n 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 realism of this generation, which has no outcome,
and is likely to produce little that is noble.

I do not know how to account, on principles of culture which we
recognize, for our author's style. His education was exceedingly
defective, nor was his want of discipline supplied by subsequent
desultory application. He seems to have been born with a rare sense of
literary proportion and form; into this, as into a mold, were run his
apparently lazy and really acute observations of life. That he
thoroughly mastered such literature as he fancied there is abundant
evidence; that his style was influenced by the purest English models is
also apparent. But there remains a large margin for wonder how, with his
want of training, he could have elaborated a style which is distinctively
his own, and is as copious, felicitous in the choice of words, flowing,
spontaneous, flexible, engaging, clear, and as little wearisome when read
continuously in quantity as any in the English tongue. This is saying a
great deal, though it is not claiming for him the compactness, nor the
robust vigor, nor the depth of thought, of many other masters in it.
It is sometimes praised for its simplicity. It is certainly lucid, but
its simplicity is not that of Benjamin Franklin's style; it is often
ornate, not seldom somewhat diffuse, and always exceedingly melodious.
It is noticeable for its metaphorical felicity. But it was not in the
sympathetic nature of the author, to which I just referred, to come
sharply to the point. It is much to have merited the eulogy of Campbell
that he had "added clarity to the English tongue." This elegance and
finish of style (which seems to have been as natural to the man as his
amiable manner) is sometimes made his reproach, as if it were his sole
merit, and as if he had concealed under this charming