I didn’t want the gift made unwillingly, nor, certainly, insincerely; but the latter I never suspected. To me the real man is the man when his hope is brightest, and the vision of what may be almost trembles into certainty, that that best thing is. This is the man I see and know, see as I myself believe that he will be when the veils are rent asunder, and he sees, after having learnt what it is to be alone and blind. To me too there is much the same kind of distinction between a man’s distinctly grasped and well defined opinions, and his gleams of what may be beyond them, as Browning shows, between his achieved work and visions of better things, when he says:—
Then she quotes the three verses beginning “Not on the vulgar mass,” from Rabbi Ben Ezra.
I am not a little amused that the idea that the best man is the real man should seem to you in any way new. I am sure you must always have felt it and acted on it, with children, with wrong-doers, when they, whom you have watched and cared for, have wandered from what is right; whenever you have tried to reconcile a quarrel, whenever you have tried to forgive anyone who has done you a wrong. It can only be the definite way of putting the thought into words that can be new. I think all the sense of peace one is able to have in this world comes from this conviction; certainly all who have tried to reform themselves owe their strength to this faith. It seems to me the only ground for preaching freedom, and the only right foundation for hope for any of us.... Miss Cons came out with such a great proffer of help that it made me feel how real her friendship was, whatever little clouds or freaks might obscure it; how it was something that might be depended on in need, and was real and true all the time. It did me such good. I came down here quite encouraged.
I wonder what you would think of life here. I often feel how much most people would learn and gather from men actually engaged in the political world’s work; and how much I lose it all, for need of knowledge enough to learn. I come in, like some queer new being, from another region; but I think it enlarges one even to see and listen to those whose interests are so different. Lady Ducie I know you would like heartily and deeply. I feel it a great privilege to see her so thoroughly. What a strange thing it is to glide so wholly into a sense of ease and perfect harmony with such a variety of people as I know, and to meet them on such simple human grounds of sympathy!
Octavia had her party of 300 costermongers from Drury Lane last night. She did not sit down once from 3 o’clock till past eleven, nor did she eat in the interval. It was a grand success. The people thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Of course they did ample justice to the tea, and liked the music so much,—poor people. Miss Antoinette Sterling sang beautiful, rather solemn, music, in her rich alto voice. When she and her friend came in in opera cloaks, the people cheered; “it was all the opera cloaks,” she said to Octa.... The clergyman was enthusiastically delighted, and told O. she should have a great hall in his parish whenever she wanted it....
Mrs. Hill to Mrs. Edmund Maurice.
... Mr. Barnett’s illness is sad.... Octa went there on Sunday evening, and had a very interesting talk with him. She asked him what would be the end of the East End. Would it disperse, or what? He said he thought it would change; that there is a great deal of building going on countrywards—houses that implied an income of £500 a year or so;—these were taken by people who had got their money in the East End, and who would continue their connection with it, and help to raise it. He thinks it more airy than the West End. His house is better built than Mr. Hart’s in Queen Anne Street. Mr. and Mrs. Hughes sent Octa a pressing invitation for Sunday evening;—but the Barnetts won.... O. is going to dine this evening at the Seeleys’. She keeps wonderfully well, and is as busy as a bee—in and out—in and out—very like a bee—and like it too in her happy murmurings whilst at work, and evident pleasure in the work....
Thank you very much indeed for the letter of introduction to Professor Caird.... I hope I may have time to see him; but I shall only be there two nights, and have my time pretty well promised.... M. will tell you that the C.O.S., St. Mary’s, the Council, and a private lesson prevent us from taking any other day for the excursions, except Wednesday.
I did not manage to say to you to-day what I was wanting much to say, which was that, in spite of the extreme kindness and beautiful feeling shown by whoever has given all this help, I must request you not to receive for me one farthing more. The thing is done, beautifully, efficiently, abundantly; there really it must rest. I have more than enough for holidays and everything I can possibly want, as much as ever I wish to have. And it is one thing to accept once for all a great gift like this; and quite another to take help for special objects in this way. I do assure you I would rather not; in fact I simply can’t do it. I don’t know that I could logically defend my position, but I feel the distinction very deeply; and I do assure you I mean what I say. richer than I ever did, and able to do things I never dreamed of doing. But once more and most emphatically I decline more. I have enough.
It is very nice being again right down among the tenants; and, oh! dear me! how things do get on when one does them oneself! It has all caused a great change in my life; for I have now four nights weekly engaged among the people,—often five; so I have to refuse nearly every invitation that comes, and, except for my near fellow-workers, I see little of anyone, except the poor. However, the fellow-workers are now very numerous, and care to take trouble to see one.
Andy and the girls are entering most heartily into one or two plans for the poor. Agnes Yarnall’s[72] great interest is such a help among the girls. The girls are to issue invitations, devise entertainments, and order things for the tenants’ children’s party. And Miranda and they are to practise sacred music for one of the St. Jude’s Soirées (i.e. for Mr. Barnett’s church in Whitechapel). I am so glad, for the old interest appeared to have cooled so of late years; but now they are full of it. I went a long walk with the Barnetts at Wimbledon; it was so lovely, and I brought back fresh green moss, and a few gorse flowers.
Mrs. Hill to Mrs. Edmund Maurice.
... Octavia’s affairs do grow. This morning she received offers of four other properties. I don’t know that she will accept them. Miss Cons and Octa have gone to dine at Mrs. Backhouse’s.... O. was tempted by the attraction of meeting her dear Mr. Cropper; else it was a struggle to her to give up the Charity Organisation Committee.... O. proposes to take me to Normandy for a fortnight.
... I think all went very well; and the deep purpose of Octavia’s statesmanship—for which the party was given, that of uniting St. Mary’s people somewhat—seemed to have succeeded. I feel frightened, when I discover what deep reasons of state Octavia has for her actions. I am afraid of spoiling some political combination (parochial rather than political) by some awkwardness of mine, from being wholly incapable of telling what it all means. I feel as if Octavia were a kind of Cecil in her sphere....
We were much amused, because we heard there was to be a children’s service, after which a collection was to be made for some benevolent institution for schoolmasters and schoolmistresses. I thought the children would not be willing to give. Octavia thought they might, if they looked on it as a propitiatory sacrifice; or if they hoped to pension off the teachers quickly, as infirm and unable to teach. Then Miss S. told us that Lord Shaftesbury had once asked a boy why the Eunuch “went on his way rejoicing,” and the boy replied, “Because Philip had done the teaching of him, Sir.”
... I was longing for news of you when the rumour reaches me that your Report is really out. What that will really mean to you of suspense, anxiety, of doubt of what it will be right under given circumstances to do or not to do, I can only imagine. But this I know, and should care for you to know,—that one, at least (one who is probably the sample of many), will be thinking of you with love and perfect trust. Whatever the newspaper critics, the interested officials, the angry partisans, may say, there are those who know that your work has been done with conscience, patience, singleness of eye and heart. There are those, too, who know that out of such work God will in His own time bring results valuable to the world; that it is like good seed sown in good ground; and, though it may seem to die for a time, it will bear fruit. No momentary ebullition of feeling, no apparent failure, can ever confuse us as to this, we shall not be puzzled by having to wait for results;—nor will any minor points draw our attention from the fact that the work is thoroughly sound and good, governed by a right spirit; and it will vindicate itself as such, in the best of all possible ways, by achieving success, in the deepest sense of that much abused word “success.”
You and I know that it matters little if we have to be the out-of-sight piers driven deep into the marsh, on which the visible ones are carried, that support the bridge. We do not mind if, hereafter, people forget that there are any low down at all; if some have to be used up in trying experiments, before the best way of building the bridge is discovered. We are quite willing to be among these. The bridge is what we care for, and not our place in it; and we believe that, to the end, it may be kept in remembrance that this is alone to be our object. But as we are human piers, conscious of our own flaws, we are apt to fear that, so far from forming strong supports, we may, through our own defects, be weak foundations for the bridge. We must remember always that God has been always pleased to build His best bridges with human piers, not angels, nor working by miracles; but that He has always let us help Him, if we will, never letting our faults impede His purposes, when we struggled that they should not....
... I shall be home on the 28th, when I shall hear of any important article. I fancy your part is done; and that you will now have the easier duty of passive silence, leaving whatever has to be said to others.... Edmund wants much to have a copy of your Report, and would like, too, to write an article for the “Contemporary,”[73] if you know of no one doing it. Charles (Lewes) is sure to know how to get the information that he needs.
This rest has been such a blessed thing for me. I got such a break from responsibilities of work as I never remember since I was a child.
My great fear was Miss P.’s leaving, as she is independent of salary. Her greatest friend tells me that at first she thought it all almost overpoweringly sad. I remember that she wanted to help people more, and do repairs faster, than I thought wise. I told her to do exactly what she thought right as to helping them with money. But I told her strongly what I believed, and urged her to watch the result closely. I told her the amount to be spent for repairs, and that she must not exceed that; but that she might spend it exactly as she chose in the house under her care. It has ended in her feeling great loving confidence in my greater experience, appealing to it most willingly, and yet exercising and enjoying power, which has made her very much attached to the tenants and the house that I gave her to manage. I look for great help from her in the future, and I am very fond of her indeed.
I think the division of the work is going really very well. It makes a great difference certainly to my work; it is quite curious how it simplifies matters; of course it remains to be seen whether the things are well done; but if not, we must improve or change our workers. At least now we and they know their duties; and they have a chance of proving if they are, or can grow to be, up to them. If we succeed at all, we shall succeed much better than ever. Dear Miss Cons is more good and sweet than words can express; but the pain to her is still very great, and thro’ her is costing me a great deal. I, however, have the consolation of clearly seeing the better end. The other workers are most happy in their freedom and distinct responsibility, and in coming nearer to me; and I shall know better what is in them.
We had a teetotal meeting at B. Crt. on Thursday. Mr. Smale is going to take the lead there in the teetotal cause. It was very touching and very beautiful to see him take the pledge. He looked so young and so good, and took it wholly for the sake of the people. The speeches of the men from an old established teetotal club, “The Dauntless,” were very beautiful. I never heard anything straighter from the heart, nor saw more living fire burning in men’s eyes. We have begun a series of paid entertainments in B. Crt. on successive Saturdays. Last night the season opened with a capital play by the MacDonalds. The room was crowded to overflowing. The next performance is to be an operetta by Mrs. Baylis and her friends.... Mary! I do so often tremble lest I should spoil all by growing despotic or narrow-minded, or overbearing, or selfish; such power as I have is a quite terrible responsibility; and so few people tell me where I am wrong.
This letter refers to the attacks of the medical officer on the B—— houses.
I enclose copy of attack, and will send one of my answer as soon as I can. I am afraid the meeting may be much more troublesome in consequence; but I am glad that it is fixed independently of all this. My fear is that the meeting may appear to them extorted by fear; but we can but do our best. Of course it must deal with the same questions. Much will depend on the result of Thursday’s Vestry, on which occasion I have asked to have my letter read, when Dr. ——’s report comes up.
Everyone has been kinder than I can well say; but the sort of thing is troublesome and tiring very.
... Mr. Bosanquet says the Vestry cannot condemn the houses. Octavia has called a meeting of B. Court tenants to consult as to how they can keep things in better order, keep front doors shut, &c.... She is very sorry it should happen now; but she had fixed the meeting before this Vestry row occurred. She fears the tenants will be in a very bad state, because of this affair; and I fear she will come back very dispirited. It almost feels like that old Walmer Street meeting. She wants to get co-operation; and the people think she is only to hear complaints.
The result seems satisfactory on the whole. The Vestry did adopt Dr. W.’s report; but the question of the measures to be taken was referred to Dr. W. and Octavia together. She was asked if she would be satisfied with that, and said she would. She said this on the strength of Mr. E. Hart’s co-operation,—who had seen Dr. W. the evening before the Vestry meeting, and had shown him how utterly untenable his position was. Mr. Hart looked into the matter thoroughly with O., and said he thought she had a very good case; and that, if Dr. W. persisted, he would only get into difficulties. So, Dr. W. was most anxious to retreat, and agreed to have a meeting with O. and Mr. Hart to settle measures of reform after the Vestry meeting.... Several strangers in the Vestry were very nice about O., and the feeling very much in her favour at last.
I don’t like the idea of simply repaying the balance after repairs are paid for. These repairs are so vaguely enormous that we should never know where we are. Besides, I fancy all successful management of finance depends on walking open-eyed forward, having weighed possibilities and results....
I have just returned to-day from Leeds, after such a happy visit, in which I do hope I have been really successful. The conference was most interesting, and composed of very influential people. They collected £3,000 at once, which is ample to buy and improve the court they want to begin on; and they will wisely begin on a small scale. Evidently more help would be forthcoming directly if wanted. I don’t think the Corporation will move yet. Everyone was kind, tho’ they were all strangers. Somehow it was all very bright and seemed to contrast strangely with Dr. ——’s memories.
The following letter requires a word of explanation. Ruskin had written to Octavia quoting the words which Carlyle used about her:—“Of a most faithful disposition, with clear sagacity to guide it. You can’t get faithful people; they’re quite exceptional. I never heard of another like this one.” (A pause) “The clear mind and perfect attention, meaning nothing but good to the people, and taking infinite care to tell them no lies.”
I am more touched than I can well tell you, at your thinking of sending me Carlyle’s words in the midst of all your trouble. It was very kind and showed me,—what I cared for most about it—that you had not given a bad account of me to Carlyle; for, as he does not know me, he must have judged me from your account, I like to presume. But, besides the comfort of finding an old friend speaking kindly of me, I must say the words, coming from Carlyle, came to me like the blessing of a prophet; something as if they partly bound me to live up to them, partly crowned me with honour for having suggested them, and partly soothed me for present troubles, and helped me to see how ephemeral they were....
I am avoiding all newspapers, meetings and committees, and just going on my own way, with silence and sound work and patience. How my friends have come round me no words will describe; and I do believe, and must believe that I shall win in the deep sense of the word “win,” in the long run. But somehow Carlyle’s words came, as I say, like a fresh message, teaching me to see all he has taught so magnificently, that the true thing is the strong thing, and that the perfect act will prevail against the wordy clamour.
The words shall be a standard for me to live up to.
I have been prevented from telling you in answer to your lovely letter, that what Carlyle said was absolutely his own gathering and conclusion from what he had seen and read of you, or heard, in various general channels, and had no reference whatever to any report or praise of mine. I am very glad I had it to send you just when you are beginning to feel the Adversary at last rousing himself; and that you respect Carlyle so much as to be rejoiced by his thoughts of you.
The next letter refers to the housing scheme at Leeds.
On the practical side, Miss Octavia Hill had extraordinary mastery of detail. She was kind enough, when I was living in Leeds, to accept an invitation to come and describe her methods to a company, chiefly of business men. We arranged a meeting in the theatre of the Philosophical Hall, and some of the leading citizens were there. I well remember the surprise of some of them at the clearness—not only of her opening exposition—but of her spontaneous replies to questions concerning all sorts of matters affecting the treatment of house property, sanitation, repairs, bad debts.