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Page 12
Although a Federalist, and, as he described himself, "an admirer of
General Hamilton, and a partisan with him in politics," he accepted a
retainer from Burr's friends in 1807, and attended his trial in
Richmond, but more in the capacity of an observer of the scene than a
lawyer. He did not share the prevalent opinion of Burr's treason, and
regarded him as a man so fallen as to be shorn of the power to injure
the country, one for whom he could feel nothing but compassion. That
compassion, however, he received only from the ladies of the city, and
the traits of female goodness manifested then sunk deep into Irving's
heart. Without pretending, he says, to decide on Burr's innocence or
guilt, "his situation is such as should appeal eloquently to the
feelings of every generous bosom. Sorry am I to say the reverse has been
the fact: fallen, proscribed, pre-judged, the cup of bitterness has been
administered to him with an unsparing hand. It has almost been
considered as culpable to evince toward him the least sympathy or
support; and many a hollow-hearted caitiff have I seen, who basked in
the sunshine of his bounty while in power, who now skulked from his
side, and even mingled among the most clamorous of his enemies.... I bid
him farewell with a heavy heart, and he expressed with peculiar warmth
and feeling his sense of the interest I had taken in his fate. I never
felt in a more melancholy mood than when I rode from his solitary
prison." This is a good illustration of Irving's tender-heartedness; but
considering Burr's whole character, it is altogether a womanish case of
misplaced sympathy with the cool slayer of Alexander Hamilton.
CHAPTER V.
THE KNICKERBOCKER PERIOD.
Not long after the discontinuance of "Salmagundi," Irving in connection
with his brother Peter projected the work that was to make him famous.
At first nothing more was intended than a satire upon the "Picture of
New York," by Dr. Samuel Mitchell, just then published. It was begun as
a mere burlesque upon pedantry and erudition, and was well advanced,
when Peter was called by his business to Europe, and its completion was
fortunately left to Washington. In his mind the idea expanded into a
different conception. He condensed the mass of affected learning, which
was their joint work, into five introductory chapters,--subsequently he
said it would have been improved if it had been reduced to one, and it
seems to me it would have been better if that one had been thrown
away,--and finished "A History of New York," by Diedrich Knickerbocker,
substantially as we now have it. This was in 1809, when Irving was
twenty-six years old.
But before this humorous creation was completed, the author endured the
terrible bereavement which was to color all his life. He had formed a
deep and tender passion for Matilda Hoffman, the second daughter of
Jeremiah Ogden Hoffman, in whose family he had long been on a footing of
the most perfect intimacy, and his ardent love was fully reciprocated.
He was restlessly casting about for some assured means of livelihood
which would enable him to marry, and perhaps his distrust of a literary
career was connected with this desire, when after a short illness Miss
Hoffman died, in the eighteenth year of her age. Without being a
dazzling beauty, she was lovely in person and mind, with most engaging
manners, a refined sensibility, and a delicate and playful humor. The
loss was a crushing blow to Irving, from the effects of which he never
recovered, although time softened the bitterness of his grief into a
tender and sacred memory. He could never bear to hear her name spoken
even by his most intimate friends, or any allusion to her. Thirty years
after her death, it happened one evening at the house of Mr. Hoffman,
her father, that a granddaughter was playing for Mr. Irving, and in
taking her music from the drawer, a faded piece of embroidery was
brought forth. "Washington," said Mr. Hoffman, picking it up, "this is a
piece of poor Matilda's workmanship." The effect was electric. He had
been talking in the sprightliest mood before, but he sunk at once into
utter silence, and in a few moments got up and left the house.
After his death, in a private repository of which he always kept the
key, was found a lovely miniature, a braid of fair hair, and a slip of
paper, on which was written in his own hand, "Matilda Hoffman;" and with
these treasures were several pages of a memorandum in ink long since
faded. He kept through life her Bible and Prayer Book; they were placed
nightly under his pillow in the first days of anguish that followed her
loss, and ever after they were the inseparable companions of all his
wanderings. In this memorandum--which was written many years
afterwards--we read the simple story of his love:--
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