E. P. Roe: Reminiscences of his LifeRoe, Mary A. (Mary Abigail)
History
E. P. Roe: Reminiscences of his Life
Roe, Mary A. (Mary Abigail)
Roe, Edward Payson, 1838-1888
art.' On such a broad basis of criticism every admissible
popularity may be fairly accounted for.
"Mr. Roe, the man, is an exact counterpart, one may say, of Mr.
Roe, the author. As an author, in the first place, he is remarkably
candid. He has been so candid, indeed, that the tendency of certain
critics to treat him disingenuously is rather absurd. These critics
want him to write books, apparently, which he does not propose to
write; they overlook the fact that Mr. Roe has stated very clearly
just what he desires to write. In a preface to one of his novels he
says, in effect, that if his books are not beautiful works of art
they are at least books which tender peace and resignation to many
lives. (I am not quoting, by the way, but am presenting the idea
which must have been in Mr. Roe's mind when he wrote that preface.)
There are so many clever books published nowadays which pervert the
young and sensitive conscience--a word not included in the
vocabulary of our 'disagreeably' artistic novelists--that it may be
wise to accept Mr. Roe's novels as good morality, if not as the
best literature.
"It is not every author who puts himself into his books. Drunkards
have written temperance tracts. Blackguards have written treatises
on ideal existence. Posing fops have railed against the hardships
which beset noble ambition. Mr. Roe has written the best that is in
him for the best that is in thousands of men and women. I have
tried to indicate briefly what he is as an author. As a man, he is
not less genial, sincere, and agreeable than his books. The
cleverest authors are, as a rule, far more entertaining and
astonishing in their books than in themselves. In themselves, to
speak the truth, they are not likely to be either entertaining or
astonishing. I should look to few of them as acceptable hosts. Mr.
Roe proved himself, and proved how good a host he was, on a recent
Saturday afternoon, when some thirty or forty members of the
Authors' Club accepted his invitation to spend a day at his house
and grounds on the historic heights of Cornwall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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