o take. He is doing the world the highest service of which
he is capable, and the most enduring it can receive from any man. It is
not a question whether the work of the literary man is higher than
that of the reformer or the statesman; it is a distinct work, and is
justified by the result, even when the work is that of the humorist
only. We recognize this in the case of the poet. Although Goethe has
been reproached for his lack of sympathy with the liberalizing movement
of his day (as if his novels were quieting social influences), it is
felt by this generation that the author of "Faust" needs no apology that
he did not spend his energies in the effervescing politics of the
German states. I mean, that while we may like or dislike the man for his
sympathy or want of sympathy, we concede to the author the right of his
attitude; if Goethe had not assumed freedom from moral responsibility,
I suppose that criticism of his aloofness would long ago have ceased.
Irving did not lack sympathy with humanity in the concrete; it colored
whatever he wrote. But he regarded the politics of his own country, the
revolutions in France, the long struggle in Spain, without heat; and
he held aloof from projects of agitation and reform, and maintained the
attitude of an observer, regarding the life about him from the point of
view of the literary artist, as he was justified in doing.

Irving had the defects of his peculiar genius, and these have no doubt
helped to fix upon him the complimentary disparagement of "genial." He
was not aggressive; in his nature he was wholly unpartisan, and full
of lenient charity; and I suspect that his kindly regard of the world,
although returned with kindly liking, cost him something of that respect
for sturdiness and force which men feel for writers who flout them as
fools in the main. Like Scott, he belonged to the idealists, and not to
the realists, whom our generation affects. Both writers stimulate the
longing for something better. Their creed was short: "Love God and honor
the King." It is a very good one for a literary man, and might do for a
Christian. The supernatural was still a reality in the age in which they
wrote. Irving's faith in God and his love of humanity were very simple;
I do not suppose he was much disturbed by the deep problems that
have set us all adrift. In every age, whatever is astir, literature,
theology, all intellectual activity, takes one and the same drift, and
approximates in