1870–1875
GROWING PUBLICITY OF OCTAVIA’S WORK
The period from 1870–1875, if it contains less of what may be called
new departures in Octavia’s life than the period which preceded it, or
that which followed it, yet can show phases of struggle, constructive
work, and the discipline of trial and opposition, as remarkable as at
any time of her life; and it also includes an important change in her
circumstances, which much affected all her subsequent career.
It may be said, perhaps, that the distinctive characteristic of this
period was that it brought her greater publicity than her previous
efforts had produced, and so answered her question to Ruskin, “Who
will ever hear of what I do?”
First of all: the time was one in which a variety of circumstances had
been compelling many, who had not hitherto shown much interest in the
poor, to turn their attention in that direction; while many others,
who had been anxious to do their duty to the poor, had begun to
realise that the hap-hazard methods of relief hitherto in vogue had
broken down.
The failure of large Mansion House Funds, which had been, raised in
the ’sixties to meet special distress, had brought home to many
workers among the poor the need of substituting closer co-operation
for their isolated efforts. Some of those, who had realised this need,
also perceived that it was necessary to make enquiry into the
conditions of the applicants for relief, before they could discover
the best means of assisting them.
The great variety of characters and ideals and experiences which
marked the people, who were thus temporarily drawn together, naturally
tended to produce considerable collisions; and, in order to understand
Octavia’s attitude to the Charity Organisation Society, one must
remember the different difficulties with which she had to deal. There
were, of course, those who had rushed into the movement, as they would
have taken up any other new fashion in dress or mode of life or
locomotion, and who wished to do nothing that would unduly offend
fashionable feeling. These were backed in many cases by people of a
higher stamp,—tender-hearted men and women, who were impressed by the
misery of the poor, and who merely looked to the Society as a newer,
and more efficient, relief agency. At the other extreme were those who
thought that organisation and rules could do everything. Then again
the attempts at organisation of charity had led to the discovery that
many so-called charitable societies were utterly corrupt in their
objects, and that many more were unwise and careless in their methods
of relief. This raised a furious desire for radical reform, which at
one time threatened to substitute destruction for organisation. Along
with this iconoclastic zeal was a violent anti-clerical feeling,
founded on the belief that the clergy were the authors and chief
abettors of the old irregular system of relief. Into this vortex of
controversy Octavia was unavoidably dragged.
[Sidenote: EARLY DAYS OF THE C.O.S.]
It will have been seen (and it will have to be reiterated in various
forms) that she believed in personal and sympathetic intercourse with
the poor, as far more important than any organisation; and that, where
co-operation and organisation were necessary, she preferred small
local efforts to great centralised schemes. At the same time, she felt
that the giving of money, when dissociated, as it too often is, from
real sympathy, does infinite harm, and should be checked by reformers
of charity.
Both points were emphasised by Octavia in the paper which she read
before the Social Science Association in 1869 on the “Importance of
aiding the poor without alms-giving.”
“Alleviation of distress,” she says, “may be systematically arranged
by a society; but I am satisfied that, without strong personal
influence, no radical cure of those who have fallen low can be
effected. Gifts may be pretty fairly distributed by a Committee,
though they lose half their graciousness; but, if we are to place our
people in permanently self-supporting positions, it will depend on the
various courses of action suitable to various people and
circumstances, the ground of which can be perceived only by sweet
subtle human sympathy, and power of human love.”
And again:—
“By knowledge of character more is meant than whether a man is a
drunkard or a woman is dishonest; it means knowledge of the passions,
hopes, and history of people; where the temptation will touch them,
what is the little scheme they have made of their own lives, or would
make, if they had encouragement; what training long past phases of
their lives may have afforded; how to move, touch, teach them. Our
memories and our hopes are more truly factors of our lives than we
often remember.”
With regard to her relations to the clergy, I may mention that, while
the Charity Organisation Society was still in its infancy, she began
an experiment in a Marylebone district which was entirely under the
guidance of Rev. W. Fremantle, the Vicar of the parish, now Dean of
Ripon. So much was Mr. Fremantle impressed by the usefulness of this
work, that he persuaded Octavia to send in an account of it to the
Local Government Board.
It was also through this work that she became acquainted with Rev.
Samuel Barnett, then curate to Mr. Fremantle, and since so widely
known as the promoter of various good works, and especially as the
Founder of Toynbee Hall. It was in connection with this Committee that
Octavia insisted most on the desirability of substituting employment
for relief whenever possible; and out of this plan also arose the
scheme of Charity Organisation pensions, which has since formed so
important a part of the work of the Society.
It may seem strange that, with her preference for individual effort,
and for small local organisations, she should have consented to become
a member of the Central Council of the Charity Organisation Society.
But there was much in that position which chimed in with her
aspirations. The Society was, after all, a federation of local
Committees, acting in sympathy with each other, but quite independent
of each other in many of their arrangements. Then, in theory at least,
the Committees acted on the principle that every case was to be dealt
with on its own merits; a principle which, if fully carried out, would
have been a great protection against mere officialism. The Central
Council too was a debating Society, for the exchange of ideas on
specially pressing difficulties, rather than a regular governing body.
And, in spite of what I have said of the mixed elements in the
Council, it must be remembered that the membership of that body
brought Octavia into touch with many eminent workers in the reform of
charity, amongst whom I would specially mention the courteous and
tactful Secretary, Mr. C. P. B. Bosanquet, whose services in the
stormy birth time of the Society are too often forgotten.
[Sidenote: DEFECTS IN THE C.O.S.]
Nevertheless there were some reforms in the spirit and methods of the
Society to which Octavia found it necessary to give attention; and, as
I often went with her to the Council meetings, I may claim to know the
points which interested her. Thus she soon began to be alarmed at that
iconoclastic zeal of which I have spoken; particularly as in some who
then influenced the Society’s action this zeal had produced a positive
delight in attacking for attack’s sake. A long struggle, in which
Octavia took part, ended in changes which at least modified this
unfortunate state of mind.
Another and marked defect in the organisation of the Council led
Octavia to abandon, for a time, one of her special beliefs in order to
enforce another, which seemed to her of more importance. The
Committees of the Society, through which direct relief work has always
been carried on, were divided according to the chief London districts;
and thus some Committees of the richer parishes were much more able to
raise funds in their own neighbourhood than could the Eastern and
Southern Committees. The consequence was that the Central Society was
obliged to supply funds to supplement the needs of the poorer
districts; and, in return, claimed to exercise a control over the
distribution of those funds, which could not be claimed over the
richer Committees.
Thus the poorer Committees were deprived of the independence secured
by the richer ones.
In order to equalise these arrangements, it was proposed to centralise
all the funds of the Society in Buckingham Street. Octavia advocated
the change; but the majority of the Council felt that such a change
would destroy that local interest in the work, on which the strength
of the Society depended; and subsequent modifications in the
arrangements of the Committees, aided, perhaps, by a considerable
change in the _personnel_ of the Council, did, to some extent, reform
the defect which I have referred to. It may be said generally that, as
the aims of the Society became more coherent and definite, and the
chief workers grew more alike in their fundamental principles,
Octavia’s sympathies with the Society increased; and when Mr. Loch
succeeded Mr. Bosanquet as secretary of the Council, her friendship
for the new secretary still further strengthened her approval of the
action of the Society.
Her sympathies with the enquiry traditions of the Society, and with
the restrictions on reckless relief, often startled and repelled some
of the more impulsive philanthropists; but one of the most earnest of
them wrote, “I remember taking to her a typical case for advice, and
she gave me what I thought stern advice, and I demurred. But she was
right; and I often thought of it afterwards.”
During this very period, her attention was painfully drawn to the
difficulties of her local and more individual work, and to the dangers
of that purely official view of charitable movements, against which
she was always on her guard.
She had published in a magazine an account of the courts which had
been placed under her care; and of course, in explaining the object of
her undertaking, she was obliged to describe the condition of the
houses when first she undertook the management of them. Unfortunately,
some fussy person took the article to the medical officer, with the
question, “If these things were so, what were you doing?” The medical
officer was at once seized with a panic, and ordered the destruction
of all the houses in that court. Octavia thereupon went to remonstrate
with him; and, after hearing her explanations, he withdrew the order.
But he had to report to the Vestry, so the matter could not end with
that withdrawal. The majority of the Vestry took the side of their
officer; and one zealous vestryman exclaimed that he hoped they would
hear no more of Miss Hill and her houses. The bitterness was so keen
that Octavia feared that the tenants of the court would be affected by
the local opinion. Mr. Bond, however, who took an active interest in
the workmen’s club, which had been formed in the court, explained the
circumstances to the men; and the general feeling of the tenants was
drawn to Octavia’s side. Mr. Ernest Hart undertook to discuss the
matter with the medical officer; and gradually the official feeling
changed, or at least was greatly modified. But three incidents bearing
on the affair should be mentioned.
[Sidenote: DIFFICULTIES WITH VESTRY OFFICIALS]
During the controversy, Octavia’s attention was called to the dangers
which would come to the court from a public house built close to it.
Her first idea was to secure some kind of disinterested management
which should prevent the evils of the ordinary public house; but,
finding that, for the time, this was impracticable, she addressed
herself to the work of defeating the licence. This she succeeded in
doing, but one of the J.P.’s, who had specially championed the
publican, was so furious that he addressed insulting remarks to her in
reference to her management of the houses.
On the other hand she was much cheered by a letter from Ruskin,
received during this crisis. Not long after the first houses were
bought he had begun a little to cool towards the work, partly from not
understanding Octavia’s attitude towards alms-giving; and partly from
that horror of London ugliness which led him to think that any London
scheme must fail. But his personal regard for Octavia remained
untouched; and, visiting Carlyle during the crisis, he spoke of
Octavia’s work, and received such a warm expression of admiration from
the “Sage of Chelsea,” that he noted down the words and promptly sent
them to Octavia, greatly to her delight.
The third incident refers to the attitude of her friends on the
Charity Organisation Council. Some of them thought that her management
of the courts should be considered as affecting their movement, and
that a friendly enquiry into her methods would strengthen their hands.
She disliked the thought of greater publicity, but reluctantly
consented to submit her books and papers to the Special Committee
appointed for this enquiry. Though they were friendly in tone, Octavia
greatly disliked the visits of these gentlemen; and, when they wished
to examine the tenants of the courts to find out the moral effects
produced on them by the changes, Octavia put her foot down, and
declined to allow this interference between herself and her “friends.”
I have given what some may think an undue prominence to this attack on
her by the Marylebone officials; but I have two grounds for that
course. One is that it was the first important exhibition of that
officialism which increased in Octavia her strong dislike of State or
Municipal management. The other is that the intensity of her feeling
on the matter brings out a point in her character of which many were
unaware. I remember well that when Mrs. Nassau Senior was smarting
under the attacks on her report on Workhouse Reform, two men remarked
that “Miss Octavia Hill would not have felt such attacks, as Mrs.
Senior did.” Both were intelligent men, and both had some personal
acquaintance with Octavia. But both were mistaken.
It was in the middle of these difficulties and struggles that her
attention was partly diverted from her own work by her interest in the
affairs of a friend; and, for what I believe to have been the only
time in her life, she took an active share in an attempt to return a
Member to Parliament. This was in 1874 when Mr. Thomas Hughes came
forward as a candidate for Marylebone. Her personal admiration for
him, dating from the old Christian Socialist days, and strengthened by
her experiences as teacher to his children, decided her to abandon her
general indifference to Parliamentary work; and she declared with her
usual vehemence that they _would_ return him. Canvassers went out from
14 Nottingham Place with electioneering circulars; and all friends
whom Octavia could influence were pressed into the service.
Unfortunately, for reasons which do not concern this biography, the
effort failed; and, by a curious combination of circumstances, several
people were led to attribute Octavia’s zeal to an interest in the
cause of Female Suffrage.
[Sidenote: ATTITUDE TOWARDS FEMALE SUFFRAGE]
This mistaken idea seems to make this a proper place for a short word
of explanation of her attitude on this question. The fact is that
Octavia never felt the keen interest in the public questions of the
day which animated Miranda; and, since she had discovered that she
could do a definite piece of work for the good of the poor, she had
begun to feel a positive dislike for Parliamentary life, and party
politics, as tending to draw people away from “cultivating their own
garden,” into taking part in wider, but less immediately useful, work.
This opinion she felt it specially necessary to emphasise in reference
to women.
First; it was with women that she specially co-operated in her work
among the poor; and her discovery of a new outlet for their energies,
and her warm appreciation of their possible capacity, led her to look
on the Female Suffrage movement as a sort of red herring drawn across
the path of her fellow workers, which hindered them from taking an
adequate interest in those subjects with which she considered them
specially fitted to deal. Secondly, even in that pacific phase of the
Female Suffrage movement, there were champions of this cause who
thought it more important to call attention to what women could
accomplish than to undertake regular work. Thus they seemed to promote
that intense love of advertising which Octavia abhorred. Lastly, there
were always people who assumed that one, who had done so much
efficient work, must be in favour of a change, which would enable so
many other women less well provided with powers of work to accomplish
more than they could now succeed in doing. And this mistake was
strengthened by the constant confusion between Octavia and her friend
Miss Davenport Hill.
Although she acknowledged in a letter (written from Tortworth and
published in this book) that this indifference to these larger issues
deprived her of some valuable information, and put her at a
disadvantage, she always continued, to the end of her life, to act in
these matters rather (as in the Marylebone election) from motives of
personal sympathy with some special adviser than from those carefully
considered reasons which guided her in the work identified with her
name.
Of course in the biography of any original thinker or actor one must
record apparent contradictions; and it is rather curious that this
same period, which contains her one interference in a Parliamentary
election, is marked also by her one active attempt to assist in the
framing of an Act of Parliament, the Artizans’ Dwellings Bill, which
brought her into some opposition to more extreme individualists than
herself. The main part of her action in this matter will be best
brought out by the letters which follow; but there is one point which
may be overlooked, and on which I should specially like to insist. In
the very period when she was enduring such harsh treatment from the
medical officer and the Vestry, she helped in promoting a measure
which increased the power both of medical officers and of local
councils, in dealing with houses like those under her charge. Thus she
made it clear that she could see the general advantage of machinery,
which had been, and might be, turned against herself.
It must be remembered that all this trying work was carried on while
she was still engaged in teaching the pupils at the Nottingham Place
School; and many of her friends had felt, for some time, that the
effort, needed for the two kinds of work, was too great a strain on
her strength. An offer of pecuniary assistance by a friend a few years
before this time had been gently, but firmly, refused; but, under Mr.
William Shaen’s guidance, a number of wealthy friends succeeded,
without her knowledge, in organising a fund which should make her free
for the further development of the housing-reform schemes. As this
plan had been brought into a definite form before Octavia was aware of
it, and as she remembered that one break down in her health had
recently occurred, she felt bound to accept the offer, under the
limitations mentioned in the letter to Mr. Shaen given in this
chapter. And thus she was placed for the rest of her life in a
position which raised her out of the struggles, which had hampered her
early years.
In 1875 Miss Louisa Schuyler, President of the State Charity Aid
Association, collected five of Octavia’s Magazine articles, and
brought them out in America under the title of “Homes of the London
Poor.” This book was afterwards published in England, and later on
translated into German by H.R.H. Princess Alice.
[Sidenote: DESCRIPTION OF A FELLOW-WORKER]
About 1870.
OCTAVIA TO MR. COCKERELL.
I am sending to the East my new assistant, Miss G. By her quiet, gentle
manner and familiarity with the poor and their ways, and from being
firm, kindly and chatty, she has been more help to me than any assistant
has been for many a long day. She has all the powers I have not, and has
filled in my deficiencies in B. Court in a way that had made me look
forward to working with her very much. Difficulties vanished at her
touch; she had always time to chat with the people, knew all the little
news which throws so much light on character, noticed small excellence
or neglect about the workman’s doings, and kept much of the detail
right, leaving me free for the deeper personal intercourse with the
people that I happen to get to know best, and to meet the greater
difficulties of some of their lives. I shall miss her sorely there;
while I am there, I could have worked well with her; she would have done
all the essential work I do, if not all, at great cost. I am glad to
give her to the East; she lives there, the need there is far greater,
and it is all right she should go, we must train the new workers here.
It is right she goes, and that is enough.
About 1870.
MR. BARNETT TO OCTAVIA.
I am just back from an evening with the men. I can’t help writing to
tell you of their talk. They were all of one mind in approving of your
system. “It is charity, and it is not charity,” said one man. “It is
charity because it is human kindness; and it is not charity because it
does not make people cringing.” Another said, “We had heard that none
but your supporters spoke; for every complaint brought out more clearly
what you had done.” A third thought that they ought to get up a
testimonial to you.
November 23rd, 1870.
TO MISS F. DAVENPORT HILL.
I send a list of my appointments as they stand at present; of course I
can’t bind myself to them all; but they show the probabilities.
_Thursday._—9 till dark, at Hampstead, drawing.
7 o’clock Tenants’ children’s party (I could leave them for an hour or
so).
_Friday._—9–1 at home drawing.
1–1½ at Walmer St. receiving applicants.
¼ to 2 to ¼ to 3 drawing class at home.
¼ to 3 to 4 Walmer St. (if possible) visiting.
4 to 6 ladies come to see me about work at home.
Evening—Half-year’s accounts for Drury Lane.
Invited to dine out—don’t expect to go.
_Saturday._—9½ to 11 Latin class at home.
11 to 1 Committee at 151, Marylebone Rd.
Afternoon Walmer St. and week’s accounts.
7 to 10½ Collecting savings at —— Court.
Saturday evening, December 3rd, is our party for our old tenants here.
Oh! do come, if you possibly can; I shall so specially want you. I
cannot tell you how I want to talk to you.
[Sidenote: A JOKING LETTER]
January 3rd, 1871.
TO MIRANDA.
Your humble servant, the writer, is in good health and spirits, but is
growing so deeply devoted to the delights of her own sweet society, that
she is somewhat alarmed, and fears that on your return she may be found
to have lost the power of speech.
To such tremendous reactions does Nature at times lead us!!! The circle
of interest grows also narrower daily, (barring Walmer Street). She
cares for nothing and nobody beyond her reach, while she sits in her
beloved arm-chair.[65]
Entre nous, however, I think there is still somewhere some little
tenderness in her heart for her respected and absent relatives.
I don’t know how to sign myself, my persons being hopelessly now in a
jumble; so beg you with your ordinary penetration to discover
THE WRITER.
14, Nottingham Place, W.,
April 24th, 1871.
TO MATTHEW DAVENPORT HILL.
I was so much touched and delighted with your letter. Words, such as
those from such as you, do so much to help on our way those of us who
are struggling, somewhat alone, to meet and master the difficulties that
beset us. What I am trying to do is simply in my eyes a bit of adult
education or reformatory work, among a few people corrupted by gifts. It
seems to me that, if we will give them a little sympathy and counsel, we
do something for them; but that, if, in addition, we let the grand old
laws of the world have their natural fulfilment, we do still more. For
along time the feeling of the people was very awful in its bitterness;
but now we are such friends; in fact all the time of difficulty seems
quite past in every way. The hissing is all over; and smiles and kind
greetings come to me, as in my own houses; and the people come to me for
sympathy and advice.
Speaking of a scheme of the Church Council of St. Mary’s, Marylebone,
as an extension of her scheme, she says:
I rather fear their going too fast and far, and letting the practice of
supplying work take the place of training and test by means of it.
You will be glad to hear that all the houses are prospering. Our new
ones are just built;—the new tenants are to enter them next week. The
rooms have been eagerly sought for, as they are in the midst of a
densely populated part of Marylebone.
B—— Court, the last purchased property, is still in a dreadful state;
oh! so dirty and dilapidated; but the people are so charming; we have
such a wonderful hold over them, and can therefore do so much with and
for them.
I brought up from the country ninety bunches of flowers. There was one
for each family, in three sets of houses. I had such a work distributing
them; those in B—— Court had to be given at night, when we went to
collect savings. I got such a delightful greeting as I went from room to
room. I could not help thinking of the old days, and how changed all
was.
[Sidenote: MR. COCKERELL’S DESCRIPTION OF OCTAVIA]
September 5th, 1871.
FROM MR. COCKERELL TO ——.
I am very glad to think that you are going to Ben Rhydding. As we have
just come back, it may be a little amusement to you to have sort of an
introduction to some of the people among whom you are about to spend the
next three weeks. First and foremost of all the guests at Ben Rhydding,
in my opinion, comes Miss Octavia Hill; an unobtrusive, plainly dressed
little lady, everlastingly knitting an extraordinarily fine piece of
work, whose face attracts you at first, and charms you, as you become
acquainted with the power of mind and sweetness of character, to which
it gives expression; a lady of great force and energy, with a wide, open
and well-stored brain, but, withal, as gently and womanly as a woman can
be; and possessed of a wonderful tact, which makes her the most
instructive and the pleasantest companion in the establishment. Miss
Hill has done great things among the poor, in her own district of
Marylebone; and has written on the subject of homes for the poor in the
“Fortnightly” and “Macmillan.”
Undated.
TO MISS MAYO.
I hear continual news of all my tenants. To-day they are to have a tea
at our house. It always gives me satisfaction to think of any amusements
provided for them. I wish we could get them more into the country. Does
it not always seem to you that the quiet influence of nature is more
restful to Londoners than anything else? But picnic parties got up among
the London poor, even tho’ they are attended only by the better class,
carry London noise and vulgarity out into the woods and fields, and give
no sense of hush or rest. What I should like better than being able to
organise large parties (those might be most valuable, and a great deal
could be done to give a sense of order and peace to them) would be to be
able to take eight or ten people, either children or grown up people, or
two families, into some quiet place. If one could afford to give
Saturday afternoons to it, for a few months in the year, one might do a
great deal. I am sure that the power of enjoying things that are lovely
and quiet is one of which the poor stand in need, that it wants
cultivation, which means in this case sympathy with the germs of it
which are innate, and a little food to nourish it, and occasional quiet
to let it assert itself.
Church Hill House, Barnet,
September 26th, 1871.
TO MISS MAYO.
It is no joke to get £3,000, to ascertain precisely the value of the
property, and to negotiate with all the people concerned, in exactly the
right order and way. I have not had a spare five minutes I think till
now; and I have thought of you so much, and so very lovingly.
There is something ludicrous in attempting to foresee events. On the
_principles_ we may build, for they do not change; but the outward
things and their teachings we cannot foresee.
Somehow personal poverty is a help to me. It keeps me more simple and
energetic, and somehow low and humble and hardy, in the midst of a
somewhat intoxicating power. It pleases me, too, to have considerable
difficulty and effort in my own life, when what I do seems hard to the
people—even though they never know it. I could not tell you all the many
ways it helps me. All the same, I know very well that, if in any way
that I call natural and right, I found myself set above the necessity
for effort and denial for myself, I should bless God, and feel it a
relief and help. Only, I should like it to come _only_ if it came
naturally.
[Sidenote: WOMEN’S HOME WORK]
I suppose I told you of dear Minnie’s engagement to Mr. Edmund Maurice.
I am thinking of writing on the subject of women’s work from their own
homes. You know how strongly I believe in its practicability and power.
How I should like a talk with you on the question. I am under a promise
to write some paper; and I am sure that this would be the most useful,
though another about the houses would be most popular. Of course, if I
write, it would be with the view of bringing the definite scheme for
making volunteers’ work more efficient and available before people. My
only doubt is how far it is wise to write now, or to wait till we have
worked at the question this winter, and can speak of the plan as in more
vigorous action. I daresay the question of my having time or not time to
write will decide the matter.
12, Victoria Square, Clifton,
December 30th, 1871.
TO MIRANDA.
How I have thought of you, not for your sake, but for my own! I wonder
whether it will always be so with you, that people want you always for
themselves. No one ever comes to you without being sure of your sympathy
and tenderness. But I’m past even your teasing now. Still I am very
happy. Ruskin was right in saying I was sure to be.
Undated.
I dined at the Barnetts’ last night, met Dr. Bridges, Dr. Abbott, Mr.
and Mrs. Courtney, etc. Mr. Barnett is trying to get four acres of land,
which is full of lodging-houses.... I see he does not think it would be
well for me to join the County Council.
The donations come streaming in with such _beautiful_ letters.
I am to speak at Fulham Palace on Friday for the Charity Organisation.
12, Victoria Square, Clifton,
January 1st, 1872.
TO MISS HARRIS.
Everyone is very kind, and you know that I have a knack of being happy
nearly everywhere; but I grant it is harder to one in holidays than at
any other time.
As to public work, Oh Mary! how it is growing and prospering. This is
the first day of the year; and looking back on the past one, and forward
to the promises of this year, how infinitely much I have to be thankful
for! I do not know whether you know that Walmer Street and Walmer Place
are actually bought by Miss Sterling; and that we have been able to
purify them in a wonderful degree.
Have you heard of the death of old Mrs. Ruskin? It has been strange how,
lately, Ruskin has turned back to me. I have had such letters from him,
asking for my opinions on the triumph of good, and the life after death.
I do not think that words, still less letters, are of very much use;
still one is glad to say what little one can.
... I wonder if you have read either of Browning’s last
books;—Balaustion is beautiful. I have the greatest delight in Hercules;
and the growth in Admetus is very wonderful; especially the
approximation of his nature to that of Alcestis,—as gradually the
impression of what she is, and has done, sinks into him. He was
beginning to be like his wife. I think that the contrast is marvellously
drawn between the extreme joy of a being like Hercules, utterly ready to
die at any moment,—prepared therefore for all things,—and the selfish
cowardice of Admetus. The dawning in Alcestis of the perception of his
defects is very terrible, but very true to nature. The conclusion is
beautiful; but I think that I cannot fully have understood it. Browning
would never have made such a mistake as to represent people, meaning to
do right, and yet being allowed by God to have the fulfilment of their
prayer, if it was not really the best for them, and for the
world—especially as they never seem to see it; so it has taught them
nothing. They realise the holy and happy individual life of love; but
miss for ever the power of blessing their country. So I read it. Tell me
if I am wrong when you have read it.
[Sidenote: BALAUSTION]
Oh, we are getting on so beautifully at St. Mary’s! I cannot tell you of
half our successes, or the vistas of hope that open out before me. May I
only have a long life and many fellow workers!
Crockham Hill Farm, Edenbridge, Kent,
January 3rd, 1872.
TO MRS. NASSAU SENIOR.
DEAREST JANEY,
Stansfeld wrote to tell me that he had written to you. Oh! I do long to
hear the result. If you cannot do it, no one can; and it wants doing, so
I hope you will try.
I am so thankful and so touched about your help about the Public-house.
You are the only person except myself who has as yet found a soul to
help. I can’t tell you what a sharing of burdens it feels. I am nearly
sick of writing about it, or rather of the thought that by any post now
the matter may have to be decided; and I may not know of enough money to
say, “Let the arrangement be made.” I dare not promise a farthing more
than I have been promised. I never trust to the future for help; it
would seem to me wrong, as I have not of my own what would enable me to
meet the engagement; and, tho’ one must get something more, one never
knows how much....
I do not know when I have felt such joy as on receipt of Stansfeld’s
letter; oh! Janey, do try the work if you have a chance.
I am your ever loving friend,
OCTAVIA HILL.
Crockham Hill Farm, Edenbridge, Kent,
January 5th, 1872.
TO MRS. NASSAU SENIOR.
Thank you most heartily; your offer of help did me more good than
anything; somehow such a spirit puts new heart into one. I had a very
nice letter from Stansfeld, telling me result of interview; he appears
to have been highly satisfied. God bless and help you in the work. I am
a little sorry in one way that it does not take you more away from home.
I hoped that you might have had a few hours to rebound from the weight,
and might have been stronger for home work for the daily absence. But,
in some ways, it will make the work easier; and I suppose the sense of
progress and of public work do one good any way, and carry one thro’ a
great many small and some most heavy trials with a sustaining sense that
there are larger and deeper interests than are contained in our own
circle, which is so small, tho’ so dear. So the work may help you thus
after all, as I’m sure you will help it.
[Sidenote: MRS. SENIOR’S FRIENDSHIP]
You don’t fancy for a moment that I would be so mean as to take your
money. No, Janey dear, I could not. Spend it nobly and well as you are
sure to do, but don’t think of giving it to me. We will try yet, in
trust that there are richer people enough forthcoming to do the thing. I
shall tell Mr. Hughes this, if he writes. But you can hardly tell how
much your offer cheered me. One gets a little impatient and bitter,
quite wrongly I am sure, waiting for the slow rich people to make up
their leisurely minds, when one’s keenly cherished plans hang upon their
decision. We, who have gathered our impressions down among the people in
long past years, on whom the swift sight of the possibility of good to
be done bursts like a clear ray into darkness, who hold our few
possessions in money somewhat lightly, ready to risk them, and counting
them a small gift to offer for any chance of good, we who are to hold
the reins of power, and know just how far we may hope to win, must use a
little imaginative patience with those whose training has been so
different.
It makes one feel a little lonely sometimes, but in the beginning of
things one must be _that_.
April 28th, 1872.
TO MARY HARRIS.
We had our playground festival yesterday, with all its wonderful
memories, and the blessed sense of progress.... Out of the utter
loneliness of those first days of work, on that little beloved spot,
what a wealth of love and help has gathered, even for me personally. And
oh, Mary! what a progress in the people, and the dear old place! The
cottages looked so neat and clean, the whole place so fresh and
substantially good. I looked at my lamp that stood as a guard throwing
light, before which dark deeds quail, night after night where darkness
had reigned before,—a type of much of the character of the way we have
to work. Neither punishment, nor rewards, nor rule is what we hope most
from, but _supervision_, a glance, a look, a bringing things to light. I
looked at my cottage with its heightened rooms,—a definite bit of
tangible good, strange type too of our work—taking off the weight from
above that presses down, in order that the human being may have room to
breathe, to expand, to rise. Then how the children have improved! What a
number of games they know! And as to my singing class it was quite
delightful. They sang with all their hearts, and seemed never weary,
song after song. I had a troup of them round and about marching and
singing “Trelawney.” So many of them knew the same songs and games. It
was capital! Such days are worth living for.
Tortworth Court,
September 3rd, 1872.
TO MRS. SHAEN.
Pray tell Mr. Shaen I should lose some very great advantages if he made
any alteration as to the “disputing.” I hope he never will. It is only
that I was amused at Miss Shaen’s confirming my impression. I don’t at
all wish for any change; it certainly is never unfriendly disputing, and
always interesting.
The marriage was very bright and quiet; all was solemn and glad. The
tenants gave the Bible, as Minnie and Edmund stepped out of the vestry;
and one of their children gave the loveliest bouquet. I like to think
that the blessing of the poor rested on them.
[Sidenote: MRS. SENIOR’S APPOINTMENT]
14, Nottingham Place, W.,
November 18th, 1872.
TO MRS. NASSAU SENIOR.
I had written to Stansfeld[66] before your letter arrived, but have only
just received his reply. I want you to meet him before we enter upon the
question of your fitness in any detail. I have therefore told him
nothing but that I think I know someone who will do. He is coming to the
party on the 28th, as he has long wanted to come to one; and I shall
introduce you to one another there, if all be well. I am sure that you
are the very person; and if he has any sense, he will feel this. We
shall see....
Thank you all the same for the offer to take the responsibility. I have
really very little to do at this set of parties: my only duty is to
bring the entertainers and keep them happy and harmonious. It is not as
when my own dear poor are the guests. If you are there, and keeping all
going, I shall just rest happily in seeing all go well.
I had a triumphant interview with Longley[67] and the guardians this
morning, obtained all, more than all I had hoped.
I somehow believe, dear, that we shall get this appointment under
Stansfeld managed. It seems so entirely the right thing. I am sure it
would be the greatest interest to you to have such a work, and it might
even tell as a rest. I am sure that you would do it splendidly.
Nottingham Place, W.,
November 19th, 1872.
MRS. HILL TO MRS. EDMUND MAURICE.
Octavia’s mumps at present are nothing but a subject of joy to her; for
she stays at home and gets thro’ quantities of work with the most
gladsome spirit. She gave me a delightful impression of her visit to
you; but of course her fatigue, which had been rapidly accumulating for
a week reached its climax in that 7 mile walk in the cold and dark. She
said the petting she received made up for everything.
November 28th, 1872.
MRS. HILL TO MRS. E. MAURICE.
It seems the tenants have so completely taken it for granted they are to
come here on O.’s birthday on December 3rd, that Miss Cons thinks they
would arrive on that evening even without invitation. Octa clings very
much to you and Edmund being here....
Undated.
SAME TO THE SAME.
Octa is so interested in the Sanitary Committee of the C.O.S.... All the
men who have worked from the beginning are there and many others
besides. It is not wonderful that Octa should be among them, and able
continually to say a word in season. Dear child, the mantle has fallen
on her.[68]
[Sidenote: QUESTION OF REMAINING IN THE CHURCH]
14, Nottingham Place, W.,
December 15th, 1872.
TO MRS. NASSAU SENIOR.
As to the points on which you and I equally differ from so many
clergymen and churchmen, if we think Maurice’s interpretation of the
creeds the true and simple one, is it not doubly incumbent upon us to
uphold it _in_ the Church? Leaving it would be like saying we could not
honestly stay in it. Then does not all the best, most thorough, most
convincing, most peaceful reform of any body come from within? in
family, in business, in nation, in Church? Does not all growth and
reform come from those who remain with the company in which they find
themselves? Is there not almost always a right at the root of the
relationship, which may be asserted and vindicated, and on the
recognition of which reform depends? _That_ body must be corrupt indeed,
which must be left by earnest members of it. Surely there are abundant
signs of growing healthy life and reform in the Church; all the vigorous
and new things nearly are signs of good. Why should you set up the
decidedly old-fashioned interpretation of doctrine, and that held by a
certainly decreasing number in the Church, and feel hardly honest in
differing from it and remaining in the Church?
Don’t think I am special-pleading. Except for the sake of the Church, I
don’t care where you are. While you are what you are, you are safe
everywhere; for you will find grace and goodness in all things; and
God’s Church certainly comprehends those not in the Church of England.
If you are sure that the services do not speak to and with you in words
that help; if there is a lurking sense of want of courage or candour in
remaining, which is real, not fancied; if you have a sense of antagonism
and alienation, not support and fellowship, why not leave the Church?
Those who love and know you would never feel you further from them; and,
if you found support and peace greater from other teaching and other
services, why not go where you would have it? To me, of course, the old
services, which first opened to me the sight of how things are, and how
they should be, come home to me with a gathered force almost weekly. To
me there open continually new visions of how our Church will expand and
adapt itself to the large comprehensiveness and new needs of the time. I
believe the men who are now in her will cling on, with passionate
affection, to the creeds and services; but that they will link
themselves more with the outer world, and see with clearer eyes; and
that the Church will insensibly grow with and by their growth.
I see in such movements as Mr. Fremantle’s Church Council, open to
people of all creeds by election, a sign of much deeper and wider faith
than churchmen have hitherto recognised as possible in the Church. I see
in it, also, much ground of hope in the added responsibility and
interest possessed by laymen. The new permission to use churches for
lectures on secular subjects seems to me another sign of the breaking
down of formal distinctions, and recognition of life as holy.
14, Nottingham Place, W.,
January 22nd, 1873.
TO MRS. NASSAU SENIOR.
You slipped out so that I did not see when you went; and I do not seem
one-half to have thanked you for all your help; it was of a kind I never
can forget. Neither do I seem to have told you how very happy the news
of the arrangement with Stansfeld made me.
I hope you were not damped by the hitch about the “Public.” I am so
accustomed to this kind of thing, and to its coming all right, that I
seem to see beyond the difficulty. Will you, when you are seeing or
writing to your friends, tell them of the delay in the immediate
starting of the plan? It _shall_ be done soon somehow, and might come to
an issue any day; but I feel a little anxious lest any contributor
should begin to think we did not intend to try the plan, if they hear
nothing for some little time. You will know best to whom this temporary
pause had better be explained.
[Sidenote: MR. S. A. BARNETT’S MARRIAGE]
February 8th, 1873.
MIRANDA TO MRS. DURRANT.
Did I tell you that Mr. Barnett, the curate who has worked with Octavia
so admirably in St. Mary’s, has just married Miss Henrietta Rowland, one
of Octavia’s best workers; and now they are going to live and work in
the East End? Octavia thinks it such a splendid thing to have such a man
at work down there—she thinks it quite a nucleus of fresh life; and Mrs.
Barnett, of whom Octavia is very fond, is admirably fitted for the work
too. The wedding was very touching—the church was crowded with poor
people; even the galleries were filled with them. He was so much
beloved—one of those men with strong individual sympathies and an
intimate personal knowledge of the people in their homes—a strong
Radical too, with a horror of class distinctions, and practical
disregard of them, which you don’t find in all Radicals.
14, Nottingham Place,
March 6th, 1873.
TO A FRIEND WHO HAD BEEN CALUMNIATED.
No rumours nor published statements, or chattering remarks would ever
confuse me, or weigh for a moment against the quiet assurance of anyone
whom I trusted. The _facts_ which really concern one about one’s friends
are not those of their business or circumstances, but of themselves; and
I think one knows a little when and how one may trust. When one does
feel confidence, much more confusing circumstances than these have ever
been do not touch one’s trust. I think one often has to hold two truths
apparently utterly inconsistent, side by side in one’s mind, knowing
that, both being proved true, there must be some possibility of
reconciling them by some unknown third truth, which time may reveal. And
I am sure that trust in anyone, known to be good, could not be shaken by
merely outward appearances. One likes to know how things are. One
objects to be puzzled, and to have no word of explanation about how
things are; but trust in human beings is no more to be determined by
want of sight, than the trust in God Himself is by the impossibility of
seeing why He leads us by certain ways we cannot understand for the
moment. For the human trust is based on that which is part of His
nature, and as such is quite firmly planted.... We read half a
controversy, and largely resolve that the truth lies somewhere between
the two correspondents. We do not long for judgment, but “hush matters
up,” or let them “blow over”; and do not bring them out to the light,
and choose between them.
[Sidenote: THE PUBLIC HOUSE CONTROVERSY]
March 9th, 1873.
TO MR. COCKERELL.
I am in a frantic state of excitement (which I fear will be dashed very
completely) as to the public-house. Mr. Fremantle handed me a slip of
paper at a meeting yesterday to say that the licence of the “Walmer
Castle” had been refused, and asking if he should see Sir J. Hamilton
(who is chairman, I think he said, of the Bench), about granting one to
us.... Since which, tho’ I have written and sent messengers, I cannot
get any answer.... To-morrow I purpose going myself and waiting till I
can see him....
I wonder why you enjoy Jason “immensely.” It is marvellously real, and
so old-world as to be a refreshment to those mixed up with
nineteenth-century things. The images are lovely, and the music of the
verse soft; but the sustained melancholy of the whole poem is very
terrible, I have always thought, a certain measure being put on all joy
by the belief that it has no outcome, no fulfilment anywhere beyond
itself. You have not, I daresay, finished the book to see how, with all
his fortitude, just because he misses the highest joy of all, he chooses
so low a one as to reject all that had made the majesty of life, the
companion at once of pain and of his greatness too. I have always longed
to see how Morris would treat a distinctly Christian story, and was full
of regret that he withdrew—or never wrote—his promised “St. Dorothea.”
March 16th, 1873.
TO MARY HARRIS.
How strangely people do come to me, Mary! I cannot make it out. There is
something in the work which strongly attracts them. Mr. —— seemed
perfectly engrossed, and could hardly tear himself away. What it is, I
cannot tell; but either pity, or some other feeling, is gathering round
me a company of allies so kind and so zealous that I ought to achieve a
great deal. It is well for me that I am served so willingly, for I would
rather do anything at any cost than have it done for me unreadily.
March 23rd, 1873.
TO MARY HARRIS.
We have heard to-day a sermon of Kingsley’s for the Girls’ Home. It was
almost wholly about Mr. Maurice, and gave him fully the place one
believes he has. It was a sermon full of Kingsley’s own peculiar power;
and there was not a word in it that was not true and beautiful. It was
to us a sight of deepest solemnity. The church,—_that_ where we were
baptised, and confirmed and where Minnie was married—was crammed with
people, and one knew every second face. It was filled with the old
Lincoln’s Inn and Vere St. people, and with their spiritual inheritors
of all that teaching. Mr. Davies, grave and intense, was the moving
spirit there....
We had a very good meeting on Wednesday at Willis’s Rooms. I was the
only lady on the platform, and in the ante-room had such interesting
talk with all the people. Lord Shaftesbury and Lord Westminster and Lord
Lichfield and Mr. Hughes, Mr. Andrew Johnston, Mr. Longley, and hosts of
people were there. Mr. Hughes stayed by me all the time and was so kind.
Did I tell thee about dining at the Cowper Temples and meeting Kingsley
and Lord and Lady Ducie? It is all very interesting; but thou knows how
often the loveliest and best things one meets are not among the
celebrities at all, but by piercing below the surface of those who are
supposed to be commonplace. I cannot tell thee how often this happens to
me.
[Sidenote: A VISIT TO RUSKIN]
Brantwood, Coniston,
April 27th, 1873.
TO MARY HARRIS.
I have stores of lovely memories, to last for many a day.... We drove to
the foot of a steep ascent, and then climbed the steep slope,—such a
road. It was by smooth slopes set with fir and larch and sycamore, by
mountain walls covered with ivy, till at length we got to where the lake
lay far beneath us. Then we left the road and went on to a central
point, where the peaks stood round us like a great company of spirits;
and one ridge beyond another showed their great blue flanks; past a
mountain tarn, and wild stream, which flowed to the valley, by cascades
and dark deep brown pools, and banks set with primrose, anemone, and
wood sorrel.... It ended very brightly and sweetly after all, quite to
my heart’s content.
14, Nottingham Place, W.,
May 11th, 1873.
TO MARY HARRIS.
The cupboard[69] is come and is fairly established in my room. You
cannot tell what a rest and delight it is to me. For, first, it looks
quite at home and gives a solemn old-world feeling to the room which is
in itself a rest. But, secondly, the carved frieze on which are date and
initials, is thrown forward and its projection throws a great quiet
space of shade which the eye cannot penetrate. It is like some of those
old Byzantine palaces, or the shadow below the Palazzo Vecchio at
Florence. The recess panels, old knobs, even the keyholes, give sharp
shadows much smaller, but full of beauty. I did not the least anticipate
the beauty of this while the cupboard stood in the hall. The double
light was very unbecoming, while the height of this window and the
nearness of the cupboard to it makes the shadows beautifully steep. The
shade it throws on the door is very nice. As to the Doge, he looks
quieter than ever up above the dark oak. The room looks perfectly
beautiful to my mind. I need hardly say the cupboard stands behind the
door, the sofa with its end towards door. I sit in my green chair and
gaze at the cupboard with greatest delight.
May 18th, 1873.
TO MISS HARRIS.
I have bought a house in ——, certainly the worst Court left untouched by
us on this side of the parish.
Mr. Longley writes to me from the Local Government Board, to say they
are really thinking of appointing Mr. Barnett a Guardian. I am just
going to St. Jude’s (Whitechapel) to spend the evening.
We are deeply interested about the rebuilding in B. Court. I wish we
could pause a very little, and reinforce ourselves in our old positions,
before extending further. I almost tremble when I see how little power
of growth any of our schemes have, where I withdraw myself. However, I
say to myself, “Courage! it will the more bring out the character and
power of your fellow-workers.” I often and often pray heart and soul as
I go in and out, that someone with wisdom and zeal would arise, and take
my place or part of it. The Store is doing very badly, and I wish you
would send me a prospectus of the Manchester Store. Dearest Lady Ducie
is more and more in —— Court. It is a great blessing.
[Sidenote: ARRANGEMENTS TO VISIT A COURT]
14, Nottingham Place, W.,
May 25, 1873.
TO MRS. NASSAU SENIOR.
I shall be delighted to see Dr. Mouat as well as the others, on
Wednesday. I only ought to point out to you that in going through the
courts, especially if we go into any rooms, we must divide. Five of us
could not well invade a small room unexpectedly; also that in areas,
yards, and courts, one can’t talk so well to a large party, to point out
what has been done, or tell what was. It might be well managed in this
way. You might all come here; and we might sit and have a nice talk
before we start. We might appoint that Miss Cons should meet us in the
Court; and two might go with her, and three with me, to see what is to
be seen. She can and does tell and show as well or better than I.
Wednesday is by no means a hard day, thank you, for me; especially as
they have determined that the Dwellings Committee at the Council should
not sit this week. I shall enjoy dining with you very much; it would do
me all the good in the world; as to meeting Mr. Bosanquet, it would be a
great pleasure. He is a man who lives up to his Christianity, moment by
moment, and in silence teaches it more powerfully than almost anyone I
know. He is just a touch conventional, and alarms me in proportion; but
I like him thoroughly. I wonder how you are. You say nothing of that. It
will be so nice to see you again.
June 15th, 1873.
I have had a great delight this week. Browning has been reading his last
volume at Lady D——’s. The intense fervour of the man dominated the
company into a hush of awe.
The MacDonalds are home and so kind. Mr. James Cropper of Kendal has
asked me to go and stay with him.
14, Nottingham Place, W.,
June 22nd, 1873.
TO MRS. N. SENIOR.
I never realised till this moment that I had not written to tell you how
very glad we shall all be to have Miss C. here. I think it may help us
all to get on better together. I wish I were gentler, and better able to
let people see what I feel. In one way I can conceal nothing. Everyone
knows what I think, right or wrong, which passes; but few know how much
I care for them. Sometimes people almost make me wonder whether I love
in some other, poorer way than most people after all; one cannot measure
one’s own love by that of others; but I feel as if I loved very deeply,
rejoiced in natures, would serve people thankfully, never forsake them;
but it seems to be very difficult for any but a few to know this. I
daresay little thoughtfulnesses and gentle gracious acts are worth a
great deal more; and these I miss doing very disgracefully. Well, I do
try to amend; and where I fail, people must forgive me, and take what
they can get from me, hoping to find what they need most from others.
It will be very delightful to see you to-morrow night. There is a kind
of piano at the Club; we shall want plenty of songs. Probably you know
the kind; simple ones, that will do them real good, and especially
“Angels ever bright and fair.” The room is tiny, and very close; but we
will do our best to air it; you said you perferred meeting us there. The
hour is 8 o’clock.
[Sidenote: A TOUR IN SCOTLAND]
Cullen,[70] Banffshire,
September 6th, 1873.
TO MRS. EDMUND MAURICE.
As to me I am as well as it is possible to be, and very happy. We had
magnificent weather for our journey; and here the weather is very nice,
tho’ we have hardly a day without some rain. We don’t pay any attention
to it, but manage to be out seven or eight hours daily. The sea is so
grand just now; there have been storms out at sea; and the swell sends
the waves rolling in, and breaking in masses of foam about the rocks.
There was a revival here among the fishermen twelve years ago; the
effects of it seem really to have lasted; and everyone dates all the
reforms from _that_. The fishermen are a splendid race here; vigorous
and simple. Mr. MacDonald seems so at home with them; and we often get
into nice talks with them on the beach. The sea-town, as they call it,
and another tiny village called Port Nochie contain nothing but
fishermen; they hardly intermarry at all with the land population; but
are a distinct race, tho’ within a few yards of us here. They have only
about six surnames in the place; every man is known by a nick-name. We
spent the day on Wednesday at an old castle on a promontory of rock,
washed on three sides by the sea itself. The position and plan remind me
forcibly of Tintagel. It is called Finlater Castle, and is now nothing
but a ruin. The family is merged in that of the present Lord Seafield,
who is the head of the clan Grant; and bears for his motto, “Stand fast
Craig Ellachie!” Do you remember Ruskin’s allusion to it in “The Two
Paths”? Lord Seafield’s house is close to here. They are away; but have
lent Mr. MacDonald keys to the garden and house.... I am delighted that
you got the girl that situation.... How very nice about the Work Class
tea. I do so much like to hear of things like that when I am away.
14, Nottingham Place, W.,
September 28th, 1873.
TO MISS HARRIS.
.... The number of people whom I saw who were interested in the work was
very great. Among others, Mr. F. Myers, the poet, offered me £500 for
houses. Mr. Crowder did the same. Did I tell thee that his father is
dead? He comes into a large fortune, and is full of schemes of his
future work. He has two friends, clergymen, with them he hopes to work;
but they seem to me set on the country, and he on London work. If he
comes alone to London he says that it would be to me; but I should try
to transfer him to Mr. Barnett.
They all got up at five o’clock, drove some miles, and came by train to
Rugby to talk over matters with me. They are such a splendid trio.
[Sidenote: SWISS COTTAGE FIELDS MOVEMENT]
1873 (?).
TO MRS. FITCH.
Can you interest anyone in the plan described in the enclosed? And will
Mr. Fitch give his name to the North Marylebone Committee?
I shall never forget Mr. Haweis’s action in this matter, and shall
respect him all my life. He saw the magnitude of the undertaking, but
never paused, for fear he should be leading a forlorn hope; he
resolutely and earnestly took the matter up. He has got us a worker as
Honorary Secretary, at once, and thinks we are certain “to succeed if we
do the thing well,” as we only want money.
Hope is the one article which is deficient; but, though I have always
the smallest imaginable supply of it myself, I feel as if, for the sake
of securing air and light and beauty for the hundreds I see up in those
fields, when I take my own people there, I had resolution enough to
nerve every one else in London for the effort. We have nearly £4,000
promised, and have only been at work a few days; but the provoking thing
is that so many people say they will help, if the scheme is carried out,
instead of seeing that it depends on them, and such as they, to say what
they will give, before we can tell whether it will be carried out.
Perhaps I am impatient; but I wish small people would build like the
ants, and believe the heap will grow bigger, if they persevere; and that
big people would take pattern from Mr. Haweis, and be a little more
courageous, even if it should turn out that they lead a forlorn hope;
and that they would not hang back, till they see if others of their kind
come in a flock.
These fields are within the four miles radius,—are within a stone’s
throw of a station of the Metropolitan; their view can’t be built out
because they are on a hill; the houses are rapidly creeping round their
fourth side; they are within an easy walk of Lisson Grove and its
crowded courts, to say nothing of our people here. Of course they are
not central, yet no one can make a park, when a place has become
central. Let them try in St. Giles or Clerkenwell; we must a little
precede the builders, if we are to have central places. I have one idea
at this moment,—“the fields.” Laugh at me as much as ever you feel
inclined; but get Mr. Fitch to help us.
14, Nottingham Place,
October 5th, 1873.
A special extra letter to fellow-workers about a proposed inscription
on Freshwater Place.
* * * * *
I should have liked to have written to each, because I should like to
have recalled the special thanks, which makes me anxious you should each
consent to help me in a piece of work that I have in hand. Some of you
have worked side by side with me in the court which it will benefit;
some of you have helped me with money and with sympathy never to be
forgotten, in difficult undertakings, before the world smiled on them,
or success crowned them; some of you stood by me when my work was
unpopular, and seemed to many cruel; some of you have knelt with us in
daily prayer, lived among us, learnt things from us, cheered us with
your glad young lives, and are now gone back to other homes. Perhaps you
were interested in our work, when you were among us; perhaps you
understood and cared little for it then; but it may look more important
and useful as you look back to it. Some of you have never lived or
worked with us at all, but have entered into the deeper fellowship of
sympathy, have hoped for the same bright things, prayed for them, and
feel (though separated by space) “one of us,” in a deeper sense than
_that_ in which some of you have used the phrase.
[Sidenote: THE MOTTO FOR FRESHWATER PLACE]
I cannot write to each of you; but, if, on any of these grounds, you
would care to help in a plan that I have much at heart, I earnestly wish
you would.
You all know Freshwater Place, our first freehold, Mr. Ruskin’s court,
where we have our playground,—which is mixed up with May festival
memories for many of you.
You know something of how hard I worked for it long ago; my difficulties
in building the wall, and in contending with the dirt of the people; how
gradually we reduced it to comparative order, have paved it, lighted it,
supplied water cisterns, raised the height of rooms, built a staircase,
balcony, and additional storey; how Mr. Ruskin had five trees planted
for us, and creepers, and by his beautiful presents of flowers, helped
to teach our people to love flowers. You know, or can imagine, how dear
the place is to me.
For some six years now, I have thought that, if ever I could afford it,
I should like to put up along the whole length of the four houses which
face the playground on the east side, some words, which have been very
present to me many a time, when my plans for improving the place for the
tenants were either very unsuccessful for the moment, or very promising
or very triumphant, or very bright, but far away in the future.
The words are these:—“Every house is builded by some man; but He that
built all things is God.” They have been present to me when I have been
at work in putting to rights visible, tangible things there; they have
been no less present to me, when I have been trying to build up anything
good in the people. They have reproached any presumption in me; but they
have revealed to me the sure ground for the very brightest hope that I
have ever cherished for the worst of them; for it is indeed but a very
limited sense in which we build anything; we only work as His ministers;
but all that is built, or shall be built and established, He doeth it
Himself.
How much of all this meaning the passers by may see one does not know,
nor very much care. The words would assuredly be a blessing to some
people when they come suddenly upon them, in a city full of places, that
almost make one think that God did not build them,—has forgotten
them,—and does not mean to rebuild them in the years to come, when we
listen to His voice more.
Now will you help me to place the words there? I am not likely ever to
be able to afford to do it myself; but I was talking one day lately to a
friend about my six years’ wish to do it; and he suggested that many
people might like to help. There are fifty-six letters; if each letter
is a foot square, the inscription will occupy the full length of the
four houses; each letter will cost nearly 8/–. If any of you will give a
letter, you may like to feel that you have helped to write a sentence
that will speak when you are far away, and after you are dead.
I want to make the sentence very lovely in colour, that the mere
brightness of it may be a joy to every one that sees it. It will be done
in tiles, so that every shower of rain may keep them clean and bright. I
want them to be done in blues, purples and greens, and very bright; for,
though the loveliest effect comes from a subdued glow with sparks of
brilliant colour gleaming out, our inscription, costly as it will be,
and though it will run the length of four houses, will be a little space
compared with the dingy spaces of wall in the court, and but a spot
compared to the still dingier spaces of all London; so we must treat it
as the spark, and let it glow with bright colours.
[Sidenote: PREPARATION OF THE TILES]
She ends by two long quotations from Ruskin, of which she says:—“They,
no doubt, taught me to care for permanent decoration, which should
endear houses to men, for external decoration which should be a common
joy.”
October 26th, 1873.
TO MR. COCKERELL.
Thank you very much for the nice rent book. It is such a pleasure to me
to see things nice; and I am sure it has a good influence on everyone
concerned. Just because I do so little to put them right myself, it
gives me quite a thrill of gratitude and pleasure when anyone else
does.... Miss —— is sure to consider it quite thrown away labour. Why is
this in her, I often wonder? She would do a thing of the kind any day to
spoil me, but she would think me quite mad to care, all the time. I went
to Mr. De Morgan’s studio. _I_ think the things lovely; and I think I
mean to decide the matter according to my desire, partly because I care
very much, partly because the thing will last; and I think the world is
coming round towards such colour and design almost every year; so I
shall feel only a little in advance of it, not out of harmony. But I am
quite sure that the dim subdued solemn colour, and blurred uncertain
suggestive outline, will not seem to people in general half so pretty,
or so _good_, as the clearly defined edge and crude but gay colour of
some other tiles. There is an artistic loveliness about the one, which
one must watch to care for; while the vulgar completeness of the other
commends itself to modern taste. So far, I know you personally will
agree with me; and we must prepare other people to be disappointed. But,
in my next decision, I don’t know that I shall carry even you with me.
The more I thought out the question, and the more I saw of the tiles,
the more I felt as if blue, and blue only, would look best. I can’t see
how we can get a look of unity in the inscription, if we introduce other
colour. I dislike a distinction between capitals and other letters in
colour, when one has no difference in height. I dislike the idea of a
line round the inscription; besides, it would decrease the size. I
therefore strongly urged blue only, but gradated blue, such as I saw
there. I know in his heart Mr. De Morgan agreed with me. He has,
however, a lovely copper lustre, which gleams like a fish’s back, and
tells now as light, now as dark, like gold, according to how the rays
fall on it; and he sorely wants to see this; also he has a deep crimsony
red which he is fond of. I never wavered, however, in my adherence to
the blue, except in sight of one plate,—green blue and purple shot like
a peacock’s tail, but in a lighter key. I really decided nothing; first,
because I had not the money, but I might have decided provisionally, and
let a postcard finish the business with the one word “now,” when all the
tiles are promised; but Mr. De Morgan, like a true artist, pressed so
hard for leave to try different colours and designs, on his own
responsibility, and for his own pleasure, that I agreed at last that he
should do a few letters in the next kiln. Of course it is all gain to
us; and I was most decided that none of the money subscribed should go
in experiments.
[Sidenote: NAMES OF THE HELPERS IN THE MOTTO]
E Miss Harrison }
V Mr. Smale } Old fellow
E Mrs. Godwin } workers
R Miss Smith } specially
Y Mr. Downs (Ruskin’s } connected
Gardener), } with the
who planted the } court itself.
trees in the playground. }
{ Very great
{ personal
H Mary Harris { friends of
O Mr. Young { old standing,
U Lady Ducie { except Mr.
S Mr. Shaen { Young, who
E Mrs. Shaen { has been a very
{ true helper.
I Mr. & Mrs. Hughes } a word a
S Mrs. N. Senior } family.
B Mrs. Hill }
U Margaret }
I Miranda }
L Mr. & Mrs. Lewes } a word a
D Myself } family.
E Mr. & Mrs. Maurice }
D Florence }
B Mr. Barnett } word for family,
Y Mrs. Barnett } initial letters
} too.
S Mr. Harrison } a word a
O Mrs. Harrison } family now
M Mr. Macdonell } solemnised
E Mrs. Macdonell } by death.
B Mrs. Johnston }
U Miss Trevelyan } a word a
T Miss J. Trevelyan } family.
H Ruskin.
E Mr. & Mrs. MacDonald.
T Mr. Mayo }
H Miss Mayo } a word a
A Miss A. Mayo } family.
T Miss C. Mayo }
{ Somewhat
B Miss Baumgartner { miscellaneous,
U Mr. S. Beaumont { but
I Miss Dittrich { a beautiful
L Mr. Matheson { word, and
T Mr. Barrington { all worthy
{ of it.
A } Our pupils, including
L } Miss S. Burgess.
L }
T Mrs. Whately.
H Emma Clover.
I Mr. Boyle.
N Col. Gardiner.
G Stansfeld.
S Miss Sterling.
I Alice Meredith { a word for
S Miss Humphreys { two great
{ friends.
G Ruskin.
O Mr. Watson.
D 〃 〃
_Blank Tiles._
Mr. Bond.
Mr. Kincaid.
Miss Ridley.
Miss J. Trevelyan.
Miss Bain and her friend.
November 11th, 1873.
DEAREST MRS. SHAEN,
Mr. Shaen’s repeated help, again and again, has alone carried us through
difficult crises in the work. It is not only his power and thoroughness
nor only the amount of heart with which he has entered into its objects,
but the blessed sense of quiet and assurance it gives to feel how
completely one can trust him, that makes me know that we owe more to him
than to almost anyone else who has helped us. I shall never forget his
help at times of difficulty, and uniform kindness always.
14, Nottingham Place,
October 12th, 1873.
TO MRS. N. SENIOR.
I have not felt at all like a friend in not answering you before, as I
often do when people do or write loving things, and I never utter a
word. But I did not feel so—for I knew that you knew quite well much
that it was in my heart to say. Only now I do delightedly seize the time
for writing.
I do see very distinctly indeed how ladies might be enrolled in the
service of the Poor Law, just as we do it here. I think that the plan
has immense advantages, so long as we have out-door relief; and that it
might help to break down the system very much. If I were doing the
thing, I would enrol not ladies, but volunteer men and women. They must
have a definite head and centre. That centre might be either paid or
unpaid. I think our relieving officers and guardians would report well
of the scheme, even as it works now; though, after it has been longer on
foot, of course we could prove more results. We could be used to any
extent for an extension of the scheme, if it were decided on, and if the
time had arrived for extending it. It is very different from the larger
questions which Stansfeld asked you to grapple with, and comes down to
the individual work, and would fit on therefore with ours here. I will
delightedly see you about it, at any time or place that you arrange.
This, of course, touches nothing but the question of out-door relief. I
don’t think that I have anything practical to suggest about the in-door
poor, among whom, no doubt, women’s work is much needed. One sees a
great many principles, which ought to be brought to bear in the
workhouse, if only one went there in power; but I have neither
experience nor time to help in this direction.
[Sidenote: POOR LAW REFORMS]
I see certain definite lines of work, in which I shall be particularly
glad of help; but of course it would never do to break in upon a
definite course of reading.
Miss Peters,[71] my new assistant, has not come yet unfortunately. I
almost pray that she may stay, as she seems so exactly all that I have
so long wanted.
Mr. Barrington is so good that I grow much interested in him, and am
very grateful to him.
The following letter refers to a testimonial presented to Mr.
Cockerell by the members of a Workmen’s Club.
December 21st, 1873.
TO MR. COCKERELL.
Surely the recognition of and approval of good work depends on the
degree of the perfection of the perceiving and measuring power of
onlookers. There is much glittering meretricious work which everyone
sees and applauds; there is much of the noblest work which few, if any,
see; but surely, while we have spirits and hearts, we must sometimes
catch a glimpse of the good things done among us, and of their value.
You must indeed have a low opinion of your poor club friends, if you
think that, because they see it, and respect it, and delight in your
work, it must be bad. There was no oppressive sense of obligation among
them; there was no flattery, expectant of returned compliments; there
was no thought of your expecting word or token of thanks; but so far as
I could see, a happy over-brimming sense of help, joyfully given and
joyfully received. Nothing delighted me more than the earnest, intense
way in which when the speaker poured out his epithets of “liberal,”
“gracious,” “generous,” the noun that had to come was (rather, I
thought, to his own surprise) “advice.” It seemed to me quite beautiful
that, with the wide class gulf between you, the relation was so manly,
so happy, so independent; and that the adjectives were so evidently
hearty and sincere and the gift so pure from all taint. When you read
the end of Brook Lambert’s letter, or Lowell’s Sir Launfal, you will
know why the relationship between you seemed to me so real, even tho’
their sense that the only thing they could give you was not a _thing_ at
all, but a few words to tell you what they felt. Did you feel so “dumb”?
Well! it did not strike me so. I believe I anticipated _that_; I do not
think people can do otherwise than as their nature prompts them,
especially when suddenly tried. But do not be uneasy; your life has not
been “dumb” to them, and will not be; perhaps will speak none the less
deeply for that very dumbness....
Yes! I suppose you too would have shut yourself out from the
inscription, if I had been foolish enough to mean, and you had known me
so little as to think I meant, that you should measure the amount and
form of your faith, before helping us. I never meant it. It is good to
be wholly honest, and to say the difficult and unpopular thing, when one
has to answer a question, and to be cautious not to confuse a feeling
with an opinion, nor a hope with a logically proved conviction. But I
should be the last person to ask the question, especially in that way,
or to desire to shut out anyone in the cold, who had not clearly thought
out their belief, or to whom gigantic problems loomed terrible between
themselves and the desired belief....
[Sidenote: HOW TO FIND “THE REAL MAN”]
I didn’t want the gift made unwillingly, nor, certainly, insincerely;
but the latter I never suspected. To me the real man is the man when his
hope is brightest, and the vision of what _may be_ almost trembles into
certainty, that that best thing _is_. This is the man I see and know,
see as I myself believe that he will be when the veils are rent asunder,
and he sees, after having learnt what it is to be alone and blind. To me
too there is much the same kind of distinction between a man’s
distinctly grasped and well defined opinions, and his gleams of what may
be beyond them, as Browning shows, between his achieved work and visions
of better things, when he says:—
Then she quotes the three verses beginning “Not on the vulgar mass,”
from Rabbi Ben Ezra.
Hastings (George MacDonald’s).
December 27th, 1873.
TO MR. COCKERELL.
I am not a little amused that the idea that the best man is the real man
should seem to you in any way new. I am sure you must always have felt
it and acted on it, with children, with wrong-doers, when they, whom you
have watched and cared for, have wandered from what is right; whenever
you have tried to reconcile a quarrel, whenever you have tried to
forgive anyone who has done you a wrong. It can only be the definite way
of putting the thought into words that can be new. I think all the sense
of peace one is able to have in this world comes from this conviction;
certainly all who have tried to reform themselves owe their strength to
this faith. It seems to me the only ground for preaching freedom, and
the only right foundation for hope for any of us.... Miss Cons came out
with such a great proffer of help that it made me feel how real her
friendship was, whatever little clouds or freaks might obscure it; how
it was something that might be depended on in need, and was real and
true all the time. It did me such good. I came down here quite
encouraged.
Tortworth Court,
January 3rd, 1874.
TO MR. COCKERELL.
I wonder what you would think of life here. I often feel how much most
people would learn and gather from men actually engaged in the political
world’s work; and how much I lose it all, for need of knowledge enough
to learn. I come in, like some queer new being, from another region; but
I think it enlarges one even to see and listen to those whose interests
are so different. Lady Ducie I know you would like heartily and deeply.
I feel it a great privilege to see her so thoroughly. What a strange
thing it is to glide so wholly into a sense of ease and perfect harmony
with such a variety of people as I know, and to meet them on such simple
human grounds of sympathy!
March 26th, 1874.
MRS. HILL TO MRS. EDMUND MAURICE.
Octavia had her party of 300 costermongers from Drury Lane last night.
She did not sit down once from 3 o’clock till past eleven, nor did she
eat in the interval. It was a grand success. The people thoroughly
enjoyed themselves. Of course they did ample justice to the tea, and
liked the music so much,—poor people. Miss Antoinette Sterling sang
beautiful, rather solemn, music, in her rich alto voice. When she and
her friend came in in opera cloaks, the people cheered; “it was all the
opera cloaks,” she said to Octa.... The clergyman was enthusiastically
delighted, and told O. she should have a great hall in his parish
whenever she wanted it....
[Sidenote: MR. BARNETT ON THE EAST END]
Undated. Probably April, 1874.
MRS. HILL TO MRS. EDMUND MAURICE.
... Mr. Barnett’s illness _is_ sad.... Octa went there on Sunday
evening, and had a very interesting talk with him. She asked him what
would be the end of the East End. Would it disperse, or what? He said he
thought it would change; that there is a great deal of building going on
countrywards—houses that implied an income of £500 a year or so;—these
were taken by people who had got their money in the East End, and who
would continue their connection with it, and help to raise it. He thinks
it more airy than the West End. His house is better built than Mr.
Hart’s in Queen Anne Street. Mr. and Mrs. Hughes sent Octa a pressing
invitation for Sunday evening;—but the Barnetts won.... O. is going to
dine this evening at the Seeleys’. She keeps wonderfully well, and is as
busy as a bee—in and out—in and out—very _like_ a bee—and like it too in
her happy murmurings whilst at work, and evident pleasure in the
work....
Derwent Bank, Broughton,
April 12th, 1874.
OCTAVIA TO MRS. EDMUND MAURICE.
Thank you very much indeed for the letter of introduction to Professor
Caird.... I hope I may have time to see him; but I shall only be there
two nights, and have my time pretty well promised.... M. will tell you
that the C.O.S., St. Mary’s, the Council, and a private lesson prevent
us from taking any other day for the excursions, except Wednesday.
June 16th, 1874.
OCTAVIA TO WM. SHAEN.
I did not manage to say to you to-day what I was wanting much to say,
which was that, in spite of the extreme kindness and beautiful feeling
shown by whoever has given all this help, I must request you not to
receive for me one farthing more. The thing is done, beautifully,
efficiently, abundantly; there really it must rest. I have more than
enough for holidays and everything I can possibly want, as much as ever
I wish to have. And it is one thing to accept once for all a great gift
like this; and quite another to take help for special objects in this
way. I do assure you I would rather not; in fact I simply can’t do it. I
don’t know that I could logically defend my position, but I feel the
distinction very deeply; and I do assure you I mean what I say. richer
than I ever did, and able to do things I never dreamed of doing. But
once more and most emphatically I decline more. I have enough.
[Sidenote: LIFE AMONG THE POOR]
1874.
TO MISS HARRIS.
It is very nice being again right down among the tenants; and, oh! dear
me! how things do get on when one does them oneself! It has all caused a
great change in my life; for I have now _four_ nights weekly engaged
among the people,—often _five_; so I have to refuse nearly every
invitation that comes, and, except for my near fellow-workers, I see
little of anyone, except the poor. However, the fellow-workers are now
very numerous, and care to take trouble to see one.
Andy and the girls are entering most heartily into one or two plans for
the poor. Agnes Yarnall’s[72] great interest is such a help among the
girls. The girls are to issue invitations, devise entertainments, and
order things for the tenants’ children’s party. And Miranda and they are
to practise sacred music for one of the St. Jude’s Soirées (_i.e._ for
Mr. Barnett’s church in Whitechapel). I am so glad, for the old interest
appeared to have cooled so of late years; but now they are full of it. I
went a long walk with the Barnetts at Wimbledon; it was so lovely, and I
brought back fresh green moss, and a few gorse flowers.
June 18th, 1874.
MRS. HILL TO MRS. EDMUND MAURICE.
... Octavia’s affairs _do_ grow. This morning she received offers of
four other properties. I don’t know that she will accept them. Miss Cons
and Octa have gone to dine at Mrs. Backhouse’s.... O. was tempted by the
attraction of meeting her dear Mr. Cropper; else it was a struggle to
her to give up the Charity Organisation Committee.... O. proposes to
take me to Normandy for a fortnight.
14, Nottingham Place, W.
July 19th, 1874.
MIRANDA TO EDMUND MAURICE.
... I think all went very well; and the deep purpose of Octavia’s
statesmanship—for which the party was given, that of uniting St. Mary’s
people somewhat—seemed to have succeeded. I feel frightened, when I
discover what deep reasons of state Octavia has for her actions. I am
afraid of spoiling some political combination (parochial rather than
political) by some awkwardness of mine, from being wholly incapable of
telling what it all means. I feel as if Octavia were a kind of Cecil in
her sphere....
We were much amused, because we heard there was to be a children’s
service, after which a collection was to be made for some benevolent
institution for schoolmasters and schoolmistresses. I thought the
children would not be willing to give. Octavia thought they might, if
they looked on it as a propitiatory sacrifice; or if they hoped to
pension off the teachers quickly, as infirm and unable to teach. Then
Miss S. told us that Lord Shaftesbury had once asked a boy why the
Eunuch “went on his way rejoicing,” and the boy replied, “Because Philip
had done the teaching of him, Sir.”
[Sidenote: MRS. SENIOR’S REPORT]
The Mill, Limpsfield.
September 20th, 1874.
TO MRS. N. SENIOR.
... I was longing for news of you when the rumour reaches me that your
Report is really out. What that will really mean to you of suspense,
anxiety, of doubt of what it will be right under given circumstances to
do or not to do, I can only imagine. But this I know, and should care
for you to know,—that one, at least (one who is probably the sample of
many), will be thinking of you with love and perfect trust. Whatever the
newspaper critics, the interested officials, the angry partisans, may
say, there are those who know that your work has been done with
conscience, patience, singleness of eye and heart. There are those, too,
who know that out of such work God will in His own time bring results
valuable to the world; that it is like good seed sown in good ground;
and, though it may seem to die for a time, it will bear fruit. No
momentary ebullition of feeling, no apparent failure, can ever confuse
us as to this, we shall not be puzzled by having to wait for
results;—nor will any minor points draw our attention from the fact that
the work is thoroughly sound and good, governed by a right spirit; and
it will vindicate itself as such, in the best of all possible ways, by
achieving success, in the deepest sense of that much abused word
“success.”
You and I know that it matters little if we have to be the out-of-sight
piers driven deep into the marsh, on which the visible ones are carried,
that support the bridge. We do not mind if, hereafter, people forget
that there are any low down at all; if some have to be used up in trying
experiments, before the best way of building the bridge is discovered.
We are quite willing to be among these. The bridge is what we care for,
and not our place in it; and we believe that, to the end, it may be kept
in remembrance that this is alone to be our object. But as we are human
piers, conscious of our own flaws, we are apt to fear that, so far from
forming strong supports, we may, through our own defects, be weak
foundations for the bridge. We must remember always that God has been
always pleased to build His best bridges with human piers, not angels,
nor working by miracles; but that He has always let us help Him, if we
will, never letting our faults impede His purposes, when we struggled
that they should not....
... I shall be home on the 28th, when I shall hear of any important
article. I fancy your part is done; and that you will now have the
easier duty of passive silence, leaving whatever has to be said to
others.... Edmund wants much to have a copy of your Report, and would
like, too, to write an article for the “Contemporary,”[73] if you know
of no one doing it. Charles (Lewes) is sure to know how to get the
information that he needs.
This rest has been such a blessed thing for me. I got such a break from
responsibilities of work as I never remember since I was a child.
Limpsfield, Red Hill,
September 20th, 1874.
TO MRS. SHAEN.
My great fear was Miss P.’s leaving, as she is independent of salary.
Her greatest friend tells me that at first she thought it all almost
overpoweringly sad. I remember that she wanted to help people more, and
do repairs faster, than I thought wise. I told her to do exactly what
she thought right as to helping them with money. But I told her strongly
what I believed, and urged her to watch the result closely. I told her
the amount to be spent for repairs, and that she must _not_ exceed that;
but that she might spend it exactly as she chose in the house under her
care. It has ended in her feeling great loving confidence in my greater
experience, appealing to it most willingly, and yet exercising and
enjoying power, which has made her very much attached to the tenants and
the house that I gave her to manage. I look for great help from her in
the future, and I am very fond of her indeed.
[Sidenote: CONFIDENCE IN HER WORKERS]
October 18th, 1874.
TO MISS HARRIS.
I think the division of the work is going really very well. It makes a
great difference certainly to my work; it is quite curious how it
simplifies matters; of course it remains to be seen whether the things
are well done; but if not, we must improve or change our workers. At
least now we and they know their duties; and they have a chance of
proving if they are, or can grow to be, up to them. If we succeed at
all, we shall succeed much better than ever. Dear Miss Cons is more good
and sweet than words can express; but the pain to her is still very
great, and thro’ her is costing me a great deal. I, however, have the
consolation of clearly seeing the better end. The other workers are most
happy in their freedom and distinct responsibility, and in coming nearer
to me; and I shall know better what is in them.
November 1st, 1874.
TO MARY HARRIS.
We had a teetotal meeting at B. Crt. on Thursday. Mr. Smale is going to
take the lead there in the teetotal cause. It was very touching and very
beautiful to see him take the pledge. He looked so young and so good,
and took it wholly for the sake of the people. The speeches of the men
from an old established teetotal club, “The Dauntless,” were very
beautiful. I never heard anything straighter from the heart, nor saw
more living fire burning in men’s eyes. We have begun a series of _paid_
entertainments in B. Crt. on successive Saturdays. Last night the season
opened with a capital play by the MacDonalds. The room was crowded to
overflowing. The next performance is to be an operetta by Mrs. Baylis
and her friends.... Mary! I do so often tremble lest I should spoil all
by growing despotic or narrow-minded, or overbearing, or selfish; such
power as I have is a quite terrible responsibility; and so few people
tell me where I am wrong.
This letter refers to the attacks of the medical officer on the B——
houses.
November 17th, 1874.
TO MR. COCKERELL.
I enclose copy of attack, and will send one of my answer as soon as I
can. I am afraid the meeting _may_ be much more troublesome in
consequence; but I am glad that it is fixed independently of all this.
My fear is that the meeting may appear to them extorted by fear; but we
can but do our best. Of course it _must_ deal with the same questions.
Much will depend on the result of Thursday’s Vestry, on which occasion I
have asked to have my letter read, when Dr. ——’s report comes up.
Everyone has been kinder than I can well say; but the sort of thing is
troublesome and tiring very.
[Sidenote: DIFFICULTIES WITH THE VESTRY]
14, Nottingham Place,
November 23rd, 1874.
TO MRS. EDMUND MAURICE FROM MIRANDA.
... Mr. Bosanquet says the Vestry _cannot_ condemn the houses. Octavia
has called a meeting of B. Court tenants to consult as to how _they_ can
keep things in better order, keep front doors shut, &c.... She is very
sorry it should happen now; but she had fixed the meeting before this
Vestry row occurred. She fears the tenants will be in a very bad state,
because of this affair; and I fear she will come back very dispirited.
It almost feels like that old Walmer Street meeting. She wants to get
co-operation; and the people think she is only to hear complaints.
14, Nottingham Place,
November 27th, 1874.
FROM SAME TO SAME
The result seems satisfactory on the whole. The Vestry _did_ adopt Dr.
W.’s report; but the question of the measures to be taken was referred
to Dr. W. and Octavia together. She was asked if she would be satisfied
with _that_, and said she would. She said this on the strength of Mr. E.
Hart’s co-operation,—who had seen Dr. W. the evening before the Vestry
meeting, and had shown him how utterly untenable his position was. Mr.
Hart looked into the matter thoroughly with O., and said he thought she
had a _very_ good case; and that, if Dr. W. persisted, he would only get
into difficulties. So, Dr. W. was most anxious to retreat, and agreed to
have a meeting with O. and Mr. Hart to settle measures of reform after
the Vestry meeting.... Several strangers in the Vestry were very nice
about O., and the feeling very much in her favour at last.
December 8th, 1874.
OCTAVIA TO MR. COCKERELL.
I don’t like the idea of simply repaying the balance after repairs are
paid for. These repairs are so vaguely enormous that we should never
know where we are. Besides, I fancy all successful management of finance
depends on walking open-eyed forward, having weighed possibilities and
results....
I have just returned to-day from Leeds, after such a happy visit, in
which I do hope I have been really successful. The conference was most
interesting, and composed of very influential people. They collected
£3,000 at once, which is ample to buy and improve the court they want to
begin on; and they will wisely begin on a small scale. Evidently more
help would be forthcoming directly if wanted. I don’t think the
Corporation will move yet. Everyone was kind, tho’ they were all
strangers. Somehow it was all very bright and seemed to contrast
strangely with Dr. ——’s memories.
The following letter requires a word of explanation. Ruskin had
written to Octavia quoting the words which Carlyle used about her:—“Of
a most faithful disposition, with clear sagacity to guide it. You
can’t get faithful people; they’re quite exceptional. I never heard of
another like this one.” (A pause) “The clear mind and perfect
attention, meaning nothing but good to the people, and taking infinite
care to tell them no lies.”
[Sidenote: CARLYLE’S TRIBUTE TO OCTAVIA’S WORK]
December 20th, 1874.
TO MR. RUSKIN.
I am more touched than I can well tell you, at your thinking of sending
me Carlyle’s words in the midst of all your trouble. It was very kind
and showed me,—what I cared for most about it—that you had not given a
bad account of me to Carlyle; for, as he does not know me, he must have
judged me from your account, I like to presume. But, besides the comfort
of finding an old friend speaking kindly of me, I must say the words,
coming from Carlyle, came to me like the blessing of a prophet;
something as if they partly bound me to live up to them, partly crowned
me with honour for having suggested them, and partly soothed me for
present troubles, and helped me to see how ephemeral they were....
I am avoiding all newspapers, meetings and committees, and just going on
my own way, with silence and sound work and patience. How my friends
have come round me no words will describe; and I do believe, and must
believe that I shall win in the deep sense of the word “win,” in the
long run. But somehow Carlyle’s words came, as I say, like a fresh
message, teaching me to see all he has taught so magnificently, that the
true thing is the strong thing, and that the perfect act will prevail
against the wordy clamour.
The words shall be a standard for me to live up to.
December 26th, 1874.
FROM RUSKIN.
I have been prevented from telling you in answer to your lovely letter,
that what Carlyle said was absolutely his own gathering and conclusion
from what he had seen and read of you, or heard, in various general
channels, and had no reference whatever to any report or praise of mine.
I am very glad I had it to send you just when you are beginning to feel
the Adversary at last rousing himself; and that you respect Carlyle so
much as to be rejoiced by his thoughts of you.
The next letter refers to the housing scheme at Leeds.
FROM REV. ESTLIN CARPENTER TO MRS. EDMUND MAURICE.
On the practical side, Miss Octavia Hill had extraordinary mastery of
detail. She was kind enough, when I was living in Leeds, to accept an
invitation to come and describe her methods to a company, chiefly of
business men. We arranged a meeting in the theatre of the Philosophical
Hall, and some of the leading citizens were there. I well remember the
surprise of some of them at the clearness—not only of her opening
exposition—but of her spontaneous replies to questions concerning all
sorts of matters affecting the treatment of house property, sanitation,
repairs, bad debts.