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WILLIAM MORRIS 149<br />

that much of the greatest art has been produced<br />

anonymously and collectively and we<br />

;<br />

be sure that Glutton Brock shares his<br />

may<br />

dislike for that worship of names, that interest<br />

in catalogues and biographies, which amongst<br />

the collecting classes still does duty for<br />

aesthetic<br />

sensibility. Morris was indignant, as<br />

well he might be, when he heard the pictures<br />

of some famous artist famous because he<br />

signed his name and left some record of his<br />

life exalted above the sculpture and windows<br />

of Chartres the work of obscure stone-cutters<br />

and verriers. He loved the mediaeval craftsmen<br />

for the fineness of their work and for<br />

their personal modesty. He liked to think of<br />

men who could take their orders from a contremaitre<br />

and execute them superbly, partly,<br />

I think, because he saw that these were men<br />

who could be fitted into his ideal State. And<br />

Mr. Glutton Brock, good Socialist that he is,<br />

must, I suppose, himself have been perplexed<br />

by that problem which confronts every modern<br />

is to be done about<br />

State-projector : What<br />

the artists ? How are these strange, turbu-<br />

lent, individualistic creatures to be fitted<br />

into any rational collectivism ? What place<br />

can be found in Utopia for people who do not<br />

work to live, but live to do what they consider<br />

their own peculiar piece of work ? Now, if<br />

only they were craftsmen, they would make

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