Irving and the Knickerbocker Group 183
the legends of his own land and other lands but did not
permeate them with the psychic mystery or awful moral
implications of Hawthorne. He dealt in the supernatural
but without the creepiness of Poe. He was a shrewd observer
of men and manners, but seldom wove the tragic fatalities
of human contacts. When a contemporary critic wrote that
there is always some underlying motive in his sketches, Irving
laughed and said “that man has found me out. He has
discovered the moral of The Stout Gentleman.” He was
faithful in detail but often prolix. He was a maker of
sketches, not a dramaturgist. His sympathies were almost
universal but he did not flame with the fierce fires of passion.
Enough of what he was not. It is a sorry sort of criticism
to castigate a writer because he is not somebody else. But
the comparisons are not condemnatory; only a crude attempt
to “place” him. What is his place? Not on the mountain
peaks but in the foothills; not with the giants but among
the most lovable of men; one who contrived to transfer
to his pages something of his personal loving kindness. What
Thackeray said of Dick Steele applies to Irving: “We love
him as children love their love with an A because he is
amiable.” Not many read Steele today but they who do,
love him. So it is with Irving. And we don’t have to begin,
as in the case of faltering Dick, by excusing a multitude of
indiscretions. Irving’s personal faults were few and minor:
chiefly an inclination to idleness—obviously overcome, else
how could there be so many books by him ; that and the fact
he was not the most brilliant of men or profoundest of
thinkers. What is his secret? Personal charm and gener-
osity. It would be difficult to find among American writers,
or English writers either, a more endearing person than
Washington Irving. Again we may quote Thackeray on
Steele and apply the quotation to Irving, “if he is not our