Chapter V (3)

I know it is very forlorn to depend for intellectual intercourse on books and absent people. But for you who have so many resources, I hope it is not quite so bad. At any rate, how you must be feeling yourself useful. Still I am sorry for you; you seem somehow (all sensitive people do) to get so much more pain than pleasure out of your feeling. I wonder whether you are ill-balanced, and your bodies ought to be more vigorous to match your organisations; or whether you are, as it were, martyrs, for us to love and look up to, and learn from and delight in; but appointed, for some inscrutable reason, to bear a large share of the pain of the world—to be purified to a higher point than we, until the last sorrow shall be put under your feet.

Any way and every way, God bless and keep you.

14, Nottingham Place,
November 29th, 1868.

TO MISS BAUMGARTNER.

We are all assembled again, and very happy.

We have a _very_ large number of pupils, as many as we could take in; but these are mainly under my sisters’ care, who enjoy the work, and thrive in it. I only teach the girls a few things, and rejoice in their bright young life. I give a few drawing lessons, and am managing my dear houses, which are getting into such excellent order as to be a great joy, and but little painful care. I am drawing again at last, too, to my great delight, and am able to see a good deal of my friends, and to bind up all the links of knowledge of the details of their lives, broken by my illness and absence. So it is a quiet, beautiful, thankful, busy, but not oppressed, life.

14, Nottingham Place,
March 7th, 1869.

TO MISS HARRIS.

My DEAREST MARY,

I have had a most delightful week. The crowning day was last Sunday, when I dined at Ruskin’s. It was exceedingly interesting. I had been determined to ask him a little about Greek mythology, literature and art; and how, without knowledge of Greek, one might enter into some comprehension of all these; for I have lived long enough to remember the passionate revolt of our then young thinkers against the dead formal worship of all that had its origin in Greece; and now I am interested to notice the men, leading from weight of earnestness, tho’ educated in all the Gothic and Teuton sympathies, turning back to Greek thought, and even imagery, as if it contained nobler symbols of abiding truth than our northern legends. Yes, even to feel the influence of the Grecian wave myself. So we got into interesting talk. He told me that there was little translation of Greek which he knew or cared for; that he had done a little himself, which will be published with next Tuesday’s lecture; that Homer, even translated by Pope, taught one a good deal; that some tales by Cox (do you know them?) were intensely good; but (as I was pleased to know that I had instinctively felt), Morris’s Jason was the most helpful almost of all. He sketched for me most beautifully, a kind of plan of Greek mythology, saying that the deities who governed the elements were the primary ones; the earth the sustainer of man; the water governing the ebb and flow of his fortunes, the two fiery deities earthly and heavenly; and the goddess of the air the inspirer. He quoted curious parallel thoughts from the Bible; “the wind bloweth where it listeth.” He told me some strange things, too, about Minerva giving men strength from winged beings, and once, when enduing Menelaus with courage to fight Paris, giving it from a mosquito; whereas most gods give them strength from quadrupeds that are strong. Round these central deities are grouped many minor ones; Mercury, the cloud-compeller, often represented as a shepherd, guides the footsteps of men in life and death.

[Sidenote: RUSKIN ON GREEK MYTHOLOGY]

I asked him how far Virgil was too Roman to be trusted. He seemed very much pleased to find that I could read Virgil, and was fond of him; it seems that he is very fond. He said moreover that Latin was untranslateable—being so magnificent a language; whereas Greek, mainly depending for its interest on thought, could be perfectly well translated. I found that he and I agreed in liking the 2nd and 7th books best, he rather inclining to the Infernal Regions and the Fall of Troy. He told me that the exquisite tenderness between fathers and sons delighted him above all things in Virgil, and led one to the root of the main source of Roman greatness in its noblest time.

You will be sorry to hear that Miss Cons can only, at present, give one day and a half weekly to the work; and that Miss Sterling is so much interested in what she calls “linking my little affairs to whatever has life,” that she will not work except near us—nor of course could Miss Cons do more than this in so short a time.

On Wednesday we are to have our play.[64] We are actually to have an audience of 200 poor people. Everyone is very kind about it; we have a splendid room, and all promises well.

Oh, Mary! life and its many interests is a great and blessed possession. I love it so much.... And yet it seems such a simple, quiet thing to slip out of it presently; and for other and better people to take up their work, and carry it on for their day too.

May 9th, 1869.

TO MISS F. DAVENPORT HILL.

... The trees are of course very small; but the creepers helped us, and the playground never looked so pretty. Our new swings were put up; and three people were entirely occupied with superintending them the whole time. Each child had a definite time allowed; and all others were kept out of the way; no easy matter with children so eager and so unaccustomed to control. The little band acquitted itself admirably, considering how young it is yet; it is an acquisition. We had numbers of games of course. The see-saw was crowded all the time. Two people took charge of it; and it seemed about as much as they could manage. It was very touching to see the children, when they first saw me open the gate. Our tenants were to come in first; and I had to pick them out from the dense mass of eager faces. Such impatience! as if a few minutes were hours! Such a break of light came over the face as I caught the eye of a tenant; the “Mary, you may come,” or “Dickey, you next,” was entirely unnecessary to the child addressed, but was the signal for others to make way; and thro’ such tiny avenues, or from under bigger girls’ skirts, the tiny creatures emerged to the wonderful place of flowers and the many welcoming friends. I was rather proud to see that I was usually guided by a neater dress or cleaner face to a tenant. Then followed the admission of a few children coming to classes, or members of the band or drill classes, but not tenants. And then the mass of children from the neighbourhood. Oh such a troop! The grown up people crowded on any place from which they could see. I wished our wall had been moved, and the rails up, both for the extra space, and that more people might have seen. All children had flowers, cake, and an orange on leaving. My conclusion is, the place is really getting into order.

I had the report from a surveyor on the houses for which we are in treaty. He says very naïvely, “It seems to me the houses are much out of repair, tho’ considered by the landlord in excellent condition for the class of inmates.” He says, too, the property in the neighbourhood is in excellent condition, and will let well.... Will you send me a copy of papers respecting boarding out? I should much like to send them to Mrs. N. Senior. I believe the chances are better in the country, and the plan more likely to be tried there.

I am glad you think it is best to wait and see the June list for Macmillan. It will be very odd if the thing ever is published. I am looking forward so eagerly to throwing the burden of the playground expenses, at least partially, on our new buildings; they are such a perpetual worry to me, and for so small a sum it seems a pity to be annoyed. If the surplus profit of the rooms will, as I hope, pay for the superintendence, it will make a great difference to me. We hope to finish the building this week. I feel so ungrateful when I complain of anything, when all has prospered in this wonderful way. Perhaps I am a little tired to-night.

14, Nottingham Place,
April 13th, 1869.

TO MRS. W. SHAEN.

I cannot tell you what my people are to me. We are such thorough friends. Sometimes small actions of theirs go straight to one’s heart, making me feel how nice our relation to one another is. The other day I went down the court, once so savage and desolate. I saw two or three of the worst boys in the neighbourhood looking very happy and smiling. “Have you seen Mrs. Mayne?” they clamoured eagerly. Mrs. Mayne is our superintendent there. “She’s got something taking care of for you.” I found that the boys had walked twelve miles, doubtless delighted with the expedition, but specially to bring me back a great quantity of “palm.” And, as I came out carrying it, “Will you have some more?” “Wait a bit and have some more,” they cried. When I remembered that these same boys had been our greatest trouble, defying authority, climbing walls, breaking windows, throwing stones, with their hands against us in all things, I could not but feel that we had got on a little, however the houses may fall short in external perfection of what one longs for them to be. I have hardly any of the teaching at home; dear Andy and Minnie having thrown their strength fully into it; so Flo and I only take special classes; but the bright young life round one is very refreshing; and I grow much attached to some of the girls;—not the old sense of being any longer their head; this, you will understand, I am not sorry to resign, however precious the position was. Meantime, I have my little sanctum here and go out among my ever-increasing circle of real friends. My work now is mainly teaching drawing, which I enjoy much.

[Sidenote: IMPROVEMENT IN THE COURTS]

June 7th, 1869.

TO MISS FLORENCE DAVENPORT HILL.

... We are having a large meeting in the parish this week to try to organise the relief given; very opposite creeds will be represented—Archbishop Manning, Mr. Davies, Mr. Fremantle, Eardley-Wilmot, and others. I must go myself. I shall try to get Rose to go too....

Lady Ducie writes that she is perfectly engrossed in your book, and tells me she must get it. She is quite appalled at the state of things in the workhouse; it seems quite to be weighing on her mind.

June 9th, 1869.

TO THE SAME.

... I daresay one is apt to overrate one’s own work; but one is the more anxious to have it fairly weighed, and receive all advice from other people; and I do want to have it fairly considered, and get the authorities to recognise it. Mr. F., the rector of our district, and the main mover in the matter, is to call on me to-day. May some power inspire me with intellect and speech! I have hardly a hope that they will place me on the Committee. I shall try boldly; but I think no ladies will be admitted. Mr. F. is happily a friend of Lady Ducie’s.

P.S.—Mr. F. has just been, and will propose my name at the Committee.

Ben Rhydding,
September 10th, 1869.

TO EMILY.

... Life here has been a great success every way. It is odd, in a place like this, to get on so well; but energy and enjoyment are such a delight to people, they forgive much, where they can secure them and have these. A large picnic party went to Fountains yesterday. They begged me to go. I could not, and said, “I will ask all the people, and, when you are started, you really won’t want me.” “Oh,” said a young, buoyant Quaker youth, “but we do want you to talk.” ... In pity also give me some more teaching; it is the only anchor I have, and I shall be destroyed by dissipation if you don’t preserve me. Oh dear, I have been writing three hours; and I did so want to do my miniature; for you don’t know how much I want to finish it.

[Sidenote: ALARM AT HER OWN FAME]

6, Clifton Villas,
Bradford,
September 17th, 1869.

TO EMILY.

To-night there is to be a dinner party here. Dr. Bridges and several influential people are asked to meet me;—I do feel such a take-in of a person. I wish someone would explode me; it is so difficult to un-humbug oneself. It is all taken for extreme modesty (fancy mine!) and laid to one’s account as so much excellence. A Mr. and Mrs. R. K., who are looked upon as great guns, are giving a dinner party in my honour. Really it’s very ridiculous; what I _am_ glad of is that I am going to see Saltaire, a model village near here which has grown up round a manufactory, belonging to a Mr. Titus (now Sir Titus) Salt; no beer shops there, only model cottages, schools, etc.... I’m very happy, and as bright as can be; but save me from this again! I’m going to settle down to a steady, quiet old age, if ever the happy time arrives when I reach home.