Musgrave would hold, in the
case of Flaubert, that he was, in his novels, trying to give to the
cathedral the finish of the gem, and polishing a colossal statue as
though it were a tiny statuette."
"Yes," said Herries mournfully, "I suppose that is right; though
when I read of Flaubert spending hours of torture in the search for
a single epithet, I do not feel that the sacrifice was made in vain
if only the result was achieved."
"But I," said Musgrave, "grudge the time so spent. I would rather
have more less-finished work than little exquisite work--though I
suppose that we shall come to the latter sometime, when the
treasures of art have accumulated even more hopelessly than now,
and when nothing but perfect work will have a chance of
recognition. Then perhaps a man will spend thirty years in writing
a short story, and twenty more in polishing it! But at present
there is much that is unsaid which may well be said, and I confess
that I do not hanker after this careful and troubled work. It
reminds me of the terrible story of the Chinaman who spent fifty
years in painting a vase which cracked in the furnace.
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