For
art comes to one professing primarily to give nothing but the
highest quality to one's moments, and for those moments' sake. So
far for those to whom the end of life is thought. As regards the
others, who hold that life is inseparable from labour, to them
should this movement be specially dear: for, if our days are
barren without industry, industry without art is barbarism.
Hewers of wood and drawers of water there must be always indeed
among us. Our modern machinery has not much lightened the labour
of man after all: but at least let the pitcher that stands by the
well be beautiful and surely the labour of the day will be
lightened: let the wood be made receptive of some lovely form,
some gracious design, and there will come no longer discontent but
joy to the toiler. For what is decoration but the worker's
expression of joy in his work? And not joy merely - that is a
great thing yet not enough - but that opportunity of expressing his
own individuality which, as it is the essence of all life, is the
source of all art. 'I have tried,' I remember William Morris
saying to me once, 'I have tried to make each of my workers an
artist, and when I say an artist I mean a man.
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