r. f. murray-his poems with a memoir- 第5部分

Then　came　the　grocer　saying；　‘Hae　some　twist

At　tippence；'　whom　he　answered　with　a　qualm。

But　when　they　left　him　to　himself　again；

Twist；　like　a　fiend's　breath　from　a　distant　room

Diffusing　through　the　passage；　crept；　the　smell

Deepening　had　power　upon　him；　and　he　mixt

His　fancies　with　the　billow…lifted　bay

Of　Biscay；　and　the　rollings　of　a　ship。



And　on　that　night　he　made　a　little　song；

And　called　his　song　‘The　Song　of　Twist　and　Plug；'

And　sang　it；　scarcely　could　he　make　or　sing。



‘Rank　is　black　plug；　though　smoked　in　wind　and　rain；

And　rank　is　twist；　which　gives　no　end　of　pain；

I　know　not　which　is　ranker；　no；　not　I。



‘Plug；　art　thou　rank？　then　milder　twist　must　be；

Plug；　thou　art　milder：　　rank　is　twist　to　me。

O　twist；　if　plug　be　milder；　let　me　buy。



‘Rank　twist；　that　seems　to　make　me　fade　away；

Rank　plug；　that　navvies　smoke　in　loveless　clay；

I　know　not　which　is　ranker；　no；　not　I。



‘I　fain　would　purchase　flake；　if　that　could　be；

I　needs　must　purchase　plug；　ah；　woe　is　me！

Plug　and　a　cutty；　a　cutty；　let　me　buy。





His　was　the　best　good　thing　of　the　night's　talk；　and　the　thing　that

was　remembered。　　He　excited　himself　a　good　deal　over　Rectorial

Elections。　　The　duties　of　the　Lord　Rector　and　the　mode　of　his

election　have　varied　frequently　in　near　five　hundred　years。　　In

Murray's　day；　as　in　my　own；　the　students　elected　their　own　Rector；

and　before　Lord　Bute's　energetic　reign；　the　Rector　had　little　to　do；

but　to　make　a　speech；　and　give　a　prize。　　I　vaguely　remember

proposing　the　author　of　Tom　Brown　long　ago：　　he　was　not；　however；　in

the　running。



Politics　often　inspire　the　electors；　occasionally　（I　have　heard）

grave　seniors　use　their　influence；　mainly　for　reasons　of　academic

policy。



In　December　1887　Murray　writes　about　an　election　in　which　Mr。　Lowell

was　a　candidate。　　‘A　pitiful　protest　was　entered　by　an'　（epithets

followed　by　a　proper　name）　‘against　Lowell；　on　the　score　of　his

being　an　alien。　　Mallock；　as　you　learn；　was　withdrawn；　for　which　I

am　truly　thankful。'　　Unlucky　Mr。　Mallock！　　‘Lowell　polled　100　and

Gibson　92　。　。　。　The　intrigues　and　corruption　appear　to　be　almost

worthy　of　an　American　Presidential　election。'　　Mr。　Lowell　could　not

accept　a　compliment　which　pleased　him；　because　of　his　official

position；　and　the　misfortune　of　his　birth！



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　ti