Background
Morley, Christopher was born on May 5, 1890 in Haverford, Pennsylvania, United States. Son of Frank and Lilian Janet (Bird) Morley.
(We have a kindness for Mr. Morley. It is the way Macaulay...)
We have a kindness for Mr. Morley. It is the way Macaulay begins when he is most dangerous; but there are no more Macaulays. We mean simply to confess that we belong to the brisk and lusty majority for whom to read Morley is to praise him. This admission will displease the author. We have reason to believe that he desires, like young Pope, to kiss the critic's rodnay, that he expects the American Oxonian to purvey him a good academic Dennis-Rymer critique, and to make it stiff. The present reviewer was retained for just that. He erred, however, in reading the last four droppings from Morley's pen before he reviewed them. They give him reason to suspectin spite of the hero-and-valet relationship that naturally subsists between a living author and a student of literaturethat he and his colleagues may be settling themselves some fifty years hence to the task of criticizing Morley sub specie immortalitatis. So why anticipate? Let the dead future do the criticism, and let us, while we may, Morleyize. We like Mr. Morley, in the first place, because he seems to us the neatest example extant of one of our pet beliefs: that Oxford is about the finest place in the world to turn out Simon-pure, bred-in-the-bone Americans. What is there like the ambrosial leisure of an Oxford brekker party to train one to catch in silhouette the fleeting romantic minutes at a New York railroad lunch counter? Who does not see the mellow afterglow of Oxford port in Morley's charming justice to our native cider and to the small beers which we have loved long since and lost awhile? Who, in short, does not glimpse the informing purpose of Oxonian sweetness and light in his sweet and luminous sketches of anfractuous Manhattan? We like Mr. Morley, and hail him as a Rhodes Scholar absolute, because he holds the balance so justly between the contending claims of gooseberry tart and doughnuts, anchovy toast and wheat-cakes-with-syrup; because he talks of "jewellery" and "odours" and "tins of preserved prunes" whenever he grows most poignantly American in his themes; because, with the well known swank of the honours man, he affects the three-hours-for-lunch vice when circumstantial evidence convicts him of the bolted sandwich. We like him because he rags professors of English, and sends them scuttling to the dictionary to discover the real etymology of superstitious, the meaning of node and cortex, demiurge, pyrophil, and hesychastic. The American Oxonian, Vol. 9
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(Roger Mifflin is part pixie, part sage, part noble savage...)
Roger Mifflin is part pixie, part sage, part noble savage, and all God's creature. With his traveling book wagon named Parnassus, he moves through the New England countryside of 1915 on an itinerant mission of enlightenment. Mifflin's delight in books and authors is infectious--with his singular philosophy and bright eyes, he comes to represent the heart and soul of the book world. But a certain spirited spinster, disgruntled with her life, may have a hand in changing all that. This roaring good adventure yarn is spiced with fiery roadside brawls, heroic escapes from death, the most groaning boards in the history of Yankee cookery, and a rare love story--not to mention a glimpse at a feminist perspective from the early 1900s.
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Morley, Christopher was born on May 5, 1890 in Haverford, Pennsylvania, United States. Son of Frank and Lilian Janet (Bird) Morley.
Bachelor of Arts, Haverford College, 1910 (Phi Beta Kappa). Rhodes Scholar at New College, Oxford, England, 1910-1913. Honorary Doctorate. Little from Haverford (Pennsylvania) College, 1933.
Honorary Doctor of Laws, Adelphi College, 1944.
Editorial staff, Doubleday, Page & Company, 1913-1917, Ladies’ Home Journal, 1917-1918, Philadelphia Public Ledger, 1918-1920, New York Evening Post, 1920-1924, Saturday Review of Literature, 1924-1940.
(Roger Mifflin is part pixie, part sage, part noble savage...)
(We have a kindness for Mr. Morley. It is the way Macaulay...)
Clubs: The Three Hours for Lunch. Fellow American Geography Society. Member National Institute Arts and Letters.
Married Helen Booth Fairchild, June 3, 1914. Children: Christopher, Louise (Mistress James Cochrane), Helen (Mistress Whitney Woodruf), Blythe (Mistress James Brennan).