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r. f. murray-第2章

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 as lectures are called in Scotland。  This was Murray's own view; and he certainly avoided the dangers of academic over…work。  He read abundantly; but; as Fitzgerald says; he read ‘for human pleasure。'  He never was a Greek scholar; he disliked Philosophy; as presented to him in class…work; the gods had made him poetical; not metaphysical。

There was one other cause of his lack of even such slender commercial success in letters as was really necessary to a man who liked ‘plain living and high thinking。'  He fell early in love with a city; with a placehe lost his heart to St。 Andrews。  Here; at all events; his critic can sympathise with him。  His ‘dear St。 Andrews Bay;' beautiful alike in winter mists and in the crystal days of still winter sunshine; the quiet brown streets brightened by the scarlet gowns; the long limitless sands; the dark blue distant hills; and far…off snowy peaks of the Grampians; the majestic melancholy towers; monuments of old religion overthrown; the deep dusky porch of the college chapel; with Kennedy's arms in wrought iron on the oaken door; the solid houses with their crow steps and gables; all the forlorn memories of civil and religious feud; of inhabitants saintly; royal; heroic; endeared St。 Andrews to Murray。 He could not say; like our other poet to Oxford; ‘Farewell; dear city of youth and dream!'  His whole nature needed the air; ‘like wine。'  He found; as he remarks; ‘health and happiness in the German Ocean;' swimming out beyond the ‘lake' where the witches were dipped; walking to the grey little coast…towns; with their wealth of historic documents; their ancient kirks and graves; dreaming in the vernal woods of Mount Melville or Strathtyrum; rambling (without a fishing…rod) in the charmed ‘dens' of the Kenley burn; a place like Tempe in miniature:  these things were Murray's usual enjoyments; and they became his indispensable needs。  His peculiarly shy and; as it were; silvan nature; made it physically impossible for him to live in crowded streets and push his way through throngs of indifferent men。  He could not live even in Edinburgh; he made the effort; and his health; at no time strong; seems never to have recovered from the effects of a few months spent under a roof in a large town。  He hurried back to St。 Andrews:  her fascination was too powerful。  Hence it is that; dying with his work scarcely begun; he will always be best remembered as the poet of The Scarlet Gown; the Calverley or J。 K。 S。 of Kilrymont; endowed with their humour; their skill in parody; their love of youth; but (if I am not prejudiced) with more than the tenderness and natural magic of these regretted writers。  Not to be able to endure crowds and towns; (a matter of physical health and constitution; as well as of temperament) was; of course; fatal to an ordinary success in journalism。  On the other hand; Murray's name is inseparably connected with the life of youth in the little old college; in the University of the Admirable Crichton and Claverhouse; of the great Montrose and of Ferguson;the harmless Villon of Scotland;the University of almost all the famous Covenanters; and of all the valiant poet…Cavaliers。  Murray has sung of the life and pleasures of its students; of examinations and Gaudeamusessupper partieshe has sung of the sands; the links; the sea; the towers; and his name and fame are for ever blended with the air of his city of youth and dream。  It is not a wide name or a great fame; but it is what he would have desired; and we trust that it may be long…lived and enduring。  We are not to wax elegiac; and adopt a tearful tone over one so gallant and so uncomplaining。  He failed; but he was undefeated。

In the following sketch of Murray's life and work use is made of his letters; chiefly of letters to his mother。  They always illustrate his own ideas and attempts; frequently they throw the light of an impartial and critical mind on the distinguished people whom Murray observed from without。  It is worth remarking that among many remarks on persons; I have found not one of a censorious; cynical; envious; or unfriendly nature。  Youth is often captious and keenly critical; partly because youth generally has an ideal; partly; perhaps chiefly; from mere intellectual high spirits and sense of the incongruous; occasionally the motive is jealousy or spite。 Murray's sense of fun was keen; his ideal was lofty; of envy; of an injured sense of being neglected; he does not show one trace。  To make fun of their masters and pastors; tutors; professors; is the general and not necessarily unkind tendency of pupils。  Murray rarely mentions any of the professors in St。 Andrews except in terms of praise; which is often enthusiastic。  Now; as he was by no means a prize student; or pattern young man for a story…book; this generosity is a high proof of an admirable nature。  If he chances to speak to his mother about a bore; and he did not suffer bores gladly; he not only does not name the person; but gives no hint by which he might be identified。  He had much to embitter him; for he had a keen consciousness of ‘the something within him;' of the powers which never found full expression; and he saw others advancing and prospering while he seemed to be standing still; or losing ground in all ways。  But no word of bitterness ever escapes him in the correspondence which I have seen。  In one case he has to speak of a disagreeable and disappointing interview with a man from whom he had been led to expect sympathy and encouragement。  He told me about this affair in conversation; ‘There were tears in my eyes as I turned from the house;' he said; and he was not effusive。  In a letter to Mrs。 Murray he describes this unlucky interview;a discouragement caused by a manner which was strange to Murray; rather than by real unkindness;and he describes it with a delicacy; with a reserve; with a toleration; beyond all praise。 These are traits of a character which was greater and more rare than his literary talent:  a character quite developed; while his talent was only beginning to unfold itself; and to justify his belief in his powers。

Robert Murray was the eldest child of John and Emmeline Murray:  the father a Scot; the mother of American birth。  He was born at Roxbury; in Massachusetts; on December 26th; 1863。  It may be fancy; but; in his shy reserve; his almost farouche independence; one seems to recognise the Scot; while in his cast of literary talent; in his natural ‘culture;' we observe the son of a refined American lady。 To his mother he could always write about the books which were interesting him; with full reliance on her sympathy; though indeed; he does not often say very much about literature。

Till 1869 he lived in various parts of New England; his father being a Unitarian minister。  ‘He was a remarkably cheerful and affectionate child; and seldom seemed to find anything to trouble him。'  In 1869 his father carried him to England; Mrs。 Murray and a child remaining in America。  For more than a year the boy lived with kinsfolk near Kelso; the beautiful old town on the Tweed where Scott passed some of his childish days。  In 1871 the family were reunited at York; where he was fond of attending the services in the Cathedral。  Mr。 Murray then took charge of the small Unitarian

chapel of Blackfriars; at Canterbury。  Thus Murray's early youth was passed in the mingled influences of Unitarianism at home; and of Cathedral services at York; and in the church where Becket suffered martyrdom。  A not unnatural result was a somewhat eclectic and unconstrained religion。  He thought but little of the differences of creed; believing that all good men held; in essentials; much the same faith。  His view of essentials was generous; as he admitted。 He occasionally spoke of himself as ‘sceptical;' that is; in contrast with those whose faith was more definite; more dogmatic; more securely based on ‘articles。'  To illustrate Murray's religious attitude; at least as it was in 1887; one may quote from a letter of that year (April 17)。


‘There was a University sermon; and I thought I would go and hear it。  So I donned my old cap and gown and felt quite proud of them。 The preacher was Bishop Wordsworth。  He goes in for the union of the Presbyterian and Episcopalian Churches; and is glad to preach in a Presbyterian Church; as he did this morning。  How the aforesaid Union is to be brought about; I'm sure I don't know; for I am pretty certain that the Episcopalians won't give up their bishops; and the Presbyterians won't have them on any account。  However; that's neither here nor thereat least it does not affect the fact that Wordsworth is a first…rate man; and a fine preacher。  I dare say you know he is a nephew or grand…nephew of the Poet。  He is a most venerable old man; and worth looking at; merely for his exterior。 He is so feeble with age that he can with difficulty climb the three short steps that lead into the pulpit; but; once in the pulpit; it is another thing。  There is no feebleness when he begins to preach。 He is one of the last voices of the old orthodox school; and I wish there were hundreds like him。  If ever a man believed in his message; Wordsworth does。  And though I cannot follow him in his veneration for the Thirty…nine Articles; the way i
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