American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1874-08-29

larIty OF the great writer's character or
career his familiar friends have taken
pains TO inform the wide circle OF his
admirers, an aggravating reticence has
always met the questionings OF those
who were curious as TO why mafrimony
m tde no part in his experience There
were occasional and very vague
references made to lang syne" love
so dimly distant in the past as To have
the air OF tradition and the manner OF
mentioning which made Irving appear
the model of constancy, If not the hero
OF IA roman e. But the circumstance OF
his bachelorhood remained simple,
patent, une planned fac the theme OF
many wonderings, the warp and wool OF
much imagining-nay, more, the sun
structure of Il thousand sweet sympathies
outgushing from other hearts whose loves
had not been lost but gone before III Is
doubtful if II secret of the sort-ail things
considered-was ever before so carefully
and completely kept For once the I'M
pertinent were held at bay, the prying
were baked and the sympathetic, even,
discouraged The time for its disclosure
had not come, and surely, when his in
Inmates and relatives were dcbarred
from the remotest reference to the sub
ject in the hallowed home circle of the
literary bachelor, it was but proper that
the truth should burst forth upon the
world, if at all, in Irving's own seiected
time and il his own pathetic language.
1t was while engaged in writing his
History of New York" that rving then
a young man of twenty-siX, WAS called
to mourn the somewhat sudden death of
Matilda Hoffman, whom he had hoped
to call his wife. This young lady was
the second daughter of Josiah Ogden
Hoffman, and sister of those two tai
ented men, Charles Feno Hoffman, the
poet, and Ogden Hoffman, the eloquent
jurist. In her fathers office Washington
Irving hsd essa, ed to study law, and
with every prospect, if industrious and
studious, of partnership with Mr.. Hotf-
man as well as matrimonial ALLAN e
with Matilda. These high hopes were
disappointed by the decease of the young
lady on the 9th of April, 1909, in the
eighteenth year of her age.
There is a par4os about Irving's re-
cital of the circumstances of her death
and of his own feelings that is truly pain
full and tear-impelling. He says: She
was taken ill with a cold Nothing was
thought of it at first, but she grew rapid
ly worse, and fell into IA consumption l
cannot tell you what ! suffered l saw
her fade rapidly away; beautiful and
more beautiful, and more angelic to the
very last. / was often ut her bedside:
and in her wandering state of mind she
would talk to me with Il sweet, natural
and aft citing eloquence that was over
powering | saw more of the beauty of
her mind in that delirious state than
had ever known before. Her malady
was rapid in it's career, and hurried her
off in two months. Her dying strug-
giles were painful and protracted.
For three days and nights l did
not leave the house, and scarce
ly slept. ! was by her when she
died; all the family were assembled
round her, some praying, others weeping.
for she was adored by them all. | was
the asst one she looked upon. l cannot
tell you what IA horrid state of mind |
was IN Tor II long time. Iseemed to care
for nothing; the world was IA blank to
me. l abandoned all Thoughts of the
law l went into the country but could
not bear solitude, yet could not emf
So There was dismal horror con
tinually in my mind, that made me fear
l. Had vI.on TO get up in the
night and seek the bedroom of my
brothers, as if the having Il human bein.
near me would relieve me of the fright
full gloom of my own thoughts. Months
elapsed before my mind would re
sumo any tone. but the dependency |
had su cred for long time in the course
OF tuis attachment, and the anguish that
attended the catastrophe, seemed to give
turn to my whole character, and threw
some clouds into my disposition which
nave ever since hung about it.
seemed to drift about without aim or OBJ
ject, at the mercy of every breeze; my
heart wanted anchorage Twas naturally
susceptible, and tiled to form other at
tachments, but my heart would not hold
on: 1t would continually recur to what /
had lost; and whenever there was al
pause in the hurry of novelty and excite
ment L would sink into dismal detection.
F. wears I could not talk on the subject
of this hopeless regret; / could not even
men. .icr name; but her image Was
continually before me, and L dreamt OF
her necessarily"
Such was the language in which Irving
poured forth his sorrows and sad memo
ries, in letter written many years ago
to a lady who wondered at his celibacy
and expressed wish to know why he
never married. Can words more graph
ically describe the shipwreck of hope, or
more tenderly depict the chivalric devo-
ton of a faithful lover? How sweetly,
too, does Irving portray with his artist
pen the lineaments of his loved one. He
says, in the same letter: The more l
saw of her the more | had reason to adj
mire her. Her mind unfolded itself leaf
by leaf, and every time to discover new
sweetness. Nobody knew her so well as
1, for she was so timid and silent; but l.
IN manner, studied her excellence.
Never did / meet with more intuitive
rectitude of mind, more native deliuacy
more exquisite propriety in word
thought and action, than in this young
creature. l am not eXaggerating; what
l say was acknowledged by all who knew
her. Her brilliant little sister used to
say that people began by admiring her
but ended by loving Matilda For my
part, | idolized her. / felt at times re-
buked by her superior delicacy and
purity, and as if l were coarse, I'M
worthy being in comparison"
Irving seldom or never mentioned this
sad event nor was the name of Matilda
ever spoken in his presence. Thirty
years after ner death Irving was visiting
Mr. Hoffman, and a granddaughter, in
drawing out some sheets OF music to be
performed on the piano accidentally
brought with them piece of embroidery
which dropped upon the floor wash
l igton," said Mr.. Hoffman, "this is IA
piece of poor Matilda's workmanship"
His biographer describes the effect as
electric. "He had been conversing in
the sprightliest mood before, " says Pierre
NJ Irving, and he sank at once into
utter silence and in few moments got
up and left the house" Do any of the
pages that record the Loves of the
Poets" glisten with purer. brighter
halo than is thrown around the name
I'd memory of Matilda Hoffman BY the
lifelong consistency and graceful tribute
OF one whose name destined to deathless
renown, may not hencefor;h be dissev-
cred from that of the early lost and dear
ly loved whose death made Washington
Irving what he was and what the world