Dear Mr. Booth has resigned his place on the Commission. There was great sympathy and warmth of feeling shown, and we all signed a letter to him.... It was a little breezy; but L. did not make much way. Mr. Crooks was interesting. It was a very long day. I thought I must stay till Mr. Brookbank had finished. I told the Com. I did not think I could manage Ireland. I believe I ought to take some Labour Colony visiting. It would be far easier, and much more to the point.
We are, many of us, much exercised now as to the future of the Cadet Corps. The First London Battalion, founded in 1887, has always been linked closely with our work in Southwark, two companies drilling in the Hall, and the headquarters of the battalion being quite near. The health, the physique, and the moral training of our lads have owed much to it. More than eight thousand boys have passed through its ranks; and many have done honourable service for their country both by sea and land. The day has now come when the War Office are about to link on the Cadets to the general organisation for military service. They have issued suggested regulations, which appear to me, and to all the devoted group of gentlemen who have acted as officers to these lads for now so many years, to be full of peril to the whole movement.
It is proposed to make the severance of the Cadet from his officers, comrades, and club, compulsory at the age of seventeen. This regulation is not proposed for higher-class boys; and it would seem hard indeed to make it for such lads as ours. We have always felt the club life, the camping out together and with their officers, part of the most valuable influences possible. If it is to cease at seventeen, when the Cadet is not a man, when he is open to all the temptations of the streets, and to the undisciplined life there, most of the good gained from fourteen to seventeen would be lost. Moreover, no workman’s club is open to him till he is eighteen.
Setting aside the moral and physical training, it appears to us a great mistake from the point of view of those who desire to link such lads on to the organisation for the defence of our country. It is true that, if they desire to do so, they can join the Territorials. But these boys are not in a strong position to arrange with their employers to be given time; nor can they afford to sacrifice time or wages. Some do and would join the Territorials at seventeen; and we should not propose their being barred from doing so; but we think their severance from the Cadet Corps at seventeen should be optional. If they are inclined for a military career, they are far more likely to enlist in the regular army, where they would be provided for. This they cannot do till they are eighteen. For the sake of that unique and wonderful reforming power, which we have found the Cadet Corps to be for our London lads, we very earnestly deprecate the adoption by the War Office of the suggested rule of breaking its influence off at the early age of seventeen.
It is a lovely thought of yours to give[133] something, and like the sort of inspiration which she gave. I am glad you were at the service. It was indeed a gathering of those who loved her.
The blank here is terrible, but I have so many blessings; and among the greatest is the memory of life with her.
In very deed there is a fellowship of suffering. Our modern way of looking upon suffering as a thing which, by good arrangements, we can get rid of, misses often that solemn sense of its holiness, which those, who live in constant memory of our Lord’s suffering, enter into.
Yours was a far harder loss,—in seeing the young right spirit pass from among you, with all the promise of life before her.
My sister went, though full of eager and loving sympathy, and rich in openings for useful work, yet after a long and very full and happy life; and she lay, surrounded by flowers, with the love and devotion of the many, high and low, young and old, who had loved her. She had no pain; and she lived all her life so near to God, so vividly conscious of all the spiritual world, that it hardly seemed a step to the heavenly one. And yet the great void remains. I know that it is all right, and that my sorrow is as nothing to that of many; there is no jar to forget, no memories but of blessing and peace; but yet the loss is very great. I had lived on her love for seventy years, and had had the blessing of it daily; and the loss of its daily influence is very great.
We saw Elinor and Carrington[134] and the children yesterday; all well. Baby Anna was asleep on the lawn. We had a most interesting morning at Mariner’s Hill. Capell met us, and we arranged about various short dwarfstone walls, curved, and with ivy in the interstices, here and there, to keep up the bank near the lane and preserve trees thereon. Also for stumps lying about to be arranged as seats. It was so nice to see his interest in the place and joy in the beauty. We did some cutting to open out view from Mama’s seat. In the afternoon we drove to Toy’s Hill, and walked to Ide Hill to inspect possible future purchase.[135] It was so lovely; the path by the stream promises well, and on the upper field the heather has really taken hold, and was in flower; and the trees we planted begin to be a feature. The stony field is now covered with vegetation.
We hope to start on Thursday and visit Cheddar.
Below lies a wide stretch of country; away to the right are Clevedon and the Severn; in front, the grand-looking group of the Quantocks; and to our left, Glastonbury Tor and Wells. We walked up the gorge where are the Cheddar cliffs, and rejoiced in seeing what the National Trust has done in stopping the quarrying.
The cliffs are really grand. From the top of the ravine we came up thro’ a wood and out on to this delicious ground, where we are spending the day....
Mrs. Lowe has left the National Trust £200! They are nearing the goal about Borrowdale Fell!
We are having very beautiful walks. We drove to Minehead and then walked along a wonderful cliff with splendid views. When the road came to an end, we passed a little footpath thro’ fern and heather and dwarf gorse.... At last we came to a rounded hill, which formed the end of the high ground; and, far below us, we saw Porlock. We went quite down the hillside by a lovely path cut on the slope by Sir Thos. Acland, who also has made innumerable lovely paths all thro’ his woods, all open to the public. We took a carriage from the little village of Bossington, and the driver said: “If ever anything good is done, you always find the Aclands are at the bottom of it.” This man had been five years up in London as a grocer’s assistant; but finding his father overdone with his farm, came back to help him, and says he and his brothers are making a thorough success of it.
We are a body with many members, and, besides ourselves, there are the various local correspondents of all sorts. We have had no friction, and this has been largely due to the tact and judgment of our Secretary. We must try to secure this again, but the sphere of work is much larger than when Mr. Bond came.
We think of leaving here on Thursday and spending a night at Barmouth. I want to see the earliest possession of the National Trust, and perhaps the donor, Ruskin’s friend.
I heard from Mr. Bond[136] that a member of the Trust wished to give One Tree Hill, and now he writes that he has leave to tell me that it is Gertrude and Dr. Hurry; and that it is to be in memory of Arthur. I know you will be very glad. How glad Arthur would be that his children showed a large generosity for a public object.
On Wednesday there will be a gathering of the family at the opening of the bath at Reading, given by his children and grandchildren in memory of dear Arthur.[137]
I cannot tell you what a relief your gift is to me. It enables me to purchase all the houses now purchasable there.... I think that, with all our misfortunes there, much good is being done. A lady, who works among the poor near, tells that, the other night, she saw a woman lying on the pavement and went up to see if she could help. A young Irish policeman was there, and helped most beautifully to get the poor woman to the hospital. She was ill, but was known to be one of the worst characters. The policeman opened out about his awe at the dreadful character of the district; then he went on “But do you know, there are some ladies who come down here? I have not an idea who they are; and I don’t know their names; but they are Christians. They get possession of the houses, and they won’t let any of this wrong go on there; not, if they know it. And there isn’t anything to be made out of it.” This last sentence even pleased me; for I have been rather unhappy, because, lately, it has been so difficult to make things pay as they always used to do; and herein one realised how the empty rooms (empty because the tidy people dread the wickedness) had shown some men that a sacrifice was made by the owners, rather than they would tolerate wrong doing where they had power to keep order.
Well, then comes the question, how far is what we planned and your Father made possible, still wanted? And how far can you and I secure its being carried on? If not to be carried on, what should take its place?
These three questions must be faced.
The first is to me the most difficult to answer. I have been so long out of touch with the work there. Are the houses, which are thoroughly healthy and so cheap, still prized by the people? or are the showier and more elaborately fitted houses attracting tenants? The letting would show this.... Supposing these houses, and the bright little playground still appreciated, I do not think you would find it at all difficult to get a trained lady to take the management.... Numbers of ladies are learning managing now; and I, or those who hereafter may represent me, would know such. And tho’ I do not feel the need of houses in London anything comparable to what it was in old days (indeed, in many districts there are quantities of unlet rooms), the need of wise management is as great, or greater than ever; and, personally, I should feel it a greatresponsibility to give up power of controlling the management of any houses, for which I had been responsible. So that, if the houses still let, I do think it would be very sad to let them go; for, tho’ I quite see that you can’t do the thing, I feel sure you could get it done.
Now as to No. 3. Suppose you decide to sell and give up the continuing thro’ others of the old work, would you look out for something for which you would care, to which this land could be devoted? Its possession in a densely covered area is a power. Think over it well, will you?
Will you give my sincere thanks to Mrs. ——,[138] and tell her I am sure that there is a blessing on such gifts. I do rejoice when people’s hearts are set on giving, and what a joy it is to them; it seems to make their lives so happy and so full. Gifts which are a sacrifice to the giver impress and inspire others, and I am glad to report them to those engaged in this work.
Lily Shaen writes to ask me about a possible sale of Freshwater Place, and the house in Marylebone Road.
I am going to see Capell on Saturday. I have a kind of idea that he may be able to help about access to Ide Hill from the Toys Hill side.
We have gone on with Ruskin’s Life; it is very interesting; but the writer esteems his political economy higher than I should do, in comparison with his art work.
The New Year opens for me in many ways very happily. It is wonderful to think that I have been able to secure the purchase of the seventeen houses at Notting Hill, all we feared to lose; and even one seemed impossible at one time.
Then the Wandle scheme promises well. I have a letter from Miss Tupper, which may lead to the preservation of an important view from Mariners’ Hill, which is in danger. I think my new workers promise well; and certainly the old ones are growing in power. I have various schemes for the year which is beginning, and hope to carry them through. I have just come in from Redvers Street, the place in Hoxton which we took over for the Montefiores. It is a joy to note the wonderful progress there. Miss Christian[139] has just been here. She gets into such real touch with all whom she sees. And all her gifts are so full of sympathy with the recipient. To-morrow is Cosette’s[140] wedding; it is to be very quiet.