WORK FOR RUSKIN
October 10th, 1859.
To Miranda.
I have a good deal to tell you to-day. On Saturday I saw Ruskin. I think he was very well satisfied with my work, tho’ it was none of it finished, and none of it right; still it was very satisfactory to me to find that it had none of the faults my work had last year, i.e., not being dark enough, nor massed enough. I returned, in spite of all this, in a horrid state of wretchedness; but this I have got over now, as I will tell you....
I believe what made me so wretched was the sudden vivid thought of how very little pleasure I could ever give Ruskin, even by the most conscientious work; that one stanza of Tennyson’s was better to him, would teach more that he wanted to teach, than all my life’s work. I had thought that, by earnestness and humility, and sacrifice of other works and thoughts, I might really help him considerably. I have no doubt that an immense deal of thought of self is mixed with this notion; but it has its root deeper than that; and now I come to think over all Ruskin said, I see no reason to alter my conviction that I can do this work. The fact is, if one sits down to make a plan, it is often foolish and impracticable; but the plans life reveals to us, which are unfolded to us, and which we are hardly conscious of,—these, I think, are usually God’s plans, and He helps us to carry them out. If this is not what He means me to do, may He, for He alone can, help me to give it up; but if, as now I think, He has been preparing me by multitudes of things, childhood in the country, girlhood in town, hard work, most precious and direct teaching of drawing, sympathy with people round, affection for and gratitude to Ruskin, and an ever deepening admiration for him, and knowledge of his plans,—if, I say, God has been preparing me by this, and much more, first to love Nature and Art, second, to care that all should love Nature and Art, and third to see how to help them to do so; will He not too give me humility to take the place He ordains for me in this great work, tho’ it be the lowest of all,—faith to believe I can help, and oh such energy and earnestness? I am very happy indeed now.... Ruskin was particularly pleased with the bull’s head.... I believe one of the things that made me so unhappy on Saturday was that I had been reading the “Political Economy of Art”; and I could not help thinking of the passage about the great man, beginning, “He can be kind to you, but you can never more be kind to him.” And then too I had wanted to take home a very good account to dearest Mama and Minnie; and he did not criticise it altogether; and in spite of all the praise he gave it, I felt how miserably incomplete it was. But I am sure I have progressed; and perhaps the dissatisfaction is also a gain. But this they could not feel, and all the way home, and even now, I can’t help crying at the thought of it; and the less they show they’re disappointed, the more I feel it; and sometimes Mama seems to think Ruskin capricious; and I am certain he is not. Well it is all over now.
POSSIBILITIES IN ALL POSITIONS
Chivery, near Tring,
October 10th, 1859.
To Harriet, a former toy-worker.
I had been thinking a good deal of our conversation about teaching.... I will just tell you a very little what I think of it,—I believe most people render their position a blessing, or otherwise, themselves good or wretched; and that the post becomes one of interest and usefulness, according to the estimate of it held by her who occupies it; in fact that all work done as routine without love, whether it be a queen’s or a chimney-sweep’s, is quite despicable, and all done with love most honourable. I know some works have greater responsibilities, and call for higher, or rather more, powers; some works (writing poems for instance) are in themselves greater; but I believe the noblest faculties of every human being are called for in her work. Conscientiousness—for instance—is wanted everywhere. Much intellect is not. But that which equalises the dignity of various works is, that all, or all that I can think of, are exercised either with people or for people. And people, being God’s children, may be taught and influenced, unconsciously often to themselves, by every part of those round them. I believe this teaching to be the most precious part of all our lives. Those of us who are called to be teachers may, I believe, thank God that it is so with them so clearly, so definitely; but I often think that the influence over us by those who are not definitely set to teach us is the most powerful. Love and mercy and gentleness and humility and thoughtfulness each of us needs equally in her work. And, as I said at first, people give us the work they find we can do. A nurse may wash and dress children for many years in love and faithfulness; but she can do more besides, sometimes. She can tell them stories and teach them, and in a thousand ways call out their powers. No one expects this in a nurse, because they cannot get it; but once give it them, and you raise your position, probably in their eyes, at any rate in our Father’s. We are not half ambitious enough; we struggle for little honours, seldom for the far more difficult and far nobler ones....