urse, hamper them, and must, of
course, do harm to the artist in them. An assured plenty of money may
conceivably induce lethargy. But the hope of making money by their art
will not spur them on, for there is no hope. No! I ought to have said
explicitly at the time that I had in mind, not poets, who by the
indifference of the public are set apart from money, but of those artists
who have a reasonable opportunity of becoming public darlings and of
earning now and then incomes which a grocer would not despise. That these
latter are constantly influenced by money, and spurred to their finest
efforts by the need of the money necessary for the satisfaction of their
tastes, is a fact amply proved by the experience of everybody who is on
intimate terms with them in real life. It almost amounts to common
literary knowledge. It applies equally to the mediocre and to the
distinguished artist. Those persons who have not participated in the
pleasures and the pains of intimacy with distinguished writers depending
for a livelihood on their pens, can learn the truth about them by reading
the correspondence of such authors as Scott, Balzac, Dickens, de
Maupassant, and Stevenson. It is an absolute certainty that we owe about
half the "Comedie Humaine" to Balzac's extravagant imprudence. It is
equally sure that Scott's mania for landed estate was responsible for a
very considerable part of his artistic output. And so on. When once an
artist has "tasted" the money of art, the desire thus set up will keep his
genius hard at work better than any other incentive. It occasionally
happens that an artist financially prudent, after doing a few fine things,
either makes or comes into so much money that he is wealthy for the rest
of his life. Such a condition induces idleness, induces a disinclination
to fight against artistic difficulties. Naturally! I could give living
instances in England to-day. But my discretion sends me to France for an
instance. Take Francois de Curel. Francois de Curel was writing, twenty
years ago, dramatic works of the very best kind. Their value was
acknowledged by the few, and it remains permanent. The author is
definitely classed as a genius in the history of the French theatre. But
the verdict has not yet been endorsed by the public. For quite a number of
years M. de Curel has produced practically nothing on the stage. He has
preferred to withdraw from the battle against the indifference of the
public. Had he needed mo