الموضوع: هل تولد الحياة من رحم الموت؟؟؟ دراسة بحثية
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قديم 01-06-2011, 06:24 PM
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Richard Crashaw


Poet, Cambridge scholar and convert; d. 1649. The date of his birth is uncertain. All that can be affirmed positively is that he was the only child of a one-time famous Puritan divine, William Crashaw, by a first marriage, and that he was born in London, probably not earlier than the year 1613.
Of the mother nothing is known except that she died in her child's infancy, while his father was one of the preachers in the Temple; and not even her family name has been preserved to us.
William Crashaw, the father, was born in Yorkshire of a prosperous stock, which had been settled for some generations in or about Handsworth, a place some few miles to the east of the present town of Sheffield. He was a man of unchallenged repute for learning in his day, an argumentative but eloquent preacher, strong in his Protestantism, and fierce in his denunciation of "Romish falsifications" and "besotted Jesuitries".
He married a second time in 1619, and was once more made a widower in the following year.
Richard, the future poet, could scarcely have been more than a child of six when this event took place; but the relations between the boy and his step-mother, brief as they must have been, were affectionate to an unusual degree.
She was but four and twenty when she died in child-birth early in October, 1620, and she was buried in Whitechapel.
No other details of this period of Crashaw's life have come down to us, but the few to which reference has been made make it abundantly evident that neither his poetic gifts nor the strange bias which he afterwards displayed for the more mystical side of Christianity can be explained altogether by heredity or even by early environment.
His place in English literature may be said to be fixed now for all time. If he is not the most important, he is at any rate not the least distinguished of that remarkable group of Caroline lyrists described so unsympathetically, it might even be said so ineptly, by Dr. Johnson, as belonging to the Metaphysical School. Like Herbert and Donne and Cowley, he is in love with the smaller graces of life and the profounder truths of religion, while he seems forever preoccupied with the secret architecture of things. He has, in his better moments of inspiration, a rare and singularly felicitous gift of epithet and phrase, as when he addresses St. Teresa in the famous outburst of religious enthusiasm that marks the close of the "Apology":—
O thou undaunted daughter of desires!
By all thy dower of lights and fires;
By all the eagle in thee, all the dove;
By all thy lives and deaths of love;
By thy large draughts of intellectual day,
And by thy thirsts of love more large than they;
By all thy brim-filled bowls of fierce desire,
And by thy last morning's draughts of liquid fire;
By the full kingdom of that final kiss
That seized thy parting soul, and seal'd thee His
—or when he bespeaks for the ideal wife in the justly famed "Wishes to his (supposed) Mistress."
Whate'er delight,
Can make Day's forehead bright,
Or give down to the wings of Night.