do not by
any means exhaust his variety, but they afford a fair measure of his
purely literary skill, upon which his reputation must rest. To my
apprehension this "charm" in literature is as necessary to the
amelioration and enjoyment of human life as the more solid achievements
of scholarship. That Irving should find it in the prosaic and
materialistic conditions of the New World as well as in the
tradition-laden atmosphere of the Old, is evidence that he possessed
genius of a refined and subtle quality, if not of the most robust order.

X

LAST YEARS--THE CHARACTER OF HIS LITERATURE

The last years of Irving's life, although full of activity and
enjoyment,--abated only by the malady which had so long tormented him,
--offer little new in the development of his character, and need not much
longer detain us. The calls of friendship and of honor were many, his
correspondence was large, he made many excursions to scenes that were
filled with pleasant memories, going even as far south as Virginia, and
he labored assiduously at the "Life of Washington,"--attracted, however,
now and then, by some other tempting theme. But his delight was in the
domestic circle at Sunnyside. It was not possible that his occasional
melancholy vein should not be deepened by change and death and the
lengthening shade of old age. Yet I do not know the closing days of any
other author of note that were more cheerful, serene, and happy than his.
Of our author, in these latter days, Mr. George William Curtis put
recently into his "Easy Chair" papers an artistically touched little
portrait. "Irving was as quaint a figure," he says, "as the Diedrich
Knickerbocker in the preliminary advertisement of the 'History of New
York.' Thirty years ago he might have been seen on an autumnal afternoon
tripping with an elastic step along Broadway, with 'low-quartered' shoes
neatly tied, and a Talma cloak--a short garment that lung from the
shoulders like the cape of a coat. There was a chirping, cheery,
old-school air in his appearance which was undeniably Dutch, and most
harmonious with the associations of his writing. He seemed, indeed, to
have stepped out of his own books; and the cordial grace and humor of his
address, if he stopped for a passing chat, were delightfully
characteristic. He was then our most famous man of letters, but he was
simply free from all self-consciousness and assumption and dogmatism."
Congenial occupation was one secret of Irv