uring it can receive
from any man. It is not a question whether the work of the literary man
is higher than that of the reformer or the statesman; it is a distinct
work, and is justified by the result, even when the work is that of the
humorist only. We recognize this in the ease of the poet. Although
Goethe has been reproached for his lack of sympathy with the
liberalizing movement of his day (as if his novels were quieting social
influences), it is felt by this generation that the author of "Faust"
needs no apology that he did not spend his energies in the effervescing
politics of the German states. I mean, that while we may like or dislike
the man for his sympathy or want of sympathy, we concede to the author
the right of his attitude; if Goethe had not assumed freedom from moral
responsibility, I suppose that criticism of his aloofness would long ago
have ceased. Irving did not lack sympathy with humanity in the concrete;
it colored whatever he wrote. But he regarded the politics of his own
country, the revolutions in France, the long struggle in Spain, without
heat; and he held aloof from projects of agitation and reform, and
maintained the attitude of an observer, regarding the life about him
from the point of view of the literary artist, as he was justified in
doing.

Irving had the defects of his peculiar genius, and these have no doubt
helped to fix upon him the complimentary disparagement of "genial." He
was not aggressive; in his nature he was wholly unpartisan, and full of
lenient charity; and I suspect that his kindly regard of the world,
although returned with kindly liking, cost him something of that respect
for sturdiness and force which men feel for writers who flout them as
fools in the main. Like Scott, he belonged to the idealists, and not to
the realists, whom our generation affects. Both writers stimulate the
longing for something better. Their creed was short: "Love God and honor
the King." It is a very good one for a literary man, and might do for a
Christian. The supernatural was still a reality in the age in which they
wrote, Irving's faith in God and his love of humanity were very simple;
I do not suppose he was much disturbed by the deep problems that have
set us all adrift. In every age, whatever is astir, literature,
theology, all intellectual activity, takes one and the same drift, and
approximates in color. The bent of Irving's spirit was fixed in his
youth, and he escaped the desperate r