HERE is a richness and transparency in Mr. Ruskin's writing that has scarcely ever been equalled. Such beauty and power of expression is not to be found in any letter which I have received. He is the best letter-writer of his or any age." Such is the opinion of Miss Mitford on the letters of Mr. Ruskin, and those who have read the Arrows of the Chace will be inclined to agree with the verdict of the accomplished author of Tales of Our Village. Every word Mr. Ruskin has written is of more than ephemeral interest, so that no apology is needed for presenting to his admirers the following letters, selected from a large number written to a relative of my own, and locked up in a desk for more than thirty years,-letters 119. August, 1893. penned at the time when the brilliant "Graduate of Oxford" was startling the worlds of literature and art with his volumes of Modern Painters. The young man to whom the letters were sent is thus referred to by Mr. Ruskin in the ninth letter of Fors Clavigera (1871):— "Some ten or twelve years ago, when I was first actively engaged in art teaching, a young Scottish student came up to London to put himself under me, having taken many prizes (justly, with respect to the qualities looked for by the judges) in various schools of art. He worked under me very earnestly and patiently for some time; and I was able to praise his doings in what I thought very high terms: nevertheless, there remained always a look of mortification on his face after he had been praised, however unqualifiedly. At last he could hold out no longer, but one day, when I had been more than usually complimentary, turned to me with an anxious, yet not unconf dent expression, and asked, 312 Do you think, sir, that I shall ever draw as well as Turner?" Mr. Ruskin's reply was characteristic: "It is far more likely you should be made Emperor of all the Russias. There is a new Emperor every fifteen or twenty years, on the average; and by strange hap, and fortunate cabal, anybody might be made Emperor. But there is only one Turner in five hundred years, and God decides, without any admission of auxiliary cabal, what piece of clay his soul is to be put in." The first letter 1 which comes to my hand is dated from Fribourg, 6th August, 1854, and reads: DEAR MR. I was indeed very glad, as you thought I should be, to have your long chatty letter-one never can have letters too long when one is travelling-only some parts of said letter are founded on a little misapprehension of my meaning. I am sure I never said anything to dissuade you from trying to excel, or to do great things. I only wanted you to be sure your efforts were made with a substantial basis, so that just at the moment of push, your footing might not give way beneath you, and also, I wanted you to feel that long and steady effortmade in a contented way-does more than violent effort-made for some strong motiveor under some enthusiastic impulse. And I repeat-for of this I am perfectly sure-that the best things are only to be done in this way. It is very difficult thoroughly to understand the difference between indolence and reserve of strength-between apathy and serenity-between palsy and patience-but there is all the difference in the world-and nearly as many men are ruined by inconsiderate exertion, as by idleness itself. To do as much as you can healthily and happily do each day, in a well-determined direction-with a view to far-off results-and with present enjoyment of one's work is the only proper the only eventually profitable way. I find scattered through your letter some motives which you have no business to act upon at all"That I may show those of my own blood that they might be proud of me." "If for nothing else than to show our prejudiced folks that I could do something"-are by no means sufficient reasons for going into the life class. I am afraid of this prize-getting temper in you-chiefly I suppose because I have suffered much from it myself-vanity of various kinds having caused to me the waste of half my life, in making me try to do things better than I could, or to do things that I couldn't do, or to do them in ways that would bring me credit, instead of merely in the proper way. I lost half the good of my college life by over-exertion in cramming for honours-half the use of my vacations, when I ought to have been at rest-in writing prize poems-not to count the innumerable vexations and irritations which pride causes throughout 1 A small portion of this letter appears in Wedderburn's Ruskiniana. one's life-and I would the more earnestly press the consideration of this on you because I see you act under the influence of many good and noble motives-wishing to keep and comfort your mother, and to do good to your fellow creatures, yet it seems to me that you do not quite know how inexpressibly subtle and penetrating the principle of pride is-how it mingles itself with and even pretends itself to be and takes the likeness of, the noblest feelings in the world-and what a constant struggle it needs even to detect-much more to expel it. It is like oxygen in iron-the hottest fire will not expel it altogether-and it steals in with the very air we breathe, turning all our steel into rust. Therefore it is that I urge on you the consideration of what I know to be true, that it is not by any effort of which you can possibly be vain, that you will do great things. Things that require steady labour there are indeed for all of us to do-but they are the coalheaving part of our life; and to be done with a slow step, and a bent back-patiently, not in a passion—and not trying to beat our brother coalheavers-but only to carry as many coals as we can comfortably. But the great things-which require Genius to do -are done easily, if you have the genius. If you are to do anything that is really glorious— and for which men will for ever wonder at you-you will do it as a duck quacks-because it is your nature to quack, when it rains. However, the short and the long of it is, that if you can at all afford time to practise in it, I think you should certainly go into the drawing and modelling classes. As for life I don't know. I think you will have changed some of your ideas about drawing before you come to it, and then we can talk over the matter. Figure sculpture cannot now be introduced in architecture, because we have no costume-and our nakedness is ignoble-so that all our figure sculpture is necessarily mere imitation Greek or imitation mediæval. It makes me sick, as if people were to feed me with meat that somebody else had chewed. We can have beasts and plants-for beasts-thank God-still keep their old manners and their old coats. How far drawing the human figure from the life is necessary to enable you to understand beasts, I don't know-but I rather think it might be well -for you can't get beasts to stand still to be studied, and when you can draw a man you can draw anything. You say you must work hard to keep you from evil. Will not hard play do as well? I don't think God has put any passions in the human frame which may not be subdued in healthy manner, as long as it is necessary to subdue them-I wish you would ask a clergyman about this. I would accept your promise with gratitude, if I thought that it would be safe for you to make it. But I believe, there is no means of preserving rectitude of conduct and nobleness of aim but the grace of God, obtained daily, almost hourly-waiting upon Him and continual Faith in His immediate Presence. Get into this habit of thought, and you need make no promises. Come short of this, and you will break them, and be more discouraged than if you had made none. The great lesson we have to learn in this world is to give it all up: it is not so much resolution as renunciation-not so much courage as resignation that we need. He that has once yielded thoroughly to God will yield to nothing but God. As to the missal, it is the first page, 3, 4 Genesis, that I should like. Mind you don't do it but at your leisure. I shall be delighted to see you in London. I shall, D.V., be there about 1st December, all winter; I shall be out of town in October and November. In order to draw the page conveniently, I should like you to invent a little desk for it, to slope to any angle, with little flat ivory teeth to hold the pages open at any place he gave his Scotch student on the subject of prize competition in these decided terms "It was the first time that I had been brought into direct collision with the modern system of prize-giving and competition; and the mischief of it was, in the sequel, clearly shown to me, and tragically. This youth had the finest powers of mechanical execution I have ever met with, but was quite incapable of invention, or strong intellectual effort of any kind. Had he been taught early and thoroughly to know his place, and be content with his faculty, he would have been one of the happiest and most serviceable of men. mere pegs cut the leaves and I should like the ivory holders to be bored, as at a-b-c-d -SO attached as always to fit without pressure-sliding out or in, according to the thickness of book opened, then the whole to be enclosed in a good frame of the best wood -and covered with the finest plate glassframe and glass so lifting together as to show the book to the copyist. If you can get such a thing well made, subject to the approval of the librarian, I will make a present of it to the Advocates' Library for this Bible. Ever most truly yours, In the letter I have referred to in Fors Clavigera Mr. Ruskin recurs to the advice FROM A SKETCH BY ARTHUR SEVERN, R.I. But, at the art schools, he got prize after prize for his neat handling; and having, in his restricted imagination, no power of discerning the qualities of great work, all the vanity of his nature was brought out unchecked; so that, being intensely industrious and conscientious, as well as vain (it is a Scottish combination of character not unfrequent), he naturally expected to become one of the greatest of men. My answer not only mortified, but angered him, and made him suspicious of me; he thought I wanted to keep his talents from being fairly displayed, and soon afterwards asked leave (he was then in my employ ment as well as under my teaching) to put himself under another master. I gave him leave at once, telling him, if he found the other master no better to his mind, he might come back to me whenever he chose.' The other master giving him no more hope of advancement than I did, he came back to me; I sent him into Switzerland to draw Swiss architecture; but instead of doing what I bid him, quietly, and nothing else, he set himself, with furious industry, to draw snowy mountains and clouds, that he might show me he could draw like Albert Dürer or Turner ;-spent his strength in agony of vain effort;-caught cold, fell into decline, and died." The accuracy of much of this severe criticism will be apparent from passages in the following letters from Mr. Ruskin to the youth who was so greatly indebted to him for his large and thoughtful generosity :— DEAR- Write immediately to and say that you cannot stay in your present position unless your salary is paid regularly. If he is offended, you may come to me. I never intended you to take my place when the salary was not a settled matter. Leave it instantly, unless it is paid, and stipulate for a regular sum, not one dependent on work, or come to me. Only if you do so at your old salary, you must observe the following conditions: 1st. You must now work for me only, and put all other matters out of your head. If you think you are not getting on with me, leave me. 2nd. You must do what I bid you, about not working at late hours. I was more displeased by your disobeying my positive orders on this point, given you before you went to Chartres, than pleased by all the work you did. Understand, once for all, I will not have this done. You may think I have no right to dictate to you in this matter, but your illhealth gives me trouble and anxiety, and unless you choose to let me regulate your hours of work, I will not have you working for me. 3rd. You are not to come to me with new plans once a fortnight or with speculations about your not getting on. I have no time for that kind of thing. You shall be at liberty to leave me whenever you like; but don't talk about it, until you intend doing it. I would rather for the present year you stayed with--at a fixed salary, but you may come to me whenever you like on these terms. I send the thing and remain Yours affectionately, J. RUSKIN. 2nd March, 1858. DEAR I am much pleased with all your letters and all shall be done as you wish. The money will come to-morrow. I was not surprised at your One sentence surprised me--your saying "Don't think I want to equal you "-why should not I think this? Do you really suppose that I want to keep you back? I have many faults— sensuality covetousness laziness lots of things I could tell you of-but God knows— and I take Him solemnly to witness thereto this day-that if I could make you or any onegreater than myself in any way whatever-I would do so instantly-and my only vexation with my pupils is when I can't get them to do what I think good for them; my chief joy, when they do great things. After a very fatiguing day, I can only -for it is near midnight-write you this line to say I accept your promise, and am about to pray for you that you may be enabled to keep it. Only remember that no human strength can keep it except by instant flight from all temptation-instantly turning the thoughts in another direction. No reasoning or resolution will stand. To turn away the eyes and thoughts is the only way. If you have not been hitherto enabled to do this, you will find that in perfect chastity, of thought and body, there is indeed a strange power, rendering every act of the soul more healthy and spiritual, and giving a strength which otherwise is altogether unattainable. Spenser has set it forth perfectly under the image of the all-conquering Britomart. When I say "no human strength can keep it, except," &c., I mean not that even by flight-human strength can conquer without perpetual help. But God has appointed that His help shall be given only to those who "turn their eyes from beholding vanity"; nay, it is by this help that those eyes are turned. I can only say a word on the question of your letter to which this leads. I never met with but one book in my life that was clear on the subject of works and faith, and that book is the Bible. Read it only on this subject. And I think you will come to the conclusion that though works are not the price of salvation, they are assuredly the way to it, and the only way. I do not mean the Way in the sense in which Christ is the Way, but the way in the sense of the Strait Gate For Christ the Door is not strait, and Christ the Way not narrow. But the short of it isChrist says "When ye have done all that is commanded you, then say we are unprofitable servants." He does not say-Do nothing that is commanded you, and all is right if you say you are unprofitable. Read the Sermon on the Mount. It is work, work, work, from beginning to end. And I believe all the divisions of Christians are caused by their hatred of the simple text-"Whoso heareth my words and doeth them." The Romanists substitute paying and praying for doing-the Scotch, |