford\\nbefore 1260. In Paris, where he went as lecturer, he received the\\ntitle of Arbor Vitce (Tree of Life).\\n154 11 William of Malmesbury, an English historian who died\\nabout 1 143. His works are highly prized on account of his accuracy\\nand critical judgment.\\n154 11 Simeon of Durham, a monk who lived about 1130, was,\\nfor the most part, an industrious compiler rather than a historian.\\n154 12. Benedict of Peterborough, monk, lived about 1193. A\\nnumber of manuscripts were transcribed and added to the monastic\\nlibrary by his orders.\\n154 12 John Hanvill, or Jean de Hauteville, a French poet\\nwho lived in the twelfth century. He left a Latin poem that was\\nvery popular during the two centuries following.\\n154 20 Wynkyn de Worde, an assistant of William Caxton,\\nthe famous printer, who about 1470 introduced printing into England.\\n155 6 Robert of Gloucester (1 260-1 300) wrote a metrical\\nchronicle relating to England which bears his name.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0505.jp2"}, "504": {"fulltext": "464 THE SKETCH BOOK\\n155 8 Well of pure English undefiled. See note on p. 92, 1. 17.\\n156 4 As unintelligible as an Egyptian obelisk. The hiero-\\nglyphics on an Egyptian obelisk are no longer undecipherable.\\nFrom the Rosetta Stone, discovered in Lower Egypt in 1799, M.\\nChampollion, a celebrated French scholar, was able to determine\\nthe meaning of these strange characters. His discovery was first\\nmade known in 1822, shortly after the Sketch Book was published.\\n156 6 Runic inscriptions. Runes were letters or characters\\nused by the nations of Northern Europe from an early period to the\\neleventh century. It was very difficult to acquire a knowledge of\\nthese characters, and for this reason they were supposed to possess\\nmagical properties.\\n156 10 The good Xerxes. Xerxes was a famous king of Persia\\nwho invaded Greece with an immense army, but was defeated at the\\nBattle of Salamis, B.C. 480.\\nHerodotus says that when Xerxes saw all his forces before him the whole\\nHellespont covered by the ships, and all the shores and plain of Abydos full\\nof men, he wept. When asked the reason, he replied Commiseration seized\\nme when I considered how brief all human life is since of these, numerous\\nas they are, not one shall survive the hundredth year. Herodotus:\\nPolymnia, Par. 44.\\n156 18 Sir Philip Sidney s Arcadia. See note on p. 95, 1. 26.\\n156 18 Sackville s stately plays, a reference to Gorboduc, or\\nFerrex and Porrex, the first regular tragedy in English that ranks\\nas literature. It was written by Thomas Sackville, Earl of Dorset\\n1 536-1608). The Mirror for Magistrates was intended as a kind\\nof poetical biography of distinguished men. Sackville wrote only\\nthe Induction and one of the poems.\\n156 20 John Lily. See note referring to Lily s Euphues, p. n.\\n157 3 Perpetuated by a proverb. The word euphuism will\\nalways call to mind the works of Lily. This is probably what\\nIrving alludes to.\\n158 18 Libraries containing three or four hundred thousand\\nvolumes. See note on p. 90, 1. 14, and compare the great modern\\nlibraries with collections such as Irving mentions.\\n159 11 A poor half-educated varlet. Besides the rudiments of\\nEnglish, Shakespeare gained during his school days some knowledge\\nof Latin. Ben Jonson, a warm admirer of the great dramatist, said\\nthat he had small Latin and less Greek. For works on Shakes-\\npeare, see note on p. 303, 1. 17.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0506.jp2"}, "505": {"fulltext": "NOTES 465\\n159 13 Had been obliged to run the country for deer-stealing.\\nRun, as used here, has a meaning similar to that in the expressions\\nrun the rapids, run the blockade. It means to travel through\\nor past successfully, in spite of danger or difficulty. See the note\\non deer-stealing, p. 310, 1. 5.\\n161 1 The setting may occasionally be antiquated. There\\nhave been several attempts to modernize certain poems of Chaucer s,\\nbut true poetry can never be satisfactorily translated or paraphrased.\\nWith a little study a person of ordinary intelligence can find delight\\nin reading Chaucer s works.\\n161 14 Verger, the official who takes care of the interior of a\\nchurch building.\\n161 (footnote) Thorow, through.\\n161 (footnote) Featly, dexterously, nimbly.\\n162 Rural Funerals. A paper which shows Irving s skill as an\\nartist.\\n162 Here s a few flowers, etc. Shakespeare Cymbeline, Act\\nIV. Sc. 2, 1. 283 (incorrectly quoted).\\n162 19 White his shroud, etc. Hamlet, Act IV. Sc. 5, 1. 35.\\n162 20 Larded, garnished, decked.\\n163 23 Thus, thus, and thus, we compass round, etc., the\\nsecond stanza of The Dirge of Jephtha s Daughter in the Noble\\nNumbers, by Robert Herrick (1 591-1674). Herrick is celebrated as\\na writer of lyrics.\\n164 12 Sir Thomas Overbury (1581-1613).\\n164 18 The Maid s Tragedy. The lines quoted are in Act I.\\nSc. 1. See note on p. 97, 1. 2.\\n164 31 Evelyn, John Evelyn (1620-1706), author of the\\nfamous Diary that bears his name. His Sylva is a book on\\nforest trees.\\n165 25 Umbratile, unreal, shadowy.\\n166 24 Camden, William Camden (15 51 -1 623). The Britannica\\nis a description of Great Britain written in Latin.\\n167 1 Thomas Stanley (1625-1678).\\n167 13 Lay a garland on my hearse. The Maid s Tragedy,\\nAct II. Sc. 1.\\n168 4 Lay her i the earth. Shakespeare Hamlet, Act V.\\nSc. 1, 1. 261.\\n168 12 Sleep in thy peace, etc., the eleventh and thirteenth\\nstanzas of The Dirge of Jephtha s Daughter already mentioned.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0507.jp2"}, "506": {"fulltext": "466 THE SKETCH BOOK\\n169 3 With fairest flowers, etc. Shakespeare Cymbeline,\\nAct IV. Sc. 2, 1. 218.\\n169 32 Jeremy Taylor (i 613-1667), Bishop of Down and Con-\\nnor well known as the author of Holy Living, Holy Dying, and\\nThe Liberty of Prophesying.\\n170 27 Each lonely place, etc. A free rendering of the last\\nstanza in The Dirge in Cymbeline, by William Collins (1721-1759).\\n174 24 Bright, Richard Bright (1 789-1 858), a distinguished\\nEnglish physician.\\n175 1 Iffland, August Wilhelm Iffland (1 759-1814), a celebrated\\nGerman actor and dramatist.\\n177 Shall I not take mine ease, etc. Shakespeare King\\nHenry LV. Part I. Act III. Sc. 3, 1. 92.\\n177 2 Pomme d Or, Golden Apple.\\n177 4 Table d h6te. A table cfhdte meal is a repast served fo\\nguests at a public house at a given hour and at a fixed price.\\n179 12 Ecume de mer, sea foam (the same as the German\\nMeerschaum). The name is given to a clay-like mineral, light\\nenough to float in water, and also to the pipes made from it.\\n180 The Spectre Bridegroom may be classed with the Rip Van\\nWinkle and the Legend of Sleepy Hollow because it is distinctly a\\nnarrative, not a description, and because it has the element of\\nhumor and a suggestion of the supernatural. It differs from the\\nother two sketches in the fact that the characters portrayed lack\\nindividuality, and that the touches descriptive of nature fail to suggest\\nany particular locality. The scenes described in the Dutch stories\\nwere the delight of Irving when a boy, and the legends that form\\nthe basis of those narratives had lain so long in his mind that they\\nhad become saturated with his personality. The Spectre Bridegroom,\\nwhile it is a good story, lacks the peculiar charm that comes from\\nthis intensely personal quality.\\n180 Sir Eger, Sir Grahame, and Sir Gray-Steel. See Ellis\\nSpecimens of Early English Metrical Romances, Vol. III. 1805.\\n181 30 Heldenbuch (Book of Heroes), a collection of twenty\\npoems in the German language, collected in the thirteenth or four-\\nteenth century. The poems, one of which is the Niebelungen, deal\\nwith old Germanic legends and stories.\\n182 3 Minnelieders. Minnelieder, the correct form, means love\\nsongs. Irving evidently refers to the minnesingers, the troubadours of\\nGermany, who flourished during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0508.jp2"}, "507": {"fulltext": "NOTES 467\\n183 6 Good cheer, the food that promotes good cheer.\\n184 33 The fatted calf had been killed, an allusion to the\\nparable of the Prodigal Son, Luke xv. 11-32.\\n185 2 Rhein-wein and Ferne-wein, Rhine wine and old wine.\\n185 3 Heidelberg tun. This tun, in the cellar of the Castle of\\nHeidelberg, now in ruins, holds eight hundred hogsheads.\\n185 5 Saus und Braus, riot and revelry.\\n191 2 Hochheimer, a famous Rhine wine produced at Hoch-\\nheim. The term hock was first applied to this wine.\\n191 34 Leonora, Lenore, the heroine of a popular ballad by\\nGottfried August Burger (1 748-1794). The goblin horseman was\\nLenore s lover, who appeared to his mistress after his death and\\ncarried her off with him on horseback.\\n192 31 Cresset, a kind of lantern consisting of a cup, perhaps\\nof iron, that contained a coil of pitched rope, the end of which was\\nlighted.\\n196 8 Trencher, a wooden platter, originally a square piece of\\nboard, used at table in early times by people of all ranks. See Cen-\\ntury Dictionary.\\n199 Westminster Abbey. The reader who would enjoy this\\nsketch should forget to criticise, and should give himself up to the\\ncharm of Irving s organ-like periods. It would be difficult to find\\neven in De Quincey a better example of writing in which sound\\nand sense unite to produce a single impression.\\n199 Christolero s Epigrams, by T. B. This is incorrect. The\\nstanza quoted by Irving is the thirty-second epigram in Chrestoleros\\nSeuen Bookes of Epigrames, by T. B. (Thomas Bastard), 1598. The\\nbook was reprinted by the Spenser Society in 1888.\\n199 Westminster Abbey. See note on p. 149.\\n199 10 Westminster School. See note on p. 149, 1. 9.\\n200 30 Vitalis. Abbas. 1082 signifies Vitalis, Abbot, died 1082.\\n204 29 Roubiliac, Louis Francis Roubiliac, French sculptor\\n(1695-1762).\\n206 9 Knights of the Bath. The Order of the Bath was estab-\\nlished by George I. in 1725. It has been erroneously supposed to\\nbe the revival of an ancient order.\\n207 16 The haughty Elizabeth. Irving s estimate of Elizabeth\\nand Mary Stuart is that of an extreme partisan. Green s interesting\\nchapters on Elizabeth and her times, in his History of the English\\nPeople, present a different view.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0509.jp2"}, "508": {"fulltext": "468 THE SKETCH BOOK\\n208 6 For in the silent grave, etc. These lines can be found in\\nBeaumont and Fletcher s play, Thierry and Theodoret, Act IV. Sc. i.\\n209 19 The great chair of coronation.\\nAt the west end of the chapel [the chapel of St. Edward the Confessor]\\nare the two coronation chairs, still used at the coronations of the sovereigns\\nof Great Britain, one containing the famous stone of Scone on which the\\nScottish kings were wont to be crowned, and which Edward I. carried away\\nwith him as an evidence of his absolute conquest of Scotland it is simply\\na block of reddish-gray sandstone of the western coasts of Scotland, squared\\nand smoothed. In this chair and on this stone every English sovereign from\\nEdward I. to Queen Victoria has been inaugurated [Stanley]. The other\\nchair was made for the coronation of Mary, Queen of William III. Between\\nthe two are placed the great two-handed sword borne before Edward III. in\\nFrance. Wheatley and Cunningham London Past and Present.\\n210 8 The effigy of Henry the Fifth lies headless. The figure\\nwas plated with silver except the head, which was solid. At the\\ndissolution of the monasteries, in 1536 and 1539, the figure was\\nstripped of its plating and the head stolen.\\n211 14 Sir Thomas Browne (1605-1682) is one of the masters\\nof English prose. His principal works are Religio Medici, Hydrio-\\ntaphia, or Urn Burial, and Enquiry into Vulgar Errors. The pas-\\nsages quoted can be found in the fifth chapter of the Hydriotaphia.\\nSee Browne s Religio Medici, Urn Burial, etc., edited by John\\nAddington Symonds {The Camelot Classics), 1886.\\n211 24 His empty sarcophagus. Irving had doubtless seen\\nthis sarcophagus, as it has been in the British Museum since 1802.\\nFor an account of Alexander the Great, see Plutarch s Lives.\\n211 25 The Egyptian mummies, etc. At the time when this\\npassage was written and earlier, many strange substances were used\\nas medicines; among them a substance known as mummy. See\\nCentury Dictionary.\\n211 26 Cambyses, King of the Medes and Persians, conquered\\nEgypt about B.C. 525.\\n211 27 Mizraim, the Hebrew name for Egypt.\\n211 27 Pharaoh (literally great house), a title given to the Egyp-\\ntian kings.\\n212 8 As a tale that is told. Psalms xc. 9.\\n213 Christmas. Of the five articles on Christmas, this is by\\nfar the most commonplace. Sentimental reflections are not inter-\\nesting except when, as in Lamb s Essays, they are interfused with", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0510.jp2"}, "509": {"fulltext": "NOTES 469\\ndelightful humor, or when, as in Irving s Westminster Abbey, the\\nauthor reaches the height of poetic expression.\\nThe festival of Christmas properly begins on the evening of the\\n24th of December, and lasts till Twelfth Night, the evening of\\nEpiphany. An exhaustive account of the English festival can be\\nfound in A Right Merrie Christmas \u00e2\u0080\u009eby John Ashton. The\\nauthor quotes an order proclaimed by Charles I., directing noble-\\nmen, bishops, and others to resort to their several counties where\\nthey usually reside, and there keep their habitations and hospitality.\\n218 5 Waits (formerly written wayghtes), a name still applied in\\nEngland to bands of musicians who at Christmas time go from house\\nto house, singing at the doors and asking a gratuity. Formerly the\\nterm was applied to musicians and serenaders generally.\\n218 8 When deep sleep, etc. Job iv. 13, and xxxiii. 15.\\n218 16 Telling the night watches, etc. Milton Comus, 1. 347.\\n218 20 Some say that ever, etc. Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 1, lines\\n158-164. (There are several errors in Irving s version.)\\n218 34 Strike, blast, destroy.\\n218 25 Takes, i.e. harms by supernatural power.\\n220 The Stage Coach. The description of the English stage\\ncoachman (p. 222, He has commonly, etc.) is full of life, and\\nthe arrival of the boys (p. 225, They had been looking, etc.) is\\ndescribed with such simplicity and naturalness that one can hardly\\nthink of the passage as a piece of the writer s art.\\n220 Omne bene, etc. Freely rendered, this might read\\nNow for jollity!\\nNo fear of penalty\\nThe time has come for play\\nThe hour arrives\\nWhen, quick as thought,\\nOur books aside we lay.\\n220 19 Buxom, vigorous, lively. This word, which originally\\nsignified yielding or tractable, is now used chiefly in the sense of\\nstout and rosy, and is applied especially to women and girls.\\n221 ]3 Bucephalus, the favorite horse of Alexander the Great,\\nused in all his campaigns. His master was the only person who\\ncould ride him.\\n222 1 Craft or mystery. Both words signify trade, handicraft.\\n222 15 Small clothes, knee-breeches.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0511.jp2"}, "510": {"fulltext": "470 THE SKETCH BOOK\\n223 4 Battening, feeding gluttonously. The term is seldom\\nused literally except in relation to animals as in, Battening our\\nflocks. Milton.\\n223 32 Juntos. The word is applied usually to a secret council\\ncomposed of statesmen or politicians.\\n224 4 Cyclops (both singular and plural). The Cyclops were\\nsaid to be a race of giants, each of whom had but one eye, and that\\nin the middle of the forehead. They inhabited Sicily and worked\\nfor Vulcan under Mt. Etna. Ulysses adventure with a Cyclops is\\ndescribed in the ninth book of the Odyssey.\\n224 23 In twelve days. See note on Christmas, p. 213.\\n224 25 Square it among pies and broth. This probably\\nmeans are used in the right proportions in pies and broth possibly,\\nsquare it may refer to the number of the ingredients, four.\\n224 31 Dice and cards benefit the butler. It was the custom\\nfor gamesters, at Christmas time, to put a part of their winnings\\ninto a box called the butler s box, as a present for the butler.\\n226 14 Smokejack, a contrivance for turning a spit.\\n226 27 Poor Robin. The Poor Robin s Almanacs were begun\\nin 1 661 or 1662. They probably originated with Robert Herrick,\\nthe poet.\\n227 l Post-chaise. A post is one of a series of stations estab-\\nlished for the convenience of passengers on a recognized route. A\\npost-chaise ox post-coach is a public carriage, usually with four wheels,\\nwhich goes from one station to another. As mail was originally\\ncarried on these established routes, the viot($. post was used in connec-\\ntion with the mail system, and the carrier of mail was known as the\\npostman. To travel post means to travel with post-horses, and,\\nfiguratively, to travel with haste.\\n228 Christmas Eve. Perhaps nothing that Irving has written\\nis more characteristic than this sketch and the two immediately\\nfollowing. His delight in social intercourse, his love of his fellow-\\nbeings, his quick sympathy with youth and gayety, all these find\\nexpression in the Christmas sketches.\\n228 Blesse from, protect from.\\n228 Hight, called.\\n228 Curfew time, bedtime. The curfew (Fr. couvre-feu) was\\noriginally a bell rung as a signal that the inhabitants should\\ncover their fires and go to bed. It was instituted by William the\\nConqueror.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0512.jp2"}, "511": {"fulltext": "NOTES 471\\n228 Prime, dawn; originally the first quarter of the artificial\\nday, i.e. from 6 a.m. to 9 a.m.\\n228 Cartwright, William Cartwright (1611-1643).\\n228 16 Honest Peacham, Henry Peacham (1576?-! 643?),\\nauthor of The Compleat Gentleman.\\n228 17 Chesterfield, Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chester-\\nfield (1694-1773), best known as the author of the Letters to his Son,\\nPhilip Stanhope. Peacham advocated country life, insisting espe-\\ncially on sports and athletics, while Chesterfield was interested\\nsolely in fashionable life in cities.\\n229 18 Squire (the same as esquire), a title of dignity next\\nbelow knight and above gentleman.\\n229 28 Crest, a distinguishing mark originally worn by the\\narmed knight, not on the shield but above it. The crest is still\\nused on plate, liveries, etc.\\n230 4 Stomacher, an ornamental covering for theibreast.\\n231 7 Mongrel, puppy, whelp, etc. Goldsmith Elegy on the\\nDeath of a Mad Dog, stanza 4.\\n231 11 The little dogs, etc. Shakespeare King Lear, Act III.\\nSc. 6, 1. 65.\\n231 28 Restoration, the reestablishment of the monarchy in\\nEngland, on the return of Charles II, in 1660.\\n232 4 Imitation of nature in modern gardening. Speaking\\nof English gardens in the latter part of the seventeenth and the first\\npart of the eighteenth century, Lecky says The trees were habitu-\\nally carved into cones, or pyramids, or globes, into smooth, even\\nwalls, or into fantastic groups of men and animals. Early in the\\neighteenth century a new style of gardening came into vogue, a\\nstyle that gave free scope to the beauties of nature.\\n232 26 Hoodman blind, an old name for blindman s buff.\\n232 28 Yule clog, the same as yule log or yule block. The word\\nyule, now applied to Christmas, is derived from an Anglo-Saxon\\nterm, the name of one of the winter months. See Irving s footnote,\\npp. 234, 235.\\n232 29 Mistletoe. In Norse mythology Balder, the sun-god,\\nwas killed by an arrow made of mistletoe.\\n233 31 Hall. The hall was the chief room in a mediaeval\\ncastle. There guests were entertained, meals were cooked and\\neaten, and there most of the men of the household slept. The\\nprivate apartment in a castle was called the bower. There is an", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0513.jp2"}, "512": {"fulltext": "472 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ninteresting description of a hall in the old Anglo-Saxon poem,\\nBeowulf. See also Scott s description of Cedric the Saxon s hall,\\nin Ivanhoe.\\n235 28 Finding him to be perfectly orthodox. The Puritans\\nmade every effort to do away with the celebration of Christmas.\\nMince pie, known as Christmas pie, was particularly obnoxious\\nto them. In his youth Irving had probably come in contact with\\nmany persons who shared these prejudices. Sixty or seventy years\\nago Christmas was not observed in New England or in other parts\\nof the United States by persons of Puritan descent.\\n236 26 Punch and Judy, a puppet show in which a comical\\nlittle hunchbacked Punch quarrels with his wife Judy, and in\\nconsequence is carried off by a devil in red. The word Punch is\\nabbreviated from ptmchinello.\\n237 19 Factotum, i.e. one who does work of all kinds.\\n237 20 Jumping with, agreeing with, falling in with.\\n237 21 Humor, whim, fancy. The word humor first signified\\nmoisture, especially the fluid of animal bodies. The ancient physi-\\ncians believed that there were in the human body four fluids or\\nhumors: blood, phlegm, yellow bile or choler, and black bile or\\nmelancholy. On the relative proportion of these the temperament\\nand health depended. Hence humor came to mean the state of the\\nmind in a general way, and then, changing or whimsical states of\\nmind. Consult some standard dictionary for the various meanings\\nof the word.\\n238 12 Harp in hall. The harper was a welcome guest in the\\ncastle of the Middle Ages.\\n238 22 Rigadoon, a lively dance for one couple.\\n238 29 Oxonian, a student or graduate of Oxford University.\\n239 12 Waterloo. At Waterloo, a village in Belgium, Napoleon\\nwas defeated by English and German troops commanded by Wel-\\nlington. This battle, which took place on the i8th of June, 1815,\\nvirtually ended Napoleon s career.\\n239 18 Troubadour. The troubadours were a school of poets\\nwho flourished from the eleventh to the end of the thirteenth cen-\\ntury in Southern France and Northern Italy. Their poems dealt\\nlargely with love, and were intended to be sung to an instrumental\\naccompaniment.\\n239 23 Herrick. See note on p. 163, 1. 23.\\n240 27 No spirit, etc. See text, p. 218, 1. 23.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0514.jp2"}, "513": {"fulltext": "NOTES 473\\n241 5 Tester, a canopy over a bed, supported by the bed-posts.\\n242 Christmas Day. See note on Christmas, p. 213.\\n242 Herrick. See note on p. 163, 1. 23. The lines quoted\\noccur in a Christmas Carol, beginning, What sweeter music can\\nwe bring\\n244 18 Wassaile bowles, i.e. convivial bowls. The noun was-\\nsail signified carouse, and was used also as the name of the liquor\\nused on the occasion.\\n246 2 Sir Anthony Fitzherbert (1470-1538), judge and author.\\n247 2 Markham s Country Contentments. See note on\\np. 247, 1. 31.\\n247 3 Tretyse of Hunting, by Sir Thomas Cockayne (1519?-\\n1592). Cockayne was a great authority on hunting.\\n247 4 Izaak Walton s Angler is one of the few pieces of older\\nEnglish prose that are still somewhat widely read. Hazlitt con-\\nsidered it one of the best pastorals in the language. Walton was\\nborn in 1593 and died in 1683.\\n247 20 Old Tusser, Thomas Tusser (1520?-! 580?), poet and\\nwriter on agriculture.\\n247 31 Deep, solemn mouths. Mouth signifies bark. The\\npassage referred to reads:\\nIf you would have your kennel for sweetness of cry, then you must\\ncompound it of some large dogs, that have deep, solemn mouths, and are\\nswift in spending, which must, as it were, bear the base in the consort;\\nthen a double number of roaring and loud-ringing mouths, which must be the\\ncounter-tenor then some hollow, plain, sweet mouths, which must bear the\\nmean or middle part and so with these three parts of music, you shall\\nmake your cry perfect.\\nGervase Markham (1568?-! 637) was a prolific writer on many\\nsubjects. His Country Contentmeitts treats of sports and also of\\ndomestic subjects. Shakespeare describes the hounds and their cry\\nin his Midsummer Night s Dream, Act IV. Sc. 1, 1. 124: My hounds\\nare bred, etc.\\n248 31 Black-letter. See note on p. 28, 1. 30.\\n248 33 Editions of Caxton and Wynkyn de Worde. See note\\non p. 154, 1. 20.\\n249 8 Adust. This word now signifies inflamed, fiery. Irving\\ngives it a meaning similar to the old significance, gloomy.\\n249 21 Druids, an order of priests which in ancient times", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0515.jp2"}, "514": {"fulltext": "474 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nexisted among the Gauls, the Britons, and other branches of the\\nCeltic race.\\n249 24 Fathers of the Church, the chief ecclesiastical authorities\\nof the first centuries after Christ. See Fathers mentioned in note\\non p. 251, 1. 26.\\n250 28 Cremona fiddles, superior violins which were formerly\\nmade at Cremona, in Italy.\\n251 26 Theophilus of Cesarea (died a.d. 412), Bishop of\\nAlexandria; St. Cyprian (a.d. 200?-2 58), Bishop of Carthage; St.\\nChrysostom (a.d. 35o?-407), Archbishop of Constantinople; St.\\nAugustine (a.d. 354-430), Bishop of Hippo, the most illustrious of\\nthe Latin Fathers of the Church. He has told the story of his life\\nin his Confessions.\\n252 19 Prynne, William Prynne (1600-1669), author and poli-\\ntician. At one time Prynne suffered severely for his zeal as a\\nPuritan, but later he opposed Cromwell and did all he could to\\nfurther the Restoration.\\n252 20 Roundheads. During the reign of Charles I. the nick-\\nname Roundheads was given to the Puritans, who wore their hair\\nshort. They were so called in opposition to the Cavaliers, or\\nRoyalists, who wore their hair long.\\n254 20 Poor Robin. See note on p. 226, 1. 27.\\n254 25 Duke Humphry. To dine with Duke Humphrey\\nsignified to have no dinner at all. See Wheeler s Dictionary of\\nNoted Names of Fiction.\\n254 26 Squire Ketch, Jack Ketch, i.e. the hangman. See\\nWheeler s Dictionary.\\n254 30 Manor-houses. A manor-house is properly the permanent\\nresidence of a lord or nobleman.\\n254 32 Brawn, the flesh of a boar salted and prepared.\\n256 23 Christmas box, a box, usually of earthenware, in which\\ncontributions of money were collected at Christmas by apprentices\\nand others. The box when full was broken and the contents shared.\\nSee Murray s A T ew English Dictionary.\\n257 2 Home-brewed, beer or ale made at home.\\n258 3 Pandean pipes. The Pandean pipe is a primitive wind\\ninstrument, so called because it was said to have been invented by\\nPan, the god of shepherds.\\n258 5 Smart, spruce, showily dressed. Consult one of the\\nstandard dictionaries for the various meanings of this word.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0516.jp2"}, "515": {"fulltext": "NOTES 475\\n259 Withers s Juvenilia. George Wither, or Withers (1588-\\n1677), poet and pamphleteer.\\n259 8 Just in this nick, etc. From A Ballad upon a Wedding,\\na delightful poem, by Sir John Suckling (1609-1642).\\n260 20 Belshazzar s parade. Daniel v. 1-4.\\n2614 Holbein s portraits. Hans Holbein, the Younger (1497-\\n1554?), one of the most noted of German painters.\\n261 4 Albert Diirer s prints. Albrecht Diirer (1471-1528) was\\na celebrated painter and engraver, born in Nuremberg.\\n261 14 The Conquest of England by William of Normandy, in\\n1066.\\n262 6 Caput apri, etc. The boar s head I bring, giving praises\\nto the Lord. Qui estis in convivio, who are present at the feast.\\n263 (footnote) Quot estis in convivio, as many as are present,\\netc. Let us servire cantico, serve with a song. In Reginensi Atrio,\\nIn the king s hall.\\n264 16 Humorist, eccentric, whimsical person. See note on\\np. 237, 1. 21.\\n265 15 Wassail Bowl. See note on p. 244, 1. 18.\\n265 (footnote) Roasted crabs are crab apples. The term occurs\\noccasionally in Shakespeare s plays.\\n266 13 Chanson, song.\\n267 6 Slow hound, sleuth-hound.\\n268 25 Isis. The river Isis joins the Thames not far from\\nOxford.\\n268 26 Alphabet of faces, i.e. a long or complete series of\\nexpressions. See Murray s New English Dictionary\\n269 14 A rather broad story out of Joe Miller. The book\\nreferred to is entitled Joe Miller s Jests, or the Wit s Vade Mecum,\\npublished in 1739. An actor, Joseph Miller (1 684-1 738), was the\\nhero of three of the jests, but there was no propriety in giving his\\nname to the entire collection.\\n270 4 Mock fairies about Falstaff. Shakespeare Merry\\nWives of Windsor, Act V. Sc. 4 and Sc. 5.\\n270 21 Weazen, thin, withered.\\n272 32 Mummery, or masking. A mummery or mask might\\nbe merely a frolic in which those taking part wore masks, or it\\nmight be an artistic performance which combined acting, recitation,\\nsinging, and instrumental music, given with an elaborate setting\\nand elegant costumes. Queen Elizabeth was exceedingly fond of", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0517.jp2"}, "516": {"fulltext": "476 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nentertainments of this kind. Milton s Comus is the most celebrated\\nmask in English literature. Ben Jonson s masks are also noted.\\n273 14 Covenanters. An agreement was made by the Scot-\\ntish Parliament in 1638, and by the English Parliament in 1643, to\\npreserve the reformed religion in Scotland, and to extirpate Catholi-\\ncism and Episcopacy. This agreement was called the Covenant,\\nand those supporting it were known as Covenanters.\\n273 20 Robin Hood, an English outlaw, the hero of many bal-\\nlads, said to have lived in the forest of Sherwood in Notting-\\nhamshire. His name is connected with different periods, from\\n1 1 90 to 1300 and later, but his actual existence has never been\\nproved. Little John, Friar Tuck, and Maid Marian were among his\\nfollowers.\\n277 Guido Vaux, Guydo Fauxe, or Guy Fawkes, was a conspira-\\ntor who, with others, plotted to blow up the king, the lords, and the\\ncommons on the 5th of November, 1605. The plot originated with\\nRobert Catesby, a Roman Catholic, who, with others of the same\\nfaith, was exasperated at the intolerant and persecuting spirit of\\nJames I. and his ministers. The conspiracy is known as the\\nGunpowder Plot.\\n277 William 0 the Wisp, or Will-o -the-wisp (the same as Jack-\\no -lantern), was a malicious sprite supposed to lead wanderers astray.\\nThe superstition originated in the phosphorescent light, the ignis\\nfatuus, which may sometimes be seen over marshy land.\\n277 Robin Goodfellow, a playful, mischievous elf the same as\\nPuck.\\n277 Fletcher. See note on p. 97, 1. 2.\\n278 18 Chapel of the Knights Templars. This building,\\nknown as the Temple Church, has been carefully restored. It is\\none of the most interesting monuments in London. The rest of\\nthe ground once belonging to the Templars is now occupied by the\\nInns of Court. The district is called The Temple. The Knights\\nTemplars were a military order founded at Jerusalem, whose special\\nduty it was to protect pilgrims on their way to the holy shrines.\\n280 20 Judicial Astrology. Astrology is the art of judging of\\nthe influence of the stars upon human affairs. It was much in vogue\\nduring the Middle Ages, and even in these days certain persons\\nhave confidence in its predictions. Natural astrology predicts such\\noccurrences as changes in the weather judicial astrology assumes\\nto foretell the fate of nations and of individuals.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0518.jp2"}, "517": {"fulltext": "NOTES 477\\n280 20 Geomancy was the art of foretelling events by means of\\nlines and dots on the surface of the earth.\\n280 20 Necromancy, commonly known as the black art, assumed\\nto make predictions by means of communication with the dead.\\n281 10 Arch-magO {archi-mage is the usual form), chief magician.\\n281 23 Decayed, fallen as to social condition.\\n282 15 Gentle, noble. The word comes originally from the\\nLatin gens, which means clan ox family and gentle signified, at first,\\nof good or noble family. Now, the gentry in England are persons of\\nrespectable family, though not belonging to the nobility.\\n282 20 Charter House. Bacon called the institution a triple\\ngood, because it was an asylum for poor householders, and also\\nan educational and a religious institution. It was endowed in 1611,\\nand occupied the site of a Carthusian monastery hence the name\\nCharter House, a corruption of Chartreuse. Among the eminent\\nmen who received their early education at this institution are\\nAddison, Steele, John Wesley, and Thackeray.\\n282 32 Stow. See note on p. 138, 1. 3.\\n283 2 Hospital signified originally a place for shelter or enter-\\ntainment. The word host is akin to it in meaning.\\n283 22 Apocryphal, of doubtful authority, fictitious. The\\napocryphal books are writings received by certain Christians as part\\nof the Holy Scriptures, but rejected by others.\\n284 Grave auntients (within the hearing of Bow bell), i.e.\\nvenerable cockneys, or old Londoners. See note on p. 141, 1. 5.\\n284 Nash. Thomas Nash (i564?-i6oi), wit and dramatist.\\n284 1 Great city of London. See note on p. 75, 1. 31.\\n286 24 Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday (the\\nfirst day of Lent), has sometimes been called Pancake Tuesday\\non account of the custom mentioned by Irving.\\n286 25 Michaelmas, the feast of the Archangel Michael, cele-\\nbrated on the 29th of September.\\n286 26 Burn the pope on the fifth of November, a reference to\\nthe celebration by Protestants of the discovery of the Gunpowder\\nPlot. See note on p. 277 Guido Vaux.\\n286 34 St. Paul s, a famous London cathedral, begun in 1675\\naccording to designs by Sir Christopher Wren. The dome is one\\nof the most imposing in existence. The present structure is built\\non the site of an older cathedral destroyed in the fire of 1666. For\\na description of the famous buildings of the metropolis, see", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0519.jp2"}, "518": {"fulltext": "478 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nCuriosities of London, by Timbs, and London Past and Present, by\\nWheatley and Cunningham.\\n287 2 St. Dunstan s clock. The old church of St. Dunstan s\\nin the West had a projecting clock, and two figures looking like\\nsavages or Hercules, who on the hours and the quarters struck the\\nbells with their clubs. It is said that the removal of these figures\\ndrew tears from the eyes of Charles Lamb.\\n287 2 The Monument. See note on p. 138, 1. 34.\\n287 2 The lions in the Tower. The ancient palace citadel\\nknown as the Tower of London consists of a number of buildings\\nenclosed in battlemented and moated walls. While it was a state\\nprison many persons of note suffered imprisonment and death within\\nits walls. Wild beasts were kept in the Lion Tower from the time\\nof Henry III. until 1834.\\n287 3 Wooden giants in Guildhall. See note on p. 137, 1. 28.\\n287 13 Full-bottomed wigs, wigs that were full and large at the\\nbottom.\\n287 15 Lappets. A lappet is a little lap, flap, or pendant,\\nespecially on a coat or headdress. See Century Dictionary.\\n288 2 Robert Nixon, known as the Cheshire Prophet, prob-\\nably nourished about 1620. He is said to have been an idiot who\\nat intervals delivered vague prophecies of future events.\\n288 3 Mother Shipton, the nickname of a Welsh woman living\\nin the reign of Henry VIII., who was believed to have foretold many\\nimportant events.\\n288 18 Cheek by jole (or jowl), i.e. side by side. Jole means\\ncheek or jaw hence the expression means literally cheek by cheek.\\n288 25 Wonderful events\\nGeorge III. died Jan. 29, 1820, and was succeeded by his son George IV.;\\nEdward, Duke of Kent, brother of George IV., died the same year; and\\non Feb. 13, 1820, the Duke of Berry, the second nephew of Louis XVIII.\\nwas murdered by Louvel; in 181 6 there was a riot after a meeting held\\nat Spa-fields; on the 16th of August, 18 19, occurred the Manchester, or\\nPeterloo, massacre; the Cato Street conspiracy a plot to murder the\\nking s ministers was discovered in 1820; during the same year Queen\\nCaroline, the wife of George IV., returned to England from Italy.\\n289 10 Whittington and his Cat. The history is told in an\\nold English ballad. When about to run away from his master,\\nWhittington, an ill-used boy, heard the Bow Bells saying Turn\\nagain, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London Later, the prophecy", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0520.jp2"}, "519": {"fulltext": ".VOTES\\nof the bells came true. See Webster s International Dictionary\\nA ottd J\\\\~\u00c2\u00a37?:es in Fistion.\\n291 5 Bacchus and Momus. Bacchus, or Dionysus, was the\\ngod of fertility, especially the god of wine Momus was the god of\\ncensure and mockery, in Greek mythology.\\n291 13 Broke the head, i.e. broke the skin of the head.\\n291 32 Gammer Gurton s Needle, an early English comedy\\nattributed to John Still (i 543-1607).\\n293 9 St. Bartholomew s Fair, a famous fair formerly held at\\nSmithfield, London. The original grant named the e i c: St Bar-\\ntholomew (September New Style) and the two days succeeding.\\nThe last fair was held in 1855.\\n293 10 Lord Mayor s Day. See note on p. 119, 1. 30.\\n294 25 Temple Bar, a famous gateway opposite the Temple.\\n(See note referring to p. 27S, 1. 1S.1 Formerly when the sovereign\\n:;::ed London he asked permission of the Lord Mayor before pass-\\ning the gateway. The Bar was removed in 1S78.\\n296 11 The Miss Lambs. The Hisses Lamb is the form more\\ncommonly used at present.\\n296 32 Kean, Edmund Kean -:5;; a noted English\\nactor.\\n296 39 Edinburgh Review, founded at Edinburgh in 1S02, by\\nJeffrey, Sidney Smith, and^others.\\n297 34 Rout, fashionable assembly, evening party.\\n298 2-2 Quality binding. Quality signifies high social position.\\nThe expression probably means something like fashionable venter.\\n302 Strattord-on-Avon. It is the author s genuine love of\\nShakespeare that makes this article interesting.\\n302 Garrick, David Garrick (1717-1779), actor, poet, and\\ndramatist.\\n302 it Shall I not take mine ease, etc. Shakespeare First\\nPart of K: IV. Act III. Sc J. L v.\\n303 B The Jubilee, a series of entertainments in honor of\\nShakespeare, given in Stratford in 1769 devised and arranged by\\nDavid Garrick.\\n303 it I had come to Stratford on a poetical pilgrimage. The\\npresent condition of the Stratford memorials of Shakespeare is\\ndescribed in the following extract\\nAt Stratford, the Birthplace, which was acquired by the public in 1 5_\\nand converted into a museum, is. with Anne Hathaway*s cottage [Anne", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0521.jp2"}, "520": {"fulltext": "480 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nHathaway was the. poet s wife] (which was acquired by the Birthplace\\nTrustees in 1892), a place of pilgrimage for visitors from all parts of the\\nglobe. The site of the demolished New Place [Shakespeare s last resi-\\ndence, bought in 1597], with the gardens, was also purchased by public sub-\\nscription in 1861, and now forms a public garden. Of a new memorial\\nbuilding on the river-bank at Stratford, consisting of a theatre, picture\\ngallery, and library, the foundation stone was laid April 23, 1877. Sidney\\nLee: William Shakespeare [illustrated], Chap, xviii.\\nFor general information in regard to Shakespeare, the following\\nbooks may be consulted, Edward Dowden Shakspere Primer\\n(1878) and Shakspere a Critical Study of his Mind and Art(i j6)\\nHalliwell-Phillipps Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare (1889)\\nGeorge Brandes William Shakespeare (1898) Sidney Lee Life of\\nWilliam Shakespeare [illustrated] (1899) W. J. Rolf e Shakespeare\\nthe Boy (1896).\\n303 18 House where Shakespeare was born. The house\\nreferred to, known as the Birthplace, is in Henley Street. It is\\nprobable not certain that the poet was born there. Nothing\\nremains of the original structure but the cellar and a portion of the\\nwoodwork. The articles mentioned by Irving are of course spurious.\\n304 4 Rival smoker of Sir Walter Raleigh. Raleigh delighted\\nin smoking at a time when the practice was almost unknown in\\nEngland. Irving doubtless had in mind the anecdote which relates\\nthat on one occasion a servant was so terrified at seeing the smoke\\nissue from Sir Walter s mouth that he threw over him the ale he\\nwas bringing, and rushed downstairs shouting that his master was\\non fire.\\n304 8 Shakespeare s mulberry tree. It is known that the poet\\nplanted an orchard in Stratford some time before 1602, and there is\\na tradition that he planted a certain mulberry tree with his own\\nhands.\\n304 29 The Santa Casa of Loretto, the holy house, said to\\nhave been occupied by the Virgin Mary previous to the birth of\\nChrist, and to have been miraculously removed to Loretto, Italy, in\\n1291.\\n305 15 He lies buried in the chancel. Shakespeare had a\\nlegal right to burial in the chancel, the customary burial place of\\nthe owners of the tithes of a parish. It was, however, the practice\\nat Stratford to transfer the bones after a time to the charnel house.\\nThe epitaph on the poet s tomb doubtless protected his remains, for", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0522.jp2"}, "521": {"fulltext": "XOTES 4S1\\nthey have never been disturbed. See Hallivvell-Phillipps Outlines\\nof the Life of Shakespeare, Vol. I. p. 268.\\n307 3 The long interval, etc. Shakespeare s writings have\\nnever been neglected. Between 161 6 (the year of his death) and\\n1642, two folio editions of his works were published, a convincing\\nproof of the interest taken in his productions. There is abundant\\nevidence of his popularity after the revival of the drama at the time\\nof the Restoration. See Dowden: Shakspere Primer, Chap. vii.\\n308 7 A flat stone. The original stone has been removed, but\\nthe old inscription has been cut upon the new stone. It is not\\nlikely that the crude lines were composed by Shakespeare, but\\ndoubtless they express his sentiment in regard to his remains.\\n308 26 Fifty-three years. Fifty-two is correct.\\n309 18 John Combe was a rich inhabitant of Stratford, who, at\\nhis death, left Shakespeare ^5. There is a tradition that the poet\\nalienated him by composing some doggerel verse on his practice of\\nlending money at ten or twelve per cent. (Until comparatively\\nrecent times it was considered morally wrong to take interest for\\nmoney lent.)\\n310 5 Deer-stealing. There is a tradition that Shakespeare\\nwas obliged to leave Stratford and go to London because he was\\nprosecuted for stealing deer from the park of Sir Thomas Lucy.\\n(See note on p. 98, 1. 4.) Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps says of the\\ntradition, That it had a solid basis of fact cannot admit of a\\nreasonable doubt. To prove that the poet s act was one easily\\ncondoned in his day, his biographer states that for generations the\\nstudents of Oxford had been the most notorious poachers in all\\nEngland.\\n310 10 A rough pasquinade (lampoon). It is not probable\\nthat Shakespeare wrote the lines referred to.\\n311 3 Justice Shallow, a character in the Second Part of\\nHenry IV., and in the Merry Wives of Windsor.\\n311 5 White luces in the quarterings. Shakespeare Merry\\nWives of Windsor, Act I. Sc. 1, 1. 16. The quarterings are the-\\ncompartments often four into which a shield is divided if it\\nbears several coats of arms.\\n311 19 He might have as daringly transcended, etc. It is\\nevident that Irving knew little of Shakespeare the man. The\\npoet s management of his financial affairs proves him to have\\nbeen possessed of practical ability and common sense. As a", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0523.jp2"}, "522": {"fulltext": "482 THE SKETCH BOOK\\ndramatist he wisely disregarded the so-called unities of the\\nclassical school, but at the same time in his greatest works he\\nobserved carefully the laws that underlie unity of dramatic action.\\nHis use of the sources in Lear and Macbeth reveals something of\\nhis artistic method.\\n311 (footnote) A proof of Shakespeare s random habits.\\nShakespeare could not have managed his affairs so wisely had\\nhe not been on the whole a man of good habits.\\n312 l The old mansion of Charlecote. Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps\\nsays\\nAlthough the whole structure has been seriously modernized, the back\\nespecially having been transformed, the front exterior still retains the general\\ncharacteristics of the original structure. [The gate-house] is essentially\\nin the state in which it would have been recognized by the now celebrated\\npoachers of. 1585.\\n316 5 Noble forest meditations of Jaques. See As You Like\\nLt, Act II. Sc. 7. The best known of these meditations begins:\\nAll the world s a stage. The adjective noble does not properly\\napply to them.\\n316 19 Under the greenwood tree. Shakespeare: As You\\nLike Lt, Act II. Sc. 5, 1. 1.\\n316 28 Stone quoins, stones that mark the exterior angle of a\\nbuilding.\\n317 20 You have a goodly dwelling, etc. Shakespeare:\\nSecond Part of Henry LV. Act V. Sc. 3, 1. 6.\\n319 4 Make a Star Chamber matter of it. The Star Chamber\\nwas a court of civil and criminal jurisdiction, at Westminster, which\\nadministered justice in cases of conspiracy, riot, and other offenses,\\nespecially such as affected the crown. Of course, poaching could\\nnot be a Star Chamber matter.\\n319 8 Justice of the peace, and coram. Slender intends to\\nsay, justice of the peace and of the quorum for Shallow held this\\nposition. (See the note under quorum in Webster s Lnternational\\nDictionary.) Coram means in the presence of before.\\n319 9 Custalorum, probably a corruption of custos rotulorum,\\nkeeper of the rolls.\\n319 10 Ratalorum, suggested no doubt by rotulorum.\\n319 11 Armigero, armor bearer, or esquire.\\n319 21 Take your vizaments in that, i.e. give that due\\nconsideration.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0524.jp2"}, "523": {"fulltext": "NOTES 483\\n319 26 Sir Peter Lely. See note on p. 99, 1. 20.\\n320 13 Roses, rosettes.\\n321 1 A cane-colored beard. Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I.\\nSc. 4, 1. 21. Cain-colored is correct. As used by Shakespeare, the\\nterm means a beard such as that in which Cain was represented in\\nold paintings and tapestries of the color known technically as\\nred. Of course Irving misunderstood the word.\\n322 3 Whippers-in, huntsmen who keep the hounds from\\nwandering, whipping them if it is necessary.\\n322 19 Last year s pippin. Second Part of Henry IV. Act V.\\nSc. 2, 1. 2.\\n323 29 Fair Rosalind, the chief female character in As You\\nLike It.\\n324 15 A crowded corner in Westminster Abbey. There is a\\nmonument to Shakespeare s memory in the Poets Corner.\\n325 9 The literary pilgrim of every nation. In 1897 and 1898\\nthe Shakespeare memorials in Stratford were visited by nearly fifty\\nthousand persons, representing about forty nationalities. See\\nSidney Lee Life of William Shakespeare, Chap, xviii.\\n326 Traits of Indian character. Irving s chivalric spirit, as\\nexhibited in this paper, is admirable, but his remarks lack weight,\\nbecause at the time when the sketch was written he was not inti-\\nmately acquainted with the red man.\\nFor information in regard to the Indians, and for an account of the\\ndealings of white men with them in the United States, the following books\\ncan be consulted: Annual Report of the U. S. Board of Indian Commis-\\nsioners; Journal of the Military Service Institution of the U. S., Vol. II.\\nNo. 6 (1881), devoted to Our Indian Question; The Red Man and the\\nWhite Man in North America from its Discovery to the Present Time, by\\nGeorge E. Ellis (1882) The Indian Side of the Indian Question, by\\nWilliam D. Barrows, D.D. (1887) A Century of Dishonor, by Helen M.\\nJackson (1886).\\n326 Logan s cabin. John Logan was an Indian chief, although\\nhe bore an English name. He was killed near Lake Erie in 1780.\\nThe Speech, of which Irving gives an extract, was preserved by\\nThomas Jefferson in his Notes on Virginia.\\n330 4 Their disregard of treaties. The disregard of treaties\\nhas not been always on the side of the Indian. Mr. Ellis says\\nBy making and breaking successive treaties, the United States first\\ncreated and fostered in the minds of the Indians the preposterous notion", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0525.jp2"}, "524": {"fulltext": "484 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nthat they held a limitless fee of possession in these enormous reaches of\\nterritory and then after purchasing parts of them, and pledging the\\nremainder to the Indians as still theirs, mocked at the Indians for thinking\\nus in earnest, as if we really meant to countenance them in their foolish\\nresistance to the progress of the age.\\n334 29 Pomp and circumstance of war. Othello, Act III. Sc.\\n3 1- 354-\\n336 17 Indian wars in New England. Increase Mather tells\\nof the event described by Irving, in his Early History of New Eng-\\nland. The work has been edited by Samuel G. Drake (1864).\\n337 33 Curule chairs, chairs of state among the Romans. In\\nform the curule chair resembled a folding campstool it had no\\nback.\\n338 17 The few hordes which still linger, etc. After careful\\ninvestigation the conclusion has been reached that there are nearly\\nas many Indians in North America now as when the New World\\nwas first visited by the white man.\\n340 Philip of Pokanoket. While this sketch awakens the\\ninterest and sympathy of the reader, it is not one of Irving s best\\nnarratives. The fact that he was telling the story after others\\nhampered him, and caused him to put in a good deal that does\\nnot bear directly on the action. He did not, before taking up his\\npen, make the subject thoroughly his own he did not realize the\\nscenes vividly before describing them.\\nKing Philip s domain extended from Narragansett Bay to Massa-\\nchusetts. He died August 12, 1676.\\nFor an account of the chief and his war with the white settlers the follow-\\ning books may be consulted: Soldiers in King Philip s War; being a\\nCritical Account of the War, etc., by George M. Bodge (1896) The Old\\nIndian Chronicle, edited by Samuel G. Drake (1867) The History of King\\nPhilifs War, by the Rev. Increase Mather, D.D. also a History of the\\nSame War, by the Rev. Cotton Mather, D.D., edited by Samuel G. Drake\\n(1862).\\n342 (footnote) An heroic poem. The editor has not succeeded\\nin finding the poem.\\n348 (footnote) The Rev. Increase Mather s History. See\\nIncrease Mather s History of New England, with Introduction and\\nNotes by Samuel G. Drake (1864).\\n350 27 Thrid, a form seldom used in prose writings.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0526.jp2"}, "525": {"fulltext": "NOTES 485\\n354 34 Peag (pronounced peeg), ox peak, consisted of small shell\\nbeads pierced and strung. The white variety were known as wam-\\npum (white), or wampumpeag. They were used by the Indians as\\nmoney and also as ornaments. See Century Dictionary\\n357 14 Starved. To starve signified originally to die. The\\nGerman sterben, which is akin to it, has kept this broad meaning.\\nIn England the term is still applied to death from cold as well as\\nfrom hunger, but in the United States it is applied only to death\\nfrom hunger. The word weed, in the sense of clothing, has under-\\ngone the same kind of change that is, it has become restricted in\\nits application.\\n361 John Bull. In this paper Irving draws a humorous sketch\\nof the typical Englishman, and at the same time glances at the\\nsocial and political condition of the English nation. The subject\\ndoes not call forth his best powers as a humorist, and consequently\\nthe production is somewhat commonplace.\\n362 12 Beyond the sound of Bow-bells. See note relating to\\ngrave auntients, p. 284; also note on p. 141, 1. 5.\\n363 31 Took lessons in his youth. An allusion, of course, to\\nEngland s troubles with neighboring nations in past centuries.\\n365 2 Gentlemen of the fancy, sporting characters.\\n366 19 The family chapel, i.e. the established church.\\n367 22 To have the old edifice thoroughly overhauled. The\\ndoctrines that led to the passage of the Reform Bill of 1832 were\\nbeing warmly advocated at the time when this paper was written.\\n367 34 The growth of centuries. The development of the\\nEnglish constitution forms an interesting subject of study, espe-\\ncially for Americans.\\n368 5 Any part of the building as superfluous. Some persons\\nwould like to do away with the laws which protect the English aristoc-\\nracy the laws relating to entail and primogeniture. The House of\\nLords has often been characterized as a hindrance to legislation.\\n371 31 Family dissensions. See mention of riots in note on\\np. 288, 1. 25.\\n374 8 That he may remain quietly at home. The student\\nwho is familiar with the history of England since 1820 will find\\nsomething humorous in Irving s remarks.\\n375 To starve. See note on p. 357, 1. 14.\\n377 5 Earth to earth, etc. The expression occurs in the burial\\nservice in the Book of Common Prayer, used in the Episcopal Church.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0527.jp2"}, "526": {"fulltext": "486 THE SKETCH BOOK\\n377 11 Flower of the field. Job xiv. 2; Psalms ciii. 15;\\nIsaiah xl. 6-8 I Peter i. 24.\\n377 13 Rachel mourning, etc. Matthew ii. 18.\\n378 3 This is the prettiest low-born lass, etc. Shakespeare\\nTwelfth Night, Act IV. Sc. 4, 1. 156.\\n378 10 Rites of May. The first day of May was formerly\\nwidely celebrated in Great Britain, but the observance has almost\\nceased. The day is still observed in some parts of New England.\\nThe chief feature of the English celebration was the gathering of\\nflowers and the crowning of the May Queen. See The May Queen,\\nby Tennyson.\\n383 10 The silver cord. Ecclesiastes xii. 6.\\n386 7 Izaak Walton. See note on p. 247, 1. 4.\\n386 15 Don Quixote, the hero of the famous Spanish romance\\nbearing his name, written by Cervantes (1547-1616). The English\\nadjective quixotic comes from the name of the Spanish Don.\\nDon Quixote is one of the great books of the world a book that for\\ngenerations has pleased both the ignorant and the cultivated. There are\\nseveral good English translations of the romance, one of the best being\\nOrmsby s. Expurgated editions have been arranged for young readers.\\n386 17 Cap-a-pie (or cap-a-pe), from head to foot, at all points.\\n387 3 Hero of La Mancha among the goatherds of the Sierra\\nMorena. The account of Don Quixote s adventures among the\\ngoatherds begins in Don Quixote, Part I. Book III. Chap. ix.\\n391 23 The Battle of Camperdown was a naval battle fought\\nbetween the English and the Dutch, Oct. 11, 1797. The English\\nwere victorious.\\n394 20 Admiral Hosier s Ghost, a ballad by Glover celebrating\\nVice-Admiral Hosier (1673-1727).\\n394 20 All in the Downs. This expression occurs in a ballad\\nby John Gay (1688-1732), entitled Sweet William s Farewell to Black-\\neyed Susan.\\n394 21 Tom Bowline (properly Tom Bowling) is a character\\nin Smollett s Roderick Random. Dibdin wrote a song about him,\\nbeginning, Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling.\\n395 32 Sinbad (or Sindbad) the Sailor is a character in a story\\nin the Arabian Nights Entertainments which bears his name.\\n393 25 St. Peter s master. The Apostle Peter, it will be\\nremembered, was a fisherman.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0528.jp2"}, "527": {"fulltext": "NOTES 487\\n397 The Legend of Sleepy Hollow is a delightful narrative, not-\\nwithstanding the fact that the action is slow and that the descriptions\\noccupy many paragraphs. The slightly malicious humor of the piece\\nis thoroughly enjoyable, the descriptions are lively and varied, and\\nthe characters strongly marked. Although it has certain elements\\nin common with the Rip Van Winkle, it is unlike that sketch in its\\ngeneral tone. Rip s experiences occur in a region where nature has\\na mysterious charm, while Ichabod s adventures take place in a land\\nof material plenty and physical comfort. The author s touch is\\nkindly as he portrays the luckless Rip, but he draws the portrait of\\nthe Yankee schoolmaster with a relentless hand. A careful study\\nof the narrative will reveal to the student of composition something\\nof the author s method. It will be found that he mentions sounds\\nas often as sights, and that he frequently stimulates the imagination\\nby remote suggestions. In the picture of Sleepy Hollow with which\\nthe narrative begins there is little that appeals to the eye. It will\\nalso be found that he usually represents persons and things as in\\nmotion. Ichabod is seen striding along the profile of a hill,\\nsauntering with a bevy of country damsels, or wending his way to\\nthe farmhouse by swamp and stream and awful woodland. In\\nthe description of Baltus Van Tassel s farm, even inanimate objects\\nare endowed with life and motion. The spring bubbled up at\\nthe foot of the elm, and then stole sparkling away through the\\ngrass. Every window and crevice of the vast barn seemed bursting\\nforth with the treasures of the farm. Inside, the flail was busily\\nresounding from morning to night. Swallows were twittering,\\npigeons cooing, porkers grunting, turkeys gobbling, while many\\nother creatures with their sounds and motions added to the anima-\\ntion of the scene.\\n397 Diedrich Knickerbocker, the fictitious author of Irving s\\nHistory of New York. See Introduction in the present volume.\\n397 Castle of Indolence, a poem by James Thomson (1700-\\n1748), a Scotchman. The Seasons is his best known poem.\\n397 5 St. Nicholas, a noted bishop who lived in Asia Minor\\nabout a.d. 300, the patron saint of boys and sailors. Santa Clans\\nis a corruption of his name.\\n398 7 If ever I should wish for a retreat, etc. Sunnyside,\\nIrving s home in his later years, was in Tarrytown. In a letter to\\nhis brother Peter, written in 1835, he said", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0529.jp2"}, "528": {"fulltext": "488 THE SKETCH BOOK\\nYou have been told, no doubt, of a purchase I have made of ten acres,\\nlying at the foot of Oscar s farm, on the river bank. It is a beautiful spot,\\ncapable of being made a little paradise. There is a small stone cottage on\\nit, built about a century since, and inhabited by one of the Van Tassels.\\nMy idea is to make a little nookery somewhat in the Dutch style, quaint but\\nunpretending. In fact, it is more with a view of furnishing the worthy\\nlittle Bramin a retreat for himself and his girls [his nieces], where they can\\ngo to ruralize during the pleasant season of the year. In later years, when\\nin Madrid, he wrote of his darling little Sunnyside, and added Nay, I\\nbelieve it is the having such an object to work for which spurs me on to\\ncombat and conquer difficulty.\\n398 13 The original Dutch settlers. The impression that the\\nDutch settlers of New York were inactive has come mainly from\\nIrving s portrayal of their character in his humorous History of New\\nYork, and in his Dutch sketches.\\n398 22 Master Hendrick Hudson. See note on p. 58, 1. 33.\\n398 33 The nightmare with her nine-fold. Shakespeare\\nKing Lear, Act III. Sc. 4, 1. 126. A r inefold, as used here, may be\\na corruption of nine foals, or it may mean nine imps, ox familiars.\\nThe nightmare was formerly believed to be a witch who oppressed\\npeople during sleep.\\n399 20 In a hurry to get back to the churchyard. It was sup-\\nposed that ghosts were obliged to hurry back to their habitations at\\ncockcrow. See Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 1, lines 157-164. Irving quotes\\nthe lines in Hamlet on p. 218.\\n400 24 Country schoolmasters. See remarks on the New-\\nEngland Schoolmaster in A History of the People of the United\\nStates, by John Bach MacMaster, Vol. I. p. 21.\\n401 14 Eel pot, a trap for catching eels. This trap has a funnel-\\nshaped entrance which makes it easy for the eels to get in, but\\ndifficult for them to get out.\\n401 25 Spare the rod, etc. Butler: Hudibras, II. I 843. There\\nare earlier forms that differ slightly from the expression quoted.\\nAll originate in the Bible verse He that spareth his rod hateth\\nhis son. Proverbs xiii. 24.\\n403 5 The lion bold, etc. The following couplet accompanied\\nthe letter L in the New England Primer\\nThe lion bold\\nThe lamb doth hold.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0530.jp2"}, "529": {"fulltext": "NOTES 489\\nA rude cut illustrated the interesting situation. The couplet may\\nhave been suggested by the following passage\\nSporting the lion ramp d, and in his paw\\nDandled the kid.\\nParadise Lost, Book IV. 1. 343.\\n403 5 Whilom, formerly, once.\\n404 18 Cotton Mather s History of New England Witchcraft.\\nCotton Mather (1663-17 28) wrote of witchcraft in New England in\\nhis Wonders of the Invisible World and his Memorable Providences\\nRelating to Witchcraft. Prof. Barrett Wendell has written a sympa-\\nthetic and interesting biography of this noted divine, entitled Cotton\\nMather, the Puritan Priest (1891).\\n405 17 In linked sweetness, etc. Of linked sweetness, etc.\\nMilton V Allegro, 1. 140.\\n409 7 Craving that quarter, i.e. craving that consideration,\\nthat mercy. Quarter signified formerly friends/// concord.\\n409 25 Setting out for Kentucky, Tennessee, etc. These\\nstates were not admitted to the Union until near the close of the\\neighteenth century. During Irving s boyhood they w r ere the scene\\nof the wildest kind of border life.\\n411 18 Herculean, an adjective derived from the name Hercules.\\nHercules (the same as the Greek Heracles), the son of Zeus (Jupiter)\\nand Alcmene, was renowned for his strength and his courage. He\\naccomplished certain superhuman feats known as the twelve\\nlabors.\\n412 7 Don Cossacks, i.e. Cossacks living near the river Don.\\nThe Cossacks are tribes living in Russia, members of which form\\nan important element in the cavalry of the Russian army.\\n412 15 Rantipole, wild, rakish; a term not in good use.\\n412 33 Supple-jack, a climbing shrub having a tough but\\npliable stem.\\n413 5 That stormy lover, Achilles. Homer s Iliad tells the\\nstory of the wrath of Achilles. The hero s anger was aroused\\nbecause Agamemnon, his chief in war, took from him a prize that\\nhad been allotted to him, a beautiful young girl whom he dearly\\nloved.\\n415 27 Mercury, the Roman god of commerce and gain, is\\nusually identified with Hermes, the messenger god of the Greeks.\\nHe is often represented as carrying a winged staff, and sometimes\\nhas wings at his heels, and wears a close-fitting winged cap.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0531.jp2"}, "530": {"fulltext": "490 THE SKETCH BOOK\\n415 31 Quilting frolic. The quilting of colonial times is described\\nin Home Life in Colonial Days, by Alice Morse Earle (1898), p. 270.\\n420 18 Oly koek (pronounced oli-kbk -the word means oil cake),\\na. cake similar to a doughnut or a cruller, but richer than either and\\nmore delicate.\\n420 28 Heaven bless the mark Authorities differ as to the\\norigin of this exclamatory expression. See Century Dictionary and\\nSchmidt s Shakespeare-Lexicon.\\n421 32 St. Vitus suffered martyrdom under Diocletian. During\\nthe seventeenth century, in certain districts in Germany, it was\\nbelieved that good health could be secured for a year by dancing\\nbefore his image at his festival, which occurred on the 15th of June.\\nThe name St. Vitus s Dance was given to a nervous disorder\\nfor which his help was invoked.\\n422 31 Mynheer (pronounced min-hdr the same as the Ger-\\nman mein Herr), Dutchman, in colloquial language. The term\\nmeans properly Mr. or sir.\\n422 32 The Battle of White Plains, a battle of the Revolution\\nwhich took place Oct. 28, 1776.\\n423 32 Major Andr6 (John) was an officer in the British army\\nin the Revolutionary War. He arranged with the traitor Benedict\\nArnold for the surrender of West Point, but was arrested at Tarry-\\ntown and shortly afterwards executed as a spy. As he was a good\\nand brave man, his sad fate aroused the sympathy of friends and\\nfoes alike.\\n425 9 Should have won it, would inevitably have won it.\\nShould formerly had this meaning.\\n426 18 Witching time of night. Hamlet, Act III. Sc. 2, 1. 406.\\nWitching, as used here, signifies suited to enchantment or witchcraft.\\n430 2 Stave, a metrical portion, a stanza.\\n431 17 If I can but reach that bridge. It was formerly believed\\nthat witches and perhaps other supernatural beings could not\\ncross running water. In Burns s poem Tarn O Shanter the witch\\ncould not follow Tam across the bridge.\\n432 23 Pitch pipe, a small wind instrument used in regulating\\nthe pitch of a tune.\\n433 30 Ten Pound Court, a court where cases involving not\\nmore than ten pounds could be tried. A court of this kind was\\npresided over by a justice of the peace or some other local\\nmagistrate.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0532.jp2"}, "531": {"fulltext": "NOTES 491\\n435 3 City of Manhattoes, i.e. the City of New York a term\\nused by Irving in his humorous History of New York.\\n436 3 Ergo, therefore often used in a jocular way, especially\\nby Shakespeare. See argal for ergo, Hamlet, Act V. Sc. i, first\\nsixty lines.\\n436 7 Puzzled by the ratiocination of the syllogism, Le. puz-\\nzled by the process of reasoning in the argument. A syllogism is an\\nargument consisting of three propositions, of which the first two are\\ncalled the premises, and the last the conclusion. The following is a\\nsyllogism\\nEvery virtue is laudable\\nKindness is a virtue\\nTherefore kindness is laudable.\\n(See Webster s Dictionary.\\nOf course the so-called syllogism of the story-teller is nonsensical.\\n437 L Envoy, usually V Envoi (from the Fr. envoyer, to send),\\nan explanatory or commendatory postscript to a poem, essay, or\\nbook. The English form is envoy.\\n437 Chaucer s Belle Dame sans Mercie. (Irving has omitted\\ntwo lines of the original stanza.) This poem has been wrongly\\nattributed to Chaucer. It is a translation, probably by Sir Richard\\nRos, of a French poem by Alan Chartier, born in 1386. See Com-\\nplete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, edited by Walter W. Skeat, Vol.\\nVII. Chaucerian and Other Pieces, pp. li, 299.\\n438 23 A devil, cooked chicken or some other kind of meat,\\nhighly flavored with Cayenne pepper.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0533.jp2"}, "532": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0534.jp2"}, "533": {"fulltext": "STANDARD ENGLISH CLASSICS\\nBurke s Letter to a Noble Lord. Edited by Albert H. Smyth, Professor\\nof English Literature in the Central High School, Philadelphia. 30 cents.\\nBurke s Speech on Conciliation with America. Edited by Hammond\\nLamont, Associate Professor of Rhetoric in Brown University. 30 cents.\\nBurns, Representative Poems, with Carlyle s Essay on Burns. Edited\\nby Charles L. Hanson, Teacher of English in the Mechanic Arts High\\nSchool, Boston, Mass. 30 cents.\\nCarlyle s Essay on Burns. Edited by Charles L. Hanson. 25 cents.\\nColeridge s Ancient Mariner. Edited by L. R. Gibbs. 20 cents.\\nCooper s Last of the Mohicans. Edited by John B. Dunbar, Instructor\\nin English in the Boys High School, Brooklyn, N.Y. 50 cents.\\nDe Quincey s Revolt of the Tartars. Edited by W. E. Simonds, Pro-\\nfessor of English Literature in Knox College, Galesburg, 111. 25 cents.\\nDryden s Palamon and Arcite. Edited by George E. Eliot, Jr.,\\nInstructor in English in Morgan School, Clinton, Conn. 25 cents.\\nGeorge Eliot s Silas Marner. Edited by R. Adelaide Witham, Teacher\\nof English in Latin High School, Somerville, Mass. 30 cents.\\nGoldsmith s Vicar of Wakefield. Edited by D. H. Montgomery.\\n30 cents.\\nIrving s Sketch Book. (Complete.) Edited, with Introduction and\\nNotes, by Mary E. Litchfield. cents.\\nMacaulay s Essay on Milton. Edited.by Herbert A. Smith, Instructor\\nin English in Yale University. 20 cents.\\nMacaulay s Essay on Addison. Edited by Herbert A. Smith. 25 cents.\\nMacaulay s Essays on Addison and Milton. (In one volume.) Edited by\\nHerbert A. Smith. 30 cents.\\nMacaulay s Lays of Ancient Rome. Edited by M. Grant Daniell,\\nrecently Principal of Chauncy-Hall School. 35 cents.\\nMilton s L Allegro, II Penseroso, Comus, and Lycidas. Edited by Tuley\\nF. Huntington, Instructor in English in the Leland Stanford Junior Univer-\\nsity. 25 cents.\\nMilton s Paradise Lost, Books I. and II., and Lycidas. Edited by\\nHomer B. Sprague. 30 cents.\\nPope s Translation of the Iliad. Books I., VI., XXII., and XXIV. Edited by\\nWilliam Tappan. 25 cents.\\nShakespeare s Macbeth. Edited by Rev. Henry N. Hudson. 35 cents.\\nShakespeare s Merchant of Venice. Edited by Rev. Henry N. Hudson.\\n35 cents.\\nSir Roger de Coverley Papers. From The Spectator. Edited by\\nMary E. Litchfield. 30 cents.\\nTennyson s The Princess. Edited by Albert S. Cook, Professor of\\nEnglish Literature in Yale University. 30 cents.\\nGINN COMPANY, Publishers,\\nBoston. New York. Chicago. Atlanta. Dallas.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0535.jp2"}, "534": {"fulltext": "The Athen^um Press Series\\nIssued under the general editorship of\\nProfessor George Lyman Kittredge, of Harvard University, and\\nProfessor C. T. Winchester, of Wesleyan University.\\nTHE FOLLOWING VOLUMES ARE NOW READY:\\nSidney s Defense of Poesy. Edited by Professor Albert S. Cook\\nof Yale University. 80 cents.\\nBen Jonson s Timber; or Discoveries. Edited by Professor F. E.\\nSchelling of the University of Pennsylvania. 80 cents.\\nSelections from the Essays of Francis Jeffrey. Edited by Lewis E.\\nGates of Harvard University. 90 cents.\\nOld English Ballads. Edited by Professor F. B. Gummere of Haver-\\nford College. #1.25.\\nSelections from the Works of Thomas Gray. Edited by Professor\\nWm. L. Phelps of Yale University. 90 cents.\\nA Book of Elizabethan Lyrics. Edited by Professor F. E Schelling\\nof the University of Pennsylvania. $1.12.\\nSeventeenth Century Lyrics. Edited by Professor F. E. Schelling\\nof the University of Pennsylvania.\\nHerrick: Selections from the Hesperides and the Noble Numbers.\\nEdited by Professor E. E. Hale, Jr., of Union University. 90 cents.\\nSelections from Keats s Poems. Edited by Professor Arlo Bates of\\nthe Massachusetts Institute of Technology. $1.00.\\nSelections from the Works of Sir Richard Steele. Edited by Professor\\nGeorge R. Carpenter of Columbia University. Cloth. 90 cents.\\nCarlyle s Sartor Resartus. Edited by Professor Archibald Mac-\\nMechan of Dalhousie College, Halifax, N.S. $1.25.\\nSelections from Wordsworth s Poems. Edited by Professor Edward\\nDowden of the University of Dublin. $1.25.\\nSpecimens of the Pre-Shaksperean Drama. Edited by Professor\\nJohn M. Manly of Chicago University. In three volumes. Vols. I. and II.\\nnow ready. $1.25 each.\\nSelections from Malory s Morte Darthur. Edited by Professor Wil-\\nliam E. Mead of Wesleyan University, Middletown, Conn. $1.00.\\nBurke s Speech on Conciliation with America. Edited by Professor\\nHammond Lamont of Brown University. 50 cents.\\nSelections from Shelley s Poems. Edited by W. J. Alexander of\\nthe University of Toronto. $1.15.\\nSelections from Landor. Edited by W. B. S. Clymer, formerly of\\nHarvard University. $1.00.\\nSelections from William Cowper s Poems. Edited by James O.\\nMurray of Princeton University. $1.00.\\nSelections from Robert Burns s Poems. Edited by the late John G.\\nDow, formerly of the University of Wisconsin. $1.10.\\nThe Poems of William Collins. Edited by Walter C. Bronson of\\nBrown University. 90 cents.\\nGibbon s Memoirs. Edited by Professor Oliver F Emerson of\\nWestern Reserve University. $1.10.\\nGINN COMPANY, Publishers,", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0536.jp2"}, "535": {"fulltext": "THE HARVARD EDITION OF\\nSHAKESPEARE S COMPLETE WORKS\\nBy HENRY N. HUDSON, LL.D.,\\nAuthor of the Life, Art, and Characters of Shakespeare,\\nEditor of School Shakespeare etc.\\nIn twenty volumes, duodecimo two plays in each volume also in ten volumes,\\nof four plays each.\\nRETAIL PRICES:\\n,o-vo.. edition ,0-vor. edition\\nThe Harvard Edition has been undertaken and the plan of it\\nshaped with a special view to making the Poet s pages pleasant and\\nattractive to general readers. A history of each play is given in its\\nappropriate volume. The plays are arranged in three distinct series\\nComedies, Histories, and Tragedies and the plays of each series pre-\\nsented, as nearly as may be, in the chronological order of the writing.\\nA special merit of this edition is, that each volume has two sets of\\nnotes, one mainly devoted to explaining the text, and placed at the\\nfoot of the page, the other mostly occupied with matters of textual\\ncomment and criticism, and printed at the end of each play. The\\nedition is thus admirably suited to the uses both of the general reader\\nand of the special student.\\nHorace Howard Furness: A noble edition, with happy mingle of illustration,\\nexplanation, and keen, subtle, sympathetic criticism.\\nProfessor Dowden Hudson s edition takes its place beside the best work of\\nEnglish Shakespeare students.\\nProfessor C. T. Winchester: It seems to me, without question, the best edition\\nnow printed.\\nLife, Art, and Characters of Shakespeare\\nBy HENRY N. HUDSON.\\nIn two volumes.\\ni2mo. 1003 pages. Retail prices: cloth, $4.00 half calf, $8.00.\\nEdwin Booth, the great actor and eminent Shakespearean scholar,\\nonce said that he received more real good from the original criticisms\\nand suggestive comments as given by Dr. Hudson in these two books\\nthan from any other writer on Shakespeare.\\nGINN COMPANY, Publishers,\\nBoston. New York. Chicago. Atlanta. Dallas.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0537.jp2"}, "536": {"fulltext": "BOOKS ON ENGLISH LITERATURE\\nAthenaeum Press Series 22 volumes now ready.\\nBaldwin s Inflection and Syntax of Malory s Morte d Arthur $1.40\\nBrowne s Shakspere s Versification 25\\nCorson s Primer of English Verse 1.00\\nEmery s Notes on English Literature 1.00\\nFrink s New Century Speaker 1.00\\nGarnett s Selections in English Prose from Elizabeth to Victoria.. 1.50\\nGayley s Classic Myths in English Literature 1.50\\nGayley and Scott s Literary Criticism 1.25\\nGummere s Handbook of Poetics 1.00\\nHudson s Life, Art, and Characters of Shakespeare. 2 vols 4.00\\nHudson s Classical English Reader 1.00\\nHudson s Text-Book of Prose 1.25\\nHudson s Text-Book of Poetry 1.25\\nHudson s Essays on English, Studies in Shakespeare, etc 25\\nKent s Shakespeare Note-Book 60\\nLitchfield s Spenser s Britomart 60\\nMinto s Manual of English Prose Literature 1.50\\nMinto s Characteristics of the English Poets 1.50\\nPhelps Beginnings of the English Romantic Movement 1.00\\nSmith s Synopsis of English and American Literature 80\\nStandard English Classics 18 volumes now ready.\\nThayer s Best Elizabethan Plays 1.25\\nWhite s Philosophy of American Literature 30\\nWhite s Philosophy of English Literature 1.00\\nWinchester s Five Short Courses of Reading in English Literature .40\\nGINN COMPANY, Publishers,\\nBoston. New York. Chicago. Atlanta. Dallas.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0538.jp2"}, "537": {"fulltext": "GAYLEY S CLASSIC MYTHS\\nTHE CLASSIC MYTHS IN ENGLISH LITERATURE.\\nBased chiefly on Bulfinch s Age of Fable (1855). Accompanied by an\\nInterpretative and Illustrative Commentary.\\nEDITED BY\\nCHARLES MILLS GAYLEY,\\nProfessor of the English Language and Literature in the\\nUniversity of California.\\ni2mo. Half leather. 540 pages. Fully illustrated, together with 16 full-\\npage illustrations. For introduction, $1.50.\\nAttention is called to these special features of this book\\nAn introduction on the indebtedness of English poetry\\nto the literature of fable; and on methods of teaching\\nmythology.\\nAn elementary account of myth-making and of the prin-\\ncipal poets of mythology, and of the beginnings of the world,\\nof gods and of men among the Greeks.\\nA thorough revision and systematization of Bulfinch s\\nStories of Gods and Heroes with additional stories, and\\nwith selections from English poems based upon the myths.\\nIllustrative cuts from Baumeister, Roscher, and other\\nstandard authorities on mythology.\\nCertain necessary modifications in Bulfinch s treatment of\\nthe mythology of nations other than the Greek and Roman.\\nNotes, following the text (as in the school editions of\\nLatin and Greek authors), containing an historical and\\ninterpretative commentary upon certain myths, supplemen-\\ntary poetical citations, a list of the better known allusions\\nto mythological fiction, references to works of art, and hints\\nto teachers and students.\\nGINN COMPANY, Publishers,\\nBoston. New York. Chicago. Atlanta. Dallas.", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0539.jp2"}, "538": {"fulltext": "THE NEW CENTURY SPEAKER\\nSELECTED AND ADAPTED BY\\nHENRY ALLYN FRINK,\\nLate Professor of Logic, Rhetoric, and Public Speaking in Amherst College.\\ni2mo. Cloth. 346 pages. For introduction, $1.00.\\nThis is a fresh and notably interesting collection of\\nprose selections suitable for use as declamations. The\\ntrite and hackneyed pieces that have worn themselves\\nthreadbare in public service are omitted. We have\\ninstead extracts from the greatest speeches of such men\\nas Henry W. Grady, Henry Cabot Lodge, Chauncey\\nM. Depew, Charles H. Parkhurst, James G. Blaine,\\nJames A. Garfield, George William Curtis, Henry Ward\\nBeecher, Joseph Parker, and others who represent the\\nbest in modern oratory. The selections have been\\ntested in the author s rhetorical exercises, and each\\npossesses directness, force, and effectiveness.\\nPart I. consists of drill pieces for the development\\nof power to gain and hold the attention of an audience\\nand later to persuade or convince it. The acquisition of\\nthis ability, which so determines the success or failure\\nof a public speaker, is the main thought of the book.\\nIn Part II. the leading orators are represented by a\\ngroup of selections which so fully illustrate each orator s\\nscope, method, and characteristics that the book will\\nprove useful in the study of American oratory during the\\nlatter part of this century. The selections are brief, few\\nof them requiring more than five minutes for delivery.\\nGINN COMPANY, Publishers,\\nBoston. New York. Chicago. San Francisco.\\nAtlanta. Dallas. Columbus. London.", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0540.jp2"}, "539": {"fulltext": "May -13. lfcOl", "height": "3601", "width": "2186", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0541.jp2"}, "540": {"fulltext": "1061 I AVW", "height": "3517", "width": "2326", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0542.jp2"}, "541": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3555", "width": "2295", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0543.jp2"}, "542": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3494", "width": "2225", "jp2-path": "irvingssketchbo00irvi_0544.jp2"}}