[To Charles Lanman, Georgetown, D. C.]

MY DEAR MR. LANMAN :

SUNNYSIDE, May 9, 1857.

I have been too thoroughly occupied in getting a volume of my work through the press, to acknowledge, at an earlier date, your letter of March 24th, respecting your letter* which has found its way into the "Intelligencer." I can only say, that I wish you had had a worthier subject for your biographic pen, or that I had known our conversation was likely to be recorded; I should then have tasked myself to say some wise or witty things, to be given as specimens of my off-hand table talk. One should always know when they are sitting for a portrait, that they may endeavor to look handsomer than themselves, and attitudinize.

I am scrawling this in great haste, merely that your letter may not remain longer unacknowledged; and am, very truly, your friend,

WASHINGTON IRVING.

The letter which follows is addressed to Mr. Henry T. Tuckerman, in acknowledgment of his volume of "Biographical Essays," which Mr. Irving had pronounced, in a previous letter, written on a partial perusal, the best work he had given to the public, and one that must greatly advance his reputation :

[To Mr. H. T. Tuckerman.]

MY DEAR MR. TUCKERMAN:—

SUNNYSIDE, January 26, 1857.

I wrote to you, some days since, on the subject of your new work, when I had read but a part of it. I have just finished the perusal of it, and

A letter to Peter Force, Esq.

cannot rest until I have told you how thoroughly I have been delighted with it. I do not know when I have read any work more uniformly rich, full, and well sustained. The liberal, generous, catholic spirit in which it is written, is beyond all praise. The work is a model of its kind.

I have no doubt that it will take a high stand in England, and will reflect great credit on our literature, of which it will remain a lasting ornament.

Congratulating you, with all my heart, on this crowning achievement of your literary career, I remain, yours, very cordially and truly,

WASHINGTON IRVING.

The fourth volume of the "Life of Washington" was published in May. The first letter he received on the subject was from Bancroft, who pronounced the picture he had drawn of Washington "the most vivid and the truest" that had "ever been written." To a warm, congratulatory letter from Mr. Frederick S. Cozzens, author of the humorous "Sparrowgrass Papers," a resident of Yonkers, about eight miles south of Sunnyside, he sends the following characteristic reply:

MY DEAR MR. COZZENS:

SUNNYSIDE, May 22, 1857.

Your letter has been most acceptable and animating; for letters of the kind are not, as you presume, "common to me as blackberries." Excepting a very cordial and laudatory one from Bancroft, yours is the only one, relative to my last volume, that I have yet received. Backed by these two letters, I feel strong enough to withstand that self-criticism which is apt to beset me and cuff me down at the end of a work, when the excitement of composition is over.

You speak of some misgivings which you felt in the course of my literary enterprise, whether I would be able to go through with it, and "end as happily as I had begun." I confess I had many misgivings of the kind

myself, as I became aware of the magnitude of the theme upon which I had adventured, and saw "wilds immeasurably spread" lengthening on every side as I proceeded. I felt that I had presumed on the indulgence of nature in undertaking such a task at my time of life, and feared I might break down in the midst of it. Whimsical as it may seem, I was haunted occasionally by one of my own early pleasantries. My mock admonition to Diedrich Knickerbocker not to idle in his historic wayfaring, rose in judgment against me: "Is not Time, relentless Time, shaking, with palsied hand, his almost exhausted hour-glass before thee? Hasten, then, to pursue thy weary task, lest the last sands be run ere thou hast finished thy history of the Manhattoes."

Fortunately, I had more powers of endurance in me than I gave myself credit for. I have attained to a kind of landing-place in my work, and, as I now rest myself on the bank, feel that, though a little weary, I am none the worse for having so long tugged at the oar.

And now, as the winter is past, the rains are over and gone, and the flowers are appearing upon the earth, I mean to recreate myself a little, and may, one day or other, extend my travels down even to Yonkers, but will always be happy to welcome you to Sunnyside.

With kindest remembrances to Mrs. Cozzens, believe me, very truly, your obliged friend,

WASHINGTON IRVING.

I now place before the reader the two following letters; the first written by Prescott after completing the perusal of the fourth volume of the "Life of Washington," and the second by Motley, about to leave the country, and whom Mr. Irving never met. Motley had recently achieved a brilliant fame by his "Rise of the Dutch Republic;" and, after some modest demur to which his letter alludes, had sent his volumes to Mr. Irving, who responded with a sincere and warm eulogy.

[From Mr. W. H. Prescott.]

MY DEAR MR. IRVING:

LYNN, MASS., August 7, 1857.

I have just closed the fourth volume of your "Life of Washington." I have not hurried myself, as you see; and, in truth, a man who travels through books with the ear, instead of the eye, cannot hurry. I don't know whether you care about remarks on your books from friends, though they be brothers of the craft; but it always seems to me that, when one has derived great pleasure from reading an author, to make no acknowledgment is as uncourteous as for a gourmand, after he has crammed himself with a good dinner, to go away without a civil word to his host.

My wife, who has been my reader, and myself, have indeed read with the greatest interest this your last work-an interest which went on crescendo from the beginning, and which did not reach its climax till the last pages. I have never before fully comprehended the character of Washington; nor did I know what capabilities it would afford to his biographer. Hitherto we have only seen him as a sort of marble Colossus, full of moral greatness, but without the touch of humanity that would give him interest. You have known how to give the marble flesh color, that brings it to the resemblance of life. This you have done throughout; but it is more especially observable in the first volume and in the last. No one at least, I am sure, no American-could read the last without finding pretty often a blur upon the page. Yet, I see, like your predecessors, you are not willing to mar the beautiful picture, by giving Washington the infirmity of temper which common report assigns to him. Perhaps you are not satisfied with the foundations of such a report. I had feared from your manner of talking, that you would never set about the great work in earnest. Happy for the country that it has been at last accomplished by your pen!

It is long since I had the pleasure of seeing you, though I often get particulars about you. How gratified should I be, for one of many, if you would pay a visit to our northern latitudes! I so rarely go to New York, that, when I go, the memory of friends like Brevoort, Wain

wright, and a few others, rises to my mind, and fills it with a melancholy feeling.

Adieu, my dear Mr. Irving. Long may it be before you are called away, and before you cease to give pleasure and instruction to the world by your writings,

Always, very sincerely, your friend,

WM. H. PRESCOTT.

[J. Lothrop Motley to Washington Irving.]

MY DEAR SIR:

BOSTON, August 7, 1857.

You must permit me to address you a single line of thanks for the kind note you did me the honor of sending me several days since.

To receive such warm and generous commendation from so venerated a hand, is sufficient reward for literary labor, although it were far more severe and more successful than mine has been.

Having been, from youth upward, among the warmest and most enthusiastic admirers of your genius, I appreciate entirely the generosity with which you extend to me the hand of fellowship and sympathy.

It is your great good fortune to command not only the respect and admiration of your innumerable readers, but their affection also. A feeling of personal obligation-almost of personal friendship-mingles itself, in their minds, with the colder sentiments which are often entertained toward even a successful author.

I will not proceed in this vein, lest I should say more than you would think becoming, as addressed directly to yourself. I will only say, that when the book of which you have been pleased to speak so indulgently first appeared, I wished very much to depart, in a single instance, from the rule which I had laid down-not to send, namely, a copy to any one who was not an old personal acquaintance. I did wish very much to send you one, as a testimony of gratitude and respect from one who had been long most familiar with you, although utterly unknown to you. I refrained, however, until recently, and I am rejoiced to find that you did not consider my sending the book an intrusion.

VOL. III.-20