January 12, 1907 



HORTICULTURE 



45 



CRAFT AND CRAFTSMAN. 



All address before the Gardeners' and Flor- 

 ists' Club o£ Boston, by W. H. Wytnai:. 



(Continued from Page 733.) 



The possibilities that lie in a block 

 of marble are seen to those only who 

 have eyes to see. In that block of 

 marble the sculptor sees, in dim out- 

 line, a form; it grows more beautiful 

 as he meditates, until, at last, a crea- 

 tion of graceful mould and of angelic 

 expression stands visible to the eye, 

 for the liberation of which he devotes 

 his energies. Days lengthen Into 

 months and months into years; but he 

 is unmindful of them so intent is he 

 on his work. No; that is not the 

 word, — it is work, but that does not 

 express it. It is rather the giving 

 expression of himself — it is a travail 

 of soul, a mental birth. The product 

 of his genius is almost a thing of 

 life. It was in the block of marble, 

 was it? Yes and no. To the one man, 

 yes, to the other man, no. More ex- 

 actly, it was in the mind of the one. 

 it was not in the mind of the other, 

 until the one had revealed it to the 

 other. 



So it must be in every field of human 

 activity — the boy, yes, the man, 

 must see visions and dream dreams, 

 always with his eyes open. The mer- 

 chant lived in that poor boy we saw 

 some years ago back there on the 

 farm. We did not see him — the mer- 

 chant — but the boy we saw was look- 

 ing him squarely in the face all the 

 while. We saw the boy, — it was Abe, 

 or Jim or Dan — but Abe saw Abraham 

 Lincoln (and as a young man he con- 

 fessed as much) striking the shackles 

 from million of slaves. Jim saw 

 James Garfield meeting the unexpected 

 In whatever tirrn it took; the spirit 

 was living within him waiting for the 

 occasion. The occasion came and he 

 was there, because Jim was acquainted 

 with James and knew he could be de- 

 pended upon in an emergency. The 

 old saying is quite true, "the boy is 

 father of the man". The principle 

 holds good in every craft or avocation 

 in life, and it holds good because it is 

 true, and only because it is true. 



The man who would succeed in this 

 department of human activity must 

 understand well the external elements 

 with which he has to deal: he must 

 see the possibilities vested in a tiny 

 seed — the possibilities in a stretch of 

 wild unbroken landscape or a mound 

 of broken rocks. The gardener must 

 have the imagination of the poet, the 

 fine discrimination of the artist. He 

 must not only produce the material, 

 but he must see that the material is 

 arranged so that there shall be no 

 "war among the roses" — no clashing 

 among the flowers. We have all been 

 in gardens where there was a pro- 

 fusion of beautiful flowers, looked at 

 individually, and yet there was, in 

 reality, little if anything, to admire. 

 On the other hand we have visited 

 gardens where there were only a 

 limited number of plants, of very com- 

 mon sorts, and we were enchanted by 

 them; common everyday plants and 

 flowers— but so beautiful! They all 

 seemed made for each other, aud were 

 so arranged that they were a har- 

 monious feature of the landscape, each 

 one doing duty to the whole. 



We have not far to look for the 

 reason for all this. It is that which 

 In one woman makes her never well- 

 dressed even if she is clothed in silks 



and adorned with diamonds. It is that 

 which makes another woman well- 

 dressed even if the fabric grew in the 

 fields of Alabama, and was woven in 

 Lawrence, and unadorned with pearls. 

 On this line we might continue in- 

 definitely; but it is not necessary. Is 

 it necessary for me to say that the 

 shepherd must love his sheep — the gun- 

 ner must love his gun and the plants- 

 man must love his plants. Let us now 

 turn from the work to the workman 

 himself. The sordid question of dol- 

 lars and cents concerns all of us; for 

 food, shelter and raiment we must 

 have. But the man who never gets 

 above and beyond the money stand- 

 point of his calling never gets far to- 

 ward success in the highest degree. 



It is the man who becomes engrossed 

 in his work and thinks not of the pay, 

 who is doubly paid. The genius in his 

 craft is the man who has so much in 

 his soul seeking expression that, work 

 hard as he may, he never quite catches 

 up with himself. There is more yet 

 seeking expression and he rejoices at 

 every new day for the opportunity of 

 working out that which is pleading for 

 expression from within. A sense of 

 duty well done is in itself a rich re- 

 ward, and he who does his full duty 

 is sure of substantial remuneration. 

 Elbert Hubbard says "Folks who never 

 do any more than they get paid for, 

 never get paid for any more than 

 they do." 



Look over the whole catalogue of 

 trades and professions and tell me 

 which one has a broader range of sub- 

 jects than has your calling. Contrast 

 your breadth of vision with that of 

 those who toil in our factories. The 

 factory operative stands before a ma- 

 chine year after year doing the same 

 thing, no better, no faster, than he 

 could do it at the end of the first six 

 months of his service there. His move- 

 ments are almost as automatic as are 

 those of the machine, of which he 

 seems to be almost a part. Dangers 

 are so many that his mind must be 

 constantly on his work. He cannot 

 think of other things. Not so witli 

 you — your work invites thought deep, 

 long-continued and profound. The 

 book of nature always open before us 

 invites our thought. And the more 

 thoroughly we read out the thought 

 of nature, the more nearly right we 

 are doing our work. But it must not 

 be forgotten that nature reveals no 

 secrets to those who think they know 

 it all. 



Victory gives fresh zest to the victor 

 on every field of conflict. And so as 

 thoughtful men advance they find no 

 day hanging heavily on their hands— 

 they are borne on by a mighty rushing 

 tide of events. The days are all too 

 short — the seasons pass too quickly. 

 The man had been toiling but he knew 

 it not. for he had not watched the 

 hands on the dial, but nature for her 

 secrets— thinking after God his 

 thoughts. Such craftsmen may grow 

 infirm of body because of advancing 

 years; but never does the man grow 

 old. He grows rich and reverent and 

 profound. Hundreds of such noblemen 

 we have seen. No priest at the altar 

 deals with anything purer than the 

 flowers — the handiwork of God — and 

 he who has part in their creation 

 should feel the dignity of his calling 

 so that none should be found more 

 childlike in straight-forward simplicity 

 than he. We must not forget that 



there are some exceptions, and in some 

 instances, as in Latin, sometimes we 

 thought the exceptions were more 

 general than the rules. How out of 

 place a man of low designs and un- 

 bridled passions in a bower of fragrant 

 flowers. How a man of coarse un- 

 wholesome speech disfigures the land- 

 scape. The true man sees purity in 

 the dew-drops, hears music in the wind 

 as it plays in the branches above his 

 head, and breathes the fragrance of 

 the flowers 



The craft elevates, refines and ennob- 

 les the craftsman in this your chosen 

 field; it cannot be otherwise. Let me 

 be not misunderstood; I am speaking 

 of the real craftsman— the man inside 

 the clothes we see — whom the world 

 can never see only as he is revealed 

 by the work which he does. It may 

 not be true of all gardeners or of all 

 florists that they are pure in char- 

 acter, chaste in speech and temperate 

 in habit, but it is true of many of 

 them. They are among nature's 

 noblemen. Not all who paint pictures 

 are artists; not all who build houses 

 are architects; not all who play on 

 musical instruments are musicians; 

 but those who paint pictures that sur- 

 vive are artists; those who design 

 massive structures, which combine 

 strength, grace, and beauty for the 

 happiness and convenience of man, are 

 architects; and those who compel the 

 organ to give forth such melodious 

 sounds as to convulse our natures and 

 make the best there is in us war with 

 the worst there is in us, are musicians. 

 What great work of art can the world 

 produce that was inspired by the sor- 

 did stuff we call dollars? Not one. 

 The inspiration came from a higher 

 plane. When once a man becomes 

 absorbed in some great and noble un- 

 dertaking, he wakes to a realization 

 of the fact that he is experiencing the 

 happiest moment of his life. Business 

 is not all sordid and mean. It is what 

 we make it. Your craft is, in char- 

 acter, what you make it. The highest 

 ideal known to man is service. He 

 who serves his fellows most faith- 

 fully is himself most faithfully served. 

 He that sows sparingly reaps spar- 

 ingly. 



And in closing let us look for a 

 brief moment at the scope of your 

 labors. You may possibly have 

 moments whc-n you take a narrow viev/ 

 of the worth of your calling. You 

 may see the fiowers wither and decay, 

 the vegetables eaten and gone, and 

 you may say there is no permanent 

 value as a result of your toil. But if 

 that were all, it was no mean thing. 

 The fiowers served their purpose, they 

 gladdened human hearts, they brought 

 sunshine into many a sick chamber. 

 The vegetables you produced gave 

 nourishment and health to busy work- 

 ers of hand and brain. Their work 

 could not have been done as well but 

 for your work. This is the near view 

 of the situation. There is a broader 

 outlook. Coming generations will eat 

 fruit from the trees your hands have 

 planted long years after you are gone. 

 Thousands and tens of thousands of 

 earth's weary sons and daughters will 

 sit beneath the strong arms of the 

 oaks and the elms and the maples that 

 you have planted and refresh their 

 wearied bodies. Happy child life will 

 voice a psalm of praise to their tm- 

 known benefactor. 



Soon your name may be forgotten 



