Copy of Letter to David Christie Murray, 6th May 1897.
Dear Sir,—I have to acknowledge with thanks the receipt of
your letter of May 1st I thoroughly appreciate the spirit of
your suggestion, but am inclined to doubt its wisdom at the
present time. I do not see how any human being on either
side of the Atlantic can dispute the good-feeling already
entertained towards the United States by every class of the
population here. I am afraid, however, that it is not
generally reciprocated, and the Americans are apt to
misunderstand some of our efforts to conciliate them, and to
attribute them to less worthy motives. I have heard several
distinguished Americans protest against the “gush,” as they
call it, in which we indulge. Under these circumstances, I
think the project of a statue to George Washington should
be, for the present, postponed,—I am, yours truly,
(Sgd.) Joseph Chamberlain.
Copy of Letter to David Christie Murray, 22nd February
1897.
29 Delamere Terrace, Westbourne Sq., W.
My Dear Sir,—May a delighted reader of your articles in the
Sun presume on a very slight acquaintance with their
author to say how greatly he admires them? The paper on
Dickens seemed to me to dissolve that writer's peculiar
charm with a truer alchemy than any criticism I had ever
read. And now that with such splendid courage you tilt
against the painted bladder-babies of the neo-Scottish
school,—with so much real moderation too, with such a
dignified statement of the reasons for such a judgment,—I
cannot rest, I must say “Bravo.” The distinction between the
false North Britons (mere phantoms) and the true Stevenson
and Barrie (real creatures of the imagination, if sometimes,
in their detail, a little whimsical, even a little
diminutive) is put so admirably as I had not yet seen it
put.
I am eager for next Sunday's article, and as long as these
papers continue I shall read them with avidity. I detect in
every paragraph that genuine passion for literature which is
so rare, and which is the only thing worth living the life
of letters for.
Pardon my intrusion, and accept my thanks once more.—
Believe me to be, faithfully yours,
(Sgd.) Edmund Gosse.
Copy of Letter to David Christie Murray (undated).
Undershaw, Hindhead, Haslemere
My Dear Murray,—I shall be delighted and honoured to have a
first glance at the ms. I never read anything of yours which
I did not like, so I am sure I shall like it, but there are
degrees of liking, and I will tell you frankly which degree
I register.
Now you will bear that visit in mind and write to me when
you are ready and your work done.—With all kind regards,
yours very truly,
(Sgd.) A. Conan Doyle.
Copy of Letter to David Christie Murray (undated).
Undershaw, Hindhead, Haslemere.
My Dear Murray,—I have just finished your critical book and
think it most excellent and useful. I couldn't help writing
to you to say so. It is really fine—so well-balanced and
clear-sighted and judicial. For kind words about myself many
thanks. I don't think we are suffering from critical
kindness so much as indiscriminate critical kindness. No
one has said enough, as it seems to me, about Barrie or
Kipling. I think they are fit—young as they are—to rank
with the highest, and that some of Barrie's work, Margaret
Ogilvy and A Window in Thrums, will endear him as Robert
Burns is endeared to the hearts of the future Scottish race.
I have just settled down here and we are getting the
furniture in and all in order. In a week or so it will be
quite right. If ever you should be at a loose end at a week-
end, or any other time, I wish you would run down. I believe
we could make you happy for a few days. Name your date and
the room will be ready. Only from the 16th to the 26th it is
pre-empted.—With all kind remembrances, yours very truly,
(Sgd.) A. Conan Doyle
Copy of Letter to David Christie Murray. 9th Sept. 1897.
148 Todmorden Road, Burnley, Lanes.
My Dear Sir,—Will you kindly excuse the liberty I take in
writing? I have just bought and read your new book My
Contemporaries in Fiction. and feel that I must thank you.
The task you assumed was, I think, necessary, and your
estimate of the various writers just, and on the whole
generous. I know my opinion is of little value, but I have
long felt that several of our modern novelists were
appraised miles beyond their merits, and I have often wished
that some man of position, one who could speak candidly
without fear of being accused of being envious, would give
to the world a fair and fearless criticism of the works of
novelists about whom some so-called critics rave. Thousands
will be glad that you have done this, and I hope your book
will have the success it deserves.
It will be a matter for thankfulness, too, that you have
tried to do justice to George Macdonald, and to give him the
place he deserves. To read the fulsome stuff which is so
often written about Crockett, and then to think that
Macdonald is quietly shelved, is enough to make one sick at
heart Certainly, I shall do all that lies in my power to
make your work known.
I do wish, however that you had devoted a few pages to one
who, a few years ago, loomed large in the literary horizon.
I mean Robert Buchanan. I know that during these last few
years he has poured out a great deal of drivel, but I cannot
forget books like The New Abelard, and especially, God
and the Man. It is a matter of surprise and regret that one
of Buchanan's undoubted powers should have thrown himself
away as he has done. All the same, the man who wrote God
and the Man and The Shadow of the Sword, hysterical as
the latter may be, deserves a place in such a book as yours,
and an honest criticism, such as I am sure you could give,
might lead him, even yet, to give us a work worthy of the
promise of years ago.
I am afraid you will regard this letter as presumptuous,
nevertheless, I am prompted by sincere admiration. Years ago
I read Joseph's Coat and Aunt Rachel, and still think
the latter to be one of the tenderest and most beautiful
things in fiction. I also remember the simple scene which
gave the title to the book called A Bit of Human Nature,
and shall never cease to admire what seems to me a flash of
real genius. Consequently, when I stood close by you at a
“Vagabond's” dinner, on the ladies' night some months ago, I
was strongly impelled to ask for an introduction, but lacked
the necessary audacity to carry out my one time
determination.
Again thanking you for a book which has afforded me a
genuine pleasure to read, besides giving me much mental
stimulus,—I am, dear sir, yours very truly,
(Sgd.) Joseph Hocking.
Copy of Letter to David Christie Murray. 17th June 1897.
Dear Murray,—I am getting so weary of controversy that I
must decline to take part, directly or indirectly, in any
more. Possibly, in the heat of annoyance, I may have said
harsh things about Mr Scott, but if so, I have forgotten
them, and I think all harsh things are better forgotten. I
am sorry, therefore, to hear that you are on the war-path,
and wish I could persuade you to turn back to the paths of
peace. You are too valuable to be wasted in this sort of
warfare. I daresay you will smile at such advice from me,
of all men, but believe me, I speak from sad experience.
I was sorry to hear about the fate of your play, but 'tis
the fortune of war, and I hope it will only stir you to
another effort which may possess, not more merit, possibly,
but better luck, which now-a-days counts more than merit.
—With all good wishes, I am, yours truly,
(Sgd.) Robert Buchanan.
Copy of Letter to David Christie Murray, Sept. 1st.
“Merliland,” 25 Maresfield Gardens, South Hampstead, N.W.
Dear Christie Murray,—I thank you for your kind breath of
encouragement, and am very glad that my Outcast contains
anything to awaken a response in so fine a nature as your
own. It was very good of you to think of writing to me on
the subject at all.
I can't help thinking that men who still hold to the old
traditions should stick together and form some kind of a
phalanx. I was not sorry, therefore, to hear that you had
expressed yourself freely about the craze of a noisy
minority for formlessness and ugliness in realistic
literature. Ibsen's style, regarded merely as style, bears
the same relation to good writing that the Star newspaper
does to a Greek statue. I don't myself much mind what morals
a man teaches, so long as he preserves the morality of
beautiful form, but at the rate we are now going,
literature seems likely to become a series of causes
célèbres chronicled in the language of the penny-a-liner.
And over and above this is the dirty habit, growing upon
many able men, of examining their secretions, always an
evident sign of hypochondria.
I am awaiting with much interest your further steps on the
plane dramatic. Meantime, I hope I shall see more of you and
yours. With kind regards.—Truly yours,
(Sgd.) Robert Buchanan.
Copy of Letter to David Christie Murray. 17th January
1905.
75 Cambridge Terrace, W.
Dear Sir,—I trust you will forgive my writing you, but I
cannot make use of another man's brains without some
acknowledgment. For years I have been a reader of the
Referee, and of late years nothing has interested me more
than the articles above the name of Merlin on the front
page. This week you have put the real issue so clearly and
so freely, that I am going to avail myself of it tonight in
my speech at Blandford, and I hope I have your permission so
to do. If only a few more men would grasp difficult subjects
as boldly and broadly as you do, we should be a better and a
happier people.—Yours very faithfully,
(Sgd.) E. Marshall Hall.
