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goldsmiths' work that would be a joy to all of us。 The gold is
ready for you in unexhausted treasure； stored up in the mountain
hollow or strewn on the river sand； and was not given to you merely
for barren speculation。 There should be some better record of it
left in your history than the merchant's panic and the ruined home。
We do not remember often enough how constantly the history of a
great nation will live in and by its art。 Only a few thin wreaths
of beaten gold remain to tell us of the stately empire of Etruria；
and； while from the streets of Florence the noble knight and
haughty duke have long since passed away； the gates which the
simple goldsmith Ghiberti made for their pleasure still guard their
lovely house of baptism； worthy still of the praise of Michael
Angelo who called them worthy to be the Gates of Paradise。
Have then your school of design； search out your workmen and； when
you find one who has delicacy of hand and that wonder of invention
necessary for goldsmiths' work； do not leave him to toil in
obscurity and dishonour and have a great glaring shop and two great
glaring shop…boys in it （not to take your orders： they never do
that； but to force you to buy something you do not want at all）。
When you want a thing wrought in gold； goblet or shield for the
feast； necklace or wreath for the women； tell him what you like
most in decoration； flower or wreath； bird in flight or hound in
the chase； image of the woman you love or the friend you honour。
Watch him as he beats out the gold into those thin plates delicate
as the petals of a yellow rose； or draws it into the long wires
like tangled sunbeams at dawn。 Whoever that workman be； help him；
cherish him； and you will have such lovely work from his hand as
will be a joy to you for all time。
This is the spirit of our movement in England； and this is the
spirit in which we would wish you to work； making eternal by your
art all that is noble in your men and women； stately in your lakes
and mountains； beautiful in your own flowers and natural life。 We
want to see that you have nothing in your houses that has not been
a joy to the man who made it； and is not a joy to those that use
it。 We want to see you create an art made by the hands of the
people to please the hearts of the people too。 Do you like this
spirit or not？ Do you think it simple and strong； noble in its
aim； and beautiful in its result？ I know you do。
Folly and slander have their own way for a little time； but for a
little time only。 You now know what we mean： you will be able to
estimate what is said of us … its value and its motive。
There should be a law that no ordinary newspaper should be allowed
to write about art。 The harm they do by their foolish and random
writing it would be impossible to overestimate … not to the artist
but to the public； blinding them to all； but harming the artist not
at all。 Without them we would judge a man simply by his work； but
at present the newspapers are trying hard to induce the public to
judge a sculptor； for instance； never by his statues but by the way
he treats his wife； a painter by the amount of his income and a
poet by the colour of his neck…tie。 I said there should be a law；
but there is really no necessity for a new law： nothing could be
easier than to bring the ordinary critic under the head of the
criminal classes。 But let us leave such an inartistic subject and
return to beautiful and comely things； remembering that the art
which would represent the spirit of modern newspapers would be
exactly the art which you and I want to avoid … grotesque art；
malice mocking you from every gateway； slander sneering at you from
every corner。
Perhaps you may be surprised at my talking of labour and the
workman。 You have heard of me； I fear； through the medium of your
somewhat imaginative newspapers as； if not a 'Japanese young man；'
at least a young man to whom the rush and clamour and reality of
the modern world were distasteful； and whose greatest difficulty in
life was the difficulty of living up to the level of his blue china
… a paradox from which England has not yet recovered。
Well； let me tell you how it first came to me at all to create an
artistic movement in England； a movement to show the rich what
beautiful things they might enjoy and the poor what beautiful
things they might create。
One summer afternoon in Oxford … 'that sweet city with her dreaming
spires；' lovely as Venice in its splendour； noble in its learning
as Rome； down the long High Street that winds from tower to tower；
past silent cloister and stately gateway； till it reaches that
long； grey seven…arched bridge which Saint Mary used to guard （used
to； I say； because they are now pulling it down to build a tramway
and a light cast…iron bridge in its place； desecrating the
loveliest city in England） … well； we were coming down the street …
a troop of young men； some of them like myself only nineteen； going
to river or tennis…court or cricket…field … when Ruskin going up to
lecture in cap and gown met us。 He seemed troubled and prayed us
to go back with him to his lecture； which a few of us did； and
there he spoke to us not on art this time but on life； saying that
it seemed to him to be wrong that all the best physique and
strength of the young men in England should be spent aimlessly on
cricket ground or river； without any result at all except that if
one rowed well one got a pewter…pot； and if one made a good score；
a cane…handled bat。 He thought； he said； that we should be working
at something that would do good to other people； at something by
which we might show that in all labour there was something noble。
Well； we were a good deal moved； and said we would do anything he
wished。 So he went out round Oxford and found two villages； Upper
and Lower Hinksey； and between them there lay a great swamp； so
that the villagers could not pass from one to the other without
many miles of a round。 And when we came back in winter he asked us
to help him to make a road across this morass for these village
people to use。 So out we went； day after day； and learned how to
lay levels and to break stones； and to wheel barrows along a plank
… a very difficult thing to do。 And Ruskin worked with us in the
mist and rain and mud of an Oxford winter； and our friends and our
enemies came out and mocked us from the bank。 We did not mind it
much then； and we did not mind it afterwards at all； but worked
away for two months at our road。 And what became of the road？
Well； like a bad lecture it ended abruptly … in the middle of the
swamp。 Ruskin going away to Venice； when we came back for the next
term there was no leader； and the 'diggers；' as they called us；
fell asunder。 And I felt that if there was enough spirit amongst
the young men to go out to such work as road…making for the sake of
a noble ideal of life； I could from them create an artistic
movement that might change； as it has changed； the face of England。
So I sought them out … leader they would call me … but there was no
leader： we were all searchers only and we were bound to each other
by noble friendship and by noble art。 There was none of us idle：
poets most of us； so ambitious were we： painters some of us； or
workers in metal or modellers； determined that we would try and
create for ourselves beautiful work： for the handicraftsman
beautiful work； for those who love us poems and pictures； for those
who love us not epigrams and paradoxes and scorn。
Well； we have done something in England and we will do something
more。 Now； I do not want you； believe me； to ask your brilliant
young men； your beautiful young girls； to go out and make a road on
a swamp for any village in America； but I think you might each of
you have some art to practise。
We must have； as Emerson said； a mechanical craft for our culture；
a basis for our higher accomplishments in the work of our hands …
the uselessness of most people's hands seems to me one of the most
unpractical things。 'No separation from labour can be without some
loss of power or truth to the seer；' says Emerson again。 The
heroism which would make on us the impression of Epaminondas must
be that of a domestic conqueror。 The hero of the future is he who
shall bravely and gracefully subdue this Gorgon of fashion and of
convention。
When you have chosen your own part； abide by it； and do not weakly
try and reconcile yourself with the world。 The heroic cannot be
the common nor the common the heroic。 Congratulate yourself if you
have done something strange and extravagant and broken the monotony
of a decorous age。
And lastly； let us remember that art is the one thing which Death
cannot harm。 The little house at Concord may be desolate； but the
wisdom of New England's Plato is not silenced nor the brilliancy of
that Attic genius dimmed： the lips