太子爷小说网 > 英语电子书 > r. f. murray-his poems with a memoir >

第1节

r. f. murray-his poems with a memoir-第1节

小说: r. f. murray-his poems with a memoir 字数: 每页4000字

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页,按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页,按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
————未阅读完?加入书签已便下次继续阅读!







R。 F。 Murray: His Poems with a Memoir by Andrew Lang



by R。 F。 Murray/Andrew Lang









R。 F。 MURRAY1863…1893







Much is written about success and failure in the career of

literature; about the reasons which enable one man to reach the

front; and another to earn his livelihood; while a third; in

appearance as likely as either of them; fails and; perhaps; faints

by the way。  Mr。 R。 F。 Murray; the author of The Scarlet Gown; was

among those who do not attain success; in spite of qualities which

seem destined to ensure it; and who fall out of the ranks。  To him;

indeed; success and the rewards of this world; money; and praise;

did by no means seem things to be snatched at。  To him success meant

earning by his pen the very modest sum which sufficed for his wants;

and the leisure necessary for serious essays in poetry。  Fate denied

him even this; in spite of his charming natural endowment of humour;

of tenderness; of delight in good letters; and in nature。  He died

young; he was one of those whose talent matures slowly; and he died

before he came into the full possession of his intellectual kingdom。

He had the ambition to excel; 'Greek text'; as the Homeric motto of

his University runs; and he was on the way to excellence when his

health broke down。  He lingered for two years and passed away。



It is a familiar story; the story of lettered youth; of an ambition;

or rather of an ideal; of poverty; of struggles in the ‘dusty and

stony ways'; of intellectual task…work; of a true love consoling the

last months of weakness and pain。  The tale is not repeated here

because it is novel; nor even because in its hero we have to regret

an ‘inheritor of unfulfilled renown。'  It is not the genius so much

as the character of this St。 Andrews student which has won the

sympathy of his biographer; and may win; he hopes; the sympathy of

others。  In Mr。 Murray I feel that I have lost that rare thing; a

friend; a friend whom the chances of life threw in my way; and

withdrew again ere we had time and opportunity for perfect

recognition。  Those who read his Letters and Remains may also feel

this emotion of sympathy and regret。



He was young in years; and younger in heart; a lover of youth; and

youth; if it could learn and could be warned; might win a lesson

from his life。  Many of us have trod in his path; and; by some

kindness of fate; have found from it a sunnier exit into longer days

and more fortunate conditions。  Others have followed this well…

beaten road to the same early and quiet end as his。



The life and the letters of Murray remind one strongly of Thomas

Davidson's; as published in that admirable and touching biography; A

Scottish Probationer。  It was my own chance to be almost in touch

with both these gentle; tuneful; and kindly humorists。  Davidson was

a Borderer; born on the skirts of ‘stormy Ruberslaw;' in the country

of James Thomson; of Leyden; of the old Ballad minstrels。  The son

of a Scottish peasant line of the old sort; honourable; refined;

devout; he was educated in Edinburgh for the ministry of the United

Presbyterian Church。  Some beautiful verses of his appeared in the

St。 Andrews University Magazine about 1863; at the time when I first

‘saw myself in print' in the same periodical。  Davidson's poem

delighted me:  another of his; ‘Ariadne in Naxos;' appeared in the

Cornhill Magazine about the same time。  Mr。 Thackeray; who was then

editor; no doubt remembered Pen's prize poem on the same subject。  I

did not succeed in learning anything about the author; did not know

that he lived within a drive of my own home。  When next I heard of

him; it was in his biography。  As a ‘Probationer;' or unplaced

minister; he; somehow; was not successful。  A humorist; a poet; a

delightful companion; he never became ‘a placed minister。'  It was

the old story of an imprudence; a journey made in damp clothes; of

consumption; of the end of his earthly life and love。  His letters

to his betrothed; his poems; his career; constantly remind one of

Murray's; who must often have joined in singing Davidson's song; so

popular with St。 Andrews students; The Banks of the Yang…tse…kiang。

Love of the Border; love of Murray's ‘dear St。 Andrews Bay;' love of

letters; make one akin to both of these friends who were lost before

their friendship was won。  Why did not Murray succeed to the measure

of his most modest desire?  If we examine the records of literary

success; we find it won; in the highest fields; by what; for want of

a better word; we call genius; in the lower paths; by an energy

which can take pleasure in all and every exercise of pen and ink;

and can communicate its pleasure to others。  Now for Murray one does

not venture; in face of his still not wholly developed talent; and

of his checked career; to claim genius。  He was not a Keats; a

Burns; a Shelley:  he was not; if one may choose modern examples; a

Kipling or a Stevenson。  On the other hand; his was a high ideal; he

believed; with Andre Chenier; that he had ‘something there;'

something worthy of reverence and of careful training within him。

Consequently; as we shall see; the drudgery of the pressman was

excessively repulsive to him。  He could take no delight in making

the best of it。  We learn that Mr。 Kipling's early tales were

written as part of hard daily journalistic work in India; written in

torrid newspaper offices; to fill columns。  Yet they were written

with the delight of the artist; and are masterpieces in their genre。

Murray could not make the best of ordinary pen…work in this manner。

Again; he was incapable of ‘transactions;' of compromises; most

honourably incapable of earning his bread by agreeing; or seeming to

agree with opinions which were not his。  He could not endure (here I

think he was wrong) to have his pieces of light and mirthful verse

touched in any way by an editor。  Even where no opinions were

concerned; even where an editor has (to my mind) a perfect right to

alter anonymous contributions; Murray declined to be edited。  I

ventured to remonstrate with him; to say non est tanti; but I spoke

too late; or spoke in vain。  He carried independence too far; or

carried it into the wrong field; for a piece of humorous verse; say

in Punch; is not an original masterpiece and immaculate work of art;

but more or less of a joint…stock product between the editor; the

author; and the public。  Macaulay; and Carlyle; and Sir Walter Scott

suffered editors gladly or with indifference; and who are we that we

should complain?  This extreme sensitiveness would always have stood

in Murray's way。



Once more; Murray's interest in letters was much more energetic than

his zeal in the ordinary industry of a student。  As a general rule;

men of original literary bent are not exemplary students at college。

‘The common curricoolum;' as the Scottish laird called academic

studies generally; rather repels them。  Macaulay took no honours at

Cambridge; mathematics defied him。  Scott was ‘the Greek dunce;' at

Edinburgh。  Thackeray; Shelley; Gibbon; did not cover themselves

with college laurels; they read what pleased them; they did not read

‘for the schools。'  In short; this behaviour at college is the rule

among men who are to be distinguished in literature; not the

exception。  The honours attained at Oxford by Mr。 Swinburne; whose

Greek verses are no less poetical than his English poetry; were

inconspicuous。  At St。 Andrews; Murray read only ‘for human

pleasure;' like Scott; Thackeray; Shelley; and the rest; at

Edinburgh; Oxford; and Cambridge。  In this matter; I think; he made

an error; and one which affected his whole career。  He was not a man

of private fortune; like some of those whom we have mentioned。  He

had not a business ready for him to step into。  He had to force his

own way in life; had to make himself ‘self…supporting。'  This was

all the more essential to a man of his honourable independence of

character; a man who not only would not ask a favour; but who

actually shrunk back from such chances as were offered to him; if

these chances seemed to be connected with the least discernible

shadow of an obligation。  At St。 Andrews; had he chosen to work hard

in certain branches of study; he might probably have gained an

exhibition; gone to Oxford or elsewhere; and; by winning a

fellowship; secured the leisure which was necessary for the

development of his powers。  I confess to believing in strenuous work

at the classics; as offering; apart from all material reward; the

best and most solid basis; especially where there is no exuberant

original genius; for the career of a man of letters。  The mental

discipline is invaluable; the training in accuracy is invaluable;

and invaluable is the life led in the society of the greatest minds;

the noblest poets; the most faultless artists of the world。  To

descend to ordinary truths; scholarship is; at lowest; an honourable

gagne…pain。  Bu

返回目录 下一页 回到顶部 0 0

你可能喜欢的