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diff --git a/old/67544-0.txt b/old/67544-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d8da9bb..0000000 --- a/old/67544-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8300 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Fors Clavigera (Volume 4 of 8), by -John Ruskin - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Fors Clavigera (Volume 4 of 8) - Letters to the workmen and labourers of Great Britain - -Author: John Ruskin - -Release Date: March 2, 2022 [eBook #67544] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project - Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously - made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FORS CLAVIGERA (VOLUME 4 OF -8) *** - - - - - - FORS CLAVIGERA. - - LETTERS - - TO THE WORKMEN AND LABOURERS - OF GREAT BRITAIN. - - - BY - JOHN RUSKIN, LL.D., - HONORARY STUDENT OF CHRIST CHURCH, AND SLADE PROFESSOR OF FINE ART. - - - Vol. IV. - - - GEORGE ALLEN, - SUNNYSIDE, ORPINGTON, KENT. - 1874. - - - - - - - - -FORS CLAVIGERA. - -LETTER XXXVII. - - - 1st January, 1874 - - - “Selon la loy, et ly prophetes, - Qui a charité parfaicte - Il ayme Dieu sur toute rien - De cueur, de force, et d’ame nette; - Celui devons-nous tous de debte - Comme soy-mesmes, son prochain; - Qu’on dit qui in ayme, ayme mon chien. - De tel pierre, et de tel merrien - Est ès cieulx nostre maison faicte - Car nulz ne peut dire, ‘c’est mien,’ - Fors ce qu’il a mis en ce bien; - Tout le remenant est retraicte.” - - According to the Law and the Prophets, - He who has perfect charity, - Loves God above everything, - With heart, with flesh, and with spirit pure. - Him also, our neighbour, we are all in debt - To love as ourselves; - For one says, Who loves me, loves my dog. - Of such stone, and of such crossbeam, - Is in the heavens our house made; - For no one can say, ‘It is mine,’ - Beyond what he has put into that good, - All the rest is taken away. - - -One day last November, at Oxford, as I was going in at the private door -of the University galleries, to give a lecture on the Fine Arts in -Florence, I was hindered for a moment by a nice little girl, whipping a -top on the pavement. She was a very nice little girl; and rejoiced -wholly in her whip, and top; but could not inflict the reviving -chastisement with all the activity that was in her, because she had on -a large and dilapidated pair of woman’s shoes, which projected the full -length of her own little foot behind it and before; and being securely -fastened to her ancles in the manner of mocassins, admitted, indeed, of -dextrous glissades, and other modes of progress quite sufficient for -ordinary purposes; but not conveniently of all the evolutions proper to -the pursuit of a whipping-top. - -There were some worthy people at my lecture, and I think the lecture -was one of my best. It gave some really trustworthy information about -art in Florence six hundred years ago. But all the time I was speaking, -I knew that nothing spoken about art, either by myself or other people, -could be of the least use to anybody there. For their primary business, -and mine, was with art in Oxford, now; not with art in Florence, then; -and art in Oxford now was absolutely dependent on our power of solving -the question—which I knew that my audience would not even allow to be -proposed for solution—“Why have our little girls large shoes?” - -Indeed, my great difficulty, of late, whether in lecturing or writing, -is in the intensely practical and matter-of-fact character of my own -mind as opposed to the loquacious and speculative disposition, not only -of the British public, but of all my quondam friends. I am left utterly -stranded, and alone, in life, and thought. Life and knowledge, I ought -to say; for I have done what thinking was needful for me long ago, and -know enough to act upon, for the few days, or years, I may have yet to -live. I find some of my friends greatly agitated in mind, for instance, -about Responsibility, Free-will, and the like. I settled all those -matters for myself, before I was ten years old, by jumping up and down -an awkward turn of four steps in my nursery-stairs, and considering -whether it was likely that God knew whether I should jump only three, -or the whole four at a time. Having settled it in my mind that He knew -quite well, though I didn’t, which I should do; and also whether I -should fall or not in the course of the performance,—though I was -altogether responsible for taking care not to,—I never troubled my head -more on the matter, from that day to this. But my friends keep buzzing -and puzzling about it, as if they had to order the course of the world -themselves; and won’t attend to me for an instant, if I ask why little -girls have large shoes. - -I don’t suppose any man, with a tongue in his head, and zeal to use it, -was ever left so entirely unattended to, as he grew old, by his early -friends; and it is doubly and trebly strange to me, because I have lost -none of my power of sympathy with them. Some are chemists; and I am -always glad to hear of the last new thing in elements; some are -palæontologists, and I am no less happy to know of any lately unburied -beast peculiar in his bones; the lawyers and clergymen can always -interest me with any story out of their courts or parishes;—but not one -of them ever asks what I am about myself. If they chance to meet me in -the streets of Oxford, they ask whether I am staying there. When I say, -yes, they ask how I like it; and when I tell them I don’t like it at -all, and don’t think little girls should have large shoes, they tell me -I ought to read the ‘Cours de Philosophie Positive.’ As if a man who -had lived to be fifty-four, content with what philosophy was needful to -assure him that salt was savoury, and pepper hot, could ever be made -positive in his old age, in the impertinent manner of these youngsters. -But positive in a pertinent and practical manner, I have been, and -shall be, with such stern and steady wedge of fact and act as time may -let me drive into the gnarled blockheadism of the British mob. - -I am free to confess I did not quite know the sort of creature I had to -deal with, when I began, fifteen years ago, nor the quantity of -ingenious resistance to practical reform which could be offered by -theoretical reformers. Look, for instance, at this report of a speech -of Mr. Bright’s in the Times, on the subject of adulteration of food. -[1] - - - “The noble lord has taken great pains upon this question, and has - brought before the House a great amount of detail in connection - with it. As I listened to his observations I hoped and believed - that there was, though unintentional, no little exaggeration in - them. Although there may be particular cases in which great harm to - health and great fraud may possibly be shown, yet I think that - general statements of this kind, implicating to a large extent the - traders of this country, are dangerous, and are almost certain to - be unjust. Now, my hon. friend (Mr. Pochin) who has just addressed - the House in a speech showing his entire mastery of the question, - has confirmed my opinion, for he has shown—and I dare say he knows - as much of the matter as any present—that there is a great deal of - exaggeration in the opinions which have prevailed in many parts of - the country, and which have even been found to prevail upon the - matter in this House.... Now, I am prepared to show that the - exaggeration of the noble lord—I do not say intentionally, of - course; I am sure he is incapable of that—is just as great in the - matter of weights and measures as in that of adulteration. Probably - he is not aware that in the list of persons employing weights that - are inaccurate—I do not say fraudulent—no distinction is drawn - between those who are intentionally fraudulent and those who are - accidentally inaccurate, and that the penalty is precisely the - same, and the offence is just as eagerly detected, whether there be - a fraud or merely an accident. Now, the noble lord will probably be - surprised when I tell him that many persons are fined annually, not - because their weights are too small, but because they are too - large. In fact, when the weights are inaccurate, but are in favour - of the customer, still the owner and user of the weight is liable - to the penalty, and is fined.... My own impression with regard to - this adulteration is that it arises from the very great, and - perhaps inevitable, competition in business; and that to a great - extent it is promoted by the ignorance of customers. As the - ignorance of customers generally is diminishing, we may hope that - before long the adulteration of food may also diminish. The noble - lord appears to ask that something much more extensive and - stringent should be done by Parliament. The fact is, it is vain to - attempt by the power of Parliament to penetrate into and to track - out evils such as those on which the noble lord has dwelt at such - length. It is quite impossible that you should have the oversight - of the shops of the country by inspectors, and that you should have - persons going into shops to buy sugar, pickles, and Cayenne pepper, - to get them analyzed, and then raise complaints against - shopkeepers, and bring them before the magistrates. If men in their - private businesses were to be tracked by Government officers and - inspectors every hour of the day, life would not be worth having, - and I recommend them to remove to another country, where they would - not be subject to such annoyance.” - - -Now, I neither know, nor does it matter to the public, what Mr. Bright -actually said; but the report in the Times is the permanent and -universally influential form of his sayings: and observe what the -substance is, of these three or four hundred Parliamentary words, so -reported. - -First. That an evil which has been exaggerated ought not to be -prevented. - -Secondly. That at present we punish honest men as much as rogues; and -must always continue to do so if we punish anybody. - -Thirdly. That life would not be worth having if one’s weights and -measures were liable to inspection. - -I can assure Mr. Bright that people who know what life means, can -sustain the calamity of the inspection of their weights and measures -with fortitude. I myself keep a tea-and-sugar shop. I have had my -scales and weights inspected more than once or twice, and am not in the -least disposed to bid my native land good-night on that account. That I -could bid it nothing but good-night—never good-morning, the smoke of it -quenching the sun, and its parliamentary talk, of such quality as the -above, having become darkness voluble, and some of it worse even than -that, a mere watchman’s rattle, sprung by alarmed constituencies of -rascals when an honest man comes in sight,—these are things indeed -which should make any man’s life little worth having, unless he -separate himself from the scandalous crowd; but it must not be in exile -from his country. - -I have not hitherto stated, except in general terms, the design to -which these letters point, though it has been again and again defined, -and it seems to me explicitly enough—the highest possible education, -namely, of English men and women living by agriculture in their native -land. Indeed, during these three past years I have not hoped to do more -than make my readers feel what mischiefs they have to conquer. It is -time now to say more clearly what I want them to do. - -The substantial wealth of man consists in the earth he cultivates, with -its pleasant or serviceable animals and plants, and in the rightly -produced work of his own hands. I mean to buy, for the St. George’s -Company, the first pieces of ground offered to me at fair price, (when -the subscriptions enable me to give any price),—to put them as rapidly -as possible into order, and to settle upon them as many families as -they can support, of young and healthy persons, on the condition that -they do the best they can for their livelihood with their own hands, -and submit themselves and their children to the rules written for them. - -I do not care where the land is, nor of what quality. I would rather it -should be poor, for I want space more than food. I will make the best -of it that I can, at once, by wage-labour, under the best agricultural -advice. It is easy now to obtain good counsel, and many of our -landlords would willingly undertake such operations occasionally, but -for the fixed notion that every improvement of land should at once pay, -whereas the St. George’s Company is to be consistently monastic in its -principles of labour, and to work for the redemption of any desert -land, without other idea of gain than the certainty of future good to -others. I should best like a bit of marsh land of small value, which I -would trench into alternate ridge and canal, changing it all into solid -land, and deep water, to be farmed in fish. If, instead, I get a rocky -piece, I shall first arrange reservoirs for rain, then put what earth -is sprinkled on it into workable masses; and ascertaining, in either -case, how many mouths the gained spaces of ground will easily feed, put -upon them families chosen for me by old landlords, who know their -people, and can send me cheerful and honest ones, accustomed to obey -orders, and live in the fear of God. Whether the fear be Catholic, or -Church-of-England, or Presbyterian, I do not in the least care, so that -the family be capable of any kind of sincere devotion; and conscious of -the sacredness of order. If any young couples of the higher classes -choose to accept such rough life, I would rather have them for tenants -than any others. - -Tenants, I say, and at long lease, if they behave well: with power -eventually to purchase the piece of land they live on for themselves, -if they can save the price of it; the rent they pay, meanwhile, being -the tithe of the annual produce, to St. George’s fund. The modes of the -cultivation of the land are to be under the control of the overseer of -the whole estate, appointed by the Trustees of the fund; but the -tenants shall build their own houses to their own minds, under certain -conditions as to materials and strength; and have for themselves the -entire produce of the land, except the tithe aforesaid. - -The children will be required to attend training schools for bodily -exercise, and music, with such other education as I have already -described. Every household will have its library, given it from the -fund, and consisting of a fixed number of volumes,—some constant, the -others chosen by each family out of a list of permitted books, from -which they afterwards may increase their library if they choose. The -formation of this library for choice, by a republication of classical -authors in standard forms, has long been a main object with me. No -newspapers, nor any books but those named in the annually renewed -lists, are to be allowed in any household. In time I hope to get a -journal published, containing notice of any really important matters -taking place in this or other countries, in the closely sifted truth of -them. - -The first essential point in the education given to the children will -be the habit of instant, finely accurate, and totally unreasoning, -obedience to their fathers, mothers, and tutors; the same precise and -unquestioning submission being required from heads of families to the -officers set over them. The second essential will be the understanding -of the nature of honour, making the obedience solemn and constant; so -that the slightest wilful violation of the laws of the society may be -regarded as a grave breach of trust, and no less disgraceful than a -soldier’s recoiling from his place in a battle. - -In our present state of utter moral disorganization, it might indeed -seem as if it would be impossible either to secure obedience, or -explain the sensation of honour; but the instincts of both are native -in man, and the roots of them cannot wither, even under the dust-heap -of modern liberal opinions. My settlers, you observe, are to be young -people, bred on old estates; my commandants will be veteran soldiers; -and it will be soon perceived that pride based on servitude to the will -of another is far loftier and happier than pride based on servitude to -humour of one’s own. - -Each family will at first be put on its trial for a year, without any -lease of the land: if they behave well, they shall have a lease for -three years; if through that time they satisfy their officers, a -life-long lease, with power to purchase. - -I have already stated that no machines moved by artificial power are to -be used on the estates of the society; wind, water, and animal force -are to be the only motive powers employed, and there is to be as little -trade or importation as possible; the utmost simplicity of life, and -restriction of possession, being combined with the highest attainable -refinement of temper and thought. Everything that the members of any -household can sufficiently make for themselves, they are so to make, -however clumsily; but the carpenter and smith, trained to perfectest -work in wood and iron, are to be employed on the parts of houses and -implements in which finish is essential to strength. The ploughshare -and spade must be made by the smith, and the roof and floors by a -carpenter; but the boys of the house must be able to make either a -horseshoe, or a table. - -Simplicity of life without coarseness, and delight in life without -lasciviousness, are, under such conditions, not only possible to human -creatures, but natural to them. I do not pretend to tell you -straightforwardly all laws of nature respecting the conduct of men; but -some of those laws I know, and will endeavour to get obeyed; others, as -they are needful, will be in the sequel of such obedience ascertained. -What final relations may take place between masters and servants, -labourers and employers, old people and young, useful people and -useless, in such a society, only experience can conclude; nor is there -any reason to anticipate the conclusion. Some few things the most -obstinate will admit, and the least credulous believe: that washed -faces are healthier than dirty ones, whole clothes decenter than ragged -ones, kind behaviour more serviceable than malicious, and pure air -pleasanter than foul. Upon that much of ‘philosophie positive’ I mean -to act; and, little by little, to define in these letters the processes -of action. That it should be left to me to begin such a work, with only -one man in England—Thomas Carlyle—to whom I can look for steady -guidance, is alike wonderful and sorrowful to me; but as the thing is -so, I can only do what seems to me necessary, none else coming forward -to do it. For my own part, I entirely hate the whole business: I -dislike having either power or responsibility; am ashamed to ask for -money, and plagued in spending it. I don’t want to talk, nor to write, -nor to advise or direct anybody. I am far more provoked at being -thought foolish by foolish people, than pleased at being thought -sensible by sensible people; and the average proportion of the numbers -of each is not to my advantage. If I could find any one able to carry -on the plan instead of me, I never should trouble myself about it more; -and even now, it is only with extreme effort and chastisement of my -indolence that I go on: but, unless I am struck with palsy, I do not -seriously doubt my perseverance, until I find somebody able to take up -the matter in the same mind, and with a better heart. - -The laws required to be obeyed by the families living on the land will -be,—with some relaxation and modification, so as to fit them for -English people,—those of Florence in the fourteenth century. In what -additional rules may be adopted, I shall follow, for the most part, -Bacon, or Sir Thomas More, under sanction always of the higher -authority which of late the English nation has wholly set its strength -to defy—that of the Founder of its Religion; nor without due acceptance -of what teaching was given to the children of God by their Father, -before the day of Christ, of which, for present ending, read and attend -to these following quiet words. [2] - -“‘In what point of view, then, and on what ground shall a man be -profited by injustice or intemperance or other baseness, even though he -acquire money or power?’ - -‘There is no ground on which this can be maintained.’ - -‘What shall he profit if his injustice be undetected? for he who is -undetected only gets worse, whereas he who is detected and punished has -the brutal part of his nature silenced and humanized; the greater -element in him is liberated, and his whole soul is perfected and -ennobled by the acquirement of justice and temperance and wisdom, more -than the body ever is by receiving gifts of beauty, strength, and -health, in proportion as the soul is more honourable than the body.’ - -‘Certainly,’ he said. - -‘Will not, then, the man of understanding, gather all that is in him, -and stretch himself like a bent bow to this aim of life; and, in the -first place, honour studies which thus chastise and deliver his soul in -perfection; and despise others?’ - -‘Clearly,’ he said. - -‘In the next place, he will keep under his body, and so far will he be -from yielding to brutal and irrational pleasure, [3] that he will not -even first look to bodily health as his main object, nor desire to be -fair, or strong, or well, unless he is likely thereby to gain -temperance; but he will be always desirous of preserving the harmony of -the body for the sake of the concord of the soul?’ - -‘Certainly,’ he replied, ‘that he will, if he is indeed taught by the -Muses.’ - -‘And he will also observe the principle of classing and concord in the -acquisition of wealth; and will not, because the mob beatify him, -increase his endless load of wealth to his own infinite harm?’ - -‘I think not,’ he said. - -‘He will look at the city which is within him, and take care to avoid -any change of his own institutions, such as might arise either from -abundance or from want; and he will duly regulate his acquisition and -expense, in so far as he is able?’ - -‘Very true.’ - -‘And, for the same reason, he will accept such honours as he deems -likely to make him a better man; but those which are likely to loosen -his possessed habit, whether private or public honours, he will avoid?’ - -‘Then, if this be his chief care, he will not be a politician?’ - -‘By the dog of Egypt, he will! in the city which is his own, though in -his native country perhaps not, unless some providential accident -should occur.’ - -‘I understand; you speak of that city of which we are the founders, and -which exists in idea only, for I do not think there is such an one -anywhere on earth?’ - -‘In heaven,’ I replied, ‘there is laid up a pattern of such a city; and -he who desires may behold this, and, beholding, govern himself -accordingly. But whether there really is, or ever will be, such an one, -is of no importance to him, for he will act accordingly to the laws of -that city and of no other?’ - -‘True,’ he said.” - - - - - - -NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE. - -It is due to my readers to state my reasons for raising the price, and -withdrawing the frontispieces, of Fors. - -The cessation of the latter has nothing to do with the price. At least, -for the raised price I could easily afford the plates, and they would -help the sale; but I cannot spare my good assistant’s time in their -preparation, and find that, in the existing state of trade, I cannot -trust other people, without perpetual looking after them; for which I -have no time myself. Even last year the printing of my Fors -frontispieces prevented the publication of my Oxford lectures on -engraving; and it is absolutely necessary that my Oxford work should be -done rightly, whatever else I leave undone. Secondly, for the rise in -price. I hold it my duty to give my advice for nothing; but not to -write it in careful English, and correct press, for nothing. I like the -feeling of being paid for my true work as much as any other labourer; -and though I write Fors, not for money, but because I know it to be -wanted, as I would build a wall against the advancing sea for nothing, -if I couldn’t be paid for doing it; yet I will have proper pay from the -harbour-master, if I can get it. As soon as the book gives me and the -publisher what is right, the surplus shall go to the St. George’s fund. -The price will not signify ultimately;—sevenpence, or tenpence, or a -shilling, will be all the same to the public if the book is found -useful;—but I fix, and mean to keep to, tenpence, because I intend -striking for use on my farms the pure silver coin called in Florence -the ‘soldo,’ of which the golden florin was worth twenty; (the soldo -itself being misnamed from the Roman ‘solidus’) and this soldo will -represent the Roman denarius, and be worth ten silver pence; and this -is to be the price of Fors. - -Then one further petty reason I have for raising the price. In all my -dealings with the public, I wish them to understand that my first price -is my lowest. They may have to pay more; but never a farthing less. And -I am a little provoked at not having been helped in the least by the -Working Men’s College, after I taught there for five years, or by any -of my old pupils there, whom I have lost sight of:—(three remain who -would always help me in anything,) and I think they will soon begin to -want Fors, now,—and they shall not have it for sevenpence. - -The following three stray newspaper cuttings may as well be printed -now; they have lain some time by me. The first two relate to economy. -The last is, I hope, an exaggerated report; and I give it as an example -of the kind of news which my own journal will not give on hearsay. But -I know that things did take place in India which were not capable of -exaggeration in horror, and such are the results, remember, of our past -missionary work, as a whole, in India and China. - -I point to them to-day, in order that I may express my entire -concurrence in all that I have seen reported of Professor Max Müller’s -lecture in Westminster Abbey, though there are one or two things I -should like to say in addition, if I can find time. - - - “Those who find fault with the present Government on account of its - rigid economy, and accuse it of shabbiness, have little idea of the - straits it is put to for money and the sacrifices it is obliged to - make in order to make both ends meet. The following melancholy - facts will serve to show how hardly pushed this great nation is to - find sixpence even for a good purpose. The Hakluyt Society was, as - some of our readers may know, formed in the year 1846 for the - purpose of printing in English for distribution among its members - rare and valuable voyages, travels, and geographical records, - including the more important early narratives of British - enterprise. For many years the Home Office, the Board of Trade, and - the Admiralty have been in the habit of subscribing for the - publications of this society; and considering that an annual - subscription of one guinea entitles each subscriber to receive - without further charge a copy of every work produced by the society - within the year subscribed for, it can hardly be said that the - outlay was ruinous to the Exchequer. But we live in an exceptional - period; and accordingly last year the society received a - communication from the Board of Trade to the effect that its - publications were no longer required. Then the Home Office wrote to - say that its subscription must be discontinued, and followed up the - communication by another, asking whether it might have a copy of - the society’s publications supplied to it gratuitously. Lastly, the - Admiralty felt itself constrained by the urgency of the times to - reduce its subscription, and asked to have only one instead of two - copies annually. It seems rather hard on the Hakluyt Society that - the Home Office should beg to have its publications for nothing, - and for the sake of appearance it seems advisable that the - Admiralty should continue its subscription for two copies, and lend - one set to its impoverished brother in Whitehall until the advent - of better times.”—Pall Mall Gazette. - - - - “We make a present of a suggestion to Professor Beesly, Mr. - Frederic Harrison, and the artisans who are calling upon the - country to strike a blow for France. They must appoint a Select - Committee to see what war really means. Special commissioners will - find out for them how many pounds, on an average, have been lost by - the families whose breadwinners have gone to Paris with the King, - or to Le Mans with Chanzy. Those hunters of facts will also let the - working men know how many fields are unsown round Metz and on the - Loire. Next, the Select Committee will get an exact return of the - killed and wounded from Count Bismarck and M. Gambetta. Some - novelist or poet—a George Eliot or a Browning—will then be asked to - lavish all the knowledge of human emotion in the painting of one - family group out of the half-million which the returns of the - stricken will show. That picture will be distributed broadcast - among the working men and their wives. Then the Select Committee - will call to its aid the statisticians and the political - economists—the Leone Levis and the John Stuart Mills. Those - authorities will calculate what sum the war has taken from the - wages fund of France and Germany; what number of working men it - will cast out of employment, or force to accept lower wages, or - compel to emigrate.” (I do not often indulge myself in the study of - the works of Mr. Levi or Mr. Mill;—but have they really never done - anything of this kind hitherto?) “Thus the facts will be brought - before the toiling people, solidly, simply, truthfully. Finally, - Professor Beesly and Mr. Harrison will call another meeting, will - state the results of the investigation, will say, ‘This is the - meaning of war,’ and will ask the workmen whether they are prepared - to pay the inevitable price of helping Republican France. The - answer, we imagine, would at once shock and surprise the scholarly - gentlemen to whom the Democrats are indebted for their logic and - their rhetoric. Meanwhile Mr. Ruskin and the Council of the - Workmen’s National Peace Society have been doing some small measure - of the task which we have mapped out. The Council asks the - bellicose section of the operative classes a number of questions - about the cost and the effect of battles. Some, it is true, are not - very cogent, and some are absurd; but, taken together, they press - the inquiry whether war pays anybody, and in particular whether it - pays the working man. Mr. Ruskin sets forth the truth much more - vividly in the letter which appeared in our impression of Thursday. - ‘Half the money lost by the inundation of the Tiber,’ etc., (the - Telegraph quotes the letter to the end). - - “Before stating what might have been done with the force which has - been spent in the work of mutual slaughter, Mr. Ruskin might have - explained what good it has undone, and how. Take, first, the - destruction of capital. Millions of pounds have been spent on - gunpowder, bombs, round shot, cannon, needle guns, chassepôts, and - mitrailleuses. But for the war, a great part of the sum would have - been expended in the growing of wheat, the spinning of cloth, the - building of railway bridges, and the construction of ships. As the - political economists say, the amount would have been spent - productively, or, to use the plain words of common speech, would - have been so used that, directly or indirectly, it would have added - to the wealth of the country, and increased the fund to be - distributed among the working people. But the wealth has been blown - away from the muzzle of the cannon, or scattered among the woods - and forts of Paris in the shape of broken shells and dismounted - guns. Now, every shot which is fired is a direct loss to the - labouring classes of France and Germany. King William on the one - side, and General Trochu on the other, really load their guns with - gold. They put the wages of the working people into every shell. - The splinters of iron that strew the fields represent the pay which - would have gone to the farm labourers of Alsace, the mechanics of - Paris and Berlin, and the silk weavers of Lyons. If the political - economist were some magician, he would command the supernatural - agent to transform the broken gun-carriages, the fragments of - bombs, and the round shot into loaves of bread, bottles of wine, - fields of corn, clothes, houses, cattle, furniture, books, the - virtue of women, the health of children, the years of the aged. The - whole field would become alive with the forms, the wealth, the - beauty, the bustle of great cities. If working men ever saw such a - transformation, they would rise up from end to end of Europe, and - execrate the King or Emperor who should let loose the dogs of war. - And yet such a scene would represent only a small part of the real - havoc. For every man whom Germany takes away from the field or the - workshop to place in the barrack or the camp, she must sustain as - certain a loss as if she were to cast money into the sea. The loss - may be necessary as an insurance against still greater injury; but - nevertheless the waste does take place, and on the working people - does it mainly fall. The young recruit may have been earning thirty - shillings a week or a day, and that sum is lost to himself or his - friends. Hitherto he has supported himself; now he must be - maintained by the State—that is, by his fellow-subjects. Hitherto - he has added to the national wealth by ploughing the fields, - building houses, constructing railways. A skilful statistician - could state, with some approach to accuracy, the number of pounds - by which the amount of his yearly productive contribution could be - estimated. It might be thirty, or a hundred, or a thousand. Well, - he ceases to produce the moment that he becomes a soldier. He is - then a drone. He is as unproductive as a pauper. The millions of - pounds spent in feeding and drilling the army as clearly represent - a dead loss as the millions spent on workhouses. Nor are these the - only ways in which war destroys wealth. Hundreds of railway bridges - have been broken down; the communications between different parts - of the country have been cut off; hundreds of thousands have lost - their means of livelihood; and great tracts of country are wasted - like a desert. Thus the total destruction of wealth has been - appalling. A considerable time ago Professor Leone Levi calculated - that Germany alone had lost more than £300,000,000; France must - have lost much more; and, even if we make a liberal discount from - so tremendous a computation, we may safely say that the war has - cost both nations at least half as much as the National Debt of - England. - - “A large part of that amount, it is true, would have been spent - unproductively, even if the war had not taken place. A vast sum - would have been lavished on the luxuries of dress and the table, on - the beauties of art, and on the appliances of war. But it is safe - to calculate that at least half of the amount would have been so - expended as to bring a productive return. Two or three hundred - millions would have been at the service of peace; and Mr. Ruskin’s - letter points the question, What could have been done with that - enormous total? If it were at the disposal of an English statesman - as farseeing in peace as Bismarck is in war, what might not be done - for the England of the present and the future? The prospect is - almost millennial. Harbours of refuge might be built all round the - coast; the fever dens of London, Manchester, and Liverpool might - give place to abodes of health; the poor children of the United - Kingdom might be taught to read and write; great universities might - be endowed; the waste lands might be cultivated, and the Bog of - Allen drained; the National Debt could be swiftly reduced; and a - hundred other great national enterprises would sooner or later be - fulfilled. But all this store of human good has been blown away - from the muzzles of the Krupps and the chassepôts. It has literally - been transformed into smoke. We do not deny that such a waste may - be necessary in order to guard against still further destruction. - Wars have often been imperative. It would frequently be the height - of national wickedness to choose an ignoble peace. Nevertheless war - is the most costly and most wasteful of human pursuits. When the - working class followers of Professor Beesly ask themselves what is - the price of battle, what it represents, and by whom the chief part - is paid, they will be better able to respond to the appeal for - armed intervention than they were on Tuesday night.”—Daily - Telegraph, January 14th, 1871. - - - - “The story of the massacre of Tientsin, on the 21st June last, is - told in a private letter dated Cheefoo, June 30th, published in - Thursday’s Standard, but the signature of which is not given. The - horrors narrated are frightful, and remembering how frequently - stories of similar horrors in the Mutiny melted away on close - investigation,—though but too many were true,—we may hope that the - writer, who does not seem to have been in Tientsin at the time, has - heard somewhat exaggerated accounts. Yet making all allowances for - this, there was evidently horror enough. The first attack was on - the French Consul, who was murdered, the Chinese mandarins refusing - aid. Then the Consulate was broken open, and two Catholic priests - murdered, as well as M. and Madame Thomassin, an attaché to the - Legation at Pekin and his bride. Then came the worst part. The mob, - acting with regular Chinese soldiers, it is said, whom their - officers did not attempt to restrain, attacked the hospital of the - French Sisters of Charity, stripped them, exposed them to the mob, - plucked out their eyes, mutilated them in other ways, and divided - portions of their flesh among the infuriated people, and then set - fire to the hospital, in which a hundred orphan children, who were - the objects of the sisters’ care, were burnt to death.”—The - Spectator, September 3, 1870. - - - - - - - - -FORS CLAVIGERA. - -LETTER XXXVIII. - - - Herne Hill, December, 1873. - -The laws of Florence in the fourteenth century, for us in the -nineteenth! - -Even so, good reader. You have, perhaps, long imagined that the judges -of Israel, and heroes of Greece, the consuls of Rome, and the dukes of -Venice, the powers of Florence, and the kings of England, were all -merely the dim foreshadowings and obscure prophecyings of the advent of -the Jones and Robinson of the future: demi-gods revealed in your own -day, whose demi-divine votes, if luckily coincident upon any subject, -become totally divine, and establish the ordinances thereof, for ever. - -You will find it entirely otherwise, gentlemen, whether of the suburb, -or centre. Laws small and great, for ever unchangeable;—irresistible by -all the force of Robinson, and unimprovable by finest jurisprudence of -Jones, have long since been known, and, by wise nations, obeyed. Out of -the statute books of one of these I begin with an apparently -unimportant order, but the sway of it cuts deep. - -“No person whatsoever shall buy fish, to sell it again, either in the -market of Florence, or in any markets in the state of Florence.” - -It is one of many such laws, entirely abolishing the profession of -middleman, or costermonger of perishable articles of food, in the city -of the Lily. - -“Entirely abolishing!—nonsense!” thinks your modern commercial worship. -“Who was to prevent private contract?” - -Nobody, my good sir;—there is, as you very justly feel, no power in law -whatever to prevent private contract. No quantity of laws, penalties, -or constitutions, can be of the slightest use to a public inherently -licentious and deceitful. There is no legislation for liars and -traitors. They cannot be prevented from the pit; the earth finally -swallows them. They find their level against all embankment—soak their -way down, irrestrainably, to the gutter grating;—happiest the nation -that most rapidly so gets rid of their stench. There is no law, I -repeat, for these, but gravitation. Organic laws can only be -serviceable to, and in general will only be written by, a public of -honourable citizens, loyal to their state, and faithful to each other. - -The profession of middleman was then, by civic consent, and formal law, -rendered impossible in Florence with respect to fish. What advantage -the modern blessed possibility of such mediatorial function brings to -our hungry multitudes; and how the miraculous draught of fishes, which -living St. Peter discerns, and often dextrously catches—“the shoals of -them like shining continents,” (said Carlyle to me, only -yesterday,)—are by such apostolic succession miraculously diminished, -instead of multiplied; and, instead of baskets full of fragments taken -up from the ground, baskets full of whole fish laid down on it, lest -perchance any hungry person should cheaply eat of the same,—here is a -pleasant little account for you, by my good and simple clergyman’s -wife. It would have been better still, if I had not been forced to warn -her that I wanted it for Fors, which of course took the sparkle out of -her directly. Here is one little naughty bit of private preface, which -really must go with the rest. “I have written my little letter about -the fish trade, and L. says it is all right. I am afraid you won’t -think there is anything in it worth putting in Fors, as I really know -very little about it, and absolutely nothing that every one else does -not know, except ladies, who generally never trouble about anything, -but scold their cooks, and abuse the fishmongers—when they cannot pay -the weekly bills easily.” (After this we are quite proper.) - -“The poor fishermen who toil all through these bitter nights, and the -retail dealer who carries heavy baskets, or drags a truck so many weary -miles along the roads, get but a poor living out of their labour; but -what are called ‘fish salesmen,’ who by reason of their command of -capital keep entire command of the London markets are making enormous -fortunes. - -“When you ask the fishermen why they do not manage better for -themselves at the present demand for fish, they explain how helpless -they are in the hands of what they call ‘the big men.’ Some fishermen -at Aldborough, who have a boat of their own, told my brother that one -season, when the sea seemed full of herrings, they saw in the -newspapers how dear they were in London, and resolved to make a venture -on their own account; so they spent all their available money in the -purchase of a quantity of the right sort of baskets, and, going out to -sea, filled them all,—putting the usual five hundred lovely fresh fish -in each,—sent them straight up to London by train, to the charge of a -salesman they knew of, begging him to send them into the market and do -the best he could for them. But he was very angry with the fishermen; -and wrote them word that the market was quite sufficiently stocked; -that if more fish were sent in, the prices would go down; that he -should not allow their fish to be sold at all; and, if they made a fuss -about it, he would not send their baskets back, and would make them pay -the carriage. As it was, he returned them, after a time; but the poor -men never received one farthing for their thousands of nice fish, and -only got a scolding for having dared to try and do without the agents, -who buy the fish from the boats at whatever price they choose to settle -amongst themselves. - -“When we were at Yarmouth this autumn, the enormous abundance of -herrings on the fish quay was perfectly wonderful; it must be, (I -should think,) two hundred yards long, and is capable of accommodating -the unloading of a perfect fleet of boats. The ‘swills,’ as they call -the baskets, each containing five hundred fish, were side by side, -touching each other, all over this immense space, and men were -shovelling salt about, with spades, over heaps of fish, previous to -packing at once in boxes. I said, ‘How surprised our poor people would -be to see such a sight, after constantly being obliged to pay -three-halfpence for every herring they buy.’ An old fisherman answered -me, saying, ‘No one need pay that, ma’am, if we could get the fish to -them; we could have plenty more boats, and plenty more fish, if we -could have them taken where the poor people could get them.’ We brought -home a hundred dried herrings, for which we paid ten shillings; when we -asked if we might buy some lovely mackerel on the Fish Quay, they said, -(the fishermen,) that they were not allowed to sell them there, except -all at once. Since then, I have read an account of a Royal Commission -having been investigating the subject of the fishery for some time -past, and the result of its inquiries seems to prove that it is -inexhaustible, and that in the North Sea it is always harvest-time. [4] - -“When I told our fishmonger all about it, he said I was quite right -about the ‘big men’ in London, and added, ‘They will not let us have -the fish under their own prices; and if it is so plentiful that they -cannot sell it all at that, they have it thrown away, or carted off for -manure; sometimes sunk in the river. If we could only get it here, my -trade would be twice what it is, for, except sprats, the poor can -seldom buy fish now.’ - -“I asked him if the new Columbia Market was of no use in making things -easier, but he said, ‘No;’ that these salesmen had got that into their -hands also; and were so rich that they would keep any number of markets -in their own hands. A few hundred pounds sacrificed any day to keep up -the prices they think well worth their while.” - -What do you think of that, by way of Free-trade?—my -British-never-never-never-will-be-slaves,—hey? Free-trade; and the -Divine Law of Supply and Demand; and the Sacred Necessity of -Competition, and what not;—and here’s a meek little English housewife -who can’t get leave, on her bended knees, from Sultan Costermonger, to -eat a fresh herring at Yarmouth! and must pay three-halfpence apiece, -for his leave to eat them anywhere;—and you, you simpletons—Fishermen, -indeed!—Cod’s heads and shoulders, say rather,—meekly receiving back -your empty baskets; your miracle of loaves and fishes executed for you -by the Costermongering Father of the Faithful, in that thimblerig -manner! - -“But haven’t you yourself been hard against competition, till now? and -haven’t you always wanted to regulate prices?” - -Yes, my good SS. Peter and Andrew!—very certainly I want to regulate -prices; and very certainly I will, as to such things as I sell, or have -the selling of. I should like to hear of anybody’s getting this letter -for less than tenpence!—and if you will send me some fish to sell for -you, perhaps I may even resolve that they shall be sold at twopence -each, or else made manure of,—like these very costermongers; but the -twopence shall go into your pockets—not mine; which you will find a -very pleasant and complete difference in principle between his Grace -the Costermonger and me; and, secondly, if I raise the price of a -herring to twopence, it will be because I know that people have been in -some way misusing them, or wasting them; and need to get fewer for a -time; or will eat twopenny herrings at fashionable tables, (when they -wouldn’t touch halfpenny ones,) and so give the servants no reason to -turn up their noses at them. [5] I may have twenty such good reasons -for fixing the price of your fish; but not one of them will be his -Grace the Costermonger’s. All that I want you to see is, not only the -possibility of regulating prices, but the fact that they are now -regulated, and regulated by rascals, while all the world is bleating -out its folly about Supply and Demand. - -“Still, even in your way, you would be breaking the laws of Florence, -anyhow, and buying to sell again?” Pardon me: I should no more buy your -fish than a butcher’s boy buys his master’s mutton. I should simply -carry your fish for you where I knew it was wanted; being as utterly -your servant in the matter as if I were one of your own lads sent -dripping up to the town with basket on back. And I should be paid, as -your servant, so much wages; (not commission, observe,) making bargains -far away for you, and many another Saunders Mucklebackit, just as your -wife makes them, up the hill at Monkbarns; and no more buying the fish, -to sell again, than she. - -“Well, but where could we get anybody to do this?” - -Have you no sons then?—or, among them, none whom you can take from the -mercy of the sea, and teach to serve you mercifully on the land? - -It is not that way, however, that the thing will be done. It must be -done for you by gentlemen. They may stagger on perhaps a year or two -more in their vain ways; but the day must come when your poor little -honest puppy, whom his people have been wanting to dress up in a -surplice, and call, “The to be Feared,” that he might have pay enough, -by tithe or tax, to marry a pretty girl, and live in a parsonage,—some -poor little honest wretch of a puppy, I say, will eventually get it -into his glossy head that he would be incomparably more reverend to -mortals, and acceptable to St. Peter and all Saints, as a true monger -of sweet fish, than a false fisher for rotten souls; and that his wife -would be incomparably more ‘lady-like’—not to say Madonna-like—marching -beside him in purple stockings and sabots—or even frankly barefoot—with -her creel full of caller herring on her back, than in administering any -quantity of Ecclesiastical scholarship to her Sunday-schools. - -“How dreadful—how atrocious!”—thinks the tender clerical lover. “My -wife walk with a fish-basket on her back!” - -Yes, you young scamp, your’s. You were going to lie to the Holy Ghost, -then, were you, only that she might wear satin slippers and be called a -‘lady’? Suppose, instead of fish, I were to ask her and you to carry -coals. Have you ever read your Bible carefully enough to wonder where -Christ got them from, to make His fire, (when he was so particular -about St. Peter’s dinner, and St. John’s)? Or if I asked you to be -hewers of wood, and drawers of water;—would that also seem intolerable -to you? My poor clerical friends, God was never more in the burning -bush of Sinai than He would be in every crackling faggot (cut with your -own hands) that you warmed a poor hearth with: nor did that woman of -Samaria ever give Him to drink more surely than you may, from every -stream and well in this your land, that you can keep pure. - -20th Dec.—To hew wood—to draw water;—you think these base businesses, -do you? and that you are noble, as well as sanctified, in binding -faggot-burdens on poor men’s backs, which you will not touch with your -own fingers;—and in preaching the efficacy of baptism inside the -church, by yonder stream (under the first bridge of the Seven Bridge -Road here at Oxford,) while the sweet waters of it are choked with dust -and dung, within ten fathoms from your font;—and in giving benediction -with two fingers and your thumb, of a superfine quality, to the Marquis -of B.? Honester benediction, and more efficacious, can be had cheaper, -gentlemen, in the existing market. Under my own system of regulating -prices, I gave an Irishwoman twopence yesterday for two oranges, of -which fruit—under pressure of competition—she was ready to supply me -with three for a penny. “The Lord Almighty take you to eternal glory!” -said she. - -You lawyers, also,—distributors, by your own account, of the quite -supreme blessing of Justice,—you are not so busily eloquent in her -cause but that some of your sweet voices might be spared to -Billingsgate, though the river air might take the curl out of your -wigs, and so diminish that æsthetic claim which, as aforesaid, you -still hold on existence. But you will bring yourselves to an end -soon,—wigs and all,—unless you think better of it. - -I will dismiss at once, in this letter, the question of regulation of -prices, and return to it no more, except in setting down detailed law. - -Any rational group of persons, large or small, living in war or peace, -will have its commissariat;—its officers for provision of food. Famine -in a fleet, or an army, may sometimes be inevitable; but in the event -of national famine, the officers of the commissariat should be starved -the first. God has given to man corn, wine, cheese, and honey, all -preservable for a number of years;—filled His seas with inexhaustible -salt, and incalculable fish; filled the woods with beasts, the winds -with birds, and the fields with fruit. Under these circumstances, the -stupid human brute stands talking metaphysics, and expects to be fed by -the law of Supply and Demand. I do not say that I shall always succeed -in regulating prices, or quantities, absolutely to my mind; but in the -event of any scarcity of provision, rich tables shall be served like -the poorest, and—we will see. - -The price of every other article will be founded on the price of food. -The price of what it takes a day to produce, will be a day’s -maintenance; of what it takes a week to produce, a week’s -maintenance,—such maintenance being calculated according to the -requirements of the occupation, and always with a proportional surplus -for saving. - -“How am I to know exactly what a day’s maintenance is?” I don’t want to -know exactly. I don’t know exactly how much dinner I ought to eat; but, -on the whole, I eat enough, and not too much. And I shall not know -‘exactly’ how much a painter ought to have for a picture. It may be a -pound or two under the mark—a pound or two over. On the average it will -be right,—that is to say, his decent keep [6] during the number of -days’ work that are properly accounted for in the production. - -“How am I to hinder people from giving more if they like?” - -People whom I catch doing as they like will generally have to leave the -estate. - -“But how is it to be decided to which of two purchasers, each willing -to give its price, and more, anything is to belong?” - -In various ways, according to the nature of the thing sold, and -circumstances of sale. Sometimes by priority; sometimes by privilege; -sometimes by lot; and sometimes by auction, at which whatever excess of -price, above its recorded value, the article brings, shall go to the -national treasury. So that nobody will ever buy anything to make a -profit on it. - -11th January, 1874.—Thinking I should be the better of a look at the -sea, I have come down to an old watering-place, where one used to be -able to get into a decent little inn, and possess one’s self of a -parlour with a bow window looking out on the beach, a pretty carpet, -and a print or two of revenue cutters, and the Battle of the Nile. One -could have a chop and some good cheese for dinner; fresh cream and -cresses for breakfast, and a plate of shrimps. - -I find myself in the Umfraville Hotel, a quarter of a mile long by a -furlong deep; in a ghastly room, five-and-twenty feet square, and -eighteen high,—that is to say, just four times as big as I want, and -which I can no more light with my candles in the evening than I could -the Peak cavern. A gas apparatus in the middle of it serves me to knock -my head against, but I take good care not to light it, or I should soon -be stopped from my evening’s work by a headache, and be unfit for my -morning’s business besides. The carpet is threadbare, and has the look -of having been spat upon all over. There is only one window, of four -huge panes of glass, through which one commands a view of a plaster -balcony, some ornamental iron railings, an esplanade,—and,—well, I -suppose,—in the distance, that is really the sea, where it used to be. -I am ashamed to ask for shrimps,—not that I suppose I could get any if -I did. There’s no cream, “because, except in the season, we could only -take so small a quanity, sir.” The bread’s stale, because it’s Sunday; -and the cheese, last night, was of the cheapest tallow sort. The bill -will be at least three times my old bill;—I shall get no thanks from -anybody for paying it;—and this is what the modern British public -thinks is “living in style.” But the most comic part of all the -improved arrangements is that I can only have codlings for dinner, -because all the cod goes to London, and none of the large fishing-boats -dare sell a fish, here. - -And now but a word or two more, final, as to the fixed price of this -book. - -A sensible and worthy tradesman writes to me in very earnest terms of -expostulation, blaming me for putting the said book out of the reach of -most of the persons it is meant for, and asking me how I can except, -for instance, the working men round him (in Lancashire),—who have been -in the habit of strictly ascertaining that they have value for their -money,—to buy, for tenpence, what they know might be given them for -twopence-halfpenny. - -Answer first: - -My book is meant for no one who cannot reach it. If a man with all the -ingenuity of Lancashire in his brains, and breed of Lancashire in his -body; with all the steam and coal power in Lancashire to back his -ingenuity and muscle; all the press of literary England vomiting the -most valuable information at his feet; with all the tenderness of -charitable England aiding him in his efforts, and ministering to his -needs; with all the liberality of republican Europe rejoicing in his -dignities as a man and a brother; and with all the science of -enlightened Europe directing his opinions on the subject of the -materials of the Sun, and the origin of his species; if, I say, a man -so circumstanced, assisted, and informed, living besides in the richest -country of the globe, and, from his youth upwards, having been in the -habit of ‘seeing that he had value for his money,’ cannot, as the -upshot and net result of all, now afford to pay me tenpence a month—or -an annual half-sovereign, for my literary labour,—in Heaven’s name, let -him buy the best reading he can for twopence-halfpenny. For that sum, I -clearly perceive he can at once provide himself with two penny -illustrated newspapers and one halfpenny one,—full of art, sentiment, -and the Tichborne trial. He can buy a quarter of the dramatic works of -Shakspeare, or a whole novel of Sir Walter Scott’s. Good value for his -money, he thinks!—reads one of them through, and in all probability -loses some five years of the eyesight of his old age; which he does -not, with all his Lancashire ingenuity, reckon as part of the price of -his cheap book. But how has he read? There is an act of Midsummer -Night’s Dream printed in a page. Steadily and dutifully, as a student -should, he reads his page. The lines slip past his eyes, and mind, like -sand in an hour-glass; he has some dim idea at the end of the act that -he has been reading about Fairies, and Flowers, and Asses. Does he know -what a Fairy is? Certainly not. Does he know what a flower is? He has -perhaps never seen one wild, or happy, in his life. Does he even -know—quite distinctly, inside and out—what an Ass is? - -But, answer second. Whether my Lancashire friends need any aid to their -discernment of what is good or bad in literature, I do not know;—but I -mean to give them the best help I can; and, therefore, not to allow -them to have for twopence what I know to be worth tenpence. For here is -another law of Florence, still concerning fish, which is transferable -at once to literature. - -“Eel of the lake shall be sold for three soldi a pound; and eel of the -common sort for a soldo and a half.” - -And eel of a bad sort was not allowed to be sold at all. - -“Eel of the lake,” I presume, was that of the Lake of Bolsena; Pope -Martin IV. died of eating too many, in spite of their high price. You -observe I do not reckon my Fors Eel to be of Bolsena; I put it at the -modest price of a soldo a pound, or English tenpence. One cannot be -precise in such estimates;—one can only obtain rude approximations. -Suppose, for instance, you read the Times newspaper for a week, from -end to end; your aggregate of resultant useful information will -certainly not be more than you may get out of a single number of Fors. -But your Times for the week will cost you eighteenpence. - -You borrow the Times? Borrow this then; till the days come when English -people cease to think they can live by lending, or learn by borrowing. - -I finish with copy of a bit of a private letter to the editor of an -honestly managed country newspaper, who asked me to send him Fors. - -“I find it—on examining the subject for these last three years very -closely—necessary to defy the entire principle of advertisement; and to -make no concession of any kind whatsoever to the public press—even in -the minutest particular. And this year I cease sending Fors to any -paper whatsoever. It must be bought by every one who has it, editor or -private person. - -“If there are ten people in —— willing to subscribe a penny each for -it, you can see it in turn; by no other means can I let it be seen. -From friend to friend, or foe to foe, It must make its own way, or -stand still, abiding its time.” - - - - - - -NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE. - -The following bit of a private letter to a good girl belonging to the -upper classes may be generally useful; so I asked her to copy it for -Fors. - - - “January, 1874. - - “Now mind you dress always charmingly; it is the first duty of a - girl to be charming, and she cannot be charming if she is not - charmingly dressed. - - “And it is quite the first of firsts in the duties of girls in high - position, nowadays, to set an example of beautiful dress without - extravagance,—that is to say, without waste, or unnecessary - splendour. - - “On great occasions they may be a blaze of jewels, if they like, - and can; but only when they are part of a great show or ceremony. - In their daily life, and ordinary social relations, they ought at - present to dress with marked simplicity, to put down the curses of - luxury and waste which are consuming England. - - “Women usually apologize to themselves for their pride and vanity, - by saying, ‘It is good for trade.’ - - “Now you may soon convince yourself, and everybody about you, of - the monstrous folly of this, by a very simple piece of definite - action. - - “Wear, yourself, becoming, pleasantly varied, but simple dress, of - the best possible material. - - “What you think necessary to buy (beyond this) ‘for the good of - trade,’ buy, and immediately burn. - - “Even your dullest friends will see the folly of that proceeding. - You can then explain to them that by wearing what they don’t want - (instead of burning it) for the good of trade, they are merely - adding insolence and vulgarity to absurdity.” - - -I am very grateful to the writer of the following letters for his -permission to print the portions of them bearing on our work. The first -was written several years ago. - - - “Now, my dear friend, I don’t know why I should intrude what I now - want to say about my little farm, which you disloyally dare to call - a kingdom, but that I know you do feel an interest in such things; - whereas I find not one in a hundred does care a jot for the moral - influence and responsibilities of landowners, or for those who live - out of it, and by the sweat of the brow for them and their own - luxuries which pamper them, whilst too often their tenants starve, - and the children die of want and fever. - - “One of the most awful things I almost ever heard was from the lips - of a clergyman, near B——, when asked what became of the children, - by day, of those mothers employed in mills. He said, ‘Oh, I take - care of them; they are brought to me, and I lay them in the - churchyard.’ Poor lambs! What a flock! - - “But now for my little kingdom,—the royalties of which, by the way, - still go to the Duke of Devonshire, as lord of the minerals under - the earth. - - “It had for many years been a growing dream and desire of mine - (whether right or wrong I do not say) to possess a piece of God’s - earth, be it only a rock or a few acres of land, with a few people - to live out of and upon it. Well, my good father had an estate - about four miles across, embracing the whole upper streams and head - of ——dale, some twelve hundred feet above the sea, and lifted thus - far away above the din and smoke of men, surrounded by higher - hills, the grassy slopes of Ingleborough and Carn Fell. It was a - waste moorland, with a few sheep farms on it, undivided, held in - common,—a few small enclosures of grass and flowers, taken off at - the time of the Danes, retaining Danish names and farm usages,—a - few tenements, built by that great and noble Lady Anne Clifford, - two hundred years ago; in which dwelt honest, sturdy, great-hearted - English men and women, as I think this land knows. - - “Well, this land my father made over by deed of gift to me, - reserving to himself the rents for life, but granting to me full - liberty to ‘improve’ and lay out what I pleased; charged also with - the maintenance of a schoolmaster for the little school-house I - built in memory of my late wife, who loved the place and people. - With this arrangement I was well pleased, and at once began to - enclose and drain, and, on Adam Smith principle, make two blades of - grass grow where one grew before. This has gone on for some years, - affording labour to the few folks there, and some of their - neighbours. Of the prejudices of the old farmers, the less said the - better; and as to the prospective increased value of rental, I may - look, at least, for my five per cent., may I not? I am well repaid, - at present, by the delight gained to me in wandering over this - little Arcady, where I fancy at times I still hear the strains of - the pipe of the shepherd Lord Clifford of Cumberland, blending with - the crow of the moor-fowl, the song of the lark, and cry of the - curlew, the bleating of sheep, and heaving and dying fall of the - many waters. To think of all this, and yet men prefer the din of - war or commercial strife! It is so pleasant a thing to know all the - inhabitants, and all their little joys and woes,—like one of your - bishops; and to be able to apportion them their work. Labour, - there, is not accounted degrading work; even stone-breaking for the - roads is not pauper’s work, and a test of starvation, but taken - gladly by tenant farmers to occupy spare time; for I at once set to - work to make roads, rude bridges, plantations of fir-trees, and of - oak and birch, which once flourished there, as the name signifies. - - “I am now laying out some thousands of pounds in draining and - liming, and killing out the Alpine flowers, which you tell me [7] - is not wrong to do, as God has reserved other gardens for them, - though I must say not one dies without a pang to me; yet I see - there springs up the fresh grass, the daisy, the primrose—the life - of growing men and women, the source of labour and of happiness; - God be thanked if one does even a little to attain that for one’s - fellows, either for this world or the next! - - “How I wish you could see them on our one day’s feast and holiday, - when all—as many as will come from all the country round—are - regaled with a hearty Yorkshire tea at the Hall, as they will call - a rough mullioned-windowed house I built upon a rock rising from - the river’s edge. The children have their games, and then all join - in a missionary meeting, to hear something of their - fellow-creatures who live in other lands; the little ones gather - their pennies to support and educate a little Indian school child; - [8] this not only for sentiment, but to teach a care for others - near home and far off. - - “The place is five miles from church, and, happily, as far from a - public-house, though still, I grieve to say, drink is the one - failing of these good people, mostly arising from the want of full - occupation. - - “You speak of mining as servile work: why so? Hugh Miller was a - quarryman, and I know an old man who has wrought coal for me in a - narrow seam, lying on his side to work, who has told me that in - winter time he had rather work thus than sit over his fireside; [9] - he is quiet and undisturbed, earns his bread, and is a man not - without reflection. Then there is the smith, an artist in his way, - and loves his work too; and as to the quarrymen and masons, they - are some of the merriest fellows I know: they come five or six - miles to work, knitting stockings as they walk along. - - “I must just allude to one social feature which is pleasant,—that - is, the free intercourse, without familiarity, or loss of respect - for master and man. The farmer or small landowner sits at the same - table at meals with the servants, yet the class position of yeoman - or labourer is fully maintained, and due respect shown to the - superior, and almost royal worship to the lord of the soil, if he - is in anywise a good landlord. Now, is England quite beyond all - hope, when such things exist here, in this nineteenth century of - machine-made life? I know not why, I say again, I should inflict - all this about self upon you, except that I have a hobby, and I - love it, and so fancy others must do so too. - - - “Forgive me this, and believe me always, - - “Yours affectionately.” - - - - “5th January, 1874. - - “My dear Mr. Ruskin,—I have just come from an old Tudor house in - Leicestershire, which tells of happier days in some ways than our - own. It was once the Grange of St. Mary’s Abbey; where rent and - service were paid and done in kind. When there, I wished I could - have gone a few miles with you to St. Bernard’s Monastery in - Charnwood Forest; there you would see what somewhat resembles your - St. George’s land, only without the family and domestic - features—certainly most essential to the happiness of a people. - [10] But there you may see rich well-kept fields and gardens, where - thirty years ago was nothing but wild moorland and granite tors on - the hill ridges. - - “The Cross of Calvary rises now on the highest rock; below are - gardens and fields, all under the care and labour (happy labour it - seems) of the Silent Brothers, [11] and a reformatory for boys. - There is still much waste land adjoining. The spot is central, - healthy, and as yet unoccupied: it really seems to offer itself to - you. There, too, is space, pure air and water, and quarries of - slate and granite, etc., for the less skilled labour. - - “Well, you ask if the dalesmen of Yorkshire rise to a vivid state - of contented life and love of the pretty things of heaven and - earth. They have a rough outside, at times hard to penetrate; but - when you do, there is a warm heart, but not much culture, although - a keen value of manly education, and their duty to God and man. - Apart from the vanities of the so-called ‘higher education,’ their - calling is mostly out of doors, in company with sheep and cattle; - the philosophy of their minds often worthy of the Shepherd - Lord,—not much sight for the beauties of Nature beyond its uses. I - CAN say their tastes are not low nor degraded by literature of the - daily press, etc. I have known them for twenty years, have stood - for hours beside them at work, building or draining, and I never - heard one foul or coarse word. In sickness, both man and woman are - devoted. They have, too, a reverence for social order and ‘Divine - Law,’—familiar without familiarity. This even pervades their own - class or sub-classes;—for instance, although farmers and their - families, and workpeople and servants, all sit at the same table, - it is a rare thing for a labourer to presume to ask in marriage a - farmer’s daughter. Their respect to landlords is equally shown. As - a specimen of their politics, I may instance this;—to a man at the - county election they voted for Stuart Wortley, ‘because he bore a - well-known Yorkshire name, and had the blood of a gentleman.’ - - “As to hardships, I see none beyond those incident to their - calling, in snow-storms, etc. You never see a child unshod or - ill-clad. Very rarely do they allow a relative to receive aid from - the parish. - - “I tried a reading club for winter evenings, but found they liked - their own fireside better. Happily, there is, in my part, no - public-house within six miles; still I must say drink is the vice - of some. In winter they have much leisure time, in which there is a - good deal of card-playing. Still some like reading; and we have - among them now a fair lot of books, mostly from the Pure Literature - Society. They are proud and independent, and, as you say, must be - dealt with cautiously. Everywhere I see much might be done. Yet on - the whole, when compared with the town life of men, one sees little - to amend. There is a pleasant and curious combination of work. - Mostly all workmen,—builders (i.e. wallers), carpenters, smiths, - etc.,—work a little farm as well as follow their own craft; this - gives wholesome occupation as well as independence, and almost - realizes Sir T. More’s Utopian plan. There is contented life of - men, women, and children,—happy in their work and joyful in - prospect: what could one desire further, if each be full according - to his capacity and refinement? - - “You ask what I purpose to do further, or leave untouched. I desire - to leave untouched some 3,000 acres of moor-land needed for their - sheep, serviceable for peat fuel, freedom of air and mind and body, - and the growth of all the lovely things of moss and heather. - Wherever land is capable of improvement, I hold it is a grave - responsibility until it is done. You must come and look for - yourself some day. - - “I enclose a cheque for ten guineas for St. George’s Fund, with my - best wishes for this new year. - - “Ever yours affectionately.” - - -I have questioned one or two minor points in my friend’s letters; but -on the whole, they simply describe a piece of St. George’s old England, -still mercifully left,—and such as I hope to make even a few pieces -more, again; conquering them out of the Devil’s new England. - - - - - - - - -FORS CLAVIGERA. - -LETTER XXXIX. - - -On a foggy forenoon, two or three days ago, I wanted to make my way -quickly from Hengler’s Circus to Drury Lane Theatre, without losing -time which might be philosophically employed; and therefore afoot, for -in a cab I never can think of anything but how the driver is to get -past whatever is in front of him. - -On foot, then, I proceeded, and accordingly by a somewhat complex -diagonal line, to be struck, as the stars might guide me, between -Regent Circus and Covent Garden. I have never been able, by the way, to -make any coachman understand that such diagonals were not always -profitable. Coachmen, as far as I know them, always possess just enough -geometry to feel that the hypothenuse is shorter than the two sides, -but I never yet could get one to see that an hypothenuse constructed of -cross streets in the manner of the line A C, had no advantage, in the -matter of distance to be traversed, over the simple thoroughfares A B, -B C, while it involved the loss of the momentum of the carriage, and a -fresh start for the cattle, at seventeen corners instead of one, not to -mention the probability of a block at half a dozen of them, none the -less frequent since underground railways, and more difficult to get out -of, in consequence of the increasing discourtesy and diminishing -patience of all human creatures. - -Now here is just one of the pieces of practical geometry and dynamics -which a modern schoolmaster, exercising his pupils on the positions of -letters in the word Chillianwallah, would wholly despise. Whereas, in -St. George’s schools, it shall be very early learned, on a square and -diagonal of actual road, with actual loaded wheelbarrow—first -one-wheeled, and pushed; and secondly, two-wheeled, and pulled. And -similarly, every bit of science the children learn shall be directly -applied by them, and the use of it felt, which involves the truth of it -being known in the best possible way, and without any debating thereof. -And what they cannot apply they shall not be troubled to know. I am not -the least desirous that they should know so much even of the sun as -that it stands still, (if it does). They may remain, for anything I -care, under the most simple conviction that it gets up every morning -and goes to bed every night; but they shall assuredly possess the -applicable science of the hour it gets up at, and goes to bed at, on -any day of the year, because they will have to regulate their own -gettings up and goings to bed upon those solar proceedings. - -Well, to return to Regent Street. Being afoot, I took the complex -diagonal, because by wise regulation of one’s time and angle of -crossing, one may indeed move on foot in an economically drawn line, -provided one does not miss its main direction. As it chanced, I took my -line correctly enough; but found so much to look at and think of on the -way, that I gained no material advantage. First, I could not help -stopping to consider the metaphysical reasons of the extreme gravity -and self-abstraction of Archer Street. Then I was delayed a while in -Prince’s Street, Soho, wondering what Prince it had belonged to. Then I -got through Gerrard Street into Little Newport Street; and came there -to a dead pause, to think why, in these days of division of mechanical -labour, there should be so little space for classification of -commodities, as to require oranges, celery, butchers’ meat, cheap -hosiery, soap, and salt fish, to be all sold in the same alley. - -Some clue to the business was afforded me by the sign of the ‘Hotel de -l’Union des Peuples’ at the corner, “bouillon et bœuf à emporter;” but -I could not make out why, in spite of the union of people, the -provision merchant at the opposite corner had given up business, and -left his house with all its upper windows broken, and its door nailed -up. Finally, I was stopped at the corner of Cranbourne Street by a sign -over a large shop advising me to buy some “screwed boots and shoes.” I -am too shy to go in and ask, on such occasions, what screwed boots are, -or at least too shy to come out again without buying any, if the people -tell me politely, and yet I couldn’t get the question what such things -may be out of my head, and nearly got run over in consequence, before -attaining the Arcadian shelter of Covent Garden. I was but just in time -to get my tickets for Jack in the Box, on the day I wanted, and put -them carefully in the envelope with those I had been just securing at -Hengler’s for my fifth visit to Cinderella. For indeed, during the last -three weeks, the greater part of my available leisure has been spent -between Cinderella and Jack in the Box; with this curious result upon -my mind, that the intermediate scenes of Archer Street and Prince’s -Street, Soho, have become to me merely as one part of the drama, or -pantomime, which I happen to have seen last; or, so far as the -difference in the appearance of men and things may compel me to admit -some kind of specific distinction, I begin to ask myself, Which is the -reality, and which the pantomime? Nay, it appears to me not of much -moment which we choose to call Reality. Both are equally real; and the -only question is whether the cheerful state of things which the -spectators, especially the youngest and wisest, entirely applaud and -approve at Hengler’s and Drury Lane, must necessarily be interrupted -always by the woful interlude of the outside world. - -It is a bitter question to me, for I am myself now, hopelessly, a man -of the world!—of that woful outside one, I mean. It is now Sunday; -half-past eleven in the morning. Everybody about me is gone to church -except the kind cook, who is straining a point of conscience to provide -me with dinner. Everybody else is gone to church, to ask to be made -angels of, and profess that they despise the world and the flesh, which -I find myself always living in, (rather, perhaps, living, or -endeavouring to live, in too little of the last). And I am left alone -with the cat, in the world of sin. - -But I scarcely feel less an outcast when I come out of the Circus, on -week days, into my own world of sorrow. Inside the Circus, there have -been wonderful Mr. Edward Cooke, and pretty Mademoiselle Aguzzi, and -the three brothers Leonard, like the three brothers in a German story, -and grave little Sandy, and bright and graceful Miss Hengler, all doing -the most splendid feats of strength, and patience, and skill. There -have been dear little Cinderella and her Prince, and all the pretty -children beautifully dressed, taught thoroughly how to behave, and how -to dance, and how to sit still, and giving everybody delight that looks -at them; whereas, the instant I come outside the door, I find all the -children about the streets ill-dressed, and ill-taught, and -ill-behaved, and nobody cares to look at them. And then, at Drury Lane, -there’s just everything I want people to have always, got for them, for -a little while; and they seem to enjoy them just as I should expect -they would. Mushroom Common, with its lovely mushrooms, white and gray, -so finely set off by the incognita fairy’s scarlet cloak; the golden -land of plenty with furrow and sheath; Buttercup Green, with its flock -of mechanical sheep, which the whole audience claps because they are of -pasteboard, as they do the sheep in Little Red Riding Hood because they -are alive; but in either case, must have them on the stage in order to -be pleased with them, and never clap when they see the creatures in a -field outside. They can’t have enough, any more than I can, of the -loving duet between Tom Tucker and little Bo Peep: they would make the -dark fairy dance all night long in her amber light if they could; and -yet contentedly return to what they call a necessary state of things -outside, where their corn is reaped by machinery, and the only duets -are between steam whistles. Why haven’t they a steam whistle to whistle -to them on the stage, instead of Miss Violet Cameron? Why haven’t they -a steam Jack in the Box to jump for them, instead of Mr. Evans? or a -steam doll to dance for them, instead of Miss Kate Vaughan? They still -seem to have human ears and eyes, in the Theatre; to know there, for an -hour or two, that golden light, and song, and human skill and grace, -are better than smoke-blackness, and shrieks of iron and fire, and -monstrous powers of constrained elements. And then they return to their -underground railroad, and say, ‘This, behold,—this is the right way to -move, and live in a real world.’ - -Very notable it is also that just as in these two theatrical -entertainments—the Church and the Circus,—the imaginative congregations -still retain some true notions of the value of human and beautiful -things, and don’t have steam-preachers nor steam-dancers,—so also they -retain some just notion of the truth, in moral things: Little -Cinderella, for instance, at Hengler’s, never thinks of offering her -poor fairy Godmother a ticket from the Mendicity Society. She -immediately goes and fetches her some dinner. And she makes herself -generally useful, and sweeps the doorstep, and dusts the door;—and none -of the audience think any the worse of her on that account. They think -the worse of her proud sisters who make her do it. But when they leave -the Circus, they never think for a moment of making themselves useful, -like Cinderella. They forthwith play the proud sisters as much as they -can; and try to make anybody else, who will, sweep their doorsteps. -Also, at Hengler’s, nobody advises Cinderella to write novels, instead -of doing her washing, by way of bettering herself. The audience, gentle -and simple, feel that the only chance she has of pleasing her -Godmother, or marrying a prince, is in remaining patiently at her tub, -as long as the Fates will have it so, heavy though it be. Again, in all -dramatic representation of Little Red Riding Hood, everybody -disapproves of the carnivorous propensities of the Wolf. They clearly -distinguish there—as clearly as the Fourteenth Psalm, itself—between -the class of animal which eats, and the class of animal which is eaten. -But once outside the theatre, they declare the whole human race to be -universally carnivorous—and are ready themselves to eat up any quantity -of Red Riding Hoods, body and soul, if they can make money by them. - -And lastly,—at Hengler’s and Drury Lane, see how the whole of the -pleasure of life depends on the existence of Princes, Princesses, and -Fairies. One never hears of a Republican pantomime; one never thinks -Cinderella would be a bit better off if there were no princes. The -audience understand that though it is not every good little housemaid -who can marry a prince, the world would not be the least pleasanter, -for the rest, if there were no princes to marry. - -Nevertheless, it being too certain that the sweeping of doorsteps -diligently will not in all cases enable a pretty maiden to drive away -from said doorsteps, for evermore, in a gilded coach,—one has to -consider what may be the next best for her. And next best, or, in the -greater number of cases, best altogether, will be that Love, with his -felicities, should himself enter over the swept and garnished steps, -and abide with her in her own life, such as it is. And since St. -Valentine’s grace is with us, at this season, I will finish my Fors, -for this time, by carrying on our little romance of the Broom-maker, to -the place in which he unexpectedly finds it. In which romance, while we -may perceive the principal lesson intended by the author to be that the -delights and prides of affectionate married life are consistent with -the humblest station, (or may even be more easily found there than in a -higher one,) we may for ourselves draw some farther conclusions which -the good Swiss pastor only in part intended. We may consider in what -degree the lightening of the wheels of Hansli’s cart, when they drave -heavily by the wood of Muri, corresponds to the change of the English -highway into Mount Parnassus, for Sir Philip Sidney; and if the -correspondence be not complete, and some deficiency in the divinest -power of Love be traceable in the mind of the simple person as compared -to that of the gentle one, we may farther consider, in due time, how, -without help from any fairy Godmother, we may make Cinderella’s life -gentle to her, as well as simple; and, without taking the peasant’s -hand from his labour, make his heart leap with joy as pure as a king’s. -[12] - - - -Well, said Hansli, I’ll help you; give me your bag; I’ll put it among -my brooms, and nobody will see it. Everybody knows me. Not a soul will -think I’ve got your shoes underneath there. You’ve only to tell me -where to leave them—or indeed where to stop for you, if you like. You -can follow a little way off;—nobody will think we have anything to do -with each other. - -The young girl made no compliments. [13] - -You are really very good, [14] said she, with a more serene face. She -brought her packet, and Hans hid it so nicely that a cat couldn’t have -seen it. - -Shall I push, or help you to pull? asked the young girl, as if it had -been a matter of course that she should also do her part in the work. - -As you like best, though you needn’t mind; it isn’t a pair or two of -shoes that will make my cart much heavier. The young girl began by -pushing; but that did not last long. Presently she found herself [15] -in front, pulling also by the pole. - -It seems to me that the cart goes better so, said she. As one ought to -suppose, she pulled with all her strength; that which nevertheless did -not put her out of breath, nor hinder her from relating all she had in -her head, or heart. - -They got to the top of the hill of Stalden without Hansli’s knowing how -that had happened: the long alley [16] seemed to have shortened itself -by half. - -There, one made one’s dispositions; the young girl stopped behind, -while Hansli, with her bag and his brooms, entered the town without the -least difficulty, where he remitted her packet to the young girl, also -without any accident; but they had scarcely time to say a word to each -other before the press [17] of people, cattle, and vehicles separated -them. Hansli had to look after his cart, lest it should be knocked to -bits. And so ended the acquaintanceship for that day. This vexed Hansli -not a little; howbeit he didn’t think long about it. We cannot (more’s -the pity) affirm that the young girl had made an ineffaceable -impression upon him,—and all the less, that she was not altogether made -for producing ineffaceable impressions. She was a stunted little girl, -with a broad face. That which she had of best was a good heart, and an -indefatigable ardour for work; but those are things which, externally, -are not very remarkable, and many people don’t take much notice of -them. - -Nevertheless, the next Tuesday, when Hansli saw himself [18] at his -cart again, he found it extremely heavy. - -I wouldn’t have believed, said he to himself, what a difference there -is between two pulling, and one. - -Will she be there again, I wonder, thought he, as he came near the -little wood of Muri. I would take her bag very willingly if she would -help me to pull. Also the road is nowhere so ugly as between here and -the town. [19] - -And behold that it precisely happened that the young girl was sitting -there upon the same bench, all the same as eight days before; only with -the difference that she was not crying. - -Have you got anything for me to carry to-day? asked Hansli, who found -his cart at once became a great deal lighter at the sight of the young -girl. - -It is not only for that that I have waited, answered she; even if I had -had nothing to carry to the town, I should have come, all the same; for -eight days ago I wasn’t able to thank you; nor to ask if that cost -anything. - -A fine question! said Hansli. Why, you served me for a second donkey; -and yet I never asked how much I owed you for helping me to pull! So, -as all that went of itself, the young girl brought her bundle, and -Hansli hid it, and she went to put herself at the pole as if she had -known it all by heart. I had got a little way from home, said she, -before it came into my head that I ought to have brought a cord to tie -to the cart behind, and that would have gone better; but another time, -if I return, I won’t forget. - -This association for mutual help found itself, then, established, -without any long diplomatic debates, and in the most simple manner. -And, that day, it chanced that they were also able to come back -together as far as the place where their roads parted; all the same, -they were so prudent as not to show themselves together before the -gens-d’armes at the town gates. - -And now for some time Hansli’s mother had been quite enchanted with her -son. It seemed to her he was more gay, she said. He whistled and sang, -now, all the blessed day; and tricked himself up, so that he could -never have done. [20] Only just the other day he had bought a -great-coat of drugget, in which he had nearly the air of a real -counsellor. But she could not find any fault with him for all that; he -was so good to her that certainly the good God must reward him;—as for -herself, she was in no way of doing it, but could do nothing but pray -for him. Not that you are to think, said she, that he puts everything -into his clothes; he has some money too. If God spares his life, I’ll -wager that one day he’ll come to have a cow:—he has been talking of a -goat ever so long; but it’s not likely I shall be spared to see it. -And, after all, I don’t pretend to be sure it will ever be. - - - -Mother, said Hans one day, I don’t know how it is; but either the cart -gets heavier, or I’m not so strong as I was; for some time I’ve -scarcely been able to manage it. It is getting really too much for me; -especially on the Berne road, where there are so many hills. - -I dare say, said the mother; aussi, why do you go on loading it more -every day? I’ve been fretting about you many a time; for one always -suffers for over-work when one gets old. But you must take care. Put a -dozen or two of brooms less on it, and it will roll again all right. - -That’s impossible, mother; I never have enough as it is, and I haven’t -time to go to Berne twice a week. - -But, Hansli, suppose you got a donkey. I’ve heard say they are the most -convenient beasts in the world: they cost almost nothing, eat almost -nothing, and anything one likes to give them; and that’s [21] as strong -as a horse, without counting that one can make something of the -milk,—not that I want any, but one may speak of it. [22] - -No, mother, said Hansli,—they’re as self-willed as devils: sometimes -one can’t get them to do anything at all; and then what I should do -with a donkey the other five days of the week! No, mother;—I was -thinking of a wife,—hey, what say you? - -But, Hansli, I think a goat or a donkey would be much better. A wife! -What sort of idea is that that has come into your head? What would you -do with a wife? - -Do! said Hansli; what other people do, I suppose; and then, I thought -she would help me to draw the cart, which goes ever so much better with -another hand:—without counting that she could plant potatoes between -times, and help me to make my brooms, which I couldn’t get a goat or a -donkey to do. - -But, Hansli, do you think to find one, then, who will help you to draw -the cart, and will be clever enough to do all that? asked the mother, -searchingly. - -Oh, mother, there’s one who has helped me already often with the cart, -said Hansli, and who would be good for a great deal besides; but as to -whether she would marry me or not, I don’t know, for I haven’t asked -her. I thought that I would tell you first. - -You rogue of a boy, what’s that you tell me there? I don’t understand a -word of it, cried the mother. You too!—are you also like that? The good -God Himself might have told me, and I wouldn’t have believed Him. -What’s that you say?—you’ve got a girl to help you to pull the cart! A -pretty business to engage her for! Ah well,—trust men after this! - -Thereupon Hansli put himself to recount the history; and how that had -happened quite by chance; and how that girl was just expressly made for -him: a girl as neat as a clock,—not showy, not extravagant,—and who -would draw the cart better even than a cow could. But I haven’t spoken -to her of anything, however. All the same, I think I’m not disagreeable -to her. Indeed, she has said to me once or twice that she wasn’t in a -hurry to marry; but if she could manage it, so as not to be worse off -than she was now, she wouldn’t be long making up her mind. She knows, -for that matter, very well also why she is in the world. Her little -brothers and sisters are growing up after her; and she knows well how -things go, and how the youngest are always made the most of, for one -never thinks of thanking the elder ones for the trouble they’ve had in -bringing them up. - -All that didn’t much displease the mother; and the more she ruminated -over these unexpected matters, the more it all seemed to her very -proper. Then she put herself to make inquiries, and learned that nobody -knew the least harm of the girl. They told her she did all she could to -help her parents; but that with the best they could do, there wouldn’t -be much to fish for. Ah, well: it’s all the better, thought she; for -then neither of them can have much to say to the other. - - - -The next Tuesday, while Hansli was getting his cart ready, his mother -said to him, - -Well, speak to that girl: if she consents, so will I; but I can’t run -after her. Tell her to come here on Sunday, that I may see her, and at -least we can talk a little. If she is willing to be nice, it will all -go very well. Aussi, it must happen some time or other, I suppose. - -But, mother, it isn’t written anywhere that it must happen, whether or -no; and if it doesn’t suit you, nothing hinders me from leaving it all -alone. - -Nonsense, child; don’t be a goose. Hasten thee to set out; and say to -that girl, that if she likes to be my daughter-in-law, I’ll take her, -and be very well pleased. - -Hansli set out, and found the young girl. Once that they were pulling -together, he at his pole, and she at her cord, Hansli put himself to -say, - -That certainly goes as quick again when there are thus two cattle at -the same cart. Last Saturday I went to Thun by myself, and dragged all -the breath out of my body. - -Yes, I’ve often thought, said the young girl, that it was very foolish -of you not to get somebody to help you; all the business would go twice -as easily, and you would gain twice as much. - -What would you have? said Hansli. Sometimes one thinks too soon of a -thing, sometimes too late,—one’s always mortal. [23] But now it really -seems to me that I should like to have somebody for a help; if you were -of the same mind, you would be just the good thing for me. If that -suits you, I’ll marry you. - -Well, why not,—if you don’t think me too ugly nor too poor? answered -the young girl. Once you’ve got me, it will be too late to despise me. -As for me, I could scarcely fall in with a better chance. One always -gets a husband,—but, aussi, of what sort? You are quite good enough -[24] for me: you take care of your affairs, and I don’t think you’ll -treat a wife like a dog. - -My faith, she will be as much master as I; if she is not pleased that -way, I don’t know what more to do, said Hansli. And for other matters, -I don’t think you’ll be worse off with me than you have been at home. -If that suits you, come to see us on Sunday. It’s my mother who told me -to ask you, and to say that if you liked to be her daughter-in-law, she -would be very well pleased. - -Liked! But what could I want more? I am used to submit myself, and take -things as they come,—worse to-day, better to-morrow,—sometimes more -sour, sometimes less. I never have thought that a hard word made a hole -in me, else by this time I shouldn’t have had a bit of skin left as big -as a kreutzer. But, all the same, I must tell my people, as the custom -is. For the rest, they won’t give themselves any trouble about the -matter. There are enough of us in the house: if any one likes to go, -nobody will stop them. [25] - -And, aussi, that was what happened. On Sunday the young girl really -appeared at Rychiswyl. Hansli had given her very clear directions; nor -had she to ask long before she was told where the broom-seller lived. -The mother made her pass a good examination upon the garden and the -kitchen; and would know what book of prayers she used, and whether she -could read in the New Testament, and also in the Bible, [26] for it was -very bad for the children, and it was always they who suffered, if the -mother didn’t know enough for that, said the old woman. The girl -pleased her, and the affair was concluded. - -You won’t have a beauty there, said she to Hansli, before the young -girl; nor much to crow about, in what she has got. But all that is of -no consequence. It isn’t beauty that makes the pot boil; and as for -money, there’s many a man who wouldn’t marry a girl unless she was -rich, who has had to pay his father-in-law’s debts in the end. When one -has health, and work, in one’s arms, one gets along always. I suppose -(turning to the girl) you have got two good chemises and two gowns, so -that you won’t be the same on Sunday and work-days? - -Oh yes, said the young girl; you needn’t give yourself any trouble -about that. I’ve one chemise quite new, and two good ones besides,—and -four others which, in truth, are rather ragged. But my mother said I -should have another; and my father, that he would make me my wedding -shoes, and they should cost me nothing. And with that I’ve a very nice -godmother, who is sure to give me something fine;—perhaps a saucepan, -or a frying-stove, [27]—who knows? without counting that perhaps I -shall inherit something from her some day. She has some children, -indeed, but they may die. - -Perfectly satisfied on both sides, but especially the girl, to whom -Hansli’s house, so perfectly kept in order, appeared a palace in -comparison with her own home, full of children and scraps of leather, -they separated, soon to meet again and quit each other no more. As no -soul made the slightest objection, and the preparations were -easy,—seeing that new shoes and a new chemise are soon stitched -together,—within a month, Hansli was no more alone on his way to Thun. -And the old cart went again as well as ever. - - - -And they lived happily ever after? You shall hear. The story is not at -an end; note only, in the present phase of it, this most important -point, that Hansli does not think of his wife as an expensive luxury, -to be refused to himself unless under irresistible temptation. It is -only the modern Pall-Mall-pattern Englishman who must ‘abstain from the -luxury of marriage’ if he be wise. Hansli thinks of his wife, on the -contrary, as a useful article, which he cannot any longer get on -without. He gives us, in fact, a final definition of proper wifely -quality,—“She will draw the cart better than a cow could.” - - - - - - - - -FORS CLAVIGERA. - -LETTER XL. - - -I am obliged to go to Italy this spring, and find beside me, a mass of -Fors material in arrear, needing various explanation and arrangement, -for which I have no time. Fors herself must look to it, and my readers -use their own wits in thinking over what she has looked to. I begin -with a piece of Marmontel, which was meant to follow, ‘in due time,’ -the twenty-first letter,—of which, please glance at the last four pages -again. This following bit is from another story professing to give some -account of Molière’s Misanthrope, in his country life, after his last -quarrel with Celimène. He calls on a country gentleman, M. de Laval, -“and was received by him with the simple and serious courtesy which -announces neither the need nor the vain desire of making new -connections. Behold, said he, a man who does not surrender himself at -once. I esteem him the more. He congratulated M. de Laval on the -agreeableness of his solitude. You come to live here, he said to him, -far from men, and you are very right to avoid them. - -I, Monsieur! I do not avoid men; I am neither so weak as to fear them, -so proud as to despise them, or so unhappy as to hate them. - -This answer struck so home that Alceste was disconcerted by it; but he -wished to sustain his debût, and began to satirize the world. - -I have lived in the world like another, said M. de Laval, and I have -not seen that it was so wicked. There are vices and virtues in it,—good -and evil mingled,—I confess; but nature is so made, and one should know -how to accommodate oneself to it. - -On my word, said Alceste, in that unison the evil governs to such a -point that it chokes the other. Sir, replied the Viscount, if one were -as eager to discover good as evil, and had the same delight in -spreading the report of it,—if good examples were made public as the -bad ones almost always are,—do you not think that the good would weigh -down the balance? [28] But gratitude speaks so low, and indignation so -loudly, that you cannot hear but the last. Both friendship and esteem -are commonly moderate in their praises; they imitate the modesty of -honour, in praise, while resentment and mortification exaggerate -everything they describe. - -Monsieur, said Alceste to the Viscount, you make me desire to think as -you do; and even if the sad truth were on my side, your error would be -preferable. Ah, yes, without doubt, replied M. de Laval, ill-humour is -good for nothing, the fine part that it is, for a man to play, to fall -into a fit of spite like a child!—and why? For the mistakes of the -circle in which one has lived, as if the whole of nature were in the -plot against us, and responsible for the hurt we have received. - -You are right, replied Alceste, it would be unjust to consider all men -as partners in fault; yet how many complaints may we not justly lodge -against them, as a body? Believe me, sir, my judgment of them has -serious and grave motives. You will do me justice when you know me. -Permit me to see you often! Often, said the Viscount, will be -difficult. I have much business, and my daughter and I have our -studies, which leave us little leisure; but sometimes, if you will, let -us profit by our neighbourhood, at our ease, and without formality, for -the privilege of the country is to be alone, when we like. - -Some days afterwards Monsieur de Laval returned his visit, and Alceste -spoke to him of the pleasure that he doubtless felt in making so many -people happy. It is a beautiful example, he said, and, to the shame of -men, a very rare one. How many persons there are, more powerful and -more rich than you, who are nothing but a burden to their inferiors! I -neither excuse nor blame them altogether, replied M. de Laval. In order -to do good, one must know how to set about it; and do not think that it -is so easy to effect our purpose. It is not enough even to be -sagacious; it is needful also to be fortunate; it is necessary to find -sensible and docile persons to manage: [29] and one has constantly need -of much address, and patience, to lead the people, naturally suspicious -and timid, to what is really for their advantage. Indeed, said Alceste, -such excuses are continually made; but have you not conquered all these -obstacles? and why should not others conquer them? I, said M. de Laval, -have been tempted by opportunity, and seconded by accident. [30] The -people of this province, at the time that I came into possession of my -estate, were in a condition of extreme distress. I did but stretch my -arms to them; they gave themselves up to me in despair. An arbitrary -tax had been lately imposed upon them, which they regarded with so much -terror that they preferred sustaining hardships to making any -appearance of having wealth; and I found, current through the country, -this desolating and destructive maxim, ‘The more we work, the more we -shall be trodden down.’ (It is precisely so in England to-day, also.) -“The men dared not be laborious; the women trembled to have children.” - -I went back to the source of the evil. I addressed myself to the man -appointed for the reception of the tribute. Monsieur, I said to him, my -vassals groan under the weight of the severe measures necessary to make -them pay the tax. I wish to hear no more of them; tell me what is -wanting yet to make up the payment for the year, and I will acquit the -debt myself. Monsieur, replied the receiver, that cannot be. Why not? -said I. Because it is not the rule. What! is it not the rule to pay the -King the tribute that he demands with the least expense and the least -delay possible? Yes, answered he, that would be enough for the King, -but it would not be enough for me. Where should I be if they paid money -down? It is by the expense of the compulsory measures that I live; they -are the perquisites of my office. To this excellent reason I had -nothing to reply, but I went to see the head of the department, and -obtained from him the place of receiver-general for my peasants. - -My children, I then said to them, (assembling them on my return home,) -I have to announce to you that you are in future to deposit in my hands -the exact amount of the King’s tribute, and no more. There will be no -more expenses, no more bailiff’s visits. Every Sunday at the bank of -the parish, your wives shall bring me their savings, and insensibly you -shall find yourselves out of debt. Work now, and cultivate your land; -make the most of it you can; no farther tax shall be laid on you. I -answer for this to you—I who am your father. For those who are in -arrear, I will take some measures for support, or I will advance them -the sum necessary, [31] and a few days at the dead time of the year, -employed in work for me, will reimburse me for my expenses. This plan -was agreed upon, and we have followed it ever since. The housewives of -the village bring me their little offerings: I encourage them, and -speak to them of our good King; and what was an act of distressing -servitude, has become an unoppressive act of love. - -Finally, as there was a good deal of superfluous time, I established -the workshop that you have seen; it turns everything to account, and -brings into useful service time which would be lost between the -operations of agriculture: the profits of it are applied to public -works. A still more precious advantage of this establishment is its -having greatly increased the population—more children are born, as -there is certainty of extended means for their support.” - -Now note, first, in this passage what material of loyalty and affection -there was still in the French heart before the Revolution; and, -secondly, how useless it is to be a good King, if the good King allows -his officers to live upon the cost of compulsory measures. [32] And -remember that the French Revolution was the revolt of absolute loyalty -and love against the senseless cruelty of a “good King.” - -Next, for a little specimen of the state of our own working population; -and the “compulsory—not measures, but measureless license,” under which -their loyalty and love are placed,—here is a genuine working woman’s -letter; and if the reader thinks I have given it him in its own -spelling that he may laugh at it, the reader is wrong. - - - “May 12, 1873. - - “Dear —— - - “Wile Reading the herald to Day on the subject on shortor houers of - Labour [33] I was Reminded of A cercomstance that came under my - hone notis when the 10 hours sistom Began in the cotton mills in - Lancashire I was Minding a mesheen with 30 treds in it I was then - maid to mind 2 of 30 treds each with one shilling Advance of wages - wich was 5s for one and 6s for tow with an increes of speed and - with improved mecheens in A few years I was minding tow mecheens - with tow 100 trads Each and Dubel speed for 9s perweek so that in - our improved condation we had to turn out some 100 weght per day - and we went as if the Devel was After us for 10 houers per day and - with that comparative small Advance in money and the feemals have - ofton Been carred out fainting what with the heat and hard work and - those that could not keep up mst go and make room for a nother and - all this is Done in Christian England and then we are tould to Be - content in the station of Life in wich the Lord as places us But I - say the Lord never Did place us there so we have no Right to Be - content o that Right and not might was the Law yours truely - C. H. S.” - - -Next to this account of Machine-labour, here is one of Hand-labour, -also in a genuine letter,—this second being to myself; (I wish the -other had been also, but it was to one of my friends.) - - - “Beckenham, Kent, - “Sept. 24, 1873. - - “That is a pleasant evening in our family when we read and discuss - the subjects of ‘Fors Clavigera,’ and we frequently reperuse them, - as for instance, within a few days, your August letter. In page 16 - I was much struck by the notice of the now exploded use of the - spinning wheel. My mother, a Cumberland woman, was a spinner, and - the whole process, from the fine thread that passed through her - notable fingers, and the weaving into linen by an old cottager—a - very ‘Silas Marner,’—to the bleaching on the orchard grass, was - well known to my sister [34] and myself, when children. - - “When I married, part of the linen that I took to my new home was - my mother’s spinning, and one fine table-cloth was my - grandmother’s. What factory, with its thousand spindles, and - chemical bleaching powders, can send out such linen as that, which - lasted three generations? [35] - - “I should not have troubled you with these remarks, had I not at - the moment when I read your paragraph on hand-spinning, received a - letter from my daughter, now for a time resident in Coburg, (a - friend of Octavia Hill’s,) which bears immediately on the subject. - I have therefore ventured to transcribe it for your perusal, - believing that the picture she draws from life, beautiful as it is - for its simplicity, may give you a moment’s pleasure.” - - - - “Coburg, Sept. 4, 1873. - - “On Thursday I went to call on Frau L.; she was not in; so I went - to her mother’s, Frau E., knowing that I should find her there. - They were all sitting down to afternoon coffee, and asked me to - join them, which I gladly did. I had my work-basket with me, and as - they were all at work, it was pleasant to do the same thing. - Hildigard was there; in fact she lives there, to take care of Frau - E. since she had her fall and stiffened her ankle, a year ago. - Hildigard took her spinning, and tied on her white apron, filled - the little brass basin of the spinning-wheel with water, to wet her - fingers, and set the wheel a-purring. I have never seen the process - before, and it was very pretty to see her, with her white fingers, - and to hear the little low sound. It is quite a pity, I think, - ladies do not do it in England,—it is so pretty, and far nicer work - than crotchet, and so on, when it is finished. This soft linen made - by hand is so superior to any that you get now. Presently the four - children came in, and the great hunting dog, Feldman; and - altogether I thought, as dear little Frau E. sat sewing in her - arm-chair, and her old sister near her at her knitting, and - Hildigard at her spinning, while pretty Frau L. sewed at her little - girl’s stuff-skirt,—all in the old-fashioned room full of old - furniture, and hung round with miniatures of still older dames and - officers, in, to our eyes, strange stiff costumes, that it was a - most charming scene, and one I enjoyed as much as going to the - theatre,—which I did in the evening.” - - -A most charming scene, my dear lady, I have no doubt; just what -Hengler’s Circus was, to me, this Christmas. Now for a little more of -the charming scenery outside, and far away. - - - “12, Tunstall Terrace, Sunderland, - “14th Feb., 1874. - - “My dear Sir,—The rice famine is down upon us in earnest, and finds - our wretched ‘administration’ unprepared—a ministration unto death! - - “It can carry childish gossip ‘by return of post’ into every - village in India, but not food; no, not food even for mothers and - babes. So far has our scientific and industrial progress attained. - - “To-night comes news that hundreds of deaths from starvation have - already occurred, and that even high-caste women are working on the - roads;—no food from stores of ours except at the price of - degrading, health-destroying, and perfectly useless toil. God help - the nation responsible for this wickedness! - - “Dear Mr. Ruskin, you wield the most powerful pen in England, can - you not shame us into some sense of duty, some semblance of human - feeling? [Certainly not. My good sir, as far as I know, nobody ever - minds a word I say, except a few nice girls, who are a great - comfort to me, but can’t do anything. They don’t even know how to - spin, poor little lilies!] - - “I observe that the ‘Daily News’ of to-day is horrified at the idea - that Disraeli should dream of appropriating any part of the surplus - revenue to the help of India in this calamity [of course], and even - the ‘Spectator’ calls that a ‘dangerous’ policy. So far is even - ‘the conscience of the Press’ [What next?] corrupted by the dismal - science. - - “I am, yours truly.” - - -So far the Third Fors has arranged matters for me; but I must put a -stitch or two into her work. - -Look back to my third letter, for March, 1871, page 5. You see it is -said there that the French war and its issues were none of Napoleon’s -doing, nor Count Bismarck’s; that the mischief in them was St. Louis’s -doing; and the good, such as it was, the rough father of Frederick the -Great’s doing. - -The father of Frederick the Great was an Evangelical divine of the -strictest orthodoxy,—very fond of beer, bacon, and tobacco, and -entirely resolved to have his own way, supposing, as pure Evangelical -people always do, that his own way was God’s also. It happened, -however, for the good of Germany, that this king’s own way, to a great -extent, was God’s also,—(we will look at Carlyle’s statement of that -fact another day,)—and accordingly he maintained, and the ghost of -him,—with the help of his son, whom he had like to have shot as a -disobedient and dissipated character,—maintains to this day in Germany, -such sacred domestic life as that of which you have an account in the -above letter. Which, in peace, is entirely happy, for its own part; -and, in war, irresistible. - -‘Entirely blessed,’ I had written first, too carelessly. I have had to -scratch out the ‘blessed’ and put in ‘happy.’ For blessing is only for -the meek and merciful, and a German cannot be either; he does not -understand even the meaning of the words. In that is the intense, -irreconcilable difference between the French and German natures. A -Frenchman is selfish only when he is vile and lustful; but a German, -selfish in the purest states of virtue and morality. A Frenchman is -arrogant only in ignorance; but no quantity of learning ever makes a -German modest. “Sir,” says Albert Durer of his own work, (and he is the -modestest German I know,) “it cannot be better done.” Luther serenely -damns the entire gospel of St. James, because St. James happens to be -not precisely of his own opinions. - -Accordingly, when the Germans get command of Lombardy, they bombard -Venice, steal her pictures, (which they can’t understand a single touch -of,) and entirely ruin the country, morally and physically, leaving -behind them misery, vice, and intense hatred of themselves, wherever -their accursed feet have trodden. They do precisely the same thing by -France,—crush her, rob her, leave her in misery of rage and shame; and -return home, smacking their lips, and singing Te Deums. - -But when the French conquer England, their action upon it is entirely -beneficent. Gradually, the country, from a nest of restless savages, -becomes strong and glorious; and having good material to work upon, -they make of us at last a nation stronger than themselves. - -Then the strength of France perishes, virtually, through the folly of -St. Louis;—her piety evaporates, her lust gathers infectious power, and -the modern Cité rises round the Sainte Chapelle. - -It is a woful history. But St. Louis does not perish selfishly; and -perhaps is not wholly dead yet,—whatever Garibaldi and his red-jackets -may think about him, and their ‘Holy Republic.’ - -Meantime Germany, through Geneva, works quaintly against France, in our -British destiny, and makes an end of many a Sainte Chapelle, in our own -sweet river islands. Read Froude’s sketch of the Influence of the -Reformation on Scottish Character, in his “Short studies on great -subjects.” And that would be enough for you to think of, this month; -but as this letter is all made up of scraps, it may be as well to -finish with this little private note on Luther’s people, made last -week. - -4th March, 1874.—I have been horribly plagued and misguided by -evangelical people, all my life; and most of all lately; but my mother -was one, and my Scotch aunt; and I have yet so much of the superstition -left in me, that I can’t help sometimes doing as evangelical people -wish,—for all I know it comes to nothing. - -One of them, for whom I still have some old liking left, sent me one of -their horrible sausage-books the other day, made of chopped-up Bible; -but with such a solemn and really pathetic adjuration to read a ‘text’ -every morning, that, merely for old acquaintance’ sake, I couldn’t -refuse. It is all one to me, now, whether I read my Bible, or my Homer, -at one leaf or another; only I take the liberty, pace my evangelical -friend, of looking up the contexts if I happen not to know them. - -Now I was very much beaten and overtired yesterday, chiefly owing to a -week of black fog, spent in looking over the work of days and people -long since dead; and my ‘text’ this morning was, “Deal courageously, -and the Lord do that which seemeth Him good.” It sounds a very saintly, -submissive, and useful piece of advice; but I was not quite sure who -gave it; and it was evidently desirable to ascertain that. - -For, indeed, it chances to be given, not by a saint at all, but by -quite one of the most self-willed people on record in any -history,—about the last in the world to let the Lord do that which -seemed Him good; if he could help it, unless it seemed just as good to -himself also,—Joab the son of Zeruiah. The son, to wit, of David’s -elder sister; who, finding that it seemed good to the Lord to advance -the son of David’s younger sister to a place of equal power with -himself, unhesitatingly smites his thriving young cousin under the -fifth rib, while pretending to kiss him, and leaves him wallowing in -blood in the midst of the highway. But we have no record of the pious -or resigned expressions he made use of on that occasion. We have no -record, either, of several other matters one would have liked to know -about these people. How it is, for instance, that David has to make a -brother of Saul’s son;—getting, as it seems, no brotherly kindness—nor, -more wonderful yet, sisterly kindness—at his own fireside. It is like a -German story of the seventh son—or the seventh bullet—as far as the -brothers are concerned; but these sisters, had they also no love for -their brave young shepherd brother? Did they receive no countenance -from him when he was king? Even for Zeruiah’s sake, might he not on his -death-bed have at least allowed the Lord to do what seemed Him good -with Zeruiah’s son, who had so well served him in his battles, (and so -quietly in the matter of Bathsheba,) instead of charging the wisdom of -Solomon to find some subtle way of preventing his hoar head from going -down to the grave in peace? My evangelical friend will of course desire -me not to wish to be wise above that which is written. I am not to ask -even who Zeruiah’s husband was?—nor whether, in the West-end sense, he -was her husband at all?—Well; but if I only want to be wise up to the -meaning of what is written? I find, indeed, nothing whatever said of -David’s elder sister’s lover;—but, of his younger sister’s lover, I -find it written in this evangelical Book-Idol, in one place, that his -name was Ithra, an Israelite, and in another that it was Jether, the -Ishmaelite. Ithra or Jether, is no matter; Israelite or Ishmaelite, -perhaps matters not much; but it matters a great deal that you should -know that this is an ill written, and worse trans-written, human -history, and not by any means ‘Word of God;’ and that whatever issues -of life, divine or human, there may be in it, for you, can only be got -by searching it; and not by chopping it up into small bits and -swallowing it like pills. What a trouble there is, for instance, just -now, in all manner of people’s minds, about Sunday keeping, just -because these evangelical people will swallow their bits of texts in an -entirely indigestible state, without chewing them. Read your Bibles -honestly and utterly, my scrupulous friends, and stand by the -consequences,—if you have what true men call ‘faith.’ In the first -place, determine clearly, if there is a clear place in your brains to -do it, whether you mean to observe the Sabbath as a Jew, or the day of -the Resurrection, as a Christian. Do either thoroughly; you can’t do -both. If you choose to keep the ‘Sabbath,’ in defiance of your great -prophet, St. Paul, keep the new moons too, and the other fasts and -feasts of the Jewish law; but even so, remember that the Son of Man is -Lord of the Sabbath also, and that not only it is lawful to do good -upon it, but unlawful, in the strength of what you call keeping one day -Holy, to do Evil on other six days, and make those unholy; and, -finally, that neither new-moon keeping, nor Sabbath keeping, nor -fasting, nor praying, will in anywise help an evangelical city like -Edinburgh to stand in the judgment higher than Gomorrah, while her -week-day arrangements for rent from her lower orders are as follows: -[36]— - -“We entered the first room by descending two steps. It seemed to be an -old coal-cellar, with an earthen floor, shining in many places from -damp, and from a greenish ooze which drained through the wall from a -noxious collection of garbage outside, upon which a small window could -have looked had it not been filled up with brown paper and rags. There -was no grate, but a small fire smouldered on the floor, surrounded by -heaps of ashes. The roof was unceiled, the walls were rough and broken, -the only light came in from the open door, which let in unwholesome -smells and sounds. No cow or horse could thrive in such a hole. It was -abominable. It measured eleven feet by six feet, and the rent was 10d. -per week, paid in advance. It was nearly dark at noon, even with the -door open; but as my eyes became accustomed to the dimness, I saw that -the plenishings consisted of an old bed, a barrel with a flagstone on -the top of it for a table, a three-legged stool, and an iron pot. A -very ragged girl, sorely afflicted with ophthalmia, stood among the -ashes doing nothing. She had never been inside a school or church. She -did not know how to do anything, but ‘did for her father and brother.’ -On a heap of straw, partly covered with sacking, which was the bed in -which father, son, and daughter slept, the brother, ill with rheumatism -and sore legs, was lying moaning from under a heap of filthy rags. He -had been a baker ‘over in the New Town,’ but seemed not very likely to -recover. It looked as if the sick man had crept into his dark, damp -lair, just to die of hopelessness. The father was past work, but -‘sometimes got an odd job to do.’ The sick man had supported the three. -It was hard to be godly, impossible to be cleanly, impossible to be -healthy in such circumstances. - -“The next room was entered by a low, dark, impeded passage about twelve -feet long, too filthy to be traversed without a light. At the extremity -of this was a dark winding stair which led up to four superincumbent -storeys of crowded subdivided rooms; and beyond this, to the right, a -pitch-dark passage with a ‘room’ on either side. It was not possible to -believe that the most grinding greed could extort money from human -beings for the tenancy of such dens as those to which this passage led. -They were lairs into which a starving dog might creep to die, but -nothing more. Opening a dilapidated door, we found ourselves in a -recess nearly six feet high, and nine feet in length by five in -breadth. It was not absolutely dark, yet matches aided our -investigations even at noonday. There was an earthen floor full of -holes, in some of which water had collected. The walls were black and -rotten, and alive with woodlice. There was no grate. The rent paid for -this evil den, which was only ventilated by the chimney, is 1s. per -week, or £2 12s. annually! The occupier was a mason’s labourer, with a -wife and three children. He had come to Edinburgh in search of work, -and could not afford a ‘higher rent.’ The wife said that her husband -took the ‘wee drap.’ So would the President of the Temperance League -himself if he were hidden away in such a hole. The contents of this -lair on our first visit were a great heap of ashes and other refuse in -one corner, some damp musty straw in another, a broken box in the -third, with a battered tin pannikin upon it, and nothing else of any -kind, saving two small children, nearly nude, covered with running -sores, and pitiable from some eye disease. Their hair was not long, but -felted into wisps, and alive with vermin. When we went in they were -sitting among the ashes of an extinct fire, and blinked at the light -from our matches. Here a neighbour said they sat all day, unless their -mother was merciful enough to turn them into the gutter. We were there -at eleven the following night, and found the mother, a decent, tidy -body, at ‘hame.’ There was a small fire then, but no other light. She -complained of little besides the darkness of the house, and said, in a -tone of dull discontent, she supposed it was ‘as good as such as they -could expect in Edinburgh.’” - - - - - - -NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE. - -To my great satisfaction, I am asked by a pleasant correspondent, where -and what the picture of the Princess’s Dream is. High up, in an -out-of-the-way corner of the Academy of Venice, seen by no man—nor -woman neither,—of all pictures in Europe the one I should choose for a -gift, if a fairy queen gave me choice,—Victor Carpaccio’s “Vision of -St. Ursula.” - - - -The following letter, from the ‘Standard,’ is worth preserving:— - - - Sir,—For some time past the destruction of tons of young fry—viz., - salmon, turbot, trout, soles, cod, whiting, etc.,—in fact, every - fish that is to be found in the Thames,—has been enormous. I beg - leave to say that it is now worse than ever, inasmuch as larger - nets, and an increased number of them, are used, and the trade has - commenced a month earlier than usual, from the peculiarity of the - season. - - At this time there are, at one part of the river, four or five - vessels at work, which in one tide catch three tons of fry; this is - sifted and picked over by hand, and about three per cent. of fry is - all that can be picked out small enough for the London market. The - remainder of course dies during the process, and is thrown - overboard! Does the London consumer realize the fact that at least - thirty tons a week of young fry are thus sacrificed? Do Londoners - know that under the name of “whitebait” they eat a mixture largely - composed of sprat fry, a fish which at Christmas cost 9d. a bushel, - but which now fetches 2s. a quart, which is £3 4s. a bushel? (Price - regulated by Demand and Supply, you observe!—J. R.) It is bad - enough that so many young salmon and trout are trapped and utterly - wasted in these nets; but is it fair towards the public thus to - diminish their supply of useful and cheap food? - - Mr. Frank Buckland would faint, were he to see the wholesale - destruction of young fry off Southend (on one fishing-ground only). - I may truly say that the fishermen themselves are ashamed of the - havoc they are making—well they may be; but who is to blame? - - I have the honour to be, etc., - Pisciculus. - - Feb. 23. - - -The following note, written long before the last Fors on fish, bears on -some of the same matters, and may as well find place now. Of the Bishop -to whom it alludes, I have also something to say in next, or next, -Fors. The note itself refers to what I said about the defence of Pope, -who, like all other gracious men, had grave faults; and who, like all -other wise men, is intensely obnoxious to evangelical divines. I don’t -know what school of divines Mr. Elwyn belongs to; nor did I know his -name when I wrote the note: I have been surprised, since, to see how -good his work is; he writes with the precise pomposity of Macaulay, and -in those worst and fatallest forms of fallacy which are true as far as -they reach. - - - “There is an unhappy wretch of a clergyman I read of in the - papers—spending his life industriously in showing the meanness of - Alexander Pope—and how Alexander Pope cringed, and lied. He - cringed—yes—to his friends;—nor is any man good for much who will - not play spaniel to his friend, or his mistress, on occasion;—to - how many more than their friends do average clergymen cringe? I - have had a Bishop go round the Royal Academy even with - me,—pretending he liked painting, when he was eternally incapable - of knowing anything whatever about it. Pope lied also—alas, yes, - for his vanity’s sake. Very woful. But he did not pass the whole of - his life in trying to anticipate, or appropriate, or efface, other - people’s discoveries, as your modern men of science do so often; - and for lying—any average partizan of religious dogma tells more - lies in his pulpit in defence of what in his heart he knows to be - indefensible, on any given Sunday, than Pope did in his whole life. - Nay, how often is your clergyman himself nothing but a lie - rampant—in the true old sense of the word,—creeping up into his - pulpit pretending that he is there as a messenger of God, when he - really took the place that he might be able to marry a pretty girl, - and live like a ‘gentleman’ as he thinks. Alas! how infinitely more - of a gentleman if he would but hold his foolish tongue, and get a - living honestly—by street-sweeping, or any other useful - occupation—instead of sweeping the dust of his own thoughts into - people’s eyes—as this ‘biographer.’” - - -I shall have a good deal to say about human madness, in the course of -Fors; the following letter, concerning the much less mischievous rabies -of Dogs, is, however, also valuable. Note especially its closing -paragraph. I omit a sentence here and there which seems to me -unnecessary. - - - “On the 7th June last there appeared in the ‘Macclesfield Guardian’ - newspaper a letter on Rabies and the muzzling and confining of - Dogs, signed ‘Beth-Gêlert.’ That communication contained several - facts and opinions relating to the disease; the possible causes of - the same; and the uselessness and cruelty of muzzling and - confinement as a preventive to it. The first-named unnatural - practice has been condemned (as was there shown) by no less - authority than the leading medical journal of England,—which has - termed muzzling ‘a great practical mistake, and one which cannot - fail to have an injurious effect both upon the health and temper of - dogs; for, although rabies is a dreadful thing, dogs ought not, any - more than men, to be constantly treated as creatures likely to go - mad.’ - - “This information and judgment, however, seem insufficient to - convince some minds, even although they have no observations or - arguments to urge in opposition. It may be useful to the public to - bring forward an opinion on the merits of that letter expressed by - the late Thomas Turner, of Manchester, who was not only a member of - the Council, but one of the ablest and most experienced surgeons in - Europe. The words of so eminent a professional man cannot but be - considered valuable, and must have weight with the sensible and - sincere; though on men of an opposite character all evidence, all - reason, is too often utterly cast away. - - “Mosley Street, June 8, 1873. - - - - “‘Dear ——,—Thanks for your sensible letter. It contains great and - kind truths, and such as humanity should applaud. On the subject - you write about there is a large amount of ignorance both in and - out of the profession. - - “Ever yours, - “Thomas Turner.’ - - “In addition to the foregoing statement of the founder of the - Manchester Royal School of Medicine and Surgery, the opinion shall - now be given of one of the best veterinarians in London, who, - writing on the above letter in the ‘Macclesfield Guardian,’ - observed,—‘With regard to your paper on muzzling dogs, I feel - certain from observation that the restraint put upon them by the - muzzle is productive of evil, and has a tendency to cause fits, - etc.’ - - “Rabies, originally spontaneous, was probably created, like many - other evils which afflict humanity, by the viciousness, ignorance, - and selfishness of man himself. ‘Man’s inhumanity to man makes - countless thousands mourn,’—wrote the great peasant and national - poet of Scotland. He would have uttered even a wider and more - embracing truth had he said, man’s inhumanity to his - fellow-creatures makes countless millions mourn. Rabies is most - prevalent amongst the breeds of dogs bred and maintained for the - atrocious sports of ‘the pit;’ they are likewise the most dangerous - when victims to that dreadful malady. Moreover, dogs kept to worry - other animals are also among those most liable to the disease, and - the most to be feared when mad. But, on the other hand, dogs who - live as the friends and companions of men of true humanity, and - never exposed to annoyance or ill-treatment, remain gentle and - affectionate even under the excruciating agonies of this dire - disease. Delabere Blaine, first an army surgeon and subsequently - the greatest veterinarian of this or probably of any other nation, - tells us in his ‘Canine Pathology,’— - - “‘It will sensibly affect any one to witness the earnest, imploring - look I have often seen from the unhappy sufferers under this - dreadful malady. The strongest attachment has been manifested to - those around during their utmost sufferings; and the parched tongue - has been carried over the hands and feet of those who noticed them, - with more than usual fondness. This disposition has continued to - the last moment of life,—in many cases, without one manifestation - of any inclination to bite, or to do the smallest harm.’ - - “Here is another instance of ‘with whatsoever measure ye mete, it - shall be measured to you again.’ The cruelty of man, as it ever - does, recoils, like a viper, ultimately on man. He who invests in - the Bank of Vice receives back his capital with compound interest - at a high rate and to the uttermost farthing. - - “When a mad dog bites many people, he sometimes quits scores for a - long, long arrear of brutalities, insults, and oppression inflicted - upon him by the baser portion of mankind:—the hard blow, the savage - kick, the loud curse, the vile annoyance, the insulting word, the - starving meal, the carrion food, the shortened chain, the rotten - straw, the dirty kennel (appropriate name), the bitter winter’s - night, the parching heat of summer, the dull and dreary years of - hopeless imprisonment, the thousand aches which patient merit of - the unworthy takes, are represented, culminate there; and the cup - man has poisoned, man is forced to drink. - - “All these miseries are often, too often, the lot of this most - affectionate creature, who has truly been called ‘our faithful - friend, gallant protector, and useful servant.’ - - “No muzzling, murder, or incarceration tyrannically inflicted on - this much-enduring, much-insulted slave by his master, will ever - extirpate rabies. No abuse of the wondrous creature beneficently - bestowed by the Omniscient and Almighty on ungrateful man, to be - the friend of the poor and the guardian of the rich, will ever - extirpate rabies. Mercy and justice would help us much more. - - “In many lands the disease is utterly unknown,—in the land of - Egypt, for example, where dogs swarm in all the towns and villages. - Yet the follower of Mohammed, more humane than the follower of - Christ,—to our shame be it spoken,—neither imprisons, muzzles, nor - murders them. England, it is believed, never passed such an Act of - Parliament as this before the present century. There is, certainly, - in the laws of Canute a punishment awarded to the man whose dog - went mad, and by his negligence wandered up and down the country. A - far more sensible measure than our own. Canute punished the man, - not the dog. Also, in Edward the Third’s reign, all owners of - fighting dogs whose dogs were found wandering about the streets of - London were fined. Very different species of legislation from the - brainless or brutal Dog’s Act of 1871, passed by a number of men, - not one of whom it is probable either knew or cared to know - anything of the nature of the creature they legislated about; not - even that he perspires, not by means of his skin, but performs this - vital function by means of his tongue, and that to muzzle him is - tantamount to coating the skin of a man all over with paint or - gutta-percha. Such selfishness and cruelty in this age appears to - give evidence towards proof of the assertion made by our greatest - writer on Art,—that ‘we are now getting cruel in our avarice,’—‘our - hearts, of iron and clay, have hurled the Bible in the face of our - God, and fallen down to grovel before Mammon.’—If not, how is it - that we can so abuse one of the Supreme’s most choicest works,—a - creature sent to be man’s friend, and whose devotion so often ‘puts - to shame all human attachments’? - - “We are reaping what we have sown: Rabies certainly seems on the - increase in this district,—in whose neighbourhood, it is stated, - muzzling was first practised. It may spread more widely if we force - a crop. The best way to check it, is to do our duty to the noble - creature the Almighty has entrusted to us, and treat him with the - humanity and affection he so eminently deserves. To deprive him of - liberty and exercise; to chain him like a felon; to debar him from - access to his natural medicine; to prevent him from following the - overpowering instincts of his being and the laws of Nature, is - conduct revolting to reason and religion. - - “The disease of rabies comes on by degrees, not suddenly. Its - symptoms can easily be read. Were knowledge more diffused, people - would know the approach of the malady, and take timely precautions. - To do as we now do,—namely, drive the unhappy creatures insane, - into an agonizing sickness by sheer ignorance or inhumanity, and - then, because one is ill, tie up the mouths of the healthy, and - unnaturally restrain all the rest, is it not the conduct of idiots - rather than of reasonable beings? - - “Why all this hubbub about a disease which causes less loss of life - than almost any other complaint known, and whose fatal effects can, - in almost every case, be surely and certainly prevented by a - surgeon? If our lawgivers and lawmakers (who, by the way, although - the House of Commons is crowded with lawyers, do not in these times - draw Acts of Parliament so that they can be comprehended, without - the heavy cost of going to a superior court,) wish to save human - life, let them educate the hearts as well as heads of Englishmen, - and give more attention to boiler and colliery explosions, railway - smashes, and rotten ships; to the overcrowding and misery of the - poor; to the adulteration of food and medicines. Also, to dirt, - municipal stupidity, and neglect; by which one city alone, - Manchester, loses annually above three thousand lives. - - “I am, your humble servant, - - “Beth-Gelert.” - - - - - - - - -FORS CLAVIGERA. - -LETTER XLI. - - - Paris, 1st April, 1874. - -I find there are still primroses in Kent, and that it is possible still -to see blue sky in London in the early morning. It was entirely pure as -I drove down past my old Denmark Hill gate, bound for Cannon Street -Station, on Monday morning last; gate, closed now on me for evermore, -that used to open gladly enough when I came back to it from work in -Italy. Now, father and mother and nurse all dead, and the roses of the -spring, prime or late—what are they to me? - -But I want to know, rather, what are they to you? What have you, -workers in England, to do with April, or May, or June either; your -mill-wheels go no faster for the sunshine, do they? and you can’t get -more smoke up the chimneys because more sap goes up the trunks. Do you -so much as know or care who May was, or her son, Shepherd of the -heathen souls, so despised of you Christians? Nevertheless, I have a -word or two to say to you in the light of the hawthorn blossom, only -you must read some rougher ones first. I have printed the June Fors -together with this, because I want you to read the June one first, only -the substance of it is not good for the May-time; but read it, and when -you get to near the end, where it speaks of the distinctions between -the sins of the hot heart and the cold, come back to this, for I want -you to think in the flush of May what strength is in the flush of the -heart also. You will find that in all my late books (during the last -ten years) I have summed the needful virtue of men under the terms of -gentleness and justice; gentleness being the virtue which distinguishes -gentlemen from churls, and justice that which distinguishes honest men -from rogues. Now gentleness may be defined as the Habit or State of -Love; the Red Carita of Giotto (see account of her in Letter Seventh); -and ungentleness or clownishness, the opposite State or Habit of Lust. - -Now there are three great loves that rule the souls of men: the love of -what is lovely in creatures, and of what is lovely in things, and what -is lovely in report. And these three loves have each their relative -corruption, a lust—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the -pride of life. - -And, as I have just said, a gentleman is distinguished from a churl by -the purity of sentiment he can reach in all these three passions: by -his imaginative love, as opposed to lust; his imaginative possession of -wealth as opposed to avarice; his imaginative desire of honour as -opposed to pride. - -And it is quite possible for the simplest workman or labourer for whom -I write to understand what the feelings of a gentleman are, and share -them, if he will; but the crisis and horror of this present time are -that its desire of money, and the fulness of luxury dishonestly -attainable by common persons, are gradually making churls of all men; -and the nobler passions are not merely disbelieved, but even the -conception of them seems ludicrous to the impotent churl mind; so that, -to take only so poor an instance of them as my own life—because I have -passed it in almsgiving, not in fortune-hunting; because I have -laboured always for the honour of others, not my own, and have chosen -rather to make men look to Turner and Luini, than to form or exhibit -the skill of my own hand; because I have lowered my rents, and assured -the comfortable lives of my poor tenants, instead of taking from them -all I could force for the roofs they needed; because I love a wood walk -better than a London street, and would rather watch a seagull fly than -shoot it, and rather hear a thrush sing than eat it; finally, because I -never disobeyed my mother, because I have honoured all women with -solemn worship, and have been kind even to the unthankful and the evil; -therefore the hacks of English art and literature wag their heads at -me, and the poor wretch who pawns the dirty linen of his soul daily for -a bottle of sour wine and a cigar, talks of the “effeminate -sentimentality of Ruskin.” - -Now of these despised sentiments, which in all ages have distinguished -the gentleman from the churl, the first is that reverence for womanhood -which, even through all the cruelties of the Middle Ages, developed -itself with increasing power until the thirteenth century, and became -consummated in the imagination of the Madonna, which ruled over all the -highest arts and purest thoughts of that age. - -To the common Protestant mind the dignities ascribed to the Madonna -have been always a violent offence; they are one of the parts of the -Catholic faith which are openest to reasonable dispute, and least -comprehensible by the average realistic and materialist temper of the -Reformation. But after the most careful examination, neither as -adversary nor as friend, of the influences of Catholicism for good and -evil, I am persuaded that the worship of the Madonna has been one of -its noblest and most vital graces, and has never been otherwise than -productive of true holiness of life and purity of character. I do not -enter into any question as to the truth or fallacy of the idea; I no -more wish to defend the historical or theological position of the -Madonna than that of St. Michael or St. Christopher; but I am certain -that to the habit of reverent belief in, and contemplation of, the -character ascribed to the heavenly hierarchies, we must ascribe the -highest results yet achieved in human nature, and that it is neither -Madonna-worship nor saint-worship, but the evangelical self-worship and -hell-worship—gloating, with an imagination as unfounded as it is foul, -over the torments of the damned, instead of the glories of the -blest,—which have in reality degraded the languid powers of -Christianity to their present state of shame and reproach. There has -probably not been an innocent cottage home throughout the length and -breadth of Europe during the whole period of vital Christianity, in -which the imagined presence of the Madonna has not given sanctity to -the humblest duties, and comfort to the sorest trials of the lives of -women; and every brightest and loftiest achievement of the arts and -strength of manhood has been the fulfilment of the assured prophecy of -the poor Israelite maiden, “He that is mighty hath magnified me, and -Holy is His name.” What we are about to substitute for such magnifying -in our modern wisdom, let the reader judge from two slight things that -chanced to be noticed by me in my walk round Paris. I generally go -first to Our Lady’s Church, for though the towers and most part of the -walls are now merely the modern model of the original building, much of -the portal sculpture is still genuine, and especially the greater part -of the lower arcades of the north-west door, where the common entrance -is. I always held these such valuable pieces of the thirteenth century -work that I had them cast, in mass, some years ago, brought away casts, -eight feet high by twelve wide, and gave them to the Architectural -Museum. So as I was examining these, and laboriously gleaning what was -left of the old work among M. Violet le Duc’s fine fresh heads of -animals and points of leaves, I saw a brass plate in the back of one of -the niches, where the improperly magnified saints used to be. At first -I thought it was over one of the usual almsboxes which have a right to -be at church entrances (if anywhere); but catching sight of an English -word or two on it, I stopped to read, and read to the following -effect:— - - - “F. du Larin, - office - of the - Victoria Pleasure Trips - And Excursions to Versailles. - Excursions to the Battle-fields round Paris. - - “A four-horse coach with an English guide starts daily from Notre - Dame Cathedral, at 10½ a.m. for Versailles, by the Bois de - Boulogne, St. Cloud, Montretout, and Ville d’Avray. Back in Paris - at 5½ p.m. Fares must be secured one day in advance at the entrance - of Notre Dame. - - The Manager, H. du Larin.” - - -“Magnificat anima mea Dominum, quia respexit humilitatem ancillæ Suæ.” -Truly it seems to be time that God should again regard the lowliness of -His handmaiden, now that she has become keeper of the coach office for -excursions to Versailles. The arrangement becomes still more perfect in -the objects of this Christian joyful pilgrimage (from Canterbury, as it -were, instead of to it), the “Battle-fields round Paris!” - -From Notre Dame I walked back into the livelier parts of the city, -though in no very lively mood; but recovered some tranquillity in the -Marché aux fleurs, which is a pleasant spectacle in April, and then -made some circuit of the Boulevards, where, as the third Fors would -have it, I suddenly came in view of one of the temples of the modern -superstition, which is to replace Mariolatry. For it seems that human -creatures must imagine something or someone in Apotheosis, and the -Assumption of the Virgin, and Titian’s or Tintoret’s views on that -matter being held reasonable no more, apotheosis of some other power -follows as a matter of course. Here accordingly is one of the modern -hymns on the Advent of Spring, which replace now in France the sweet -Cathedral services of the Mois de Marie. It was printed in vast letters -on a white sheet, dependent at the side of the porch or main entrance -to the fur shop of the “Compagnie Anglo-Russe.” - -“Le printemps s’annonce avec son gracieux cortège de rayons et de -fleurs. Adieu, l’hiver! C’en est bien fini! Et cependant il faut que -toutes ces fourrures soient enlevées, vendues, données, dans ces 6 -jours. C’est une aubaine inesperée, un placement fabuleux; car, qu’on -ne l’oublie pas, la fourrure vraie, la belle, la riche, a toujours sa -valeur intrinsique. Et, comme couronnement de cette sorte d’Apothéose -la Cie. Anglo-Russe remet gratis à tout acheteur un talisman -merveilleux pour conserver la fourrure pendant 10 saisons.” - -“Unto Adam also, and to his wife, did the Lord God make coats of skins -and clothed them.” - -The Anglo-Russian company having now superseded Divine labour in such -matters, you have also, instead of the grand old Dragon-Devil with his -“Ye shall be as Gods, knowing good and evil,” only a little weasel of a -devil with an ermine tip to his tail, advising you, “Ye shall be as -Gods, buying your skins cheap.” - - - -I am a simpleton, am I, to quote such an exploded book as Genesis? My -good wiseacre readers, I know as many flaws in the book of Genesis as -the best of you, but I knew the book before I knew its flaws, while you -know the flaws, and never have known the book, nor can know it. And it -is at present much the worse for you; for indeed the stories of this -book of Genesis have been the nursery tales of men mightiest whom the -world has yet seen in art, and policy, and virtue, and none of you will -write better stories for your children, yet awhile. And your little -Cains will learn quickly enough to ask if they are their brother’s -keepers, and your little Fathers of Canaan merrily enough to show their -own father’s nakedness without dread either of banishment or -malediction; but many a day will pass, and their evil generations -vanish with it, in that sudden nothingness of the wicked, “He passed -away, and lo, he was not,” before one will again rise, of whose death -there may remain the Divine tradition, “He walked with God, and was -not, for God took him.” Apotheosis! How the dim hope of it haunts even -the last degradation of men; and through the six thousand years from -Enoch, and the vague Greek ages which dreamed of their twin-hero stars, -declines, in this final stage of civilization, into dependence on the -sweet promise of the Anglo-Russian tempter, with his ermine tail, “Ye -shall be as Gods, and buy cat-skin cheap.” - -So it must be. I know it, my good wiseacres. You can have no more -Queens of Heaven, nor assumptions of triumphing saints. Even your -simple country Queen of May, whom once you worshipped for a goddess—has -not little Mr. Faraday analysed her, and proved her to consist of -charcoal and water, combined under what the Duke of Argyll calls the -“reign of law”? Your once fortune-guiding stars, which used to twinkle -in a mysterious manner, and to make you wonder what they -were,—everybody knows what they are now: only hydrogen gas, and they -stink as they twinkle. My wiseacre acquaintances, it is very fine, -doubtless, for you to know all these things, who have plenty of money -in your pockets, and nothing particular to burden your chemical minds; -but for the poor, who have nothing in their pockets, and the wretched, -who have much on their hearts, what in the world is the good of knowing -that the only heaven they have to go to is a large gasometer? - -“Poor and wretched!” you answer. “But when once everybody is convinced -that heaven is a large gasometer, and when we have turned all the world -into a small gasometer, and can drive round it by steam, and in forty -minutes be back again where we were,—nobody will be poor or wretched -any more. Sixty pounds on the square inch,—can anybody be wretched -under that general application of high pressure?” - - - - (Assisi, 15th April.) - -Good wiseacres, yes; it seems to me, at least, more than probable: but -if not, and you all find yourselves rich and merry, with steam legs and -steel hearts, I am well assured there will be found yet room, where -your telescopes have not reached, nor can,—grind you their lenses ever -so finely,—room for the quiet souls, who choose for their part, -poverty, with light and peace. - -I am writing at a narrow window, which looks out on some broken tiles -and a dead wall. A wall dead in the profoundest sense, you wiseacres -would think it. Six hundred years old, and as strong as when it was -built, and paying nobody any interest, and still less commission, on -the cost of repair. Both sides of the street, or pathway rather,—it is -not nine feet wide,—are similarly built with solid blocks of grey -marble, arched rudely above the windows, with here and there a cross on -the keystones. - -If I chose to rise from my work and walk a hundred yards down this -street (if one may so call the narrow path between grey walls, as quiet -and lonely as a sheep-walk on Shap Fells,) I should come to a small -prison-like door; and over the door is a tablet of white marble let -into the grey, and on the tablet is written, in contracted Latin, what -in English signifies:— - - - “Here, Bernard the Happy [37] - Received St. Francis of Assisi, - And saw him, in ecstacy.” - - -Good wiseacres, you believe nothing of the sort, do you? Nobody ever -yet was in ecstacy, you think, till now, when they may buy cat-skin -cheap? - -Do you believe in Blackfriars Bridge, then; and admit that some day or -other there must have been reason to call it “Black Friar’s”? As surely -as the bridge stands over Thames, and St. Paul’s above it, these two -men, Paul and Francis, had their ecstacies, in bygone days, concerning -other matters than ermine tails; and still the same ecstacies, or -effeminate sentiments, are possible to human creatures, believe it or -not as you will. I am not now, whatever the ‘Pall Mall Gazette’ may -think, an ecstatic person myself. But thirty years ago I knew once or -twice what joy meant, and have not forgotten the feeling; nay, even so -little a while as two years ago, I had it back again—for a day. And I -can assure you, good wiseacres, there is such a thing to be had; but -not in cheap shops, nor, I was going to say, for money; yet in a -certain sense it is buyable—by forsaking all that a man hath. -Buyable—literally enough—the freehold Elysian field at that price, but -not a doit cheaper; and I believe, at this moment, the reason my voice -has an uncertain sound, the reason that this design of mine stays -unhelped, and that only a little group of men and women, moved chiefly -by personal regard, stand with me in a course so plain and true, is -that I have not yet given myself to it wholly, but have halted between -good and evil, and sit still at the receipt of custom, and am always -looking back from the plough. - -It is not wholly my fault this. There seem to me good reasons why I -should go on with my work in Oxford; good reasons why I should have a -house of my own with pictures and library; good reasons why I should -still take interest from the bank; good reasons why I should make -myself as comfortable as I can, wherever I go; travel with two -servants, and have a dish of game at dinner. It is true, indeed, that I -have given the half of my goods and more to the poor; it is true also -that the work in Oxford is not a matter of pride, but of duty with me; -it is true that I think it wiser to live what seems to other people a -rational and pleasant, not an enthusiastic, life; and that I serve my -servants at least as much as they serve me. But, all this being so, I -find there is yet something wrong; I have no peace, still less ecstacy. -It seems to me as if one had indeed to wear camel’s hair instead of -dress coats before one can get that; and I was looking at St. Francis’s -camel’s-hair coat yesterday (they have it still in the sacristy), and I -don’t like the look of it at all; the Anglo-Russian Company’s wear is -ever so much nicer,—let the devil at least have this due. - -And he must have a little more due even than this. It is not at all -clear to me how far the Beggar and Pauper Saint, whose marriage with -the Lady Poverty I have come here to paint from Giotto’s dream of -it,—how far, I say, the mighty work he did in the world was owing to -his vow of poverty, or diminished by it. If he had been content to -preach love alone, whether among poor or rich, and if he had understood -that love, for all God’s creatures, was one and the same blessing; and -that, if he was right to take the doves out of the fowler’s hand, that -they might build their nests, he was himself wrong when he went out in -the winter’s night on the hills, and made for himself dolls of snow, -and said, “Francis, these—behold—these are thy wife and thy children.” -If instead of quitting his father’s trade, that he might nurse lepers, -he had made his father’s trade holy and pure, and honourable more than -beggary, perhaps at this day the Black Friars might yet have had an -unruined house by Thames shore, and the children of his native village -not be standing in the porches of the temple built over his tomb, to -ask alms of the infidel. - - - - - - - - -FORS CLAVIGERA. - -LETTER XLII. - - -I must construct my letters still, for a while, of swept-up fragments; -every day provokes me to write new matter; but I must not lose the -fruit of the old days. Here is some worth picking up, though -ill-ripened for want of sunshine, (the little we had spending itself on -the rain,) last year. - - - 1st August, 1873. - -“Not being able to work steadily this morning, because there was a -rainbow half a mile broad, and violet-bright, on the shoulders of the -Old Man of Coniston—(by calling it half a mile broad, I mean that half -a mile’s breadth of mountain was coloured by it,—and by calling it -violet-bright, I mean that the violet zone of it came pure against the -grey rocks; and note, by the way, that essentially all the colours of -the rainbow are secondary;—yellow exists only as a line—red as a -line—blue as a line; but the zone itself is of varied orange, green, -and violet,)—not being able, I say, for steady work, I opened an old -diary of 1849, and as the third Fors would have it, at this extract -from the Letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. - - (Venice.) - -“The Prince of Saxony went to see the Arsenal three days ago, waited on -by a numerous nobility of both sexes; the Bucentaur was adorned and -launched, a magnificent collation given; and we sailed a little in it. -I was in company with the Signora Justiniani Gradenigo and Signora -Marina Crizzo. There were two cannons founded in his (the Prince of -Saxony’s) presence, and a galley built and launched in an hour’s time.” -(Well may Dante speak of that busy Arsenal!) - -“Last night there was a concert of voices and instruments at the -Hospital of the Incurabili, where there were two girls that in the -opinion of all people excel either Faustina or Cuzzoni. - -“I am invited to-morrow to the Foscarini to dinner, which is to be -followed by a concert and a ball.” - -The account of a regatta follows, in which the various nobles had boats -costing £1000 sterling each, none less than £500, and enough of them to -look like a little fleet. The Signora Pisani Mocenigo’s represented the -Chariot of the Night, drawn by four sea-horses, and showing the rising -of the moon, accompanied with stars, the statues on each side -representing the Hours, to the number of twenty-four. - -Pleasant times, these, for Venice! one’s Bucentaur launched, wherein to -eat, buoyantly, a magnificent collation—beautiful ladies driving their -ocean steeds in the Chariot of the Night—beautiful songs, at the -Hospital of the Incurabili. Much bettered, these, from the rough days -when one had to row and fight for life, thought Venice; better days -still, in the nineteenth century, being—as she appears to believe -now—in store for her. - -You thought, I suppose, that in writing those numbers of Fors last year -from Venice and Verona, I was idling, or digressing? - -Nothing of the kind. The business of Fors is to tell you of Venice and -Verona; and many things of them. - -You don’t care about Venice and Verona? Of course not. Who does? And I -beg you to observe that the day is coming when, exactly in the same -sense, active working men will say to any antiquarian who purposes to -tell them something of England, “We don’t care about England.” And the -antiquarian will answer, just as I have answered you now, “Of course -not. Who does?” - -Nay, the saying has been already said to me, and by a wise and good -man. When I asked, at the end of my inaugural lecture at Oxford, “Will -you, youths of England, make your country again a royal throne of -kings, a sceptred isle, for all the world a source of light—a centre of -peace?”—my University friends came to me, with grave faces, to -remonstrate against irrelevant and Utopian topics of that nature being -introduced in lectures on art; and a very dear American friend wrote to -me, when I sent the lecture to him, in some such terms as these: “Why -will you diminish your real influence for good, by speaking as if -England could now take any dominant place in the world? How many -millions, think you, are there here, of the activest spirits of their -time, who care nothing for England, and would read no farther, after -coming upon such a passage?” - -That England deserves little care from any man nowadays, is fatally -true; that in a century more she will be—where Venice is—among the dead -of nations, is far more than probable. And yet—that you do not care for -dead Venice, is the sign of your own ruin; and that the Americans do -not care for dying England, is only the sign of their inferiority to -her. - -For this dead Venice once taught us to be merchants, sailors, and -gentlemen; and this dying England taught the Americans all they have of -speech, or thought, hitherto. What thoughts they have not learned from -England are foolish thoughts; what words they have not learned from -England, unseemly words; the vile among them not being able even to be -humorous parrots, but only obscene mocking birds. An American -republican woman, lately, describes a child which “like cherubim and -seraphim continually did cry;” [38] such their feminine learning of the -European fashions of ‘Te Deum’! And, as I tell you, Venice in like -manner taught us, when she and we were honest, our marketing, and our -manners. Then she began trading in pleasure, and souls of men, before -us; followed that Babylonish trade to her death,—we nothing loth to -imitate, so plausible she was, in her mythic gondola, and Chariot of -the Night! But where her pilotage has for the present carried her, and -is like to carry us, it may be well to consider. And therefore I will -ask you to glance back to my twentieth letter, giving account of the -steam music, the modern Tasso’s echoes, practised on her principal -lagoon. That is her present manner, you observe, of “whistling at her -darg.” But for festivity after work, or altogether superseding -work—launching one’s adorned Bucentaur for collation—let us hear what -she is doing in that kind. - -From the Rinnovamento (Renewal, or Revival,) “Gazette of the people of -Venice” of 2nd July, 1872, I print, in my terminal notes, a portion of -one of their daily correspondent’s letters, describing his pleasures of -the previous day, of which I here translate a few pregnant sentences. - -“I embarked on a little steamboat. It was elegant—it was vast. But its -contents were enormously greater than its capacity. The little -steamboat overflowed [39] with men, women, and boys. The Commandant, a -proud young man, cried, ‘Come in, come in!’ and the crowd became always -more close, and one could scarcely breathe” (the heroic exhortations of -the proud youth leading his public to this painful result). “All at -once a delicate person [40] of the piazza, feeling herself unwell, -cried ‘I suffocate.’ The Commandant perceived that suffocation did -veritably prevail, and gave the word of command, ‘Enough.’ - -“In eighteen minutes I had the good fortune to land safe at the -establishment, ‘The Favourite.’ And here my eyes opened for wonder. In -truth, only a respectable force of will could have succeeded in -transforming this place, only a few months ago still desert and -uncultivated, into a site of delights. Long alleys, grassy carpets, -small mountains, charming little banks, châlets, solitary and -mysterious paths, and then an interminable covered way which conducts -to the bathing establishment; and in that, attendants dressed in -mariners’ dresses, a most commodious basin, the finest linen, and the -most regular and solicitous service. - -“Surprised, and satisfied, I plunged myself cheerfully into the sea. -After the bath, is prescribed a walk. Obedient to the dictates of -hygiene, I take my returning way along the pleasant shore of the sea to -‘The Favourite.’ A châlet, or rather an immense salon, is become a -concert room. And, in fact, an excellent orchestra is executing therein -most chosen pieces. The artists are all endued in dress coats, and wear -white cravats. I hear with delight a pot-pourri from Faust. I then take -a turn through the most vast park, and visit the Restaurant. - -“To conclude. The Lido has no more need to become a place of delights. -It is, in truth, already become so. - -“All honour to the brave who have effected the marvellous -transformation.” - -Onori ai bravi!—Honour to the brave! Yes; in all times, among all -nations, that is entirely desirable. You know I told you, in last Fors, -that to honour the brave dead was to be our second child’s lesson. None -the less expedient if the brave we have to honour be alive, instead of -long dead. Here are our modern Venetian troubadours, in white cravats, -celebrating the victories of their Hardicanutes with collection of -choicest melody—pot-pourri—hotch-potch, from Faust. And, indeed, is not -this a notable conquest which resuscitated Venice has made of her Lido? -Where all was vague sea-shore, now, behold, “little mountains, -mysterious paths.” Those unmanufactured mountains—Eugeneans and -Alps—seen against the sunset, are not enough for the vast mind of -Venice born again; nor the canals between her palaces mysterious enough -paths. Here are mountains to our perfect mind, and more solemn ways,—a -new kingdom for us, conquered by the brave. Conquest, you observe also, -just of the kind which in our ‘Times’ newspaper is honoured always in -like manner, ‘Private Enterprise.’ The only question is, whether the -privacy of your enterprise is always as fearless of exposure as it used -to be,—or even, the enterprise of it as enterprising. Let me tell you a -little of the private enterprise of dead Venice, that you may compare -it with that of the living. - -You doubted me just now, probably, when I told you that Venice taught -you to be sailors. You thought your Drakes and Grenvilles needed no -such masters. No! but a hundred years before Sir Francis’s time, the -blind captain of a Venetian galley,—of one of those things which the -Lady Mary saw built in an hour,—won the empire of the East. You did -fine things in the Baltic, and before Sebastopol, with your ironclads -and your Woolwich infants, did you? Here was a piece of fighting done -from the deck of a rowed boat, which came to more good, it seems to me. - -“The Duke of Venice had disposed his fleet in one line along the -sea-wall (of Constantinople), and had cleared the battlements with his -shot (of stones and arrows); but still the galleys dared not take -ground. But the Duke of Venice, though he was old (ninety) and -stone-blind, stood, all armed, at the head of his galley, and had the -gonfalon of St. Mark before him; and he called to his people to ground -his ship, or they should die for it. So they ran the ship aground, and -leaped out, and carried St. Mark’s gonfalon to the shore before the -Duke. Then the Venetians, seeing their Duke’s galley ashore, followed -him; and they planted the flag of St. Mark on the walls, and took -twenty-five towers.” - -The good issue of which piece of pantaloon’s play was that the city -itself, a little while after, with due help from the French, was taken, -and that the crusading army proceeded thereon to elect a new Emperor of -the Eastern Empire. - -Which office six French Barons, and six Venetian, being appointed to -bestow, and one of the French naming first the Duke of Venice, he had -certainly been declared Emperor, but one of the Venetians themselves, -Pantaleone Barbo, declaring that no man could be Duke of Venice, and -Emperor too, gave his word for Baldwin of Flanders, to whom accordingly -the throne was given; while to the Venetian State was offered, with the -consent of all, if they chose to hold it—about a third of the whole -Roman Empire! - -Venice thereupon deliberates with herself. Her own present national -territory—the true ‘State’ of Venice—is a marsh, which you can see from -end to end of;—some wooden houses, half afloat, and others wholly -afloat, in the canals of it; and a total population, in round numbers, -about as large as that of our parish of Lambeth. Venice feels some -doubt whether, out of this wild duck’s nest, and with that number of -men, she can at once safely, and in all the world’s sight, undertake to -govern Lacedæmon, Ægina, Ægos Potamos, Crete, and half the Greek -islands; nevertheless, she thinks she will try a little ‘private -enterprise’ upon them. So in 1207 the Venetian Senate published an -edict by which there was granted to all Venetian citizens permission to -arm, at their own expense, war-galleys, and to subdue, if they could -manage it in that private manner, such islands and Greek towns of the -Archipelago as might seem to them what we call “eligible residences,” -the Senate graciously giving them leave to keep whatever they could -get. Whereupon certain Venetian merchants—proud young men—stood, as we -see them standing now on their decks on the Riva, crying to the crowd, -‘Montate! Montate!’ and without any help from steam, or encumbrance -from the markets of Ascension Day, rowed and sailed—somewhat outside -the Lido. Mark Dandolo took Gallipoli; Mark Sanudo, Naxos, Paros, and -Melos;—(you have heard of marbles and Venuses coming from those places, -have not you?)—Marin Dandolo, Andros; Andrea Ghisi, Micone and Scyros; -Dominico Michieli, Ceos; and Philocola Navigieri, the island of Vulcan -himself, Lemnos. Took them, and kept them also! (not a little to our -present sorrow; for, being good Christians, these Venetian gentlemen -made wild work among the Parian and Melian gods). It was not till 1570 -that the twenty-first Venetian Duke of Melos was driven out by the -Turks, and the career of modern white-cravated Venice virtually begun. - -“Honour to the brave!” Yes, in God’s name, and by all manner of means! -And dishonour to the cowards: but, my good Italian and good English -acquaintances, are you so sure, then, you know which is which? Nay, are -you honestly willing to acknowledge there is any difference? Heaven be -praised if you are!—but I thought your modern gospel was, that all were -alike? Here’s the ‘Punch’ of last week lying beside me, for instance, -with its normal piece of pathos upon the advertisements of death. Dual -deaths this time; and pathetic epitaphs on the Bishop of Winchester and -the Baron Bethell. The best it can honestly say, (and ‘Punch’ as far as -I know papers, is an honest one,) is that the Bishop was a pleasant -kind of person; and the best it can say for the Chancellor is, that he -was witty;—but, fearing that something more might be expected, it -smooths all down with a sop of popular varnish, “How good the worst of -us!—how bad the best!” Alas, Mr. Punch, is it come to this? and is -there to be no more knocking down, then? and is your last scene in -future to be—shaking hands with the devil?—clerical pantaloon in white -cravat asking a blessing on the reconciliation, and the drum and pipe -finishing with a pot-pourri from Faust? - -A popular tune, truly, everywhere, nowadays—“Devil’s hotch-potch,” and -listened to “avec delices!” And, doubtless, pious Republicans on their -death-beds will have a care to bequeath it, rightly played, to their -children, before they go to hear it, divinely executed, in their own -blessed country. - -“How good the worst of us!—how bad the best!” Jeanie Deans, and St. -Agnes, and the Holy Thursday fairing, all the same! - - - -My good working readers, I will try to-day to put you more clearly in -understanding of this modern gospel,—of what truth there is in it—for -some there is,—and of what pestilent evil. - -I call it a modern gospel: in its deepest truth it is as old as -Christianity. “This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them.” And -it was the most distinctive character of Christianity. Here was a new, -astonishing religion indeed; one had heard before of righteousness; -before of resurrection;—never before of mercy to sin, or fellowship -with it. - -But it is only in strictly modern times (that is to say, within the -last hundred years) that this has been fixed on, by a large sect of -thick-headed persons, as the essence of Christianity,—nay, as so much -its essence, that to be an extremely sinful sinner is deliberately -announced by them as the best of qualifications for becoming an -extremely Christian Christian. - -But all the teachings of Heaven are given—by sad law—in so obscure, -nay, often in so ironical manner that a blockhead necessarily reads -them wrong. Very marvellous it is that Heaven, which really in one -sense is merciful to sinners, is in no sense merciful to fools, but -even lays pitfalls for them, and inevitable snares. - -Again and again, in the New Testament, the publican (supposed at once -traitor to his country and thief) and the harlot are made the -companions of Christ. She out of whom He had cast seven devils, loves -Him best, sees Him first, after His resurrection. The sting of that old -verse, “When thou sawest a thief, thou consentedst to him, and hast -been partaker with adulterers,” seems done away with. Adultery itself -uncondemned,—for, behold, in your hearts is not every one of you alike? -“He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” -And so, and so, no more stones shall be cast nowadays; and here, on the -top of our epitaph on the Bishop, lies a notice of the questionable -sentence which hanged a man for beating his wife to death with a stick. -“The jury recommended him strongly to mercy.” - -They did so, because they knew not, in their own hearts, what mercy -meant. They were afraid to do anything so extremely compromising and -disagreeable as causing a man to be hanged,—had no ‘pity’ for any -creatures beaten to death—wives, or beasts; but only a cowardly fear of -commanding death, where it was due. Your modern conscience will not -incur the responsibility of shortening the hourly more guilty life of a -single rogue; but will contentedly fire a salvo of mitrailleuses into a -regiment of honest men—leaving Providence to guide the shot. But let us -fasten on the word they abused, and understand it. Mercy—misericordia: -it does not in the least mean forgiveness of sins,—it means pity of -sorrows. In that very instance which the Evangelicals are so fond of -quoting—the adultery of David—it is not the Passion for which he is to -be judged, but the want of Passion,—the want of Pity. This he is to -judge himself for, by his own mouth:—“As the Lord liveth, the man that -hath done this thing shall surely die,—because he hath done this thing, -and because he had no pity.” - -And you will find, alike throughout the record of the Law and the -promises of the Gospel, that there is, indeed, forgiveness with God, -and Christ, for the passing sins of the hot heart, but none for the -eternal and inherent sin of the cold. ‘Blessed are the merciful, for -they shall obtain mercy’;—find it you written anywhere that the -unmerciful shall? ‘Her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she -loved much.’ But have you record of any one’s sins being forgiven who -loved not at all? - -I opened my oldest Bible just now, to look for the accurate words of -David about the killed lamb;—a small, closely, and very neatly printed -volume it is, printed in Edinburgh by Sir D. Hunter Blair and J. Bruce, -Printers to the King’s Most Excellent Majesty in 1816. Yellow, now, -with age, and flexible, but not unclean, with much use, except that the -lower corners of the pages at 8th of 1st Kings, and 32nd Deuteronomy -are worn somewhat thin and dark, the learning of these two chapters -having cost me much pains. My mother’s list of the chapters with which, -learned every syllable accurately, she established my soul in life, has -just fallen out of it. And as probably the sagacious reader has already -perceived that these letters are written in their irregular way, among -other reasons, that they may contain, as the relation may become -apposite, so much of autobiography as it seems to me desirable to -write, I will take what indulgence the sagacious reader will give me, -for printing the list thus accidentally occurrent:— - - - Exodus, chapters 15th and 20th. - 2 Samuel ,, 1st, from 17th verse to the end. - 1 Kings ,, 8th. - Psalms 23rd, 32nd, 90th, 91st, 103rd, 112th, - 119th, 139th. - Proverbs ,, 2nd, 3rd, 8th, 12th. - Isaiah ,, 58th. - Matthew ,, 5th, 6th, 7th. - Acts ,, 26th. - 1 Corinthians ,, 13th, 15th. - James ,, 4th. - Revelation ,, 5th, 6th. - - -And truly, though I have picked up the elements of a little further -knowledge,—in mathematics, meteorology, and the like, in after -life,—and owe not a little to the teaching of many people, this -maternal installation of my mind in that property of chapters, I count -very confidently the most precious, and, on the whole, the one -essential part of all my education. - -For the chapters became, indeed, strictly conclusive and protective to -me in all modes of thought; and the body of divinity they contain, -acceptable through all fear or doubt: nor, through any fear or doubt or -fault have I ever lost my loyalty to them, nor betrayed the first -command in the one I was made to repeat oftenest, “Let not Mercy and -Truth forsake Thee.” - -And at my present age of fifty-five, in spite of some enlarged -observations of what modern philosophers call the Reign of Law, I -perceive more distinctly than ever the Reign of a Spirit of Mercy and -Truth,—infinite in pardon and purification for its wandering and -faultful children, who have yet Love in their hearts; and altogether -adverse and implacable to its perverse and lying enemies, who have -resolute hatred in their hearts, and resolute falsehood on their lips. - -This assertion of the existence of a Spirit of Mercy and Truth, as the -master first of the Law of Life, and then of the methods of knowledge -and labour by which it is sustained, and which the ‘Saturday Review’ -calls the effeminate sentimentality of Mr. Ruskin’s political economy, -is accurately, you will observe, reversed by the assertion of the -Predatory and Carnivorous—or, in plainer English, flesh-eating spirit -in Man himself, as the regulator of modern civilization, in the paper -read by the Secretary at the Social Science meeting in Glasgow, 1860. -Out of which the following fundamental passage may stand for sufficient -and permanent example of the existent, practical, and unsentimental -English mind, being the most vile sentence which I have ever seen in -the literature of any country or time:— - -“As no one will deny that Man possesses carnivorous teeth, or that all -animals that possess them are more or less predatory, it is unnecessary -to argue, à priori, that a predatory instinct naturally follows from -such organization. It is our intention here to show how this inevitable -result operates on civilized existence by its being one of the -conditions of Man’s nature, and, consequently, of all arrangements of -civilized society.” - -The paper proceeds, and is entirely constructed, on the assumption that -the predatory spirit is not only one of the conditions of man’s nature, -but the particular condition on which the arrangements of Society are -to be founded. For “Reason would immediately suggest to one of superior -strength, that however desirable it might be to take possession by -violence, of what another had laboured to produce, he might be treated -in the same way by one stronger than himself, to which he, of course, -would have great objection. In order, therefore, to prevent or put a -stop to a practice which each would object to in his own case,” etc., -etc. And so the Social Science interpreter proceeds to sing the present -non-sentimental Proverbs and Psalms of England,—with trumpets also and -shawms—and steam whistles. And there is concert of voices and -instruments at the Hospital of the Incurabili, and -Progress—indubitably—in Chariots of the Night. - - - - - - -NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE. - - CORRIERE DEI BAGNI. - - M’imbarcai su di un vaporetto; era elegante, era vasto, ma il suo - contenuto era enormemente superiore al contenente; il vaporetto - rigurgitava di uomini, di donne, e di ragazzi. - - Il commandante, un fiero giovanotto, gridava: Montate! Montate! e - la calca si faceva sempre più fitta, ed appena si poteva respirare. - - Tutto ad un tratto un sensale di piazza si sentì venir male, e - gridò; io soffoco! Il commandante si accorse che si soffocava - davvero, ed ordino; basta! - - Il vapore allora si avv ò (sic) ed io rimasi stipato fra la folla - per diciotto minuti, in capo ai quali ebbi la buona ventura di - sbarcare incolume sul pontile dello stabilimento la Favorita—Il - pontile è lunghissimo, ma elegante e coperto. Il sole per - conseguenza non dà nessuna noia. - - Una strada che, fino a quando non sia migliorata, non consiglierei - di percorrere a chi non abbia i piedi in perfetto stato, conduce al - parco della Stabilimento Bagni del signor Delahant.—E qui i miei - occhi si aprirono per la meraviglia. E diffati, solo una - rispettibile forza di volontà ed operosita poté riuscire a - trasformare quel luogo, pochi mesi fa ancora deserto ed incolto, in - un sito di delisie.—Lunghi viali, tappeti erbosi, montagnole, - banchine, châlet, strade solitarie e misteriose, lumi, spalti, e - poi un interminabile pergolato che conduce allo stabilimento bagni, - ed in questo inservienti vestiti alla marinara, comodissima vasca, - biancheria finissima, e servizio regolare e premuroso. - - Sorpreso e contento, mi tuffo allegramente nel mare. - - Dopo il bagno è prescritta una passeggiata. Ossequiente ai dettami - dell’ igiene, riprendo la via e lungo la piacevole spiaggia del - mare ritorno alla Favorita. - - Un châlet, o piuttosto una sala immensa, addobbata con origi nalità - e ricchezza, è divenuta una sala di concerto. Diffatti una - eccellente orchestra sta eseguendo pezzi sceltissimi. - - Gli artisti indossana tutti la marsina e la cravatta bianca. - Ascolto con delizia un potpourri del Faust e poi torno a girare per - il vastissimo parco e visito il Restaurant. - - Concludeno, il Lido non ha più bisogno di diventare un luogo di - delizie; esse lo è in verità diggià diventato, e fra breve i comodi - bagni del Lido di Venezia saranno fra i più famosi d’Italia. - - Onore ai bravi che hanno operata la meravigliosa trasformazione! - - ‘Ii Rinnovamento,’ Gazetta del Popolo di Venezia; (2nd July, 1872). - - - -This following part of a useful letter, dated 19th March, 1873, ought -to have been printed before now:— - -“Sir,—Will you permit me to respectfully call your attention to a -certain circumstance which has, not unlikely, something to do with the -failure (if failure it is) of your appeal for the St. George’s Fund? - -“At page 22 of Fors Clavigera for May, 1871, your words were, ‘Will any -such give a tenth of what they have and of what they earn?’ But in May -of the following year, at page 8, the subject is referred to as the -giving of ‘the tenth of what they have, or make.’ The two passages are -open to widely differing interpretations. Moreover, none of the sums -received appear to have any relation to ‘tenths’ either of earnings or -possessions. - -“It is not probable that the majority of your readers understood you -either to mean literally what you said, or to mean nothing but jest? -They would naturally ask themselves, ‘Must it be a tenth of both, or -nothing?’ ‘A tenth of either?’ Or, ‘After all, only what we feel able -to give?’ Their perplexity would lead to the giving of nothing. As -nobody who has a pecuniary title to ask for an explanation appears to -have called your attention to the subject, I, who have no such title, -do so now,—feeling impelled thereto by the hint in this month’s ‘Fors’ -of the possible ‘non-continuance of the work.’ - -“May I presume to add one word more? Last Monday’s ‘Times’ (March 17th) -gave a report of a Working Men’s Meeting on the present political -crisis. One of the speakers said ‘he wanted every working man to be -free.’ And his idea of freedom he explained to be that all workmen -should be at liberty ‘to leave their work at a moment’s notice.’ This, -as I have reason to know, is one of the things which working men have -got into their heads, and which the newspapers ‘get their living by -asserting.’ - -“Lastly, the present English notion of civilizing China by inches, may -be worth keeping record of. - -“We have Philistines out here, and a Philistine out here is a perfect -Goliath. When he imagines that anything is wrong, he says—let it be a -Coolie or an Emperor—‘Give him a thrashing.’ The men of this class here -propose their usual remedy: ‘Let us have a war, and give the Chinese a -good licking, and then we shall have the audience question granted, and -everything else will follow.’ This includes opening up the country for -trade, and civilizing the people, which according to their theories can -be best done by ‘thrashing them.’ The missionaries are working to -civilize the people here in another way, that is by the usual plan of -tracts and preaching; but their system is not much in favour, for they -make such very small progress among the 360,000,000, the conversion of -which is their problem. The man of business wants the country opened up -to trade, wants manufactures introduced, the mineral wealth to be used, -and generally speaking the resources of the country to be developed, -‘and that sort of thing you know—that’s the real way to civilize them.’ -This, of course, implies a multitudinous breed of Mr. Ruskin’s demons, -or machinery, to accomplish all this. I am here giving the tone of the -ideas I hear expressed around me. It was only the other day that I -heard some of these various points talked over. We were sailing on the -river in a steam launch, which was making the air impure with its -smoke, snorting in a high-pressure way, and whistling as steam launches -are wont to do. The scene was appropriate to the conversation, for we -were among a forest of great junks—most quaint and picturesque they -looked—so old-fashioned they seemed, that Noah’s Ark, had it been -there, would have had a much more modern look about it. My friend, to -whom the launch belonged, and who is in the machinery line himself, -gave his opinion. He began by giving a significant movement of his head -in the direction of the uncouth-looking junks, and then pointing to his -own craft with its engine, said ‘he did not believe much in war, and -the missionaries were not of much account. This is the thing to do it,’ -he added, pointing to the launch; ‘let us get at them with this sort of -article, and steam at sixty pounds on the square inch; that would soon -do it; that’s the thing to civilize them—sixty pounds on the square -inch.’” - - - - - - - - -FORS CLAVIGERA. - -LETTER XLIII. - - - Rome, Corpus-Domini, 1874. - -I wrote, for a preface to the index at the end of the second volume of -Fors, part of an abstract of what had been then stated in the course of -this work. Fate would not let me finish it; but what was done will be -useful now, and shall begin my letter for this month. Completing three -and a half volumes of Fors, it may contain a more definite statement of -its purpose than any given hitherto; though I have no intention of -explaining that purpose entirely, until it is in sufficient degree -accomplished. I have a house to build; but none shall mock me by saying -I was not able to finish it, nor be vexed by not finding in it the -rooms they expected. But the current and continual purpose of Fors -Clavigera is to explain the powers of Chance, or Fortune (Fors), as she -offers to men the conditions of prosperity; and as these conditions are -accepted or refused, nails down and fastens their fate for ever, being -thus ‘Clavigera,’—‘nail-bearing.’ The image is one familiar in -mythology: my own conception of it was first got from Horace, and -developed by steady effort to read history with impartiality, and to -observe the lives of men around me with charity. “How you may make your -fortune, or mar it,” is the expansion of the title. - -Certain authoritative conditions of life, of its happiness, and its -honour, are therefore stated, in this book, as far as they may be, -conclusively and indisputably, at present known. I do not enter into -any debates, nor advance any opinions. With what is debateable I am -unconcerned; and when I only have opinions about things, I do not talk -about them. I attack only what cannot on any possible ground be -defended; and state only what I know to be incontrovertibly true. - -You will find, as you read Fors more, that it differs curiously from -most modern books in this. Modern fashion is, that the moment a man -strikes some little lucifer match, or is hit by any form of fancy, he -begins advertising his lucifer match, and fighting for his fancy, -totally ignoring the existing sunshine, and the existing substances of -things. But I have no matches to sell, no fancies to fight for. All -that I have to say is that the day is in heaven, and rock and wood on -earth, and that you must see by the one, and work with the other. You -have heard as much before, perhaps. I hope you have; I should be -ashamed if there were anything in Fors which had not been said -before,—and that a thousand times, and a thousand times of times,—there -is nothing in it, nor ever will be in it, but common truths, as clear -to honest mankind as their daily sunrise, as necessary as their daily -bread; and which the fools who deny can only live, themselves, because -other men know and obey. - -You will therefore find that whatever is set down in Fors for you is -assuredly true,—inevitable,—trustworthy to the uttermost,—however -strange. [41] Not because I have any power of knowing more than other -people, but simply because I have taken the trouble to ascertain what -they also may ascertain if they choose. Compare on this point, Letter -VI., page 5. - -The following rough abstract of the contents of the first seven letters -may assist the reader in their use. - - - Letter I. Men’s prosperity is in their own hands; and no forms of - government are, in themselves, of the least use. The first - beginnings of prosperity must be in getting food, clothes, and - fuel. These cannot be got either by the fine arts, or the military - arts. Neither painting nor fighting feed men; nor can capital, in - the form of money or machinery, feed them. All capital is imaginary - or unimportant, except the quantity of food existing in the world - at any given moment. Finally, men cannot live by lending money to - each other, and the conditions of such loan at present are absurd - and deadly. [42] - - Letter II. The nature of Rent. It is an exaction, by force of hand, - for the maintenance of Squires: but had better at present be left - to them. The nature of useful and useless employment. When - employment is given by capitalists, it is sometimes useful, but - oftener useless; sometimes moralizing, but oftener demoralizing. - And we had therefore better employ ourselves, without any appeal to - the capitalists (page 22); and to do this successfully, it must be - with three resolutions; namely, to be personally honest, socially - helpful, and conditionally obedient (page 23): explained in Letter - VII., page 21 to end. - - Letter III. The power of Fate is independent of the Moral Law, but - never supersedes it. Virtue ceases to be such, if expecting reward: - it is therefore never materially rewarded. (I ought to have said, - except as one of the appointed means of physical and mental - health.) The Fates of England, and proper mode of studying them. - Stories of Henry II. and Richard I. - - Letter IV. The value and nature of Education. It may be good, - bad,—or neither the one nor the other. Knowledge is not education, - and can neither make us happy nor rich. Opening discussion of the - nature and use of riches. Gold and diamonds are not riches, and the - reader is challenged to specify their use. Opening discussion of - the origin of wealth. It does not fall from heaven, (compare Letter - VII., page 19,) but is certainly obtainable, and has been generally - obtained, by pillage of the poor. Modes in which education in - virtue has been made costly to them, and education in vice cheap. - (Page 23.) - - Letter V. The powers of Production. Extremity of modern folly in - supposing there can be over-production. The power of machines. They - cannot increase the possibilities of life, but only the - possibilities of idleness. (Page 13.) The things which are - essential to life are mainly three material ones and three - spiritual ones. First sketch of the proposed action of St. George’s - Company. - - Letter VI. The Elysium of modern days. This letter, written under - the excitement of continual news of the revolution in Paris, is - desultory, and limits itself to noticing some of the causes of that - revolution: chiefly the idleness, disobedience, and covetousness of - the richer and middle classes. - - Letter VII. The Elysium of ancient days. The definitions of true, - and spurious, Communism. Explanation of the design of true - Communism, in Sir Thomas More’s “Utopia.” This letter, though - treating of matters necessary to the whole work, yet introduces - them prematurely, being written, incidentally, upon the ruin of - Paris. - - Assisi, 18th May, 1874. - - -So ended, as Fors would have it, my abstraction, which I see Fors had -her reason for stopping me in; else the abstraction would have needed -farther abstracting. As it is, the reader may find in it the real gist -of the remaining letters, and discern what a stiff business we have in -hand,—rent, capital, and interest, all to be attacked at once! and a -method of education shown to be possible in virtue, as cheaply as in -vice! - -I should have got my business, stiff though it may be, farther forward -by this time, but for that same revolution in Paris, and burning of the -Tuileries, which greatly confused my plan by showing me how much baser -the human material I had to deal with, was, than I thought in -beginning. - -That a Christian army (or, at least, one which Saracens would have -ranked with that they attacked, under the general name of Franks,) -should fiercely devastate and rob an entire kingdom laid at their mercy -by the worst distress;—that the first use made by this distressed -country of the defeat of its armies would be to overthrow its -government; and that, when its metropolis had all but perished in -conflagration during the contest between its army and mob, no warning -should be taken by other civilized societies, but all go trotting on -again, next week, in their own several roads to ruin, persistently, as -they had trotted before,—bells jingling, and whips cracking,—these -things greatly appalled me, finding I had only slime to build with -instead of mortar; and shook my plan partly out of shape. - -The frightfullest thing of all, to my mind, was the German temper, in -its naïve selfishness; on which point, having been brought round again -to it in my last letter, I have now somewhat more to say. - -In the ‘Pall Mall Gazette’ of 7th March, this year, under the head of -‘This Evening’s News,’ appeared an article of which I here reprint the -opening portion. - - - The well-known Hungarian author, Maurus Jokai, is at present a - visitor in the German capital. As a man of note he easily obtained - access to Prince Bismarck’s study, where an interesting - conversation took place, which M. Jokai reports pretty fully to the - Hungarian journal the Hon:— - - “The Prince was, as usual, easy in his manner, and communicative, - and put a stop at the very outset to the Hungarian’s attempt at - ceremony. M. Jokai humorously remarked upon the prevalence of - ‘iron’ in the surroundings of the ‘iron’ Prince. Among other - things, there is an iron couch, and an iron safe, in which the - Chancellor appears to keep his cigars. Prince Bismarck was struck - by the youthful appearance of his guest, who is ten years his - junior, but whose writings he remembers to have seen reviewed long - ago, in the Augsburg Gazette (at that time still, the Chancellor - said, a clever paper) when he bore a lieutenant’s commission. In - the ensuing conversation, Prince Bismarck pointed out the paramount - necessity to Europe of a consolidated State in the position of - Austro-Hungary. It was mainly on that account that he concluded - peace with so great despatch in 1866. Small independent States in - the East would be a misfortune to Europe. Austria and Hungary must - realize their mutual interdependence, and the necessity of being - one. However, the dualist system of government must be preserved, - because the task of developing the State, which on this side of the - Leitha falls to the Germans, beyond that river naturally falls to - the Magyars. The notion that Germany has an inclination to annex - more land, Prince Bismarck designated as a myth. God preserve the - Germans from such a wish! Whatever more territory they might - acquire would probably be undermined by Papal influence, and they - have enough of that already. Should the Germans of Austria want to - be annexed by Germany, the Chancellor would feel inclined to - declare war against them for that wish alone. A German Minister who - should conceive the desire to annex part of Austria would deserve - to be hanged—a punishment the Prince indicated by gesture. He does - not wish to annex even a square foot of fresh territory, not as - much as two pencils he kept on playing with during the conversation - would cover. Those pencils, however, M. Jokai remarks, were big - enough to serve as walking-sticks, and on the map they would have - reached quite from Berlin to Trieste. Prince Bismarck went on to - justify his annexation of Alsace-Loraine by geographical necessity. - Otherwise he would rather not have grafted the French twig upon the - German tree. - - -The French are enemies never to be appeased. Take away from them the -cook, the tailor, and the hairdresser, and what remains of them is a -copper-coloured Indian.” - -Now it does not matter whether Prince Bismarck ever said this, or not. -That the saying should be attributed to him in a leading journal, -without indication of doubt or surprise, is enough to show what the -German temper is publicly recognized to be. And observe what a sentence -it is—thus attributed to him. The French are only copper-coloured -Indians, finely dressed. This said of the nation which gave us -Charlemagne, St. Louis, St. Bernard, and Joan of Arc; which founded the -central type of chivalry in the myth of Roland; which showed the utmost -height of valour yet recorded in history, in the literal life of -Guiscard; and which built Chartres Cathedral! - -But the French are not what they were! No; nor the English, for that -matter; probably we have fallen the farther of the two: meantime the -French still retain, at the root, the qualities they always had; and of -one of these, a highly curious and commendable one, I wish you to take -some note to-day. - -Among the minor nursery tales with which my mother allowed me to -relieve the study of the great nursery tale of Genesis, my favourite -was Miss Edgeworth’s “Frank.” The authoress chose this for the boy’s -name, because she meant him to be a type of Frankness, or openness of -heart:—truth of heart, that is to say, liking to lay itself open. You -are in the habit, I believe, some of you, still, of speaking -occasionally of English Frankness;—not recognizing, through the hard -clink of the letter K, that you are only talking, all the while, of -English Frenchness. Still less when you count your cargoes of gold from -San Francisco, do you pause to reflect what San means, or what Francis -means, without the Co;—or how it came to pass that the power of this -mountain town of Assisi, where not only no gold can be dug, but where -St. Francis forbade his Company to dig it anywhere else—came to give -names to Devil’s towns far across the Atlantic—(and by the way you may -note how clumsy the Devil is at christening; for if by chance he gets a -fresh York all to himself, he never has any cleverer notion than to -call it ‘New York’; and in fact, having no mother-wit from his dam, is -obliged very often to put up with the old names which were given by -Christians,—Nombre di Dios, Trinidad, Vera Cruz, and the like, even -when he has all his own way with everything else in the places, but -their names). - -But to return. You have lately had a fine notion, have you not, of -English Liberty as opposed to French Slavery? - -Well, whatever your English liberties may be, the French knew what the -word meant, before you. For France, if you will consider of it, means -nothing else than the Country of Franks;—the country of a race so -intensely Free that they for evermore gave name to Freedom. The Greeks -sometimes got their own way, as a mob; but nobody, meaning to talk of -liberty, calls it ‘Greekness.’ The Romans knew better what Libertas -meant, and their word for it has become common enough, in that -straitened form, on your English tongue; but nobody calls it -‘Romanness.’ But at last comes a nation called the Franks; and they are -so inherently free and noble in their natures, that their name becomes -the word for the virtue; and when you now want to talk of freedom of -heart, you say Frankness, and for the last political privilege which -you have it so much in your English minds to get, you haven’t so much -as an English word, but must call it by the French one, ‘Franchise.’ -[43] - -“Freedom of heart,” you observe, I say. Not the English freedom of -Insolence, according to Mr. B., (see above, Letter 29,) but pure French -openness of heart, Fanchette’s and her husband’s frankness, the source -of joy, and courtesy, and civility, and passing softness of human -meeting of kindly glance with glance. Of which Franchise, in her own -spirit Person, here is the picture for you, from the French Romance of -the Rose,—a picture which English Chaucer was thankful to copy. - - - “And after all those others came Franchise, - Who was not brown, nor grey, - But she was white as snow. - And she had not the nose of an Orleanois. - Aussi had she the nose long and straight. - Eyes green, and laughing—vaulted eyebrows; - She had her hair blonde and long, - And she was simple as a dove. - The body she had sweet, and brightly bred; - And she dared not do, nor say - To any one, anything she ought not. - And if she knew of any man - Who was in sorrow for love of her, - So soon she had great pity for him, - For she had the heart so pitiful, - And so sweet and so lovely, - That no one suffered pain about her, - But she would help him all she could. - And she wore a surquanye - Which was of no coarse cloth; - There’s none so rich as far as Arras. - And it was so gathered up, and so joined together, - That there was not a single point of it - Which was not set in its exact place, rightly. - Much well was dressed Franchise, - For no robe is so pretty - As the surquanye for a demoiselle. - A girl is more gentle and more darling - In surquanye than in coat, - And the white surquanye - Signifies that sweet and frank - Is she who puts it on her.” - - -May I ask you now to take to heart those two lines of this French -description of Frenchness: - - - “And she dared not do, nor say - To any one, anything she ought not.” - - -That is not your modern notion of Frenchness, or franchise, or -libertas, or liberty—for all these are synonyms for the same virtue. -And yet the strange thing is that the lowest types of the modern French -grisette are the precise corruption of this beautiful Franchise: and -still retain, at their worst, some of the grand old qualities; the -absolute sources of corruption being the neglect of their childhood by -the upper classes, the abandonment to their own resources, and the -development therefore of “Liberty and Independence,” in your beautiful -English, not French, sense. - -“Livrée à elle-meme depuis l’âge de treize ans, habituée à ne compter -que sur elle seule, elle avait de la vie un expérience dont j’étais -confondue. De ce Paris où elle était née, elle savait tout, elle -connaissait tout. - -Je n’avais pas idée d’une si complete absence de sens moral, d’une si -inconsciente dépravation, d’une impudeur si effrontément naïve. - -La règle de sa conduite, c’était sa fantaisie, son instinct, le caprice -du moment. - -Elle aimait les longues stations dans les cafés, les mélodrames -entremêlés de chopes et d’oranges pendant les entr’actes, les parties -de canot à Asnières, et surtout, et avant tout, le bal. - -Elle était comme chez elle à l’Élysée—Montmartre et au Château-Rouge; -elle y connaissait tout le monde, le chef d’orchestre la saluait, ce -dont elle était extraordinairement fière, et quantité de gens la -tutoyaient. - -Je l’accompagnais partout, dans les commencements, et bien que je -n’étais pas précisément naïve, ni gênée par les scrupules de mon -éducation, je fus tellement consternée de l’incroyable désordre de sa -vie, que je ne pus m’empêcher de lui en faire quelques représentations. - -Elle se fâcha tout rouge. - -Tu fais ce qui te plaît, me dit-elle, laisse-moi faire ce qui me -convient. - -C’est un justice que je lui dois: jamais elle n’essaya sur moi son -influence, jamais elle ne m’engagea à suivre son exemple. Ivre de -liberté elle respectait la liberté des autres.” - -Such is the form which Franchise has taken under republican -instruction. But of the true Franchise of Charlemagne and Roland, there -were, you must note also, two distinct forms. In the last stanzas of -the Chant de Roland, Normandy and France have two distinct -epithets,—“Normandie, la franche; France, la solue” (soluta). “Frank -Normandy; Loose France. Solute;”—we, adding the dis, use the words -loose and dissolute only in evil sense. But ‘France la solue’ has an -entirely lovely meaning. The frankness of Normandy is the soldier’s -virtue; but the unbinding, so to speak, of France, is the peasant’s. - - - “And having seen that lovely maid, - Why should I fear to say - That she is ruddy, fleet, and strong, - And down the rocks can leap along - Like rivulets in May?” - - -It is curious that the most beautiful descriptive line in all Horace, - - - “montibus altis - Levis crepante lympha desilit pede,” - - -comes in the midst of the dream of the blessed islands which are to be -won by following the founders of—what city, think you? The city that -first sang the “Marseillaise.” - - - “Juppiter illa piae secrevit litora genti.” - - -Recollect that line, my French readers, if I chance to find any, this -month, nor less the description of those ‘arva beata’ as if of your own -South France; and then consider also those prophetic lines, true of -Paris as of Rome,— - - - “Nec fera coerulea domuit Germania pube. - Impia, perdemus devoti sanguinis aetas.” - - -Consider them, I say, and deeply, thinking over the full force of those -words, “devoti sanguinis,” and of the ways in which the pure blood of -Normandie la franche, and France la solue, has corrupted itself, and -become accursed. Had I but time to go into the history of that word -‘devoveo,’ what a piece of philology it would lead us into! But, for -another kind of opposition to the sweet Franchise of old time, take -this sentence of description of another French maiden, by the same -author from whom I have just quoted the sketch of the grisette: - -“C’était une vieille fille d’une cinquantaine d’années, sèche et jaune, -avec un grand nez d’oiseau de proie, très noble, encore plus dévote, -joueuse comme la dame de pique en personne, et médisante à faire battre -des montagnes.” - -You see what accurate opposition that gives you of another kind, to -Franchise. You even have the ‘nez d’Orleanois’ specified, which the -song of the Rose is so careful to tell you Franchise had not. - -Here is another illustrative sentence: - -“La colère, à la fin, une de ces terribles colères blanches de dévote, -chassait des flots de bile au cerveau de Mademoiselle de la -Rochecardeau, et blêmissait ses lèvres.” - -These three sentences I have taken from two novels of Emile Gaboriau, -“L’argent des autres,” and “La Degringolade.” They are average -specimens of modern French light literature, with its characteristic -qualities and defects, and are both of them in many respects worth -careful study; but chiefly in the representation they give, partly with -conscious blame, and partly in unconscious corruption, of the Devoti -sanguinis aetas; with which, if you would compare old France -accurately, read first Froude’s sketch of the life of Bishop Hugo of -Lincoln, and think over the scene between him and Cœur de Lion. - -You have there, as in life before you, two typical Frenchmen of the -twelfth century—a true king, and a true priest, representing the powers -which the France of that day contrived to get set over her, and did, on -the whole, implicitly and with her heart obey. - -They are not altogether—by taking the dancing-master and the -hairdresser away from them—reduced to copper-coloured Indians. - -If, next, you will take the pains—and it will need some pains, for the -book is long and occasionally tiresome—to read the Degringolade, you -will find it nevertheless worth your while; for it gives you a modern -Frenchman’s account of the powers which France in the nineteenth -century contrived to get set over her; and obeyed—not with her heart, -but restively, like an ill-bred dog or mule, which have no honour in -their obedience, but bear the chain and bit all the same. - -But there is a farther and much more important reason for my wish that -you should read this novel. It gives you types of existent Frenchmen -and Frenchwomen of a very different class. They are, indeed, only -heroes and heroines in a quite second-rate piece of literary work. But -these stereotypes, nevertheless, have living originals. There is to be -found in France, as truly the Commandant Delorge, as the Comte de -Combelaine. And as truly Mademoiselle de Maillefert as the Duchesse de -Maumussy. How is it, then, that the Count and Duchess command -everything in France, and that the Commandant and Demoiselle command -nothing?—that the best they can do is to get leave to live—unknown, and -unthought-of? The question, believe me, is for England also; and a very -pressing one. - -Of the frantic hatred of all religion developed in the French -republican mind, the sentences I have quoted are interesting examples. -I have not time to speak of them in this letter, but they struck me -sharply as I corrected the press to-day; for I had been standing most -part of the morning by St. Paul’s grave, thinking over his work in the -world. A bewildered peasant, from some green dingle of Campagna, who -had seen me kneel when the Host passed, and took me therefore to be a -human creature and a friend, asked me ‘where St. Paul was’? - -‘There, underneath,’ I answered. - -‘There?’ he repeated, doubtfully,—as dissatisfied. - -‘Yes,’ I answered; ‘his body at least;—his head is at the Lateran.’ - -‘Il suo corpo,’ again he repeated, still as in discontent. Then, after -a pause, ‘E la sua statua?’ - -Such a wicked thing to ask for that! wasn’t it, my Evangelical friends? -You would so much rather have had him ask for Hudson’s! - - - - - - -NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE. - -I have had by me, some time, three eager little fragments from one of -Mr. Sillar’s letters:—too eager, always, in thinking this one sin of -receiving interest on money means every other. I know many excellent -people, happily, whose natures have not been spoiled by it: the more as -it has been done absolutely without knowledge of being wrong. I did not -find out the wrong of it myself, till Mr. Sillar showed me the way to -judge of it. - -The passage which I have italicized, from Mr. Lecky, is a very precious -statement of his sagacious creed. The chief jest of it is his having -imagined himself to be of Aristotle’s ‘species’! - -“To get profit without responsibility has been a fond scheme as -impossible of honest attainment as the philosopher’s stone or perpetual -motion. Visionaries have imagined such things to exist, but it has been -reserved for this mammon-worshipping generation to find it in that -arrangement by which a man, without labour, can secure a permanent -income with perfect security, and without diminution of the capital. - -“A view of it is evidently taken by Lord Bacon when he says that usury -bringeth the treasure of a realm into few hands; for the usurer trading -on a certainty, and other men on uncertainties, at the end of the game -all the money will be in the box. - -“We have had now an opportunity of practically testing this theory; not -more than seventeen years have elapsed since all restraint was removed -from the growth of what Lord Coke calls this ‘pestilent weed’ and we -see Bacon’s words verified, the rich becoming richer, and the poor -poorer, is the cry throughout the whole civilized world. Rollin in his -Ancient History, speaking of the Roman Empire, tells us that it has -been the ruin of every state where it was tolerated. It is in a fair -way to ruin this of ours, and ruin it it will, unless England’s sons -calmly and candidly investigate the question for themselves, and -resolutely act upon the conclusions to which the investigation must -lead them. - -“There is such a thing as unlimited liability; of the justice of such -laws I do not now speak, but the law exists, and as it was made by -moneyed men in the interest of moneyed men they cannot refuse to be -judged by it. The admission, therefore, of the fact that interest is a -share of the profit, would throw upon the money-lender the burden of -unlimited liability; this he certainly refuses to admit, consequently -he has no alternative but to confess that interest has nothing whatever -to do with profit, but that it is a certain inherent property of money, -viz., that of producing money, and that interest is as legitimately the -offspring of money as a Calf is that of a Cow. That this is really the -stand now taken, may be shown from the literature and practice of the -present day. Mr. Lecky, one of the latest champions of interest, boldly -admits it. In his history of the rise and influence of rationalism in -Europe, p. 284, after quoting Aristotle’s saying, that all money is -sterile by nature, he says, ‘This is an absurdity of Aristotle’s, and -the number of centuries during which it was incessantly asserted -without being (so far as we know) once questioned, is a curious -illustration of the longevity of a sophism when expressed in a terse -form, and sheltered by a great name. It is enough to make one ashamed -of his species to think that Bentham was the first to bring into notice -the simple consideration that if the borrower employs the borrowed -money in buying bulls and cows, and if these produce calves to ten -times the value of the interest, the money borrowed can scarcely be -said to be sterile.’ - -“And now to remedy all this. Were there no remedy, to parade it in our -view, would be cruel; but there is one, so simple, that like those of -divine making, it may be despised for its simplicity. It consists in -the recognition of the supreme wisdom which forbade the taking of -usury. We should not reimpose the usury laws, which were in themselves -a blunder and a snare, nor would we advocate the forcible repression of -the vice any more than we do that of other vices, such as gambling or -prostitution, but we would put them on precisely the same footing, and -enact thus— - - - Whereas, usury is a sin detestable and abominable, the law will - refuse to recognize any contract in which it is an element. - - -The first effect of this would be, that all those who had lent, taking -security into their hands, would have no power of oppression beyond -keeping the pledge,—the balance of their debts being on a similar -footing to those of the men who had lent without security. - -“To these their chance of repayment would depend on their previous -conduct. If they had lent their money to honourable men, they would -surely be repaid; if to rogues, they surely would not; and serve them -right. Those, and those only, who have lent without interest would have -the power of an action at law to recover; and as such men must have -possessed philanthropy, they could safely be trusted with that power. - -“Regarding the future employment of money, a usurer who intended to -continue his unholy trade, would lend only to such men as would repay -without legal pressure, and from such men trade would not have to fear -competition. But to disreputable characters the money-market would be -hermetically sealed; and then as commerce, freed from the competition -of these scoundrels, began again to be remunerative, we should find it -more to our advantage to take an interest in commerce than usury from -it, and so gradually would equity supersede iniquity, and peace and -prosperity be found where now abound corruption, riot, and rebellion, -with all the host of evils inseparable from a condition of plethoric -wealth on one hand, and on the other hopeless and despairing poverty.” - - - -II. I intended in this note to have given some references to the first -use of the word Franc, as an adjective. But the best dictionary-makers -seem to have been foiled by it. “I recollect,” (an Oxford friend writes -to me,) “Clovis called his axe ‘Francisca’ when he threw it to -determine by its fall where he should build a church,” and in Littré’s -dictionary a root is suggested, in the Anglo-Saxon Franca, ‘javelin.’ -But I think these are all collateral, not original uses. I am not sure -even when the word came to be used for the current silver coin of -France: that, at least, must be ascertainable. It is curious that in no -fit of Liberty and Equality, the anti-Imperialists have thought of -calling their golden coins ‘Citizens’ instead of ‘Napoleons’; nor even -their sous, Sansculottes. - - - -III. Some of my correspondents ask me what has become of my promised -additional Fors on the glaciers. Well, it got crevassed, and split -itself into three; and then relegated itself into a somewhat compact -essay on glaciers; and then got jammed up altogether, because I found -that the extremely scientific Professor Tyndall had never distinguished -the quality of viscosity from plasticity, (or the consistence of honey -from that of butter,) still less the gradations of character in the -approach of metals, glass, or stone, to their freezing-points; and that -I wasn’t as clear as could be wished on some of these matters myself; -and, in fact, that I had better deal with the subject seriously in my -Oxford lectures than in Fors, which I hope to do this next autumn, -after looking again at the riband structure of the Brenva. Meantime, -here—out of I don’t know what paper, (I wish my correspondents would -always cross the slips they cut out with the paper’s name and date,)—is -a lively account of the present state of affairs, with a compliment to -Professor Tyndall on his style of debate, which I beg humbly to -endorse. - -“An awful battle, we regret to say, is now raging between some of the -most distinguished men of Science, Literature, and Art, for all those -three fair sisters have hurtled into the Homeric fray. The combatants -on one side are Professors G. Forbes, Tait, and Ruskin, with Mr. Alfred -Wills, and on the other—alone, but fearless and undismayed—the great -name of Tyndall. The causa teterrima belli is in itself a cold and -unlikely one—namely, the glaciers of Switzerland; but fiercer the fight -could not be, we grieve to state, if the question of eternal -punishment, with all its fiery accessory scenery, were under -discussion. We have no rash intention of venturing into that terrible -battleground where Professor Ruskin is laying about him with his ‘Fors -Clavigera,’ and where Professor Tait, like another Titan, hurls wildly -into the affrighted air such epithets as ‘contemptible,’ ‘miserable,’ -‘disgusting,’ ‘pernicious,’ ‘pestilent.’ These adjectives, for anything -that ignorant journalists can know, may mean, in Scotch scientific -parlance, everything that is fair, chivalrous, becoming, and measured -in argument. But, merely from the British instinct of fair play, which -does not like to see four against one, and without venturing a single -word about the glaciers, we cannot help remarking how much more -consistent with the dignity of science appears Professor Tyndall’s -answer in the last number of the Contemporary Review. If it be true -that the man who keeps his temper is generally in the right, we shall -decidedly back Mr. Tyndall and the late lamented Agassiz in the present -dreadful conflict. Speaking, for instance, of those same furious -adjectives which we have culled from the literary parterre of Professor -Tait, Dr. Tyndall sweetly says, ‘The spirit which prompts them may, -after all, be but a local distortion of that noble force of heart which -answered the Cameron’s Gathering at Waterloo; carried the Black Watch -to Coomassie; and which has furnished Scotland with the materials of an -immortal history. Still, rudeness is not independence, bluster is not -strength, nor is coarseness courage. We have won the human -understanding from the barbarism of the past; but we have won along -with it the dignity, courtesy, and truth of civilized life. And the man -who on the platform or in the press does violence to this ethical side -of human nature discharges but an imperfect duty to the public, -whatever the qualities of his understanding may be.’ This, we humbly -think, is how men of science ought to talk when they quarrel—if they -quarrel at all.” - - - -I hope much to profit by this lesson. I have not my “School for -Scandal” by me—but I know where to find it the minute I get home; and -I’ll do my best. “The man who,” etc., etc.;—yes, I think I can manage -it. - - - - - - - - -FORS CLAVIGERA. - -LETTER XLIV. - - - Rome, 6th June, 1874. - -The poor Campagna herdsman, whose seeking for St. Paul’s statue the -Professor of Fine Art in the University of Oxford so disgracefully -failed to assist him in, had been kneeling nearer the line of -procession of the Corpus Domini than I;—in fact, quite among the -rose-leaves which had been strewed for a carpet round the aisles of the -Basilica. I grieve to say that I was shy of the rose-bestrewn path, -myself; for the crowd waiting at the side of it had mixed up the -rose-leaves with spittle so richly as to make quite a pink pomatum of -them. And, indeed, the living temples of the Holy Ghost which in any -manner bestir themselves here among the temples,—whether of Roman gods -or Christian saints,—have merely and simply the two great operations -upon them of filling their innermost adyta with dung, and making their -pavements slippery with spittle: the Pope’s new tobacco manufactory -under the Palatine,—an infinitely more important object now, in all -views of Rome from the west, than either the Palatine or the -Capitol,—greatly aiding and encouraging this especial form of -lustration: while the still more ancient documents of Egyptian -religion—the obelisks of the Piazza del Popolo, and of the portico of -St. Peter’s—are entirely eclipsed by the obelisks of our English -religion, lately elevated, in full view from the Pincian and the -Montorio, with smoke coming out of the top of them. And farther, the -entire eastern district of Rome, between the two Basilicas of the -Lateran and St. Lorenzo, is now one mass of volcanic ruin;—a desert of -dust and ashes, the lust of wealth exploding there, out of a crater -deeper than Etna’s, and raging, as far as it can reach, in one frantic -desolation of whatever is lovely, or holy, or memorable, in the central -city of the world. - -For there is one fixed idea in the mind of every European progressive -politician, at this time; namely, that by a certain application of -Financial Art, and by the erection of a certain quantity of new -buildings on a colossal scale, it will be possible for society -hereafter to pass its entire life in eating, smoking, harlotry, and -talk; without doing anything whatever with its hands or feet of a -laborious character. And as these new buildings, whose edification is a -main article of this modern political faith and hope,—(being required -for gambling and dining in on a large scale),—cannot be raised without -severely increased taxation of the poorer classes, (here in Italy -direct, and in all countries consisting in the rise of price in all -articles of food—wine alone in Italy costing just ten times what it did -ten years ago,) and this increased taxation and distress are beginning -to be felt too grievously to be denied; nor only so, but—which is still -less agreeable to modern politicians—with slowly dawning perception of -their true causes,—one finds also the popular journalists, for some -time back addressing themselves to the defence of Taxation, and Theft -in general, after this fashion. - -“The wealth in the world may practically be regarded as infinitely -great. It is not true that what one man appropriates becomes thereupon -useless to others, and it is also untrue that force or fraud, direct or -indirect, are the principal, or, indeed, that they are at all common or -important, modes of acquiring wealth.”—Pall Mall Gazette, Jan. 14th, -1869. [44] - -The philosophical journalist, after some further contemptuous statement -of the vulgar views on this subject, conveniently dispenses (as will be -seen by reference to the end of the clause in the note) with the -defence of his own. I will undertake the explanation of what was, -perhaps, even to himself, not altogether clear in his impressions. If a -burglar ever carries off the Editor’s plate-basket, the bereaved Editor -will console himself by reflecting that “it is not true that what one -man appropriates becomes thereupon useless to others:”—for truly, (he -will thus proceed to finer investigation,) this plate of mine, melted -down, after being transitionally serviceable to the burglar, will enter -again into the same functions among the silver of the world which it -had in my own possession; so that the intermediate benefit to the -burglar may be regarded as entirely a form of trade profit, and a kind -of turning over of capital. And “it is also untrue that force or fraud, -direct or indirect, are the principal, or indeed that they are at all -common or important, modes of acquiring wealth,”—for this poor thief, -with his crowbar and jemmy, does but disfurnish my table for a day; -while I, with my fluent pen, can replenish it any number of times over, -by the beautiful expression of my opinions for the public benefit. But -what manner of fraud, or force, there may be in living by the sale of -one’s opinions, instead of knowledges; and what quantity of true -knowledge on any subject whatsoever—moral, political, scientific, or -artistic—forms at present the total stock in trade of the Editors of -the European Press, our Pall Mall Editor has very certainly not -considered. - -“The wealth in the world practically infinite,”—is it? Then it seems to -me, the poor may ask, with more reason than ever before, Why have we -not our share of Infinity? We thought, poor ignorants, that we were -only the last in the scramble; we submitted, believing that somebody -must be last, and somebody first. But if the mass of good things be -inexhaustible, and there are horses for everybody,—why is not every -beggar on horseback? And, for my own part, why should the question be -put to me so often,—which I am sick of answering and answering -again,—“How, with our increasing population, are we to live without -Machinery?” For if the wealth be already infinite, what need of -machinery to make more? Alas, if it could make more, what a different -world this might be. Arkwright and Stephenson would deserve statues -indeed,—as much as St. Paul. If all the steam engines in England, and -all the coal in it, with all their horse and ass power put together, -could produce—so much as one grain of corn! The last time this -perpetually recurring question about machinery was asked me, it was -very earnestly and candidly pressed, by a master manufacturer, who -honestly desired to do in his place what was serviceable to England, -and honourable to himself. I answered at some length, in private -letters, of which I asked and obtained his leave to print some parts in -Fors. They may as well find their place in this number; and for preface -to them, here is a piece, long kept by me, concerning railroads, which -may advisably now be read. - -Of modern machinery for locomotion, my readers, I suppose, thought me -writing in ill-temper, when I said in one of the letters on the -childhood of Scott, “infernal means of locomotion”? Indeed, I am always -compelled to write, as always compelled to live, in ill-temper. But I -never set down a single word but with the serenest purpose. I meant -“infernal” in the most perfect sense the word will bear. - -For instance. The town of Ulverstone is twelve miles from me, by four -miles of mountain road beside Coniston lake, three through a pastoral -valley, five by the seaside. A healthier or lovelier walk would be -difficult to find. - -In old times, if a Coniston peasant had any business at Ulverstone, he -walked to Ulverstone; spent nothing but shoe-leather on the road, drank -at the streams, and if he spent a couple of batz when he got to -Ulverstone, “it was the end of the world.” But now, he would never -think of doing such a thing! He first walks three miles in a contrary -direction, to a railroad station, and then travels by railroad -twenty-four miles to Ulverstone, paying two shillings fare. During the -twenty-four miles transit, he is idle, dusty, stupid; and either more -hot or cold than is pleasant to him. In either case he drinks beer at -two or three of the stations, passes his time, between them, with -anybody he can find, in talking without having anything to talk of; and -such talk always becomes vicious. He arrives at Ulverstone, jaded, half -drunk, and otherwise demoralized, and three shillings, at least, poorer -than in the morning. Of that sum, a shilling has gone for beer, -threepence to a railway shareholder, threepence in coals, and -eighteenpence has been spent in employing strong men in the vile -mechanical work of making and driving a machine, instead of his own -legs, to carry the drunken lout. The results, absolute loss and -demoralization to the poor, on all sides, and iniquitous gain to the -rich. Fancy, if you saw the railway officials actually employed in -carrying the countryman bodily on their backs to Ulverstone, what you -would think of the business! And because they waste ever so much iron -and fuel besides to do it, you think it a profitable one! - -And for comparison of the advantages of old times and new, for -travellers of higher order, hear how Scott’s excursions used to be -made. - -“Accordingly, during seven successive years, Scott made a raid, as he -called it, into Liddesdale with Mr. Shortreed for his guide, exploring -every rivulet to its source, and every ruined peel from foundation to -battlement. At this time no wheeled carriage had ever been seen in the -district; the first, indeed, that ever appeared there was a gig, driven -by Scott himself for a part of his way, when on the last of these seven -excursions. There was no inn nor public-house of any kind in the whole -valley; the travellers passed from the shepherd’s hut to the minister’s -manse, and again from the cheerful hospitality of the manse to the -rough and jolly welcome of the homestead; gathering, wherever they -went, songs and tunes, and occasionally more tangible relics of -antiquity—even such ‘a rowth of auld nicknackets’ as Burns ascribes to -Captain Grose. To these rambles Scott owed much of the materials of his -‘Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border’; and not less of that intimate -acquaintance with the living manners of these unsophisticated regions, -which constitutes the chief charm of the most charming of his prose -works. But how soon he had any definite object before him in his -researches seems very doubtful. ‘He was makin’ himsel’ a’ the time,’ -said Mr. Shortreed; ‘but he didna ken maybe what he was about, till -years had passed. At first he thought o’ little, I dare say, but the -queerness and the fun.’ - -‘It was that same season, I think,’ says Mr. Shortreed, ‘that Sir -Walter got from Dr. Elliot the large old border war horn, which ye may -still see hanging in the armoury at Abbotsford. How great he was when -he was made master o’ that! I believe it had been found in Hermitage -Castle—and one of the doctor’s servants had used it many a day as a -grease-horn for his scythe before they had discovered its history. When -cleaned out, it was never a hair the worse; the original chain, hoop, -and mouthpiece of steel were all entire, just as you now see them. Sir -Walter carried it home all the way from Liddesdale to Jedburgh slung -about his neck like Johnny Gilpin’s bottle, while I was entrusted with -an ancient bridle-bit, which we had likewise picked up. - - - “‘The feint o’ pride—nae pride had he, ... - A lang kail-gully hung down by his side, - And a great meikle nowt-horn to rout on had he.’ - - -And meikle and sair we routed on’t, and ’hotched and blew wi’ micht and -main.’ O what pleasant days! and then a’ the nonsense we had cost us -nothing. We never put hand in pocket for a week on end. Toll-bars there -were none, and indeed I think our haill charges were a feed o’ corn to -our horses in the gangin’ and comin’ at Riccartoun mill.’” - -This absolute economy, [45] of course, could only exist when travelling -was so rare that patriarchal hospitality could still be trusted for its -lodging. But the hospitality of the inn need not be less considerate or -true because the inn’s master lives in his occupation. Even in these -days, I have had no more true or kind friend than the now dead Mrs. -Eisenkraemer of the old Union Inn at Chamouni; and an innkeeper’s -daughter in the Oberland taught me that it was still possible for a -Swiss girl to be refined, imaginative, and pure-hearted, though she -waited on her father’s guests, and though these guests were often -vulgar and insolent English travellers. For she had been bred in the -rural districts of happy olden days,—to which, as it chances, my -thoughts first turned, in the following answer to my English -manufacturing friend. - -On any given farm in Switzerland or Bavaria, fifty years ago, the -master and his servants lived, in abundance, on the produce of their -ground, without machinery, and exchanged some of its surplus produce -for Lyons velvet and Hartz silver, (produced by the unhappy mechanists -and miners of those localities,) whereof the happy peasant made jackets -and bodices, and richly adorned the same with precious chain-work. It -is not more than ten years since I saw in a farm-shed near Thun, three -handsome youths and three comely girls, all in well-fitting, pretty, -and snow-white shirt and chemisette, threshing corn with a steady -shower of timed blows, as skilful in their—cadence, shall we, -literally, say?—as the most exquisitely performed music, and as rapid -as its swiftest notes. There was no question for any of them, whether -they should have their dinner when they had earned it, nor the -slightest chance of any of them going in rags through the winter. - -That is entirely healthy, happy, and wise human life. Not a theoretical -or Utopian state at all; but one which over large districts of the -world has long existed, and must, thank God, in spite of British -commerce and its consequences, for ever, somewhere, exist. - -But the farm, we will say, gets over-populous, (it always does, of -course, under ordinary circumstances;) that is to say, the ground no -longer affords corn and milk enough for the people on it. Do you -suppose you will make more of the corn, because you now thresh it with -a machine? So far from needing to do so, you have more hands to employ -than you had—can have twelve flails going instead of six. You make your -twelve human creatures stand aside, and thresh your corn with a steam -engine. You gain time, do you? What’s the use of time to you? did it -not hang heavy enough on your hands before? You thresh your entire farm -produce, let us say, in twelve minutes. Will that make it one grain -more, to feed the twelve mouths? Most assuredly, the soot and stench of -your steam engine will make your crop less next year, but not one grain -more can you have, to-day. [46] But you don’t mean to use your engines -to thresh with or plough with? Well, that is one point of common sense -gained. What will you do with them, then?—spin and weave cotton, sell -the articles you manufacture, and buy food? Very good; then somewhere -there must be people still living as you once did,—that is to say, -producing more corn and milk than they want, and able to give it to you -in exchange for your cotton, or velvet, or what not, which you weave -with your steam. Well, those people, wherever they are, and whoever -they may be, are your lords and masters thenceforth. They are living -happy and wise human lives, and are served by you, their mechanics and -slaves. Day after day your souls will become more mechanical, more -servile: also you will go on multiplying, wanting more food, and more; -you will have to sell cheaper and cheaper, work longer and longer, to -buy your food. At last, do what you can, you can make no more, or the -people who have the corn will not want any more; and your increasing -population will necessarily come to a quite imperative stop—by -starvation, preceded necessarily by revolution and massacre. - -And now examine the facts about England in this broad light. - -She has a vast quantity of ground still food-producing, in corn, grass, -cattle, or game. With that territory she educates her squire, or -typical gentleman, and his tenantry, to whom, together, she owes all -her power in the world. With another large portion of territory,—now -continually on the increase,—she educates a mercenary population, ready -to produce any quantity of bad articles to anybody’s order; population -which every hour that passes over them makes acceleratingly avaricious, -immoral, and insane. In the increase of that kind of territory and its -people, her ruin is just as certain as if she were deliberately -exchanging her corn-growing land; and her heaven above it, for a soil -of arsenic, and rain of nitric acid. - -“Have the Arkwrights and Stephensons, then, done nothing but harm?” -Nothing; but the root of all the mischief is not in Arkwrights or -Stephensons; nor in rogues or mechanics. The real root of it is the -crime of the squire himself. And the method of that crime is thus. A -certain quantity of the food produced by the country is paid annually -by it into the squire’s hand, in the form of rent, privately, and -taxes, publicly. If he uses this food to support a food-producing -population, he increases daily the strength of the country and his own; -but if he uses it to support an idle population, or one producing -merely trinkets in iron, or gold, or other rubbish he steadily weakens -the country, and debases himself. - -Now the action of the squire for the last fifty years has been, -broadly, to take the food from the ground of his estate, and carry it -to London, where he feeds with it [47] a vast number of builders, -upholsterers, (one of them charged me five pounds for a footstool the -other day,) carriage and harness makers, dress-makers, grooms, footmen, -bad musicians, bad painters, gamblers, and harlots, and in supply of -the wants of these main classes, a vast number of shopkeepers of minor -useless articles. The muscles and the time of this enormous population -being wholly unproductive—(for of course time spent in the mere process -of sale is unproductive, and much more that of the footman and groom, -while that of the vulgar upholsterer, jeweller, fiddler, and painter, -etc., etc., is not only unproductive, but mischievous,)—the entire mass -of this London population do nothing whatever either to feed or clothe -themselves; and their vile life preventing them from all rational -entertainment, they are compelled to seek some pastime in a vile -literature, the demand for which again occupies another enormous class, -who do nothing to feed or dress themselves; finally, the vain disputes -of this vicious population give employment to the vast industry of the -lawyers and their clerks, [48] who similarly do nothing to feed or -dress themselves. - -Now the peasants might still be able to supply this enormous town -population with food, (in the form of the squire’s rent,) but it -cannot, without machinery, supply the flimsy dresses, toys, metal work, -and other rubbish, belonging to their accursed life. Hence over the -whole country the sky is blackened and the air made pestilent, to -supply London and other such towns [49] with their iron railings, -vulgar upholstery, jewels, toys, liveries, lace, and other means of -dissipation and dishonour of life. Gradually the country people cannot -even supply food to the voracity of the vicious centre; and it is -necessary to import food from other countries, giving in exchange any -kind of commodity we can attract their itching desires for, and produce -by machinery. The tendency of the entire national energy is therefore -to approximate more and more to the state of a squirrel in a cage, or a -turnspit in a wheel, fed by foreign masters with nuts and dog’s-meat. -And indeed, when we rightly conceive the relation of London to the -country, the sight of it becomes more fantastic and wonderful than any -dream. Hyde Park, in the season, is the great rotatory form of the vast -squirrel-cage; round and round it go the idle company, in their -reversed streams, urging themselves to their necessary exercise. They -cannot with safety even eat their nuts, without so much ‘revolution’ as -shall, in Venetian language ‘comply with the demands of hygiene.’ Then -they retire into their boxes, with due quantity of straw; the -Belgravian and Piccadillian streets outside the railings being, when -one sees clearly, nothing but the squirrel’s box at the side of his -wires. And then think of all the rest of the metropolis as the creation -and ordinance of these squirrels, that they may squeak and whirl to -their satisfaction, and yet be fed. Measure the space of its entirely -miserable life. Begin with that diagonal which I struck from Regent -Circus to Drury Lane; examine it, house by house; then go up from Drury -Lane to St. Giles’ Church, look into Church Lane there, and explore -your Seven Dials and Warwick Street; and remember this is the very -centre of the mother city,—precisely between its Parks, its great -Library and Museum, its principal Theatres, and its Bank. Then conceive -the East-end; and the melancholy Islington and Pentonville districts; -then the ghastly spaces of southern suburb—Vauxhall, Lambeth, the -Borough, Wapping, and Bermondsey. All this is the nidification of those -Park Squirrels. This is the thing they have produced round themselves; -this their work in the world. When they rest from their squirrellian -revolutions, and die in the Lord, and their works do follow them, these -are what will follow them. Lugubrious march of the Waterloo Road, and -the Borough, and St. Giles’s; the shadows of all the Seven Dials having -fetched their last compass. New Jerusalem, prepared as a bride, of -course, opening her gates to them;—but, pertinaciously attendant, Old -Jewry outside. “Their works do follow them.” - -For these streets are indeed what they have built; their inhabitants -the people they have chosen to educate. They took the bread and milk -and meat from the people of their fields; they gave it to feed, and -retain here in their service, this fermenting mass of unhappy human -beings,—news-mongers, novel-mongers, picture-mongers, -poison-drink-mongers, lust and death-mongers; the whole smoking mass of -it one vast dead-marine storeshop,—accumulation of wreck of the Dead -Sea, with every activity in it, a form of putrefaction. - -Some personal matters were touched upon in my friend’s reply to this -letter, and I find nothing more printable of the correspondence but -this following fragment or two. - -“But what are you to do, having got into this mechanical line of life?” - -You must persevere in it, and do the best you can for the present, but -resolve to get out of it as soon as may be. The one essential point is -to know thoroughly that it is wrong; how to get out of it, you can -decide afterwards, at your leisure. - -“But somebody must weave by machinery, and dig in mines: else how could -one have one’s velvet and silver chains?” - -Whatever machinery is needful for human purposes can be driven by wind -or water; the Thames alone could drive mills enough to weave velvet and -silk for all England. But even mechanical occupation not involving -pollution of the atmosphere must be as limited as possible; for it -invariably degrades. You may use your slave in your silver mine, or at -your loom, to avoid such labour yourself, if you honestly believe you -have brains to be better employed;—or you may yourself, for the service -of others, honourably become their slave; and, in benevolent -degradation, dig silver or weave silk, making yourself semi-spade, or -semi-worm. But you must eventually, for no purpose or motive -whatsoever, live amidst smoke and filth, nor allow others to do so; you -must see that your slaves are as comfortable and safe as their -employment permits, and that they are paid wages high enough to allow -them to leave it often for redemption and rest. - -Eventually, I say; how fast events may move, none of us know; in our -compliance with them, let us at least be intelligently patient—if at -all; not blindly patient. - -For instance, there is nothing really more monstrous in any recorded -savagery or absurdity of mankind, than that governments should be able -to get money for any folly they choose to commit, by selling to -capitalists the right of taxing future generations to the end of time. -All the cruellest wars inflicted, all the basest luxuries grasped by -the idle classes, are thus paid for by the poor a hundred times over. -And yet I am obliged to keep my money in the funds or the bank, because -I know no other mode of keeping it safe; and if I refused to take the -interest, I should only throw it into the hands of the very people who -would use it for these evil purposes, or, at all events, for less good -than I can. Nevertheless it is daily becoming a more grave question -with me what it may presently be right to do. It may be better to -diminish private charities, and much more, my own luxury of life, than -to comply in any sort with a national sin. But I am not agitated or -anxious in the matter: content to know my principle, and to work -steadily towards better fulfilment of it. - -And this is all that I would ask of my correspondent, or of any other -man,—that he should know what he is about, and be steady in his line of -advance or retreat. I know myself to be an usurer as long as I take -interest on any money whatsoever. I confess myself such, and abide -whatever shame or penalty may attach to usury, until I can withdraw -myself from the system. So my correspondent says he must abide by his -post. I think so too. A naval captain, though I should succeed in -persuading him of the wickedness of war, would in like manner, if he -were wise, abide at his post; nay, would be entirely traitorous and -criminal if he at once deserted it. Only let us all be sure what our -positions are; and if, as it is said, the not living by interest and -the resolutely making everything as good as can be, are incompatible -with the present state of society, let us, though compelled to remain -usurers and makers of bad things, at least not deceive ourselves as to -the nature of our acts and life. - -Leaving thus the personal question, how the great courses of life are -to be checked or changed, to each man’s conscience and discretion,—this -following answer I would make in all cases to the inquiry, ‘What can I -do?’ - -If the present state of this so-called rich England is so essentially -miserable and poverty-stricken that honest men must always live from -hand to mouth, while speculators make fortunes by cheating them out of -their labour, and if, therefore, no sum can be set aside for -charity,—the paralyzed honest men can certainly do little for the -present. But, with what can be spared for charity, if anything, do -this; buy ever so small a bit of ground, in the midst of the worst back -deserts of our manufacturing towns; six feet square, if no more can be -had,—nay, the size of a grave, if you will, but buy it freehold, and -make a garden of it, by hand-labour; a garden visible to all men, and -cultivated for all men of that place. If absolutely nothing will grow -in it, then have herbs carried there in pots. Force the bit of ground -into order, cleanliness, green or coloured aspect. What difficulties -you have in doing this are your best subjects of thought; the good you -will do in doing this, the best in your present power. - -What the best in your ultimate power may be, will depend on the action -of the English landlord; for observe, we have only to separate the -facts of the Swiss farm to ascertain what they are with respect to any -state. We have only to ask what quantity of food it produces, how much -it exports in exchange for other articles, and how much it imports in -exchange for other articles. The food-producing countries have the -power of educating gentlemen and gentlewomen if they please,—they are -the lordly and masterful countries. Those which exchange mechanical or -artistic productions for food are servile, and necessarily in process -of time will be ruined. Next Fors, therefore, will be written for any -Landlords who wish to be true Workmen in their vocation; and, according -to the first law of the St. George’s Company, ‘to do good work, whether -they die or live.’ - - - - - - -NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE. - -I commend the whole of the following letter to the reader’s most -serious consideration:— - - - Broxbourn, Herts, 11th June, 1874. - - My dear Sir,—You are so tolerant of correspondents with grievances, - that I venture to say a few more words, in reply to your note about - Law Reform. In November next the Judicature Bill will come into - operation. The preamble recites this incontestable fact, “that it - is expedient to make provision for the better administration of - justice in England.” Now, the two salient features of the incessant - clamour for Law Reform are these—1st, an increased conviction of - the sanctity of property; 2nd, a proportionate decrease in the - estimate of human life. For years past the English people have - spent incalculable money and talk in trying to induce Parliament to - give them safe titles to their land, and sharp and instant means of - getting in their debts: the Land Transfer Bill is in answer to this - first demand, and the Judicature Bill to the second. Meanwhile the - Criminal Code may shift for itself; and here we have, as the - outcome of centuries of vulgar national flourish about Magna - Charta, Habeas Corpus, and much else, the present infamous system - of punishing crime by pecuniary penalties. Now the spirit of this - evil system is simply this: “A crime is an offence against society. - Making the criminal suffer pain won’t materially benefit society, - but making him suffer in his pocket will;” and so society elects to - be battered about, and variously maltreated, on a sliding scale of - charges, adjusted more on medical than moral principles. No doubt - it is very desirable to have a title-deed to your thousand acres, - no bigger than the palm of your hand, to be able to put it in a - box, and sit upon it, and defy all the lawyers in the land to pick - a flaw in your title; quite a millenium-like state of things, but - liable to be somewhat marred if your next door neighbour may knock - you off your box, stab you with a small pocket-knife, and jump on - your stomach, all with grievous damage to you, but comparative - immunity to himself. We are one day to have cheap law, meanwhile we - have such cheap crime that injuries to the person are now within - the reach of all. I may be a villain of the first water, if I have - a few spare pounds in my pocket. From a careful survey of lately - reported cases, I find I can run away with my neighbour’s wife, - seduce his daughter, half poison his household with adulterated - food, and finally stab him with a pocket-knife, for rather less - than £1000. Stabbing is so ridiculously cheap that I can indulge in - it for a trifling penalty of £1. (See Southall’s case.) But woe be - to me if I dare to encroach on my neighbour’s land, prejudice his - trade, or touch his pocket; then the law has remedies, vast and - many, and I shall not only incur pecuniary penalties that are to - all effects and purpose limitless, but I shall be made to suffer in - person also. These two things are exactly indicative of the gradual - decay of the national mind under the influence of two schools. The - first teaches that man’s primary object in life is to “get on in - the world;” hence we have this exaggerated estimate of the value - and sanctity of property. The second school teaches that love can - exist without reverence, mercy without justice, and liberty without - obedience; and as the logical result of such teaching, we have lost - all clear and healthy knowledge of what justice really is, and - invent a system of punishments which is not even really punitive, - and without any element of retribution at all. Let us have instead - a justice that not only condones the crime, but also makes a profit - out of the criminal. And we get her; but note the irony of Fate: - when our modern goddess does pluck up heart to be angry, she seems - doomed to be angry in the wrong way, and with the wrong people. - Here is a late instance (the printed report of which I send you):— - - - William Hawkes, a blind man and very infirm, was brought up, - having been committed from Marlborough Street, to be dealt with - as a rogue and vagabond. - - On being placed in the dock, - - Mr. Montagu Williams, as amicus curiæ, said he had known the - prisoner for years, from seeing him sitting on Waterloo Bridge - tracing his fingers over a book designed for the blind to read, - and in no instance had he seen him beg from those who passed - by, so that he was practically doing no harm, and some time ago - the late Sir William Bodkin had dealt very mercifully with him. - Something ought to be done for him. - - Mr. Harris said he could corroborate all that his learned - friend had stated. - - The Assistant-Judge said he had been convicted by the - magistrate, and was sent here to be sentenced as a rogue and - vagabond, but the Court would not deal hardly with him. - - Horsford, chief officer of the Mendicity Society, said the - prisoner had been frequently convicted for begging. - - The Assistant-Judge sentenced him to be imprisoned for four - months.—May, 1874. - - - The other day I was reading a beautiful Eastern story of a certain - blind man who sat by the wayside begging; clearly a very - importunate and troublesome blind man, who would by no means hold - his peace, but who, nevertheless, had his heart’s desire granted - unto him at last. And yesterday I was also reading a very unlovely - Western story of another blind man, who was “very infirm,” not at - all importunate, did not even beg; only sat there by the roadside - and read out of a certain Book that has a great deal to say about - justice and mercy. The sequel of the two stories varies - considerably: in this latter one our civilized English Law clutches - the old blind man by the throat, tells him he is a rogue and a - vagabond, and flings him into prison for four months! - - But our enlightened British Public is too busy clamouring for short - deeds and cheap means of litigation, ever to give thought or time - to mere “sentimental grievances.” Have you seen the strange comment - on Carlyle’s letter of some months ago, in which he prophesied evil - things to come, if England still persisted in doing her work “ill, - swiftly, and mendaciously”? Our export trade, for the first five - months of this year, shows a decrease of just eight millions! The - newspapers note, with a horrified amazement, that the continental - nations decline dealing any longer at the “old shop,” and fall back - on home products, and try to explain it by reference to the Capital - and Labour question. Carlyle foresaw Germany’s future, and told us - plainly of it; he foresees England’s decadence, and warns us just - as plainly of that; and the price we have already paid, in this - year of grace 1874, for telling him to hold his tongue, is just - eight millions. - - Yours sincerely, - - -Next, or next but one, to the Fors for the squires, will come that for -the lawyers. In the meantime, can any correspondent inform me, -approximately, what the income and earnings of the legal profession are -annually in England, and what sum is spent in collateral expenses for -juries, witnesses, etc.? The ‘Times’ for May 18th of this year gives -the following estimate of the cost of the Tichborne trial, which seems -to me very moderate:— - - - The Trial of the Tichborne Claimant.—On Saturday a return to the - House of Commons, obtained by Mr. W. H. Smith, was printed, showing - the amount expended upon the prosecution in the case of “Regina v. - Castro, otherwise Orton, otherwise Tichborne,” and the probable - amount still remaining to be paid out of the vote of Parliament for - “this service.” The probable cost of the trial is stated at £55,315 - 17s. 1d., of which £49,815 17s. 1d. had been paid up to the 11th - ult., and on the 11th of May inst. £5,500 remained unpaid. In - 1872–3 counsels’ fees were £1,146 16s. 6d., and in 1873–4 counsels’ - fees were £22,495 18s. 4d. The jury were paid £3,780, and the - shorthand writers £3,493 3s. The other expenses were witnesses, - agents, etc., and law stationers and printing. Of the sum to be - paid, £4,000 is for the Australian and Chili witnesses.—Times, May - 18th, 1874. - - -II. I reprint the following letter as it was originally published. I -meant to have inquired into the facts a little farther, but have not -had time. - - - 21, Mincing Lane, London, E.C., - 19th March, 1874. - - Dear Sirs,—On the 27th March, 1872, we directed your attention to - this subject of Usury in a paper headed “Choose you this day whom - ye will serve.” We have since published our correspondence with the - Rev. Dr. Cumming, and we take his silence as an acknowledgment of - his inability to justify his teaching upon this subject. We have - also publicly protested against the apathy of the Bishops and - Clergy of the Established Church regarding this national sin. We - now append an extract from the ‘Hampshire Independent’ of the 11th - instant, which has been forwarded to us:— - - - “The Church of England in South Australia is in active competition - with the money changers and those who sell doves. The Church - Office, Leigh Street, Adelaide, advertises that ‘it is prepared to - lend money at current rates—no commission or brokerage charged,’ - which is really liberal on the part of the Church of England, and - may serve to distinguish it as a lender from the frequenters of the - synagogues. [50] It has been suggested that the Church Office - should hang out the triple symbol of the Lombards, and that at the - next examination of candidates for holy orders a few apposite - questions might be asked, such as—‘State concisely the best method - of obtaining the highest rate of interest for Church moneys. - Demonstrate how a system of Church money-lending was approved by - the founder of Christianity.’” - - - As such perverseness can only end in sudden and overwhelming - calamity, we make no apology for again urging you to assist us in - our endeavours to banish the accursed element at least from our own - trade. - - Your obedient servants, - J. C. Sillar and Co. - - -I put in large print—it would be almost worth capital letters—the -following statement of the principle of interest as “necessary to the -existence of money.” I suppose it is impossible to embody the modern -view more distinctly:— - - - “Money, the representation and measure of value, has also the power - to accumulate value by interest (italics not mine). This - accumulative power is essential to the existence of money, for no - one will exchange productive property for money that does not - represent production. The laws making gold and silver a public - tender impart to dead masses of metal, as it were, life and - animation. They give them powers which without legal enactment they - could not possess, and which enable their owner to obtain for their - use what other men must earn by their labour. One piece of gold - receives a legal capability to earn for its owner, in a given time, - another piece of gold as large as itself; or in other words, the - legal power of money to accumulate by interest compels the borrower - in a given period, according to the rate of interest, to mine and - coin, or to procure by the sale of his labour or products, another - lump of gold as large as the first, and give it, together with the - first, to the lender.”—Kellogg on Labour and Capital, New York, - 1849. - - - - - - - - -FORS CLAVIGERA. - -LETTER XLV. - - - Lucca, 2nd August, 1874. - -The other day, in the Sacristan’s cell at Assisi, I got into a great -argument with the Sacristan himself, about the prophet Isaiah. It had -struck me that I should like to know what sort of a person his wife -was: and I asked my good host, over our morning’s coffee, whether the -Church knew anything about her. Brother Antonio, however, instantly and -energetically denied that he ever had a wife. He was a ‘Castissimo -profeta,’—how could I fancy anything so horrible of him! Vainly I -insisted that, since he had children, he must either have been married, -or been under special orders, like the prophet Hosea. But my Protestant -Bible was good for nothing, said the Sacristan. Nay, I answered, I -never read, usually, in anything later than a thirteenth century text; -let him produce me one out of the convent library, and see if I -couldn’t find Shearjashub in it. The discussion dropped upon -this,—because the library was inaccessible at the moment; and no -printed Vulgate to be found. But I think of it again to-day, because I -have just got into another puzzle about Isaiah,—to wit, what he means -by calling himself a “man of unclean lips.” [51] And that is a vital -question, surely, to all persons venturing to rise up, as -teachers;—vital, at all events, to me, here, and now, for these -following reasons. - -Thirty years ago, I began my true study of Italian, and all other -art,—here, beside the statue of Ilaria di Caretto, recumbent on her -tomb. It turned me from the study of landscape to that of life, being -then myself in the fullest strength of labour, and joy of hope. - -And I was thinking, last night, that the drawing which I am now trying -to make of it, in the weakness and despair of declining age, might -possibly be the last I should make before quitting the study of -Italian, and even all other, art, for ever. - -I have no intent of doing so: quite the reverse of that. But I feel the -separation between me and the people round me, so bitterly, in the -world of my own which they cannot enter; and I see their entrance to it -now barred so absolutely by their own resolves, (they having -deliberately and self-congratulatingly chosen for themselves the -Manchester Cotton Mill instead of the Titian,) that it becomes every -hour more urged upon me that I shall have to leave,—not father and -mother, for they have left me; nor children, nor lands, for I have -none,—but at least this spiritual land and fair domain of human art and -natural peace,—because I am a man of unclean lips, and dwell in the -midst of a people of unclean lips, and therefore am undone, because -mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of Hosts. - -I say it, and boldly. Who else is there of you who can stand with me, -and say the same? It is an age of progress, you tell me. Is your -progress chiefly in this, that you cannot see the King, the Lord of -Hosts, but only Baal, instead of Him? - -“The Sun is God,” said Turner, a few weeks before he died with the -setting rays of it on his face. - -He meant it, as Zoroaster meant it; and was a Sun-worshipper of the old -breed. But the unheard-of foulness of your modern faith in Baal is its -being faith without worship. The Sun is—not God,—you say. Not by any -manner of means. A gigantic railroad accident, perhaps,—a coruscant -δινος,—put on the throne of God like a limelight; and able to serve -you, eventually, much better than ever God did. - -I repeat my challenge. You,—Te Deum-singing princes, colonels, bishops, -choristers, and what else,—do any of you know what Te means? or what -Deum? or what Laudamus? Have any of your eyes seen the King, or His -Sabaoth? Will any of you say, with your hearts, ‘Heaven and earth are -full of His glory; and in His name we will set up our banners, and do -good work, whether we live or die’? - -You, in especial, Squires of England, whose fathers were England’s -bravest and best,—by how much better and braver you are than your -fathers, in this Age of Progress, I challenge you: Have any of your -eyes seen the King? Are any of your hands ready for His work, and for -His weapons,—even though they should chance to be pruning-hooks instead -of spears? - -Who am I, that should challenge you—do you ask? My mother was a -sailor’s daughter, so please you; one of my aunts was a baker’s -wife—the other, a tanner’s; and I don’t know much more about my family, -except that there used to be a greengrocer of the name in a small shop -near the Crystal Palace. Something of my early and vulgar life, if it -interests you, I will tell in next Fors: in this one, it is indeed my -business, poor gipsy herald as I am, to bring you such challenge, -though you shall hunt and hang me for it. - -Squires, are you, and not Workmen, nor Labourers, do you answer next? - -Yet, I have certainly sometimes seen engraved over your family vaults, -and especially on the more modern tablets, those comfortful words, -“Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord.” But I observe that you -are usually content, with the help of the village stone-mason, to say -only this concerning your dead; and that you but rarely venture to add -the “yea” of the Spirit, “that they may rest from their Labours, and -their Works do follow them.” Nay, I am not even sure that many of you -clearly apprehend the meaning of such followers and following; nor, in -the most pathetic funeral sermons, have I heard the matter made -strictly intelligible to your hope. For indeed, though you have always -graciously considered your church no less essential a part of your -establishment than your stable, you have only been solicitous that -there should be no broken-winded steeds in the one, without collateral -endeavour to find clerks for the other in whom the breath of the Spirit -should be unbroken also. - -As yet it is a text which, seeing how often we would fain take the -comfort of it, surely invites explanation. The implied difference -between those who die in the Lord, and die—otherwise; the essential -distinction between the labour from which these blessed ones rest, and -the work which in some mysterious way follows them; and the doubt—which -must sometimes surely occur painfully to a sick or bereaved -squire—whether the labours of his race are always severe enough to make -rest sweet, or the works of his race always distinguished enough to -make their following superb,—ought, it seems to me, to cause the verse -to glow on your (lately, I observe, more artistic) tombstones, like the -letters on Belshazzar’s wall; and with the more lurid and alarming -light, that this “following” of the works is distinctly connected, in -the parallel passage of Timothy, with “judgment” upon the works; and -that the kinds of them which can securely front such judgment, are -there said to be, in some cases, “manifest beforehand,” and, in no -case, ultimately obscure. - -“It seems to me,” I say, as if such questions should occur to the -squire during sickness, or funeral pomp. But the seeming is far from -the fact. For I suppose the last idea which is likely ever to enter the -mind of a representative squire, in any vivid or tenable manner, would -be that anything he had ever done, or said, was liable to a judgment -from superior powers; or that any other law than his own will, or the -fashion of his society, stronger than his will, existed in relation to -the management of his estate. Whereas, according to any rational -interpretation of our Church’s doctrine, as by law established; if -there be one person in the world rather than another to whom it makes a -serious difference whether he dies in the Lord or out of Him; and if -there be one rather than another who will have strict scrutiny made -into his use of every instant of his time, every syllable of his -speech, and every action of his hand and foot,—on peril of having hand -and foot bound, and tongue scorched, in Tophet,—that responsible person -is the British Squire. - -Very strange, the unconsciousness of this, in his own mind, and in the -minds of all belonging to him. Even the greatest painter of him—the -Reynolds who has filled England with the ghosts of her noble squires -and dames,—though he ends his last lecture in the Academy with “the -name of Michael Angelo,” never for an instant thought of following out -the purposes of Michael Angelo, and painting a Last Judgment upon -Squires, with the scene of it laid in Leicestershire. Appealing lords -and ladies on either hand;—“Behold, Lord, here is Thy land; which I -have—as far as my distressed circumstances would permit—laid up in a -napkin. Perhaps there may be a cottage or so less upon it than when I -came into the estate,—a tree cut down here and there imprudently;—but -the grouse and foxes are undiminished. Behold, there Thou hast that is -Thine.” And what capacities of dramatic effect in the cases of less -prudent owners,—those who had said in their hearts, “My Lord delayeth -His coming.” Michael Angelo’s St. Bartholomew, exhibiting his own skin -flayed off him, awakes but a minor interest in that classic picture. -How many an English squire might not we, with more pictorial advantage, -see represented as adorned with the flayed skins of other people? Micah -the Morasthite, throned above them on the rocks of the mountain of the -Lord, while his Master now takes up His parable, “Hear, I pray you, ye -heads of Jacob, and ye princes of the house of Israel; Is it not for -you to know judgment, who also eat the flesh of my people, and flay -their skin from off them, and they break their bones, and chop them in -pieces as for the pot.” - -And how of the appeals on the other side? “Lord, Thou gavest me one -land; behold, I have gained beside it ten lands more.” You think that -an exceptionally economical landlord might indeed be able to say so -much for himself; and that the increasing of their estates has at least -been held a desirable thing by all of them, however Fortune, and the -sweet thyme-scented Turf of England, might thwart their best -intentions. Indeed it is well to have coveted—much more to have -gained—increase of estate, in a certain manner. But neither the -Morasthite nor his Master have any word of praise for you in -appropriating surreptitiously, portions, say, of Hampstead Heath, or -Hayes Common, or even any bit of gipsy-pot-boiling land at the -roadside. Far the contrary: In that day of successful appropriation, -there is one that shall take up a parable against you, and say, “We be -utterly spoiled. He hath changed the portion of my people; turning -away, he hath divided our fields. Therefore thou shalt have none that -shall cast a cord by lot in the congregation of the Lord.” In modern -words, you shall have quite unexpected difficulties in getting your -legal documents drawn up to your satisfaction; and truly, as you have -divided the fields of the poor, the poor, in their time, shall divide -yours. - -Nevertheless, in their deepest sense, those triumphant words, “Behold, -I have gained beside it ten lands more,” must be on the lips of every -landlord who honourably enters into his rest; whereas there will soon -be considerable difficulty, as I think you are beginning to perceive, -not only in gaining more, but even in keeping what you have got. - -For the gipsy hunt is up also, as well as Harry our King’s; and the hue -and cry loud against your land and you; your tenure of it is in dispute -before a multiplying mob, deaf and blind as you,—frantic for the -spoiling of you. The British Constitution is breaking fast. It never -was, in its best days, entirely what its stout owner flattered himself. -Neither British Constitution, nor British law, though it blanch every -acre with an acre of parchment, sealed with as many seals as the meadow -had buttercups, can keep your landlordships safe, henceforward, for an -hour. You will have to fight for them as your fathers did, if you mean -to keep them. - -That is your only sound and divine right to them; and of late you seem -doubtful of appeal to it. You think political economy and peace -societies will contrive some arithmetical evangel of possession. You -will not find it so. If a man is not ready to fight for his land, and -for his wife, no legal forms can secure them to him. They can affirm -his possession; but neither grant, sanction, nor protect it. To his own -love, to his own resolution, the lordship is granted; and to those -only. - -That is the first ‘labour’ of landlords, then. Fierce exercise of body -and mind, in so much pugnacity as shall supersede all office of legal -documents. Whatever labour you mean to put on your land, your first -entirely Divine labour is to keep hold of it. And are you ready for -that toil to-day? It will soon be called for. Sooner or later, within -the next few years, you will find yourselves in Parliament in front of -a majority resolved on the establishment of a Republic, and the -division of lands. Vainly the landed millowners will shriek for the -“operation of natural laws of political economy.” The vast natural law -of carnivorous rapine which they have declared their Baal-God, in so -many words, will be in equitable operation then; and not, as they -fondly hoped to keep it, all on their own side. Vain, then, your -arithmetical or sophistical defence. You may pathetically plead to the -people’s majority, that the divided lands will not give much more than -the length and breadth of his grave to each mob-proprietor. They will -answer, “We will have what we can get;—at all events, you shall keep it -no longer.” And what will you do? Send for the Life Guards and clear -the House, and then, with all the respectable members of society as -special constables, guard the streets? That answered well against the -Chartist meeting on Kennington Common in 1848. Yes; but in 1880 it will -not be a Chartist meeting at Kennington, but a -magna-and-maxima-Chartist Ecclesia at Westminster, that you must deal -with. You will find a difference, and to purpose. Are you prepared to -clear the streets with the Woolwich infant,—thinking that out of the -mouth of that suckling, God will perfect your praise, and ordain your -strength? Be it so; but every grocer’s and chandler’s shop in the -thoroughfares of London is a magazine of petroleum and percussion -powder; and there are those who will use both, among the Republicans. -And you will see your father the Devil’s will done on earth, as it is -in hell. - -I call him your father, for you have denied your mortal fathers, and -the Heavenly One. You have declared, in act and thought, the ways and -laws of your sires—obsolete, and of your God—ridiculous; above all, the -habits of obedience, and the elements of justice. You were made lords -over God’s heritage. You thought to make it your own heritage; to be -lords of your own land, not of God’s land. And to this issue of -ownership you are come. - -And what a heritage it was, you had the lordship over! A land of -fruitful vales and pastoral mountains; and a heaven of pleasant -sunshine and kindly rain; and times of sweet prolonged summer, and -cheerful transient winter; and a race of pure heart, iron sinew, -splendid fame, and constant faith. - -All this was yours! the earth with its fair fruits and innocent -creatures;—the firmament with its eternal lights and dutiful -seasons;—the men, souls and bodies, your fathers’ true servants for a -thousand years,—their lives, and their children’s children’s lives -given into your hands, to save or to destroy; their food yours,—as the -grazing of the sheep is the shepherd’s; their thoughts yours,—priest -and tutor chosen for them by you; their hearts yours,—if you would but -so much as know them by sight and name, and give them the passing grace -of your own glance, as you dwelt among them, their king. And all this -monarchy and glory, all this power and love, all this land and its -people, you pitifullest, foulest of Iscariots, sopped to choking with -the best of the feast from Christ’s own fingers, you have deliberately -sold to the highest bidder;—Christ, and His Poor, and His Paradise -together; and instead of sinning only, like poor natural Adam, -gathering of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, you, who don’t want to -gather it, touch it with a vengeance,—cut it down, and sell the timber. - -Judases with the big bag—game-bag to wit!—to think how many of your -dull Sunday mornings have been spent, for propriety’s sake, looking -chiefly at those carved angels blowing trumpets above your family -vaults; and never one of you has had Christianity enough in him to -think that he might as easily have his moors full of angels as of -grouse. And now, if ever you did see a real angel before the Day of -Judgment, your first thought would be,—to shoot it. - -And for your ‘family’ vaults, what will be the use of them to you? Does -not Mr. Darwin show you that you can’t wash the slugs out of a lettuce -without disrespect to your ancestors? Nay, the ancestors of the modern -political economist cannot have been so pure;—they were not—he tells -you himself—vegetarian slugs, but carnivorous ones—those, to wit, that -you see also carved on your tombstones, going in and out at the eyes of -skulls. And truly, I don’t know what else the holes in the heads of -modern political economists were made for. - -If there are any brighter windows in your’s—if any audience chambers—if -any council chambers—if any crown of walls that the pin of Death has -not yet pierced,—it is time for you to rise to your work, whether you -live or die. - -What are you to do, then? First,—the act which will be the foundation -of all bettering and strength in your own lives, as in that of your -tenants,—fix their rent; under legal assurance that it shall not be -raised; and under moral assurance that, if you see they treat your land -well, and are likely to leave it to you, if they die, raised in value, -the said rent shall be diminished in proportion to the improvement; -that is to say, providing they pay you the fixed rent during the time -of lease, you are to leave to them the entire benefit of whatever -increase they can give to the value of the land. Put the bargain in a -simple instance. You lease them an orchard of crab-trees for so much a -year; they leave you at the end of the lease, an orchard of golden -pippins. Supposing they have paid you their rent regularly, you have no -right to anything more than what you lent them—crab-trees, to wit. You -must pay them for the better trees which by their good industry they -give you back, or, which is the same thing, previously reduce their -rent in proportion to the improvement in apples. “The exact contrary,” -you observe, “of your present modes of proceeding.” Just so, gentlemen; -and it is not improbable that the exact contrary in many other cases of -your present modes of proceeding will be found by you, eventually, the -proper one, and more than that, the necessary one. Then the second -thing you have to do is to determine the income necessary for your own -noble and peaceful country life; and setting that aside out of the -rents, for a constant sum, to be habitually lived well within limits -of, put your heart and strength into the right employment of the rest -for the bettering of your estates, in ways which the farmers for their -own advantage could not or would not; for the growth of more various -plants; the cherishing, not killing, of beautiful living -creatures—bird, beast, and fish; and the establishment of such schools -of History, Natural History, and Art, as may enable your farmers’ -children, with your own, to know the meaning of the words Beauty, -Courtesy, Compassion, Gladness, and Religion. Which last word, -primarily, (you have not always forgotten to teach this one truth, -because it chanced to suit your ends, and even the teaching of this one -truth has been beneficent;)—Religion, primarily, means -‘Obedience’—binding to something, or some one. To be bound, or in -bonds, as apprentice; to be bound, or in bonds, by military oath; to be -bound, or in bonds, as a servant to man; to be bound, or in bonds, -under the yoke of God. These are all divinely instituted, eternally -necessary, conditions of Religion; beautiful, inviolable captivity and -submission of soul in life and death. This essential meaning of -Religion it was your office mainly to teach,—each of you captain and -king, leader and lawgiver, to his people;—vicegerents of your Captain, -Christ. And now—you miserable jockeys and gamesters—you can’t get a -seat in Parliament for those all but worn-out buckskin breeches of -yours, but by taking off your hats to the potboy. Pretty classical -statues you will make, Coriolanuses of the nineteenth century, humbly -promising, not to your people gifts of corn, but to your potboys, -stealthy sale of adulterated beer! - -Obedience!—you dare not so much as utter the word, whether to potboy, -or any other sort of boy, it seems, lately; and the half of you still -calling themselves Lords, Marquises, Sirs, and other such ancient -names, which—though omniscient Mr. Buckle says they and their heraldry -are nought—some little prestige lingers about still. You yourselves, -what do you yet mean by them—Lords of what?—Herrs, Signors, Dukes of -what?—of whom? Do you mean merely, when you go to the root of the -matter, that you sponge on the British farmer for your living, and are -strong-bodied paupers compelling your dole? - -To that extent, there is still, it seems, some force in you. Heaven -keep it in you; for, as I have said, it will be tried, and soon; and -you would even yourselves see what was coming, but that in your -hearts—not from cowardice, but from shame,—you are not sure whether you -will be ready to fight for your dole; and would fain persuade -yourselves it will still be given, you for form’s sake, or pity’s. - -No, my lords and gentlemen,—you won it at the lance’s point, and must -so hold it, against the clubs of Sempach, if still you may. No -otherwise. You won ‘it,’ I say,—your dole,—as matters now stand. But -perhaps, as matters used to stand, something else. As receivers of -alms, you will find there is no fight in you. No beggar, nor herd of -beggars, can fortify so very wide circumference of dish. And the real -secret of those strange breakings of the lance by the clubs of Sempach, -is—“that villanous saltpetre”—you think? No, Shakespearian lord; nor -even the sheaf-binding of Arnold, which so stopped the shaking of the -fruitless spiculæ. The utter and inmost secret is, that you have been -fighting these three hundred years for what you could get, instead of -what you could give. You were ravenous enough in rapine in the olden -times; [52] but you lived fearlessly and innocently by it, because, -essentially, you wanted money and food to give,—not to consume; to -maintain your followers with, not to swallow yourselves. Your chivalry -was founded, invariably, by knights who were content all their lives -with their horse and armour and daily bread. Your kings, of true power, -never desired for themselves more,—down to the last of them, Friedrich. -What they did desire was strength of manhood round them, and, in their -own hands, the power of largesse. - -‘Largesse.’ The French word is obsolete; one Latin equivalent, -Liberalitas, is fast receiving another, and not altogether similar -significance, among English Liberals. The other Latin equivalent, -Generosity, has become doubly meaningless, since modern political -economy and politics neither require virtue, nor breeding. The Greek, -or Greek-descended, equivalents—Charity, Grace, and the like, your -Grace the Duke of —— can perhaps tell me what has become of them. -Meantime, of all the words, ‘Largesse,’ the entirely obsolete one, is -the perfectly chivalric one; and therefore, next to the French -description of Franchise, we will now read the French description of -Largesse,—putting first, for comparison with it, a few more sentences -[53] from the secretary’s speech at the meeting of Social Science in -Glasgow; and remembering also the ‘Pall Mall Gazette’s’ exposition of -the perfection of Lord Derby’s idea of agriculture, in the hands of the -landowner—“Cultivating” (by machinery) “large farms for himself.” - - - “Exchange is the result, put into action, of the desire to possess - that which belongs to another, controlled by reason and - conscientiousness. It is difficult to conceive of any human - transaction that cannot be resolved, in some form or other, into - the idea of an exchange. All that is essential in production are,” - (sic, only italics mine,) “directly evolved from this source.” - - * * * - - “Man has therefore been defined to be an animal that exchanges. It - will be seen, however, that he not only exchanges, but from the - fact of his belonging, in part, to the order carnivora, that he - also inherits, to a considerable degree, the desire to possess - without exchanging; or, in other words, by fraud and violence, when - such can be used for his own advantage, without danger to himself.” - - * * * - - “Reason would immediately suggest to one of superior strength, - that, however desirable it might be to take possession, by - violence, of what another had laboured to produce, he might be - treated in the same way by one stronger than himself; to which he, - of course, would have great objection.” - - * * * - - “In order, therefore, to prevent, or put a stop to, a practice - which each would object to in his own case, and which, besides, - would put a stop to production altogether, both reason and a sense - of justice would suggest the act of exchange, as the only proper - mode of obtaining things from one another.” - - * * * - - -To anybody who had either reason or a sense of justice, it might -possibly have suggested itself that, except for the novelty of the -thing, mere exchange profits nobody, and presupposes a coincidence, or -rather a harmonious dissent, of opinion not always attainable. - -Mr. K. has a kettle, and Mr. P. has a pot. Mr. P. says to Mr. K., ‘I -would rather have your kettle than my pot;’ and if, coincidently, Mr. -K. is also in a discontented humour, and can say to Mr. P., ‘I would -rather have your pot than my kettle,’ why—both Hanses are in luck, and -all is well; but is their carnivorous instinct thus to be satisfied? -Carnivorous instinct says, in both cases, ‘I want both pot and kettle -myself, and you to have neither,’ and is entirely unsatisfiable on the -principle of exchange. The ineffable blockhead who wrote the paper -forgot that the principle of division of labour underlies that of -exchange, and does not arise out of it, but is the only reason for it. -If Mr. P. can make two pots, and Mr. K. two kettles, and so, by -exchange, both become possessed of a pot and a kettle, all is well. But -the profit of the business is in the additional production, and only -the convenience in the subsequent exchange. For, indeed, there are in -the main two great fallacies which the rascals of the world rejoice in -making its fools proclaim: the first, that by continually exchanging, -and cheating each other on exchange, two exchanging persons, out of one -pot, alternating with one kettle, can make their two fortunes. That is -the principle of Trade. The second, that Judas’ bag has become a -juggler’s, in which, if Mr. P. deposits his pot, and waits awhile, -there will come out two pots, both full of broth; and if Mr. K. -deposits his kettle, and waits awhile, there will come out two kettles, -both full of fish! That is the principle of Interest. - -However, for the present, observe simply the conclusion of our social -science expositor, that “the art of exchange is the only proper mode of -obtaining things from one another;” and now compare with this theory -that of old chivalry, namely, that gift was also a good way, both of -losing and gaining. - - - “And after, in the dance, went - Largesse, that set all her intent - For to be honourable and free. - Of Alexander’s kin was she; - Her mostë joy was, I wis, - When that she gave, and said, ‘Have this.’ [54] - Not Avarice, the foul caitiff, [55] - Was half, to gripe, so ententive, - As Largesse is to give, and spend. - And God always enough her send, (sent) - So that the more she gave away, - The more, I wis, she had alway. - - Largesse had on a robe fresh - Of rich purpure, sarlinish; [56] - Well formed was her face, and clear, - And open had she her colere, (collar) - For she right then had in present - Unto a lady made present - Of a gold brooch, full well wrought; - And certes, it mis-set her nought, - For through her smocke, wrought with silk, - The flesh was seen as white as milke.” - - -Think over that, ladies, and gentlemen who love them, for a pretty way -of being decolletée. Even though the flesh should be a little sunburnt -sometimes,—so that it be the Sun of Righteousness, and not Baal, who -shines on it—though it darken from the milk-like flesh to the colour of -the Madonna of Chartres,—in this world you shall be able to say, I am -black, but comely; and, dying, shine as the brightness of the -firmament—as the stars for ever and ever. They do not receive their -glories,—however one differeth in glory from another,—either by, or on, -Exchange. - - - - Lucca. (Assumption of the Virgin.) - -‘As the stars, for ever.’ Perhaps we had better not say that,—modern -science looking pleasantly forward to the extinction of a good many of -them. But it will be well to shine like them, if but for a little -while. - -You probably did not understand why, in a former letter, the Squire’s -special duty towards the peasant was said to be “presenting a celestial -appearance to him.” - -That is, indeed, his appointed missionary work; and still more -definitely, his wife’s. - -The giving of loaves is indeed the lady’s first duty; the first, but -the least. - -Next, comes the giving of brooches;—seeing that her people are dressed -charmingly and neatly, as well as herself, and have pretty furniture, -like herself. [57] - -But her chief duty of all—is to be, Herself, lovely. - - - “That through her smocke, wrought with silk, - The flesh be seen as white as milke.” [58] - - -Flesh, ladies mine, you observe; and not any merely illuminated -resemblance of it, after the fashion of the daughter of Ethbaal. It is -your duty to be lovely, not by candlelight, but sunshine; not out of a -window or opera-box, but on the bare ground. - -Which that you may be,—if through the smocke the flesh, then, much -more, through the flesh, the spirit, must be seen “as white as milke.” - -I have just been drawing, or trying to draw, Giotto’s ‘Poverty’ (Sancta -Paupertas) at Assisi. You may very likely know the chief symbolism of -the picture: that Poverty is being married to St. Francis, and that -Christ marries them, while her bare feet are entangled in thorns, but -behind her head is a thicket of rose and lily. It is less likely you -should be acquainted with the farther details of the group. - -The thorns are of the acacia, which, according to tradition, was used -to weave Christ’s crown. The roses are in two clusters,—palest red, -[59] and deep crimson; the one on her right, the other on her left; -above her head, pure white on the golden ground, rise the Annunciation -Lilies. She is not crowned with them, observe; they are behind her: she -is crowned only with her own hair, wreathed in a tress with which she -had bound her short bridal veil. For dress, she has—her smocke only; -and that torn, and torn again, and patched, diligently; except just at -the shoulders, and a little below the throat, where Giotto has torn it, -too late for her to mend; and the fair flesh is seen through, so white -that one cannot tell where the rents are, except when quite close. - -For girdle, she has the Franciscan’s cord; but that also is white, as -if spun of silk; her whole figure, like a statue of snow, seen against -the shade of her purple wings: for she is already one of the angels. A -crowd of them, on each side, attend her; two, her sisters, are her -bridesmaids also. Giotto has written their names above them—Spes; -Karitas;—their sister’s Christian name he has written in the lilies, -for those of us who have truly learned to read. Charity is crowned with -white roses, which burst, as they open, into flames; and she gives the -bride a marriage gift. - -“An apple,” say the interpreters. - -Not so. It was some one else than Charity who gave the first bride that -gift. It is a heart. - -Hope only points upwards; and while Charity has the golden nimbus round -her head circular (infinite), like that of Christ and the eternal -angels, she has her glory set within the lines that limit the cell of -the bee,—hexagonal. - -And the bride has hers, also, so restricted: nor, though she and her -bridesmaids are sisters, are they dressed alike; but one in red; and -one in green; and one, robe, flesh and spirit, a statue of Snow. - - - “La terza parea neve, teste mossa.” - - -Do you know now, any of you, ladies mine, what Giotto’s lilies mean -between the roses? or how they may also grow among the Sesame of -knightly spears? - -Not one of you, maid or mother, though I have besought you these four -years, (except only one or two of my personal friends,) has joined St. -George’s Company. You probably think St. George may advise some -different arrangements in Hanover Square? It is possible; for his own -knight’s cloak is white, and he may wish you to bear such celestial -appearance constantly. You talk often of bearing Christ’s cross; do you -never think of putting on Christ’s robes,—those that He wore on Tabor? -nor know what lamps they were which the wise virgins trimmed for the -marriage feast? You think, perhaps, you can go in to that feast in -gowns made half of silk, and half of cotton, spun in your Lancashire -cotton-mills; and that the Americans have struck oil enough—(lately, I -observe also, native gas,)—to supply any number of belated virgins? - -It is not by any means so, fair ladies. It is only your newly adopted -Father who tells you so. Suppose, learning what it is to be generous, -you recover your descent from God, and then weave your household -dresses white with your own fingers? For as no fuller on earth can -white them, but the light of a living faith,—so no demon under the -earth can darken them like the shadow of a dead one. And your modern -English ‘faith without works’ is dead; and would to God she were buried -too, for the stench of her goes up to His throne from a thousand fields -of blood. Weave, I say,—you have trusted far too much lately to the -washing,—your household raiment white; go out in the morning to Ruth’s -field, to sow as well as to glean; sing your Te Deum, at evening, -thankfully, as God’s daughters,—and there shall be no night there, for -your light shall so shine before men that they may see your good works, -and glorify—not Baal the railroad accident—but - - - “L’Amor che muove il Sole, e l’altre stelle.” - - - - - - -NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE. - -I have had by me for some time a small pamphlet, “The Agricultural -Labourer, by a Farmer’s Son,” [60] kindly sent me by the author. The -matter of it is excellent as far as it reaches; but the writer speaks -as if the existing arrangements between landlord, farmer, and labourer -must last for ever. If he will look at the article on “Peasant Farming” -in the ‘Spectator’ of July 4th of this year, he may see grounds for a -better hope. That article is a review of Mr. W. T. Thornton’s “Plea for -Peasant Proprietors;” and the following paragraph from it may interest, -and perhaps surprise, other readers besides my correspondent. Its first -sentence considerably surprises me to begin with; so I have italicized -it:— - -“This country is only just beginning to be seriously roused to the fact -that it has an agricultural question at all; and some of those most -directly interested therein are, in their pain and surprise at the -discovery, hurrying so fast the wrong way, that it will probably take a -long time to bring them round again to sensible thoughts, after most of -the rest of the community are ready with an answer. - -“The primary object of this book is to combat the pernicious error of a -large school of English economists with reference to the hurtful -character of small farms and small landed properties.... One would -think that the evidence daily before a rural economist, in the -marvellous extra production of a market garden, or even a peasant’s -allotment, over an ordinary farm, might suffice to raise doubts whether -vast fields tilled by steam, weeded by patent grubbers, and left -otherwise to produce in rather a happy-go-lucky fashion, were likely to -be the most advanced and profitable of all cultivated lands. On this -single point of production, Mr. Thornton conclusively proves the small -farmer to have the advantage. - -“The extreme yields of the very highest English farming are even -exceeded in Guernsey, and in that respect the evidence of the greater -productiveness of small farming over large is overwhelming. The Channel -Islands not only feed their own population, but are large exporters of -provisions as well. - -“Small farms being thus found to be more advantageous, it is but an -easy step to peasant proprietors.” - -Stop a moment, Mr. Spectator. The step is easy, indeed;—so is a step -into a well, or out of a window. There is no question whatever, in any -country, or at any time, respecting the expediency of small farming; -but whether the small farmer should be the proprietor of his land, is a -very awkward question indeed in some countries. Are you aware, Mr. -Spectator, that your ‘easy step,’ taken in two lines and a breath, -means what I, with all my Utopian zeal, have been fourteen years -writing on Political Economy, without venturing to hint at, except -under my breath;—some considerable modification, namely, in the -position of the existing British landlord?—nothing less, indeed, if -your ‘step’ were to be completely taken, than the reduction of him to a -‘small peasant proprietor’? And unless he can show some reason against -it, the ‘easy step’ will most assuredly be taken with him. - -Yet I have assumed, in this Fors, that it is not to be taken. That -under certain modifications of his system of Rent, he may still remain -lord of his land,—may, and ought, provided always he knows what it is -to be lord of anything. Of which I hope to reason farther in the Fors -for November of this year. - - - - - - - - -FORS CLAVIGERA. - -LETTER XLVI. - - - Florence, 28th August, 1874. - -I intended this letter to have been published on my mother’s birthday, -the second of next month. Fors, however, has entirely declared herself -against that arrangement, having given me a most unexpected piece of -work here, in drawing the Emperor, King, and Baron, who, throned by -Simone Memmi beneath the Duomo of Florence, beside a Pope, Cardinal, -and Bishop, represented, to the Florentine mind of the fourteenth -century, the sacred powers of the State in their fixed relation to -those of the Church. The Pope lifts his right hand to bless, and holds -the crosier in his left; having no powers but of benediction and -protection. The Emperor holds his sword upright in his right hand, and -a skull in his left, having alone the power of death. Both have triple -crowns; but the Emperor alone has a nimbus. The King has the diadem of -fleur-de-lys, and the ball and globe; the Cardinal, a book. The Baron -has his warrior’s sword; the Bishop, a pastoral staff. And the whole -scene is very beautifully expressive of what have been by learned -authors supposed the Republican or Liberal opinions of Florence, in her -day of pride. - -The picture (fresco), in which this scene occurs, is the most complete -piece of theological and political teaching given to us by the elder -arts of Italy; and this particular portion of it is of especial -interest to me, not only as exponent of the truly liberal and communist -principles which I am endeavouring to enforce in these letters for the -future laws of the St. George’s Company; but also because my maternal -grandmother was the landlady of the Old King’s Head in Market Street, -Croydon; and I wish she were alive again, and I could paint her Simone -Memmi’s King’s head, for a sign. - -My maternal grandfather was, as I have said, a sailor, who used to -embark, like Robinson Crusoe, at Yarmouth, and come back at rare -intervals, making himself very delightful at home. I have an idea he -had something to do with the herring business, but am not clear on that -point; my mother never being much communicative concerning it. He -spoiled her, and her (younger) sister, with all his heart, when he was -at home; unless there appeared any tendency to equivocation, or -imaginative statements, on the part of the children, which were always -unforgiveable. My mother being once perceived by him to have distinctly -told him a lie, he sent the servant out forthwith to buy an entire -bundle of new broom twigs to whip her with. “They did not hurt me so -much as one would have done,” said my mother, “but I thought a good -deal of it.” - -My grandfather was killed at two-and-thirty, by trying to ride, instead -of walk, into Croydon; he got his leg crushed by his horse against a -wall; and died of the hurt’s mortifying. My mother was then seven or -eight years old, and, with her sister, was sent to quite a fashionable -(for Croydon) day-school, (Mrs. Rice’s), where my mother was taught -evangelical principles, and became the pattern girl and best sewer in -the school; and where my aunt absolutely refused evangelical -principles, and became the plague and pet of it. - -My mother, being a girl of great power, with not a little pride, grew -more and more exemplary in her entirely conscientious career, much -laughed at, though much beloved, by her sister; who had more wit, less -pride, and no conscience. At last my mother, being a consummate -housewife, was sent for to Scotland to take care of my paternal -grandfather’s house; who was gradually ruining himself; and who at last -effectually ruined, and killed, himself. My father came up to London; -was a clerk in a merchant’s house for nine years, without a holiday; -then began business on his own account; paid his father’s debts; and -married his exemplary Croydon cousin. - -Meantime my aunt had remained in Croydon, and married a baker. By the -time I was four years old, and beginning to recollect things,—my father -rapidly taking higher commercial position in London,—there was -traceable—though to me, as a child, wholly incomprehensible—just the -least possible shade of shyness on the part of Hunter Street, Brunswick -Square, towards Market Street, Croydon. But whenever my father was -ill,—and hard work and sorrow had already set their mark on him,—we all -went down to Croydon to be petted by my homely aunt; and walk on Duppas -Hill, and on the heather of Addington. - -(And now I go on with the piece of this letter written last month at -Assisi.) - -My aunt lived in the little house still standing—or which was so four -months ago—the fashionablest in Market Street, having actually two -windows over the shop, in the second story; but I never troubled myself -about that superior part of the mansion, unless my father happened to -be making drawings in Indian ink, when I would sit reverently by and -watch; my chosen domains being, at all other times, the shop, the -bakehouse, and the stones round the spring of crystal water at the back -door (long since let down into the modern sewer); and my chief -companion, my aunt’s dog, Towzer, whom she had taken pity on when he -was a snappish, starved vagrant; and made a brave and affectionate dog -of: which was the kind of thing she did for every living creature that -came in her way, all her life long. - -I am sitting now in the Sacristan’s cell at Assisi. Its roof is -supported by three massive beams,—not squared beams, but tree trunks -barked, with the grand knots left in them, answering all the purpose of -sculpture. The walls are of rude white plaster, though there is a -Crucifixion by Giottino on the back of one, outside the door; the -floor, brick; the table, olive wood; the windows two, and only about -four feet by two in the opening, (but giving plenty of light in the -sunny morning, aided by the white walls,) looking out on the valley of -the Tescio. Under one of them, a small arched stove for cooking; in a -square niche beside the other, an iron wash-hand stand,—that is to say, -a tripod of good fourteenth century work, carrying a grand brown -porringer, two feet across, and half a foot deep. Between the windows -is the fireplace, the wall above it rich brown with the smoke. Hung -against the wall behind me are a saucepan, gridiron, and toasting-fork; -and in the wall a little door, closed only by a brown canvas curtain, -opening to an inner cell nearly filled by the bedstead; and at the side -of the room a dresser, with cupboard below, and two wine flasks, and -three pots of Raphael ware on the top of it, together with the first -volume of the ‘Maraviglie di Dio nell’ anime del Purgatorio, del padre -Carlo Gregorio Rosignoli, della Compagnia de Gesu,’ (Roma, 1841). There -is a bird singing outside; a constant low hum of flies, making the ear -sure it is summer; a dove cooing, very low; and absolutely nothing else -to be heard, I find, after listening with great care. And I feel -entirely at home, because the room—except in the one point of being -extremely dirty—is just the kind of thing I used to see in my aunt’s -bakehouse; and the country and the sweet valley outside still rest in -peace, such as used to be on the Surrey hills in the olden days. - -And now I am really going to begin my steady explanation of what the -St. George’s Company have to do. - -1. You are to do good work, whether you live or die. ‘What is good -work?’ you ask. Well you may! For your wise pastors and teachers, -though they have been very careful to assure you that good works are -the fruits of faith, and follow after justification, have been so -certain of that fact that they never have been the least solicitous to -explain to you, and still less to discover for themselves, what good -works were; content if they perceived a general impression on the minds -of their congregations that good works meant going to church and -admiring the sermon on Sundays, and making as much money as possible in -the rest of the week. - -It is true, one used to hear almsgiving and prayer sometimes -recommended by old-fashioned country ministers. But “the poor are now -to be raised without gifts,” says my very hard-and-well-working friend -Miss Octavia Hill; and prayer is entirely inconsistent with the laws of -hydro (and other) statics, says the Duke of Argyll. - -It may be so, for aught I care, just now. Largesse and supplication may -or may not be still necessary in the world’s economy. They are not, and -never were, part of the world’s work. For no man can give till he has -been paid his own wages; and still less can he ask his Father for the -said wages till he has done his day’s duty for them. - -Neither almsgiving nor praying, therefore, nor psalm-singing, nor -even—as poor Livingstone thought, to his own death, and our bitter -loss—discovering the mountains of the Moon, have anything to do with -“good work,” or God’s work. But it is not so very difficult to discover -what that work is. You keep the Sabbath, in imitation of God’s rest. -Do, by all manner of means, if you like; and keep also the rest of the -week in imitation of God’s work. - -It is true that, according to tradition, that work was done a long time -ago, “before the chimneys in Zion were hot, and ere the present years -were sought out, and or ever the inventions of them that now sin, were -turned; and before they were sealed that have gathered faith for a -treasure.” [61] But the established processes of it continue, as his -Grace of Argyll has argutely observed;—and your own work will be good, -if it is in harmony with them, and duly sequent of them. Nor are even -the first main facts or operations by any means inimitable, on a duly -subordinate scale, for if Man be made in God’s image, much more is -Man’s work made to be the image of God’s work. So therefore look to -your model, very simply stated for you in the nursery tale of Genesis. - - - Day First.—The Making, or letting in, of Light. - Day Second.—The Discipline and Firmament of Waters. - Day Third.—The Separation of earth from water, and planting the - secure earth with trees. - Day Fourth.—The Establishment of time and seasons, and of the - authority of the stars. - Day Fifth.—Filling the water and air with fish and birds. - Day Sixth.—Filling the land with beasts; and putting divine life - into the clay of one of these, that it may have authority - over the others, and over the rest of the Creation. - - -Here is your nursery story,—very brief, and in some sort -unsatisfactory; not altogether intelligible, (I don’t know anything -very good that is,) nor wholly indisputable, (I don’t know anything -ever spoken usefully on so wide a subject that is); but substantially -vital and sufficient. So the good human work may properly divide itself -into the same six branches; and will be a perfectly literal and -practical following out of the Divine; and will have opposed to it a -correspondent Diabolic force of eternally bad work—as much worse than -idleness or death, as good work is better than idleness or death. - -Good work, then, will be,— - -A. Letting in light where there was darkness; as especially into poor -rooms and back streets; and generally guiding and administering the -sunshine wherever we can, by all the means in our power. - -And the correspondent Diabolic work is putting a tax on windows, and -blocking out the sun’s light with smoke. - -B. Disciplining the falling waters. In the Divine work, this is the -ordinance of clouds; [62] in the human it is properly putting the -clouds to service; and first stopping the rain where they carry it from -the sea, and then keeping it pure as it goes back to the sea again. - -And the correspondent Diabolic work is the arrangement of land so as to -throw all the water back to the sea as fast as we can; [63] and putting -every sort of filth into the stream as it runs. - -C. The separation of earth from water, and planting it with trees. The -correspondent human work is especially clearing morasses, and planting -desert ground. - -The Dutch, in a small way, in their own country, have done a good deal -with sand and tulips; also the North Germans. But the most beautiful -type of the literal ordinance of dry land in water is the State of -Venice, with her sea-canals, restrained, traversed by their bridges, -and especially bridges of the Rivo Alto, or High Bank, which are, or -were till a few years since, symbols of the work of a true -Pontifex,—the Pontine Marshes being the opposite symbol. - -The correspondent Diabolic work is turning good land and water into -mud; and cutting down trees that we may drive steam ploughs, etc., etc. - -D. The establishment of times and seasons. The correspondent human work -is a due watching of the rise and set of stars, and course of the sun; -and due administration and forethought of our own annual labours, -preparing for them in hope, and concluding them in joyfulness, -according to the laws and gifts of Heaven. Which beautiful order is set -forth in symbols on all lordly human buildings round the semicircular -arches which are types of the rise and fall of days and years. - -And the correspondent Diabolic work is turning night into day with -candles, so that we never see the stars; and mixing the seasons up one -with another, and having early strawberries, and green pease and the -like. - -E. Filling the waters with fish, and air with birds. The correspondent -human work is Mr. Frank Buckland’s and the like,—of which ‘like’ I am -thankful to have been permitted to do a small piece near Croydon, in -the streams to which my mother took me when a child, to play beside. -There were more than a dozen of the fattest, shiniest, spottiest, and -tamest trout I ever saw in my life, in the pond at Carshalton, the last -time I saw it this spring. - -The correspondent Diabolic work is poisoning fish, as is done at -Coniston, with copper-mining; and catching them for ministerial and -other fashionable dinners when they ought not to be caught; and -treating birds—as birds are treated, Ministerially and otherwise. - -F. Filling the earth with beasts, properly known and cared for by their -master, Man; but chiefly breathing into the clayey and brutal nature of -Man himself, the Soul, or Love, of God. - -The correspondent Diabolic work is shooting and tormenting beasts; and -grinding out the soul of man from his flesh, with machine labour; and -then grinding down the flesh of him, when nothing else is left, into -clay, with machines for that purpose—mitrailleuses, Woolwich infants, -and the like. - -These are the six main heads of God’s and the Devil’s work. - -And as Wisdom, or Prudentia, is with God, and with His children in the -doing,—“There I was by Him, as one brought up with Him, and I was daily -His delight,”—so Folly, or Stultitia, saying, There is No God, is with -the Devil and his children, in the undoing. “There she is with them as -one brought up with them, and she is daily their delight.” - -And so comes the great reverse of Creation, and wrath of God, -accomplished on the earth by the fiends, and by men their ministers, -seen by Jeremy the Prophet: “For my people is foolish, they have not -known me; they are sottish children, and they have none understanding: -they are wise to do evil, but to do good they have no knowledge. [Now -note the reversed creation.] I beheld the Earth, and, lo, it was -without form, and void; and the Heavens, and they had no light. I -beheld the mountains, and, lo, they trembled, and all the hills moved -lightly. I beheld, and, lo, there was no man, and all the birds of the -heavens were fled. I beheld, and, lo, the fruitful place was a -wilderness, and all the cities thereof were broken down at the presence -of the Lord, and by His fierce anger.” - -And so, finally, as the joy and honour of the ancient and divine Man -and Woman were in their children, so the grief and dishonour of the -modern and diabolic Man and Woman are in their children; and as the -Rachel of Bethlehem weeps for her children, and will not be comforted, -because they are not, the Rachel of England weeps for her children, and -will not be comforted—because they are. - -Now, whoever you may be, and how little your power may be, and whatever -sort of creature you may be,—man, woman, or child,—you can, according -to what discretion of years you may have reached, do something of this -Divine work, or undo something of this Devil’s work, every day. Even if -you are a slave, forced to labour at some abominable and murderous -trade for bread,—as iron-forging, for instance, or -gunpowder-making,—you can resolve to deliver yourself, and your -children after you, from the chains of that hell, and from the dominion -of its slave-masters, or to die. That is Patriotism; and true desire of -Freedom, or Franchise. What Egyptian bondage, do you suppose—(painted -by Mr. Poynter as if it were a thing of the past!)—was ever so cruel as -a modern English iron forge, with its steam hammers? What Egyptian -worship of garlic or crocodile ever so damnable as modern English -worship of money? Israel—even by the fleshpots—was sorry to have to -cast out her children,—would fain stealthily keep her little Moses,—if -Nile were propitious; and roasted her passover anxiously. But English -Mr. P., satisfied with his fleshpot, and the broth of it, will not be -over-hasty about his roast. If the Angel, perchance, should not pass -by, it would be no such matter, thinks Mr. P. - -Or, again, if you are a slave to Society, and must do what the people -next door bid you,—you can resolve, with any vestige of human energy -left in you, that you will indeed put a few things into God’s fashion, -instead of the fashion of next door. Merely fix that on your mind as a -thing to be done; to have things—dress, for instance,—according to -God’s taste, (and I can tell you He is likely to have some, as good as -any modiste you know of); or dinner, according to God’s taste instead -of the Russians’; or supper, or picnic, with guests of God’s inviting, -occasionally, mixed among the more respectable company. - -By the way, I wrote a letter to one of my lady friends, who gives -rather frequent dinners, the other day, which may perhaps be useful to -others: it was to this effect mainly, though I add and alter a little -to make it more general:— - -“You probably will be having a dinner-party to-day; now, please do -this, and remember I am quite serious in what I ask you. We all of us, -who have any belief in Christianity at all, wish that Christ were alive -now. Suppose, then, that He is. I think it very likely that if He were -in London, you would be one of the people whom He would take some -notice of. Now, suppose He has sent you word that He is coming to dine -with you to-day; but that you are not to make any change in your guests -on His account; that He wants to meet exactly the party you have; and -no other. Suppose you have just received this message, and that St. -John has also left word, in passing, with the butler, that his Master -will come alone; so that you won’t have any trouble with the Apostles. -Now this is what I want you to do. First, determine what you will have -for dinner. You are not ordered, observe, to make no changes in your -bill of fare. Take a piece of paper, and absolutely write fresh orders -to your cook,—you can’t realize the thing enough without writing. That -done, consider how you will arrange your guests—who is to sit next -Christ on the other side—who opposite, and so on; finally, consider a -little what you will talk about, supposing, which is just possible, -that Christ should tell you to go on talking as if He were not there, -and never to mind Him. You couldn’t, you will tell me? Then, my dear -lady, how can you in general? Don’t you profess—nay, don’t you much -more than profess—to believe that Christ is always there, whether you -see Him or not? Why should the seeing make such a difference?” - -But you are no master nor mistress of household? You are only a boy, or -a girl. What can you do? - -We will take the work of the third day, for its range is at once lower -and wider than that of the others: Can you do nothing in that kind? Is -there no garden near you where you can get from some generous person -leave to weed the beds, or sweep up the dead leaves? (I once allowed an -eager little girl of ten years old to weed my garden; and now, though -it is long ago, she always speaks as if the favour had been done to -her, and not to the garden and me.) Is there no dusty place that you -can water?—if it be only the road before your door, the traveller will -thank you. No roadside ditch that you can clean of its clogged rubbish, -to let the water run clear? No scattered heap of brickbats that you can -make an ordinary pile of? You are ashamed? Yes; that false shame is the -Devil’s pet weapon. He does more work with it even than with false -pride. For with false pride, he only goads evil; but with false shame, -paralyzes good. - -But you have no ground of your own; you are a girl, and can’t work on -other people’s? At least you have a window of your own, or one in which -you have a part interest. With very little help from the carpenter, you -can arrange a safe box outside of it, that will hold earth enough to -root something in. If you have any favour from Fortune at all, you can -train a rose, or a honeysuckle, or a convolvulus, or a nasturtium, -round your window—a quiet branch of ivy—or if for the sake of its -leaves only, a tendril or two of vine. Only, be sure all your -plant-pets are kept well outside of the window. Don’t come to having -pots in the room, unless you are sick. - -I got a nice letter from a young girl, not long since, asking why I had -said in my answers to former questions that young ladies were “to have -nothing to do with greenhouses, still less with hothouses.” The new -inquirer has been sent me by Fors, just when it was time to explain -what I meant. - -First, then—The primal object of your gardening, for yourself, is to -keep you at work in the open air, whenever it is possible. The -greenhouse will always be a refuge to you from the wind; which, on the -contrary, you ought to be able to bear; and will tempt you into -clippings and pottings and pettings, and mere standing dilettantism in -a damp and over-scented room, instead of true labour in fresh air. - -Secondly.—It will not only itself involve unnecessary expense—(for the -greenhouse is sure to turn into a hothouse in the end; and even if not, -is always having its panes broken, or its blinds going wrong, or its -stands getting rickety); but it will tempt you into buying nursery -plants, and waste your time in anxiety about them. - -Thirdly.—The use of your garden to the household ought to be mainly in -the vegetables you can raise in it. And, for these, your proper -observance of season, and of the authority of the stars, is a vital -duty. Every climate gives its vegetable food to its living creatures at -the right time; your business is to know that time, and be prepared for -it, and to take the healthy luxury which nature appoints you, in the -rare annual taste of the thing given in those its due days. The vile -and gluttonous modern habit of forcing never allows people properly to -taste anything. - -Lastly, and chiefly.—Your garden is to enable you to obtain such -knowledge of plants as you may best use in the country in which you -live, by communicating it to others; and teaching them to take pleasure -in the green herb, given for meat, and the coloured flower, given for -joy. And your business is not to make the greenhouse or hothouse -rejoice and blossom like the rose, but the wilderness and solitary -place. And it is, therefore, (look back to Letter 26th, p. 15,) not at -all of camellias and air-plants that the devil is afraid; on the -contrary, the Dame aux Camellias is a very especial servant of his; and -the Fly-God of Ekron himself superintends—as you may gather from Mr. -Darwin’s recent investigations—the birth and parentage of the -orchidaceæ. But he is mortally afraid of roses and crocuses. - -Of roses, that is to say, growing wild;—(what lovely hedges of them -there were, in the lane leading from Dulwich College up to Windmill (or -Gipsy) Hill, in my aunt’s time!)—but of the massy horticultural-prize -rose,—fifty pounds weight of it on a propped bush—he stands in no awe -whatever; not even when they are cut afterwards and made familiar to -the poor in the form of bouquets, so that poor Peggy may hawk them from -street to street—and hate the smell of them, as his own imps do. For -Mephistopheles knows there are poorer Margarets yet than Peggy. - -Hear this, you fine ladies of the houses of York and Lancaster, and -you, new-gilded Miss Kilmanseggs, with your gardens of Gul,—you, also, -evangelical expounders of the beauty of the Rose of Sharon;—it is a bit -of a letter just come to me from a girl of good position in the -manufacturing districts:— - -“The other day I was coming through a nasty part of the road, carrying -a big bunch of flowers, and met two dirty, ragged girls, who looked -eagerly at my flowers. Then one of them said, ‘Give us a flower!’ I -hesitated, for she looked and spoke rudely; but when she ran after me, -I stopped; and pulled out a large rose, and asked the other girl which -she would like. ‘A red one, the same as hers,’ she answered. They -actually did not know its name. Poor girls! they promised to take care -of them, and went away looking rather softened and pleased, I thought; -but perhaps they would pull them to pieces, and laugh at the success of -their boldness. At all events, they made me very sad and thoughtful for -the rest of my walk.” - -And, I hope, a little so, even when you got home again, young lady. -Meantime, are you quite sure of your fact; and that there was no white -rose in your bouquet, from which the “red one” might be distinguished, -without naming? In any case, my readers have enough to think of, for -this time, I believe. - - - - - - -NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE. - -I. Together with the Spectator’s telescopic and daring views of the -Land question, given in last Fors, I may as well preserve its immediate -and microscopic approval of our poor little practice upon it at -Hincksey:— - -“Adam and Jehu.—It is very vexatious, but one never gets fairly the -better of Mr. Ruskin. Sometimes he lets his intellect work, and fires -off pamphlet after pamphlet on political economy, each new one more -ridiculous than the last, till it ceases to be possible even to read -his brochures without condemning them as the utterances of a man who -cannot lose a certain eloquence of expression, BUT WHO CANNOT THINK AT -ALL; and then, again, he lets his genius work, and produces something -which raises the admiration of the reader till every folly which -preceded it is forgotten. There never was a more absurd paper published -than his on the duty of the State towards unmarried couples, and never -perhaps one wiser than his lecture on ‘Ambition,’ reviewed in our -columns on the 18th of October, 1873. Just recently he has been pushing -some plans for an agricultural Utopia, free of steam-engines and noises -and everything modern, in which the inconsequence of his mind is as -evident as its radical benevolence; and now he has, we believe, done -the whole youth of Oxford a substantial service. He has turned, or -rather tried to turn, the rage for athletics into a worthy -channel.”—Spectator, May 30, 1874. - -The above paragraph may, I think, also be, some day, interesting as a -summary of the opinions of the British press on Fors Clavigera; and if -my last month’s letter should have the fortune to displease, or -discomfort, any British landlord, my alarmed or offended reader may be -relieved and pacified by receiving the Spectatorial warrant at once for -the inconsequence of my mind, and for its radical benevolence. - - - -II. The following paragraphs from a leading journal in our greatest -commercial city, surpass, in folly and impudence, anything I have yet -seen of the kind, and are well worth preserving:— - -“The material prosperity of the country has, notwithstanding, -increased, and the revenue returns, comparing as they do against an -exceptionally high rate of production and consumption, show that we are -fairly holding our own.” Production and consumption of what, Mr. -Editor, is the question, as I have told you many a time. A high -revenue, raised on the large production and consumption of weak cloth -and strong liquor, does not show the material prosperity of the -country. Suppose you were to tax the production of good pictures, good -books, good houses, or honest men, where would your revenue be? -“Amongst the middle classes, exceptionally large fortunes have been -rapidly realized here and there, chiefly in the misty regions of -‘finance,’ [What do you mean by misty, Mr. Editor? It is a Turnerian -and Titianesque quality, not in the least properly applicable to any -cotton-mill business.] and instances occur from day to day of almost -prodigal expenditure in objects of art [Photographs of bawds, do you -mean, Mr. Editor? I know no other objects of art that are -multiplying,—certainly not Titians, by your Spectator’s decision.] and -luxury, the display of wealth in the metropolis being more striking -year by year. - -“Turning from these dazzling exhibitions, the real source of -congratulation must be found in the existence of a broad and solid -foundation for our apparent prosperity; and this, happily, is -represented in the amelioration of the condition of the lower orders of -society.”—Indeed! - -“The adjustment of an increasing scale of wages has not been reduced to -scientific principles, and has consequently been more or less arbitrary -and capricious. From time to time it has interfered with the even -current of affairs, and been resented as an unfair and unwarranted -interception of profits in their way to the manufacturer’s pockets. - -“Whilst ‘financial’ talent has reaped liberal results from its -exercise, the steady productions of manufacturers have left only -moderate returns to their producers, and importers of raw material -have, as a rule, had a trying time. The difficulties of steamship -owners have been tolerably notorious, and the enhancement of sailing -vessels is an instance of the adage that ‘It is an ill wind that blows -no one any good.’ - -“For our railways, the effects of a most critical half-year can -scarcely be forecast. Increased expenses have not, it is to be feared, -been met by increased rates and traffics, and the public may not have -fully prepared themselves for diminished dividends. With the Erie and -the Great Western of Canada undergoing the ordeal of investigation, and -the Atlantic and Great Western on the verge of insolvency, it is not -surprising that American and colonial railways are at the moment out of -favour. If, however, they have not made satisfactory returns to their -shareholders, they have been the media of great profit to operators on -the stock exchanges; and some day we shall, perhaps, learn the -connection existing between the well or ill doing of a railway per se, -and the facility for speculation in its stock.”—Liverpool Commercial -News, of this year. I have not kept the date. - - - -III. A young lady’s letter about flowers and books, I gratefully -acknowledge, and have partly answered in the text of this Fors; the -rest she will find answered up and down afterwards, as I can; also a -letter from a youth at New Haven in Connecticut has given me much -pleasure. I am sorry not to be able to answer it more specially, but -have now absolutely no time for any private correspondence, except with -personal friends,—and I should like even those to show themselves -friendly rather by setting themselves to understand my meaning in Fors, -and by helping me in my purposes, than by merely expressing anxiety for -my welfare, not satisfiable but by letters, which do not promote it. - - - -IV. Publishing the subjoined letter from Mr. Sillar, I must now wish -him good success in his battle, and terminate my extracts from his -letters, there being always some grave points in which I find myself at -issue with him, but which I have not at present any wish farther to -discuss:— - -“I am right glad to see you quote in your July Fors, from the papers -which the Record newspaper refused to insert, on the plea of their -‘confusing two things so essentially different as usury and interest of -money.’ - -“I printed them, and have sold two,—following your advice and not -advertising them. - -“You wrong me greatly in saying that I think the sin of usury means -every other. What I say is that it is the only sin I know which is -never denounced from the pulpit; and therefore I have to do that part -of the parson’s work. I would much rather be following the business to -which I was educated; but so long as usury is prevalent, honourable and -profitable employments in that business are impossible. It may be -conducted honourably, but at an annual loss; or it may be conducted -profitably at the expense of honour. I can no longer afford the former, -still less can I afford the latter; and as I cannot be idle, I occupy -my leisure, at least part of it, in a war to the knife with that great -dragon ‘Debt.’ I war not with flesh and blood, but with principalities -and powers of darkness in high places.” - - - -V. To finish, here is one of the pleasantest paragraphs I ever saw in -print:— - -“Rope Cordage.—On Saturday last a very interesting experiment was made -at Kirkaldy’s Testing Works, Southwark Street, as to the relative -strength of hand-spun yarn rope, machine yarn rope, and Russian yarn -rope. Mr. Plimsoll, M.P., Captain Bedford Pim, M.P., and others -attended the test, which lasted over three hours. There were nine -pieces of rope, each 10ft. long, being three of each of the above -classes. The ultimate stress or breaking strain of the Russian rope was -11,099 lb., or 1,934 lb. strength per fathom; machine rope, 11,527 lb., -or 2,155 lb. per fathom; hand-spun rope, 18,279 lb., or 3,026 lb. per -fathom. The ropes were all of 5 in. circumference, and every piece -broke clear of the fastenings. The prices paid per cwt. were: Russian -rope, 47s.; machine yarn rope, 47s.; hand-spun yarn rope, 44s.—all -described as best cordage and London manufacture. It will thus be seen -that the hand-made was cheaper by 3s. per cwt., and broke at a testing -strength of 7,180 lb. over Russian, and 6,752 lb. over -machine-made.”—Times, July 20, 1874. - - - - - - - - -FORS CLAVIGERA. - -LETTER XLVII. - - - Hotel du Mont Blanc, St. Martin’s, - 12th October, 1874. - -We have now briefly glanced at the nature of the squire’s work in -relation to the peasant; namely, making a celestial or worshipful -appearance to him; and the methods of operation, no less than of -appearance, which are generally to be defined as celestial, or -worshipful. - -We have next to examine by what rules the action of the squire towards -the peasant is to be either restrained or assisted; and the function, -therefore, of the lawyer, or definer of limits and modes,—which was -above generally expressed, in its relation to the peasant, as “telling -him, in black letter, that his house is his own.” It will be necessary, -however, evidently, that his house should be his own, before any lawyer -can divinely assert the same to him. - -Waiving, for the moment, examination of this primal necessity, let us -consider a little how that divine function of asserting, in perfectly -intelligible and indelible letters, the absolute claim of a man to his -own house, or castle, and all that it properly includes, is actually -discharged by the powers of British law now in operation. - -We will take, if you please, in the outset, a few wise men’s opinions -on this matter, though we shall thus be obliged somewhat to generalize -the inquiry, by admitting into it some notice of criminal as well as -civil law. - -My readers have probably thought me forgetful of Sir Walter all this -time. No; but all writing about him is impossible to me in the impure -gloom of modern Italy. I have had to rest awhile here, where human life -is still sacred, before I could recover the tone of heart fit to say -what I want to say in this Fors. - -He was the son, you remember, of a writer to the signet, and practised -for some time at the bar himself. Have you ever chanced to ask yourself -what was his innermost opinion of the legal profession? - -Or, have you even endeavoured to generalize that expressed with so much -greater violence by Dickens? The latter wrote with a definitely -reforming purpose, seemingly; and, I have heard, had real effects on -Chancery practice. - -But are the Judges of England—at present I suppose the highest types of -intellectual and moral power that Christendom possesses—content to have -reform forced on them by the teazing of a caricaturist, instead of the -pleading of their own consciences? - -Even if so, is there no farther reform indicated as necessary, in a -lower field, by the same teazing personage? The Court of Chancery and -Mr. Vholes were not his only legal sketches. Dodson and Fogg; Sampson -Brass; Serjeant Buzfuz; and, most of all, the examiner, for the Crown, -of Mr. Swiveller in the trial of Kit, [64]—are these deserving of no -repentant attention? You, good reader, probably have read the trial in -Pickwick, and the trial of Kit, merely to amuse yourself; and perhaps -Dickens himself meant little more than to amuse you. But did it never -strike you as quite other than a matter of amusement, that in both -cases, the force of the law of England is represented as employed -zealously to prove a crime against a person known by the accusing -counsel to be innocent; and, in both cases, as obtaining a conviction? - -You might perhaps think that these were only examples of the ludicrous, -and sometimes tragic, accidents which must sometimes happen in the -working of any complex system, however excellent. They are by no means -so. Ludicrous, and tragic, mischance must indeed take place in all -human affairs of importance, however honestly conducted. But here you -have deliberate, artistic, energetic dishonesty; skilfullest and -resolutest endeavour to prove a crime against an innocent person,—a -crime of which, in the case of the boy, the reputed commission will -cost him at least the prosperity and honour of his life,—more to him -than life itself. And this you forgive, or admire, because it is not -done in malice, but for money, and in pride of art. Because the -assassin is paid,—makes his living in that line of business,—and -delivers his thrust with a bravo’s artistic finesse you think him a -respectable person; so much better in style than a passionate one who -does his murder gratis, vulgarly, with a club,—Bill Sykes, for -instance? It is all balanced fairly, as the system goes, you think. ‘It -works round, and two and two make four. He accused an innocent person -to-day:—to-morrow he will defend a rascal.’ - -And you truly hold this a business to which your youth should be -bred—gentlemen of England? - -‘But how is it to be ordered otherwise? Every supposed criminal ought -surely to have an advocate, to say what can be said in his favour; and -an accuser, to insist on the evidence against him. Both do their best, -and can anything be fairer?’ - -Yes; something else could be much fairer; but we will find out what Sir -Walter thinks, if we can, before going farther; though it will not be -easy—for you don’t at once get at the thoughts of a great man, upon a -great matter. - -The first difference, however, which, if you know your Scott well, -strikes you, between him and Dickens, is that your task of -investigation is chiefly pleasant, though serious; not a painful -one—and still less a jesting or mocking one. The first figure that -rises before you is Pleydell; the second, Scott’s own father, Saunders -Fairford, with his son. And you think for an instant or two, perhaps, -“The question is settled, as far as Scott is concerned, at once. What a -beautiful thing is Law!” - -For you forget, by the sweet emphasis of the divine art on what is -good, that there ever was such a person in the world as Mr. Glossin. -And you are left, by the grave cunning of the divine art, which reveals -to you no secret without your own labour, to discern and unveil for -yourself the meaning of the plot of Redgauntlet. - -You perhaps were dissatisfied enough with the plot, when you read it -for amusement. Such a childish fuss about nothing! Solway sands, -forsooth, the only scenery; and your young hero of the story frightened -to wet his feet; and your old hero doing nothing but ride a black -horse, and make himself disagreeable; and all that about the house in -Edinburgh so dull; and no love-making, to speak of, anywhere! - -Well, it doesn’t come in exactly with my subject, to-day;—but, by the -way, I beg you to observe that there is a bit of love in Redgauntlet -which is worth any quantity of modern French or English amatory novels -in a heap. Alan Fairford has been bred, and willingly bred, in the -strictest discipline of mind and conduct; he is an entirely strong, -entirely prudent, entirely pure young Scotchman,—and a lawyer. Scott, -when he wrote the book, was an old Scotchman; and had seen a good deal -of the world. And he is going to tell you how Love ought first to come -to an entirely strong, entirely prudent, entirely pure youth, of his -own grave profession. - -How love ought to come, mind you. Alan Fairford is the real hero (next -to Nanty Ewart) of the novel; and he is the exemplary and happy -hero—Nanty being the suffering one, under hand of Fate. - -Of course, you would say, if you didn’t know the book, and were asked -what should happen—(and with Miss Edgeworth to manage matters instead -of Scott, or Shakespeare, nothing else would have happened,)—of course -the entirely prudent young lawyer will consider what an important step -in life marriage is; and will look out for a young person of good -connections, whose qualities of mind and moral disposition he will -examine strictly before allowing his affections to be engaged; he will -then consider what income is necessary for a person in a high legal -position, etc., etc., etc. - -Well, this is what does happen, according to Scott, you know;—(or more -likely, I’m afraid, know nothing about it). The old servant of the -family announces, with some dryness of manner, one day, that a ‘leddy’ -wants to see Maister Alan Fairford,—for legal consultation. The prudent -young gentleman, upon this, puts his room into the most impressive -order, intending to make a first appearance reading a legal volume in -an abstracted state of mind. But, on a knock coming at the street door, -he can’t resist going to look out at the window; and—the servant -maliciously showing in the client without announcement—is discovered -peeping out of it. The client is closely veiled—little more than the -tip of her nose discernible. She is, fortunately, a little embarrassed -herself; for she did not want Mr. Alan Fairford at all, but Mr. Alan -Fairford’s father. They sit looking at each other—at least, he looking -at the veil and a green silk cloak—for half a minute. The young -lady—(for she is young; he has made out that, he admits; and something -more perhaps,)—is the first to recover her presence of mind; makes him -a pretty little apology for having mistaken him for his father; says -that, now she has done it, he will answer her purpose, perhaps, even -better; but she thinks it best to communicate the points on which she -requires his assistance, in writing,—curtsies him, on his endeavour to -remonstrate, gravely and inexorably into silence,—disappears,—“And put -the sun in her pocket, I believe,” as she turned the corner, says -prudent Mr. Alan. And keeps it in her pocket for him,—evermore. That is -the way one’s Love is sent, when she is sent from Heaven, says the aged -Scott. - -‘But how ridiculous,—how entirely unreasonable,—how unjustifiable, on -any grounds of propriety or common sense!’ - -Certainly, my good sir,—certainly: Shakespeare and Scott can’t help -that;—all they know is,—that is the way God and Nature manage it. Of -course, Rosalind ought to have been much more particular in her -inquiries about Orlando;—Juliet about the person masqued as a -pilgrim;—and there is really no excuse whatever for Desdemona’s -conduct; and we all know what came of it;—but, again I say, Shakespeare -and Scott can’t help that. - -Nevertheless, Love is not the subject of this novel of Redgauntlet; but -Law: on which matter we will endeavour now to gather its evidence. - -Two youths are brought up together—one, the son of a Cavalier, or -Ghibelline, of the old school, whose Law is in the sword, and the -heart; and the other of a Roundhead, or Guelph, of the modern school, -whose Law is in form and precept. Scott’s own prejudices lean to the -Cavalier; but his domestic affections, personal experience, and sense -of equity, lead him to give utmost finish to the adverse character. The -son of the Cavalier—in moral courage, in nervous power, in general -sense and self-command,—is entirely inferior to the son of the Puritan; -nay, in many respects quite weak and effeminate; one slight and -scarcely noticeable touch, (about the unproved pistol,) gives the true -relation of the characters, and makes their portraiture complete, as by -Velasquez. - -The Cavalier’s father is dead; his uncle asserts the Cavalier’s law of -the Sword over him: its effects upon him are the first clause of the -book. - -The Puritan’s father—living—asserts the law of Precept over him: its -effects upon him are the second clause of the book. - -Together with these studies of the two laws in their influence on the -relation of guardian and ward—or of father and child, their influence -on society is examined in the opposition of the soldier and hunter to -the friend of man and animals,—Scott putting his whole power into the -working out of this third clause of the book. - -Having given his verdict in these three clauses, wholly in favour of -the law of precept,—he has to mark the effects of its -misapplication,—first moral, then civil. - -The story of Nanty Ewart, the fourth clause, is the most instructive -and pathetic piece of Scott’s judgment on the abuse of the moral law, -by pride, in Scotland, which you can find in all his works. - -Finally, the effects of the abuse of the civil law by sale, or simony, -have to be examined; which is done in the story of Peter Peebles. - -The involution of this fifth clause with that of Nanty Ewart is one of -the subtlest pieces of heraldic quartering which you can find in all -the Waverley novels; and no others have any pretence to range with them -in this point of art at all. The best, by other masters, are a mere -play of kaleidoscope colour compared to the severe heraldic delineation -of the Waverleys. - -We will first examine the statement of the abuse of Civil Law. - -There is not, if you have any true sympathy with humanity, extant for -you a more exquisite study of the relations which must exist, even -under circumstances of great difficulty and misunderstanding, between a -good father and good son, than the scenes of Redgauntlet laid in -Edinburgh. The father’s intense devotion, pride, and joy, mingled with -fear, in the son; the son’s direct, unflinching, unaffected obedience, -hallowed by pure affection, tempered by youthful sense, guided by high -personal power. And all this force of noble passion and effort, in -both, is directed to a single object—the son’s success at the bar. That -success, as usually in the legal profession, must, if it be not wholly -involved, at least give security for itself, in the impression made by -the young counsel’s opening speech. All the interests of the reader (if -he has any interest in him) are concentrated upon this crisis in the -story; and the chapter which gives account of the fluctuating event is -one of the supreme masterpieces of European literature. - -The interests of the reader, I say, are concentrated on the success of -the young counsel: that of his client is of no importance whatever to -any one. You perhaps forget even who the client is—or recollect him -only as a poor drunkard, who must be kept out of the way for fear he -should interrupt his own counsel, or make the jury laugh at him. His -cause has been—no one knows how long—in the courts; it is good for -practising on, by any young hand. - -You forget Peter Peebles, perhaps: you don’t forget Miss Flite, in the -Dickens’ court? Better done, therefore,—Miss Flite,—think you? - -No; not so well done; or anything like so well done. The very primal -condition in Scott’s type of the ruined creature is, that he should be -forgotten! Worse;—that he should deserve to be forgotten. Miss Flite -interests you—takes your affections—deserves them. Is mad, indeed, but -not a destroyed creature, morally, at all. A very sweet, kind -creature,—not even altogether unhappy,—enjoying her lawsuit, and her -bag, and her papers. She is a picturesque, quite unnatural and unlikely -figure,—therefore wholly ineffective except for story-telling purposes. - -But Peter Peebles is a natural ruin, and a total one. An accurate type -of what is to be seen every day, and carried to the last stage of its -misery. He is degraded alike in body and heart;—mad, but with every -vile sagacity unquenched,—while every hope in earth and heaven is taken -away. And in this desolation, you can only hate, not pity him. - -That, says Scott, is the beautiful operation of the Civil Law of Great -Britain, on a man whose affairs it has spent its best intelligence on, -for an unknown number of years. His affairs being very obscure, and his -cause doubtful, you suppose? No. His affairs being so simple that the -young honest counsel can explain them entirely in an hour;—and his -cause absolutely and unquestionably just. - -What is Dickens’ entire Court of Chancery to that? With all its dusty -delay,—with all its diabolical ensnaring;—its pathetic death of -Richard—widowhood of Ada, etc., etc.? All mere blue fire of the stage, -and dropped footlights; no real tragedy.—A villain cheats a foolish -youth, who would be wiser than his elders, who dies repentant, and -immediately begins a new life,—so says, at least, (not the least -believing,) the pious Mr. Dickens. All that might happen among the -knaves of any profession. - -But with Scott, the best honour—soul—intellect in Scotland take in hand -the cause of a man who comes to them justly, necessarily, for plain, -instantly possible, absolutely deserved, decision of a manifest cause. - -They are endless years talking of it,—to amuse, and pay, themselves. - -And they drive him into the foulest death—eternal—if there be, for such -souls, any Eternity. On which Scott does not feel it his duty, as -Dickens does, to offer you an opinion. He tells you, as Shakespeare, -the facts he knows,—no more. - -There, then, you have Sir Walter’s opinion of the existing method and -function of British Civil Law. - -What the difference may be, and what the consequences of such -difference, between this lucrative function, and the true duty of Civil -Law,—namely, to fulfil and continue in all the world the first mission -of the mightiest Lawgiver, and declare that on such and such -conditions, written in eternal letters by the finger of God, every -man’s house, or piece of Holy land, is his own,—there does not, it -appears, exist at present wit enough under all the weight of curled and -powdered horsehair in England, either to reflect, or to define. - -In the meantime, we have to note another question beyond, and greater -than this,—answered by Scott in his story. - -So far as human laws have dealt with the man, this their ruined client -has been destroyed in his innocence. But there is yet a Divine Law, -controlling the injustice of men. - -And the historian—revealing to us the full relation of private and -public act—shows us that the wretch’s destruction was in his refusal of -the laws of God, while he trusted in the laws of man. - -Such is the entire plan of the story of Redgauntlet,—only in part -conscious,—partly guided by the Fors which has rule over the heart of -the noble king in his word, and of the noble scribe in his scripture, -as over the rivers of water. We will trace the detail of this story -farther in next Fors; meantime, here is your own immediate lesson, -reader, whoever you may be, from our to-day’s work. - -The first—not the chief, but the first—piece of good work a man has to -do is to find rest for himself,—a place for the sole of his foot; his -house, or piece of Holy land; and to make it so holy and happy, that if -by any chance he receive order to leave it, there may be bitter pain in -obedience; and also that to his daughter there may yet one sorrowful -sentence be spoken in her day of mirth, “Forget also thy people, and -thy father’s house.” - -‘But I mean to make money, and have a better and better house, every -ten years.’ - -Yes, I know you do. - -If you intend to keep that notion, I have no word more to say to you. -Fare you—not well, for you cannot; but as you may. - -But if you have sense, and feeling, determine what sort of a house will -be fit for you;—determine to work for it—to get it—and to die in it, if -the Lord will. - -‘What sort of house will be fit for me?—but of course the biggest and -finest I can get will be fittest!’ - -Again, so says the Devil to you: and if you believe him, he will find -you fine lodgings enough,—for rent. But if you don’t believe him, -consider, I repeat, what sort of house will be fit for you. - -‘Fit!—but what do you mean by fit?’ - -I mean, one that you can entirely enjoy and manage; but which you will -not be proud of, except as you make it charming in its modesty. If you -are proud of it, it is unfit for you,—better than a man in your station -of life can by simple and sustained exertion obtain; and it should be -rather under such quiet level than above. Ashesteil was entirely fit -for Walter Scott, and Walter Scott was entirely happy there. Abbotsford -was fit also for Sir Walter Scott; and had he been content with it, his -had been a model life. But he would fain still add field to field,—and -died homeless. Perhaps Gadshill was fit for Dickens; I do not know -enough of him to judge; and he knew scarcely anything of himself. But -the story of the boy on Rochester Hill is lovely. - -And assuredly, my aunt’s house at Croydon was fit for her; and my -father’s at Herne Hill,—in which I correct the press of this Fors, -sitting in what was once my nursery,—was exactly fit for him, and me. -He left it for the larger one—Denmark Hill; and never had a quite happy -day afterwards. It was not his fault, the house at Herne Hill was built -on clay, and the doctors said he was not well there; also, I was his -pride, and he wanted to leave me in a better house,—a good father’s -cruellest, subtlest temptation. - -But you are a poor man, you say, and have no hope of a grand home? - -Well, here is the simplest ideal of operation, then. You dig a hole, -like Robinson Crusoe; you gather sticks for fire, and bake the earth -you get out of your hole,—partly into bricks, partly into tiles, partly -into pots. If there are any stones in the neighbourhood, you drag them -together, and build a defensive dyke round your hole or cave. If there -are no stones, but only timber, you drive in a palisade. And you are -already exercising the arts of the Greeks, Etruscans, Normans, and -Lombards, in their purest form, on the wholesome and true threshold of -all their art; and on your own wholesome threshold. - -You don’t know, you answer, how to make a brick, a tile, or a pot; or -how to build a dyke, or drive a stake that will stand. No more do I. -Our education has to begin;—mine as much as yours. I have indeed, the -newspapers say, a power of expression; but as they also say I cannot -think at all, you see I have nothing to express; so that peculiar -power, according to them, is of no use to me whatever. - -But you don’t want to make your bricks yourself; you want to have them -made for you by the United Grand Junction Limited Liability -Brick-without-Straw Company, paying twenty-five per cent. to its idle -shareholders? Well, what will you do, yourself, then? Nothing? Or do -you mean to play on the fiddle to the Company making your bricks? What -will you do—of this first work necessary for your life? There’s nothing -but digging and cooking now remains to be done. Will you dig, or cook? -Dig, by all means; but your house should be ready for you first. - -Your wife should cook. What else can you do? Preach?—and give us your -precious opinions of God and His ways! Yes, and in the meanwhile I am -to build your house, am I? and find you a barrel-organ, or a harmonium, -to twangle psalm-tunes on, I suppose? Fight—will you?—and pull other -people’s houses down; while I am to be set to build your barracks, that -you may go smoking and spitting about all day, with a cockscomb on your -head, and spurs to your heels?—(I observe, by the way, the Italian -soldiers have now got cocks’ tails on their heads, instead of cocks’ -combs.)—Lay down the law to me in a wig,—will you? and tell me the -house I have built is—NOT mine? and take my dinner from me, as a fee -for that opinion? Build, my man,—build, or dig,—one of the two; and -then eat your honestly-earned meat, thankfully, and let other people -alone, if you can’t help them. - - - - - - -NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE. - -The points suggested by the letter printed in the Fors of September, -respecting the minor action of English Magistracy, must still be kept -for subsequent consideration, our to-day’s work having been too general -to reach them. - -I have an interesting letter from a man of business, remonstrating with -me on my declaration that railroads should no more pay dividends than -carriage roads, or field footpaths. - -He is a gentle man of business, and meshed, as moderately well-meaning -people, nowadays, always are, in a web of equivocation between what is -profitable and benevolent. - -He says that people who make railroads should be rewarded by dividends -for having acted so benevolently towards the public, and provided it -with these beautiful and easy means of locomotion. But my correspondent -is too good a man of business to remain in this entanglement of -brains—unless by his own fault. He knows perfectly well, in his heart, -that the ‘benevolence’ involved in the construction of railways amounts -exactly to this much and no more,—that if the British public were -informed that engineers were now confident, after their practice in the -Cenis and St. Gothard tunnels, that they could make a railway to -Hell,—the British public would instantly invest in the concern to any -amount; and stop church-building all over the country, for fear of -diminishing the dividends. - - - - - - - - -FORS CLAVIGERA. - -LETTER XLVIII. - - -The accounts of the state of St. George’s Fund, given without any -inconvenience in crowding type, on the last leaf of this number of -Fors, will, I hope, be as satisfactory to my subscribers as they are to -me. In these days of financial operation, the subscribers to anything -may surely be content when they find that all their talents have been -laid up in the softest of napkins; and even farther, that, though they -are getting no interest themselves, that lichenous growth of vegetable -gold, or mould, is duly developing itself on their capital. - -The amount of subscriptions received, during the four years of my -mendicancy, might have disappointed me, if, in my own mind, I had made -any appointments on the subject, or had benevolence pungent enough to -make me fret at the delay in the commencement of the national felicity -which I propose to bestow. On the contrary, I am only too happy to -continue amusing myself in my study, with stones and pictures; and -find, as I grow old, that I remain resigned to the consciousness of any -quantity of surrounding vice, distress, and disease, provided only the -sun shine in at my window over Corpus Garden, and there are no whistles -from the luggage trains passing the Waterworks. - -I understand this state of even temper to be what most people call -‘rational;’ and, indeed, it has been the result of very steady effort -on my own part to keep myself, if it might be, out of Hanwell, or that -other Hospital which makes the name of Christ’s native village dreadful -in the ear of London. For, having long observed that the most perilous -beginning of trustworthy qualification for either of those -establishments consisted in an exaggerated sense of self-importance; -and being daily compelled, of late, to value my own person and opinions -at a higher and higher rate, in proportion to my extending experience -of the rarity of any similar creatures or ideas among mankind, it -seemed to me expedient to correct this increasing conviction of my -superior wisdom, by companionship with pictures I could not copy, and -stones I could not understand:—while, that this wholesome seclusion may -remain only self-imposed, I think it not a little fortunate for me that -the few relations I have left are generally rather fond of me;—don’t -know clearly which is the next of kin,—and perceive that the -administration of my inconsiderable effects [65] would be rather -troublesome than profitable to them. Not in the least, therefore, -wondering at the shyness of my readers to trust me with money of -theirs, I have made, during these four years past, some few experiments -with money of my own,—in hopes of being able to give such account of -them as might justify a more extended confidence. I am bound to state -that the results, for the present, are not altogether encouraging. On -my own little piece of mountain ground at Coniston, I grow a large -quantity of wood-hyacinths and heather, without any expense worth -mentioning; but my only industrious agricultural operations have been -the getting three pounds ten worth of hay, off a field for which I pay -six pounds rent; and the surrounding, with a costly wall six feet high, -to keep out rabbits, a kitchen garden, which, being terraced and trim, -my neighbours say is pretty; and which will probably, every third year, -when the weather is not wet, supply me with a dish of strawberries. - -At Carshalton, in Surrey, I have indeed had the satisfaction of -cleaning out one of the springs of the Wandel, and making it pleasantly -habitable by trout; but find that the fountain, instead of taking care -of itself when once pure, as I expected it to do, requires continual -looking after, like a child getting into a mess; and involves me -besides in continual debate with the surveyors of the parish, who -insist on letting all the roadwashings run into it. For the present, -however, I persevere, at Carshalton, against the wilfulness of the -spring and the carelessness of the parish; and hope to conquer both: -but I have been obliged entirely to abandon a notion I had of -exhibiting ideally clean street pavement in the centre of London,—in -the pleasant environs of Church Lane, St. Giles’s. There I had every -help and encouragement from the authorities; and hoped, with the staff -of two men and a young rogue of a crossing-sweeper, added to the -regular force of the parish, to keep a quarter of a mile square of the -narrow streets without leaving so much as a bit of orange-peel on the -footway, or an eggshell in the gutters. I failed, partly because I -chose too difficult a district to begin with, (the contributions of -transitional mud being constant, and the inhabitants passive,) but -chiefly because I could no more be on the spot myself, to give spirit -to the men, when I left Denmark Hill for Coniston. - -I next set up a tea-shop at 29, Paddington Street, W., (an -establishment which my Fors readers may as well know of,) to supply the -poor in that neighbourhood with pure tea, in packets as small as they -chose to buy, without making a profit on the subdivision,—larger orders -being of course equally acceptable from anybody who cares to promote -honest dealing. The result of this experiment has been my ascertaining -that the poor only like to buy their tea where it is brilliantly -lighted and eloquently ticketed; and as I resolutely refuse to compete -with my neighbouring tradesmen either in gas or rhetoric, the patient -subdivision of my parcels by the two old servants of my mother’s, who -manage the business for me, hitherto passes little recognized as an -advantage by my uncalculating public. Also, steady increase in the -consumption of spirits throughout the neighbourhood faster and faster -slackens the demand for tea; but I believe none of these circumstances -have checked my trade so much as my own procrastination in painting my -sign. Owing to that total want of imagination and invention which makes -me so impartial and so accurate a writer on subjects of political -economy, I could not for months determine whether the said sign should -be of a Chinese character, black upon gold; or of a Japanese, blue upon -white; or of pleasant English, rose-colour on green; and still less how -far legible scale of letters could be compatible, on a board only a -foot broad, with lengthy enough elucidation of the peculiar offices of -‘Mr. Ruskin’s tea-shop.’ Meanwhile the business languishes, and the -rent and taxes absorb the profits, and something more, after the salary -of my good servants has been paid. - -In all these cases, however, I can see that I am defeated only because -I have too many things on hand: and that neither rabbits at Coniston, -road-surveyors at Croydon, or mud in St. Giles’s would get the better -of me, if I could give exclusive attention to any one business: -meantime, I learn the difficulties which are to be met, and shall make -the fewer mistakes when I venture on any work with other people’s -money. - -I may as well, together with these confessions, print a piece written -for the end of a Fors letter at Assisi, a month or two back, but for -which I had then no room, referring to the increase of commercial, -religious, and egotistic insanity, [66] in modern society, and delicacy -of the distinction implied by that long wall at Hanwell, between the -persons inside it, and out. - -‘Does it never occur to me,’ (thus the letter went on) ‘that I may be -mad myself?’ - -Well, I am so alone now in my thoughts and ways, that if I am not mad, -I should soon become so, from mere solitude, but for my work. But it -must be manual work. Whenever I succeed in a drawing, I am happy, in -spite of all that surrounds me of sorrow. It is a strange feeling;—not -gratified vanity: I can have any quantity of praise I like from some -sorts of people; but that does me no vital good, (though dispraise does -me mortal harm); whereas to succeed to my own satisfaction in a manual -piece of work, is life,—to me, as to all men; and it is only the peace -which comes necessarily from manual labour which in all time has kept -the honest country people patient in their task of maintaining the -rascals who live in towns. But we are in hard times, now, for all men’s -wits; for men who know the truth are like to go mad from isolation; and -the fools are all going mad in ‘Schwärmerei,’—only that is much the -pleasanter way. Mr. Lecky, for instance, quoted in last Fors; how -pleasant for him to think he is ever so much wiser than Aristotle; and -that, as a body, the men of his generation are the wisest that ever -were born—giants of intellect, according to Lord Macaulay, compared to -the pigmies of Bacon’s time, and the minor pigmies of Christ’s time, -and the minutest of all, the microscopic pigmies of Solomon’s time, -and, finally, the vermicular and infusorial pigmies—twenty-three -millions to the cube inch—of Mr. Darwin’s time, whatever that may be. -How pleasant for Mr. Lecky to live in these days of the Anakim,—“his -spear, to equal which, the tallest pine,” etc., etc., which no man -Stratford-born could have lifted, much less shaken. - -But for us of the old race—few of us now left,—children who reverence -our fathers, and are ashamed of ourselves; comfortless enough in that -shame, and yearning for one word or glance from the graves of old, yet -knowing ourselves to be of the same blood, and recognizing in our -hearts the same passions, with the ancient masters of humanity;—we, who -feel as men, and not as carnivorous worms; we, who are every day -recognizing some inaccessible height of thought and power, and are -miserable in our shortcomings,—the few of us now standing here and -there, alone, in the midst of this yelping, carnivorous crowd, mad for -money and lust, tearing each other to pieces, and starving each other -to death, and leaving heaps of their dung and ponds of their spittle on -every palace floor and altar stone,—it is impossible for us, except in -the labour of our hands, not to go mad. - -And the danger is tenfold greater for a man in my own position, -concerned with the arts which develope the more subtle brain -sensations; and, through them, tormented all day long. Mr. Leslie -Stephen rightly says how much better it is to have a thick skin and a -good digestion. Yes, assuredly; but what is the use of knowing that, if -one hasn’t? In one of my saddest moods, only a week or two ago, because -I had failed twice over in drawing the lifted hand of Giotto’s -‘Poverty;’ utterly beaten and comfortless, at Assisi, I got some -wholesome peace and refreshment by mere sympathy with a Bewickian -little pig in the roundest and conceitedest burst of pig-blossom. His -servant,—a grave old woman, with much sorrow and toil in the wrinkles -of her skin, while his was only dimpled in its divine thickness,—was -leading him, with magnanimous length of rope, down a grassy path behind -the convent; stopping, of course, where he chose. Stray stalks and -leaves of eatable things, in various stages of ambrosial rottenness, -lay here and there; the convent walls made more savoury by their -fumigation, as Mr. Leslie Stephen says the Alpine pines are by his -cigar. And the little joyful darling of Demeter shook his curly tail, -and munched; and grunted the goodnaturedest of grunts, and snuffled the -approvingest of snuffles, and was a balm and beatification to behold; -and I would fain have changed places with him for a little while, or -with Mr. Leslie Stephen for a little while,—at luncheon, -suppose,—anywhere but among the Alps. But it can’t be. - - - - Hotel Meurice, Paris, - 20th October, 1874. - -I interrupt myself, for an instant or two, to take notice of two little -things that happen to me here—arriving to breakfast by night train from -Geneva. - -Expecting to be cold, I had ordered fire, and sat down by it to read my -letters as soon as I arrived, not noticing that the little parlour was -getting much too hot. Presently, in comes the chambermaid, to put the -bedroom in order, which one enters through the parlour. Perceiving that -I am mismanaging myself, in the way of fresh air, as she passes -through, “Il fait bien chaud, monsieur, ici,” says she reprovingly, and -with entire self-possession. Now that is French servant-character of -the right old school. She knows her own position perfectly, and means -to stay in it, and wear her little white radiant frill of a cap all her -days. She knows my position also; and has not the least fear of my -thinking her impertinent because she tells me what it is right that I -should know. Presently afterwards, an evidently German-importation of -waiter brings me up my breakfast, which has been longer in appearing -than it would have been in old times. It looks all right at first,—the -napkin, china, and solid silver sugar basin, all of the old régime. -Bread, butter,—yes, of the best still. Coffee, milk,—all right too. -But, at last, here is a bit of the new régime. There are no -sugar-tongs; and the sugar is of beetroot, and in methodically similar -cakes, which I must break with my finger and thumb if I want a small -piece, and put back what I don’t want for my neighbour, to-morrow. - -‘Civilization,’ this, you observe, according to Professor Liebig and -Mr. John Stuart Mill. Not according to old French manners, however. - -Now, my readers are continually complaining that I don’t go on telling -them my plan of life, under the rule of St. George’s Company. - -I have told it them, again and again, in broad terms: agricultural -life, with as much refinement as I can enforce in it. But it is -impossible to describe what I mean by ‘refinement,’ except in details -which can only be suggested by practical need; and which cannot at all -be set down at once. - -Here, however, to-day, is one instance. At the best hotel in what has -been supposed the most luxurious city of modern Europe,—because people -are now always in a hurry to catch the train, they haven’t time to use -the sugar-tongs, or look for a little piece among differently sized -lumps, and therefore they use their fingers; have bad sugar instead of -good, and waste the ground that would grow blessed cherry trees, -currant bushes, or wheat, in growing a miserable root as a substitute -for the sugar-cane, which God has appointed to grow where cherries and -wheat won’t, and to give juice which will freeze into sweet snow as -pure as hoar-frost. - -Now, on the poorest farm of the St. George’s Company, the servants -shall have white and brown sugar of the best—or none. If we are too -poor to buy sugar, we will drink our tea without; and have -suet-dumpling instead of pudding. But among the earliest school -lessons, and home lessons, decent behaviour at table will be primarily -essential; and of such decency, one little exact point will be—the -neat, patient, and scrupulous use of sugar-tongs instead of fingers. If -we are too poor to have silver basins, we will have delf ones; if not -silver tongs, we will have wooden ones; and the boys of the house shall -be challenged to cut, and fit together, the prettiest and handiest -machines of the sort they can contrive. In six months you would find -more real art fancy brought out in the wooden handles and claws, than -there is now in all the plate in London. - - - -Now, there’s the cuckoo-clock striking seven, just as I sit down to -correct the press of this sheet, in my nursery at Herne Hill; and -though I don’t remember, as the murderer does in Mr. Crummles’ play, -having heard a cuckoo-clock strike seven—in my infancy, I do remember, -in my favourite ‘Frank,’ much talk of the housekeeper’s cuckoo-clock, -and of the boy’s ingenuity in mending it. Yet to this hour of seven in -the morning, ninth December of my fifty-fifth year, I haven’t the least -notion how any such clock says ‘Cuckoo,’ nor a clear one even of the -making of the commonest barking toy of a child’s Noah’s ark. I don’t -know how a barrel organ produces music by being ground; nor what real -function the pea has in a whistle. Physical science—all this—of a kind -which would have been boundlessly interesting to me, as to all boys of -mellifluous disposition, if only I had been taught it with due -immediate practice, and enforcement of true manufacture, or, in -pleasant Saxon, ‘handiwork.’ But there shall not be on St. George’s -estate a single thing in the house which the boys don’t know how to -make, nor a single dish on the table which the girls will not know how -to cook. - -By the way, I have been greatly surprised by receiving some letters of -puzzled inquiry as to the meaning of my recipe, given last year, for -Yorkshire Pie. Do not my readers yet at all understand that the whole -gist of this book is to make people build their own houses, provide and -cook their own dinners, and enjoy both? Something else besides, -perhaps; but at least, and at first, those. St. Michael’s mass, and -Christ’s mass, may eventually be associated in your minds with other -things than goose and pudding; but Fors demands at first no more -chivalry nor Christianity from you than that you build your houses -bravely, and earn your dinners honestly, and enjoy them both, and be -content with them both. The contentment is the main matter; you may -enjoy to any extent, but if you are discontented, your life will be -poisoned. The little pig was so comforting to me because he was wholly -content to be a little pig; and Mr. Leslie Stephen is in a certain -degree exemplary and comforting to me, because he is wholly content to -be Mr. Leslie Stephen; while I am miserable because I am always wanting -to be something else than I am. I want to be Turner; I want to be -Gainsborough; I want to be Samuel Prout; I want to be Doge of Venice; I -want to be Pope; I want to be Lord of the Sun and Moon. The other day, -when I read that story in the papers about the dog-fight, [67] I wanted -to be able to fight a bulldog. - -Truly, that was the only effect of the story upon me, though I heard -everybody else screaming out how horrible it was. What’s horrible in -it? Of course it is in bad taste, and the sign of a declining era of -national honour—as all brutal gladiatorial exhibitions are; and the -stakes and rings of the tethered combat meant precisely, for England, -what the stakes and rings of the Theatre of Taormina,—where I saw the -holes left for them among the turf, blue with Sicilian lilies, in this -last April,—meant, for Greece, and Rome. There might be something -loathsome, or something ominous, in such a story, to the old Greeks of -the school of Heracles; who used to fight with the Nemean lion, or with -Cerberus, when it was needful only, and not for money; and whom their -Argus remembered through all Trojan exile. There might be something -loathsome in it, or ominous, to an Englishman of the school of -Shakespeare or Scott; who would fight with men only, and loved his -hound. But for you—you carnivorous cheats—what, in dog’s or devil’s -name, is there horrible in it for you? Do you suppose it isn’t more -manly and virtuous to fight a bulldog, than to poison a child, or cheat -a fellow who trusts you, or leave a girl to go wild in the streets? And -don’t you live, and profess to live—and even insolently proclaim that -there’s no other way of living than—by poisoning and cheating? And -isn’t every woman of fashion’s dress, in Europe, now set the pattern of -to her by its prostitutes? - -What’s horrible in it? I ask you, the third time. I hate, myself, -seeing a bulldog ill-treated; for they are the gentlest and -faithfullest of living creatures if you use them well. And the best dog -I ever had was a bull-terrier, whose whole object in life was to please -me, and nothing else; though, if he found he could please me by holding -on with his teeth to an inch-thick stick, and being swung round in the -air as fast as I could turn, that was his own idea of entirely -felicitous existence. I don’t like, therefore, hearing of a bulldog’s -being ill-treated; but I can tell you a little thing that chanced to me -at Coniston the other day, more horrible, in the deep elements of it, -than all the dog, bulldog, or bull fights, or baitings, of England, -Spain, and California. A fine boy, the son of an amiable English -clergyman, had come on the coach-box round the Water-head to see me, -and was telling me of the delightful drive he had had. “Oh,” he said, -in the triumph of his enthusiasm, “and just at the corner of the wood, -there was such a big squirrel! and the coachman threw a stone at it, -and nearly hit it!” - -‘Thoughtlessness—only thoughtlessness’—say you—proud father? Well, -perhaps not much worse than that. But how could it be much worse? -Thoughtlessness is precisely the chief public calamity of our day; and -when it comes to the pitch, in a clergyman’s child, of not thinking -that a stone hurts what it hits of living things, and not caring for -the daintiest, dextrousest, innocentest living thing in the northern -forests of God’s earth, except as a brown excrescence to be knocked off -their branches,—nay, good pastor of Christ’s lambs, believe me, your -boy had better have been employed in thoughtfully and resolutely -stoning St. Stephen—if any St. Stephen is to be found in these days, -when men not only can’t see heaven opened, but don’t so much as care to -see it, shut. - -For they, at least, meant neither to give pain nor death without -cause,—that unanimous company who stopped their ears,—they, and the -consenting bystander who afterwards was sorry for his mistake. - -But, on the whole, the time has now come when we must cease throwing of -stones either at saints or squirrels; and, as I say, build our own -houses with them, honestly set: and similarly content ourselves in -peaceable use of iron and lead, and other such things which we have -been in the habit of throwing at each other dangerously, in -thoughtlessness; and defending ourselves against as thoughtlessly, -though in what we suppose to be an ingenious manner. Ingenious or not, -will the fabric of our new ship of the Line, ‘Devastation,’ think you, -follow its fabricator in heavenly places, when he dies in the Lord? In -such representations as I have chanced to see of probable Paradise, -Noah is never without his ark;—holding that up for judgment as the main -work of his life. Shall we hope at the Advent to see the builder of the -‘Devastation’ invite St. Michael’s judgment on his better style of -naval architecture, and four-foot-six-thick ‘armour of light’? - -It is to-day the second Sunday in Advent, and all over England, about -the time that I write these words, full congregations will be for the -second time saying Amen to the opening collect of the Christian year. - -I wonder how many individuals of the enlightened public understand a -single word of its first clause: - - - “Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of - darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of - this mortal life.” - - -How many of them, may it be supposed, have any clear knowledge of what -grace is, or of what the works of darkness are which they hope to have -grace to cast away; or will feel themselves, in the coming year, armed -with any more luminous mail than their customary coats and gowns, hosen -and hats? Or again, when they are told to “have no fellowship with the -unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them,”—what fellowship -do they recognize themselves to have guiltily formed; and whom, or -what, will they feel now called upon to reprove? - -In last Fors, I showed you how the works of darkness were -unfruitful;—the precise reverse of the fruitful, or creative, works of -Light;—but why in this collect, which you pray over and over again all -Advent, do you ask for ‘armour’ instead of industry? You take your coat -off to work in your own gardens; why must you put a coat of mail on, -when you are to work in the Garden of God? - -Well; because the earthworms in it are big—and have teeth and claws, -and venomous tongues. So that the first question for you is indeed, not -whether you have a mind to work in it—many a coward has that—but -whether you have courage to stand in it, and armour proved enough to -stand in. - -Suppose you let the consenting bystander who took care of the coats -taken off to do that piece of work on St. Stephen, explain to you the -pieces out of St. Michael’s armoury needful to the husbandman, or -Georgos, of God’s garden. - - - “Stand therefore; having your loins girt about with Truth.” - - -That means, that the strength of your backbone depends on your meaning -to do true battle. - - - “And having on the breastplate of Justice.” - - -That means, there are to be no partialities in your heart, of anger or -pity;—but you must only in justice kill, and only in justice keep -alive. - - - “And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of Peace.” - - -That means, that where your foot pauses, moves, or enters, there shall -be peace; and where you can only shake the dust of it on the threshold, -mourning. - - - “Above all, take the shield of Faith.” - - -Of fidelity or obedience to your captain, showing his bearings, argent, -a cross gules; your safety, and all the army’s, being first in the -obedience of faith: and all casting of spears vain against such guarded -phalanx. - - - “And take the helmet of Salvation.” - - -Elsewhere, the hope of salvation, that being the defence of your -intellect against base and sad thoughts, as the shield of fidelity is -the defence of your heart against burning and consuming passions. - - - “And the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God.” - - -That being your weapon of war,—your power of action, whether with sword -or ploughshare; according to the saying of St. John of the young -soldiers of Christ, “I have written unto you, young men, because ye are -strong, and the Word of God abideth in you.” The Word by which the -heavens were of old; and which, being once only Breath, became in man -Flesh, ‘quickening it by the spirit’ into the life which is, and is to -come; and enabling it for all the works nobly done by the quick, and -following the dead. - -And now, finish your Advent collect, and eat your Christmas fare, and -drink your Christmas wine, thankfully; and with understanding that if -the supper is holy which shows your Lord’s death till He come, the -dinner is also holy which shows His life; and if you would think it -wrong at any time to go to your own baby’s cradle side, drunk, do not -show your gladness by Christ’s cradle in that manner; but eat your -meat, and carol your carol in pure gladness and singleness of heart; -and so gird up your loins with truth, that, in the year to come, you -may do such work as Christ can praise, whether He call you to judgment -from the quick or dead; so that among your Christmas carols there may -never any more be wanting the joyfullest,— - - - O sing unto the Lord a new song: - Sing unto the Lord, all the earth. - Say among the heathen that the Lord is King: - The world also shall be stablished that it shall not be moved. - Let the heavens rejoice, - And let the earth be glad; - Let the sea shout, and the fulness thereof. - Let the field be joyful, and all that is therein: - Then shall all the trees of the wood rejoice - Before the Lord: - For He cometh, for He cometh to judge the earth: - He shall judge the world with righteousness, - And the people with His truth. - - - - - - -NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE. - -I. I have kept the following kind and helpful letter for the close of -the year:— - - - “January 8, 1874. - - “Sir,—I have been much moved by a passage in No. 37 of Fors - Clavigera, in which you express yourself in somewhat desponding - terms as to your loneliness in ‘life and thought,’ now you have - grown old. You complain that many of your early friends have - forgotten or disregarded you, and that you are almost left alone. I - cannot certainly be called an early friend, or, in the common - meaning of the word, a friend of any time. But I cannot refrain - from telling you that there are ‘more than 7,000’ in this very - ‘Christ-defying’ England whom you have made your friends by your - wise sympathy and faithful teaching. I, for my own part, owe you a - debt of thankfulness not only for the pleasant hours I have spent - with you in your books, but also for the clearer views of many of - the ills which at present press upon us, and for the methods of - cure upon which you so urgently and earnestly insist. I would - especially mention ‘Unto this Last’ as having afforded me the - highest satisfaction. It has ever since I first read it been my - text-book of political economy. I think it is one of the - needfullest lessons for a selfish, recklessly competitive, - cheapest-buying and dearest-selling age, that it should be told - there are principles deeper, higher, and even more prudent than - those by which it is just now governed. It is particularly - refreshing to find Christ’s truths applied to modern commercial - immorality in the trenchant and convincing style which - characterizes your much maligned but most valuable book. It has - been, let me assure you, appreciated in very unexpected quarters; - and one humble person to whom I lent my copy, being too poor to buy - one for himself actually wrote it out word for word, that he might - always have it by him.” - - (“What a shame!” thinks the enlightened Mudie-subscriber. “See what - comes of his refusing to sell his books cheap.” - - Yes,—see what comes of it. The dreadful calamity, to another - person, of doing once, what I did myself twice—and, in great part - of the book, three times. A vain author, indeed, thinks nothing of - the trouble of writing his own books. But I had infinitely rather - write somebody’s else’s. My good poor disciple, at the most, had - not half the pain his master had; learnt his book rightly, and gave - me more help, by this best kind of laborious sympathy, than twenty - score of flattering friends who tell me what a fine word-painter I - am, and don’t take the pains to understand so much as half a - sentence in a volume.) - - “You have done, and are doing, a good work for England, and I pray - you not to be discouraged. Continue as you have been doing, - convincing us by your ‘sweet reasonableness’ of our errors and - miseries, and the time will doubtless come when your work, now - being done in Jeremiah-like sadness and hopelessness, will bear - gracious and abundant fruit. - - “Will you pardon my troubling you with this note? but, indeed, I - could not be happy after reading your gloomy experience, until I - had done my little best to send one poor ray of comfort into your - seemingly almost weary heart. - - “I remain, - “Yours very sincerely.” - - -II. Next to this delightful testimony to my ‘sweet reasonableness,’ -here is some discussion of evidence on the other side:— - - - November 12, 1872. - - “To John Ruskin, LL.D., greeting, these. - - “Enclosed is a slip cut from the ‘Liverpool Mercury’ of last - Friday, November 8. I don’t send it to you because I think it - matters anything what the ‘Mercury’ thinks about any one’s - qualification for either the inside or outside of any asylum; but - that I may suggest to you, as a working-man reader of your letters, - the desirability of your printing any letters of importance you may - send to any of the London papers, over again—in, say, the space of - ‘Fors Clavigera’ that you have set apart for correspondence. It is - most tantalizing to see a bit printed like the enclosed, and not - know either what is before or after. I felt similar feelings some - time ago over a little bit of a letter about the subscription to - Warwick Castle. - - “We cannot always see the London papers, especially us provincials; - and we would like to see what goes on between you and the newspaper - world. - - “Trusting that you will give this suggestion some consideration, - and at any rate take it as given in good faith from a disciple - following afar off, - - “I remain, sincerely yours.” - - -The enclosed slip was as follows:— - - - “Mr. Ruskin’s Tender Point.—Mr. John Ruskin has written a letter to - a contemporary on madness and crime, which goes far to clear up the - mystery which has surrounded some of his writings of late. The - following passage amply qualifies the distinguished art critic for - admission into any asylum in the country:—‘I assure you, sir, - insanity is a tender point with me.’” The writer then quotes to the - end the last paragraph of the letter, which, in compliance with my - correspondent’s wish, I am happy here to reprint in its entirety. - - - MADNESS AND CRIME. - - TO THE EDITOR OF THE ‘PALL MALL GAZETTE.’ - - Sir,—Towards the close of the excellent article on the Taylor trial - in your issue for October 31, you say that people never will be, - nor ought to be, persuaded “to treat criminals simply as vermin - which they destroy, and not as men who are to be punished.” - Certainly not, sir! Who ever talked or thought of regarding - criminals “simply” as anything; (or innocent people either, if - there be any)? But regarding criminals complexly and accurately, - they are partly men, partly vermin; what is human in them you must - punish—what is vermicular, abolish. Anything between—if you can - find it—I wish you joy of, and hope you may be able to preserve it - to society. Insane persons, horses, dogs, or cats, become vermin - when they become dangerous. I am sorry for darling Fido, but there - is no question about what is to be done with him. - - Yet, I assure you, sir, insanity is a tender point with me. One of - my best friends has just gone mad; and all the rest say I am mad - myself. But, if ever I murder anybody—and, indeed, there are - numbers of people I should like to murder—I won’t say that I ought - to be hanged; for I think nobody but a bishop or a bank director - can ever be rogue enough to deserve hanging; but I particularly, - and with all that is left me of what I imagine to be sound mind, - request that I may be immediately shot. - - I am, Sir, your obedient servant, - J. Ruskin. - - Corpus Christi College, Oxford, November 2, (1872). - - - -III. I am very grateful to the friend who sends me the following note -on my criticism of Dickens in last letter:— - - - “It does not in the least detract from the force of Fors, p. 253, - line 18 (November), that there was a real ‘Miss Flite,’ whom I have - seen, and my father well remembers; and who used to haunt the - Courts in general, and sometimes to address them. She had been - ruined, it was believed; and Dickens must have seen her, for her - picture is like the original. But he knew nothing about her, and - only constructed her after his fashion. She cannot have been any - prototype of the character of Miss Flite. I never heard her real - name. Poor thing! she did not look sweet or kind, but crazed and - spiteful; and unless looks deceived Dickens, he just gave careless, - false witness about her. Her condition seemed to strengthen your - statement in its very gist,—as Law had made her look like Peter - Peebles. - - “My father remembers little Miss F., of whom nothing was known. She - always carried papers and a bag, and received occasional charity - from lawyers. - - “Gridley’s real name was Ikey;—he haunted Chancery. Another, named - Pitt, in the Exchequer;—broken attorneys, both.” - - -IV. I have long kept by me an official statement of the condition of -England when I began Fors, and together with it an illustrative column, -printed, without alteration, from the ‘Pall Mall Gazette’ of the -previous year. They may now fitly close my four years’ work, of which I -have good hope next year to see some fruit. - -Mr. Goschen on the Condition of England.—“The nation is again making -money at an enormous rate, and driving every kind of decently secure -investment up to unprecedented figures. Foreign Stocks, Indian Stocks, -Home Railway Shares, all securities which are beyond the control of -mere speculators and offer above four per cent. were never so dear; -risky loans for millions, like that for Peru, are taken with avidity; -the cup is getting full, and in all human probability some new burst of -speculation is at hand, which may take a beneficial form—for instance, -we could get rid of a hundred millions in making cheap country railways -with immense advantage—but will more probably turn out to be a mere -method of depletion. However it goes, the country is once more getting -rich, and the money is filtering downwards to the actual workers. The -people, as Mr. Goschen showed by unimpugnable figures, are consuming -more sugar, more tea, more beer, spirits, and tobacco, more, in fact, -of every kind of popular luxury, than ever. Their savings have also -increased, while the exports of cotton, of wool, of linen, of iron, of -machinery, have reached a figure wholly beyond precedent. By the -testimony of all manner of men—factory inspectors, poor-law inspectors, -members of great cities—the Lancashire trade, the silk trade, the -flax-spinning trade, the lace trade, and, above all, the iron trade, -are all so flourishing, that the want is not of work to be done, but of -hands to do it. Even the iron shipbuilding trade, which was at so low a -point, is reviving, and the only one believed to be still under serious -depression is the building trade of London, which has, it is believed, -been considerably overdone. So great is the demand for hands in some -parts of the country, that Mr. Goschen believes that internal -emigration would do more to help the people than emigration to America, -while it is certain that no relief which can be afforded by the -departure of a few workpeople is equal to the relief caused by the -revival of any one great trade—relief, we must add, which would be more -rapid and diffused if the trades’ unions, in this one respect at least -false to their central idea of the brotherhood of labour, were not so -jealous of the intrusion of outsiders. There is hardly a trade into -which a countryman of thirty, however clever, can enter at his own -discretion—one of the many social disqualifications which press upon -the agricultural labourer. - -“The picture thus drawn by Mr. Goschen, and truly drawn—for the -President of the Poor-Law Board is a man who does not manipulate -figures, but treats them with the reverence of the born statist—is a -very pleasant one, especially to those who believe that wealth is the -foundation of civilization; but yet what a weary load it is that, -according to the same speech, this country is carrying, and must carry! -There are 1,100,000 paupers on the books, and not a tenth of them will -be taken off by any revival whatever, for not a tenth of them are -workers. The rest are children—350,000 of them alone—widows, people -past work, cripples, lunatics, incapables, human drift of one sort or -another, the detritus of commerce and labour, a compost of suffering, -helplessness, and disease. In addition to the burden of the State, in -addition to the burden of the Debt, which we talk of as nothing, but -without which England would be the least-taxed country in the world, -this country has to maintain an army of incapables twice as numerous as -the army of France, to feed, and clothe, and lodge and teach them,—an -army which she cannot disband, and which she seems incompetent even to -diminish. To talk of emigration, of enterprise, even of education, as -reducing this burden, is almost waste of breath; for cripples do not -emigrate, the aged do not benefit by trade, when education is universal -children must still be kept alive.”—The Spectator, June 25, 1870. - - - -V. The following single column of the ‘Pall Mall Gazette’ has been -occasionally referred to in past letters:— - - - “It is proposed to erect a memorial church at Oxford to the late - Archbishop Longley. The cost is estimated at from £15,000 to - £20,000. The subscriptions promised already amount to upwards of - £2,000, and in the list are the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the - Bishops of Oxford, St. Asaph, and Chester.” - - - - “An inquest was held in the Isle of Dogs by Mr. Humphreys, the - coroner, respecting the death of a woman named Catherine Spence, - aged thirty-four, and her infant. She was the wife of a labourer, - who had been almost without employment for two years and a half. - They had pledged all their clothes to buy food, and some time since - part of the furniture had been seized by the brokers for rent. The - house in which they lived was occupied by six families, who paid - the landlord 5s. 9d. for rent. One of the witnesses stated that - ‘all the persons in the house were ill off for food, and the - deceased never wanted it more than they did.’ The jury on going to - view the bodies found that the bed on which the woman and child had - died was composed of rags, and there were no bed-clothes upon it. A - small box placed upon a broken chair had served as a table. Upon it - lay a tract entitled ‘The Goodness of God.’ The windows were - broken, and an old iron tray had been fastened up against one and a - board up against another. Two days after his wife’s death the poor - man went mad, and he was taken to the workhouse. He was not taken - to the asylum, for there was no room for him in it—it was crowded - with mad people. Another juror said it was of no use to return a - verdict of death from starvation. It would only cause the distress - in the island to be talked about in newspapers. The jury returned a - verdict that the deceased woman died from exhaustion, privation, - and want of food.” - - - - “The Rev. James Nugent, the Roman Catholic chaplain of the - Liverpool borough gaol, reported to the magistrates that crime is - increasing among young women in Liverpool; and he despairs of - amendment until effective steps are taken to check the open display - of vice which may now be witnessed nightly, and even daily, in the - thoroughfares of the town. Mr. Raffles, the stipendiary magistrate, - confesses that he is at a loss what to do in order to deter women - of the class referred to from offending against the law, as even - committal to the sessions and a long term of imprisonment fail to - produce beneficial effects. Father Nugent also despairs of doing - much good with this class; but he thinks that if they were - subjected to stricter control, and prevented from parading in our - thoroughfares, many girls would be deterred from falling into evil - ways.” - - - - “At the Liverpool borough gaol sessions Mr. Robertson Gladstone - closely interrogated the chaplain (the Rev. Thomas Carter) - respecting his visitation of the prisoners. Mr. Gladstone is of - opinion that sufficient means to make the prisoners impressionable - to religious teaching are not used; whilst the chaplain asserts - that the system which he pursues is based upon a long experience, - extending over twenty-eight years, at the gaol. Mr. Gladstone, who - does not share the chaplain’s belief that the prisoners are - ‘generally unimpressionable,’ hinted that some active steps in the - matter would probably be taken.” - - - - “Mr. Fowler, the stipendiary magistrate of Manchester, referring to - Mr. Ernest Jones’ death yesterday, in the course of the proceedings - at the City police-court, said: ‘I wish to say one word, which I - intended to have said yesterday morning, in reference to the taking - from amongst us of a face which has been so familiar in this court; - but I wished to have some other magistrates present in order that I - might, on the part of the bench, and not only as an individual, - express our regret at the unexpected removal from our midst of a - man whose life has been a very remarkable one, whose name will - always be associated in this country in connection with the - half-century he lived in it, and who, whatever his faults—and who - amongst us is free?—possessed the great virtues of undoubted - integrity and honour, and of being thoroughly consistent, never - flinching from that course which he believed to be right, though at - times at the cost of fortune and of freedom.’” - - - - “A Chester tradesman named Meacock, an ex-town councillor, has been - arrested in that city on a charge of forging conveyances of - property upon which he subsequently obtained a mortgage of £2,200. - The lady who owns the property appeared before the magistrates, and - declared that her signature to the conveyance was a forgery. The - prisoner was remanded, and was sent to prison in default of - obtaining the bail which was required.” - - - - “Mr. Hughes, a Liverpool merchant, was summoned before the local - bench for having sent to the London Dock a case, containing - hydrochloric acid, without a distinct label or mark denoting that - the goods were dangerous. A penalty of £10 was imposed.” - - - - “A woman, named Daley, came before the Leeds magistrates, with her - son, a boy six years old, whom she wished to be sent to a - reformatory, as she was unable to control him. She said that one - evening last week he went home, carrying a piece of rope, and said - that he was going to hang himself with it. He added that he had - already attempted to hang himself ‘in the Crown Court, but a little - lass loosed the rope for him, and he fell into a tub of water.’ It - turned out that the mother was living with a man by whom she had - two children, and it was thought by some in court that her object - was merely to relieve herself of the cost and care of the boy; but - the magistrates, thinking that the boy would be better away from - the contaminating influence of the street and of his home, - committed him to the Certified Industrial Schools until he arrives - at sixteen years of age, and ordered his mother to contribute one - shilling per week towards his maintenance.”—Pall Mall Gazette, - January 29, 1869. - - - - - - - - - SUBSCRIPTIONS TO ST. GEORGE’S FUND - - TO CLOSE OF YEAR 1874. - - (The Subscribers each know his or her number in this List.) - - - £ s. d. - - 1. Annual, £4 0 0 (1871, ’72, ’73, ’74) 16 0 0 - 2. Annual, £20 0 0 (1871, ’72, ’73, ’74) 80 0 0 - 3. Gift 5 0 0 - 4. Gifts (1871), £30 0 0; (1873), £20 0 0 50 0 0 - 5. Gift (1872) 20 0 0 - 6. Annual, £1 1 0 (1872, ’73, ’74) 3 3 0 - 7. Gift (1872) 10 0 0 - 8. Annual, £20 0 0 (1872, ’73, ’74) 60 0 0 - 9. Gift (1872) 25 0 0 - 10. Annual, £5 0 0 (1872, ’73) 10 0 0 - 11. Annual, £1 1 0 (1873, ’74) 2 2 0 - 12. Gift (1873) 4 0 0 - 13. Annual, £3 0 0 (1873, ’74) 6 0 0 - 14. Gift (1873) 13 10 0 - 15. Gift (1873) 5 0 0 - 16. Gift (1874) 25 0 0 - 17. ,, ,, 1 0 0 - 18. ,, ,, 10 0 0 - 19. ,, ,, 5 0 0 - 20. ,, ,, 2 0 0 - 21. ,, ,, 10 10 0 - 22. ,, ,, 1 1 0 - 23. ,, ,, 5 0 0 - 24. ,, ,, 1 1 0 - ============== - £370 7 0 - - - -One or two more subscriptions have come in since this list was drawn -up; these will be acknowledged in the January number, and the subjoined -letter from Mr. Cowper-Temple gives the state of the Fund in general -terms. - - - Broadlands, Romsey, - December 9, 1874. - - Dear Ruskin, - - The St. George’s Fund, of which Sir Thomas Acland and I are - Trustees, consists at present of £7,000 [68] Consolidated Stock, - and of £923 standing to the credit of our joint account at the - Union Bank of London, Chancery Lane Branch. Contributions to this - fund are received by the Bank and placed to the credit of our joint - account. - - Yours faithfully, - W. Cowper-Temple. - - - - - - - - -NOTES - - -[1] Of 6th March, not long ago, but I have lost note of the year. - -[2] The close of the ninth book of Plato’s Republic. I use for the most -part Mr. Jowett’s translation, here and there modifying it in my own -arbitrarily dogged or diffuse way of Englishing passages of complex -significance. - -[3] Plato does not mean here, merely dissipation of a destructive kind, -(as the next sentence shows,) but also healthy animal stupidities, as -our hunting, shooting, and the like. - -[4] Not quite so, gentlemen of the Royal Commission. Harvests, no less -than sales, and fishermen no less than salesmen, need regulation by -just human law. Here is a piece of news, for instance, from Glasgow, -concerning Loch Fyne:—“Owing to the permission to fish for herring by -trawling, which not only scrapes up the spawn from the bottom, but -catches great quantities of the fry which are useless for market, and -only fit for manure, it is a fact that, whereas Loch Fyne used to be -celebrated for containing the finest herrings to be caught anywhere, -and thousands and tens of thousands of boxes used to be exported from -Inverary, there are not now enough caught there to enable them to -export a single box, and the quantity caught lower down the loch, near -its mouth (and every year the herring are being driven farther and -farther down) is not a tithe of what it used to be. Such a thing as a -Loch Fyne herring (of the old size and quality) cannot be had now in -Glasgow for any money, and this is only a type of the destruction which -trawling, and too short close-time, are causing to all the west-coast -fishing. Whiting Bay, Arran, has been rid of its whiting by trawling on -the spawning coast opposite. The cupidity of careless fishers, -unchecked by beneficial law, is here also ‘killing the goose that lays -the golden eggs,’ and herring of any kind are very scarce and very bad -in Glasgow, at a penny and sometimes twopence each. Professor Huxley -gave his sanction to trawling, in a Government Commission, I am told, -some years ago, and it has been allowed ever since. I will tell you -something similar about the seal-fishing off Newfoundland, another -time.” - -[5] In my aunt’s younger days, at Perth, the servants used regularly to -make bargain that they should not be forced to dine on salmon more than -so many times a week. - -[6] As for instance, and in farther illustration of the use of -herrings, here is some account of the maintenance of young painters and -lawyers in Edinburgh, sixty years since, sent me by the third Fors; and -good Dr. Brown, in an admirable sketch of the life of an admirable -Scottish artist, says: “Raeburn (Sir Henry) was left an orphan at six, -and was educated in Heriot’s Hospital. At fifteen he was apprenticed to -a goldsmith; but after his time was out, set himself entirely to -portrait painting. About this time he became acquainted with the famous -cynic, lawyer, and wit, John Clerk, afterwards Lord Eldon, then a young -advocate. Both were poor. Young Clerk asked Raeburn to dine at his -lodgings. Coming in, he found the landlady laying the cloth, and -setting down two dishes, one containing three herrings, and the other -three potatoes. “Is this a’?” said John. “Ay, it’s a’.” “A’! didna I -tell ye, woman, that a gentleman is to dine wi’ me, and that ye were to -get six herrin and six potatoes?” - -[7] I don’t remember telling you anything of the sort. I should tell -you another story now, my dear friend. - -[8] Very fine; but have all the children in Sheffield and Leeds had -their pennyworth of gospel, first? - -[9] All I can say is, tastes differ; but I have not myself tried the -degree of comfort which may be attained in winter by lying on one’s -side in a coal-seam, and cannot therefore feel confidence in offering -an opinion. - -[10] Very much so indeed, my good friend; and yet, the plague of it is, -one never can get people to do anything that is wise or generous, -unless they go and make monks of themselves. I believe this St. -George’s land of mine will really be the first place where it has been -attempted to get married people to live in any charitable and human -way, and graft apples where they may eat them, without getting driven -out of their Paradise. - -[11] There, again! why, in the name of all that’s natural, can’t decent -men and women use their tongues, on occasion, for what God made them -for,—talking in a civil way; but must either go and make dumb beasts of -themselves, or else (far worse) let out their tongues for hire, and -live by vomiting novels and reviews! - -[12] If to any reader, looking back on the history of Europe for the -last four centuries, this sentence seems ironical, let him be assured -that for the causes which make it seem so, during the last four -centuries, the end of kinghood has come. - -[13] Untranslateable. It means, she made no false pretence of -reluctance, and neither politely nor feebly declined what she meant to -accept. But the phrase might be used of a person accepting with -ungraceful eagerness, or want of sense of obligation. A slight sense of -this simplicity is meant by our author to be here included in the -expression. - -[14] “Trop bon.” It is a little more than ‘very good,’ but not at all -equivalent to our English ‘too good.’ - -[15] “Se trouva.” Untranslateable. It is very little more than ‘was’ in -front. But that little more,—the slight sense of not knowing quite how -she got there,—is necessary to mark the under-current of meaning; she -goes behind the cart first, thinking it more modest; but presently, -nevertheless, ‘finds herself’ in front; “the cart goes better, so.” - -[16] There used to be an avenue of tall trees, about a quarter of a -mile long, on the Thun road, just at the brow of the descent to the -bridge of the Aar, at the lower end of the main street of Berne. - -[17] “Cohue.” Confused and moving mass. We have no such useful word. - -[18] “Se revit.” It would not be right to say here ‘se trouva,’ because -there is no surprise, or discovery, in the doing once again what is -done every week. But one may nevertheless contemplate oneself, and the -situation, from a new point of view. Hansli ‘se revit’—reviewed -himself, literally; a very proper operation, every now and then, for -everybody. - -[19] A slight difference between the Swiss and English peasant is -marked here; to the advantage of the former. At least, I imagine an -English Hansli would not have known, even in love, whether the road was -ugly or pretty. - -[20] “Se requinquait a n’en plus finir.” Entirely beyond English -rendering. - -[21] “Ça.” Note the peculiar character and value, in modern French, of -this general and slightly depreciatory pronoun, essentially a -republican word,—hurried, inconsiderate, and insolent. The popular -chant ‘ça ira’ gives the typical power. - -[22] “C’est seulement pour dire.” I’ve been at least ten minutes trying -to translate it, and can’t. - -[23] “On est toujours homme.” The proverb is frequent among the French -and Germans. The modesty of it is not altogether easy to an English -mind, and would be totally incomprehensible to an ordinary Scotch one. - -[24] “Assez brave.” Untranslateable, except by the old English sense of -the word brave, and even that has more reference to outside show than -the French word. - -[25] You are to note carefully the conditions of sentiment in family -relationships implied both here, and in the bride’s reference, farther -on, to her godmother’s children. Poverty, with St. Francis’ pardon, is -not always holy in its influence: yet a richer girl might have felt -exactly the same, without being innocent enough to say so. - -[26] I believe the reverend and excellent novelist would himself -authorize the distinction; but Hansli’s mother must be answerable for -it to my Evangelical readers. - -[27] “Poêle a frire.” I don’t quite understand the nature of this -article. - -[28] Well said, the Viscount. People think me a grumbler; but I wholly -believe this,—nay, know this. The world exists, indeed, only by the -strength of its silent virtue. - -[29] Well said, Viscount, again! So few people know the power of the -Third Fors. If I had not chanced to give lessons in drawing to Octavia -Hill, I could have done nothing in Marylebone, nor she either, for a -while yet, I fancy. - -[30] A lovely, classic, unbetterable sentence of Marmontel’s, perfect -in wisdom and modesty. - -[31] Not for a dividend upon it, I beg you to observe, and even the -capital to be repaid in work. - -[32] Or, worse still, as our public men do, upon the cost of -non-compulsory measures! - -[33] These small “powers” of terminal letters in some of the words are -very curious. - -[34] A lady high in the ranks of kindly English literature. - -[35] Italics mine, as usual. - -[36] Notes on Old Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas, 1869. Things may -possibly have mended in some respects in the last five years, but they -have assuredly, in the country villages, got tenfold worse. - -[37] “Bernard the happy.” The Beato of Mont Oliveto; not Bernard of -Clairvaux. The entire inscription is, “received St. Francis of Assisi -to supper and bed”; but it I had written it so, it would have appeared -that St. Francis’s ecstacy was in consequence of his getting his -supper. - -[38] ‘Pall Mall Gazette,’ July 31st, 1873. - -[39] “Rigurgitava”—gushed or gorged up; as a bottle which you have -filled too full and too fast. - -[40] Sensale, an interesting Venetian word. The fair on the Feast of -the Ascension at Venice became in mellifluous brevity, ‘Sensa,’ and the -most ornamental of the ware purchaseable at it, therefore, Sensale. - -A “Holy-Thursday-Fairing,” feeling herself unwell, would be the -properest translation. - -[41] Observe, this is only asserted of its main principles; not of -minor and accessory points. I may be entirely wrong in the explanation -of a text, or mistake the parish schools of St. Matthias for St. -Matthew’s, over and over again. I have so large a field to work in that -this cannot be helped. But none of these minor errors are of the least -consequence to the business in hand. - -[42] See first article in the Notes and Correspondence to this number. - -[43] See second note at end of this letter. - -[44] The passage continues thus, curiously enough,—for the parallel of -the boat at sea is precisely that which I have given, in true -explanation of social phenomena:— - -“The notion that when one man becomes rich he makes others poor, will -be found upon examination to depend upon the assumption that there is -in the world a fixed quantity of wealth; that when one man appropriates -to himself a large amount of it, he excludes all others from any -benefit arising from it, and that at the same time he forces some one -else to be content with less than he would otherwise have had. Society, -in short, must be compared to a boat at sea, in which there is a -certain quantity of fresh water, and a certain number of shipwrecked -passengers. In that case, no doubt, the water drunk by one is of no use -to the rest, and if one drinks more, others must drink less, as the -water itself is a fixed quantity. Moreover, no one man would be able to -get more than a rateable share, except by superior force, or by some -form of deceit, because the others would prevent him. The mere -statement of this view ought to be a sufficient exposure of the -fundamental error of the commonplaces which we are considering.” - -[45] The reader might at first fancy that the economy was not -“absolute,” but that the expenses of the traveller were simply borne by -his host. Not so; the host only gave what he in his turn received, when -he also travelled. Every man thus carried his home with him, and to -travel, was merely to walk or ride from place to place, instead of -round one’s own house. (See Saunders Fairford’s expostulation with Alan -on the charges incurred at Noble House.) - -[46] But what is to be done, then? Emigrate, of course; but under -different laws from those of modern emigration. Don’t emigrate to -China, poison Chinamen, and teach them to make steam engines, and then -import Chinamen, to dig iron here. But see next Fors. - -[47] The writings of our vulgar political economists, calling money -only a “medium of exchange,” blind the foolish public conveniently to -all the practical actions of the machinery of the currency. Money is -not a medium of exchange, but a token of right. I have, suppose, at -this moment, ten, twenty, or thirty thousand pounds. That signifies -that, as compared with a man who has only ten pounds, I can claim -possession of, call for, and do what I like with a thousand, or two -thousand, or three thousand times as much of the valuable things -existing in the country. The peasant accordingly gives the squire a -certain number of these tokens or counters, which give the possessor a -right to claim so much corn or meat. The squire gives these tokens to -the various persons in town, enumerated in the text, who then claim the -corn and meat from the peasant, returning him the counters, which he -calls “price,” and gives to the squire again next year. - -[48] Of the industry of the Magistrate against crime, I say nothing; -for it now scarcely exists, but to do evil. See first article in -Correspondence, at end of letter. - -[49] Compare, especially, Letter xxix., p. 11. - -[50] It is possible that this lending office may have been organised as -a method of charity, corresponding to the original Monte di Pieta, the -modern clergymen having imagined, in consequence of the common error -about interest, that they could improve the system of Venice by -ignoring its main condition—the lending gratis,—and benefit themselves -at the same time. - -[51] Read Isaiah vi. through carefully. - -[52] The reader will perhaps now begin to see the true bearing of the -earlier letters in Fors. Re-read, with this letter, that on the -campaign of Crecy. - -[53] I wish I could find room also for the short passages I omit; but -one I quoted before, “As no one will deny that man possesses -carnivorous teeth,” etc., and the others introduce collateral -statements equally absurd, but with which at present we are not -concerned. - -[54] I must warn you against the false reading of the original, in many -editions. Fournier’s five volume one is altogether a later text, in -some cases with interesting intentional modifications, probably of the -fifteenth century; but oftener with destruction of the older meaning. -It gives this couplet, for instance,— - - “Si n’avoit el plaisir de rien, - Que quant elle donnoit du sien.” - -The old reading is, - - “Si n’avoit elle joie de rien, - Fors quant elle povoit dire, ‘tien.’ - -Didot’s edition, Paris, 1814, is founded on very early and valuable -texts; but it is difficult to read. Chaucer has translated a text some -twenty or thirty years later in style; and his English is quite -trustworthy as far as it is carried. For the rest of the Romanee, -Fournier’s text is practically good enough, and easily readable. - -[55] Fr. ‘chetive,’ rhyming accurately to ‘ententive.’ - -[56] Fr. Sarrasinesse. - -[57] Even after eighteen hundred years of sermons, the Christian public -do not clearly understand that ‘two coats,’ in the brief sermon of the -Baptist to repentance, mean also, two petticoats, and the like. - -I am glad that Fors obliges me to finish this letter at Lucca, under -the special protection of St. Martin. - -[58] Fr., - - “Si que par oula la chemise - Lui blancheoit la char alise.” - -Look out ‘Alice,’ in Miss Yonge’s Dictionary of Christian Names and -remember Alice of Salisbury. - -[59] I believe the pale roses are meant to be white, but are tinged -with red that they may not contend with the symbolic brightness of the -lilies. - -[60] Macintosh, 24, Paternoster Row. - -[61] 2 Esdras iv. 4. - -[62] See ‘Modern Painters,’ vol. iii., “The Firmament.” - -[63] Compare Dante, Purg., end of Canto V. - -[64] See the part of examination respecting communication held with the -brother of the prisoner. - -[65] See statement at close of accounts. - -[66] See second letter in Notes and Correspondence. - -[67] I don’t know how far it turned out to be true,—a fight between a -dwarf and a bulldog (both chained to stakes as in Roman days), -described at length in some journals. - -[68] I have heard that some impression has got abroad that in giving -this £7,000 stock to the St. George’s Company, I only parted with one -year’s income. It was a fairly estimated tenth of my entire property, -including Brantwood. The excess of the sum now at the credit of the -Trustees, over the amount subscribed, consists in the accumulated -interest on this stock. With the sum thus at their disposal, the -Trustees are about to purchase another £1,000 of stock, and in the Fors -of January will be a more complete statement of what we shall begin the -year with, and of some dawning prospect of a beginning also to our -operations. - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FORS CLAVIGERA (VOLUME 4 OF -8) *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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