Talking about the gulf fixed between the Old and the New, and especially between the mentality of the downright manual worker and that of the artist — at one time we had an artist friend staying with us who was rather down on his luck and making only a poor living. He was working on a landscape picture, and every morning used to sit in one of my fields and close to the wall which divided it from the high-road. An old road-mender (the same who had told me years before how he remembered the Commons "going in" i.e. being enclosed) — a good old man but bowed with age and labour — used to come that way every morning to his work; and every morning, as sure as Fate, made some patronizing remark to the painter, which at last enraged the latter beyond endurance. "That's a nice pastime for you, young man." And then the next morning, "I see you're amusin' yoursen again, young man"; and so on. ("Pastime, indeed! amusing myself! I wish the old fool had to do it instead of me. But I'll be even with him yet!") So the next morning the artist inveigled the old man into conversation, and after submitting meekly to more patronage, said:"Well you see I have to do this for my living."
"Do it for your livin', do ye?"
"Do you sell them paintin's, then?"
"Of course I do."
Old Man (a little taken aback) : "And how much might you get for a thing like that?"
Artist (stretching a point) : "Well I might get ten pounds."
Old Man (astonished) : "Ten pun! well I never!"
Artist (following up) : "Or I might get more of course."
Old Man (thoughtfully and with deep respect) : "Ten pun! Well, I never and sittin' down to it too!"
20 October 2016
Beats Getting Your Hands Dirty
Edward Carpenter, My Days and Dreams; Being Autobiographical Notes (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1921), pp. 284-285: