Pierre Hamp

People Pierre Hamp

Fat-M onth, concerns an oven-man at a Paris pastry-shop. Fat-M onth would, I think, have appeared to me with the robust plebeian countenance, the straggling black moustache, the quick brown eye of Pierre Hamp, even if I had not known that the author of The Labour of Men was once himself a rjastry cook who, during off hours, read avidly in cheap copies of Victor Hugo by the light of a basement window. Two things you must always care about: Justice and yer work, says the baker when he is discharged, to Colossus, his tiny apprentice. That, in brief, is Hamp swhole philosophy. And I can see Colossus, his overwhelming white sleeves tucked up from his grimy hands, gazing with unhappy longing after this friend of the miserable, this thick-set apostle of good work marching off so confidently into the future. Hamp has indeed arrived at his place in French letters through the kind of material struggle which leaves most men voiceless and without hope.
(Typographical errors above are due to OCR software and don't occur in the book.)

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