Yes, go thy way, young enthusiast, and, whether to London town or to old Rome, may success attend
thee; yet strange fears assail me and misgivings on thy account. Thou canst not rest, thou sayst, till
thou hast seen the picture in the chamber at old Rome hanging over against the wall; ay, and thus thou
dust exemplify thy weakness - thy strength too, it may be - for the one idea, fantastic yet lovely, which
now possesses thee, could only have originated in a genial and fervent brain. Well, go, if thou must
go; yet it perhaps were better for thee to bide in thy native land, and there, with fear and trembling, with
groanings, with straining eyeballs, toil, drudge, slave, till thou hast made excellence thine own; thou wilt
scarcely acquire it by staring at the picture over against the door in the high chamber of old Rome. Seekest
thou inspiration? thou needest it not, thou hast it already; and it was never yet found by crossing the
sea. What hast thou to do with old Rome, and thou an Englishman? Did thy blood never glow at the
mention of thy native land? as an artist merely? Yes, I trow, and with reason, for thy native land need
not grudge old Rome her pictures of the world; she has pictures of her own, pictures of England; and
is it a new thing to toss up caps and shout - England against the world? Yes, against the world in all, in
all; in science and in arms, in minstrel strain, and not less in the art which enables the hand to deceive
the intoxicated soul by means of pictures. Seekst models? to Gainsborough and Hogarth turn, not
names of the world, maybe, but English names - and England against the world! A living master? why,
there he comes! thou hast had him long, he has long guided thy young hand towards the excellence
which is yet far from thee, but which thou canst attain if thou shouldst persist and wrestle, even as he
has done, midst gloom and despondency - ay, and even contempt; he who now comes up the creaking
stair to thy little studio in the second floor to inspect thy last effort before thou departest, the little stout
man whose face is very dark, and whose eye is vivacious; that man has attained excellence, destined
some day to be acknowledged, though not till he is cold, and his mortal part returned to its kindred clay.
He has painted, not pictures of the world, but English pictures, such as Gainsborough himself might
have done; beautiful rural pieces, with trees which might well tempt the wild birds to perch upon them,
thou needest not run to Rome, brother, where lives the old Mariolater, after pictures of the world, whilst
at home there are pictures of England; nor needest thou even go to London, the big city, in search of a
master, for thou hast one at home in the old East Anglian town who can instruct thee whilst thou needest
instruction: better stay at home, brother, at least for a season, and toil and strive midst groanings and
despondency till thou hast attained excellence even as he has done - the little dark man with the brown
coat and the top-boots, whose name will one day be considered the chief ornament of the old town,
and whose works will at no distant period rank amongst the proudest pictures of England - and England
against the world! - thy master, my brother, thy, at present, all too little considered master - Crome.