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FORS     CLAVIGERA 


LETTERS 


TO    THE     WORKMEN    AND     LABOURERS 
OF    GREAT    BRITAIN. 


r.v 


JOHN    RUSKIN,    LL.D., 

HONORARY   STUDENT   OF   CHRIST   CHURCH,    AND   SLADE    PROFESSOR   OF    FINE   ART. 


Vol.  VIII. 


GEORGE   ALLEN, 
SUNNYSIDE,     ORPINGTON,     KENT. 

1878-80-83-84. 


FORS     CLAVIGERA 

SECOND    SERIES. 
CONTENTS     OF     VOL.     VIII. 


I.  Unique  Dogmatism. 
II.  Let  us  (all)  Eat  and  Drink. 

III.  The  Snow-Manger. 

IV.  The  Convents  of  St.  Quentin. 
V.  Whose  Fault  is  it  ? 

VI.  Lost  Jewels. 
VII.  Dust  of  Gold. 
VIII.  Ashestiel. 
IX.  Invocation. 
X.  Retrospect. 
XL  Fors  Infantle. 
XII.  Rosy  Vale. 


Janua?y,   1878. 
February,   1878. 
March,    1878. 
March,   1880. 
September,   1880. 
May,  1883. 
September,   1883. 
November,   1883. 
Christmas,  1883. 
March,    1884. 
October,   1884. 
Christmas,  1884. 


FORS    CLAVIGERA 

SECOND  SERIES. 


"  YEA,    THE    WORK    OF   OUR   HANDS,    ESTABLISH   THOU    IT." 


LETTER   THE   85th. 

UNIQUE  DOGMATISM. 

THE  series  of  letters  which  closed  last  year  were 
always  written,  as  from  the  first  they  were  intended  to 
be,  on  any  matter  which  chanced  to  interest  me,  and 
in  any  humour  which  chance  threw  me  into.  By  the 
adoption  of  the  title  '  Fors/  I  meant  (among  other 
meanings)  to  indicate  this  desultory  and  accidental 
character  of  the  work  ;  and  to  imply,  besides,  my 
feeling,  that,  since  I  wrote  wholly  in  the  interests  of 
others,  it  might  justifiably  be  hoped  that  the  chance 
to  which  I  thus  submitted  myself  would  direct  me 
better  than   any  choice  or  method  of  my  own. 

So  far  as  regards  the  subjects  of  this  second  series 
of  letters,  I  shall  retain  my  unfettered  method,  in 
reliance  on  the  direction  of  better  wisdom  than  mine. 
But  in  my  former  letters,  I  also  allowed  myself  to 
write  on    each    subject,   whatever    came    into    my   mind, 

2ND    SERIES,    I.]  I 


2  Fors  Clavigera. 

wishing  the  reader,  like  a  friend,  to  know  exactly  what 
my  mind  was.  But  as  no  candour  will  explain  this  to 
persons  who  have  no  feelings  in  common  with  me, — 
and  as  I  think,  by  this  time,  enough  has  been  shown 
to  serve  all  purposes  of  such  frankness,  to  those  who 
can  receive  it, — henceforward,  I  shall  endeavour  to 
write,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  what  may  be  serviceable 
to  the  reader,  or  acceptable  by  him  ;  and  only  in 
some  occasional  and  minor  way,  what  may  explain,  or 
indulge,   my   own   feelings. 

Such  change  in  my  method  of  address  is  farther 
rendered  necessary,  because  I  perceive  the  address  must 
be  made  to  a  wider  circle   of  readers. 

This  book  was  begun  in  the  limited  effort  to  gather 
a  society  together  for  the  cultivation  of  ground  in  a 
particular  way  ; — a  society  having  this  special  business, 
and  no  concern  with  the  other  work  of  the  world.  But 
the  book  has  now  become  a  call  to  all  whom  it  can 
reach,  to  choose  between  being  honest  or  dishonest  ; 
and  if  they  choose  to  be  honest,  also  to  join  together 
in  a  brotherhood  separated,  visibly  and  distinctly,  from 
cheats  and  liars.  And  as  I  felt  more  and  more  led  into 
this  wider  appeal,  it  has  also  been  shown  to  me  that, 
in  this  country  of  England,  it  must  be  made  under 
obedience  to  the  Angel  of  England  ; — the  Spirit  which 
taught  our  fathers  their  Faith,  and  which  is  still 
striving  with  us  in  our  Atheism.  And  since  this  was 
shown    to    me,    I    have    taken    all   that   I    understand    of 


Fors   Clavigera.  3 

the  Book  which  our  fathers  believed  to  be  divine,  not, 
as  in  former  times,  only  to  enforce,  on  those  who  still 
believed  it,  obedience  to  its  orders  ;  but  indeed  for  help 
and   guidance   to   the   whole    body   of  our  society. 

The  exposition  of  this  broader  law  mingling  more 
and  more  frequently  in  my  past  letters  with  that  of 
the  narrow  action  of  St.  George's  Guild  for  the 
present  help  of  our  British  peasantry,  has  much 
obscured  the  simplicity  of  that  present  aim,  and  raised 
up  crowds  of  collateral  questions,  in  debate  of  which 
the  reader  becomes  doubtful  of  the  Tightness  of  even 
what  might  otherwise  have  been  willingly  approved  by 
him  :  while,  to  retard  his  consent  yet  farther,  I  am  com- 
pelled, by  the  accidents  of  the  time,  to  allege  certain 
principles  ,of  work  which  only  my  own  long  study  of 
the  results  of  the  Art  of  Man  upon  his  mind  enable 
me  to  know  for  surety  ;  and  these  are  peculiarly 
offensive  in  an  epoch  which  has  long  made — not  only 
all  its  Arts  mercenary,  but  even  those  mercenary  forms 
of  them    subordinate   to   yet    more   servile    occupations. 

For  example ;  I  might  perhaps,  with  some  success, 
have  urged  the  purchase  and  cultivation  of  waste  land, 
and  the  orderly  and  kindly  distribution  of  the  food 
produced  upon  it,  had  not  this  advice  been  coupled 
with  the  discussion  of  the  nature  of  Rent,  and  the 
assertion  of  the  God-forbidden  guilt  of  that  Usury,  of 
which  Rent  is  the  fatal  lest  form.  And  even  if,  in 
subtlety,    I    had     withheld,    or    disguised,    these    deeper 


Fors   Clavizera 


,v 


underlying  laws,  I  should  still  have  alienated  the 
greater  number  of  my  possible  adherents  by  the 
refusal  to  employ  steam  machinery,  which  may  well 
bear,  to  the  minds  of  persons  educated  in  the  midst 
of  such  mechanism,  the  aspect  of  an  artist's  idle  and 
unrealizable  prejudice.  And  this  all  the  more,  because 
the  greater  number  of  business-men,  finding  that  their 
own  opinions  have  been  adopted  without  reflection,  yet 
being  perfectly  content  with  the  opinions  so  acquired, 
naturally  suppose  that  mine  have  been  as  confidently 
collected  where  they  could  be  found  with  least  pains  : — 
with  the  farther  equally  rational  conclusion,  that  the 
opinions  they  have  thus  accidentally  picked  up  them- 
selves are  more  valuable  and  better  selected  than  the 
by   no   means   obviously   preferable    faggot    of.,  mine. 

And,  indeed,  the  thoughts  of  a  man  who  from  his 
youth  up,  and  during  a  life  persistently  literary,  has 
never  written  a  word  either  for  money  or  for  vanity, 
nor  even  in  the  careless  incontinence  of  the  instinct 
for  self-expression,  but  resolutely  spoken  only  to  teach 
or  to  praise  others,  must  necessarily  be  incomprehen- 
sible in  an  age  when  Christian  preaching  itself  has 
become  merely  a  polite  and  convenient  profession, — 
when  the  most  noble  and  living  literary  faculties,  like 
those  of  Scott  and  Dickens,  are  perverted  by  the  will 
of  the  multitude,  and  perish  in  the  struggle  for  its  gold  ; 
and  when  the  conceit  even  of  the  gravest  men  of 
science     provokes    them    to     the    competitive     exhibition 


Fors   Clavigera.  5 

of  their  conjectural  ingenuity,  in  fields  where  argument 
is  impossible,  and  respecting  matters  on  which  even 
certainty   would   be    profitless. 

I  believe,  therefore,  that  it  will  be  satisfactory  to 
not  a  few  of  my  readers,  and  generally  serviceable,  if  I 
reproduce,  and  reply  to,  a  portion  of  a  not  unfriendly 
critique  which,  appearing  in  the  'Spectator'  for  22nd 
September,  1877,  sufficiently  expressed  this  general 
notion  of  my  work,  necessarily  held  by  men  who  are 
themselves  writing  and  talking  merely  for  profit  or 
amusement,  and  have  never  taken  the  slightest  pains 
to  ascertain  whether  any  single  thing  they  say  is  true  : 
nor  are  under  any  concern  to  know  whether,  after  it 
has  been  sold  in  the  permanent  form  of  print,  it  will 
do   harm   or   good    to    the    buyer   of   it. 

"  Mr.  Ruskin's  unique  dogmatism. 

"  As  we  have  often  had  occasion,  if  not  exactly  to  remark,  yet 
to  imply,  in  what  we  have  said  of  him,  Mr.  Ruskin  is  a  very 
curious  study.  For  simplicity,  quaintness,  and  candour,  his  con- 
fidences to  '  the  workmen  and  labourers  of  Great  Britain  '  in 
1  Fors  Clavigera '  are  quite  without  example.  For  delicate  irony 
of  style,  when  he  gets  a  subject  that  he  fully  understands,  and 
intends  to  expose  the  ignorance,  or,  what  is  much  worse,  the 
affectation  of  knowledge  which  is  not  knowledge,  of  others,  no 
man  is  his  equal.  But  then  as.  curious  as  anything  else,  in  that 
strange  medley  of  sparkling  jewels,  delicate  spider-webs,  and 
tangles  of  exquisite  fronds  which  makes  "  (the  writer  should  be 
on  his  guard  against  the  letter  s  in  future  passages  of  this  descrip- 
tive character)  "  up  Mr.  Ruskin's  mind,  is  the  high-handed  arro- 


JFors   C la  viper  a. 


gance  which  is  so  strangely  blended  with  his  imperious  modesty, 
and  that,  too,  often  when  it  is  most  grotesque.  It  is  not,  indeed, 
his  arrogance,  but  his  modest  self-knowledge  which  speaks,  when 
he  says  in  this  new  number  of  the  '  Fors  '  that  though  there  are 
thousands  of  men  in  England  able  to  conduct  the  business  affairs 
of  his  Society  better  than  he  can,  'I  do  not  believe  there  is 
another  man  in  England  able  to  organize  our  elementary  lessons 
in  Natural  History  and  Art.  And  I  am  therefore  wholly  occupied 
in  examining  the  growth  of  Anagallis  tenella,  and  completing  some 
notes  on  St.  George's  Chapel  at  Venice.'  And  no  doubt  he  is 
quite  right.  Probably  no  one  could  watch  the  growth  of  Ana- 
gallis tenella  to  equal  purpose,  and  no  one  else  could  complete 
his  notes  on  St.  George's  Chapel  without  spoiling  them.  We  are 
equally  sure  that  he  is  wise,  when  he  tells  his  readers  that  he  must 
entirely  decline  any  manner  of  political  action  which  might  hinder 
him  'from  drawing  leaves  and  flowers.'  But  what  does  astonish 
us  is  the  supreme  confidence, — or  say,  rather,  hurricane  of  dicta- 
torial passion, — though  we  do  not  use  the  word  '  passion  '  in  the 
sense  of  anger  or  irritation,  but  in  the  higher  sense  of  mental 
white-heat,  which  has  no  vexation  in  it,  (a) — with  which  this 
humble  student  of  leaves  and  flowers,  of  the  Anagallis  tenella 
and  the  beauties  of  St.  George's  Chapel  at  Venice,  passes  judg- 
ment on  the  whole  structure  of  human  society,  from  its  earliest 
to  its  latest  convolutions,  and  not  only  judgment,  but  the 
sweeping  judgment  of  one  who  knows  all  its  laws  of  structure 
and  all  its  misshapen  growths  with  a  sort  of  assurance  which 
Mr.  Ruskin  would  certainly  never  feel  in  relation  to  the  true 
form,  or  the  distortions  of  the  true  form,  of  the  most  minute 
fibre  of  one  of  his  favourite  leaves  or  flowers.  Curiously  enough, 
the  humble  learner  of  Nature  speaking  through  plants  and  trees, 

(a)  I    don't    understand.     Probably    there    is    not   another  so 
much  vexed  person  as  I  at  present  extant  of  his  grave. 


Fors  Clavipera. 


<v 


is  the  most  absolute  scorner  of  Nature  speaking  through  the 
organization  of  great  societies  and  centuries  of  social  expe- 
rience, {b)  We  know  well  what  Mr.  Ruskin  would  say, — that 
the  difference  is  great  between  the  growth  that  is  without  moral 
freedom  and  the  growth  which  has  been  for  century  after  cen- 
tury distorted  by  the  reckless  abuse  of  moral  freedom.  And 
we  quite  admit  the  radical  difference.  But  what  strikes  us  as 
so  strange  is  that  this  central  difficulty  of  all, — how  much  is 
really  due  to  the  structural  growth  of  a  great  society,  and  quite 
independent  of  any  voluntary  abuse  which  might  be  amended 
by  voluntary  effort,  and  how  much  is  due  to  the  false  direc- 
tion of  individual  wills,  never  strikes  Mr.  Ruskin  as  a  difficulty 
at  all.  (e)  On  the  contrary,  he  generalizes  in  his  sweeping  way, 
on  social  tendencies  which  appear  to  be  (d)  far  more  deeply 
ingrained  in  the  very  structure  of  human  life  than  the  veins  of 
a  leaf  in  the  structure  of  a  plant,  with  a  confidence  with  which 
he  would  never  for  a  moment  dream  of  generalizing  as  to  the 
true  and  normal  growth  of  a  favourite  plant.  Thus  he  tells  us 
in  the  last  number  of  Fors  that  '  Fors  Clavigera  is  not  in  any 
way  intended  as  counsel  adapted  to  the  present  state  of  the 
public  mind,  but  it  is  the  assertor  of  the  code  of  eternal  laws 
which  the  public  mind  must  eventually  submit  itself  to,  or  die ; 
and  I  have  really  no  more  to  do  with  the  manners,  customs, 
feelings,  or  modified  conditions  of  piety  in  the  modern  England, 
which    I   have   to  warn  of  the   accelerated  approach   either   of 

(I?)  It  would  be  curious,  and  much  more,  if  it  only  were  so. 

[c — Italics  mine.)  On  what  grounds  did  the  writer  suppose 
this  ?  When  Dr.  Christison  analyzes  a  poison,  and  simply  states 
his  result,  is  it  to  be  concluded  he  was  struck  by  no  difficulties 
in  arriving  at  it,  because  he  does  not  advise  the  public  of  his 
embarrassments  ? 

(d)  What  does  it  matter  what  they  appear  to  be  ? 


8  Fors   Clavigera. 

Revolution  or  Destruction,  than  poor  Jonah  had  with  the 
qualifying  amiabilities  which  might  have  been  found  in  the 
Nineveh  whose  overthrow  he  was  ordered  to  foretell  in  forty 
days.'  But  the  curious  part  of  the  matter  is  that  Mr.  Ruskin, 
far  from  keeping  to  simple  moral  laws,  denounces  in  the  most 
vehement  manner  social  arrangements  which  seem  to  most  men  (e) 
as  little  connected  with  them  as  they  would  have  seemed  to 
'poor  Jonah.'  We  are  not  aware,  for  instance,  that  Jonah 
denounced  the  use  of  machinery  in  Nineveh.  Indeed,  he 
seems  to  have  availed  himself  of  a  ship,  which  is  a  great  com- 
plication of  machines,  and  to  have  '  paid  his  fare '  from  Joppa 
to  Tyre,  without  supposing  himself  to  have  been  accessory  to 
anything  evil  in  so  doing.  We  are  not  aware,  too,  that  Jonah 
held  it  to  be  wrong,  as  Mr.  Ruskin  holds  it  to  be  wrong,  to 
charge  for  the  use  of  a  thing  when  you  do  not  want  to  part 
with  it  altogether.  These  are  practices  which  are  so  essentially 
interwoven  alike  with  the  most  fundamental  as  also  with  the 
most  superficial  principles  of  social  growth,  that  any  one  who 
assumes  that  they  are  rooted  in  moral  evil  is  bound  to  be  very 
careful  to  discriminate  where  the  evil  begins,  and  show  that  it 
can  be  avoided, — just  as  a  naturalist  who  should  reproach  the 
trees  on  a  hill-side  for  sloping  away  from  the  blast  they  have 
to  meet,  should  certainly  first  ask  himself  how  the  trees  are  to 
avoid  the  blast,  or  how,  if  they  cannot  avoid  it,  they  are  to  help 
so  altering  their  growth  as  to  accommodate  themselves  to  it. 
But  Mr.  Ruskin,  though  in  relation  to  nature  he  is  a  true 
naturalist,  in  relation  to  human  nature  has  in  him  nothing  at 
all  of  the  human  naturalist.  It  never  occurs  to  him  apparently 
that  here,  too,  are  innumerable  principles  of  growth  which  are 
quite  independent  of  the  will  of  man,  and  that  it  becomes  the 
highest   moralist  to   study  humbly  where   the   influence  of  the 

(e)  What  does  it  matter  what  they  '  seem  to  most  men '  ? 


Fors   Clavigera. 


•V 


human  will  begins  and  where  it  ends,  instead  of  rashly  and 
Bweepingly  condemning,  as  due  to  a  perverted  morality,  what 
is  in  innumerable  cases  a  mere  inevitable  result  of  social  struc- 
ture.  (/) 

"  Consider  only  how  curiously  different  in  spirit  is  the  humility 
with  which  the  great  student  of  the  laws  of  beauty  watches  the 
growth  of  the  Anagallis  tenella,  and  that  with  which  he  watches 
the  growth  of  the  formation  of  human  opinion.  A  correspondent 
had  objected  to  him  that  he  speaks  so  contemptuously  of  some 
of  the  most  trusted  leaders  of  English  workmen,  of  Goldwin 
Smith,  for  instance,  and  of  John  Stuart  Mill.  Disciples  of  such 
leaders,  the  writer  had  said,  '  are  hurt  and  made  angry,  when 
names  which  they  do  not  like  are  used  of  their  leaders.'  Mr. 
Ruskin's  reply  is  quite  a  study  in  its  way  : — 

'Well,  my  dear  sir,  I  solemnly  declare,'  etc.,  down  to  'ditches 
for  ever.' — See  Fors,  September,  1877. 

Now  observe  that  here  Mr.  Ruskin,  who  would  follow  the 
lines  of  a  gossamer-thread  sparkling  in  the  morning  dew  with 
reverent  wonder  and  conscientious  accuracy,  arraigns,  first,  the 
tendency  of  man   to    express   immature  and  tentative  views    of 

(/)  To  this  somewhat  lengthily  metaphorical  paragraph,  the 
needful  answer  may  be  brief,  and  without  metaphor.  To  every 
'  social  structure '  which  has  rendered  either  wide  national  crime 
or  wide  national  folly  '  inevitable  ' — ruin  is  also  '  inevitable.' 
Which  is  all  I  have  necessarily  to  say  ;  and  which  has  been  by 
me,  now,  very  sorrowfully, — enough  said.  Nevertheless,  some- 
what more  may  be  observed  of  England  at  this  time, — namely, 
that  she  has  no  '  social  structure  '  whatsoever  j  but  is  a  mere 
heap  of  agonizing  human  maggots,  scrambling  and  sprawling 
over  each  other  for  any  manner  of  rotten  eatable  thing  they  can 
get  a  bite  of. 


io  Fors   Clavigera 


& 


passing  events,  (g)  as  if  that  were  wholly  due,  not  to  a  law  of 
human  nature,  !  !  (h)  but  to  those  voluntary  abuses  of  human 
freedom  which  might  as  effectually  be  arrested  as  murder  or 
theft  could  be  arrested  by  moral  effort ;  next  arraigns,  if  not  the 
discovery  of  the  printing  press  (of  which  any  one  would  suppose 
that  he  entertained  a  stern  disapprobation),  at  least  the  inevi- 
table (/)  results  of  that  discovery,  precisely  as  he  would  arraign 
a  general  prevalence  of  positive  vice ;  and  last  of  all,  that  he 
actually  claims  the  power,  as  an  old  litterateur,  to  discern  at 
sight  '  what  is  eternally  good  and  vital,  and  to  strike  away  from 
it  pitilessly  what  is  worthless  and  venomous.'  On  the  first  two 
heads,  as  it  seems  to  us,  Mr.  Ruskin  arraigns  laws  of  nature 
as  practically  unchangeable  as  any  by  which  the  sap  rises  in 
the  tree  and  the  blossom  forms  upon  the  flower.  On  the  last 
head,  he  assumes  a  tremendous  power  in  relation  to  subjects 
very  far  removed  from  these  which  he  has  made  his  own, " 

(g)  I  have  never  recognized  any  such  tendency  in  persons 
moderately  well  educated.  What  is  their  education  for — if  it 
cannot  prevent  their  expressing  immature  views  about  anything  ? 

(/z)  I  insert  twro  notes  of  admiration.  What  '  law  of  human 
nature'  shall  we  hear  of  next?  If  it  cannot  keep  its  thoughts 
in  its  mind,  till  they  are  digested, — I  suppose  we  shall  next  hear 
it  cannot  keep  its  dinner  in  its  stomach. 

(z )  There  is  nothing  whatever  of  inevitable  in  the  '  universal 
gabble  of  fools,'  which  is  the  lamentable  fact  I  have  alleged 
of  the  present  times,  whether  they  gabble  with  or  without  the 
help  of  printing-press.  The  power  of  saying  a  very  foolish 
thing  to  a  very  large  number  of  people  at  once,  is  of  course 
a  greater  temptation  to  a  foolish  person  than  he  was  formerly 
liable  to  ;  but  when  the  national  mind,  such  as  it  is,  becomes 
once  aware  of  the  mischief  of  all  this,  it  is  evitable  enough — 
else  there  were  an  end  to  popular  intelligence  in  the  world. 


Fors   Clavi«era.  I  i 


w& 


1   have   lost    the   next   leaf  of  the   article,   and   may 

as  well,  it  seems  to  me,  close  my  extract  here,  for  I 
do  not  know  what  subject  the  writer  conceives  me  to 
have  made  my  own,  if  not  the  quality  of  literature ! 
If  I  am  ever  allowed,  by  public  estimate,  to  know  any- 
thing whatever,  it  is — how  to  write.  My  knowledge  of 
painting  is  entirely  denied  by  ninety-nine  out  of  a 
hundred  painters  of  the  day  ;  but  the  literary  men  are 
great  hypocrites  if  they  don't  really  think  me,  as  they 
profess  to  do,  fairly  up  to  my  work  in  that  line.  And 
what  would  an  old  litterateur  be  good  for,  if  he  did 
not  know  good  writing  from  bad,  and  that  without 
tasting  more  than  a  half  page.  And  for  the  moral 
tendency  of  books — no  such  practised  sagacity  is  needed 
to  determine  that.  The  sense,  to  a  healthy  mind,  of 
being  strengthened  or  enervated  by  reading,  is  just  as 
definite  and  unmistakeable  as  the  sense,  to  a  healthy 
body,  of  being  in  fresh  or  foul  air :  and  no  more 
arrogance  is  involved  in  perceiving  the  stench,  and 
forbidding  the  reading  of  an  unwholesome  book,  than 
in  a  physician's  ordering  the  windows  to  be  opened  in 
a  sick  room.  There  is  no  question  whatever  concern- 
ing these  matters,  with  any  person  who  honestly  desires 
to  be  informed  about  them  ; — the  real  arrogance  is 
only  in  expressing  judgments,  either  of  books  or  any- 
thing else,  respecting  which  we  have  taken  no  trouble  to 
be  informed.  Here  is  my  friend  of  the  '  Spectator,'  for 
instance,  commenting  complacently  on   the  vulgar  gossip 


1 2  Fors   C lav i vera 


cV 


about  my  opinions  of  machinery,  without  even  taking 
the  trouble  to  look  at  what  I  said,  else  he  would  have 
found  that,  instead  of  condemning  machinery,  there  is 
the  widest  and  most  daring  plan  in  Fors  for  the 
adaptation  of  tide-mills  to  the  British  coasts  that  has 
yet  been  dreamt  of  in  engineering  ;  and  that,  so  far 
from  condemning  ships,  half  the  physical  education  of 
British  youth  is  proposed  by  Fors  to  be  conducted  in 
them. 

What  the  contents  of  Fors  really  are,  however,  it  is 
little  wonder  that  even  my  most  studious  friends  do 
not  at  present  know,  broken  up  as  these  materials  have 
been  into  a  mere  moraine  of  separate  and  seemingly 
jointless  stones,  out  of  which  I  must  now  build  such 
Cyclopean  wall  as  I  shall  have  time  and  strength 
for.  Therefore,  during  some  time  at  least,  the  main 
business  of  this  second  series  of  letters  will  be  only 
the  arrangement  for  use,  and  clearer  illustration,  of  the 
scattered   contents  of  the   first. 

And  I  cannot  begin  with  a  more  important  subject, 
or  one  of  closer  immediate  interest,  than  that  of  the 
collection  of  rain,  and  management  of  streams.  On 
this  subject,  I  expect  a  series  of  papers  from  my  friend 
Mr.  Henry  Willett,  containing  absolutely  verified  data  : 
in  the  meantime  I  beg  the  reader  to  give  his  closest 
attention  to  the  admirable  statements  by  M.  Viollet- 
le-Duc,  given  from  the  new  English  translation  of  his 
book    on    Mont    Blanc,    in    the    seventh    article    of    our 


Fors   Clavigera.  13 

Correspondence.  I  have  before  had  occasion  to  speak 
with  extreme  sorrow  of  the  errors  in  the  theoretical 
parts  of  this  work :  but  its  practical  intelligence  is 
admirable. 


Just  in  time,  I  get  Mr.  Willett's  first  sheet.  His 
preface  is  too  valuable  to  be  given  without  some  farther 
comment,  but  this  following  bit  may  serve  us  for  this 
month  : 

"  The  increased  frequency  in  modern  days  of  upland 
floods  appears  to  be  due  mainly  to  the  increased  want 
of  the  retention  of  the  rainfall.  Now  it  is  true  of  all 
drainage  matters  that  man  has  complete  power  over 
them  at  the  beginning,  where  they  are  widely  dissemi- 
nated, and  it  is  only  when  by  the  uniting  ramifications 
over  large  areas  a  great  accumulation  is  produced,  that 
man  becomes  powerless  to  deal  satisfactorily  with  it. 
Nothing  ever  is  more  senseless  than  the  direct  contra- 
vention of  Nature's  laws  by  the  modern  system  of 
gathering  together  into  one  huge  polluted  stream  the 
sewage  of  large  towns.  The  waste  and  expense  in- 
curred, first  in  collecting,  and  then  in  attempting  to 
separate  and  to  apply  to  the  land  the  drainage  of  large 
towns,  seems  a  standing  instance  of  the  folly  and  per- 
versity of  human  arrangements,  and  it  can  only  be 
accounted  for  by  the  interest  which  attaches  to  the  spending 
of  large  sums  of  money."      (Italics   mine.) 


14  Fors   Clavigera. 

"  It  may  be  desirable  at  some  future  time  to  revert 
to  this  part  of  the  subject,  and  to  suggest  the  natural, 
simple,  and  inexpensive  alternative  plan. 

11  To  return  to  the  question  of  floods  caused  by  rain- 
fall only.  The  first  and  completely  remunerating  ex- 
penditure should  be  for  providing  tanks  of  filtered  water 
for  human  drinking,  etc.,  and  reservoirs  for  cattle  and 
manufacturing  purposes,  in  the  upland  valleys  and  moor- 
land glens  which  form  the  great  collecting  grounds  of 
all  the  water  which  is  now  wastefully  permitted  to  flow 
either  into  underground  crevices  and  natural  reservoirs, 
that  it  may  be  pumped  up  again  at  an  enormous  waste 
of  time,  labour,  and  money,  or  neglectfully  permitted  to 
deluge  the  habitations  of  which  the  improper  erection 
on  sites  liable  to  flooding  has  been  allowed. 

"  To  turn  for  a  moment  to  the  distress  and  incurred 
expense  in  summer  from  want  of  the  very  same  water 
which  has  been  wasted  in  winter,  I  will  give  three  or 
four  instances  which  have  come  under  my  own  know- 
ledge. In  the  summer  of  1876  I  was  put  on  shore 
from  a  yacht  a  few  miles  west  of  Swanage  Bay,  in 
Dorsetshire,  and  then,  walking  to  the  nearest  village,  I 
wanted  to  hire  a  pony-chaise  from  the  landlady  of  the 
only  inn,  but  she  was  obliged  absolutely  to  refuse  me 
because  the  pony  was  already  overworked  by  having  to 
drag  water  for  the  cows  a  perpendicular  distance  of 
from  two  hundred  to  three  hundred  feet  from  the  valley 
beneath.      Hardly    a   rain-shoot,  and    no  reservoir,    could 


Fors   Clavigera.  15 

be  seen.  A  highly  intelligent  gentleman  in  Sussex, 
the  year  before,  remarked,  '  I  should  not  regret  the 
rain  coming  and  spoiling  the  remainder  of  my  harvest, 
as  it  would  thereby  put  an  end  to  the  great  expense  I 
am  at  in  drawing  water  from  the  river  for  my  flock 
of  sheep.'  In  the  village  of  Farnborough,  Kent,  there 
are  two  wells  :  one  at  the  Hall,  1 60  feet  deep,  and  a 
public  one  at  the  north-west  of  the  village.  In  summer 
a  man  gets  a  good  living  by  carting  the  water  for  the 
poor  people,  charging  id.  for  six  gallons,  and  earning 
from  2s.  6d.  to  3^.  a  day.  One  agricultural  labourer 
pays  $d.  a  week  for  his  family  supply  in  summer.  '  He 
could  catch  more  off  his  own  cottage,  but  the  spouts 
are  out  of  order,  and  the  landlord  won't  put  them  right.' 
I  know  a  farmer  in  Sussex  who,  having  a  seven-years' 
lease  of  some  downland,  at  his  own  expense  built  a 
small  tank  which  cost  him  £30.  He  told  me  at  the  end 
of  his  lease  the  farm  would  be  worth  ^30  per  annum 
more,  because  of  the  tank.  The  Earl  of  Chichester, 
who  has  most  wisely  and  successfully  grappled  with  the 
subject,  says  that  ;£ioo  per  annum  is  not  an  unfrequent 
expenditure  by  individual  farmers  for  the  carting  of 
water  in   summer-time. 

"  In  my  next  I  will  give,  by  his  lordship's  kind  per- 
mission, a  detailed  account  and  plan  of  his  admirable 
method  of  water  supply,  superseding  wells  and  pump- 
ing." 


NOTES    AND    CORRESPONDENCE. 


I.  Affairs  of  the  Company. 

I  never  was  less  able  to  give  any  account  of  these,  for  the 
last  month  has  been  entirely  occupied  with  work  in  Oxford  ; 
the  Bank  accounts  cannot  be  in  my  hands  till  the  year's  end  ; 
the  business  at  Abbeydale  can  in  no  wise  be  put  on  clear 
footing  till  our  Guild  is  registered ;  and  I  have  just  been- 
warned  of  some  farther  modifications  needful  in  our  memo- 
randum for  registry. 

But  I  was  completely  convinced  last  year  that,  fit  or  unfit, 
I  must  take  all  these  things  in  hand  myself;  and  I  do  not 
think  the  leading  article  of  our  Correspondence  will  remain, 
after  the  present  month,  so  wholly  unsatisfactory. 

II.  Affairs  of  the  Master.     (12th  December,  1877.) 

Since  I  last  gave  definite  statements  of  these,  showing  that 
in  cash  I  had  only  some  twelve  thousand  pounds  left,  the 
sale  of  Turner's  drawings,  out  of  the  former  collection  of 
Mr.  Munro,  of  Novar,  took  place  ;  and  I  considered  it  my  duty, 
for  various  reasons,  to  possess  myself  of  Caernarvon  Castle, 
Leicester  Abbey,  and  the  Bridge  of  Narni ;  the  purchase  of 
which,  with  a  minor  acquisition  or  two  besides,  reduced  my 
available  cash,  by  my  banker's  account  yesterday,  to  ,£10,223, 
that  being  the  market  value  of  my  remaining  ^"4000-  Bank 
Stock.       I   have    directed    them    to    sell    this   stock,   and    buy 

2ND   SERIES,    I.]  2 


1 8  Notes  and  Correspo?idence . 

me  £9000  New  Threes  instead ;  by  which  operation  I  at 
once  lose  about  sixty  pounds  a  year  of  interest,  (in  conformity 
with  my  views  already  enough  expressed  on  that  subject,)  and 
I  put  a  balance  of  something  over  ^1500  in  the  Bank,  to 
serve  St.  George  and  me  till  we  can  look  about  us  a  little. 

Both  the  St.  George's  and  my  private  account  will  hence- 
forward be  rendered  by  myself,  with  all  clearness  possible  to 
me ;  but  they  will  no  longer  be  allowed  to  waste  the  space  of 
Fors.  They  will  be  forwarded  on  separate  sheets  to  the  Com- 
panions, and  be  annually  purchaseable  by  the  public. 

I  further  stated,  in  last  year's  letters,  that  at  the  close  of 
1877  I  should  present  my  Marylebone  property  to  St.  George 
for  a  Christmas  gift,  without  interfering  with  Miss  Octavia  Hill's 
management  of  it.  But  this  piece  of  business,  like  everything 
else  I  try  to  do  just  now,  has  its  own  hitches  ;  the  nature  of 
which  will  be  partly  understood  on  reading  some  recent  corre- 
spondence between  Miss  Hill  and  myself,  which  I  trust  may- 
be closed,  and  in  form  presentable,  next  month.  The  trans- 
ference of  the  property  will  take  place  all  the  same ;  but  it 
will  be  seen  to  have  become  questionable  how  far  Miss  Hill 
may  now  consent  to  retain  her  control  over  the  tenants. 

III.  We  cannot  begin  the  New  Year  under  better  auspices 
than  are  implied  in  the  two  following  letters. 

To  Mr.  John  Ruskin,  LL.D. 

"  Honoured  Sir, — I  send  ten  shillings,  which  I  beg  you  to 
accept  as  a  gift  for  your  St.  George's  Fund.  The  sum  is  small, 
but  I  have  been  thinking  that  as  you  are  now  bringing  some 
plots  of  land  into  cultivation,  that  even  so  small  a  sum,  if  spent 
in  the  purchase  of  two  or  three  apple  or  other  fruit  trees  suitable 
to  the  locality,  they  might  be  pointed  to,  in  a  few  years'  time, 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  19 

to  show  what  had  been  the  result  of  a  small  sum,  when  wisely 
deposited  in  the  Bank  of  Nature. 

"  Yours  very  Respectfully, 
"  A  Garden  Workman, 

"  This  day  80  years  old, 

"  Joseph  Stapleton. 

"  November  2$t/i,  1877." 

(The  apple-trees  will  be  planted  in  Worcestershire,  and  kept 
separate  note  of.) 

"  Cloughton  Moor,  near  Scarborough, 
November  15,  1877. 

"  Dear  Master, — We  have  delayed  answering  your  very  kind 
letter,  for  which  we  were  very  grateful,  thinking  that  soon  we 
should  be  hearing  again  from  Mr.  Bagshawe,  because  we  had 
a  letter  from  him  the  same  day  that  we  got  yours,  asking  for 
particulars  of  the  agreement  between  myself  and  Dr.  Rooke. 
I  answered  him  by  return  of  post,  requesting  him  likewise  to 
get  the  affair  settled  as  soon  as  convenient ;  but  we  have  not 
heard  anything  since.  But  we  keep  working  away,  and  have 
got  the  house  and  some  of  the  land  a  bit  shapely,  We  are 
clearing,  and  intend  closing,  about  sixteen  hundred  yards  of 
what  we  think  the  most  suitable  and  best  land  for  a  garden, 
and  shall  plant  a  few  currant  and  gooseberry  bushes  in,  I  hope 
directly,  if  the  weather  keeps  favourable.  In  wet  weather  we 
repair  the  cottage  indoors,  and  all  seems  to  go  on  very  nicely. 
The  children  enjoy  it  very  much,  and  so  do  we  too,  for  you 
see  we  are  all  together — '  father's  always  at  home.'  I  shall  never 
be  afraid  of  being  out  of  work  again,  there  is  so  much  to  do  ; 
and  I  think  it  will  pay,  too.  Of  course  it  will  be  some  time 
before  it  returns  anything,  excepting  tired  limbs,  and  the  satis- 
faction that  it  is,  and  looks,  better.  We  intend  rearing  poultry, 
and    have  a   cow,    perhaps,    when  we  get  something  to  ^.rov  to 


20  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

feed  them  with  j  and  to  that  intent  I  purpose  preparing  stone 
this  winter  to  build  an  outbuilding  for  them  in  the  spring-time. 
I  can  do  it  all  myself — the  working  part ;  but  should  require 
help  to  purchase  lime  and  timber,  but  not  yet.  We  shall  try 
our  best  to  work  and  make  our  arrangements  suit  your  views 
as  far  as  we  understand  them,  and  anything  you  could  like  us 
to  do,  we  shall  be  glad  to  perform.  "  Yours  truly, 

"  John  Guy. 

"  Our  gross  earnings  for  the  year  is  ^54  iSs.  $^d.  Our 
expenses  this  year  have  been  heavy,  with  two  removals,  but  we 
have  a  balance  of  ^n  after  paying  tenth,  for  which  we  enclose 
Post  Office  order  for  ^5  gs.  10^.  We  have  plenty  of  clothing 
and  shoes  and  fuel  to  serve  us  the  winter  through  ;  so  Mary  says 
we  can  do  very  well  until  spring." 

IV.  The  following  important  letters  set  the  question  raised 
about  the  Bishops'  returns  of  income  at  rest.  I  need  scarcely 
point  out  how  desirable  it  would  be  for  these  matters  to  be 
put  on  so  simple  footing  as  to  leave  no  ground  for  misappre- 
hension by  the  common  people.  '  Disingenuousness  '  which  the 
writer  suspects  in  the  '  Humanitarian '  is  not  usually  a  fault  of 
the  lower  orders;  nor  do  they  ever  fail  in  respect  to  a  good 
and  active  clergyman. 

"November  28,  1877. 
"  Dear  Mr.  Ruskin, — I  see  from  the  November  Fors  that 
you  ask  for  further  explanation  of  some  figures  published  by  a 
'  Humanitarian,'  of  Bishopwearmouth,  touching  the  Bishops' 
incomes  of  thirty-nine  years  ago.  'The  apparent  discrepancy 
between  the  actual  and  alleged  incomes  is  very  easily  explained. 
The  larger  figures  are  not,  and  are  not  said  to  be,  the  incomes 
of  the  Bishops  at  all.  The  estates  were  then  let  on  'beneficial ' 
leases  ;  and  the  people  who  held  these  leases,  generally  country 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  21 

squires,  were  the  real  owners  of  the  lands,  paying  to  the  Bishops 
ancient  nominal  rents,  and  occasional  lump  sums  ('  fines  '),  when 
the  leases  were  renewed.  The  big  sums,  therefore,  are  the 
estimated  rental  of  the  lands — that  is,  e.g.,  in  the  case  of  York 
the  ,£41,030  represent  the  rents  paid  to  the  country  gentlemen 
by  their  tenants,  and  the  ,£13,798  is  the  average,  one  year  with 
another,  of  what  the  squires  paid  to  the  Archbishop  in  rents 
and  fines.  The  difference,  of  course,  represents  the  value  of 
the  lands  to  the  squires.  What  the  figures  really  show,  there- 
fore, is  the  amount  of  Church  property  which,  little  by  little, 
in  the  course  of  centuries,  through  a  bad  system  of  tenure,  had 
got  into  the  hands  of  laymen.  This  bad  system  has  been  long 
abolished,  under  the  operation  of  divers  laws  passed  in  1841, 
and  later;  and  the  Bishops  have  now,  as  your  other  table 
shows,  much-reduced  and  unvarying  income." 

"  It  may  help  you  to  see  how  the  proportions  (in  the  case  of 
different  Bishops)  of  the  Bishops'  receipts  to  value  of  lands, 
vary  so  much,  when  I  explain  that  the  average  episcopal  income 
was  required,  in  the  forms  issued  by  the  Royal  Commission,  to 
be  made  out  from  the  actual  receipts  of  a  specified  period — 
seven  years,  I  think.*  Now  the  separate  leaseholds  were  of 
very  various  values,  some  big  and  some  little,  and  it  would 
often  happen  that  several  years  elapsed  without  any  big  '  fine ' 
falling  in  j  and  then  there  might  come,  in  quick  succession,  the 
renewals  of  three  or  four  very  valuable  estates,  thus  raising 
immensely  the  average  for  those  particular  years.  Hence  every 
Bishop's  return,  though  accurately  given  as  required,  was  a  very 
rough  average,  though  the  return,  taken  as  a  whole — that  is,  as 
regards  all  the  sees  together — gave  a  fair  view  of  the  facts. 
The  ins  and  outs  of  the  affair,  you  see,  can  only  be  understood 

*  The  term  had  necessarily  to  be  moderate,  as  it  would  have  been  useless 
to  ask  a  Bishop  as  to  the  receipts  of  his  predecessor. 


22  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

by  people  familiar  with  the  working  of  the  now  obsolete  system. 
I  therefore  in  my  last  note  abstained  from  saying  more  than 
was  just  sufficient  to  indicate  the  blunder,  or  disingenuousness, 
of  the  pamphleteer,  knowing  that  it  would  be  useless  to  burden 
your  pages  with  farther  details.  To  any  one  who  knows  the 
facts,  the  large  figures  given  as  the  apparent  incomes  of  Bishops 
are  simply  ludicrous.  No  Bishop  ever  had  any  income  ap- 
proaching to  ^50,000.  That  of  the  late  Bishop  Sumner,  of 
Winchester,  was  always  quoted  as  exorbitantly  vast,  and  it  was 
about  ;£i 9,000.  I  know  privately  that  the  late  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  with  his  ^15,000  a  year,  left  his  family  the  noble 
fortune  of  £600  per  annum  !  " 

V.  "The  fate  of  Cyfarthfa. — Mr.  Crawshay  has  put  a 
summary  end  to  all  rumours  as  to  the  possibility  of  a  start  at 
Cyfarthfa.  One  of  his  old  servants,  says  the  '  Western  Mail,' 
wrote  to  him  lately  on  matters  apart  from  the  iron-works  ;  but 
in  the  course  of  his  letter  he  asked  his  old  master  whether 
there  were  any  hopes  of  the  works  being  again  started.  The 
reply  from  Mr.  Crawshay  was  as  follows :  '  Trade  is  worse 
than  ever  it  was,  and  I  see  not  the  slightest  chance  of  Cy- 
farthfa starting  again ;  and  I  believe  if  it  ever  does  start  it 
will  be  under  different  circumstances  to  the  present,  as  it  will 
require  a  large  sum  to  be  laid  out  in  improvements,  such  as 
making  steel-works,  etc.  I  am  too  near  my  grave  to  think  of 
doing  anything  of  the  sort ;  and  I  think  so  badly  of  trade 
altogether  that  I  have  no  wish  to  see  my  sons  remain  in  it. 
I  am  feeling  very  poorly,  and  do  not  think  I  can  possibly 
live  very  long,  and  if  I  am  able  I  shall  sell  the  works  before 
I  die.  There  is  nothing  now  to  bind  me  to  them,  for  I  have 
been  estranged  from  them  by  the  conduct  of  the  men.  I 
always  hoped  and  expected  to  die  with  the  works  going,  and 
the  same  feeling  among  the  men  for  their  employers  j  but  things 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  23 

have  changed,  and  all  is  different,  and  I  go  to  my  grave  feeling 
I  am  a  perfect  stranger,  as  all  my  old  men  are  gone,  or  nearly 
so.' " 

"9,  Stevenson  Square,  Manchester, 
gt/i  October,   1877. 

"  My  dear  Sir, — Could  you  have  thought,  did  you  expect, 
that  such  an  utter  vindication  of  your  words  would  embody 
itself  in  this  form  ?  "  T.  W.  P. 

"J.  Ruskin,  Esq." 

Yes,  my  friend,  I  not  only  expected,  but  knew  positively 
that  such  vindication,  not  of  my  words  only,  but  of  the  words 
of  all  the  servants  of  God,  from  the  beginning  of  days,  would 
assuredly  come,  alike  in  this,  and  in  other  yet  more  terrible, 
"forms.  But  it  is  to  be  noted  that  there  are  four  quite  distinct 
causes  operating  in  the  depression  of  English, — especially  iron, 
— trade,  of  which  two  are  our  own  fault ;  and  the  other  two, 
being  inevitable,  should  have  been  foreseen  long  since,  by 
even  the  vulgar  sagacity  of  self-interest. 

The  first  great  cause  is  the  separation  between  masters  and 
men,  which  is  wholly  the  masters'  fault,  and  the  necessary 
result  of  the  defiance  of  every  moral  law  of  human  relation 
by  modern  political  economy. 

The  second  is  the  loss  of  custom,  in  consequence  of  bad 
work — also  a  result  of  the  teaching  of  modern  political  economy. 

The  third,  affecting  especially  the  iron  trade,  is  that  the 
funds  which  the  fools  of  Europe  had  at  their  disposal,  with 
which  to  build  iron  bridges  instead  of  wooden  ones,  put  up 
spike  railings  instead  of  palings,  and  make  machines  in  sub- 
stitution for  their  arms  and  legs,  are  now  in  a  great  degree 
exhausted  ;  and  by  the  time  the  rails  are  all  rusty,  the  bridges 
snapped,  and  the  machines  found  to  reap  and  thresh  no  more 
corn   than  arms  did,  the  fools  of  Europe  will  have  learned  a 


24  Notes  and  Correspondence, 

lesson  or  two  which  will  not  be  soon  forgotten,  even  by  them  ; 
and  the  iron  trade  will  be  slack  enough,  thereafter. 

The  fourth  cause  of  trade  depression, — bitter  to  the  hearts 
of  the  persons  whom  Mr.  Spencer  Herbert  calls  patriots, — is, 
that  the  inhabitants  of  other  countries  have  begun  to  perceive 
that  they  have  got  hands  as  well  as  we — and  possibly,  in 
some  businesses,  even  better  hands  ;  and  that  they  may  just 
as  well  make  their  own  wares  as  buy  them  of  us.  Which 
wholesome  discovery  of  theirs  will  in  due  time  mercifully  put 
an  end  to  the  British  ideal  of  life  in  the  National  Shop  ; 
and  make  it  at  last  plain  to  the  British  mind  that  the  cliffs 
of  Dover  were  not  constructed  by  Providence  merely  to  be 
made  a  large  counter. 

VI.  The  following  paper  by  Professor  VV.  J.  Beal  is  sent  me 
by  a  correspondent  from  a  New  York  journal.  The  reader  is 
free  to  attach  such  weight  to  it  as  he  thinks  proper.  The 
passage  about  the  Canada  thistle  is  very  grand. 

"  Interest  money  is  a  heavy  tax  on  many  people  of  the  United 
States.  There  is  no  other  burden  in  the  shape  of  money  which 
weighs  down  like  interest,  unless  it  be  money  spent  for  intoxi- 
cating liquors.  Men  complain  of  high  State  taxes,  of  school- 
taxes,  and  taxes  for  bridges,  sewers,  (?  grading,)  and  for  building 
churches.  For  some  of  these  they  are  able  to  see  an  equivalent, 
but  for  money  paid  as  interest — for  the  use  of  money,  few 
realize  or  gain  (?  guess)  what  it  costs.  It  is  an  expensive  luxury 
to  pay  for  the  mere  privilege  of  handling  what  does  not  belong 
to  you.  People  are  likely  to  overestimate  your  wealth,  and 
(make  you  ?)    pay  more  taxes  than  you  ought  to. 

"  In  most  parts  of  our  new  country,  ten  per  cent,  per  annum, 
or  more,  is  paid  for  the  use  of  money.  A  shrewd  business  man 
may  reasonably  make  it  pay  to  live  at  this  rate  for  a  short 
time,   but  even  such  men  often  fail  to  make  it  profitable.     It 


Notes  and  Correspondence,  25 

is  an  uncommon  thing  for  any  business  to  pay  a  sure  and  safe 
return  of  ten  per  cent,  for  any  length  of  time.  The  profits 
of  great  enterprises,  like  railroads,  manufactories  of  iron,  cloth, 
farm-implements,  etc.,  etc.,  are  so  variable,  so  fluctuating,  that 
it  is  difficult  to  tell  their  average  profit,  or  the  average  profit 
of  any  one  of  them.  We  know  it  is  not  uncommon  for  rail- 
roads to  go  into  the  hands  of  a  receiver,  because  they  cannot 
pay  the  interest  on  their  debts.  Factories  stop,  and  often  go 
to  decay,  because  they  cannot  pay  running  expenses.  Often 
they  cannot  continue  without  losing  money,  to  say  nothing 
about  the  interest  on  the  capital.  Merchants  seldom  can  pay 
ten  per  cent,  on  large  amounts  for  any  length  of  time.  Even 
six  per  cent,  is  a  heavy  tax  on  any  kind  of  business. 

"  But  it  was  not  of  these  classes  that  I  intended  to  speak 
at  this  time.  The  writer  has  been  most  of  his  life  among 
farmers,  and  has  had  unusual  opportunities  for  studying  their 
management  of  finances.  It  may  be  worse  in  a  new  country 
than  in  an  old  one,  but  so  far  as  my  knowledge  extends,  a 
latge  majority  of  the  farms  of  Michigan  are  covered  by  a  mort- 
gage. The  farmer  needs  capital  to"  buy  sheep,  cattle,  tools  j  to 
build  houses  and  barns,  and  to  clear  and  prepare  land  for  crops. 
He  is  very  likely  to  underestimate  the  cost  of  a  farm,  and 
what  it  takes  to  stock  it  properly.  He  invests  all  his  money, 
and  perhaps  runs  in  debt,  for  his  land  alone,  leaving  nothing 
with  which  to  furnish  it.  Quite  often  he  buys  more  land 
before  he  has  money  to  pay  for  it,  or  even  before  he  has  paid 
off  the  mortgage  on  his  present  farm.  Times  may  be  easy; 
crops  may  be  good,  and  high  in  price,  for  a  few  years.  He 
overestimates  his  ability  to  make  money,  and  runs  in  debt. 
Fortune  changes.  He  has  '  bad  luck,'  and  the  debt  grows  larger 
instead  of  smaller. 

u  Farming  is  a  safe  business,  but  even  this  has  its  dark 
side.       Good   crops    are    by    no    means    sure,    even    with   good 


26  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

culture.  Blight,  drought,  insects,  fire,  sickness,  and  other  cala- 
mities may  come  when  least  expected,  and  with  a  large  debt 
overwhelm  the  hopeful  farmer. 

"  I  have  never  seen  a  farm  that  for  several  years  together 
paid  ten  per  cent,  interest  on  the  capital  invested.  In  an  old 
scrap-book  I  find  the  following :  '  No  blister  draws  sharper 
than  does  the  interest.  Of  all  industries,  none  is  comparable 
to  that  of  interest.  It  works  all  day  and  night,  in  fair  weather 
and  in  foul.  It  has  no  sound  in  its  footsteps,  but  travels  fast. 
It  gnaws  at  a  man's  substance  with  invisible  teeth.  It  binds 
industry  with  its  film,  as  a  fly  is  bound  in  the  spider's  web. 
Debts  roll  a  man  over  and  over,  binding  him  hand  and  foot, 
and  letting  him  hang  upon  the  fatal  mesh  until  the  long-legged 
interest  devours  him.  There  is  but  one  thing  on  a  farm  like 
it,  and  that  is  the  Canada  thistle,  which  swarms  with  new  plants 
every  time  you  break  its  roots,  whose  blossoms  are  prolific,  and 
every  flower  the  father  of  a  million  seeds.  Every  leaf  is  an 
awl,  every  branch  a  spear,  and  every  plant  like  a  platoon  of 
bayonets,  and  a  field  of  them  like  an  armed  host.  The  whole 
plant  is  a  torment  and  a  vegetable  curse.  And  yet,  a  farmer 
had  better  make  his  bed  of  Canada  thistles  than  to  be  at  ease 
upon  interest.' 

"  There  are  some  exceptions  to  the  general  rule,  that  no 
man  should  run  in  debt.  It  may  be  better  for  one  to  owe 
something  on  a  house  and  lot  than  to  move  from  house  to 
house  every  year  or  so  and  pay  a  high  rent.  It  may  do  for 
a  farmer  to  incur  a  small  debt  on  a  new  piece  of  land,  or  on 
some  improvement,  but  be  cautious.  A  small  debt  will  some- 
times stimulate  to  industry  and  economy,  but  a  large  one  will 
often  weary,  and  finally  come  off  victorious. 

"  A  farmer  wishes  to  save  his  extra  lot  for  his  son,  and  so  pays 
ten  per  cent.  His  sons  and  daughters  cannot  go  to  a  good 
school  or  college  because  of  that  mortgage.     The  son  sees  the 


Notes  and  Correspondence,  27 

privations  of  a  farmer's  life  under  unfavourable  circumstances. 
The  lather  dies,  and  leaves  the  farm  to  his  son  with  a  heavy- 
debt  on  it,  which  he  in  vain  attempts  to  remove,  or  he  sells 
the  farm  and  leaves  that  kind  of  drudgery.  Very  often  a  farmer 
is  keeping  more  land  than  he  is  able  to  work  or  manage  well. 
He  does  not  know  how  to  get  value  received,  and  more,  out 
of  his  hired  help.  Such  a  one  is  unwise  not  to  sell  a  part, 
clear  the  debt,   and  work  the  remainder  better." 

VII.  The  passage  referred  to  in  the  text,  from  Mr.  Bucknall's 
translation  of  M.  Viollet-le-Duc's  essay  on  Mont  Blanc  : — 

"  But  what  is  man  in  presence  of  the  great  phenomena  which 
geology  reveals  ?  What  can  he  do  to  utilize  or  to  counteract 
their  consequences  ?  How  can  such  diminutive  beings,  whose 
most  numerous  army  would  be  barely  noticed  on  the  slopes  of 
these  mountains,  in  any  degree  modify  the  laws  which  govern 
the  distribution  of  watercourses,  alluvial  deposits,  denudations, 
and  the  accumulation  and  melting  of  snows  on  such  vast  moun- 
tain masses?    Is  not  their  impotence  manifest? 

"  No  ;  the  most  terrible  and  powerful  phenomena  of  Nature 
are  only  the  result  of  the  multiplication  of  infinitesimal  appli- 
ances or  forces.  The  blade  of  grass  or  the  fibre  of  moss 
performs  a  scarcely  appreciable  function,  but  which,  when 
multiplied,  conducts  to  a  result  of  considerable  importance. 
The  drop  of  water  which  penetrates  by  degrees  into  the  fissures 
of  the  hardest  rocks,  when  crystallized  as  the  result  of  a 
lowering  of  the  temperature,  ultimately  causes  mountains  to 
crumble.  In  Nature  there  are  no  insignificant  appliances,  or, 
rather,  the  action  of  Nature  is  only  the  result  of  insignificant 
appliances.  Man,  therefore,  can  act  in  his  turn,  since  these 
small  means  are  not  beyond  the  reach  of  his  influence,  and 
his  intelligence  enables  him  to  calculate  their  effects.  Yet 
owing  to   his   neglect   of  the   study  of  Nature — his  parent  and 


28  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

great  nurturer,  and  thus  ignorant  of  her  procedure,  man  is 
suddenly  surprised  by  one  of  the  phases  of  her  incessant  work, 
and  sees  his  crops  and  habitations  swept  away  by  an  inunda- 
tion. Does  he  proceed  to  examine  the  cause  of  what  he  calls  a 
cataclysm,  but  which  is  only  the  consequence  of  an  accumulation 
of  phenomena  ?  No ;  he  attributes  it  to  Providence,  restores 
his  dykes,  sows  his  fields,  and  rebuilds  his  dwellings  ;  and  then 
....  waits  for  the  disaster — which  is  a  consequence  of  laws 
he  has  neglected  to  study — to  occur  again.  Is  it  not  thus  that 
things  have  been  taking  place  for  centuries? — while  Nature, 
subject  to  her  own  laws,  is  incessantly  pursuing  her  work  with  an 
inflexible  logical  persistency.  The  periodical  inundations  which 
lay  waste  vast  districts  are  only  a  consequence  of  the  action 
of  these  laws ;  it  is  for  us,  therefore,  to  become  acquainted  with 
them,  and  to  direct  them  to  our  advantage. 

"  We  have  seen  in  the  preceding  investigations  that  Nature 
had,  at  the  epoch  of  the  great  glacial  debacles,  contrived  reser- 
voirs at  successive  stages,  in  which  the  torrent  waters  deposited 
the  materials  of  all  dimensions  that  were  brought  down — first 
in  the  form  of  drift,  whence  sifting  them,  they  caused  them  to 
descend  lower  down ;  the  most  bulky  being  deposited  first,  and 
the  lightest,  in  the  form  of  silt,  being  carried  as  far  as  the  low 
plains.  We  have  seen  that,  in  filling  up  most  of  these  reservoirs 
by  the  deposit  of  materials,  the  torrents  tended  to  make  their 
course  more  and  more  sinuous— to  lengthen  it,  and  thus  to 
diminish  the  slopes,  and  consequently  render  their  flow  less 
rapid.  We  have  seen  that  in  the  higher  regions  the  torrents 
found  points  of  rest — levels  prepared  by  the  disintegration  of  the 
slopes;  and  that  from  these  levels  they  incessantly  cause  debris 
to  be  precipitated,  which  ultimately  formed  cones  of  dejection, 
often  permeable,  and  at  the  base  of  which  the  waters,  retarded  in 
their  course  and  filtered,  spread  in  rivulets  through  the  valleys. 

"  Not    only    have    men    misunderstood    the    laws    of    which 


Notes  and  Correspondence,  29 

we  mention  here  only  certain  salient  points,  but  they  have 
for  the  most  part  run  counter  to  them,  and  have  thus  been 
paving  the  way  for  the  most  formidable  disasters.  Ascending 
the  valleys,  man  has  endeavoured  to  make  the  great  labora- 
tories of  the  mountains  subservient  to  his  requirements.  To 
obtain  pastures  on  the  slopes,  he  has  destroyed  vast  forests  ; 
to  obtain  fields  suitable  for  agriculture  in  the  valleys,  he  has 
embanked  the  torrents,  or  has  obliterated  their  sinuosities,  thus 
precipitating  their  course  towards  the  lower  regions;  or,  again, 
bringing  the  mud-charged  waters  into  the  marshes,  he  has  dried 
up  the  latter  by  suppressing  a  great  many  accidental  reserves. 
The  mountaineer  has  had  but  one  object  in  view — to  get  rid 
as  quickly  as  possible  of  the  waters  with  which  he  is  too 
abundantly  supplied,  without  concerning  himself  with  what  may 
happen  in  the  lower  grounds.  Soon,  however,  he  becomes 
himself  the  first  victim  of  his  imprudence  or  ignorance.  The 
forests  having  been  destroyed,  avalanches  have  rolled  down  in 
enormous  masses  along  the  slopes.  These  periodical  avalanches 
have  swept  down  in  their  course  the  humus  produced  by  large 
vegetable  growths ;  and  in  place  of  the  pastures  which  the 
mountaineer  thought  he  was  providing  for  his  flocks,  he  has 
found  nothing  more  than  the  denuded  rock,  allowing  the  water 
produced  by  rain  or  thawing  to  flow  in  a  few  moments  down 
to  the  lower  parts,  which  are  then  rapidly  submerged  and  deso- 
lated. To  obtain  a  few  acres  by  drying  up  a  marsh  or  a  small 
lake,  he  has  often  lost  double  the  space  lower  down  in  conse- 
quence of  the  more  rapid  discharge  of  pebbles  and  sand.  As 
soon  as  vegetation  has  attempted  to  grow  on  the  cones  of 
dejection — the  products  of  avalanches,  and  which  consist  entirely 
of  debris — he  will  send  his  herds  of  goats  there,  which  will  destroy 
in  a  few  hours  the  work  of  several  years.  At  the  terminal  point 
of  the  elevated  combes — where  the  winter  causes  the  snows  to 
accumulate — far  from  encouraging  the  larger  vegetable  growths, 


30  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

which  would  mitigate  the  destructive  effects  of  the  avalanches, 
he  has  been  in  the  habit  of  cutting  down  the  trees,  the  approach 
to  such  points  being  easy,  and  the  cones  of  dejection  favouring 
the  sliding  down  of  the  trunks  into  the  valley. 

"  This  destruction  of  the  forests  appears  to  entail  consequences 
vastly  more  disastrous  than  are  generally  supposed.  Forests 
protect  forests,  and  the  more  the  work  of  destruction  advances, 
the  more  do  they  incline  to  abandon  the  altitudes  in  which  they 
once  flourished.  At  the  present  day,  around  the  massif  of  Mont 
Blanc,  the  larch,  which  formerly  grew  vigorously  at  an  elevation 
of  six  thousand  feet,  and  marked  the  limit  of  the  larger  vegetable 
growths,  is  quitting  those  heights,  leaving  isolated  witnesses  in 
the  shape  of  venerable  trunks  which  are  not  replaced  by  young 
trees. 

"  Having  frequently  entered  into  conversation  with  mountaineers 
on  those  elevated  plateaux,  I  have  taken  occasion  to  explain 
to  them  these  simple  problems,  to  point  out  to  them  the  fore- 
sight of  Nature  and  the  improvidence  of  man,  and  to  show  how 
by  trifling  efforts  it  was  easy  to  restore  a  small  lake,  to  render  a 
stream  less  rapid,  and  to  stop  the  fall  of  materials  in  those  terrible 
couloirs.  They  would  listen  attentively,  and  the  next  day  would 
anticipate  me  in  remarking,  '  Here  is  a  good  place  to  make 
a  reservoir.  By  moving  a  few  large  stones  here,  an  avalanche 
might  be  arrested.' 

11  The  herdsmen  are  the  enemies  of  the  forests ;  what  they 
want  is  pasturage.  As  far  as  they  can,  therefore,  they  destroy 
the  forests,  without  suspecting  that  their  destruction  is  sure  to 
entail  that  of  the  greater  part  of  the  pastures. 

"  We  saw  in  the  last  chapter  that  the  lowering*  of  the  limit  of 
the  woods  appears  to  be  directly  proportioned  to  the  diminution 
of  the   glaciers ;   in   fact,   that  the   smaller   the   volume   of  the 

*  'Raising,'  I  think  the  author  must  have  meant. 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  31 

glaciers,  the  more  do  the  forests  approach  the  lower  (?  higher) 
regions.  We  have  found  stumps  of  enormous  larches  on  the 
beds  of  the  ancient  glaciers  that  surmounted  La  Flegere,  beneath 
the  Aiguilles  Pourries  and  the  Aiguilles  Rouges — i.e.,  more  than 
three  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  modern  Chalet  de 
la  Flegere,  whereas  at  present  the  last  trees  are  some  yards 
below  this  hotel,  and  maintain  but  a  feeble  existence.  These 
deserts  are  now  covered  only  with  stone  debris,  rhododendrons, 
and  scanty  pasturage.  Even  in  summer,  water  is  absent  at  many 
points,  so  that  to  supply  their  cattle  the  herdsmen  of  La  Flegere 
have  been  obliged  to  conduct  the  waters  of  the  Lacs  Blancs 
into  reservoirs  by  means  of  a  small  dyke  which  follows  the 
slopes  of  the  ancient  moraines.  Yet  the  bottoms  of  the  trough- 
shaped  hollows  are  sheltered,  and  contain  a  thick  layer  of 
humus,  so  that  it  would  appear  easy,  in  spite  of  the  altitude 
(6,600  feet),  to  raise  larches  there.  But  the  larch  is  favoured 
by  the  neighbourhood  of  snows  or  ice.  And  on  this  plateau, 
whose  summits  reach  an  average  of  8,500  feet,  scarcely  a  few 
patches  of  snow  are  now  to  be  seen  in  August. 

"  Formerly  these  ancient  glacier  beds  were  dotted  with  small 
tarns,  which  have  been  drained  off  for  the  most  part  by  the 
herdsmen  themselves,  who  hoped  thus  to  gain  a  few  square 
yards  of  pasture.  Such  tarns,  frozen  from  October  to  May, 
preserve  the  snow  and  form  small  glaciers,  while  their  number 
caused  these  solitudes  to  preserve  permanent  neves,  which, 
covering  the  rocky  beds,  regarded  their  disintegration.  It  was 
then  also  that  the  larches,  whose  stumps  still  remain,  covered 
the  hollows  and  sheltered  parts  of  the  combes.  The  area  of 
pasturage  was  evidently  limited  ;  but  the  pasturage  itself  was 
good,  well  watered,  and  could  not  be  encroached  upon.  Now 
both  tarns  and  neves  have  disappeared,  and  larches  likewise, 
while  we  see  inroads  constantly  made  on  the  meadows  by  stony 
debris  and  sand. 


32  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

"  If  care  be  not  taken,  the  valley  from  Nant-Borant  to  Bon- 
horame,  which  still  enjoys  such  fine  pastures,  protected  by  some 
remains  of  forests,  will  be  invaded  by  debris ;  for  these  forests 
are  already  being  cleared  in  consequence  of  a  complete  mis- 
understanding of  the  conditions  imposed  by  the  nature  of  the 
locality. 

"  Conifers  would  seem  to  have  been  created  with  a  view  to 
the  purpose  they  serve  on  the  slopes  of  the  mountains.  Their 
branches,  which  exhibit  a  constant  verdure,  arrest  the  snows, 
and  are  strongly  enough  attached  to  their  trunk  to  enable  them 
to  support  the  load  they  have  to  carry.  In  winter  we  may  see 
layers  of  snow  eight  inches  or  a  foot  thick  on  the  palmated 
branches  of  the  firs,  yet  which  scarcely  make  them  bend.  Thus 
every  fir  is  a  shelf  which  receives  the  snow  and  hinders  it  from 
accumulating  as  a  compact  mass  on  the  slopes.  Under  these 
conditions  avalanches  are  impossible.  When  the  thaws  come, 
these  small  separate  stores  crumble  successively  into  powder. 
The  trunk  of  the  conifer  clings  to  the  rocks  by  the  help  of 
its  roots,  which,  like  wide-spread  talons,  go  far  to  seek  their 
nourishment,  binding  together  among  them  all  the  rolling 
stones.  In  fact,  the  conifer  prefers  a  rock,  settles  on  it,  and 
envelopes  it  with  its  strong  roots  as  with  a  net,  which,  stretching 
far  and  wide,  go  in  search  of  neighbouring  stones,  and  attach 
them  to  the  first  as  if  to  prevent  all  chance  of  their  slipping 
down.*  In  the  interstices  debris  of  leaves  and  branches  accu- 
mulate, and  a  humus  is  formed  which  retains  the  waters  and 
promotes  the  growth  of  herbaceous  vegetation. 

"  It  is  wonderful  to  see  how,  in  a  few  years,  slopes,  composed 
of  materials  of  all  shapes,  without  any  appearance  of  vegetation, 
become  covered  with  thick  and  vigorous  fir  plantations — i.e., 
if  the  goats  do  not  tear  off  the  young  shoots,  and  if  a  little 
rest  is  left  to  the  heaps  on  which  they  grow.     Then  the  sterile 

*  Compare  the  chapter  on  the  offices  of  the  Root,  in  'Proserpina.' 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  33 

ground  is  clothed,  and  if  an  avalanche  occurs,  it  may  prostrate 
some  of  the  young  trees  and  make  itself  a  passage,  but  vegetation 
is  eager  to  repair  the  damage.  Does  man  ever  aid  in  this  work  ? 
No ;  he  is  its  most  dangerous  enemy.  Among  these  young 
conifers  he  sends  his  herds  of  goats,  which  in  a  few  days  make 
sad  havoc,  tear  off  the  shoots,  or  hinder  them  from  growing ; 
moreover,  he  will  cut  down  the  slender  trunks  for  firewood, 
whereas  the  great  neighbouring  forest  would  furnish  him,  in 
the  shape  of  dead  wood  and  fallen  branches,  with  abundance 
of  fuel. 

"  We  have  observed  this  struggle  between  man  and  vegetation 
for  several  years  in  succession.  Sometimes,  but  rarely,  the  rising 
forest  gains  the  victory,  and,  having  reached  a  certain  develop- 
ment, can  defend  itself.  But  most  frequently  it  is  atrophied, 
and   presents   a   mass   of  stunted   trunks,    which   an    avalanche 

crushes  and  buries  in  a  few  moments. 

#  .#  *  ,  *  * 

"  Reservoirs  in  steps  at  successive  heights  are  the  only  means 
for  preventing  the  destructive  effects  of  floods,  for  regulating 
the  streams,  and  supplying  the  plains  during  the  dry  seasons. 
If,  when  Nature  is  left  to  herself,  she  gradually  fills  up  those 
she  had  formed,  she  is  incessantly  forming  fresh  ones ;  but 
here  man  interferes  and  prevents  the  work.  He  is  the  first 
to  suffer  from  his  ignorance  and  cupidity  ;  and  what  he  considers 
his  right  to  the  possession  of  the  soil  is  too  often  the  cause  of 
injury  to  his  neighbours  and  to  himself. 

"Civilized  nations  are  aware  that  in  the  towns  they  build  it 
is  necessary  to  institute  sanitary  regulations — that  is,  regulations 
for  the  public  welfare,  which  are  a  restriction  imposed  on  the 
absolute  rights  of  property.  These  civilized  nations  have  also 
established  analogous  regulations  respecting  highways,  the  water- 
courses in  the  plains,  the  chase,  and  fishing;  but  they  have 
scarcely   troubled    themselves    about   mountain   districts,   which 

2ND   SERIES.    I.]  3 


34  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

are  the  sources  of  all  the  wealth  of  the  country  ;  (Italics  mine ; 
but  the  statement  needs  qualification. — J.  R.)  for  where  there 
are  no  mountains  there  are  no  rivers,  consequently  no  culti- 
vated lands;  nothing  but  steppes,  furnishing,  at  best,  pasturage 
for  a  few  cattle  distributed  over  immense  areas. 

"  On  the  pretext  that  mountain  regions  are  difficult  of  access, 
those  among  us  who  are  entrusted  by  destiny,  ambition,  or 
ability,  with  the  management  of  the  national  interests,  find  it 
easier  to  concern  themselves  with  the  plains  than  with  the 
heights.  (I  don't  find  any  governments,  nowadays,  concern- 
ing themselves  even  with  the  plains,  except  as  convenient  fields 
for  massacre. — J.  R.) 

"We  allow  that  in  those  elevated  solitudes  Nature  is  incle- 
ment, and  is  stronger  than  we  are  j  but  it  so  happens  that  an 
inconsiderable  number  of  shepherds  and  poor  ignorant  moun- 
taineers are  free  to  do  in  those  altitudes  what  their  immediate 
interests  suggest  to  them.  What  do  those  good  people  care 
about  that  which  happens  in  the  plains  ?  They  have  timber, 
for  which  the  sawmill  is  ready,  and  they  fell  it  where  the 
transport  to  that  sawmill  is  least  laborious.  Is  not  the  incline 
of  the  couloir  formed  expressly  for  sliding  the  trunks  directly 
to  the  mill? 

"  They  have  water  in  too  great  abundance,  and  they  get  rid 
of  it  as  fast  as  they  can.  They  have  young  fir-plants,  of  which 
the  goats  are  fond ;  and  to  make  a  cheese  which  they  sell  for 
fifty  centimes,  they  destroy  a  hundred  francs'  worth  of  timber, 
thereby  exposing  their  slopes  to  be  denuded  of  soil,  and  their 
own  fields  to  be  destroyed.  They  have  infertile  marshes,  and 
they  drain  them  by  digging  a  ditch  requiring  two  days'  work. 
These  marshes  were  filled  with  accumulations  of  peat,  which, 
like  a  sponge,  retained  a  considerable  quantity  of  water  at  the 
time  of  the  melting  of  the  snows.  They  dry  up  the  turf  for 
fuel,   and   the  rock,   being   denuded,   sends   in   a  few   minutes 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  35 

into  the  torrents  the  water  which  that  turf  held  in  reserve  for 
several  weeks.  Now  and  then  an  observer  raises  a  cry  of  alarm, 
and  calls  attention  to  the  reckless  waste  of  territorial  wealth. 
Who  listens  to  what  he  says  ?  who  reads  what  he  writes  ?  (Punch 
read  my  notes  on  the  inundations  at  Rome,  and  did  his  best  to 
render  them  useless. — J.  R.) 

"  Rigorously  faithful  to  her  laws,  Nature  does  not  carry  up 
again  the  pebble  which  a  traveller's  foot  has  rolled  down  the 
slope— does  not  replant  the  forests  which  your  thoughtless  hands 
have  cut  down,  when  the  naked  rock  appears,  and  the  soil  has 
been  carried  away  by  the  melted  snows  and  the  rain — does  not 
restore  the  meadow  to  the  disappearance  of  whose  soil  our  want 
of  precaution  has  contributed.  Far  from  comprehending  the 
marvellous  logic  of  these  laws,  you  contravene  their  beneficent 
control,  or  at  least  impede  their  action.  So  much  the  worse  for 
you,  poor  mortal !  Do  not,  however,  complain  if  your  lowlands 
are  devastated,  and  your  habitations  swept  away  ;  and  do  not 
vainly  impute  these  disasters  to  a  vengeance  or  a  warning  on 
the  part  of  Providence.  For  these  disasters  are  mainly  owing 
to  your  ignorance,  your  prejudices,  and  your  cupidity." 


FORS     CLAVIGERA 

SECOND    SERIES. 


YEA,   THE   WORK  OF  OUR  HANDS,   ESTABLISH  THOU   IT." 


LETTER  THE  86th. 

LET  US  (ALL)  EAT  AND  DRINK. 

In  assuming  that  the  English  Bible  may  yet  be  made 
the  rule  of  faith  and  conduct  to  the  English  people  ; 
and  in  placing  in  the  Sheffield  Library,  for  its  first 
volume,  a  MS.  of  that  Bible  in  its  perfect  form,  much 
more  is  of  course  accepted  as  the  basis  of  our  future 
education  than  the  reader  will  find  taken  for  the  ground 
either  of  argument  or  appeal,  in  any  of  my  writings 
on  political  economy  previous  to  the  year  1875.  It 
may  partly  account  for  the  want  of  success  of  those 
writings,  that  they  pleaded  for  honesty  without  praise,  and 
for  charity  without  reward  ; — that  they  entirely  rejected, 
as  any  motive  of  moral  action,  the  fear  of  future  judg- 
ment ;  and — taking  St.  Paul  in  his  irony  at  his  bitterest 
word, — "  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die," 
— they  merely  expanded  that  worldly  resolution  into 
its    just    terms  :     "  Yes,    let   us    eat    and    drink  " — what 

2ND   SERIES,    II.]  4 


38  Fors   Clavigera, 

else  ? — but  let  us  all  eat  and  drink,  and  not  a  few 
only,   enjoining  fast  to   the  rest. 

Nor  do  I,  in  the  least  item,  now  retract  the  assertion, 
so  often  made  in  my  former  works,*  that  human  probity 
and  virtue  are  indeed  entirely  independent  of  any  hope 
in  futurity  ;  and  that  it  is  precisely  in  accepting  death 
as  the  end  of  all,  and  in  laying  down,  on  that  sorrow- 
ful condition,  his  life  for  his  friends,  that  the  hero  and 
patriot  of  all  time  has  become  the  glory  and  safety 
of  his  country.  The  highest  ideals  of  manhood  given 
for  types  of  conduct  in  '  Unto  this  Last  ;  '  and  the  as- 
sertions that  the  merchant  and  common  labourer  must 
be  ready,  in  the  discharge  of  their  duty,  to  die  rather 
than  fail,  assume  nothing  more  than  this  ;  and  all  the 
proper  laws  of  human  society  may  be  perfectly  deve- 
loped and  obeyed,  and  must  be  so  wherever  such  society 
is  constituted  with  prudence,  though  none  of  them  be 
sanctioned  by  any  other  Divinity  than  that  of  our  own 
souls,  nor  their  violation  punished  by  any  other  penalty 
than  perfect  death.  There  is  no  reason  that  we  should 
drink  foul  water  in  London,  because  we  never  hope  to 
drink  of  the  stream  of  the  City  of  God  ;  nor  that  we 
should  spend  most  of  our  income  in  making  machines 
for  the  slaughter  of  innocent  nations,  because  we  never 
expect  to  gather  the  leaves  of  the  tree  for  their  healing. 

Without,  therefore,  ceasing  to  press  the  works  of  pru- 
dence even  on  Infidelity,  and  expect  deeds  and  thoughts 

*  Most  carefully  wrought  out  in  the  preface  to  the  '  Crown  of  Wild  Olive.' 


Fors   Clavigera.  39 

of  honour  even  from  Mortality,  I  yet  take  henceforward 
happier,  if  not  nobier,  ground  of  appeal,  and  write  as  a 
Christian  to  Christians  ;  that  is  to  say,  to  persons  who 
rejoice  in  the  hope  of  a  literal,  personal,  perpetual  life, 
with  a  literal,  personal,  and   eternal  God. 

To  all  readers  holding  such  faith,  I  now  appeal, 
urging  them  to  confess  Christ  before  men  ;  which 
they  will  find,  on  self-examination,  they  are  most  of 
them   afraid   to  do. 

For  going  to  church  is  only  a  compliance  with  the 
fashion  of  the  day ;  not  in  the  least  a  confession  of 
Christ,  but  only  the  expression  of  a  desire  to  be  thought 
as  respectable  as  other  people.  Staying  to  sacrament  is 
usually  not  much  more  ;  though  it  may  become  super- 
stitious, and  a  mere  service  done  to  obtain  dispensation 
from  other  services.  Violent  combativeness  for  particular 
sects,  as  Evangelical,  Roman  Catholic,  High  Church, 
Broad  Church — or  the  like,  is  merely  a  form  of  party- 
egotism,  and  a  defiance  of  Christ,  not  confession  of 
Him. 

But  to  confess  Christ  is,  first,  to  behave  righteously, 
truthfully,  and  continently ;  and  then,  to  separate  our- 
selves from  those  who  are  manifestly  or  by  profession 
rogues,  liars,  and  fornicators.  Which  it  is  terribly 
difficult  to  do  ;  and  which  the  Christian  church  has  at 
present  entirely  ceased   to   attempt  doing. 

And,  accordingly,  beside  me,  as  I  write,  to-day, 
(shortest   day,    1877,)   lies   the   (on  the  whole)  honestest 

4  A 


40  Fors   Clavigera. 

journal  of  London, — '  Punch,' — with  a  moral  piece  of 
Christian  art  occupying  two  of  its  pages,  representing 
the  Turk  in  a  human  form,  as  a  wounded  and  all  but 
dying  victim — surrounded  by  the  Christian  nations,  under 
the  forms  of  bear  and   vultures. 

"  This  witness  is  true "  as  against  themselves,  namely, 
that  hitherto  the  action  of  the  Christian  nation  to  the 
infidel  has  always  been  one  of  rapine,  in  the  broad 
sense,  The  Turk  is  what  he  is  because  we — have  been 
only  Christians  in  name.  And  another  witness  is  true, 
which  is  a  very  curious  one  ;  never,  so  far  as  I  know, 
yet  received   from   past  history, 

Wherever  the  Christian  church,  or  any  section  of  it, 
has  indeed  resolved  to  live  a  Christian  life,  and  keep 
God's  laws  in  God's  name, — there,  instantly,  manifest 
approval  of  Heaven  is  given  by  accession  of  zvorldly 
prosperity  and  victory.  This  witness  has  only  been  un- 
heard, because  every  sect  of  Christians  refuses  to  believe 
that  the  religion  of  any  other  sect  can  be  sincere,  or 
accepted  of  Heaven  :  while  the  truth  is  that  it  does 
not  matter  a  burnt  stick's  end  from  the  altar,  in 
Heaven's  sight,  whether  you  are  Catholic  or  Protestant, 
Eastern,  Western,  Byzantine,  or  Norman,  but  only 
whether  you  are  true.  So  that  the  moment  Venice  is 
true  to  St.  Mark,  her  flag  flies  over  all  the  Eastern 
islands  ;  and  the  moment  Florence  is  true  to  the  Lady 
of  Lilies,  her  flag  flies  over  all  the  Apennines  ;  and 
the    moment    Switzerland    is    true    to    Notre    Dame    des 


Fors   Clavigera.  41 

Neiges,  her  pine-club  beats  down  the  Austrian  lances  ; 
and  the  moment  England  is  true  to  her  Protestant 
virtue,  all  the  sea-winds  ally  themselves  with  her 
against  the  Armada  :  and  though  after-shame  and 
infidel  failure  follow  upon  every  nation,  yet  the  glory 
of  their  great  religious  day  remains  unsullied,  and  in 
that,  they  live  for  ever. 

This  is  the  Temporal  lesson  of  all  history,  and  with 
that  there  is  another  Spiritual  lesson, — namely,  that 
in  the  ages  of  faith,  conditions  of  prophecy  and 
seer-ship  exist,  among  the  faithful  nations,  in  painting 
and  scripture,  which  are  also  immortal  and  divine  ; — of 
which  it  has  been  my  own  special  mission  to  speak 
for  the  most  part  of  my  life  :  but  only  of  late  I 
have  understood  completely  the  meaning  of  what  had 
been  taught  me, — in  beginning  to  learn  somewhat 
more,  of  which  I  must  not  speak  to-day  ;  Fors  ap- 
pointing that  I  should  rather  say  final  word  respecting 
our  present  state  of  spiritual  fellowship,  exemplified  in 
the  strikes  of  our  workmen,  the  misery  that  accom- 
panies them,  and  the  articles  of  our  current  literature 
thereupon. 

The  said  current  literature,  on  this  subject,  being 
almost  entirely  under  the  command  of  the  Masters, 
has  consisted  chiefly  in  lectures  on  the  guilt  and 
folly  of  strikes,  without  in  any  wise  addressing  itself 
to  point  ,out  to  the  men  any  other  way  of  settling 
the    question.      "  You    can't    have    three    shillings  a  day 


42  Fors   Clavigera. 

in  such  times  ;  but  we  will  give  you  two  and  sixpence  : 
you  had  better  take  it — and,  both  on  religious  and 
commercial  grounds,  make  no  fuss.  How  much  better 
is  two-and-sixpence  than  nothing  !  and  if  once  the  mill 
stop — think — where  shall  we  be  all  then  ?  "  "  Yes,"  the 
men  answer,  "  but  if  to-day  we  take  two  and  sixpence, 
what  is  to  hinder  you,  to-morrow,  from  observing  to  us 
that  two  shillings  are  better  than  nothing,  and  we  had 
better  take  that  sum  on  religious  and  commercial  prin- 
ciples, without  fuss  ?  And  the  day  after,  may  not  the 
same  pious  and  moral  instructors  recommend  to  us 
the  contented  acceptance  of  eighteenpence  ?  A  stand 
must  clearly  be  made  somewhere,  and  we  choose  to 
make  it  here,   and   now." 

The  masters  again  have  reason  to  rejoin  :  "  True, 
but  if  we  give  you  three  shillings  to-day,  how  are  we 
to  know  you  will  not  stand  for  three  and  sixpence 
to-morrow,  and  for  four  shillings  next  week  ?  A  stand 
must  be  made  somewhere,  and  we  choose  to  make  it 
here,  and  now." 

What  solution  is  there,  then  ?  and  of  what  use  are 
any  quantity  of  homilies  either  to  man  or  master,  on 
their  manner  of  debate,  that  show  them  no  possible 
solution  in  another  way  ?  As  things  are  at  present, 
the  quarrel  can  only  be  practically  closed  by  immi- 
nence of  starvation  on  one  side,  or  of  bankruptcy  on 
the  other  :  even  so,  closed  only  for  a  moment, — never 
ended,  burning  presently  forth  again,  to  sink  silent  only 


Fors   Clavigera.  43 

in  death  ; — while,  year  after  year,  the  agonies  of  conflict 
and  truces  of  exhaustion  produce,  for  reward  of  the 
total  labour,  and  fiat  of  the  total  council  of  the  people, 
the  minimum   of  gain   for  the  maximum   of  misery. 

Scattered  up  and  down,  through  every  page  I  have 
written  on  political  economy  for  the  last  twenty  years, 
the  reader  will  find  unfailing  reference  to  a  principle 
of  solution  in  such  dispute,  which  is  rarely  so  much  as 
named  by  other  arbitrators  ; — or  if  named,  never  believed 
in  :  yet,  this  being  indeed  the  only  principle  of  decision, 
the  conscience  of  it,  however  repressed,  stealthily  modifies 
every  arbitrative   word. 

The  men  are  rebuked,  in  the  magistral  homilies,  for 
their  ingratitude  in  striking !  Then  there  must  be  a 
law  of  Grace,  which  at  least  the  masters  recognize. 
The  men  are  mocked  in  the  magistral  homilies  for 
their  folly  in  striking.  Then  there  must  be  a  law 
of    Wisdom,  which  at  least  the   masters  recognize. 

Appeal  to  these,  then,  for  their  entire  verdict,  most 
virtuous  masters,  all-gracious  and  all-wise.  These  repro- 
bate ones,  graceless  and  senseless,  cannot  find  their  way 
for  themselves  ;  you  must  guide  them.  That  much  I 
told  you,  years  and  years  ago.  You  will  have  to  do 
it,  in  spite  of  all  your  liberty-mongers.  Masters,  in 
fact,  you   must  be  ;    not  in  name. 

But,  as  yet  blind  ;  and  drivers — not  leaders — of  the 
blind,  you  must  pull  the  beams  out  of  your  own  eyes, 
now  ;    and   that   bravely.      Preach  your  homily  to  your- 


44  Fors   Clavigera. 

selves  first.  Let  me  hear  once  more  how  it  runs,  to 
the  men.  "  Oh  foolish  and  ungrateful  ones,"  you  say, 
"  did  we  not  once  on  a  time  give  you  high  wages — 
even  so  high  that  you  contentedly  drank  yourselves  to 
death  ;  and  now,  oh  foolish  and  forgetful  ones,  that 
the  time  has  come  for  us  to  give  you  low  wages, 
will  you  not  contentedly  also  starve  yourselves  to 
death  ? " 

Alas,  wolf-shepherds — this  is  St.  George's  word  to 
you  : — 

"  In  your  prosperity  you  gave  these  men  high  wages, 
not  in  any  kindness  to  them,  but  in  contention  for 
business  among  yourselves.  You  allowed  the  men  to 
spend  their  wage  in  drunkenness,  and  you  boasted  of 
that  drunkenness  by  the  mouth  of  your  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer,  and  in  the  columns  of  your  leading 
journal,  as  a  principal  sign  of  the  country's  prosperity. 
You  have  declared  again  and  again,  by  vociferation  of 
all  your  orators,  that  you  have  wealth  so  overflowing 
that  you  do  not  know  what  to  do  with  it.  These  men 
who  dug  the  wealth  for  you,  now  lie  starving  at  the 
mouths  of  the  hell-pits  you  made  them  dig  ;  yea,  their 
bones  lie  scattered  at  the  grave's  mouth,  like  as 
when  ooe  cutteth  and  cleaveth  wood  upon  the  earth. 
Your  boasted  wealth — where  is  it  ?  Is  the  war 
between  these  and  you,  because  you  now  mercilessly 
refuse  them  food,  or  because  all  your  boasts  of  wealth 
were  lies,  and  you  have  none  to  give  ? 


Fors   C lav  i gey  a.  45 

"  Your  boasts  of  wealth  were  lies.  You  were  working 
from  hand  to  mouth  in  your  best  times  ;  now  your 
work  is  stopped,  and  you  have  nothing  in  the  country 
to  pay  for  food  with  ;  still  less  any  store  of  food  laid 
by.  And  how  much  distress  and  wrath  you  will  have 
to  bear  before  you  learn  the  lesson  of  justice,  God  only 
knows.      But  this  is  the  lesson  you  have  to  learn." 

Every  workman  in  any  craft  *  must  pass  his  ex- 
amination, (crucial,  not  competitive,)  when  he  comes 
of  age,  and  be  then  registered  as  capable  of  his  pro- 
fession ;  those  who  cannot  pass  in  the  higher  crafts 
being  remitted  to  the  lower,  until  they  find  their  level. 
Then  every  registered  workman  must  be  employed 
where  his  work  is  needed — (You  interrupt  me  to  say 
that  his  work  is  needed  nowhere  ?  Then,  what  do  you 
want  with  machinery,  if  already  you  have  more  hands 
than  enough,  to  do  everything  that  needs  to  be 
done  ?) — by  direction  of  the  guild  he  belongs  to,  and 
paid  by  that  guild  his  appointed  wages,  constant  and 
unalterable  by  any  chance  or  phenomenon  whatsoever. 
His  wages  must  be  given  him  day  by  day,  from  the 
hour    of    his    entering    the    guild,    to    the    hour    of   his 


*  Ultimately,  as  often  before  stated,  every  male  child  born  in  England 
must  learn  some  manner  of  skilled  work  by  which  he  may  earn  his  bread. 
If  afterwards  his  fellow- workers  choose  that  he  shall  sing,  or  make  speeches 
to  them  instead,  and  that  they  will  give  him  his  turnip  a  day,  or  some- 
what more,  for  Parliamentary  advice,  at  their  pleasure  be  it.  I  heard  on 
the  7th  of  January  this  year  that  many  of  the  men  in  Wales  were  reduced 
to  that  literal  nourishment.      Compare  Fors,  Nov.    187 1,  page  6. 


46  Fors   Ctavigera. 

death,  never  raised,  nor  lowered,  nor  interrupted  ;  ad- 
mitting, therefore,  no  temptation  by  covetousness,  no 
wringing  of  anxiety,   no  doubt  or  fear  of  the  future. 

That  is  the  literal  fulfilment  of  what  we  are  to  pray 
for — "  Give  us  each  day — our  daily  bread"  observe — 
not  our  daily  money.  For,  that  wages  may  be  constant 
they  must  be  in  kind,  not  in  money.  So  much  bread, 
so  much  woollen  cloth,  or  so  much  fuel,  as  the  work- 
man chooses  ;  or,  in  lieu  of  these,  if  he  choose,  the 
order  for  such  quantity  at  the  government  stores  ; 
order  to  be  engraved,  as  he  chooses,  on  gold,  or 
silver,  or  paper :  but  the  "  penny "  a  day  to  be  always 
and  everywhere  convertible,  on  the  instant,  into  its 
known  measure  of  bread,  cloth,  or  fuel,  and  to  be  the 
standard,  therefore,  eternal  and  invariable,  of  all  value 
of  things,  and  wealth  of  men.  That  is  the  lesson  you 
have  to  learn  from  St.  George's  lips,  inevitably,  against 
any  quantity  of  shriek,  whine,  or  sneer,  from  the 
swindler,  the  adulterator,  and  the  fool.  Whether  St. 
George  will  let  me  teach  it  you  before  I  die,  is  his 
business,  not  mine  ;  but  as  surely  as  /  shall  die,  these 
words  of  his  shall  not. 

And  "  to-day "  (which  is  my  own  shield  motto)  I 
send  to  a  London  goldsmith,  wmose  address  was  written 
for  me  (so  Fors  appointed  it)  by  the  Prince  Leopold, 
with  his  own  hand, — the  weight  of  pure  gold  which  I 
mean  to  be  our  golden  standard,  (defined  by  Fors,  as 
I    will    explain    in    another   place,)    to   be    beaten    to   the 


Fors   Ciavigera.  47 

diameter  of  our  old  English  "Angel,"  and  to  bear  the 
image  and  superscriptions  above  told,  (Fors,  Oct.  1875, 
p.   287). 

And  now,  in  due  relation  to  this  purpose  of  fixing 
the  standard  of  bread,  we  continue  our  inquiry  into 
the  second  part  of  the  Deacon's  service — in  not  only 
breaking  bread,  but  also  pouring  wine,  from  house  to 
house  ;  that  so  making  all  food  one  sacrament,  all 
Christian  men  may  eat  their  meat  with  gladness  and 
singleness  of  heart,  praising  God,  and  having  favour 
with  all  the  people,  their  Lord  adding  to  their  assembly 
daily  such   as  shall  be  saved. 

Read  first  this  piece  of  a  friend's  recent  letter  : — 
"  My  dear  Mr.  Ruskin, — In  reading  over  again  the 
December  '  Fors/  I  have  been  struck  with  your  ques- 
tion quoted,  '  They  have  no  wine  ? '  and  the  command 
is  '  Fill  the  water-pots  with  WATER.'  I  am  greatly 
averse  to  what  is  called  improving,  spiritualizing — i.e., 
applying  the  sacred  text  in  a  manner  other  than  the 
simple  and  literal  one  ;  but  Christ's  words  had  doubt- 
less in  them  a  germ  of  thoughtful  wisdom  applicable 
to  other  aims  and  ends  besides  the  original  circum- 
stances ;  and  it  is  a  singular  coincidence  that  Fors  should 
have  induced  you  to  close  your  last  year  with  your 
quotation  from  the  Cana  miracle,  and  that  the  next 
number  should  propose  to  deal  with  '  filling  the  water- 
pots  (cisterna)  with  water.'  One  thing  is  certain,  viz., 
that   in   many  parts  of  the  world,  and   even   in   England 


48  Fors   Clavigera. 

in  summer,  the  human  obedience  to  the  command  pre- 
cedent to  the  miracle  would  be  impossible.  Did  you 
ever  read  Kingsley's  Sermon  on  Cana  ?  If  you  think 
it  well  to  give  a  few  of  the  extracts  of  him  '  who 
being  dead  yet  speaketh,'  I  shall  be  delighted  to 
make  them,  and  send  them  ;  *  they  are  different  from 
what  one  hears  in  ordinary  churches,  and  are  vital 
for   St.  George." 

"  It  is,  I  think  in  the  first  place,  an  important,  as  well 
as  a  pleasant  thing,  to  know  that  the  Lord's  glory,  as 
St.  John  says,  was  first  shown  forth  at  a  wedding, — 
at  a  feast.  Not  by  helping  some  great  philosopher  to 
think  more  deeply,  or  some  great  saint  to  perform  more 
wonderful  acts  of  holiness  ;  but  in  giving  the  simple 
pleasure  of  wine  to  simple,  commonplace  people  of  whom 
we  neither  read   that  they  were  rich,  nor  righteous. 

Though  no  one  else  cares  for  the  poor,  He  cares  for 
them.  With  their  hearts  He  begins  His  work,  even  as 
He  did  in  England  sixty  years  ago,  by  the  preaching 
of  Whitfield  and  Wesley.  Do  you  wish  to  know  if 
anything  is  the  Lord's  work  ?  See  if  it  is  a  work 
among  the  poor. 

But  again,  the  Lord  is  a  giver,  and  not  a  task- 
master. He  does  not  demand  from  us  :  He  gives  to 
us.  He  had  been  giving  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world.      Corn   and   wine,  rain  and    sunshine,  and    fruitful 

*   From  'Sermons  on  National  Subjects.'      Parker  and  Son.     i860. 


Fors   Clavigera.  49 

seasons  had  been  His  sending.  And  now  He  has 
come  to  show  it.  He  has  come  to  show  men  who  it 
was  who  had  been  filling  their  heart  with  joy  and 
gladness,  who  had  been  bringing  out  of  the  earth  and 
air,  by  His  unseen  chemistry,  the  wine  which  maketh 
glad  the  heart  of  man. 

In  every  grape  that  hangs  upon  the  vine,  water  is 
changed  into  wine,  as  the  sap  ripens  into  rich  juice. 
He  had  been  doing  that  all  along,  in  every  vineyard 
and  orchard  ;  and  that  was  His  glory.  Now  He  was 
come  to  prove  that ;  to  draw  back  the  veil  of  custom 
and  carnal  sense,  and  manifest  Himself.  Men  had 
seen  the  grapes  ripen  on  the  tree  ;  and  they  were 
tempted  to  say,  as  every  one  of  us  is  tempted  now, 
'  It  is  the  sun,  and  the  air,  the  nature  of  the  vine 
and  the  nature  of  the  climate,  which  make  the  wine.' 
Jesus  comes  and  answers,  '  Not  so  ;  I  make  the  wine  ; 
I  have  been  making  it  all  along.  The  vines,  the  sun, 
the  weather,  are  only  my  tools,  wherewith  I  worked, 
turning  rain  and  sap  into  wine  :  and  I  am  greater  than 
they.  I  made  them  ;  I  do  not  depend  on  them  ;  I 
can  make  wine  from  water  without  vines,  or  sun- 
shine. Behold,  and  drink,  and  see  my  glory  without 
the  vineyard,  since  you  had  forgotten  how  to  see  it  in 
the  vineyard  !  ' 

We,  as  well  as  they,  are  in  danger  of  forgetting  who 
it  is  that  sends  us  corn  and  wine,  and  fruitful  seasons, 
love,  and   marriage,  and   all  the  blessings  of  this   life. 


50  Fors   Clavigera. 

We  are  now  continually  fancying  that  these  out- 
ward earthly  things,  as  we  call  them,  in  our  shallow 
carnal  conceits,  have  nothing  to  do  with  Jesus  or  His 
kingdom,  but  that  we  may  compete,  and  scrape,  even 
cheat,  and  lie,  to  get  them*  and  when  we  have  them, 
misuse  them  selfishly,  as  if  they  belonged  to  no  one  but 
ourselves,  as  if  we  had  no  duty  to  perform  about  them, 
as  if  we   owed   God   no  service   for  them. 

And  again,  we  are  in  danger  of  spiritual  pride  ;  in 
danger  of  fancying  that  because  we  are  religious,  and 
have,  or  fancy  we  have,  deep  experiences,  and  beautiful 
thoughts  about  God  and  Christ,  and  our  own  souls  ; 
therefore  we  can  afford  to  despise  those  who  do  not 
know  as  much  as  ourselves  ;  to  despise  the  common 
pleasures  and  petty  sorrows  of  poor  creatures,  whose 
souls  and  bodies  are  grovelling  in  the  dust,  busied 
with  the  cares  of  this  world,  at  their  wits'  end  to 
get  their  daily  bread  ;  to  despise  the  merriment  of 
young  people,  the  play  of  children,  and  all  those 
everyday  happinesses  which,  though  we  may  turn  from 
them  with  a  sneer,  are  precious  in  the  sight  of  Him 
who  made  heaven  and   earth. 

All  such  proud  thoughts — all  such  contempt  of  those 
who  do  not  seem  as  spiritual  as  we  fancy  ourselves — 
is  evil. 

See,  in   the  epistle   for  the   second    Sunday  after   the 

*  Italics  mine.     The  whole  sentence  might  well  have  them  ;  it  is  supremely 
important 


Fors   Clavigera.  51 

Epiphany,  St.  Paul  makes  no  distinction  between  rich 
and  poor.  This  epistle  is  joined  with  the  gospel  of 
that  day  to  show  us  what  ought  to  be  the  conduct  of 
Christians  who  believe  in  the  miracle  of  Cana  ;  what 
men  should  do  who  believe  that  they  have  a  Lord  in 
heaven,  by  whose  command  suns  shine,  fruits  ripen, 
men  enjoy  the  blessings  of  harvest,  of  marriage,  of  the 
comforts  which  the  heathen  and  the  savage,  as  well 
as   the   Christian,   man   partake. 

My  friends,  these  commands  are  not  to  one  class, 
but  to  all.  Poor  as  well  as  rich  may  minister  to 
others  with  earnestness,  and  condescend  to  those  of 
low  estate.  Not  a  word  in  this  whole  epistle  which 
does  not  apply  equally  to  every  rank,  and  sex,  and  age. 
Neither  are  these  commands  to  each  of  us  by  our- 
selves, but  to  all  of  us  together,  as  members  of  a 
family.  If  you  will  look  through  them,  they  are  not 
things  to  be  done  to  ourselves,  but  to  our  neighbours  ; 
not  experiences  to  be  felt  about  our  own  souls,  but 
rules  of  conduct  to  our  fellow-men.  They  are  all  dif- 
ferent branches  and  flowers  from  that  one  root,  '  Thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as   thyself.' 

Do  we  live  thus,  rich  and  poor  ?  Can  we  look 
each  other  in  the  face  this  afternoon  and  say,  each 
man  to  his  neighbour,  *  I  have  behaved  like  a  brother 
to  you.  I  have  rejoiced  at  your  good  fortune,  and 
grieved  at  your  sorrow.  I  have  preferred  you  to 
myself '  ?  " 


52  Fors  Clavigera. 

Seldom  shall  you  read  more  accurate  or  more  noble 
words.  How  is  it  that  clergymen  who  can  speak 
thus,  do  not  see  the  need  of  gathering  together,  into 
one  '  little '  flock,  those  who  will   obey  them  ? 

I  close  our  Fors  this  month  with  Mr.  Willett's 
admirable  prefatory  remarks  on  water-distribution,  and 
a  few  words  of  his  from  a  private  letter  received  at  the 
same  time  ;  noting  only  farther  a  point  or  two  of  my 
own  mountain  experience.  When  '  Punch '  threw  what 
ridicule  he  could  *  on  my  proposal  to  form  field  and 
glen  reservoirs  on  the  Apennines  to  stay  the  storm- 
waters  ;  and,  calculating  ironically  the  quantity  that 
fell  per  acre  in  an  hour's  storm,  challenged  me  to 
stay  it,  he  did  not  know  that  all  had  actually  been 
done  to  the  required  extent  by  the  engineers  of  three 
hundred  years  since,  in  the  ravine  above  Agubbio,  (the 
Agubbio  of  Dante's  Oderigi,) — their  rampart  standing, 
from  cliff  to  cliff,  unshaken,  to  this  day  ;  and  he  as 
little  foresaw  that  precisely  what  I  had  required  to 
be  done  to  give  constancy  of  sweet  waters  to  the 
storm-blanched  ravines   of   Italy,   I   should   be  called   on 


*  It  is  a  grotesque  example  of  the  evil  fortune  which  continually  waits 
upon  the  best  efforts  for  essential  good  made  in  this  unlucky  nineteenth 
century,  that  a  journal  usually  so  right  in  its  judgment,  and  sympathetic  in 
its  temper,  (I  speak  in  entire  seriousness,)  and  fearless  besides  in  express- 
ing both,  (see,  for  instance,  the  splendid  article  on  the  Prince  Christian's 
sport  in  the  number  for  the  12th  of  this  month,)  should  have  taken  the 
wrong  side,  and  that  merely  for  the  sake  of  a  jest,  on  the  most  important 
economical  question  in  physics  now  at  issue  in  the  world  ! 


Fors   Claz'igera.  53 

in  a  few  years  more  to  prevent  the  mob  of  England 
from  doing,  that  they  may  take  them  away  from  the 
fair  pastures   of  the  valley  of  St.  John. 

The  only  real  difficulty  in  managing  the  mountain 
waters  is  when  one  cannot  get  hold  of  them, — when 
the  limestones  are  so  cavernous,  or  the  sands  so  porous, 
that  the  surface  drainage  at  once  disappears,  as  on  the 
marble  flanks  of  hill  above  Lucca  ;  but  I  am  always 
amazed,  myself,  at  the  extreme  docility  of  streams  when 
they  can  be  fairly  caught  and  broken,  like  good  horses, 
from  their  youth,  and  with  a  tender  bridle-hand.  I 
have  been  playing  lately  with  a  little  one  on  my  own 
rocks, — now  as  tame  as  Mrs.  Buckland's  leopard,* — and 
all  I  have  to  complain  of  in  its  behaviour  is,  that  when 
I  set  it  to  undermine  or  clear  away  rubbish,  it  takes 
a  month  to  do  what  I  expected  it  to  finish  with  a 
morning's  work  on  a  wet  day  ;  and  even  that,  not 
without  perpetual  encouragement,  approbation,  and 
assistance. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  my  extreme  discomfiture,  I 
have  entirely  failed  in  inveigling  the  water  to  come 
down  at  all,  when  '  it  chooses  to  stay  on  the  hill-side 
in  places  where  I  don't  want  it :  but  I  suppose  modern 
scientific  drainage  can  accomplish  this,  though  in  my 
rough  way  I  can  do  nothing  but  peel  the  piece  of 
pertinacious  bog  right  off  the  rock, — so  beneficently 
faithful    are    the    great    Powers    of  the    Moss,     and    the 

*  See  'The  World,'  January  9th  of  this  year. 

2ND   SERIES,    II.  $ 


54  Fors   Clavigera. 

Earth,  to  their   mountain   duty  of  preserving,   for    man's 
comfort,   the  sources  of  the   summer  stream. 
Now  hear  Mr.  Willett. 

"  Three  or  four  times  every  year  the  newspapers  tell 
us  of  discomfort,  suffering,  disease,  and  death,  caused 
by  floods.  Every  summer,  unnecessary  sums  are  ex- 
pended by  farmers  and  labourers  for  water  carted  from 
a  distance,  to  supply  daily  needs  of  man  and  beast. 
Outbreaks  of  fever  from  drinking  polluted  and  infected 
water  are  of  daily  occurrence,  causing  torture  and 
bereavement  to  thousands. 

All  these  evils  are  traceable  mainly  to  our  wicked, 
wasteful,  and  ignorant  neglect ;  all  this  while,  money  is 
idly  accumulating  in  useless  hoards  ;  people  able  and 
willing  to  work  are  getting  hungry  for  want  of  employ- 
ment ;  and  the  wealth  of  agricultural  produce  of  all 
kinds  is  greatly  curtailed  for  want  of  a  wise,  systematic, 
and  simple  application  of  the  mutual  lazv  of  supply  and 
demand*  in  the  storage  of  rain-water. 

I  can  only  now  briefly  introduce  the  subject,  which 
if  you  consider  it  of  sufficient  importance  I  will  follow 
up   in   future  letters. 

While  the  flooding  of  the  districts  south  of  the 
Thames  at  London  is  mainly  owing  to  the  contraction 
of   the    channel    by    the    embankment,    thereby    causing 

*  Somewhere,  (I  think  in  '  Munera  Pulveris '),  "I  illustrated  the  law  of 
Supply  and  Demand  in  commerce,  and  the  madness  of  leaving  it  to  its 
natural  consequences  without  interference,  by  the  laws  of  drought  and  rain. 


Fors  Clavigera.  55 

the  flood-tide  to  form  a  sort  of  bore,  or  advancing 
tidal-wave,  as  in  the  Severn  and  Wye,  the  periodic 
winter  floods  near  Oxford,  and  in  all  our  upland 
valleys,  are  admittedly  more  frequent  and  more  severe 
than  formerly  ;  and  this  not  on  account  of  the  increased 
rainfall.*     The  causes  are  to  be  found   rather  in — 

I.  The  destruction  of  woods,  heaths,  and  moorlands. 

II.  The  paving  and   improved    road-making   in    cities 
and   towns. 

*  On  the  Continent,  however,  there  has  been  an  increased  rainfall  in  the 
plains,  caused  by  the  destruction  of  the  woods  on  the  mountains,  and  by 
the  coldness  of  t  ie  summers,  which  cannot  lift  the  clouds  high  enough  to 
lay  snow  on  the  high  summits.  The  following  note  by  Mr.  Willett  on  my 
queries  on  this  matter  in  last  Fors,  will  be  found  of  extreme  value:  "I  am 
delighted  with  '  Violet  le  Due's '  Extracts.  Yet  is  it  not  strange  that  he  calls 
man  'impotent'?  The  same  hands  that  can  cut  down  the  forests,  can  plant 
them  ;  that  can  drain  the  morass,  can  dam  up  and  form  a  lake  ;  the  same 
child  that  could  lead  the  goats  to  crop  off  the  young  fir-tree  shoots,  could 
herd  them  away  from  them.  I  think  you  may  have  missed  Le  Due's  idea 
about  lower  glaciers  causing  higher  forests,  and  vice  versa.  '  Forests  collect 
snow,  retard  its  rapid  thaw,  and  its  collection  into  denuding  slides  of  snow 
by  this  lower  temperature,  and  retard  the  melting  of  the  glacier,  which 
therefore  grows — i.e.,  accumulates, — and  pushes  lower  and  lower  down  the 
valley.  The  reduction  in  temperature  condenses  more  of  the  warm  vapour, 
and  favours  growth  of  conifers,  which  gradually  spread  up  so  that  destruction 
of  forests  in  higher  regions  causes  melting  and  retraction  of  glaciers.'  I  will 
send  you  shortly  an  old  essay  of  mine  in  which  the  storage  of  water  and  the 
destructive  avalanche  were  used  as  illustrating  the  right  and  wrong  use  of 
accumulated  wealth.  Lord  Chichester's  agent  is  at  work  with  the  plans  and 
details  for  us,  and  you  shall  have  them  early  in  the  new  year  (D.V.),  and 
for  it  may  I  say — 

1  With  patient  mind,  thy  path  of  duty  run  : 
God  nothing  does,  nor  suffers  to  be  done, 
But  thou  thyself  wouldst  do,  if  thou  couldst  see 
The  end  of  all  events  as  well  as  He.'  " 


56  Fors  Clavigera. 

III.  The  surface  drainage  of  arable  and  pasture 
lands. 

IV.  The  draining  of  morasses  and   fens  ;   and, 

V.  The  straightening  and  embanking  of  rivers  and 
water-courses. 

All  these  operations  have  a  tendency  to  throw  the 
rainfall  rapidly  from   higher  to  lower  levels. 

This  wilful  winter  waste  is  followed  by  woeful 
summer  want. 

1  The  people  perish  for  lack  of  knowledge.'  The 
remedy   is   in   our   own   hands. 

Lord  Beaconsfield  once  wisely  said,  '  Every  cottage 
should   have   its   porch,   its   oven,   and   its   TANK.' 

And  every  farm-house,  farm-building,  and  every 
mansion,  should  have  its  reservoir  ;  every  village  its 
series  of  reservoirs  ;  and  every  town  and  city  its  multi- 
plied series  of  reservoirs,  at  different  levels,  and  for  the 
separate  storage  of  water  for  drinking,  for  washing,  and 
for   streets,   and    less   important   purposes. 

I  propose  in  my  next  to  give  more  in  detail  the 
operations  of  the  principles  here  hinted  at,  and  to  show 
from  what  has  been  done  in  a  few  isolated  instances, 
what  would  follow  from  a  wider  and  more  general 
application   of  them." 


NOTES    AND    CORRESPONDENCE 


I.  Affairs  of  the  Guild. 

I  am  happy  to  be  able  at  last  to  state  that  the  memorandum 
of  our  constitution,  drawn  up  for  us  by  Mr.  Barber,  and  already 
published  in  the  55th  number  of  the  first  series  of  Fors,  has 
been  approved  by  the  Board  of  Trade,  with  some  few,  but  im- 
perative, modifications,  to  which  I  both  respectfully  and  gladly 
submit,  seeing  them  to  be  calculated  in  every  way  to  increase 
both  our  own  usefulness,  and  public  confidence  in  us. 

The  organization  of  the  Guild,  thus  modified,  will  be,  by  the 
time  this  letter  is  published,'  announced,  as  required  by  the 
Board,  in  the  public  journals ;  and,  if  not  objected  to  on  the 
ground  of  some  unforeseen  injuriousness  to  existing  interests, 
ratified,  I  believe,  during  the  current  month,  or  at  all  events 
within  a  few  weeks.  I  have  prepared  a  brief  abstract  of  our 
constitution  and  aims,  to  be  issued  with  this  letter,  and  sent 
generally  in  answer  to  inquiry. 

I-  stated  in  my  last  letter  that  I  meant  to  take  our  accounts 
into  my  own  hands ; — that  is  to  say,  while  they  will  always  be 
printed  in  their  properly  formal  arrangement,  as  furnished  by 
our  kind  accountants,  Mr.  Rydings  and  Mr.  Walker,  I  shall 
also  give  my  own  abstract  of  them  in  the  form  most  intelligible 
to  myself,  and  I  should  think  also  to  some  of  my  readers. 
This  abstract  of  mine  will  be  the  only  one  given  in  Fors  : 
the  detailed  accounts  will  be  sent  only  to  the  members  of  the 


58  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

Guild.  Until  the  registration  of  the  Guild,  I  am  still  obliged 
to  hold  the  Abbey  Dale  estate  in  my  own  name  ;  and  as  we 
cannot  appoint  our  new  trustees  till  we  are  sure  of  our  own 
official  existence,  I  am  obliged  to  order  the  payment  of  sub- 
scriptions to  my  own  account  at  the  Union  Bank,  to  meet  the 
calls  of  current  expenses,  for  which  I  have  no  authority  to 
draw  on  the  account  of  the  Guild  but  by  cheque  from  its 
trustees. 

I  shall  only  farther  in  the  present  article  acknowledge  the 
sums  I  have  myself  received  since  the  last  statement  of  our 
accounts.  The  twenty  days  since  the  beginning  of  the  year 
have  melted  into  their  long  nights  without  sufficing  for  half 
the  work  they  had  been  charged  to  do ;  and  have  had  farther 
to  meet  claims  of  unexpected  duty,  not  profitless  to  the  Guild, 
assuredly;  but  leaving  me  still  unable  to  give  the  somewhat 
lengthy  explanations  of  our  year's  doings,  without  which  our 
accounts  would  be  unintelligible. 

1877.  £  s.    d. 

Nov.     1.  Joseph  Stapleton       .         .         .         .         .         .       o  10     o 

7.   Mr.  Talbot  (Tithe) 100     o     o 

15.  John  Guy         .         .         .         .         .         .         .       5     9  10 

„  Frances  M.  Henderson 3     3° 

„  Sale  of  Mr.  Sillar's  pamphlets  on  Usury  .         .        o  17     o 

Dec.  1 7.   Louisa  A.  Keighley .         .         .         .         .         .500 

28.  Helen  J.  Ormerod   .         .         .         .         .         .110 

31.   Elizabeth  Green       ...         .         .         .         .       o  10     9 

1878. 
Jan.     1.   Margaret  Cox  .         .         .         .         .         .500 

4.  R.  B.  Litchfield 20    o    o 

10.  William  Hall 220 

20.  Ada  Hartnell 500 

£148  13     7 

II.   Affairs  of  the  Master. 

The  lengthy  correspondence   given  in  our  last  article  leaves 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  59 

me  no  farther  space  for  talk  of  myself.  People  say  I  invite 
their  attention  to  that  subject  too  often  :  bat  I  must  have  a 
long  gossip  in  March. 

HI-  "8,  Kingsgate  Street,  Winchester,  2yd  Nov.,  1877. 

"  Dear  Sir, — If  you  will  not  help  us,  I  do  not  know  who 
will. 

"One  of  the  loveliest  parts  of  the  meadows  close  to  the  town 
is  going  to  be  entirely  and  irremediably  spoiled  :  an  engine- 
house  is  to  be  built,  and  all  the  drains  are  to  be  brought  into 
a  field  in  the  middle  of  the  Itchen  valley,  so  that  the  buildings 
will  be  a  blot  in  the  landscape,  an  eyesore  from  every  point, 
whether  looking  towards  South  Cross  or  back  from  there  to  the 
Cathedral  and  College  ;  or  almost  worse  than  these,  from  every 
hill  round  the  town  they  will  be  the  most  conspicuous  objects. 
I  think  you  know  the  town  ;  but  do  you  know  that  this  is  its 
prettiest  part  ?  You  can  have  some  idea  what  it  would  be  to 
have  a  spot  which  has  been  dear  to  you  all  your  life,  and 
which  you  see  day  by  day  in  all  its  aspects,  utterly  ruined  ; 
and  besides,  it  seems  so  wrong  that  this  generation  should  spoil 
that  which  is  not  theirs,  but  in  which  none  have  really  more 
than  a  life  interest,  but  which  God  has  given  us  to  enjoy  and 
to  leave  in  its  loveliness  for  those  after  us.  I  wish  I  could 
speak  as  strongly  as  I  feel,  if  it  would  induce  you  to  speak 
for  us,  or  rather  that  I  could  show  you  the  real  need  for 
speaking,  as  I  know  you  would  not  keep  silence  for  any  but 
good  reasons.  Surely  destroying  beauty  to  save  a  little  money 
is  doing  the  devil's  work,  though  I  am  told  that  it  is  wrong  to 

say  so. 

"Yours  respectfully  and  gratefully, 

"A.  H.  W. 

"  There  is  another  place  where  the  works  might  be,  where 
they  could  be  planted  out,  and  where  the  trees  would  be   an 


60  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

improvement ;  some  engineers  say  that  the  soil  too  is  better 
suited  to  the  purpose.  Do  help  us  if  you  can  !  It  is  a  haunting 
misery  to  me — both  what  we  shall  lose,  and  the  sin  of  it." 

Alas,  my  poor  friend,  no  mortal  can  help  you.  England 
has  bred  up  a  race  of  doggish  and  vile  persons,  for  the  last 
fifty  years.  And  they  will  do  their  doggish  work,  be  sure  of 
that,  whatever  you  or  I  can  say,  until,  verily,  him  that  dieth 
of  them  the  dogs  shall  eat. 

IV.  The  following  admirable  letter  is  enough  for  its  work. 
I  have  no  room  for  the  article  it  enclosed  : — 

"Arnold  House,  \6tk  Dec,  1877. 
"  My  dear  Mr.  Ruskin, — It  is  very  singular  that  the  day 
after  I  wrote  to  you  on  the  evils  of  drainage  as  adopted  by 
modern  engineers,  such  an  article  as  the  enclosed  should  appear 
in  the  '  Times.'  The  time  must  come  when  most  of  the 
expenditure  on  these  drains  will  prove  useless.  But  the  evil 
continues,  viz.,  of  adding  daily  more  streets  to  the  present 
system,  often  choking  the  drains  and  converting  them  into 
stagnant  elongated  cesspools,  ten  times  more  injurious  than  the 
old  ones,  because  of  the  risk  of  contagious  and  infectious  germs 
being  introduced  from  some  house  to  multiply  and  infect  a 
number.  The  remedy  I  think  should  be,  1st,  to  prevent  addi- 
tions to  the  present  system;  2ndly,  to  enact  that  instead  of  fresh 
constructive  works,  bearing  interest  to  be  paid  in  rates,  each 
house  above  a  certain  rental,  say  above  ^20  a  year,  shall  be 
compelled  to  deodorize  and  remove  its  own  sewage — i.e.,  faecal 
matter  in  its  original  concentrated  form  ;  and  that  all  smaller 
houses  should  be  done  by  the  municipality  or  local  board, 
who  should  employ  a  staff  of  labourers  to  do  it  by  districts, 
weekly,  the  material  being  very  valuable  to  agriculturists  if  kept 
concentrated  and  deodorized  by  the  charcoal  of  peat  or  of  tan, 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  61 

of  sawdust,  and  of  rubbish  of  all  sorts.  Labour  of  this  kind 
would  employ  a  great  many  now  burdensome  to  the  rates,  un- 
employed ;  land  would  be  fertilized  instead  of  impoverished ;  and 
eventually  perhaps  districts  now  infested  with  drains  that  don't 
drain  might  be  gradually  won  from  the  senseless  system  of 
accumulating  streams,  to  the  natural  order  of  distribution  and 
deposit  under  earth  for  fertilizing  objects. 

"Just  as  'dirt  is  something  in  its  wrong  place,'  so  social 
evils  are  mainly  wrong  applications  of  right  powers;  nay,  even 
sin  itself  is  but  the  misuse  of  Divine  gifts, — the  use  at  wrong 
times  and  places  of  right  instincts  and  powers. 

"  Pardon  these  scribblings  ;  but  when  I  see  and  feel  deeply, 
I  think  perhaps  if  I  put  the  thoughts  on  paper  to  you,  they  may 
perhaps  take  a  better  form,  and  be  sown  in  places  where  they 
may  take  root  and  spring  up  and  bear  fruit  to  man's  benefit, 
and  therefore  to  the  glory  of  the  Great  Father. 

"  Ever  most  faithfully  and  gratefully, 

"  Henry  Willett." 

V.  The  following  "word  about  the  notice  which  appeared  in 
last  Fors  about  the  Cyfarthfa  Ironworks  "  deserves  the  reader's 
best  attention ;  the  writer's  name  and  position,  which  I  am 
not  at  liberty  to  give,  being  to  me  sufficient  guarantee  of  its 
trustworthiness. 

"Their  owner  has  lately  passed  as  a  martyr  to  unreasonable 
demands  from  his  workmen,  in  more  than  one  publication. 
But  what  are  the  facts  ?  Mr.  Crawshay  held  himself  aloof  from 
the  Ironmasters'  combination  which  in  1873  locked  out  the  work- 
men. When  the  works  of  the  combined  masters  were  reopened, 
it  was  upon  an  agreed  reduction.  Mr.  Crawshay's  workmen  sent 
a  deputation  to  him,  offering  to  work  on  the  terms  agreed  upon 
at  the  other  works  of  the  district ;  but  Mr.  Crawshay  would  not 
accede  unless  his  men  accepted  ten  per  cent,  beloiv  the  rate  that 


62  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

was  to  be  paid  by  his  rivals  in  trade,  and  received  by  his  men's 
fellow-workmen  in  the  same  town  and  district  !  In  a  month 
or  two  the  Associated  Masters  obtained  another  reduction  of 
ten  per  cent,  from  their  men.  Mr.  Crawshay's  workmen  waited 
upon  him,  and  offered  to  go  in  at  these  new  terms.  But  no  : 
they  must  still  accept  ten  per  cent,  below  their  neighbours,  or 
be  shut  out.  In  another  couple  of  months  wages  fell  another 
ten  per  cent.  Mr.  Crawshay's  men  made  the  same  offer,  and 
met  with  the  same  rebuff.  This  was  repeated,  I  think,  a  fourth 
time — (wages  certainly  fell  forty  per  cent,  in  less  than  a  twelve- 
month)— but  Mr.  Crawshay  had  nailed  his  colours  to  the  mast 
for  ten  per  cent,  below  anybody  else. 

"It  is  quite  true,  as  Lord  Aberdare  says,  that  'the  Cyfarthfa 
Works  are  closed  because  the  men  would  not  work  at  the  wages 
offered  them.'     But  what  else  is  true  ?     The  following  : — 

"  i.  The  works  presumably  could  have  been  worked  at  a 
profit,  with  wages  at  the  same  rate  as  was  paid  at  rival  works. 

"2.  The  demand  that  his  men  should  work  at  ten  per  cent, 
less  wages  than  was  given  in  the  same  market,  was  the  unjusti- 
fiable act  of  an  unscrupulous  competition,  and  the  heartless 
act  of  an  unreasonable  and  selfish  master. 

"  3.  Had  the  men  submitted  to  his  terms,  it  would  have  been 
the  immediate  occasion  of  reducing  the  whole  of  their  fellow- 
workmen  in  the  Associated  works.     Hence, 

"4.  What  has  been  called  the  unreasonable  conduct  of  in- 
fatuated workmen,  can  be  clearly  traced  to  conduct  on  their 
masters'  part  flagrantly  unreasonable;  and  the  stand  they  made 
was  recommended  alike  by  justice,  by  regard  for  the  other 
employers,  and  by  unselfish  solicitude  for  their  fellows  in  the 
trade. 

"  I  may  add — Had  the  men  quietly  submitted,  the  works 
would  have  run  only  a  short  time.  Iron-workers  are  now 
suffering  from  one   of  those  stages  in  the  march  of  civilization 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  63 


which  always  produces  suffering  to  a  few.  Steel  rails  have 
supplanted  iron  rails,  and  capitalists  who  have  not  adapted 
their  plant  accordingly  must  needs  stand.  Some  may  perhaps 
feel  that  a  great  capitalist  who,  having  amassed  an  enormous 
fortune,  has  neither  built  market,  hall,  fountain,  nor  museum 
for  the  town  where  he  made  it,  might  be  expected,  at  all 
events,  to  acknowledge  his  responsibility  by  adapting  his  works 
to  meet  the  times,  so  that  a  little  population  of  wealth  pro- 
ducers might  be  kept  in  bread.  However  that  may  be,  Cyfarthfa 
Works  standing  has  no  more  to  do  with  strikes  and  unreason 
of  workmen  than  *  Tenterden  steeple  has  to  do  with  Goodwin 
Sands.'  The  iron-workers — poor  creatures  ! — had  nothing  to  do 
with  putting  the  knife  to  their  throats  by  helping  Mr.  Bessemer 
to  his  invention  of  cheap  steel ;  but  of  course  they  have  long 
since  got  the  blame  of  the  collapse  of  the  iron  trade.  All  the 
capitalists  in  all  the  journals  have  said  so.  They  might  exclaim 
with  Trotty  Veck,  'We  must  be  born  bad — that's  how  it  is.'" 

VI.  The  following  correspondence  requires  a  few,  and  but  a 
few,  words  of  preliminary  information. 

For  th^  last  three  or  four  years  it  has  been  matter  of  con- 
tinually increasing  surprise  to  me  that  I  never  received  the 
smallest  contribution  to  St.  George's  Fund  from  any  friend  or 
disciple  of  Miss  Octavia  Hill's. 

I  had  originally  calculated  largely  on  the  support  I  was 
likely  to  find  among  persons  who  had  been  satisfied  with  the 
resultof  the  experiment  made  at  Marylebone  under  my  friend's 
superintendence.  But  this  hope  was  utterly  disappointed ;  and 
to  my  more  acute  astonishment,  because  Miss  Hill  was  wont 
to  reply  to  any  more  or  less  direct  inquiries  on  the  subject, 
with  epistles  proclaiming  my  faith,  charity,  and  patience,  in 
language  so  laudatory,  that,  on  the  last  occasion  of  my  receiving 
such  answer,  to  a  request  for  a  general   sketch   of  the  Maryle- 


64  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

bone  work,  it  became  impossible  for  me,  in  any  human  modesty, 
to  print  the  reply. 

The  increasing  mystery  was  suddenly  cleared,  a  month  or 
two  ago,  by  a  St.  George's  Companion  of  healthily  sound  and 
impatient  temper,  who  informed  me  of  a  case  known  to  herself, 
in  which  a  man  of  great  kindness  of  disposition,  who  was  well 
inclined  to  give  aid  to  St.  George,  had  been  diverted  from  such 
intention  by  hearing  doubts  expressed  by  Miss  Hill  of  my  ability 
to  conduct  any  practical  enterprise  successfully. 

I  requested  the  lady  who  gave  me  this  information  to  ascertain 
from  Miss  Hill  herself  what  she  had  really  said  on  the  occasion 
in  question.  To  her  letter  of  inquiry,  Miss  Hill  replied  in  the 
following  terms  : 

"  Madam, — In  justice  to  Mr.  Ruskin,  I  write  to  say  that 
there  has  evidently  been  some  misapprehension  respecting  my 
words. 

"Excuse  me  if  I  add  that  beyond  stating  this  fact  I  do  not 
feel  called  upon  to  enter  into  correspondence  with  a  stranger 
about  my  friend  Mr.  Ruskin,  or  to  explain  a  private  conversation 
of  my  own.  «  j  am>  Madam,  yours  truly, 

"  Octavia  Hill." 

Now  it  would  have  been  very  difficult  for  Miss  Hill  to  have 
returned  a  reply  less  satisfactory  to  her  correspondent,  or  more 
irritating  to  a  temper  like  mine.  For,  in  the  first  place,  I  con- 
sidered it  her  bounden  duty  to  enter  into  correspondence  with 
all  strangers  whom  she  could  possibly  reach,  concerning  her 
friend  Mr.  Ruskin,  and  to  say  to  them,  what  she  was  in  the 
habit  of  saying  to  me  :  and,  in  the  second  place,  I  considered 
it  entirely  contrary  to  her  duty  to  say  anything  of  me  in  private 
conversation  which  she  did  not  "  feel  called  upon  to  explain  " 
to  whomsoever  it  interested.  I  wrote,  therefore,  at  once  myself 
to  Miss   Hill,  requesting  to  know  why  she  had  not  replied  to 


Notes  and  Correspondence,  65 

Mrs. 's  question  more  explicitly :  and  received  the  following 

reply : — 

"  14,  Nottingham  Place,  Oct.  yt/i,  1877. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Ruskin, — I  wrote  instantly  on  receiving  Mrs. 

's  letter  to  say  that  my  words  had  been  misunderstood.     I 

could  not  enter  with  a  stranger,  and  such  a  stranger  !  !  (a)  into 
anything  more  concerning  a  friend,  or  a  private  conversation. 

"But  if  you  like  to  know  anything  I  ever  said,  or  thought, 
about  you  for  the  twenty-four  years  I  have  known  you, 
*  most  explicitly '  shall  you  know ;  and  you  will  find  no  trace 
of  any  thought,  much  less  word,  that  was  not  utterly  loyal, 
and  even  reverently  tender  towards  you "  (my  best  thanks  ! — 
had  I  been  more  roughly  handled,  who  knows  what  might 
have  come  of  it  ?)  "  Carlyle,  who  never  saw  me,  told  you  I 
was  faithful.  Faithful — I  should  think  so  !  I  could  not  be 
anything  else.  Ask  those  who  have  watched  my  life.  I  have 
not  courted  you  by  flattery  ;  I  have  not  feigned  agreement 
where  I  differed  or  did  not  understand  j  I  have  not  sought 
you  among  those  I  did  not  trust  or  respect;"  (thanks,  again, 
in  the  name  of  my  acquaintance  generally,)  "  I  have  not 
worried  you  with  intrusive  questions  or  letters.  I  have 
lived  very  far  away  from  you,  but  has  there  been  thought  or 
deed  of  mine  uncoloured  by  the  influence  of  the  early,  the 
abiding,  and  the  continuous  teaching  you  gave  me  ?  Have  I 
not  striven  to  carry  out  what  you  have  taught  in  the  place 
where,  I  have  been  called  to  live?  Was  there  a  moment  when 
I  would  not  have  served  you  joyfully  at  any  cost?  Ask  those 
who  know,  if,  when  you  have  failed  or  pained  me,  (b)  I  have  not 

(a)  I  have  no  conception  what  Miss  Hill  meant  by  this  admiring  paren- 
thesis, as  she  knew  nothing  whatever  of  the  person  who  wrote  to  her, 
except  her  curiosity  respecting  me. 

(b)  I  should  have  been  glad  to  have  known  the  occasions  on  which  I  did 
either,  before  being  excused. 


66  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

invariably  said,  if  I  said  anything,  that  you  might  have  good 
reasons  of  which  I  knew  nothing,  or  might  have  difficulties  I 
could  not  understand;  or  that  you  had  had  so  much  sorrow 
in  your  life,  that  if  it  was  easier  to  you  to  act  thus  or  thus  in 
ways  affecting  me,  so  far  as  I  was  concerned  I  was  glad  you 
should  freely  choose  the  easier.  You  have  seen  nothing  of 
me ;  (c)  but  ask  those  who  have,  whether  for  twenty-four  years 
I  have  been  capable  of  any  treasonable  thought  or  word  about 
you.  It  matters  nothing  to  me ;  (d)  but  it  is  sad  for  you  for 
babbling  tongues  to  make  you  think  any  one  who  ought  to 
know  you,  chattered,  and  chattered  falsely,  about  you. 

"  I  remember  nothing  of  what  I  said,  (e)  but  distinctly  what  I 
thought,  and  think,  and  will  write  that  to  you  if  you  care.  Or 
if  you  feel  there  is  more  that  I  can  do  to  set  the  rumour  at 
rest  than  the  strong  positive  assertion  I .  have  made  that  I  have 
been  misunderstood,  tell  me.  (/)  But  my  own  experience  of 
character  and  of  the  world  makes  me  resolutely  adhere  to  my  belief 

that  though  Mrs. would  vastly  like  to  get  behind  that,  (g) 

that,  and  nothing  else,  is  the  right,  true,  and  wise  position  as 
far  as  you  and  as  far  as  I  (h)  am  concerned.  Shall  I  not  leave 
it  there,  then? 

"  I  am  sorry  to  write  in  pencil ;  I  hope  you  will  not  find  it 
difficult  to  read.     I  am  ill,  and  not  able  to  be  up. 

(c)  This  statement  appears  to  me  a  singular  one ;  and  the  rather  that 
Miss  Hill,  in  subsequent  letters,  implies,  as  I  understand  them,  that  she 
has  seen  a  good  deal  of  me. 

(d)  It  seems  to  me  that  it  ought,  on  the  contrary,  to  matter  much. 

(e)  I  greatly  regret,  and  somehow  blame,  this  shortness  of  memory. 
The  time  is  not  a  distant  one, — seven  or  eight  weeks.  Anything  I  say, 
myself,  earnestly,  of  my  friends,  I  can  remember  for  at  least  as  many  years. 

(/)  The  only  thing  to  be  done,  when  people  have  been  misunderstood, 
is  to  state  what  they  said — which  in  this  case  Miss  Hill  has  just  declared 
impossible  for  her  to  do. 

{g)  She  certainly  would — and  so  should  I. 

(h)  "As  far  as  I" — am  concerned,  probably. 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  67 

"  I  have  tried  to  answer  both  points.     First,  to  show  that  I 
contradicted  the  statement,  and  that  explanations  of  what 
I  did  say  (/)  (unless  to  yourself)  seem  to  me  most  unwise  and 
uncalled-for. 

"And,  secondly,  to  assure  you,  so  far  as  words  will,  that 
however  inadequate  you  may  feel  the  response  the  world  has 
given,  an  old  friend  has  not  failed  you  in  thought,  nor  inten- 
tionally, though  she  seems  to  have  made  a  confusion,  by  some 
clumsy  words.     Hoping  you  may  feel  both  things, 

"  I  am,  yours  as  always, 

"Octavia  Hill." 

To  this  letter  I  replied,  that  it  was  very  pretty ;  but  that  I 
wanted  to  know,  as  far  as  possible,  exactly  what  Miss  Hill  had 
said,  or  was  in  the  habit  of  saying. 

I  received  the  following  reply.  The  portions  omitted  are 
irrelevant  to  the  matter  in  hand,  but  shall  be  supplied  if  Miss 
Hill  wishes. 

"14,  Nottingham  Place,  W,,  Nov.  yd,  1S77. 
"Dear  Mr.  Ruskin, — I  offered  immediately,  on  October  6th, 
on  receiving  your  first  letter,  to  tell  you  anything  I  had   ever 
said  about  you.     Whatever  needed   explanation   seemed  to  me 
best  said  to  you. 

*  %  *  #  # 

"  I  have  spoken  to  you,  I  think,  and  certainly  to  others,  of 
what  appears  to  me  an  incapacity  in  you  for  management  of 
great  practical  work, — due,  in  my  opinion,  partly  to  an  ideal 
standard  of  perfection,  which  rinds  it  hard  to  accept  any  limita- 
tions in  perfection,  even  temporarily ;  partly  to  a  strange  power 

(z)  Partly  remembered  then  ?  but  with  a  vague  sense  of  danger  in  explain- 
ing the  same,  except  to  myself !  I  do  not  think  the  explanation  would  have 
been  'unwise,'  as  it  was  certainly  not  'uncalled-for.'  But  I  suspect  the 
sayings  themselves  to  have  been  both. 


68  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

of  gathering  round  you,  and  trusting,  the  wrong  people,  which 
I  never  could  understand  in  you,  as  it  mingles  so  strangely 
with  rare  powers  of  perception  of  character,  and  which  always 
seemed  to  me  therefore  rather  a  deliberate  ignoring  of  disqualifi- 
cations, in  hope  that  that  would  stimulate  to  better  action,  but 
which  hope  was  not  realized. 

"In  Mr.  's  case,  and  so  far  as  I  can  recollect  in  every 

case  in  which  I  have  spoken  of  this,  it  has  been  when  I  have 
found  people  puzzled  themselves  by  not  finding  they  can  take 
you  as  a  practical  guide  in  their  own  lives,  yet  feeling  that 
you    must    mean    practical   result   to   follow   on   your   teaching, 

and    inclined   to  think  you   cannot   help  them.     Mr.  and 

I  were  great  friends  :  when  I  was  a  girl,  and  he  a  young  man, 
we  read  and  talked  over  your  books  together.  I  had  not  seen 
him  for  many  years  till  he  asked  me  to  come  and  see  him  and 
his  wife  and  children.  He  is  a  manufacturer,  face  to  face  with 
difficult  problems,  full  of  desire  to  do  right,  with  memories  of 
ideals  and  resolutions,  building  his  house,  managing  his  mills, 
with  a  distinct  desire  to  do  well.  I  found  him  inclined  to 
think  perhaps  after  all  he  had  been  wrong,  and  that  you  could 
teach  him  nothing,  because  he  could  not  apply  your  definite 
directions  to  his  own  life.  The  object  of  my  words  was  just  this  : 
1  Oh,  do  not  think  so.  All  the  nobility  of  standard  and  aim, 
all  the  conscience  and  clear  sight  of  right  principles,  is  there, 
and  means  distinct  action.  Do  not  look  to  Mr.  Ruskin  for 
definite  direction  about  practical  things :  he  is  not  the  best 
judge  of  them.  You,  near  to  the  necessities  of  this  tangible 
world  and  of  action,  must  make  your  own  life,  and  apply  prin- 
ciples to  it.  Necessity  is  God's,  rightly  estimated,  and  cannot 
be  inconsistent  with  right.  But  listen  to  the  teacher  who  sees 
nearer  to  perfection  than  almost  any  of  us :  never  lose  sight  or 
memory  of  what  he  sets  before  you,  and  resolutely  apply  it, 
cost  what  it  may,  to  your  own  life.' 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  69 

"  I  do  think  you  most  incapable  of  carrying  out  any  great 
practical  scheme.  I  do  not  the  less  think  you  have  influenced, 
and  will  influence,  action  deeply  and  rightly. 

'.*:  7(P  l(c  V 

"  I  have  never  said,  or  implied,  that  I  was  unable  to  answer 
any  question.  I  did  think,  and  do  think,  the  explanation  of 
what  I  might  have  said,  except  to  yourself  likely  to  do  you  more 
harm  than  good ;  partly  because  I  do  strongly  think,  and  cannot 
be  sure  that  I  might  not  have  said,  that  I  do  feel  you  to  have 
a  certain  incapacity  for  practical  work ;  and  all  the  other  side 
it  is  difficult  for  the  world  to  see.  It  is  different  to  say  it  to 
a  friend  who  reverences  you,  and  one  says  more  completely 
what  one  means.  I  was  glad  when  you  said,  'Let  the  thing 
be  while  you  are  ill.'  God  knows  I  am  ill,  but  remember  your 
proposal  to  leave  it  was  in  answer  to  one  offering  to  tell  you 
all.  And  I  never  have  to  any  other  single  creature  made  my 
health  any  reason  whatsoever  for  not  answering  any  question, 
or  fulfilling  indeed  any  other  duty  of  my  not  very  easy  life. 
Clearly,    some   one    has    received    an    impression    from    what    I 

said   to    Mr.    ,    very   different   from    what    I    had    intended 

to  convey,  but  he  seemed  in  tune  with  your  spirit  and  mine 
towards  you  when  I  spoke. 

"  For  any  pain  my  action  may  have  given  you,  I  earnestly 
desire  to  apologize — yes,  to  ask  you  to  forgive  me.  I  never 
wronged  or  injured  you  or  your  work  in  thought  or  word 
intentionally ;  and   I   am,  whatever  you  may  think,  or  seem  to 

sa.v>  "Faithfully  yours, 

"Octavia  Hjll." 

To  this  letter  I  replied  as  follows : — 

"  Br  ant  wood,  November  4,  1877. 
"  My  dear  Octavia, — I   am  glad  to  have  at  last  your   letter, 
though  it  was  to  Mrs.  ,  and  not  to  me,  that  it  ought  at  or.ce 

2ND   SERIES,    II.]  6 


70  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

to  have  been  addressed,  without  forcing  me  to  all  the  trouble  of 
getting  at  it.  Your  opinions  of  me  are  perhaps  of  little  moment 
to  me,  but  of  immense  moment  to  others.  But  for  this  par- 
ticular opinion,  that  I  trust  the  wrong  people,  I  wish  you  to 
give  me  two  sufficient  examples  of  the  error  you  have  imagined. 
You  yourself  will  be  a  notable  third ;  and  at  the  mouth  of 
two  or  three  witnesses,  the  word  will  be  established. 

"  But  as  I  have  never  yet,  to  my  own  knowledge,  '  trusted ' 
any  one  who  has  failed  me,  except  yourself,  and  one  other  person 
of  whom  I  do  not  suppose  you  are  thinking,  I  shall  be  greatly 
instructed  if  you  will  give  me  the  two  instances  I  ask  for.  I 
never  trusted  even  my  father's  man  of  business ;  but  took  my 
father's  word  as  the  wisest  I  could  get.  And  I  know  not  a 
single  piece  of  business  I  have  ever  undertaken,  which  has  failed 
by  the  fault  of  any  person  chosen  by  me  to  conduct  it. 

"Tell  me,  therefore,  of  two  at  least.  Then  I  will  request 
one  or  two  more  things  of  you  ;  being  always 

"Affectionately  yours, 

"J.  R. 

"  P.S. — Of  all  injuries  you  could  have  done — not  me — but 
the  cause  I  have  in  hand,  the  giving  the  slightest  countenance 
to  the  vulgar  mob's  cry  of  'unpractical'  was  the  fatallest." 

The  reader  may  perhaps,  at  first,  think  this  reply  to  Miss 
Hill's  sentimental  letter  somewhat  hard.  He  will  see  by  the 
following  answer  that  I  knew  the  ground  : — 

"  14,  Nottingham  Place,  W.,  Nov.  5,  1877. 
"  Dear  Mr.  Ruskin, — You  say  that  I  am  a  notable  instance 
of  your  having  trusted  the  wrong  people.  Whether  you  have 
been  right  hitherto,  or  are  right  now,  the  instance  is  equally 
one  of  failure  to  understand  character.  It  is  the  only  one  I 
have  a  right  to  give.     I  absolutely  refuse  to  give  other  instances. 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  71 

or  to  discuss  the  characters  of  third  parties.  My  opinion  of 
your  power  to  judge  character  is,  and  must  remain,  a  matter 
of  opinion.  Discussions  about  it  would  be  useless  and  endless ; 
besides,  after  your  letters  to  me,  you  will  hardly  be  astonished 
that  I  decline  to  continue  this  correspondence. 

"  I  remain,  yours  faithfully, 

"Octavia  Hill." 

I  wasj  however,  a  little  astonished,  though  it  takes  a  good 
deal  to  astonish  me  nowadays,  at  the  suddenness  of  the  change 
in  tone;  but  it  rendered  my  next  reply  easier: — 

"  Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford, 

Jth  November,  1877. 

"  My  dear  Octavia, — You  err  singularly  in  imagining  I  invited 
you  to  a  'discussion.'  I  am  not  apt  to  discuss  anything  with 
persons  of  your  sentimental  volubility ;  and  those  with  whom 
I  enter  on  discussion  do  not,  therefore,  find  it  either  useless 
or  endless. 

"  I  required  of  yOu  an  answer  to  a  perfectly  simple  question. 
That  answer  I  require  again.  Your  most  prudent  friends  will, 
I  believe,  if  you  consult  them,  recommend  your  rendering  it ; 
for  they  will  probably  perceive — what  it  is  strange  should  have 
escaped  a  mind  so  logical  and  delicate  as  yours — that  you 
have  a  better  right  to  express  your  '  opinions '  of  my  discarded 
servants,  to  myself,  who  know  them,  and  after  the  time  is 
long  past  when  your  frankness  could  have  injured  them,  than 
to  express  your  'opinions'  of  your  discarded  master,  to  persons 
who  know  nothing  of  him,  at  the  precise  time  when  such 
expression  of  opinion  is  calculated  to  do  him  the  most  fatal 
injury. 

"  In  the  event  of  your  final  refusal,  you  will  oblige  me  by 
sending  me  a  copy  of  my  last  letter  for  publication, — your  own 
being  visibly  prepared  for  the  press.  «  t    r 


72  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

"Should  you  inadvertently  have  destroyed  my  last  letter, 
a  short  abstract  of  its  contents,  as  apprehended  by  you,  will 
be  all  that  is  needful." 

"  14,  Nottingham  Place,  W.,  %th  Nov.,  1877. 
"  Dear  Mr.  Ruskin, — I  did  consult  friends  whom  I  consider 
both   prudent   and   generous  before  I  declined  to  make  myself 
the  accuser  of  third  persons. 

'■I  send  you  at  your  request  a  copy  of  your  last  letter;  but 
I  disapprove  of  the  publication  of  this  correspondence.  Such  a 
publication  obviously  could  not  be  complete,*  and  if  incomplete 
must  be  misleading.  Neither  do  I  see  what  good  object  it  could 
serve. 

"  I  feel  it  due  to  our  old  friendship  to  add  the  expression 
of  my  conviction  that  the  publication  would  injure  you,  and 
could  not  injure  me. 

"  I  am,  yours  faithfully, 

"  Octavia  Hill." 

I  saw  no  occasion  for  continuing  the  correspondence  farther, 
and  closed  it  on  the  receipt  of  this  last  letter,  in  a  private 
note,  which  Miss  Hill  is  welcome  to  make  public,  if  she  has 
retained  it. 

Respecting  the  general  tenor  of  her  letters,  I  have  only  now 
to  observe  that  she  is  perfectly  right  in  supposing  me  unfit  to 
conduct,  myself,  the  operations  with  which  I  entrusted  her ;  but 
that  she  has  no  means  of  estimating  the  success  of  other  opera- 
tions with  which  I  did  not  entrust  her, — such  as  the  organization 
of  the  Oxford  Schools  of  Art ;  and  that  she  has  become  unfor- 
tunately of  late  confirmed  in  the  impression,  too  common  among 
reformatory  labourers,   that  no  work  can  be   practical  which    is 

*  This  is  not  at  all  obvious  to  me.  I  can  complete  it  to  the  last 
syllable,  if  Miss  Hill  wishes. 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  73 

prospective.  The  real  relations  of  her  effort  to  that  of  the  St. 
George's  Guild  have  already  been  stated,  (Fors,  Oct.  187 1, 
pages  13,  14) \  and  the  estimate  which  I  had  formed  of  it  is 
shown  not  to  have  been  unkind,  by  her  acknowledgment  of  it 
in  the  following  letter, — justifying  me,  I  think,  in  the  disappoint- 
ment expressed  in  the  beginning  of  this  article. 

11 14,  Nottingham  Place,  Oct.  yd,  1875. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Ruskin, — I  send  you  accounts  of  both  blocks 
of  buildings,  and  have  paid  in  to  your  bank  the  second  cheque, 
—that  for  Paradise  Place,  £20  $s.  8d.  I  think  neither  account 
requires  explanation. 

'  But  I  have  to  thank  you,  more  than  words  will  achieve  doing, 
in  silent  gratitude,  for  your  last  letter,  which  I  shall  treasure  as 
one  of  my  best  possessions.  I  had  no  idea  you  could  have 
honestly  spoken  so  of  work  which  I  have  always  thought  had 
impressed  you  more  with  its  imperfections,  than  as  contributing 
to  any  good  end.  That  it  actually  was  in  large  measure  derived 
from  you,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  I  have  been  reading  during 
my  holidays,  for  the  first  time  since  before  I  knew  you,  the 
first  volume  of  '  Modern  Painters,'  which  Mr.  Bond  was  good 
enough  to  lend  me  these  holidays;  and  I  was  much  impressed, 
not  only  with  the  distinct  recollection  I  had  of  paragraph  after 
paragraph  when  once  the  subject  was  recalled, — not  only  with 
the  memory  of  how  the  passages  had  struck  me  when  a  girl, — 
but  how  even  the  individual  words  had  been  new  to  me  then, 
and  the  quotations, — notably  that  from  George  Herbert  about 
the  not  fooling, — had  first  sent  me  to  read  the  authors  quoted 
from.  I  could  not  help  recalling,  and  seeing  distinctly,  how  the 
whole  tone  and  teaching  of  the  book,  striking  on  the  imagination 
at  an  impressionable  age,  had  biassed,  not  only  this  public  work, 
but  all  my  life.  I  always  knew  it,  but  I  traced  the  distinct  lines 
of  influence.  Like  all  derived  work,  it  has  been,  as  I  said,  built 
out  of  material  my  own  experience  has  furnished,  and  built  very 


74  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

differently  to  anything  others  would  have  done ;  but  I  know- 
something  of  how  much  it  owes  to  you,  and  in  as  far  as  it  has 
been  in  any  way  successful,  I  wish  you  would  put  it  among 
the  achievements  of  your  life.  You  sometimes  seem  to  see  so 
few  of  these.  Mine  is  indeed  poor  and  imperfect  and  small; 
but  it  is  in  this  kind  of  way  that  the  best  influence  tells,  going 
right  down  into  people,  and  coming  out  in  a  variety  of  forms, 
not  easily  recognized,  yet  distinctly  known  by  those  who  know 
best ;  and  hundreds  of  people,  whose  powers  are  tenfold  my 
own,  have  received, — will  receive, — their  direction  from  your 
teaching,  and  will   do  work   better  worth  your   caring   to   have 

influenced. 

11 1  am,  yours  always  affectionately, 

"  Octavia  Hill." 

With  this  letter  the  notice  of  its  immediate  subject  in  Fors 
will  cease,  though  I  have  yet  a  word  to  say  for  my  other 
acquaintances  and  fellow-labourers.  Miss  Hill  will,  I  hope, 
retain  the  administration  of  the  Marylebone  houses  as  long  as 
she  is  inclined,  making  them,  by  her  zealous  and  disinterested 
service,  as  desirable  and  profitable  a  possession  to  the  Guild 
as  hitherto  to  me.  It  is  always  to  be  remembered  that  she 
has  acted  as  the  administrator  of  this  property,  and  paid  me 
five  per  cent,  upon  it  regularly, — entirely  without  salary,  and 
in  pure  kindness  to  the  tenants.  My  own  part  in  the  work 
was  in  taking  five  instead  of  ten  per  cent.,  which  the  houses 
would  have  been  made  to  pay  to  another  landlord ;  and  in 
pledging  myself  neither  to  sell  the  property  nor  raise  the  rents, 
thus  enabling  Miss  Hill  to  assure  the  tenants  of  peace  in 
their  homes,  and  encourage  every  effort  at  the  improvement 
of  them. 


FORS     CLAVIGERA 

SECOND    SERIES. 


YEA,  THE  WORK  OF  OUR  HANDS,  ESTABLISH  THOU  IT. 


LETTER  THE  87th. 

THE  SNOW  MANGER. 

By  my  promise  that,  in  the  text  of  this  series  of 
Fors,  there  shall  be  "  no  syllable  of  complaint,  or  of 
scorn,"  I  pray  the  reader  to  understand  that  I  in 
no  wise  intimate  any  change  of  feeling  on  my  own 
part  I  never  felt  more  difficulty  in  my  life  than  I 
do,  at  this  instant,  in  not  lamenting  certain  things  with 
more  than  common  lament,  and  in  not  speaking  of 
certain  people  with  more  than  common  scorn. 

Nor  is  it  possible  to  fulfil  these  rightly  warning 
functions  of  Fors  without  implying  some  measure  of 
scorn.  For  instance,  in  the  matter  of  choice  of  books, 
it  is  impossible  to  warn  my  scholars  against  a  book, 
without  implying  a  certain  kind  of  contempt  for  it. 
For  I  never  would  warn  them  against  any  writer 
whom  I  had  complete  respect  for, — however  adverse 
to    me,    or    my    work.     There   are    few    stronger  adver- 

2ND   SERIES,    III.]  J 


76  Fors   Clavigera. 

saries  to  St.  George  than  Voltaire.  But  my  scholars 
are  welcome  to  read  as  much  of  Voltaire  as  they 
like.  His  voice  is  mighty  among  the  ages.  Whereas 
they  are  entirely  forbidden  Miss  Martineau, — not 
because  she  is  an  infidel,  but  because  she  is  a 
vulgar  and  foolish  one.* 

Do  not  say,  or  think,  I  am  breaking  my  word 
in  asserting,  once  for  all,  with  reference  to  example, 
this  necessary  principle.  This  very  vow  and  law  that 
I  have  set  myself,  must  be  honoured  sometimes  in  the 
breach  of  it,  so  only  that  the  transgression  be  visibly 
not  wanton  or  incontinent.  Nay,  in  this  very  instance 
it  is  because  I  am  not  speaking  in  pure  contempt, 
but  have  lately  been  as  much  surprised  by  the  beauty 
of  a  piece  of  Miss  Martineau's  writings,  as  I  have 
been  grieved  by  the  deadly  effect  of  her  writings  gene- 
rally on  the  mind  of  one  of  my  best  pupils,  who  had 
read  them  without  telling  me,  that  I  make  her  a  defi- 
nite example.  In  future,  it  will  be  ordinarily  enough 
for  me  to  say  to  my  pupils  privately  that  they  are 
not  to  read  such  and  such  books  ;  while,  for  general 
order  to  my  Fors  readers,  they  may  be  well  content, 
it  seems  to  me,  with  the  list  of  the  books  I  want 
them    to    read    constantly,    and    with    such    casual    re- 

*  I  use  the  word  vulgar,  here,  in  its  first  sense  of  egoism,  not  of  selfish- 
ness, but  of  not  seeing  one's  own  relations  to  the  universe.  Miss  Martineau 
plans  a  book — afterwards  popular — and  goes  to  breakfast,  "not  knowing 
what  a  great  thing  had  been  done."  So  Mr.  Buckle,  dying,  thinks  only — 
he  shall  not  finish  his  book.     Not  at  all  whether  God  will  ever  make  up  His. 


Fors  Clavigera.  77 

commendation  as  I  may  be  able  to  give  of  current 
literature.  For  instance,  there  is  a  quite  lovely  little 
book  just  come  out  about  Irish  children,  '  Castle  Blair,' 
— (which,  let  me  state  at  once,  I  have  strong  personal, 
though  stronger  impersonal,  reasons  for  recommending, 
the  writer  being  a  very  dear  friend  ;  and  some  Irish 
children,  for  many  and  many  a  year,  much  more  than 
that).  But  the  ///^personal  reasons  are — -first,  that  the 
book  is  good  and  lovely,  and  true ;  having  the  best 
description  of  a  noble  child  in  it,  (Winny,)  that  I  ever 
read  ;  and  nearly  the  best  description  of  the  next  best 
thing — a  noble  dog ;  and  reason  second  is  that,  after 
Miss  Edgeworth's  '  Ormond '  and  '  Absentee,'  this  little 
book  will  give  more  true  insight  into  the  proper  way 
of  managing   Irish   people  than   any  other   I   know.* 

Wherewith  I  have  some  more  serious  recommendations 
to  give ;  and  the  first  shall  be  of  this  most  beautiful 
passage  of  Miss  Martineau,  which  is  quoted  from 
1  Deerbrook '   in   the  review  of  her  autobiography:  — 

"In  the  house  of  every  wise  parent,  may  then  be 
seen  an  epitome  of  life — a  sight  whose  consolation  is 
needed   at   times,  perhaps,  by  all.     Which    of  the   little 

*  Also,  I  have  had  it  long  on  my  mind  to  name  the  '  Adventures  of  a 
Phaeton '  as  a  very  delightful  and  wise  book  of  its  kind  ;  very  full  of 
pleasant  play,  and  deep  and  pure  feeling  ;  much  interpretation  of  some 
of  the  best  points  of  German  character  ;  and,  last  and  least,  with  pieces 
of  description  in  it  which  I  should  be  glad,  selfishly,  to  think  inferior  to 
what  the  public  praise  in  '  Modern  Painters,' — I  can  only  say,  they  seem  to 
mc  quite  as  good. 

7  A 


78  Fors   Clavigera. 

children  of  a  virtuous  household  can  conceive  of  his 
entering  into  his  parents'  pursuits,  or  interfering  with 
them  ?  How  sacred  are  the  study  and  the  office,  the 
apparatus  of  a  knowledge  and  a  power  which  he  can 
only  venerate !  Which  of  these  little  ones  dreams  of 
disturbing  the  course  of  his  parents'  thought  or  achieve- 
ment ?  Which  of  them  conceives  of  the  daily  routine 
of  the  household — its  going  forth  and  coming  in,  its 
rising  and  its  rest — having  been  different  before  its 
birth,  or  that  it  would  be  altered  by  his  absence  ?  It 
is  even  a  matter  of  surprise  to  him  when  it  now  and 
then  occurs  to  him  that  there  is  anything  set  apart 
for  him — that  he  has  clothes  and  couch,  and  that  his 
mother  thinks  and  cares  for  him.  If  he  lags  behind 
in  a  walk,  or  finds  himself  alone  among  the  trees,  he 
does  not  dream  of  being  missed  ;  but  home  rises  up 
before  him  as  he  has  always  seen  it — his  father 
thoughtful,  his  mother  occupied,  and  the  rest  gay, 
with  the  one  difference  of  his*  not  being  there.  This 
he  believes,  and  has  no  other  trust  than  in  his  shriek 
of  terror,  for  being  ever  remembered  more.  Yet,  all 
the  while,  from  day  to  day,  from  year  to  year,  without 
one  moment's  intermission,  is  the  providence  of  his 
parent  around  him,  brooding  over  the  workings  of  his 
infant  spirit,  chastening  its  passions,  nourishing  its 
affections — now  troubling  it  with  salutary  pain,  now 
animating   it    with    even    more    wholesome    delight.      All 

*  Italics  mine. 


Fors  Clavigera.  79 

the  while,  is  the  order  of  the  household  affairs  regu- 
lated for  the  comfort  and  profit  of  these  lowly  little 
ones,  though  they  regard  it  reverently,  because  they 
cannot  comprehend  it.  They  may  not  know  of  all 
this — how  their  guardian  bends  over  their  pillow 
nightly,  and  lets  no  word  of  their  careless  talk  drop 
unheeded,  and  records  every  sob  of  infant  grief,  hails 
every  brightening  gleam  of  reason  and  every  chirp  of 
childish  glee — they  may  not  know  this,  because  they 
could  not  understand  it  aright,  and  each  little  heart 
would  be  inflated  with  pride,  each  little  mind  would 
lose  the  grace  and  purity  of  its  unconsciousness  ;  but 
the  guardianship  is  not  the  less  real,  constant,  and 
tender  for  its  being  unrecognized  by  its  objects." 

This  passage  is  of  especial  value  to  me  just  now, 
because  I  have  presently  to  speak  about  faith,  and  its 
power  ;  and  I  have  never  myself  thought  of  the  innocent 
faithlessness  of  children,  but  only  of  their  faith.  The 
idea  given  here  by  Miss  Martineau  is  entirely  new  to 
me,  and  most  beautiful.  And  had  she  gone  on  thus, 
expressing  her  own  feelings  modestly,  she  would  have 
been  a  most  noble  person,  and  a  verily  '  great '  writer. 
She  became  a  vulgar  person,  and  a  little  writer,  in 
her  conceit  ; — of  which  I  can  say  no  more,  else  I 
should   break   my  vow  unnecessarily. 

And  by  way  of  atonement  for  even  this  involuntary 
disobedience  to  it,  I  have  to  express  great  shame  for 
some   words   spoken,   in    one    of  the    letters    of   the    first 


8o  Fors   Clavivera. 


»' 


series,  in  total  misunderstanding  of  Mr.  Gladstone's 
character. 

I  know  so  little  of  public  life,  and  see  so  little  of 
the  men  who  are  engaged  in  it,  that  it  has  become 
impossible  for  me  to  understand  their  conduct  or 
speech,   as   it  is  reported   in  journals. 

There  are  reserves,  references,  difficulties,  limits,  ex- 
citements, in  all  their  words  and  ways,  which  are 
inscrutable  to  me ;  and  at  this  moment  I  am  unable 
to  say  a  word  about  the  personal  conduct  of  any  one, 
respecting  the  Turkish  or  any  other  national  question, — 
remaining  myself  perfectly  clear  as  to  what  was  always 
needed,  and  still  needs,  to  be  done,  but  utterly  unable 
to  conceive  why  people  talk,  or  do,  or  do  not,  as 
hitherto  they  have  spoken,  done,  and  left  undone.  But 
as  to  the  actual  need,  it  is  now  nearly  two  years  since 
Mr.  Carlyle,  Mr.  Froude,  and  several  other  men  of 
1  creditable '  (shall  we  say  ? )  name,  gathered  together  at 
call  of  Mr.  Gladstone,  as  for  a  great  national  need, 
together  with  a  few  other  men  of  more  retired  and 
studious  mind,  Edward  Burne  Jones  for  one,  and  myself 
for  another,  did  then  plainly  and  to  the  best  of  their 
faculty   tell   the   English   nation   what   it   had   to   do. 

The  people  of  England  answered,  by  the  mouths  of 
their  journals,  that  Mr.  Carlyle  and  Mr.  Froude  knew 
nothing  of  history,  that  Mr.  Gladstone  was  a  dishonest 
leader  of  a  party,  and  that  the  rest  of  us  were  insig- 
nificant, or  insane,  persons. 


Fors  Clavizera.  81 


Y> 


Whereupon  the  significant  and  sagacious  persons, 
guiding  the  opinions  of  the  public,  through  its  press, 
set  themselves  diligently  to  that  solemn  task. 

And  I  will  take  some  pains  to  calculate  for  you, 
my  now  doubtless  well-informed  and  soundly  purposed 
readers,  what  expenditure  of  type  there  has  been  on 
your  education,  guidance,  and  exhortation  by  those 
significant  persons,  in  these  last  two  years. 

I  am  getting  into  that  Cathedra  Pestilentiae  again! — - 
My  good  reader,  I  mean,  truly  and  simply,  that  I  hope 
to  get,  for  next  month,  some  approximate  measure  of 
the  space  in  heaven  which  would  be  occupied  by  the 
unfolded  tissue  or  web  of  all  the  columns  of  the 
British  newspapers  which  have  during  these  last  two 
years  discussed,  in  your  pay,  the  Turkish  question. 
All  that  counsel,  you  observe,  you  have  bought  with 
a  price.  Mr.  Carlyle  and  Mr.  Froude  gave  you  theirs 
gratis,  as  all  the  best  things  are  given  ;  I  put  nearly  a 
prohibitory  tax  upon  mine,  that  you  might  not  merely 
travel  with  your  boots  on  it  ;  but  here  was  an  article 
of  counsel  made  up  for  your  consumption  at  market 
price.  You  have  paid  for  it,  I  can  tell  you  that,  ap- 
proximately, just  now,  one  million  nine  hundred  and 
four  thousand  nine  hundred  and  eighteen  pounds.  You 
have  voted  also  in  your  beautiful  modern  manner,  and 
daily  directed   your  governors   what  they  were  to  do  for 

British   interests    and   honour.      And  your  result  is 

well,  you  shall  tell  me  your  opinions  of  that  next  month  ; 


82  Fors  Clavigera. 

but — whatever  your  opinions  may  be — here  IS  the 
result  for  you,  in  words  which  are  not  of  the  newest, 
certainly,  and  yet  are  in  a  most  accurate  sense  "  This 
Evening's    News." 

"  Quare  fremuerunt  Gentes,  et  Populi  meditati  sunt 
inania. 

"  Astiterunt  Reges  terrae,  et  Principes  convenerunt  in 
unum,  adversus   Dominum   et  adversus   Christum  ejus. 

"  Disrumpamus  vincula  eorum,  et  projiciamus  a  nobis 
jugum   ipsorum. 

"  Qui  habitat  in  celis  irridebit  eos,  et  Dominus  sub- 
sannabit  eos. 

"  Tunc  loquetur  ad  eos  in  ira  sua,  et  in  furore  suo 
conturbabit  eos." 

If  you  can  read  that  bit  of  David  and  St.  Jerome, 
as  it  stands,  so  be  it.  If  not,  this  translation  is  closer 
than   the  one  you,   I   suppose,   don't  know  : — 

"  Why  have  the  nations  foamed  as  the  sea  ;  and 
the  people  meditated   emptiness  ? 

"  The  Kings  of  the  earth  stood,  and  the  First 
Ministers  met  together  in  conference,  against  the  Lord, 
and  against   His  Christ. 

"  Let  us  break,  they  said,  the  chains  of  the  Lord 
and  Christ.  Let  us  cast  away  from  us  the  yoke  of 
the  Lord   and   Christ. 

"  He  that  inhabits  heaven  shall  laugh  at  them,  and 
the  Lord  shall   mock  them. 


Fors  Ciavigera.  83 

"  Then  shall  He  speak  to  them  in  His  anger,  and 
torment  them  with   His  strength." 

There  are  one  or  two  of  the  points  of  difference  in 
this  version  which  I  wish  you  to  note.  Our  '  why  do 
the  heathen  rage '  is  unintelligible  to  us,  because  we 
don't  think  of  ourselves  as  '  heathen '  usually.  But  we 
arc  ;  and  the  nations  spoken  of  are — the  British  public, 
— and  the  All-publics   of  our  day,  and   of  all  days. 

Nor  is  the  word  '  rage '  the  right  one,  in  the  least. 
It  means  to  "  fret  idly,"  like  useless  sea, — incapable  of 
real  rage,  or  of  any  sense, — foaming  out  only  its  own 
shame.  "  The  wicked  are  like  the  troubled  sea,  when 
it  cannot  rest,  whose  waters  cast  up  mire  and  dirt  ; " 
— and  even  just  now — the  purest  and  best  of  public 
men  spitting  out  emptiness  only  and  mischief.  "  Fluc- 
tibus  et  fremitu  assurgens,  Benace  MARINO."  In  the 
Septuagint,  the  word  is  to  neigh  like  a  horse — ("  They 
were  as  fed  horses  in  the  morning  ;  every  one  neighed 
after  his  neighbour's  wife.") 

Then,  I  have  put  the  full  words  '  of  the  Lord  and 
Christ '  in  the  third  verse,  instead  of  '  their,'  because 
else  people  don't  see  who  '  they  '  are. 

And  in  the  fourth  verse,  observe  that  the  ■  anger ' 
of  the  Lord  is  the  mind  in  which  He  speaks  to  the 
kings  ;  but  His  '  fury '  is  the  practical  stress  of  the 
thunder  of  His  power,  and  of  the  hail  and  death 
with  which  He  '  troubles '  them  and  torments.  Read 
this    piece    of   evening's   news,    for    instance.      It    is   one 


84  Fors   Clavigera. 

of  thousands  such.  That  is  what  is  meant  by  "  He 
shall  vex  them  in  His  sore  displeasure,"  which  words 
you  have  chanted  to  your  pipes  and  bellows  so  sweetly 
and  so  long, — '  His  so-o-o-ore  dis-plea-a-sure.' 

But  here  is  the  things  nearly  at  your  doors, 
reckoning  by  railway  distance.  "  The  mother  got  im- 
patient, thrust  the  child  into  the  snow,  and  hurried 
on — not   looking  back." 

But  you  are  not  '  vexed,'  you  say  ?  No, — perhaps 
that  is  because  you  are  so  very  good.  And  perhaps 
the  muffins  will  be  as  cold  as  the  snow,  too,  soon,  if 
you  don't  eat  them.  Yet  if,  after  breakfast,  you  look 
out  of  window  westward,  you  may  see  some  "  vexa- 
tion "  even  in  England  and  Wales,  of  which  more, 
presently,  and  if  you  read  this  second  Psalm  again,  and 
make  some  effort  to  understand  it,  it  may  be  provision- 
ally useful  to  you, — provisionally  on  your  recognizing 
that  there  is  a  God  at  all,  and  that  it  is  a  Lord  that 
reigneth,  and  not  merely  a  Law  that  reigneth,  accord- 
ing to  the  latter-day  divinity  of  the  Duke  of  Argyll 
and  Mr.  George  Dawson.  Have  patience  with  me. 
I'm  not  speaking  as  I  didn't  mean  to.  I  want  you 
to  read,  and  attentively,  some  things  that  the  Duke  of 
Argyll  and  Mr.  Dawson  have  said  ;  but  you  must 
have  the  caterpillar  washed  out  of  the  cabbage,  first. 

I  want  you  to  read, — ever  so  many  things.  First 
of  all,  and  nothing  else  till  you  have  well  mastered 
that,  the  history  of  Montenegro  given  by  Mr.  Gladstone 


Fors   Clavigera.  85 

in  the  'Nineteenth  Century'  for  May  1877,  p.  360. 
After  that,  '  Some  Current  Fallacies  about  Turks,'  etc., 
by  the  Rev.  Malcolm  MacColl,  '  Nineteenth  Century,' 
December  1877,  p.  831.  After  that,  the  Duke  of 
Argyll's  'Morality  in  Politics.'  And  after  that,  the 
obituary  of  '  George  Dawson,  Politician,  Lecturer,  and 
Preacher,'  by  the  Rev.  R.  W.  Dale,  '  Nineteenth  Century,' 
August  1877,  p.  44. 

It  is  an  entirely  kind  and  earnest  review  of  one  of 
the  chief  enemies  of  Evangelicalism,  by  an  Evangelical 
clergyman.  The  closing  passages  of  it  (pp.  59  to  61) 
are  entirely  beautiful  and  wise, — the  last  sentence,  let 
me  thankfully  place  for  an  abiding  comfort  and  power 
in   St.  George's   Schools. 

11  To  despise  the  creeds  in  which  the  noblest  intellects 
of  Christendom  in  past  times  found  rest,  is  presumptuous 
folly  ;  to  suppose  that  these  creeds  are  a  final  and  exact 
statement  of  all  that  the  Church  can  ever  know,  is  to 
forget  that  in  every  creed  there  are  two  elements, — 
the  divine  substance,  and  the  human  form.  The  form 
must  change  with  the  changing  thoughts  of  men  ;  and 
even  the  substance  may  come  to  shine  with  clearer 
light,  and  to  reveal  unsuspected  glories,  as  God  and 
man   come  nearer  together." 

And  the  whole  of  the  piece  of  biography  thus  nobly 
closed  is  full  of  instruction  ;  but,  in  the  course  of  it, 
there  is  a  statement  (pp.  49 — 5  1)  respecting  which  I 
have    somewhat     contradictory    to    say,    and     that    very 


86 


Fors  Clavigera. 


gravely.  I  am  sorry  to  leave  out  any  of  the  piece  I 
refer  to  :  but  those  of  my  readers  who  have  not  access 
to  the  book,  will  find  the  gist  of  what  I  must  contra- 
dict, qualifiedly,  in  these  following  fragments. 

A.  "  The  strength  of  his  (George  Dawson's)  moral 
teaching  was  largely  derived  from  the  firmness  of  his 
own  conviction  that  the  laws  which  govern  human  life 
are  not  to  be  evaded  ;  that  they  assert  their  authority 
with  relentless  severity  ;  that  it  is  of  no  use  to  try  to 
cheat  them  ;  that  they  have  no  pity ;  that  we  must 
obey  them,  or  else  suffer  the  consequences  of  our  dis- 
obedience. He  insisted,  with  a  frequency,  an  earnestness, 
and  an  energy  which  showed  the  depth  of  his  own  sense 
of  the  importance  of  this  part  of  his  teaching,  that  what 
a  man  sows  he  must  also  reap, — no  matter  though  he 
has  sown  ignorantly  or  carelessly  ;  that  the  facts  of  the 
physical  and  moral  universe  have  a  stern  reality  ;  and 
that,  if  we  refuse  to  learn  and  to  recognize  the  facts, 
the  best  intentions  arc  unavailing.  The  iron  girder 
must  be  strong  enough  to  bear  the  weight  that  is  put 
upon  it,  or  else  it  will  give  way, — no  matter  whether 
the  girder  is  meant  to  support  the  roof  of  a  railway 
station,  or  the  floor  of  a  church,  or  the  gallery  of  a 
theatre.  Hard  work  is  necessary  for  success  in  busi- 
ness ;  and  the  man  who  works  hardest — other  things 
being  equal — is  most  likely  to  succeed,  whether  he  is 
a  saint  or  a  sinner." 

B.  "  The   facts  of  the  universe  are   steadfast,  and   not 


Fors  Clavigtt  87 

to    be    changed    by  human   fancies  or  follies ;  the    laws 

>f    the    universe    are    relentless,    and    will    not    relax    in 

le    presence    of   human    weakness,    or    give    way   under 

le   pressure   of  human   passion   and   force." 

C   "  No  matter  though  you  have  a  most  devout  and 

ihscientious  belief  that  by  mere   praying  you  can  save 

a  town  from   typhoid   fever  ;  if  the  drainage  is  bad  and 

ie    water    foul,  praying  will   never   save  the  town  from 

typhoid." 

Thus  far,  Mr.  Dale  has  been  stating  the  substance 
if  Mr.  Dawson's  teaching;  he  now,  as  accepting  that 
substance,  so  far  as  it  reaches,  himself  proceeds  to 
:arry  it  farther,  and  to  apply  the  same  truths — ad- 
litting  them  to  be  truths — to  spiritual  things.  And 
low,  from  him  we  have  this  following  most  important 
jgftd  noble  passage,  which  I  accept  for  wholly  true, 
id  place  in   St.  George's  schools. 

D.  "  It  would  be  strange  if  these  truths  became  false 
as  soon  as  they  are  applied  to  the  religious  side  of 
the  life  of  man.  The  spiritual  universe  is  no  more  to 
be  made  out  of  a  man's  own  head,  than  the  material 
universe  or  the  moral  universe.  T/ierey  too,  the  con- 
ditions of  human  life  are  fixed.  There,  too,  we  have 
to  respect  the  facts  ;  and,  whether  we  respect  them  or 
not,  the  facts  remain.  Tlicn\  too,  we  have  to  confess 
the  authority  of  the  actual  laws  ;  and,  whether  we  con- 
fess it  or  not,  we  shall  suffer  for  breaking  them.  To 
suppose    that,    in    relation    to    the    spiritual    universe,    it 


88  Fors  Clavigera. 

is  safe  or  right  to  believe  what  we  think  it  pleasant 
to  believe, — to  suppose  that,  because  we  think  it  is 
eminently  desirable  that  the  spiritual  universe  should 
be  ordered  in  a  particular  way,  therefore  we  are  at 
liberty  to  act  as  though  this  were  certainly  the  way 
in  which  it  is  ordered,  and  that,  though  we  happen  '  to 
be  wrong,  it  will  make  no  difference, — is  preposterous. 
No ;  water  drowns,  fire  burns,  whether  we  believe  it 
or  not.  No  belief  of  ours  will  change  the  facts,  or 
reverse  the  laws  of  the  spiritual  universe.  It  is  our 
first  business  to  discover  the  laws,  and  to  learn  how 
the  facts  stand." 

I  accept  this  passage — observe,  totally, — but  I  accept 
it  for  itself.  The  basis  of  it — the  preceding  Dawsonian 
statements,  A,  B,  and  C, — I  wholly  deny,  so  far  as  I 
am  a  Christian.  If  the  Word  of  Christ  be  true,  the 
facts  of  the  physical  universe  are  not  steadfast.  They 
are  steadfast  only  for  the  infidel.  But  these  signs  shall 
evermore  follow  them  that  believe.  "  They  shall  take 
up  serpents,  and  if  they  drink  any  deadly  thing,  it 
shall  not  hurt  them."  No  matter  how  bad  the  drain- 
age of  the  town,  how  foul  the  water,  "  He  shall  deliver 
thee  from  the  noisome  pestilence  ;  and  though  a  thousand 
fall  at  thy  right  hand,  it  shall  not  come  nigh  thee* 
This,  as  a  Christian,  I  am  bound  to  believe.  This, 
speaking  as  a  Christian,  I  am  bound  to  proclaim,  what- 
ever the  consequences  may  be  to  the  town,  or  the 
opinion    of  me   formed   by   the    Common    Council  ;  as   a 


Fors   Clavigera.  89 

Christian,  I  believe  prayer  to  be,  in  the  last  sense, 
sufficient  for  the  salvation  of  the  town  ;  and  drainage, 
in  the  last  sense,  insufficient  for  its  salvation.  Not 
that  you  will  find  me,  looking  back  through  the  pages 
of  Fors,  unconcerned  about  drainage.  But  if,  of  the 
two,  I  must  choose  between  drains  and  prayer — why, 
"  look  you  " — whatever  you  may  think  of  my  wild  and 
whirling  words,   I   will  go  pray. 

And  now,  therefore,  for  St  George's  schools,  I  most 
solemnly  reverse  the  statement  B,  and  tell  my  scholars, 
with  all  the  force  that  is  in  me,  that  the  facts  of  the 
universe  are  NOT  steadfast,  that  they  ARE  changed  by 
human  fancies,  and  by  human  follies  (much  more  by 
human  wisdoms), — that  the  laws  of  the  universe  are 
no  more  relentless  than  the  God  who  wrote  them, — 
that  they  WILL  relax  in  the  presence  of  human  weak- 
ness, and  DO  give  way  under  the  pressure  of  human 
passion  and  force,  and  give  way  so  totally,  before  so 
little  passion  and  force,  that  if  you  have  but  '  faith '  as 
a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  nothing  shall  be  impossible 
unto  you. 

"  Are  these  merely  fine  phrases,  or  is  he  mad, 
as  people  say  ? "  one  of  my  polite  readers  asks  of 
another. 

Neither,  oh  polite  and  pitying  friend.  Observe,  in 
the  first  place,  that  I  simply  speak  as  a  Christian,  and 
express  to  you  accurately  what  Christian  doctrine  is.  I 
am    myself  so  nearly,  as  you   are   so  grievously,  faithless 


90  Fors  Clavigera. 

to  less  than  the  least  grain  of — Colman's — mustard,  that 
/  can   take   up   no  serpents,   and  raise   no   dead. 

But  I  don't  say,  therefore,  that  the  dead  are  not 
raised,  nor  that  Christ  is  not  risen,  nor  the  head  of 
the  serpent  bowed  under  the  foot  of  the  Seed  of  the 
Woman.  I  say  only, — if  my  faith  is  vain,  it  is  because 
I  am  yet  in  my  sins.  And  to  others  I  say — what 
Christ  bids  me  say.  That,  simply, — that,  literally, — 
that,  positively ;  and  no  more.  "  If  thou  wilt  believe, 
thou  shalt  see  the  salvation  of  God." 

If  thou  wilt  (wouldest) — Faith  being  essentially  a 
matter  of  will,  after  some  other  conditions  are  met. 
For  how  shall  they  believe  on  whom  they  have  not 
heard,  and  how  shall  they  hear  without  a  preacher  ? 
Yea ;  but — asks  St.  George,  murmuring  behind  his  visor, 
— much  more,  how  shall  they  hear  without — ears. 

He  that  hath  ears,  (it  is  written) — let  him  hear ; — 
but  how  of  him  that  hath  none  ? 

For  observe,  far  the  greater  multitude  of  men  cannot 
hear  of  Christ  at  all.  You  can't  tell  an  unloving 
person,  what  love  is,  preach  you  till  his  doomsday. 
What  is  to  become  of  them,  God  knows,  who  is  their 
Judge  ;  but  since  they  cannot  hear  of  Christ,  they 
cannot  believe  in  Him,  and  for  them,  the  Laws  of  the 
Universe  are  unchangeable  enough.  But  for  those  who 
can  hear — comes  the  farther  question  whether  they  will. 
And  then,  if  they  do,  whether  they  will  be  steadfast 
in  the  faith,  steadfast  behind  the  shield,  point  in  earth, 


Fors   Clavigera.  91 

cross  of  iron — (compare  '  Laws  of  Fesole,'  chapter  iii., 
add  the  old  heraldic  word  '  restrial,'  of  bearings,  first 
written  in  blood,) — else,  having  begun  in  the  spirit, 
they  may  only  be  "  made  perfect  in  the  flesh."  (Gal. 
iii.  3.)  But  if,  having  begun  in  the  Spirit,  they  grieve 
it  not,  there  will  be  assuredly  among  them  the  chorus- 
leader.  He  that  "  leads  forth  the  choir  of  the  Spirit," 
and  worketh  MIRACLES  among  you.      (Gal.  iii.   5.) 

Now,  lastly,  read  in  the  ninth  chapter  of  Froude's 
History  of  England,  the  passage  beginning,  "  Here, 
therefore,  we  are  to  enter  upon  one  of  the  grand 
scenes  of  history,"*  down  to,  "  He  desired  us  each  to 
choose  our  confessor,  and  to  confess  our  sins  one  to 
another ; "  and  the  rest,  I  give  here,  for  end  of  this 
Fors  : — 

"  The  day  after,  he  preached  a  sermon  in  the  chapel 
on  the  59th  Psalm:  'O  God,  Thou  hast  cast  us  off, 
Thou  hast  destroyed  us  ; '  concluding  with  the  words, 
!  It  is  better  that  we  should  suffer  here  a  short  penance 
for  our  faults,  than  be  reserved  for  the  eternal  pains 
of  hell  hereafter ; ' — and  so  ending,  he  turned  to  us, 
and  bade  us  all  do  as  we  saw  him  do.  Then  rising 
from  his  place  he  went  direct  to  the  eldest  of  the 
brethren,  who  was  sitting  nearest  to  himself,  and 
kneeling  before  him,  begged  his  forgiveness  for  any 
offence   which   in   heart,    word,   or    deed    he    might    have 

*  Octavo  edition  of  1858,  vol.  ii.,  p.  341. 

2ND   SERIES,    III.]  8 


92  Fors   Clavigcra. 

committed  against  him.  Thence  he  proceeded  to  the 
next,  and  said  the  same  ;  and  so  to  the  next,  through 
us  all,  we  following  him,  and  saying  as  he  did, — each 
from  each  imploring  pardon. 

"  Thus,  with  unobtrusive  nobleness,  did  these  poor 
men  prepare  themselves  for  the  end  ;  not  less  beautiful 
in  their  resolution,  not  less  deserving  the  everlasting 
remembrance  of  mankind,  than  those  three  hundred 
who  in  the  summer  morning  sate  combing  their  golden 
hair  in  the  passes  of  Thermopylae.  We  will  not  regret 
their  cause  ;  there  is  no  cause  for  which  any  man  can 
more  nobly  suffer  than  to  witness  that  it  is  better  for 
him  to  die  than  to  speak  words  which  he  does  not 
mean.  Nor,  in  this  their  hour  of  trial,  were  they  left 
without  higher  comfort. 

" '  The  third  day  after,'  the  story  goes  on,  '  was  the 
mass  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  God  made  known  His 
presence  among  us.  For  when  the  host  was  lifted  up, 
there  came  as  it  were  a  whisper  of  air,  which  breathed 
upon  our  faces  as  we  knelt.  Some  perceived  it  with 
the  bodily  senses ;  all  felt  it  as  it  thrilled  into  their 
hearts.  And  then  followed  a  sweet,  soft  sound  of 
music,  at  which  our  venerable  father  was  so  moved, 
God  being  thus  abundantly  manifest  among  us,  that 
he  sank  down  in  tears,  and  for  a  long  time  could  not 
continue  the  service — we  all  remaining  stupefied,  hear- 
ing the  melody,  and  feeling  the  marvellous  effects  of  if 
upon    our   spirits,    but  knowing   neither   whence    it   came 


Fors   C/avigera.  93 

nor  whither  it  went.  Only  our  hearts  rejoiced  as  we 
perceived  that  God  was  with  us  indeed.'  * 

It  can't  be  the  end  of  this  Fors,  however,  I  find, 
(15th  February,  half-past  seven  morning,)  for  I  have 
forgotten  twenty  things  I  meant  to  say ;  and  this 
instant,  in  my  morning's  reading,  opened  and  read, 
being  in  a  dreamy  state,  and  not  knowing  well  what 
I  was  doing, — of  all  things  to  find  a  new  message ! — 
in  the  first  chapter  of  Proverbs. 

I  was  in  a  dreamy  state,  because  I  had  got  a  letter 
about  the  Thirlmere  debate,  which  was  to  me,  in  my 
purposed  quietness,  like  one  of  the  voices  on  the  hill 
behind  the  Princess  Pairzael.  And  she  could  not  hold, 
without  cotton  in  her  ears,  dear  wise  sweet  thing.  But 
luckily  for  me,  I  have  just  had  help  from  the  Beata 
Vigri  at  Venice,  who  sent  me  her  own  picture  and 
St.  Catherine's,  yesterday,  for  a  Valentine  ;  and  so  I 
can  hold  on  : — only  just  read  this  first  of  Proverbs  with 
me,  please. 

"  The  Proverbs  of  Solomon,  the  son  of  David,  king 
of  Israel. 

"  To  know  wisdom  and  instruction." 

(Not  to  '  opine  '   them.) 

"  To  perceive  the  words  of  understanding." 

(He  that  hath  eyes,  let  him  read — he  that  hath 
ears,  hear.  And  for  the  Blind  and  the  Deaf, — if 
patient  and  silent  by  the  right  road-side, — there  may 
also  be  some  one  to  say  '  He  is  coming.') 


94  Fors   Clavigera. 

"To  receive  the  instruction  of  WISDOM,  JUSTICE, 
and  Judgment,  and  Equity." 

Four  things, — oh  friends, — which  you  have  not  only 
to  perceive,  but  to  receive.  And  the  species  of  these 
four  things,  and  the  origin  of  their  species, — you  know 
them,  doubtless,  well, — in  these  scientific  days  ? 

"  To  give  subtlety  to  the  simple  ;  to  the  young  man, 
knowledge  and  discretion." 

(Did  ever  one  hear,  lately,  of  a  young  man's  want- 
ing either  ?  Or  of  a  simple  person  who  wished  to  be 
subtle  ?  Are  not  we  all  subtle — even  to  the  total 
defeat  of  our  hated  antagonists,  the  Prooshians  and 
Rooshians  ?) 

"  A   wise  man  will  hear  and  will  increase  learning." 

{e.g.  "A  stormy  meeting  took  place  in  the  Birmingham 
Town  Hall  last  night.  It  was  convened  by  the  Con- 
servative Association  for  the  purpose  of  passing  a  vote 
of  confidence  in  the  Government ;  but  the  Liberal  Asso- 
ciation also  issued  placards  calling  upon  Liberals  to 
attend.  The  chair  was  taken  by  Mr.  Stone,  the  Pre- 
sident of  the  Conservative  Association,  but  the  greater 
part  of  his  speech  was  inaudible  even  upon  the  platform, 
owing  to  the  frequent  bursts  of  applause,  groans,  and 
Kentish  fire,  intermingled  with  comic  songs.  Flags 
bearing  the  words  '  Vote  for  Bright '  and  '  Vote  for 
Gladstone  '  were  hoisted,  and  were  torn  to  pieces  by 
the  supporters  of  the  Government  Dr.  Sebastian  Evans 
moved,   and    Alderman    Brinsley    seconded,    a    resolution 


Fors   Clavigera.  95 

expressing  confidence  in  Her  Majesty's  Government. 
Mr.  J.  S.  Wright  moved,  and  Mr.  R.  W.  Dale  seconded, 
an  amendment,  but  neither  speaker  could  make  himself 
heard;  and  on  the  resolution  being  put  to  the  meeting 
it  was  declared  carried,  but  the  Liberal  speakers  dis- 
puted the  decision  of  the  chairman,  and  asserted  that 
two-thirds  of  the  meeting  were  against  the  resolution." — 
Pall  Mall  Gazette,  February  13th,  1878.) 

"And  a  man  of  understanding  shall  attain  unto  wise 
counsels." 

(Yes,  in  due  time  ;  but  oh  me — over  what  burning 
marie,  and  by  what  sifting  of  wheat  !) 

"  To   understand   a  proverb,   and   the  interpretation." 

(Yes,  truly — all  this  chapter  I  have  known  from 
my  mother's  knee — and  never  understood  it  till  this 
very  hour.) 

"  The  words  of  the  wise  and  their  dark  sayings." 

(Behold  this  dreamer  cometh, — and  this  is  his 
dream.) 

11  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  know- 
ledge :  but  fools  despise  wisdom   and  instruction." 

(e.g.  "  Herr ,  one  of  the  Socialist  leaders,  declaring 

that  he  and  his  friends,  since  they  do  not  fear  earthly 
Powers,  are  not  likely  to  be  afraid  of  Powers  of  any 
other  kind." — Pall  Mall  Gazette,  same  date.*) 

*  I  take  this  passage  out  of  an  important  piece  of  intelligence  of  a  quite 
contrary  and  greatly  encouraging  kind.  "  A  new  political  party  has  just 
been   added   to   the   many   parties  which   already  existed   in   Germany.      It 


g  6  Fors   Clavigera. 

"  My  son,  hear  the  instruction  of  thy  father,  and 
forsake  not  the  law  of  thy  mother." 

The  father  is  to  teach  the  boy's  reason  ;  and  the 
mother,  his  will.  He  is  to  take  his  father's  word,  and 
to   obey  his    mother's — look,  even   to   the   death. 

(Therefore  it  is  that  all  laws  of  holy  life  are  called 
1  mother-laws'  in  Venice. — Fors,  1877,  page  38.) 

"  For  they  shall  be  an  ornament  of  grace  unto  thy 
head." 

Alas,  yes ! — once  men  were  crowned  in  youth  with 
the  gold  of  their  father's  glory  ;  when  the  hoary  head 
was   crowned   also   in    the  way  of  righteousness. 

And  so  they  went  their  way  to  prison,  and  to 
death. 

But  now,  by  divine  liberty,  and  general  indication, 
even  Solomon's  own  head  is  not  crowned  by  any  means. 
— Fors,  1877,  p.  138. 

"  And    chains   about    thy  neck  " — (yes,   collar  of    the 

calls  itself  '  the  Christian  Social  party.'  It  is  headed  by  several  promi- 
nent Court  preachers  of  Berlin,  who,  alarmed  at  the  progress  made  by 
the  Socialists,  have  taken  this  means  of  resisting  their  subversive  doctrines. 
The  object  of  the  party  is  to  convince  the  people  that  there  can  be  no 
true  system  of  government  which  is  not  based  upon  Christianity  ;  and  this 
principle  is  being  elaborately  set  forth  in  large  and  enthusiastic  meetings. 
Herr  Most,  one  of  the  Socialist  leaders,  has  given  the  political  pastors  an 
excellent  text  for  their  orations  by  declaring  that  he  and  his  friends,  since 
they  do  not  fear  earthly  Powers,  are  not  likely  to  be  afraid  of  Powers 
of  any  other  kind.  Branches  of  the  Christian  Socialist  party  have  been 
formed  in  several  of  the  most  important  German  towns ;  and  they  con- 
fidently expect  to  be  able  to  secure  a  definite  position  in  the  next  Imperial 
Parliament." 


Fors  Clavigera.  97 

knightliest.  Let  not  thy  mother's  Mercy  and  Truth 
forsake  thee)  bind  them  about  thy  neck,  write  them 
upon  the  tables  of  thine  heart.  She  may  forget :  yet 
will    not   /  forget   thee. 

(Therefore  they  say — of  the  sweet  mother  laws  of 
their  loving  God  and  lowly  Christ — '  Disrumpamus 
vinculo,   eorum    et   projiciamus  a   nobis,  jugum  ipsorum.') 

Nay — nay,   but   if  they   say   thus  then  ? 

"  Let   us    swallow   them   up  alive,  as  the   grave." 

(Other  murderers  kill,  before  they  bury  ; — but  YOU, 
you  observe,  are  invited  to  bury  before  you  kill.  All 
these  things,  when  once  you  know  their  meaning,  have 
their  physical  symbol  quite  accurately  beside  them. 
Read  the  story  of  the  last  explosion  in  Yorkshire — 
where  a  woman's  husband  and  her  seven  sons  fell — all 
seven — all  eight — together  :  about  the  beginning  of 
barley  harvest  it  was,   I   think.) 

"  And  whole  as  those  that  go  down   into  the  pit." 

(Others  murderers  kill  the  body  only,  but  YOU  are 
invited  to  kill  '  whole  • — body  and  soul.  Yea — and  to 
kill  with  such  wholeness  that  the  creatures  shall  not 
even  know  they  ever  had  a  soul,  any  more  than  a  frog 
of  Egypt.  You  will  not,  think  you.  Ah,  but  hear  yet 
— for  second   thoughts  are  best.) 

"  We  shall  find  all  precious  substance.  We  shall  fill 
our  houses  with  spoil." 

(ALL  precious  substance.  Is  there  anything  in  those 
houses  round    the   park  that  could    possibly  be  suggested 


98  Fors   Clavigera, 

as  wanting  ? — And  spoil, — all  taken  from  the  killed 
people.  Have  they  not  sped — have  they  not  divided 
the  spoil — to  every  man  a  damsel  or  two.  Not  one  bit 
of  it  all  worked  for  with  your  own  hand, — even  so, 
mother   of  Sisera.) 

"  Cast  in  thy  lot  among  us." — (The  Company  is 
limited.) 

"  Let  us  all  have  one " — (heart  ?  no,  for  none  of  us 
have  that ; — mind  ?  no,  for  none  of  us  have  that ; — but 
let  us  all  have  one — )  "  purse."  And  now — that  you 
know  the  meaning  of  it — I  write  to  the  end  my 
morning's  reading. 

My  son,    walk   not   thou   in    the  way   with   them. 

Refrain  thy  foot  from  their  path.  For  their  feet  run 
to   evil,    and    hasten    to   shed   blood. 

Surely  in  vain  the  net  is  spread  in  the  sight  of  any 
bird. 

And   they  lay  wait  for  their  own   blood. 

They  lurk  privily  for  their  own  lives. 

SO  ARE  THE  WAYS  OF  EVERY  ONE  THAT  IS  GREEDY 
OF  GAIN  WHICH  TAKETH  AWAY  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 
OWNERS  THEREOF. 

Now,  therefore,  let  us  see  what  these  ways  are — the 
Viae  Peccatorum, — the  Pleasantness  of  them,  and  the 
Peace. 

The  following  are  portions  of  a  letter  from  the  brother 
of  one  of  my  country  friends  here,  who  has  been  pastor 
of  the  English  Baptist  church  in  Tredegar  about  twenty 
years. 


Fbrs   Clavioera.  99 

1  *  Tr e i > to  '.Mi,  11  th  February t  1 878. 
"  Some  three  hundred  men  are  said  to  have  been 
discharged  from  tjie  works  last  week.  The  mills  are  to 
be  closed  all  this  week,  and  the  iron-workers  do  not 
expect  to  be  able  to  earn  a  penny.  About  a  day  and  a 
half  per  week,  on  the  average,  is  what  they  have  been 
working  for  several  months.  The  average  earnings  have 
been  six  shillings  a  week,  and  out  of  that  they  have  to 
pay  for  coal,  house-rent,  and  other  expenses,  leaving  very 
little  for  food  and  clothing.  The  place  has  been  divided 
into  districts.  I  have  one  of  these  districts  to  investigate 
and  relieve.  In  that  district  there  are  a  hundred  and 
thirty  families  in  distress,  and  which  have  been  relieved 
on  an  average  of  two  shillings  per  week  for  each  family 
for  the  last  month.  Many  of  them  are  some  days  every 
week  without  anything  to  eat,  and  with  nothing  but 
water  to  drink:  they  have  nothing  but  rags  to  cover  them 
by  day,  and  very  little  beside  their  wearing  apparel  to 
cover  them  on  their  beds  at  night.  They  have  sold  or 
pawned  their  furniture,  and  everything  for  which  they 
could  obtain  the  smallest  sum  of  money.  In  fact,  they 
seem  to  me  to  be  actually  starving.  In  answer  to  our 
appeal,  we  have  received  about  three  hundred  pounds, 
and  have  distributed  the  greater  part  of  it.  We  also 
distributed  a  large  quantity  of  clothing  last  week  which 
we  had  received  from  different  places.  We  feel  increasing 
anxiety  about  the  future.  When  we  began,  we  hoped 
the   prospect   would    soon   brighten,   and   that  we  should 

2ND    SERIES,    III.]  .  C) 


ioo  Fors   Clavigera. 

be  able  before  long  to  discontinue  our  efforts.  Instead 
of  that,  however,  things  look  darker  than  ever.  We 
cannot  tell  what  would  become  of  us  if  contributions  to 
our  funds  should  now  cease  to  come  in,  and  we  do  not 
know  how  long  we  may  hope  that  they  will  continue  to 
come  in,  and  really  cannot  tell  who  is  to  blame,  nor  what 
is   the   remedy." 

They  know  not  at  zvhat  they  stumble.  How  should 
they  ? 

Well — will  they  hear  at  last  then  ?  Has  Jael-Atropos 
at  last  driven  her  nail  well  down  through  the  Helmet 
of  Death  he  wore  instead  of  the  Helmet  of  Salvation — 
mother   of   Sisera  ? 


2\D  SERIES,  IV.]  I  O 


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kv  crol  yap  cro^trj  aperf}?  reXos  karOXbv  i/caVci. 
kXvOl,   Bed,   KaKtrjv  OvryrCov  Opavovo~a  81*0.1009, 
<I)S  av  lcroppo7rtyo-iv  del  /2io9  taOXos  oSevoi 
Ov-qroiv  dvdpdiTruiv,   01  dpovprjs  Kapirov  eSovcnv, 
/cat  t,iinav  7rdvT0)v,   oirocf   kv  koXttoktl  TL0r)V€t 
yaid  Oed  /xrJTTjp  koX  7t6Vtio9  eu/aA.109  Zevs. 


Thou  who  doest  right  for  mortals ,— full  of  blessings, — thou,  the 

desired  of  hearts. 
Rejoicing,  for  thy  equity,  in  mortal  righteousness ; — 
All-honoured,  ha  fifty -fated,  majestic-miened  Justice, 
Who  dost  arbitrate,  for  j>ure  minds,  all  that  ought  to  be. 
Unmoved  of  countenance  thou  ; — (it  is  they  who  shall  be  moved 
That  come  not  under  thy  yoke, — other  always  to  others, 
Driving  insatiably  oblique  the  leaded  scales.) 
Thou, — seditionless ,  dear  to  all — lover  of  revel,  and  lovely, 
Rejoicing  in  jbeace,  zealous  for  fiureness  of  life, 
(For  thou  hatest  always  the  More,  and  rejoicest  i?i  equalness. 
For  in  thee  the  wisdom  of  virtue  reaches  its  noble  end.) 
Hear,  Goddess  / — trouble  thou  justly  the  mischief  of  mortals, 
So  that  always  in  fair  equipoise  the  noble  life  may  travel 
Of  mortal  men  that  eat  the  fruit  of  the  furrow, 
And  of  all  living  creatures,  whom  nurse  in  their  bosoms 
Earth  the  Goddess  mother,  and  the  God  of  the  deep  sea. 

ORPHEUS.— Sixty-third  Hymn. 


FORS     CLAVIGERA. 

SECOND   SERIES. 


"  YEA,  THE  WORK  OF  OUR  HANDS,  ESTABLISH  THOU  IT.' 


LETTER  THE  88th. 

THE  CONVENTS  OF  ST.  QUENTIN. 

Brantwood,  Zth  February,  1880. 

It  is  now  close  on  two  years  since  I  was  struck  by 
the  illness  which  brought  these  Letters  to  an  end,  as 
a  periodical  series  ;  nor  did  I  think,  on  first  recovery, 
that  I  should  ever  be  able  to  conclude  them  otherwise 
than  by  a  few  comments  in  arranging  their  topical 
index. 

But  my  strength  is  now  enough*  restored  to  permit 
me  to  add  one  or  two  more  direct  pieces  of  teaching 
to  the  broken  statements  of  principle  which  it  has  become 
difficult  to  gather  out  of  the  mixed  substance  of  the 
book.  These  will  be  written  at  such  leisure  as  I  may 
find,  and  form  an  eighth  volume,  which  with  a  thin  ninth, 
containing  indices,  I  shall  be  thankful  if  I  can  issue  in 
this  tenth  year  from  the  beginning  of  the  work. 

To-day,   being    my    sixty-first    birthday,    I   would  ask 


104  Fors    Clavigera. 

leave  to  say  a  few  words  to  the  friends  who  care  for 
me,  and  the  readers  who  are  anxious  about  me,  touching 
the  above-named  illness  itself.  For  a  physician's  estimate 
of  it,  indeed,  I  can  only  refer  them  to  my  physicians. 
But  there  were  some  conditions  of  it  which  I  knew  better 
than  they  could  :  namely,  first,  the  precise  and  sharp 
distinction  between  the  state  of  morbid  inflammation  of 
brain  which  gave  rise  to  false  visions,  (whether  in  sleep, 
or  trance,  or  waking,  in  broad  daylight,  with  perfect 
knowledge  of  the  real  things  in  the  room,  while  yet  I 
saw  others  that  were  not  there,)  and  the  not  morbid, 
however  dangerous,  states  of  more  or  less  excited 
temper,  and  too  much  quickened  thought,  which  gradually 
led  up  to  the  illness,  accelerating  in  action  during  the 
eight  or  ten  days  preceding  the  actual  giving  way  of 
the  brain,  (as  may  be  enough  seen  in  the  fragmentary 
writing  of  the  first  edition  of  my  notes  on  the  Turner 
exhibition);  and  yet,  up  to  the  transitional  moment  of 
first  hallucination,  entirely  healthy,  and  in  the  full  sense 
of  the  word  *  sane  '  ;  just  as  the  natural  inflammation 
about  a  healing  wound  in  flesh  is  sane,  up  to  the  transi- 
tional edge  where  it  may  pass  at  a  crisis  into  morbific, 
or  even  mortified,  substance.  And  this  more  or  less 
inflamed,  yet  still  perfectly  healthy,  condition  of  mental 
power,  may  be  traced  by  any  watchful  reader,  in  Fors, 
nearly  from  its  beginning, — that  manner  of  mental 
ignition  or  irritation  being  for  the  time  a  great  addi- 
tional force,   enabling   me   to   discern    more    clearly,  and 


Fors    Clavigera.  105 

say   more   vividly,  what  for  long   years    it   had   been    in 
my  heart  to  say. 

Now  I  observed  that  in  talking  of  the  illness,  whether 
during  its  access  or  decline,  none  of  the  doctors  ever 
thought  of  thus  distinguishing  what  was  definitely 
diseased  in  the  brain  action,  from  what  was  simply 
curative — had  there  been  time  enough — of  the  wounded 
nature  in  me.  And  in  the  second  place,  not  perceiving, 
or  at  least  not  admitting,  this  difference  ;  nor,  for  the 
most  part,  apprehending  (except  the  one  who  really 
carried  me  through,  and  who  never  lost  hope — Dr. 
Parsons  of  Hawkshead)  that  there  were  any  mental 
wounds  to  be  healed,  they  made,  and  still  make,  my 
friends  more  anxious  about  me  than  there  is  occasion 
for  :  which  anxiety  I  partly  regret,  as  it  pains  them  ; 
but  much  more  if  it  makes  them  more  doubtful  than 
they  used  to  be  (which,  for  some,  is  saying  a  good 
deal)  of  the  "  truth  and  soberness "  of  Fors  itself. 
Throughout  every  syllable  of  which,  hitherto  written, 
the  reader  will  find  one  consistent  purpose,  and  per- 
fectly conceived  system,  far  more  deeply  founded  than 
any  bruited  about  under  their  founders'  names  ;  including 
in  its  balance  one  vast  department  of  human  skill, — 
—the  arts,— which  the  vulgar  economists  are  wholly 
incapable  of  weighing  ;  and  a  yet  more  vast  realm  of 
human  enjoyment — the  spiritual  affections, — which  ma- 
terialist thinkers  are  alike  incapable  of  imagining  :  a 
system    not    mine,  nor    Kant's,   nor    Comte's  ; — but  that 


106  Fors    Clavigera. 

which  Heaven  has  taught  every  true  man's  heart,  and 
proved  by  every  true  man's  work,  from  the  beginning  of 
time  to  this  day. 

I  use  the  word  '  Heaven  '  here  in  an  absolutely  literal 
sense,  meaning  the  blue  sky,  and  the  light  and  air  of 
it.  Men  who  live  in  that  light, — "  in  pure  sunshine, 
not  under  mixed-up  shade," — and  whose  actions  are 
open  as  the  air,  always  arrive  at  certain  conditions  of 
moral  and  practical  loyalty,  which  are  wholly  independent 
of  religious  opinion.  These,  it  has  been  the  first  business 
of  Fors  to  declare.  Whether  there  be  one  God  or 
three, — no  God,  or  ten  thousand, — children  should  have 
enough  to  eat,  and  their  skins  should  be  washed  clean. 
It  is  not  /  who  say  that.  Every  mother's  heart  under 
the  sun  says  that,  if  she  has  one. 

Again,  whether  there  be  saints  in  Heaven  or  not, 
as  long  as  its  stars  shine  on  the  sea,  and  the  thunnies 
swim  there — every  fisherman  who  drags  a  net  ashore 
is  bound  to  say  to  as  many  human  creatures  as  he 
can,  \  Come  and  dine.'  And  the  fishmongers  who 
destroy  their  fish  by  .cartloads  that  they  may  make  the 
poor  pay  dear  for  what  is  left,  ought  to  be  flogged 
round  Billingsgate,  and  out  of  it.  It  is  not  I  who  say 
that.  Every  man's  heart  on  sea  and  shore  says  that — 
if  he  isn't  at  heart  a  rascal.  Whatever  is  dictated  in 
Fors  is  dictated  thus  by  common  sense,  common  equity, 
common   humanity,  and  common  sunshine — not  by  me. 

But  farther.     I  have  just  now  used  the  word  *  Heaven  ' 


Fors   Clavigera.  107 

in  a  nobler  sense  also  :  meaning,  Heaven  and  our  Father 
therein. 

And  beyond  the  power  of  its  sunshine,  which*  all 
men  may  know,  Fors  has  declared  also  the  power  of 
its  Fatherhood, — which  only  some  men  know,  and  others 
do  not, — and,  except  by  rough  teaching,  may  not.  For 
the  wise  of  all  the  earth  have  said  in  their  hearts 
always,  "God  is,  and  there  is  none  beside  Him;"  and 
the  fools  of  all  the  earth  have  said  in  their  hearts 
always,  "  I   am,  and  there  is  none  beside  me." 

Therefore,  beyond  the  assertion  of  what  is  visibly 
salutary,  Fors  contains  also  the  assertion  of  what  is 
invisibly  salutary,  or  salvation-bringing,  in  Heaven,  to 
all  men  who  will  receive  such  health  :  and  beyond  this 
an  invitation — passing  gradually  into  an  imperious  call 
— to  all  men  who  trust  in  God,  that  they  purge  their 
conscience  from  dead  works,  and  join  together  in  work 
separated  from  the  fool's  ;  pure,  undefiled,  and  worthy 
of  Him  they  trust  in. 

But  in  the  third  place.  Besides  these  definitions, 
first,  of  what  is  useful  to  all  the  world,  and  then  of 
what  is  useful  to  the  wiser  part  of  it,  Fors  contains 
much  trivial  and  desultory  talk  by  the  way.  Scattered 
up  and  down  in  it, — perhaps  by  the  Devil's  sowing 
tares  among  the  wheat, — there  is  much  casual  expres- 
sion of  my  own  personal  feelings  and  faith,  together 
with  bits  of  autobiography,  which  were  allowed  place, 
not  without   some   notion  of  their  being  useful,  but  yet 


108  Fors    Clavigera. 

imprudently,    and    even    incontinently,    because    I    could 
not   at  the  moment  hold   my  tongue  about  what  vexed 
or  interested   me,  or  returned   soothingly  to  my  memory. 
Now    these     personal     fragments    must     be     carefully 
sifted    from    the  rest  of  the  book,  by  readers  who  wish 
to  understand   it,   and   taken   within   their  own  limits, — 
no    whit    farther.      For  instance,   when    I    say  that   "St. 
Ursula  sent  me  a  flower  with    her  love,"  it  means  that 
I    myself   am    in    the    habit    of   thinking  of   the   Greek 
Persephone,  the    Latin    Proserpina,    and    the    Gothic   St. 
Ursula,   as  of  the  same   living   spirit;  and  so   far  regu- 
lating   my    conduct    by    that    idea    as     to    dedicate    my 
book   on    Botany   to    Proserpina ;  and    to   think,  when   I 
want  to   write    anything    pretty  about    flowers,   how   St. 
Ursula  would  like  it  said.     And  when  on  the  Christmas 
morning    in   question,  a  friend  staying  in  Venice  brought 
me  a  pot  of  pinks,  '  with  St.   Ursula's  love,'  the  said  pot 
of  pinks   did    afterwards  greatly  help    me  in   my  work  ; 
- — and   reprove   me   afterwards,   in   its   own  way,   for  the 
failure  of  it. 

All  this  effort,  or  play,  of  personal  imagination  is 
utterly  distinct  from  the  teaching  of  Fors,  though  I 
thought  at  the  time  its  confession  innocent,  without  in 
any  wise  advising  my  readers  to  expect  messages  from 
pretty  saints,  or  reprobation  from  pots  of  pinks :  only 
being  urgent  with  them  to  ascertain  clearly  in  their 
own  minds  what  they  do  expect  comfort  or  reproof 
from.       Here,    for    instance,    (Sheffield,    12th    February,) 


Fors    Clavigera.  109 

I  am  lodging  at  an  honest  and  hospitable  grocer's,  who 
has  lent  me  his  own  bedroom,  of  which  the  principal 
ornament  is  a  card  printed  in  black  and  gold,  sacred 
to  the  memory  of  his  infant  son,  who  died  aged 
fourteen  months,  and  whose  tomb  is  represented  under 
the  figure  of  a  broken  Corinthian  column,  with  two 
graceful-winged  ladies  putting  garlands  on  it.  He  is 
comforted  by  this  conception,  and,  in  that  degree, 
believes  and  feels  with  me :  the  merely  palpable  fact 
is  probably,  that  his  child's  body  is  lying  between  two 
tall  chimneys  which  are  covering  it  gradually  with 
cinders.  I  am  quite  as  clearly  aware  of  that  fact  as 
the  most  scientific  of  my  friends  ;  and  can  probably 
see  more  in  the  bricks  of  the  said  chimneys  than  they. 
But  if  they  can  see  nothing  in  Heaven  above  the 
chimney  tops,  nor  conceive  of  anything  in  spirit  greater 
than  themselves,  it  is  not  because  they  have  more 
knowledge   than    I,   but   because   they  have  less   sense. 

Less  common-sense, — observe :  less  practical  insight 
into  the  things  which  are  of  instant  and  constant  need 
to  man.   • 

I  must  yet  allow  myself  a  few  more  words  of  auto- 
biography touching  this  point.  The  doctors  said  that 
I  went  mad,  this  time  two  years  ago,  from  overwork. 
I  had  not  been  then  working  more  than  usual,  and 
what  was  usual  with  me  had  become  easy.  But  I  went 
mad  because  nothing  came  of  my  work.  People  would 
have  understood  my  falling  crazy  if  they  had  heard  that 


no  Fors    Clavigera. 

the  manuscripts  on  which  I  had  spent  seven  years  of  my 
old  life  had  all  been  used  to  light  the  fire  with,  like 
Carlyle's  first  volume  of  the  French  Revolution.  But 
they  could  not  understand  that  I  should  be  the  least 
annoyed,  far  less  fall  ill  in  a  frantic  manner,  because, 
after  I  had  got  them  published,  nobody  believed  a  word 
of  them.  Yet  the  first  calamity  would  only  have  been 
misfortune, — the  second  (the  enduring  calamity  under 
which  I  toil)  is  humiliation, — resisted  necessarily  by  a 
dangerous  and  lonely  pride. 

I  spoke  just  now  of  the  'wounds'  of  which  that  fire 
in  the  flesh  came  ;  and  if  any  one  ask  me  faithfully, 
what  the  wounds  were,  I  can  faithfully  give  the  answer 
of  Zechariah's  silenced  messenger,  "Those  with  which  I 
was  wounded  in  the  house  of  my  friends."  All  alike, 
in  whom  I  had  most  trusted  for  help,  failed  me  in  this 
main  work :  some  mocked  at  it,  some  pitied,  some 
rebuked, — all  stopped  their  ears  at  the  cry :  and  the 
solitude  at  last  became  too  great  to  be  endured.  I  tell 
this  now,  because  I  must  say  some  things  that  grieve 
me  to  say,  about  the  recent  work  of  one  of  the  friends 
from  whom  I  had  expected  most  sympathy  and  aid, 
— the  historian  J.  A.  Froude.  Faithful,  he,  as  it 
appeared  to  me,  in  all  the  intent  of  history :  already 
in  the  year  1858  shrewdly  cognizant  of  the  main 
facts  (with  which  he  alone  professed  himself  concerned) 
of  English  life  past  and  present ;  keenly  also,  and 
impartially,    sympathetic    with    every    kind    of    heroism, 


Fors   Clavigera.  1 1 1 

and  mode  of  honesty.  Of  him  I  first  learned  the  story 
of  Sir  Richard  Grenville  ;  by  him  was  directed  to  the 
diaries  of  the  sea  captains  in  Hakluyt ;  by  his  influence, 
when  he  edited  Fraser's  Magazine,  I  had  been  led  to 
the  writing  of  Munera  Pulveris  :  his  Rectorial  address 
at  St.  Andrew's  was  full  of  insight  into  the  strength  of 
old  Scotland  ;  his  study  of  the  life  of  Hugo  of  Lincoln, 
into  that  of  yet  elder  England  ;  and  every  year,  as  Auld 
Reekie  and  old  England  sank  farther  out  of  memory 
and  honour  with  others,  I  looked  more  passionately  for 
some  utterance  from  him,  of  noble  story  about  the  brave 
and  faithful  dead,  and  noble  wrath  against  the  wretched 
and  miscreant  dead-alive.  But  year  by  year  his  words 
have  grown  more  hesitating  and  helpless.  The  first 
preface  to  his  history  is  a  quite  masterly  and  exhaustive 
summary  of  the  condition  and  laws  of  England  before 
the  Reformation ;  and  it  most  truly  introduces  the  fol- 
lowing book  as  a  study  of  the  process  by  which  that 
condition  and  those  laws  were  turned  upside-down,  and 
inside-out,  "  as  a  man  wipeth  a  dish, — wiping  it,  and 
turning  it  upside-down  ; "  so  that,  from  the  least  thing 
to  the  greatest,  if  our  age  is  light,  those  ages  were 
dark  ;  if  our  age  is  right,  those  ages  were  wrong, — and 
vice  versa.  There  is  no  possible  consent  to  be  got,  or 
truce  to  be  struck,  between  them.  Those  ages  were 
feudal,  ours  free  ;  those  reverent,  ours  impudent ;  those 
artful,  ours  mechanical :  the  consummate  and  exhaustive 
difference  being  that  the  creed  of  the  Dark  Ages   was, 


1 1 2  Fors   Clavigera. 


<i> 


"  I  believe  in  one  God,  the  Father  Almighty,  Maker 
of  heaven  and  earth ; "  and  the  creed  of  the  Light 
Ages  has  become,  "  I  believe  in  Father  Mud,  the 
Almighty  Plastic  ;  and  in  Father  Dollar,  the  Almighty 
Drastic." 

Now  at  the  time  when  Mr.  Froude  saw  and  announced 
the  irreconcilableness'  of  these  two  periods,  and  then  went 
forward  to  his  work  on  that  time  of  struggling  twilight 
which  foretold  the  existing  blaze  of  day,  and  general 
detection  of  all  impostures,  he  had  certainly  not  made 
up  his  mind  whether  he  ought  finally  to  praise  the 
former  or  the  latter  days.  His  reverence  for  the  right- 
eousness of  old  English  law  holds  staunch,  even  to  the 
recognition  of  it  in  the  most  violent  states  of — literal — 
ebullition  :  such,  for  instance,  as  the  effective  check  given 
to  the  introduction  of  the  arts  of  Italian  poisoning  into 
England,  by  putting  the  first  English  cook  who  practised 
them  into  a  pot  of  convenient  size,  together  with  the 
requisite  quantity  of  water,  and  publicly  boiling  him, — a 
most  concise  and  practical  method.  Also  he  rejoices  in 
the  old  English  detestation  of  idleness,  and  determina- 
tion that  every  person  in  the  land  should  have  a  craft 
to  live  by,  and  practise  it  honestly :  and  in  manifold  other 
matters  I  perceive  the  backward  leaning  of  his  inmost 
thoughts  ;  and  yet  in  the  very  second  page  of  this 
otherwise  grand  preface,  wholly  in  contravention  of 
his  own  principle  that  the  historian  has  only  to  do 
with    facts,    he     lets    slip     this — conciliating    is     it?     or 


Fors   Clavigera.  1 1 3 

careless  ?  or  really  intended  ? — in  any  case  amazing — 
sentence,  "  A  condition  of  things "  (the  earlier  age) 
"  differing  both  outwardly  and  inwardly  from  that  into 
which  a  happier  fortune  has  introduced  ourselves!'  An 
amazing  sentence,  I  repeat,  in  its  triple  assumptions, 
— each  in  itself  enormous  :  the  first,  that  it  is  happier 
to  live  without,  than  with,  the  fear  of  God  ;  the  second, 
that  it  is  chance,  and  neither  our  virtue  nor  our  wisdom, 
that  has  procured  us  this  happiness  ; — the  third,  that 
the  '  ourselves '  of  Onslow  Gardens  and  their  neighbour- 
hood may  sufficiently  represent  also  the  ourselves  of 
Siberia  and  the  Rocky  Mountains — of  Afghanistan  and 
Zululand. 

None    of    these    assumptions    have    foundation  ; .  and 
for  fastening  the  outline  of  their  shadowy  and  meteoric 
form,    Mr.    Froude    is    working    under    two    deadly    dis- 
advantages.     Intensely  loving  and  desiring  Truth  before 
all     things,    nor    without    sympathy    even    for    monkish 
martyrs, — see     the     passage     last     quoted     in     my    last 
written  Fors,  p.  91, — he  has  yet  allowed  himself  to  slip 
somehow  into    the    notion    that    Protestantism    and    the 
love   of  Truth   are  synonymous  ; — so  that,  for  instance, 
the  advertisements  which  decorate  in  various  fresco  the 
station   of  the  Great  Northern   Railway,    and   the    news- 
papers vended  therein   to  the  passengers  by  the  morning 
train,   appear   to   him    treasures   of   human    wisdom    and 
veracity,  as  compared  with  the  benighted  ornamentation 
of  the   useless    Lesche  of  Delphi,   or  the   fanciful  stains 


H4  Fors   Clavigera. 

on  the  tunnel  roof  of  the  Lower  Church  of  Assisi.     And 
this   the  more,  because,  for  second    deadly  disadvantage, 
he  has  no  knowledge  of  art,  nor  care  for  it  ;   and  there- 
fore,  in   his   life   of  Hugo    of    Lincoln,   passes    over   the 
Bishop's  designing,  and  partly  building,  its  cathedral,  with 
a   word,    as  if  he  had  been  no  more  than    a  woodman 
building   a   hut  :  and    in   his   recent    meditations    at    St. 
Albans,   he   never  puts   the  primal    question    concerning 
those    long    cliffs    of    abbey- wall,    how     the     men     who 
thought  of  them  and  built  them,  differed,  in   make  and 
build   of  soul,  from    the    apes  who  can  only  pull    them 
down  and  build  bad  imitations  of  them  :  but  he  fastens 
like   a   remora    on   the    nearer,    narrower,    copper-coating 
of  fact — that  countless  bats  and  owls  did   at  last  cluster 
under    the    abbey-eaves  ;     fact    quite    sufficiently    known 
before     now,     and     loudly     enough     proclaimed     to    the 
votaries  of  the  Goddess  of  Reason,  round  Jier  undefiled 
altars.      So  that   there   was   not    the    slightest    need    for 
Mr.   Froude's  sweeping  out    these  habitations  of   doleful 
creatures.      Had  he  taken  an  actual  broom  of  resolutely 
bound    birch    twigs,    and,   in    solemn    literalness    of   act, 
swept  down  the   wrecked  jackdaws'  nests,  which  at  this 
moment   make  a  slippery  dunghill-slope,  and   mere  peril 
of  spiral  perdition,  out  of  what  was  once  the  safe  and 
decent    staircase  of  central   Canterbury  tower,   he  would 
have  better   served   his   generation.      But    after    he    had, 
to  his    own    satisfaction,   sifted    the    mass    of   bonedust, 
and   got   at   the  worst    that   could   be   seen   or  smelt   in 


Fors    Clavigera.  1 1 5 

the  cells  of  monks,  it  was  next,  and  at  least  his  duty, 
as  an  impartial  historian,  to  compare  with  them  the 
smells  of  modern  unmonastic  cells  ;  (unmonastic,  that  is 
to  say,  in  their  scorn  of  sculpture  and  painting, — monastic 
enough  in  their  separation  of  life  from  life).  Yielding 
no  whit  to  Mr.  Froude  in  love  of  Fact  and  Truth,  I 
will  place  beside  his  picture  of  the  monk's  cell,  in  the 
Dark  Ages,  two  or  three  pictures  by  eye-witnesses — 
yes,  and  by  line-and-measure  witnesses — of  the  manu- 
facturer's cell,  in  the  happier  times  "  to  which  Fortune 
has  introduced  ourselves."  I  translate  them  (nearly  as 
Fors  opens  the  pages  to  me)  from  M.  Jules  Simon's 
1  L'Ouvriere,'  a  work  which  I  recommend  in  the  most 
earnest  manner,  as  a  text  book  for  the  study  of  French 
in  young  ladies'  schools.  It  must,  however,  be  observed, 
prefatorily,  that  these  descriptions  were  given  in  1864; 
and  I  have  no  doubt  that  as  soon  as  this  Fors  is 
published,  I  shall  receive  indignant  letters  from  all  the 
places  named  in  the  extracts,  assuring  me  that  nothing 
of  the  sort  exists  there  now.  Of  which  letters  I  must 
also  say,  in  advance,  that  I  shall  take  no  notice  ;  being 
myself  prepared,  on  demand,  to  furnish  any  quantity 
of  similar  pictures,  seen  with  my  own  eyes,  in  the  course 
of  a  single  walk  with  a  policeman  through  the  back 
streets  of  any  modern  town  which  has  fine  front  ones. 
And  I  take  M.  Jules  Simon's  studies  from  life  merely 
because  it  gives  me  less  trouble  to  translate  them  than 
to    write    fresh    ones    myself.      But    I    think    it   probable 


1 1 6  Fors    Clavigera. 

that  they  do  indicate  the  culminating  power  of  the 
manufacturing  interest  in  causing  human  degradation  ; 
and  that  things  may  indeed  already  be  in  some  struggling 
initial  state  of  amendment.  What  things  were,  at  their 
worst,  and  were  virtually  everywhere,  I  record  as  a  most 
important  contribution  to  the  History  of  France,  and 
Europe,  in  the  words  of  an  honourable  and  entirely 
accurate  and  trustworthy  Frenchman. 

"  Elbceuf,  where  the  industrial  prosperity  is  so  great, 
ought    to    have    healthy    lodgings.      It    is    a    quite    new 
town,    and    one    which    may    easily    extend    itself   upon 
the   hills    {coteaux)  which  surround  it.     We  find  already, 
in  effect,  jasqitd,  mi-cote  (I  don't  know  what  that  means, 
— half-way    up    the  hill  ?),   beside  a  little  road  bordered 
by  smiling  shrubs,  some  small  houses  built  without  care 
and   without    intelligence    by    little    speculators    scarcely 
.less  wretched  than  the  lodgers  they  get  together  " — (this 
sort   of  landlord    is   one   of  the  worst    modern   forms  of 
Centaur, — half  usurer,  half  gambler).     "  You  go  up  two  or 
three  steps  made  of  uncut  stones "  (none  the  worse  for 
that  though,  M.  Jules  Simon),  "  and  you  find  yourself  in 
a    little    room    lighted    by  one    narrow   window,    and   of 
which   the    four  walls   of  earth  have   never   been   white- 
washed   nor   rough-cast.      Some    half-rotten    oak    planks 
thrown    down    on    the    soil    pretend    to    be    a    flooring. 
Close  to  the  road,  an  old  woman  pays  sevenpence  half- 
penny a  week,"  (sixty-five  centimes, — roughly,  forty  francs, 
or    thirty    shillings   a  year,)    "  for    a   mud    hut   which    is 


Fors    Clavigera.  1 1 7 

literally  naked — neither  bed,  chair,  nor  table  in  it  {dest 
en  demeurer  confondu).  She  sleeps  upon  a  little  straw, 
too  rarely  renewed  ;  while  her  son,  who  is  a  labourer  at 
the  port,  sleeps  at  night  upon  the  damp  ground,  without 
either  straw  or  covering.  At  some  steps  farther  on, 
a  little  back  from  the  road,  a  weaver,  sixty  years  old, 
inhabits  a  sort  of  hut  or  sentry-box,  (for  one  does  not 
know  what  name  to  give  it,)  of  which  the  filth  makes 
the  heart  sick  "  (he  means  the  stomach  too — -fait  soulever 
le  cceur).  "  It  is  only  a  man's  length,  and  a  yard  and 
a  quarter  broad  ;  he  has  remained  in  it  night  and  day 
for  twenty  years.  He  is  now  nearly  an  idiot,  and 
refuses  to  occupy  a  better  lodging  which  one  proposes 
to  him. 

"  The  misery  is  not  less  horrible,  and  it  is  much  more 
general  at  Rouen.  One  cannot  form  an  idea  of  the 
filth  of  certain  houses  without  having  seen  it.  The  poor 
people  feed  their  fire  with  the  refuse  of  the  apples  which 
have  served  to  make  cider,  and  which  they  get  given 
them  for  nothing.  They  have  quantities  of  them  in 
the  corner  of  their  rooms,  and  a  hybrid  vegetation  comes 
out  of  these  masses  of  vegetable  matter  in  putrefaction. 
Sometimes  the  proprietors,  ill  paid,  neglect  the  most 
urgent  repairs.  In  a  garret  of  the  Rue  des  Matelas, 
the  floor,  entirely  rotten,  trembles  under  the  step  of  the 
visitor  ;  at  two  feet  from  the  door  is  a  hole  larger  than 
the  body  of  a  man.  The  two  unhappy  women  who 
live   there   are    obliged   to   cry   to   you  to  take  care,  for 

2ND  SERIES,  IV.]  J  J 


1  1 8  Fors    Clavigera. 

they  have  not  anything  to  put  over  the  hole,  not  even 
the  end  of  a  plank.  There  is  nothing  in  their  room 
but  their  spinning-wheel,  two  low  chairs,  and  the  wrecks 
of  a  wooden  bedstead  without  a  mattress.  In  a  blind 
alley  at  the  end  of  the  Rue  des  Canettes,  where  the 
wooden  houses  seem  all  on  the  point  of  falling,  a  weaver 
of  braces  lodges  with  his  family  in  a  room  two  yards 
and  a  half  broad  by  four  yards  and  three-quarters  long, 
measured  on  the  floor  ;  but  a  projection  formed  by  the 
tunnels  of  the  chimney  of  the  lower  stories,  and  all  the 
rest,  is  so  close  to  the  roof  that  one  cannot  make  three 
steps  upright.  When  the  husband,  wife,  and  four  children 
are  all  in  it,  it  is  clear  that  they  cannot  move.  One 
will  not  be  surprised  to  hear  that  the  want  of  air  and 
hunger  make  frequent  victims  in  such  a  retreat  (reduit). 
Of  the  four  children  which  remained  to  them  in  April, 
i860,  two  were  dead  three  months  afterwards.  When 
they  were  visited  in  the  month  of  April,  the  physician, 
M.  Leroy,  spoke  of  a  ticket  that  he  had  given  them 
the  week  before  for  milk.  '  She  has  drunk  of  it,'  said 
the  mother  pointing  to  the  eldest  daughter,  half  dead, 
but  who  had  the  strength  to  smile.  Hunger  had  reduced 
this  child,  who  would  have  been  beautiful,  nearly  to  the 
state  of  a  skeleton. 

"  The  father  of  this  poor  family  is  a  good  weaver. 
He  could  gain  in  an  ordinary  mill  from  three  to  four 
francs  a  day,  while  he  gains  only  a  franc  and  a  half 
in  the  brace  manufactory.      One  may  ask  why  he  stays 


Fors    Clavigera.  1 1 9 

there.  Because  at  the  birth  of  his  last  child  he  had 
no  money  at  home,  nor  fire,  nor  covering,  nor  light, 
nor  bread.  He  borrowed  twenty  francs  from  his  patron, 
who  is  an  honest  man,  and  he  cannot  without  paying 
his  debt  quit  that  workshop  where  his  work  neverthe- 
less does  not  bring  him  enough  to  live  on.  It  is  clear 
that  he  will  die  unless  some  one  helps  him,  but  his 
family  will  be  dead  before  him." 

Think  now,  you  sweet  milkmaids  of  England  whose 
face  is  your  fortune,  and  you  sweet  demoiselles  of 
France  who  are  content,  as  girls  should  be,  with 
breakfast  of  brown  bread  and  cream,  (read  Scribe's 
little  operetta,  La  Demoiselle  a  Marier,) — think,  I  say, 
how,  in  this  one, — even  though  she  has  had  a  cup  of 
cold  milk  given  her  in  the  name  of  the  Lord, — lying 
still  there,  "  nearly  a  skeleton,"  that  verse  of  the  song 
of  songs  which  is  Solomon's,  must  take  a  new  mean- 
ing for  yon :  "  We  have  a  little  sister,  and  she  has 
no  breasts  :  what  shall  we  do  for  our  sister  in  the  day 
of  her  espousals  ?  " 

"  For  the  cellars  of  Lille,  those  who  defend  them, 
were  they  of  Lille  itself,  have  not  seen  them.  There 
remains  one,  No.  40  of  the  Rue  des  Etaques ;  the 
ladder  applied  against  the  wall  to  go  down  is  in  such 
a  bad  state  that  you  will  do  well  to  go  down  slowly. 
There  is  just  light  enough  to  read  at  the  foot  of  the 
ladder.  One  cannot  read  there  without  compromising 
one's   eyes ;  the   work   of  sewing  is   therefore  dangerous 


1 20  Fors    Clavigera. 

in  that  place  ;  a  step  farther  in,  it  is  impossible,  and  the 
back  of  the  cave  is  entirely  dark.  The  soil  is  damp 
and  unequal,  the  walls  blackened  by  time  and  filth. 
One  breathes  a  thick  air  which  can  never  be  renewed, 
because  there  is  no  other  opening  but  the  trapdoor 
(soupirail).  The  entire  space,  three  yards  by  four,  is 
singularly  contracted  by  a  quantity  of  refuse  of  all 
sorts,  shells  of  eggs,  shells  of  mussels,  crumbled  ground 
and  filth,  worse  than  that  of  the  dirtiest  dunghill.  It 
is  easy  to  see  that  no  one  ever  walks  in  this  cave. 
Those  who  live  in  it  lie  down  and  sleep  where  they 
fall.  The  furniture  is  composed  of  a  very  small  iron 
stove  of  which  the  top  is  shaped  into  a  pan,  three 
earthen  pots,  a  stool,  and  the  wood  of  a  bed  without 
any  bedding.  There  is  neither  straw  nor  coverlet.  The 
woman  who  lodges  in  the  bottom  of  this  cellar  never 
goes  out  of  it.  She  is  sixty-three  years  old.  The 
husband  is  not  a  workman  :  they  have  two  daughters, 
of  which  the  eldest  is  twenty-two  years  old.  These 
four  persons  live  together,  and  have  no  other  domicile. 
"  This  cave  is  one  of  the  most  miserable,  first  for  the 
extreme  filth  and  destitution  of  its  inhabitants,  next  by 
its  dimensions,  most  of  the  cellars  being  one  or  two 
yards  wider.  These  caves  serve  for  lodging  to  a  whole 
family ;  in  consequence,  father,  mother,  and  children 
sleep  in  the  same  place,  and  too  often,  whatever  their 
age,  in  the  same  bed.  The  greater  number  of  these 
unhappies    see    no    mischief    in    this    confusion    of    the 


Fors    Clavigera.  1 2 1 

sexes ;  whatever  comes  of  it,  they  neither  conceal  it, 
nor  blush  for  it ;  nay,  they  scarcely  know  that  the  rest 
of  mankind  have  other  manners.  Some  of  the  caves, 
indeed,  are  divided  in  two  by  an  arch,  and  thus 
admit  of  a  separation  which  is  not  in  general  made. 
It  is  true  that  in  most  cases  the  back  cellar  is  entirely 
dark,  the  air  closer,  and  the  stench  more  pestilent.  In 
some  the  water  trickles  down  the  walls,  and  others 
are  close  to  a  gully-hole,  and  poisoned  by  mephitic 
vapours,  especially  in  summer. 

"  There  are  no  great  differences  between  the  so-called 
'  courettes '  (little  alleys)  of  Lille,  and  the  so-called 
1  forts '  of  Roubaix,  or  the  '  convents '  of  St.  Quentin  ; 
everywhere  the  same  heaping  together  of  persons  and 
the  same  unhealthiness.  At  Roubaix,  where  the  town 
is  open,  space  is  not  wanting,  and  all  is  new, — for 
the  town  has  just  sprung  out  of  the  ground, — one  has 
not,  as  at  Lille,  the  double  excuse  of  a  fortified  town 
where  space  is  circumscribed  to  begin  with,  and  where 
one  cannot  build  without  pulling  down.  Also  at  Rou- 
baix there  are  never  enough  lodgings  for  the  increasing 
number  of  workmen,  so  that  the  landlords  may  be  always 
sure  of  their  rents.  Quite  recently,  a  manufacturer 
who  wanted  some  hands  brought  some  workwomen 
from  Lille,  paid  them  well,  and  put  them  in  a  far  more 
healthy  workshop  than  the  one  they  had  left.  Never- 
theless, coming  on  Thursday,  they  left  him  on  Saturday  : 
they  had  found   no  place  to  lodge,  and  had  passed  the 


122  Fors    Clavigera. 

three  nights  under  a  gateway.  In  this  open  town,  though 
its  rows  of  lodgings  are  more  than  half  a  mile  from  the 
workshops,  they  are  not  a  bit  more  healthy.  The  houses 
are  ill-constructed,  squeezed  one  against  another,  the 
ground  between  not  levelled,  and  often  with  not  even  a 
gutter  to  carry  away  the  thrown-out  slops,  which  accu- 
mulate in  stagnant  pools  till  the  sun  dries  them.  Here 
at  hazard  is  the  description  of  some  of  the  lodgings. 
To  begin  with  a  first  floor  in  Wattel  Street :  one  gets 
up  into  it  by  a  ladder  and  a  trap  without  a  door  ;  space, 
two  yards  and  a  half  by  three  yards ;  one  window, 
narrow  and  low ;  walls  not  rough-cast ;  inhabitants, 
father,  mother,  and  two  children  of  different  sexes, — 
one  ten,  the  other  seventeen  :  rent,  one  franc  a  week. 
In  Halluin  Court  there  is  a  house  with  only  two 
windows  to  its  ground  floor,  one  to  the  back  and  one 
to  the  front  ;  but  this  ground  floor  is  divided  into  three 
separate  lodgings,  of  which  the  one  in  the  middle" — 
(thus  ingeniously  constructed  in  the  age  of  light) — 
"  would  of  course  have  no  window  at  all,  but  it  is 
separated  from  the  back  and  front  ones  by  two  lattices, 
which  fill  the  whole  space,  and  give  it  the  aspect  of  a 
glass  cage.  It  results  that  the  household  placed  in  this 
lodging  has  no  air,  and  that  none  of  the  three  house- 
holds have  any  privacy,  for  it  is  impossible  for  any  person 
of  them  to  hide  any  of  his  movements  from  the  two 
others.  One  of  these  lodgings  is  let  for  five  francs  a 
month ;    the  woman   who  inhabits  it    has    five  children, 


Fors    Clavigera.  123 

though  all  young,  but  she  has  got  a  sort  of  cage  made 
in  the  angle  of  her  room,  which  can  be  got  up  to  by  a 
winding  staircase,  and  which  can  hold  a  bed.  This  the 
lodger  has  underlet,  at  seventy-five  centimes  a  week,  to 
a  sempstress,  abandoned  by  her  lover,  with  a  child  of 
some  weeks  old.  This  child  is  laid  on  the  bed,  where 
it  remains  alone  all  the  day,  and  the  mother  comes  to 
suckle  it  at  noon.  A  gown  and  a  bonnet,  with  a  little 
parcel  which  may  contain,  at  the  most,  one  chemise,  are 
placed  on  a  shelf,  and  above  them  an  old  silk  umbrella 
— an  object  of  great  luxury,  the  debris  of  lost  opulence. 
Nearly  all  the  inhabitants  of  this  court  are  subject  to 
fever.  If  an  epidemic  came  on  the  top  of  that,  the 
whole  population  would  be  carried  off.  Yet  it  is  not 
two  years  since  Halluin   Court  was  built." 

Such,  Mr.  Froude,  are  the  '  fortresses '  of  free — as 
opposed  to  feudal — barons ;  such  the  '  convents '  of 
philosophic — as  opposed  to  catholic — purity.  Will  you 
not  tell  the  happy  world  of  your  day,  how  it  may  yet 
be  a  little  happier  ?  It  is  wholly  your  business,  not 
mine  ; — and  all  these  unwilling  words  of  my  tired  lips 
are  spoken  only  because  you  are  silent. 


I   do   not  propose  to  encumber  the  pages  of  the  few 

last  numbers  of  Fors  with  the  concerns  of  St.  George's 

Guild :  of  which  the  mustard-seed  state  (mingled  hopefully 

however  with    that    of   cress)    is    scarcely    yet    overpast. 


124  Fors    Clavigera. 

This  slackness  of  growth,  as  I  have  often  before  stated, 
is  more  the  Master's  fault  than  any  one  else's,  the 
present  Master  being  a  dilatory,  dreamy,  and — to  the 
much  vexation  of  the  more  enthusiastic  members  of 
the  Guild — an  extremely  patient  person  ;  and  busying 
himself  at  present  rather  with  the  things  that  amuse 
him  in  St.  George's  Museum  than  with  the  Guild's  wider 
cares ; — of  which,  however,  a  separate  report  will  be 
given  to  its  members  in  the  course  of  this  year,  and 
continued  as  need  is. 

Many  well-meaning  and  well-wishing  friends  outside 
the  Guild,  and  desirous  of  entrance,  have  asked  for 
relaxation  of  the  grievous  law  concerning  the  contribution 
of  the  tithe  of  income.  Which  the  Master  is  not,  however, 
in  the  least  minded  to  relax  ;  nor  any  other  of  the  Guild's 
original  laws,  none  of  which  were  set  down  without 
consideration,  though  this  requirement  of  tithe  does 
indeed  operate  as  a  most  stiff  stockade,  and  apparently 
unsurmountable  hurdle-fence,  in  the  face  of  all  more  or 
less  rich  and,  so  to  speak,  overweighted,  well-wishers. 
For  I  find,  practically,  that  fifty  pounds  a  year  can  often 
save  me  five — or  at  a  pinch,  seven — of  them  ;  nor  should 
I  be  the  least  surprised  if  some  merry-hearted  apprentice 
lad,  starting  in  life  with  a  capital  of  ten  pounds  or  so, 
were  to  send  me  one  of  them,  and  go  whistling  on 
his  way  with  the  remaining  nine.  But  that  ever  a 
man  of  ten  thousand  a  year  should  contrive,  by  any 
exertion    of   prudence   and   self-denial,   to    live   upon   so 


Fors   Clavigera.  125 

small  a  sum  as  nine  thousand,  and  give  one  thousand 
to  the  poor, — this  is  a  height  of  heroism  wholly  incon- 
ceivable to  modern  pious  humanity. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  I  am  of  course  ready  to  receive 
subscriptions  for  St.  George's  work  from  outsiders — whether 
zealous  or  lukewarm — in  such  amounts  as  they  think  fit : 
and  at  present  I  conceive  that  the  proposed  enlargements 
of  our  museum  at  Sheffield  are  an  object  with  which 
more  frank  sympathy  may  be  hoped  than  with  the 
agricultural  business  of  the  Guild.  Ground  I  have 
enough — and  place  for  a  pleasant  gallery  for  such  students 
as  Sheffield  may  send  up  into  the  clearer  light  ;* — but  I 
don't  choose  to  sell  out  any  of  St.  George's  stock  for 
this  purpose,  still  less  for  the  purchase  of  books  for  the 
Museum, — and  yet  there  are  many  I  want,  and  can't 
yet  afford.  Mr.  Quaritch,  for  instance,  has  an  eleventh 
century  Lectionary,  a  most  precious  MS.,  which  would 
be  a  foundation  for  all  manner  of  good  learning  to 
us  :  but  it  is  worth  its  weight  in  silver,  and  inaccessible 
for  the  present.  Also  my  casts  from  St.  Mark's,  of 
sculptures  never  cast  before,  are  lying  in  lavender — or 
at  least  in  tow — invisible  and  useless,  till  I  can  build 
walls  for  them  :  and  I  think  the  British  public  would  not 
regret  giving  me  the  means  of  placing  and  illuminating 
these   rightly.     And,  in   fine,  here    I    am    yet   for  a  few 

*  An  excellent  and  kind  account  of  the  present  form  and  contents  of  the 
Museum  will  be  found  in  the  last  December  number  of  Cassell's  Magazine 
of  Art. 

2ND  SERIES,  IV.]  I  2 


126  Fors    Clavigera. 

years,  I  trust,  at  their  service — ready  to  arrange  such  a 
museum  for  their  artizans  as  they  have  not  yet  dreamed 
of; — not  dazzling  nor  overwhelming,  but  comfortable, 
useful,  and — in  such  sort  as  smoke-cumbered  skies  may 
admit, — beautiful ;  though  not,  on  the  outside,  otherwise 
decorated  than  with  plain  and  easily-worked  slabs  of 
Derbyshire  marble,  with  which  I  shall  face  the  walls, 
making  the  interior  a  working  man's  Bodleian  Library, 
with  cell  and  shelf  of  the  most  available  kind,  undis- 
turbed, for  his  holiday  time.  The  British  public  are 
not  likely  to  get  such  a  thing  done  by  any  one  else 
for  a  time,  if  they  don't  get  it  done  now  by  me,  when 
I'm  in  the  humour  for  it.  Very  positively  I  can  assure 
them  of  that ;  and  so  leave  the  matter  to  their  discretion. 
Many  more  serious  matters,  concerning  the  present  day, 
I  have  in  mind — and  partly  written,  already  ;  but  they 
must  be  left  for  next  Fors,  which  will  take  up  the 
now  quite  imminent  question  of  Land,  and  its  Holding, 
and  Lordship. 


FORS    CLAVIGERA. 

SECOND  SERIES. 

YEA,   THE   WORK  OF  OUR  HANDS,   ESTABLISH   THOU  IT. 


TO    THE    TRADES    UNIONS    OF    ENGLAND. 
My  Dear  Friends,  Beauvais,  August  31,  1880. 

This  is  the  first  letter  in  Fors  which  has  been 
addressed  to  you  as  a  body  of  workers  separate  from 
the  other  Englishmen  who  are  doing  their  best,  with 
heart  and  hand,  to  serve  their  country  in  any  sphere 
of  its  business,  and  in  any  rank  of  its  people.  I  have 
never  before  acknowledged  the  division  marked,  partly 
in  your  own  imagination,  partly  in  the  estimate  of  others, 
and  of  late,  too  sadly,  staked  out  in  permanence  by 
animosities  and  misunderstandings  on  both  sides,  between 
you,  and  the  mass  of  society  to  which  you  look  for 
employment.  But  I  recognize  the  distinction  to-day, 
moved,  for  ©ne  thing,  by  a  kindly  notice  of  last  Fors, 
which  appeared  in  the  Bingley  Telephone  of  April  23  rd 
of  this  year  ;  saying,  "  that  it  was  to  be  wished  I  would 
write  more  to  and  for  the  workmen  and  workwomen  of 
these    realms,"    and   influenced    conclusively    by   the   fact 

2ND   SERIES.]  I2 


I2&  Fors  Clavigem. 

of  your  having  expressed  by  your  delegates  at  Sheffield 
your  sympathy  with  what  endeavours  I  had  made  for 
the  founding  a  Museum  there  different  in  principle 
from  any  yet  arranged  for  working  men  :  this  formal 
recognition  of  my  effort,  on  your  part,  signifying  to  me, 
virtually,  that  the  time  was  come  for  explaining  my 
aims  to  you,  fully,  and  in  the  clearest  terms  possible 
to  me. 

But,  believe  me,  there  have  been  more  reasons  than  I 
need  now  pass  in  review,  for  my  hitherto  silence  respecting 
your  special  interests.  Of  which  reasons,  this  alone  might 
satisfy  you,  that,  as  a  separate  class,  I  knew  scarcely 
anything  of  you  but  your  usefulness,  and  your  distress  ; 
and  that  the  essential  difference  between  me  and  other 
political  writers  of  your  day,  is  that  I  never  say  a  word 
about  a  single  thing  that  I  don't  know,  while  they  never 
trouble  themselves  to  know  a  single  thing  they  talk  of; 
but  give  you  their  own  '  opinions '  about  it,  or  tell  you 
the  gossip  they  have  heard  about  it,  or  insist  on  what 
they  like  in  it,  or  rage  against  what  they  dislike  in  it ; 
but  entirely  decline  either  to  look  at,  or  to  learn,  or  to 
speak,  the  Thing  as  it  is,  and  must  be. 

Now  I  know  many  things  that  are,  and  many  that 
must  be  hereafter,  concerning  my  own  class  :  but  I  know 
nothing  yet,  practically,  of  yours,  and  could  give  you  no 
serviceable  advice  either  in  your  present  disputes  with 
your  masters,  or  in  your  plans  of  education  and  action 
for  yourselves,  until   I  had  found  out  more  clearly,  what 


Fors  Clavigera.  129 

you  meant  by  a  Master,  and  what  you  wanted  to  gain 
either  in  education  or  action, — and,  even  farther,  whether 
the  kind  of  person  you  meant  by  a  Master  was  one  in 
reality  or  not,  and  the  things  you  wanted  to  gain  by 
your  labour  were  indeed  worth  your  having  or  not.  So 
that  nearly  everything  hitherto  said  in  Fors  has  been 
addressed,  in  main  thought,  to  your  existing  Masters, 
Pastors,  and  Princes, — not  to  you, — though  these  all  I 
class  with  you,  if  they  knew  it,  as  "workmen  and 
labourers,"  and  you  with  them,  if  you  knew  it,  as  capable 
of  the  same  joys  as  they,  tempted  by  the  same  passions 
as  they,  and  needing,  for  your  life,  to  recognize  the  same 
Father  and  Father's  Law  over  you  all,  as  brothers  in 
earth  and  in  heaven. 

But  there  was  another,  and  a  more  sharply  restrictive 
reason  for  my  never,  until  now,  addressing  you  as  a 
distinct  class  ; — namely,  that  certain  things  which  I  knew 
positively  must  be  soon  openly  debated — and  what  is 
more,  determined— in  a  manner  very  astonishing  to  some 
people,  in  the  natural  issue  of  the  transference  of  power 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  upper  classes,  so  called,  into 
yours, — transference  which  has  been  compelled  by  the 
crimes  of  those  upper  classes,  and  accomplished  by  their 
follies, — these  certain  things,  I  say,  coming  now  first  into 
fully  questionable  shape,  could  not  be  openly  announced 
as  subjects  of  debate  by  any  man  in  my  then  official 
position  as  one  of  a  recognized  body  of  University 
teachers,    without  rendering  him    suspected   and  disliked 


130  Fors  Clavigera. 

by  a  large  body  of  the  persons  with  whom  he  had  to 
act.  And  I  considered  that  in  accepting  such  a  position 
at  all  I  had  virtually  promised  to  teach  nothing  contrary 
to  the  principles  on  which  the  Church  and  the  Schools 
of  England  believed  themselves — whether  mistakenly  or 
not — to  have  been  founded. 

The  pledge  was  easy  to  me,  because  I  love  the  Church 
and  the  Universities  of  England  more  faithfully  than  most 
churchmen,  and  more  proudly  than  most  collegians ; 
though  my  pride  is  neither  in  my  college  boat,  nor  my 
college  plate,  nor  my  college  class-list,  nor  my  college 
heresy.  I  love  both  the  Church  and  the  schools  of 
England,  for  the  sake  of  the  brave  and  kindly  men 
whom  they  have  hitherto  not  ceased  to  send  forth  into 
all  lands,  well  nurtured,  and  bringing,  as  a  body,  wherever 
their  influence  extended,  order  and  charity  into  the  ways 
of  mortals. 

And  among  these  I  had  hoped  long  since  to  have 
obtained  hearing,  not  for  myself,  but  for  the  Bible  which 
their  Mothers  reverenced,  the  laws  which  their  Fathers 
obeyed,  and  the  wisdom  which  the  Masters  of  all  men 
— the  dead  Senate  of  the  noblest  among  the  nations — 
had  left  for  the  guidance  of  the  ages  yet  to  be.  And 
during  seven  years  I  went  on  appealing  to  my  fellow 
scholars,  in  words  clear  enough  to  them,  though  not  to 
you,  had  they  chosen  to  hear  :  but  not  one  cared  nor 
listened,  till  I  had  sign  sternly  given  to  me  that  my 
message  to  the  learned  and  the  rich  was  given,  and  ended. 


Fors  Clavigera.  131 

And  now  I  turn  to  you,  understanding  you  to  be 
associations  of  labouring  men  who  have  recognised  the 
necessity  of  binding  yourselves  by  some  common  law 
of  action,  and  who  are  taking  earnest  counsel  as  to 
the  conditions  of  your  lives  here  in  England,  and  their 
relations  to  those  of  your  fellow-workers  in  foreign  lands. 
And  I  understand  you  to  be,  in  these  associations,  dis- 
regardant, if  not  actually  defiant,  of  the  persons  on  whose 
capital  you  have  been  hitherto  passively  dependent  for 
occupation,  and  who  have  always  taught  you,  by  the 
mouths  of  their  appointed  Economists,  that  they  and 
their  capital  were  an  eternal  part  of  the  Providential 
arrangements  made  for  this  world  by  its   Creator. 

In  which  self-assertion,  nevertheless,  and  attitude  of 
inquiry  into  the  grounds  of  this  statement  of  theirs,  you 
are  unquestionably  right.  For,  as  things  are  nowadays, 
you  know  any  pretty  lady  in  the  Elysian  fields  of  Paris 
who  can  set  a  riband  of  a  new  colour  in  her  cap  in  a 
taking  way,  forthwith  sets  a  few  thousands  of  Lyonnaise 
spinners  and  dyers  furiously  weaving  ribands  of  like  stuff, 
and  washing  them  with  like  dye.  And  in  due  time  the 
new  French  edict  reaches  also  your  sturdy  English  mind, 
and  the  steeples  of  Coventry  ring  in  the  reign  of  the 
elect  riband,  and  the  Elysian  fields  of  Spital,  or  what- 
ever other  hospice  now  shelters  the  weaver's  head,  bestir 
themselves  according  to  the  French  pattern,  and  bedaub 
themselves  with  the  French  dye  ;  and  the  pretty  lady 
Links    herself   your    everlasting    benefactress,    and    little 


132  Fors  Clavigera. 

short  of  an  angel  sent  from  heaven  to  feed  you  with 
miraculous  manna,  and  you  are  free  Britons  that  rule 
the  waves,  and  free  Frenchmen  that  lead  the  universe, 
of  course ;  but  you  have  not  a  bit  of  land  you  can 
stand  on — without  somebody's  leave,  nor  a  house  for 
your  children  that  they  can't  be  turned  out  of,  nor  a 
bit  of  bread  for  their  breakfast  to-morrow,  but  on  the 
chance  of  some  more  yards  of  riband  being  wanted. 
Nor  have  you  any  notion  that  the  pretty  lady  herself 
can  be  of  the  slightest  use  to  you,  except  as  a  con- 
sumer of  ribands;  what  God  made  her  for — you  do 
not  ask  :    still  less  she,  what   God   made  you  for. 

How  many  are  there  of  you,  I  wonder,  landless,  roof- 
less, foodless,  unless,  for  such  work  as  they  choose  to 
put  you  to,  the  upper  classes  provide  you  with  cellars 
in  Lille,  glass  cages  in  Halluin  Court,  milk  tickets,  for 
which  your  children  still  have  "  the  strength  to  smile — "  * 
How  many  of  you,  tell  me, — and  what  your  united  hands 
and  wits  are  worth  at  your  own  reckoning  ? 

Trade  Unions  of  England — Trade  Armies  of  Christen- 
dom, what's  the  roll-call  of  you,  and  what  part  or  lot 
have  you,  hitherto,  in  this  Holy  Christian  Land  of  your 
Fathers  ?  Is  not  that  inheritance  to  be  claimed,  and 
the  Birth  Right  of  it,  no  less  than  the  Death  Right  ? 
Will  you  not  determine  where  you  may  be  Christianly 
bred,  before  you  set  your  blockhead  Parliaments  to  debate 
where  you   may  be  Christianly  buried,  (your  priests  also 

*  See  Fors  for  March  of  this  year,  p.  118,  with  the  sequel. 


Fors  Clavigera.  133 


all  a-squabble  about  that  matter,  as  I  hear, — as  if 
any  ground  could  be  consecrated  that  had  the  bones  of 
rascals  in  it,  or  profane  where  a  good  man  slept !)  But 
how  the  Earth  that  you  tread  may  be  consecrated  to 
you,  and  the  roofs  that  shade  your  breathing  sleep,  and 
the  deeds  that  you  do  with  the  breath  of  life  yet 
strengthening  hand  and  heart, — this  it  is  your  business 
to  learn,  if  you  know  not ;  and  this  mine  to  tell  you, 
if  you  will  learn. 

Before  the  close  of  last  year,  one  of  our  most  earnest 
St.  George's  Guildsmen  wrote  to  me  saying  that  the  Irish 
Land  League  claimed  me  as  one  of  their  supporters  ;  and 
asking  if  he  should  contradict  this,  or  admit  it. 

To  whom  I  answered,  on  Christmas  Day  of  1879,  as 
follows  : — 

BRANTWOOD,  Christmas,  '79. 

"  You  know  I  never  read  papers,  so  I  have  never  seen 
a  word  of  the  Irish  Land  League  or  its  purposes  ;  but 
I  assume  the  purpose  to  be — that  Ireland  should  belong 
to  Irishmen ;  which  is  not  only  a  most  desirable,  but, 
ultimately,  a  quite  inevitable  condition  of  things, — that 
being  the  assured  intention  of  the  Maker  of  Ireland, 
and  all  other  lands. 

"But  as  to  the  manner  of  belonging,  and  limits  and 
rights  of  holding,  there  is  a  good  deal  more  to  be  found 
out  of  the  intentions  of  the  Maker  of  Ireland,  than  I  fancy 
the  Irish  League  is   likely   to    ascertain,   without    rueful 


134  Fors  Clavigera. 

experience   of  the  consequences  of  any   and  all  methods 
contrary   to  those   intentions. 

"  And  for  my  own  part  I  should  be  wholly  content 
to  confine  the  teaching — as  I  do  the  effort — of  the  St. 
George's  Guild,  to  the  one  utterly  harmless  and  utterly 
wholesome  principle,  that  land,  by  whomsoever  held,  is  to 
be  made  the  most  of,  by  human  strength,  and  not  defiled,* 
nor  left  waste.  But  since  we  live  in  an  epoch  assuredly 
of  change,  and  too  probably  of  Revolution  ;  and 
thoughts  which  cannot  be  put  aside  are  in  the  minds 
of  all  men  capable  of  thought,  I  am  obliged  also  to 
affirm  the  one  principle  which  can — and  in  the  end 
will — close  all  epochs  of  Revolution, — that  each  man 
shall  possess  the  ground  he  can  use — and  no  more, — rUSE, 
I  say,  either  for  food,  beauty,  exercise,  science,  or  any 
other  sacred  purpose.  That  each  man  shall  possess,  for 
his  own,  no  more  than  such  portion,  with  the  further 
condition  that  it  descends  to  his  son,  inalienably — right 
of  primogeniture  being  in  this  matter  eternally  sure. 
The  nonsense  talked  about  division  is  all  temporary  ; 
you  can't  divide  for  ever,  and  when  you  have  got  down 
to  a  cottage  and  a  square  fathom — if  you  allow  division 
so  far — still  primogeniture  will  hold  the  right  of  that. 

*  And  if  not  the  land,  still  less  the  water.  I  have  kept  by  me  now  for 
some  years,  a  report  on  the  condition  of  the  Calder,  drawn  up  by  Mr.  James 
Fowler,  of  Wakefield,  in  1866,  and  kindly  sent  to  me  by  the  author  on  my 
mention  of  Wakefield  in  Fors.  I  preserve  it  in  these  pages,  as  a  piece  of 
English  History  characteristic  to  the  uttermost  of  our  Fortunate  Times.  See 
appendix  to  this  number. 


Fors  Clavigera.  135 

u  But  though  possession  is,  and  must  be,  limited  by  use 
(see  analytic  passages  on  this  head  in  '  Munera  Pulveris '), 
Authority  is  not.  And  first  the  Maker  of  the  Land,  and 
then  the  King  of  the  Land,  and  then  the  Overseers  of  the 
Land  appointed  by  the  King,  in  their  respective  orders, 
must  all  in  their  ranks  control  the  evil,  and  promote 
the  good  work  of  the  possessors.  Thus  far,  you  will 
find  already,  all  is  stated  in  Fors  ;  and  further,  the  right 
of  every  man  to  possess  so  much  land  as  he  can  live  on 
— especially  observe  the  meaning  of  the  developed  Corn 
Law  Rhyme 

"  Find'st  thou  rest  for  England's  head 
Free  alone  among  the  Dead?"* 

meaning  that  Bread,  Water,  and  the  Roof  over  his  head, 
must  be  tax-  (i.e.  rent-)  free  to  every  man. 

"  But  I  have  never  yet  gone  on  in  Fors  to  examine  the 
possibly  best  forms  of  practical  administration.  I  always 
felt  it  would  be  wasted  time,  for  these  must  settle  them- 
selves. In  Savoy  the  cottager  has  his  garden  and 
field,  and  labours  with  his  family  only  ;  in  Berne,  the 
farm  labourers  of  a  considerable  estate  live  under  the 
master's  roof,  and  are  strictly  domestic ;  in  England, 
farm  labourers  might  probably  with  best  comfort  live  in 
detached  cottages  ;  in  Italy,  they  might  live  in  a  kind 
of  monastic  fraternity.  All  this,  circumstance,  time,  and 
national   character   must  determine ;    the    one    thing    St. 

*  See  'Fors,'  Letter  lxxiv.  p.  36  (note). 


136  Fors  Clavigera. 

George  affirms  is  the  duty  of  the  master  in  every  case 
to  make  the  lives  of  his  dependents  noble  to  the  best 
of  his  power." 

Now  you  must  surely  feel  that  the  questions  I  have 
indicated  in  this  letter  could  only  be  answered  rightly 
by  the  severest  investigation  of  the  effect  of  each  mode 
of  human  life  suggested,  as  hitherto  seen  in  connection 
with  other  national  institutions,  and  hereditary  customs 
and  character.  Yet  every  snipping  and  scribbling  block- 
head hired  by  the  bookseller  to  paste  newspaper 
paragraphs  into  what  may  sell  for  a  book,  has  his 
'  opinion '  on  these  things,  and  will  announce  it  to  you 
as  the  new  gospel  of  eternal  and  universal  salvation — 
without  a  qualm  of  doubt — or  of  shame — in  the  entire 
loggerhead  of  him. 

Hear,  for  instance,  this  account  of  the  present  pros- 
perity, and  of  its  causes,  in  the  country  of  those  Sea 
Kings  who  taught  you  your  own  first  trades  of  fishing 
and  battle  : — 

"  The  Norwegian  peasant  is  a  free  man  on  the  scanty  bit  of 
ground  which  he  has  inherited  from  his  fathers ;  and  he  has 
all  the  virtues  of  a  freeman — an  open  character,  a  mind  clear  of 
every  falsehood,  an  hospitable  heart  for  the  stranger.  His  reli- 
gious feelings  are  deep  and  sincere,  and  the  Bible  is  to  be  found 
in  every  hut.  He  is  said  to  be  indolent  and  phlegmatic ;  but 
when  necessity  urges  he  sets  vigorously  to  work,  and  never  ceases 
till  his  task  is  done.  His  courage  and  his  patriotism  are  abun- 
dantly proved  by  a  history  of  a  thousand  years. 

"  Norway    owes  her  present  prosperity  chiefly  to  her  liberal 


Fors  Clavigera.  137 

constitution.  The  press  is  completely  free,  and  the  power  of 
the  king  extremely  limited.  All  privileges  and  hereditary  titles 
are  abolished.  The  Parliament,  or  the  '  Storthing,'  which  assembles 
every  three  years,  consists  of  the  '  Odelthing,'  or  Upper  House, 
and  of  the  '  Logthing,'  or  Legislative  Assembly.  Every  new  law 
requires  the  royal  sanction  \  but  if  the  l  Storthing  '  has  voted  it 
in  three  successive  sittings,  it  is  definitely  adopted  in  spite  of 
the  royal  veto.  Public  education  is  admirably  cared  for.  There 
is  an  elementary  school  in  every  village ;  and  where  the  popu- 
lation is  too  thinly  scattered,  the  schoolmaster  may  truly  be  said 
to  be  abroad,  as  he  wanders  from  farm  to  farm,  so  that  the  most 
distant  families  have  the  benefit  of  his  instruction.  Every  town 
has  its  public  library ;  and  in  many  districts  the  peasants  annually 
contribute  a  dollar  towards  a  collection  of  books,  which,  under 
the  care  of  the  priest,  is  lent  out  to  all  subscribers. 

"  No  Norwegian  is  confirmed  who  does  not  know  how  to  read, 
and  no  Norwegian  is  allowed  to  marry  who  has  not  been  con- 
firmed. He  who  attains  his  twentieth  year  without  having  been 
confirmed,  has  to  fear  the  House  of  Correction.  Thus  ignorance 
is  punished  as  a  crime  in  Norway,  an  excellent  example  for  far 
richer  and  more  powerful  governments." 

I  take  this  account  from  a  book  on  the  Arctic  regions, 
in  which  I  find  the  facts  collected  extremely  valuable,  the 
statements,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  trustworthy,  the  opinions 
and  teachings — what  you  can  judge  of  by  this  specimen. 
Do  you  think  the  author  wise  in  attributing  the  prosperity 
of  Norway  chiefly  to  her  king's  being  crippled,  and  her 
newspapers  free  ?  or  that  perhaps  her  thousand  years  of 
courage  may  have  some  share  in  the  matter  ?  and  her 
mind  clear  of  every  falsehood  ?  and  her  way  of  never 
ceasing  in    a   task   till   it   is   done  ?    and    her  circulating 


138  Fors  Clavigera. 

schoolmasters  ?  and  her  collected  libraries  ?  and  her  pre- 
paration for  marriage  by  education  ?  and  her  House  of 
Correction  for  the  uneducated  ?  and  her  Bible  in  every 
hut  ?  and,  finally,  her  granted  piece  of  his  native  land 
under  her  peasant's  foot  for  his  own  ?  Is  her  strength, 
think  you,  in  any  of  these  things,  or  only  in  the  abolition 
of  hereditary  titles,  the  letting  loose  of  her  news-mongers, 
and  the  binding  of  her  king  ?  Date  of  their  modern 
constitutional  measures,  you  observe,  not  given  !  and 
consequences,  perhaps,  scarcely  yet  conclusively  ascer- 
tainable. If  you  cannot  make  up  your  own  minds  on 
one  or  two  of  these  open  questions,  suppose  you  were  to 
try  an  experiment  or  two  ?  Your  scientific  people  will 
tell  you — and  this,  at  least,  truly — that  they  cannot  find 
out  anything  without  experiment  :  you  may  also  in 
political  matters  think  and  talk  for  ever — resultlessly. 
Will  you  never  try  what  comes  of  Doing  a  thing  for  a 
few  years,  perseveringly,  and  keep  the  result  of  that,  at 
least,  for  known  ? 

Now  I  write  to  you,  observe,  without  knowing,  except 
in  the  vaguest  way,  who  you  are ! — what  trades  you 
belong  to,  what  arts  or  crafts  you  practise — or  what 
ranks  of  workmen  you  include,  and  what  manner  of  idlers 
you  exclude.  I  have  no  time  to  make  out  the  different 
sets  into  which  you  fall,  or  the  different  interests  by  whicl 
you  are  guided.  But  I  know  perfectly  well  what  sets  yoi 
sliould  fall  into,  and  by  what  interests  you  should  b( 
guided.     And  you  will  find  your  profit  in  listening  whil 


Fors  Clavigera.  139 

I  explain  these  to  you  somewhat  more  clearly  than  your 
penny-a-paragraph  liberal   papers  will. 

In  the  first  place,  what  business  have  you  to  call  your- 
selves only  Trade  Guilds,  as  if  '  trade,'  and  not  production, 
were  your  main  concern  ?  Are  you  by  profession  nothing 
more  than  pedlars  and  mongers  of  things,  or  are  you  also 
makers  of  things  ? 

It  is  too  true  that  in  our  City  wards  our  chapmen  have 
become  the  only  dignitaries — and  we  have  the  Merchant- 
Tailors'  Company,  but  not  the  plain  Tailors  ;  and  the 
Fishmongers'  Company,  but  not  the  Fishermen's ;  and 
the  Vintners'  Company,  but  not  the  Vinedressers'  ;  and  the 
Ironmongers'  Company,  but  not  the  Blacksmiths'  ;  while, 
though,  for  one  apparent  exception,  the  Goldsmiths' 
Company  proclaims  itself  for  masters  of  a  craft,  what 
proportion,  think  you,  does  its  honour  bear  compared  with 
that  of  the  Calf-worshipful  Guild  of  the  Gold  Mongers  ? 

Be  it  far  from  me  to  speak  scornfully  of  trade.  My 
Father — whose  Charter  of  Freedom  of  London  Town  I 

I  keep  in  my  Brantwood  treasury  beside  missal  and  cross — 
sold  good  wine,  and  had,  over  his  modest  door  in  Billiter 
Street,  no  bush.      But  he  grew  his  wine,  before  he  sold 

;  it ;  and  could  answer  for  it  with  his  head,  that  no  rotten 
grapes  fermented  in  his  vats,  and  no  chemist's  salt  effer- 
vesced in  his  bottles.  Be  you  also  Tradesmen — in  your 
place — and  in  your  right ;  but  be  you,  primarily,  Growers, 
Makers,  Artificers,  Inventors,  of  things  good  and  pre- 
cious.    What  talk  you  of  Wages  ?     Whose  is  the  Wealth 


140  Fors  Clavtgera. 

of  the  World  but  yours  ?  Whose  is  the  Virtue  ?  Do 
you  mean  to  go  on  for  ever,  leaving  your  wealth  to  be 
consumed  by  the  idle,  and  your  virtue  to  be  mocked  by 
the  vile  ? 

The  wealth  of  the  world  is  yours  ;  even  your  common 
rant  and  rabble  of  economists  tell  you  that — "  no  wealth 
without  industry."  WTho  robs  you  of  it,  then,  or  beguiles 
you  ?  Whose  fault  is  it,  you  clothmakers,  that  any 
English  child  is  in  rags  ?  Whose  fault  is  it,  you  shoe- 
makers, that  the  street  harlots  mince  in  high-heeled  shoes, 
and  your  own  babes  paddle  barefoot  in  the  street  slime  ? 
Whose  fault  is  it,  you  bronzed  husbandmen,  that  through 
all  your  furrowed  England,  children  are  dying  of  famine  ? 
Primarily,  of  course,  it  is  your  clergymen's  and  masters' 
fault :  but  also  in  this  your  own,  that  you  never  educate 
any  of  your  children  with  the  earnest  object  of  enabling 
them  to  see  their  way  out  of  this,  not  by  rising  above 
their  father's  business,  but  by  setting  in  order  what  was 
amiss  in  it :  also  in  this  your  own,  that  none  of  you  who 
do  rise  above  your  business,  ever  seem  to  keep  the 
memory  of  what  wrong  they  have  known,  or  suffered  ; 
nor,  as  masters,  set  a  better  example  than  others. 

Your  oivn  fault,  at  all  events,  it  will  be  now,  seeing 
that  you  have  got  Parliamentary  power  in  your  hands, 
if  you  cannot  use  it  better  than  the  moribund  Parlia- 
mentary body  has  done  hitherto. 

To  which  end,  I  beg  you  first  to  take  these  following 
truths  into  your  good  consideration. 


Pars  Clavigera.  141 

First.  Men  don't  and  can't  live  by  exchanging  articles, 
but  by  producing  them.  They  don't  live  by  trade,  but 
by  work.  Give  up  that  foolish  and  vain  title  of  Trades 
Unions  ;    and  take  that  of  Labourers'   Unions. 

And,  whatever  divisions  chance  or  special  need  may 
have  thrown  you  into  at  present,  remember  there  are 
essential  and  eternal  divisions  of  the  Labour  of  man,  into 
which  you  must  practically  fall,  whether  you  like  it  or 
not ;  and  these  eternal  classifications  it  would  be  infinitely 
better  if  you  at  once  acknowledged  in  thought,  name,  and 
harmonious  action.  Several  of  the  classes  may  take  finer 
divisions  in  their  own  body,  but  you  will  find  the  massive 
general  structure  of  working  humanity  range  itself  under 
these  following  heads,  the  first  eighteen  assuredly  essential ; 
the  three  last,  making  twenty-one  altogether,  I  shall  be 
able,  I  think,  to  prove  to  you  are  not  superfluous  : — suffer 
their  association  with  the  rest  in  the  meantime. 

1.  Shepherds. 

2.  Fishermen. 

3.  Ploughmen. 

4.  Gardeners. 

5.  Carpenters   and   Woodmen. 

6.  Builders  and   Quarrymen. 

7.  Shipwrights. 

8.  Smiths  and   Miners.* 

9.  Bakers  and   Millers. 
10.  Vintners. 

*  See  note  in  Appendix  II. 


142  Fors  Clavigera. 

11.  Graziers  and   Butchers. 

12.  Spinners. 

13.  Linen   and   Cotton-workers. 

14.  Silk-workers. 

15.  Woollen-workers. 

16.  Tanners  and   Furriers. 

17.  Tailors  and  Milliners. 

18.  Shoemakers. 

19.  Musicians. 

20.  Painters. 

21.  Goldsmiths. 

Get  these  eighteen,  or  twenty- one,  as  you  like  to  take 
them,  each  thoroughly  organised,  proud  of  their  work,  and 
doing  it  under  masters,  if  any,  of  their  own  rank,  chosen 
for  their  sagacity  and  vigour,  and  the  world  is  yours,  and 
all  the  pleasures  of  it,  that  are  true  ;  while  all  false  pleasures 
in  such  a  life  fall  transparent,  and  the  hooks  are  seen 
through  the  baits  of  them.  But  for  the  organization  of 
these  classes,  you  see  there  must  be  a  certain  quantity  of 
land  available  to  them,  proportioned  to  their  multitude  : 
and  without  the  possession  of  that,  nothing  can  be  done 
ultimately  ;  though  at  present  the  mere  organization  of 
your  masses  under  these  divisions  will  clear  the  air,  and 
the  field,  for  you,  to  astonishment. 

And  for  the  possession  of  the  land,  mind  you,  if  you 
try  to  take  it  by  force,  you  will  have  every  blackguard 
and  vaut-rien  in  the  world  claiming  his  share  of  it  with 
you, — for  by  that  law   of  force  he  has  indeed  as    much 


Fors  Clavigera.  143 

right  to  it  as  you  ;  but  by  the  law  of  labour  he  has  not. 
Therefore  you  must  get  your  land  by  the  law  of  labour  ; 
working  for  it,  saving  for  it,  and  buying  it,  as  the  spend- 
thrifts and  idlers  offer  it  you  :  but  buying  never  to  let  go. 

And  this,  therefore,  is  practically  the  first  thing  you 
have  to  bring  in  by  your  new  Parliaments — a  system  of 
land  tenure,  namely,  by  which  your  organized  classes  of 
labouring  men  may  possess  their  land  as  corporate  bodies, 
and  add  to  it — as  the  monks  once  did,  and  as  every  single 
landlord  can,  now  ;  but  I  find  that  my  St.  George's  Guild 
cannot,  except  through  complications  or  legal  equivo- 
cations almost  endless,  and  hitherto  indeed  paralyzing  me 
in  quite  unexpectedly  mean  and  miserable  ways. 

Now  I  hope  all  this  has  been  clearly  enough  said,  for 
once  :  and  it  shall  be  farther  enforced  and  developed  as 
you  choose,  if  you  will  only  tell  me  by  your  chosen  heads 
whether  you  believe  it,  and  are  any  of  you  prepared  to 
act  on  it,  and  what  kinds  of  doubt  or  difficulty  occur  to 
you  about  it,  and  what  farther  questions  you  would  like 
me  to  answer. 

And  that  you  may  have  every  power  of  studying  the 
matter  (so  far  as  /  am  concerned),  this  Fors  you  shall 
have  gratis  ; — and  the  next,  if  you  enable  me  to  make  it 
farther  useful  to  you.  That  is  to  say,  your  committees 
of  each  trade-guild  may  order  parcels  of  them  from  my 
publisher  in  any  quantities  they  wish,  for  distribution 
among  their  members.  To  the  public  its  price  remains 
fixed,  as  that  of  all  my  other  books.     One  word  only  let 

2ND   SERIES.]  j  ^ 


144  Fors  Clavigera. 

me    say  in   conclusion,  to  explain   at  once  what  I  mean 
by  saying  that  the  pleasures  of  the  world  are  all  yours. 

God  has  made  man  to  take  pleasure  in  the  use  of  his 
eyes,  wits,  and  body.  And  the  foolish  creature  is  con- 
tinually trying  to  live  without  looking  at  anything, 
without  thinking  about  anything,  and  without  doing 
anything.  And  he  thus  becomes  not  only  a  brute,  but 
the  unhappiest  of  brutes.  All  the  lusts  and  lazinesses 
he  can  contrive  only  make  him  more  wretched  ;  and  at 
this  moment,  if  a  man  walks  watchfully  the  streets  of 
Paris,  whence  I  am  now  writing  to  you, — a  city  in  which 
every  invention  that  science,  wit,  and  wealth  can  hit  upon 
to  provoke  and  to  vary  the  pleasures  of  the  idle, — he  will 
not  see  one  happy  or  tranquil  face,  except  among  the 
lower  and  very  hard-labouring  classes.  Every  pleasure 
got  otherwise  than  God  meant  it — got  cheaply,  thievingly, 
and  swiftly,  when  He  has  ordered  that  it  should  be  got 
dearly,  honestly,  and  slowly, — turns  into  a  venomous 
burden,  and,  past  as  a  pleasure,  remains  as  a  load, 
increasing  day  by  day  its  deadly  coat  of  burning  mail. 
The  joys  of  hatred,  of  battle,  of  lust,  of  vain  knowledge^ 
of  vile  luxury,  all  pass  into  slow  torture :  nothing  remains 
to  man,  nothing  is  possible  to  him  of  true  joy,  but  in  the 
righteous  love  of  his  fellows  ;  in  the  knowledge  of  the 
laws  and  the  glory  of  God,  and  in  the  daily  use  of  the 
faculties  of  soul  and  body  with  which  that  God  has 
endowed  him. 

Paris,  18M  September,  1880. 


NOTES  AND  CORRESPONDENCE. 


"John  Ruskin,  Esq. 

"  Dear  Sir,— May  I  take  an  advantage  of  this  note,  and  call 
your  attention  to  a  fact  of  much  importance  to  Englishmen,  and 
it  is  this  ?  On  reference  to  some  Freethought  papers — notably, 
the  'National  Reformer' — I  find  a  movement  on  foot  amongst  the 
Atheists,  vigorous  and  full  of  life,  for  the  alteration  of  the  Land 
Laws  in  our  much-loved  country.  It  is  a  movement  of  much 
moment,  and  likely  to  lead  to  great  results.  The  first  great  move 
on  the  part  of  Charles  Bradlaugh,  the  premier  in  the  matter,  is 
the  calling  of  a  Conference  to  discuss  the  whole  question.  The 
meeting  is  to  be  attended  by  all  the  National  Secular  Society's 
branches  throughout  the  empire ;  representatives  of  nearly  every 
Reform  Association  in  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland;  depu- 
tations from  banded  bodies  of  workmen,  colliers,  etc., — such  as 
the  important  band  of  Durham  miners — trade  unionists ;  and,  in 
fact,  a  most  weighty  representative  Conference  will  be  gathered 
together.  I  am,  for  many  reasons,  grieved  and  shocked  to  find 
the  cry  for  Reform  coming  with  such  a  heading  to  the  front. 
Where  are  our  statesmen, — our  clergy  ?  The  terrible  crying  evils 
of  our  land  system  are  coming  to  the  front  in  our  politics  without 
the  help  of  the  so-called  upper  classes ;  nay,  with  a  deadly  hatred 
of  any  disturbance  in  that  direction,  our  very  clergy  are  taking  up 
arms  against  the  popular  cry. 

"  Only  a  week  ago  I  was  spending  a  few  days  with  a  farmer 
near  Chester,  and  learned  to  my  sorrow  and  dismay  that  the 
Dean  and  Chapter  of  that  city,  who  own  most  of  the  farms,  etc., 


146  Notes  and  Correspondence. 

in  the  district  wherein  my  friend  resides,  refuse  now — and  only 
now — to  accept  other  than  yearly  tenants  for  these  farms,  have 
raised  all  the  rents  to  an  exorbitant  pitch,  and  only  allow  the 
land  to  be  sown  with  wheat,  oats,  or  whatever  else  in  seed,  etc., 
on  a  personal  inspection  by  their  agent.  The  consequence  of 
all  this  is,  that  poverty  is  prevailing  to  an  alarming  extent :  the 
workers,  all  the  bitter,  hard  toil ;  the  clergy,  one  may  say,  all  the 
profits.  It  is  terrible,  heart-breaking;  I  never  longed  so  much 
for  heart-searching,  vivid  eloquence,  so  that  I  might  move  men 
with  an  irresistible  tongue  to  do  the  Right. 

u  I  wonder  how  many  of  these  great  ones  of  our  England  have 
seen  the  following  lines  from  Emerson ;  and  yet  what  a  lesson  is 
contained  in  them  ! 

'  God  said,  I  am  tired  of  kings, 
I  suffer  them  no  more  ; 
Up  to  my  ear  the  morning  brings 
The  outrage  of  the  poor. 
Lo  !  I  uncover  the  land 
Which  I  hid  of  old  time  in  the  West, 
As  the  sculptor  uncovers  the  statue 
When  he  has  wrought  his  best ; 
I  show  Columbia,  of  the  rocks 
Which  dip  their  foot  in  the  seas, 
And  soar  to  the  air-borne  flocks 
Of  clouds,  and  the  boreal  fleece. 
I  will  divide  my  goods  ; 
Call  in  the  wretch  and  slave : 
None  shall  rule  but  the  humble, 
And  none  but  toil  shall  have.' 

Boston  Hymn. 

"  I  can  only  pray  and  hope  that  some  mighty  pen  as  yours,  if 
not  yourself,  may  be  moved  to  show  Englishmen  the  right  way 
before  it  is  too  late.  I  have  the  honour  to  remain, 

"  Your  obedient  servant." 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  147 

"Mr.  Ruskin. 

"  Dear  Sir, — I  have  seen  a  letter  from  you  to  Mr.  G.  J.  Holyoake, 
in  which  you  say  '  the  only  calamity  which  I  perceive  or  dread 
for  an  Englishman  is  his  becoming  a  rascal ;  and  co-operation 
amongst  rascals — if  it  were  possible — would  bring  a  curse.  Every 
year  sees  our  workmen  more  eager  to  do  bad  work,  and  rob  their 
customers  on  the  sly.  All  political  movement  among  such  animals 
I  call  essentially  fermentation  and  putrefaction — not  co-operation.' 
"  Now,  sir,  I  see,  I  think,  as  completely  and  consequently  as 
positively  as  you  possibly  can,  the  truth  of  your  general  statement 
— that  is,  that  there  is  a  widespread  tendency  and  habit  of  pro- 
ducing work  that  has  the  appearance  of  being  good  when  yet  it 
is  a  fraud :  its  reality  is  not  according  to  the  appearance.  But, 
sir,  is  the  part  that  I  have  underlined  correct?  It  is  said  that 
Lancashire  sends  to  India  calico  with  lime  or  paste  put  in  it  to 
make  it  feel  stout ; — is  that  the  workman's  fault  ? 

11  I  myself  am  a  workman  in  what  is  called  fancy  hosiery,  and 
to  get  a  living  have  to  make  a  great  quantity  of  work — in  some 
instances  turning  very  good  wool  into  rubbish,  when  yet  I  know 
that  it  is  capable  of  being  made  into  very  nice  and  serviceable 
clothing;  but  if  I  made  it  into  anything  of  the  sort  I  should  be 
ruining  my  employer,  because  he  could  not  sell  it  at  a  profit : 
something  at  four  shillings,  that  should  be  fourteen,  is  what  is 
required — I  should  like  to  see  it  stopped.  How  is  it  to  be  done  ? 
u  If  you,  sir,  were  to  ask  a  merchant  in  these  goods  why  they 
were  not  made  better,  more  serviceable,  and  perfect,  he  would 
most  certainly  tell  you  that  the  Germans  are  in  our  market  with 
enormous  quantities  of  these  goods  at  terribly  low  prices,  and 
that  he  has  no  market  for  goods  of  superior  quality  and  higher 
prices.  I  produced  a  great  novelty  about  six  years  ago ;  it  was 
a  beautiful  class  of  goods,  and  a  vast  trade  came  on  in  them  > 
and  now  those  goods  are  entirely  run  out  in  consequence  of  their 
being  made  worse,  and  still    worse,  till   they  were  turned   into 


148  Notes  and  Correspondence, 

rubbish.  Competition  did  that — *  fermentation  and  putrefaction ; ' 
but  I  cannot  see  that  the  workman  was  to  blame :  he  was  ordered 
to  do  it.  "  Yours  most  respectfully." 

(No  answer  to  this  is  expected.) 

Answer  was  sent,  nevertheless  •  promising  a  more  sufficient  one 
in  Fors  ;  which  may  be  briefly  to  the  first  question,  "  Is  the  part 
underlined  correct  ?  " — too  sorrowfully,  Yes ;  and  to  the  second 
question — Is  it  the  workman's  fault? — that  the  workman  can 
judge  of  that,  if  he  will,  for  himself.  Answer  at  greater  length 
will  be  given  in  next  Fors. 

"Cranleigh,  Surrey,  May  26th,  1880. 

"  Revered  Sir, — You  ask  me  how  I  came  to  be  one  of  your 
pupils.  I  have  always  been  fond  of  books,  and  in  my  reading  I 
often  saw  your  name;  but  one  day,  when  reading  a  newspaper 
account  of  a  book-sale,  I  saw  that  one  of  your  books  fetched 
^38  for  the  five  volumes  :  I  was  struck  with  the  amount,  and 
thought  that  they  must  be  worth  reading ;  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  find  out  more  about  them,  and  if  possible  to  buy  some.  The 
next  time  I  went  to  London  I  asked  a  bookseller  to  show  me 
some  of  your  works  :  he  told  me  that  he  did  not  keep  them.  I 
got  the  same  answer  from  about  half  a  dozen  more  that  I  tried ; 
but  this  only  made  me  more  determined  to  get  them,  and  at  last 
I  found  a  bookseller  who  agreed  to  get  me  *  Fors.' 

"  When  I  got  it,  I  saw  that  I  could  get  them  from  Mr.  Allen. 
I  have  done  so  ;  and  have  now  most  of  your  works. 

"  I  read  '  Fors '  with  extreme  interest,  but  it  was  a  tough  job 
for  me,  on  account  of  the  number  of  words  in  it  that  I  had  never 
met  with  before  ;  and  as  I  never  had  any  schooling  worth  mention- 
ing, I  was  obliged  to  look  at  my  dictionaries  pretty  often  :  I  think 
I  have  found  out  now  the  meanings  of  all  the  English  words 
in  it. 

"  I  got  more  good  and  real  knowledge  from  '  Fors  '  than  from 
all  the  books  put  together  that  I  had  ever  read. 


Notes  and  Correspondence.  149 

"  I  am  now  trying  to  carry  out  your  principles  in  my  business, 
which  is  that  of  a  grocer,  draper,  and  clothier  ;  in  fact,  my  shop 
is  supposed  by  the  Cranleigh  people  to  contain  almost  everything 
that  folks  require. 

"  I  have  always  conducted  my  business  honestly  :  it  is  not  so 
difficult  to  do  this  in  a  village  as  it  is  in  larger  places.  As  far 
as  I  can  see,  the  larger  the  town  the  worse  it  is  for  the  honest 
tradesman.     [Italics  mine. — J.  R.] 

"  The  principal  difference  I  make  now  in  my  business,  since 
I  read  'Fors,'  is  to  recommend  hand-made  goods  instead  of 
machine-made.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  most  of  my  customers 
will  have  the  latter.  I  don't  know  what  I  can  do  further,  as  I  am 
not  the  maker  of  the  goods  I  sell,  but  only  the  distributor. 

"  If  I  understand  your  teaching,  I  ought  to  keep  hand-made 
goods  only*  and  those  of  the  best  quality  obtainable.  If  I  did 
this,  I  certainly  should  lose  nearly  all  my  trade ;  and  as  I  have  a 
family  to  support,  I  cannot  do  so.  No ;  I  shall  stick  to  it,  and 
sell  as  good  articles  as  I  can  for  the  price  paid,  and  tell  my 
customers,  as  I  always  have  done,  that  the  best  goods  are  the 
cheapest. 

11 1  know  you  are  right  about  the  sin  of  usury.  I  have  but  little 
time  to-day,  but  I  will  write  to  you  again  some  day  about  this. 

11 1  met  with  a  word  (Adscititious)  in  '  Carlyle,'  I  cannot  find 
in  any  dictionaries  that  I  can  get  at. 

"  I  sent  the  minerals  off  yesterday  packed  in  a  box.t    I  am 

half-afraid  now  that  you  will  not  think  them  good   enough  for 

the  Museum. 

"  Your  grateful  pupil, 

"Stephen  Rowland." 
John  Ruskin,  LL.D. 

*  Answered — By  no  means,  but  to  recommend  them  at  all  opportunities. 

f  A  collection  of  English  minerals  and  fossils  presented  by  Mr.  Rowland  to 
St.  George's  museum,  out  of  which  I  have  chosen  a  series  from  the  Clifton 
limestones  for  permanent  arrangement. 


APPENDIX  I. 


MR.  FOWLER'S  REPORT  ON  THE  CONDITION  OF 
THE  CALDER. 

Given  in  evidence  before  the  Royal  Commissioners  at  Wakefield, 
and  published  in  their  Report,  page  17  {with  some  additions). 

It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  more  striking  instance  than  that  afforded  by 
the  Calder,  of  the  extent  to  which  our  rivers  have  been  defiled  by  sewage  and 
refuse  from  manufactories.  Its  green  banks  and  interesting  scenery  made  it 
formerly  a  pleasant  resort  for  the  artizan  and  operative  in  hours  of  leisure, 
while  its  clear  and  sparkling  waters  invited  the  healthful  recreations  of  boating, 
bathing,  and  fishing.  "  In  1826  the  water  was  clear,  and  the  bottom  was 
free  from  mud  ;  it  was  a  gravelly,  sandy  bottom,  and  I  have  frequently  myself 
sent  stones  into  it  for  boys  to  dive  down  after  ;  the  water  at  a  depth  of  seven 
or  eight  feet  was  sufficiently  clear  to  distinguish  stones  at  the  bottom  ;  some 
of  the  streams  running  in,  for  instance  the  Alverthorpe  Beck,  at  that  time  were 
full  of  fish  ;  there  was  a  great  deal  of  fish  in  the  river.  I  have  frequently 
seen  kingfishers  there,  which  shows  the  general  clearness  of  the  water." — 
Extract  from  Mr.  Milners  evidence,  p.  63.  Pike  of  all  sizes,  trout  up  to 
three  pounds  in  weight,  salmon  trout,  dace,  and  bream  were  plentiful.  Even 
so  lately  as  within  the  last  twenty  years,  any  one  with  a  fly  might  in  an 
afternoon  catch  a  basketful  of  chub,  each  weighing  at  least  two  or  three 
pounds  :  and  during  freshes,  with  a  cast  net,  very  frequently  ninety  or  a 
hundred,  sometimes  even  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  of  roach,  chub,  gudgeon, 
etc.,  were  caught  in  an  evening.  On  one  occasion,  where  the  water  was  let 
off  from  a  quite  short  cutting  belonging  to  the  Calder  and  Hebble  Navigation 
Company,  at  least  four  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of  eels  were  taken  ;  in  fact, 
whenever  any  one  wanted  fish,  a  sackful  might  readily  be  obtained.     Nothing 


Appendix.  1 5 1 

of  this  kind  has  been  known,  however,  since  the  springing  up  of  manufactories 
in  the  Vale  of  the  Calder.  Soon  after  the  Thornes  Soap  Works  were  begun 
near  Wakefield,  many  stones  of  fish,  which  had  come  up  the  river  to  spawn, 
were  to  be  seen  floating  dead  upon  the  surface.  During  that  year  all  fish 
forsook  this  part  of  the  stream  as  regular  inhabitants.  For  some  time  after, 
however,  during  freshes,  a  fish  was  occasionally  to  be  seen  as  a  curiosity  ; 
and  so  lately  as  1858,  an  experienced  fisherman  succeeded,  on  one  of  several 
persevering  trials,  in  capturing  two  small  chub. 

At  present,  the  condition  of  the  river  is  most  disgusting.  Defiled  almost 
from  its  source,  it  reaches  us  with  the  accumulated  refuse  of  Todmorden, 
Hebden  Bridge,  Sowerby  Bridge,  Halifax,  Elland,  Brighouse,  Cooper  Bridge, 
Holmfirth,  Huddersfield,  Mirfield,  Dewsbury,  Earlsheaton,  Thornhill,  and 
Horbury.  At  the  suspension  bridge,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  above  Wakefield, 
it  runs  slowly,  and  in  many  places  is  almost  stagnant.  It  has  a  bluish-black, 
dirty-slate  colour ;  and  a  faint,  nauseous  smell,  which  leaves  an  extremely 
unpleasant  impression  for  long  after  it  has  been  once  thoroughly  perceived, — 
considerably  worse  than  that  made  by  the  Thames  after  a  stage  on  a  penny 
boat.  The  banks  and  every  twig  and  weed  in  reach  are  coated  with  soft, 
black  slime  or  mud,  which  is  studded  on  the  edges  of  the  stream  with  vivid 
patches  of  annelides.  Above  are  overhanging  willows  ;  and  where  the  branches 
of  these  touch  the  water,  especially  in  any  quiet  pool,  large  sheets  of  thin 
bluish  or  yellowish  green  scum  collect,  undisturbed  save  by  the  rising  to  the 
surface  of  bubbles  of  foetid  gas.  Between  this  point  and  Wakefield,  the  refuse 
of  extensive  soap  works  and  worsted  mills  enters,  causing  discolouration  for 
several  hundred  yards.  I  have,  in  fact,  traced  large  quantities  of  soap  scum 
beyond  Portobello,  a  distance  of  about  half  a  mile.  Nearer  the  town,  quan- 
tities of  refuse  from  large  dye  works  are  continually  being  discharged,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  periodical  emptying  of  spent  liquor  and  vat  sediments.  //  is 
noteworthy  that  whereas  formerly  goods  were  brought  to  Wakefield  to  be  dyed  on 
account  of  the  superiority  of  the  water  for  the  purpose,  the  trade  has  noiv  left 
Wakefield  to  a  considerable  extent,  and  the  Wakefield  manufacturers  have  them- 
selves  to  send  away  their  finer  goods  from  home  to  be  dyed.  On  the  opposite 
side  are  two  full  streams,  one  of  sewage,  the  other  apparently  from  some 
cotton  mills ;  and  here  it  may  be  stated  that  the  exact  degree  to  which 
influxes  of  this  kind  injure  in  different  cases  is  extremely  difficult  to  estimate  ; 
some  manufacturers  using  ammonia,  while  others  adhere  to  the  old-fashioned 
pigs'  dung  and  putrid  urine.  The  banks  on  each  side  are  here  studded 
with  granaries  and  malting  houses,  from  the  latter  of  which  is  received  that 
most  pernicious  contamination,  the  steep-liquor  of  malt.      There  is  also  the 


152  Appendix. 

refuse  of  at  least  one  brewhouse  and  piggery,  and  of  a  second  soap  manu- 
factory drained  into  the  river  before  it  reaches  the  outlet  of  Ings  Beck,  at  the 
drain  immediately  above  Wakefield  Bridge.  In  this  situation,  on  any  warm 
day  in  summer,  torrents  of  gas  may  be  seen  rising  to  the  surface,  and  every 
now  and  then  large  masses  of  mud,  which  float  for  awhile  and  then,  after  the 
gas  they  contain  has  escaped  and  polluted  the  atmosphere,  break  up  and  are 
re-deposited,  or  are  at  once  carried  down  the  river,  stinking  and  putrefying  in 
their  course.  The  Calder  and  Hebble  Navigation  Company  are  periodically 
put  to  great  inconvenience  and  expense  in  removing  collections  of  this  kind, 
the  smell  of  which  is  often  most  offensive,  and  has  more  than  once  caused 
serious  illness  to  the  workmen  employed.  About  two  years  ago  the  mud  had 
accumulated  to  a  depth  of  five  feet,  and,  the  water  having  been  drained  off, 
at  least  two  thousand  tons  were  removed,  but  no  fish  or  living  being  of  any 
kind  was  discovered.  At  the  bridge  there  has  been  a  water-mill  for  at  least 
seven  hundred  years,  and  any  one  interested  in  the  smell  of  partially  oxidized 
sewage  should  not  omit  to. stand  over  the  spray  which  ascends  from  the  wheel. 
Masses  of  solid  faeces  may  be  seen  at  the  grating  through  which  the  water  is 
strained.  Looking  from  the  bridge  westward,  except  in  wet  weather,  is  a 
large,  open,  shallow,  almost  stagnant  pond  of  the  most  offensive  character, 
with  tracts  of  dark-coloured  mud  constantly  exposed.  The  sewer  of  the  town 
and  the  West  Riding  Asylum,  with  the  refuse  of  the  worsted,  woollen,  and 
cloth  mills,  malt-houses,  breweries,  brew-houses,  slaughter-houses,  dye-works, 
fibre  mills,  soap  mills,  and  grease  works  enters  by  the  drain  just  below  ;  its 
surface  covered  with  froth  of  every  conceivable  colour  and  degree  of  filthiness, 
overhung  by  willows,  in  whose  branches  are  entangled  and  exposed  to  view 
the  most  disgusting  objects.  ,  The  scum  may  readily  be  traced  down  the  river 
for  a  considerable  distance.  The  last  defilement  of  moment  is  that  from  some 
extensive  grease  works,  in  which  oil  of  vitriol  is  largely  employed. 

The  Ings  Beck,  to  which  I  have  already  alluded,  merits  a  few  particular 
remarks,  being  the  most  important  tributary  the  Calder  receives  in  this  district. 
On  the  day  I  last  examined  its  outlet,  the  smell  arising  was  most  offensive. 
The  general  resemblance  of  the  stream  was  rather  to  thick  soup  than  water, 
and  it  had  a  dirty,  greasy,  yellowish,  indigo-slate  colour,  where  not  coated  by 
froth,  scum,  or  floating  filth.  Its  bed  is  silted  to  a  considerable  extent  by 
black,  foetid  mud,  and  its  outlet  partially  obstructed  by  two  large  ash  heaps. 
It  may  be  observed,  however,  that  this  is  perhaps  the  only  place  in  the 
neighbourhood  at  present  where  refuse  ashes  have  been  tilted,  and  that,  though 
the  height  of  the  water  in  the  river  alters  considerably  according  to  the  state 
of  the  weather,  the  raising  of  the  bed  is  due  for  the  most  part  to  matters 


Appendix.  153 

washed  down  from  a  higher  source.  Such  is  the  case  with  the  miscellaneously 
constituted  sediment  dredged  by  the  Calder  and  Hebble  Navigation  Company 
near  the  Wakefield  dam,  and  with  the  shoal  at  Lupset  pond  above  Wakefield  ; 
an  accumulation  of  ashes  and  dye-woods  having  risen  in  the  latter  situation 
during  the  last  five  or  six  years.  Walking  up  the  bank  of  the  beck,  one  may 
form  a  fair  idea  of  the  kind  of  contamination  received.  Besides  dead  dogs, 
tin  kettles,  broken  pots,  old  pans,  boots,  hats,  etc.,  we  find  house-sinks  and 
surface  drains,  public-house  refuse  and  factors'  privies  flowing  in  unscrupulously. 
Myriads  of  annelides  in  the  mud  upon  the  banks  subsist  on  the  impurities ; 
that  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  warm  sewer  being,  in  fact,  for  some  distance 
entirely  concealed  by  sheets  of  moving  pink.  A  railway  waggon-maker's 
establishment  was  a  little  while  ago  an  artificial  manure  factory,  and  con- 
tributed greatly  to  the  general  pollution. 

At  the  bottom  of  Thornhili  Street  are  two  strong  foul  streams,  one  of  sewage, 
the  other,  on  the  day  I  visited  it,  discharging  deep  indigo-coloured  stuff.  Im- 
mediately above  this  the  beck,  though  receiving  muddy  refuse  from  some  cement 
works,  was  purple  coloured,  and  where  the  branches  of  overhanging  shrubs 
dipped  beneath  its  surface,  a  polychrome  froth  and  scum  collected.  A  few 
hundred  yards  higher,  having  passed  the  place  of  entrance  of  the  purple  dye, 
the  stream  regained  nearly  its  original  dirty  indigo  appearance.  Near  the  Low 
Hill  bridge  was  a  fall  of  hot  mauve  refuse,  with  several  yards  of  rainbow- 
coloured  scum.  Where  the  water  could  be  seen,  in  one  light  it  would  have  a 
bluish  tint,  in  another  a  dirty  yellowish  ;  and  the  mud  was  deep  and  flocculent. 
Nearer  Chald  Lane  there  was  an  extremely  filthy  ditch,  covered  with  scum,  and 
loaded  with  the  privy  and  house  refuse  of  a  large  number  of  cottages  and  low 
lodging-houses  ;  and  a  little  higher  two  large  streams  of  thick  purple  dye  refuse. 
Above  the  dam  in  this  situation  enter  the  waste  of  a  dye-works  and  shoddy 
mill,  with  the  filthy  privy  and  surface  drains  of  Salt  Pie  Alley.  The  water 
here  is  the  colour  of  the  contents  of  a  slop-pail,  is  almost  stagnant,  coated  in 
patches  of  several  yards  with  scum,  and  is  in  other  respects  very  offensive.  At 
Brooksbank  a  kind  of  long  oblong  pond  is  formed,  two  sides  of  which  are  of 
thick  mud,  one  exposing  the  privy  refuse  and  excrements  in  three  drains  from 
the  neighbouring  cottages  and  lodging-houses  ;  and  about  here  does  or  did 
recently  enter  the  flushings  of  the  cesspools  from  the  prison  with  its  sixteen 
hundred  inmates,  and  the  refuse  of  the  chemicals  used  in  the  annual  manu- 
facture, dyeing,  and  bleaching  of  about  seven  hundred  and  fifty  tons  of  matting. 
Balne  Beck  also  enters  at  this  point.  Going  upwards  we  find  the  Westgate 
Beck  receiving  the  fouled  water  and  other  refuse  of  two  large  worsted  mills,  of 
surface  drains,  of  piggeries,  and  of  privies ;  then  muddy  water,  apparently  from 


154  Appendix. 

some  brick-yards,  and  hot  waste  from  a  large  woollen  mill.  Immediately 
above  healthy  green  confervas  begin  to  show  themselves  ;  long  grass  floats 
on  the  surface  ;  shrubs  grow  upon  the  banks  ;  and  if  a  brown  scum  collects 
where  the  branches  touch  the  surface,  it  has  altogether  a  less  disgusting 
character.  Fairly  out  in  the  country  the  water  is  bright  and  clear,  and  boys 
bathe  in  it  in  summer  when  deep  enough. 

Balne  Beck  is  on  the  whole  as  yet  tolerably  clean,  the  sid^s  only  being  lined 
with  mud  patched  with  red,  and  the  stones  at  the  bottom  coated  with  long  trails 
of  green  confervas.  The  principal  impurities  are  from  a  soap-works,  a  coal- 
mine, a  skin-preparing  shed,  and  a  brick-field.  The  Yorkshire  Fibre  Company 
did  a  short  time  since  drain  a  large  quantity  of  poisonous  matter  into  the  beck, 
but  is  at  present  restrained  by  an  injunction. 

The  Water  Company's  works  are  situated  about  two  and  a  half  miles  below 
Wakefield  Bridge,  and  consequently  receive  the  water  in  an  extremely  un- 
favourable condition.  It  has  received  the  unchecked  and  accumulating  filth 
and  pollution  of  400,000  inhabitants  (number  now  much  greater),  and  their 
manufactures,  to  which  Wakefield  itself,  with  its  20,000  inhabitants,  has  contri- 
buted. The  large  live-stock  market  also,  with  its  average  sale  of  800  beasts  and 
6,000  sheep,  has  added  a  grave  pollution.  As  if  to  show  how  completely  we 
acquiesce  in  the  abandoned  corruption  of  the  stream,  the  putrefying  carcases  of 
animals — not  only  of  dogs  and  cats,  but  of  pigs,  sheep,  and  calves — are  allowed 
to  drift  along  with  their  surfeiting  smell,  until  stopped  of  themselves  at  Stanley 
Ferry. 

On  stirring  up  the  mud  from  the  bottom,  a  Winchester  quart  of  gas  was 
readily  collected  by  means  of  an  inverted  funnel,  and  was  found,  on  exami- 
nation, to  consist  chiefly  of  carbonic  acid,  light  carburetted  hydrogen,  sulphu- 
retted hydrogen,  and  free  nitrogen. 

It  is  not  easy  to  estimate  accurately  the  effect  of  nuisances  of  this  kind  on  the 
public  health.  Two  years  and  a  half  ago,  whilst  the  waterworks  were  under- 
going improvement,  and  for  some  months  the  supply  to  the  town  was  merely 
pumped  up  from  the  river  into  the  mains  without  filtration,  the  actual  mortality 
did  not  appear  directly  to  increase.  This,  however,  may  be  explained  by  the 
fact  that  a  peculiar  atmospheric  condition  is  necessary  in  order  to  develop  fully 
the  death-bearing  properties  of  impure  water  ;  and  it  may  be  added  that,  as  it 
was,  and  as  I  had  occasion  to  represent  to  the  Local  Board  at  that  time,  there 
was  a  greater  amount  of  diarrhoea,  continued  fever,  erysipelas,  diffuse  abscess, 
and  of  cutaneous  and  subcutaneous  cellular  inflammation  ;  while  the  inflam- 
mation generally  was  peculiarly  liable  to  take  on  the  erysipelatous  form  and 
become  unmanageable,  and  the  convalescence  from  various  diseases  to  be 


Appendix.  155 

unwontedly  interrupted  and  prolonged.     Possibly  this,  and  even  an  increased 
death-rate,  had  it  occurred,  might  have  been  explained  in  part  by  other  causes; 
but  I  cannot  resist  the  conviction  that  bad  water  as  a  beverage,  and  the  taint 
which  it  communicates  to  the  atmosphere,  bear  a  most  important  part  both  in 
causing  actual  disease  and  in  weakening  the  power  of  the  constitution  to  bear 
up  against  disease,  and  so  shorten  life  in  that  way.     Greatly  improved  houses 
have  been  built  for  the  artizan  class  during  the  last  few  years ;  greater  attention 
has  been  paid  to  the  ventilation  of  mills  and  workshops ;  the  agitation  for  a 
people's  park,  indicates  how  wide-awake  the  population  is  to  the  benefit  of 
fresh  air  ;  wages  have  increased  ;  the  character  of  the  food  consumed  is  more 
closely  inspected  ;  the  drainage  is  more  efficient  ;  many  open  sewers  have  been 
closed  ;  bad  wells  have  been  stopped ;  but  both  the  death-rate  and  the  amount 
of  disease  have  increased  ;  the  former  reaching  so  high  as  27  '4  per  thousand  in 
the  present  year.     The  whole  of  the  excess  in  this  mortality  is  due  to  prevent- 
able disease,  which  includes  diarrhoea,  cholera,  and  typhoid,  the  poison  of  which 
may  unquestionably  and  has  frequently  been  known  to  be  conveyed  through 
water.     An  indication  of  the  extent  to  which  constitutional  vigour  has  at  the 
same  time  diminished,  is  found  in  the  fact  that  less  than  twenty  years  ago  to 
blister,   bleed,  and  purge  was  the  routine  of  the  physicians'  practice  at  the 
dispensary,  while  cod-liver  oil  and   quinine  were  unknown.     This  mode  of 
treatment,  if  it  did  not  cure,  certainly  did  not  kill ;  for  the  patients  did  well 
under  it,  having  strength  to  bear  up  against  and  conquer  both  disease  and 
treatment.     Now,   I  will  venture  to  say,   that  ninety-nine  per  cent,  of  our 
patients  would  sink  under  the  depletory  measures  of  bygone  days  ;  and  during 
last  year,  in  a  practice  of  only  2,700  patients,  it  was  found  necessary  to  pre- 
scribe no  less  than  twenty-three  gallons  of  cod-liver  oil,  and  sixty-four  ounces  of 
quinine,  to  say  nothing  of  nourishment  and  stimulants.     An  atmosphere  satu- 
rated with  smoke,  and  shutting  out  instead  of  conveying  the  light  of  the  sun, 
sedentary  habits,  dense  population,  and  unhealthy  pursuits,  have   doubtless 
shared  in  bringing  about  this  general  lowness  of  constitution  ;  but  the  healthy 
textural  drainage  and  repair  of  the  body,  and  consequently  the  perfect  activity 
of  its  functions,  can  scarcely  take  place  if,  instead  of  pure  water,  it  be  supplied 
with  a  compound  with  which  it  is  not  organised  to  operate. 

I  have  nothing  to  add  respecting  the  moral  contamination  of  material  filthi- 
ness,  since  that  is  out  of  my  province.  But  surely  drunkenness  and  vice,  and 
other  forms  of  intellectual  insensibility,  are  fostered,  if  not  originated,  by  mental 
despair  and  disappointment ;  the  things  which  should,  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
nature,  be  pleasing  and  refreshing  to  the  mind,  having  ceased  to  be  so.  At  least 
we  are  taught  that  in  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  the  river  which  proceeds  from 


156  Appendix. 

the  throne  of  God  is  clear  as  crystal,  giving  birth  on  either  side  to  the  tree  of 
life  for  the  healing  of  the  nations ;  whereas 

"  Upon  the  banks  a  scurf, 
From  the  foul  stream  condensed,  encrusting  hangs, 
That  holds  sharp  combat  with  the  sight  and  smell," 
freighted  by  devils,  in  the  dingy  regions  of  the  damned. 

(Signed)  James  Fowler. 

Wakefield,  \$th  October,  1866. 

(The  Commissioners  at  this  time  said  the  river  had  received  the  utmost 
amount  of  contamination  of  which  a  river  was  capable, — but  it  is  much  worse 
now.) 


APPENDIX  II, 


The  business  of  mining  is  put  in  this  subordinate  class,  because 
there  is  already  more  metal  of  all  sorts  than  we  want  in  the  world, 
if  it  be  used  prudently  ;  and  the  effect  of  this  surplus  is  even  now 
to  make  mining,  on  the  whole,  always  a  loss.  I  did  not  know  that 
this  law  extended  even  to  recent  gold-workings.  The  following 
extract  from  the  '  Athenaeum  '  of  April  3  of  this  year  is,  I  suppose, 
trustworthy  : — 

A  History  of  the  Precious  Metals  from  the  Earliest  Times  to  the  Present. 
By  Alexander  Del  Mar,  M.E.     (Bell  and  Sons.) 

It  is  not  often  that  a  volume  which  deals  with  such  a  subject  as  that  which 
Mr.  Del  Mar  has  written  on  can  be  considered  interesting  by  the  general 
reader.  Yet  in  the  present  instance  this  really  might  be  the  case  if  the  reader 
were  to  occupy  himself  with  those  chapters  in  this  work  which  deal  with 
mining  for  the  precious  metals  in  America.  A  residence  of  some  years  in 
California  has  given  Mr.  Del  Mar  a  practical  acquaintance  with  the  manner  in 
which  mining  is  conducted,  and  the  history  of  that  industry  there  from  the 
commencement.  This  knowledge  also  has  enabled  him  to  describe  with  the 
vividness  derived  from  actual  knowledge  the  operations  of  the  Spaniards  in 
Central  America  while  seaching  for  gold  from  the  fifteenth  century  onwards. 
The  picture  Mr.  Del  Mar  draws  of  the  results  of  the  auri  sacra  fames  which 
consumed  both  earlier  and  later  seekers  after  wealth  is  indeed  terrible. 
Empires  were'  overthrown,  and  their  industries  and  docile  populations  were 
swept  away  in  numbers  almost  beyond  belief,  or  ground  down  by  every 
suffering  which  avarice,  cruelty,  and  sensuality  could  inflict.  The  ultimate  utter 
exhaustion  both  of  conquerors  and  conquered  marks  the  period,  reaching  far 
into  the  eighteenth  century,  when  forced  labour  was  employed.     The  state- 


158  Appendix. 

ment  that  "the  Indies  had  become  'a  sort  of  money '"  (p.  63),  expresses 
perhaps  as  forcibly  as  possible  what  the  fate  of  the  native  inhabitants  of  Southern 
America  was  under  the  rule  of  the  Spaniard.  And  if,  during  the  compara- 
tively short  period  that  has  elapsed  since  the  famous  discovery  of  gold  at  Mill 
Race  in  California,  the  reckless  consumption  of  life  has  not  been  associated 
with  the  utter  brutality  which  marked  the  conduct  of  the  followers  of  Cortes 
and  Pizarro,  the  economic  results  are  scarcely  more  satisfactory.  Mr.  Del  Mar 
calculates  that  the  outlay  on  mining  far  outweighs  the  proceeds  ;  he  estimates 
that  the  ^90,000,000  of  gold  produced  in  California  from  1848  to  1856  inclu- 
sive M  cost  in  labour  alone  some  ^450,000,000,  or  five  times  its  mint  value  " 
(p.  263).  Nor  is  this  estimate  of  the  net  product  even  of  the  "  Comstock 
Lode  "  more  favourable  to  the  owners  (p.  266).  Here  also  the  total  cost  is 
placed  at  five  times  the  return.  Beyond  this  the  mining  country  is  devastated. 
Destruction  of  timber,  consequent  injury  to  climate,  ruin  to  fertile  land  by 
hydraulic  mining,  are  but  a  part  of  the  injury.  The  scale  on  which  operations 
are  carried  on  may  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  the  aggregate  length  of  the 
"mining  ditches,"  or  aqueducts,  employed  in  bringing  water  to  the  mines,  is 
put  down  as  6,585  miles  in  California  in  1879  (p.  290).  These  works  are 
maintained  at  much  cost.  The  reader  will  ask,  '  How  can  such  an  industry 
continue  ?  The  country  is  desolated,  the  majority  of  those  employed  lose. 
"Why  is  all  this  labour  thus  misapplied  ? '  The  answer  is,  The  spirit  of 
gambling  and  the  chance  of  a  lucky  hit  lure  the  venturers  on.  The  multitude 
forget  the  misfortunes  of  the  many,  while  they  hope  to  be  numbered  among  the 
fortunate  few. 


FORS    CLAVIGERA. 

SECOND  SERIES. 


"YEA,   THE  WORK  OF  OUR  HANDS,   ESTABLISH  THOU  IT.' 


AM  putting  my  house  in  order ;  and  would  fain 
*  put  my  past  work  in  order  too,  if  I  could.  Some 
guidance,  at  least,  may  be  given  to  the  readers  of 
Fors — or  to  its  partial  readers — in  their  choice  of 
this  or  that  number.  To  this  end  I  have  now  given 
each  monthly  part  its  own  name,  indicative  of  its  special 
subject.  The  connection  of  all  these  subjects,  and  of 
the  book  itself  with  my  other  books,  may  perhaps  begin 
to  show  itself  in  this  letter. 

The  first  principle  of  my  political  economy  will  be 
found  again  and  again  reiterated  in  all  the  said  books, — 
that  the  material  wealth  of  any  country  is  the  portion 
of  its  possessions  which  feeds  and  educates  good  men 
and  women  in  it ;  the  connected  principle  of  national 
policy  being  that  the  strength  and  power  of  a  country 
depends  absolutely  on  the  quantity  of  good  men  and 
women  in  the  territory  of  it,  and  not  at  all  on  the 
extent  of  the  territory — still  less  on  the  number  of  vile 

2ND^SERIES.]  I  4 


160  Fors  Clavigera. 

or  stupid  inhabitants.  A  good  crew  in  a  good  ship, 
however  small,  is  a  power ;  but  a  bad  crew  in  the 
biggest  ship — none, — and  the  best  crew  in  a  ship  cut 
in  half  by  a  collision  in  a  hurry,  not  much  the  better 
for  their  numbers. 

Following  out  these  two  principles,  I  have  farther, 
and  always,  taught  that,  briefly,  the  wealth  of  a  country 
is  in  its  good  men  and  women,  and  in  nothing  else  : 
that  the  riches  of  England  are  good  Englishmen  ;  of 
Scotland,  good  Scotchmen  ;  of  Ireland,  good  Irishmen. 
This  is  first,  and  more  or  less  eloquently,  stated  in  the 
close  of  the  chapter  called  the  Veins  of  Wealth,  of 
1  Unto  this  Last '  ;  and  is  scientifically,  and  in  sifted 
terms,  explained  and  enforced  in  '  Munera  Pulveris.'  I 
have  a  word  or  two  yet  to  add  to  what  I  have  written, 
which   I   will  try  to  keep  very  plain   and  unfigurative. 

It  is  taught,  with  all  the  faculty  I  am  possessed  of, 
in  '  Sesame  and  Lilies,'  that  in  a  state  of  society  in 
which  men  and  women  are  as  good  as  they  can  be, 
(under  mortal  limitation),  the  women  will  be  the  guiding 
and  purifying  power.  In  savage  and  embryo  countries, 
they  are  openly  oppressed,  as  animals  of  burden  ;  in 
corrupted  and  fallen  countries,  more  secretly  and 
terribly.  I  am  not  careful  concerning  the  oppression 
which  they  are  able  to  announce  themselves,  forming 
anti-feminine-slavery  colleges  and  institutes,  etc. ;  but 
of  the  oppression  which  they  cannot  resist,  ending  in 
their  destruction,  I  am  careful  exceedingly. 


Fors  Clavigera.  161 

The  merely  calculable  phenomena  of  economy  are 
indeed  supposed  at  present  to  indicate  a  glut  of  them  ; 
but  our  economists  do  not  appear  ever  to  ask  them- 
selves of  what  quality  the  glut  is,  or,  at  all  events,  in 
what  quality  it  would  be  wisest  to  restrict  the  supply, 
and  in  what  quality,  educated  according  to  the  laws 
of  God,  the  supply  is  at  present  restricted. 

I  think  the  experience  of  most  thoughtful  persons 
will  confirm  me  in  saying  that  extremely  good  girls, 
(good  children,  broadly,  but  especially  girls,)  usually  die 
young.  The  pathos  of  their  deaths  is  constantly  used 
in  poetry  and  novels  ;  but  the  power  of  the  fiction  rests, 
I  suppose,  on  the  fact  that  most  persons  of  affectionate 
temper  have  lost  their  own  May  Queens  or  little  Nells 
in  their  time.  For  my  own  part  of  grief,  I  have  known 
a  little  Nell  die,  and  a  May  Queen  die,  and  a  queen 
of  May,  and  of  December  also,  die  ; — all  of  them,  in 
economists'  language,  '  as  good  as  gold,'  and  in  Christian 
language,  '  only  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  and 
crowned  with  glory  and  honour.'  And  I  could  count 
the  like  among  my  best-loved  friends,  with  a  rosary 
of  tears. 

It  seems,  therefore,  that  God  takes  care,  under  present 
circumstances,  to  prevent,  or  at  least  to  check,  the  glut 
of  that  kind  of  girls.  Seems,  I  say,  and  say  with 
caution — for  perhaps  it  is  not  entirely  in  His  good 
pleasure  that  these  things  are  so.  But,  they  being  so, 
the   question   becomes  therefore   yet   more   imperative — 


1 62  Fors  Clavigera. 

how  far  a  country  paying  this  enforced  tax  of  its  good 
girls  annually  to  heaven  is  wise  in  taking  little  account 
of  the  number  it  has  left  ?  For  observe  that,  just 
beneath  these  girls  of  heaven's  own,  come  another 
kind,  who  are  just  earthly  enough  to  be  allowed  to 
stay  with  us ;  but  who  get  put  out  of  the  way  into 
convents,  or  made  mere  sick-nurses  of,  or  take  to 
mending  the  irremediable, — (I've  never  got  over  the 
loss  to  me,  for  St.  George's  work,  of  one  of  the  sort). 
Still,  the  nuns  are  always  happy  themselves ;  and  the 
nurses  do  a  quantity  of  good  that  may  be  thought  of 
as  infinite  in  its  own  way ;  and  there's  a  chance  of 
their  being  forced  to  marry  a  King  of  the  Lombards 
and  becoming  Queen  Theodolindas  and  the  like :  pass 
these,  and  we  come  to  a  kind  of  girl,  just  as  good,  but 
with  less  strong  will# — who  is  more  or  less  spoilable 
and  mis-manageable :  and  these  are  almost  sure  to 
come  to  grief,  by  the  faults  of  others,  or  merely  by  the 
general  fashions  and  chances  of  the  world.  In  romance, 
for  instance,  Juliet — Lucy  Ashton — Amy  Robsart.  In 
my  own  experience,  I  knew  one  of  these  killed  merely 
by  a  little  piece  of  foolish  pride — the  exactly  opposite 
fault  to  Juliet's.")*  She  was  the  niece  of  a  most  trusted 
friend   of    my  father's,   also   a   much    trusted    friend    of 

*  Or,  it  may  be,  stronger  animal  passion. — a  greater  inferiority. 

t  Juliet,  being  a  girl  of  a  noble  Veronese  house,  had  no  business  to  fall 
in  love  at  first  sight  with  anybody.  It  is  her  humility  that  is  the  death  of 
her ;  and  Imogen  would  have  died  in  the  same  way,  but  for  her  helpful 
brothers.     Of  Desdemona,  see  Tors'  for  November  1877  (vol.  vii.,  p.  357). 


Fors  Clavigera.  163 

mine  in  the  earliest  Heme  Hill  days  of  my  Cock 
Robin-hood  ;  when  I  used  to  transmute  his  name,  Mr. 
Dowie,  into  '  Mr.  Good-do,'  not  being  otherwise  clear 
about  its  pronunciation.  His  niece  was  an  old  sea- 
captain's  only  daughter,  motherless,  and  may  have  been 
about  twenty  years  old  when  I  was  twelve.  She  was 
certainly  the  most  beautiful  girl  of  the  pure  English- 
Greek*  type  I  ever  saw,  or  ever  am  likely  to  see  of  any 
type  whatever.  I've  only  since  seen  one  who  could 
match  her,  but  she  was  Norman-English.  My  mother 
was  her  only  confidante  in  her  love  affairs  :  consisting 
mostly  in  gentle  refusals — not  because  she  despised 
people,  or  was  difficult  to  please,  but  wanted  simply 
to  stay  with  her  father ;  and  did  so  serenely,  modestly, 
and  with  avoidance  of  all  pain  she  could  spare  her 
lovers,  dismissing  quickly  and  firmly,  never  tempting 
or  playing  with  them. 

At  last,  when  she  was  some  five  or  six  and  twenty, 
came  one  whom  she  had  no  mind  to  dismiss ;  and 
suddenly  finding  herself  caught,  she  drew  up  like  a 
hart  at  bay.  The  youth,  unluckily  for  him,  dared  not 
push  his  advantage,  lest  he  should  be  sent  away  like 
the  rest ;  and  would  not  speak, — partly  could  not, 
loving  her  better  than  the  rest,  and  struck  dumb,  as  an 

*  By  the  English-Greek  type,  I  mean  the  features  of  the  statue  of  Psyche 
at  Naples,  with  finely-pencilled  dark  brows,  rather  dark  hair,  and  bright 
pure  colour.  I  never  forget  beautiful  faces,  nor  confuse  their  orders  of 
dignity,  so  that  I  am  quite  sure  of  the  statement  in  the  text. 


164  Fors  Clavigera. 

honest  and  modest  English  lover  is  apt  to  be,  when 
he  was  near  her ;  so  that  she  fancied  he  did  not  care 
for  her.  At  last,  she  came  to  my  mother  to  ask 
what  she  should  do.  My  mother  said,  "  Go  away  for 
a  while,' — if  he  cares  for  you,  he  will  follow  you  ;  if 
not,  there's  no  harm  done." 

But  she  dared  not  put  it  to  the  touch,  thus,  but 
lingered  on,  where  she  could  sometimes  see  him, — and 
yet,  in  her  girl's  pride,  lest  he  should  find  out  she 
liked  him,  treated  him  worse  than  she  had  anybody 
ever  before.  Of  course  this  piece  of  wisdom  soon 
brought  matters  to  an  end.  The  youth  gave  up  all 
hope,  went  away,  and,  in  a  month  or  two  after,  died 
of  the  then  current  plague,  cholera :  upon  which  his 
sister — I  do  not  know  whether  in  wrath  or  folly — told 
his  mistress  the  whole  matter,  and  showed  her  what 
she  had  done.  The  poor  girl  went  on  quietly  taking 
care  of  her  father,  till  his  death,  which  soon  followed  ; 
then,  with  some  kindly  woman-companion,  went  to 
travel. 

Some  five  or  six  years  afterwards,  my  father  and 
mother  and  I  were  going  up  to  Chamouni,  by  the  old 
char-road  under  the  Cascade  de  Chede.  There  used  to 
be  an  idiot  beggar-girl,  who  always  walked  up  beside 
the  chars,  not  ugly  or  cretinous,  but  inarticulate  and 
wild-eyed,  moaning  a  little  at  intervals.  She  came  to 
be,  in  time,  year  after  year,  a  part  of  the  scene,  which 
one  would   even   have   been   sorry  to   have  lost.     As  we 


Fors  Clavigera.  165 

drew  near  the  top  of  the  long  hill,  and  this  girl  had 
just  ceased  following,  a  lady  got  out  of  a  char  at  some 
little  distance  behind,  and  ran  up  to  ours,  holding  out 
her  hands. 

We  none  of  us  knew  her.  There  was  something  in 
the  eyes  like  the  wild  look  of  the  other's  ;  the  face 
was  wrinkled,  and  a  little  hard  in  expression — Alpine, 
now,  in  its  beauty.  "  Don't  you  know  Sybilla  ? "  said 
she.  My  mother  made  her  as  happy  as  she  could  for 
a  week  at  Chamouni, — I  am  not  sure  if  they  ever  met 
again  :  the  girl  wandered  about  wistfully  a .  year  or  two 
longer,  then  died  of  rapid  decline. 

I  have  told  this  story  in  order  to  draw  two  pieces  of 
general  moral  from  it,  which  may  perhaps  be  more 
useful  than  if  they  were  gathered  from  fable. 

First,  a  girl's  proper  confidant  is  her  father.  If  there 
is  any  break  whatever  in  her  trust  in  him,  from  her 
infancy  to  her  marriage,  there  is  wrong  somewhere, — 
often  on  his  part,  but  most  likely  it  is  on  hers ;  by 
getting  into  the  habit  of  talking  with  her  girl-friends 
about  what  they  have  no  business  with,  and  her  father 
much.  What  she  is  not  inclined  to  tell  her  father,  should 
be  told  to  no  one  ;  and,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  not 
thought  of  by  herself. 

And  I  believe  that  few  fathers,  however  wrong-headed 
or  hard-hearted,  would  fail  of  answering  the  habitual 
and  patient  confidence  of  their  child  with  true  care 
for   her.     On    the   other    hand,    no    father  deserves,    nor 


1 66 


Fors  Clavigera. 


can  he  entirely  and  beautifully  win,  his  daughter's 
confidence,  unless  he  loves  her  better  than  he  does 
himself,  which  is  not  always  the  case.  But  again  here, 
the  fault  may  not  be  all  on  papa's  side. 

In  the  instance  before  us,  the  relations  between  the 
motherless  daughter  and  her  old  sea-captain  father 
were  entirely  beautiful,  but  not  rational  enough.  He 
ought  to  have  known,  and  taught  his  pretty  Sybilla, 
that  she  had  other  duties  in  the  world  than  those 
immediately  near  his  own  arm-chair ;  and  she,  if 
resolved  not  to  marry  while  he  needed  her,  should 
have  taken  more  care  of  her  own  heart,  and  followed 
my  mother's  wise  counsel  at  once. 

In  the  second  place,  when  a  youth  is  fully  in  love 
with  a  girl,  and  feels  that  he  is  wise  in  loving  her,  he 
should  at  once  tell  her  so  plainly,  and  take  his  chance 
bravely,  with  other  suitors.  No  lover  should  have  the 
insolence  to  think  of  being  accepted  at  once,  nor  should 
any  girl  have  the  cruelty  to  refuse  at  once;  without 
severe  reasons.  If  she  simply  doesn't  like  him,  she 
may  send  him  away  for  seven  years  or  so — he  vowing 
to  live  on  cresses,  and  wear  sackcloth  meanwhile,  or  the 
like  penance  :  if  she  likes  him  a  little,  or  thinks  she 
might  come  to  like  him  in  time,  she  may  let  him 
stay  near  her,  putting  him  always  on  sharp  trial  to 
see  what  stuff  he  is  made  of,  and  requiring,  figuratively, 
as  many  lion-skins  or  giants'  heads  as  she  thinks  herself 
worth.  The  whole  meaning  and  power  of  true  courtship 


Fors  Clavigera.  167 

is  Probation ;  and  it  oughtn't  to  be  shorter  than  three 
years  at  least, — seven  is,  to  my  own  mind,  the  orthodox 
time.  And  these  relations  between  the  young  people 
should  be  openly  and  simply  known,  not  to  their 
friends  only,  but  to  everybody  who  has  the  least 
interest  in  them  :  and  a  girl  worth  anything  ought  to 
have  always  half  a  dozen  or  so  of  suitors  under  vow 
for  her. 

There  are  no  words  strong  enough  to  express  the 
general  danger  and  degradation  of  the  manners  of  mob- 
courtship,  as  distinct  from  these,  which  have  become 
the  fashion, — almost  the  law, — in  modern  times  :  when 
in  a  miserable  confusion  of  candlelight,  moonlight,  and 
limelight — and  anything  but  daylight, — in  indecently 
attractive  and  insanely  expensive  dresses,  in  snatched 
moments,  in  hidden  corners,  in  accidental  impulses 
and  dismal  ignorances,  young  people  smirk  and  ogle 
and  whisper  and  whimper  and  sneak  and  stumble 
and  flutter  and  fumble  and  blunder  into  what  they 
call  Love ; — expect  to  get  whatever  they  like  the 
moment  they  fancy  it,  and  are  continually  in  the 
danger  of  losing  all  the  honour  of  life  for  a  folly,  and 
all  the  joy  of  it  by  an  accident. 

Passing  down  now  from  the  class  of  good  girls  who 
have  the  power,  if  they  had  the  wisdom,  to  regulate 
their  lives  instead  of  losing  them,  to  the  less  fortunate 
classes,  equally  good — (often,  weighing  their  adversity 
in  true   balance,   it  might  be  conjectured,  better,) — who 


1 68  Fors  Clavigera. 

have  little  power  of  ruling,  and  every  provocation  to 
misruling  their  fates  :  who  have,  from  their  births,  much 
against  them,  few  to  help,  and,  virtually,  none  to  guide, 
— how  are  we  to  count  the  annual  loss  of  its  girl- wealth 
to  the  British  nation  in  these  ?  Loss,  and  probably 
worse  ;  for  if  there  be  fire  and  genius  in  these  neglected 
ones,  and  they  chance  to  have  beauty  also,  they  are 
apt  to  become  to  us  long-running,  heavy  burdening, 
incalculable  compound  interest  of  perdition.  God  save 
them,  and  all  of  us,  at  last ! 

But,  merely  taking  the  pocket-book  red-lined  balance 
of  the  matter,  what,  in  mere  cash  and  curricle,  do 
these  bright  reverses  of  their  best  human  treasures  cost 
the  economical  British  race,  or  the  cheerful  French  ? 
That  account  you  would  do  well  to  cast,  looking  down 
from  its  Highgate  '  upon  your  own  mother  —  (of 
especially  these  sort  of  children  ?)  city ;  or,  in  Paris, 
from  the  hill  named,  from  the  crowd  of  its  Christian 
martyrs,  Mont  Martre,  upon  the  island  in  Seine 
named  '  of  our  Lady ' — the  He  Notre  Dame  ;  or,  from 
top  of  Ingleborough,  on  all  the  south  and  east  of 
Lancashire  and  Yorkshire,  black  with  the  fume  of 
their  fever-fretted  cities,  rolling  itself  along  the  dales, 
mixed  with  the  torrent  mists.  Do  this  piece  of  statistic 
and  arithmetic  there,  taking  due  note  that  each  of 
these  great  and  little  Babylons,  if  even  on  the  creditor 
side  you  may  set  it  down  for  so  much  (dubitable) 
value   of   produce   in   dynamite    and   bayonet,  in  vitriol, 


Fors  Clavigera.  169 

brass,  and  iron, — yet  on  the  debtor  side  has  to  account 
for  annual  deficit  zV/dubitable  ! — the  casting  away 
of  things  precious,  the  profanation  of  things  pure, 
the  pain  of  things  capable  of  happiness — to  what 
sum  ? 

I  have  told  you  a  true  story  of  the  sorrow  and 
death  of  a  maid  whom  all  who  knew  her  delighted 
in.  I  want  you  to  read  another  of  the  sorrow  and 
vanishing  of  one  whom  few,  except  her  father,  delighted 
in  ;  and  none,  in  any  real  sense,  cared  for.  A  younger 
girl  this,  of  high  powers — and  higher  worth,  as  it 
seems  to  me.  The  story  is  told  in  absolute  and  simple 
truth  by  Miss  Laffan,  in  her  little  grey  and  red  book, 
— 'Baubie  Clarke.'  (Blackwood  and  Sons,  Edinburgh, 
1880.)  "It  all  happened  in  Edinburgh,"  Miss  Laffan 
says  in  a  private  letter  to  me,  "  exactly  as  I  relate : 
I  went  into  every  place  in  which  this  child  was,  in 
order  to  describe  them  and  her,  and  I  took  great 
pains  to  give  the  dialect  exactly.  I  remember  how 
disappointed  you  were  to  learn  that  Flitters'  death 
was  not  true  ; —  this  story  is  quite  true,  from  first  to 
last."  I  must  leave  my  darling  Baubie  for  a  moment, 
to  explain  the  above  sentence  with  a  word  or  two  about 
my  still  better  beloved  Flitters,  in  '  Tatters,  Flitters, 
and  the  Councillor.'  The  study  of  those  three  children, 
given  by  Miss  Laffan,  is,  in  the  deepest  sense,  more 
true,  as  well  as  more  pathetic,  than  that,  of  Baubie 
Clarke, — for  Miss  Laffan   knows  and   sees   the    children 


170  Fors  Clavigera. 

of  her  own  country  thoroughly,*  but  she  has  no  clear 
perceptions  of  the  Scotch.  Also,  the  main  facts 
concerning  Tatters  and  Flitters  and  their  legal  adviser 
are  all  true —  bitterly  and  brightly  true  :  but  the 
beautiful  and  heroic  death  was — I  could  find  it  in  my 
heart  to  say,  unhappily, — not  the  young  girl's.  Flitters, 
when  last  I  heard  of  her,  was  still  living  her  life  of 
song ;  such  song  as  was  possible  to  her.  The  death, 
so  faithfully  and  beautifully  told,  was  actually  that  of 
an  old  man,  an  outcast,  like  herself.  I  have  no 
doubt  Flitters  could,  and  would,  have  died  so,  had  it 
become  her  duty,  and  the  entire  harmony  of  the  story 
is  perfect ;  but  it  is  not  so  sound,  for  my  purpose 
here,  as  the  pure  and  straightforward  truth  of  Baubie 
Clarke. 

I  must  give  the  rude  abstract  of  it  at  once  :  Miss 
Laffan's  detailed  picture  will  not,  I  believe,  be  after- 
wards of  less  interest. 

Baubie,  just  thirteen,  lived  with  her  father  and 
mother,  in  lodgings,  such  as  the  piety  of  Edinburgh 
provides  for  her  poor.  The  mother  was  a  hopeless 
drunkard,  her  father  the  same  —  on  Saturday  nights  ; 
during  the  week  carrying  advertisement-boards  for 
what  stipend    that  kind  of   service   obtains.       Baubie,  a 

*  It  is  curious,  by  the  way,  how  totally  Miss  Edgeworth  failed  in 
drawing  Irish  children,  though  she  could  do  English  ones  perfectly — and 
how  far  finer  '  Simple  Susan '  is  than  *  The  Orphans ' — while  her  Irish  men 
and  women  are  perfect,  and  she  is,  in  fact,  the  only  classical  authority  in 
the  matter  of  Irish  character. 


Fors  Clavigera.  171 

vagrant  street- singer,  is  the  chief  support  and  guardian 
both  of  father  and  mother.  She  is  taken  captive  one 
day,  at  a  street  corner,  by  a  passing  benevolent  lady  ; 
(I  can't  find  out,  and  Miss  Laffan  is  to  be  reprehended 
for  this  omission,  if  Baubie  was  pretty ! —  in  her  wild 
way,  I  gather — yes ;)  carried  off  to  an  institution  of 
sempstresses,  where  she  is  cross-examined,  with  wonder 
and  some  pity;  but  found  to  be  an  independent  British 
subject,  whose  liberties,  at  that  moment,  cannot  be 
infringed.  But  a  day  or  two  afterwards,  her  father 
coming  to  grief,  somehow,  and  getting  sent  to  prison 
for  two  months,  the  magistrate  very  properly  takes 
upon  him  the  responsibility  of  committing  Baubie,  in 
the  meantime,  to  Miss  Mackenzie's  care.  (I  forget 
what  becomes  of  the  mother.) 

She  is  taken  into  a  charitable,  religious,  and  extremely 
well-regulated  institution  ;  she  is  washed  and  combed 
properly,  and  bears  the  operation  like  a  courageous 
poodle  ;  obeys  afterwards  what  orders  are  given  her 
patiently  and  duly.  To  her  much  surprise  and  dis- 
content, her  singing,  the  chief  pleasure  and  faculty  of 
her  existence,  is  at  once  stopped,  under  penalties. 
And,  while  she  stays  in  the  institution,  she  makes  no 
farther  attempt  to  sing. 

But  from  the  instant  she  heard  her  father's  sentence 
in  the  police  court,  she  has  counted  days  and  hours. 
A  perfect  little  keeper  of  accounts  she  is  :  the  Judg- 
ment  Angel  himself,   we  may  not  doubt,  approving  and 


172  Fors  Clavigera. 

assisting,  so  far  as  needful.  She  knows  the  day  and  the 
hour  by  the  Tron  church,  at  which  her  father,  thinking 
himself  daughterless,  will  be  thrust  out,  wistful,  from  his 
prison  gate.  She  is  only  fearful,  prudently  and  beauti- 
fully self-distrusting,  of  missing  count  of  a  day. 

In  the  dormitory  of  her  institution,  on  an  unregarded 
shutter,  in  the  shade,  morning  after  morning  she  cuts 
her  punctual  notch. 

And  the  weary  sixty  days  pass  by.  The  notches 
are  counted  true  to  the  last, — and  on  the  last  night, 
her  measures  all  taken,  and  her  points  and  methods  of 
attack  all  planned,  she  opens  the  window-sash  silently, 
leaps  down  into  the  flowerless  garden,  climbs  its  wall, 
cat-like, — Lioness-like, — and  flies  into  Edinburgh  before 
the  morning  light.  And  at  noon,  her  father,  faltering 
through  the  prison  gate,  finds  her  sitting  on  its  step 
waiting  for  him. 

And  they  two  leave  Edinburgh  together,  and  are 
seen — never  more. 

On  the  cover  of  the  book  which  tells  you  this 
ower-true  Scots  novel,  there  is  a  rude  woodcut  of  Baubie, 
with  a  background  consisting  of  a  bit  of  a  theatre,  an 
entire  policeman,  and  the  advertisement  window  of  a 
tavern, — with  tacit  implication  that,  according  to  the 
benevolent  people  of  Edinburgh,  all  the  mischief  they 
contend  with  is  in  theatres,  as  against  chapels  ;  taverns, 
as  against  coffee-shops  ;  and  police,  as  against  universal 
Scripture-readers. 


Fors  Clavigera.  i  73 

Partly,  this  is  true, — in  the  much  greater  part  it  is 
untrue  ; —  and  all  through  '  Fors '  you  will  find  the 
contrary  statement  that  theatres  should  be  pious  places  ; 
taverns,  holy  places,  and  policemen  an  irresistibly 
benevolent  power :  which,  indeed,  they  mostly  are 
already ;  and  what  London  crossings  and  cart-drivings 
would  be  without  them  we  all  know.  But  I  can 
write  no  more  on  these  matters  myself,  in  this  Fors, 
and  must  be  content  to  quote  the  following  extremely 
beautiful  and  practical  suggestion  by  Sir  John  Ellesmere, 
and  so,  for  to  day,  end. 

"  I  don't  care  much  about  music  myself.  Indeed,  I 
often  wonder  at  the  sort  of  passionate  delight  which 
Milverton,  and  people  like  him,  have  in  the  tinkling 
of  cymbals  ;  but  I  suppose  that  their  professions  of 
delight  are  sincere.  I  proposed  to  a  grave  statesman, 
who  looked  daggers  at  me  for  the  proposal,  that  the 
surplus  of  the  Irish  Church  revenues  should  be  devoted 
to  giving  opera-boxes  to  poor  people  who  are  very 
fond  of  music.  What  are  you  all  giggling  at  ?  I'll  bet 
any  money  that  that  surplus  will  not  be  half  so  well 
employed.  Dear  old  Peabody  used  to  send  orders  for 
opera-boxes  to  poor  friends.  I  v/as  once  present  when 
one  of  these  orders  arrived  for  a  poor  family  devoted 
to  music  ;  and  I  declare  I  have  seldom  seen  such  joy 
manifested  by  any  human  beings.  I  don't  mind  telling 
you     that     since    that    time,    I    have    sometimes    done 


174  Fors  Clctvigcra. 

something  of  the  same  kind  myself.  Very  wrong,  of 
course,  for  I  ought  to  have  given  the  money  to  a 
hospital." 

In  looking  back  over  Fors  with  a  view  to  indices, 
I  find  the  Notes  and  Correspondence  in  small  print  a 
great  plague,  and  purpose  henceforward  to  print  all 
letters  that  are  worth  my  reader's  diligence  in  the  same- 
sized  type  as  my  own  talk.  His  attention  is  first 
requested  to  the  following  very  valuable  one,  originally 
addressed  to  the  editor  of  the  '  Dunfermline  Journal '  ; 
whence  reprinted,  it  was  forwarded  to  me,  and  is  here 
gladly  edited  again  ;  being  the  shortest  and  sensiblest 
I  ever  got  yet  on  the  vegetarian  side. 

Vegetarianism. — "  Sir, — As  a  vegetarian,  and  mother 
of  four  vegetarian  children,  will  you  kindly  grant  me  a 
little  space  in  favour  of  a  cause  which  editors  seemingly 
regard  as  a  subject  for  jest  rather  than  serious  conside- 
ration ?  Without  aiming  at  convincing  men,  I  would 
appeal  principally  to  women  and  mothers  ;  to  consider 
this  cause,  if  they  wish  to  enjoy  good  rest  at  nights  and 
see  robust  healthy  children  who  are  never  fevered  with 
fatty  soups.  Without  taking  up  the  question  about  the 
use  or  abuse  of  the  lower  animals,  I  would  direct  your 
attention  to  our  own  species — men  and  women — and 
the  benefit  of  vegetarianism  as  regards  them  only, 
economy  being   one  of   my  pleas  ;  health,   comfort,  and 


Fors  Clavigera.  175 

cleanliness  the  others.  Look  on  the  lower  masses  who 
live  in  fever  dens,  dress  in  rags,  are  constant  claimants 
of  charity,  invariable  exhibitions  of  dirt  and  disease  ; 
and  go  when  you  like  to  their  dens,  what  fries  of 
steaks  and  pork  do  you  not  sniff  up,  with  the  other 
compounds  of  abominations  !  Look  at  the  other  picture. 
Scotsmen  are  all  the  world  over  foremen  in  workshops 
and  leaders  of  men.  Who  are  the  best  men  in  Scotland 
but  these  porridge-fed,  abstemious,  clear-headed  Aber- 
donians,  who  only  grow  weakly  and  unhealthy  when 
they  grow  out  of  the  diet  that  made  their  positions, 
and  take  to  the  customs  about  them  ?  Is  the  man 
or  woman  to  be  laughed  at,  or  admired,  the  most  who 
can  be  content  with  a  bit  of  bread  or  a  basin  of 
porridge  as  a  meal,  that  he  may  be  able  to  buy  clothes 
or  books,  or  take  a  better  house  to  live  in,  or  have 
something  to  lay  past  for  education,  or  to  give  in 
charity  after  he  has  paid  his  debts  ;  or.  is  the  custom 
to  be  advocated  that  encourages  gorging  three  or  four 
times  a-day  with  all  sorts  of  expensive  luxuries,  meaning, 
to  the  workman,  when  his  work  is  slack,  starvation 
or  dependence  ?  Sir,  to  me — a  vegetarian  both  from 
choice  and  necessity — it  appears  that  no  condition  of 
life  can  justify  that  practice  while  poverty  exists.  As 
regards  the  laws  of  health  I  leave  the  matter  to  doctors 
to  take  up  and  discuss.  I  have  only  to  say  from  the 
personal  experience  of  five  years  that  I  am  healthier 
and  stronger    than    I   was   before,    have    healthy,   strong 

2ND    SERIES.]  I  £ 


l7&  Fors  Clavigera. 

children,  who  never  require  a  doctor,  and  who  live  on 
oatmeal  porridge  and  pease  bannocks,  but  who  do  not 
know  the  taste  of  beef,  butter,  or  tea,  and  who  have 
never  lost  me  a  night's  rest  from  their  birth.  Porridge 
is  our  principal  food,  but  a  drink  of  buttermilk  or  an 
orange  often  serve  our  dinner,  and  through  the  time 
saved  I  have  been  able  to  attend  to  the  health  of  my 
children  and  the  duties  of  my  home  without  the 
hindrance  of  a  domestic  servant,  my  experiments  in 
that  line  being  a  complete  failure. 

"  I  am,  etc.,  Helen  Nisbet. 

"35,  Lome  Street,  Leith  Walk." 

I  am  in  correspondence  with  the  authoress  of  this 
letter,  and  will  give  the  results  arrived  at  in  next 
Fors,  only  saying  now  that  Walter  Scott,  Burns,  and 
Carlyle,  are  among  the  immortals,  on  her  side,  with  a 
few  other  wise  men,  such  as  Orpheus,  St.  Benedict, 
and  St.  Bernard  ;  and  that,  although  under  the  no  less 
wise  guidance  of  the  living  Esculapius,  Sir  William 
Gull,  (himself  dependent  much  for  diet  on  Abigail's 
gift  to  David,  a  bunch  of  raisins,)  I  was  cured  of  my 
last  dangerous  illness  with  medicine  of  mutton-chop, 
and  oysters ;  it  is  conceivable  that  these  drugs  were 
in  reality  homoeopathic,  and  hairs  of  the  dogs  that  bit 
me.  I  am  content  to-day  to  close  the  evidence  for  the 
vegetarians  with  Orpheus'   Hymn  to  the  Earth  : — 

"Oh   Goddess   Earth,    mother  of  the   happy  Gods  and 
of  mortal  men, 


Fars  Clavigera.  177 

All-nursing,  all-giving,  all-bearing,  all-destroying  ; 

Increasing   in    blossom,   heavy   with   fruit,    overflowing 
with  beauty, 

Throne  of  eternal   ordinance,  infinitely  adorned  girl, 

Who  bearest  in   birth-pang  all   manner  of  fruit ; 
,  Eternal,  all-honoured,  deep-hearted,  happy-fated; 

Rejoicing     in     meadow-sweetness,     deity     of    flower- 
multitude, 

And    joyful    in    thy    Night ;     round    whom     the    fair- 
wrought  order  of  the   stars 

Rolls  in  its  everlasting  nature  and  dreadful  flowing; 

Oh  blessed  goddess,  increase  thy  fruits  in  gladness, 

And  through  thy  happy  seasons  in  kindness  of  soul." 

The  second,  and  in  this  number  terminal  letter, 
which  I  have  to  recommend  to  the  reader's  study, 
is  one  from  the  agents  to  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of 
Chester,  as  follows  : — 

"St.  Werburgh  Chambers,  Chester,  April  17,  1883. 

"Sir, —  Our  attention  has  just  been  called  to  an 
anonymous  letter  contained  in  your  '  Fors ' — letter  fifth, 
1880 — reflecting  on  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  Chester 
in  the  management  of  their  property.  The  paragraph 
occurs  at  p.  145-46,  and  commences  thus  :  'Only  a  week 
ago,'  etc.  ;    and  ends,  '  With  an   irresistible  tongue,'    etc. 

"  Our  answer  is  : — The  Dean  and  Chapter  have  never 
refused  to  grant  a  lease  to  an  eligible  man,  but  have 
always   complied    when   asked.       They    have    not  *  raised 


178  Fors  Clavigera. 

all  the  rents,'  etc.,  but  have  materially  reduced  most  of 
them  since  they  acquired  their  property.  The  agents 
never  interfere  with  the  modes  of  farming  unless 
manifestly  exhaustive ;  and  the  statement  that  they 
'  only  allow  the  land  to  be  sown,'  etc.,  on  a  '  personal 
inspection  of  their  agents,'  is  untrue.  They  never  heard 
of  any  '  poverty  prevaling  {sic)  on  their  estate  to  an 
alarming  extent,'  or  to  any  extent  at  all.  Surely  '  the 
Workmen  and  Labourers  of  Great  Britain  '  deserve  to 
be  approached  with  verified  facts,  and  not  thus. 
"  Yours  obediently,  ToWNSHEND  AND  BARKUS. 

(Agents  to  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  Chester.) 

"John  Ruskin,  Esq.,  LL.D." 

The  only  notice  which  it  seems  to  me  necessary  to 
take  of  this  letter  is  the  expression  of  my  satisfaction 
in  receiving  it,  qualified  with  the  recommendation  to 
the  Very  Revd-  the  Dean  and  Revds-  the  Chapter  of 
Chester,  to  advise  their  agents  that  'prevailing'  is 
usually  spelt  with  an  '  i.' 

John  Ruskin. 

Brantwood,  2yd  April,  1883. 


LETTER    THE    91st. 


September, 


[883. 


DUST    OF    GOLD. 


HAVE  received  several  letters  from  young  corre- 
spondents, complaining  that  I  attach  too  much 
importance  to  beauty  in  women,  and  asking,  "  What  are 
plain  girls  to  do  ? " — one  of  them  putting  this  farther 
question,  not  easy  of  answer,  "  Why  beauty  is  so  often 
given  to  girls  who  have  only  the  mind  to  misuse  it,  and 
not  to  others,  who  would  hold  it  as  a  power  for  God's 
service  ? "       To    which     question,    however,    it    is    to    be 

XCI.] 


1 80  Fors   C laviper a. 


answered,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  mystery  is  quite 
as  great  in  the  bestowal  of  riches  and  wit ;  in  the  second 
place,  that  the  girls  who  misuse  their  beauty,  only  do 
it  because  they  have  not  been  taught  better,  and  it 
is  much  more  other  people's  fault  than  theirs  ;  in  the 
third  place,  that  the  privilege  of  seeing  beauty  is  quite 
as  rare  a  one  as  that  of  possessing  it,  and  far  more 
fatally  misused. 

The  question,  "  What  are  plain   girls  to  do  ?  "   requires 
us   first  to  understand   clearly   what   "  plainness "  is.      No 
girl  who  is  well  bred,  kind,  and  modest,  is  ever  offensively 
plain  ;    all  real  deformity  means  want  of  manners,  or  of 
heart.      I  may  say,  in  defence  of  my  own  constant  praise 
of  beauty,  that  I  do  not  attach  half  the  real  importance 
to  it  which   is   assumed   in   ordinary   fiction  ; — above   all, 
in  the  pages  of  the  periodical   which   best  represents,  as 
a  whole,  the  public  mind  of  England.      As  a  rule,  through- 
out the  whole  seventy-volume  series  of  '  Punch,' — first  by 
Leech  and  then  by  Du  Maurier,  —all  nice  girls  are  repre- 
sented as  pretty  ;     all   nice  women,  as  both    pretty  and 
well  dressed  ;  and  if  the   reader  will  compare  a  sufficient 
number   of   examples  extending  over  a    series  of   years, 
he  will  find   the   moral   lesson    more   and   more   enforced 
by   this    most   popular    authority,    that    all    real    ugliness 
in    either   sex   means    some    kind    of   hardness    of   heart, 
or    vulgarity    of    education.       The    ugliest    man,    for    all 
in    all,   in   '  Punch '   is    Sir    Gorgius    Midas, — the    ugliest 
women,  those  who    are    unwilling  to  be  old.      Generally 


Fors   Clavigera.  1 8 1 

speaking,  indeed,  '  Punch '  is  cruel  to  women  above  a 
certain  age  ;  but  this  is  the  expression  of  a  real  truth 
in  modern  England,  that  the  ordinary  habits  of  life  and 
modes  of  education  produce  great  plainness  of  mind  in 
middle-aged  women. 

I  recollect  three  examples  in  the  course  of  only  the 
last  four  or  five  months  of  railway  travelling.  The 
most  interesting  and  curious  one  was  a  young  woman 
evidently  of  good  mercantile  position,  who  came  into 
the  carriage  with  her  brother  out  of  one  of  the  manu- 
facturing districts.  Both  of  them  gave  me  the  idea  of 
being  amiable  in  disposition,  and  fairly  clever,  perhaps 
a  little  above  the  average  in  natural  talent ;  while  the 
sister  had  good  features,  and  was  not  much  over 
thirty.  But  the  face  was  fixed  in  an  iron  hardness, 
and  keenly  active  incapacity  of  any  deep  feeling  or 
subtle  thought,  which  pained  me  almost  as  much  as 
a  physical  disease  would  have  done ;  and  it  was  an 
extreme  relief  to  me  when  she  left  the  carriage.  Another 
type,  pure  cockney,  got  in  one  day  at  Paddington,  a 
girl  of  the  lower  middle  class,  round-headed,  and  with 
the  most  profound  and  sullen  expression  of  discontent, 
complicated  with  ill-temper,  that  I  ever  saw  on  human 
features  : — I  could  not  at  first  be  certain  how  far  this 
expression  was  innate,  and  how  far  superinduced  ;  but 
she  presently  answered  the  question  by  tearing  open 
the  paper  she  had  bought  with  the  edge  of  her  hand 
into  jags  half  an  inch  deep,  all  the  way  across. 


1 82  Fors   Clavigera. 

The  third,  a  far  more  common  type,  was  of  self- 
possessed  and  all-engrossing  selfishness,  complicated  with 
stupidity  ; — a  middle-aged  woman  with  a  novel,  who 
put  up  her  window  and  pulled  down  both  blinds  (side 
and  central)  the  moment  she  got  in,  and  read  her  novel 
till  she  fell  asleep  over  it  :  presenting  in  that  condi- 
tion one  of  the  most  stolidly  disagreeable  countenances 
which  could  be  shaped  out  of  organic  clay. 

In  both  these  latter  cases,  as  in  those  of  the  girls 
described  in  Fors  II.,  p.  146,  the  offensiveness  of  feature 
implied,  for  one  thing,  a  constant  vexation,  and  diffused 
agony  or  misery,  endured  through  every  moment  of 
conscious  life,  together  with  total  dulness  of  sensation 
respecting  delightful  and  beautiful  things,  summed  in 
the  passage  just  referred  to  as  "tortured  indolence, 
and  infidel  eyes,"  and  given  there  as  an  example  of 
"  life  negative,  under  the  curse,"  the  state  of  condem- 
nation which  begins  in  this  world,  and  separately 
affects  every  living  member  of  the  body  ;  the  opposite 
state  of  life,  under  blessing,  being  represented  by  the 
Venice-imagined  beauty  of  St.  Ursula,  in  whose  counte- 
nance what  beauty  there  may  be  found  (I  have  known 
several  people  who  saw  none,  and  indeed  Carpaccio  has 
gifted  her  with  no  dazzling  comeliness)  depends  mainly 
on  the  opposite  character  of  diffused  joy,  and  ecstasy 
in  peace. 

And  in   places  far  too   many  to  indicate,  both  of  Fors 
and  my  Oxford  lectures,  I  have  spoken  again  and  again 


Fors   Clavigera.  183 

of  this  radiant  expression  of  cheerfulness,  as  a  primal 
element  of  Beauty,  quoting  Chaucer  largely  on  the 
matter  ;  and  clinching  all,  somewhere,  (I  can't  look  for 
the  place  now,)  by  saying  that  the  wickedness  of  any 
nation  might  be  briefly  measured  by  observing  how  far 
it  had   made   its  girls   miserable. 

I  meant  this  quality  of  cheerfulness  to  be  included 
above,  in  the  word  "well-bred,"  meaning  original  purity 
of  race  (Chaucer's  "  debonnairete")  disciplined  in  courtesy, 
and  the  exercises  which  develop  animal  power  and 
spirit.  I  do  not  in  the  least  mean  to  limit  the  word 
to  aristocratic  birth  and  education.  Gotthelf's  Swiss 
heroine,  Freneli,  to  whom  I  have  dedicated,  in  Proser- 
pina, the  pansy  of  the  Wengern  Alp,  is  only  a  farm- 
servant  ;  and  Scott's  Jeanie  Deans  is  of  the  same  type 
in  Scotland.  And  among  virtuous  nations,  or  the 
portions  of  them  who  remain  virtuous,  as  the  Tyrolese 
and  Bavarian  peasants,  the  Tuscans  (of  whom  I  am 
happily  enabled  to  give  soon  some  true  biography  and 
portraiture),  and  the  mountain  and  sea-shore  races  of 
France,  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  almost  every- 
body is  "  well-bred,"  and  the  girlish  beauty  universal. 
Here  in  Coniston  it  is  almost  impossible  to  meet  a  child 
whom  it  is  not  a  real  sorrow  again  to  lose  sight  of.  So 
that  the  second  article  of  St.  George's  creed,  "  I  believe 
in  the  nobleness  of  human  nature,"  may  properly  be 
considered  as  involving  the  farther  though  minor  belief 
in   the   loveliness  of  the  human*  form  ;   and   in   my   next 


184  Fors  Clavigera. 

course  of  work  at  Oxford,  I  shall  have  occasion  to  insist 
at  some  length  on  the  reality  and  frequency  of  beauty 
in  ordinary  life,  as  it  has  been  shown  us  by  the  popular 
art  of  our  own  day.  This  frequency  of  it,  however, 
supposing  we  admit  the  fact,  in  no  wise  diminishes  the 
burden  to  be  sustained  by  girls  who  are  conscious  of 
possessing  less  than  these  ordinary  claims  to  admira- 
tion ;  nor  am  I  in  the  least  minded  to  recommend  the 
redemption  of  their  loneliness  by  any  more  than  common 
effort  to  be  good  or  wise.  On  the  contrary,  the  prettier 
a  girl  is,  the  more  it  becomes  her  duty  to  try  to  be 
good  ;  and  little  can  be  hoped  of  attempts  to  cultivate 
the  understanding,  which  have  only  been  provoked  by 
a  jealous  vanity.  The  real  and  effective  sources  of 
consolation  will  be  found  in  the  quite  opposite  direction, 
of  self-forgetfulness  ; — in  the  cultivation  of  sympathy 
with  others,  and  in  turning  the  attention  and  the  heart 
to  the  daily  pleasures  open  to  every  young  creature  bornt 
into  this  marvellous  universe.  The  landscape  of  the 
lover's  journey  may  indeed  be  invested  with  aetherial 
colours,  and  his  steps  be  measured  to  heavenly  tunes 
unheard  of  other  ears  ;  but  there  is  no  sense,  because 
these  selfish  and  temporary  raptures  are  denied  to  us, 
in  refusing  to  see  the  sunshine  on  the  river,  or  hear 
the  lark's  song  in  the  sky.  To  some  of  my  young 
readers,  the  saying  may  seem  a  hard  one  ;  but  they  may 
rest  assured  that  the  safest  and  purest  joys  of  human 
life   rebuke    the   violence   of   its   passions  ;  that   they  are 


Fors  Clavigera.  185 

obtainable     without     anxiety,     and     memorable     without 
regret. 

Having,  therefore,  this  faith,  or  more  justly  speaking, 
this  experience  and  certainty,  touching  the  frequency 
of  pleasing  feature  in  well  bred  and  modest  girls,  I  did 
not  use  the  phrase  in  last  Fors,  which  gave  (as  I  hear) 
great  offence  to  some  feminine  readers,  "  a  girl  worth 
anything,"  exclusively,  or  even  chiefly,  with  respect  to 
attractions  of  person  ;  but  very  deeply  and  solemnly  in 
the  full  sense  of  worthiness,  or  (regarding  the  range  of 
its  influence)  All-worthiness,  which  qualifies  a  girl  to  be 
the  ruling  Sophia  of  an  all-worthy  workman,  yeoman, 
squire,  duke,  king,  or  Caliph  ; — not  to  calculate  the 
advance  which,  doubtless,  the  luxury  of  Mayfair  and 
the  learning  of  Girton  must  have  made  since  the  days 
when  it  was  written  of  Koot  el  Kuloob,  or  Enees-el 
Jelees,  that  "  the  sum  of  ten  thousand  pieces  of  gold 
doth  not  equal  the  cost  of  the  chickens  which  she  hath 
eaten,  and  the  dresses  which  she  hath  bestowed  on  her 
teachers  ;  for  she  hath  learned  writing,  and  grammar, 
and  lexicology,  and  the  interpretation  of  the  Koran, 
and  the  fundamentals  of  law,  and  religion,  and  medicine, 
and  the  computation  of  the  Calendar,  and  the  art  of 
playing  upon  musical  instruments,"  * — not  calculating,  I 
say,  any  of  these  singular  powers  or  preciousnesses, 
but  only  thinking  of  the  constant  value  generalized 
among   the   King's   verses,  by  that   notable   one,   "  Every 

*  '  Arabian  Nights,'  Lane's  translation,  i.  392. 


1 86  Fors   Clavigera. 

wise  woman  buildeth  her  house  ;  but  the  foolish  plucketh 
it  down  with  her  hands," — and  seeing  that  our  present 
modes  of  thought  and  elements  of  education  are  not 
always  so  arranged  as  to  foster  to  their  utmost  the  graces 
of  prudence  and  economy  in  woman,  it  was  surely  no 
over-estimate  of  the  desirableness  of  any  real  house- 
builder  among  girls,  that  she  should  have  five  or  six 
suitors  at  once  under  vow  for  her  ?  Vow,,  surely  also 
of  no  oppressive  or  extravagant  nature  !  I  said  nothing 
of  such  an  one  as  was  required  by  Portia's  father  of  her 
suitors,  and  which  many  a  lover  instinctively  makes,  in 
his  own  bosom, — "  her,  or  none."  I  said  nothing  of  any 
oath  of  allegiance  preventing  the  freedom  of  farther 
search  or  choice  ; — but  only  the  promise  of  the  youth 
that,  until  he  saw  one  better  worth  winning,  he  would 
faithfully  obey  his  chosen  mistress's  will  in  all  things  ; 
and  suffer  such  test  as  she  chose  to  put  him  to  :  it 
being  understood  that  at  any  time  he  had  the  power 
as  openly  to  withdraw  as  he  had  openly  accepted  the 
candidature. 

The  position  of  Waverley  towards  Flora  Maclvor, 
of  Lord  Evandale  to  Miss  Bellenden,  of  Lovel  to  Miss 
Wardour,  Tressilian  to  Amy  Robsart,  or  Quentin  Durward 
to  the  Countess  Isabel,  are  all  in  various  ways  illustrative 
of  this  form  of  fidelity  in  more  or  less  hopeless  endeavour  : 
while  also  the  frankness  of  confession  is  assumed  both 
by  Miss  Edgeworth  and  Richardson,  as  by  Shakespeare, 
quite  to  the  point  of  entire  publicity  in   the  social  circle 


Fors  Clavigera.  187 

of  the  lovers.*  And  I  am  grieved  to  say  that  the  casual 
observations  which  have  come  to  my  ears,  since  last  Fors 
appeared,  as  to  the  absurdity  and  impossibility  of  such 
devotion,  only  further  prove  to  me  what  I  have  long 
since  perceived,  that  very  few  young  people,  brought  up 
on  modern  principles,  have  ever  felt  love,  or  even  know 
what  it  means,  except  under  the  conditions  in  which 
it  is  also  possible  to  the  lower  animals.  I  could  easily 
prove  this,  if  it  were  apposite  to  my  immediate  purpose, 
and  if  the  subject  were  not  too  painful,  by  the  evidence 
given  me  in  a  single  evening,  during  which  I  watched 
the  enthusiastic  acceptance  by  an  English  audience  of 
Salvini's  frightful,  and  radically  false,  interpretation  of 
Othello. 

Were  I  to  yield,  as  I  was  wont  in  the  first  series 
of  these  letters,  without  scruple,  to  the  eddies  of  thought 
which  turned  the  main  stream  of  my  discourse  into 
apparently  irrelevant,  and  certainly  unprogressive  inlets, 
I  should  in  this  place  proceed  to  show  how  true-love 
is  inconsistent  with  railways,  with  joint-stock  banks,  with 
the  landed  interest,  with  parliamentary  interest,  with 
grouse  shooting,  with  lawn  tennis,  with  monthly  maga- 
zines, spring  fashions,  and  Christmas  cards.  But  I  am 
resolute  now  to  explain  myself  in  one  place  before 
becoming  enigmatic  in  another,  and  keep  to  my  one  point 

*  See  the  decision  of  Miss  Broadhurst  in  the  thirteenth  chapter  of  the 
"  Absentee  " ;  and  the  courtships  to  Harriet  Byron,  passim.  The  relations 
of  France  to  Cordelia,  of  Henry  V.  to  the  Princess  Katharine,  and  of  the 
Duke  to  Olivia,  are  enough  to  name  among  the  many  instances  in  Shakespeare. 


1 88  Fors  C/avigera. 

until  I  have  more  or  less  collected  what  has  been  said 
about  it  in  former  letters.  And  thus  continuing  to  insist 
at  present  only  on  the  worth  or  price  of  womanhood  itself, 
and  of  the  value  of  feminine  creatures  in  the  economy 
of  a  state,  I  must  ask  the  reader  to  look  back  to  Fors  I. 
(Letter  IV.,  p.  12),  where  I  lament  my  own  poverty  in 
not  being  able  to  buy  a  white  girl  of  (in  jeweller's 
language)  good  lustre  and  facetting ;  as  in  another 
place  I  in  like  manner  bewail  the  present  order  of 
society  in  that  I  cannot  make  a  raid  on  my  neigh- 
bour's house,  and  carry  off  three  graceful  captives  at 
a  time  ;  and  in  one  of  the  quite  most  important  pieces 
of  all  the  book,  or  of  any  of  my  books,  the  essential 
nature  of  real  property  in  general  is  illustrated  by 
that  of  the  two  primary  articles  of  a  man's  wealth, 
Wife,  and  Home  ;  and  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  mine," 
said  to  be  only  known  in  its  depth  by  any  man  with 
reference  to  the  first.  And  here,  for  further,  and  in 
its  sufficiency  I  hope  it  may  be  received  as  a  final, 
illustration,  read  the  last  lines  (for  I  suppose  the  ter- 
minal lines  can  only  be  received  as  epilogue)  of  the 
play  by  which,  in  all  the  compass  of  literature,  the 
beauty  of  pure  youth  has  been  chiefly  honoured  ;  there 
are  points  in  it  deserving  notice  besides  the  one  needful 
to  my  purpose  : — 

Prince.  "  Where  be  these  enemies  ?    Capulet !   Montague  ! 
See  what  a  scourge  is  laid  upon  your  hate, 


Fors  Clavigera.  189 

That    Heaven    finds   means  to  kill    your   joys 

with  love  ! 
And  I,  for  winking  at  your  discords  too, 
Have     lost     a    brace     of     kinsmen  : — all     are 
punish'd." 
Cap.  "  0  brother  Montague,  give  me  thy  hand  : 

This  is  my  daughter's  jointure,  for  no  more 
Can  I  demand." 
Mont.  "  But    I    can    give   thee    more  : 

For  I   will   raise  her  statue  in   pure   gold  ; 
That  while  Verona  by  that  name  is  known, 
There  shall  no  figure  at  such  rate  be  set, 
As  that  of  true  and  faithful  Juliet." 
Cap.         "  As   rich    shall    Romeo   by  his   lady  lie  ; 
Poor  sacrifices  of  our  enmity." 
I    do  not  know  if  in   the  tumultuous   renderings  and 
reckless  abridgements  of  this  play  on  the  modern  stage, 
the  audience    at    any    theatre    is    ever    led    to    think    of 
the  meaning  of  the  Prince's  saying,  "  That  Heaven  finds 
means   to   kill  your  joys   with   love!'     Yet   in    that    one 
line  is  the  key  of  Christian  theology  and  of  wise  natural 
philosophy  ;  the  knowledge    of    the    law  that    binds  the 
yoke   of  inauspicious    stars,  and    ordains  the  slumber  of 
world-wearied  flesh. 

Look  back  to  Friar  Laurence's  rebuke  of  the  parent's 
grief  at  Juliet's  death, — 

"  Heaven  and  yourself 
Had  part  in  this  fair  maid  ;    now  Heaven  hath  all "  ; 


I  go  Fors   Clavigera. 

and  you  will  find,  in  the  concluding  lines,  not  only  the 
interpretation  of  the  Prince's  meaning,  but  a  clear 
light  thrown  on  a  question  lately,  in  some  one  of  our 
critical  magazines,  more  pertinently  asked  than  intelli- 
gently answered — "  Why  Shakespeare  wrote  tragedies  ?  " 
One  of  my  chief  reasons  for  withdrawing  from  the  later 
edition  of  "  Sesame  and  Lilies "  the  closing  lecture,  on 
the  "  Mystery  of  Life,"  was  the  feeling  that  I  had  not 
with  enough  care  examined  the  spirit  of  faith  in  God, 
and  hope  in  Futurity,  which,  though  unexpressed,  were 
meant  by  the  master  of  tragedy  to  be  felt  by  the 
spectator,  what  they  were  to  himself,  the  solution  and 
consolation  of  all  the  wonderfulness  of  sorrow  ; — a  faith 
for  the  most  part,  as  I  have  just  said,  unexpressed  ;  but 
here  summed  in  a  single  line,  which  explains  the  in- 
stinctive fastening  of  the  heart  on  the  great  poetic  stories 
of  grief, — 

11  For   Nature's  tears  are  Reason's   merriment." 

Returning  to  the  terminal  passage  of  the  play,  may 
I  now  ask  the  reader  to  meditate  on  the  alchemy  of 
fate,  which  changes  the  youth  and  girl  into  two  golden 
statues  ?  Admit  the  gain  in  its  completeness  ;  suppose 
that  the  gold  had  indeed  been  given  down,  like  Danae's 
from  heaven,  in  exchange  for  them  ;  imagine,  if  you  will, 
the  perfectest  art-skill  of  Bezaleel  or  Aholiab  lavished 
on  the  imperishable  treasures.  Verona  is  richer,  is  she, 
by    so    much    bullion  ?      Italy,    by    so    much    art  ?      Old 


Fors   Clavigera.  191 

Montague  and  Capulet  have  their  boy's  and  girl's  "  worth  " 
in  gold,  have  they  ?  And  though  for  every  boy  and 
girl  whom  now  you  exile  from  the  gold  of  English 
harvest  and  the  ruby  of  Scottish  heath,  there  return 
to  you,  O  loving  friends,  their  corpses'  weight,  and  more, 
in  Californian  sand, — is  your  bargain  with  God's  bounty 
wholly  to  your  mind  ?  or  if  so,  think  you  that  it  is  to 
His,  also  ? 

Yet  I  will  not  enter  here  into  any  debate  of  loss  by 
exile,  and  national  ostracism  of  our  strongest.  I  keep 
to  the  estimate  only  of  our  loss  by  helpless,  reckless, 
needless  death,  the  enduring  torture  at  the  bolted  theatre 
door  of  the  world,  and  on  the  staircase  it  has  smoothed 
to  Avernus. 

'  Loss  of  life '  !  By  the  ship  overwhelmed  in  the  river, 
shattered  on  the  sea  ;  by  the  mine's  blast,  the  earth- 
quake's burial — you  mourn  for  the  multitude  slain.  You 
cheer  the  lifeboat's  crew  :  you  hear,  with  praise  and  joy, 
of  the  rescue  of  one  still  breathing  body  more  at  the 
pit's  mouth  : — and  all  the  while,  for  one  soul  that  is  saved 
from  the  momentary  passing  away  (according  to  your 
creed,  to  be  with  its  God),  the  lost  souls,  yet  locked  in 
their  polluted  flesh,  haunt,  with  worse  than  ghosts,  the 
shadows  of  your  churches,  and  the  corners  of  your  streets  ; 
and  your  weary  children  watch,  with  no  memory  of 
Jerusalem,  and  no  hope  of  return  from  their  captivity,  the 
weltering  to  the  sea  of  your  Waters  of  Babylon. 


FORS    CLAVIGERA 


LETTER  THE  92nd. 

ASHESTIEL. 

Abbotsford,  September  26th,   1883. 

I  CAN  never  hear  the  whispering  and  sighing  of  the 
Tweed  among  his  pebbles,  but  it  brings  back  to 
me  the  song  of  my  nurse,  as  we  used  to  cross  by 
Coldstream    Bridge,   from   the  south,  in  our  happy  days. 

"  For  Scotland,  my  darling,  lies  full  in  my  view, 
With  her  barefooted  lassies,  and  mountains  so  blue." 

Those  two  possessions,  you  perceive,  my  poor  Euryclea 
felt  to  be  the  chief  wealth  of  Scotland,  and  meant  the 
epithet  '  barefooted  '  to  be  one  of  praise. 
•  In  the  two  days  that  have  past  since  I  this  time 
crossed  the  Border,  I  have  seen  but  one  barefooted  lassie, 
and  she  not  willingly  so,^but  many  high-heeled  ones  : — 
who  willingly,  if  they  might,  would  have  been  heeled 
yet  higher.  And  perhaps  few,  even  of  better  minded 
Scots   maidens,  remember,  with  any  due  admiration,  that 

2ND   SERIES.]  I  9 


194  Fors  Clavigera. 

the  greater  part  of  Jeanie  Deans'  walk  to  London  was 
done  barefoot,  the  days  of  such  pilgrimage  being  now, 
in  the  hope  of  Scotland,  for  ever  past  ;  and  she,  by  help 
of  the  high  chimneys  built  beside  Holyrood  and  Melrose, 
will  henceforward  obtain  the  beatitude  of  Antichrist, — 
Blessed  be  ye  Rich. 

Nevertheless,  it  is  worthy  of  note  that  in  the  village 
where  Bruce's  heart  is  buried,  I  could  yesterday  find  no 
better  map  of  Scotland  than  was  purchaseable  for  a 
penny, — no  clear  sign,  to  my  mind,  either  of  the  country's 
vaster  wealth,  or  more  refined  education.  Still  less  that 
the  spot  of  earth  under  which  the  king's  heart  lies 
should  be  indicated  to  the  curious  observer  by  a  small 
white  ticket,  pegged  into  the  grass  ;  which  might  at  first 
sight  seem  meant  to  mark  the  price  of  that  piece  of 
goods  ;  and  indeed,  if  one  meditates  a  little  on  the 
matter,  verily  does  so ;  this  piece  of  pasteboard  being 
nothing  less  than  King  Robert  Bruce's  monument  and 
epitaph  ;  and  the  devotional  offering  of  Scotland  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  at  his  shrine.  Economical,  even  in 
pasteboard,  as  compared  with  the  lavish  expenditure  of 
that  material  by  which  the  '  Scots  wha  hae,'  etc.,  receive 
on  all  their  paths  of  pilgrimage  the  recommendation  of 
Colman's  mustard. 

So  much,  looking  out  on  the  hillside  which  Scott 
planted  in  his  pride,  and  the  garden  he  enclosed  in  the 
joy  of  his  heart,  I  perceive  to  be  the  present  outcome 
of  his  work  in  literature.      Two  small  white  tickets — one 


Fors  Clavigera.  195 


for  the  Bruce,  the  other  for  Michael  Scott  :  manifold 
acreage  of  yellow  tickets — for  Colman's  mustard.  Thus 
may  we  measure  the  thirst  for  knowledge  excited  by 
modern  Scottish  religion,  and  satisfied  by  modern 
Scottish  education. 


Whithorn,  October  yd,  1883. 

As  the  sum  of  Sir  Walter's  work  at  Melrose,  so  here 
the  sum  of  St.  Ninian's  at  Candida  Casa,  may  be  set 
down  in  few  and  sorrowful  words.  I  notice  that 
the  children  of  the  race  who  now  for  fifteen  hundred 
years  have  been  taught  in  this  place  the  word  of  Christ, 
are  divided  broadly  into  two  classes  :  one  very  bright 
and  trim,  strongly  and  sensibly  shod  and  dressed,  satchel 
on  shoulder,  and  going  to  or  from  school  by  railroad  ; 
walking  away,  after  being  deposited  at  the  small  stations, 
in  a  brisk  and  independent  manner.  But  up  and  down 
the  earthy  broadway  between  the  desolate-looking  houses 

» which  form  the  main  street  of  Whithorn,  as  also  in  the 
space  of  open  ground  which  borders  the  great  weir  and 
rapid  of  the  Nith  at  Dumfries,  I  saw  wistfully  errant 
groups  of  altogether  neglected  children,  barefoot  enough, 
tattered  in  frock,  begrimed  in  face,  their  pretty  long 
hair  wildly  tangled  or  ruggedly  matted,  and  the  total 
bodies  and  spirits  of  them  springing  there  by  the 
wayside  like  its  thistles, — -with  such  care  as  Heaven 
gives  to  the  herbs  of  the  field, — and  Heaven's  Adversary 
to  the  seed   on  the  Rock. 


196  Fors  Clavigera. 

They  are  many  of  them  Irish,  the  Pastor  of  Whithorn 
tells  me, — the  parents  too  poor  to  keep  a  priest,  one 
coming  over  from  Wigton  sometimes  for  what  minis- 
tration may  be  imperative.  This  the  ending  of  St. 
Ninian's  prayer  and  fast  in  his  dark  sandstone  cave, 
filled  with  the  hollow  roar  of  Solway, — now  that  fifteen 
hundred  years  of  Gospel  times  have  come  and  gone. 

This  the  end  :  but  of  what  is  it  to  be  the  beginning  ? 
■of  what  new  Kingdom  of  Heaven  are  these  children 
the  nascent  citizens  ?  To  what  Christ  are  these  to  be 
allowed   to  come  for  benediction,  unforbidden  ? 

Brantwood,  October  10th,  1883. 

The  above  two  entries  are  all  I  could  get  written  of 
things  felt  and  seen  during  ten  days  in  Scott's  country, 
and  St.  Ninian's ;  somewhat  more  I  must  set  down 
before  the  impression  fades.  Not  irrelevantly,  for  it  is 
my  instant  object  in  these  resumed  letters  to  index  and 
enforce  what  I  have  said  hitherto  on  early  education;  and 
while,  of  all  countries,  Scotland  is  that  which  presents 
the  main  questions  relating  to  it  in  the  clearest  form, 
my  personal  knowledge  and  feelings  enable  me  to  arrange 
aught  I  have  yet  to  say  more  easily  with  reference  to 
the  Scottish  character  than  any  other.  Its  analysis 
will  enable  me  also  to  point  out  some  specialties  in 
the  genius  of  Sir  Walter,  Burns,  and  Carlyle,  which 
English  readers  cannot  usually  discern  for  themselves. 
I  went  into  the  border  country,  just  now,  chiefly  to  see 


Fors  Clavigcra.  197 

the  house  of  Ashestiel :  and  this  morning  have  re-read, 
with  better  insight,  the  chapter  of  Lockhart's  Life  which 
gives  account  of  the  sheriff's  settlement  there  ;  in  which 
chapter  there  is  incidental  notice  of  Mungo  Park's  last 
days  in  Scotland,  to  which  I  first  pray  my  readers'  close 
attention. 

Mungo  had  been  born  in  a  cottage  at  Fowlsheils  on  the 
Yarrow,  nearly  opposite  Newark  Castle.  He  returns  after 
his  first  African  journey  to  his  native  cottage,  where  Scott 
visits  him,  and  finds  him  on  the  banks  of  Yarrow,  which 
in  that  place  passes  over  ledges  of  rock,  forming  deep 
pools  between  them.  Mungo  is  casting  stone  after  stone 
into  the  pools,  measuring  their  depths  by  the  time  the 
bubbles  take  to  rise,  and  thinking  (as  he  presently  tells 
Scott)  of  the  way  he  used  to  sound  the  turbid  African 
rivers.  Meditating,  his  friend  afterwards  perceives,  on 
further  travel  in  the  distant  land. 

With  what  motive,  it  is  important  for  us  to  know.  As 
a  discoverer — as  a  missionary — or  to  escape  from  ennui  ? 
He  is  at  that  time  practising  as  a  physician  among  his 
own  people.  A  more  sacred  calling  cannot  be ; — by 
faithful  missionary  service  more  good  could  be  done 
among  fair  Scotch  laddies  in  a  day,  than  among  black 
Hamites  in  a  lifetime ; — of  discovery,  precious  to  all 
humanity,  more  might  be  made  among  the  woods  and 
rocks  of  Ettrick  than  in  the  thousand  leagues  of  desert 
between  Atlas  and  red  Edom,  Why  will  he  again  leave 
his  native  stream  ? 


198  Fors  Clavigera. 

It  is  clearly  not  mere  baseness  of  petty  vanity  that 
moves  him.  There  is  no  boastfulness  in  the  man.  "  On 
one  occasion,"  says  Scott,  "  the  traveller  communicated 
to  him  some  very  remarkable  adventures  which  had 
befallen  him  in  Africa,  but  which  he  had  not  recorded 
in  his  book."  On  Scott's  asking  the  cause  of  this  silence, 
Mungo  answered  that  "  in  all  cases  where  he  had  informa- 
tion to  communicate,  which  he  thought  of  importance 
to  the  public,  he  had  stated  the  facts  boldly,  leaving  it 
to  his  readers  to  give  such  credit  to  his  statements  as 
they  might  appear  justly  to  deserve  ;  but  that  he  would 
not  shock  their  faith,  or  render  his  travels  more  mar- 
vellous, by  introducing  circumstances  which,  however  true, 
were  of  little  or  no  moment,  as  they  related  solely  to  his 
own  personal  adventures  and  escapes." 

Clearly  it  is  not  vanity,  of  Alpine-club  kind,  that  the 
Old  Serpent  is  tempting  this  man  with.  But  what  then  ? 
"  His  thoughts  had  always  continued  to  be  haunted  with 
Africa."  He  told  Scott  that  whenever  he  awoke  suddenly 
in  the  night,  he  fancied  himself  still  a  prisoner  in  the 
tent  of  AH  ;  but  when  Scott  expressed  surprise  that  he 
should  intend  again  to  re-visit  those  scenes,  he  answered 
that  he  would  rather  brave  Africa  and  all  its  horrors, 
than  "  wear  out  his  life  in  long  and  toilsome  rides  over 
the  hills  of  Scotland,  for  which  the  remuneration  was 
hardly  enough  to  keep  soul  and  body  together!' 

I  have  italicized  the  whole  sentence,  for  it  is  a  terrific 
one.      It  signifies,  if  you  look  into  it,  almost  total  absence 


Fors  Clavigera.  199 

of  the  instinct  of  personal  duty, — total  absence  of  belief 
in  the  God  who  chose  for  him  his  cottage  birthplace, 
and  set  him  his  life-task  beside  it  ; — absolute  want  of 
interest  in  his  profession,  of  sense  for  natural  beauty, 
and  of  compassion  for  the  noblest  poor  of  his  native 
land.  And,  with  these  absences,  there  is  the  clear  pre- 
sence of  the  fatallest  of  the  vices,  Avarice, — in  the  exact 
form  in  which  it  was  the  ruin  of  Scott  himself, — the 
love  of  money  for  the  sake  of  worldly  position. 

I  have  purposely  placed  the  instinct  for  natural  beauty, 
and  compassion  for  the  poor,  in  the  same  breath  of 
the  sentence  ; — their  relation,  as  I  hope  hereafter  to  show, 
is  constant.  And  the  total  want  of  compassion,  in  its 
primary  root  of  sympathy,  is  shown  in  its  naked  fear- 
someness  in  the  next  sentence  of  the  tale. 

"  Towards  the  end  of  the  autumn,  Park  paid  Scott 
a  farewell  visit,  and  slept  at  Ashestiel.  Next  morning 
his  host  accompanied  him  homewards  over  the  wild 
chain  of  hills  between  the  Tweed  and  the  Yarrow. 
Park  talked  much  of  his  new  scheme,  and  mentioned 
his  determination  to  tell  his  family  that  he  had  some 
business  for  a  day  or  two  in  Edinburgh,  and  send  them 
his  blessing  from  thence  without  returning  to  take  leave!' 
He  had  married  not  long  before  a  pretty  and  amiable 
woman  ;  and  when  they  reached  the  Williamhope  Ridge, 
"  the  autumnal  mist  floating  heavily  and  slowly  down 
the  valley  of  the  Yarrow"  presented  to  Scott's  imagi- 
nation "  a  striking  emblem  of  the  troubled  and  uncertain 


200  Fors  Clavigera. 

prospect  which  his  undertaking  afforded."  He  remained 
however  unshaken,  and  at  length  they  reached  the  spot 
where  they  had  agreed  to  separate.  A  small  ditch 
divided  the  moor  from  the  road,  and  in  going  over  it, 
Park's  horse  stumbled  and  nearly  fell. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Mungo,"  said  the  sheriff,  "  that  is  a 
bad  omen."  To  which  he  answered,  smiling,  "  Freits 
(omens)  follow  those  who  look  to  them."  With  this 
expression  Mungo  struck  the  spurs  into  his  horse,  and 
Scott  never  saw  him   again. 

"  Freits  follow  those  who  look  to  them."  Words  abso- 
lutely true,  (with  their  converse,  that  they  cease  to  follow 
those  who  do  not  look  to  them  :)  of  which  truth  I  will 
ask  the  consenting  reader  to  consider  a  little  while. 

He  may  perhaps  think  Mungo  utters  it  in  all  wisdom, 
as  already  passing  from  the  darkness  and  captivity  of 
superstition  into  the  marvellous  light  of  secure  Science 
and  liberty  of  Thought.  A  wiser  man,  are  we  to  hold 
Mungo,  than  Wralter, — then  ?  and  wiser — how  much 
more,   than  his  forefathers  ? 

I  do  not  know  on  what  authority  Lockhart  interprets 
"  freit,"  as  only  meaning  '  omen.'  In  the  Douglas  glossary 
it  means  '  aid,'  \  or  protection '  ;  it  is  the  word  used  by 
Jove,  declaring  that  he  will  not  give  '  freit  '  from  heaven 
either  to  Trojan  or  Rutulian  ;  and  I  believe  it  always 
to  have  the  sense  of  serviceable  warning — protective,  if 
watched  and  obeyed.  I  am  not  here  concerned  with 
the  question  how  far  such  guidance  has  been,  or  is  still, 


Fors  Clavigera.  20  \ 

given  to  those  who  look  for  it  ;  but  I  wish  the  reader 
to  note  that  the  form  of  Celtic  intellect  which  rejected 
the  ancient  faith .  was  certainly  not  a  higher  one  than 
that  which  received  it.  And  this  I  shall  best  show  by 
taking  the  wider  ground  of  enquiry,  how  far  Scott's  own 
intellect  was  capable  of  such  belief, — and  whether  in  its 
strength  or  weakness. 

In  the  analysis  of  his  work,  given  in  the  '  Nineteenth 
Century '  in  '  Fiction,  Fair  and  Foul,'  I  have  accepted 
twelve  novels  as  characteristic  and  essentially  good, — 
naming  them  in  the  order  of  their  production.  These 
twelve  were  all  written  in  twelve  years,  before  he  had 
been  attacked  by  any  illness  ;  and  of  these,  the  first 
five  exhibit  the  natural  progress  of  his  judgment  and 
faith,  in  the  prime  years  of  his  life,  between  the  ages 
of  forty-three  and   forty- eight. 

In  the  first  of  them,  \  Waverley,'  the  supernatural  ele- 
ment is  admitted  with  absolute  frankness  and  simplicity, 
the  death  of  Colonel  Gardiner  being  foretold  by  the, 
at  that  time  well  attested,  faculty  of  second  sight, — and 
both  the  captivity  and  death  of  Fergus  Mclvor  by  the 
personal  phantom,  hostile  and  fatal  to  his  house. 

In  the  second,  '  Guy  Mannering,'  the  supernatural  warn- 
ing is  not  allowed  to  reach  the  point  of  actual  vision. 
It  is  given  by  the  stars,  and  by  the  strains  in  the  thread 
spun  at  the  child's  birth  by  his  gipsy  guardian. 

In  the  third,  'The  Antiquary,'  the  supernatural  influence 
reduces   itself  merely   to   a    feverish   dream,   and    to   the 


202  Fors  Clavigera. 

terror  of  the  last  words  of  Elspeth  of  the  Craigburn- 
foot :  "  I'm  coming,  my  leddy — the  staircase  is  as  mirk 
as  a  Yule  midnight." 

In  the  fourth,  'Old  Mortality/  while  Scott's  utmost 
force  is  given  to  exhibit  the  self-deception  of  religious 
pride,  imagining  itself  inspired  of  heaven,  the  idea  of 
prophetic  warning  is  admitted  as  a  vague  possibility, 
with  little  more  of  purpose  than  to  exalt  the  fortitude 
of  Claverhouse  ;  and  in  the  two  last  stories  of  his  great 
time,  'Rob  Roy,'  and  'The  Heart  of  Midlothian,'  all  sug- 
gestion whatever  of  the  interference  of  any  lower  power 
than  that  of  the  Deity  in  the  order  of  this  world  has  been 
refused,  and  the  circumstances  of  the  tales  are  confined 
within  the  limits  of  absolute  and  known  truth. 

I  am  in  the  habit  of  placing  'The  Heart  of  Midlothian' 
highest  of  all  his  works,  because  in  this  element  of 
intellectual  truth,  it  is  the  strictest  and  richest  ; — because, 
being  thus  rigid,  in  truth,  it  is  also  the  most  exalted 
in  its  conception  of  human  character; — and  lastly,  because 
it  is  the  clearest  in  acknowledgment  of  the  overruling 
justice  of  God,  even  to  the  uttermost,  visiting  the  sin 
of  the  fathers  upon  the  children,  and  purifying  the 
forgiven  spirit  without  the  remission  of  its  punish- 
ment. 

In  the  recognition  of  these  sacred  laws  of  life  it  stands 
alone  among  Scott's  works,  and  may  justly  be  called  the 
greatest  :  yet  the  stern  advance  in  moral  purpose  which 
it  indicates  is  the  natural  consequence  of  the  discipline 


Fors  Clavigera.  203 

of  age — not  the  sign  of  increased  mental  faculty.  The 
entire  range  of  faculty,  imaginative  and  analytic  together, 
is  unquestionably  the  highest  when  the  sense  of  the 
supernatural  is  most  distinct, — Scott  is  all  himself  only 
in  ■  Wavcrley  '  and  the  *  Lay.' 

No  line  of  modern  poetry  has  been  oftener  quoted 
with  thoughtless  acceptance  than  Wordsworth's  : 

11  Heaven  lies  about  us  in  our  infancy." 

It  is  wholly  untrue  in  the  implied  limitation  ;  if  life  be 
led  under  heaven's  law,  the  sense  of  heaven's  nearness 
only  deepens  with  advancing  years,  and  is  assured  in 
death.  But  the  saying  is  indeed  true  thus  far,  that  in 
the  dawn  of  virtuous  life  every  enthusiasm  and  every 
perception  may  be  trusted  as  of  divine  appointment ;  and 
the  maxima  reverentia  is  due  not  only  to  the  innocence 
of  children,  but  to  their  inspiration. 

And  it  follows  that  through  the  ordinary  course  of 
mortal  failure  and  misfortune,  in  the  career  of  nations  no 
less  than  of  men,  the  error  of  their  intellect,  and  the 
hardening  of  their  hearts,  may  be  accurately  measured 
by  their  denial  of  spiritual  power. 

In  the  life  of  Scott,  beyond  comparison  the  greatest 
intellectual  force  manifested  in  Europe  since  Shakespeare, 
the  lesson  is  given  us  with  a  clearness  as  sharp  as  the 
incision  on  a  Greek  vase.  The  very  first  mental  effort 
for  which  he  obtained  praise  was  the  passionate  recitation 
of   the    passage    in   the   '  Eneid,'   in   which   the   ghost  of 


204  Fors  Clavigera. 

Hector  appears  to  Eneas.  And  the  deadliest  sign  of 
his  own  approaching  death  is  in  the  form  of  incredulity 
which  dictated  to  his  weary  hand  the  •  Letters  on 
Demonology  and  Witchcraft.' 

Here,  for  the  present,  I  must  leave  the  subject  to 
your  own  thought,— only  desiring  you  to  notice,  for 
general  guidance,  the  gradations  of  impression  on  the 
feelings  of  men  of  strong  and  well-rounded  intellect,  by 
which  fancy  rises  towards  faith. 

The  lowest  stage  is  that  of  wilfully  grotesque  fancy, 
which  is  recognized  as  false,  yet  dwelt  upon  with  delight 
and  finished  with  accuracy,  as  the  symbol  or  parable 
of  what  is  true. 

Shakespeare's  Puck,  and  the  Dwarf  Goblin  of  the  'Lay/ 
are  precisely  alike  in  this  first  level  of  the  imagination. 
Shakespeare  does  not  believe  in  Bottom's  translation ; 
neither  does  Scott  that,  when  the  boy  Buccleugh  passes 
the  drawbridge  with  the  dwarf,  the  sentinel  only  saw 
a  terrier  and  lurcher  passing  out.  Yet  both  of  them 
permit  the  fallacy,  because  they  acknowledge  the  Elfin 
power  in  nature,  to  make  things,  sometimes  for  good, 
sometimes  for  harm,  seem  what  they  are  not.  Nearly 
all  the  grotesque  sculpture  of  the  great  ages,  beginning 
with  the  Greek  Chimsera,  has  this  nascent  form  of  Faith 
for  its  impulse. 

II.  The  ghosts  and  witches  of  Shakespeare,  and  the 
Bodach  Glas  and  White  Lady  of  Scott,  are  expressions 
of   real    belief,    more    or    less    hesitating    and    obscure. 


Fors  Clavigera.  205 

Scott's  worldliness  too  early  makes  him  deny  his  convic- 
tions, and  in  the  end  effaces  them.  But  Shakespeare 
remains  sincerely  honest  in  his  assertion  of  the  un- 
comprehended  spiritual  presence  ;  with  this  further  subtle 
expression  of  his  knowledge  of  mankind,  that  he  never 
permits  a  spirit  to  show  itself  but  to  men  of  the  highest 
intellectual  power.  To  Hamlet,  to  Brutus,  to  Macbeth, 
to  Richard  III. ;  but  the  royal  Dane  does  not  haunt  his 
own  murderer, — neither  does  Arthur,  King  John  ;  neither 
Norfolk,  King  Richard  II. ;  nor  Tybalt,  Romeo. 

III.  The  faith  of  Horace  in  the  spirit  of  the  fountain 
of  Brundusium,  in  the  Faun  of  his  hillside,  and  in  the 
help  of  the  greater  gods,  is  constant,  vital,  and  practical ; 
yet  in  some  degree  still  tractable  by  his  imagination, 
as  also  that  of  the  great  poets  and  painters  of  Christian 
times.  In  Milton,  the  tractability  is  singular  ;  he  hews 
his  gods  out  to  his  own  fancy,  and  then  believes  in 
them  ;  but  in  Giotto  and  Dante  the  art  is  always  sub- 
jected to  the  true  vision. 

IV.  The  faith  of  the  saints  and  prophets,  rising  into 
serenity  of  knowledge,  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer 
liveth,"  is  a  state  of  mind  of  which  ordinary  men 
cannot  reason  ;  but  which  in  the  practical  power  of 
it,  has  always  governed  the  world,  and  must  for  ever. 
No  dynamite  will  ever  be  invented  that  can  rule  ; — it 
can  but  dissolve  and  destroy.  Only  the  Word  of  God 
and  the  heart  of  man   can   govern. 

I  have  been  led  far,  but  to  the  saving  of  future  time, 


2o6  Fors  Clavigera. 

by  the  examination  of  the  difference  in  believing  power 
between  the  mind  of  Scott  and  his  unhappy  friend.  I 
now  take  up  my  immediate  subject  of  enquiry,  the  effect 
upon  Scott's  own  mind  of  the  natural  scenery  of  the 
native  land  he  loved  so  dearly.  His  life,  let  me  first 
point  out  to  you,  was  in  all  the  joyful  strength  of  it, 
spent  in  the  valley  of  the  Tweed.  Edinburgh  was  his 
school,  and  his  office ;  but  his  home  was  always  by 
Tweedside :  and  more  perfectly  so,  because  in  three 
several  places  during  the  three  clauses  of  life.  You 
must  remember  also  the  cottage  at  Lasswade  for  the 
first  years  of  marriage,  and  Sandy  Knowe  for  his  child- 
hood ;  but,  allowing  to  Smailholm  Tower  and  Roslin 
Glen  whatever  collateral  influence  they  may  rightly  claim 
over  the  babe  and  the  bridegroom,  the  constant  influences 
of  home  remain  divided  strictly  into  the  three  seras  at 
Rosebank,  Ashestiel,  and  Abbotsford. 

Rosebank,  on  the  lower  Tweed,  gave  him  his  close 
knowledge  of  the  district  of  Flodden  Field  :  and  his  store 
of  foot-traveller's  interest  in  every  glen  of  Ettrick,  Yarrow, 
and  Liddel-water. 

The  vast  tract  of  country  to  which  these  streams 
owe  their  power  is  composed  of  a  finely-grained  dark 
and  hard  sandstone,  whose  steep  beds  are  uniformly 
and  simultaneously  raised  into  masses  of  upland,  which 
nowhere  present  any  rugged  or  broken  masses  of  crag, 
like  those  of  our  Cumberland  mountains,  and  are  rarely 
steep  enough  anywhere  to  break  the  grass  by  weathering  ; 


Fors  Clavigera.  207 

a  moderate  shaly — or,  rather,  gritty — slope  of  two  or 
three  hundred  feet  opposite  Ashestiel  itself,  being  notice- 
able enough,  among  the  rounded  monotony  of  general 
form,  to  receive  the  separate  name  of  "  the  Slidders." 
Towards  the  bottom  of  a  dingle,  here  and  there,  a  few 
feet  of  broken  bank  may  show  what  the  hills  consist 
of;  but  the  great  waves  of  them  rise  against  the  horizon 
without  a  single  peak,  crest,  or  cleft  to  distinguish  one 
from  another,  though  in  their  true  scale  of  mountain 
strength  heaved  into  heights  of  1,500  or  2,000  feet  ;  and 
covering  areas  of  three  or  four  square  leagues  for  each 
of  the  surges.  The  dark  rock  weathers  easily  into  surface 
soil,  which  forms  for  the  greater  part  good  pasture,  with 
interspersed  patches  of  heath  or  peat,  and,  Liddesdale- 
way,  rushy  and  sedgy  moorland,  good  for  little  to  man 
or  beast. 

Much  rain  falls  over  the  whole  district ;  but,  for  a 
great  part  of  its  falling  time,  in  the  softly-diffused  form 
of  Scotch  mist,  absorbed  invisibly  by  the  grass  soil  'r 
while  even  the  heavier  rain,  having  to  deal  with  broad 
surfaces  of  serenely  set  rock,  and  finding  no  ravines  in 
which  it  can  concentrate  force,  nor  any  loose  lighter  soil 
to  undermine,  threads  its  way  down  to  the  greater  glens 
in  gradual  and  deliberate  influence,  nobody  can  well  see 
how  :  there  are  no  Lodores  nor  Bruar  waters,  still  less 
Staubbachs  or  Giesbachs ;  unnoticed,  by  million  upon 
million  of  feebly  glistening  streamlets,  or  stealthy  and 
obscure   springs,   the    cloudy   dew   descends   towards   the 


208 


Fors  Clavigera. 


river,  and  the  mysterious  strength  of  its  stately  water 
rises  or  declines  indeed,  as  the  storm  impends  or  passes 
away  ;  yet  flows  for  ever  with  a  serenity  of  power 
unknown  to  the  shores  of  all  other  mountain  lands. 

And  the  more  wonderful,  because  the  uniformity  of 
the  hill-substance  renders  the  slope  of  the  river  as  steady 
as  its  supply.  In  all  other  mountain  channels  known  to 
me,  the  course  of  the  current  is  here  open,  and  there 
narrow — sometimes  pausing  in  extents  of  marsh  cord 
lake,  sometimes  furious  in  rapids,  precipitate  in  cataracts, 
or  lost  in  subterranean  caves.  But  the  classic  Scottish 
streams  have  had  their  beds  laid  for  them,  ages  and 
ages  ago,  in  vast  accumulations  of  rolled  shingle,  which, 
occupying  the  floor  of  the  valleys  from  side  to  side 
in  apparent  level,  yet  subdue  themselves  with  a  steady 
fall  towards  the  sea. 

As  I  drove  from  Abbotsford  to  Ashestiel,  Tweed  and 
Ettrick  were  both  in  flood  ;  not  dun  nor  wrathful,  but  in 
the  clear  fulness  of  their  perfect  strength  :  and  from  the 
bridge  of  Ettrick  I  saw  the  two  streams  join,  and  the 
Tweed  for  miles  down  the  vale,  and  the  Ettrick  for 
miles  up  among  his  hills, — each  of  them,  in  the  multi- 
tude of  their  windless  waves,  a  march  of  infinite  light, 
dazzling, — interminable, — intervaled  indeed  with  eddies  of 
shadow,  but,  for  the  most  part,  gliding  paths  of  sunshine, 
far-swept  beside  the  green  glow  of  their  level  inches, 
the  blessing  of  them,  and  the  guard  : — the  stately  moving 
of  the  many  waters,  more  peaceful  than  their  calm,  only 


Fors  Clavigera.  209 

mighty,  their  rippled  spaces  fixed  like  orient  clouds,  their 
pools  of  pausing  current  binding  the  silver  edges  with 
a  gloom  of  amber  and  gold ;  and  all  along  their  shore, 
beyond  the  sward,  and  the  murmurous  shingle,  processions 
of  dark  forest,  in  strange  majesty  of  sweet  order,  and 
unwounded   grace   of  glorious  age. 

The  house  of  Ashestiel  itself  is  only  three  or  four 
miles  above  this  junction  of  Tweed  and  Ettrick.*  It 
has  been  sorrowfully  changed  since  Sir  Walter's  death, 
but  the  essential  make  and  set  of  the  former  building 
can  still  be  traced.  There  is  more  excuse  for  Scott's 
flitting  to  Abbotsford  than  I  had  guessed,  for  this 
house  stands,  conscious  of  the  river  rather  than  com- 
manding it,  on  a  brow  of  meadowy  bank,  falling  so 
steeply  to  the  water  that  nothing  can  be  seen  of  it 
from  the  windows.  Beyond,  the  pasture-land  rises  steep 
three  or  four  hundred  feet  against  the  northern  sky, 
while  behind  the  house,  south  and  east,  the  moorlands 
lift  themselves  in  gradual  distance  to  still  greater 
height,  so  that  virtually  neither  sunrise  nor  sunset  can 
be  seen  from  the  deep-nested  dwelling.  A  tricklet  of 
stream  wavers  to  and  fro  down  to  it  from  the  moor, 
through  a  grove  of  entirely  natural  wood, — oak,  birch, 
and  ash,  fantastic  and  bewildering,  but  nowhere  gloomy, 
or  decayed,  and  carpeted  with  anemone.  Between  this 
wild  avenue  and  the  house,  the  old   garden   remains  as 

*  I  owe  to  the  courtesy  of  Dr.  Matthews  Duncan  the  privilege  of  quiet 
sight  both  of  the  house  and  its  surroundings. 

2ND  SERIES.]  20 


210  Fors  Clavigera. 

it  used  to  be,  large,  gracious,  and  tranquil  ;  its  high 
walls  swept  round  it  in  a  curving  line  like  a  war 
rampart,  following  the  ground  ;  the  fruit-trees,  trained 
a  century  since,  now  with  grey  trunks  a  foot  wide, 
flattened  to  the  wall  like  sheets  of  crag  ;  the  strong 
bars  of  their  living  trellis  charged,  when  I  saw  them, 
with  clusters  of  green-gage,  soft  bloomed  into  gold 
and  blue  ;  and  of  orange-pink  magnum  bonum,  and 
crowds  of  ponderous  pear,  countless  as  leaves.  Some 
open  space  of  grass  and  path,  now  all  redesigned  for 
modern  needs,  must  always  have  divided  the  garden 
from  what  was  properly  the  front  of  the  house,  where 
the  main  entrance  is  now,  between  advanced  wings, 
of  which  only  the  westward  one  is  of  Sir  Walter's 
time :  its  ground  floor  being  the  drawing-room,  with 
his  own  bedroom  of  equal  size  above,  cheerful  and 
luminous  both,  enfilading  the  house  front  with  their 
large  side  windows,  which  commanded  the  sweep  of 
Tweed  down  the  valley,  and  some  high  masses  of 
Ettrick  Forest  beyond,  this  view  being  now  mostly 
shut  off  by  the  opposite  wing,  added  for  symmetry ! 
But  Sir  Walter  saw  it  fair  through  the  morning 
clouds  when  he  rose,  holding  himself,  nevertheless, 
altogether  regardless  of  it,  when  once  at  work.  At 
Ashestiel  and  Abbotsford  alike,  his  work-room  is  strictly 
a  writing-office,  what  windows  they  have  being  designed 
to  admit  the  needful  light,  with  an  extremely  narrow 
vista     of    the     external    world.      Courtyard     at    Abbots- 


Fors  Clavipera.  2 1 1 


■a 


A 


ford,  and  bank  of  young  wood  beyond  :  nothing  at 
shestiel  but  the  green  turf  of  the  opposite  fells 
with  the  sun  on  it,  if  sun  there  were,  and  silvery 
specks  of  passing  sheep. 

The  room  itself,  Scott's  true  '  memorial '  if  the 
Scotch  people  had  heart  enough  to  know  him,  or 
remember,  is  a  small  parlour  on  the  ground-floor  of 
the  north  side  of  the  house,  some  twelve  feet  deep 
by  eleven  wide ;  the  single  window  little  more  than 
four  feet  square,  or  rather  four  feet  cube,  above  the 
desk,  which  is  set  in  the  recess  of  the  mossy  wall, 
the  light  thus  entering  in  front  of  the  writer,  and 
reflected  a  little  from  each  side.  This  window  is  set 
to  the  left  in  the  end  wall,  leaving  a  breadth  of  some 
five  feet  or  a  little  more  on  the  fireplace  side,  where 
now,  brought  here  from  Abbotsford,  stands  the  garden 
chair  of  the  last  days. 

Contentedly,  in  such  space  and  splendour  of  domicile, 
the  three  great  poems  were  written,  '  Waverley '  begun  ; 
and  all  the  make  and  tenure  of  his  mind  confirmed,  as 
it  was  to  'remain,  or  revive,  through  after  time  of 
vanity,  trouble,  and  decay. 

A  small  chamber,  with  a  fair  world  outside  : — such 
are  the  conditions,  as  far  as  I  know  or  can  gather,  of 
all  greatest  and  best  mental  work.  At  heart,  the 
monastery  cell  always,  changed  sometimes,  for  special 
need,  into  the  prison  cell.  But,  as  I  meditate  more 
and    more    closely    what    reply    I    may   safely   make   to 


212  Fors  Clavigera. 

the  now  eagerly  pressed  questioning  of  my  faithful 
scholars,  what  books  I  would  have  them  read,  I  find 
the  first  broadly-swept  definition  may  be  —  Books 
written  in  the  country.  None  worth  spending  time 
on,  and  few  that  are  quite  safe  to  touch,  have  been 
written  in   towns. 

And  my  next  narrowing  definition  would  be,  Books 
that  have  good  music  in  them, — that  are  rightly- 
rhythmic  :  a  definition  which  includes  the  delicacy  of 
perfect  prose,  such  as  Scott's  ;  and  which  deludes  at 
once  a  great  deal  of  modern  poetry,  in  which  a 
dislocated  and  convulsed  versification  has  been  imposed 
on  the  ear  in  the  attempt  to  express  uneven  temper 
and  unprincipled  feeling. 

By  unprincipled  feeling,  I  mean  whatever  part  of 
passion  the  writer  does  not  clearly  discern  for  right 
or  wrong,  and  concerning  which  he  betrays  the  reader's 
moral  judgment  into  false  sympathy  or  compassion. 
No  really  great  writer  ever  does  so  :  neither  Scott, 
Burns,  nor  Byron  ever  waver  for  an  instant,  any  more 
than  Shakespeare  himself,  in  their  estimate  of  what  is 
fit  and  honest,  or  harmful  and  base.  Scott  always 
punishes  even  error,  how  much  more  fault,  to  the 
uttermost  ;  nor  does  Byron,  in  his  most  defiant  and 
mocking  moods,  ever  utter  a  syllable  that  defames 
virtue  or  disguises  sin. 

In  looking  back  to  my  former  statement  in  the 
third    volume   of  '  Modern    Painters,'    of  the  influence  of 


Fors  Clavigera.  213 

natural  scenery  on  these  three  men,  I  was  unjust 
both  to  it  and  to  them,  in  my  fear  of  speaking  too 
favourably  of  passions  with  which  I  had  myself  so 
strong  personal  sympathy.  Recent  Vandalism  has 
taught  me,  too  cruelly,  and  too  late,  the  moral  value 
of  such  scenes  as  those  in  which  I  was  brought  up ; 
and  given  it  me,  for  my  duty  to  the  future  to  teach 
the  Love  of  the  fair  Universe  around  us,  as  the 
beginning  of  Piety,  and  the  end  of  Learning. 


The  reader  may  be  interested  in  comparing  with 
the  description  in  the  text,  Scott's  first  fragmentary 
stanzas  relating  to  the  sources  of  the  Tweed.  Lockhart, 
vol.  i.,  p.  314. 

"  Go  sit  old  Cheviot's  crest  below, 
And  pensive  mark  the  lingering  snow 

In  all  his  scaurs  abide, 
And  slow  dissolving  from  the  hill 
In  many  a  sightless  soundless  rill, 

Feed  sparkling  Bowmont's  tide. 

"  Fair  shines  the  stream  by  bank  and  lea, 
As  wimpling  to  the  eastern  sea 

She  seeks  Till's  sullen  bed, 
Indenting  deep  the  fatal  plain, 
Where  Scotland's  noblest,  brave  in  vain, 
Around  their  monarch  bled. 


214  Fors  Clavigera. 

"  And  westward  hills  on  hills  you  see, 
Even  as  old  Ocean's  mightiest  sea 

Heaves  high  her  waves  of  foam, 
Dark  and  snow-ridged  from  Cutsfeld's  wold 
To  the  proud  foot  of  Cheviot  roll'd, 

Earth's  mountain  billows  come." 


LETTER  THE  93rd. 

INVOCATION. 

]\  /[  Y  Christmas  letter,  which  I  have  extreme  satis- 
-*-*-*■  faction  in  trusting  this  little  lady  to  present 
to  you,  comes  first  to  wish  the  St.  George's  Company, 
and  all  honest  men,  as  merry  a  Christmas  as  they 
can  make  up  their  minds  to ;  (though,  under  present 
circumstances,  the  merriment,  it  seems  to  me,  should 
be  temperate,  and  the  feasting  moderate,) — and  in  the 
second  place,  to  assure  the  St.  George's  Company  both 
of  its   own   existence,  and    its    Master's,   which,   without 

2ND    SERIES.]  2  I 


216  Fors  Clavigera. 

any  extreme  refinement  of  metaphysics,  the  said  Com- 
pany might  well  begin  to  have  some  doubt  of — seeing 
that  there  has  been  no  report  made  of  its  business, 
nor  record  of  its  additional  members,  nor  catalogue  of 
its  additional  properties,  given  since  the — I  don't  know 
what  day   of — I    don't   know   what   year. 

I  am  not  going  to  ask  pardon  any  more  for  these 
administrative  defects,  or  mysterious  silences,  because, 
so  far  as  they  are  results  of  my  own  carelessness  or 
procrastination,  they  are  unpardonable  ;  and  so  far  as 
they  might  deserve  indulgence  if  explained,  it  could 
only  be  justified  by  the  details,  otherwise  useless,  of 
difficulty  or  disappointment  in  which  more  than  one 
of  our  members  have  had  their  share — and  of  which 
their  explanations  might  sometimes  take  a  different 
shape  from  mine.  Several  have  left  us,  whose  seces- 
sion grieved  me  ;  one  or  two,  with  my  full  consent. 
Others,  on  the  contrary,  have  been  working  with  their 
whole  hearts  and  minds,  while  the  Master  was  too 
ill  to  take  note  of  their  labour :  and,  owing,  I  believe, 
chiefly  to  that  unpraised  zeal,  but  in  a  measure  also 
to  the  wider  reading  and  better  understanding  of 
'  Fors '  itself,  new  members  are  rapidly  joining  us, 
and,  I  think,  all  are  at  present  animated  with  better 
and  more  definite  hope  than  heretofore. 

The  accounts  of  the  Company, — which,  instead  of 
encumbering  '  Fors,'  as  they  used  to  do,  it  seems  to 
me    now   well   to   print    in   a   separate   form,   to    be  pre- 


Fors  Clavigera.  217 

tented  to  the  Companions  with  the  recommendation 
not  to  read  it,  but  to  be  freely  purchaseable  by  the 
public  who  may  be  curious  in  literature  of  that  kind, 
— do  not,  in  their  present  aspect,  furnish  a  wide  basis 
for  the  conSdence  I  have  just  stated  to  be  increasing. 
But,  in  these  days,  that  we  are  entirely  solvent,  and 
cannot  be  otherwise,  since  it  is  our  principal  law  of 
business  never  to  buy  anything  till  we  have  got  the 
money  to  pay  for  it, — that  whatever  we  have  bought, 
we  keep,  and  don't  try  to  make  a  bad  bargain  good 
by  swindling  anybody  else, — that,  at  all  events,  a 
certain  quantity  of  the  things  purchased  on  such  terms 
are  found  to  be  extremely  useful  and  agreeable 
possessions  by  a  daily  increasing  number  of  students, 
readers,  and  spectators,  at  Sheffield  and  elsewhere, — 
and  that  we  have  at,  this  Christmas-time  of  1883 
£4,000  and  some  odd  hundreds  of  stock,  with,  besides 
the  lands  and  tenements  specified  in  my  last  report, 
conditional  promise  of  a  new  and  better  site  for 
the  St.  George's  Museum  at  Sheffield,  and  of  £5,000 
to  begin  the  building  thereof, — these  various  facts 
and  considerations  do,  I  think,  sufficiently  justify  the 
Companions  of  St.  George  in  sitting  down  peaceful- 
minded,  so  far  as  regards  their  business  matters,  to 
their  Christmas  cheer  ;  and  perhaps  also  the  Master  in 
calling  with  confidence  on  all  kind  souls  whom  his 
words  may  reach,  to  augment  the  hitherto  narrow 
fellowship. 

2ND  SERIES.]  22 


218  Fors  Clavigera. 

Of  whose  nature,  I  must  try  to  sum  in  this  '  Fors  • 
what  I   have  had  often  to  repeat  in  private  letters. 

First,  that  the  St.  George's  Guild  is  not  a  merely 
sentimental  association  of  persons  who  want  sympathy 
in  the  general  endeavour  to  do  good.  It  is  a  body 
constituted  for  a  special  purpose :  that  of  buying 
land,  holding  it  inviolably,  cultivating  it  properly,  and 
bringing  up  on  it  as  many  honest  people  as  it  will 
feed.  It  means,  therefore,  the  continual,  however  slow, 
accumulation  of  landed  property,  and  the  authoritative 
management  of  the  same ;  and  every  new  member 
joining  it  shares  all  rights  in  that  property,  and  has 
a  vote  for  the  re-election  or  deposition  of  its  Master. 
Now,  it  would  be  entirely  unjust  to  the  Members  who 
have  contributed  to  the  purchase  of  our  lands,  or  of 
such  funds  and  objects  of  value  as  we  require  for  the 
support  and  education  of  the  persons  living  on  them, 
if  the  Master  allowed  the  entrance  of  Members  who 
would  have  equal  control  over  the  Society's  property, 
without  contributing  to  it.  Nevertheless,  I  sometimes 
receive  Companions  whose  temper  and  qualities  I  like, 
though  they  may  be  unable  to  help  us  with  money, 
(otherwise  it  might  be  thought  people  had  to  pay  for 
entrance,)  but  I  can't  see  why  there  should  not  be 
plenty  of  people  in  England  both  able  and  willing  to 
help  us ;  whom  I  once  more  very  solemnly  call  upon 
to  do  so,  as  thereby  exercising  the  quite  healthiest 
and    straightforwardest    power    of  Charity.       They   can't 


Fors  Clavigera.  219 

make  the  London  or  Paris  landlords  emancipate  their 
poor,  (even  if  it  were  according  to  sound  law  to 
make  such  an  endeavour).  But  they  can  perfectly 
well  become  landlords  themselves,  and  emancipate  their 
oivn. 

And  I  beg  the  readers  alike,  and  the  despisers  of 
my  former  pleadings  in  this  matter,  to  observe  that  all 
the  recent  agitation  of  the  public  mind,  concerning  the 
dwellings  of  the  poor,  is  merely  the  sudden  and  febrile, 
(Heaven  be  thanked,  though,  for  such  fever !)  recognition 
of  the  things  which  I  have  been  these  twenty  years 
trying  to  get  recognized,  and  reiterating  description 
and  lamentation  of — leven  to  the  actual  printing  of  my 
pages  blood-red — to  try  if  I  could  catch  the  eye  at 
least,  when  I  could  not  the  ear  or  the  heart.  In  my 
index,  under  the  head  of  '  Misery,'  I  know  not  yet 
what  accumulation  of  witness  may  be  gathered, — but 
let  the  reader  think,  now,  only  what  the  single  sentence 
meant  which  I  quoted  from  the  Evening  news  in  the 
last  '  Fors '  I  wrote  before  my  great  illness  (March, 
1878,  p.  84),  "The  mother  got  impatient,  thrust  the 
child  into  the  suow,  and  hurried  on — not  looking  back." 
TJiere  is  a  Christmas  card,  with  a  picture  of  English 
1  nativity '  for  you — O  suddenly  awakened  friends  ! 
And  again,  take  this  picture  of  what  Mr.  Tenniel  calls 
John  Bull  guarding  his  Pudding,  authentic  from  the 
iron-works  of  Tredegar,  11th  February,  1878  (p.  99): 
H  For  several    months    the    average    earnings    have    been 


220  Fors  Clavigera. 

six  shillings  a  week,  and  out  of  that  they  have  to  pay 
for  coaly  and  house  rent  and  other  expenses,  (the  rent- 
collector  never  out  of  his  work),  leaving  very  little  for 
food  or  clothing.  In  my  district  there  are  a  hundred 
and  thirty  families  in  distress  ;  they  have  nothing  but 
rags  to  cover  them  by  day,  and  very  little  beside 
that  wearing  apparel  to  cover  them  on  their  beds  at 
night, — they  have  sold  or  pawned  their  furniture,  and 
everything  for  which  they  could  obtain  the  smallest 
sum  of  money ;  many  of  them  are  some  days  every 
week  without  anything  to  eat, — and  with  nothing  but 
water  to  drink  " — and  that  poisoned,  probably. 

Was  not  this,  the  last  message  I  was  able  to  bring 
to  John  Bull  concerning  his  Pudding,  enough  to  make 
him  think  how  he  might  guard  it  better  ?  But  on  first 
recovery  of  my  power  •  of  speech,  was  not  the  news  I 
brought  of  the  state  of  La  Belle  France  worth  her 
taking  to  thought  also  ? — "  In  a  room  two  yards  and 
a  half  broad  by  four  yards  and  three-quarters  long,  a 
husband,  wife,  and  four  children,  of  whom  two  were 
dead  two  months  afterwards, — of  those  left,  the  eldest 
daughter  '  had  still  the  strength  to  smile.'  Hunger 
had  reduced  this  child,  who  would  have  been  beautiful, 
nearly  to  the  state  of  a  skeleton."  ('Fors,'  Letter  IV. 
New  Series,  p.  1 1 8,  and  see  the  sequel.) 

And  the  double  and  treble  horror  of  all  this,  note 
you  well,  is  that,  not  only  the  tennis-playing  and 
railroad-flying    public    trip     round    the    outskirts    of    it, 


Fors  Clavigera.  221 

and  whirl  over  the  roofs  of  it, — blind  and  deaf;  but 
that  the  persons  interested  in  the  maintenance  of  it 
have  now  a  whole  embodied  Devil's  militia  of  base 
litterateurs  in  their  bound  service  ; — the  worst  form  of 
serfs  that  ever  human  souls  sank  into — partly  conscious 
of  their  lying,  partly,  by  dint  of  daily  repetition, 
believing  in  their  own  babble,  and  totally  occupied  in 
every  journal  and  penny  magazine  all  over  the  world, 
in  declaring  this  present  state  of  the  poor  to  be 
glorious  and  enviable,  as  compared  with  the  poor  that 
have  been.  In' which  continual  pother  of  parroquet  lie, 
and  desperately  feigned  defence  of  all  things  damnable, 
this  nineteenth  century  stutters  and  shrieks  alone 
in  the  story  of  mankind.  Whatever  men  did  before 
now,  of  fearful  or  fatal,  they  did  openly.  Attila  does 
not  say  his  horse-hoof  is  of  velvet.  Ezzelin  deigns 
no  disguise  of  his  Paduan  massacre.  Prince  Karl  of 
Austria  fires  his  red-hot  balls  in  the  top  of  daylight, 
"at  stroke  of  noon,  on  the  shingle  roofs  of  the  weavers 
of  Zittau  in  dry  July,  ten  thousand  innocent  souls 
shrieking  in  vain  to  Heaven  and  Earth,  and  before 
sunset  Zittau  is  ashes  and  red-hot  walls, — not  Zittau, 
but  a  cinder-heap,"  * — but  Prince  Karl  never  says  it 
was  the  best  thing  that  could  have  been  done  for 
the  weavers  of  Zittau, — and  that  all  charitable  men 
hereafter  are  to  do  the  like  for  all  weavers,  if  feasible. 
But    your    nineteenth     century    prince    of    shams    and 

*  Friedrich,  v.  124. 


222  Fors  Clavigera. 

shambles,  sells  for  his  own  behoof  the  blood  and  ashes, 
preaches,  with  his  steam-throat,  the  gospel  of  gain  from 
ruin,  as  the  only  true  and  only  Divine,  and  fills  at  the 
same  instant  the  air  with  his  darkness,  the  earth  with 
his  cruelty,  the  waters  with  his  filth,  and  the  hearts 
of  men  with  his  lies. 

Of  which  the  primary  and  all-pestilentialest  is  the 
one  formalized  now  into  wide  European  faith  by  political 
economists,  and  bruited  about,  too,  by  frantic  clergymen  ! 
that  you  are  not  to  give  alms,  (any  more  than  you 
are  to  fast,  or  pray), — that  you  are  to  benefit  the 
poor  entirely  by  your  own  eating  and  drinking,  and 
that  it  is  their  glory  and  eternal  praise  to  fill  your 
pockets  and  stomach, — and  themselves  die,  and  be 
thankful.  Concerning  which  falsehood,  observe,  whether 
you  be  Christian  or  not,  this  unquestionable  mark 
it  has  of  infinite  horror,  that  the  persons  who  utter 
it  have  themselves  lost  their  joy  in  giving  —  cannot 
conceive  that  strange  form  of  practical  human  felicity 
— it  is  more  '  blessed  '  (not  benedictum,  but  beatuni) 
to  give  than  to  receive — and  that  the  entire  practical 
life  and  delight  of  a  '  lady '  is  to  be  a  '  \odS-giver* 
as  of  a  lord  to  be  a  land-giver.  It  is  a  degradation 
— forsooth — for  your  neighbour's  child  to  receive  a 
loaf,  and  you  are  pained  in  giving  it  one  ;  your  own 
children  are  not  degraded  in  receiving  their  breakfast, 
are  they  ?  and  you  still  have  some  satisfaction  of  a 
charitable    nature    in     seeing     them     eat    it  ?       It    is    a 


Fors  Clavigera.  223 

degradation  to  a  bedridden  pauper  to  get  a  blanket 
from  the  Queen  !  how,  then,  shall  the  next  bedded  bride 
of  May  Fair  boast   of  the   carcanet  from  her  ? 

Now,  therefore,  my  good  Companions  of  the  Guild, 
— all  that  are,  and  Companions  all,  that  are  to  be, 
— understand  this,  now  and  evermore,  that  you  come 
forward  to  be  Givers,  not  Receivers,  in  this  human 
world  :  that  you  are  to  give  your  time,  your  thoughts, 
your  labour,  and  the  reward  of  your  labour,  so  far  as 
you  can  spare  it,  for  the  help  of  the  poor  and  the 
needy,  (they  are  not  the  same  personages,  mind  :  the 
*  poor '  are  in  constant,  healthy,  and  accepted  relations 
to  you, — the  needy,  in  conditions  requiring  change)  ; 
and  observe,  in  the  second  place,  that  you  are  to 
work,  so  far  as  circumstances  admit  of  your  doing 
so,  with  your  own  hands,  in  the  production  of  sub- 
stantial means  of  life — food,  clothes,  house,  or  fire — 
and  that  only  by  stick  labour  can  you  either  make 
your  own  living,  or  anybody  else's.  One  of  our  lately 
admitted  Companions  wrote  joyfully  and  proudly  to  me 
the  other  day  that  she  was  '  making  her  own  living/ 
meaning  that  she  was  no  burden  to  her  family,  but  sup- 
ported herself  by  teaching.  To  whom  I  answered, — 
and  be  the  answer  now  generally  understood  by  all  our 
Companions, — that  nobody  can  live  by  teaching,  any 
more  than  by  learning :  that  both  teaching  and  learning 
are  proper  duties  of  human  life,  or  pleasures  of  it,  but 
have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  support  of  it, 


224  Fors  Clavigera. 

Food  can  only  be  got  out  of  the  ground,  or  the 
air,  or  the  sea.  What  you  have  done  in  fishing, 
fowling,  digging,  sowing,  watering,  reaping,  milling, 
shepherding,  shearing,  spinning,  weaving,  building, 
carpentering,  slating,  coal -carrying,  cooking,  coster- 
mongering,  and  the  like, — that  is  St.  George's  work, 
and  means  of  power.  All  the  rest  is  St.  George's  play 
or  his  devotion — not  his  labour. 

And  the  main  message  St.  George  brings  to  you  is 
that  you  will  not  be  degraded  by  this  work  nor  sad- 
dened by  it, — you,  who  in  righteous  will  and  modest 
resignation,  take  it  upon  you  for  your  servant-yoke,  as 
true  servants,  no  less  than  children,  of  your  Father  in 
Heaven  ;  but,  so  far  as  it  does  mean  an  acknowledg- 
ment that  you  are  not  better  than  the  poor,  and  are 
content  to  share  their  lowliness  in  that  humility,  you 
enter  into  the  very  soul  and  innermost  good  of  sacred 
monastic  life,  and  have  the  loveliness  and  sanctity  of 
it,  without  the  sorrow  or  the  danger ;  separating  your- 
selves from  the  world  and  the  flesh,  only  in  their  sin 
and  in  their  pain.  Nor,  so  far  as  the  praise  of  men 
may  be  good  and  helpful  to  you,  and,  above  all,  good 
for  them  to  give  you,  will  it  ever  be  wanting.  Do  you 
yourself — even  if  you  are  one  of  these  who  glory  in 
idleness — think  less  of  Florentine  Ida  because  she  is 
a  working  girl  ?  or  esteem  the  feeling  in  which  "  every- 
body called  her  '  Signora ' "  less  honourable  than  the 
crowd's  stare  at  my  lady  in  her  carriage  ? 


Fors  Clavigera.  225 

But  above  all,  you  separate  yourself  from  the  world 
in  its  sorrow.  There  are  no  chagrins  so  venomous  as 
the  chagrins  of  the  idle  ;  there  are  no  pangs  so  sicken- 
ing as  the  satieties  of  pleasure.  Nay,  the  bitterest 
and  most  enduring  sorrow  may  be  borne  through 
the  burden  and  heat  of  day  bravely  to  the  due  time 
of  death,  by  a  true  worker.  And,  indeed,  it  is  this 
very  dayspring  and  fount  of  peace  in  the  bosoms  of 
the  labouring  poor  which  has  till  now  rendered  their 
oppression  possible.  Only  the  idle  among  them  revolt 
against  their  state ; — the  brave  workers  die  passively, 
young  and  old — and  make  no  sign.  It  is  for  you 
to  pity  them,  for  you  to  stand  with  them,  for  you  to 
cherish,  and    save. 

And  be  sure  there  are  thousands  upon  thousands 
already  leading  such  life — who  are  joined  in  no  recog- 
nized fellowship,  but  each  in  their  own  place  doing 
happy  service  to  all  men.  Read  this  piece  of  a  friend's 
letter,  received  only  a  day  or  two  since,  while  I  was 
just  thinking  what  plainest  examples  I  could  give  you 
from  real  life. 

"  I    have  just   returned   from  W ,   where    I   lived 

in  a  house  of  which  the  master  was  a  distributor  of 
sacks  of  grain,  in  the  service  of  a  dealer  in  grain, 
while  his  two  daughters  did,  one  of  them  the  whole 
work  of  the  house,  including  attendance  on  the  old 
mother  who  was  past  work,  and  the  other  the  managing 
of  a  little  shop  in  the  village, — work,  with  all "    (father 


226  Fors  Clavigera. 

and  daughters)  "  beginning  at  five  a.m.  I  was  there 
for  some  months,  and  was  perfectly  dealt  with,  and 
never  saw  a  fault.  What  I  wanted  to  tell  you  was 
that  the  daughter,  who  was  an  admirable  cook,  was 
conversant  with  her  poets,  quoted  Wordsworth  and 
Burns,  when  I  led  her  that  way,  and  knew  all  about 
Brantwood,  as  she  had  carefully  treasured  an  account 
of  it  from   an  old  Art  Journal." 

*  Perfectly  dealt  with.'  Think  what  praise  is  in  those 
three  words  ! — what  straightforward  understanding,  on 
both  sides,  of  true  hospitality  !  Think,  (for  one  of  the 
modes  of  life  quickest  open  to  you — and  serviceablest,) 
— what  roadside-inns  might  be  kept  by  a  true  Gaius 
and  Gaia !  You  have  perhaps  held  it — in  far  back 
*  Fors '  one  of  my  wildest  sayings,  that  every  village 
should  have,  as  a  Holy  Church  at  one  end,  a  Holy 
Tavern  at  the  other  !  I  will  better  the  saying  now  by 
adding — "  they  may  be  side  by  side,  if  you  will."  And 
then  you  will  have  entered  into  another  mystery  of 
monastic  life,  as  you  shall  see  by  the  plan  given  of  a 
Cistercian  Monastery  in  the  second  forthcoming  number 
of  '  Valle  Crucis ' — where,  appointed  in  its  due  place 
with  the  Church,  the  Scriptorium  and  the  school,  is  the 
Hospitium  for  entertaining  strangers  unawares.  And 
why  not  awares  also  ?  Judge  what  the  delight  of 
travelling  would  be,  for  nice  travellers,  (read  the  word 
'  nice '  in  any  sense  you  will) — if  at  every  village  there 
were    a     Blue     Boar,    or    a    Green     Dragon,    or    Silver 


Fors  Clavigcra.  227 

Swan  * — with  Mark  Tapley  of  the  Dragon  for  Ostler 
—  and  Boots  of  the  Swan  for  Boots — and  Mrs.  Lupin 
or  Mrs.  Lirriper  for  Hostess — only  trained  at  Girton  in 
all  that  becomes  a  Hostess  in  the  nineteenth  century ! 
Gentle  girl-readers  mine,  is  it  any  excess  of  Christianity 
in  you,  do  you  think,  that  makes  you  shrink  from  the 
notion  of  being  such  an  one,  instead  of  the  Curate's 
wife  ? 

My  time  fails  me — my  thoughts  how  much  more — 
in  trying  to  imagine  what  this  sweet  world  will  be, 
when  the  meek  inherit  it  indeed,  and  the  lowliness  of 
every  faithful  handmaiden  has  been  regarded  of  her 
Lord.  For  the  day  will  come,  the  expectation  of  the 
poor  shall  not  perish  for  ever.  Not  by  might,  nor  by 
power,  but  by  His  Spirit — the  meek  shall  He  guide 
in  judgment,  and   the  meek  shall   He  teach   His  way. 

*  "And  should  I  once  again,  as  once  I  may, 
Visit  Martigny,  I  will  not  forget 
Thy  hospitable  roof,  Marguerite  de  Tours, 
Thy  sign  the  Silver  Swan.     Heaven  prosper  thee." 

(Rogers'  '  Italy'.) 

In  my  schools  at  Oxford  I  have  placed,  with  Mr.  Ward's  beautiful  copy 
of  Turner's  vignette  of  the  old  Cygne,  at  Martigny,  my  own  early  drawing 
of  the  corridor  of  its  neighbour  inn  "  La  Poste.  '—once  itself  a  convent. 


228  Fors  Clavigera. 


CHRISTMAS    POSTSCRIPT. 

In  the  following  alphabetical  list  of  our  present 
Companions,  I  have  included  only  those  who,  I  believe, 
will  not  blame  me  for  giving  their  names  in  full,*  and 
in  whose  future  adherence  and  support  I  have  entire 
trust  ;  for,  although  some  of  them  have  only  lately 
joined  us,  they  have  done  so,  I  think,  with  clearer 
knowledge  of  the  nature  and  working  of  the  Guild 
than  many  former  Companions  who  for  various  causes 
have  seen  good  to  withdraw.  But  some  names  of 
members  may  be  omitted,  owing  to  the  scattered 
registry  of  them  while  I  was  travelling,  or  perhaps 
forgotten  registry  during  my  illnesses.  I  trust  that 
in  the  better  hope  and  more  steady  attention  which 
I  am  now  able  to  bring  to  the  duties  of  the  Master- 
ship, the  list  may  soon  be  accurately  completed,  and 
widely  enlarged.  One  Companion,  ours  no  more, 
sends  you,  I  doubt  not,  Christmas  greeting  from  her 
Home, — Florence  bennett.  Of  her  help  to  us 
during  her  pure  brief  life,  and  afterwards,  by  her 
father's  fulfilment  of  her  last  wishes,  you  shall  hear  at 
another  time. 

*  I  only  give  the  first  Christian   name,  for  simplicity's  sake,  unless  the 
second  be  an  indication  of  family 


Fors  Clavigera.  229 


*  ADA  HARTNELL; 
ALBERT  FLEMING. 
ALICE  KNIGHT. 

*  ANNIE  SOMERSCALES. 

*  BLANCHE  ATKINSON. 
DAVID  CAMPBELL. 

*  DORA  LEES. 
DORA  THOMAS. 
EDITH  HOPE  SCOTT. 
EDITH  IRVINE. 

*  EGBERT  RYDINGS. 

*  ELIZABETH  BARNARD. 
EMILIE  SISSISON. 
EMMELINE  MILLER. 
ERNEST  MILLER. 

*  FANNY  TALBOT. 
FERDINAND  BLADON. 

*  FRANCES  COLENSO. 

*  GEORGE  ALLEN. 
GEORGE  NEWLANDS. 
GRACE  ALLEN. 
HELEN  ORMEROD. 

*  HENRIETTA  CAREY. 

*  HENRY  LARKIN. 
HENRY  LUXMORE. 
HENRY  WARD. 
JAMES  GILL. 

*JOHN  FOWLER. 
*JOHN  MORGAN. 

*  JULIA  FIRTH. 
KATHLEEN  MARTIN. 
MARGARET  COX. 
MAUD  BATEMAN. 

*  REBECCA  ROBERTS. 

*  ROBERT  SOMERVILLE. 
SARAH  THOMAS. 


Fors  Clavigera. 

*  SILVANUS  WILKINS. 
♦SUSAN  BEEVER. 

WILLIAM  MONK. 

*  WILLIAM  SHARMAN. 

*  WILLIAM  SMITHERS. 


The  names  marked  with  a  star  were  on  the  original 
roll  of  the  Guild,  when  it  consisted  of  only  thirty-two 
Members  and  the  Master. 


I 


LETTER  THE  94th. 

RETROSPECT. 

Brantwood,  31st  December,  1883. 

T  is  a  provoking  sort  of  fault  in  our  English  lan- 
guage, that  while  one  says  defect,  defection,  and 
defective  ;  retrospect,  retrospection,  and  retrospective,  etc., 
— one  says  prospect  and  prospective,  but  not  pro- 
spection  ;  respect  and  respective,  but  not  respection  ; 
perspective,  but  not  perspect,  nor  perspection  ;  pre- 
fect, but  not  praefection  ;  and  refection,  but  not 
refect, — with    a   quite   different   manner   of  difference   in 

2ND  SERIES.]  2  3 


232  Fors  Clavigera. 

the  uses  of  each  admitted,  or  reasons  for  refusal  of 
each  refused,  form,  in  every  instance :  and  therefore 
I  am  obliged  to  warn  my  readers  that  I  don't  mean 
the  above  title  of  this  latt  'Fors'  of  1883  to  be 
substantive,  but  participle ; — that  is  to  say,  I  don't 
mean  that  this  letter  will  be  a  retrospect,  or  back- 
prospect,  of  all  '  Forses '  that  have  been  ;  but  that  it 
will  be  in  its  own  tenor,  and  to  a  limited  distance, 
Retrospects? :  only  I  cut  the  '  ive '  from  the  end  of 
the  word,  because  I  want  the  retrospection  to  be 
complete   as   far  as   it   reaches. 

Namely,  of  the  essential  contents  of  the  new  series 
of  '  Fors '  up  to  the  date  of  this  letter  ;  and  in  con- 
nection with  them,  of  the  First  letter,  the  Seventeenth, 
and   the   Fiftieth,  of  the  preceding  series. 

I  will  begin  with  the  seventeenth  letter  ;  which  bears 
directly  on  the  school  plan  given  in  my  report  for  this 
year.  It  will  be  seen  that  I  struck  out  in  that  plan 
the  three  R's  from  among  the  things  promised  to  be 
taught,  and  I  wrote  privately  with  some  indignation  to 
the  Companion  who  had  ventured  to  promise  them, 
asking  her  whether  she  had  never  read  this  seventeenth 
letter  ;  to  which  she  answered  that  '  inspectors  of  schools ' 
now  required  the  three  R's  imperatively, — to  which  I 
again  answered,  with  indignation  at  high  pressure,  that 
ten  millions  of  inspectors  of  schools  collected  on  Cader 
Idris  should  not  make  me  teach  in  my  schools,  come  to 
them  who  liked,  a   single   thing  I  did  not  choose  to. 


Fors  Clavigera.  233 

And  I  do  not  choose  to  teach  (as  usually  under- 
stood) the  three  R's  ;  first,  because,  as  I  do  choose  to 
teach  the  elements  of  music,  astronomy,  botany,  and 
zoology,  not  only  the  mistresses  and  masters  capable 
of  teaching  these  should  not  waste  their  time  on  the 
three  R's ;  but  the  children  themselves  would  have  no 
time  to  spare,  nor  should  they  have.  If  their  fathers 
and  mothers  can  read  and  count,  they  are  the  people 
to  teach  reading  and  numbering,  to  earliest  intelligent 
infancy.  For  orphans,  or  children  whose  fathers  and 
mothers  can't  read  or  count,  dame  schools  in  every 
village  (best  in  the  almshouses,  where  there  might  be 
dames  enow)  are  all  that  is  wanted. 

Secondly.  I  do  not  care  that  St.  George's  children, 
as  a  rule,  should  learn  either  reading  or  writing,  because 
there  are  very  few  people  in  this  world  who  get  any 
good  by  either.  Broadly  and  practically,  whatever 
foolish  people  read,  does  them  harm,  and  whatever 
they  write,  does  other  people  harm :  (see  my  notes 
on  Narrs  in  general,  and  my  own  Narr  friend  in 
particular,  '  Fors,'  Vol.  V.,  page  125,)  and  nothing  can 
ever  prevent  this,  for  a  fool  attracts  folly  as  decayed 
meat  attracts  flies,  and  distils  and  assimilates  it,  no 
matter  out  of  what  book ; — he  can  get  as  much  out 
of  the  Bible  as  any  other,  though  of  course  he  or  she 
usually  reads  only  newspaper  or  novel.* 

*  Just  think,  for  instance,  of  the  flood  of  human  idiotism  that  spent  a 
couple  of  years  or  so  of  its  life  in  writing,  printing,  and  reading  the  Tichbome 

2ND   SERIES.]  2/1 


234 


Fors  Clavigera. 


But  thirdly.  Even  with  children  of  good  average 
sense, — see,  for  example,  what  happened  in  our  own 
Coniston    school,   only   the    other   day.       I    went    in    by 


trial, — the  whole  of  that  vital  energy  and  time  being  not  only  direct  loss, 
but  loss  in  loathsome  thoughts  and  vulgar  inquisitiveness.  Had  it  been 
spent  in  pure  silence,  and  prison  darkness,  how  much  better  for  all  those 
creatures'  souls  and  eyes  !  But,  if  they  had  been  unable  to  read  or  write, 
and  made  good  sailors  or  woodcutters,  they  might,  instead,  have  prevented 
two -thirds  of  the  shipwrecks  on  our  own  coast,  or  made  a  pestilential 
province  healthy  on  Ganges  or  Amazon. 

Then  think  farther-  —though  which  of  us  by  any  thinking  can  take  measure  ? 
— of  the  pestilence  of  popular  literature,  as  we  perceive  it  now  accommodating 
itself  to  the  tastes  of  an  enlightened  people,  in  chopping  up  its  formerly 
loved  authors — now  too  hard  for  its  understanding,  and  too  pure  for  its 
appetite  —  into  crammed  sausages,  or  blood-puddings  swiftly  gorgeable. 
Think  of  Miss  Braddon's  greasy  mince-pie  of  Scott ! — and  buy,  for  subject 
of  awed  meditation,  'No.  I,  One  penny,  complete  in  itself  (published  by 
Henry  Vickers,  317,  Strand),  the  Story  of  Oliver  Twist,  by  Charles  Dickens, 
— re-arranged  and  sublimed  into  Elixir  of  Dickens,  and  Otto  of  Oliver, 
and  bottled  in  the  following  series  of  aromatic  chapters,  headed  thus : — 


lap.       I. 

At  the  Mercy  of  the  Parish. 

II. 

In  the  Clutches  of  the  Beadle 

„       III. 

Among  the  Coffins. 

„       IV. 

Among  Thieves. 

v. 

Fagin  the  Jew. 

„      VI. 

Before  the  'Beak.' 

„     VII. 

Bill  Sikes. 

„  VIII. 

Nancy. 

„      IX. 

Nancy  Carries  on. 

X. 

The  Burglary  planned. 

„      XI. 

The  Burglary. 

„    XII. 

A  Mysterious  Stranger. 

„  XIII. 

The  Murdered  Girl. 

„  XIV. 

The  Murderer's  Flight. 

„     XV. 

The  Murderer's  Death. 

„  XVI. 

The  Jew's  Last  Night  Alive. 

Fors  Clavigera.  '  235 

chance  during  the  hour  for  arithmetic ;  and,  inserting 
myself  on  the  nearest  bench,  learned,  with  the  rest  of 
the  class,  how  much  seven-and-twenty  pounds  of  bacon 
would  come  to  at  ninepence  farthing  a  pound,  with 
sundry  the  like  marvellous  consequences  of  the  laws  of 
number  ;  until,  feeling  myself  a  little  shy  in  remaining 
always,  though  undetectedly,  at  the  bottom  of  the  class, 
I  begged  the  master  to  let  us  all  rest  a  little  ;  and  in 
this  breathing  interval,  taking  a  sovereign  out  of  my 
pocket,  asked  the  children  if  they  had  ever  been 
shown   the  Queen's  Arms  on   it  ?. 

(Unanimous  silence.) 

"At  any  rate,  you  know  what  the  Queen's  Arms 
are  ?  "      (Not  a  whisper.) 

"  What !  a  roomful  of  English  boys  and  girls,  and 
nobody  know  what  the  Queen's  or  the  King's  Arms 
are — the  Arms  of  England  ? "  (Mouths  mostly  a  little 
open,  but  with  no  purpose  of  speech.  Eyes  also,  without 
any  immediate  object  of  sight.) 

"  Do  you  not  even  remember  seeing  such  a  thing  as 
a  harp  on  them  ? "  (Fixed  attention, — no  response.) 
"  Nor  a  lion  on  his  hind  legs  ?  Nor  three  little  beasts 
running  in  each  corner  ? "  (Attention  dissolving  into 
bewilderment) 

"  Well,  next  time  I  come,  mind,  you  must  be  able  to 
tell  me  all  about  it ; — here's  the  sovereign  to  look  at, 
and  when  you've  learnt  it,  you  may  divide  it — if  you 
can.      How  many  of  you  are  there  here  to-day  ?  "      (Sum 


236  Fors  Clavigera. 

in  addition,  taking  more  time  than  usual,  owing  to  the 
difficulty  of  getting  the  figures  to  stand  still.  It  is 
established   finally  that   there  are  thirty-five.) 

"  And  how  many  pence  in  a  sovereign  ? "  (Answer 
instantaneous  and  vociferous.) 

"  And  thirty-fives  in  two  hundred  and  forty  ? "  (All 
of  us  at  pause.  The  master  comes  to  the  rescue, 
and  recommends  us  to  try  thirties  instead  of  thirty- 
fives.) 

"  It  seems,  then,  if  five  of  you  will  stand  out,  the 
rest  can  have  eightpence  apiece.  Which  of  you  will 
stand   out  ?  " 

And  I  left  that  question  for  them  to  resolve  at  their 
leisure,  seeing  that  it  contained  the  essence  of  an 
examination  in  matters  very  much  higher  than  arith- 
metic. 

And  now,  suppose  that  there  were  any  squire's  sons 
or  daughters  down  here,  for  Christmas,  from  Christchurch 
or  Girton,  who  could  and  would  accurately  and  explicitly 
tell  these  children  "  all  about "  the  Queen's  Arms  :  what 
the  Irish  Harp  meant,  and  what  a  Bard  was,  and  ought 
to  be  ; — what  the  Scottish  Lion  meant,  and  how  he 
got  caged  by  the  tressure  of  Charlemagne,*  and  who 
Charlemagne  was ; — what  the  English  leopards  meant, 
and  who  the  Black  Prince  was,  and  how  he  reigned  in 
Aquitaine, — would  not  all  this  be  more  useful,  in  all 
true    senses,   to    the    children,   than    being    able,   in    two 

*  See  'Fors,'  Letter  XXV.,  pp.  12,  13,  14. 


Fors  Clavigera.  237 

seconds  quicker  than  children  outside,  to  say  how 
much  twenty-seven  pounds  of  bacon  comes  to  at 
ninepence  farthing  a  pound  ?  And  if  then  they  could 
be  shown,  on  a  map,  without  any  railroads  on  it, — 
where  Aquitaine  was,  and  Poitiers,  and  where  Picardy, 
and  Crecy,  would  it  not,  for  children  who  are  likely  to 
pass  their  lives  in  Coniston,  be  more  entertaining  and 
more  profitable  than  to  learn  where  "  New  Orleans "  is, 
(without  any  new  Joan  to  be  named  from  it),  or  New 
Jerusalem,  without  any  new  life  to  be  lived  in  it  ? 

Fourthly.  Not  only  do  the  arts  of  literature  and 
arithmetic  continually  hinder  children  in  the  acquisition 
of  ideas, — but  they  are  apt  greatly  to  confuse  and 
encumber  the  memory  of  them.  Read  now,  with  renewed 
care,  Plato's  lovely  parable  of  Theuth  and  the  King  of 
Egypt  (XVII.  7),  and  observe  the  sentences  I  translated, 
though  too  feebly.  "  It  is  not  medicine  (to  give  the 
power)  of  divine  memory,  but  a  quack's  drug  for  memo- 
randum, leaving  the  memory  idle."  Y  myself,  for  instance, 
have  written  down  memoranda  of  many  skies,  but  have 
forgotten  the  skies  themselves.  Turner  wrote  nothing, 
— but  remembered  all.  And  this  is  much  more  true 
of  things  that  depend  for  their  beauty  on  sound  and 
accent ;  for  in  the  present  fury  of  printing,  bad  verses, 
that  could  not  be  heard  without  disgust,  are  continually 
printed  and  read  as  if  there  was  nothing  wrong  in 
them  ;  while  all  the  best  powers  of  minstrel,  bard  and 
troubadour    depended    on    the    memory    and    voice,    as 


238  Fors  Clavigera. 

distinct  from  writing.*  All  which  was  perfectly  known 
to  wise  men  ages  ago,  and  it  is  continually  intimated 
in  the  different  forms  which  the  myth  of  Hermes  takes, 
from  this  Ibis  Theuth  of  Egypt  down  to  Correggio's 
most  perfect  picture  of  Mercury  teaching  Cupid  to  read  ; 
— where,  if  you  will  look  at  the  picture  wisely,  you 
see  that  it  really  ought  to  be  called,  Mercury  trying, 
and  failing^  to  teach  Cupid  to  read!  For,  indeed, 
from  the  beginning  and  to  the  end  of  time,  Love 
reads  without  letters,  and   counts  without  arithmetic. 

But,  lastly  and  chiefly,  the  personal  conceit  and 
ambition  developed  by  reading,  in  minds  of  selfish  activity, 
lead  to  the  disdain  of  manual  labour,  and  the  desire  of 
all  sorts  of  unattainable  things,  and  fill  the  streets 
with  discontented  and  useless  persons,  seeking  some 
means  of  living  in  town  society  by  their  wits.  I  need 
not  enlarge  on  this  head  ;  every  reader's  experience 
must  avow  the  extent  and  increasing  plague  of  this 
fermenting  imbecility,  striving  to  make  for  itself  what 
it  calls  a  '  position   in  life.' 

In  sight,  and  thought  of  all  these  sources  of  evil 
in  our  present  staples  of  education,  I  drew  out  the 
scheme  of  schooling,  which  incidentally  and  partially 
defined     in    various     passages     of    '  Fors '     (see     mainly 

*  See  lives  of  Beatrice  and  Lucia,  in  the  first  number  of  '  Roadside 
Songs  of  Tuscany.' 

f  Sir  Joshua,  with  less  refinement,  gives  the  same  meaning  to  the  myth, 
in  his  picture  of  Cupid  pouting  and  recusant,  on  being  required  to  decipher 
the  word,  "  pinmoney." 


Fors  Clavigera.  239 

Letter     LXVIL,    Vol.    VI.,     p.    225),    I     now    sum    as 
follows. 

Every  parish  school  to  have  garden,  playground, 
and  cultivable  land  round  it,  or  belonging  to  it, 
spacious  enough  to  employ  the  scholars  in  fine  weather 
mostly  out  of  doors. 

Attached  to  the  building,  a  children's  library,  in 
which  the  scholars  who  care  to  read  may  learn  that  art 
as  deftly  as  they  like,  by  themselves,  helping  each  other 
without  troubling  the  master  ; — a  sufficient  laboratory 
always,  in  which  shall  be  specimens  of  all  common 
elements  of  natural  substances,  and  where  simple 
chemical,  optical,  and  pneumatic  experiments  may  be 
shown  ;  and  according  to  the  size  and  importance  of 
the  school,  attached  workshops,  many  or  few, — but 
always  a  carpenter's,  and  first  of  those  added  in  the 
better  schools,  a  potter's. 

In  the  school  itself,  the  things  taught  will  be  music, 
geometry,  astronomy,  botany,  zoology,  to  all  ;  drawing, 
and  history,  to  children  who  have  gift  for  either.  And 
finally,  to  all  children  of  whatever  gift,  grade,  or  age, 
the  laws  of  Honour,  the  habit  of  Truth,  the  Virtue  of 
Humility,  and  the   Happiness  of  Love. 

I  say,  the  "virtue  of  Humility,"  as  including  all  the 
habits  of  Obedience  and  instincts  of  Reverence  which 
are  dwelt  on  throughout  '  Fors,'  and  all  my  other 
books # — but    the    things    included     are    of   course    the 

*  Compare   especially    "Crown    of  Wild    Olive,'  pp.    157,    165.     I  repeat 


240  Fors  Clavigera. 

primary  ones  to  be  taught,  and  the  thirteenth  Aphorism 
of  that  sixty-seventh  letter  cannot  be  too  often  repeated, 
that  "  Moral  education  begins  in  making  the  creature 
we  have  to  educate,  clean,  and  obedient."  In  after 
time,  this  "virtue  of  humility"  is  to  be  taught  to  a 
child  chiefly  by  gentleness  to  its  failures,  showing  it 
that  by  reason  of  its  narrow  powers,  it  cannot  but  fail. 
I  have  seen  my  old  clerical  master,  the  Rev.  Thomas 
Dale,  beating  his  son  Tom  hard  over  the  head  with  the 
edge  of  a  grammar,  because  Tom  could  not  construe  a 
Latin  verse,  when  the  rev.  gentleman  ought  only  with 
extreme  tenderness  and  pitifulness  to  have  explained  to 
Tom  that — he   wasn't  Thomas  the   Rhymer. 

For  the  definitely  contrary  cultivation  of  the  vice 
of  Pride,  l  compare  the  education  of  Steerforth  by 
Mr.    Creakle.       ('  David    Copperfield/   chap,   vi.) 

But  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  humility  can  only 
be  truly,  and  therefore  only  effectively  taught,  when  the 
master  is  swift  to  recognise  the  special  faculties  of 
children,  no  less  than  their  weaknesses,  and  that  it  is 
his   quite   highest    and    most    noble   function  to    discern 

emphatically  the  opening  sentence — "  Educate,  or  Govern, — they  are  one 
and  the  same  word.  Education  does  not  mean  teaching  people  to  know 
what  they  do  not  know — it  means  teaching  them  to  behave  as  they  do  not 
behave.  It  is  not  teaching  the  youth  of  England  the  shapes  of  letters  and 
the  tricks  of  numbers,  and  then  leaving  them  to  turn  their  arithmetic  to 
roguery  and  their  literature  to  lust.  It  is,  on  the  contrary,  training  them 
into  the  perfect  exercise  and  kingly  continence  of  their  bodies  and  souls, — 
by  kindness,  by  watching,  by  warning,  by  precept,  and  by  praise, — but 
above  all,  by  example." 


Fors  Clavigera.  241 

these,  and  prevent  their  discouragement  or  effacement 
in  the  vulgar  press  for  a  common  prize.  See  the 
beautiful   story  of  little   George,  '  Friends  in   Council.' 

•  Next,  as  to  writing.  A  certain  kind  of  writing, 
which  will  take  from  half  an  hour  to  an  hour  for  a 
line,  will  indeed  be  taught — as  long  ago  promised, 
in  St.  George's  schools ;  examples  being  given  of  the 
manner  of  it  at  p.  11  of  Letter  XVI.,  and  Vol.  VI., 
p.  123  ;  but,  so  far  from  qualifying  the  pupil  for 
immediately  taking  a  lucrative  clerkship  in  a  Govern- 
ment office,  or  a  county  banking-house,  or  a  solicitor's 
ante-room,  the  entire  aim  of  our  training  will  be  to 
afoqualify  him,  for  ever,  from  writing  with  any  degree 
of  current  speed  ;  and  especially  from  producing  any 
such  aeschrography,  (as  everybody  writes  Greek- English 
nowadays,  I  use  this  term  in  order  more  clearly  to 
explain  myself,)  as  the  entry  in  my  own  Banker's  book 
facsimiled  at  p.  1 4,  Vol.  VI.,  and  the  '  Dec'  for  December 
here    facsimiled    from    a    London    tradesman's    bill    just 


iuL, 


sent  in,    f(_J<_j^ej  or    the    ornamental   R   engrossed    on 

my  Father's  executor's  articles  of  release,  engraved  at 
p.  6  of  Letter  XVI. ;  but  to  compel  him,  on  the  con- 
trary, to  write  whatever  words  deserve  to  be  written 
in  the  most  perfect  and  graceful  and  legible  manner 
possible   to  his  hand. 

And  in  this  resolution,   stated  long  since,  I   am  now 
more    fixed    than    ever  ;    having    had    much    experience 


242  Fors  Clavigera. 

lately  of  handwriting,  and  finding,  first,  that  the  scholar 
who  among  my  friends  does  the  most  as  well  as  the 
best  work,  writes  the  most  deliberately  beautiful  hand  : 
and  that  all  the  hands  of  sensible  people  agree  in 
being  merely  a  reduction  of  good  print  to  a  form 
producible  by  the  steady  motion  of  a  pen,  and  are 
therefore  always  round,  and  extremely  upright,  becoming 
more  or  less  picturesque  according  to  the  humour  of 
the  writer,  but  never  slurred  into  any  unbecoming 
speed,  nor  subdued  by  any  merely  mechanical  habit,* 
whereas  the  writing  of  foolish  people  is  almost  always 
mechanically  monotonous  ;  and  that  of  begging-letter 
writers,  with  rare  exception,  much  sloped,  and  sharp 
at   the   turns. 

It  will  be  the  law  of  our  schools,  therefore,  that  the 
children  who  want  to  write  clerk's  and  begging-letter 
hands,  must  learn  them  at  home ;  and  will  not  be 
troubled  by  us  to  write  at  all.  The  children  who  want 
to  write  like  gentlemen  and  ladies,  (like  St.  Jerome,  or 
Queen  Elizabeth,  for  instance,)  will  learn,  as  aforesaid, 
with  extreme  slowness.  And,  if  you  will  now  read  care- 
fully the  fiftieth  letter,    above  referred   to,  you   will  find 

*  Sir  Walter's  hand,  from  the  enormous  quantity  and  constancy  of  his 
labour,  becomes  almost  mechanical  in  its  steadiness,  on  the  pages  of  his 
novels ;  but  is  quite  free  in  his  letters.  Sir  Joshua's  hand  is  curiously 
slovenly ;  Tintoret's,  grotesque  and  irregular  in  the  extreme  ;  Nelson's, 
almost  a  perfect  type  :  especially  in  the  point  of  not  hurrying,  see  facsimile 
just  before  Trafalgar,  'Fors'  VI.,  p.  170.  William  the  Conqueror  and  his 
queen  Matilda  could  only  sign  a  cross  for  their  names. 


Fors  Clavigera.  243 

much   to    meditate    upon,    respecting    home    as    well    as 

school   teaching  ;    more   especially  the   home-teaching  of 

the    mining    districts   (p.    39),  and    the    home   library  of 

cheap    printing,    with    the    small    value    of   it    to    little 

Agnes  (p.  32).      And  as  it  chances — for  I  have  no  more 

time  for  retrospect  in    this    letter — I   will  close   it  with 

the  record  of  a  lesson  received  again  in  Agnes's  cottage, 

last    week.       Her    mother    died    three    years    ago  ;    and 

Agnes,   and  her   sister  Isabel,    are    at    service  : — another 

family     is     in     the     cottage — and     another     little     girl, 

younger  than   Agnes,  "  Jane  Anne,"  who  has  two   elder 

brothers,    and    one    little   one.       The    family   have   been 

about  a  year  there,  beginning  farmer's  life,  after  miner's, 

with    much    ill-fortune,  the  last  stroke  of  which  was  the 

carrying    away    of    the    entire    roof  of    their    grange,    at 

midnight,   by  the  gale  of    1  ith   December,   the   timbers 

of  it    thundering    and    splintering   over   the   roof  of  the 

dwelling  house.     The  little  girl  was  so  terrified  that  she 

had   a  succession  of  fainting  fits  next  day,  and  was  sent 

for   a   week    to   Barrow,    for  change    of  scene.     When    I 

went  up  on  Wednesday  last  to  see  how  things  were  going 

on,  she  had    come   back   that  morning,    and    was   sitting 

with  her  child-brother  on   her  lap,  in  the   corner  by  the 

fireside.       I    stayed    talking   to    the    mother  for  half  an 

hour,  and   all  that  time  the  younger  child  was  so  quiet 

that    I    thought    it    must  be  ill  ;    but,  on   my   asking, — 

"  Not   he,"    the    mother    said,    "  but    he's    been    jumping 

about    all   the   morning,  and    making  such  a  fuss   about 


244  Fors  Clavigera. 

getting  his  sister  back,  that  now  he's  not  able  to 
stir." 

But  the  dearest  child  of  the  cottage  was  not  there. 

Last  spring  they  had  a  little  boy,  between  these 
two,  full  of  intelligent  life,  and  pearl  of  chief  price 
to  them.  He  went  down  to  the  field  by  the  brook- 
side  (Beck  Leven),  one  bright  morning  when  his  elder 
brother  was  mowing.  The  child  came  up  behind 
without  speaking ;  and  the  back  sweep  of  the  scythe 
caught  the  leg,  and  divided  a  vein.  His  brother  carried 
him  up  to  the  house ;  and  what  swift  binding  could 
do  was  done — the  doctor,  three  miles  away,  coming 
as  soon  as  might  be,  arranged  all  for  the  best,  and 
the  child  lay  pale  and  quiet  till  the  evening,  speaking 
sometimes  a  little  to  his  father  and  mother.  But  at 
six  in  the  evening  he  began  to  sing.  Sang  on,  clearer 
and  clearer,  all  through  the  night, — so  clear  at  last, 
you  might  have  heard  him,  his  mother  said,  "far  out  on 
the  moor  there."  Sang  on  till  the  full  light  of  morning, 
and  so  passed  away. 

"  Did  he  sing  with  words  ?  "    I   asked. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  just  the  bits  of  hymns  he  had  learnt  at 
the   Sunday-school." 

So  much  of  his  education  finally  available  to  him, 
you  observe. 

Not  the  multiplication  table  then,  nor  catechism  then, 
nor  commandments  then, — these  rhymes  only  remained 
to  him  for  his  last  happiness. 


Fors  Clavigera.  245 

"  Happiness  in  delirium  only,"  say  you  ? 

All  true  love,  all  true  wisdom,  and  all  true  knowledge, 
seem  so  to  the  world  :  but,  without  question,  the  forms 
of  weakness  of  body  preceding  death,  or  those  during 
life  which  are  like  them,  are  the  testing  states,  often 
the  strongest  states,  of  the  soul.  The  "  Oh,  I  could 
prophesy ! "  of  Harry  Percy,  is  neither  dream,  nor 
delirium.- 

And  the  lesson  I  received  from  that  cottage  history, 
and  which  I  would  learn  with  my  readers,  is  of  the 
power  for  good  in  what,  rightly  chosen,  has-  been  rightly 
learned  by  heart  at  school,  whether  it  show  at  the 
time  or  not.  The  hymn  may  be  forgotten  in  the  play- 
ground, or  ineffective  afterwards  in  restraining  contrary 
habits  of  feeling  and  life.  But  all  that  is  good  and 
right  retains  its  unfelt  authority  ;  and  the  main  change 
which  I  would  endeavour  to  effect  in  ordinary  school 
discipline  is  to  make  the  pupils  read  less,  and  remember 
more ;  exercising  them  in  committing  to  memory,  not 
by  painful  effort,  but  by  patient  repetition,  until  they 
cannot  but  remember,  (and  observing  always  that  the 
accentuation  is  right, — for  if  that  be  once  right,  the 
understanding  will  come  in  due  time),  helping  farther 
with  whatever  elementary  music,  both  of  chant  and 
instrument,  may  be  familiarly  attainable.  To  which 
end,  may  I  modestly  recommend  all  musical  clergymen, 
and  churchwardens,  to  dispense — if  funds  are  limited — 
with   organs   in   the    church,    in    favour  of  harp,   harpsi- 


246  Fors  Clavigera. 

chord,  zittern,  or  peal  of  bells,  in  the  schoolroom  :  and 
to  endeavour  generally  to  make  the  parish  enjoy  proper 
music  out  of  the  church  as  well  as  in  it,  and  on  Saturday 
as  well   as   Sunday. 

I  hope  to  persevere  in  these  summaries  through 
next  letter ;  meantime,  this  curiously  apposite  passage 
in  one  received  this  morning,  from  a  much  valued 
Companion,  needs  instant  answer  (she  is  the  second 
tutress  in  a  school  for  young  girls,  which  has  been 
lately  begun  by  a  German  lady,  who  is  resolved  to 
allow  no  '  cramming ')  : — 

"We  have  nineteen  pupils  now,  and  more  are  pro- 
mised. The  children  are  all  progressing  satisfactorily, 
and  seem  happy,  but  our  path  will  be  up-hill  for 
some  time  to  come.  Sewing  is  in  a  very  backward 
condition  ;  the  children  think  it  would  be  better  done 
in  the  machine.  Hardly  any  of  them  can  write,  and 
we  can't  get  any  decent  large-hand  copy-books.  And 
they  don't  like  poetry !  What  is  to  be  done  with 
such  matter-of-fact  young  persons  ?  On  the  other 
hand,  they  are  loveable  and  intelligent  children,  much 
interested  in  the  garden  (they  are  to  have  little  gardens 
of  their  own  when  the  spring  comes)  and  the  birds. 
Birds,  you  observe,  not  merely  sparrows  ;  for  though 
we  are  only  on  the  edge  of  the  Liverpool  smoke  we 
have  plenty  of  robins  and  starlings,  besides  one  tomtit, 
and  a  visit  from  a  chaffinch  the  other  day.  We  have 
not   been    able    to    begin    the   cookery   class   yet,   for    we 


Fors  Clavigera.  247 

are  not  actually  living  at  the  school  ;  we  hope  to  take 
up  our  abode  there  next  term.  Mrs.  Green,  my 
'  principal,' — I  don't  see  why  I  shouldn't  say  mistress, 
I  like  the  word  much  better, — could  teach  spinning 
if  she  had  a  wheel,  only  then  people  would  say  we 
were   insane,  and   take  the  children   away  from  us. 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  for  last  '  Fors,'  and  delighted 
to  hear  that  there  is  a  new  one  nearly  ready.  But 
would  you  please  be  a  little  bit  more  explicit  on  the 
subject  of  '  work '  and  '  ladyhood.'  Not  that  what 
you  have  said  already  seems  obscure  to  me,  but  people 
disagree  as  to  the  interpretation  of  it.  The  other  night 
I  proposed  to  a  few  fellow-disciples  that  we  should 
make  an  effort  to  put  ourselves  in  serviceable  relation- 
ship to  some  few  of  our  fellow-creatures,  and  they  told 
me  that  '  all  that  was  the  landlord's  business  or  the 
capitalist's.'  Rather  disheartening,  to  a  person  who  has 
no  hope  of  ever  becoming  a  landlord  or  capitalist." 

Yes,  my  dear,  and  very  finely  the  Landlord  and 
Capitalist — in  the  sense  these  people  use  the  words — 
of  land-taxer  and  labour-taxer,  have  done  that  business 
of  theirs  hitherto  !  Land  and  labour  appear  to  be 
discovering — and  rather  fast  now-a-days — that  perhaps 
they  might  get  along  by  themselves,  if  they  were  to  try. 
Of  that,  more  next  letter ; — for  the  answers  to  your 
main  questions  in  this, — the  sewing  is  a  serious  one. 
The  4  little  wretches ' — (this  is  a  well-trained  young 
lady's     expression,    not     mine  —  interjectional     on     my 


248  Fors  Clavigera. 

reading  the  passage  to  her)  must  be  got  out  of  all 
that  as  soon  as  you  can.  For  plain  work,  get  Miss 
Stanley's  book,  which  gives  you  the  elements  of  this 
work  at  Whitelands, — (I  hope,  however,  to  get  Miss 
Greenaway  to  sketch  us  a  pattern  frock  or  two,  in- 
stead of  the  trimmed  water-butts  of  Miss  Stanley's 
present  diagrams)  —  and  for  fine  work,  make  them 
every  one  sew  a  proper  sampler,  with  plenty  of 
robins  in  it,  and  your  visitors  the  tomtit  and 
chaffinch,  and  any  motto  they  like  in  illuminated 
letters,  finished  with  gold  thread, — the  ground,  silk. 
Then,  for  my  meaning  as  to  women's  work,  what 
should  I  mean,  but  scrubbing  furniture,  dusting  walls, 
sweeping  floors,  making  the  beds,  washing  up  the 
crockery,  ditto  the  children,  and  whipping  them  when 
they  want  it, — mending  their  clothes,  cooking  their 
dinners, — and  when  there  are  cooks  more  than  enough, 
helping  with  the  farm  work,  or  the  garden,  or  the  dairy  ? 
Is  that  plain  speaking  enough  ?  Have  I  not  fifty  times 
over,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  dictated  and  insisted 
and  asseverated  and — what  stronger  word  else  there  may 
be — that  the  essentially  right  life  for  all  woman-kind  is 
that  of  the  Swiss  Paysanne, — and  given  Gotthelf 's  Freueli 
for  the  perfect  type  of  it,  and  dedicated  to  her  in 
'  Proserpina '  the  fairest  pansy  in  the  world,  keeping 
only  the  poor  little  one  of  the  sand-hills  for  Ophelia  ? 
But  in  a  rougher  way  yet — take  now  the  facts  of  such 
life  in  old  Scotland,  seen  with  Walter  Scott's  own  eyes. 


Fors  Clavigera.  249 

"  I  have  often  heard  Scott  mention  some  curious 
particulars  of  his  first  visit  to  the  remote  fastness  of 
one  of  these  Highland  friends ;  but  whether  he  told 
the  story  of  Invernahyle,  or  of  one  of  his  own  relations 
of  the  Clan  Campbell,  I  do  not  recollect  ;  I  rather  think 
the  latter  was  the  case.  On  reaching  the  brow  of  a 
bleak  eminence  overhanging  the  primitive  tower  and  its 
tiny  patch  of  cultivated  ground,  he  found  his  host  and 
three  sons,  and  perhaps  half  a  dozen  attendant  gillies, 
all  stretched  half  asleep  in  their  tartans  upon  the  heath, 
with  guns  and  dogs,  and  a  profusion  of  game  about 
them ;  while  in  the  courtyard,  far  below,  appeared  a 
company  of  women,  actively  engaged  in  loading  a  cart 
with  manure.  The  stranger  was  not  a  little  astonished 
when  he  discovered,  on  descending  from  the  height, 
that  among  these  industrious  females  were  the  laird's 
own  lady,  and  two  or  three  of  her  daughters  ;  but 
they  seemed  quite  unconscious  of  having  been  detected 
in  an  occupation  unsuitable  to  their  rank — retired  pre- 
sently to  their  '  bowers,'  and  when  they  reappeared  in 
other  dresses,  retained  no  traces  of  their  morning's  work, 
except  complexions  glowing  with  a  radiant  freshness, 
for  one  evening  of  which  many  a  high-bred  beauty 
would  have  bartered  half  her  diamonds.  He  found 
the  young  ladies  not  ill  informed,  and  exceedingly 
agreeable ;  and  the  song  and  the  dance  seemed  to 
form  the  invariable  termination  of  their  busy  days." 
You  think   such    barbarism    for  ever   past  ?      No,  my 

2ND   SERIES.]  2  5 


5o 


Fors  Clavigera. 


dears  ;  it  is  only  the  barbarity  of  idle  gentlemen  that 
must  pass.  They  will  have  to  fill  the  carts — you  to 
drive  them  ;  and  never  any  more  evade  the  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day — they,  in  shooting  birds  and 
each  other,  or  you  in  walking  about  in  sun-hats  and 
parasols, — like  this 


V*  ^s 


LETTER   THE   95th. 

FORS   INFANTLffi. 

DO  not  well  know  whether  it  has  more  distressed, 
-*■  or  encouraged  me,  to  find  how  much  is  wanting, 
and  how  much  to  be  corrected,  in  the  hitherto  accepted 
modes  of  school  education  for  our  youngest  children. 
Here,  for  the  last  year  or  two,  I  have  had  the  most 
favourable  opportunities  for  watching  and  trying  various 
experiments  on  the  minds  of  country  children,  most 
thankfully  recognising  their  native  power  ;  and  most 
sorrowfully  the  inefficiency  of  the  means  at  the  school- 

2XD    SERIES.]  26 


252  Fors  Clavigera. 

master's  disposal,  for  its  occupation  and  development. 
For  the  strengthening  of  his  hands,  and  that  of  our 
village  teachers  and  dames  in  general,  I  have  written 
these  following  notes  at  speed,  for  the  brevity  and 
slightness  of  which  I  must  pray  the  reader's  indulgence  : 
he  will  find  the  substance  of  them  has  been  long  and 
deeply   considered. 

But  first  let  me  fulfil  the  pledge  given  in  last 
number  of  'Fors'  by  a  few  final  words  about  the  Land 
Question — needless,  if  people  would  read  my  preceding 
letters  with  any  care,  but  useful,  as  a  general  heading 
of  them,  for  those   who  have  not  time  to  do  so. 

The  plan  of  St.  George's  Guild  is  wholly  based  on  the 
supposed  possession  of  land  by  hereditary  proprietors, 
inalienably ;  or  if  by  societies,  under  certain  laws  of 
responsibility  to  the  State. 

In  common  language,  and  in  vulgar  thought,  the  pos- 
session of  land  is  confused  with  "  freedom."  But  no  man 
is  so  free  as  a  beggar  ;  and  no  man  is  more  solemnly  a 
servant  to  Gcd,  the  king,  and  the  laws  of  his  country, 
than  an  honest  land-holder. 

The  nonsense  thought  and  talked  about  'Nationalization 
of  Land,'  like  other  nonsense,  must  have  its  day,  I  suppose, 
— and  I  hope,  soon,  its  night.  All  healthy  states  from 
the  beginning  of  the  world,  living  on  land,*  are  founded 
on  hereditary  tenure,  and  perish  when  either  the  lords 
cr  peasants  sell  their  estates,  much  more  when  they  let 

*  As  distinct  from  those  living  by  trade  or  piracy. 


Fors  Clavigera.  253 

them  out  for  hire.  The  single  line  of  the  last  words  of 
John  of  Gaunt  to  Richard  II.,  "  Landlord  of  England 
art  thou  now,  not  King,"  expreses  the  root  of  the  whole 
matter  ;  and  the  present  weakness  of  the  Peers  in  their 
dispute  with  the  Commons  is  because  the  Upper 
House  is  composed  now  no  more  of  Seigneurs,  but  of 
Landlords. 

Possession  of  land  implies  the  duty  of  living  on  it, 
and  by  it,  if  there  is  enough  to  live  on  ;  then,  having 
got  one's  own  life  from  it  by  one's  own  labour  or  wise 
superintendence  of  labour,  if  there  is  more  land  than 
is  enough  for  one's  self,  the  duty  of  making  it  fruitful 
and  beautiful  for  as  many  more  as  can  live  on  it. 

The  owner  of  land,  necessarily  and  justly  left  in  a 
great  measure  by  the  State  to  do  what  he  will  with  his 
own,  is  nevertheless  entirely  responsible  to  the  State 
for  the  generally  beneficial  management  of  his  territory  ; 
and  the  sale  of  his  land,  or  of  any  portion  of  it,  only 
allowed  under  special  conditions,  and  with  solemn  public 
registry  of  the  transference  to  another  owner  :  above 
all,  the  landmarks  by  which  estates  are  described  are 
never  to  be  moved. 

A  certain  quantity  of  public  land  (some  belonging  to 
the  king  and  signory,  some  to  the  guilds  of  craftsmen, 
some  to  the  town  or  village  corporations)  must  be  set 
aside  for  public  uses  and  pleasures,  and  especially  for 
purposes  of  education,  which,  rightly  comprehended, 
consists,    half   of   it,    in    making    children    familiar    with 

2ND   SERIES.]  2*] 


254  Fors  Clavigera. 

natural  objects,  and  the  other  half  in  teaching  the 
practice  of  piety  towards  them  (piety  meaning  kindness 
to  living  things,   and  orderly   use  of  the   lifeless). 

And  throughout  the  various  passages  referring  to  this 
subject  in  '  Fors,'  it  will  be  found  that  I  always  pre- 
suppose a  certain  quantity  of  carefully  tended  land  to 
be  accessible  near  our  schools  and  universities,  not  for 
exercise  merely,  but  for  instruction  ; — see  last  '  Fors/ 
P.   239. 

Of  course,  schools  of  this  kind  cannot  be  in  large 
towns, — the  town  school  must  be  for  townspeople  ;  but 
I  start  with  the  general  principle  that  every  school  is  to 
be  fitted  for  the  children  in  its  neighbourhood  who  are 
likely  to  grow  up  and  live  in  its  neighbourhood.  The 
idea  of  a  general  education  which  is  to  fit  everybody  to 
be  Emperor  of  Russia,  and  provoke  a  boy,  whatever  he  is, 
to  want  to  be  something  better,  and  wherever  he  was  born 
to  think  it  a  disgrace  to  die,  is  the  most  entirely  and 
directly  diabolic  of  all  the  countless  stupidities  into  which 
the  British  nation  has  been  of  late  betrayed  by  its  avarice 
and  irreligion.  There  are,  indeed,  certain  elements  of 
education  which  are  alike  necessary  to  the  inhabitants  of 
every  spot  of  earth.  Cleanliness,  obedience,  the  first  laws 
of  music,  mechanics,  and  geometry,  the  primary  facts  of 
geography  and  astronomy,  and  the  outlines  of  history, 
should  evidently  be  taught  alike  to  poor  and  rich,  to 
sailor  and  shepherd,  to  labourer  and  shopboy.  But  for 
the   rest,  the    efficiency  of  any  school   will    be   found   to 


Fors  Clavigera.  255 

increase  exactly  in  the  ratio  of  its  direct  adaptation  to 
the  circumstances  of  the  children  it  receives ;  and  the 
quantity  of  knowledge  to  be  attained  in  a  given  time 
being  equal,  its  value  will  depend  on  the  possibilities  of 
its  instant  application.  You  need  not  teach  botany  to 
the  sons  of  fishermen,  architecture  to  shepherds,  or  painting 
to  colliers  ;  still  less  the  elegances  of  grammar  to  children 
who  throughout  the  probable  course  of  their  total  lives 
will  have,  or  ought  to  have,  little  to  say,  and  nothing  to 
write.* 

Farther,  of  schools  in  all  places,  and  for  all  ages,  the 
healthy  working  will  depend  on  the  total  exclusion  of 
the  stimulus  of  competition  in  any  form  or  disguise. 
Every  child  should  be  measured  by  its  own  standard, 
trained  to  its  own  duty,  and  rewarded  by  its  just  praise. 
It  is  the  effort  that  deserves  praise,  not  the  success  ;  nor 
is  it  a  question  for  any  student  whether  he  is  cleverer 
than  others  or  duller,  but  whether  he  has  done  the  best 
he  could  with  the  gifts  he  has.  The  madness  of  the 
modern  cram  and  examination  system  arises  principally 
out  of  the  struggle  to  get  lucrative  places  ;  but  partly 
also  out  of  the  radical  blockheadism  of  supposing  that 
all   men    are    naturally    equal,  and   can    only   make   their 

*  I  am  at  total  issue  with  most  preceptors  as  to  the  use  of  grammar  to 
any  body.  In  a  recent  examination  of  our  Coniston  school  I  observed  that 
the  thing  the  children  did  exactly  best,  was  their  parsing,  and  the  thing 
they  did  exactly  worst,  their  repetition.  Could  stronger  proof  be  given 
that  the  dissection  of  a  sentence  is  as  bad  a  way  to  the  understanding  of  it 
as  the  dissection  of  a  beast  to  the  biography  of  it  ? 


256  Fors  Clavigera. 

way  by  elbowing; — the  facts  being  that  every  child  is 
born  with  an  accurately  defined  and  absolutely  limited 
capacity ;  that  he  is  naturally  (if  able  at  all)  able  for 
some  things  and  unable  for  others  ;  that  no  effort 
and  no  teaching  can  add  one  particle  to  the  granted 
ounces  of  his  available  brains  ;  that  by  competition  he 
may  paralyse  or  pervert  his  faculties,  but  cannot  stretch 
them  a  line  ;  and  that  the  entire  grace,  happiness,  and 
virtue  of  his  life  depend  on  his  contentment  in  doing 
what  he  can,  dutifully,  and  in  staying  where  he  is, 
peaceably.  So  far  as  he  regards  the  less  or  more 
capacity  of  others,  his  superiorities  are  to  be  used 
for  their  help,  not  for  his  own  pre-eminence  ;  and  his 
inferiorities  to  be  no  ground  of  mortification,  but  of 
pleasure  in  the  admiration  of  nobler  powers.  It  is 
impossible  to  express  the  quantity  of  delight  I  used  to 
feel  in  the  power  of  Turner  and  Tintoret,  when  my  own 
skill  was  nascent  only  ;  and  all  good  artists  will  admit 
that  there  is  far  less  personal  pleasure  in  doing  a  thing 
beautifully  than  in  seeing  it  beautifully  done.  Therefore, 
over  the  door  of  every  school,  and  the  gate  of  every 
college,  I  would  fain  see  engraved  in  their  marble  the 
absolute  Forbidding 

fjL7)8ev  /caret  ipiOeiav  77   Kevoho^iav : 
"  Let  nothing  be  done  through  strife  or  vain  glory : " 

and   I    would   have   fixed    for    each   age   of  children  and 
students    a  certain    standard   of  pass  in    examination,  so 


Fors  Clavigera.  257 

adapted  to  average  capacity  and  power  of  exertion,  that 
none  need  fail  who  had  attended  to  their  lessons  and 
obeyed  their  masters  ;  while  its  variety  of  trial  should  yet 
admit  of  the  natural  distinctions  attaching  to  progress 
in  especial  subjects  and  skill  in  peculiar  arts.  Beyond 
such  indication  or  acknowledgment  of  merit,  there 
should  be  neither  prizes  nor  honours  ;  these  are  meant 
by  Heaven  to  be  the  proper  rewards  of  a  man's  con- 
sistent and  kindly  life,  not  of  a  youth's  temporary  and 
selfish  exertion. 

Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  should  the  natural  torpor 
of  wholesome  dulness  be  disturbed  by  provocations, 
or  plagued  by  punishments.  The  wise  proverb  ought 
in  every  schoolmaster's  mind  to  be  deeply  set — "  You 
cannot  make  a  silk  purse  of  a  sow's  ear  ;  "  expanded 
with  the  farther  scholium  that  the  flap  of  it  will  not  be 
the  least  disguised  by  giving  it  a  diamond  earring.  If, 
in  a  woman,  beauty  without  discretion  be  as  a  jewel  of 
gold  in  a  swine's  snout,  much  more,  in  man,  woman, 
or  child,  knowledge  without  discretion — the  knowledge 
which  a  fool  receives  only  to  puff  up  his  stomach,  and 
sparkle  in  his  cockscomb.  As  I  said,*  that  in  matters 
moral,  most  men  are  not  intended  to  be  any  better 
than  sheep  and  robins,  so,  in  matters  intellectual,  most 
men  are  not  intended  to  be  any  wiser  than  their  cocks 
and  bulls, — duly  scientific  of  their  yard  and  pasture, 
peacefully  nescient  of    all    beyond.       To  be    proud  and 

*  Notes  on  the  life  of  Santa  Zita  ('  Songs  of  Tuscany.'  Part  II.). 


258  Fors  Clavigera, 

strong,  each  in  his  place  and  work,  is  permitted  and 
ordained  to  the  simplest ;  but  ultra, — ne  sutor,  ne 
fossor. 

And  it  is  in  the  wholesome  indisposition  of  the  average 
mind  for  intellectual  labour  that  due  provision  is  made  for 
the  quantity  of  dull  work  which  must  be  done  in  stubbing 
the  Thornaby  wastes  of  the  world.  Modern  Utopianism 
imagines  that  the  world  is  to  be  stubbed  by  steam,  and 
human  arms  and  legs  to  be  eternally  idle ;  not  perceiving 
that  thus  it  would  reduce  man  to  the  level  of  his  cattle 
indeed,  who  can  only  graze  and  gore,  but  not  dig !  It  is 
indeed  certain  that  advancing  knowledge  will  guide  us  to 
less  painful  methods  of  human  toil  ;  but  in  the  true 
Utopia,  man  will  rather  harness  himself,  with  his  oxen,  to 
his  plough,  than  leave  the  devil  to  drive  it. 

The  entire  body  of  teaching  throughout  the  series  of 
1  Fors  Clavigera '  is  one  steady  assertion  of  the  necessity 
that  educated  persons  should  share  their  thoughts  with 
the  uneducated,  and  take  also  a  certain  part  in  their 
labours.  But  there  is  not  a  sentence  implying  that  the 
education  of  all  should  be  alike,  or  that  there  is  to  be 
no  distinction  of  master  from  servant,  or  of  scholar  from 
clown.  That  education  should  be  open  to  all,  is  as 
certain  as  that  the  sky  should  be  ;  but,  as  certainly,  it 
should  be  enforced  on  none,  and  benevolent  Nature  left 
to  lead  her  children,  whether  men  or  beasts,  to  take  or 
leave  at  their  pleasure.  Bring  horse  and  man  to  the 
water,    let    them    drink    if,    and    when,    they    will  ; — the 


Fors  Clavigera.  259 


child  who  desires  education  will  be  bettered  by  it,  the 
child  who  dislikes  it,  only  disgraced. 

Of  course,  I  am  speaking  here  of  intellectual  education, 
not  moral.  The  laws  of  virtue  and  honour  are,  indeed,  to 
be  taught  compulsorily  to  all  men  ;  whereas  our  present 
forms  of  education  refuse  to  teach  them  to  any  ;  and 
allow  the  teaching,  by  the  persons  interested  in  their 
promulgation,  of  the  laws  of  cruelty  and  lying,  until  we 
find  these  British  islands  gradually  filling  with  a  breed  of 
men  who  cheat  without  shame,  and  kill  without  remorse. 

It  is  beyond  the  scope  of  the  most  sanguine  thought 
to  conceive  how  much  misery  and  crime  would  be  effaced 
from  the  world  by  persistence,  even  for  a  few  years, 
of  a  system  of  education  thus  directed  to  raise  the  fittest 
into  positions  of  influence,  to  give  to  every  scale  of 
intellect  its  natural  sphere,  and  to  every  line  of  action 
its  unquestioned  principle.  At  present  wise  men,  for 
the  most  part,  are  silent,  and  good  men  powerless  ;  the 
senseless  vociferate,  and  the  heartless  govern  ;  while  all 
social  law  and  providence  are  dissolved  by  the  enraged 
agitation  of  a  multitude,  among  whom  every  villain  has 
a  chance  of  power,  every  simpleton  of  praise,  and  every 
scoundrel  of  fortune. 

Passing  now  to  questions  of  detail  in  the  mode  of 
organising  school  instruction,  I  would  first  insist  on  the 
necessity  of  a  sound  system  in  elementary  music.  Musi- 
cians, like  painters,  are  almost  virulently  determined  in 
their  efforts  to   abolish  the  laws  of  sincerity  and  purity  ; 


260  Fors  Clavigera. 

and  to  invent,  each  for  his  own  glory,  new  modes  of 
dissolute  and  lascivious  sound.  No  greater  benefit  could 
be  conferred  on  the  upper  as  well  as  the  lower  classes 
of  society  than  the  arrangement  of  a  grammar  of  simple 
and  pure  music,  of  which  the  code  should  be  alike 
taught  in  every  school  in  the  land.  My  attention  has 
been  long  turned  to  this  object,  but  I  have  never  till 
lately  had  leisure  to  begin  serious  work  upon  it. 
During  the  last  year,  however,  I  have  been  making 
experiments  with  a  view  to  the  construction  of  an  instru- 
ment by  which  very  young  children  could  be  securely 
taught  the  relations  of  sound  in  the  octave  ;  unsuccessful 
only  in  that  the  form  of  lyre  which  was  produced  for  me, 
after  months  of  labour,  by  the  British  manufacturer,  was 
as  curious  a  creation  of  visible  deformity  as  a  Greek  lyre 
was  of  grace,  besides  being  nearly  as  expensive  as  a  piano  ! 
For  the  present,  therefore,  not  abandoning  the  hope  of 
at  last  attaining  a  simple  stringed  instrument,  I  have 
fallen  back — and  I  think,  probably,  with  final  good 
reason — on  the  most  sacred  of  all  musical  instruments, 
the  'Bell/ 

Whether  the  cattle-bell  of  the  hills,  or,  from  the  cathedral 
tower,  monitor  of  men,  I  believe  the  sweetness  of  its  pro- 
longed tone  the  most  delightful  and  wholesome  for  the 
ear  and  mind  of  all  instrumental  sound.  The  subject  is 
too  wide  to  be  farther  dwelt  on  here  ;  of  experiment  or 
progress  made,  account  will  be  given  in  my  reports  to  the 
St.  George's  Guild. 


Fors  Clavigera.  261 

Next  for  elocution.  The  foundational  importance  of 
beautiful  speaking  has  been  disgraced  by  the  confusion 
of  it  with  diplomatic  oratory,  and  evaded  by  the  vicious 
notion  that  it  can  be  taught  by  a  master  learned  in  it  as 
a  separate  art.  The  management  of  the  lips,  tongue,  and 
throat  may,  and  perhaps  should,  be  so  taught ;  but  this 
is  properly  the  first  function  of  the  singing  master. 
Elocution  is  a  moral  faculty  ;  and  no  one  is  fit  to  be  the 
head  of  a  children's  school  who  is  not  both  by  nature 
and  attention  a  beautiful  speaker. 

By  attention,  I  say,  for  fine  elocution  means  first  an 
exquisitely  close  attention  to,  and  intelligence  of,  the 
meaning  of  words,  and  perfect  sympathy  with  what  feeling 
they  describe  ;  but  indicated  always  with  reserve.  In  this 
reserve,  fine  reading  and  speaking,  (virtually  one  art), 
differ  from  "  recitation,"  which  gives  the  statement  or 
sentiment  with  the  explanatory  accent  and  gesture  of  an 
actor.  In  perfectly  pure  elocution,  on  the  contrary,  the 
accent  ought,  as  a  rule,  to  be  much  lighter  and  gentler 
than  the  natural  or  dramatic  one,  and  the  force  of  it 
wholly  independent  of  gesture  or  expression  of  feature. 
A  fine  reader  should  read,  a  great  speaker  speak,  as  a 
judge  delivers  his  charge;  and  the  test  of  his  power 
should  be  to  read  or  speak   unseen. 

At  least  an  hour  of  the  school-day  should  be  spent 
in  listening  to  the  master's  or  some  trustworthy  visitor's 
reading,  but  no  children  should  attend  unless  they  were 
really  interested  ;  the  rest  being  allowed  to  go  on  with 


262  Fors  Clavigera. 

their  other  lessons  or  employments  ;  a  large  average 
of  children,  I  suppose,  are  able  to  sew  or  draw  while 
they  yet  attend  to  reading,  and  so  there  might  be 
found  a  fairly  large  audience,  of  whom  however  those 
who  were  usually  busy  during  the  lecture  should  not 
be  called  upon  for  any  account  of  what  they  had  heard  ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  blamed,  if  they  had  allowed  their 
attention  to  be  diverted  by  the  reading  from  what  they 
were  about,  to  the  detriment  of  their  work.  The  real 
audience  consisting  of  the  few  for  whom  the  book  had 
been  specially  chosen,  should  be  required  to  give  perfect 
and  unbroken  attention  to  what  they  heard ;  to  stop 
the  reader  always  at  any  word  or  sentence  they  did  not 
understand,  and  to  be  prepared  for  casual  examination 
on   the  story  next  day. 

I  say  '  on  the  story  I  for  the  reading,  whether  poetry 
or  prose,  should  always  be  a  story  of  some  sort,  whether 
true  history,  travels,  romance,  or  fairy-tale.  In  poetry, 
Chaucer,  Spenser,  and  Scott,  for  the  upper  classes, 
lighter  ballad  or  fable  for  the  lower,  contain  always 
some  thread  of  pretty  adventure.  No  merely  didactic 
or  descriptive  books  should  be  permitted  in  the  reading 
room,  but  so  far  as  they  are  used  at  all,  studied  in  the 
same  way  as  grammars ;  and  Shakespeare,  accessible 
always  at  play  time  in  the  library  in  small  and  large 
editions  to  the  young  and  old  alike,  should  never  be  used 
as  a  school  book,  nor  even  formally  or  continuously  read 
aloud.      He  is  to  be  known  by  thinking,  not  mouthing. 


Fors  Clavigera.  263 

I  have  used,  not  unintentionally,  the  separate  words 
1  reading  room  '  and  library.  No  school  should  be  con- 
sidered as  organized  at  all,  without  these  two  rooms, 
rightly  furnished  ;  the  reading  room,  with  its  convenient 
pulpit  and  students'  desks,  in  good  light,  skylight  if 
possible,  for  drawing,  or  taking  notes — the  library  with 
its  broad  tables  for  laying  out  books  on,  and  recesses 
for  niched  reading,  and  plenty  of  lateral  light  kept 
carefully  short  of  glare :  both  of  them  well  shut  off 
from  the  schoolroom  or  rooms,  in  which  there  must  be 
always  more  or  less  of  noise. 

The  Bible-reading,  and  often  that  of  other  books  in 
which  the  text  is  divided  into  verses  or  stanzas,  should 
be  frequently  conducted  by  making  the  children  read 
each  its  separate  verse  in  important  passages,  afterwards 
committing  them  to  memory, — the  pieces  chosen  for 
this  exercise  should  of  course  be  the  same  at  all  schools, 
— with  wider  scope  given  within  certain  limits  for 
choice  in  profane  literature  :  requiring  for  a  pass,  that 
the  children  should  know  accurately  out  of  the  passages 
chosen,  a  certain  number,  including  not  less  than  five 
hundred  lines,  of  such  poetry  as  would  always  be  helpful 
and  strengthening  to  them  ;  therefore  never  melancholy, 
but  didactic,  or  expressive  of  cheerful  and  resolute  feeling. 

No  discipline  is.  of  more  use  to  a  child's  character,  with 
threefold  bearing  on  intellect,  memory,  and  morals,  than 
the  being  accustomed  to  relate  accurately  what  it  has 
lately  done  and  seen.      The  story  of  Eyes  and  No  Eyes 


264  Fors  Clavigera. 

in  '  Evenings  at  Home  '  is  intended  only  to  illustrate  the 
difference  between  inattention  and  vigilance  ;  but  the 
exercise  in  narration  is  a  subsequent  and  separate  one  ; 
it  is  in  the  lucidity,  completeness,  and  honesty  of  state- 
ment. Children  ought  to  be  frequently  required  to  give 
account  of  themselves,  though  always  allowed  reserve,  if 
they  ask  :  "  I  would  rather  not  say,  mamma,"  should  be 
accepted  at  once  with  serene  confidence  on  occasion  ;  but 
of  the  daily  walk  and  work  the  child  should  take  pride  in 
giving  full  account,  if  questioned  ;  the  parent  or  tutor 
closely  lopping  exaggeration,  investigating  elision,  guiding 
into  order,  and  aiding  in  expression.  The  finest  historical 
style  may  be  illustrated  in  the  course  of  the  narration 
of  the  events  of  the  day. 

Next,  as  regards  arithmetic  :  as  partly  stated  already 
in  the  preceding  'Fors,'  p.  233,  children's  time  should 
never  be  wasted,  nor  their  heads  troubled  with  it.  The 
importance  at  present  attached  to  it  is  a  mere  filthy 
folly,  coming  of  the  notion  that  every  boy  is  to  become 
first  a  banker's  clerk  and  then  a  banker, — and  that  every 
woman's  principal  business  is  in  checking  the  cook's 
accounts.  Let  children  have  small  incomes  of  pence  won 
by  due  labour, — they  will  soon  find  out  the  difference 
between  a  threepenny-piece  and  a  fourpenny,  and  how 
many  of  each  go  to  a  shilling.  Then,  watch  the  way 
they   spend   their  money,*    and    teach    them   patience   in 

*  Not  in  Mrs.  Pardiggle's  fashion  :  a  child  ought  to  have  a  certain  sum  given 
it  to  give  away,  and  a  certain  sum  to  spend  for  itself  wisely  ;  and  it  ought  not 


Fors  Clavigera.  26 


0 


saving,  and  the  sanctity  of  a  time-honoured  hoard  (but 
for  use  in  a  day  of  need,  not  for  lending  at  interest)  ; 
so  they  will  painlessly  learn  the  great  truth  known  to 
so  few  of  us — that  two  and  two  make  four,  not  five. 
Then  insist  on  perfect  habits  of  order  and  putting-by 
of  things  ;  this  involves  continually  knowing  and 
counting  how  many  there  are.  The  multiplication 
table  may  be  learned  when  they  want  it — a  longish 
addition  sum  will  always  do  instead  ;  and  the  mere 
mechanism  of  multiplication  and  division  and  dotting 
and  carrying  can  be  taught  by  the  monitors  ;  also  of 
fractions,  as  much  as  that  \  means  a  half-penny  and 
\  a  farthing.* 

Next  for  geography.  There  is,  I  suppose,  no  subject 
better  taught  at  elementary  schools  ;  but  to  the  pursuit 
of  it,  whether  in  advanced  studentship  or  in  common  life, 
there  is  now  an  obstacle  set  so  ludicrously  insuperable, 
that  for  ordinary  people  it  is  simply  an  end  to  effort.  I 
happen  at  this  moment  to  have  the  first  plate  to  finish  for 
the  '  Bible  of  Amiens,'  giving  an  abstract  of  the  features 
of  France.  I  took  for  reduction,  as  of  convenient  size, 
probably  containing  all  I  wanted  to  reduce,  the  map  in 
the  '  Harrow  Atlas  of  Modern  Geography,'  and  found  the 

to  be  allowed  to  give  away  its  spending  money.  Prudence  is  a  much  more  rare 
virtue  than  generosity. 

*  I  heard  an  advanced  class  tormented  out  of  its  life  the  other  day  at  our 
school  to  explain  the  difference  between  a  numerator  and  denominator.  I 
wasn't  sure  myself,  for  the  minute,  which  was  which  ;  and  supremely  didn't 
care. 


266  Fors  Clavigera. 

only  clearly  visible  and  the  only  accurately  delineated 
things  in  it,  were  the  railroads !  To  begin  with,  there 
are  two  Mont  Blancs,  of  which  the  freeborn  British 
boy  may  take  his  choice.  Written  at  some  distance 
from  the  biggest  of  them,  in  small  italics,  are  the 
words  "  Grand  St.  Bernard,"  which  the  boy  cannot  but 
suppose  to  refer  to  some  distant  locality ;  but  neither 
of  the  Mont  Blancs,  each  represented  as  a  circular  pimple, 
is  engraved  with  anything  like  the  force  and  shade  of 
the  Argonne  hills  about  Bar  le  Due  ;  while  the  southern 
chain  of  the  hills  of  Burgundy  is  similarly  repre- 
sented as  greatly  more  elevated  than  the  Jura.  Neither 
the  Rhine,  Rhone,  Loire,  nor  Seine  is  visible  except 
with  a  lens ;  nor  is  any  boundary  of  province  to  be 
followed  by  the  eye ;  patches  of  feeble  yellow  and 
pale  brown,  dirty  pink  and  grey,  and  uncertain  green, 
melt  into  each  other  helplessly  across  wrigglings  of 
infinitesimal  dots ;  while  the  railways,  not  merely 
black  lines,  but  centipede  or  myriapede  caterpillars, 
break  up  all  France,  as  if  it  were  crackling  clay,  into 
senseless  and  shapeless  divisions,  in  which  the  eye 
cannot  distinguish  from  the  rest  even  the  great  lines 
of  railway  themselves,  nor  any  relative  magnitudes  of 
towns,  nor  even  their  places  accurately, — the  measure 
of  nonsense  and  misery  being  filled  up  by  a  mist  of 
multitudinous  names  of  places  never  heard  of,  much 
less 'spoken  of,  by  any  human  being  ten  miles  out  of 
them. 


Fors  Clavigera.  267 

For  maps  of  this  kind,  there  can  be  no  question 
with  any  reasonable  human  creature  that,  first,  proper 
physical  maps  should  be  substituted  ;  and  secondly, 
proper  historical  ones  ;  the  diagrams  of  the  railways 
being  left  to  Bradshaw  ;  and  the  fungus  growths  of 
modern  commercial  towns  to  the  sellers  of  maps  for 
counting-houses.  And  the  Geological  Society  should, 
for  pure  shame,  neither  write  nor  speak  another  word, 
till  it  has  produced  effectively  true  models  to  scale 
of  the  known  countries  of  the  world.  These,  photo- 
graphed in  good  side  light,  would  give  all  that  was 
necessary  of  the  proportion  and  distribution  of  moun- 
tain ranges  ;*  and  these  photographs  should  afterwards 
be  made  the  basis  of  beautiful  engravings,  giving  the 
character  of  every  district  completely,  whether  arable, 
wooded,  rocky,  moor,  sand,  or  snow,  with  the  carefullest 
and  clearest  tracing  of  the  sources  and  descent  of  its 
rivers  ;  and,  in  equally  careful  distinction  of  magnitude, 
as  stars  on  the  celestial  globe,  the  capitals  and  great 
provincial  towns  ;  but  absolutely  without  names  or 
inscriptions  of  any  kind.  The  boy  who  cannot,  except 
by  the  help  of  inscription,  know  York  from  Lancaster, 
or  Rheims  from  Dijon,  or  Rome  from  Venice,  need 
not    be    troubled     to     pursue    his    geographical     studies. 

*  Of  the  cheap  barbarisms  and  abortions  of  modern  cram,  the  frightful 
method  of  representing  mountain  chains  by  black  bars  is  about  the  most 
ludicrous  and  abominable.  All  mountain  chains  are  in  groups,  not  bars, 
and  their  watersheds  are  often  entirely  removed  from  their  points  of  greatest 
elevation. 


268  Fors  Clavigera. 

The  keys  to  every  map,  with  the  names,  should  form 
part  of  the  elementary  school  geography,  which  should 
be  the  same  over  the  whole  British  Empire,  and  should 
be  extremely  simple  and  brief;  concerning  itself  in  no 
wise  with  manners  and  customs,  number  of  inhabitants, 
or  species  of  beasts,  but  strictly  with  geographical  fact, 
completed  by  so  much  intelligible  geology,  as  should 
explain  whether  hills  were  of  chalk,  slate,  or  granite, 
and  remain  mercifully  silent  as  to  whether  they 
were  Palaeo-  or  Kaino-zoic,  Permian  or  Silurian.  The 
age,  or  ages  of  the  world,  are  not  of  the  smallest 
consequence  either  to  ants  or  myrmidons, — either  to 
moths  or  men.  But  the  ant  and  man  must  know 
where  the  world,  now  existent,  is  soft  or  flinty,  cul- 
tivable or    quarriable. 

Of  course,  once  a  system  of  drawing  rightly  made 
universal,  the  hand-colouring  of  these  maps  would  be 
one  of  the  drawing  exercises,  absolutely  costless,  and 
entirely  instructive.  The  historical  maps  should  also, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  be  of  every  county  in  successive 
centuries ; — the  state  of  things  in  the  nineteenth 
century  being  finally  simplified  into  a  general  brown 
fog,  intensified  to  blackness  over  the  manufacturing 
centres. 

Next,  in  astronomy,  the  beginning  of  all  is  to  teach 
the  child  the  places  and  names  of  the  stars  when  it 
can  see  them,  and  to  accustom  it  to  watch  for  the 
nightly    change   of   those   visible.       The    register   of   the 


Fors  Clavigera.  269 

visible  stars  of  first  magnitude  and  planets  should  be 
printed  largely  and  intelligibly  for  every  day  of  the  year, 
and  set  by  the  schoolmaster  every  day  ;  and  the  arc 
described  by  the  sun,  with  its  following  and  preceding 
stars,  from  point  to  point  of  the  horizon  visible  at  the 
place,  should  be  drawn,  at  least  weekly,  as  the  first  of 
the  drawing  exercises. 

These,  connected  on  one  side  with  geometry,  on  the 
other  with  writing,  should  be  carried  at  least  as  far,  and 
occupy  as  long  a  time,  as  the  exercises  in  music  ;  and 
the  relations  of  the  two  arts,  and  meaning  of  the  words 
'  composition,'  *  symmetry,'  '  grace,'  and  '  harmony '  in 
both,  should  be  very  early  insisted  upon  and  illustrated. 
For  all  these  purposes,  every  school  should  be  furnished 
with  progressive  examples,  in  facsimile,  of  beautiful 
illuminated  writing :  for  nothing  could  be  more  con- 
ducive to  the  progress  of  general  scholarship  and  taste 
than  that  the  first  natural  instincts  of  clever  children 
for  the  imitation  or,  often,  the  invention  of  picture 
writing,  should  be  guided  and  stimulated  by  perfect 
models  in  their  own  kind. 

The  woodcut  prefixed  to  this  number  shows  very 
curiously  what  complete  harmony  there  is  between  a 
clever  child's  way  of  teaching  itself  to  draw  and  write — 
(and  no  teaching  is  so  good  for  it  as  its  own,  if  that  can 
be  had) — and  the  earliest  types  of  beautiful  national 
writing.  The  indifference  as  to  the  places  of  the  letters, 
or  the  direction  in    which  they  are  to  be  read,  and  the 

2ND   SERIES.]  28 


270  Fors  Clavigera. 

insertion  of  any  that  are  to  spare  for  the  filling  of  corners 
or  otherwise  blank  spaces  in  the  picture,  are  exactly  the 
modes  of  early  writing  which  afterwards  give  rise  to 
its  most  beautiful  decorative  arrangements — a  certain 
delight  in  the  dignity  of  enigma  being  always  at  the 
base  of  this  method  of  ornamentation.  The  drawing 
is  by  the  same  little  girl  whose  anxiety  that  her  doll's 
dress  might  not  hurt  its  feelings  has  been  already 
described  in  my  second  lecture  at  Oxford,  on  the  Art 
of  England.  This  fresco,  executed  nearly  at  the  same 
time,  when  she  was  six  or  seven  years  old,  may  be 
compared  by  antiquarians,  not  without  interest,  with 
early  Lombardic  MSS.  It  needs,  I  think,  no  farther 
elucidation  than  some  notice  of  the  difficulty  caused 
by  the  substitution  of  T  for  J  in  the  title  of  '  The 
Jug,'  and  the  reversal  of  the  letter  Z  in  that  of  '  The 
Zebra,'  and  warning  not  to  mistake  the  final  E  of  '  The 
Cake '  for  the  handle  of  a  spotted  tea-cup.  The  most 
beautifully  Lombardic  involution  is  that  of  "  The  Fan," 
written — 

TN  H 

E     A     q 

Next,  for  zoology,  I  am  taking  the  initiative  in  what 
is  required  myself,  by  directing  some  part  of  the  funds 
of  the  St.  George's  Guild  to  the  provision  of  strongly 
ringed  frames,  large  enough  to  contain  the  beautiful 
illustrations    given  by    Gould,  Audubon,  and    other  such 


Fors  Clavigera.  271 

naturalists  ;  and  I  am  cutting  my  best  books  to  pieces 
for  the  filling  of  these  frames,  which  can  be  easily  passed 
from  school  to  school  ;  and  I  hope  to  prepare  with  speed 
a  general  text  for  them,  totally  incognisant  of  all  quarrel 
or  inquiry  concerning  species,  and  the  origin  thereof; 
but  simply  calling  a  hawk  a  hawk,  and  an  owl  an 
owl ;  and  trusting  to  the  scholars'  sagacity  to  see  the 
difference ;  but  giving  him  all  attainable  information 
concerning  the  habits  and  talents  of  every  bird  and 
beast. 

Similarly  in  botany,  for  which  there  are  quite  unlimited 
means  of  illustration,  in  the  exquisite  original  drawings 
and  sketches  of  great  botanists,  now  uselessly  lying  in 
inaccessible  cupboards  of  the  British  Museum  and  other 
scientific  institutions.  But  the  most  pressing  need  is 
for  a  simple  handbook  of  the  wild  flowers  of  every 
country — French  flowers  for  French  children,  Teuton 
for  Teuton,  Saxon  for  Saxon,  Highland  for  Scot — 
severely  accurate  in  outline,  and  exquisitely  coloured  by 
hand  (again  the  best  possible  practice  in  our  drawing 
schools)  ;  with  a  text  regardless  utterly  of  any  but  the 
most  popular  names,  and  of  all  microscopic  observation  ; 
but  teaching  children  the  beauty  of  plants  as  they  grow> 
and  their  culinary  uses  when  gathered,  and  that,  except 
for  such  uses,  they  should    be  left  growing. 

And  lastly  of  needlework.  I  find  among  the  materials 
of  '  Fors,'  thrown  together  long  since,  but  never  used, 
the  following  sketch  of  what  the  room  of  the   Sheffield 


272  Fors  Clavigera. 

Museum,  set  apart  for  its  illustration,  was  meant  to 
contain. 

"  All  the  acicular  art  of  nations,  savage  and  civilized — 
from  Lapland  boot,  letting  in  no  snow  water,  to  Turkey 
cushion  bossed  with  pearl, — to  valance  of  Venice  gold 
in  needlework, — to  the  counterpanes  and  samplers  of  our 
own  lovely  ancestresses — imitable,  perhaps,  once  more, 
with  good  help  from  Whitelands  College  and  Girton. 
It  was  but  yesterday  my  own  womankind  were  in 
much  wholesome  and  sweet  excitement,  delightful  to 
behold,  in  the  practice  of  some  new  device  of  remedy 
for  Rents  (to  think  how  much  of  evil  there  is  in  the 
two  senses  of  that  four-lettered  word !  in  the  two 
methods  of  intonation  of  its  synonym,  Tear  !),  whereby 
it  might  be  daintily  effaced,  and  with  a  newness  which 
would  never  make  it  worse.  The  process  began — 
beautiful  even  to  my  uninformed  eyes — in  the  likeness 
of  herringbone  masonry,  crimson  on  white,  but  it 
seemed  to  me  marvellous  that  anything  should  yet 
be  discoverable  in  needle  process,  and  that  of  so 
utilitarian   character. 

"  All  that  is  reasonable,  I  say,  of  such  work  is  to  be  in 
our  first  Museum  room  ;  all  that  Athena  and  Penelope 
would  approve.  Nothing  that  vanity  has  invented  for 
change,  or  folly  loved  for  costliness. 

"  Illustrating  the  true  nature  of  a  thread  and  a  needle, 
the  structure  first  of  wool  and  cotton,  of  fur  and  hair 
and  down,  hemp,  flax,  and  silk,   microscope  permissible, 


Fors  Clavigera.  273 

here,  if  anything  can  be  shown  of  why  wool  is  soft,  and 
fur  fine,  and  cotton  downy,  and  down  downier ;  and 
how  a  flax  fibre  differs  from  a  dandelion  stalk,  and  how 
the  substance  of  a  mulberry  leaf  can  become  velvet  for 
Queen  Victoria's  crown,  and  clothing  of  purple  for  the 
housewife  of  Solomon. 

11  Then  the  phase  of  its  dyeing.  What  azures  and 
emeralds  and  Tyrian  scarlets  can  be  got  into  fibres  of 
thread  ! 

"  Then  the  phase  of  its  spinning.  The  mystery  of  that 
divine  spiral,  from  finest  to  firmest,  which  renders  lace 
possible  at  Valenciennes  ;  —  anchorage  possible,  after 
Trafalgar,  (if  Hardy  had  done  as  he  was  bid). 

"  Then  the  mystery  of  weaving.  The  eternal  harmony 
of  warp  and  woof;  of  all  manner  of  knotting,  knitting, 
and  reticulation  ;  the  art  which  makes  garments  possible 
woven  from  the  top  throughout  ;  draughts  of  fishes 
possible,  miraculous  enough,  always,  when  a  pilchard  or 
herring  shoal  gathers  itself  into  companionable  catch- 
ableness ; — which  makes,  in  fine,  so  many  nations 
possible,  and   Saxon  and   Norman  beyond   the  rest. 

"  And,  finally,  the  accomplished  phase  of  needlework — 
the  ' Acu  Tetigisti  '  of  all  time,  which  does  indeed 
practically  exhibit — what  mediaeval  theologists  vainly 
disputed — how  many  angels  can  stand  on  a  needle 
point,  directing  the  serviceable  stitch,  to  draw  the 
separate   into  the    inseparable." 

Very    thankfully   I    can    now   say   that  this   vision    of 


274  Fors  Clavigera. 

thread  and  needlework,  though  written  when  my  fancy 
had  too  much  possession  of  me,  is  now  being  in  all 
its  branches  realized  by  two  greatly  valued  friends, — 
the  spinning  on  the  old  spinning-wheel,  with  most  happy 
and  increasingly  acknowledged  results,  systematized  here 
among  our  Westmorland  hills  by  Mr.  Albert  Fleming  ; 
the  useful  sewing,  by  Miss  Stanley  of  Whitelands 
College,  whose  book  on  that  subject  seems  to  me  in 
the  text  of  it  all  that  can  be  desired,  but  the  diagrams 
of  dress  may  perhaps  receive  further  consideration.  For 
indeed  the  schools  of  all  young  womankind  are  in  great 
need  of  such  instruction  in  dressmaking  as  shall  comply 
with  womankind's  natural  instinct  for  self-decoration  in 
all  worthy  and  graceful  ways,  repressing  in  the  rich  their 
ostentation,  and  encouraging  in  the  poor  their  whole- 
some pride.  On  which  matters,  vital  to  the  comfort  and 
happiness  of  every  household,  I  may  have  a  word  or 
two  yet  to  say  in  next  '  Fors  ; '  being  content  that  this 
one  should  close  with  the  subjoined  extract  from  a  letter 
I  received  lately  from  Francesca's  mother,  who,  if  any 
one,  has  right  to  be  heard  on  the  subject  of  education ; 
and  the  rather  that  it  is,  in  main  purport,  contrary 
to  much  that  I  have  both  believed  and  taught,  but, 
falling  in  more  genially  with  the  temper  of  recent 
tutors  and  governors,  may  by  them  be  gratefully  acted 
upon,  and  serve  also  for  correction  of  what  I  may 
have  myself  too  servilely  thought  respecting  the  need 
of  compulsion. 


Fors  Clavigera.  275 

"If  I  have  the  least  faculty  for  anything  in  this 
world,  it  is  for  teaching  children,  and  making  them 
good  and  perfectly  happy  going  along.  My  whole  prin- 
ciple is  that  no  government  is  of  the  least  use  except 
self-government,  and  the  worst  children  will  do  right, 
if  told  which  is  right  and  wrong,  and  that  they  must 
act  for  themselves.  Then  I  have  a  fashion,  told  me 
by  a  friend  when  Francesca  was  a  baby;  which  is  this, 
— never  see  evil,  but  praise  good ;  for  instance,  if  children 
are  untidy,  do  not  find  fault,  or  appear  to  notice  it,  but 
the  first  time  possible,  praise  them  for  being  neat  and 
fresh,  and  they  will  soon  become  so.  I  dare  say  you 
can  account  for  this,  I  cannot  ;  but  I  have  tried  it  many 
times,  and  have  never  known  it  fail.  I  have  other  ideas, 
but  you  might  not  approve  of  them, — the  religious  in- 
struction I  limited  to  paying  my  little  friends  for  learning 
Dr.  Watts'  "  Though  I'm  now  in  younger  days,"  but  I 
suppose  that,  like  my  system  generally,  is  hopelessly  old 
fashioned.  Very  young  children  can  learn  this  verse 
from  it : — 

"Til  not  willingly  offend, 
Nor  be  easily  offended  ; 
What's  amiss   I'll  strive  to  mend, 
And  endure  what  can't  be  mended.' 

There  was  an  old  American  sea  captain  who  said  he 
had  been  many  times  round  the  world  comfortably  by 
the  help  of  this  verse." 


276  Fors  Clavigera. 

The  following  letters  necessitate  the  return  to  my  old 
form  of  notes  and  correspondence  ;  but  as  I  intend  now 
the  close  of  '  Fors '  altogether,  that  I  may  have  leisure 
for  some  brief  autobiography  instead,  the  old  book  may 
be  permitted  to  retain  its  colloquial  character  to  the 
end. 

11  Woodburn,  Selkirk,  N.B.,  wth  December,  1883. 

"Dear  Sir, — The  Ashesteil  number  of  'Fors'  reaches  me  as  I 
complete  certain  notes  on  the  relationship  of  Scott  to  Mungo 
Park,  which  will  form  part  of  a  History  of  Ettrick  Forest,  which  I 
hope  to  publish  in  1884.  This  much  in  explanation  of  my  pre- 
sumption in  writing  you  at  all. 

"  Having  now  had  all  the  use  of  them  I  mean  to  take,  I  send 
you  copies  of  three  letters  taken  by  myself  from  the  originals 
— and  never  published  until  last  year,  in  an  obscure  local 
print : — 

"  1.  Letter  from  Mungo  Park  to  his  sister.  2.  Letter  from  Scott 
to  Mrs.  Laidlaw,  of  Peel  (close  to  Ashesteil),  written  after  the 
bankruptcy  of  a  lawyer  brother  of  the  African  traveller  had  in- 
volved his  entire  family  circle  in  ruin.  The  *  merry  friend '  is 
Archibald  Park,  brother  of  Mungo  (see  '  Lockhart,'  ch.  xiii.)  It  is 
he  Sir  Walter  refers  to  in  his  story  about  the  hot  hounds  entering 
Loch  Katrine  (see  Introd.  '  Lady  of  Lake.'  3.  Letter  to  young 
Mungo  Park,  on  the  death  of  his  father,  the  above  Archibald. 

"  I  send  you  these  because  I  know  the  perusal  of  letter  No.  2 
will  give  you  deep  pleasure,  and  I  owe  you  much.  Nothing  in 
Sir  Walter's  career  ever  touched  me  more. 

"  May  I  venture  a  word  for  Mungo  Park  ?  He  brought  my 
wife's  aunt  into  this  world  in  the  course  of  his  professional  practice 
at  Peebles  j  and  I  have  heard  about  his  work  there.  He  was  one 
of  the  most  devoted,  unselfish  men  that  stood  for  Scott's  hero — 
Gideon  Gray.     Apropos  of  which,   a  story.     Park,  lost  on  the 


Fors  Clavigera.  277 

moors  one  wild  night  in  winter,  directed  his  horse  to  a  distant 
light,  which  turned  out  to  be  the  candle  of  a  hill-shepherd's  cot- 
tage. It  so  happened  that  the  doctor  arrived  there  in  the  nick  of 
time,  for  the  shepherd's  wife  was  on  the  point  of  confinement.  He 
waited  till  all  was  well  over,  and  next  morning  the  shepherd 
escorted  him  to  where  he  could  see  the  distant  road.  Park, 
noticing  the  shepherd  lag  behind,  asked  him  the  reason,  on  which 
the  simple  man  replied — '  'Deed  sir,  my  wife  said  she  was  sure 
you  must  be  an  angel,  and  I  think  sa  tae ;  so  I'm  just  keeping 
ahint,  to  be  sure  I'll  see  you  flee  up.'  This  I  have  from  the 
nephew  of  Park's  wife,  himself  a  worthy  old  doctor  and  ex- 
provost  of  Selkirk.  The  first  motive  of  Park's  second  journey 
may  have  been  fame  ;  I  am  disposed  to  think  it  was.  But  I  am 
sure  if  auri  fames  had  anything  to  do  with  it,  it  was  for  his  wife 
and  children  that  he  wanted  it.  Read  his  letters  home,  as  I 
have  done,  and  you  will  concede  to  the  ill-fated  man  a  character 
higher  than  last  '  Fors  '  accords  him. 

"  If  you  place  any  value  on  these  letters,  may  I  venture  to  ask 
you  to  discharge  the  debt  by  a  copy  of  last  F.  C.  with  your 
autograph  ?  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say  I  ask  it  in  a  spfrit  of  blind 
worship. 

"  I  shall  not  vex  you  by  writing  for  your  own  eyes  how  much  I 
honour  and  respect  you  ;  but  shall  content  myself  with  professing 
myself  your  obedient  servant, 

"  T.  Craig-Brown." 


8th  May,   1881. 
Copy  of  letters  lent  to  me  by  Mr.  Blaikie,  Holydean,  and  taken 
by  him  from  boxes  belonging  to  late  Miss  Jane  Park,  niece  of 
Mungo  Park. 

1.  Original  letter  from  Mungo  Park  to  his  sister,  Miss  Bell 
Park,  Hartwoodmires,  near  Selkirk.  "Dear  Sister, — I  have 
not   heard   from    Scotland   since    I    left  it,  but  I  hope  you  are 


278  Fors  Clavigera. 

all  in  good  health,  and  I  attribute  your  silence  to  the  hurry  of 
harvest.  However,  let  me  hear  from  you  soon,  and  write  how 
Sandy's  marriage  comes  on,  and  how  Jeany  is,  for  I  have  heard 
nothing  from  her  neither.  I  have  nothing  new  to  tell  you.  I  am 
very  busy  preparing  my  book  for  the  press,  and  all  friends  here 
are  in  good  health.  Mr.  Dickson  is  running  about,  sometimes  in 
the  shop  and  sometimes  out  of  it.  Peggy  is  in  very  good  health, 
and  dressed  as  I  think  in  a  cotton  gown  of  a  bluish  pattern ;  a 
round-eared  much,  (sic, — properly  mutch,)  or  what  they  call  here  a 
cap,  with  a  white  ribbon ;  a  Napkin  of  lawn  or  muslin,  or  some 
such  thing;  a  white  striped  dimity  petticoat.  Euphy  and  bill 
(Bell  or  Bill  ?)  are  both  in  very  good  health,  but  they  are  gone  out 
to  play,  therefore  I  must  defer  a  description  of  them  till  my  next 
letter. — I  remain,  your  loving  brother,  Mungo  Park. — London, 
Sept.  21st,  1795.  P.S. — Both  Peggy  and  Mr.  Dickson  have  been 
very  inquisitive  about  you  and  beg  their  compliments  to  you." 

2.  (Copy.)  Letter  from  (Sir)  Walter  Scott  to  Mrs.  Laidlaw,  of 
Peel.  (See  'Lockhart's  Life,'  chap,  xvii.,  p.  164.)  "My  dear 
Mrs.  Laidlaw, — Any  remembrance  from  you  is  at  all  times  most 
welcome  to  me.  I  have,  in  fact,  been  thinking  a  good  deal  about 
Mr.  Park,  especially  about  my  good  merry  friend  Archie,  upon 
whom  such  calamity  has  fallen.  I  will  write  to  a  friend  in 
London  likely  to  know  about  such  matters  to  see  if  possible  to 
procure  him  the  situation  of  an  overseer  of  extensive  farms  in 
improvements,  for  which  he  is  so  well  qualified.  But  success  in 
this  is  doubtful,  and  I  am  aware  that  their  distress  must  be 
pressing.  Now,  Waterloo  has  paid,  or  is  likely  to  pay  me  a 
great  deal  more  money  than  I  think  proper  to  subscribe  for  the 
fund  for  families  suffering,  and  I  chiefly  consider  the  surplus  as 
dedicated  to  assist  distress  or  affliction.  I  shall  receive  my 
letter  in  a  few  days  from  the  booksellers,  and  I  will  send  Mr. 
Laidlaw  care  for  £50  and  three  months,  the  contents  to  be 
applied  to  the  service  of  Mr.   Park's  family.       It    is    no   great 


Fors  Clavigera.  279 

sum,  but  may  serve  to  alleviate  any  immediate  distress ;  and  you 
can  apply  it  as  coming  from  yourself,  which  will  relieve  Park's 
delicacy  upon  the  subject.  I  really  think  I  will  be  able  to  hear 
of  something  for  him  ;  at  least  it  shall  not  be  for  want  of  asking 
about,  for  I  will  lug  him  in  as  a  postscript  to  every  letter  I  write. 
Will  you  tell  Mr.  Laidlaw  with  my  best  compliments — not  that  I 
have  bought  Kaeside,  for  this  James  will  have  told  him  already, 
but  that  I  have  every  reason  to  think  I  have  got  it  ^600  cheaper 
than  I  would  at  a  public  sale  ?  Mrs.  Scott  and  the  young  people 
join  in  best  compliments,  and  I  ever  am,  dear  Mrs.  Laidlaw,  very 
truly  yours,  Walter  Scott. — Edinburgh,  20th  Nov.  (1815)." 

3.  Letter  (original)  from  Sir  Walter  Scott  to  Mr.  Mungo  Park, 
Tobermory,  Isle  of  Mull,  Oban.  "Sir, — I  was  favoured  with  your 
very  attentive  letter  conveying  to  me  the  melancholy  intelligence 
that  you  have  lost  my  old  acquaintance  and  friend,  your  worthy 
father.  I  was  using  some  interest  to  get  him  placed  on  the 
Superannuated  Establishment  of  the  Customs,  but  God  has  been 
pleased  to  render  this  unnecessary.  A  great  charge  devolves  on 
you,  sir,  for  so  young  a  person,  both  for  the  comfort  and  support 
of  his  family.  If  you  let  me  know  your  plans  of  life  when  settled, 
it  is  possible  I  may  be  of  use  to  you  in  some  shape  or  other, 
which  I  should  desire  in  the  circumstances,  though  my  powers  are 
very  limited  unless  in  the  way  of  recommendation.  I  beg  my 
sincere  condolence  may  be  communicated  to  your  sister,  who  I 
understand  to  be  a  very  affectionate  daughter  and  estimable  young 
person.  I  remain  very  much  your  obedient  servant,  Walter 
Scott. — Edinburgh,  17th  May,  1820." 

I  am  greatly  obliged  to  Mr.  Brown  for  his  own  letter, 
and  for  those  which  I  have  printed  above ;  but  have 
only  to  answer  that  no  "  word  for  Mungo  Park "  was 
the  least  necessary  in  reply  to  what  I  said  of  him,  nor 
could   any  word    in    reply   lessen    its   force,   as    far   as    it 


280  Fors  Clavigera. 

goes.  I  spoke  of  him  as  the  much  regretted  friend 
of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  as  a  man  most  useful  in  his 
appointed  place  of  a  country  physician.  How  useful, 
and  honoured,  and  blessed  that  function  was,  nothing 
could  prove  more  clearly  than  the  beautiful  fact  of  the 
shepherd's  following  him  as  an  angel  ;  and  nothing 
enforce  more  strongly  my  blame  of  his  quitting  that 
angel's  work  by  Tweedside  to  trace  the  lonely  brinks  of 
useless  rivers.  The  letter  to  his  sister  merely  lowers 
my  estimate  of  his  general  culture  ;  a  common  servant's 
letter  home  is  usually  more  interesting,  and  not  worse 
spelt.  A  '  sacred  '  one  to  his  wife,  published  lately  by 
a  rabid  Scot  in  reply  to  the  serene  sentences  of  mine, 
which  he  imagines  '  explosive '  like  his  own,  need  not  be 
profaned  by  '  Fors' '  print.  I  write  letters  with  more 
feeling  in  them  to  most  of  my  good  girl-friends, 
any  day  of  the  year,  and  don't  run  away  from  them  to 
Africa  afterwards. 

A  letter  from  Miss  Russell  to  the  Scotsman,  written 
soon  after  last  '  Fors '  was  published,  to  inform  Scotland 
that  Ashesteil  was  not  a  farm  house, — (it  would  all, 
with  the  latest  additions,  go  inside  a  Bernese  farmer's 
granary) — that  nobody  it  belonged  to  had  ever  done 
any  farming,  or  anything  else  that  was  useful, — that 
Scott  had  been  greatly  honoured  in  being  allowed  a 
lease  of  it,  that  his  study  had  been  turned  into  a 
passage  in  the  recent  improvements,  and  that  in  the 
dining-room    of   it,    Mrs.    Siddons    had    called    for    beer, 


Fors  Clavigera.  281 

may  also  be  left  to  the  reverential  reading  of  the  sub- 
scribers to  the  Scotsman  ; — with  this  only  question,  from 
me,  to  the  citizens  of  Dun  Edin,  What  good  is  their 
pinnacle  in  Prince's  Street,  when  they  have  forgotten 
where  the  room  was,  and  corridor  is,  in  which  Scott 
wrote  '  Marmion  '  ? 


FORS    CLAVIGERA. 

SECOND  SERIES. 


"yea,  thp:  work  of  our  hands,  establish  thou  it." 


LETTER    THE    96th.    (terminal.) 
ROSY   VALE. 

"  QT.  DAVID,  having  built  a  monastery  near  Meneira, 
which  is  from  him  since  called  St.  David's,  in  a 
place  called  the  Rosy  Valley,  (Vallis  Rosina,)  gave  this 
strict  rule  of  monastical  profession, — '  That  every  monk 
should  labour  daily  with  his  hands  for  the  common 
good  of  the  Monastery,  according  to  the  Apostle's  say- 
ing, He  that  doth  not  labour,  let  him  not  eat.  For 
those  who  spend  their  time  in  idleness  debase  their 
minds,  which  become  unstable,  and  bring  forth  impure 
thoughts,  which  restlessly  disquiet  them.'  The  monks 
there  refused  all  gifts  or  possessions  offered  by  unjust 
men  ;  they  detested  riches ;  they  had  no  care  to  ease 
their  labour  by  the  use  of  oxen  or  other  cattle,  for 
every  one  was  instead  of  riches  and  oxen  to  himself 
and  his  brethren.  They  never  conversed  together  by 
talking  but  when  necessity  required,  but  each  one  per- 
formed the   labour   enjoined    him,  joining  thereto  prayer, 

2ND   SERIES.]  20, 


284  Fo7's  Clavigera. 

or  holy  meditations  on  Divine  things  :  and  having 
finished  their  country  work,  they  returned  to  their 
monastery,  where  they  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day, 
till  the  evening,  in  reading  or  writing.  In  the  evening, 
•at  the  sounding  of  a  bell,  they  all  left  their  work  and 
immediately  repaired  to  the  church,  where  they  remained 
till  the  stars  appeared,  and  then  went  all  together  to 
their  refection,  eating  sparingly  and  not  to  satiety,  for 
any  excess  in  eating,  though  it  be  only  of  bread,  occa- 
sions luxury.  Their  food  was  bread  with  roots  or  herbs, 
seasoned  with  salt,  and  their  thirst  they  quenched  with 
a  mixture  of  water  and  milk.  Supper  being  ended, 
they  continued  about  three  hours  in  watching,  prayers, 
and  genuflexions.  After  this  they  went  to  rest,  and  at 
-cock-crowing  they  arose  again,  and  continued  at  prayer 
till  day  appeared.  All  their  inward  temptations  and 
thoughts  they  discovered  to  their  superior.  Their  cloth- 
ing was  of  the  skins  of  beasts.  Whosoever  desired  to 
be  admitted  into  their  holy  convocation  was  obliged  to 
remain  ten  days  at  the  door  of  the  monastery  as  an 
offcast,  unworthy  to  be  admitted  into  their  society,  and 
there  he  was  exposed  to  be  scorned  ;  but  if,  during 
that  time,  he  patiently  endured  that  mortification,  he 
was  received  by  the  religious  senior  who  had  charge  of 
the  gate,  whom  he  served,  and  was  by  him  instructed. 
In  that  condition  he  continued  a  long  time,  exercised 
in  painful  labours,  and  grievous  mortifications,  and  at 
last  was   admitted   to  the   fellowship   of  the  brethren. 


Fors  Clavigera.  285 

"  This  monastery  appears  to  have  been  founded  by 
St.  David,  some  time  after  the  famous  British  synod 
assembled  in  the  year  519,  for  crushing  of  the  Pelagian 
heresy,  which  began  again  to  spread  after  it  had  been 
once  before  extinguished  by  St.  Germanus,  Bishop  of 
Auxerre,  and  St.  Lupus,  Bishop  of  Troyes.  This 
monastery  is  not  taken  notice  of  in  the  Monasticon, 
any  more  than  the  other  two  above,  and  for  the  same 
reason,  as  not  coming  within  any  of  the  orders  after- 
wards known  in  England,  and  having  had  but  a  short 
continuance  ;  for  what  became  of  it,  or  when  it  finished, 
is  not  known." 

I  chanced  on  this  passage  in  the  second  volume  of 
Dugdale's  '  Monasticon,'  as  I  was  choosing  editions  of 
it  at  Mr.  Ouaritch's,  on  one  of  the  curious  days  which 
I  suppose  most  people  recognize  as  ■  white '  among  the 
many-coloured  ones  of  their  lives  ;  that  is  to  say,  the 
days  when  everything  goes  well,  by  no  management  of 
their  own.  About  the  same  time  I  received  the  following 
letter  from  a  very  old  and  dear  friend  : — 

"In  an  old  'Fors'  you  ask  for  information  about 
Nanterre.  If  you  have  not  had  it  already,  here  is 
some.  As  you  know,  it  is  in  the  plain  between 
Paris,  Sevres,  and  Versailles — a  station  on  the  Versailles 
line  ;  a  little  station,  at  which  few  persons  '  descend,' 
and  fewer  still  ascend  ;  the  ladies  of  the  still  some- 
what    primitive     and     rather    ugly     little    village     being 


286  Fors  Clavigera. 

chiefly  laundresses,  and  preferring,  as  I  should  in  their 
place,  to  go  to  Paris  in  their  own  carts  with  the  clean 
linen.  Nanterre  has,  however,  two  notable  transactions 
in  its  community.  It  makes  cakes,  sold  in  Paris  as 
1  Gateaux  de  Nanterre,'  and  dear  to  childhood's  souk 
And — now  prick  up  your  ears — it  yearly  elects  a 
Rosiere.  Not  a  high-falutin'  aesthetic,  self-conscious 
product,  forced,  and  in  an  unsuitable  sphere  ;  but  a  real 
Rosiere — a  peasant  girl,  not  chosen  for  beauty,  or 
reading  or  writing,  neither  of  which  she  may  possibly 
possess  ;  but  one  who  has  in  some  signal,  but  simple, 
unself-conscious  way  done  her  duty  in  the  state  of  life 
unto  which  it  has  pleased  God  to  call  her, — done  it  in 
the  open,  fresh  air,  and  under  the  bright  sun,  in  the 
1  fierce  white  light '  of  village  public  opinion ;  who  is 
known  to  young  and  old,  and  has  been  known  all 
her  life. 

"She  is  crowned  with  roses  in  May,  and  has  a  portion 
of  rather  more  than  1,000  francs.  She  is  expected 
soon  to  marry,  and  carry  on  into,  the  higher  functions 
of  wife  and   mother  the  promise  of  her  maidenhood." 

And  with  this  letter  came  another,  from  Francesca,. 
giving  me  this  following  account  of  her  servant 
Edwige's  *   native  village. 

"  I  have  been  asking  her  about  '  Le  Rose  ; '  she  says 
it  is  such  a  pretty  place,   and   the   road   has  a  hedge   of 

*  See  '  Roadside  Songs  of  Tuscany,'  No.  II.,  p.k8o. 


Fors  Clavigera.  287 

beautiful  roses  on   each   side,  and   there  are   roses   about 

all  the  houses But  now   I   can  hardly  finish  my 

letter,  for  since  she  has  begun  she  cannot  stop  running 
on  about  her  birthplace,  and  I  am  writing  in  the  midst 
of  a  long  discourse  about  the  chestnut-trees,  and  the  high 
wooded  hill,  with  the  chapel  of  the  Madonna  at  its 
summit,  and  the  stream  of  clear  water  where  she  used 
to  wash  clothes,  and  I  know  not  what  else !  She  has 
a  very  affectionate  recollection  of  her  childhood,  poor 
as  it  was  ;  and  I  do  think  that  the  beautiful  country 
in  which  she  grew  up  gave  a  sort  of  brightness  to  her 
life.  I  am  very  thankful  that  her  story  is  going  to  be 
printed,  for  it  has  been  a  help  to  me,  and  will  be,  I 
think,  to  others." 

Yes,  a  help,  and  better  than  that,  a  light, — as  also  this 
that  follows,  being  an  account  just  sent  me  by  Francesca, 
of  a  Rosy  Vale  in  Italy,  rejoicing  round  its  Living  Rose. 

The  Mother  of  the  Orphans. 

"  In  the  beautiful  city  of  Bassano,  on  the  Brenta,  between 
the  mountains  and  the  plain,  Signora  Maria  Zanchetta 
has  passed  the  eighty-five  years  of  her  busy,  happy,  and 
useful  life,  bringing  a  blessing  to  all  who  have  come 
near  her,  first  in  her  own  family,  and  afterwards,  for  the 
last  forty-five  years,  to  one  generation  after  another  of 
poor  orphan  girls,  to  whom  she  has  been  more  than  a 
mother.      She  always  had,  from  childhood,  as  she  herself 


288  Fors  Clavigera. 

told  me,  a  wish  to  enter  a  religious  life,  and  her  voca- 
tion seems  to  have  been  rather  for  the  active  than  for 
the  contemplative  side  of  such  a  life.  She  belongs 
to  an  honourable  family  of  Bassano,  and  appears  to 
have  had  an  especial  love  and  reverence  for  her  parents, 
whom  she  would  never  leave  as  long  as  they  lived. 
After  their  death  she  continued  to  live  with  an  invalid 
sister,  Paola,  whom  she  remembers  always  with  great 
tenderness,  and  who  is  spoken  of  still,  by  those  who 
knew   her,    as    something  very   near  a  saint. 

"  I  have  often  wondered  how  much  of  Signora  Maria's 
sweet  and  beautiful  Christian  spirit,  which  has  brought 
comfort  into  hundreds  of  lives,  may  be  owing  to  the 
influence  of  the  saintly  elder  sister,  whose  helpless  con- 
dition must  have  made  her  seem,  to  herself  and  others, 
comparatively  useless  in  the  world,  but  who  lived  always 
so  very  near  to  heaven  !  After  Paola  died,  Maria,  being 
no  longer  needed  at  home,  resolved  to.  give  herself  entirely 
to  some  charitable  work,  and  her  mind  turned  to  the 
Girls'  Orphan  Asylum,  close  to  her  own  house.  Her 
brother  and  other  relations  would  have  preferred  that 
she  should  have  become  a  nun  in  one  of  those  convents 
where  girls  of  noble  families  are  sent  for  education,  con- 
sidering that  such  a  life  was  more  honourable,*  and  better 
suited   to   her  condition.      She   told   me  this  part  of  her 

*  Let  me  earnestly  pray  the  descendants  of  old  Catholic  families  to  think 
how  constantly  their  pride,  the  primary  mortal  sin,  has  been  the  ruin  of  all 
they  had  most  confidently  founded  it  on,  and  all  they  strove  to  build  on 
such  foundation. 


Fors  Clavigera.  289 

story  herself,  and  added,  '  In  the  convent  I  should  have 
been  paid  for  my  work,  but  I  wanted  to  serve  the  Lord 
without  recompense  in  this  world,  and  so  I  came  here 
to  the  orphans.'  There  she  has  lived  ever  since,  wear- 
ing the  same  dress  as  the  poor  girls*  living  their  life, 
entering  into  all  their  pleasures,  and  troubles  ;  overseeing 
the  washing,  giving  a  hand  to  the  mending,  leading  a 
humble,  laborious  life,  full,  one  would  think,  of  weari- 
some cares  and  burdens.  A  mother's  burdens,  without 
a  mother's  instinct  to  support  them  ;  but  still,  if  one  may 
judge  by  her  face,  she  has  lived  in  perpetual  sunshine. 
And  how  young  she  looks  still  !  She  must  have  been 
a  delicate  blonde  beauty  in  her  youth,  and  she  still 
retains  a  complexion  like  a  sweet-briar  rose,  and  her 
kind  blue  eyes  are  as  clear  and  peaceful  as  an  infant's. 
Her  hair,  still  abundant  as  in  youth,  is  quite  white,  and 
yet  not  like  snow,  unless  it  be  snow  with  the  evening 
sunshine  upon  it  ;  one  sees  in  a  moment  that  it  has 
once  been  golden,  and  it  is  finer  than  anything  that  I 
ever  saw,  excepting  thistledown.  Her  dress  is  of  the 
poorest  and  plainest,  and  yet  I  cannot  feel  that  she 
would  be  more  beautiful  in  any  other.  A  blue  cotton 
dress,   and   cap    of    the    same,    with    a    handkerchief   and 

*  The  good  Superiora's  example,  comparing  what  we  are  told  of  the  dress 
of  the  girls  themselves  at  page  301,  may  well  take  the  place  of  all  I  had 
to  say  in  this  last  Fors,  about  dress,  summed  in  the  simple  advice  to  all 
women  of  rank  and  wealth, — Till  you  can  dress  your  poor  beautifully,  dres.s 
yourselves  plainly  ;  till  you  can  feed  all  your  poor  healthily,  live  yourselves 
like  the  monks  of  Vallis  Rosina,   and  the  message  of  Fors  is  ended. 


290  Fors  Clavigera. 

apron,  such  as  are  worn  by  the  contadine,  nothing  else  ; 
but  all  arranged  with  scrupulous  neatness.  There  is 
nothing  monastic  in  the  dress,  nor  in  the  life.  Signora 
Maria  is  free  to  stay  or  go  as  she  will  ;  she  is  bound 
by  no  vow,  belongs  to  no  order  ;  there  has  been  nothing 
but  the  love  of  God,  and  of  the  poor  children,  to  hold 
her  to  her  place  all  these  long  years.  She  has  some 
property,  but  she  leaves  the  use  of  it  to  her  family, 
taking  for  herself  only  just  what  is  sufficient  for  her 
own  maintenance  in  the  asylum,  that  she  may  not  take 
anything  from  the  orphans.  I  had  long  wished  to  know 
this  good  Signora  Maria,  and  finally,  last  May,  I  had 
the  great  pleasure  of  seeing  her.  I  had  sent  to  ask  at 
what  hour  she  could  see  me,  to  which  she  replied,  '  Any 
time  after  six  in  the  morning,'  which  I  thought  was 
pretty  well   for  eighty-five  ! 

"  When,  the  next  morning,  I  went  with  Edwige  to  the 
orphan  asylum,  and  we  entered  the  very  modest  little 
bottega,  as  they  call  it,  with  its  low  ceiling  and  counter, 
where  they  sell  artificial  flowers,  and  certain  simple 
medicines  of  their  own  preparing,  in  which  the  Bassano 
people  have  great  faith  ;  and  where  also  they  receive 
orders  for  ornamental  laundry-work,  and  for  embroidery 
of  a  religious  description,* — when,  as  I  was  saying,  we 
entered  this  room,  half-a-dozen  elderly  women  were 
standing  talking  together,  all   in   the  same  old-fashioned 

*  I  should  be  inclined  considerably  to  modify  these  directions  of  industry, 
in  the  organization  of  similar  institutions  here. 


Fors  Clavigera.  291 

blue  dresses.  I  asked  if  I  could  see  the  superiora,  at 
which  this  very  pretty  and  young-looking  lady  came 
forward  ;  and  I,  not  dreaming  that  she  could  be  the 
aged  saint  for  whom  I  was  looking,  repeated  my 
question.  '  A  servirla  ! '  she  replied.  I  was  obliged  to 
explain  the  astonishment,  which  I  could  not  conceal, 
by  saying,  that  I  had  expected  to  see  a  much  older 
Jady.  '  I  am  old,'  she  answered,  '  but  I  have  good 
health,  thank  the  Lord  ! '  And  then  she  led  us  through 
the  room  where  a  number  of  girls  were  doing  the 
peculiar  laundry-work  of  which  I  have  spoken, — one 
•cannot  call  it  ironing,  for  no  iron  is  used  about  it  ;* 
but  with  their  fingers,  and  a  fine  stick  kept  for  the 
purpose,  they  work  the  starched  linen  into  all  kinds  of 
delicate  patterns.  They  all  rose  and  bowed  politely  as 
we  passed,  and  then  the  old  lady  preceded  us  up  the 
stone  staircase  (which  she  mounted  so  rapidly  that  she 
left  us  some  way  behind  her),  and  conducted  us  to  a 
pleasant  upper  chamber,  where  we  all  sat  down  together. 
On  this  day,  and  on  those  following  when  I  was  taking 
her  portrait,  I  gathered  many  particulars  of  her  own  life, 
and  also  about  the  institution,  which  I  must  write  down 
one  by  one  as  I  can  remember  them,  for  I  find  it 
impossible  to  arrange  them  in  any  order.  She  told  me 
that    they   were   in   all  seventy-five,   between  women  and 

*  I  italicize  here  and  there  a  sentence  that  might  otherwise  escape  notice 
I  might  italicize  the  whole  text,  if  I  could  so  express  my  sympathy  with 
:all  it  relates. 


292  Fors  Clavigera. 

girls.  Every  girl  taken  into  the  institution  has  a  right 
to  a  home  in  it  for  life,  if  she  will  ;  and  many  never 
choose  to  leave  it,  or  if  they  do  leave  it  they  return  to 
it  ;  but  others  have  married,  or  gone  to  service,  or  to 
live  with  their  relations.  Once,  many  years  ago,  she 
had  seven  little  slave  girls,  put  temporarily  under  her 
care  by  a  good  missionary  who  had  bought  them  in 
Africa.  She  seems  to  have  a  peculiar  tenderness  in 
her  remembrance  of  the  poor  little  unbaptized  savages. 
'  The  others  call  me  Superiora,'  she  said,  '  but  they 
used  to  call  me  Mamma  Maria.'  And  her  voice  softened 
to  more  than  its  usual  gentleness  as  she  said  those 
words. 

"  And  now  I  must  leave  the  dear  old  lady  for  a 
moment,  to  repeat  what  Silvia  told  me  once  about  those 
same  little  slave  girls.  It  was  a  warm  summer's  evening, 
and  Silvia  and  I  were  sitting,  as  we  often  do,  on  the  broad 
stone  steps  of  the  Rezzonico  Palace,  between  the  two 
immense  old  stone  lions  that  guard  the  door  ;  and  watch- 
ing the  sunset  behind  the  mountains.  And  Silvia  was 
telling  me  how,  when  she  was  a  very  small  child,  those 
little  African  girls  were  brought  to  the  house,  and  what 
wild  black  faces  they  had,  and  what  brilliant  eyes.  As 
they  were  running  about  the  wide  lawn  behind  Palazzo 
Rezzonico  (which  stands  in  a  retired  country  place  about 
a  mile  from  the  city),  they  caught  sight  of  those  stone 
lions  by  the  door,  and  immediately  pressed  about  them,, 
and   fell   to    embracing  them,    as    if  they  had   been  dear 


Fors  Clavigera.  293 

friends,  and  covered  them  with  tears  and  kisses  ;  *  and 
Silvia  thought  that  they  were  thinking  of  their  own 
country,  and  perhaps  of  lions  which  they  had  seen  in 
their  African  deserts.  I  asked  Signora  Maria  if  she  knew 
what  had  become  of  those  poor  girls.  She  said  that  she 
had  heard  that  two  of  them  afterwards  entered  a  convent  ; 
but  she  had  lost  sight  of  them  all  for  many  years  ;  and, 
indeed,  they  had  only  remained  in  Bassano  for  five  months. 
"  While  I  was  drawing  the  old  lady's  portrait,  a  tall, 
strong,  very  pleasant-looking  woman  of  fifty  or  so 
came  in  and  stood  beside  me.  She  wore  the  same 
dress  as  the  Superiora,  excepting  that  she  had  no  cap, 
nor  other  covering  for  her  wavy  black  hair,  which  was 
elaborately  braided,  and  knotted  up  behind,  in  the 
fashion  commonly  followed  by  the  contadine  in  this 
part  of  the  country.  She  had  very  bright  eyes,  in 
which  a  smile  seemed  to  have  taken  up  its  permanent 
abode,  even  when  the  rest  of  her  face  was  serious.  Her 
voice  was  soft, — there  seems  to  be  something  in  the 
atmosphere  of  that  orphanage  which  makes  everybody's 
voice  soft ! — but  her  movements  were  rapid  and  ener- 
getic, and  she  evidently  had  a  supply  of  vigour  and 
spirit  sufficient  for  half-a-dozen,  at  least,  of  average 
women.  She  was  extremely  interested  in  the  progress 
of  the   picture,    (which   she  said   was    as    much    like   the 

*  This  is  to  me  the  most  lovely  and  the  most  instructive  fact  I  ever  heard,  in 
its  witness  to  the  relations  that  exist  between  man  and  the  inferior  intelligences 
of  creation. 


294  •  Fors  Clavigera. 

Superiora  as  anything  could  be  that  was  sitting  still), 
but  it  was  rather  a  grievance  to  her  that  the  old 
lady  would  be  taken  in  her  homely  dress.  '  Come 
now,  you  might  wear  that  other  cap  ! '  she  said, 
bending  over  the  little  fair  Superiora,  putting  her 
strong  arm  very  softly  around  her  neck,  and  speaking 
coaxingly  as  if  to  a  baby  ;  then  looking  at  me  :  '  She 
has  such  a  pretty  cap,  that  I  made  up  for  her  myself, 
and  she  will  not  wear  it  !  '  '  I  wear  it  when  I  go 
out,'  said  Signora  Maria,  'but  I  would  rather  have 
my  likeness  in  the  dress  that  I  always  wear  at  home.' 
I,  too,  said  that  I '  would  rather  draw  her  just  as  she 
was.  '  I  suppose  you  are  right/  said  the  younger 
woman,  regretfully,  '  but  she  is  so  much  prettier  in 
that  cap  !  '  I  thought  her  quite  pretty  enough  in  the 
old  blue  cap,  and  kept  on  with  my  work.  Meanwhile 
I  asked  some  questions  about  the  institution.  Signora 
Maria  said  that  it  was  founded  in  the  last  century  by 
a  good  priest,  D.  Giorgio  Pirani,  and  afterwards  farther 
endowed  by  D.  Marco  Cremona,  whom  she  had  herself 
known  in  his  old  age.  How  old  this  D.  Marco  was 
she  could  not  remember  ;  a  cast  of  his  face,  which 
she  afterwards  showed  me,  and  which  she  told  me  was 
taken  after  his  death,  represented  a  very  handsome, 
benevolent-looking  man,  of  about  seventy,  but  I  imagine 
(judging  from  the  rest  of  the  conversation)  that  he 
must  have  been  much  older.  She  told  me  that  the 
founder,   D.    Giorgio,    having  inherited   considerable  pro- 


Fors  Clavigera.  %  295 

perty,  and  having  no  relations  that  needed  it,  had 
bought  the  land  and  three  or  four  houses,  which  he 
had  thrown  into  one  ;  and  had  given  it  all  for  poor 
orphan   girls   of   Bassano. 

"The  place  accommodates  seventy-five  girls  and  women, 
and  is  always  full.  Thirty  centimes  a  day  are  allowed 
for  the  maintenance  of  each  girl,  and  were  probably 
sufficient  in  D.  Giorgio's  time,  but  times  have  changed 
since  then.  However,  they  do  various  kinds  of  work, 
principally  of  a  religious  or  ecclesiastical  nature,  making 
priests'  dresses,  or  artificial  flowers  for  the  altar,  or 
wafers  to  be  used  at  the  communion  ;  besides  sewing, 
knitting,  and  embroidery  of  all  kinds  ;  and  the  women 
work  for  the  children,  and  the  whole  seventy- five  live 
together  in  one  affectionate  and  united  family.  The  old 
lady  seemed  very  fond  of  her  '  tose,'  as  she  calls  the 
girls,  and  said  that  they  also  loved  her, — which  I 
should  think  they  would,  for  a  more  entirely  loveable 
woman   it  would  be  hard   to   find. 

"  She  has  the  delightful  manners  of  an  old-fashioned 
Venetian,  full  of  grace,  sweetness,  and  vivacity,  and 
would  think  that  she  failed  in  one  of  the  first  Christian 
duties  if  she  did  not  observe  all  the  laws  of  politeness. 
She  never  once  failed,  during  our  rather  frequent  visits  at 
the  institution,  to  come  downstairs  to  meet  us,  receiving 
me  always  at  the  outside  door  with  a  kiss  on  both 
cheeks  ;  and  when  we  came  away  she  would  accompany 
us   into   the   cortile,    and  stand  there,   taking   leave,    with 


296  ,  Fors  Clavigera. 

the  sun  on  her  white  hair.  When,  however,  she  found 
this  last  attention  made  me  rather  uncomfortable,  she 
desisted  ;  for  her  politeness  being  rather  of  the  heart 
than  of  etiquette,  she  never  fails  in  comprehending 
and   considering  the   feelings   of  those   about   her. 

"But  to  return  to  our  conversation.  The  woman 
with  the  black,  wavy  hair,  whose  name  was,  as  I  found 
out,  Annetta,  remarked,  with  regard  to  the  good  Don 
Giorgio  Pirani,  that  '  he  died  so  young,  poor  man  !  ' 
As  it  seemed  he  had  accomplished  a  good  deal  in  his 
life,  I  was  rather  surprised,  and  asked,  '  How  young  ? ' 
To  which  she  replied,  in  a  tone  of  deep  compassion, 
i  Only  seventy-five,  poor  man  !  But  then  he  had  worn 
himself  out  with  the  care  of  the  institution,  and  he  had 
a  great  deal  of  trouble.'  Annetta  calculated  age  in  the 
Bassano  fashion  ;  in  this  healthy  air,  and  with  the 
tisually  simple  habits  of  life  of  the  people,  longevity  is 
the  rule,  and  not  the  exception.  The  portrait  of  Don 
Giorgio's  mother  hangs  beside  his  in  the  refectory, 
with  an  inscription  stating  that  it  was  painted  '  in  the 
year  of  her  age  eighty-nine  '  ;  also  that  her  name  was 
Daciana  Pirani,  and  that  she  assisted  her  two  sons, 
Giorgio  and  Santi,  in  their  charitable  work  for  the 
orphans.  The  picture  itself  bears  the  date  1774,  and 
represents  a  fresh-coloured,  erect,  very  pleasant-looking 
lady,  with  bright,  black  eyes,  very  plainly  dressed  in  a 
long-waisted  brown  gown  and  blue  apron,  with  a  little 
dark-coloured  cap,  which  time  has  rendered  so  indistinct 


Fors  Clavigera.  297 

that  I  cannot  quite  make  out  the  fashion  of  it.  A  plain 
handkerchief,  apparently  of  fine  white  linen,  is  folded 
over  her  bosom,  and  her  arms  are  bare  to  the  elbows, 
with  a  fine  Venetian  gold  chain  wound  several  times 
around  one  of  them, — her  only  ornament,  excepting  her 
little  round  earrings.  She  is  .standing  by  a  table,  on 
which  are  her  crucifix,  prayer-book,  and  rosary.  The 
Superiora  told  me  that  when  Don  Giorgio  was  engaged 
in  building  and  fitting  up  his  asylum,  sometimes  at  the 
table  his  mother  would  observe  that  he  was  absent  and 
low-spirited,  and  had  little  appetite,  at  which  she  would 
ask  him  anxiously,  '  What  ails  you,  my  son  ? '  and  he 
would  reply,  '  I  have  no  more  money  for  my  workmen.' 
At  this  she  always  said,  '  Oh,  if  that  is  all,  do  not  be 
troubled  !  I  will  see  to  it!'  And,  rising  from  the  table, 
she  would  leave  the  room,  to  return  in  a  few  minutes 
with  a  handful  of  money,  sufficient  for  the  immediate 
expenses.  Don  Giorgio  himself  must  have  had,  if  his 
portrait  tells  the  truth,  a  singularly  kind,  sensible,  and 
cheerful  face,  with  more  regular  beauty  than  Don  Marco 
Cremona,  but  less  imposing,  with  dark  eyes  and  white 
curling  hair.  Of  Santi  Pirani  I  could  learn  nothing, 
excepting  that  he  was  a  priest,  an  excellent  man,  and 
his  brother's  helper. 

"But  to  return  to  what  I  was  saying  about  the  Bassano 
fashion  of  reckoning  age.  It  is  not  long  since  a  Bassano 
gentleman,  himself  quite  a  wonderful  picture  of  vigorous 
health,  was   complaining  to    me   that   the   health   of  the 


Fors  Clavigera. 


cb 


city  was  not  what  it  used  to  be.  '  Indeed,'  he  said, 
with  the  air  of  one  bringing  forward  an  unanswerable 
proof  of  his  assertion,  '  at  this  present  time,  among  all 
my  acquaintances,  I  know  only  one  man  past  a  hundred  I 
My  father  knew  several  ;  but  now  they  all  seem  to  drop 
off  between  eighty  and  ninety.'  And  he  shook  his  head 
sadly.  I  asked  some  questions  about  his  centenarian 
friend,  and  was  told  that  he  was  a  poor  man,  and  lived, 
on  charity.  '  We  all  give  to  him,'  he  said  ;  '  he  always- 
worked  as  long  as  he  could,  and  at  his  age  we  do  not 
think  it  ought  to  be  expected  of  him.' 

"  As  nearly  as  I  can  understand,  people  here  begin  to 
be  considered  elderly  when  they  are  about  eighty,  but 
those  who  die  before  ninety  are  thought  to  have  died 
untimely.  Signora  Maria's  family  had  an  old  servant, 
by  name  Bartolo  Mosca,  who  lived  with  them  for  seventy- 
two  years.  He  entered  their  service  at  fourteen,  and  left 
it  (for  a  better  world,  I  hope)  at  eighty-six.  He  was 
quite  feeble  for  some  time  before  he  died,  and  his  master 
kept  a  servant  expressly  to  wait  upon  him.  A  woman 
servant,  Maria  Cometa,  died  in  their  house  of  nearly  the 
same   age,  having  passed  all  her  life  in  their  service. 

"  I  was  much  interested  in  observing  Annetta's  be- 
haviour to  her  Superiora  ;  it  was  half  reverential,  half 
caressing.  I  could  hardly  tell  whether  she  considered 
the  old  lady  as  a  patron  saint  or  a  pet  child.  Anxious 
to  know  what  was  the  tie  between  them,  I  asked 
Annetta  how  long  she  had  been  in   the  place.      She  did 


Fors  Clavigera.  299 

a  little  cyphering  on  her  fingers,  and  then  said,  '  Forty 
years.'  In  answer  to  other  questions,  she  told  me  that 
her  father  and  mother  had  both  died  within  a  few  weeks 
of  each  other,  when  she  was  a  small  child,  the  youngest 
of  seven  ;  and  her  uncle,  finding  himself  left  with  the 
burden  of  so  large  a  family  on  his  shoulders,  had  thought 
well  to  relieve  himself  in  part  by  putting  the  smallest 
and  most  helpless  '  with  the  orphans.'  (  She  has  been 
my  mother  ever  since/  she  said,  dropping  her  voice,  and 
laying  her  hand  on  the  little  old  lady's  shoulder.  She 
added  that  some  of  her  brothers  had  come  on  in  the 
world,  and  had  wished  to  take  her  home,  and  that  she 
had  gone  at  various  times  and  stayed  in  their  families, 
but  that  she  had  always  come  back  to  her  place  in  the 
institution,  because  she  could  never  be  happy,  for  any 
length  of  time,  anywhere  else.  I  asked  if  the  girls  whom 
they  took  in  were  generally  good,  and  repaid  their  kind- 
ness as  they  should  do,  to  which  the  old  lady  replied, 
1  Many  of  them  do,  and  are  a  great  comfort  ;  but  others 
give  us  much  trouble.  What  can  we  do  ?  We  must 
have  patience  ;  we  are  here  on  purpose.'  '  Besides,' 
said  Annetta,  cheerfully,  '  it  would  never  do  for  us  to 
have  all  our  reward  in  this  world  ;  if  we  did,  we  could 
not  expect  any  on  the  other  side.' 

"  The  Superiora  told  me  many  interesting  stories  about 
the  institution,  and  of  the  bequests  that  had  been  left  to  it 
by  various  Bassano  families,  of  which  the  most  valuable 
appeared  to  be  sonie  land  in  the  country  with  one  or  two 

2ND   SERIES.]  "2Q 


300  Fors  Clavigera. 

contadine  houses,  where  the  girls  are  sent  occasionally  to 
pass  a  day  in  the  open  air  and  enjoy  themselves.      Many 
families  had  bequeathed  furniture  and  pictures  to  the  insti- 
tution, so  that  one  sees  everywhere  massive  nutwood  chairs 
and  tables,  carved  and  inlaid,  all  of  old  republican*  times. 
One  picture,  of  which  I  do  not  recollect  the  date,  but  it 
is  about  two  hundred  years  old,  I  should  think,  represents 
a  young  lady  with   fair  curls,    magnificently   dressed   in 
brocade  and  jewels,  by  name  Maddalena    Bernardi,  who 
looks  always  as  if  wondering  at  the  simple  unworldliness 
of  the  life  about  her  ;  and  beside  her  hangs  the  last  of 
her  race  (her  son,  I   suppose,  for  he  is  much  like  her  in 
feature  ;    but   no    one    knows    now),    a    poor   Franciscan 
frate,  '  Who  did  a  great   deal  for   the   orphans,'   Signora 
Maria  says.      Next  to  the  frate,  between  him   and    good 
Don    Giorgio,    she    showed    me   a   Venetian    senator,    all 
robe    and    wig,    with    a    face   like   nobody   in   particular, 
scarlet  drapery  tossed  about  in    confusion,   and   a    back- 
ground of  very  black  thunder-clouds.       '  This  picture,'  she 
said,  'was  left  us  by  the  Doge  Erizzo,  and  represents  one 
of   his  family.      He  left  us  also  a  hundred  and    twenty 
staia  of  Indian  corn  and  two  barrels  of  wine  yearly,  and 
we  still  continue  to  receive  them.'      She  showed  me  also 
a  room  where  the  floor  was  quite  covered  with  heaps  of 
corn,   saying,    '  I   send   it  to    be   ground   as  we   need    it ; 
but  it  will  not  last  long,  there  are  so  many  mouths !  ' 

*  Old  stately  times,  Francesca    means,    when   Bassano   and    Castelfranco, 
Padua  and  Verona,  were  all  as  the  sisters  of  Venice. 


Fors  Clavigera.  301 

"  During  the  many  days  that  I  visited  Signora  Maria, 
I  noticed  several  things  which  seemed  to  me  different 
from  other  orphan  asylums  which  I  have  seen.  To  be 
sure  I  have  not  seen  a  great  many  ;  but  from  what 
little  I  have  been  able  to  observe,  I  have  taken  an  im- 
pression that  orphan  girls  usually  have  their  hair  cut 
close  to  their  heads,  and  wear  the  very  ugliest  clothes 
that  can  possibly  be  obtained,  and  that  their  clothes  are 
made  so  as  to  fit  no  one  in  particular.  Also  I  think 
that  they  are  apt  to  look  dull  and  dispirited,  with  a 
general  effect  of  being  educated  by  machinery,  which  is 
not  pleasant.  Signora  Maria's  little  girls,  on  the  con- 
trary, are  made  to  look  as  pretty  as  is  possible  in  the 
poor  clothes,  which  are  the  best  that  can  be  afforded 
for  them.  Their  cotton  handkerchiefs  are  of  the  gayest 
patterns,  their  hair  is  arranged  becomingly,  so  as  to 
make  the  most  of  the  light  curls  of  one,  or  the  heavy 
braids  of  another,  and  most  of  them  wear  little  gold 
earrings.  And  if  one  speaks  to  them,  they  answer  with 
a  pleasant  smile,  and  do  not  seem  frightened.  I  do 
not  think  that  the  dear  old  lady  keeps  them  under  an 
iron  rule,  by  any  means.  Another  thing  which  I  noticed 
was  that  while  many  of  the  younger  children,  who  had 
been  but  a  little  while  in  the  place,  looked  rather  sickly, 
and  showed  still  the  marks  of  poverty  and  neglect,  the 
older  girls,  who  had  been  there  for  several  years,  had, 
almost  without  exception,  an  appearance  of  vigorous 
health.      It  was   my   good   fortune   to  be  there   once  on 


302  Fors  Clavigera. 

washing-day,  when  a  number  of  girls,  apparently  from 
fifteen  to  twenty  years  old,  bare-armed  (and  some  of 
them  bare-footed),  were  hanging  out  clothes  to  dry  in 
the  cortile ;  and  such  a  picture  of  health  and  beauty 
I  have  seldom  seen,  nor  such  light,  strong,  rapid  move- 
ments,  nor   such    evident   enjoyment  of  their  work. 

"  Next  to  the  room  where  I  did  most  of  my  work  was 
a  long  narrow  room  where  many  of  the  women  and 
elder  girls  used  to  work  together.  An  inscription  in 
large  black  letters  hung  on  the  wall,  '  Silentium.'  I 
suppose  it  must  have  been  put  there  with  an  idea  of 
giving  an  orderly  conventual  air  to  the  place  ;  perhaps  it 
may  have  served  that  purpose,  it  certainly  did  no  other  ! 
The  door  was  open  between  us,  and  the  lively  talking 
that  went  on  in  that  room  was  incessant.  Once  the  old 
lady  by  my  side  called  to  them,  '  Tose  ! '  and  I  thought 
that  she  was  calling  them  to  order,  but  it  proved  that  she 
only  wanted  to  have  a  share  in  the  conversation.  When 
not  sitting  for  her  portrait  she  used  to  sew  or  knit,  as 
she  sat  beside  me.  She  could  do  beautiful  mending, 
and  never  wore  spectacles.  She  told  me  that  she  had 
worn  them  until  a  few  years  before,  when  her  sight  had 
come  back  quite  strong  as  in  yojttJi. 

"  But  I  must  allow,  in  speaking  of  my  friends  of 
the  orphan  asylum,  that  some  of  their  religious  obser- 
vances are  a  little  .  .  .  peculiar.  In  the  large  garden, 
on  the  side  where  Signora  Maria  has  her  flower  border 
('  We    cannot    afford    much    room    for  flowers,'    Annetta 


Fors  Clavigera.  303 

says,  '  but  they  are  the  delight  of  the  Superiora ! ') 
is  a  long  walk  under  a  canopy  of  grape-vines,  leading 
to  a  niche  where  stands,  under  the  thick  shade,  a  large 
wooden  Madonna  of  the  Immaculate  Conception.  She 
is  very  ugly,  and  but  a  poor  piece  of  carving  ;  a 
stout,  heavy  woman  in  impossible  drapery,  and  with 
no  expression  whatsoever.  The  seven  stars  (somewhat 
rusty  and  blackened  by  the  weather)  are  arranged 
on  a  rather  too  conspicuous  piece  of  wire  about  the 
head.  The  last  time  I  saw  her,  however,  she  had 
much  improved,  if  not  in  beauty  or  sanctity,  at  least 
in  cleanliness  of  appearance,  which  Annetta  accounted 
for  by  saying  complacently  :  ■  I  gave  her  a  coat  of 
white  paint  myself,  oil  paint ;  so  now  she  will  look 
well  for  a  long  time  to  come,  and  the  rain  will  not 
hurt  her.'  I  observed  that  some  one  had  placed  a 
rose  in  the  clumsy  wooden  hand,  and  that  her  ears 
were  ornamented  with  little  garnet  earrings.  Annetta 
said,  '  The  girls  put  together  a  few  soldi  and  bought  those 
earrings  for  the  Madonna.  They  are  very  cheap  ones, 
and  I  bored  the  holes  in  her  ears  myself  with  a  gimlet.' 
Before  this  Madonna  the  girls  go  on  summer  afternoons 
to  sing  the  litanies,  and  apparently  find  their  devotion 
in  no  way  disturbed  by  the  idea  of  Annetta's  tinkering. 
She  seems  to  do  pretty  much  all  the  carpentering  and 
repairing  that  are  wanted  about  the  establishment,  and 
is  just  as  well  pleased  to  '  restore '  the  Madonna  as 
anything  else,      I  was  very  sorry,  at   last,  when   the  time 


304  Fors  Clavigera. 

came  to  say  good-bye  to  the  peaceful  old  house  and 
its  inmates.  The  Superiora,  on  the  occasion  of  her  last 
sitting,  presented  me  with  a  very  pretty  specimen  of 
the  girls'  work — a  small  pin-cushion,  surrounded  with 
artificial  flowers,  and  surmounted  by  a  dove,  with 
spread  wings,  in  white  linen,  its  shape,  and  even 
feathers,  quite  wonderfully  represented  by  means  of 
the  peculiar  starching  process  which  I  have  tried  to 
describe.  I  can  only  hope  that  the  dear  old  lady  may 
be  spared  to  the  utmost  limit  of  life  in  Bassano,  which 
would  give  her  many  years  yet,  for  it  is  sad  to  think 
of  the  change  that  must  come  over  the  little  community 
when  she  is  taken  away.  She  is  still  the  life  of  the 
house  ;  her  influence  is  everywhere.  She  reminds  me 
always  of  the  beautiful  promise,  '  They  shall  yet  bear 
fruit  in  old  age.'  Once  I  was  expressing  to  her  my 
admiration  for  the  institution,  and  she  said,  'It  is  a 
happy  institution.'  And  so  it  is,  but  it  is  she  who  has 
made    it  so." 

This  lovely  history,  of  a  Jife  spent  in  the  garden  of 
God,  sums,  as  it  illumines,  all  that  I  have  tried  to 
teach  in  the  series  of  letters  which  I  now  feel  that 
it    is  time  to   close. 

The  "  Go  and  do  thou  likewise,"  which  every  kindly 
intelligent  spirit  cannot  but  hear  spoken  to  it,  in  each 
sentence  of  the  quiet  narrative,  is  of  more  searching 
and    all-embracing    urgency    than     any    appeal    I    have 


Fors  Clavioera.  305 

dared  to  make  in  my  own  writings.  Looking  back 
upon  my  efforts  for  the  last  twenty  years,  I  believe 
that  their  failure  has  been  in  very  great  part  owing 
to  my  compromise  with  the  infidelity  of  this  outer 
world,  and  my  endeavour  to  base  my  pleading  upon 
motives  of  ordinary  prudence  and  kindness,  instead  of 
on  the  primary  duty  of  loving  God, — foundation  other 
than  which  can  no  man  lay.  I  thought  myself 
speaking  to  a  crowd  which  could  only  be  influenced 
by  visible  utility ;  nor  was  I  the  least  aware  how 
many  entirely  good  and  holy  persons  were  living  in  the 
faith  and  love  of  God  as  vividly  and  practically 
now  as  ever  in  the  early  enthusiasm  of  Christendom, 
until,  chiefly  in  consequence  of  the  great  illnesses  which, 
for  some  time  after  1878,  forbade  my  accustomed  literary 
labour,  I  was  brought  into  closer  personal  relations 
with  the  friends  in  America,  Scotland,  Ireland,  and 
Italy,  to  whom,  if  I  am  spared  to  write  any  record 
of  my  life,  it  will  be  seen  that  I  owe  the  best  hopes 
and  highest  thoughts  which  have  supported  and  guided 
the  force  of  my  matured  mind.  These  have  shown 
me,  with  lovely  initiation,  in  how  many  secret  places 
the  prayer  was  made  which  I  had  foolishly  listened 
for  at  the  corners  of  the  streets  ;  and  on  how  many 
hills  which  I  had  thought  left  desolate,  the  hosts  of 
heaven    still    moved    in    chariots    of  fire. 

But   surely  the  time   is    come  when  all  these   faithful 
armies   should   lift  up  the  standard   of  their  Lord, — not 


306  Fors  Clavigera. 

by  might,  nor  by  power,  but  by  His  spirit,  bringing 
forth  judgment  unto  victory.  That  they  should  no 
more  be  hidden,  nor  overcome  of  evil,  but  overcome 
evil  with  good.  If  the  enemy  cometh  in  like  a  flood, 
how  much  more  may  the  rivers  of  Paradise  ?  Are 
there  not  fountains  of  the  great  deep  that  open  to 
bless,   not    destroy  ? 

And  the  beginning  of  blessing,  if  you  will  think  of 
it,  is  in  that  promise,  "  Great  shall  be  the  peace  of 
thy  children."  All  the  world  is  but  as  one  orphanage, 
so  long  as  its  children  know  not  God  their  Father  ; 
and  all  wisdom  and  knowledge  is  only  more  bewildered 
darkness,  so  long  as  you  have  not  taught  them  the 
fear  of  the   Lord. 

Not  to  be  taken  out  of  the  world  in  monastic 
sorrow,  but  to  be  kept  from  its  evil  in  shepherded 
peace  ; — ought  not  this  to  be  done  for  all  the  children 
held  at  the  fonts  beside  which  we  vow,  in  their  name, 
to  renounce  the  world  ?  Renounce !  nay,  ought  we 
not,   at  last,  to   redeem  ? 

The  story  of  Rosy  Vale  is  not  ended  ; — surely  out 
of  its  silence  the  mountains  and  the  hills  shall  break 
forth  into  singing,  and  round  it  the  desert  rejoice,  and 
blossom   as   the   rose ! 


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