This Same Purpose

Learning to live in the Story

Learning to live in the Story

What a 19th Century Writer Taught Me about Public Opinion Today

Christian Schussele and Felix Octavius Carr Daly, Washington Irving and His Literary Friends at Sunnyside, 1863 (Source: Britannica.com)

While visiting Iowa this December, I stopped at an antique store in Ames. One of my best friends Katie and I glanced around at shelves and aisles so packed with dusty figurines, dull jewelry, and slightly scraped wooden furniture that we worried constantly about knocking something over and bringing the whole place down like dominos. 

But it was the books that I kept coming back to. Old books have always been like therapy to me. I imagine all the hands that have turned the pages, all the shelves each book has sat on over the years. And one in particular caught my attention: The Sketch Book by Washington Irving.

I’d never really heard of him before. Maybe in passing, but I don’t remember. The book was $15, and I bought it without thinking twice. Ok, I thought twice, but I walked away with it, and I’m glad I did. I’ve since learned that Washington Irving was a distinguished writer and diplomat in America during the 1800s, famous for his short stories such as “Rip Van Winkle” and “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”

Now that I’ve started reading The Sketch Book, a collection of his essays and short stories, I’ve come to love his writing. He had a way of crafting beautiful sentences that actually held weight and meaning beyond their claim to technical quality—all without sounding pretentious.

In the introduction of the book, he says of the art of writing something that touches my heart, something that I aspire to: “If I can by a lucky chance, in these days of evil, rub out one wrinkle from the brow of care, or beguile the heavy heart of one moment of sadness; if I can, now and then, penetrate the gathering film of misanthropy, prompt a benevolent view of human nature, and make my reader more in good-humor with his fellow-beings and himself, surely, surely I shall not then have written entirely in vain.”

Reading Washington Irving has been a breath of fresh air in a time when so many seem to have an opinion that they feel compelled to voice at the expense of others and when what I read is rarely written with the motive of “beguiling the heavy heart of one moment of sadness” or promoting more “good-humor” among our “fellow-beings.”

I hear people often lament how those with the platforms and voices, “the media,” are shaping public opinion, and rarely for the better. I get it. It can be discouraging. But I think there are times when we all can be tempted to believe that it’s never been this bad. That we’re living in a time unlike any before us. That what we’re living through is new, unprecedented even. This can be a dangerous and short-sighted line of thinking.

It turns out, Washington Irving experienced something similar in his time and observed the impact influential commentators had on public sentiment.

He wrote an essay entitled “English Writers on America.” In it, he called out the tendency of English travelers to America to write home about their experiences in a way that was disparaging and condescending toward this young, imperfect, yet promising nation—the effect of which was an increasingly negative view of America on the part of many Englishmen. Irving challenged his fellow countrymen to look beyond English sentiment for their national pride, saying, “It is not in the opinion of England alone that honor lives and reputation has its being.”

I’m not making any statement on the nature of this particular conflict between England and America so many years ago. Seriously, no shade on you, England. Would love to visit sometime.

But Irving says the following of this tension between England and America in his day, which I believe to be relevant in 2021 especially: “Everyone knows the all-pervading influence of literature at the present day, and how much the opinions and passions of mankind are under its control.” 

He continues: “It is seldom that any one overt act produces hostilities between two nations; there exists, most commonly, a previous jealousy and ill-will, a predisposition to take offense. Trace these to their cause, and how often will they be found to originate in the mischievous effusions of the mercenary writers, who, secure in their closets, and for ignominious bread, concoct and circulate the venom that is to inflame the generous and the brave!”

These are strong words, but what if they could be said of some of today’s commentators, writers, media professionals, influencers, and really anyone with a social media account and an opinion? What if 1800s literature is synonymous with 2021s media? Except this time the conflict isn’t with another nation, but rather within ourselves.

What I don’t want to become is one of those commentators. I’m currently typing on my laptop, from the comfort of my own home, with the liberty to say what I want and believe what I want without any real cost. It’s easy and sometimes temporarily rewarding to craft a divisive message that spreads fast because of its urgency and emotional appeal. I’ve been a bit disappointed and maybe a bit disillusioned with today’s version of Irving’s literature. I think he was too, which is probably why he wrote what he did.

I’m reminded that Washington Irving’s encouragement to those who were disappointed too was not to revolt against England yet again, but to simply remove themselves from the harmful sway of the empty, divisive, and often-popular messages that simply failed to take their human dignity and potential into account. 

So, I too will say to those of us who find ourselves in the 2021 version of this issue: don’t let venomous words crafted by those in the cheap seats make you less generous or less brave. As Washington Irving’s standard for words not written in vain was simply a consideration for what benefited and lifted his fellow-beings, so we all can make that consideration in our work and in our lives today.

Mattanah DeWitt