essays and lectures-第27部分

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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