Four Famous American Writers: Washington Irving, Edgar Allan Poe, by Sherwin Cody

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FOUR FAMOUS AMERICAN WRITERS

Washington Irving
Edgar Allan Poe
James Russell Lowell
Bayard Taylor

A Book For Young Americans

By
Sherwin Cody

1899

CONTENTS

THE STORY OF WASHINGTON IRVING

CHAPTER
I. HIS CHILDHOOD
II. IRVING'S FIRST VOYAGE UP THE HUDSON RIVER
III. A TRIP TO MONTREAL
IV. IRVING GOES TO EUROPE
V. "SALMAGUNDI"
VI. "DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER"
VII. A COMIC HISTORY OF NEW YORK
VIII. FIVE UNEVENTFUL YEARS
IX. FRIENDSHIP WITH SIR WALTER SCOTT
X. "RIP VAN WINKLE"
XI. LITERARY SUCCESS IN ENGLAND
XII. IRVING GOES TO SPAIN
XIII. "THE ALHAMBRA"
XIV. THE LAST YEARS OF IRVING'S LIFE

THE STORY OF EDGAR ALLAN POE

CHAPTER
I. THE ARTIST IN WORDS
II. POE'S FATHER AND MOTHER
III. YOUNG EDGAR ALLAN
IV. COLLEGE LIFE
V. FORTUNE CHANGES
VI. LIVING BY LITERATURE
VII. POE'S EARLY POETRY
VIII. POE'S CHILD WIFE
IX. POE'S LITERARY HISTORY
X. POE AS A STORY-WRITER
XI. HOW "THE RAVEN" WAS WRITTEN
XII. MUSIC AND POETRY
XIII. POE'S LATER YEARS

THE STORY OF JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

CHAPTER
I. ELMWOOD
II. AN IMPETUOUS YOUNG MAN
III. COLLEGE AND THE MUSES
IV. HOW LOWELL STUDIED LAW
V. LOVE AND LETTERS
VI. THE UNCERTAIN SEAS OF LITERATURE
VII. HOSEA BIGLOW, YANKEE HUMORIST
VIII. PARSON WILBUR
IX. A FABLE FOR CRITICS
X. THE TRUEST POETRY
XI. PROFESSOR, EDITOR, AND DIPLOMAT

THE STORY OF BAYARD TAYLOR

CHAPTER
I. HIS BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD
II. SCHOOL LIFE
III. HIS FIRST POEM
IV. SELF-EDUCATION AND AMBITION
V. A TRAVELER AT NINETEEN
VI. TWO YEARS IN EUROPE FOR FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS
VII. THE HARDSHIPS OF TRAMP TRAVEL
VIII. HIS FIRST LOVE AND GREATEST SORROW
IX. "THE GREAT AMERICAN TRAVELER"
X. HIS POETRY
XI. "POEMS OF THE ORIENT"
XII. BAYARD TAYLOR'S FRIENDSHIPS
XIII. LAST YEARS

THE STORY OF WASHINGTON IRVING

[Illustration: _WASHINGTON IRVING._]

WASHINGTON IRVING

CHAPTER I

HIS CHILDHOOD

The Revolutionary War was over. The British soldiers were preparing to
embark on their ships and sail back over the ocean, and General
Washington would soon enter New York city at the head of the American
army. While all true patriots were rejoicing at this happy turn of
affairs, a little boy was born who was destined to be the first great
American author.

William Irving, the father of this little boy, had been a merchant in
New York city. He had been very prosperous until the war broke out.
After the battle of Long Island, the British then occupying the city,
he had taken his family to New Jersey. But later, although he was a
loyal American, he went back to the city to attend to his business.
There he helped the American cause by doing everything he could for
the American prisoners whom the British held. His wife, especially,
had a happy way of persuading Sir Henry Clinton, and when the British
general saw her coming, he prepared himself to grant any request about
the prisoners which she might make. Often she sent them food from her
own table, and cared for them when they were sick.

When their last son, the eleventh child, was born, on April 3, 1783,
the parents showed their loyalty by naming him Washington, after the
beloved Father of his Country.

Six years after this, George Washington was elected president, and
went to New York to live. The Scotch maid who took care of little
Washington Irving made up her mind to introduce the boy to his great
namesake. So one day she followed the general into a shop, and,
pointing to the lad, said, "Please, your honor, here's a bairn was
named after you." Washington turned around, smiled, and placing his
hand on the boy's head, gave him his blessing. Little did General
Washington suspect that in later years this boy, grown to manhood and
become famous, would write his biography.

In those days New York was only a small town at the south end of
Manhattan Island. It extended barely as far north as the place where
now stand the City Hall and the Postoffice. Broadway was then a
country road. The Irvings lived at 131 William Street, afterward
moving across to 128. This is now one of the oldest parts of New York.
The streets in that section are narrow, and the buildings, though put
up long after Irving's birth, seem very old.

Here the little boy grew up with his brothers and sisters. At four he
went to school. His first teacher was a lady; but he was soon
transferred to a school kept by an old Revolutionary soldier who
became so fond of the boy that he gave him the pet name of "General."
This teacher liked him because, though often in mischief, he never
tried to protect himself by telling a falsehood, but always confessed
the truth.

Washington was not very fond of study, but he was a great reader. At
eleven his favorite stories were "Robinson Crusoe" and "Sindbad the
Sailor." Besides these, he read many books of travel, and soon found
himself wishing that he might go to sea. As he grew up he was able to
gratify his taste for travel, and some of his finest books and stories
relate to his experiences in foreign lands. In the introduction to the
"Sketch Book" he says, "How wistfully would I wander about the
pier-heads in fine weather, and watch the parting ships bound to
distant climes--with what longing eyes would I gaze after their
lessening sails, and waft myself in imagination to the ends of the earth!"

CHAPTER II

IRVING'S FIRST VOYAGE UP THE HUDSON RIVER

Irving's first literary composition seems to have been a play written
when he was thirteen. It was performed at the house of a friend, in
the presence of a famous actress of that day; but in after years
Irving had forgotten even the title.

His schooling was finished when he was sixteen. His elder brothers had
attended college, and he never knew exactly why he did not. But he was
not fond of hard study or hard work. He lived in a sort of dreamy
leisure, which seemed particularly suited to his light, airy genius,
so full of humor, sunshine, and loving-kindness.

After leaving school, he began to study law in the office of a certain
Henry Masterton. This was in the year 1800. He was admitted to the bar
six years later; but he spent a great deal more of the intervening
time in traveling and scribbling than in the study of law. His first
published writing was a series of letters signed "Jonathan Oldstyle,"
printed in his brother's daily paper, "The Morning Chronicle," when
the writer was nineteen years old.

Irving's first journey was made the very year after he left school. It
was a voyage in a sailing boat up the Hudson river to Albany; and a
land journey from there to Johnstown, New York, to visit two married
sisters. In the early days this was on the border of civilization,
where the white traders went to buy furs from the Indians. Steamboats
and railroads had not been invented, and a journey that can now be
made in a few hours, then required several days. Years afterward,
Irving described his first voyage up the Hudson.

"My first voyage up the Hudson," said he, "was made in early boyhood,
in the good old times before steamboats and railroads had annihilated
time and space, and driven all poetry and romance out of travel.... We
enjoyed the beauties of the river in those days.[+]

[Footnote +: Irving was the first to describe the wonderful beauties
of the Hudson river.]

"I was to make the voyage under the protection of a relative of mature
age--one experienced in the river. His first care was to look out for
a favorite sloop and captain, in which there was great choice....

"A sloop was at length chosen; but she had yet to complete her freight
and secure a sufficient number of passengers. Days were consumed in
drumming up a cargo. This was a tormenting delay to me, who was about
to make my first voyage, and who, boy-like, had packed my trunk on the
first mention of the expedition. How often that trunk had to be
unpacked and repacked before we sailed!

"At length the sloop actually got under way. As she worked slowly out
of the dock into the stream, there was a great exchange of last words
between friends on board and friends on shore, and much waving of
handkerchiefs when the sloop was out of hearing.

"... What a time of intense delight was that first sail through the
Highlands! I sat on the deck as we slowly tided along at the foot of
those stern mountains, and gazed with wonder and admiration at cliffs
impending far above me, crowned with forests, with eagles sailing and
screaming around them; or listened to the unseen stream dashing down
precipices; or beheld rock, and tree, and cloud, and sky reflected in
the glassy stream of the river....

"But of all the scenery of the Hudson, the Kaatskill Mountains had the
most witching effect on my boyish imagination. Never shall I forget
the effect upon me of the first view of them predominating over a wide
extent of country, part wild, woody, and rugged; part softened away
into all the graces of cultivation. As we slowly floated along, I lay
on the deck and watched them through a long summer's day, undergoing a
thousand mutations under the magical effects of atmosphere; sometimes
seeming to approach, at other times to recede; now almost melting into
hazy distance, now burnished by the hazy sun, until, in the evening,
they printed themselves against the glowing sky in the deep purple of
an Italian landscape."

CHAPTER III

A TRIP TO MONTREAL

Soon after returning from this trip, Irving became a clerk in the law
office of a Mr. Hoffman. There was a warm friendship between him and
Mr. Hoffman's family. Mrs. Hoffman was his lifelong friend and, as he
afterwards said, like a sister to him; and he finally fell in love
with Matilda, one of Mr. Hoffman's daughters, and was engaged to be
married to her. Her sad death at the age of seventeen was perhaps the
greatest unhappiness of his life. He never married, but held her
memory sacred as long as he lived.

In 1803 he was invited by Mr. Hoffman to go with him to Montreal and
Quebec. Irving kept a journal during this expedition, and it shows
what a rough time travelers had in those days.

Part of the way they sailed in a scow on Black River. They were
partially sheltered from the rain by sheets stretched over hoops. At
night they went ashore and slept in a log cabin.

One morning after a rainy night they awoke to find the sky clear and
the sun shining brightly. Setting out again in their boat, they were
soon surprised by meeting three canoes in pursuit of a deer.

"The deer made for our shore," says Irving in his journal. "We pushed
ashore immediately, and as it passed, Mr. Ogden fired and wounded it.
It had been wounded before. I threw off my coat and prepared to swim
after it. As it came near, a man rushed through the bushes, sprang
into the water, and made a grasp at the animal. He missed his aim, and
I jumped after, fell on his back, and sunk him under water. At the
same time I caught the deer by one ear, and Mr. Ogden seized it by a
leg. The submerged gentleman, who had risen above the water, got hold
of another. We drew it ashore, when the man immediately dispatched it
with a knife. We claimed a haunch for our share, permitting him to
keep all the rest."

Irving had one or two experiences with the Indians which were not
altogether pleasant at the time, but which afterward appeared very
amusing.

On one occasion he went with another young man to a small island in a
river, where he hoped to be able to hire a boat to take the party to a
place some distance farther down the stream. They found there a wigwam
in which were a number of Indians, both men and women; but the Indian
they were looking for was away selling furs.

He soon came in, with his squaw, who was rather a pretty woman. Both
he and she had been drinking. While the other young man was trying to
explain their business, the Indian woman sat down beside Irving, and
in her half drunken way began to pay him great attention.

The husband, a tall, strapping Hercules of an Indian, sat scowling at
them with his blanket drawn up to his chin, and his face between his
hands, while his elbows rested on his knees.

But soon the Indian could no longer endure the flirtation his wife was
carrying on with Irving. He rushed upon him, calling him a "cursed
Yankee," and gave him a blow which stretched him on the floor.

While Irving was picking himself up and getting out of the way, his
friend went to the Indian and tried to quiet him. By this time the
feelings of the drunken redman had quite changed. He fell on the young
man's neck, exchanged names with him after the Indian fashion, and
declared that they would be sworn friends and brothers as long as they
lived.

Irving hastened to get into his boat, and he and his companion made
off as quickly as possible, having no wish for any further intercourse
with drunken Indians.

CHAPTER IV

IRVING GOES TO EUROPE

Irving's health was by no means good, and his friends were so alarmed
that when he was twenty-one they planned a trip to Europe for him. As
he stepped on board the boat that was to take him, the captain eyed
him from head to foot and remarked to himself, "There's a chap who
will go overboard before we get across."

To the surprise of the captain and other passengers, however, he did
not die, but got much better.

He disembarked at Bordeaux, in France, and joining a merry company,
traveled with them in a kind of stagecoach called a diligence.

Among the company were a jolly little Pennsylvania doctor, and a
French officer going home to see his mother. In one of the little
French towns where they stopped they had an amusing experience, which
Irving has described in his journal.

"In one of our strolls in the town of Tonneins," says he, "we entered
a house where a number of girls were quilting. They gave me a needle
and set me to work. My bad French seemed to give them much amusement.
They asked me several questions; as I could not understand them I made
them any answer that came into my head, which caused a great deal of
laughter amongst them.

"At last the little doctor told them that I was an English prisoner,
whom the young French officer (who was with us) had in custody. Their
merriment immediately gave place to pity.

"'Ah, the poor fellow!' said one to another, 'he is merry, however, in
all his trouble,'

"'And what will they do with him?' said a young woman to the traveler.

"'Oh, nothing of consequence,' replied he; 'perhaps shoot him or cut
off his head.'

"The honest souls seemed quite distressed for me, and when I mentioned
that I was thirsty, a bottle of wine was immediately placed before me,
nor could I prevail on them to take a recompense. In short, I
departed, loaded with their good wishes and benedictions, and I
suppose I furnished a theme of conversation throughout the village."

Years afterward, when Mr. Irving was minister to Spain, he went some
miles out of his way to visit this town. Says he:

"As my carriage rattled through the quiet streets of Tonneins, and the
postilion smacked his whip with the French love of racket, I looked
out for the house where, forty years before, I had seen the quilting
party. I believe I recognized the house; and I saw two or three old
women, who might once have formed part of the merry group of girls;
but I doubt whether they recognized in the stout, elderly gentleman,
who thus rattled in his carriage through their streets, the pale young
English prisoner of forty years since."

* * * * *

In this manner he wandered about for nearly two years. He visited
Genoa, the birthplace of Columbus, and climbed Mount Vesuvius. He
dined with Madame de Stael, the famous author of "Corinne." At Rome he
met Washington Allston, the great American painter, then a young man
not much older than he. They became good friends, and Allston
afterward illustrated some of Irving's works. Irving was tempted to
remain in Rome and become a painter like Allston. But he finally
decided that he did not have any special talent for art, and went home
to finish his study of law.

CHAPTER V

"SALMAGUNDI"

Washington Irving returned to New York, quite restored to health; and
there he soon became a social hero. Trips to Europe were so uncommon
in those days that to have made one was a distinction in itself.
Besides, Irving was now a polished young gentleman, very fond of
amusement; and having become a lawyer with little to do, he made up
his mind to enjoy himself.

He and his brother Peter, with a number of young men about the same
age, called themselves "the nine worthies," or the "lads of Kilkenny,"
and many a gay time they had together,--rather too gay, some people
thought. One of their favorite resorts was an old family mansion,
which had descended from a deceased uncle to one of the nine lads. It
was on the banks of the Passaic river, about a mile from Newark, New
Jersey. It was full of antique furniture, and the walls were adorned
with old family portraits. The place was in charge of an old man and
his wife and a negro boy, who were the sole occupants, except when the
nine would sally forth from New York and enliven its solitudes with
their madcap pranks and orgies.

"'Who would have thought," said Irving at the age of sixty-three to
another of those nine lads, "that we should ever have lived to be two
such respectable old gentlemen!"

About this time Irving and a friend named James K. Paulding proposed
to start a paper, to be called "Salmagundi." It was an imitation of
Addison's _Spectator_, and consisted of light, humorous essays, most
of them making fun of the fads and fancies of New York life in those
days. The numbers were published from a week to a month apart, and
were continued for about a year.

The young men had no idea of making money by the venture, for they
were then well-to-do; but to their surprise it proved a great success,
and the publisher is said to have made ten or fifteen thousand dollars
out of it. He afterwards paid the editors four hundred dollars each.

Irving now visited Philadelphia, Boston, and other places. He thought
of trying for a government office, and was tempted into politics. His
description of his experience is amusing enough.

"Before the third day was expired, I was as deep in mud and politics
as ever a moderate gentleman would wish to be; and I drank beer with
the multitude; and I talked handbill-fashion with the demagogues, and
I shook hands with the mob--whom my heart abhorreth. 'Tis true, for
the two first days I maintained my coolness and indifference.... But
the third day--ah! then came the tug of war. My patriotism all at once
blazed forth, and I determined to save my country! O, my friend, I
have been in such holes and corners; such filthy nooks, sweep offices,
and oyster cellars!"

He closes by saying that this saving one's country is such a sickening
business that he wants no more of it.

CHAPTER VI

"DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER"

On October 26, 1809, there appeared in the _New York Evening Post_ the
following paragraph:

"DISTRESSING.

"Left his lodgings, some time since, and has not since been heard of,
a small elderly gentleman, dressed in an old black coat and cocked
hat, by the name of Knickerbocker. As there are some reasons for
believing he is not entirely in his right mind, and as great anxiety
is entertained about him, any information concerning him left either
at the Columbian Hotel, Mulberry street, or at the office of this
paper, will be thankfully received.

"P.S. Printers of newspapers will be aiding the cause of humanity in
giving an insertion to the above."

Two weeks later a letter was printed in the _Evening Post_, signed "A
Traveler," saying that such a gentleman as the one described had been
seen a little above King's Bridge, north of New York, "resting himself
by the side of the road."

Ten days after this the following letter was printed:

"_To the Editor of the Evening Post_:

"Sir,--You have been good enough to publish in your paper a paragraph
about Mr. Diedrich Knickerbocker, who was missing so strangely some
time since; but a very curious kind of a written book has been found
in his room, in his own handwriting. Now I wish to notice[+] him, if
he is still alive, that if he does not return and pay off his bill for
boarding and lodging, I shall have to dispose of his book to satisfy
me for the same.

[Footnote +: Legal term, meaning "to give notice to."]

"I am, sir, your obedient servant,

"Seth Handaside,

"Landlord of the Independent Columbian Hotel, Mulberry Street."

On November 28th there appeared in the advertising columns the
announcement of "A History of New York," in two volumes, price three
dollars.

The advertisement says, "This work was found in the chamber of Mr.
Diedrich Knickerbocker, the old gentleman whose sudden and mysterious
disappearance has been noticed. It is published in order to discharge
certain debts he has left behind."

When the book was published the people took it up, expecting to find a
grave and learned history of New York. It was dedicated to the New
York Historical Society, and began with an account of the supposed
author, Mr. Diedrich Knickerbocker. "He was a small, brisk-looking old
gentleman, dressed in a rusty black coat, a pair of olive velvet
breeches, and a small cocked hat. He had a few gray hairs plaited and
clubbed behind.... The only piece of finery which he bore about him
was a bright pair of square silver shoe-buckles." The landlord of the
inn, who writes this description, adds: "My wife at once set him down
for some eminent country schoolmaster."

Imagine for yourself the astonishment, and then the amusement--in some
cases even the anger--of those who read, to find a most ludicrous
description of the old Dutch settlers of New York, the ancestors of
the most aristocratic families of the metropolis of America. The
people that laughed got the best of it, however, and the book was
considered one of the popular successes of the day. The real author of
this book was, of course, Washington Irving. When forty years later
the book was to be included in his collected works he wrote an
"Apology," in which he says, "When I find, after a lapse of nearly
forty years, this haphazard production of my youth still cherished
among them (the New Yorkers); when I find its very name become a
'household word,' and used to give the home stamp to everything
recommended for popular acceptance, such as Knickerbocker societies,
Knickerbocker insurance companies, Knickerbocker steamboats,
Knickerbocker omnibuses, Knickerbocker bread, and Knickerbocker
ice,--and when I find New Yorkers of Dutch descent priding themselves
upon being 'genuine Knickerbockers,' I please myself with the persuasion
that I have struck the right chord."

CHAPTER VII

A COMIC HISTORY OF NEW YORK

"Knickerbocker's History of New York" was undertaken by Irving and his
brother Peter as a parody on a book that had lately appeared, entitled
"A Picture of New York." The two young men, one of whom had already
proved himself something of an author, were so full of humor and the
spirit of mischief that they must amuse themselves and their friends,
and they thought this a good way of doing it. There was to be an
introduction giving the history of New York from the foundation of the
world, and the main body of the book was to consist of "notices of the
customs, manners, and institutions of the city; written in a
serio-comic vein, and treating local errors, follies, and abuses with
good-humored satire."

The introduction was not more than fairly begun when Peter Irving
started for Europe, leaving the completion of the work to the younger
brother. Washington decided to change the plan, and merely give a
humorous history of the Dutch settlement of New York.

Let us take a peep into this amusing history. First, here is the
portrait of "that worthy and irrecoverable discoverer (as he has
justly been called), Master Henry Hudson," who "set sail from Holland
in a stout vessel called the Half-Moon, being employed by the Dutch
East India Company to seek a northwest passage to China."

"Henry (or as the Dutch historians call him, Hendrick) Hudson was a
seafaring man of renown, who had learned to smoke tobacco under Sir
Walter Raleigh, and is said to have been the first to introduce it
into Holland, which gained him much popularity in that country, and
caused him to find great favor in the eyes of their High Mightinesses,
the Lords States General, and also of the honorable East India
Company. He was a short, square, brawny old gentleman, with a double
chin, a mastiff mouth, and a broad copper nose, which was supposed in
those days to have acquired its fiery hue from the constant
neighborhood of his tobacco pipe.

"He wore a commodore's cocked hat on one side of his head. He was
remarkable for always jerking up his breeches when he gave out his
orders, and his voice sounded not unlike the brattling of a tin
trumpet--owing to the number of hard northwesters which he had
swallowed in the course of his seafaring.

"Such was Hendrick Hudson, of whom we have heard so much and know so
little."

You must read in the history itself the amusing account of Ten
Breeches and Tough Breeches. One of the Dutch colonists bought of the
Indians for sixty guelders as much land as could be covered by a man's
breeches. When the time for measuring came Mr. Ten Breeches was
produced, and peeling off one pair of breeches after another, soon
produced enough material to surround the entire island of Manhattan,
which was thus bought for sixty guelders, or Dutch dollars.

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