I thought you ought to know before the world that the meeting went beautifully to-day. The men’s spirit was really beautiful, so child-like, trustful and dignified. The Prince’s face is refined and intellectual and full of power. His speech was beautiful, very simple and very human, very fluently graceful. Mrs. Benson came, and she and the Prince and the Archbishop were charmed with the men’s spirit, and the naturalness of the whole little ceremony. They said they wished all meetings were like that.... The great certainty as to the thoroughness of the work they had themselves done, mingled with their interest in the Royal visit, was delightful. They were most keen to have a card framed in record of the day, and apologised for not thinking my scrubby little thing quite good enough! I brought them up to the Archbishop telling them he, not I, should sign it, whereupon they explained it was for their “offspring,” that if, L. added “I should live, and he should live to be King, I might tell them I’ve shaken hands with the Crown.” Also they were very emphatic about the hearty good shake of the hand the Prince had given each. “None of your shaking with one little finger. We working men know a right good shake of the hand. We haven’t all been dragged up,” said one man.
I cannot but feel how hard the sacrifice is to you just now; but do you know I really believe that the partnership will be the best. I remember so well somewhat similar trial in my own early life, and how I seemed to have to turn away from my ideal; and, by unexpected ways, I found, years afterwards, that just the sacrifice I had to make brought me, by ways that I did not know, to that ideal. Anyway, I think that the steady work, combined with the love of all high things, will be so good. Anyway, I pray that all may be ordered for you in your Father’s own way for the very best.
Octavia told us a great deal about Charles’s election,[105] all very pleasant. He seems to have won golden opinions by his directness, and has been much touched by the extreme kindness he has received. The election has been conducted on most honourable and courteous terms. Charles says he never should have won but for Gertrude. Her wonderful organising power told on the day. Octa. spoke at the evening meeting (she seems no longer to dread speaking). Charles’s working men were enthusiastic, waited till two o’clock in the morning to hear the result.
The other week Octavia made such a beautiful speech for the C.O.S. at Fulham Palace (the Bishop of London’s). I went with her and Miss Yorke to the meeting there. The old palace is so fine, stands in a park with a moat, and looks as if it were far in the country—not near town at all. There is an old hall, built in Henry VII.’s time (though altered in the last century), with carved wooden screen and ancient full-length portraits.... In that hall the meeting was.... The Bishop—Temple (former headmaster of Rugby), and his wife were very friendly. He gave a most amusing account in his speech of how Miss O. had convinced him and the other Ecclesiastical Commissioners that they were wrong, and she was right, about certain points. He said: “When she had talked to us for half an hour we were quite refuted. I never had such a beating in my life! Consequently I feel great respect for her. So fully did she convince us, that we not only did what she asked us on that estate, but proceeded to carry out similar plans on other estates.” Miss O. supposes he refers to the gift of land for Open Spaces, and is very pleased, not having known before that those gifts were the result of her representations to the Coms. about Red X Garden.
I left Mama at South Lodge this morning. She read me yesterday some of Miss Wedgwood’s book,[106] XI.—the chapter about the Romans and Law. It reminded me a little of things that Mr. Maurice has said, but was very different, too. I was much interested by what she says about the influence of women, as shown in Homer and Virgil, and on to the Middle Ages.
This letter requires a few words of explanation. The long negotiation for securing the addition of Parliament Hill and the adjoining lands to Hampstead Heath, begun in 1884, had just been concluded. They had involved negotiations with the old Metropolitan Board of Works (which expired just at the close of our negotiations), and with two ground landlords, besides appeals to three vestries and to a large number of private persons. The meeting, referred to in the following letter, was held at Grosvenor House to decide on the question of the application of the surplus of the funds raised by the Committee. Octavia and the majority of the Committee were in favour of using the money for the general movement for preserving open spaces; the proposal of the amendment was to apply it to securing access from Kentish Town to the Parliament Hill Fields.
The meeting was a great success, and very animated. It was very full. There were fourteen reporters. The Duke of Westminster came up on purpose to take the chair, but was ill, and could not.
Rogers Field moved his amendment re the balance. Mr. Ewan Christian seconded. There was great excitement, and I thought great sympathy with the amendment. Mr. Baines replied, and then Edmund made a speech. We won by 22 votes. Miss Yorke was very keen, and asked me with great eagerness if she might vote, and did it con amore.
Sir Thos. Farrer[107] made a beautiful speech, referring to his memories of Coleridge and Crabbe at Hampstead. Lord Hobhouse made a fine speech, noble in tone, dwelling on London as a whole, and what it might be, if municipal feeling drew together the great Londoners.
Mr. Saml. Hoare referred to the struggle that he remembered his father had had, nearly alone, to save the Heath itself, and the growth of public interest in the subject. He also spoke of Mr. Shaw-Lefevre’s help in those early difficult days.
Maud[108] was there, and much interested in seeing Mr. Shaw-Lefevre, whose face she much liked.
I had a pleasant Red Cross Committee, very. The gymnasium was in full swing; such a number of great hulking youths, so energetic and happy.
Mr. B. was very much delighted, and said that it did so much good to their physique. He says our sergeant is very good. The appeal for the corps reads so well. Was it you who helped me with it? They propose a meeting, with some military man in the chair, some afternoon at four o’clock; and the local magnates invited by a card, to be sent out with a printed appeal. The men were delighted with the idea, and seemed so full of sympathy and go.
I thought you would like to see Miss Sewell’s nice letter. (Miss Sewell was head of Southwark settlement.) I have, as you will know, replied that we should not dream of any move till winter next year, and must be guided by what we see best then.
I cannot tell whether dear old Marylebone or Southwark will seem the most natural working centre, nor how far such a body as the Settlement would leave you and me enough sense of home.
Lady Nicholson has brought the loveliest panels, painted for Red Cross Men’s Club. A large set of water lilies and other water plants, with bulrushes and kingfishers for the centre over the mantelpiece. A panel with swallows and wild roses, one with titmice, one with a wren, and one with a robin. She has given me £2 for fixing and mounting. Will it not be nice to have all that colour down in Southwark? Miranda and I were there to-day, and found everything looking very nice. M. was much pleased with Gable Cottages.... Miss Cons seems to be doing beautiful work at the L. C. Council, inspiring everyone, and keeping herself in the shade. She amused us much with her account of getting the Lawn resolution passed.
M. and I went to-day to see Mr. Hoole[109] about some more cottages. He was so nice. He is just going to Wells, where you know he is building some cottages for the Bishop. I am so glad to have given him the introduction. He seems to have been delighted with both Bishop and beauty of town.
We have just received a basket of camellias from Hillside. I wish you could see their lovely red and white. That is what I am always wishing about all things. However, the next best thing is the telling you about them.
I went to Waterloo and met Col. Maurice, and we proceeded to Blackheath. A pleasant little victoria met us, and drove us to the Ranger’s Lodge, a house which stands facing Blackheath, with a magnificent view of blue distance; and on the London side such a space of blue quite studded with steeples and towers. The Ranger’s Lodge is an old mansion, with great panelled rooms all painted white, and hung with old portraits. The house belongs to the Queen, and has been given to Lord Wolseley for his lifetime. It belonged to Lord Chesterfield and to Lady Mayo. In what is now the kitchen garden stood the house where Queen Caroline lived; and her mother (the Duchess of Brunswick?) lived in the Ranger’s Lodge. There are twenty acres of lovely old garden, with smooth lawns and great cedar trees; and all round the grounds stretch the glades of Greenwich Park; one magnificent avenue of chestnuts, in full young green, specially delighted me. Lady W. is so delighted with the place.... I was charmed with her, and with her simple, tall, pretty daughter; also I liked Lord W. very much; and it was very interesting to hear him talk. He has a very simple, reverent sort of interest in all sorts of subjects, not his own.... They were all very kind and helpful to me....
Mindful of your words, I was out at 5½ this morning gardening in the cool. The cuckoo and lark kept me glad company.
I am specially interested about article by Col. Maurice, because I have been thinking a great deal about the matter lately. Of course I realise all you say about war; but I do not feel any doubts about the Volunteer Cadet Corps; for at least three reasons. First, I do feel defensive war right, if by sad necessity it should ever be called for, which I greatly doubt. Secondly, because the volunteer movement seems to me a helpful form for preparation to take, contrasting strongly with all standing armies. And a peculiarly safe form for military preparation, because (sic) men who have homes and professions and very varied sympathies and thoughts do not seem to me the least likely to hurry us on to any war. Thirdly, because I do so clearly see that exercise, discipline, obedience, esprit-de-corps, camping out, manly companionship with the gentlemen who will be their officers, will be to our Southwark lads the very best possible education. I see very forcibly all Mr. Brooke says about how it fills a great gap in their education; also I have watched the marvellous growth in the few Queen Street young men who have joined the militia. It has been the saving of them. I dare say a great deal will be said about the movement, on its military side, that I shall in no way agree with; but I a little stand aside, and let the good and true men, who are helping, and whose scheme it really is, carry on, a little by my strength, their own thoughtfully planned scheme; just as I might lend a hall to Salvationists or others, who on the whole were teaching what was right, tho’ I could not myself teach or agree with all they say. Only in this case I am more heartily with my fellow workers. I do feel that neither Mr. Barnett nor Mr. Brooke, who believe this movement reaches a sort of boy that nothing else does, and reforms him, are either of them men to desire to strengthen a love of war. In fact I see, what they, who know the lads better than I, say most emphatically, that all the temptations to war are entirely absent from these boys; they are cowardly and wanting in power of endurance, wanting in power of standing together, worshippers of money. All which the volunteer movement will teach them will, I believe, be helpful. So at least they say, and so I believe, and to a great degree have seen....
I am delighted to think of the day being fixed for seeing you. Miss Yorke is not here to-night, but she would, I know, be delighted for you to come to Crockham. It is the very thing she has been building on, and caring to try to plan for. I long to have you there in the silent, cheerful little house, which catches every ray of sunlight there is, and where, even tho’ we have no real garden, the buttercups, the broom, the forget-me-nots, and the daisies are set like gems among the grass and bright sorrel. Miss Yorke wants you to occupy the room that has access to the balcony, so that we shall have a little out-door sitting-room when we want to be absolutely quiet, and there are writing places and things so that we can sit up there, indoors too, whenever we like. I shall bring down needle work; and I am looking forward to reading and work together; and it seems to me as if it would be so peaceful and so bright. Miss Yorke has specially planned this little separate place, because she knows how much you care for solitude, and how much I am looking forward to a quiet time with you.... I could bring you any or every meal you like. I hope to get the little carriage for some drives; and I am counting the hours till you come. Still I know what a hermit you sometimes like to be.
... No dear Mama, I did not accept the post on the Commission.[110] Even if I could have done the work (and I had no special qualifications), there are others who can and will be pretty sure to do it; and I could not have done it without losing some of the near intercourse with tenants and workers, and even with you all, which makes work go so very differently. I have so often in my life thought, in deciding about taking work, of Marion Earle’s[111] words, when she leaves the work the fashionable people are asking for, and goes to nurse the bed-ridden comrade who is poor and out of sight,
I wrote a very careful letter, not a formal one, in reply, and have had the enclosed very nice answer.
It is strange how that word “Society” is always used for that which is superficial and selfish, if not worse. I have not read Garibaldi’s life, but one gets a vivid idea of it from Mrs. King’s “Disciples.”
Andy will tell you how busy I have been with references for Ossington. It is refreshing to come in contact with such happy-looking neat little homes.... I think a lark has built in our long grass; it returns so often to the same spot; and two wood pigeons frequent the place and perch on the small trees so prettily. The thistles are vigorous; every time I cut them I expect next time they will be weaker, but they are not; however, there are much more various things growing among them, each of which delights me.
I put some heartsease in my dress, a thing I hardly ever do; but there came into my mind that bit from the Pilgrim’s Progress when the shepherd hands it to the pilgrims, and says it grows so well in the Valley of Humility, and comes fresh from the king’s hand every day, and that it increases by sharing. So, feeling a little low at having left you, I put some in my dress and Margy’s brooch on, and sat down to write, a formidable pile of letters being before me.... I am glad to have heard the latter part of the beautiful life of Garibaldi.
Oh it is so lovely here! And it is so delightful to watch what nature has done, now that she has taken possession of the ground, what lovely and various things she has set in it. I have been thinking how you would rejoice in it all. There are wild roses in the hedges, and many more foxgloves than last year; then there are great beds of white clover, and patches of golden lady’s finger, and spaces of buttercup and potentilla, and tall large heads of crimson clover; the pink mallow is in bud; so is the sweet brier; but all these and many more are set in great spaces of the loveliest tall grass and sorrel, every colour from emerald green thro’ gold and silver and grey and orange, to deep crimson and russet brown, gradating one into another, and glowing as the wind bends the tufts of grass.... I keep thinking how you would enjoy the wealth of wild beauty all round; one just steps out of this window and finds oneself on a sort of fraternal nearness with tall grass and stately and lovely flower. Every one that passes away this year I have wished you could see.
You have chosen work which is not after your own heart, rightly, I think; and I believe a great blessing will be on it. I think it will give continuity and reality to a life that might else have gone like so many artists’ lives into freaks and fancies, instead of into practicable, serviceable work, glorified by imaginative thought, high ideals, and artistic joy; but having chosen it, and the days in the main being not what call out your full power, I hope you may have many opportunities of real enjoyment; and for this you will need all spare power, seeing that you will, I know, always be helping those nearest you very abundantly....
I quite feel what you say as to the duty of seeing first to whatever grows naturally out of your own work. It is certainly a first duty, and I should be very wrong if, for the sake of retaining your help, I said a word on the other side. You must discount anything I say with the thought that I may be unconsciously biassed. In fact I hesitate to give advice. For I think you will probably feel your way to what is right for you to do, with a true instinct. But as you ask me, I will tell you one or two things that strike me about it. I understand your letter to mean that there are two kinds of work which might lead you to give up Southwark. One is required for the conduct and development of the business. On this clearly I can give no opinion at all. So far as the Southwark work interferes with due performance of this, clearly it must be given up; and all one would want you to remember is the importance of rightly estimating the “due”; for, first, it must be generously and liberally estimated; secondly it must be estimated with full care of health; and thirdly there is a something, small it may be when one is young, but still a something, which in every life may and should be given to the help of the desolate people and districts out of one’s beat or outside one’s work, which, rightly estimated, and deliberately restricted, may be continued for years, and tell by its continuity, and by the fact that the donor has gained weight and power in other fields.
Then, secondly, I read your letter to mean that you think such gift should be to your own employés, and those nearer you. There I am heartily with you; manifestly that is every man’s first duty, and all the more so, because the coming in contact with them in business also tests the wisdom and truth of the work and its spirit. So that I should naturally have looked forward to that sphere, when the time comes....
I purposely say nothing of how very much I should miss you. I do not like to think of it.
Miranda and I were delighted with the “Ballad-Monger,” and very much interested to think of your pleasure in it. I think Gringoire very wonderful. That artist’s nature, alive from head to heels; that exquisite appreciation of life full of joy, with the utter readiness to lay it down, which comes from holding things, as it were, loosely, because so much by the heart. It gave me a little the same feeling as St. Francis, against whom everything was powerless, because he was above pain, or loss, or death, or exile, or fear, and yet to whom every bird was a brother. The utter unselfishness and dignity of Gringoire was wonderful.
The King and Loyse were each beautiful in their way; the stillness of Loyse when she is, as it were, drawn to him, was very beautiful. We both have to thank you for a great pleasure.
I am probably going to Oxford on the 31st, to read a paper at the opening meeting of the University Extension.... There will be 1,000 people; but I understand them to break up into sections. I do not know what audience I shall have.... (Then follows an account of the “Ballad-Monger”) ... I went to Red X Hall yesterday, as the police band were to play.... It was very nice to talk to the men, and see their great delight in watching the growth of the trees and creepers and plants. Last night I dined at Lambeth; the Archbishop telegraphed to ask me. He is to speak on the clause about children being employed in theatres, in the House of Lords on Monday, and wanted to talk it over. I had time to arm myself with a capital letter from Miss Davenport Hill; and we had a very interesting, and I hope not useless, talk.
The great event of the week was the party at Arthur’s,[112] which was beautiful. The grounds and gardens are lovely.... You will have heard of the torrents of rain as we went to the station, but has anyone told you that the sunlight was quite exquisite all the afternoon?—also that two waggons and two carriages took, I should think, quite 100 people? No one is one bit worse for the rain; they only seem to remember the kindness and the beauty.... We have been making progress towards securing the “Laundry” long desired by Miss Yorke.... Two ladies interested in the neighbourhood have sent £200 to help the scheme forward.
I was so delighted to receive your sweet letter to-day; and quite like a child in my delight at the bags. They are pretty, and the letters exactly what I wanted. We pinned some paper ones on on Tuesday; and they all came off, to the great confusion of the money. Also these nice letters give a kind of individuality which I do like in a bag, or a cup, or anything I use.
I have never thought the world’s regard, or money-success, or worldly surroundings worth anything; and, when they fall away from us, I think that it is often that they may leave us freer to enter into realities.
I return the valuable letter with many thanks to Olive and to you for letting me see it. I had not done so before. I think he is right about the forgiveness; and I think it is hard that any of you should expect a man, who had the place in the world that he had when he knew me as a girl of not fifteen years, should ask forgiveness. Not for a moment do I myself wish it, unless in any way it took away from him the sadness of the memory of what he did. I tell you, most distinctly, I do not think there is very much in the whole affair; that is, when the imperfections of earth and speech are taken away, I do not think that there will be very much to clear up between Mr. Ruskin and me. Till that time, touched as I am by your chivalrous kindness about it, I do seriously assure you I think a merciful silence is at once the best and the most dignified course, for him and me. What has the world to do with it, if we both feel silence all that is needed? There are things that nothing will ever put right in this world; and yet they don’t really touch what is right for all worlds.
I say this for your sake, that you may feel at peace about it all; else nothing would make me say anything. Be at peace about it. I am. I hope Mr. Ruskin is. He may be. The thing is past, let us bury it; that which the earth will not cover, which is not of it, lives in the Eternal Kingdom; and in the thought of it earthly imperfection or mistakes seem very small things.
Thank you so very much for your loving letter. I was so very glad to have news of you. I can imagine what an interest the Home is with all its human work, now that books are more cut off from you than they were; and I like to think, too, that you will have many round you who love you and look to you.
I wonder what you thought of “Asolando.” I have hardly read it all yet. I fear it does not strike me, that it contains any poems on a level with his finest.
When I heard of Browning’s death, in the thought of his rejoining her, I could not help remembering every word of the Epilogue to Fifine, which is very beautiful.
I wish you could hear Mr. Alford’s sermons. No one, since Mr. Maurice, seems to me so abundantly well worth hearing.
I have taken charge of nine new blocks of buildings, within a stone’s throw of this house. We are buying some of the worst houses that remain in Blank Court. I am preparing to build in Southwark, besides all the old work. I have a grand band of workers; but one has much to do for and with them.
Miranda and I concocted a letter to the owners of some dreadful buildings in Southwark, which Miss J. is ready to undertake, asking to have them put under her care. So we have sent that off; and it may bear fruit now or later. Then we finished the accounts of Gable Cottages, and despatched report of same. They are now complete! Then I settled about the painting of Hereford Buildings. We had an evening’s work over Income Tax returns.... To-morrow I collect in Deptford; Miss Hogg is still away; also Mr. T. is sending his manager to talk over matters with me. Then I have to go right up near Paddington to a Com. of the Women’s University Settlement for Southwark. I hope much from the link with them, and the members interest me much. They are all very refined, highly cultivated (all, I fancy, have been at one of the Universities), and very young. I feel quite a veteran among them; and they are so sweet and humble and keen to learn about the things out of their old line of experience. I much delight in thinking one may link their young life with the houses, and hall, and garden in Southwark.
It feels like home now Miranda is back again; and it is wonderful to see the atmosphere of love and peace and duty she spreads round her....
My horse-chestnut and one oak grow quite tall; and all my ferns are in little rolls waiting for a little more warmth and rain and time to uncurl; the children’s voices (but soft and as if far away) are singing hymns in the school; the birds are chirping, and a quiet sense of Sunday calm is over things.
We are busy as usual, and all goes with wonderful success—a sort of thorough, quiet, steady progress and life that often amazes me. The great stir of strikes and free dinners and huge gifts, the excitement of those who feel as if action now alone were beginning, and as if all had to be rearranged, replanted, as it were, before it would grow, touches us little; and in the steady friendship of old days, and slow but definite improvement of tangible things in a few places, work goes quietly forward as the years roll on. We are helped, no doubt, by the wave of right hearty sympathy and sincere sense of duty now pervading the educated classes, and largely helped; and from my heart I thank God for it. But for the crude theories, I can only hope that many of them will be exploded before they do real harm.
The Nineteenth Century article brought Octavia several offers of personal help—one which will be very valuable, I think. Professor Tyndall sent her such a nice letter, full of sympathy with her article, sending her £10, and saying if he were younger he would have offered personal help himself.
Octavia has had so many interviews and so much to decide—a letter from Chief Commissioner about police, interview with Ecclesiastical Commissioners’ man of business about land for more cottages near Red Cross, which she much hopes to get; interview with Lord Rowton about some housing scheme; besides the Red Cross entertainments beginning next week, which all want arranging for. I am glad to say that she has handed over to me a good deal of the correspondence.
I thought you would be glad to know that I had a most satisfactory interview with Mr. De Bock Porter, who represents the Ecclesiastical Commissioners. Times are indeed changed! I saw him about what I call White Cross Cottages; and I think they will meet me most kindly about it. It will be very delightful if I can get six cottages there. It will widen the passage, preserve light and sight of sky in the garden, make the approach to the hall by night much better, besides providing six more pleasant homes for people near the garden. I am so very happy about it! I also had a very useful talk about the whole estate.
I am very much interested about my Southwark building, which is progressing well; think of having twenty more such cottages as Red Cross ones! Our working men are so happy about the arrangements for the “Pilgrim’s Progress.”[113] Each of them will have fifty tickets to give away. They are also very busy and important with the various things with which they can help. It is very pretty and cheering to see them.
... It is time for closing the books for the half-year; and I have been, therefore, specially busy this week, but I hope now we are through the worst of it. On Monday I went to poor Deptford. Lady Maud is doing beautifully; and it is pleasant to follow Miss Hogg’s good work; but poor Miss —— seems to have done badly indeed. I hardly knew to what a miserable extent she depended on me. It is very unfortunate. On Tuesday we had our first Ossington collection. In the afternoon I went to the University Settlement meeting. They had borrowed Red Cross Hall. It was a sad meeting ... but I hope now that difficulty is over. Mr. Loch came and spoke beautifully, striking the right note, and pointing out the practical question before the meeting. They all responded except Miss ——. It was a splendid body of women, young, thoughtful, refined, and earnest, and looking so pretty. The head of Lady Margaret’s Hall, Miss Wordsworth, was there; and Mrs. H. Sidgwick and FitzJames Stephen’s daughter spoke so well.... The Lochs had never seen the Hall, Garden and Cottages before, and were so delighted. After the meeting we had tea and talk. Miss Gladstone was there and very friendly. It all kept me so late there that I saw the garden in its evening fullness; all the people seemed enjoying it.