form a want of
substance. In literature form is vital. But his case does not rest upon
that. As an illustration his "Life of Washington" may be put in
evidence. Probably this work lost something in incisiveness and
brilliancy by being postponed till the writer's old age. But whatever
this loss, it is impossible for any biography to be less pretentious in
style, or less ambitious in proclamation. The only pretension of matter
is in the early chapters, in which a more than doubtful genealogy is
elaborated, and in which it is thought necessary to Washington's dignity
to give a fictitious importance to his family and his childhood, and to
accept the southern estimate of the hut in which he was born as a
"mansion." In much of this false estimate Irving was doubtless misled by
the fables of Weems. But while he has given us a dignified portrait of
Washington, it is as far as possible removed from that of the smileless
prig which has begun to weary even the popular fancy. The man he paints
is flesh and blood, presented, I believe, with substantial faithfulness
to his character; with a recognition of the defects of his education and
the deliberation of his mental operations; with at least a hint of that
want of breadth of culture and knowledge of the past, the possession of
which characterized many of his great associates; and with no concealment
that he had a dower of passions and a temper which only vigorous
self-watchfulness kept under. But he portrays, with an admiration not
too highly colored, the magnificent patience, the courage to bear
misconstruction, the unfailing patriotism, the practical sagacity, the
level balance of judgment combined with the wisest toleration, the
dignity of mind, and the lofty moral nature which made him the great man
of his epoch. Irving's grasp of this character; his lucid marshaling of
the scattered, often wearisome and uninteresting details of our dragging,
unpicturesque Revolutionary War; his just judgment of men; his even,
almost judicial, moderation of tone; and his admirable proportion of
space to events, render the discussion of style in reference to this work
superfluous. Another writer might have made a more brilliant
performance: descriptions sparkling with antitheses, characters projected
into startling attitudes by the use of epithets; a work more exciting and
more piquant, that would have started a thousand controversies, and
engaged the attention by daring conjectures and attempts t