He came back to the old life; he flung himself with
renewed ardour into art and craftsmanship. He began to write the
beautiful and romantic prose tales, with their enchanting titles,
which are, perhaps, his most characteristic work. He learnt by slow
degrees that a clean sweep of an evil system cannot be made in a
period or a lifetime by an individual, however serious or strenuous
he may be; he began to perceive that, if society is to put ideas in
practice, the ideas must first be there, clearly defined and widely
apprehended; and that it is useless to urge men to a life of which
they have no conception and for which they have no desire. He had
always held it to be a sacred duty for people to live, if possible,
in whatever simplicity, among beautiful things; and it may be said
that no one man in one generation has ever effected so much in this
direction. He has, indeed, leavened and educated taste; he has
destroyed a vile and hypocritical tradition of domestic art; by his
writings he has opened a door for countless minds into a remote and
fragrant region of unspoilt romance; and, still more than this, he
remains an example of one who made a great and triumphant
resignation of all that he held most dear, for the sake of doing
what he thought to be right.
Pages:
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258