Tales of the Ridings | Page 3

been solely responsible.
This invitation was not accepted until Moorman had generously made it
clear that the proposed appointment would not be personally
unwelcome to him. Nevertheless, it was clearly an invidious position
for the new-comer: and a position which, but for the exceptional
generosity and loyalty of the former chief of the department, would
manifestly have been untenable. In fact, no proof of Moorman's
unselfishness could be more conclusive than that, for the nine years
during which the two men worked together, the harmony between them
remained unbroken, untroubled by even the most passing cloud. Near
the close of this time, in recognition of his distinction as a scholar and
of his great services to the University, a separate post, as Professor of
the English Language, was created for him.
During the whole of his time at Leeds, his knowledge of his subject,
both on its literary and linguistic side, was constantly deepening and his
efficiency, as teacher of it, constantly increasing. With so keen a mind
as his, this was only to be expected. It was equally natural that, as his
knowledge expanded and his advice came to be more and more sought
by those engaged in the study of such matters, he should make the
results of his researches known to a wider public. After several smaller
enterprises of this kind,(3) he broke entirely fresh ground with two
books, which at once established his right to be heard in both the fields
for which he was professionally responsible: _Yorkshire Place Names_,
published for and by the Thoresby Society in 1911; and a study of the
life and poetry of Robert Herrick, two years later. The former, if here
and there perhaps not quite rigorous enough in the tests applied to the
slippery evidence available, is in all essentials a most solid piece of
work: based on a wide and sound knowledge of the linguistic principles
which, though often grossly neglected, form the corner-stone, and
something more, of all such inquiries; and lit up with a keen eye for the
historical issues--issues reaching far back into national origins which,
often in the most unexpected places, they may be made to open out.
The latter, to which he turned with the more zest because it led him
back to the familiar setting of his native county--to its moors and rills

and flowers, and the fairy figures that haunted them--is a delightful
study of one of the most unique of English poets(4); a study, however,
which could only have been written by one who, among many other
things, was a thorough-paced scholar. Many qualities--knowledge,
scholarship, love of nature, a discerning eye for poetic beauty--go to the
making of such a book. Their union in this Study serves to show that,
great as was Moorman's authority in the field of language, it was
always to literature, above all to poetry, that his heart went naturally
out. The closing years of his life were to set this beyond doubt.
It would be absurd to close this sketch of Moorman's professional
activities without a reference, however slight, to what was, after all, one
of the most significant things about them. No man can, in the full sense,
be a teacher unless, in some way or other, he throws himself into the
life and interests of his students. And it was among the secrets--perhaps
the chief secret--of Moorman's influence as a teacher that, so far from
being mere names in a register, his students were to him always young
people of flesh and blood, in whose interests he could share, whose
companion he delighted to be, and who felt that they could turn to him
for advice and sympathy as often as they were in need. No doubt his
own youthfulness of temper, the almost boyish spirits which seldom or
never flagged in him, helped greatly to this result; but the true fountain
of it all lay in his ingrained unselfishness. The same power was to make
itself felt among the classes for older students which he held in the last
years of his life.
To fulfil all these academical duties in the liberal spirit, which was the
only spirit possible to Moorman, might well have been expected to
exhaust the energies of any man. Yet, amidst them all, he found time to
take part, both as lecturer and as trusted adviser, in the activities of the
Workers' Educational Association, attending summer meetings and,
during the last five or six winters of his life, delivering weekly lectures
and taking part in the ensuing discussions, at Crossgates, one of the
outlying suburbs of Leeds. To the students who there, year by year,
gathered round him he greatly endeared himself by his power of
understanding their difficulties and of presenting great poetry in a way
that came