money, nor while the slightest thought of
money affected the painter's mind. Whatever idea of pecuniary value
enters into his thoughts as he works, will, in proportion to the
distinctness of its presence, shorten his power. A real painter will
work for you exquisitely, if you give him, as I told you a little while
ago, bread and water and salt; and a bad painter will work badly and
hastily, though you give him a palace to live in, and a princedom to
live upon. Turner got, in his earlier years, half a crown a day and his
supper (not bad pay, neither); and he learned to paint upon that. And I
believe that there is no chance of art's truly flourishing in any
country, until you make it a simple and plain business, providing its
masters with an easy competence, but rarely with anything more. And I
say this, not because I despise the great painter, but because I honour
him; and I should no more think of adding to his respectability or
happiness by giving him riches, than, if Shakespeare or Milton were
alive, I should think we added to _their_ respectability, or were likely
to get better work from them, by making them millionaires.

99. But, observe, it is not only the painter himself whom you injure, by
giving him too high prices; you injure all the inferior painters of the
day. If they are modest, they will be discouraged and depressed by the
feeling that their doings are worth so little, comparatively, in your
eyes;--if proud, all their worst passions will be aroused, and the
insult or opprobrium which they will try to cast on their successful
rival will not only afflict and wound him, but at last sour and harden
him: he cannot pass through such a trial without grievous harm.

100. That, then, is the effect you produce on the painter of mark, and
on the inferior ones of his own standing. But you do worse than this;
you deprive yourselves, by what you give for the fashionable picture, of
the power of helping the younger men who are coming forward. Be it
admitted, for argument's sake, if you are not convinced by what I have
said, that you do no harm to the great man by paying him well; yet
certainly you do him no special good. His reputation is established, and
his fortune made; he does not care whether you buy or not; he thinks he
is rather doing you a favour than otherwise by letting you have one of
his pictures at all. All the good you do him is to help him to buy a new
pair of carriage horses; whereas, with that same