Inowturnedtomyfriendthesextontomakesomefurtherinquiries，
butIfoundhimsunkinpensivemeditation。Hisheadhaddeclineda
littleononeside；adeepsighheavedfromtheverybottomofhis
stomach；and，thoughIcouldnotseeateartremblinginhiseye，
yetamoisturewasevidentlystealingfromacornerofhismouth。I
followedthedirectionofhiseyethroughthedoorwhichstoodopen，
andfounditfixedwistfullyonthesavorybreastoflamb，roastingin
drippingrichnessbeforethefire。
Inowcalledtomindthat，intheeagernessofmyrecondite
investigation，Iwaskeepingthepoormanfromhisdinner。Mybowels
yearnedwithsympathy，and，puttinginhishandasmalltokenofmy
gratitudeandgoodness，Ideparted，withaheartybenedictionon
him，DameHoneyball，andtheParishClubofCrookedLane；—not
forgettingmyshabby，butsententiousfriend，intheoil—clothhatand
coppernose。
ThushaveIgivena"tediousbrief"accountofthisinteresting
research，forwhich，ifitprovetooshortandunsatisfactory，Ican
onlypleadmyinexperienceinthisbranchofliterature，sodeservedly
popularatthepresentday。Iamawarethatamoreskilfulillustrator
oftheimmortalbardwouldhaveswelledthematerialsIhavetouched
upon，toagoodmerchantablebulk；comprisingthebiographiesof
WilliamWalworth，JackStraw，andRobertPreston；somenoticeofthe
eminentfishmongersofSt。Michael’s；thehistoryofEastcheap，
greatandlittle；privateanecdotesofDameHoneyball，andher
prettydaughter，whomIhavenotevenmentioned；tosaynothingofa
damseltendingthebreastoflamb，（andwhom，bytheway，Iremarked
tobeacomelylass，withaneatfootandankle；）—thewholeenlivened
bytheriotsofWatTyler，andilluminatedbythegreatfireof
London。
AllthisIleave，asarichmine，tobeworkedbyfuture
commentators；nordoIdespairofseeingthetobacco—box，andthe
"parcel—giltgoblet，"whichIhavethusbroughttolight，thesubjects
offutureengravings，andalmostasfruitfulofvoluminous
dissertationsanddisputesastheshieldofAchilles，orthefar—famed
Portlandvase。
THEEND。
1819—20
THESKETCHBOOK
THEBROKENHEART
byWashingtonIrving
Ineverheard
Ofanytrueaffection，but’twasnipt
Withcare，that，likethecaterpillar，eats
Theleavesofthespring’ssweetestbook，therose。
MIDDLETON。
ITISacommonpracticewiththosewhohaveoutlivedthe
susceptibilityofearlyfeeling，orhavebeenbroughtupinthegay
heartlessnessofdissipatedlife，tolaughatalllovestories，andto
treatthetalesofromanticpassionasmerefictionsofnovelists
andpoets。Myobservationsonhumannaturehaveinducedmetothink
otherwise。Theyhaveconvincedme，thathoweverthesurfaceofthe
charactermaybechilledandfrozenbythecaresoftheworld，or
cultivatedintomeresmilesbytheartsofsociety，stillthereare
dormantfireslurkinginthedepthsofthecoldestbosom，which，
whenonceenkindled，becomeimpetuous，andaresometimesdesolatingin
theireffects。Indeed，Iamatruebelieverintheblinddeity，andgo
tothefullextentofhisdoctrines。ShallIconfessit？—Ibelievein
brokenhearts，andthepossibilityofdyingofdisappointedlove。Ido
not，however，consideritamaladyoftenfataltomyownsex；butI
firmlybelievethatitwithersdownmanyalovelywomanintoan
earlygrave。
Manisthecreatureofinterestandambition。Hisnatureleadshim
forthintothestruggleandbustleoftheworld。Loveisbutthe
embellishmentofhisearlylife，orasongpipedintheintervalsof
theacts。Heseeksforfame，forfortune，forspaceintheworld’s
thought，anddominionoverhisfellow—men。Butawoman’swholelifeis
ahistoryoftheaffections。Theheartisherworld：itisthereher
ambitionstrivesforempire；itisthereheravariceseeksfor
hiddentreasures。Shesendsforthhersympathiesonadventure；she
embarksherwholesoulinthetrafficofaffection；andif
shipwrecked，hercaseishopeless—foritisabankruptcyofthe
heart。
Toamanthedisappointmentoflovemayoccasionsomebitter
pangs：itwoundssomefeelingsoftenderness—itblastssomeprospects
offelicity；butheisanactivebeing—hemaydissipatehis
thoughtsinthewhirlofvariedoccupation，ormayplungeintothe
tideofpleasure；or，ifthesceneofdisappointmentbetoofullof
painfulassociations，hecanshifthisabodeatwill，andtakingasit
werethewingsofthemorning，can"flytotheuttermostpartsof
theearth，andbeatrest。"
Butwoman’siscomparativelyafixed，asecluded，andmeditative
life。Sheismorethecompanionofherownthoughtsandfeelings；
andiftheyareturnedtoministersofsorrow，whereshallshelook
forconsolation？Herlotistobewooedandwon；andifunhappyinher
love，herheartislikesomefortressthathasbeencaptured，and
sacked，andabandoned，andleftdesolate。
Howmanybrighteyesgrowdim—howmanysoftcheeksgrowpale—how
manylovelyformsfadeawayintothetomb，andnonecantellthecause
thatblightedtheirloveliness！Asthedovewillclaspitswingsto
itsside，andcoverandconcealthearrowthatispreyingonits
vitals，soisitthenatureofwomantohidefromtheworldthe
pangsofwoundedaffection。Theloveofadelicatefemaleisalways
shyandsilent。Evenwhenfortunate，shescarcelybreathesitto
herself；butwhenotherwise，sheburiesitintherecessesofher
bosom，andthereletsitcowerandbroodamongtheruinsofherpeace。
Withherthedesireofthehearthasfailed。Thegreatcharmof
existenceisatanend。Sheneglectsallthecheerfulexercises
whichgladdenthespirits，quickenthepulses，andsendthetideof
lifeinhealthfulcurrentsthroughtheveins。Herrestisbroken—
thesweetrefreshmentofsleepispoisonedbymelancholydreams—
"drysorrowdrinksherblood，"untilherenfeebledframesinksunder
theslightestexternalinjury。Lookforher，afteralittlewhile，and
youfindfriendshipweepingoverheruntimelygrave，andwondering
thatone，whobutlatelyglowedwithalltheradianceofhealthand
beauty，shouldsospeedilybebroughtdownto"darknessandtheworm。"
Youwillbetoldofsomewintrychill，somecasualindisposition，that
laidherlow；—butnooneknowsofthementalmaladywhich
previouslysappedherstrength，andmadehersoeasyapreytothe
spoiler。
Sheislikesometendertree，theprideandbeautyofthegrove；
gracefulinitsform，brightinitsfoliage，butwiththewormpreying
atitsheart。Wefinditsuddenlywithering，whenitshouldbemost
freshandluxuriant。Weseeitdroopingitsbranchestotheearth，and
sheddingleafbyleaf，until，wastedandperishedaway，itfalls
eveninthestillnessoftheforest；andaswemuseoverthebeautiful
ruin，westriveinvaintorecollecttheblastorthunderboltthat
couldhavesmittenitwithdecay。
Ihaveseenmanyinstancesofwomenrunningtowasteandself—
neglect，anddisappearinggraduallyfromtheearth，almostasif
theyhadbeenexhaledtoheaven；andhaverepeatedlyfanciedthatI
couldtracetheirdeaththroughthevariousdeclensionsof
consumption，cold，debility，languor，melancholy，untilIreached
thefirstsymptomofdisappointedlove。Butaninstanceofthekind
waslatelytoldtome；thecircumstancesarewellknowninthecountry
wheretheyhappened，andIshallbutgivetheminthemannerin
whichtheywererelated。
patriot；itwastootouchingtobesoonforgotten。Duringthetroubles
inIreland，hewastried，condemned，andexecuted，onachargeof
treason。Hisfatemadeadeepimpressiononpublicsympathy。Hewasso
young—sointelligent—sogenerous—sobrave—soeverythingthatwe
areapttolikeinayoungman。Hisconductundertrial，too，wasso
loftyandintrepid。Thenobleindignationwithwhichherepelledthe
chargeoftreasonagainsthiscountry—theeloquentvindicationofhis
name—andhispatheticappealtoposterity，inthehopelesshourof
condemnation—alltheseentereddeeplyintoeverygenerousbosom，and
evenhisenemieslamentedthesternpolicythatdictatedhis
execution。
Buttherewasoneheart，whoseanguishitwouldbeimpossibleto
describe。Inhappierdaysandfairerfortunes，hehadwonthe
affectionsofabeautifulandinterestinggirl，thedaughterofalate
celebratedIrishbarrister。Shelovedhimwiththedisinterested
fervorofawoman’sfirstandearlylove。Wheneveryworldlymaxim
arrayeditselfagainsthim；whenblastedinfortune，anddisgrace
anddangerdarkenedaroundhisname，shelovedhimthemoreardently
forhisverysufferings。If，then，hisfatecouldawakenthe
sympathyevenofhisfoes，whatmusthavebeentheagonyofher，whose
wholesoulwasoccupiedbyhisimage！Letthosetellwhohavehad
theportalsofthetombsuddenlyclosedbetweenthemandthebeing
theymostlovedonearth—whohavesatatitsthreshold，asoneshut
outinacoldandlonelyworld，whenceallthatwasmostlovelyand
lovinghaddeparted。
Butthenthehorrorsofsuchagrave！sofrightful，sodishonored！
therewasnothingformemorytodwellonthatcouldsoothethepangof
separation—noneofthosetenderthoughmelancholycircumstances，
whichendearthepartingscene—nothingtomeltsorrowintothose
blessedtears，sentlikethedewsofheaven，torevivetheheartin
thepartinghourofanguish。
Torenderherwidowedsituationmoredesolate，shehadincurred
herfather’sdispleasurebyherunfortunateattachment，andwasan
exilefromthepaternalroof。Butcouldthesympathyandkind
officesoffriendshavereachedaspiritsoshockedanddriveninby
horror，shewouldhaveexperiencednowantofconsolation，forthe
Irishareapeopleofquickandgeneroussensibilities。Themost
delicateandcherishingattentionswerepaidherbyfamiliesofwealth
anddistinction。Shewasledintosociety，andtheytriedbyallkinds
ofoccupationandamusementtodissipatehergrief，andweanher
fromthetragicalstoryofherloves。Butitwasallinvain。There
aresomestrokesofcalamitywhichscatheandscorchthesoul—which
penetratetothevitalseatofhappiness—andblastit，neveragainto
putforthbudorblossom。Sheneverobjectedtofrequentthehauntsof
pleasure，butwasasmuchalonethereasinthedepthsofsolitude；
walkingaboutinasadreverie，apparentlyunconsciousoftheworld
aroundher。Shecarriedwithheraninwardwoethatmockedatall
theblandishmentsoffriendship，and"heedednotthesongofthe
charmer，charmheneversowisely。"
Thepersonwhotoldmeherstoryhadseenheratamasquerade。There
canbenoexhibitionoffar—gonewretchednessmorestrikingand
painfulthantomeetitinsuchascene。Tofinditwanderinglikea
spectre，lonelyandjoyless，whereallaroundisgay—toseeit
dressedoutinthetrappingsofmirth，andlookingsowanand
wobegone，asifithadtriedinvaintocheatthepoorheartintoa
momentaryforgetfulnessofsorrow。Afterstrollingthroughthe
splendidroomsandgiddycrowdwithanairofutterabstraction，she
satherselfdownonthestepsofanorchestra，and，lookingabout
forsometimewithavacantair，thatshowedherinsensibilityto
thegarishscene，shebegan，withthecapriciousnessofasickly
heart，towarblealittleplaintiveair。Shehadanexquisitevoice；
butonthisoccasionitwassosimple，sotouching，itbreathed
forthsuchasoulofwretchedness，thatshedrewacrowdmuteand
silentaroundher，andmeltedeveryoneintotears。
Thestoryofonesotrueandtendercouldnotbutexcitegreat
interestinacountryremarkableforenthusiasm。Itcompletelywonthe
heartofabraveofficer，whopaidhisaddressestoher，andthought
thatonesotruetothedeadcouldnotbutproveaffectionatetothe
living。Shedeclinedhisattentions，forherthoughtswereirrevocably
engrossedbythememoryofherformerlover。He，however，persistedin
hissuit。Hesolicitednothertenderness，butheresteem。Hewas
assistedbyherconvictionofhisworth，andhersenseofherown
destituteanddependentsituation，forshewasexistingonthe
kindnessoffriends。Inaword，heatlengthsucceededingaining
herhand，thoughwiththesolemnassurance，thatherheartwas
unalterablyanother’s。
HetookherwithhimtoSicily，hopingthatachangeofscene
mightwearouttheremembranceofearlywoes。Shewasanamiableand
exemplarywife，andmadeanefforttobeahappyone；butnothing
couldcurethesilentanddevouringmelancholythathadenteredinto
herverysoul。Shewastedawayinaslow，buthopelessdecline，andat
lengthsunkintothegrave，thevictimofabrokenheart。
ItwasonherthatMoore，thedistinguishedIrishpoet，composedthe
followinglines：
Sheisfarfromthelandwhereheryoungherosleeps，
Andloversaroundheraresighing：
Butcoldlysheturnsfromtheirgaze，andweeps，
Forherheartinhisgraveislying。
Shesingsthewildsongsofherdearnativeplains，
Everynotewhichhelovedawaking—
Ah！littletheythink，whodelightinherstrains，
Howtheheartoftheminstrelisbreaking！
Hehadlivedforhislove—forhiscountryhedied，
Theywereallthattolifehadentwinedhim—
Norsoonshallthetearsofhiscountrybedried，
Norlongwillhislovestaybehindhim！
Oh！makeheragravewherethesunbeamsrest，
Wheretheypromiseagloriousmorrow；
They’llshineo’erhersleep，likeasmilefromthewest，
Fromherownlovedislandofsorrow！
THEEND。
1819—20
THESKETCHBOOK
THECHRISTMASDINNER
byWashingtonIrving
Lo，nowiscomeourjoyful’stfeast！
Leteverymanbejolly，
Eacheroomewithyvieleavesisdrest，
Andeverypostwithholly。
Nowallourneighbours’chimneyssmoke，
AndChristmasblocksareburning；
Theirovenstheywithbak’tmeatschoke
Andalltheirspitsareturning。
Withoutthedoorletsorrowlie，
Andif，forcold，ithaptodie，
Wee’lebury’tinaChristmaspye，
Andevermorebemerry。
WITHERS’JUVENILIA。
IHADfinishedmytoilet，andwasloiteringwithFrankBracebridge
inthelibrary，whenweheardadistantthwackingsound，whichhe
informedmewasasignalfortheservingupofthedinner。The
squirekeptupoldcustomsinkitchenaswellashall；andthe
rolling—pin，struckuponthedresserbythecook，summonedthe
servantstocarryinthemeats。
Justinthisnickthecookknock’dthrice，
Andallthewaitersinatrice
Hissummonsdidobey；
Eachservingman，withdishinhand，
March’dboldlyup，likeourtrainband，
Presented，andaway。**SirJohnSuckling。
Thedinnerwasservedupinthegreathall，wherethesquire
alwaysheldhisChristmasbanquet。Ablazingcracklingfireoflogs
hadbeenheapedontowarmthespaciousapartment，andtheflame
wentsparklingandwreathingupthewide—mouthedchimney。Thegreat
pictureofthecrusaderandhiswhitehorsehadbeenprofusely
decoratedwithgreensfortheoccasion；andhollyandivyhadlikewise
beenwreathedroundthehelmetandweaponsontheoppositewall，which
Iunderstoodwerethearmsofthesamewarrior。Imustown，bytheby，
Ihadstrongdoubtsabouttheauthenticityofthepaintingandarmor
ashavingbelongedtothecrusader，theycertainlyhavingthestamp
ofmorerecentdays；butIwastoldthatthepaintinghadbeenso
consideredtimeoutofmind；andthat，astothearmor，ithadbeen
foundinalumber—room，andelevatedtoitspresentsituationbythe
squire，whoatoncedeterminedittobethearmorofthefamily
hero；andashewasabsoluteauthorityonallsuchsubjectsinhisown
household，thematterhadpassedintocurrentacceptation。Asideboard
wassetoutjustunderthischivalrictrophy，onwhichwasadisplay
ofplatethatmighthavevied（atleastinvariety）with
Belshazzar’sparadeofthevesselsofthetemple："flagons，cans，
cups，beakers，goblets，basins，andewers；"thegorgeousutensilsof
goodcompanionshipthathadgraduallyaccumulatedthroughmany
generationsofjovialhousekeepers。BeforethesestoodthetwoYule
candles，beamingliketwostarsofthefirstmagnitude；otherlights
weredistributedinbranches，andthewholearrayglitteredlikea
firmamentofsilver。
Wewereusheredintothisbanquetingscenewiththesoundof
minstrelsy，theoldharperbeingseatedonastoolbesidethe
fireplace，andtwanginghisinstrumentwithavastdealmorepower
thanmelody。NeverdidChristmasboarddisplayamoregoodlyand
graciousassemblageofcountenances；thosewhowerenothandsomewere，
atleast，happy；andhappinessisarareimproverofyourhard—favored
visage。IalwaysconsideranoldEnglishfamilyaswellworthstudying
asacollectionofHolbein’sportraitsorAlbertDurer’sprints。There
ismuchantiquarianloretobeacquired；muchknowledgeofthe
physiognomiesofformertimes。Perhapsitmaybefromhaving
continuallybeforetheireyesthoserowsofoldfamilyportraits，with
whichthemansionsofthiscountryarestocked；certainitis，that
thequaintfeaturesofantiquityareoftenmostfaithfullyperpetuated
intheseancientlines；andIhavetracedanoldfamilynosethrougha
wholepicturegallery，legitimatelyhandeddownfromgenerationto
generation，almostfromthetimeoftheConquest。Somethingofthe
kindwastobeobservedintheworthycompanyaroundme。Manyoftheir
faceshadevidentlyoriginatedinaGothicage，andbeenmerelycopied
bysucceedinggenerations；andtherewasonelittlegirlin
particular，ofstaiddemeanor，withahighRomannose，andan
antiquevinegaraspect，whowasagreatfavoriteofthesquire’s，
being，ashesaid，aBracebridgeallover，andtheverycounterpartof
oneofhisancestorswhofiguredinthecourtofHenryVIII。
Theparsonsaidgrace，whichwasnotashortfamiliarone，suchas
iscommonlyaddressedtotheDeityintheseunceremoniousdays；but
along，courtly，well—wordedoneoftheancientschool。Therewas
nowapause，asifsomethingwasexpected；whensuddenlythebutler
enteredthehallwithsomedegreeofbustle：hewasattendedbya
servantoneachsidewithalargewax—light，andboreasilverdish，
onwhichwasanenormouspig’shead，decoratedwithrosemary，witha
lemoninitsmouth，whichwasplacedwithgreatformalityatthe
headofthetable。Themomentthispageantmadeitsappearance，the
harperstruckupaflourish；attheconclusionofwhichtheyoung
Oxonian，onreceivingahintfromthesquire，gave，withanairofthe
mostcomicgravity，anoldcarol，thefirstverseofwhichwasas
follows：
Caputapridefero
ReddenslaudesDomino。
Theboar’sheadinhandbringI，
Withgarlandsgayandrosemary。
Iprayyouallsyngemerrily
Quiestisinconvivio。
Thoughpreparedtowitnessmanyoftheselittleeccentricities，from
beingapprisedofthepeculiarhobbyofminehost；yet，Iconfess，the
paradewithwhichsooddadishwasintroducedsomewhatperplexed
me，untilIgatheredfromtheconversationofthesquireandthe
parson，thatitwasmeanttorepresentthebringinginoftheboar’s
head；adishformerlyservedupwithmuchceremonyandthesoundof
minstrelsyandsong，atgreattables，onChristmasday。"Ilikethe
oldcustom，"saidthesquire，"notmerelybecauseitisstatelyand
pleasinginitself，butbecauseitwasobservedatthecollegeat
OxfordatwhichIwaseducated。WhenIheartheoldsongchanted，it
bringstomindthetimewhenIwasyoungandgamesome—andthenoble
oldcollegehall—andmyfellow—studentsloiteringaboutintheir
blackgowns；manyofwhom，poorlads，arenowintheirgraves！"
Theparson，however，whosemindwasnothauntedbysuch
associations，andwhowasalwaysmoretakenupwiththetextthan
thesentiment，objectedtotheOxonian’sversionofthecarol；which
heaffirmedwasdifferentfromthatsungatcollege。Hewenton，
withthedryperseveranceofacommentator，togivethecollege
reading，accompaniedbysundryannotations；addressinghimselfat
firsttothecompanyatlarge；butfindingtheirattentiongradually
divertedtoothertalkandotherobjects，heloweredhistoneashis
numberofauditorsdiminished，untilheconcludedhisremarksinan
undervoice，toafat—headedoldgentlemannexthim，whowas
silentlyengagedinthediscussionofahugeplatefulofturkey。*
*Theoldceremonyofservinguptheboar’sheadonChristmasdayis
stillobservedinthehallofQueen’sCollege，Oxford。Iwasfavored
bytheparsonwithacopyofthecarolasnowsung，andasitmaybe
acceptabletosuchofmyreadersasarecuriousinthesegraveand
learnedmatters，Igiveitentire。
Theboar’sheadinhandbearI，
Bedeck’dwithbaysandrosemary；
AndIprayyou，mymasters，bemerry
Quotestisinconvivio。
Caputapridefero，
Reddenslaudesdomino。
Theboar’shead，asIunderstand，
Istherarestdishinallthisland，
Whichthusbedeck’dwithagaygarland
Letusservirecantico。
Caputapridefero，etc。
Ourstewardhathprovidedthis
InhonoroftheKingofBliss，
Whichonthisdaytobeservedis
InReginensiAtrio。
Caputapridefero，
etc。，etc。，etc。