DATUR HORA QUIETI (1889-1900)
In the summer of 1889, at Seascale, on the Cumberland coast, Ruskin was
still busy upon "Præterita." He had his task planned out to the finish:
in nine more chapters he meant to conclude his third volume with a
review of the leading memories of his life, down to the year 1875, when
the story was to close. Passages here and there were written, material
collected from old letters and journals, and the contents and titles of
the chapters arranged; but the intervals of strength had become fewer
and shorter, and at last, in spite of all his courage and energy, he was
brought face to face with the fact that his powers were ebbing away, and
that head and hand would do their work no more.
He could not finish "Præterita"; but he could not leave it without
record of one companionship of his life, which was, it seemed, all that
was left to him of the old times and the old folks at home. And so,
setting aside the plans he had made, he devoted the last chapter, as his
forebodings told him it must be, to his cousin, Mrs. Arthur Severn, and
wrote the story of "Joanna's Care."
In his bedroom at Seascale, morning after morning, he still worked, or
tried to work, as he had been used to do on journeys farther afield in
brighter days. But now he seemed lost among the papers scattered on his
table; he could not fix his mind upon them, and turned from one subject
to another in despair; and yet patient, and kindly to those with him
whose help he could no longer use, and who dared not show--though he
could not but guess--how heart-breaking it was.
They put the best face upon it, of course: drove in the afternoons about
the country--to Muncaster Castle, to Calder Abbey, where he tried to
sketch once more; and when the proofs of "Joanna's Care" were finally
revised, to Wastwater. But travelling now was no longer restorative.
It added not a little to the misfortunes of the time that two of his
best friends in the outside world were disputing over a third. By nobody
was Carlyle's reputation more valued, and yet he acknowledged that
Froude was but telling the truth in the revelations which so surprised
the public; and much as he admired Norton, he deprecated the attack on
Carlyle's literary executor, whose motives he understood and approved.
In August, after his return to Coniston, the storm-cloud came down upon
him once more. It was only in the summer of 1890 that he was able to get
about. But firmly convinced that his one chance lay in absolute rest and
quiet, he wisely refused any sort of exertion, and was rewarded by a
temporary improvement in health and strength.
In the meantime he was obliged to hand over to others such parts of his
work as others could do. The St. George's Guild still continued in
existence, though it naturally lost much of its interest, and the whole
of its distinctive mission, when he ceased to be able to direct it. The
Museum had quite outgrown its cottage at Walkley, never intended for
more than temporary premises; and for ten years there had been talk of
new buildings, at first on the spot, then on the Guild's ground at
Bewdley, where, at one time, Ruskin planned a fairy palace in the woods,
with cloistered hostelries for the wandering student. Such schemes were
stopped less by his illness than by want of means.
Sheffield, however, did not wish to lose the Museum, and offered to
house it if the Guild would present it to the town. That was, of course,
out of the question. But a new offer to take over the collection on
loan, the Guild paying a curator, was another matter, and was thankfully
accepted. The Corporation fulfilled their share of the bargain with
generosity. An admirable site was assigned at Meersbrook Park, in a fine
old hall surrounded with trees, and overlooking a broad view of the town
and country. On April 15th, 1890, the Museum was opened by the Earl of
Carlisle, in presence of the Corporation, the Trustees of the Guild, and
a large assembly of friends and Sheffield townspeople. Since then the
attendance of visitors and students shows that the collection is
appreciated by the public; and it is to be hoped that though nominally a
loan it will remain there in perpetuity, and that it will be maintained
and used with due regard to the intentions of the founder.
Many other plans had to be modified, as he found himself less able to
work, and was obliged to hand over his business to others. With his
early books he had been dissatisfied, as expressing immature views. "The
Stones of Venice" had been recast into two small volumes, and "St.
Mark's Rest" written in the attempt to supplement and correct it. But
the original book was obviously in demand, and a new edition was brought
out in 1886.
"Modern Painters" had been also on the condemned list. The aggressive
Protestantism and the geological theories involved in his description of
mountains he condemned as errors; moreover, at the time of the last
edition published by Messrs. Smith & Elder (1873), he had been told
that the plates, which he considered a very important part of the work,
would not stand another impression; and so he destroyed nine of them, in
order that no subsequent edition might be brought out in the original
form. He reprinted vol. ii. in a cheap edition, and began to recast the
rest, with annotations and additions, as "In Montibus Sanctis," and
"Coeli Enarrant", while Miss S. Beever's selections ("Frondes Agrestes")
found a ready sale. But this did not satisfy the public, and there was a
continual cry for a reprint, to which, at last, he yielded. Early in
1889 the "Complete Edition" appeared; with the cancelled plates
reproduced.
He had always felt it a grievance that the enormous popularity of his
works in America meant an enormous piracy. Towards the end of the
"Fifties," Mr. Wiley of New York had begun to print cheap Ruskins; not,
indeed, illegally, but without proper acknowledgment to the author, and
without any reference to the author's wishes as to form and style of
production. An artist and writer on art, insisting on delicacy and
refinement as the first necessity of draughtsmanship, and himself
sparing no trouble or expense in the illustrations of his own works, was
naturally dissatisfied with the wretched "Artotypes" with which the
American editions caricatured his beautiful plates. Not only that, but
it was a common practice to smuggle these editions, recommended by their
cheapness, into other countries. Mr. Wiley sent, on an average, five
hundred sets of "Modern Painters" to Europe every year, the greater
number to England. His example was followed by other American
publishers, so that in New York alone there came to be half a dozen
houses advertising Ruskin's works, and many more throughout the cities
of the States. Mr. Wiley, the first in the field, proposed to pay up a
royalty upon all the copies he had sold if Ruskin would recognise him as
accredited publisher in America. The offer of so large a sum would have
been tempting, had it not meant that Ruskin must condone what he had for
years denounced, and sanction what he strongly disapproved. The case
would have been different if proposals had been made to reproduce his
books in his own style, under competent supervision. This was done in
1890, when arrangements were made with Messrs. Charles E. Merrill & Co.,
of New York, to bring out the "Brantwood" edition of Ruskin, under the
editorship of Professor C.E. Norton.
Though the sale of Ruskin's books in America had never, until so
recently, brought him any profit, his own business in England, started
in 1871 with the monthly pamphlet of "Fors," and in 1872 with the volume
of "Sesame and Lilies," prospered singularly. Mr. George Allen, who,
while building up an independent connection, still remained the sole
publisher of Mr. Ruskin's works, said that the venture was successful
from its earliest years. It was found that the booksellers were not
indispensable, and that business could be done through the post as well
as over the counter. In spite of occasional difficulties, such as the
bringing out of works in parts, appearing irregularly or stopping
outright at the author's illnesses, there was a steady increase of
profit, rising in the author's later years (according to Mr. Allen) to
an average of £4,000.
Fortunate it was that this bold attempt succeeded. The £200,000 he
inherited from his parents had gone,--chiefly in gifts and in attempts
to do good. The interest he used to spend on himself; the capital he
gave away until it totally disappeared, except what is represented by
the house he lived in and its contents. The sale of his books was his
only income, and a great part of that went to pensioners to whom in the
days of his wealth he pledged himself, to relatives and friends,
discharged servants, institutions in which he took an interest at one
time or other. But he had sufficient for his wants, and no need to fear
poverty in his old age.
In this quiet retreat at Brantwood the echoes of the outer world did
not sound very loudly. Ruskin had been too highly praised and too
roundly abused, during fifty years of public life, to care what magazine
critics and journalists said of him. Other men of his standing could
solace themselves, if it be solace, in the consciousness that a grateful
country has recognised their talents or their services. But civic and
academic honours were not likely to be showered on a man who had spent
his life in strenuous opposition to academicism in art and letters, and
in vigorous attacks upon both political parties, and upon the
established order of things.
And yet Oxford and Cambridge awarded him the highest honours in their
gift. In 1873 the Royal Society of Painters in Watercolours voted him
honorary member, a recognition which gave him great pleasure at the time.
At different dates he was elected to various societies--Geological,
Zoological, Architectural, Horticultural, Historical, Anthropological,
Metaphysical; and to the Athenæum and Alpine Clubs. He was elected Hon.
Member of the Academy of Florence in 1862, of the Academy of Venice,
1877, of the Royal Academies of Antwerp and Brussels in 1892; and was
also an Hon. Member of the American Academy. But he did not seek
distinctions, and he even declined them, as in the case of the medal of
the Royal Institute of British Architects.
A more striking form of distinction than such titles is the fact that he
was the first writer whose contemporaries, during his lifetime, formed
societies to study his work. The first Ruskin Society was founded in
1879 at Manchester, and was followed by the Societies of London, Glasgow
and Liverpool. In 1887 the Ruskin Reading Guild was formed in Scotland,
with many local branches in England and Ireland, and a journal,
subsequently re-named _Igdrasil_, to promote study of literary and
social subjects in Ruskin, and in writers like Carlyle and Tolstoi
taking a standpoint similar to his. In 1896, Ruskin Societies were
formed at Birmingham and in the Isle of Man. Many classes and clubs for
the study of Ruskin were also in operation throughout America during his
lifetime.
His eightieth birthday was the signal for an outburst of congratulations
almost greater than even admirers had expected. The post came late and
loaded with flowers and letters, and all day long telegrams arrived from
all parts of the world, until they lay in heaps, unopened for the time
being. A great address had been prepared, with costly illumination on
vellum, and binding by Mr. Cobden Sanderson.
"Year by year," it said, "in ever widening extent, there is an
increasing trust in your teaching, an increasing desire to realize the
noble ideals you have set before mankind in words which we feel have
brought nearer to our hearts the kingdom of God upon earth. It is our
hope and prayer that the joy and peace you have brought to others may
return in full measure to your own heart filling it with the peace which
comes from the love of God and the knowledge of the love of your
fellow-men."
Among those who subscribed to these sentiments were various people of
importance, such as Royal Academicians, the Royal Society of Painters in
Watercolours, the Trustees of the British Museum and of the National
Gallery, the St. George's Guild and Ruskin Societies, with many others;
and the address was presented by a deputation who reported that they had
found him looking well "and extremely happy."
A similar illuminated address from the University of Oxford ran thus:
"We venture to send you, as you begin your eighty-first year, these
few words of greeting and good-will, to make you sure that in
Oxford the gratitude and reverence with which men think of you is
ever fresh. You have helped many to find in life more happiness
than they thought it held; and we trust there is happiness in the
latter years of your long life. You have taught many to see the
wealth of beauty in nature and in art, prizing the remembrance of
it; and we trust that the sights you have best loved come back to
your memory with unfading beauty. You have encouraged many to keep
a good heart through dark days, and we trust that the courage of a
constant hope is yours."
The London Ruskin Society sent a separate address; and to show that if
not a prophet in his own country he was at any rate a valued friend, the
Coniston Parish Council resolved "and carried unanimously," says the
local journal, "with applause,"
"That the congratulations of this council be offered to Mr. John
Ruskin, on the occasion of his eightieth birthday, together with
the warm thanks which they and all their neighbours feel for the
kindness he has shown, and the many generous acts he has done to
them and theirs during twenty-seven years of residence at Coniston,
where his presence is most truly appreciated, and his name will
always be most gratefully remembered."
But as the year went on he did not regain his usual summer strength.
Walking out had become a greater weariness to him, and he had to submit
to the humiliation of a bath-chair. To save himself even the labour of
creeping down to his study, he sat usually in the turret-room upstairs,
next to his bed-chamber, but still with the look of health in his face,
and the fire in his eyes quite unconquered. He would listen while Baxter
read the news to him, following public events with interest, or while
Mrs. Severn or Miss Severn read stories, novel after novel; but always
liking old favourities best, and never anything that was unhappy. Some
pet books he would pore over, or drowse over by the hour. The last of
these was one in which he had a double interest, for it was about ships
of war, and it was written by the kinsman of a dear friend. Some of the
artists he had loved and helped had failed him or left him, but
Burne-Jones was always true. One night, going up to bed, the old man
stopped long to look at the photograph from Philip Burne-Jones's
portrait of his father. "That's my dear brother, Ned," he said, nodding
good-bye to the picture as he went. Next night the great artist died,
and of all the many losses of these later years this one was the hardest
to bear.
So when a little boy lent him "A Fleet in Being" he read and re-read it;
then got a copy for himself, and might have learnt it by heart, so long
he pored over it. But when the little boy or his sisters went to visit
the "Di Pa" (Dear Papa), as he liked children to call their old friend,
he had now scarcely anything to talk about. "He just looked at us, and
smiled," they would report; "and we couldn't think what to say."
He had his "bright days," when he would hear business discussed, though
a very little of it was wearisome. It was impossible to bring before him
half the wants and wishes of his correspondents, who could not yet
realise his weakness, and besought the notice they fancied so easily
given. Yet in that weakness one could trace no delusions, none of the
mental break-down which was taken for granted. If he gave an opinion it
was clear and sound enough; of course with the old Ruskinian waywardness
of idea which always puzzled his public. But he knew what he was about,
and knew what was going on. He was like the aged Queen Aud in the saga,
who "rose late and went to bed early, and if anyone asked after her
health she answered sharply."
But all the love and care spent on him could not keep him with us. There
came the Green Yule that makes a fat kirkyard, and in January of 1900
hardly a house in the neighbourhood was free from the plague of
influenza. In spite of strictest precautions it invaded Brantwood.
On the 18th of January he was remarkably well, as people often are
before an illness--"fey," as the old Northern folk-lore has it. Towards
evening, when Mrs. Severn went to him for the usual reading--it was Edna
Lyall's "In the Golden Days"--his throat was irritable and he "ached all
over." They put him to bed and sent for Dr. Parsons, his constant
medical attendant, who found his temperature as high as 102°, and
feared the consequences. But the patient, as he always did, refused to
be considered ill, and ate his dinner, and seemed next day to be really
better. There was no great cause for alarm, though naturally some for
anxiety; and in reasonable hopes of amendment, the slight attack was not
made public.
On Saturday morning, the 20th, all appeared to be going well until about
half-past ten. Suddenly he collapsed and became unconscious. It was the
dreaded failure of heart after influenza. His breathing weakened, and
through the morning and through the afternoon in that historic little
room, lined with his Turners, he lay, falling softly asleep. No efforts
could revive him. There was no struggle; there were no words. The
bitterness of death was spared him. And when it was all over, and those
who had watched through the day turned at last from his bedside, "sunset
and evening star" shone bright above the heavenly lake and the clear-cut
blue of Coniston fells.
Next morning brought messages of hurried condolence, and the Monday such
a chorus from the press as made all the praises of his lifetime seem
trifling and all its blame forgotten. If only, in his years of struggle
and despair, he had known the place he should win!
On the Tuesday came a telegram offering a grave in Westminster Abbey,
the highest honour our nation can give to its dead. But his own mind had
long since been made plain on that point, and his wishes had not been
forgotten. "If I die here," he used to say, "bury me at Coniston. I
should have liked, if it happened at Herne Hill, to lie with my father
and mother in Shirley churchyard, as I should have wished, if I died
among the Alps, to be buried in the snow."
We carried him on Monday night down from his bed-chamber and laid him in
the study. There was a pane of glass let into the coffin-lid, so that
the face might be kept in sight; and there it lay, among lilies of the
valley, and framed in the wreath sent by Mr. Watts, the great painter, a
wreath of the true Greek laurel, the victor's crown, from the tree
growing in his garden, cut only thrice before, for Tennyson and Leighton
and Burne-Jones. It would be too long to tell of all such tokens of
affection and respect that were heaped upon the coffin,--from the wreath
of the Princess Louise down to the tributes of humble dependants,--above
a hundred and twenty-five, we counted; some of them the costliest money
could buy, some valued no less for the feeling they expressed. I am not
sure that the most striking was not the village tailor's, with this on
its label--"There was a man sent from God, and his name was John."
On the Wednesday we made our sad procession to the church, through storm
and flood. The village was in mourning, and round the churchyard gates
men, women, and children stood in throngs. The coffin was carried in by
eight of those who had been in his employ, and the church filled
noiselessly with neighbours and friends, who after a hymn, and the
Lord's prayer, and a long silence, passed up the aisles for their last
look, and to heap more offerings of wreaths and flowers around the bier.
At dusk tall candles were lit, and so through the winter's night watch
was kept.
Thursday, the 25th, brought together a great assembly, great for the
remoteness of the place and the inclemency of the weather. The country
folk have a saying "Happy is the dead that the rain rains on;" and the
fells were darkly clouded and the beck roared by, swollen to a torrent.
The church was far too small to hold the congregation, which included
most of his personal friends and the representatives of many public
bodies. A crowd stood outside in the storm while the service went on.
It began with a hymn written for the occasion by Canon Rawnsley who with
the Vicar of Hawkshead, Brantwood's parish church, read the Psalms. A
hymn, "Comes at times a stillness as of even," was sung by his friend
Miss Wakefield; and the lesson read by Canon Richmond, arrived
officially to represent the Bishop of Carlisle, but to most of us
representing old times and the comradeships of his youth and early
manhood. The Vicar of Coniston and the Rev. Reginald Meister, on behalf
of the Dean of Christ Church, also took part in the service. When the
Dead March sounded the coffin was covered with a pall given by the
Ruskin Linen Industry of Keswick, lined with bright crimson silk, and
embroidered with the motto, "Unto This Last," and with his favourite
wild roses showered over the gray field, just as they fall in the
_Primavera_ of Botticelli. There was no black about his burying, except
what we wore for our own sorrow; it was remembered how he hated black,
so much that he would even have his mother's coffin painted blue; and
among the white and green and violet of the wreaths that filled the
chancel, none was more significant in its sympathy than Mrs. Severn's
great cross of red roses.
As we carried him down the churchyard path, a drop or two fell from the
boughs, but a gleam of sunshine, the first after many days, shot along
the crags from under the cloud, and the wind paused. Standing there by
the graveside, who could help being thankful that he had found so lovely
a resting-place after so tranquil a falling to sleep? At his feet,
parted only by the fence and the garden, is the village school; and who
does not know how he loved the children of Coniston? At his right hand
are the graves of the Beevers; his last old friend, Miss Susan Beever,
lies next to him. Over the spot hang the thick boughs of a fir-tree--who
does not know what he has written of his favourite mountain-pine? And
behind the church, shut in with its dark yews', rise the crags of
Coniston, those that he wearied for in his boyhood, beneath which he
prayed, in sickness, to lie down and rest. "The crags are lone on
Coniston."
INDEX
Abbeville,
Acland, Sir H.W., M.D.,
Acland, Sir T.D.,
Adairs and Agnews,
Agnew, Miss Joan Ruskin,
_and see_ Severn, Mrs. A.
Alessandri, Angelo,
Alexander, Mrs. and Miss Francesca,
Alice, Princess,
Allen, Mr. George,
"Amiens, The Bible of,"
Anderson, Mr. J.R.,
Anderson, Miss S.D.,
Andrews, Dr. and family,
Animals, Ruskin and,
Anne, Nurse,
"Arachne,"
"Aratra Pentelici,"
Architects, Royal Institute,
Architectural Association, lecture to,
"Architecture, the Poetry of,"
"Architecture, the Seven Lamps of,"
"Ariadne Florentina,"
Armytage, J.C.,
Arthur, Prince,
Assisi,
Avallon,
Baker, Mr. George,
Baxter, Mr. Peter,
Beever, Miss Mary,
Miss Susanna, 2
"Bibliotheca Pastorum,"
Bishop, Mrs. W.H.,
Blow, Mr. Detmar J.,
Boehm, Sir Edgar,
Boni, Commendatore G.,
Botticelli,
Bourdillon, Mr. F.W.,
Boys, T.,
Bradford lectures,
Brantwood,
Brown, Dr. John,
Prof. Thomas,
Rawdon,
Rev. Walter,
Browning, Robert and Mrs.,
Buckland, Dr.,
Bunney, J.W.,
Burgess, Arthur,
Burne-Jones, Sir Edward,
Camberwell lectures,
Cambridge lectures,
Carlyle, Thomas,
Mrs.,
Carpaccio,
Carrick and Vokins,
Cesnola, General L.P. di,
"Cestus of Aglaia,"
Chamberlain, John Henry,
Chamouni,
Christ's Hospital lecture,
Collins, "Charley,"
Coniston,
lecture,
Cooke, Mr. E.,
Cousen, J.,
Coutet, Joseph,
Cowper-Temple, Mr. and Mrs. (Lord and Lady Mount Temple),
"Crown of Wild Olive,"
Croydon,
Cruikshank, George,
Cutt, R.P.,
Cyanometer,
Dale, Rev. T.,
Dart, Henry,
Darwin, Charles,
Denmark Hill,
"Deucalion,"
Deverell, W.H.,
Dickinson, Lowes,
Dixon, Thomas,
Domecq, Adèle,
Peter,
Downes, David,
Dublin lecture,
"Eagle's Nest,"
Edinburgh lectures,
Edwardes, Sir Herbert,
"Elements of Drawing,"
"Ethics of the Dust,"
Eton lectures,
Eyre, Governor,
Fall, Richard,
Faunthorpe, Rev. J.P.,
Fielding, Copley,
Fleming, Mr. A.,
Florence,
Forbes, Principal J.D.,
Forgeries of Ruskin,
"Fors Clavigera,"
"Friendship's Offering,"
Friends of Living Creatures, Society of,
Froude, J.A.,
Furnivall, F.J.,
Geneva,
Geology,
_and see_ Deucalion, Minerals
Giessbach,
Gladstone, W.E.,
Glasgow Rectorship,
Glenfarg,
Glenfinlas,
Goodwin, Mr. Albert, R.W.S.,
Gordon, Rev. Osborne,
Gothic Revival,
Gray,
Euphemia (Effie),
Mr. George, of Perth,
Mr. and Mrs. Richard,
Greenaway, Kate,
Gull, Sir Wm., M.D.,
Halle, Sir Charles,
Harding, J.D.,
Hardraw Fall,
Harrison, W.H.,
"Harry and Lucy Concluded,"
Helps, Sir Arthur,
Herne Hill,
Hill, Miss Octavia,
Hilliard,
Mrs.,
Miss,
Laurence Jermyn,
Hooper, W.H.,
Howell, Charles Augustus,
Hunt, W. Holman,
Hunt, "Old" William,
Ilaria di Caretto,
Jameson, Mrs.,
Jeffery, W.,
Jephson, Dr., of Leamington,
Jowett, H. (of Hazell, Watson and Viney),
"Kata Phusin,"
Keble,
Kendal lecture,
Keswick,
"King of the Golden River,"
King's College, London,
Kingsley, Rev. W.,
Langdale Linen Industry,
"Laws of Fésole,"
Le Keux, J.H.,
"Leoni,"
Leopold, Prince,
Lewis, J.F., R.A.,
Liddell, Dean,
Lockhart, J.G.,
London Institution lectures,
Longfellow,
"Lord's Prayer, Letters on the,"
Loudon's Magazines,
"Love's Meinie,"
Lucca,
Luini,
Lupton, Thomas,
Macdonald,
Mr. Alex.,
W.M., of Crossmount,
Mallock, Mr. W.H.,
Manchester lectures,
Manning, Cardinal,
"Marcolini,"
Marks, H.S., R.A.,
Matlock,
Matterhorn,
Maurice, Rev. F.D.,
May Queens,
Meissonier's "Napoleon,"
Metaphysical Society,
Meteorological Society,
Millais, Sir J.E.,
Milman, Dean,
Minerals and Crystals,
Mitford, Miss,
"Modern Painters,"
Moore, Prof. C.H.,
Rev. Daniel,
Mornex,
"Mornings in Florence,"
"Munera Pulveris,"
Munro of Novar,
Murray, Mr. C. Fairfax,
Mythology,
National Gallery,
Newman, Mr. H.R.,
Newton, Sir Charles,
Northcote, James, R.A.,
Norton, Prof. C.E.,
Oliver, Prof.,
Oxford:
Ruskin as under graduate,
as graduate,
as Professor,
his lectures,
his drawing school,
his Hinksey diggings,
Oxford Museum,
Palermo,
Paris,
Patmore, Coventry,
Pedigree of Ruskin,
Perth,
Photography, Ruskin's early use of,
Pisa,
Plague wind,
Poems,
"Political Economy of Art,"
Politics, Ruskin's attitude,
Portraits of Ruskin, by
Northcote,
Richmond,
Rossetti,
Boehm,
Posting-tours,
"Præterita,"
Pre-Raphaelitism,
Pringle, Thomas,
"Proserpina,"
Prout, Samuel,
Publishing arrangements,
Ruskin's,
"Queen of the Air,"
Queen Victoria,
Railways, Ruskin's attitude toward,
Randal, Mr. Frank,
Religion, Ruskin's development,
Reynolds, lectures on,
Richardson families,
Charles,
Jessie,
Mary (Mrs. Bolding),
Dr. William,
Mr. William,
_and see_ pedigree,
Richmond, George, R.A.,
Sir William B., R.A.,
Roberts, David, R.A.,
Robson, Mr. E.R.,
Rogers, Samuel,
Rome,
Rooke, Mr. T.M., R.W.S.,
Rossetti,
D.G.,
T.P.,
Rowbotham, Mr.,
"Royal Academy, Notes on the,"
Royal Institution lectures,
Runciman, Mr.,
Ruskin family,
John James,
Mrs. (Margaret Cox, John
Ruskin's mother),
St. Andrews Rectorship,
St. George's Guild,
St. Mark's Rest,
St. Ursula,
Sandgate,
Saussure,
Seascale,
Seddon, Thomas,
"Sesame and Lilies,"
Severn,
Mr. Arthur, R.I.
Mrs. Arthur,
_and see_ Agnew, Miss
"Sheepfolds, Notes on the Construction of,"
Sheffield communists,
Museum (St. George's now "Ruskin"),
Sillar, W.C.,
Smetham, James,
Smith, Elder & Co.,
Smith, Sydney,
Socialism, Ruskin's attitude,
Somervell, Mr. R.,
South Kensington Museum lecture,
Spurgeon, C.H.,
Stanfield, C., R.A.,
Stillman, W.J.,
"Stones of Venice,"
Stowe, Mrs. H.B.,
Street-sweeping,
Swan, Henry,
Swiss towns, intended history,
Talbot, Mrs., and Mr. Q.,
Talloires,
Taylor, Sir Henry,
Tea-shop, Ruskin's,
Telford, Henry,
Tennyson,
Thackeray,
Thomson, Mr. George,
"Time and Tide,"
Tintoret,
Toynbee, Arnold,
Trevelyan, Sir Walter and Lady,
Tunbridge Wells,
lecture at,
Turner, J.M.W.,
"Two Paths,"
Tyrwhitt, Rev. R, St. J.
University College, London,
lecture at,
"Unto this last,"
"Val d'Arno,"
Venice,
Vere, Aubrey de,
Verona,
Waldensians,
Ward, Rev. J. Clifton,
William,
Watts, G.F., R.A.,
Wedderburn, Mr. A., K.C.,
Whistler, J. McN.,
Willett, Henry, F.G.S.,
Windus, G.,
Winnington school,
Withers, Charlotte,
Woodward, Benjamin,
Woolwich lectures,
Working Men's College,
Wornum, R.N.,
Xenophon's "Economist,"
"Yewdale and its streamlets,"
Yule, Colonel and Mrs.,
Zermatt,