Chapter II (1)

EARLY WORK IN LONDON
1851—APRIL, 1856

Through all the bright and free life at Finchley, Mrs. Hill had never
forgotten that her daughters would have to earn their living. Miranda,
indeed, at the age of thirteen, had begun to earn as a pupil teacher
in the private school of a friend; and her sister Margaret mentions in
a letter the characteristic fact that Miranda had wished to give some
of her first earnings to her half-sisters, who were starting a school.
When, then, these sisters realised that Mrs. Hill was considering
Octavia’s future work, they, in their turn, offered to give her a free
education, as a start in life. On the other hand, Octavia’s artistic
talent had already attracted the attention of Mrs. Hill’s friend, Miss
Margaret Gillies; and she offered to train Octavia in her studio. Both
these offers attracted Octavia herself; but Mrs. Hill did not wish to
part with her. Whilst she was still hesitating, her attention was
drawn to the notice of an Exhibition, to be held at 4 Russell Place,
Fitzroy Square, of special preparations of painted glass, consolidated
so as to make it suitable for tables and other purposes. She found
that Miss Wallace, the patentee, was promoting the Exhibition, partly
to secure work for some Polish exiles, in whom she was interested,
partly with the more general aim of finding regular suitable paying
employment for ladies.

Mrs. Hill mentions that her first thought was that Miranda, whose
overflowing fancy seemed to her dangerously unpractical, might be
roused to more steady work by such an occupation as this. But it was
natural that it soon occurred to her that Octavia’s admitted artistic
talent might also be utilised in this way. So she applied for
admission for both her daughters to this work. But, as Miss Wallace
was unable to carry on the business, Mr. Vansittart Neale most
generously came forward with the capital, in order to carry it on on a
co-operative basis. He asked Mrs. Hill to become the manager, which
she very gladly consented to do, as she was much interested in
co-operation and in the employment of women.

Such was Octavia’s first introduction to London. The change from the
healthy open-air life at Finchley, and from the beauty of the country,
to the ugliness of her new surroundings told heavily on her spirits;
and this depression was increased by the sudden sense of the evil and
misery in the world. Among the workers at the Guild was a Miss Joanna
Graham, who rapidly became a warm friend of Miranda’s. She introduced
both sisters to the “London Labour and the London Poor,” then just
brought out by Mayhew; also to the pamphlets and other essays written
by the Christian Socialist leaders of the movement with which Mr.
Neale had already brought them into contact. The pictures given by
Mayhew of the life of the London poor, and the desire awakened by the
Christian Socialists to struggle against evils, which seemed to her
irresistible, produced in Octavia such a state of mind that she began
to think that all laughter or amusement was wicked. Miranda, always
able to see the humorous side of a question, tried to laugh her out of
this extreme depression; and, when Octavia persisted, the elder sister
composed an imaginary epitaph on herself, supposed to be written by
Octavia:

“Her foibles were many, her virtues were few;
And the more that she laughed, the more stern the world grew.”

This produced a most startling letter of stern remonstrance from
Octavia; so stern that one is relieved to find it closed by a loving
message and followed by a P.S. “Love to all. Thank you for the
apples.”

Of course, this extreme gloom, unnatural in any young girl, was
especially out of keeping with anyone of Octavia’s buoyant
temperament, and the happy busy life at the Ladies’ Guild soon had its
effect.

[Sidenote: THE LADIES’ GUILD]

The following account given by Mrs. Hill in April, 1856, shows
somewhat of the social life. “The ladies used to go to lectures
together. In this case, the subject of the lecture became, next day,
that of the conversation in the workroom. The conversation in general
fell on interesting subjects, the favourite subjects being politics,
religion, art, news, the country and its scenery, poverty and wages,
etc. A very favourite subject was the derivation and definition of
words; then the ladies would join their voices in chorus, taking
different parts. Indeed a merrier company, ‘within the limits of
becoming mirth,’ the writer never chanced to see. There was generally
some joke in hand. In the winter, they often assembled in the evening
at the Guild. Sometimes they drank tea together, and afterwards sang
and danced joyously.”

The artistic work at the Guild brought Octavia into contact with the
Rogers family. Mr. G. Rogers was wood carver to the Queen, and
produced some very interesting work. All his family had artistic
leanings; but it was his daughter, who is best known by her writings
on Palestine, who specially attracted Octavia, and for whom she formed
one of those enthusiastic friendships which exercised so marked an
influence on her life. A younger friend, whose name was afterwards to
be so closely associated with Octavia’s, was Miss Emma Cons. She, like
Octavia, was much interested in art; and, on the other hand, her high
girlish spirits called out in Octavia again the old love of exercise
and fun that had shown itself so strongly in the Finchley days. Indeed
Miss Cons was so much given to romps that Octavia’s fellow workers
(including her sisters) were rather startled at the attraction which
her new friend had for her. But it is clear from the letters, produced
here, that Octavia saw the real power concealed for the time under
these hoydenish ways; and she marked her as one on whom she could
rely, and from whom she expected much.

But it must not be forgotten that among the most important of these
influences, then at work on Octavia, were the characters and teaching
of the Christian Socialist leaders. Soon after joining the Guild she
had begun to attend the lectures at the Hall of Association; and her
attendance at Lincoln’s Inn Chapel brought her in 1852 under the
influence of my father, Rev. F. D. Maurice. She and Emily attended the
daily morning service; and, after a time, my father used often to let
them walk back with him, and he would answer many of Octavia’s
difficulties about religious and social questions. On one occasion she
asked him if it would not be very nice if one could get rid of all
responsibility. He laughed and said it would indeed be very
comfortable. But that she did not shirk responsibility is shown by the
following incident. It was in the early days of the Guild, when
Octavia was only about fourteen, that she was alone in the house with
the exception of Mrs. Horne,[5] who was at the top of the house. It
was Sunday; and everyone else had gone to Church. On coming out of a
second-floor room she saw a man standing near the door of a large
cupboard, in which she supposed he must have hidden. “How did you come
up here?” she asked. “I came up the stairs,” replied the man. “Then
you will please to walk down again,” said Octavia in a quiet tone. He
obeyed her, and she walked behind him down three long flights of
stairs, and saw him out at the front door. Her sense of responsibility
was the greater because some money, belonging to the Guild, had been
paid late on Saturday and was in the office.

After the Guild had been carried on for some time, Mr. Neale was asked
to take over a new kind of work, which a lady had started in order to
employ some Ragged School children. This was the making of a special
kind of toy which she had invented; and Mr. Neale appointed Octavia
head of the workroom. The following account is given by my wife and
her sister Miranda. The management of the toy-making helped to
“develop Octavia’s business faculties. She had to pass the children’s
work, which was paid by the piece, to assign the various processes to
each child, to choose the shapes and colours of the toy furniture, to
price it, and to see that, when the suites were finished, they were
neatly packed in boxes and sent over to the show room, where the
ladies’ glass work was also exhibited. From time to time she had to
take stock, and to see if the sales justified the expenditure.

[Sidenote: TOY-WORKERS]

“Her daily intercourse with the girls taught her to know intimately
the life of the poor. Most of the children came from very poor homes,
and had, though so young, experienced great hardships. There was
Louisa, an emotional, affectionate girl who had lost both parents, and
helped to support herself and the aunt with whom she lived. She had
worked at artificial flower-making, and told us how, when trade was
busy, she had been kept late into the night, and had had to run
frightened through the streets in the small hours of the morning, and
tap at the window to wake her aunt. There was poor Denis whose face
and neck were terribly disfigured with burns; but who had such a sweet
pathetic voice that, when she sang, one forgot her ugliness. There was
Clara, a tall, over-grown girl from a dirty home, who was half-starved
and cruelly treated. She wore a low dress and short sleeves, and one
could see her bones almost coming through her skin. On one occasion
when her work was too slovenly to be passed, she burst into tears, and
said that her mother would beat her if she did not take back the money
expected of her. There was little Elizabeth, a stunted child of about
nine, with so fierce a look that Octavia, in loving raillery, called
her her little wild beast. She had never come with us on the
Saturday-afternoon walks to Hampstead, but used to look wistfully
after us. Once we pressed her very much to come, and then she
exclaimed ‘I cannot, I have to nurse the baby.’

“Another child was R. who was lost sight of, and later on was found in
a dark cellar into which one descended by a ladder, where she sat all
day to sell pennyworths of coal. She was half-starved and unkindly
treated, but she seemed to take that as a matter of course; what she
_did_ resent was that her cat was starved. Later on Octavia sent her
to an Industrial School; and after some years she emigrated, and wrote
to tell of her happy married life.

“Harriet and her sister were of a higher class, and had a clean,
respectable home. They were earnest Methodists. We lost sight of
Harriet for forty years, and then found her very happily married. She
had remembered Octavia with the deepest affection, and had preserved
all her letters.

“The girls were in the habit of bringing their dinners to eat in the
workroom, and what they brought was very poor fare. Octavia suggested
that they should club together to buy their food, and that each girl
in turn should cook it. The long table was cleared, and a white cloth
laid, and the food served nicely. Octavia brought over her own
luncheon to eat with the girls, and, after the Grace had been sung, it
was a pretty sight to see the sad, careworn faces of the children
light up, as they sat round the table while she talked to them. Among
other things, she learnt to scrub the floor, in order to teach the
children to keep the workroom clean.

“A good many of the girls were older than Octavia and inclined to be
insubordinate, but she very soon established order, and that without
recourse to punishment. The girls had been accustomed to be fined for
offences, and they were quite amazed when they found this was no
longer the case. On one occasion they refused to scrub the
work-tables, which was part of their daily duty. Immediately Octavia
and her two younger sisters set to work to do the scrubbing, and soon
the girls gave in. They had been fined for swearing, but the swearing
soon ceased, and they sang hymns or nice songs. Octavia was their
leader and companion in all that they did, and this sharing in their
work, and yet leading the way, won them all to obey as well as to love
her. Sometimes, on a Saturday afternoon, she would take her little
group of workers for a walk to Hampstead Heath or Bishop’s Wood. Her
sister Gertrude remembers walking in Highgate Lane on a spring
afternoon with Professor Owen, who was quietly explaining something
about the mosses on Lord Mansfield’s fence—all being very still—when,
to her surprise, the hedge was broken open, and, with a burst of joy,
who should leap down from the bank with a staff in her hand and a
straw hat torn by the thicket but Octavia, followed by a troop of
ragged toy-workers, happy and flushed, each with a lap full of
blue-bells. Octavia stayed for a minute to speak to her sister and the
Professor; then off they all went back into the wood and away towards
Finchley.

“Schools were not what they are now, and Octavia was amazed at the
ignorance of these girls. They quite believed that wolves and bears
might be lurking in the woods; and they did not know the names of any
of the flowers. It was afterwards arranged that Miranda should give
the girls lessons for an hour or so each afternoon.”[6]

In 1854 Dr. Southwood Smith left Hillside and moved to Weybridge,
where his grandchildren were always welcomed in the same loving way
that they had been at Highgate.

But, before he could move, he was seized with a severe illness which
necessitated an operation. A few weeks later his granddaughter Emily
was attacked by scarlet fever, and her life was despaired of by two
doctors. Then her grandfather, in spite of his weak state, came back
to London, and saved her life; and when she could be removed, took her
to Weybridge to watch over her convalescence. This of course withdrew
her from the toy work, and threw more of the burden on Octavia. A year
later her youngest sister Florence was also withdrawn from the work by
ill-health, and taken to Italy by her aunt, Miss Emily Smith, who gave
her loving care for six years. It was in the summer of 1855 that an
expedition of the toy-workers into the country led to the formation of
some important friendships. Mrs. Harrison, to whose house at Romford
they were invited, was the sister of Mrs. Howitt, and she and her
family became warm friends of Octavia’s. Some of the letters given
further on were written to Mary, the eldest daughter, who was very
artistic.

[Sidenote: EARLY FRIENDSHIPS]

But even more important was the friendship then formed with Miss Mary
Harris, a member of the Society of Friends, who was a great deal older
than Octavia, and whose calm, loving nature was a great rest to her.
From the time they first met till 1893, when Miss Harris died, Octavia
poured out more of her secret thoughts to her than to anyone else, and
when they were away from each other wrote to her constantly.

On the occasion of this visit to Romford another guest was Mr. Ellis
Yarnall, the American, whose letters to Lord Coleridge have lately
been published. He recorded in his diary the following description of
Miranda and Octavia.

“Some young ladies were expected, and with them about twenty children,
girls to whom they are teaching some decorative arts. The children
played in the grounds; the young ladies (Miranda and Octavia) were
with us at luncheon; and we had a great deal of talk about Mr. Ruskin,
who is a friend of theirs. They described his eloquence as a speaker,
his earnestness of manner, his changing countenance, even when he was
silent, as though thoughts grave and gay were passing through his
mind. It was plain to me that his strong intellect and bright fancy
were having their true influence on these young persons, themselves
highly gifted and altogether like-minded, eighteen and sixteen or
thereabouts—sisters. I was astonished at the strength of intellect
which they displayed. The talk of the elder one especially was, I
think, more striking than that of any person of her age I ever knew.
She reminded me of Corinne and other women of renown. What a pleasure
it was to look at her fine face with the glow of enthusiasm upon it,
and to wonder whether gifts like hers would not one day produce fruits
which the world would value. Her description of the effect which the
hearing of Beethoven’s music on some late occasion had had upon her
was an utterance of passionate feeling showing true poetic
susceptibility.

“They are the granddaughters of Dr. Southwood Smith.”

Towards the end of 1855 an important event took place, which led to
Mrs. Hill’s withdrawal from the Ladies’ Guild. My father had been
interested in Octavia’s work for the Toy-workers, and offered to take
a Bible Class for them. The Theological Essays controversy was just
then at burning point; and the ladies who had handed over the business
part of the toy work, still considered that they had a right to
interfere about the religious instruction of the children. These
ladies were very Evangelical (as Evangelicalism went in those days)
and they threatened to withdraw all pecuniary help and the support of
the Ragged School Union, if my father was allowed to teach the girls.
The managers of the business were so much alarmed at this threat that
they asked my father to withdraw his offer. Mrs. Hill and her
daughters were naturally very indignant at this; and Mrs. Hill’s
protests led to her losing the post of Manager at the Guild. She and
Emily went to Weybridge. Miranda and Octavia continued to work for a
time; but when it seemed likely that the Guild would fail, Miranda
obtained daily teaching and Octavia applied to Ruskin to learn from
him if there would be any chance of her supporting herself by
painting. He replied most kindly, and asked her to let him have a
table-top designed and painted by herself. This design[7] was a spray
of bramble leaves in all their brilliant autumn colours, encircling
the centre space which formed a background that was dark at one part
and gradually grew lighter, and finally changed into soft blue,
suggesting storm clouds passing away, and leaving a bright sky. Round
the edge, among the leaves, were the words of the Psalm, “He brought
them out of darkness and out of the shadow of death, and brake their
bonds in sunder.”

This led to Ruskin’s undertaking to train Octavia and give her work.
Soon after this came the final crisis at the Guild; and Octavia
obtained the appointment mentioned in the last letter of this chapter.

[Sidenote: EARLY WORK IN LONDON]

June 14th, 1852.

TO MIRANDA.

Thank you many many times for your sweet letter. It was such a comfort to me.

I am very well indeed now. I do not know when I have been better, except that I am rather weak. I am at Finchley with Minnie. I long dreadfully to go to town; but I think I can wait patiently till Wednesday.

I have been very unfortunate in being away from the Guild just at this time. Do you know Mr. Walter Cooper has been there? and Mr. Lewis and the trustees (Mr. Furnivall) go there so often; and all the bustle, and trying to feel Christian-like to Mr. and Miss ——. O, would it not have been delightful!

I have Miss Graham’s books here; they are so interesting. I am so very happy when I am reading them. My interest gets deeper and stronger every day. I wish, oh! I so long, to do something, and I cannot. Andy! do you think I ever shall be able to do anything really useful?

I do not at all like Mr. ——, or rather I entirely despise and dislike his opinions. I will tell you all about it when I see you. I will only tell you now that he likes “the subordination of the employed to the employer”; and he thinks “there is no tribunal so proper as the discretion of the employer to decide those delicate questions of the personal conduct of the employed.” Did you ever hear of such a thing? Is it not horrible?

Mr. Furnivall I admire more and more the more I know and read of him; and, as to Mr. Ludlow, certainly there is not (excepting Mr. Furnivall) such a person in the whole world. He has the largest, clearest, best-balanced mind joined to the truest most earnest wish to help the working classes I ever met with (of course excepting Mr. Furnivall’s).

I have read to-day his “Christian Socialism and its Opponents.” All I can say of it, and all he writes is that it is grand, and that I never can forget it, or cease to be grateful for it. His lectures have sunk deeper into my heart than anything else; one reason is, I dare say, that they were the first; but they were most noble and grand; his own great soul seemed to breathe itself into his works. But I forget—I shall get no sympathy from you. I must tell Miss Graham. Andy, do you think Mr. Furnivall will bring him to the Guild? Do you think he meant it; or, if not, do you think we ever shall know him?

The Festival will be on Monday. I am looking forward to it with such pleasure. I do so long to see you; it seems ages since I did; I want to know what you think about the ‘Guild’; I do so want your advice, too, upon a thousand subjects. I have a good deal to read to you, which I have written since you were away. Give my dearest love to Miss Graham. Tell her I never can thank her enough for all the noble and beautiful books she has lent me; that, as to the Christian Socialist, I never never before read anything which inspired such earnest longing to do _something_ for the cause of association; and it interested me so very much that the hours I have spent in reading _that_ are never to be forgotten; they were unequalled in pleasure to any that I have ever spent in reading; and that, if I live years and years, I shall never forget, or cease to remember with gratitude that it was to her that I owe the great happiness of first reading a Socialist book, which I consider one of the greatest happinesses any one can have. Thank her, also, for the other books; tell her the “Cheap Clothes and Nasty” and “Labour and the Poor” are some of the most dreadful things I ever read. They have made a deep impression on me. How delightful the History of the Working Tailors’ Association is!

Do you know I have a post at the Guild? I have to give out the stores and am responsible for them. The ladies have all sent me a book as a testimony of their gratitude to me for reading to them. How very kind it is of them! Dear Laura has written me such a sweet letter. I love to think of you among those lovely scenes by the beautiful sea, with dear Miss Graham....

Your own loving little sister, OCKEY.

I am sadly afraid the Journal[8] will stop at Midsummer. What is to become of me???

Ladies’ Guild,
July 27th, 1852.

MIRANDA TO JOANNA GRAHAM,

We all declare that we have never spent a more glorious evening. I think I never saw such a face as Mr. Kingsley’s. That face was the chief pleasure of all, though there was a most splendid collection of people there. We went a party of six, Ockey, Mama, Mary, I, Mr. Rogers, and Miss Cons. We met Walter Cooper at the door, and he was very kind and seemed glad to see us. The Hall was very crowded but he got seats for us. Mama and I were together. We looked round and got glimpses of the Promoters.[9] Mary fixed on Mr. Neale at once and was delighted with him. She noticed his head among all the rest and admired it almost more than any.... Suddenly, amongst a great crowd of faces, Mary pointed out one to me and asked if that was Mr. Kingsley, and it was. Mary thought it noble. Mr. Neale introduced Kingsley to Mama, and he talked to her for some time ... and Mr. Neale introduced Mr. Ludlow to Mama, much to Ockey’s delight.... I think Mr. Kingsley’s face extremely suffering and full of the deepest feeling. But there is such a sublime spirituality; he looks so far above this earth, as if he were rapt up in grand reveries; one feels such _intense_ humility and awe of him. I hardly dared look at him; and the more I looked, the more I felt what a grand thing the human soul is when developed as it is in him. Professor Maurice was called to the chair, and he made a nice speech. He seemed as if he felt a great deal more than he could express, and therefore left feelings rather than ideas in one’s mind. He said a great deal about self-sacrifice; though he said he felt almost ashamed to speak of self-sacrifice to working men, while he himself was in possession of all the comforts of life. He had to leave after he had made his speech; and, just as he was about to leave the platform, Mr. Cooper said that the Manager of the Builders’ Association, Mr. Pickard, would read an address to Professor Maurice as an embodiment of the sentiments of the Associations, and that the Manager of the Printers would present him with a testimonial, the exclusive gift of the working men. The address of thanks was very nicely expressed; and then the testimonial, a silver inkstand, was presented. It was so touching to think of all those poor working men, who had worked so hard to earn the money to make the testimonial, and the beautiful spirit of gratitude. I could not restrain my tears. Professor Maurice answered the address and thanked them in the most heartfelt manner. After he left, Mr. Hansard was put in the chair, and Lloyd Jones spoke on Co-operative Stores. Mr. Newton spoke on Mechanics’ Institutes, and said they were not at all satisfactory as far as they professed to educate the working men. Someone in the Hall got up and said that he knew of one gentleman on the Committee of these Institutes, who, in opposition to the majority of the Committee, threatened to resign if “Alton Locke” was allowed in the Library. I could not see Mr. Kingsley’s face.... The next subject was the Industrial and Provident Societies Bill which had just been passed. Mr. Kingsley then made a short speech; one knew at once that it was a poet who was speaking.... Gerald Massey’s is a very fine face. He has dreamy eyes and wild looking hair; but, after the others, he’s not to be thought of.

Ladies’ Guild,
October 22nd, 1852.

TO GERTRUDE.

Oh Gertrude! I am so happy, so very very happy. I wish you were with me. You would so love all my beautiful things. I will tell you about them when you come. I have a little room, all to myself. When anything is wrong or unjust down stairs, I have only to come up into my own little room, and it is so still. It is full of such happy recollections. I have my _nice_ books; all my great soul-inspiring books are here. Then I have all my writing things. I write a great deal now. I have such a beautiful book of extracts that I have made. I have usually some flowers; for the ladies are very kind in bringing me them. I have a few poor little plants that I am fond of. Then I have eleven dear little snails. They are such darlings. And then, Gertrude, I have my drawing things. I do not let anyone see my drawings. I do not do much. It is sad to think, after I have done anything, “And, after all your visions of grandeur and beauty, is this all you can produce?” I believe I am very wrong about my drawing; I never draw things for the sake of learning. I try things above me. I have such dreams, both day and night, of what I would do, and when I try what do I see? A little miserable scrap that is not worth looking at. Once I tried a figure. Of course it was frightful.... We have returned Ruskin. I do so miss it. It was so very beautiful. This evening I have found such an extract from “Modern Painters” that I shall copy it for you.

Do you go on with your drawing? I hope you do. Oh Gertrude! is it not a glorious thing to think that a divine thought should descend for ages and ages? Think of Raphael and Michael Angelo! (though I know but little of them).—To think that every grand feeling they had they could preserve for centuries! Oh what an influence they must have! Think of the thousands of great thoughts they must have created in people’s minds; the millions of sorrow that one great picture (one truly great picture) would calm and comfort. Will that never be painted again? Do you think there will? And when? I am going to see the Dulwich Gallery soon. Is it not glorious? I wish you could see a bit of hawthorn I have here, such colours! I am writing a curious letter; just what comes foremost in my mind.... When I have finished work and go up to tea, if any one is out of spirits, it makes me so; and I feel (do you know what I mean?) a tear in my throat.

Ladies’ Guild,
July 13th, /53.

TO GERTRUDE.

I write to you because I wish to give you a happier impression of me than you can have from Tuesday. I am all alone; it is so still; and I am very happy; now I will try and account for the strange state I was in last night.

When I got into the country I felt that, if I stayed looking at sky and trees and flowers,[10] my friends would think me dull and become dull themselves and spoil all enjoyment. So all the day my whole energies were “stretched” to be merry and lively. I felt that if I waited one moment to look at anything, I should never tear myself away, and I got into a wild state. I did enjoy very much the mere exercise, and the mirth, and happiness of every one. I hardly thought all this; I only felt it. Then, at the singing class, the strain being over, and having nothing to sustain me, I sank into low spirits. As we were singing “Oh come ye into the summer woods,” a longing came over me to be there; a dim recollection of tops of the trees with the evening sun upon them, a panting desire to sit there, and cry myself quiet....

But it is all too beautiful now; I could almost fancy myself at home.... As to my drawing, whether I will or no I must go on with that; and, though I do not hope, I trust....

September 18th, /53.

DEAR SISTERS,

I fully intended to come over to you to-day, but I have a sore foot, and can only limp to the classes. _Private_. On Wednesday evening I went to see Miss Cooper, and spent the whole evening there. Just as I was going William Cooper came in and told me (don’t tell _anyone_) that they have discovered heresy in Professor Maurice’s last book, and he will probably be expelled from the Church. I had not time to ask any questions, as Miss Cooper returned, and she is not to know. Professor Maurice came to town on Monday night, went to Walter Cooper on Tuesday before Miss Cooper was out of bed, and returned to the country in the evening.... On Thursday there was a Council. Walter Cooper looks very grave and rather ill and anxious. What all this betokens, I cannot guess; but I fear something sad.

I have been reading “The Message of the Church to the Labouring Men”; it is so beautiful; also “The Duty of the Age.” I did not think Lord Goderich[11] was so nice; it would just suit Andy.

Mr. Edwards will give us a large order for a skirting board of marble if we can do it for 8d. a foot; also an order for a painted glass conservatory.

If any of you love me, see if you can’t send me a piece of Indian ink and a paint brush, and “The Land we live in,” and look out for some toys, or books that you don’t want—the latter two for the little child at the needlewoman’s.

November 27th, 1853.

TO GERTRUDE.

About Ruskin, it matters very little to me what _The Times_, or anything else, says of him. I see much, very very much, to admire in him, and several things which I could wish different. If, as I suppose, _The Times_ accuses him of affectation of style and want of humility, I entirely deny the first charge; as I think there is never a single word he writes, which could have been left out without loss, or changed without spoiling the idea; and, if it means that each sentence of his has a beauty of sound as well as of meaning, I say that it is to me all the more right for that; and that to be able to reproduce that sound is a gift not to be neglected.... As to the second objection I say, if Ruskin sees a truth which is generally denied, he is right to proclaim it with his whole strength. He says _not_ “I see it is so because I am a higher creature than you,” _but_ “I see it, because I have gone to God, and His works for it. You may all see it, if you will look, using the powers He has given you; only look in sincerity and humility. It is only because I am humble, because I am content to give up my own ideas and notions, to take the truth because it is God’s, to believe that it is good and right. It is only so I can discover harmony in this universe, and I am sent (he says) with a loud voice to proclaim this to you.”

Ladies’ Guild,
December 5th, 1853.

TO GERTRUDE.

Ruskin has been here. All went as well as I could possibly wish. He was most delighted with the things, as showing the wonderful power we possess of introducing and preserving colour. He gave us some most interesting and useful hints about colour, and ordered five slabs to be painted for him; adapting two of the designs he wanted from some we had, which Mr. Terry was to go to his house to do on Monday. He offered to lend us some things to copy. If you had seen the kind, gentle way in which he spoke, the interest he showed, the noble way in which he treated every subject, the pretty way in which he gave the order, and lastly, if you had seen him as he said on going away, his eyes full of tears, “I wish you all success with all my heart,” you would have said with me that it was utterly wonderful to think that that was the man who was accused of being mad, presumptuous, conceited and prejudiced. If it be prejudice to love right and beauty, if it be conceited to declare that God had revealed them to you, to endeavour to make your voice heard in their defence, if it be mad to believe in their triumph, and that we must work to make them triumph, then he is all four, and may God make us all so!... All my sisters, Kitty and Mama, have given me Mr. Maurice’s “Ancient Philosophy” and have written in it “From her sisters in affection and work.” This sentence makes me very happy. I know it is true. I know our work has bound us together.... Another thing happened on Sunday which pleased me very much. Mr. Neale heard Miranda talking about my birthday; and he said he was going to give me Mr. Maurice’s “Prophets and Kings of the Old Testament.” He came on Sunday on purpose to bring it. It seems such a glory that he does look upon us as related to him, not merely as receivers of wages, that he considers us workers with him. All that I have struggled to accomplish, so long and so wearily, seems just now to be succeeding, all fruitless as the work has seemed; the seeds buried, dead as I thought them, have sprung above the ground.

Ladies’ Guild,
January 10th, 1854.

TO GERTRUDE.

Mr. Cooper gave me last night a copy of the Address of the congregation at Lincoln’s Inn to Mr. Maurice. He had asked Mr. Ludlow for it on purpose for me, and Mr. Ludlow had written my name on it.

I got “Yeast” for Miranda. Have you ever read it, and do you remember that Barnakill forbids Launcelot to be an artist? It has made a great impression on me.

Hillside,
February 10th, 1854.

MIRANDA TO MISS JOANNA GRAHAM.

You have not heard yet that there is great thought of enrolling the Guild as an Industrial Society, under the new Act. Would it not be very nice? Mr. Neale had drawn out a set of rules; and he sent them to Mama for her to approve or make her remarks upon. There are however some difficulties in the way.

I have not yet been able to write a recollection of that very beautiful class at Mr. Maurice’s; but I hope to do it.

Ladies’ Guild,
June 11th, 1854.

TO GERTRUDE.
(Speaking of Hillside.)

I hope that I may never, as long as I live, forget the sunny, bright happy hours I have passed there. There remains in my mind a recollection, a vision of beauty connected with it, which can never be effaced....

Mr. Maurice has been speaking to-day of sacrifice as the link between man and man, and man and God. It was such a sermon! One feels as if all peace and quiet holiness were around one; everything appears to have a beauty and calm in it, to which we can turn back in times of storm and wild noisy rivalries, as to the memory of sunny days, and to shed a light on all dark and difficult things, on sorrow and loneliness....

It is so still! A garnet coloured glass is on the table full of bright golden buttercups, and grass; now the door is open they tremble in the wind, carrying one back to slopes of long grass full of buttercups and sorrel, as the evening wind sweeps over it.

[Sidenote: INFLUENCE OF RUSKIN AND F. D. MAURICE]

September 17th, 1854.

TO MIRANDA.
(In the Lake Country.)

I have spent three happy evenings with Miss Rogers. I have had a very interesting conversation on religion with Charlie Bennett, Harry and Mr. Rogers.... You cannot think what pleasure your notes have been, telling us, as they do, of a life of rest and beauty. One doesn’t seem to know much about that sort of thing, and yet they seem to speak of home to you, as not many things do. One thing will be that you will be able to understand Ruskin infinitely better than you would have done. I imagine that some of the descriptions, that appear to us bright images of things almost vague at times (they are so far off), will remind you of actual beauties that you have really seen, memories connected with life. Ruskin has done something to rescue many things from vagueness. He has embodied them in words which will convey these impressions they gave you, as nobody else ever has, I believe....

I have been to Westminster Abbey with Miss Cons, have I ever spoken about her to you? It seems to me that she is capable of a very great deal. She said something the other day about Mr. Maurice and Walter Cooper that made me very angry. I told her I would never tell her anything again; however, instead of that, I told her a great deal more than I ever did before. I told her that it was he who had led me to the Church, who had shown me a life in the creeds, the services and the Bible; who had interpreted for me much that was dark and puzzling in life; how the belief in a Father, a Son and a Holy Ghost might be the most real faith, not a dead notion; that I might believe, not only that God was manifesting himself to each man in the inward consciousness of light and beauty in himself and all around; that those had led to infinite perplexities and doubts, but that a real person had come amongst us, who had known the Father, whose will had been brought into harmony with His; that He was stronger than doubts and sorrow and had overcome them; that He had declared that we might have life, that life was knowledge of God. From this conversation came a determination that Miss Cons and I should read the Theological Essays together.

... Oh if you could but see my ferns and all my things here. I have so many things I want to do in this room, but they all want money, sometimes as little as threepence, sometimes several pounds. It is perfect, because everything is progressing. The ivy will some day creep around the windows. I shall some day know my books better, and perhaps at last the room will be all grey stone, the window Gothic, and there may be pictures of my own painting; and the stony walls may be covered with wild masses of leaves standing out boldly in the sunlight, with their shadows sharp and dark on the grey background.

I began this letter to-day, as the first sunbeam fell on my flowers. Nobody could have been happier. Now I have run up from work to finish it, feeling very cross. Kitty has complained to Mama that Miss Cons and I make a great deal of noise. We never do anything but talk. Never mind! she’ll find me silent enough.

[Sidenote: INFLUENCE OF RUSKIN]

Ladies’ Guild,
March 14th, 1855.

TO EMILY.

I find on reflection that it will be a rather more difficult undertaking than I imagined to write to you every two days. However I will do my best.

You will have seen, by this time, what a wonderful event is about to take place in my life, and will, no doubt, have realized what it will be to me. But, however wonderfully you may all enter into my feelings, or even discover them, I do not think any of you can really understand what this is to me, unless you could have looked into my heart continually for three years, and seen how at first he was only a friend of Mr. Furnivall’s[12]; then how his books were everything and he nothing; then how his name suggested a vision of vague beauty and distant and indefinite glory.... Still he was distant, almost unreal. He might be in Italy, or Palestine, or he might be passing me at that moment.... Perhaps in a year or two hence I may tell you what my thoughts were, and are at this period;—but, all this time I was learning to admire him more and more, and now leave the rest till after Friday.

I send you a prospectus of the College, which I beg you will return. Walter Cooper was with us last night; but I don’t think we heard any news.

Anna Mary (Howitt) has fulfilled her promise to lend me “Modern Painters.” She sent them yesterday; I leave you to put in all the marks of admiration and the “oh how delightfuls!” according to your own fancies; working people have no time for anything but facts, (not that the delight of reading “Modern Painters” is less a fact than that the book is in this house), but——

I am very bright to-night, as you may perceive, and am writing this in the most comfortable way, in bed. Tell F. that I expect she is quite a woman, and is quite independent of my letters, and, as I promised to write to you, she must not expect letters from me; but she must accept my kindness to Pussie, and my care of her plants, as the affectionate proof of my remembrance and friendship. Will you, dear children, think of me very earnestly on Friday at two; and try to see poor Mansfield’s[13] grave? I suppose there is not a single fern. You know how much I want them.

I’m getting a toothache with sitting up in the cold; so I must lie down and read. I’ve written to accept Ruskin’s invitation.

Ladies’ Guild,
March 16th, 1855.

TO EMILY.

There is only one thing to speak about just now, Ruskin. I have been,—fancy! We could not get an omnibus which would pass the door, without waiting till it would be too late. We took one which brought us to Camberwell Gate; we tore along, thinking we were late, and too much engrossed by that idea, to see or think of anything else. At last we arrived at a green gate with a lodge. We asked for Mr. Ruskin, and were sent on to the house. Imagine a handsome mansion or large villa, a broad sweep of gravel road leading to it, bordered by a lawn, on which stood an immense cedar of Lebanon, on the other a bank covered with golden celandines in full flower, and shaded by immense elms. Ascending a flight of steps leading to a glass door, we looked into a handsome hall; a footman came and showed us upstairs; we entered Mr. Ruskin’s study, and he was there. He received us very warmly, asked us about our journey there, and about the weather, which I then for the first time perceived. The room was lofty, the furniture dark, the table covered with papers, the walls rich with pictures, a cabinet full of shells, with a dead fern or two; and looking out of the window over a garden (I never looked at it) on to a field which sloped very gently, more like a bit of park, large trees on it, with their shadows strongly marked by the bright sun, and very still; beyond, slopes of meadow and woodland, over which the shadows of large white clouds kept passing. Mr. Ruskin was very kind, and showed us numbers of manuscripts, which I admired more than I had any idea of, and sketches. He evidently thought my design well done, admired the fir and bramble, blamed my not knowing exactly what colours I should put everywhere, and illustrated these things—that in a fine design each thing is of importance, that the effect of the whole would be spoilt by the alteration of any part; that simplicity of form is needful to show colour; that no colour is precious till it is gradated; that grass is more yellow than we think; that holly is not green (made only with blue and yellow) (_sic_) but with crimson and white in it; that it is impossible to have colour on paper so light and so living as in nature; that, in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, work becomes coarser, more floral, less grotesque than in the thirteenth. We had a delightful conversation about one thing. I remarked what a world of beauty he was surrounded with; and he answered that, if I could change places with him, I should be no happier than I am now. I said I knew that very well; but I affirmed there was a positive pleasure in a beautiful thing. He said he was very covetous, always wanting more; and that he desired happiness, but from the success of what he was doing; that he would part with all he possessed, if he could thereby insure that some real illuminators would arise. We then, though quite consistent, appeared to change sides in the argument. I said that there was as much pleasure to be found in London as in the country; that the beauties were more valued when seen, and the scraps of beauty more loved. He said that man was not meant to be in a constant state of enthusiasm (of which by the way we stand in no danger); that the blessing of the country was more negative; that brick walls were a positive pain. I said that I was very glad to say that, although sometimes feeling crushed by the ugliness, I could forget it. He ended by saying that, as I was fond of the country, he hoped after May, when the weather was warm, I should often go down there; and then, altering the reason of the invitation, he said that, if I wanted to refresh my memory and come to see his MSS., I could come any day and chance finding him at home; or, if I would send a line the day before, he would try and be at home. This is not half of this conversation, and we had several others, to say nothing of illustrations and propositions.

And now, M., do you, or do you not wish to hear what I think of it; that _that_ which is asked for is given; that, well-used, this friendship (?), so happily begun, may be a long and growing one; that I have seen a world of beauty; and that this might be the opening to a more glorious path; and that I would give years, if I could bring to Ruskin “the peace which passeth all understanding”?

[Sidenote: WORK FOR RUSKIN]

Ladies’ Guild,
March 19th, 1855.

TO EMILY.

I ought to have written yesterday; but, as I cannot write on Saturdays, I thought it was well to get to the right days again. You must not think it unkind, if I do not write to you again, as Mr. Ruskin has lately sent us some work to do. Of course I wish to do it; so, as there is other work wanted, I shall have to do it in the evening. Mr. Maurice also will be home on Wednesday; and I am not sure that we shall not be admitted to two meetings there are to be.... Tell F. her kettle mourns day and night at its loneliness, and muses over its utter uselessness; and the book-case looks sadly dejected, but it has not told me the reason.

Don’t expect a merry letter to-night. I am rather dejected.... I often wish now I were quite free and could work at what I liked.... It requires a strong heart to go on working, without anyone caring whether you are longing to do anything else. I am going to work all the Fast[14] day at Ruskin’s things; and God give me a brave heart, for I am sure nothing else can.

Dear child, I hope you are happy and enjoying the country very much. I long to see Mr. Maurice again. When I do, I shall have more to tell you, if I have time to write. I am very wretched. I am not to begin Ruskin’s work to-morrow.... I am trying very hard not to complain. If I have attained so far thro’ all obstacles of three long years, surely I shall be helped to go farther; and surely there is a reward, there is a use in all the long hours I have worked, all the energy I have given; surely there is a brighter day coming. He who works for man must look to man for his reward; but we have worked for God, and He will reward us.

Ladies’ Guild,
March 21st, 1855.

TO EMILY.

Thank you very much for your letter. I am very much interested by your account of that clergyman. I should think from what you say, that his influence must be very good. The mere fact of the congregation being so poor and degraded would seem to shew it. It is very difficult to tell what the doctrines of a man are from one sermon; and very likely you heard the worst side of them.

I have been to Lincoln’s Inn to-day, and have heard Mr. Maurice, and have seen Mr. Hughes, Mr. Kingsley and Mr. Ludlow. Mr. Cooper advises me to go and see whether we shall be admitted at the meeting. Mr. Kingsley will preach at Bethnal Green on Sunday evening. I am in the very heart of painting Ruskin’s designs, really enjoying it.

[Sidenote: SERMON BY F. D. MAURICE]