AS A WRITER
My pre-literary career was three-fold: I was a student for eight years, during two a village doctor, and for six more a baker.
These having elapsed, being already close upon thirty, I began to write.
My new course was a wise one. It was the best thing that I could have done; anything else would have annoyed me more and have pleased me less. I have enjoyed writing, and I have made some money, although not much, yet it has been sufficient to enable me to travel, which otherwise I should not have been able to do.
The first considerable sum which I received was upon the publication of my novel The Mayorazgo of Labraz. Henrich of Barcelona paid me two thousand pesetas for it. I invested the two thousand pesetas in a speculation upon the Bourse, and they disappeared in two weeks.
The money which I have received for my other books, I have employed to better purpose.
BOHEMIA
I have never been a believer in the absurd myth called Bohemia. The idea of living gaily and irresponsibly in Madrid, or in any other Spanish city, without taking thought for the morrow, is so preposterous that it passes comprehension. Bohemia is utterly false in Paris and London, but in Spain, where life is difficult, it is even more of a cheat.
Bohemia is not only false, it is contemptible. It suggests to me a minor Christian sect, of the most inconsequential degree, nicely calculated for the convenience of hangers on at cafés.
Henri Murger was the son of the wife of a concièrge.