Volume 17 , Issue 46

1915 - Unpublished Letters of Washington Irving

The New York Times, New York, New York, dated 17 October 1915, Sunday, page 58, had the following article: "Unpublished Letters of Washington Irving." Many never before in print appear in his correspondence with Henry Brevoort, telling of Walter Scott, Dolly Madison, and other celebrities.

Found on Newspapers.com

Those who delight in getting more intimate glimpses of great writers than were afforded by the books of these supermen of literature, with their fictitious characters and invented episodes, would find golden treasure, treasure never before spread before the eyes of the general reader, in "The Letters of Washington Irving to Henry Brevoort," just published in 1915 by G. P. Putnam's Sons. The edition was a limited one, consisting of only 255 copies, of which 225 had been placed on sale. (This NW Okie would love to find one of these books of 1915 for her book collection.)

This 1915 volume consists of about one hundred letters, written between 1807 and 1843. Most of them, including those recording the early part of Irving's career and those forming the concluding portion of his correspondence with Brevoort, had never before appeared in print. A few of the rest had been used, principally in abridged form, in the "Life of Irving" written by his nephew, Pierre, some fifty years ago (1849). The latter often omitted the names of persons mentioned by his uncle, fearing to give offense, but now that's half-century had elapsed these names were once more restored to their places in the correspondence.

The original manuscripts of the letters used in the volume were, for the most part, from the great collection of Irivingiana owned by Mr. Isaac. N. Seligman. The rest of the originals used were loaned by other collectors, and members of both the Irving and Brevoort families gave interesting information on the great writer and his friend to the editor of the letters, Mr. George S. Hellman.

The friendship of Irving and Brevoort, formed i their early youth, was of the most lasting sort, as was proved by the fact that their correspondence covered a period of thirty-six years. Brevoort belonged to one of New York's most respected families, whose name is still enshrined in the New York of today, where a well-known hostelry and a venerable old corner house, both not far from where Fifth Avenue begins its northward course, serve to recall it to us of the twentieth century.

When the friendship began Washington Irving was simply a light-hearted, generous-minded young New York patrician, full of life and with and geniality, in shoe head the literary works destined to make him famous were already simmering. His letters to his friend took us through early days of gayety and hope, through later days when he met business reverses and allowed gloom to pervade his hitherto sunny ramblings; they take us to Washington, then a muddy little community; to sparkling theatrical performances i London, drawing it s first deep breath of relief after waterloo; to that Spain which so captivated Irving's heart that he had made it his very own in our literature. And, as we follow this urbane gentleman of the bubbling spirits, he introduces us to President James Madison and Dolly, his sprightly wife; to Charles Kemble and Mrs. Kemble, dazzling New York with their acting; to the grand Sir Walter Scott, anything but grand in his hearty welcome of the young American visitor; to charles Keane, and the poet Campbell, who stirred the blood of patriotic Englishmen with "Britannia Needs No Bulwarks.

And there were shrewd estimates of Napoleon Bonaparte and other luminaries of the day, and keen dramatic criticism, and bits of social satire as pertinent today as when Irving penned them.

Irving's first letter to Brevoort was dated "Philadelphia, Oct. 23, 1807." It showed him already hard at work on his then famous "Knickerbocker History of New York." Says he to Brevoort:

"I have been delayed in putting my work to press by some minute and curious facts which I found in a manuscript in the Philadelphia Library and which haas obliged me to make alterations in the first vol. but tomorrow I begin - by God.

"I wish you would immediately forward me the inscription on old P. Stuyvesant's Tombstone - and get Jim as well as yourself to prepare some squibs &c to attract attention to the work when it comes out."

Some while after the history had made its appearance, its youthful author repaired to Washington. Travel wa no trifle in those days; he reports to Brevoort that his journey to Baltimore "was terrible and sublime, as full of adventurous matter and direful peril as one of Walter Scott's pantomimic, melodramatic, romantic tales," We learn that he was three days on the road, and passed one night in a log house - "yet somehow or other I lived through it all, and lived merrily into the bargain, for which I thank a large stock of good humor which I put up before my departure from N. York, as traveling stores to last me thought my expedition."

In Baltimore he ran across Monsieur Bezier, a Frenchman who had just translated "Knickerbocker's History of New York" into his native tongue. "He haas sent his translation to Paris," Irving informs Brevoort, "where I suspect they will understand and relish it about as much as they would a Scotch haggis & a singed sheepshead." At the nation's capital Irving proved himself a youth of great enterprise, and regaled his New York crony most entertainingly:

"I arrived at the Inn about dusk, and, understanding that Mrs. Madison was to have her levee, or drawing room, that very evening, I swore by all the gods I would be there. But how? was the question. I had got away down in Georgetown & the persons to whom my letters of introduction were directed lived all upon Capitol Hill, about three miles off - while the President's house was exactly half way. Here was a nonplus, enough to startle any man of less enterprising spirit - but I had sworn to be there - and I determined to keep my oath, and, like Caleb Quotem, to "have a place at the Review."

So I mounted with a stout heart to my room, resolved to put on my pease blossoms and silk stockings, gird up my loins - sally forth on my expedition & like a vagabond Knight errant, trust to Providence for success and who bones. Just as I descended from my attic chamber full of this valorous spirit, I was met by my landlord, with whom & the head waiter by the bye, I had held a private cabinet counsel on the subject Bully Rook informed me that there was a party of gentlemen just going from the house, one of whom, Mr. Fontaine Maury of N. York, had offered his services to introduce me to "the Sublime Porte."

I cut one of my best opera flourishes, skipped into the dressing room, popped by head into the hands of a sanguinary Jacobitical barber, who carried havoc and desolation into the lower regions of my face, mowed down all the beard on one of my checks and laid the other in blood like a conquered province - and thus like a second Banquo, with "twenty mortal murders on my head." in a few minutes I emerged from dirt and darkness into the blazing spender of Mrs. Madison's Drawing room.

Here I was most graciously received - found a crowded collection of great and little men, of ugly old women, and beautiful young ones - and in ten minutes was hand in glove with half the people in the assemblage.

Mrs. Madison, Irving informs us, was "a fine, portly, buxom dame, who has a smile and pleasant word for everybody.

But, regarding her husband, president James Madison of the Untied States of America, it is: "Ah, poor Jemmy! He is but a withered little apple-John!" And the graceless young New Yorker closes his description of the President with a solemn: "But of this no more! - perish the thought that would militate against sacred things - Mortals avaunt! Touch not the Lord's anointed!"

After his return to New York Irving plunges into another round of gayety, meets a lovely little lady, and writes dejectedly to Brevoort - now in Europe - that he cannot aspire to her hand because he has no money; that the modern maxim is "Handsome is that handsome has" - words which,though written in 1812, would fit well into the pages of those who grow lugubrious at millionaire worship in 1915. "In a word, she is like an ortolan," Irving continues, still on the subject of the lovely little lady; "too rare and costly a dainty for a poor man to afford, but were I a nabob, 'fore George, ortolans should be my only food!"

There is an up to date ring again about the following: "This war completely shuts up all my prospects of visiting Europe for some time to come" - though it, too, was written in 1812. The New Yorkers of that day were much excited about the war of 1812. Henry Brevoort, far away on the continent of Europe, is informed by the faithful Irving that old Mr. Brevoort, his father, "is highly tickled with the success of our navy."

He was so powerfully excited by the capture of the Macedonian that he actually performed a journey to the brothers, above Hellcat, where the frigates lay windbound, and he brought away a piece of the Macedonian, which he seemed to treasure up with as much devotion as a pious Catholic does a piece of the true cross.

Then there was a great dinner to the naval heroes, "at which all the great eaters and drinkers of the city were present." We learn that "nothing is talked of but armies, navies, battles, &c." Eventually Irving got infected with the warlike fever of the day, joined the suite of the Governor of New York, and journeyed to Albany as a military man, breathing martial fire in his letters to Brevoort. But peace put an end to his soldiering, and, on May 25, 1815, a few weeks before Waterloo, Washington Irving set sail for the first of his visits to Europe, where he was to spend so many years and find inspiration for so many well-beloved stories.

At Liverpool he foregathered with the renowned actor, Charles Kemble, and his wife, whom he had already met in New York, and he writes to Brevoort - by this time back in New York - as to ta possible tour for the pair in America:

"The terms offered by Mr. Cooper were not such as to tempt them across the Atlantic, as they could make as much by traveling among the provincial theaters of England. Kemble, however, talks as if he should like to make an excursion to America himself for a year and leave Mrs. K. and the family in England. Such, I think, would be his best plan, as Mrs. K., though an actress of undoubted talents, has grown almost too large for many of the characters she plays - particularly for the eyes of American audiences, who, you know, are accustomed to the more delicate figures of our American ladies."

Napoleon's fall came while Irving was in England. Writing after the former Emperor had been sent by the English Government to St. Helena, Irving tells Brevoort: "I must say I think the Cabinet has acted with littleness toward him. In spite of all his misdeeds he is a noble fellow - and I am confident will eclipse, in the eyes of Posterity, all the crowned wiseacres that have crushed him by their overwhelming confederacy.

"If anything could place the Prince Regent in a more ridiculous light, it is Bonaparte suing for his magnanimous protection. Every compliment paid to this bloated sensualist, this inflation of sack & sugar, turns to the keenest sarcasm- and nothing shows more completely the caprices of fortune and how truly she delights in reversing the relative situations of persons & baffling the flights of intellects and enterprises - than that, of all the monarchs of Europe. Bonaparte should be brought to the feet of the Prince Regent."

Here is another interesting estimate of Napoleon, written after observing some retired English Generals of the old military school:

"Boney must have sadly disconcerted the comfortable system of these old warriors by the harassing, restless, cut and slash mode of warfare that he introduced. He has put an end to all the old carte and tierce system in which the cavaliers of the old school fought so decorously, as it were, with a small sword in one hand and a chapeau in the other. During his career there was been a a sad laying on the shelf of old Generals who could not keep up with the hurry, the fierceness, and dashing of the system."

Irving visited Scotland in 1817, and, remembering that Henry Brevoort had visited the great Walter Scott not long before and spoken of his young literary friend, the latter walked boldly up to the gate of Abbotsford, the novelist's estate, and sent in a letter of introduction "with a card and request to know whether it would be possible for him to receive a visit from me in the course of the day." The welcome left nothing to be desired. Irving describes it to his friend with glowing enthusiasm:

"Mr. Scott himself came out to see me and welcomed me to his home with the genuine hospitality of the olden times. In a moment I found myself at his breakfast table, and felt as if I was at the social board of an old friend. Instead of a visit of a few hours, I was kept there several days - and such days!

"You know the charms of Scott's conversation, but you have not lived with him in the country - you have not rambled with him about his favorite hills and glens and burns - You have not seen him dispensing happiness around him in his little rural domain. I came prepared to admire him, but he completely won my heart and made me love him. He has a charming family around him - Sophia Scott, who must have been quite a little girl when you sere here, is grown up, and is a sweet little mountain lassie. She partakes a great deal of her father's character - is lighthearted, ingenuous, intelligent and amiable. Can tell a whimsical story and sing a border song with the most captivating naivety.

"Scott was very attentive i showing me the neighboring country. I was with him from morning to night and was constantly astonished and delighted by the perpetual and varied flow of his conversation. It is just as entertaining as one of his novels, and exactly like them in style, point, humor, character and picturesqueness. I parted with him with the utmost regret, but received a cordial invitation to repeat my visit on my way back to England, which I think I shall do. I should not forget to mention that he spoke of you in the most friendly terms,and reproached himself for not having written to you; but says he is extremely remiss i letter writing."

Irving took in the theaters of London and was outspoken and independent in his criticisms. Miss O'Neale was, to his mind, the most "soul-subduing" of actresses; he confesses that never was he so "completely melted, moved, and overcome at a theatre as by her performance." But of another performer, one of the most celebrated of his day, the American pronounced this verdict:

"Kan - the prodigy - is to me insufferable. He is vulgar - full of trick and a complete mannerist. This is merely my opinion. He is cried up as a second Garrick - as a reformer of the stage, &c., &c. It may be so. He may be right and all other actors wrong; this is certain, he is either very good or very bad. I think decidedly the later."

At this time business troubles were harassing Irving. Once he speaks dismally to his faithful friend of going through the bankruptcy court; again he thanks Brevoort for urging him to draw on him when in need of funds. "I can draw-on you with confidence," he writes, "as you will receive the proceeds of my writings, which I hope will more than cover my drafts. If I can get my mind into full play, and dash off a set of writings that may do me credit, I shall return home with alacrity, and it will hasten my return - but I cannot bear the thoughts of limping home broken down and spiritless to be received kindly in remembrance of former services."

So he stayed on in Europe, writing diligently, not allowing social distractions to interfere with his labors. The letters of this period betray the worries of their writers there is little of the bubbling gayety of former days. But he still met interesting people and wrote interestingly about them. One was Mr. Hallam, author of the History of the Middle Ages; another Mrs. Siddons, the great actress, of whom Irving narrates:

"She is now near 70 and yet a magnificent looking woman. It is surprising how little time has been able to impair the dignity of her carriage or the noble expression of her countenance. I heard her read the part of Constance at her own house one evening, and I think it the greatest dramatic treat I have had for a long time past."

Better days soon came to Washington Irving. Journeying to Spain, he was soon delightedly delving into the past of that romantic lad, gathering the materials for those enchanting works which have forever linked his name with Granada and the Alhambra. He writes from the latter to Brevoort in May, 1829, with his old-time enthusiasm:

"You see, I am still lingering in Spain, and I declare to you I feel so much interested in this noble country and noble people that though from time to time I have made resolutions and preparations to leave them, I have as often postponed my departure.

"By the date of my letter, you will perceive I am royally quartered. I came to Granada about three weeks since to pass a little time here during the finest season of the year in company with a young Russian Prince, the Secretary of the Russian legation, and the Governor of the Alhambra, finding us poorly lodged in the town, gave us permission to take up our residence i a corner of the old Moorish palace which had been assigned to him for his quarters, but which he had not taken possession of.

"Here then I am, nestled in one of the most remarkable, romantic, and delicious sots in the world. I have the complete range and I may say control of the whole palace, for the only residents beside myself are a worthy old woman, her niece and nephew, who have charge of the building and who make my bed, cook my meals, and are all kindness and devotion to me. I breakfast in the saloon of the Ambassadors or among the flowers and fountains of the Court of the Lions, and when I am not occupied with my pen I lounge with my book about these Oriental apartments or stroll about he courts and gardens and arcades by day or night, with no one to interrupt me. It absolutely appears to me like a dream or as if I am spellbound in some fairy palace. "I think I shall be tempted to remain here for three or four weeks longer at least. I wish to enjoy the delights of this place during the hot weather and to have a complete idea how those knowing Moors enjoyed themselves in their marble halls, cooled by fountains and running streams."

The two or three weeks lengthened to months; it was not until late in July that Irving finally tore himself away from the Alhambra.

After his first visit to Spain Irving was made American Minister to that country, partly through the efforts of the faithful henry Brevoort, and he continued to live for years in the land which he loved so well. Reappointed Minister, he had, as an attache, Brevoort's son Carson, of whom he wrote to the elder Brevoort:

"My heart warms toward him not merely on his own account, but also on your own. he seems like a new link in our old friendship, which commenced when we were both about his age, or even younger, and which I have always felt as something almost fraternal."

The last letter in the long correspondence is one of the most interesting. It was written by Irving to Brevoort in 1843, when the great author was Minister to Spain for the second time. In it he says:

"In all my diplomacy I have depended more upon good intentions and frank and open conduct than upon any subtle management. I have an opinion that the old maxim, 'Honesty is the best policy,' holds good in diplomacy!

"Thus far I have got on well with my brother diplomatists, and have met with very respectful treatment from the Spanish Government i all its changes and fluctuations. I have endeavored punctually to perform the duties of my office and to execute the instructions of Government, and I believe that the archives of the Legation will testify that the business of the mission has never been neglected. I have not suffered illness to prevent me from keeping everything in train; and indeed my recovery has been retarded by remains at my post during the revolutionary scenes of last Summer, though urged by my physician to spend the hot months at the watering places in the mountains.

" I do not pretend to any great dill as a diplomatist; but in whatever situation I am placed i life, when I doubt my skill, I endeavour to make up for it by conscientious assiduity."

Soon after writing thus to his old friend the correspondence between irving and Henry Brevoort ceased, for they both resided thenceforth close beside each other in the great author's well-beloved New York, his birthplace.
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