Irving's habit of work. He was, like most men of extreme sensitiveness,
moody; at times his mind seemed all aglow; he wrote, on such occasions,
with extraordinary rapidity, and with that cheery appreciation of his
labor which to any author is an immense stimulant. But following upon
these happy humors came seasons of wearisome depression; the stale
manuscript of yesterday lost its charm; the fancy refused to be lighted;
he has not the heart to hammer at the business with dull, lifeless
blows, and flings down his pen in despair. There are successive months
during which this mood hangs upon him like an incubus; then it passes
suddenly, like a cloud, and the air (as at Seville) wooes him to his
charmingest fancies.
We do not propose a critical estimate of the books of Mr. Irving. We
have neither space nor present temper for this. The world has indorsed
his great popularity with the heart, as much as with the brain. There
are those who have objected that the last subject of his labor--the
"Life of Washington"--was little suited to his imaginative tone of mind,
and should have been worked up with a larger and more philosophic grasp
of thought. It may well be that at some future time we shall have a more
profound estimate of the relations which our great Leader held to his
cause and to his time; but, however profound and just such a work may
be, we feel quite safe in predicting that it will never supplant the
graceful labor of Mr.
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