Bradley
Apr 13, 2014 5:45:44 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Apr 13, 2014 5:45:44 GMT -5
Francis Herbert Bradley was born at Clapham in 1846, the fourth child of the Reverend Charles Bradley. Bradley's father was a fashionable preacher of the Evangelical school, whose sermons achieved wide popularity on account of their insistence on the practical and speculative aspects of religion and their studied literary style; he went on to father twenty children in the end! Among these was a younger brother, by name A. C. Bradley, who became the renowned literary scholar and critic.
Bradley was educated first at Cheltenham (1856-61), and then at Marlborough (1861-3), where another brother, George Granville Bradley, was head-master. At school Bradley enjoyed conventional success, being good both at work and at games. In 1865 he went up to University College, Oxford, and in 1867 secured a First in classical moderations, but two years later (perhaps because his philosophical views went against the prevailing empiricist orthodoxy) he was placed in the second class in literæ humaniores. From a comparatively early age he had been interested in philosophy [plus 10], but it now seemed as if his reverse in Schools - a reverse which he shared with (amongst other distinguished figures of his century) Newman, Mark Pattison, Nettleship, and Curzon - had cut him off from an academic career. In 1870, however, he was awarded a Fellowship at Merton College, Oxford, terminable only by marriage, and he lived there for the rest of his life. [Plus 10]
His fellowship, fortunately, required nothing of him in the way of teaching or lecturing, but even residence in Oxford all the year round proved too much for him, and he generally wintered either on the English coast or on the Riviera. It was in the course of such a sojourn at Saint-Raphaël in the winter of 1910-11 that he struck up a friendship with Elinor Glyn, who depicted him as the sage Cheiron in Halcyone. Bradley was, however, an exceptionally conscientious member of his College, and wherever he happened to be at the time, he insisted upon turning up for every college meeting, even when this was at evident risk to his health.
Illness - to which old age added deafness - compelled Bradley to lead a life approaching that of a recluse, but it is clear that by temperament he was of a social disposition, and within a narrow circle of friends he was much liked and admired, if also somewhat feared. All who knew him agree that he had the air of a great man, with, perhaps, a manner a trifle self-consciously of the old school. He was very erect, almost soldierly in his bearing, with fine eyes, a longish nose slightly hooked, and a carefully-trimmed beard: fastidiously dressed: affable and courteous to acquaintances, though intolerant of stupidity: well read, particularly in French literature: an accomplished and stimulating talker, not at all humourless: and (in his own judgment at least) a good pistol-shot - a skill which he kept in practice in a small gallery which he constructed above his rooms in College. [Minus 5]
Bradley held views on a wide range of topics, literary, political, and practical, and he delivered himself of them with great vigour clarity and effectiveness. In political matters he was deeply conservative or reactionary. The mere mention of Gladstone's name enraged him, and he tried to justify this by referring it to the Liberal party's "betrayal" of Gordon in the Soudan. [Minus 5] Bradley was the implacable enemy of all utilitarian or liberal teaching; he could not abide pacifism or generalized humanitarian sentiment, and any belief in the natural equality of man or in the inviolability of life (whether political or religious in inspiration) he regarded as "sentimental," "degenerate," and "disgusting." [Minus 10] In the field of Art and speculation, by contrast, he stood for full freedom of inquiry and expression.
Bradley's private life is shrouded in obscurity, but the Aphorisms alone suggest a man of a deep and perhaps varied experience of love. The greatest single attachment of his life was to "E.R." (Mrs. Radcliffe), the "friend of unfailing sympathy" to whom all his books are dedicated. Mrs. Radcliffe was an American woman living in France, pretty and vivacious in manner, always youthfully dressed, who claimed never to have read a book in her life. Bradley is supposed to have met her on holiday on the Nile where she was travelling with her father. It is said that he very much wanted to marry her [minus 3]: according to one view his doctor dissuaded him from that step, according to another she turned him down. They met regularly in Paris, and for a number of years wintered together. Despite her lack of interest in philosophy, Bradley sketched out his complete system of metaphysics in a series of letters to her, which she destroyed.
Bradley was a great lover of dogs and birds; he detested cats, and is supposed to have gone out shooting them at night in the college precincts. [Plus 5!] Bradley, who expired in 1924, was the recipient of a number of English and foreign honours, including the Order of Merit. He left an estate of just over £10,000.
Bradley was educated first at Cheltenham (1856-61), and then at Marlborough (1861-3), where another brother, George Granville Bradley, was head-master. At school Bradley enjoyed conventional success, being good both at work and at games. In 1865 he went up to University College, Oxford, and in 1867 secured a First in classical moderations, but two years later (perhaps because his philosophical views went against the prevailing empiricist orthodoxy) he was placed in the second class in literæ humaniores. From a comparatively early age he had been interested in philosophy [plus 10], but it now seemed as if his reverse in Schools - a reverse which he shared with (amongst other distinguished figures of his century) Newman, Mark Pattison, Nettleship, and Curzon - had cut him off from an academic career. In 1870, however, he was awarded a Fellowship at Merton College, Oxford, terminable only by marriage, and he lived there for the rest of his life. [Plus 10]
His fellowship, fortunately, required nothing of him in the way of teaching or lecturing, but even residence in Oxford all the year round proved too much for him, and he generally wintered either on the English coast or on the Riviera. It was in the course of such a sojourn at Saint-Raphaël in the winter of 1910-11 that he struck up a friendship with Elinor Glyn, who depicted him as the sage Cheiron in Halcyone. Bradley was, however, an exceptionally conscientious member of his College, and wherever he happened to be at the time, he insisted upon turning up for every college meeting, even when this was at evident risk to his health.
Illness - to which old age added deafness - compelled Bradley to lead a life approaching that of a recluse, but it is clear that by temperament he was of a social disposition, and within a narrow circle of friends he was much liked and admired, if also somewhat feared. All who knew him agree that he had the air of a great man, with, perhaps, a manner a trifle self-consciously of the old school. He was very erect, almost soldierly in his bearing, with fine eyes, a longish nose slightly hooked, and a carefully-trimmed beard: fastidiously dressed: affable and courteous to acquaintances, though intolerant of stupidity: well read, particularly in French literature: an accomplished and stimulating talker, not at all humourless: and (in his own judgment at least) a good pistol-shot - a skill which he kept in practice in a small gallery which he constructed above his rooms in College. [Minus 5]
Bradley held views on a wide range of topics, literary, political, and practical, and he delivered himself of them with great vigour clarity and effectiveness. In political matters he was deeply conservative or reactionary. The mere mention of Gladstone's name enraged him, and he tried to justify this by referring it to the Liberal party's "betrayal" of Gordon in the Soudan. [Minus 5] Bradley was the implacable enemy of all utilitarian or liberal teaching; he could not abide pacifism or generalized humanitarian sentiment, and any belief in the natural equality of man or in the inviolability of life (whether political or religious in inspiration) he regarded as "sentimental," "degenerate," and "disgusting." [Minus 10] In the field of Art and speculation, by contrast, he stood for full freedom of inquiry and expression.
Bradley's private life is shrouded in obscurity, but the Aphorisms alone suggest a man of a deep and perhaps varied experience of love. The greatest single attachment of his life was to "E.R." (Mrs. Radcliffe), the "friend of unfailing sympathy" to whom all his books are dedicated. Mrs. Radcliffe was an American woman living in France, pretty and vivacious in manner, always youthfully dressed, who claimed never to have read a book in her life. Bradley is supposed to have met her on holiday on the Nile where she was travelling with her father. It is said that he very much wanted to marry her [minus 3]: according to one view his doctor dissuaded him from that step, according to another she turned him down. They met regularly in Paris, and for a number of years wintered together. Despite her lack of interest in philosophy, Bradley sketched out his complete system of metaphysics in a series of letters to her, which she destroyed.
Bradley was a great lover of dogs and birds; he detested cats, and is supposed to have gone out shooting them at night in the college precincts. [Plus 5!] Bradley, who expired in 1924, was the recipient of a number of English and foreign honours, including the Order of Merit. He left an estate of just over £10,000.