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does not tell us what that experience was。  Had he encountered one

of the local ghosts?



‘My blood…curdling romance I offered to the editor of Longman's

Magazine; but that misguided person was so ill…advised as to return

it; accompanied with one of these abominable lithographed forms

conveying his hypocritical regrets。'  Murray sent a directed

envelope with a twopenny…halfpenny stamp。  The paper came back for

three…halfpence by book…post。  ‘I have serious thoughts of sueing

him for the odd penny!'  ‘Why should people be fools enough to read

my rot when they have twenty volumes of Scott at their command?'  He

confesses to ‘a Scott…mania almost as intense as if he were the last

new sensation。'  ‘I was always fond of him; but I am fonder than

ever now。'  This plunge into the immortal romances seems really to

have discouraged Murray; at all events he says very little more

about attempts in fiction of his own。  ‘I am a barren rascal;' he

writes; quoting Johnson on Fielding。  Like other men; Murray felt

extreme difficulty in writing articles or tales which have an

infinitesimal chance of being accepted。  It needs a stout heart to

face this almost fixed certainty of rejection:  a man is weakened by

his apprehensions of a lithographed form; and of his old manuscript

coming home to roost; like the Graces of Theocritus; to pine in the

dusty chest where is their chill abode。  If the Alexandrian poets

knew this ill…fortune; so do all beginners in letters。  There is

nothing for it but ‘putting a stout heart to a stey brae;' as the

Scotch proverb says。  Editors want good work; and on finding a new

man who is good; they greatly rejoice。  But it is so difficult to do

vigorous and spontaneous work; as it were; in the dark。  Murray had

not; it is probable; the qualities of the novelist; the narrator。

An excellent critic he might have been if he had ‘descended to

criticism;' but he had; at this time; no introductions; and probably

did not address reviews at random to editors。  As to poetry; these

much…vexed men receive such enormous quantities of poetry that they

usually reject it at a venture; and obtain the small necessary

supplies from agreeable young ladies。  Had Murray been in London;

with a few literary friends; he might soon have been a thriving

writer of light prose and light verse。  But the enchantress held

him; he hated London; he had no literary friends; he could write

gaily for pleasure; not for gain。  So; like the Scholar Gypsy; he

remained contemplative;





‘Waiting for the spark from heaven to fall。'





About this time the present writer was in St。 Andrews as Gifford

Lecturer in Natural Theology。  To say that an enthusiasm for totems

and taboos; ghosts and gods of savage men; was aroused by these

lectures; would be to exaggerate unpardonably。  Efforts to make the

students write essays or ask questions were so entire a failure that

only one question was receivedas to the proper pronunciation of

‘Myth。'  Had one been fortunate enough to interest Murray; it must

have led to some discussion of his literary attempts。  He mentions

having attended a lecture given by myself to the Literary Society on

‘Literature as a Profession;' and he found the lecturer ‘far more at

home in such a subject than in the Gifford Lectures。'  Possibly the

hearer was ‘more at home' in literature than in discussions as to

the origin of Huitzilopochtli。  ‘Literature;' he says; ‘never was;

is not; and never will be; in the ordinary sense of the term; a

profession。  You can't teach it as you can the professions; you

can't succeed in it as you can in the professions; by dint of mere

diligence and without special aptitude 。 。 。 I think all this

chatter about the technical and pecuniary sides of literature is

extremely foolish and worse than useless。  It only serves to glut

the idle curiosity of the general public about matters with which

they have no concern; a curiosity which (thanks partly to American

methods of journalism) has become simply outrageous。'



Into chatter about the pecuniary aspect of literature the Lecturer

need hardly say that he did not meander。  It is absolutely true that

literature cannot be taught。  Maupassant could have dispensed with

the instructions of Flaubert。  But an ‘aptitude' is needed in all

professions; and in such arts as music; and painting; and sculpture;

teaching is necessary。  In literature; teaching can only come from

general education in letters; from experience; from friendly private

criticism。  But if you cannot succeed in literature ‘by dint of mere

diligence;' mere diligence is absolutely essential。  Men must read;

must observe; must practise。  Diligence is as necessary to the

author as to the grocer; the solicitor; the dentist; the barrister;

the soldier。  Nothing but nature can give the aptitude; diligence

must improve it; and experience may direct it。  It is not enough to

wait for the spark from heaven to fall; the spark must be caught;

and tended; and cherished。  A man must labour till he finds his

vein; and himself。  Again; if literature is an art; it is also a

profession。  A man's very first duty is to support himself and

those; if any; who are dependent on him。  If he cannot do it by

epics; tragedies; lyrics; he must do it by articles; essays; tales;

or how he honestly can。  He must win his leisure by his labour; and

give his leisure to his art。  Murray; at this time; was diligent in

helping to compile and correct educational works。  He might; but for

the various conditions of reserve; hatred of towns; and the rest;

have been earning his leisure by work more brilliant and more

congenial to most men。  But his theory of literature was so lofty

that he probably found the other; the harder; the less remunerative;

the less attractive work; more congenial to his tastes。



He describes; to Mrs。 Murray; various notable visitors to St。

Andrews:  Professor Butcher; who lectured on Lucian; and is ‘very

handsome;' Mr。 Arthur Balfour; the Lord Rector; who is ‘rather

handsome;' and delights the listener by his eloquence; Mr。

Chamberlain; who pleases him too; though he finds Mr。 Chamberlain

rather acrimonious in his political reflections。  About Lucian; the

subject of Mr。 Butcher's lecture; Murray says nothing。  That

brilliant man of letters in general; the Alcibiades of literature;

the wittiest; and; rarely; the most tender; and; always; the most

graceful; was a model who does not seem to have attracted Murray。

Lucian amused; and amuses; and lived by amusing:  the vein of

romance and poetry that was his he worked but rarely:  perhaps the

Samosatene did not take himself too seriously; yet he lives through

the ages; an example; in many ways to be followed; of a man who

obviously delighted in all that he wrought。  He was no model to

Murray; who only delighted in his moments of inspiration; and could

not make himself happy even in the trifles which are demanded from

the professional pen。



He did; at last; endeavour to ply that servile engine of which

Pendennis conceived so exalted an opinion。  Certainly a false pride

did not stand in his way when; on May 5; 1889; he announced that he

was about to leave St。 Andrews; and attempt to get work at proof…

correcting and in the humblest sorts of journalism in Edinburgh。

The chapter is honourable to his resolution; but most melancholy。

There were competence and ease waiting for him; probably; in London;

if he would but let his pen have its way in bright comment and

occasional verse。  But he chose the other course。  With letters of

introduction from Mr。 Meiklejohn; he consulted the houses of Messrs。

Clark and Messrs。 Constable in Edinburgh。  He did not find that his

knowledge of Greek was adequate to the higher and more remunerative

branches of proof…reading; that weary meticulous toil; so fatiguing

to the eyesight。  The hours; too; were very long; he could do more

and better work in fewer hours。  No time; no strength; were left for

reading and writing。  He did; while in Edinburgh; send a few things

to magazines; but he did not actually ‘bombard' editors。  He is ‘to

live in one room; and dine; if not on a red herring; on the next

cheapest article of diet。'  These months of privation; at which he

laughed; and some weeks of reading proofs; appear to have quite

undermined health which was never strong; and which had been sorely

tried by ‘the wind of a cursed to…day; the curse of a windy to…

morrow;' at St。 Andrews。  If a reader observes in Murray a lack of

strenuous diligence; he must attribute it less to lack of

resolution; than to defect of physical force and energy。  The many

bad colds of which he speaks were warnings of the end; which came in

the form of consumption。  This lurking malady it was that made him

wait; and dally with his talent。  He hit on the idea of translating

some of Bossuet's orations for a Scotch theological publisher。

Alas! the publisher did not anticipate a demand

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