a fair

people could not pay for them; and next, because they could not bring workmen enough to bear upon them. He saw that, in a case like this building, the decoration was shortened in shaft and capital, because they could not find enough active workmen, and men to put their genius into the work. On the other hand, political economists on the other side of the water, in France, had been making curious experiments of another kind: there they had not too much work; they said they would give these men work to pull down the Abbey of St. Omer, and accordingly men were paid for pulling down one of the most interesting buildings in France. In these cases, they had a striking illustration of the misapprehension of the theory of political economy in the two countries. In the great revolution of 1848, when the doctrines of labour, in a modern point of view, began to be discussed, the doctrine started among the socialists was day's wage for a fair day's work." This was accepted and acted upon by the political economists of France in a singular way; for they set men to dig earth, and wheel it one side of a road, and, having deposited it there, then to wheel it back again. That was their idea of a fair day's work for a fair day's wage; but it was only carrying out in a different way the story of pulling down the Abbey of St. Omer. He did not think it often happened than an honest and willing man came forward and was ready to work, when there was no work for him to do. It was difficult for him, inexperienced as he was among workmen in general, to come to a proper conclusion in the matter. He had intercourse with none but well-conducted workmen, and consequently his views of that class were more liberal than perhaps they otherwise might be. There was seldom a well-conducted man who could not get work, but he was perfectly aware that there were cases of misfortune which might have been brought on by the folly of the man himself in his early days, which might have been averted by care and teaching on the part of his betters, but had not been contended with, because they did not admit the right that a fool should be saved from his folly; but he thought that that was but a narrow-minded charity which held out its hand only to the wise and good. Therefore, any mistake of this kind in the lower classes must be pardoned, and the only surprise was that, generally speaking, they conducted themselves so well. He was speaking to Thomas Carlyle, the other day, of a class who were exposed to considerable suffering-namely, the needlewomen. Mrs. Carlyle, who took great interest in this class, had been making some experiments, and said that the reason of their suffering was that because, generally speaking, they could not stitch, and that was the secret of their not getting work; but when they could work in a plain way and a proper way, then they could get employed. That made a great impression on him, and led him to think that there were other cases where workpeople were suffering, though not from their own folly, and therefore it was the more incumbent on them to endeavour to help them out of their difficulties. One of the chief obstacles to doing this was, not seeing the way how work might be made profitable to all classes; the great mistake of the day was, not distinguishing between work which was calculated to have a permanent and beneficial effect for the good of society, and that which was of a transient nature, expensive at the time to the employer, but, nevertheless, did no good to himself nor anybody else. In illustration of this point, Mr. Ruskin adverted to the cost of certain luxuries, and observed that if the money so spent were directed to drainage, the erection of comfortable dwellings for the poor, or decoration of buildings, which would be not only gratifying to

the eye, but also be instructive, it would have a permanent and beneficial effect. In that way they might trace the source of complaint of the poor against the rich; if the poor man said to the rich that he had no business to ride in his carriage and indulge in luxuries, that was not the right way to put it, because he had the right to spend it as he chose; but if the poor man said that God had given the rich man wealth, and that he ought to distribute it for the benefit of his fellow-men, that plea would be attended to, especially if the poor man showed that he was doing his duty in his own sphere, and taking advantage of every opportunity of bettering his own condition. There were two things which he wanted to impress on the minds of the working men in the London College; it was rather difficult to do so, because his business was not of a utilitarian character, in the common sense of the term; but yet one of the arts which he studied and taught presented one phenomenon—namely, an exceeding distinctness as to the way in which work might be made the most available-which was not to be found to the same extent in any other art that he knew. He alluded to architecture, which was of a social character, and the peculiar results which emanated from it were characterised by a socialism which could not be brought out in any other art. This seemed not to have been overlooked in the architectural teaching of several centuries back, when the architect did not draw out his designs, and then treat the men who were to execute them as mere machines. They all worked together as one man; and nothing great had been done in architecture, save by associated bodies, in which every man had some connected work to do, and where all the faculties of the mind and hand were brought out to the utmost. They might depend on it that it was the best architecture which brought out, not only the mind, but the hand, in that sense in which it was obedient to the mind. Therefore it was that architecture of which they were raising such a picture in Oxford, claimed to be recognised with gratitude and respect for the influence it had had; because he did not think they could calculate the enormous results which Gothic architecture, as exemplified in cathedrals throughout Europe, had given rise to, in elevating the mind of the traveller, and in giving an impetus to the genius of the artist, as well as the workmen. In former ages, people became either monks or labourers; thoughtful men became monks, but those who turned their attention to mechanical pursuits were thought the most of, because it raised them to a particular dignity, inasmuch as the hand of the workman, as well as the mind, was employed. They heard it often said, that if they objected to machinery, why not object to the chisel and the hammer, which, after all, were but machines? They might, however, rest assured that exactly in proportion to the degree in which the hand in every particular conveyed the touch to the canvas or the stone, in that degree did the art rise in dignity; because the hand, next, perhaps, to the eye, was the most wonderful part of the human body; it could do things which machinery could not, and the way in which the mind worked upon it was marvellous in regard to the delicacy in which any impression of the mind could be conveyed through it to the canvas or the stone, and that tool could only be a good one which gave effect to that impression accurately. Therefore it was that painting had a dignity over sculpture, because the brush was more flexible, more easily handled, and better adapted to work out a preconceived idea than the chisel. According to the distance of the soul of man and the touch, the spirituality of the work was regulated, and on this principle, if a man could paint with his fingers, the more successful would be the result.

way.

In order that the individual minds of workmen might be brought out they must get them to agree together, and socialism-it was an ugly word to use, but it was excellently applicable if rightly understood-was the principle which should regulate them. What he understood as the right meaning of socialism was the Christian principle of helping each other, and bearing witness against the saying of "every man's hand against his neighbour," which was the common law of their modern commerce, and was making it more and more a degradation instead of an honour to them. It was that feeling which induced Mr. Maurice to establish the Working Men's College in London, and it was easy to understand how all the faculties of a man could be quickened and ennobled by sympathy with his neighbour. They might depend on it. God meant them to live thus together, and He had rendered it perfectly easy for them to do so, and told them plainly that man should seek, not his own, but others' welfare; and in that way each man's interest would be promoted in the best possible So soon as they recognised the great principle of social help, so soon would they attain the great object they wished the upper classes to adopt, and accomplish all they wanted, in conformity to God's will, and the highest destinies of the human race. Among the impediments to this perfection of socialism, there were two which he had discovered—namely, jealousy and dishonesty; both were exceedingly difficult to get rid of, and nearly all the associations of working men in London had been more or less foiled by a want of honesty on the part of their members. That was beforehand to be anticipated, because they could scarcely expect, in a society of fifty or sixty men, that all would be honest; they could therefore understand how one man could do a great deal of harm; and also how by associating together, teaching a little honesty and acting up to it, they set an example which would be of far greater practical value than all the doctrines in the world. But were they to be discouraged because they were such children in political economy? (In further illustration of these views, Mr. Ruskin read a long extract from a work of Dr. Acland's, now preparing for publication.) He continued: As he had already said, jealousy was another hindrance which must be got rid of; and he exemplified it by stating that he was at a friend's house where his cook would expose herself to the heat of the kitchen fire, of which she complained, rather than permit the scullery-maid to learn cooking; the cook was in ill health, and was an illustration of a woman's dying of jealousy. There was one thing more which, perhaps, they would be surprised that he asked for, and that was pride; there was not half pride enough on the part of the working men of England. He alluded to the fact that in the mediæval ages various towns were distinguished for their staple manufactures, and no town contended with the trade of its neighbour, but every town tried to make its own better, and that was what he wanted to see carried out now throughout England. He further observed that God had implanted in man a love of naturul history, which was evident from the interest with which he viewed the variety and beauty of the handiworks of nature wherever they were beheld. Applying this to architecture, he showed that he who followed that occupation had two blessings-that of being able to appreciate the beauties of nature, and of interpreting them to others; and stated, moreover, as a singular fact, that skilful imitation of a natural object, such as a leaf or a flower, often awakened admiration where the object itself failed to excite a corresponding feeling. Having briefly referred to the superior adaptaon of some materials over others for the purposes of artistic imitation, he

proceeded to show that architecture in particular was best calculated above any other art to develop whatever genius a man might possess. They could never tell what they were capable of until they studied nature attentively, and tried to imitate her, and that was one of the chief things he wished on that occasion to impress upon the minds of the workmen whom he saw around him. His plan of instruction was to teach people to see first and imitate afterwards; and it was wonderful to observe the results which ensued, because each man, knowing the toil it took to accomplish it, directed all his energies to it, and surpassed the ordinary efforts of the more highly educated classes. They had an immense advantage in knowing what work was, and having hands skilful enough to embody the conceptions of the mind. The workmen employed on the decorative part of that building would have an opportunity of displaying their talent in this respect, because he knew that Mr. Woodward* was preparing designs in Dublin, for capitals which were unrivalled for their originality. Mr. Ruskin afterwards impressed upon the working men the influence which they might exercise on the upper classes for their own benefit by inducing them to contribute out of their wealth to the decoration of buildings, which would have the effect of developing their latent talent, of which he had been speaking. Mr. Ruskin concluded with a few remarks to the workmen on the utility of the edifice on which they were engaged, which, he observed, would supply that deficiency which the University had laboured under in connection with the study of natural science; and every man who was employed in piling stone upon stone should bear in mind that he was laying the foundation of a structure which was calculated to exercise a very beneficial influence on succeeding generations.

[From the Journal of The Society of Arts, May 8th, 1857.]

MR. RUSKIN commenced by remarking that it was no part of his intention, in appearing before them, to enter into a general consideration of the views which had actuated the formation of the committee which had been set on foot, relative to the purchase by the nation of Seddon's

* For other mention of Mr. Woodward see "Sesame and Lilies," in the lecture on "The Mystery of Life and its Arts," §§ 103, 104.

† Upon the death of this artist some of his friends met together at the house of Mr. Holman Hunt with a view of founding a memorial to his memory. At their meeting the above remarks were delivered. Ultimately the memorial took the form of a purchase and presentation to the National Gallery of Seddon's picture of Jerusalem (see E. T. Cook's National Gallery, vol. ii., pp. 540-41). In the Memoir and Letters of T. Seddon (London: Nisbet & Co. Ed. ii., 1859) is quoted the following extract from a letter of his to a friend:-"14, Berners Street, March 19th, 1855. . Mr. Ruskin also came and stayed a long time. He was very much pleased with everything, and especially 'Jerusalem,' which he praised wonderfully; and in good truth it is something for a man who had studied pictures so much to say, 'Well, Mr. S., before I saw these, I never thought it possible to attain such an effect of sun and light without sacrificing truth of colour.' He said that my interior at Cairo was the most perfect thing that he had ever seen, and admired the Turkey carpet as much as your mother...."

...

In the same volume is an account of a meeting held at the house of Mr. W. Holman Hunt, at which Mr. Ruskin addressed those present, remarking that "the

great picture of Jerusalem, which was now exhibited before them. There were associated in that committee men of various opinions, and of various professions, and there was such a contrast in the characters of the individuals who had united to further this object, that it could hardly be expected that he should appear before this meeting in any way as the exponent of all their various views. He might, perhaps, be allowed, in some measure, to express the views of that portion of the committee who began the movement, with whom he entirely sympathised. He believed that some objection had been taken to the idea of placing this picture in the national collection of paintings, because it was said that they sought to bring it forward as a unique picture, or as one so admirable that they were never likely to look upon such again. For his own part he differed from that view. It was not because he considered it remarkable, but because he considered it not remarkable, that he wished this picture to become the property of the nation; he regarded it as the type of a class of pictures and of works which might be understood and imitated by other men, and the understanding of which would be advantageous to the nation in future. In like manner it had been said that it was sought, as it were, to canonise Seddon as a saint-immortalise him as a hero-that they wished to bring forward his death as a martyrdom to the cause of painting. But it was not so. The death of Seddon had nothing remarkable or extraordinary in its character, but was merely a type of a class of deaths which were being continually offered up to the nation by great and good men, but which, in this case, a concurrence of pathetic circumstances justified them in bringing before the public notice. The simple sacrifice of life had in it nothing unusual-it was, on the contrary, a melancholy thing to reflect how continually we all of us lived upon the lives of others, and that in two ways, viz., upon lives which we take, and upon lives which are given. It was a terrible expression to use-this taking of life, but was a true one. We took life in all cases in which, either for higher wages, or by the compulsion of commercial pressure, men were occupied without sufficient protection or guardianship in dangerous employments, involving an average loss of life, for which life we paid thoughtlessly in the price of the commodity, which, so far, was the price of blood. Nay, more than this, it was a well recognised fact that there was scarcely an art or a science in the present day, in which there was not some concomitant circumstance of danger or disease, which science had not striven to abate proportionably with the endeavours to advance the skill of the workAnd thus, though we had abolished slavery, we literally bargained daily for the lives of our fellow-men, although we should shrink with horror at the idea of purchasing their bodies; and if these evils, arising position which Mr. Seddon occupied as an artist appears to deserve some public recognition quite other than could be generally granted to genius, however great, which had been occupied only in previously beaten paths. Mr. Seddon's works are the first which represent a truly historic landscape art; that is to say, they are the first landscapes uniting perfect artistical skill with topographical accuracy, being directed, with stern self-restraint, to no other purpose than that of giving to persons who cannot travel trustworthy knowledge of the scenes which ought to be most interesting to them. Whatever degrees of truth may have been attained or attempted by previous artists have been more or less subordinate to pictorial and dramatic effect. In Mr. Seddon's works the primal object is to place the spectator, as far as art can do, in the scene represented, and to give him the perfect sensation of its reality, wholly unmodified by the artist's execution."

men.