Summary
Morris shows small models of the carpet loom, where the weaver sits in front, and the more elaborate loom for hangings, where he sits behind and watches the pattern grow in a mirror. He praises madder and kermes for reds and indigo or woad for blues. Pointing to a Persian carpet about two hundred and fifty years old, he admires its suggestion of hawthorn, iris and rose, its refusal of shading, and the harmony of its colours.
Woven hangings, Morris says, were to the North of Europe what fresco was to the South, and their secret is the filling of every inch with design. The great Gothic pieces, with their forests, knights and ladies, are set against the empty skies and posing nymphs of Boucher, whom Morris roundly abuses, and the modern Gobelins. He tells of Egyptian picture cloths and of Bajazet, who would take only the 'storied tapestries of France' and gerfalcons as ransom for Christian knights.
Limitation, Morris argues, forces the designer to concentrate, and the weaver does not copy but re-creates the design in a new material, so that artist and craftsman are united. He ends by naming commercialism, with 'its vile god cheapness', as the enemy. Wilde looks forward to Mr. George Simonds on sculpture and credits Mr. Crane for the exhibition.