They
have worries; they take taxis because they must not indulge in motor-cars,
hansoms because taxis are an extravagance, and omnibuses because they
really must economize. But they never look twice at twopence. They curse
the injustice of fate, but secretly they are aware of their luck. When
they have nothing to do, they say, in effect: "Let's go out and spend
something." And they go out. They spend their lives in spending. They
deliberately gaze into shop windows in order to discover an outlet for
their money. You can catch them at it any day.
* * * * *
I do not belong to this class by birth. Artists very seldom do. I was born
slightly beneath it. But by the help of God and strict attention to
business I have gained the right of entrance into it. I admit that I have
imitated its deportment, with certain modifications of my own; I think its
deportment is in many respects worthy of imitation. I am acquainted with
members of it; some are artists like myself; a few others win my sympathy
by honestly admiring my work; and the rest I like because I like them. But
the philosopher in me cannot, though he has tried, melt away my profound
and instinctive hostility to this class. Instead of decreasing, my
hostility grows.
Pages:
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85