T HE 'OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY' is suspect -- rightly. Appointed
by the literary executors of the deceased, inhibited by the
scruples of his relatives, friends and 'others still living', the
author is not expected to produce more than a faint outline -- a bas-
relief at best, and that so draped in fig-leaves as rather to pique the
reader's curiosity than appease it. This being the official biography of
John Middleton Murry, inasmuch as it was commissioned by his widow
and elder son, it may be as well to set my cards on the table at the
outset.

When, in April 1957, Mrs Middleton Murry first suggested to me
that, as a friend of some twenty years' standing, I should write her
husband's life, I felt it to be an honour and privilege. I still do. Because
I did, I was daunted, both by the responsibility itself and by fears lest
I should be prevented from discharging it loyally by deference to others'
wishes. My fears proved groundless. Few biographers, official or other-
wise, can ever have been treated to such generous consideration and
co-operation on the part of family and friends alike. From the day I
agreed to the suggestion, Mrs Murry herself placed unreservedly at my
disposal all the relevant documents in her possession -- books, manu-
scripts, letters, diaries; while Miss Ruth Baker, Mr Murry's former
secretary, was tireless in seeking out papers that would otherwise have
been overlooked. Whatever merit this book may have -- and its chief
merit must lie in the material drawn from these sources -- is due to them
above all.

Out of respect for what appears to have been one of Murry's own
last expressed wishes, I have refrained from citing the material in his
journals relating to his tragic third marriage. I have also withheld the
names of some half-dozen persons referred to in the narrative. I do not
think that these reservations affect its veracity: and they are the only ones.

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