r. f. murray-第6章

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Murray　was　already　doing　a　very　little　‘miniature　journalism；'　in　the　form　of　University　Notes　for　a　local　paper。　　He　complains　of　the　ultra　Caledonian　frankness　with　which　men　told　him　that　they　were　very　bad。　　A　needless；　if　friendly；　outspokenness　was　a　feature　in　Scottish　character　which　he　did　not　easily　endure。　　He　wrote　a　good　deal　of　verse　in　the　little　University　paper；　now　called　College　Echoes。

If　Murray　ever　had　any　definite　idea　of　being　ordained　for　the　ministry　in　any　‘denomination；'　he　abandoned　it。　　His　‘bursaries'　（scholarships　or　exhibitions）；　on　which　he　had　been　passing　rich；　expired；　and　he　had　to　earn　a　livelihood。　　It　seems　plain　to　myself　that　he　might　easily　have　done　so　with　his　pen。　　A　young　friend　of　my　own　（who　will　excuse　me　for　thinking　that　his　bright　verses　are　not　BETTER　than　Murray's）　promptly　made；　by　these　alone；　an　income　which　to　Murray　would　have　been　affluence。　　But　this　could　not　be　done　at　St。　Andrews。　　Again；　Murray　was　not　in　contact　with　people　in　the　centre　of　newspapers　and　magazines。　　He　went　very　little　into　general　society；　even　at　St。　Andrews；　and　thus　failed；　perhaps；　to　make　acquaintances　who　might　have　been　‘useful。'　　He　would　have　scorned　the　idea　of　making　useful　acquaintances。　　But　without　seeking　them；　why　should　we　reject　any　friendliness　when　it　offers　itself？　　We　are　all　members　one　of　another。　　Murray　speaks　of　his　experience　of　human　beings；　as　rich　in　examples　of　kindness　and　good…will。　　His　shyness；　his　reserve；　his　extreme　unselfishness；　carried　to　the　point　of　diffidence；made　him　rather　shun　than　seek　older　people　who　were　dangerously　likely　to　be　serviceable。　　His　manner；　when　once　he　could　be　induced　to　meet　strangers；　was　extremely　frank　and　pleasant；　but　from　meeting　strangers　he　shrunk；　in　his　inveterate　modesty。

In　1886　Murray　had　the　misfortune　to　lose　is　father；　and　it　became；　perhaps；　more　prominently　needful　that　he　should　find　a　profession。　He　now　assisted　Professor　Meiklejohn　of　St。　Andrews　in　various　kinds　of　literary　and　academic　work；　and　in　him　found　a　friend；　with　whom　he　remained　in　close　intercourse　to　the　last。　　He　began　the　weary　path；　which　all　literary　beginners　must　tread；　of　sending　contributions　to　magazines。　　He　seldom　read　magazine　articles。　　‘I　do　not　greatly　care　for　〃Problems〃　and　〃vexed　questions。〃　　I　am　so　much　of　a　problem　and　a　vexed　question　that　I　have　quite　enough　to　do　in　searching　for　a　solution　of　my　own　personality。'　　He　tried　a　story；　based　on　‘a　midnight　experience'　of　his　own；　unluckily　he　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