THE TEMPTATION OF
HARRINGAY
It is quite impossible to say whether this thing really happened. It depends entirely on the word of R. M. Harringay, who is an artist.
Following his version of the affair, the narrative deposes that Harringay went into his studio about ten o'clock to see what he could make of the head that he had been working at the day before. The head in question was that of an Italian organ-grinder, and Harringay thought—but was not quite sure—that the title would be the 'Vigil.' So far he is frank, and his narrative bears the stamp of truth. He had seen the man expectant for pennies, and with a promptness that suggested genius, had had him in at once.
'Kneel. Look up at that bracket,' said Harringay. 'As if you expected pennies.'
'Don't grin!' said Harringay. 'I don't want to paint your gums. Look as though you were unhappy.'
Now, after a night's rest, the picture proved decidedly unsatisfactory. 'It's good work,' said Harringay. 'That little bit in the neck . . . But.'
He walked about the studio and looked at the thing from this point and from that. Then he said a wicked word. In the original the word is given.
'Painting,' he says he said. 'Just a painting of an organ-grinder—a mere portrait. Is it was a live organ-grinder I wouldn't mind. But somehow I never make things alive. I wonder if my imagination is wrong.' This, too, has a truthful air. His imagination is wrong.
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