13 JANUARY 1917, Page 12

MR. F. W. WHITRIDGE : AN APPRECIATION.

[To mix EDITOR OF THE " SPECTATOR:1

SIR,—In these days of international difficulty we can ill spare a

personality like Frederick- Whitridge, who died in New York on December 30th. To his large circle of friends and acquaintances he seemed an almost unique example of an American who really appreciated both England and America, and who without any straining or affectation was sincerely loyal to both. It was not only that his wife was Matthew Arnold's daughter, and that with his singular large-heartedness he took her family and friends at once and for always as his own. It was not only that he enjoyed English scenery and English amusements, finding unfeigned pleasure in his grouse-moor at Pitlochry and in long motorings over good English roads. Many Americans, notably Henry James, have been outspoken lovers of England. The distinctive feature about Whitridge was that, with all his affection for England, he remained so truly American and so unbiassed a critic, Anglophil but never Anglomaniac. Those who knew him will remember many shrewd comments passed by his caustic wit on our British foibles—e.g., our cold houses, the neglected teeth of our children, or the unpunctuality of Highland trains, to say nothing of bigger matters—and yet he loved us and understood us and served us. Many are the travellers who have reason to know that every English man or woman visiting New York, from Lord Kitchener to struggling actors or schoolmistresses, was sure of hospitality from the Whitridges, whose house stood open to English people in a way it would not be easy to parallel in England with regard to the entertainment of Americans.

On his successes as Lecturer in Law and Politics at Columbia University, as a frequent contributor to the Political Science Quarterly, and as an eminent lawyer and man of business there is no need to dwell here; nor even on his active labours through- out his life in speaking, writing, and working for what he considered the public good of his own country; or the energy he devoted as President of the Third Avenue Railway to the welfare of his men. But it surely should warm our hearts to remember how lavishly since the war began he bestowed sympathy on this country which was not his own. With his full consent his only son entered the British Army, while he himself gave us freely of his money, his time, and his brains. It would be impertinent to speak of his private generosity in relieving distress, and no one was more modest than he in wishing his kindnesses concealed. We may, however, express our gratitude for his public champion- ing of the Allied, and especially the English, cause in his One American': View of the War (New York, 1914), which for a con- siderable time was the only book of the kind on the market. His attitude towards Germany was all the more remarkable because in his youth he had studied at Gottingen, and German was the foreign language in which he was most at home. Yet his pro- Entente ardour never flagged. It was highly characteristic, and a fitting close to his career, that almost his last act, not a month ago, was to organize in New York a large meeting of protest against Belgian deportations. King Albert thanked him by cable, and the satisfaction caused by successful effort must have been one of Whitridge's last sensations before the sudden and rapid illness which ended in three days. Bulwer Lytton once reminded us that one is not loved every day, and especially in troubled times loyal and devoted friends are hard to come by. It is with a feeling of England's great loss in so adequate an interpreter between her and the United States that these lines are written by one who know him well.—I am, Sir, &c., AN OLD FRIEND.

[Our correspondent has not said a word too much in praise of Mr. Whitridge—best of hosts, kindliest of critics, most warm- hearted of apparently cool observers. It is for us a pleasant remembrance that he was a constant reader of the Spectator. The thought of Mr. Whitridge's son and Matthew Arnold's grandson on active service with our Army for two years is inspiring. How proud Arnold would have been could he have seen his "young barbarians," not this time all at play, but doing knightly service in defence of England.—En. Spectator.]