New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1900-10-27
81. f.. b.
CHARMING ENGLISH LETTER WRITER

/
4uthoF Of or Foasie Yarns m" Edited With an
Introductory Memoir, by Sydney T. Irwin. In
Two Volumes. Duodecimo, PIP. 24O, 2iS H. r.
Dutton & Co.
The late T E. Brown. affectionately known
among his intimates as 1T. E. b." born in
the Isle of Man in 1880. He died very recently,
comparati lively little known to the world at large,
but lamented passionately by those who were of
his circle He was a famous oxford scholar, a
Fellow of Orie for some time headmaster Of
the Crypt School at Gloucester, and for a much
longer period highly priced master at Clifton
When a friend remarked on the omission
of his name in an article on the minor poets in
one of the magazines he said, smiling Perhaps
I am among the major!" He was mistaken.
His verse is good, but it is certainly not as
poet that he will be longest remembered. The
thing that counted in him was personal fascina-
ton; his friends all protest that while it is i'm
possible for them to describe him, he was on
the whole, one of the most extraordinary men Of
the Victorian Era. The present batch of CORE
srondence may not convince the outsider, but
there is no denying that it has qualities which
explain to some extent at least how much he
was beloved.
He seems to have been, in the first place, en-
phatically a man; of those healthy souls
whose
compact of truth. cheerfulness and strength. He
had depths of seriousness of religious faith and
spiritual tenderness but he was also a mimic,
humorfst a lover of books and music. devotee
of beautiful scenery, and of all things gentle
and fine IF lose my manners" he once OBJ
served what is to become of me?" They were
the manners of the heart, the manners that
mean sweetness of disposition and thoughtful
ness for every one. Full of fun as he was. he
never exceeded the bounds of kindness. In one
of his lectures he remarked: Il am certain God
made fools for US to enjoy, but there must be an
economy of 10y in the presence of a fool; you
must not betray your enjoyment" A great self
respect characterized him. There are" he used
to say, mice Rabeaisians and nasty Rabelais-
ians; but the latter are not Rabelaisians." Clean
illness and common sense were inseparable from
his nature His emotions were easily stirred. Il
am a born sobber,' he once said. But always
kind of sturdiness lived beneath his emotion.
When he is pleased by music he INDUCES in
what you might call fine writing" If it were
not that there is a great sincerity at the bottom
Of his enthusiasm. Sometimes his musical criu
cism is vigorously dogmat >, when he notes
his disappointment in "Parsifal," and adds
about Wagner generally: But you may depend
on it, the cultus is a little unsound. Talk is big
and make believe bigger; but they don't do the
Baireuthl Set to your seal, that the
musical drama is a tremendous but hopeless
anticipation. Fall back upon Beethoven and
the symphonic form and take courage" Again,
after listening to a composition of Bach's, he
writes to friend:
Chance child of some lone sorrow on the hills
Bach finds babe; instant the great heart fills
With love of that fair innocence,
Conveys it thence,
Clothes It with all divinest harmonies,
Gives it sure foot to tread the dim degrees
OF Pilates stair. Hush! Hush Its last sweet
breath
Walls far along the passages of death.
In his prose no less than in lyrical rhapsodies
like this he had a happy faculty for expressing
exactly what he felt There is a great deal in
these volumes that has the charm of showing in
perfect freshness the impression made upon
original temperament by book a scene, a man.
And if he is not always the best guide in the
world where his likes and dislikes are engaged
among works of art-as when he eulogizes Vic
tor Hugo saying that there has been no poet
like him since Shakespeare'-he is often illumin-
ating nevertheless When friend sends him a
satire he writes: Satire is undoubted branch
| OF poetry; but l do not affect it much There is
a strong healthy noble satire, the indig-
natio of the Latin classics. But short of that,
satire seems only an element of discomfort and
unhappiness have a great notion of
being the master of my own happiness, and not
suffering it TO be contingent on the manners and
conduct Of other people," Thus he glides with
the true instinct of the man of mind from the
outside of literature to it's core from books to
life. His letters are full of life. Il am begin
ming to think" he says, 1T would have been
much better for the world if no books had ever
been written-swaggering scribbles on the walls
Of the eternal silence-ah, blast them!" When
a writing man Of his acquaintance sends him
respondent letter he replies: Fling open your
soul! Throw your classics and all your goods
and chattels' out of the window give yourself
light and air. Live and-we out it must come
love! What l want in all young men
is more insanity"
T E. B. we repeat, was very much of a man;
a strong bright spirit who loved literature who
did hard educational work with will, but
always conscious of the open air, always eager
for things wholesome and fortifying. His let
tiers are beyond doubt curiously enthralling,
unlike those of every other writer in epistolary
literature. He is simply himself. original
gentleman 1t might be dangerous to prophesy
that he will become classic yet perhaps there
ought to be than passing appreciation for
letters like this, written to his sister from Cliff
ton College one Christmas morning:
The blessings of this fair Christmastide be on
you and your guide man! 1t is a most lovely
morning. l am sitting in the College Library in
! a deep Orlel. Inc close, chapel, &c. bathed
/ in the sweetest sunshine, IL is quite tepid and
/ the air is still. Only indeed some blackbirds
/ in the garden are "shouun'," and no wonder
/ the craythurs." This silence and solitude are
TO me absolute food. especially after all the row
/ 10 Of