re told by
Mr. Warner, "in order to make sure of his escape and feel safe, while he
was still constrained to attend his father's church, went stealthily to
Trinity Church at an early age and received the rite of confirmation."
He was of a joyous and genial temperament, full of life and vivacity,
and not at all inclined to religious seriousness. He was born with a
passion for music, and was also a great lover of the theatre. These
things, in the eyes of his father, were serious evils, and he felt great
anxiety for the son's spiritual welfare. The gladsomeness and
sportiveness of the boy's nature were things which he could not
understand, and he feared that they were of the Evil One. There was no
room in the darkness of his religions creed for anything that was simply
bright and joyous. To save one's soul was the business of life; all
things else were secondary and of small importance. Of course, he
worried much over this handsome, dashing, susceptible, music-loving,
laughter-loving son, and doubtless shed many tears over his waywardness.
Yet there was nothing wild about the boy. The writing of plays seems to
have been his worst boyish offence. His first published writings were
audacious satires upon the theatre, the actors, and the local audiences.
They had some promise, and attracted some attention in the poverty of
those times.

At the age of twenty-one he was in such delicate health that a voyage to
Europe was looked upon as the only means of saving his life. He
accordingly embarked for Bordeaux and made an extended tour of Europe,
loitering in many places for weeks at a time, and laying up a store of
memories which gave him pleasure throughout life. In Rome he came across
Washington Allston, then unknown to fame. He was about three years older
than Irving, and just establishing himself as a painter. Irving was
completely captivated with the young Southerner, and they formed a very
romantic friendship for each other.

Irving even dreamed of remaining in Rome and turning artist himself,
that he might always be near his friend. He had a great dread of
returning to the New World and settling down to the uncongenial work of
the law, and he fancied he had some talent for art. He certainly had one
essential qualification,--a passionate love of color, and an eye for its
harmonies. This love was a great source of pleasure to him throughout
life. He always thought that he might have succeeded as a landscape
painter. However