uniary 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 subje