“It seems to me, Bliss Hobart, it will always be up to one-tenth of the world to look after the other nine-tenths—so this enterprise will not end as the tapping of crutches dies away. The soldiers must, of necessity, come first. But there is to be a permanent ‘practical art’ colony there—to teach all who need to be taught the thing best fitted for him—or her. (Grin mark.) There are to be ‘hers’!
“Life may be shorn of fineries and extravagances and it may be simple—but it need never be sordid and unendurable and that is what I shall try to prove. My heart is set on having flower beds of deep, purple violets and mignonette for the lawns, sun dials with comforting mottoes—there will be a task—the carving of them. I want the one before the Fincherie itself to read:
“‘And as our years do run apace,
Let us love God
And live in peace.’
“Do you like it? (Grin mark.)
“I shall have huge, copper lanterns to light the roads at night, there must be yellow ivy and gorse about the walls and cool, gray lavender as a background for pink ramblers and yellow tea roses and, oh, gray angel, I must have a wind screen of willows. I shall build a great archway in the middle of the estate and a stone fence encircling it all. Over the archway I want a thick, oak slab with this motto cut in by a master hand: ‘God gave them a great thing to do—and they did it.’
“In each house there shall be particular equipment for particular occupations. Children’s theaters—and fine weaving—carving of wood and ivory and copying brocades. Just see the work to be done, the joy of it—and the pity, too! There must be a bee farm and a poultry annex and I’ve a regular bag of tricks up my sleeve. I’ve Ali Baba as overseer—Betsey and Hopeful as managers—and myself (grin mark) to demonstrate the practical worth of your vision.
“For you are the dreamer and I the doer. We are, in our relations, the same as that of science towards theology: ‘Nous nous saluons mais nous ne parlons pas.’ Is it not so? (Wee grin mark.) You speak but you are afraid to do and I am afraid to speak but I must do. There, write me you will come to my Fincherie and see my children and give us your blessing,
“Thurley.”