This aggregation of authors and artists might have seemed to have been
brought together under some leadership, and to have been directed to
some purpose; yet one who entertained such an assumption would have been
mistaken.
Chance brought us together for a moment, a very brief moment, to be
followed by a general dispersal. There were days when thirty or forty
young men, apprentices in the art of writing, sat around the tables in
the old Cafe de Madrid.
Doubtless such gatherings of new men, eager to interfere in and to
influence the operations of the social system, yet without either the
warrant of tradition or any proved ability to do so, are common upon a
larger scale in all revolutions.
As we neither had, nor could have had, in the nature of the case, a task
to perform, we soon found that we were divided into small groups, and
finally broke up altogether.
AZORIN
A few days after the publication of my first book, _Sombre Lives_,
Miguel Poveda, who was responsible for printing it, sent a copy to
Martinez Ruiz, who was at that time in Monovar. Martinez Ruiz wrote me a
long letter concerning the book by return mail; on the following day he
sent another.
Poveda handed me the letters to read and I was filled with surprise and
joy.
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