After dinner, we talked. As the subject was Music Tom was somewhat carried away; yet there was method in his madness.
'I said, lad, that there would be no Art if there were no necessity. 'Tis Poverty alone makes men became musicians and painters and poets. Where can you find a rich man who was ever a great artist? I am no scholar, but I have asked scholars this question, and they agree with me that riches destroy Art. Hardly may Dives become even a Connoisseur. He may become a general or a statesman: we do not take all from him: we leave him something—but not the best—that we keep for ourselves—we keep Art for ourselves. As for a rich merchant becoming a musician or a painter—it is impossible: one laughs at the very thought.'
'Well, that danger is gone, Tom, so far as I am concerned.'
'Ay. The reason I take it, is that Art demands the whole man—not a bit of him—the whole man—all his soul, all his mind, all his thoughts, all his strength. You must give all that to music, Will.'
'I ask nothing better.'
'Another reason is that Art raises a man's thoughts to a higher level than is wanted for Trade. It is impossible for a man's mind to soar or to sink according as he thinks of art or trade. You will remember, Will, for your comfort, that your mind is raised above the City.'
'I will remember.'
'Well, then, let us think about what is best to be done.'
He pondered a little. Then he smiled.
'Put pride in pocket, Will. Now what would you like?'