36.
_June 13th, 1880._
You are really very good to put up with all that vicious Epilogue. But
it won't discredit _you_ in the end, whatever it may do me. I hope much
otherwise.
I will send you to-morrow the Lincoln, or, possibly, York MS. to look
at. You will find the Litany following the Quicunque vult, and on the
leaf marked by me 83, at the top the passage I began quotation with. It
will need a note; for _domptnum_ is, I believe, strong Yorkshire Latin
for Donum Apostolicum, not Dominum.
The _e_ in Ecclesie for _ae_ is the proper form in medieval Latin.
The calendar and Litany are invaluable in their splendid lists of
English saints, and the entire book unreplaceable, so mind you lock it
up carefully!
37.
There's a good deal of interest in the enclosed layman's letter, I
think. Would you like to print any bits of it? I cannot quite make up my
mind if it's worth or not.
38.
_June 27th, 1880._
The 'Epilogue' is all but done to-day, and shall be sent by railway
guard to-morrow (_D.V._), with a book which will further interest you
and your good secretary. It is as fine an example of the coloured print
Prayer-Book as I have seen, date 1507, and full of examples of the way
Romanism had ruined itself at that date. But it may contain in legible
form some things of interest. I never could make out so much as its
Calendar; but the songs about the saints and rhymed hours are very
pretty. Though the illuminations are all ridiculous and one or two
frightful, most are more or less pretty, and nearly all interesting. You
can keep it any time, but you must promise me not to show it to anybody
who does not know how to handle a book. * * *
(NOTE.--I may mention here, once for all, that wherever there are
omissions left in Mr. Ruskin's letters, there is nothing of interest or
importance in those passages for any one but for the receiver of that
letter.)
39.
_July 15th, 1880._
* * * It is a further light to me, on your curious differences from most
clergymen, very wonderful and venerable to me, that you should
understand Byron!
40.
_June 25th._
DEAR MALLESON,--No, I don't want the letter printed in the least; but
it ought to have interested you very differently. It is by a much older
man than I, who has never heard of our letters, but has been a very
useful and influential person in his own parish, and is a practical and
acceptable contributor to sporting papers. He is an able lawyer also,
and knows far better than I do and far better than most clergymen know,
what could really be done in their country parishes if they had a mind.
The bit of manuscript is perfectly fac-similed by your niece, but I
can't read it: and it will be much better that you mark the places you
wish certification about, and that I then send the book up to the
British Museum, and have the whole made clear. The _dompt_ is a very
important matter indeed.
I have got the last bit of epilogue fairly on foot this morning, and
can promise it on Monday all well.
Ever affectionately yours,
J. R.
41.
_April 30th, 1881._
DEAR MALLESON,--It will be many a day before I recover yet--if ever--but
with caution I hope not to go wild again, and to get what power belongs
to my age slowly back. When were you in the same sort of danger? Let me
very strongly warn you from the whirlpool edge--the going down in the
middle is gloomier than I can tell you.
But I shall thankfully see you and your friend here. Visiting is out of
the question for me. I can bear no fatigue nor excitement away from my
home. I pay visits no more--anywhere (even in old times few). It is
always a great gladness to me when young students care about old
books--and I remember as a duty the feeling I used to have in getting a
Missal, even after I was past a good many other pleasures. You made such
good use of that book too, that I am happy in yielding to any wish of
yours about it, so your young friend[37] shall have it if he likes. The
marked price is quite a fair market one for it, though you might look
and wait long before such a book came _into_ the market. The British
Museum people were hastily and superciliously wrong in calling it a
common book. It is not a _showy_ one; but there are few more interesting
or more perfect service books in English manuscript, and the Museum
people buy cart-loads of big folios that are not worth the shelf room.
Ever affectionately yours,
J. RUSKIN.
[37] Rev. J. R. Haslam, now Vicar of Thwaites, Cumberland. See
Appendix.--ED.
42.
_April 23rd, 1881._
MY DEAR MALLESON,--These passages of description and illustration of the
general aspect of Ephesus in St. Paul's time seem to me much more
forcibly and artistically written than anything you did in the "Life of
Christ"; and I could not suggest any changes to you which you could now
carry out under the conditions of time to revise, except a more clear
statement of the Ephesian goddess.
[I really do not think Mr. Ruskin would wish that _all_ he wrote in the
next sentence about the Ephesian Diana should be placed before the
public eye. But I resume in the middle of a sentence.]
... practically at last and chiefly of the Diabolic Suction of the
Usurer; and her temple, which you luckily liken to the Bank of England,
was in fact what that establishment would be as the recognised place of
pious pilgrimage for all Jews, infidels, or prostitutes in the realm of
England. You could not conceive the real facts of these degraded
worships of the mixed Greek and Asiatic races, unless you gave a good
year's work to the study of the decline of Greek art in the 3rd and 4th
centuries B.C.
Charles Newton's pride in discovering Mausolus, and engineers' whistling
over his Asiatic mummy, have entirely corrupted and thwarted the uses
of the British Museum Art Galleries. The Drum of that Diana Temple is
barbarous rubbish, not worth tenpence a ton; and if I shewed you a
photograph of the head of Mausolus without telling you what it was, I
will undertake that you saw with candid eyes in it nothing more than the
shaggy poll of a common gladiator. But your book will swim with the
tide. It is best so.
43.
_July...._
I'm not in the least anxious about my MS., and shall only be glad if you
like to keep it long enough to read thoroughly. There must surely be
published copies of such extant, though, and worth enquiring after?
Partly the fine weather, partly the heat, partly a fit of Scott and
Byron have stopped the Epilogue utterly for the time! You cannot be in
any hurry for it surely? There's plenty to go on printing with.
I don't think you will find the n's and m's much bother; the
contractions are the great nuisance. But I do think this development of
Gothic writing one of the oddest absurdities of mankind.
The illumination of "the fool hath said in his heart," snapping his
fingers, or more accurately making the indecent sign called "the fig" by
the Italians, is a very unusual one in this MS., and peculiarly English.
44.
There is not the least use in my looking over these sheets: you
probably know more about Athens than I do, and what I do know is out of
and in Smith's Dictionary, where you can find it without trouble.
For the rest you must please always remember what I told you once for
all, that you could never interest _me_ by writing about people, either
at Athens or Ephesus, but only of those of the parish of
Broughton-in-Furness.
That new translation could not come out well; that much I know without
looking at it. One must believe the Bible before one understands it, (I
mean, believe that it is understandable) and one must understand before
one can translate it. Two stages in advance of your Twenty-Four
Co-operative Tyndales!
45.
_26th May._
DEAR MALLESON,--I should be delighted to see Canon Weston and you any
day: but I want J---- to be at home, and she is going to town next week
for a month, and will be fussy till she goes. She promises to be back
faithfully within the week after that--within the Sunday, I mean. Fix
any day or any choice of days if one is wet after the said Sunday, and
we shall both be in comfort ready.
If Canon Weston or you are going away anywhere, come any day before that
suits you.
In divinity matters I am obliged to stop--for my sins, I suppose. But it
seems I am almost struck mad when I think earnestly about them, and I'm
only reading now natural history or nature.
Never mind Autograph people, they are never worth the scratch of a pen.
Ever affectionately yours,
J. R.
46.
_August 26th, 1881._
I'm in furious bad humour with the weather, and cannot receive just now
at all, having had infinitely too much of indoors, and yet unable to
draw for darkness, or write for temper. But I will see Mr. ---- if he
has any other reason than curiosity for wishing to see me--what does he
want with me?
47.
_21st October._
I am fairly well, but have twenty times the work in hand that I am able
for; and read--Virgil, Plato, and Hesoid, when I have time! But
assuredly no modern books; least of all my friends', lest I should have
either to flatter or offend. Still less will I have to say to young men
proposing to become clergymen. I have distinctly told them their
business is at present--to dig, not preach.
Let your young friend read his Fors. All that he needs of me is in that.
48.
ANNECY, SAVOY,
_November 15th, 1882._
I have got your kind little note of the 11th yesterday, and am entirely
glad to hear of your papers on the Duddon. I shall be very happy indeed
if you find any pleasure in remembering our walk to the tarn.[38] I hope
I know now better how to manage myself in all ways, and we may still
have some pleasant talks, my health not failing me.
[38] Goat's Water, under the Old Man of Coniston.
49.
TALLOIRE, SWITZERLAND,
_November 20th, 1882._
MY DEAR MALLESON,--I am sincerely grieved that you begin to feel the
effect of overwork; but as this is the first warning you have had, and
as you are wise enough to obey it, I trust that the three months' rest
will restore you all your usual powers on the conditions of using them
with discretion, and not rising to write at two in the morning.
I am very thankful to find in my own case that a quiet spring of energy
filters back into the old well-heads--if one does not bucket it out as
fast as it comes in.
But my last illnesses seriously impaired my walking powers, and I'm
afraid if you came to Switzerland I should be very jealous of you.
Certainly it is not in this season a country for an invalid, and I
believe you cannot be safer than by English firesides with no books to
work at nor parishioners to visit.
Ever affectionately yours,
J. RUSKIN.
50.
_January 22nd, 1883._
DEAR MALLESON,--I am heartily glad to hear that you are better, and that
you are going to lead the Vicar of Wakefield's quiet life. I am not
stronger myself, but think it right to keep hold of the Oxford Helm, as
long as they care to trust it to me.
I've entirely given up reviewing, but if the Editor of the
_Contemporary_ would send me Mr. Peek's Article, when set up, I might
perhaps send a note or two on it, which the real reviewer might use or
not at his pleasure. In the meantime it would greatly oblige me if the
Editor could give me the reference to an old article of mine on Herbert
Spencer, (or at least on a saying of his), which I cannot find where I
thought it was in the _Nineteenth Century_, and suppose therefore to
have been in the _Contemporary_ before the _Nineteenth Century_ Athena
arose out of its cleft head.
The Article had a lot about Coniston in it, but I quite forget what else
it was about. I think it must have been just before the separation.
Kindest regards and congratulations on your convalescence from all here.
Ever affectionately yours,
J. RUSKIN.
51.
BRANTWOOD, _February 6th, 1883_.
MY DEAR MALLESON,--I'm nearly beside myself with a sudden rush of work
on my return from abroad, and resumption of Oxford duties, and I simply
_cannot_ yet think over the business of the letters, the rather that _I_
certainly never would re-publish most of those clergymen's letters at
all.
My own were a gift to you, and I am quite ready to print _them_ if you
like, and let you have half profits, the St. George's Guild having the
other. But that could not be for some time yet.
Ever affectionately yours,
J. RUSKIN.