Chapter IV · MILTON STREET, DORSET SQUARE DECEMBER, 1858—APRIL, 1861. (continued 2)

We have been twice to Spitalfields and seen much poverty there among the weavers, besides making the acquaintance of a most nice Ragged School master there. He went round with us to the people’s houses 181quite gladly, after his hard day’s work; and it was so very nice to see the welcome all the people gave him, but especially the children. He told us such an interesting story about a pupil of his, a very desperate bad character, about 16, who gambled in school, and only came with the avowed intention of having “a lark,” i.e., pouring out the ink, and upsetting the forms. At last this schoolmaster spoke to him, told him he had no children of his own, and that he should be one to him, if he would. The boy was deeply touched. He always sat by the master and studied hard. To quote Mr. S., “I assure you, and I’m not ashamed to own it, he distanced me out and out. He was a first-rate mathematician; he solved some of the greatest problems of the age (?). ‘There, old ’un,’ he used to say, showing me his slate in triumph, ‘do you know anything about that?’”

A RAGGED SCHOOL MASTER

“And what became of him at last?” we asked. “He died at twenty-one,” Mr. S. answered, his eyes filling with tears as he went on. “He died a peaceful and triumphant Christian. My wife and I never left his bed for three days and nights. That’s his portrait; he’d long promised it to me, and on the Thursday (he died on Tuesday) he said, ‘Old fellow, if you don’t have it now, you’ll never have it.’ I never could break him of his rough way of speaking. He’d come in here to the last and say, ‘Well, old ’un, have you got anything to eat?’ He wanted to come over from his father’s house, and die in my easy chair; and the little wife and I would have given him his wish. But the doctor forbade it. Yes, I do miss him.”

Maggie Yarnall is now on her voyage to England, which gives me the faintest most precious hope that Mary Harris may possibly come to London.

182103, Milton Street, Dorset Square,

August 16th, 1860.

To Miranda.

SUGGESTIONS TO MIRANDA

Your sweet and kind letter gave me a great deal of pleasure. I have written to Florence, as you will probably see. I am glad that you asked me to do so. I have a great deal to tell you. I do not know how you think or feel about Portman Hall school. You know that I do not think the omission of all religious teaching a sufficient reason, for disapproval to counterbalance the immense good which I consider they are doing there, especially as the teacher and three of the monitors are earnest believers in our Lord; and I do believe more is taught indirectly than directly. I teach my drawing class there, and heartily wish the school success; tho’ I confess I look to a day when we shall have as liberal views about education carried out by members of the Church. I would not give my whole or main strength to the school unless I were obliged; but I would and do very willingly help. You will wonder why I write all this. It is because they are trying to find a lady to help there; and I have mentioned you to them. They could not meet with what they wanted, and had just made arrangements for extra lessons instead until spring, when my note proposing your taking the work next spring arrived. I mentioned Mrs. Malleson as able to say what she thought of your fitness for the post; and, since communicating with her, Mme. Bodichon is very anxious to arrange it in the spring when she again returns from Algiers. They first wanted a person’s entire time for £100; but now they have resolved to divide their fund, and would probably like to have you for about two or three hours daily except Saturday. I do think 183that a permanent work of this sort, and among that class of children, would be deeply interesting; that it would make a nice change from private pupils; that you would find Mme. Bodichon and Mrs. Malleson delightful people to work under; you would have such power to carry out what you thought best;—and, dearest Andy, it is not the least part of the pleasure of the thought to me that it does seem to me it would make it so safe for you both to return, so certain that you would, if you had the prospect of this daily work. I must tell you that Miss Sterling appears, from the short talk we have had, to think that it is not a good thing to do, only a nice thing to have a certainty; but she herself confesses, and I am sure it is true, she does not know about it. Nothing has to be, or can be, settled yet, but I should like to know how you feel about it. I mean to learn what Mr. Maurice thinks. Oh, darling, you must come home in spring somehow. We are on Mr. Davies’ side of the street, two doors nearer to the New Road. I am doing such a glorious illumination round a photograph of Raphael’s Madonna della Seggiola, with the words, “For unto us a child is born, etc.” It reminds me of the glorious chorus.

Milton Street,

August 19th, 1860.

To Miss Baumgartner.

Yes, I am really back again, and so hard at work that our glorious tour^[45] only comes to me at moments as a precious bright possession that nothing can take away, and interpreting splendidly one passage after another in this glorious volume of Ruskin (which I have at last obtained to read)....

184If you had any notion of my state of mind just now! Everything I want to do seems delayed. One girl, a darling protegée of mine, says her mistress starves her, will not try another place, insists upon going home. Oh such a home! irreligious, dirty, cruel, impoverished; and the girl has just had two years’ training. Well! she must just try her home, and God bring her safe out of it.... We hope to have my dearest sisters home next spring. I have been offered some delicious teaching for Andy, in a school near here, just the kind of work, and among the class of children that she would enjoy; and the supporters of the school are earnest generous people. There is, however, no religious teaching given in the school; wherefore, say many wise people to me, you as a Christian should not accept it at all. So I have not thought; but I suppose I hardly feel sure enough about whether I ought to give my sister advice, however strong my conviction may be, when wise good people think differently.... I never have stopped, I hope I never shall stop, to consider what set or sect of people are at work, if I thoroughly and entirely approve of the work. I may think the work incomplete; but, if it comes in my way, and I think it good, as far as it goes, I do help it with the little power I have. Above all I would not, in this age, refuse help to a society because it did not state that it was working in Christ’s cause. I do believe we want all generous and good work recognised as Christ’s, whether conscious or unconscious. I think the tendency is very much for doubters to think the best work is done by benevolent unbelievers; to think our faith cramps our labours and narrows our hearts. I would like, so far as in me lies, to show them we care for men as men, we care for good as good. I never would deny 185faith. I care very little to express it anywhere but in life.... How much these people lose by their omission I believe they will one day know. I think the time will come when all this round world will seem to them mainly precious, because it was made by a Father and redeemed by His Son.

ON JOINING A NEW SOCIETY

October 30th, 1860.

To Miss M. Howitt.

In these days, when so many conscientious people seem to be seeking over the whole world for some new good work, and cannot see the holiness of that which lies near them, it is very delicious to find people owning their home work as first and most blessed. At the same time, I cannot feel that I should join your Society further than I have joined it already. It feels to me that all people who are obeying the best part of the nature that has been given them, do, more or less, belong to it;—that those, who know from Whom the light proceeds “that lighteth every man that cometh into the world,” know themselves to be bound into a society by that gift, by being children of God and heirs of Christ.

Do, dear Maggie, believe that I feel it the greatest honour to have been asked to join your Society, and have great sympathy with you about it.

To Mary Harris.

How the real bond of family re-asserts itself, dominant over fancy, attraction, yes even perhaps, in a measure, over friendship itself! as tho’ it would teach us how tremendous is the bond of duty. Certainly we have duties to our friends too; but they seem to have more relation to what we feel instinctive longing to do, 186innate capacity for doing,—to stand more by virtue of relations we have chosen for ourselves, than solely, wholly on the command of God. I suppose it must be because He is our Father.

November 15th, 1860.

To Miranda.

I have spoken to Mr. Maurice about Portman Hall; and he decidedly thinks you ought not to undertake it. He says, what one sees at once, that you could not bind yourself not to speak to the children in any way that seemed best to you. He said that he believes those who are acting up to all they know will learn more; but those who habitually ignore what they know, lose it. He was so good, and took a great interest in all our plans.

November, 1860.

To Gertrude.

I begin not to wonder that men of business look forward to leaving off work, when they get old. I think it would be very delicious to have done with the bustle, and be able to see people one loves, and think a little in peace. However, I daresay it’s all right; and it certainly is a glorious life; but lists of things one has to do, and machinery to keep things going, never can be as interesting as writing to my darling sister.

December 17th, 1860.

To Miss Baumgartner,

Account of the taking of the lease of 14, Nottingham Place.

My own dearest Emma,

All has been arranged about the house at last. I am very thankful indeed about it; and we are all 187thoroughly pleased with the house.... Ruskin was very kind indeed about it.

TAKING 14, NOTTINGHAM PLACE

We had a delicious talk afterwards about my life and life in general, and cultivated affection, its duties, practicability; whether or not the cultivation of it deteriorated natures and how.

Ruskin spoke of his own father and mother. He quite willingly wrote what he imagined would satisfy Mr. Harlowe,^[46] and so did Mr. Maurice; but in the meantime Miss Wodehouse had most kindly offered a guarantee. She was perfectly convinced of the success of the plan, and was anxious that Miss Jex Blake should have her rooms.

I had such a glorious talk with Ruskin, stayed till 2.20; had to take a cab, and to drive furiously to College, where I was ten minutes late, and recovered from shame and remorse for it, by finding everyone in a state of alarm about me; only so thankful I was safe, my unpunctuality being unprecedented. I was a little proud, and vastly amused.

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