"You are on the right road, Mr. King. You did well to
come to Fairlands. It is quite evident that you have mastered the modern
technic of your art. To acquire fame, you have only to paint pictures of
fast women who have no morals at all--making them appear as innocent
maidens, because they have the price to pay, and, in the eyes of the
world, are of social importance. Put upon your canvases what the world
will call portraits of distinguished citizens--making low-browed
money--thugs to look like noble patriots, and bloody butchers of humanity
like benevolent saints. You need give yourself no uneasiness about your
success. It is easy. Get in with the right people; use your family name
and your distinguished ancestors; pull a few judicious advertising wires;
do a few artistic stunts; get yourself into the papers long and often, no
matter how; make yourself a fad; become a pet of the social autocrats--and
your fame is assured. And--you will be what I am."
The young man, quietly ignoring the humor of the novelist's words, said
protestingly, "But, surely, to portray human nature is legitimate art, Mr.
Lagrange. Your great artists that the West is to produce will not
necessarily be landscape painters or write essays upon nature, will they?"
"To portray human nature is legitimate work for an artist, yes"--agreed
the novelist--"but he must portray human nature _plus_.
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