New-York tribune., 1910-11-05

ana FRIEND. BY Lillian Whiting With
portraits and facsimiles. 12mo, PIP. 29i.
Qlttie, Brown & Coz
Not for many year to come will the
history of nineteenth century literature
in the United States be written. The de-
tached point of view in contemporary
critical biography is and has ever been
as rare as genius. and mankind must
turn to time for perspective. Meanwhile
a goodly body of memoirs is accumulat-
ing, and that careful historian of the
future will have no lack of material
Another useful contribution to the mass
is this record of the life of an interest
ing and much admired woman and
writer of verse. It is the work Of an
affectionate friend, an elegiac tribute,
whose sincerity deserves respect.
longtime readers of The Tribune will
remember the vogue of Mrs MouIton's
literary letters from Boston. They were
written at time when there were lit
erary personages at the Hub who evoked
a natural enthusiasm These letters.
with some agreea BILE chronicles of travel
and various works Of fiction, done in the
sentimental vein of the 40s, comprise
Mrs. Mouitons prose productions It is
! chiefly for her verse that she will be re-
| nembered-verse which has much love-
illness of feeling and an uncommon per
lection of form. 1t was ever most musi-
cal most melancholy. That melancholy
was inherent in this child of the Puri-
tans, as her biographer justly points out,
| and it was unalterable It must be con-
| fessed that it sometimes blinded her
countrynen to the genuine beauty of her
poems. Her foreign critics, even those
most prejudiced against American au-
thorship. cordially recognized their deli
cate workmanship and their pathetic
grace.
Many Of their writer's later days were
! spent abroad, and she knew most of the
authors of her time. There are to be
| found in this volume various entertain
| ing descriptions and anecdotes, though
not so many as we might have expected
to find. There is characteristic glimpse
OF George Meredith, whom she often met.
His talk, she said; lis like his books, it
is so scintillating, so epigrammatic. IN
talking with him you have to be swiftly
attentive or you will miss some allusion
or witticism and seem disreputably in
attentive" In reference to his poem
Modern Love" Meredith once wrote to
her: This poem has been more roundly
abused than any other of my much casti-
gated troop. You help me to think that
they are not born offenders, antipa-
| thetic to the human mind Americans
| who first gave me a reputation for the
writing of novels will perhaps ultimately
take part in the admission that I can
write verse. They may thus carry re-
luctant consent in England, when 1 no
| longer send out my rhyming note for re-
vision. l have been taught, at least, to
set no store upon English opinion in such
matters. L would thank you, but graft
tude is out of place. There is a feeling
hard to verbalize''
Thomas Hardy she described as the
| pOssessor of q forehead 80 large and
fine that it seems to be half his face
His blue eyes are kindly, but they are
extremely shrewd. You feel that he sees
everything, and that because he would
always understand he would always for
give. | have always heard him called
! the shyest man in London, but he never
impressed me So She thought that no
one could know him and not like him.
He is sympathetic. genial, unaffected
altogether delightful; somewhat pessi-
mistic, TO be sure and with a vein of
sadness-a minor chord in his psalm of
| life, but all the same with a keen sense
OF fun" At Hardy's own house, one day,
| the American guest quoted to her host
some pleasant things that had been said
about him by Boston admirer:
Mr.. Hardy listened kindly and then he
said: What you say is a consolation iust
now l knew some good fun Iurked be-
hind the quaint humor of his smile. why
lust now | asked. oh, I dined two
Parliament 1t was by way of being n
political dinner; but as Tess was lust out,
one and another spoke of it--kindly enough
Finally one lady, two or three seats away
from me, leaned forward. Her clear voice
commanded every ones attention. Well,
complaining that you had Tess hanged in
the last chapter of YOUR book That is not
t what ! complain Of complain because
hanged, for they all deserved it" Don't
you think, Mrs. Moulton, that after that
need consolation from somewhere
George Eliot did not seem to Mrs
Moulton an uncommonly plain person,
and she described the Englishwoman in
terms which may surprise those who are
accustomed TO consider her az having
been painfully unattractive: "To me
she seemed to have singularly inter-
esting face and lovely smile, and one
distinctive trait, one peculiarly her own.
was a very gentle and sweet Difference
of manner in any difference of opinion
she always began by agreeing with the
person with whom she was conversing
as i quite see that, but don't you
think'-and then there would follow a.
statement SO supremely convincing, so
comprehensive, so true, SO sueetly sug-
gestive that one could not help being
convinced. 1t was like a fair mist over
a background OF the greatest strength"
Mrs. Moulton used often Is repeat
story of Mrs. Carlyle once told to her
by Lady Ashburton. An eloquent out
burst by the philosopher had won for
him the thanks of all his fellow guests
at the Ashburtons-from all except his
wife Lady Ashburton impulsively be-
sought the wife to speak to him-"only
see how he has moved them!' "Ah,
YES" said Mrs. Carlyle, "but they don't
have to live with him.