Sesame and Lilies

John Ruskin
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Sesame and Lilies

"ontents@ Lecture 2DDSesame Lecture 22DDLilies Preface to the Later Editions Lecture 222DDThe =ystery of Life and its 3rts

LE"T<RE 2DDSES3=E' :+ U2;GRS TRE3S<R2ES

JQou shall each ha%e a cake of sesame,DDand ten #ound'J Lucian@ The +isherman' =y first duty this e%ening is to ask your #ardon for the ambiguity of title under $hich the subject of lecture has been announced@ for indeed 2 am not going to talk of kings, kno$n as regnant, nor of treasuries, understood to contain $ealthS but of Iuite another order of royalty, and another material of riches, than those usually ackno$ledged' 2 had e%en intended to ask your attention for a little $hile on trust, and Aas sometimes one contri%es, in taking a friend to see a fa%ourite #iece of sceneryB to hide $hat 2 $anted most to sho$, $ith such im#erfect cunning as 2 might, until $e unex#ectedly reached the best #oint of %ie$ by $inding #aths' -utDD and as also 2 ha%e heard it said, by men #ractised in #ublic address, that hearers are ne%er so much fatigued as by the endea%our to follo$ a s#eaker $ho gi%es them no clue to his #ur#ose,DD2 $ill take the slight mask off at once, and tell you #lainly that 2 $ant to s#eak to you about the treasures hidden in booksS and about the $ay $e find them, and the $ay $e lose them' 3 gra%e subject, you $ill sayS and a $ide one& QesS so $ide that 2 shall make no effort to touch the com#ass of it' 2 $ill try only to bring before you a fe$ sim#le thoughts about reading, $hich #ress themsel%es u#on me e%ery day more dee#ly, as 2 $atch the course of the #ublic mind $ith res#ect to our daily enlarging means of educationS and the ans$eringly $ider s#reading on the le%els, of the irrigation of literature' 2t ha##ens that 2 ha%e #ractically some connexion $ith schools for different classes of youthS and 2 recei%e many letters from #arents res#ecting the education of their children' 2n the mass of these letters 2 am al$ays struck by the #recedence $hich the idea of a J#osition in lifeJ takes abo%e all other thoughts in the #arentsRDD more es#ecially in the mothersRDDminds' JThe education befitting such and such a ST3T2:; 2; L2+EJDDthis is the #hrase, this the object, al$ays' They ne%er seek, as far as 2 can make out, an education good in itselfS e%en the conce#tion of abstract rightness in training rarely seems reached by the $riters' -ut, an education J$hich shall kee# a good coat on my sonRs backSDD$hich shall enable him to ring $ith confidence the %isitorsR bell at doubleDbelled doorsS $hich shall result ultimately in establishment of a doubleD belled door to his o$n houseSDDin a $ord, $hich shall lead to ad%ancement in lifeSDDT.2S $e #ray for on bent kneesDDand this is 3LL $e #ray for'J 2t ne%er seems to occur to the #arents that there may be an education $hich, in itself, 2S ad%ancement in LifeSDDthat any other than that may #erha#s be ad%ancement in )eathS and that this essential education might be more easily got, or gi%en, than they fancy, if they set about it in the right $ayS $hile it is for no #rice, and by no fa%our, to be got, if they set about it in the $rong' 2ndeed, among the ideas most #re%alent and effecti%e in the mind of this busiest of countries, 2 su##ose the firstDDat least that $hich

is confessed $ith the greatest frankness, and #ut for$ard as the fittest stimulus to youthful exertionDDis this of J3d%ancement in life'J =ay 2 ask you to consider $ith me, $hat this idea #ractically includes, and $hat it should includeP Practically, then, at #resent, Jad%ancement in lifeJ means, becoming cons#icuous in lifeS obtaining a #osition $hich shall be ackno$ledged by others to be res#ectable or honourable' (e do not understand by this ad%ancement, in general, the mere making of money, but the being kno$n to ha%e made itS not the accom#lishment of any great aim, but the being seen to ha%e accom#lished it' 2n a $ord, $e mean the gratification of our thirst for a##lause' That thirst, if the last infirmity of noble minds, is also the first infirmity of $eak onesS and, on the $hole, the strongest im#ulsi%e influence of a%erage humanity@ the greatest efforts of the race ha%e al$ays been traceable to the lo%e of #raise, as its greatest catastro#hes to the lo%e of #leasure' 2 am not about to attack or defend this im#ulse' 2 $ant you only to feel ho$ it lies at the root of effortS es#ecially of all modern effort' 2t is the gratification of %anity $hich is, $ith us, the stimulus of toil and balm of re#oseS so closely does it touch the %ery s#rings of life that the $ounding of our %anity is al$ays s#oken of Aand trulyB as in its measure =:RT3LS $e call it Jmortification,J using the same ex#ression $hich $e should a##ly to a gangrenous and incurable bodily hurt' 3nd although a fe$ of us may be #hysicians enough to recognise the %arious effect of this #assion u#on health and energy, 2 belie%e most honest men kno$, and $ould at once ackno$ledge, its leading #o$er $ith them as a moti%e' The seaman does not commonly desire to be made ca#tain only because he kno$s he can manage the shi# better than any other sailor on board' .e $ants to be made ca#tain that he may be "3LLE) ca#tain' The clergyman does not usually $ant to be made a bisho# only because he belie%es that no other hand can, as firmly as his, direct the diocese through its difficulties' .e $ants to be made bisho# #rimarily that he may be called J=y Lord'J 3nd a #rince does not usually desire to enlarge, or a subject to gain, a kingdom, because he belie%es no one else can as $ell ser%e the State, u#on its throneS but, briefly, because he $ishes to be addressed as JQour =ajesty,J by as many li#s as may be brought to such utterance' This, then, being the main idea of Jad%ancement in life,J the force of it a##lies, for all of us, according to our station, #articularly to that secondary result of such ad%ancement $hich $e call Jgetting into good society'J (e $ant to get into good society, not that $e may ha%e it, but that $e may be seen in itS and our notion of its goodness de#ends #rimarily on its cons#icuousness' (ill you #ardon me if 2 #ause for a moment to #ut $hat 2 fear you may think an im#ertinent IuestionP 2 ne%er can go on $ith an address unless 2 feel, or kno$, that my audience are either $ith me or against me@ 2 do not much care $hich, in beginningS but 2 must kno$ $here they areS and 2 $ould fain find out, at this instant, $hether you think 2 am #utting the moti%es of #o#ular action too lo$' 2 am resol%ed, toDnight, to state them lo$ enough to be admitted as #robableS for $hene%er, in my $ritings on Political Economy, 2 assume that a little honesty, or generosity,DDor $hat

used to be called J%irtue,JDDmay be calculated u#on as a human moti%e of action, #eo#le al$ays ans$er me, saying, JQou must not calculate on that@ that is not in human nature@ you must not assume anything to be common to men but acIuisiti%eness and jealousyS no other feeling e%er has influence on them, exce#t accidentally, and in matters out of the $ay of business'J 2 begin, accordingly, tonight lo$ in the scale of moti%esS but 2 must kno$ if you think me right in doing so' Therefore, let me ask those $ho admit the lo%e of #raise to be usually the strongest moti%e in menRs minds in seeking ad%ancement, and the honest desire of doing any kind of duty to be an entirely secondary one, to hold u# their hands' A3bout a do9en hands held u#DDthe audience, #artly, not being sure the lecturer is serious, and, #artly, shy of ex#ressing o#inion'B 2 am Iuite seriousDD2 really do $ant to kno$ $hat you thinkS ho$e%er, 2 can judge by #utting the re%erse Iuestion' (ill those $ho think that duty is generally the first, and lo%e of #raise the second, moti%e, hold u# their handsP A:ne hand re#orted to ha%e been held u# behind the lecturer'B ,ery good@ 2 see you are $ith me, and that you think 2 ha%e not begun too near the ground' ;o$, $ithout teasing you by #utting farther Iuestion, 2 %enture to assume that you $ill admit duty as at least a secondary or tertiary moti%e' Qou think that the desire of doing something useful, or obtaining some real good, is indeed an existent collateral idea, though a secondary one, in most menRs desire of ad%ancement' Qou $ill grant that moderately honest men desire #lace and office, at least in some measure for the sake of beneficent #o$erS and $ould $ish to associate rather $ith sensible and $ellDinformed #ersons than $ith fools and ignorant #ersons, $hether they are seen in the com#any of the sensible ones or not' 3nd finally, $ithout being troubled by re#etition of any common truisms about the #reciousness of friends, and the influence of com#anions, you $ill admit, doubtless, that according to the sincerity of our desire that our friends may be true, and our com#anions $ise,DDand in #ro#ortion to the earnestness and discretion $ith $hich $e choose both,DD$ill be the general chances of our ha##iness and usefulness' -ut, granting that $e had both the $ill and the sense to choose our friends $ell, ho$ fe$ of us ha%e the #o$er& or, at least, ho$ limited, for most, is the s#here of choice& ;early all our associations are determined by chance or necessityS and restricted $ithin a narro$ circle' (e cannot kno$ $hom $e $ouldS and those $hom $e kno$, $e cannot ha%e at our side $hen $e most need them' 3ll the higher circles of human intelligence are, to those beneath, only momentarily and #artially o#en' (e may, by good fortune, obtain a glim#se of a great #oet, and hear the sound of his %oiceS or #ut a Iuestion to a man of science, and be ans$ered goodD humouredly' (e may intrude ten minutesR talk on a cabinet minister, ans$ered #robably $ith $ords $orse than silence, being dece#ti%eS or snatch, once or t$ice in our li%es, the #ri%ilege of thro$ing a bouIuet in the #ath of a #rincess, or arresting the kind glance of a Iueen' 3nd yet these momentary chances $e co%etS and s#end our years, and #assions, and #o$ers, in #ursuit of little more than theseS $hile, meantime, there is a society continually o#en to us, of #eo#le $ho $ill talk to us as long as $e like, $hate%er our rank or occu#ationSDDtalk to us in the best $ords they can choose, and of the things nearest their hearts' 3nd this society, because it is so numerous and so gentle, and can be ke#t $aiting round us all day

long,DDkings and statesmen lingering #atiently, not to grant audience, but to gain it&DDin those #lainly furnished and narro$ anteDrooms, our bookcase shel%es,DD$e make no account of that com#any,DD#erha#s ne%er listen to a $ord they $ould say, all day long& Qou may tell me, #erha#s, or think $ithin yoursel%es, that the a#athy $ith $hich $e regard this com#any of the noble, $ho are #raying us to listen to themS and the #assion $ith $hich $e #ursue the com#any, #robably of the ignoble, $ho des#ise us, or $ho ha%e nothing to teach us, are grounded in this,DDthat $e can see the faces of the li%ing men, and it is themsel%es, and not their sayings, $ith $hich $e desire to become familiar' -ut it is not so' Su##ose you ne%er $ere to see their facesSDDsu##ose you could be #ut behind a screen in the statesmanRs cabinet, or the #rinceRs chamber, $ould you not be glad to listen to their $ords, though you $ere forbidden to ad%ance beyond the screenP 3nd $hen the screen is only a little less, folded in t$o instead of four, and you can be hidden behind the co%er of the t$o boards that bind a book, and listen all day long, not to the casual talk, but to the studied, determined, chosen addresses of the $isest of menSDDthis station of audience, and honourable #ri%y council, you des#ise& -ut #erha#s you $ill say that it is because the li%ing #eo#le talk of things that are #assing, and are of immediate interest to you, that you desire to hear them' ;ayS that cannot be so, for the li%ing #eo#le $ill themsel%es tell you about #assing matters much better in their $ritings than in their careless talk' Qet 2 admit that this moti%e does influence you, so far as you #refer those ra#id and e#hemeral $ritings to slo$ and enduring $ritingsDDbooks, #ro#erly so called' +or all books are di%isible into t$o classes, the books of the hour, and the books of all time' =ark this distinctionDDit is not one of Iuality only' 2t is not merely the bad book that does not last, and the good one that does' 2t is a distinction of s#ecies' There are good books for the hour, and good ones for all timeS bad books for the hour, and bad ones for all time' 2 must define the t$o kinds before 2 go farther' The good book of the hour, then,DD2 do not s#eak of the bad ones,DD is sim#ly the useful or #leasant talk of some #erson $hom you cannot other$ise con%erse $ith, #rinted for you' ,ery useful often, telling you $hat you need to kno$S %ery #leasant often, as a sensible friendRs #resent talk $ould be' These bright accounts of tra%elsS goodDhumoured and $itty discussions of IuestionS li%ely or #athetic storyDtelling in the form of no%elS firm factDtelling, by the real agents concerned in the e%ents of #assing historySDDall these books of the hour, multi#lying among us as education becomes more general, are a #eculiar #ossession of the #resent age@ $e ought to be entirely thankful for them, and entirely ashamed of oursel%es if $e make no good use of them' -ut $e make the $orst #ossible use if $e allo$ them to usur# the #lace of true books@ for, strictly s#eaking, they are not books at all, but merely letters or ne$s#a#ers in good #rint' :ur friendRs letter may be delightful, or necessary, toDday@ $hether $orth kee#ing or not, is to be considered' The ne$s#a#er may be entirely #ro#er at breakfast time, but assuredly it is not reading for all day' So, though bound u# in a %olume, the long letter $hich gi%es you so #leasant an

account of the inns, and roads, and $eather, last year at such a #lace, or $hich tells you that amusing story, or gi%es you the real circumstances of such and such e%ents, ho$e%er %aluable for occasional reference, may not be, in the real sense of the $ord, a JbookJ at all, nor, in the real sense, to be Jread'J 3 book is essentially not a talking thing, but a $ritten thingS and $ritten, not $ith a %ie$ of mere communication, but of #ermanence' The book of talk is #rinted only because its author cannot s#eak to thousands of #eo#le at onceS if he could, he $ouldDDthe %olume is mere =<LT2PL2"3T2:; of his %oice' Qou cannot talk to your friend in 2ndiaS if you could, you $ouldS you $rite instead@ that is mere ":;,EQ3;"E of %oice' -ut a book is $ritten, not to multi#ly the %oice merely, not to carry it merely, but to #er#etuate it' The author has something to say $hich he #ercei%es to be true and useful, or hel#fully beautiful' So far as he kno$s, no one has yet said itS so far as he kno$s, no one else can say it' .e is bound to say it, clearly and melodiously if he mayS clearly at all e%ents' 2n the sum of his life he finds this to be the thing, or grou# of things, manifest to himSDDthis, the #iece of true kno$ledge, or sight, $hich his share of sunshine and earth has #ermitted him to sei9e' .e $ould fain set it do$n for e%erS engra%e it on rock, if he couldS saying, JThis is the best of meS for the rest, 2 ate, and drank, and sle#t, lo%ed, and hated, like anotherS my life $as as the %a#our, and is notS but this 2 sa$ and kne$@ this, if anything of mine, is $orth your memory'J That is his J$ritingSJ it is, in his small human $ay, and $ith $hate%er degree of true ins#iration is in him, his inscri#tion, or scri#ture' That is a J-ook'J Perha#s you think no books $ere e%er so $rittenP -ut, again, 2 ask you, do you at all belie%e in honesty, or at all in kindness, or do you think there is ne%er any honesty or bene%olence in $ise #eo#leP ;one of us, 2 ho#e, are so unha##y as to think that' (ell, $hate%er bit of a $ise manRs $ork is honestly and bene%olently done, that bit is his book or his #iece of art' XEY 2t is mixed al$ays $ith e%il fragmentsDDillDdone, redundant, affected $ork' -ut if you read rightly, you $ill easily disco%er the true bits, and those 3RE the book' ;o$ books of this kind ha%e been $ritten in all ages by their greatest men@D by great readers, great statesmen, and great thinkers' These are all at your choiceS and Life is short' Qou ha%e heard as much beforeSDDyet ha%e you measured and ma##ed out this short life and its #ossibilitiesP )o you kno$, if you read this, that you cannot read thatDDthat $hat you lose toDday you cannot gain toDmorro$P (ill you go and gossi# $ith your housemaid, or your stableDboy, $hen you may talk $ith Iueens and kingsS or flatter yourself that it is $ith any $orthy consciousness of your o$n claims to res#ect, that you jostle $ith the hungry and common cro$d for E;TREE here, and audience there, $hen all the $hile this eternal court is o#en to you, $ith its society, $ide as the $orld, multitudinous as its days, the chosen, and the mighty, of e%ery #lace and timeP 2nto that you may enter al$aysS in that you may take fello$shi# and rank according to your $ishS from that, once entered into it, you can ne%er be outcast but by your o$n faultS by your aristocracy of com#anionshi# there, your o$n inherent aristocracy $ill be assuredly tested, and the moti%es $ith $hich you

stri%e to take high #lace in the society of the li%ing, measured, as to all the truth and sincerity that are in them, by the #lace you desire to take in this com#any of the )ead' JThe #lace you desire,J and the #lace you +2T Q:<RSEL+ +:R, 2 must also sayS because, obser%e, this court of the #ast differs from all li%ing aristocracy in this@D it is o#en to labour and to merit, but to nothing else' ;o $ealth $ill bribe, no name o%era$e, no artifice decei%e, the guardian of those Elysian gates' 2n the dee# sense, no %ile or %ulgar #erson e%er enters there' 3t the #ortieres of that silent +aubourg St' Germain, there is but brief Iuestion@D J)o you deser%e to enterP Pass' )o you ask to be the com#anion of noblesP =ake yourself noble, and you shall be' )o you long for the con%ersation of the $iseP Learn to understand it, and you shall hear it' -ut on other termsPDDno' 2f you $ill not rise to us, $e cannot stoo# to you' The li%ing lord may assume courtesy, the li%ing #hiloso#her ex#lain his thought to you $ith considerate #ainS but here $e neither feign nor inter#retS you must rise to the le%el of our thoughts if you $ould be gladdened by them, and share our feelings, if you $ould recognise our #resence'J This, then, is $hat you ha%e to do, and 2 admit that it is much' Qou must, in a $ord, lo%e these #eo#le, if you are to be among them' ;o ambition is of any use' They scorn your ambition' Qou must lo%e them, and sho$ your lo%e in these t$o follo$ing $ays' A/B +irst, by a true desire to be taught by them, and to enter into their thoughts' To enter into theirs, obser%eS not to find your o$n ex#ressed by them' 2f the #erson $ho $rote the book is not $iser than you, you need not read itS if he be, he $ill think differently from you in many res#ects' A!B ,ery ready $e are to say of a book, J.o$ good this isDDthatRs exactly $hat 2 think&J -ut the right feeling is, J.o$ strange that is& 2 ne%er thought of that before, and yet 2 see it is trueS or if 2 do not no$, 2 ho#e 2 shall, some day'J -ut $hether thus submissi%ely or not, at least be sure that you go to the author to get at .2S meaning, not to find yours' Judge it after$ards if you think yourself Iualified to do soS but ascertain it first' 3nd be sure, also, if the author is $orth anything, that you $ill not get at his meaning all at onceSDDnay, that at his $hole meaning you $ill not for a long time arri%e in any $ise' ;ot that he does not say $hat he means, and in strong $ords tooS but he cannot say it allS and $hat is more strange, $ill not, but in a hidden $ay and in #arables, in order that he may be sure you $ant it' 2 cannot Iuite see the reason of this, nor analyse that cruel reticence in the breasts of $ise men $hich makes them al$ays hide their dee#er thought' They do not gi%e it you by $ay of hel#, but of re$ardS and $ill make themsel%es sure that you deser%e it before they allo$ you to reach it' -ut it is the same $ith the #hysical ty#e of $isdom, gold' There seems, to you and me, no reason $hy the electric forces of the earth should not carry $hate%er there is of gold $ithin it at once to the mountain to#s, so that kings and #eo#le might kno$ that all the gold they could get $as thereS and $ithout any trouble of digging, or anxiety, or chance, or $aste of time, cut it a$ay, and coin as much as they needed' -ut ;ature does not manage it so' She #uts it in little fissures in the earth, nobody kno$s $here@ you

may dig long and find noneS you must dig #ainfully to find any' 3nd it is just the same $ith menRs best $isdom' (hen you come to a good book, you must ask yourself, J3m 2 inclined to $ork as an 3ustralian miner $ouldP 3re my #ickaxes and sho%els in good order, and am 2 in good trim myself, my slee%es $ell u# to the elbo$, and my breath good, and my tem#erPJ 3nd, kee#ing the figure a little longer, e%en at cost of tiresomeness, for it is a thoroughly useful one, the metal you are in search of being the authorRs mind or meaning, his $ords are as the rock $hich you ha%e to crush and smelt in order to get at it' 3nd your #ickaxes are your o$n care, $it, and learningS your smelting furnace is your o$n thoughtful soul' )o not ho#e to get at any good authorRs meaning $ithout those tools and that fireS often you $ill need shar#est, finest chiselling, and #atientest fusing, before you can gather one grain of the metal' 3nd, therefore, first of all, 2 tell you earnestly and authoritati%ely A2 U;:( 2 am right in thisB, you must get into the habit of looking intensely at $ords, and assuring yourself of their meaning, syllable by syllableDDnay, letter by letter' +or though it is only by reason of the o##osition of letters in the function of signs, to sounds in the function of signs, that the study of books is called Jliterature,J and that a man %ersed in it is called, by the consent of nations, a man of letters instead of a man of books, or of $ords, you may yet connect $ith that accidental nomenclature this real fact@D that you might read all the books in the -ritish =useum Aif you could li%e long enoughB, and remain an utterly Jilliterate,J uneducated #ersonS but that if you read ten #ages of a good book, letter by letter,DDthat is to say, $ith real accuracy,DD you are for e%ermore in some measure an educated #erson' The entire difference bet$een education and nonDeducation Aas regards the merely intellectual #art of itB, consists in this accuracy' 3 $ellD educated gentleman may not kno$ many languages,DDmay not be able to s#eak any but his o$n,DDmay ha%e read %ery fe$ books' -ut $hate%er language he kno$s, he kno$s #reciselyS $hate%er $ord he #ronounces, he #ronounces rightlyS abo%e all, he is learned in the PEER3GE of $ordsS kno$s the $ords of true descent and ancient blood, at a glance, from $ords of modern canailleS remembers all their ancestry, their intermarriages, distant relationshi#s, and the extent to $hich they $ere admitted, and offices they held, among the national noblesse of $ords at any time, and in any country' -ut an uneducated #erson may kno$, by memory, many languages, and talk them all, and yet truly kno$ not a $ord of any,DDnot a $ord e%en of his o$n' 3n ordinarily cle%er and sensible seaman $ill be able to make his $ay ashore at most #ortsS yet he has only to s#eak a sentence of any language to be kno$n for an illiterate #erson@ so also the accent, or turn of ex#ression of a single sentence, $ill at once mark a scholar' 3nd this is so strongly felt, so conclusi%ely admitted, by educated #ersons, that a false accent or a mistaken syllable is enough, in the #arliament of any ci%ili9ed nation, to assign to a man a certain degree of inferior standing for e%er' 3nd this is rightS but it is a #ity that the accuracy insisted on is not greater, and reIuired to a serious #ur#ose' 2t is right that a false Latin Iuantity should excite a smile in the .ouse of "ommonsS but it is $rong that a false English =E3;2;G should ;:T excite a fro$n there' Let the accent of $ords be $atchedS and closely@ let

their meaning be $atched more closely still, and fe$er $ill do the $ork' 3 fe$ $ords $ell chosen, and distinguished, $ill do $ork that a thousand cannot, $hen e%ery one is acting, eIui%ocally, in the function of another' QesS and $ords, if they are not $atched, $ill do deadly $ork sometimes' There are masked $ords droning and skulking about us in Euro#e just no$,DDAthere ne%er $ere so many, o$ing to the s#read of a shallo$, blotching, blundering, infectious Jinformation,J or rather deformation, e%ery$here, and to the teaching of catechisms and #hrases at school instead of human meaningsBDDthere are masked $ords abroad, 2 say, $hich nobody understands, but $hich e%erybody uses, and most #eo#le $ill also fight for, li%e for, or e%en die for, fancying they mean this or that, or the other, of things dear to them@ for such $ords $ear chameleon cloaksDDJgroundDlionJ cloaks, of the colour of the ground of any manRs fancy@ on that ground they lie in $ait, and rend them $ith a s#ring from it' There ne%er $ere creatures of #rey so mischie%ous, ne%er di#lomatists so cunning, ne%er #oisoners so deadly, as these masked $ordsS they are the unjust ste$ards of all menRs ideas@ $hate%er fancy or fa%ourite instinct a man most cherishes, he gi%es to his fa%ourite masked $ord to take care of for himS the $ord at last comes to ha%e an infinite #o$er o%er him,DDyou cannot get at him but by its ministry' 3nd in languages so mongrel in breed as the English, there is a fatal #o$er of eIui%ocation #ut into menRs hands, almost $hether they $ill or no, in being able to use Greek or Latin $ords for an idea $hen they $ant it to be a$fulS and Saxon or other$ise common $ords $hen they $ant it to be %ulgar' (hat a singular and salutary effect, for instance, $ould be #roduced on the minds of #eo#le $ho are in the habit of taking the +orm of the J(ordJ they li%e by, for the Po$er of $hich that (ord tells them, if $e al$ays either retained, or refused, the Greek form Jbiblos,J or Jbiblion,J as the right ex#ression for JbookJDDinstead of em#loying it only in the one instance in $hich $e $ish to gi%e dignity to the idea, and translating it into English e%ery$here else' .o$ $holesome it $ould be for many sim#le #ersons if, in such #laces Afor instanceB as 3cts xix' /0, $e retained the Greek ex#ression, instead of translating it, and they had to readDDJ=any of them also $hich used curious arts, brought their bibles together, and burnt them before all menS and they counted the #rice of them, and found it fifty thousand #ieces of sil%erJ& :r if, on the other hand, $e translated $here $e retain it, and al$ays s#oke of JThe .oly -ook,J instead of J.oly -ible,J it might come into more heads than it does at #resent, that the (ord of God, by $hich the hea%ens $ere, of old, and by $hich they are no$ ke#t in store, XLY cannot be made a #resent of to anybody in morocco bindingS nor so$n on any $ayside by hel# either of steam #lough or steam #ressS but is ne%ertheless being offered to us daily, and by us $ith contumely refusedS and so$n in us daily, and by us, as instantly as may be, choked' So, again, consider $hat effect has been #roduced on the English %ulgar mind by the use of the sonorous Latin form Jdamno,J in translating the Greek 5Greek text $hich cannot be re#roduced7, $hen #eo#le charitably $ish to make it forcibleS and the substitution of the tem#erate JcondemnJ for it, $hen they choose to kee# it gentleS and $hat notable sermons ha%e been #reached by illiterate clergymen onDDJ.e that belie%eth not shall be damnedSJ though they $ould

shrink $ith horror from translating .eb' xi' 1, JThe sa%ing of his house, by $hich he damned the $orld,J or John %iii' /8D//, J(oman, hath no man damned theeP She saith, ;o man, Lord' Jesus ans$ered her, ;either do 2 damn thee@ go and sin no more'J 3nd di%isions in the mind of Euro#e, $hich ha%e cost seas of blood, and in the defence of $hich the noblest souls of men ha%e been cast a$ay in frantic desolation, countless as forestDlea%esDDthough, in the heart of them, founded on dee#er causesDDha%e ne%ertheless been rendered #ractically #ossible, mainly, by the Euro#ean ado#tion of the Greek $ord for a #ublic meeting, Jecclesia,J to gi%e #eculiar res#ectability to such meetings, $hen held for religious #ur#osesS and other collateral eIui%ocations, such as the %ulgar English one of using the $ord JPriestJ as a contraction for J#resbyter'J ;o$, in order to deal $ith $ords rightly, this is the habit you must form' ;early e%ery $ord in your language has been first a $ord of some other languageDDof Saxon, German, +rench, Latin, or GreekS Anot to s#eak of eastern and #rimiti%e dialectsB' 3nd many $ords ha%e been all theseDDthat is to say, ha%e been Greek first, Latin next, +rench or German next, and English last@ undergoing a certain change of sense and use on the li#s of each nationS but retaining a dee# %ital meaning, $hich all good scholars feel in em#loying them, e%en at this day' 2f you do not kno$ the Greek al#habet, learn itS young or oldDDgirl or boyDD$hoe%er you may be, if you think of reading seriously A$hich, of course, im#lies that you ha%e some leisure at commandB, learn your Greek al#habetS then get good dictionaries of all these languages, and $hene%er you are in doubt about a $ord, hunt it do$n #atiently' Read =ax =ullerRs lectures thoroughly, to begin $ithS and, after that, ne%er let a $ord esca#e you that looks sus#icious' 2t is se%ere $orkS but you $ill find it, e%en at first, interesting, and at last endlessly amusing' 3nd the general gain to your character, in #o$er and #recision, $ill be Iuite incalculable' =ind, this does not im#ly kno$ing, or trying to kno$, Greek or Latin, or +rench' 2t takes a $hole life to learn any language #erfectly' -ut you can easily ascertain the meanings through $hich the English $ord has #assedS and those $hich in a good $riterRs $ork it must still bear' 3nd no$, merely for exam#leRs sake, 2 $ill, $ith your #ermission, read a fe$ lines of a true book $ith you, carefullyS and see $hat $ill come out of them' 2 $ill take a book #erfectly kno$n to you all' ;o English $ords are more familiar to us, yet fe$ #erha#s ha%e been read $ith less sincerity' 2 $ill take these fe$ follo$ing lines of Lycidas@D JLast came, and last did go, The #ilot of the Galilean lake' T$o massy keys he bore of metals t$ain, AThe golden o#es, the iron shuts amain,B .e shook his mitred locks, and stern bes#ake, R.o$ $ell could 2 ha%e s#ared for thee, young s$ain, Eno$ of such as for their belliesR sake "ree#, and intrude, and climb into the fold& :f other care they little reckoning make,

Than ho$ to scramble at the shearersR feast, 3nd sho%e a$ay the $orthy bidden guestS -lind mouths& that scarce themsel%es kno$ ho$ to hold 3 shee#Dhook, or ha%e learnRd aught else, the least That to the faithful herdmanRs art belongs& (hat recks it themP (hat need theyP They are s#edS 3nd $hen they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel #i#es of $retched stra$S The hungry shee# look u#, and are not fed, -ut, s$oln $ith $ind, and the rank mist they dra$, Rot in$ardly, and foul contagion s#readS -esides $hat the grim $olf $ith #ri%y #a$ )aily de%ours a#ace, and nothing said'RJ Let us think o%er this #assage, and examine its $ords' +irst, is it not singular to find =ilton assigning to St' Peter, not only his full e#isco#al function, but the %ery ty#es of it $hich Protestants usually refuse most #assionatelyP .is JmitredJ locks& =ilton $as no -isho#Dlo%erS ho$ comes St' Peter to be JmitredJP JT$o massy keys he bore'J 2s this, then, the #o$er of the keys claimed by the -isho#s of RomeP and is it ackno$ledged here by =ilton only in a #oetical licence, for the sake of its #icturesIueness, that he may get the gleam of the golden keys to hel# his effectP )o not think it' Great men do not #lay stage tricks $ith the doctrines of life and death@ only little men do that' =ilton means $hat he saysS and means it $ith his might tooDDis going to #ut the $hole strength of his s#irit #resently into the saying of it' +or though not a lo%er of false bisho#s, he (3S a lo%er of true onesS and the LakeD#ilot is here, in his thoughts, the ty#e and head of true e#isco#al #o$er' +or =ilton reads that text, J2 $ill gi%e unto thee the keys of the kingdom of hea%en,J Iuite honestly' Puritan though he be, he $ould not blot it out of the book because there ha%e been bad bisho#sS nay, in order to understand .2=, $e must understand that %erse firstS it $ill not do to eye it askance, or $his#er it under our breath, as if it $ere a $ea#on of an ad%erse sect' 2t is a solemn, uni%ersal assertion, dee#ly to be ke#t in mind by all sects' -ut #erha#s $e shall be better able to reason on it if $e go on a little farther, and come back to it' +or clearly this marked insistence on the #o$er of the true e#isco#ate is to make us feel more $eightily $hat is to be charged against the false claimants of e#isco#ateS or generally, against false claimants of #o$er and rank in the body of the clergyS they $ho, Jfor their belliesR sake, cree#, and intrude, and climb into the fold'J ;e%er think =ilton uses those three $ords to fill u# his %erse, as a loose $riter $ould' .e needs all the threeSDDes#ecially those three, and no more than thoseDDJcree#,J and Jintrude,J and JclimbSJ no other $ords $ould or could ser%e the turn, and no more could be added' +or they exhausti%ely com#rehend the three classes, corres#ondent to the three characters, of men $ho dishonestly seek ecclesiastical #o$er' +irst, those $ho J"REEPJ into the foldS $ho do not care for office, nor name, but for secret influence, and do all things occultly and cunningly, consenting to any ser%ility of

office or conduct, so only that they may intimately discern, and una$ares direct, the minds of men' Then those $ho JintrudeJ Athrust, that isB themsel%es into the fold, $ho by natural insolence of heart, and stout eloIuence of tongue, and fearlessly #erse%erant selfDassertion, obtain hearing and authority $ith the common cro$d' Lastly, those $ho Jclimb,J $ho, by labour and learning, both stout and sound, but selfishly exerted in the cause of their o$n ambition, gain high dignities and authorities, and become Jlords o%er the heritage,J though not Jensam#les to the flock'J ;o$ go on@D J:f other care they little reckoning make, Than ho$ to scramble at the shearersR feast' -L2;) =:<T.SDDJ 2 #ause again, for this is a strange ex#ressionS a broken meta#hor, one might think, careless and unscholarly' ;ot so@ its %ery audacity and #ithiness are intended to make us look close at the #hrase and remember it' Those t$o monosyllables ex#ress the #recisely accurate contraries of right character, in the t$o great offices of the "hurchDDthose of bisho# and #astor' 3 J-isho#J means Ja #erson $ho sees'J 3 JPastorJ means Ja #erson $ho feeds'J The most unbisho#ly character a man can ha%e is therefore to be -lind' The most un#astoral is, instead of feeding, to $ant to be fed,DDto be a =outh' Take the t$o re%erses together, and you ha%e Jblind mouths'J (e may ad%isably follo$ out this idea a little' ;early all the e%ils in the "hurch ha%e arisen from bisho#s desiring P:(ER more than L2G.T' They $ant authority, not outlook' (hereas their real office is not to ruleS though it may be %igorously to exhort and rebuke@ it is the kingRs office to ruleS the bisho#Rs office is to :,ERSEE the flockS to number it, shee# by shee#S to be ready al$ays to gi%e full account of it' ;o$ it is clear he cannot gi%e account of the souls, if he has not so much as numbered the bodies, of his flock' The first thing, therefore, that a bisho# has to do is at least to #ut himself in a #osition in $hich, at any moment, he can obtain the history, from childhood, of e%ery li%ing soul in his diocese, and of its #resent state' )o$n in that back street, -ill, and ;ancy, knocking each otherRs teeth out&DD)oes the bisho# kno$ all about itP .as he his eye u#on themP .as he .3) his eye u#on themP "an he circumstantially ex#lain to us ho$ -ill got into the habit of beating ;ancy about the headP 2f he cannot, he is no bisho#, though he had a mitre as high as Salisbury stee#leS he is no bisho#,DDhe has sought to be at the helm instead of the mastheadS he has no sight of things' J;ay,J you say, Jit is not his duty to look after -ill in the back street'J (hat& the fat shee# that ha%e full

fleecesDDyou think it is only those he should look after $hile Ago back to your =iltonB Jthe hungry shee# look u#, and are not fed, besides $hat the grim $olf, $ith #ri%y #a$J Abisho#s kno$ing nothing about itB, Jdaily de%ours a#ace, and nothing saidJP J-ut thatRs not our idea of a bisho#'J X1Y Perha#s notS but it $as St' PaulRsS and it $as =iltonRs' They may be right, or $e may beS but $e must not think $e are reading either one or the other by #utting our meaning into their $ords' 2 go on' J-ut s$oln $ith $ind, and the rank mist they dra$'J This is to meet the %ulgar ans$er that Jif the #oor are not looked after in their bodies, they are in their soulsS they ha%e s#iritual food'J 3nd =ilton says, JThey ha%e no such thing as s#iritual foodS they are only s$ollen $ith $ind'J 3t first you may think that is a coarse ty#e, and an obscure one' -ut again, it is a Iuite literally accurate one' Take u# your Latin and Greek dictionaries, and find out the meaning of JS#irit'J 2t is only a contraction of the Latin $ord Jbreath,J and an indistinct translation of the Greek $ord for J$ind'J The same $ord is used in $riting, JThe $ind blo$eth $here it listethSJ and in $riting, JSo is e%ery one that is born of the S#iritSJ born of the -RE3T., that isS for it means the breath of God, in soul and body' (e ha%e the true sense of it in our $ords Jins#irationJ and Jex#ire'J ;o$, there are t$o kinds of breath $ith $hich the flock may be filled,DDGodRs breath, and manRs' The breath of God is health, and life, and #eace to them, as the air of hea%en is to the flocks on the hillsS but manRs breathDDthe $ord $hich .E calls s#iritual,DDis disease and contagion to them, as the fog of the fen' They rot in$ardly $ith itS they are #uffed u# by it, as a dead body by the %a#ours of its o$n decom#osition' This is literally true of all false religious teachingS the first and last, and fatalest sign of it, is that J#uffing u#'J Qour con%erted children, $ho teach their #arentsS your con%erted con%icts, $ho teach honest menS your con%erted dunces, $ho, ha%ing li%ed in cretinous stu#efaction half their li%es, suddenly a$aking to the fact of there being a God, fancy themsel%es therefore .is #eculiar #eo#le and messengersS your sectarians of e%ery s#ecies, small and great, "atholic or Protestant, of high church or lo$, in so far as they think themsel%es exclusi%ely in the right and others $rongS and, #reDeminently, in e%ery sect, those $ho hold that men can be sa%ed by thinking rightly instead of doing rightly, by $ord instead of act, and $ish instead of $orkSDDthese are the true fog childrenDD clouds, these, $ithout $aterS bodies, these, of #utrescent %a#our and skin, $ithout blood or flesh@ blo$n bagD#i#es for the fiends to #i#e $ithDDcorru#t, and corru#ting,DDJ S$ollen $ith $ind, and the rank mist they dra$'J Lastly, let us return to the lines res#ecting the #o$er of the keys, for no$ $e can understand them' ;ote the difference bet$een =ilton and )ante in their inter#retation of this #o$er@ for once, the

latter is $eaker in thoughtS he su##oses -:T. the keys to be of the gate of hea%enS one is of gold, the other of sil%er@ they are gi%en by St' Peter to the sentinel angelS and it is not easy to determine the meaning either of the substances of the three ste#s of the gate, or of the t$o keys' -ut =ilton makes one, of gold, the key of hea%enS the other, of iron, the key of the #rison in $hich the $icked teachers are to be bound $ho Jha%e taken a$ay the key of kno$ledge, yet entered not in themsel%es'J (e ha%e seen that the duties of bisho# and #astor are to see, and feedS and of all $ho do so it is said, J.e that $atereth, shall be $atered also himself'J -ut the re%erse is truth also' .e that $atereth not, shall be (2T.ERE) himselfS and he that seeth not, shall himself be shut out of sightDDshut into the #er#etual #risonD house' 3nd that #rison o#ens here, as $ell as hereafter@ he $ho is to be bound in hea%en must first be bound on earth' That command to the strong angels, of $hich the rockDa#ostle is the image, JTake him, and bind him hand and foot, and cast him out,J issues, in its measure, against the teacher, for e%ery hel# $ithheld, and for e%ery truth refused, and for e%ery falsehood enforcedS so that he is more strictly fettered the more he fetters, and farther outcast as he more and more misleads, till at last the bars of the iron cage close u#on him, and as Jthe golden o#es, the iron shuts amain'J (e ha%e got something out of the lines, 2 think, and much more is yet to be found in themS but $e ha%e done enough by $ay of exam#le of the kind of $ordDbyD$ord examination of your author $hich is rightly called JreadingSJ $atching e%ery accent and ex#ression, and #utting oursel%es al$ays in the authorRs #lace, annihilating our o$n #ersonality, and seeking to enter into his, so as to be able assuredly to say, JThus =ilton thought,J not JThus 2 thought, in misreading =ilton'J 3nd by this #rocess you $ill gradually come to attach less $eight to your o$n JThus 2 thoughtJ at other times' Qou $ill begin to #ercei%e that $hat Q:< thought $as a matter of no serious im#ortanceSDDthat your thoughts on any subject are not #erha#s the clearest and $isest that could be arri%ed at thereu#on@D in fact, that unless you are a %ery singular #erson, you cannot be said to ha%e any JthoughtsJ at allS that you ha%e no materials for them, in any serious mattersS X4YDDno right to Jthink,J but only to try to learn more of the facts' ;ay, most #robably all your life Aunless, as 2 said, you are a singular #ersonB you $ill ha%e no legitimate right to an Jo#inionJ on any business, exce#t that instantly under your hand' (hat must of necessity be done, you can al$ays find out, beyond Iuestion, ho$ to do' .a%e you a house to kee# in order, a commodity to sell, a field to #lough, a ditch to cleanseP There need be no t$o o#inions about these #roceedingsS it is at your #eril if you ha%e not much more than an Jo#inionJ on the $ay to manage such matters' 3nd also, outside of your o$n business, there are one or t$o subjects on $hich you are bound to ha%e but one o#inion' That roguery and lying are objectionable, and are instantly to be flogged out of the $ay $hene%er disco%eredSDDthat co%etousness and lo%e of Iuarrelling are dangerous dis#ositions e%en in children, and deadly dis#ositions in men and nationsSDDthat, in the end, the God of hea%en and earth lo%es acti%e, modest, and kind #eo#le, and hates idle, #roud, greedy, and cruel onesSDDon these general facts you are bound to ha%e but one, and that a %ery strong, o#inion' +or the rest, res#ecting religions, go%ernments, sciences,

arts, you $ill find that, on the $hole, you can kno$ ;:T.2;G,DDjudge nothingS that the best you can do, e%en though you may be a $ellD educated #erson, is to be silent, and stri%e to be $iser e%ery day, and to understand a little more of the thoughts of others, $hich so soon as you try to do honestly, you $ill disco%er that the thoughts e%en of the $isest are %ery little more than #ertinent Iuestions' To #ut the difficulty into a clear sha#e, and exhibit to you the grounds for 2;decision, that is all they can generally do for you&DD and $ell for them and for us, if indeed they are able Jto mix the music $ith our thoughts and sadden us $ith hea%enly doubts'J This $riter, from $hom 2 ha%e been reading to you, is not among the first or $isest@ he sees shre$dly as far as he sees, and therefore it is easy to find out its full meaningS but $ith the greater men, you cannot fathom their meaningS they do not e%en $holly measure it themsel%es,DDit is so $ide' Su##ose 2 had asked you, for instance, to seek for Shakes#eareRs o#inion, instead of =iltonRs on this matter of "hurch authorityPDDor for )anteRsP .a%e any of you, at this instant, the least idea $hat either thought about itP .a%e you e%er balanced the scene $ith the bisho#s in RRichard 222'R against the character of "ranmerP the descri#tion of St' +rancis and St' )ominic against that of him $ho made ,irgil $onder to ga9e u#on him,DDJdisteso, tanto %ilmente, nellR eterno esilioSJ or of him $hom )ante stood beside, Jcome Rl frate che confessa lo #erfido assassinPJ X0Y Shakes#eare and 3lighieri kne$ men better than most of us, 2 #resume& They $ere both in the midst of the main struggle bet$een the tem#oral and s#iritual #o$ers' They had an o#inion, $e may guess' -ut $here is itP -ring it into court& Put Shakes#eareRs or )anteRs creed into articles, and send 2T u# for trial by the Ecclesiastical "ourts& Qou $ill not be able, 2 tell you again, for many and many a day, to come at the real #ur#oses and teaching of these great menS but a %ery little honest study of them $ill enable you to #ercei%e that $hat you took for your o$n JjudgmentJ $as mere chance #rejudice, and drifted, hel#less, entangled $eed of casta$ay thoughtS nay, you $ill see that most menRs minds are indeed little better than rough heath $ilderness, neglected and stubborn, #artly barren, #artly o%ergro$n $ith #estilent brakes, and %enomous, $indDso$n herbage of e%il surmiseS that the first thing you ha%e to do for them, and yourself, is eagerly and scornfully to set fire to T.2SS burn all the jungle into $holesome ashDhea#s, and then #lough and so$' 3ll the true literary $ork before you, for life, must begin $ith obedience to that order, J-reak u# your fallo$ ground, and S:( ;:T 3=:;G T.:R;S'J 22' X/8Y .a%ing then faithfully listened to the great teachers, that you may enter into their Thoughts, you ha%e yet this higher ad%ance to makeSDDyou ha%e to enter into their .earts' 3s you go to them first for clear sight, so you must stay $ith them, that you may share at last their just and mighty Passion' Passion, or Jsensation'J 2 am not afraid of the $ordS still less of the thing' Qou ha%e heard many outcries against sensation latelyS but, 2 can tell you, it is not less sensation $e $ant, but more' The ennobling difference bet$een one man and another,DDbet$een one animal and another,DDis #recisely in this, that one feels more than another' 2f $e $ere s#onges, #erha#s sensation might not be easily got for usS if $e $ere earthD$orms, liable at e%ery instant to be cut in t$o by the s#ade, #erha#s too much sensation might not be good for us'

-ut being human creatures, 2T 2S good for usS nay, $e are only human in so far as $e are sensiti%e, and our honour is #recisely in #ro#ortion to our #assion' Qou kno$ 2 said of that great and #ure society of the )ead, that it $ould allo$ Jno %ain or %ulgar #erson to enter there'J (hat do you think 2 meant by a J%ulgarJ #ersonP (hat do you yoursel%es mean by J%ulgarityJP Qou $ill find it a fruitful subject of thoughtS but, briefly, the essence of all %ulgarity lies in $ant of sensation' Sim#le and innocent %ulgarity is merely an untrained and unde%elo#ed bluntness of body and mindS but in true inbred %ulgarity, there is a dreadful callousness, $hich, in extremity, becomes ca#able of e%ery sort of bestial habit and crime, $ithout fear, $ithout #leasure, $ithout horror, and $ithout #ity' 2t is in the blunt hand and the dead heart, in the diseased habit, in the hardened conscience, that men become %ulgarS they are for e%er %ulgar, #recisely in #ro#ortion as they are inca#able of sym#athy,DDof Iuick understanding,DDof all that, in dee# insistence on the common, but most accurate term, may be called the JtactJ or JtouchDfaculty,J of body and soul@ that tact $hich the =imosa has in trees, $hich the #ure $oman has abo%e all creaturesSDDfineness and fulness of sensation, beyond reasonSDD the guide and sanctifier of reason itself' Reason can but determine $hat is true@D it is the GodDgi%en #assion of humanity $hich alone can recognise $hat God has made good' (e come then to that great concourse of the )ead, not merely to kno$ from them $hat is True, but chiefly to feel $ith them $hat is just' ;o$, to feel $ith them, $e must be like themS and none of us can become that $ithout #ains' 3s the true kno$ledge is disci#lined and tested kno$ledge,DDnot the first thought that comes, so the true #assion is disci#lined and tested #assion,DDnot the first #assion that comes' The first that come are the %ain, the false, the treacherousS if you yield to them they $ill lead you $ildly and far, in %ain #ursuit, in hollo$ enthusiasm, till you ha%e no true #ur#ose and no true #assion left' ;ot that any feeling #ossible to humanity is in itself $rong, but only $rong $hen undisci#lined' 2ts nobility is in its force and justiceS it is $rong $hen it is $eak, and felt for #altry cause' There is a mean $onder, as of a child $ho sees a juggler tossing golden ballsS and this is base, if you $ill' -ut do you think that the $onder is ignoble, or the sensation less, $ith $hich e%ery human soul is called to $atch the golden balls of hea%en tossed through the night by the .and that made themP There is a mean curiosity, as of a child o#ening a forbidden door, or a ser%ant #rying into her masterRs businessSDDand a noble curiosity, Iuestioning, in the front of danger, the source of the great ri%er beyond the sand,DDthe #lace of the great continents beyond the seaSD Da nobler curiosity still, $hich Iuestions of the source of the Ri%er of Life, and of the s#ace of the "ontinent of .ea%en,DDthings $hich Jthe angels desire to look into'J So the anxiety is ignoble, $ith $hich you linger o%er the course and catastro#he of an idle taleS but do you think the anxiety is less, or greater, $ith $hich you $atch, or :<G.T to $atch, the dealings of fate and destiny $ith the life of an agoni9ed nationP 3las& it is the narro$ness, selfishness, minuteness, of your sensation that you ha%e to de#lore in England at this daySDDsensation $hich s#ends itself in bouIuets and s#eeches@ in re%ellings and junketingsS in sham fights and gay #u##et sho$s, $hile you can look on and see noble nations murdered,

man by man, $ithout an effort or a tear' 2 said JminutenessJ and JselfishnessJ of sensation, but it $ould ha%e been enough to ha%e said JinjusticeJ or JunrighteousnessJ of sensation' +or as in nothing is a gentleman better to be discerned from a %ulgar #erson, so in nothing is a gentle nation Asuch nations ha%e beenB better to be discerned from a mob, than in this,DDthat their feelings are constant and just, results of due contem#lation, and of eIual thought' Qou can talk a mob into anythingS its feelings may beDDusually areDDon the $hole, generous and rightS but it has no foundation for them, no hold of themS you may tease or tickle it into any, at your #leasureS it thinks by infection, for the most #art, catching an o#inion like a cold, and there is nothing so little that it $ill not roar itself $ild about, $hen the fit is onSDDnothing so great but it $ill forget in an hour, $hen the fit is #ast' -ut a gentlemanRs, or a gentle nationRs, #assions are just, measured, and continuous' 3 great nation, for instance, does not s#end its entire national $its for a cou#le of months in $eighing e%idence of a single ruffianRs ha%ing done a single murderS and for a cou#le of years see its o$n children murder each other by their thousands or tens of thousands a day, considering only $hat the effect is likely to be on the #rice of cotton, and caring no $ise to determine $hich side of battle is in the $rong' ;either does a great nation send its #oor little boys to jail for stealing six $alnutsS and allo$ its bankru#ts to steal their hundreds of thousands $ith a bo$, and its bankers, rich $ith #oor menRs sa%ings, to close their doors Junder circumstances o%er $hich they ha%e no control,J $ith a Jby your lea%eSJ and large landed estates to be bought by men $ho ha%e made their money by going $ith armed steamers u# and do$n the "hina Seas, selling o#ium at the cannonRs mouth, and altering, for the benefit of the foreign nation, the common high$aymanRs demand of Jyour money :R your life,J into that of Jyour money 3;) your life'J ;either does a great nation allo$ the li%es of its innocent #oor to be #arched out of them by fog fe%er, and rotted out of them by dunghill #lague, for the sake of six#ence a life extra #er $eek to its landlordsS X//Y and then debate, $ith dri%elling tears, and diabolical sym#athies, $hether it ought not #iously to sa%e, and nursingly cherish, the li%es of its murderers' 3lso, a great nation ha%ing made u# its mind that hanging is Iuite the $holesomest #rocess for its homicides in general, can yet $ith mercy distinguish bet$een the degrees of guilt in homicidesS and does not yel# like a #ack of frostD#inched $olfDcubs on the bloodD track of an unha##y cra9ed boy, or greyDhaired clod#ate :thello, J#er#lexed iR the extreme,J at the %ery moment that it is sending a =inister of the "ro$n to make #olite s#eeches to a man $ho is bayoneting young girls in their fathersR sight, and killing noble youths in cool blood, faster than a country butcher kills lambs in s#ring' 3nd, lastly, a great nation does not mock .ea%en and its Po$ers, by #retending belief in a re%elation $hich asserts the lo%e of money to be the root of 3LL e%il, and declaring, at the same time, that it is actuated, and intends to be actuated, in all chief national deeds and measures, by no other lo%e' X/!Y =y friends, 2 do not kno$ $hy any of us should talk about reading' (e $ant some shar#er disci#line than that of readingS but, at all e%ents, be assured, $e cannot read' ;o reading is #ossible for a #eo#le $ith its mind in this state' ;o sentence of any great $riter

is intelligible to them' 2t is sim#ly and sternly im#ossible for the English #ublic, at this moment, to understand any thoughtful $riting,DDso inca#able of thought has it become in its insanity of a%arice' .a##ily, our disease is, as yet, little $orse than this inca#acity of thoughtS it is not corru#tion of the inner natureS $e ring true still, $hen anything strikes home to usS and though the idea that e%erything should J#ayJ has infected our e%ery #ur#ose so dee#ly, that e%en $hen $e $ould #lay the good Samaritan, $e ne%er take out our t$o #ence and gi%e them to the host, $ithout saying, J(hen 2 come again, thou shalt gi%e me four#ence,J there is a ca#acity of noble #assion left in our heartsR core' (e sho$ it in our $orkDDin our $ar,DDe%en in those unjust domestic affections $hich make us furious at a small #ri%ate $rong, $hile $e are #olite to a boundless #ublic one@ $e are still industrious to the last hour of the day, though $e add the gamblerRs fury to the labourerRs #atienceS $e are still bra%e to the death, though inca#able of discerning true cause for battleS and are still true in affection to our o$n flesh, to the death, as the seaDmonsters are, and the rockD eagles' 3nd there is ho#e for a nation $hile this can be still said of it' 3s long as it holds its life in its hand, ready to gi%e it for its honour Athough a foolish honourB, for its lo%e Athough a selfish lo%eB, and for its business Athough a base businessB, there is ho#e for it' -ut ho#e onlyS for this instincti%e, reckless %irtue cannot last' ;o nation can last, $hich has made a mob of itself, ho$e%er generous at heart' 2t must disci#line its #assions, and direct them, or they $ill disci#line it, one day, $ith scor#ion $hi#s' 3bo%e all, a nation cannot last as a moneyDmaking mob@ it cannot $ith im#unity,DDit cannot $ith existence,DDgo on des#ising literature, des#ising science, des#ising art, des#ising nature, des#ising com#assion, and concentrating its soul on Pence' )o you think these are harsh or $ild $ordsP .a%e #atience $ith me but a little longer' 2 $ill #ro%e their truth to you, clause by clause' A2'B 2 say first $e ha%e des#ised literature' (hat do $e, as a nation, care about booksP .o$ much do you think $e s#end altogether on our libraries, #ublic or #ri%ate, as com#ared $ith $hat $e s#end on our horsesP 2f a man s#ends la%ishly on his library, you call him madDDa bibliomaniac' -ut you ne%er call any one a horsemaniac, though men ruin themsel%es e%ery day by their horses, and you do not hear of #eo#le ruining themsel%es by their books' :r, to go lo$er still, ho$ much do you think the contents of the bookDshel%es of the <nited Uingdom, #ublic and #ri%ate, $ould fetch, as com#ared $ith the contents of its $ineDcellarsP (hat #osition $ould its ex#enditure on literature take, as com#ared $ith its ex#enditure on luxurious eatingP (e talk of food for the mind, as of food for the body@ no$ a good book contains such food inexhaustiblyS it is a #ro%ision for life, and for the best #art of usS yet ho$ long most #eo#le $ould look at the best book before they $ould gi%e the #rice of a large turbot for itP Though there ha%e been men $ho ha%e #inched their stomachs and bared their backs to buy a book, $hose libraries $ere chea#er to them, 2 think, in the end, than most menRs dinners are' (e are fe$ of us #ut to such trial, and more the #ityS for, indeed, a #recious thing is all the more #recious to us if it has been $on by $ork or economyS and if #ublic libraries $ere half so costly as #ublic dinners, or books cost the tenth #art of $hat bracelets do, e%en foolish men and $omen might sometimes sus#ect there $as good in reading, as $ell as in munching and s#arkling@

$hereas the %ery chea#ness of literature is making e%en $ise #eo#le forget that if a book is $orth reading, it is $orth buying' ;o book is $orth anything $hich is not $orth =<".S nor is it ser%iceable, until it has been read, and reDread, and lo%ed, and lo%ed againS and marked, so that you can refer to the #assages you $ant in it, as a soldier can sei9e the $ea#on he needs in an armoury, or a house$ife bring the s#ice she needs from her store' -read of flour is goodS but there is bread, s$eet as honey, if $e $ould eat it, in a good bookS and the family must be #oor indeed, $hich, once in their li%es, cannot, for, such multi#liable barleyDloa%es, #ay their bakerRs bill' (e call oursel%es a rich nation, and $e are filthy and foolish enough to thumb each otherRs books out of circulating libraries& A22'B 2 say $e ha%e des#ised science' J(hat&J you exclaim, Jare $e not foremost in all disco%ery, X/6Y and is not the $hole $orld giddy by reason, or unreason, of our in%entionsPJ QesS but do you su##ose that is national $orkP That $ork is all done 2; SP2TE :+ the nationS by #ri%ate #eo#leRs 9eal and money' (e are glad enough, indeed, to make our #rofit of scienceS $e sna# u# anything in the $ay of a scientific bone that has meat on it, eagerly enoughS but if the scientific man comes for a bone or a crust to <S, that is another story' (hat ha%e $e #ublicly done for scienceP (e are obliged to kno$ $hat oRclock it is, for the safety of our shi#s, and therefore $e #ay for an obser%atoryS and $e allo$ oursel%es, in the #erson of our Parliament, to be annually tormented into doing something, in a slo%enly $ay, for the -ritish =useumS sullenly a##rehending that to be a #lace for kee#ing stuffed birds in, to amuse our children' 2f anybody $ill #ay for their o$n telesco#e, and resol%e another nebula, $e cackle o%er the discernment as if it $ere our o$nS if one in ten thousand of our hunting sIuires suddenly #ercei%es that the earth $as indeed made to be something else than a #ortion for foxes, and burro$s in it himself, and tells us $here the gold is, and $here the coals, $e understand that there is some use in thatS and %ery #ro#erly knight him@ but is the accident of his ha%ing found out ho$ to em#loy himself usefully any credit to <SP AThe negation of such disco%ery among his brother sIuires may #erha#s be some discredit to us, if $e $ould consider of it'B -ut if you doubt these generalities, here is one fact for us all to meditate u#on, illustrati%e of our lo%e of science' T$o years ago there $as a collection of the fossils of Solenhofen to be sold in -a%ariaS the best in existence, containing many s#ecimens uniIue for #erfectness, and one uniIue as an exam#le of a s#ecies Aa $hole kingdom of unkno$n li%ing creatures being announced by that fossilB' This collection, of $hich the mere market $orth, among #ri%ate buyers, $ould #robably ha%e been some thousand or t$el%e hundred #ounds, $as offered to the English nation for se%en hundred@ but $e $ould not gi%e se%en hundred, and the $hole series $ould ha%e been in the =unich =useum at this moment, if Professor :$en X/>Y had not, $ith loss of his o$n time, and #atient tormenting of the -ritish #ublic in #erson of its re#resentati%es, got lea%e to gi%e four hundred #ounds at once, and himself become ans$erable for the other three& $hich the said #ublic $ill doubtless #ay him e%entually, but sulkily, and caring nothing about the matter all the $hileS only al$ays ready to cackle if any credit comes of it' "onsider, 2 beg of you, arithmetically, $hat this fact means' Qour annual ex#enditure for #ublic #ur#oses, Aa third of it for military

a##aratus,B is at least E8 millions' ;o$ 188L' is to E8,888,888L' roughly, as se%en #ence to t$o thousand #ounds' Su##ose, then, a gentleman of unkno$n income, but $hose $ealth $as to be conjectured from the fact that he s#ent t$o thousand a year on his #arkD$alls and footmen only, #rofesses himself fond of scienceS and that one of his ser%ants comes eagerly to tell him that an uniIue collection of fossils, gi%ing clue to a ne$ era of creation, is to be had for the sum of se%en #ence sterlingS and that the gentleman $ho is fond of science, and s#ends t$o thousand a year on his #ark, ans$ers, after kee#ing his ser%ant $aiting se%eral months, J(ell& 2Rll gi%e you four#ence for them, if you $ill be ans$erable for the extra three#ence yourself, till next year&J A222'B 2 say you ha%e des#ised 3rt& J(hat&J you again ans$er, Jha%e $e not 3rt exhibitions, miles longP and do $e not #ay thousands of #ounds for single #icturesP and ha%e $e not 3rt schools and institutions,DDmore than e%er nation had beforePJ Qes, truly, but all that is for the sake of the sho#' Qou $ould fain sell can%as as $ell as coals, and crockery as $ell as ironS you $ould take e%ery other nationRs bread out of its mouth if you couldS X/EY not being able to do that, your ideal of life is to stand in the thoroughfares of the $orld, like Ludgate a##rentices, screaming to e%ery #asserDby, J(hat dRye lackPJ Qou kno$ nothing of your o$n faculties or circumstancesS you fancy that, among your dam#, flat, fat fields of clay, you can ha%e as Iuick artDfancy as the +renchman among his bron9ed %ines, or the 2talian under his %olcanic cliffsSDD that 3rt may be learned, as bookDkee#ing is, and $hen learned, $ill gi%e you more books to kee#' Qou care for #ictures, absolutely, no more than you do for the bills #asted on your dead $alls' There is al$ays room on the $alls for the bills to be read,DDne%er for the #ictures to be seen' Qou do not kno$ $hat #ictures you ha%e Aby re#uteB in the country, nor $hether they are false or true, nor $hether they are taken care of or notS in foreign countries, you calmly see the noblest existing #ictures in the $orld rotting in abandoned $reckDDAin ,enice you sa$ the 3ustrian guns deliberately #ointed at the #alaces containing themB, and if you heard that all the fine #ictures in Euro#e $ere made into sandDbags toDmorro$ on the 3ustrian forts, it $ould not trouble you so much as the chance of a brace or t$o of game less in your o$n bags, in a dayRs shooting' That is your national lo%e of 3rt' A2,'B Qou ha%e des#ised ;atureS that is to say, all the dee# and sacred sensations of natural scenery' The +rench re%olutionists made stables of the cathedrals of +ranceS you ha%e made raceDcourses of the cathedrals of the earth' Qour :;E conce#tion of #leasure is to dri%e in railroad carriages round their aisles, and eat off their altars' X/LY Qou ha%e #ut a railroadDbridge o%er the falls of Schaffhausen' Qou ha%e tunnelled the cliffs of Lucerne by TellRs cha#elS you ha%e destroyed the "larens shore of the Lake of Gene%aS there is not a Iuiet %alley in England that you ha%e not filled $ith bello$ing fireS there is no #article left of English land $hich you ha%e not tram#led coal ashes into X/1YDDnor any foreign city in $hich the s#read of your #resence is not marked among its fair old streets and ha##y gardens by a consuming $hite le#rosy of ne$ hotels and #erfumersR sho#s@ the 3l#s themsel%es, $hich your o$n #oets used to lo%e so re%erently, you look u#on as soa#ed #oles in a bearD garden, $hich you set yoursel%es to climb and slide do$n again, $ith

Jshrieks of delight'J (hen you are #ast shrieking, ha%ing no human articulate %oice to say you are glad $ith, you fill the Iuietude of their %alleys $ith gun#o$der blasts, and rush home, red $ith cutaneous eru#tion of conceit, and %oluble $ith con%ulsi%e hiccough of selfDsatisfaction' 2 think nearly the t$o sorro$fullest s#ectacles 2 ha%e e%er seen in humanity, taking the dee# inner significance of them, are the English mobs in the %alley of "hamouni, amusing themsel%es $ith firing rusty ho$it9ersS and the S$iss %intagers of Zurich ex#ressing their "hristian thanks for the gift of the %ine, by assembling in knots in the Jto$ers of the %ineyards,J and slo$ly loading and firing horseD#istols from morning till e%ening' 2t is #itiful, to ha%e dim conce#tions of dutyS more #itiful, it seems to me, to ha%e conce#tions like these, of mirth' Lastly' Qou des#ise com#assion' There is no need of $ords of mine for #roof of this' 2 $ill merely #rint one of the ne$s#a#er #aragra#hs $hich 2 am in the habit of cutting out and thro$ing into my storeDdra$erS here is one from a R)aily Telegra#hR of an early date this year A/4L1BS Adate $hich, though by me carelessly left unmarked, is easily disco%erableS for on the back of the sli# there is the announcement that Jyesterday the se%enth of the s#ecial ser%ices of this year $as #erformed by the -isho# of Ri#on in St' PaulRsJSB it relates only one of such facts as ha##en no$ dailyS this by chance ha%ing taken a form in $hich it came before the coroner' 2 $ill #rint the #aragra#h in red' -e sure, the facts themsel%es are $ritten in that colour, in a book $hich $e shall all :+ us, literate or illiterate, ha%e to read our #age of, some day' 3n inIuiry $as held on +riday by =r' Richards, de#uty coroner, at the (hite .orse Ta%ern, "hrist "hurch, S#italfields, res#ecting the death of =ichael "ollins, aged E4 years' =ary "ollins, a miserableD looking $oman, said that she li%ed $ith the deceased and his son in a room at !, "obbRs "ourt, "hrist "hurch' )eceased $as a JtranslatorJ of boots' (itness $ent out and bought old bootsS deceased and his son made them into good ones, and then $itness sold them for $hat she could get at the sho#s, $hich $as %ery little indeed' )eceased and his son used to $ork night and day to try and get a little bread and tea, and #ay for the room A!S' a $eekB, so as to kee# the home together' :n +ridayDnightD$eek deceased got u# from his bench and began to shi%er' .e thre$ do$n the boots, saying, JSomebody else must finish them $hen 2 am gone, for 2 can do no more'J There $as no fire, and he said, J2 $ould be better if 2 $as $arm'J (itness therefore took t$o #airs of translated boots X/4Y to sell at the sho#, but she could only get />)' for the t$o #airs, for the #eo#le at the sho# said, J(e must ha%e our #rofit'J (itness got />lb' of coal, and a little tea and bread' .er son sat u# the $hole night to make the Jtranslations,J to get money, but deceased died on Saturday morning' The family ne%er had enough to eat'DD"oroner@ J2t seems to me de#lorable that you did not go into the $orkhouse'J (itness@ J(e $anted the comforts of our little home'J 3 juror asked $hat the comforts $ere, for he only sa$ a little stra$ in the corner of the room, the $indo$s of $hich $ere broken' The $itness began to cry, and said that they had a Iuilt and other little things' The deceased said he ne%er $ould go into the $orkhouse' 2n summer, $hen the season $as good, they sometimes made as much as /8S' #rofit in the $eek' They then al$ays sa%ed

to$ards the next $eek, $hich $as generally a bad one' 2n $inter they made not half so much' +or three years they had been getting from bad to $orse'DD"ornelius "ollins said that he had assisted his father since /4>1' They used to $ork so far into the night that both nearly lost their eyesight' (itness no$ had a film o%er his eyes' +i%e years ago deceased a##lied to the #arish for aid' The relie%ing officer ga%e him a >lb' loaf, and told him if he came again he should Jget the stones'J X/0Y That disgusted deceased, and he $ould ha%e nothing to do $ith them since' They got $orse and $orse until last +riday $eek, $hen they had not e%en a halfD#enny to buy a candle' )eceased then lay do$n on the stra$, and said he could not li%e till morning'DD3 juror@ JQou are dying of star%ation yourself, and you ought to go into the house until the summer'JDD (itness@ J2f $e $ent in $e should die' (hen $e come out in the summer $e should be like #eo#le dro##ed from the sky' ;o one $ould kno$ us, and $e $ould not ha%e e%en a room' 2 could $ork no$ if 2 had food, for my sight $ould get better'J )r' G' P' (alker said deceased died from synco#e, from exhaustion from $ant of food' The deceased had had no bedclothes' +or four months he had had nothing but bread to eat' There $as not a #article of fat in the body' There $as no disease, but, if there had been medical attendance, he might ha%e sur%i%ed the synco#e or fainting' The "oroner ha%ing remarked u#on the #ainful nature of the case, the jury returned the follo$ing %erdict@ JThat deceased died from exhaustion from $ant of food and the common necessaries of lifeS also through $ant of medical aid'J J(hy $ould $itness not go into the $orkhousePJ you ask' (ell, the #oor seem to ha%e a #rejudice against the $orkhouse $hich the rich ha%e notS for of course e%eryone $ho takes a #ension from Go%ernment goes into the $orkhouse on a grand scale@ X!8Y only the $orkhouses for the rich do not in%ol%e the idea of $ork, and should be called #layDhouses' -ut the #oor like to die inde#endently, it a##earsS #erha#s if $e made the #layDhouses for them #retty and #leasant enough, or ga%e them their #ensions at home, and allo$ed them a little introductory #eculation $ith the #ublic money, their minds might be reconciled to the conditions' =eantime, here are the facts@ $e make our relief either so insulting to them, or so #ainful, that they rather die than take it at our handsS or, for third alternati%e, $e lea%e them so untaught and foolish that they star%e like brute creatures, $ild and dumb, not kno$ing $hat to do, or $hat to ask' 2 say, you des#ise com#assionS if you did not, such a ne$s#a#er #aragra#h $ould be as im#ossible in a "hristian country as a deliberate assassination #ermitted in its #ublic streets' X!/Y J"hristian,J did 2 sayP 3las& if $e $ere but $holesomely <;D "hristian, it $ould be im#ossible@ it is our imaginary "hristianity that hel#s us to commit these crimes, for $e re%el and luxuriate in our faith, for the le$d sensation of itS dressing 2T u#, like e%erything else, in fiction' The dramatic "hristianity of the organ and aisle, of da$nDser%ice and t$ilightDre%i%alDDthe "hristianity, $hich $e do not fear to mix the mockery of, #ictorially, $ith our #lay about the de%il, in our Satanellas,DDRoberts,DD+austsS chanting hymns through traceried $indo$s for background effect, and artistically modulating the J)ioJ through %ariation on %ariation of mimicked #rayer@ A$hile $e distribute tracts, next day, for the benefit of unculti%ated s$earers, u#on $hat $e su##ose to be the

signification of the Third "ommandmentSDB this gasDlighted, and gasD ins#ired "hristianity, $e are trium#hant in, and dra$ back the hem of our robes from the touch of the heretics $ho dis#ute it' -ut to do a #iece of common "hristian righteousness in a #lain English $ord or deedS to make "hristian la$ any rule of life, and found one ;ational act or ho#e thereon,DD$e kno$ too $ell $hat our faith comes to for that& Qou might sooner get lightning out of incense smoke than true action or #assion out of your modern English religion' Qou had better get rid of the smoke, and the organ #i#es, both@ lea%e them, and the Gothic $indo$s, and the #ainted glass, to the #ro#erty manS gi%e u# your carburetted hydrogen ghost in one healthy ex#iration, and look after La9arus at the doorste#' +or there is a true "hurch $here%er one hand meets another hel#fully, and that is the only holy or =other "hurch $hich e%er $as, or e%er shall be' 3ll these #leasures then, and all these %irtues, 2 re#eat, you nationally des#ise' Qou ha%e, indeed, men among you $ho do notS by $hose $ork, by $hose strength, by $hose life, by $hose death, you li%e, and ne%er thank them' Qour $ealth, your amusement, your #ride, $ould all be alike im#ossible, but for those $hom you scorn or forget' The #oliceman, $ho is $alking u# and do$n the black lane all night to $atch the guilt you ha%e created thereS and may ha%e his brains beaten out, and be maimed for life, at any moment, and ne%er be thankedS the sailor $restling $ith the seaRs rageS the Iuiet student #oring o%er his book or his %ialS the common $orker, $ithout #raise, and nearly $ithout bread, fulfilling his task as your horses drag your carts, ho#eless, and s#urned of all@ these are the men by $hom England li%esS but they are not the nationS they are only the body and ner%ous force of it, acting still from old habit in a con%ulsi%e #erse%erance, $hile the mind is gone' :ur ;ational $ish and #ur#ose are only to be amusedS our ;ational religion is the #erformance of church ceremonies, and #reaching of so#orific truth Aor untruthsB to kee# the mob Iuietly at $ork, $hile $e amuse oursel%esS and the necessity for this amusement is fastening on us, as a fe%erous disease of #arched throat and $andering eyesDDsenseless, dissolute, merciless' .o$ literally that $ord )2SDEase, the ;egation and im#ossibility of Ease, ex#resses the entire moral state of our English 2ndustry and its 3musements& (hen men are rightly occu#ied, their amusement gro$s out of their $ork, as the colourD#etals out of a fruitful flo$erSDD$hen they are faithfully hel#ful and com#assionate, all their emotions become steady, dee#, #er#etual, and %i%ifying to the soul as the natural #ulse to the body' -ut no$, ha%ing no true business, $e #our our $hole masculine energy into the false business of moneyDmakingS and ha%ing no true emotion, $e must ha%e false emotions dressed u# for us to #lay $ith, not innocently, as children $ith dolls, but guiltily and darkly, as the idolatrous Je$s $ith their #ictures on ca%ern $alls, $hich men had to dig to detect' The justice $e do not execute, $e mimic in the no%el and on the stageS for the beauty $e destroy in nature, $e substitute the metamor#hosis of the #antomime, and Athe human nature of us im#erati%ely reIuiring a$e and sorro$ of S:=E kindB for the noble grief $e should ha%e borne $ith our fello$s, and the #ure tears $e should ha%e $e#t $ith them, $e gloat o%er the #athos of the #olice court, and gather the nightDde$ of the gra%e'

2t is difficult to estimate the true significance of these thingsS the facts are frightful enoughSDDthe measure of national fault in%ol%ed in them is #erha#s not as great as it $ould at first seem' (e #ermit, or cause, thousands of deaths daily, but $e mean no harmS $e set fire to houses, and ra%age #easantsR fields, yet $e should be sorry to find $e had injured anybody' (e are still kind at heartS still ca#able of %irtue, but only as children are' "halmers, at the end of his long life, ha%ing had much #o$er $ith the #ublic, being #lagued in some serious matter by a reference to J#ublic o#inion,J uttered the im#atient exclamation, JThe #ublic is just a great baby&J 3nd the reason that 2 ha%e allo$ed all these gra%er subjects of thought to mix themsel%es u# $ith an inIuiry into methods of reading, is that, the more 2 see of our national faults or miseries, the more they resol%e themsel%es into conditions of childish illiterateness and $ant of education in the most ordinary habits of thought' 2t is, 2 re#eat, not %ice, not selfishness, not dulness of brain, $hich $e ha%e to lamentS but an unreachable schoolboyRs recklessness, only differing from the true schoolboyRs in its inca#acity of being hel#ed, because it ackno$ledges no master' There is a curious ty#e of us gi%en in one of the lo%ely, neglected $orks of the last of our great #ainters' 2t is a dra$ing of Uirkby Lonsdale churchyard, and of its brook, and %alley, and hills, and folded morning sky beyond' 3nd unmindful alike of these, and of the dead $ho ha%e left these for other %alleys and for other skies, a grou# of schoolboys ha%e #iled their little books u#on a gra%e, to strike them off $ith stones' So, also, $e #lay $ith the $ords of the dead that $ould teach us, and strike them far from us $ith our bitter, reckless $illS little thinking that those lea%es $hich the $ind scatters had been #iled, not only u#on a gra%estone, but u#on the seal of an enchanted %aultDDnay, the gate of a great city of slee#ing kings, $ho $ould a$ake for us and $alk $ith us, if $e kne$ but ho$ to call them by their names' .o$ often, e%en if $e lift the marble entrance gate, do $e but $ander among those old kings in their re#ose, and finger the robes they lie in, and stir the cro$ns on their foreheadsS and still they are silent to us, and seem but a dusty imageryS because $e kno$ not the incantation of the heart that $ould $ake themSDD$hich, if they once heard, they $ould start u# to meet us in their #o$er of long ago, narro$ly to look u#on us, and consider usS and, as the fallen kings of .ades meet the ne$ly fallen, saying, J3rt thou also become $eak as $eDDart thou also become one of usPJ so $ould these kings, $ith their undimmed, unshaken diadems, meet us, saying, J3rt thou also become #ure and mighty of heart as $eDDart thou also become one of usPJ =ighty of heart, mighty of mindDDJmagnanimousJDDto be this, is indeed to be great in lifeS to become this increasingly, is, indeed, to Jad%ance in life,JDDin life itselfDDnot in the tra##ings of it' =y friends, do you remember that old Scythian custom, $hen the head of a house diedP .o$ he $as dressed in his finest dress, and set in his chariot, and carried about to his friendsR housesS and each of them #laced him at his tableRs head, and all feasted in his #resenceP Su##ose it $ere offered to you in #lain $ords, as it 2S offered to you in dire facts, that you should gain this Scythian honour, gradually, $hile you yet thought yourself ali%e' Su##ose the offer $ere this@ Qou shall die slo$lyS your blood shall daily gro$ cold, your flesh #etrify, your heart beat at last only as a

rusted grou# of iron %al%es' Qour life shall fade from you, and sink through the earth into the ice of "ainaS but, day by day, your body shall be dressed more gaily, and set in higher chariots, and ha%e more orders on its breastDDcro$ns on its head, if you $ill' =en shall bo$ before it, stare and shout round it, cro$d after it u# and do$n the streetsS build #alaces for it, feast $ith it at their tablesR heads all the night longS your soul shall stay enough $ithin it to kno$ $hat they do, and feel the $eight of the golden dress on its shoulders, and the furro$ of the cro$nDedge on the skullSDDno more' (ould you take the offer, %erbally made by the deathDangelP (ould the meanest among us take it, think youP Qet #ractically and %erily $e gras# at it, e%ery one of us, in a measureS many of us gras# at it in its fulness of horror' E%ery man acce#ts it, $ho desires to ad%ance in life $ithout kno$ing $hat life isS $ho means only that he is to get more horses, and more footmen, and more fortune, and more #ublic honour, andDD;:T more #ersonal soul' .e only is ad%ancing in life, $hose heart is getting softer, $hose blood $armer, $hose brain Iuicker, $hose s#irit is entering into Li%ing X!!Y #eace' 3nd the men $ho ha%e this life in them are the true lords or kings of the earthDDthey, and they only' 3ll other kingshi#s, so far as they are true, are only the #ractical issue and ex#ression of theirsS if less than this, they are either dramatic royalties,DDcostly sho$s, set off, indeed, $ith real je$els, instead of tinselDDbut still only the toys of nationsS or else they are no royalties at all, but tyrannies, or the mere acti%e and #ractical issue of national follyS for $hich reason 2 ha%e said of them else$here, J,isible go%ernments are the toys of some nations, the diseases of others, the harness of some, the burdens of more'J -ut 2 ha%e no $ords for the $onder $ith $hich 2 hear Uinghood still s#oken of, e%en among thoughtful men, as if go%erned nations $ere a #ersonal #ro#erty, and might be bought and sold, or other$ise acIuired, as shee#, of $hose flesh their king $as to feed, and $hose fleece he $as to gatherS as if 3chillesR indignant e#ithet of base kings, J#eo#leDeating,J $ere the constant and #ro#er title of all monarchsS and the enlargement of a kingRs dominion meant the same thing as the increase of a #ri%ate manRs estate& Uings $ho think so, ho$e%er #o$erful, can no more be the true kings of the nation than gadflies are the kings of a horseS they suck it, and may dri%e it $ild, but do not guide it' They, and their courts, and their armies are, if one could see clearly, only a large s#ecies of marsh mosIuito, $ith bayonet #roboscis and melodious, bandDmastered trum#eting, in the summer airS the t$ilight being, #erha#s, sometimes fairer, but hardly more $holesome, for its glittering mists of midge com#anies' The true kings, mean$hile, rule Iuietly, if at all, and hate rulingS too many of them make Jil gran rifiutoSJ and if they do not, the mob, as soon as they are likely to become useful to it, is #retty sure to make 2TS Jgran rifiutoJ of T.E=' Qet the %isible king may also be a true one, some day, if e%er day comes $hen he $ill estimate his dominion by the +:R"E of it,DDnot the geogra#hical boundaries' 2t matters %ery little $hether Trent cuts you a cantel out here, or Rhine rounds you a castle less there' -ut it does matter to you, king of men, $hether you can %erily say to this man, JGo,J and he goethS and to another, J"ome,J and he cometh' (hether you can turn your #eo#le, as you can TrentDDand $here it is that you bid them come, and $here go' 2t matters to

you, king of men, $hether your #eo#le hate you, and die by you, or lo%e you, and li%e by you' Qou may measure your dominion by multitudes, better than by milesS and count degrees of lo%eD latitude, not from, but to, a $onderfully $arm and infinite eIuator' =easure&DDnay, you cannot measure' (ho shall measure the difference bet$een the #o$er of those $ho Jdo and teach,J and $ho are greatest in the kingdoms of earth, as of hea%enDDand the #o$er of those $ho undo, and consumeDD$hose #o$er, at the fullest, is only the #o$er of the moth and the rustP Strange& to think ho$ the =othDkings lay u# treasures for the mothS and the RustDkings, $ho are to their #eo#lesR strength as rust to armour, lay u# treasures for the rustS and the RobberDkings, treasures for the robberS but ho$ fe$ kings ha%e e%er laid u# treasures that needed no guardingDDtreasures of $hich, the more thie%es there $ere, the better& -roidered robe, only to be rentS helm and s$ord, only to be dimmedS je$el and gold, only to be scatteredSDDthere ha%e been three kinds of kings $ho ha%e gathered these' Su##ose there e%er should arise a +ourth order of kings, $ho had read, in some obscure $riting of long ago, that there $as a +ourth kind of treasure, $hich the je$el and gold could not eIual, neither should it be %alued $ith #ure gold' 3 $eb made fair in the $ea%ing, by 3thenaRs shuttleS an armour, forged in di%ine fire by ,ulcanian forceS a gold to be mined in the %ery sunRs red heart, $here he sets o%er the )el#hian cliffsSDDdee#D#ictured tissueSDDim#enetrable armourSDD#otable gold&DDthe three great 3ngels of "onduct, Toil, and Thought, still calling to us, and $aiting at the #osts of our doors, to lead us, $ith their $inged #o$er, and guide us, $ith their unerring eyes, by the #ath $hich no fo$l kno$eth, and $hich the %ultureRs eye has not seen& Su##ose kings should e%er arise, $ho heard and belie%ed this $ord, and at last gathered and brought forth treasures ofDD(isdomDDfor their #eo#leP Think $hat an ama9ing business T.3T $ould be& .o$ inconcei%able, in the state of our #resent national $isdom& That $e should bring u# our #easants to a book exercise instead of a bayonet exercise&DD organise, drill, maintain $ith #ay, and good generalshi#, armies of thinkers, instead of armies of stabbers&DDfind national amusement in readingDrooms as $ell as rifleDgroundsS gi%e #ri9es for a fair shot at a fact, as $ell as for a leaden s#lash on a target' (hat an absurd idea it seems, #ut fairly in $ords, that the $ealth of the ca#italists of ci%ilised nations should e%er come to su##ort literature instead of $ar& .a%e yet #atience $ith me, $hile 2 read you a single sentence out of the only book, #ro#erly to be called a book, that 2 ha%e yet $ritten myself, the one that $ill stand Aif anything standB, surest and longest of all $ork of mine' J2t is one %ery a$ful form of the o#eration of $ealth in Euro#e that it is entirely ca#italistsR $ealth $hich su##orts unjust $ars' Just $ars do not need so much money to su##ort themS for most of the men $ho $age such, $age them gratisS but for an unjust $ar, menRs bodies and souls ha%e both to be boughtS and the best tools of $ar for them besides, $hich make such $ar costly to the maximumS not to s#eak of the cost of base fear, and angry sus#icion, bet$een nations $hich ha%e not grace nor honesty enough in all their multitudes to buy an

hourRs #eace of mind $ithS as, at #resent, +rance and England, #urchasing of each other ten millions sterling $orth of consternation, annually Aa remarkably light cro#, half thorns and half as#en lea%es, so$n, rea#ed, and granaried by the RscienceR of the modern #olitical economist, teaching co%etousness instead of truthB' 3nd, all unjust $ar being su##ortable, if not by #illage of the enemy, only by loans from ca#italists, these loans are re#aid by subseIuent taxation of the #eo#le, $ho a##ear to ha%e no $ill in the matter, the ca#italistsR $ill being the #rimary root of the $arS but its real root is the co%etousness of the $hole nation, rendering it inca#able of faith, frankness, or justice, and bringing about, therefore, in due time, his o$n se#arate loss and #unishment to each #erson'J +rance and England literally, obser%e, buy P3;2" of each otherS they #ay, each of them, for ten thousandDthousandD#oundsRD$orth of terror, a year' ;o$ su##ose, instead of buying these ten millionsR $orth of #anic annually, they made u# their minds to be at #eace $ith each other, and buy ten millionsR $orth of kno$ledge annuallyS and that each nation s#ent its ten thousand thousand #ounds a year in founding royal libraries, royal art galleries, royal museums, royal gardens, and #laces of rest' =ight it not be better some$hat for both +rench and EnglishP 2t $ill be long, yet, before that comes to #ass' ;e%ertheless, 2 ho#e it $ill not be long before royal or national libraries $ill be founded in e%ery considerable city, $ith a royal series of books in themS the same series in e%ery one of them, chosen books, the best in e%ery kind, #re#ared for that national series in the most #erfect $ay #ossibleS their text #rinted all on lea%es of eIual si9e, broad of margin, and di%ided into #leasant %olumes, light in the hand, beautiful, and strong, and thorough as exam#les of bindersR $orkS and that these great libraries $ill be accessible to all clean and orderly #ersons at all times of the day and e%eningS strict la$ being enforced for this cleanliness and Iuietness' 2 could sha#e for you other #lans, for artDgalleries, and for natural history galleries, and for many #reciousDDmany, it seems to me, needfulDDthingsS but this book #lan is the easiest and needfullest, and $ould #ro%e a considerable tonic to $hat $e call our -ritish constitution, $hich has fallen dro#sical of late, and has an e%il thirst, and e%il hunger, and $ants healthier feeding' Qou ha%e got its corn la$s re#ealed for itS try if you cannot get corn la$s established for it, dealing in a better breadSDDbread made of that old enchanted 3rabian grain, the Sesame, $hich o#ens doorsSD Ddoors not of robbersR, but of UingsR Treasuries'

LE"T<RE 22'DDL2L2ES :+ T<EE;SR G3R)E;S

J-e thou glad, oh thirsting )esertS let the desert be made cheerful, and bloom as the lilyS and the barren #laces of Jordan shall run $ild $ith $ood'JDD2S323. OOO,' 2' ASe#tuagint'B

2t $ill, #erha#s, be $ell, as this Lecture is the seIuel of one #re%iously gi%en, that 2 should shortly state to you my general intention in both' The Iuestions s#ecially #ro#osed to you in the first, namely, .o$ and (hat to Read, rose out of a far dee#er one, $hich it $as my endea%our to make you #ro#ose earnestly to yoursel%es, namely, (.Q to Read' 2 $ant you to feel, $ith me, that $hate%er ad%antages $e #ossess in the #resent day in the diffusion of education and of literature, can only be rightly used by any of us $hen $e ha%e a##rehended clearly $hat education is to lead to, and literature to teach' 2 $ish you to see that both $ellDdirected moral training and $ellDchosen reading lead to the #ossession of a #o$er o%er the illDguided and illiterate, $hich is, according to the measure of it, in the truest sense, U2;GLQS conferring indeed the #urest kingshi# that can exist among men@ too many other kingshi#s Aho$e%er distinguished by %isible insignia or material #o$erB being either s#ectral, or tyrannousSDDs#ectralDDthat is to say, as#ects and shado$s only of royalty, hollo$ as death, and $hich only the Jlikeness of a kingly cro$n ha%e on@J or elseDDtyrannousDDthat is to say, substituting their o$n $ill for the la$ of justice and lo%e by $hich all true kings rule' There is, then, 2 re#eatDDand as 2 $ant to lea%e this idea $ith you, 2 begin $ith it, and shall end $ith itDDonly one #ure kind of kingshi#S an ine%itable and eternal kind, cro$ned or notS the kingshi#, namely, $hich consists in a stronger moral state, and a truer thoughtful state, than that of othersS enabling you, therefore, to guide, or to raise them' :bser%e that $ord JStateSJ $e ha%e got into a loose $ay of using it' 2t means literally the standing and stability of a thingS and you ha%e the full force of it in the deri%ed $ord JstatueJDDJthe immo%able thing'J 3 kingRs majesty or Jstate,J then, and the right of his kingdom to be called a state, de#ends on the mo%elessness of both@D $ithout tremor, $ithout Iui%er of balanceS established and enthroned u#on a foundation of eternal la$ $hich nothing can alter, nor o%erthro$' -elie%ing that all literature and all education are only useful so far as they tend to confirm this calm, beneficent, and T.ERE+:RE kingly, #o$erDDfirst, o%er oursel%es, and, through oursel%es, o%er all around us,DD2 am no$ going to ask you to consider $ith me farther, $hat s#ecial #ortion or kind of this royal authority, arising out of noble education, may rightly be #ossessed by $omenS and ho$ far they also are called to a true Iueenly #o$er,DDnot in their households merely, but o%er all $ithin their s#here' 3nd in $hat sense, if they rightly understood and exercised this royal or gracious influence, the order and beauty induced by such benignant #o$er $ould justify us in s#eaking of the territories o%er $hich each of them reigned, as JTueensR Gardens'J 3nd here, in the %ery outset, $e are met by a far dee#er Iuestion, $hichDDstrange though this may seemDDremains among many of us yet Iuite undecided in s#ite of its infinite im#ortance' (e cannot determine $hat the Iueenly #o$er of $omen should be, until $e are agreed $hat their ordinary #o$er should be' (e cannot consider ho$ education may fit them for any $idely extending duty,

until $e are agreed $hat is their true constant duty' 3nd there ne%er $as a time $hen $ilder $ords $ere s#oken, or more %ain imagination #ermitted, res#ecting this IuestionDDIuite %ital to all social ha##iness' The relations of the $omanly to the manly nature, their different ca#acities of intellect or of %irtue, seem ne%er to ha%e been yet estimated $ith entire consent' (e hear of the JmissionJ and of the JrightsJ of (oman, as if these could e%er be se#arate from the mission and the rights of =anDDas if she and her lord $ere creatures of inde#endent kind, and of irreconcilable claim' This, at least, is $rong' 3nd not less $rongDD#erha#s e%en more foolishly $rong Afor 2 $ill antici#ate thus far $hat 2 ho#e to #ro%eBDDis the idea that $oman is only the shado$ and attendant image of her lord, o$ing him a thoughtless and ser%ile obedience, and su##orted altogether in her $eakness by the #reDeminence of his fortitude' This, 2 say, is the most foolish of all errors res#ecting her $ho $as made to be the hel#mate of man' 3s if he could be hel#ed effecti%ely by a shado$, or $orthily by a sla%e& Let us try, then, $hether $e cannot get at some clear and harmonious idea Ait must be harmonious if it is trueB of $hat $omanly mind and %irtue are in #o$er and office, $ith res#ect to manRsS and ho$ their relations, rightly acce#ted, aid and increase the %igour and honour and authority of both' 3nd no$ 2 must re#eat one thing 2 said in the last lecture@ namely, that the first use of education $as to enable us to consult $ith the $isest and the greatest men on all #oints of earnest difficulty' That to use books rightly, $as to go to them for hel#@ to a##eal to them, $hen our o$n kno$ledge and #o$er of thought failed@ to be led by them into $ider sight,DD#urer conce#tion,DDthan our o$n, and recei%e from them the united sentence of the judges and councils of all time, against our solitary and unstable o#inion' Let us do this no$' Let us see $hether the greatest, the $isest, the #urestDhearted of all ages are agreed in any $ise on this #oint@ let us hear the testimony they ha%e left res#ecting $hat they held to be the true dignity of $oman, and her mode of hel# to man' 3nd first let us take Shakes#eare' ;ote broadly in the outset, Shakes#eare has no heroesSDDhe has only heroines' There is not one entirely heroic figure in all his #lays, exce#t the slight sketch of .enry the +ifth, exaggerated for the #ur#oses of the stageS and the still slighter ,alentine in The T$o Gentlemen of ,erona' 2n his laboured and #erfect #lays you ha%e no hero' :thello $ould ha%e been one, if his sim#licity had not been so great as to lea%e him the #rey of e%ery base #ractice round himS but he is the only exam#le e%en a##roximating to the heroic ty#e' "oriolanusDD"aesarDD3ntony stand in fla$ed strength, and fall by their %anitiesSDD.amlet is indolent, and dro$sily s#eculati%eS Romeo an im#atient boyS the =erchant of ,enice languidly submissi%e to ad%erse fortuneS Uent, in Uing Lear, is entirely noble at heart, but too rough and un#olished to be of true use at the critical time, and he sinks into the office of a ser%ant only' :rlando, no less noble, is yet the des#airing toy of chance, follo$ed, comforted, sa%ed by

Rosalind' (hereas there is hardly a #lay that has not a #erfect $oman in it, steadfast in gra%e ho#e, and errorless #ur#ose@ "ordelia, )esdemona, 2sabella, .ermione, 2mogen, Tueen "atherine, Perdita, Syl%ia, ,iola, Rosalind, .elena, and last, and #erha#s lo%eliest, ,irgilia, are all faultlessS concei%ed in the highest heroic ty#e of humanity' Then obser%e, secondly, The catastro#he of e%ery #lay is caused al$ays by the folly or fault of a manS the redem#tion, if there be any, is by the $isdom and %irtue of a $oman, and, failing that, there is none' The catastro#he of Uing Lear is o$ing to his o$n $ant of judgment, his im#atient %anity, his misunderstanding of his childrenS the %irtue of his one true daughter $ould ha%e sa%ed him from all the injuries of the others, unless he had cast her a$ay from himS as it is, she all but sa%es him' :f :thello 2 need not trace the taleSDDnor the one $eakness of his so mighty lo%eS nor the inferiority of his #erce#ti%e intellect to that e%en of the second $oman character in the #lay, the Emilia $ho dies in $ild testimony against his error@D J:h, murderous coxcomb& $hat should such a fool )o $ith so good a $ifePJ 2n Romeo and Juliet, the $ise and bra%e stratagem of the $ife is brought to ruinous issue by the reckless im#atience of her husband' 2n (interRs Tale, and in "ymbeline, the ha##iness and existence of t$o #rincely households, lost through long years, and im#erilled to the death by the folly and obstinacy of the husbands, are redeemed at last by the Iueenly #atience and $isdom of the $i%es' 2n =easure for =easure, the foul injustice of the judge, and the foul co$ardice of the brother, are o##osed to the %ictorious truth and adamantine #urity of a $oman' 2n "oriolanus, the motherRs counsel, acted u#on in time, $ould ha%e sa%ed her son from all e%ilS his momentary forgetfulness of it is his ruinS her #rayer, at last granted, sa%es himDDnot, indeed, from death, but from the curse of li%ing as the destroyer of his country' 3nd $hat shall 2 say of Julia, constant against the fickleness of a lo%er $ho is a mere $icked childPDDof .elena, against the #etulance and insult of a careless youthPDDof the #atience of .ero, the #assion of -eatrice, and the calmly de%oted $isdom of the Junlessoned girl,J $ho a##ears among the hel#lessness, the blindness, and the %indicti%e #assions of men, as a gentle angel, bringing courage and safety by her #resence, and defeating the $orst malignities of crime by $hat $omen are fancied most to fail in,DD #recision and accuracy of thought' :bser%e, further, among all the #rinci#al figures in Shakes#eareRs #lays, there is only one $eak $omanDD:#heliaS and it is because she fails .amlet at the critical moment, and is not, and cannot in her nature be, a guide to him $hen he needs her most, that all the bitter catastro#he follo$s' +inally, though there are three $icked

$omen among the #rinci#al figuresDDLady =acbeth, Regan, and GonerilD Dthey are felt at once to be frightful exce#tions to the ordinary la$s of lifeS fatal in their influence also, in #ro#ortion to the #o$er for good $hich they ha%e abandoned' Such, in broad light, is Shakes#eareRs testimony to the #osition and character of $omen in human life' .e re#resents them as infallibly faithful and $ise counsellors,DDincorru#tibly just and #ure exam#lesDDstrong al$ays to sanctify, e%en $hen they cannot sa%e' ;ot as in any $ise com#arable in kno$ledge of the nature of man,DD still less in his understanding of the causes and courses of fate,DD but only as the $riter $ho has gi%en us the broadest %ie$ of the conditions and modes of ordinary thought in modern society, 2 ask you next to recei%e the $itness of (alter Scott' 2 #ut aside his merely romantic #rose $ritings as of no %alue, and though the early romantic #oetry is %ery beautiful, its testimony is of no $eight, other than that of a boyRs ideal' -ut his true $orks, studied from Scottish life, bear a true $itnessS and in the $hole range of these, there are but three men $ho reach the heroic ty#e X!6YDD)andie )inmont, Rob Roy, and "la%erhouseS of these, one is a border farmerS another a freebooterS the third a soldier in a bad cause' 3nd these touch the ideal of heroism only in their courage and faith, together $ith a strong, but unculti%ated, or mistakenly a##lied, intellectual #o$erS $hile his younger men are the gentlemanly #layDthings of fantastic fortune, and only by aid Aor accidentB of that fortune, sur%i%e, not %anIuish, the trials they in%oluntarily sustain' :f any disci#lined, or consistent character, earnest in a #ur#ose $isely concei%ed, or dealing $ith forms of hostile e%il, definitely challenged and resolutely subdued, there is no trace in his conce#tions of young men' (hereas in his imaginations of $omen,DDin the characters of Ellen )ouglas, of +lora =ac2%or, Rose -rad$ardine, "atherine Seyton, )iana ,ernon, Lilias Redgauntlet, 3lice -ridgenorth, 3lice Lee, and Jeanie )eans,DD$ith endless %arieties of grace, tenderness, and intellectual #o$er, $e find in all a Iuite infallible sense of dignity and justiceS a fearless, instant, and untiring selfDsacrifice, to e%en the a##earance of duty, much more to its real claimsS and, finally, a #atient $isdom of dee#lyDrestrained affection, $hich does infinitely more than #rotect its objects from a momentary errorS it gradually forms, animates, and exalts the characters of the un$orthy lo%ers, until, at the close of the tale, $e are just able, and no more, to take #atience in hearing of their unmerited success' So that, in all cases, $ith Scott as $ith Shakes#eare, it is the $oman $ho $atches o%er, teaches, and guides the youthS it is ne%er, by any chance, the youth $ho $atches o%er, or educates, his mistress' ;ext take, though more briefly, gra%er testimonyDDthat of the great 2talians and Greeks' Qou kno$ $ell the #lan of )anteRs great #oemDD that it is a lo%eD#oem to his dead ladyS a song of #raise for her $atch o%er his soul' Stoo#ing only to #ity, ne%er to lo%e, she yet sa%es him from destructionDDsa%es him from hell' .e is going eternally astray in des#airS she comes do$n from hea%en to his hel#, and throughout the ascents of Paradise is his teacher, inter#reting

for him the most difficult truths, di%ine and humanS and leading him, $ith rebuke u#on rebuke, from star to star' 2 do not insist u#on )anteRs conce#tionS if 2 began 2 could not cease@ besides, you might think this a $ild imagination of one #oetRs heart' So 2 $ill rather read to you a fe$ %erses of the deliberate $riting of a knight of Pisa to his li%ing lady, $holly characteristic of the feeling of all the noblest men of the thirteenth, or early fourteenth, century, #reser%ed among many other such records of knightly honour and lo%e, $hich )ante Rossetti has gathered for us from among the early 2talian #oets' J+or lo& thy la$ is #assed That this my lo%e should manifestly be To ser%e and honour thee@ 3nd so 2 doS and my delight is full, 3cce#ted for the ser%ant of thy rule' J(ithout almost, 2 am all ra#turous, Since thus my $ill $as set To ser%e, thou flo$er of joy, thine excellence@ ;or e%er seems it anything could rouse 3 #ain or a regret' -ut on thee d$ells my e%ery thought and senseS "onsidering that from thee all %irtues s#read 3s from a fountain head,DD T.3T 2; T.Q G2+T 2S (2S):=RS -EST 3,32L, 3;) .:;:<R (2T.:<T +32L, (ith $hom each so%ereign good d$ells se#arate, +ulfilling the #erfection of thy state' JLady, since 2 concei%ed Thy #leasurable as#ect in my heart, =Q L2+E .3S -EE; 3P3RT 2; S.2;2;G -R2G.T;ESS 3;) T.E PL3"E :+ TR<T.S (hich till that time, good sooth, Gro#ed among shado$s in a darkenRd #lace, (here many hours and days 2t hardly e%er had rememberRd good' -ut no$ my ser%itude 2s thine, and 2 am full of joy and rest' 3 man from a $ild beast Thou madest me, since for thy lo%e 2 li%ed'J Qou may think #erha#s a Greek knight $ould ha%e had a lo$er estimate of $omen than this "hristian lo%er' .is s#iritual subjection to them $as indeed not so absoluteS but as regards their o$n #ersonal character, it $as only because you could not ha%e follo$ed me so easily, that 2 did not take the Greek $omen instead of Shakes#eareRsS and instance, for chief ideal ty#es of human beauty and faith, the sim#le motherRs and $ifeRs heart of 3ndromacheS the di%ine, yet rejected $isdom of "assandraS the #layful kindness and sim#le #rincessDlife of ha##y ;ausicaaS the house$ifely calm of that of Penelo#e, $ith its $atch u#on the seaS the e%er #atient,

fearless, ho#elessly de%oted #iety of the sister, and daughter, in 3ntigoneS the bo$ing do$n of 2#higenia, lambDlike and silentS and finally, the ex#ectation of the resurrection, made clear to the soul of the Greeks in the return from her gra%e of that 3lcestis, $ho, to sa%e her husband, had #assed calmly through the bitterness of death' ;o$ 2 could multi#ly $itness u#on $itness of this kind u#on you if 2 had time' 2 $ould take "haucer, and sho$ you $hy he $rote a Legend of Good (omenS but no Legend of Good =en' 2 $ould take S#enser, and sho$ you ho$ all his fairy knights are sometimes decei%ed and sometimes %anIuishedS but the soul of <na is ne%er darkened, and the s#ear of -ritomart is ne%er broken' ;ay, 2 could go back into the mythical teaching of the most ancient times, and sho$ you ho$ the great #eo#le,DDby one of $hose #rincesses it $as a##ointed that the La$gi%er of all the earth should be educated, rather than by his o$n kindredSDDho$ that great Egy#tian #eo#le, $isest then of nations, ga%e to their S#irit of (isdom the form of a (omanS and into her hand, for a symbol, the $ea%erRs shuttleS and ho$ the name and the form of that s#irit, ado#ted, belie%ed, and obeyed by the Greeks, became that 3thena of the oli%eDhelm, and cloudy shield, to faith in $hom you o$e, do$n to this date, $hate%er you hold most #recious in art, in literature, or in ty#es of national %irtue' -ut 2 $ill not $ander into this distant and mythical elementS 2 $ill only ask you to gi%e its legitimate %alue to the testimony of these great #oets and men of the $orld,DDconsistent, as you see it is, on this head' 2 $ill ask you $hether it can be su##osed that these men, in the main $ork of their li%es, are amusing themsel%es $ith a fictitious and idle %ie$ of the relations bet$een man and $omanSDD nay, $orse than fictitious or idleS for a thing may be imaginary, yet desirable, if it $ere #ossible@ but this, their ideal of $oman, is, according to our common idea of the marriage relation, $holly undesirable' The $oman, $e say, is not to guide, nor e%en to think for herself' The man is al$ays to be the $iserS he is to be the thinker, the ruler, the su#erior in kno$ledge and discretion, as in #o$er' 2s it not some$hat im#ortant to make u# our minds on this matterP 3re all these great men mistaken, or are $eP 3re Shakes#eare and 3Eschylus, )ante and .omer, merely dressing dolls for usS or, $orse than dolls, unnatural %isions, the reali9ation of $hich, $ere it #ossible, $ould bring anarchy into all households and ruin into all affectionsP ;ay, if you can su##ose this, take lastly the e%idence of facts, gi%en by the human heart itself' 2n all "hristian ages $hich ha%e been remarkable for their #urity or #rogress, there has been absolute yielding of obedient de%otion, by the lo%er, to his mistress' 2 say :-E)2E;TSDDnot merely enthusiastic and $orshi##ing in imagination, but entirely subject, recei%ing from the belo%ed $oman, ho$e%er young, not only the encouragement, the #raise, and the re$ard of all toil, but, so far as any choice is o#en, or any Iuestion difficult of decision, the )2RE"T2:; of all toil' That chi%alry, to the abuse and dishonour of $hich are attributable #rimarily $hate%er is cruel in $ar, unjust in #eace, or corru#t and ignoble in domestic relationsS and to the original #urity and #o$er of $hich $e o$e the defence alike of faith, of la$, and of lo%eS that chi%alry, 2 say, in its %ery first conce#tion of honourable life, assumes the subjection of the young knight to the commandDD

should it e%en be the command in ca#riceDDof his lady' 2t assumes this, because its masters kne$ that the first and necessary im#ulse of e%ery truly taught and knightly heart is this of blind ser%ice to its lady@ that $here that true faith and ca#ti%ity are not, all $ay$ard and $icked #assion must beS and that in this ra#turous obedience to the single lo%e of his youth, is the sanctification of all manRs strength, and the continuance of all his #ur#oses' 3nd this, not because such obedience $ould be safe, or honourable, $ere it e%er rendered to the un$orthyS but because it ought to be im#ossible for e%ery noble youthDDit 2S im#ossible for e%ery one rightly trainedDDto lo%e any one $hose gentle counsel he cannot trust, or $hose #rayerful command he can hesitate to obey' 2 do not insist by any farther argument on this, for 2 think it should commend itself at once to your kno$ledge of $hat has been and to your feeling of $hat should be' Qou cannot think that the buckling on of the knightRs armour by his ladyRs hand $as a mere ca#rice of romantic fashion' 2t is the ty#e of an eternal truthDD that the soulRs armour is ne%er $ell set to the heart unless a $omanRs hand has braced itS and it is only $hen she braces it loosely that the honour of manhood fails' Uno$ you not those lo%ely linesDD2 $ould they $ere learned by all youthful ladies of England@D J3h, $asteful $oman&DDshe $ho may :n her s$eet self set her o$n #rice, Uno$ing he cannot choose but #ay D .o$ has she chea#enRd Paradise& .o$ gi%en for nought her #riceless gift, .o$ s#oiled the bread and s#illRd the $ine, (hich, s#ent $ith due res#ecti%e thrift, .ad made brutes men, and men di%ine&J X!>Y Thus much, then, res#ecting the relations of lo%ers 2 belie%e you $ill acce#t' -ut $hat $e too often doubt is the fitness of the continuance of such a relation throughout the $hole of human life' (e think it right in the lo%er and mistress, not in the husband and $ife' That is to say, $e think that a re%erent and tender duty is due to one $hose affection $e still doubt, and $hose character $e as yet do but #artially and distantly discernS and that this re%erence and duty are to be $ithdra$n $hen the affection has become $holly and limitlessly our o$n, and the character has been so sifted and tried that $e fear not to entrust it $ith the ha##iness of our li%es' )o you not see ho$ ignoble this is, as $ell as ho$ unreasonableP )o you not feel that marriage,DD$hen it is marriage at all,DDis only the seal $hich marks the %o$ed transition of tem#orary into untiring ser%ice, and of fitful into eternal lo%eP -ut ho$, you $ill ask, is the idea of this guiding function of the $oman reconcilable $ith a true $ifely subjectionP Sim#ly in that it is a G<2)2;G, not a determining, function' Let me try to sho$ you briefly ho$ these #o$ers seem to be rightly distinguishable' (e are foolish, and $ithout excuse foolish, in s#eaking of the Jsu#eriorityJ of one sex to the other, as if they could be com#ared in similar things' Each has $hat the other has not@ each com#letes

the other, and is com#leted by the other@ they are in nothing alike, and the ha##iness and #erfection of both de#ends on each asking and recei%ing from the other $hat the other only can gi%e' ;o$ their se#arate characters are briefly these' The manRs #o$er is acti%e, #rogressi%e, defensi%e' .e is eminently the doer, the creator, the disco%erer, the defender' .is intellect is for s#eculation and in%entionS his energy for ad%enture, for $ar, and for conIuest, $here%er $ar is just, $here%er conIuest necessary' -ut the $omanRs #o$er is for rule, not for battle,DDand her intellect is not for in%ention or creation, but for s$eet ordering, arrangement, and decision' She sees the Iualities of things, their claims, and their #laces' .er great function is PraiseS she enters into no contest, but infallibly adjudges the cro$n of contest' -y her office, and #lace, she is #rotected from all danger and tem#tation' The man, in his rough $ork in o#en $orld, must encounter all #eril and trialSDDto him, therefore, must be the failure, the offence, the ine%itable error@ often he must be $ounded, or subduedS often misledS and 3L(3QS hardened' -ut he guards the $oman from all thisS $ithin his house, as ruled by her, unless she herself has sought it, need enter no danger, no tem#tation, no cause of error or offence' This is the true nature of homeDDit is the #lace of PeaceS the shelter, not only from all injury, but from all terror, doubt, and di%ision' 2n so far as it is not this, it is not homeS so far as the anxieties of the outer life #enetrate into it, and the inconsistentlyDminded, unkno$n, unlo%ed, or hostile society of the outer $orld is allo$ed by either husband or $ife to cross the threshold, it ceases to be homeS it is then only a #art of that outer $orld $hich you ha%e roofed o%er, and lighted fire in' -ut so far as it is a sacred #lace, a %estal tem#le, a tem#le of the hearth $atched o%er by .ousehold Gods, before $hose faces none may come but those $hom they can recei%e $ith lo%e,DDso far as it is this, and roof and fire are ty#es only of a nobler shade and light,DDshade as of the rock in a $eary land, and light as of the Pharos in the stormy seaSDDso far it %indicates the name, and fulfils the #raise, of .ome' 3nd $here%er a true $ife comes, this home is al$ays round her' The stars only may be o%er her headS the glo$$orm in the nightDcold grass may be the only fire at her footS but home is yet $here%er she isS and for a noble $oman it stretches far round her, better than ceiled $ith cedar, or #ainted $ith %ermilion, shedding its Iuiet light far, for those $ho else $ere homeless' This, then, 2 belie%e to be,DD$ill you not admit it to be,DDthe $omanRs true #lace and #o$erP -ut do not you see that, to fulfil this, she mustDDas far as one can use such terms of a human creatureDDbe inca#able of errorP So far as she rules, all must be right, or nothing is' She must be enduringly, incorru#tibly goodS instincti%ely, infallibly $iseDD$ise, not for selfDde%elo#ment, but for selfDrenunciation@ $ise, not that she may set herself abo%e her husband, but that she may ne%er fail from his side@ $ise, not $ith the narro$ness of insolent and lo%eless #ride, but $ith the #assionate gentleness of an infinitely %ariable, because infinitely a##licable, modesty of ser%iceDDthe true changefulness of $oman' 2n that great senseDDJLa donna e mobile,J not JTual #iumR al %entoJS no, nor yet J,ariable as the shade, by the light Iui%ering as#en

madeJS but %ariable as the L2G.T, manifold in fair and serene di%ision, that it may take the colour of all that it falls u#on, and exalt it' A22'B 2 ha%e been trying, thus far, to sho$ you $hat should be the #lace, and $hat the #o$er of $oman' ;o$, secondly, $e ask, (hat kind of education is to fit her for theseP 3nd if you indeed think this a true conce#tion of her office and dignity, it $ill not be difficult to trace the course of education $hich $ould fit her for the one, and raise her to the other' The first of our duties to herDDno thoughtful #ersons no$ doubt this,DDis to secure for her such #hysical training and exercise as may confirm her health, and #erfect her beautyS the highest refinement of that beauty being unattainable $ithout s#lendour of acti%ity and of delicate strength' To #erfect her beauty, 2 say, and increase its #o$erS it cannot be too #o$erful, nor shed its sacred light too far@ only remember that all #hysical freedom is %ain to #roduce beauty $ithout a corres#onding freedom of heart' There are t$o #assages of that #oet $ho is distinguished, it seems to me, from all othersDDnot by #o$er, but by exIuisite R2G.T;ESSDD $hich #oint you to the source, and describe to you, in a fe$ syllables, the com#letion of $omanly beauty' 2 $ill read the introductory stan9as, but the last is the one 2 $ish you s#ecially to notice@D JThree years she gre$ in sun and sho$er, Then ;ature said, R3 lo%elier flo$er :n earth $as ne%er so$nS This child 2 to myself $ill takeS She shall be mine, and 2 $ill make 3 lady of my o$n'R R=yself $ill to my darling be -oth la$ and im#ulseS and $ith me The girl, in rock and #lain, 2n earth and hea%en, in glade and bo$er, Shall feel an o%erseeing #o$er To kindle, or restrain'R RThe floating clouds their state shall lend To her, for her the $illo$ bendS ;or shall she fail to see, E%en in the motions of the storm, Grace that shall mould the maidenRs form -y silent sym#athy'R R3nd ,2T3L +EEL2;GS :+ )EL2G.T Shall rear her form to stately height, D .er %irgin bosom s$ell' Such thoughts to Lucy 2 $ill gi%e, (hile she and 2 together li%e, .ere in this ha##y dell'RJ X!EY

J,2T3L feelings of delight,J obser%e' There are deadly feelings of delightS but the natural ones are %ital, necessary to %ery life' 3nd they must be feelings of delight, if they are to be %ital' )o not think you can make a girl lo%ely, if you do not make her ha##y' There is not one restraint you #ut on a good girlRs natureDDthere is not one check you gi%e to her instincts of affection or of effortDD $hich $ill not be indelibly $ritten on her features, $ith a hardness $hich is all the more #ainful because it takes a$ay the brightness from the eyes of innocence, and the charm from the bro$ of %irtue' This for the means@ no$ note the end' Take from the same #oet, in t$o lines, a #erfect descri#tion of $omanly beauty D J3 countenance in $hich did meet S$eet records, #romises as s$eet'J The #erfect lo%eliness of a $omanRs countenance can only consist in that majestic #eace, $hich is founded in the memory of ha##y and useful years,DDfull of s$eet recordsS and from the joining of this $ith that yet more majestic childishness, $hich is still full of change and #romiseSDDo#ening al$aysDDmodest at once, and bright, $ith ho#e of better things to be $on, and to be besto$ed' There is no old age $here there is still that #romise' Thus, then, you ha%e first to mould her #hysical frame, and then, as the strength she gains $ill #ermit you, to fill and tem#er her mind $ith all kno$ledge and thoughts $hich tend to confirm its natural instincts of justice, and refine its natural tact of lo%e' 3ll such kno$ledge should be gi%en her as may enable her to understand, and e%en to aid, the $ork of men@ and yet it should be gi%en, not as kno$ledge,DDnot as if it $ere, or could be, for her an object to kno$S but only to feel, and to judge' 2t is of no moment, as a matter of #ride or #erfectness in herself, $hether she kno$s many languages or oneS but it is of the utmost, that she should be able to sho$ kindness to a stranger, and to understand the s$eetness of a strangerRs tongue' 2t is of no moment to her o$n $orth or dignity that she should be acIuainted $ith this science or thatS but it is of the highest that she should be trained in habits of accurate thoughtS that she should understand the meaning, the ine%itableness, and the lo%eliness of natural la$sS and follo$ at least some one #ath of scientific attainment, as far as to the threshold of that bitter ,alley of .umiliation, into $hich only the $isest and bra%est of men can descend, o$ning themsel%es for e%er children, gathering #ebbles on a boundless shore' 2t is of little conseIuence ho$ many #ositions of cities she kno$s, or ho$ many dates of e%ents, or names of celebrated #ersonsDDit is not the object of education to turn the $oman into a dictionaryS but it is dee#ly necessary that she should be taught to enter $ith her $hole #ersonality into the history she readsS to #icture the #assages of it %itally in her o$n bright imaginationS to a##rehend, $ith her fine instincts, the #athetic circumstances and dramatic relations,

$hich the historian too often only ecli#ses by his reasoning, and disconnects by his arrangement@ it is for her to trace the hidden eIuities of di%ine re$ard, and catch sight, through the darkness, of the fateful threads of $o%en fire that connect error $ith retribution' -ut, chiefly of all, she is to be taught to extend the limits of her sym#athy $ith res#ect to that history $hich is being for e%er determined as the moments #ass in $hich she dra$s her #eaceful breathS and to the contem#orary calamity, $hich, $ere it but rightly mourned by her, $ould recur no more hereafter' She is to exercise herself in imagining $hat $ould be the effects u#on her mind and conduct, if she $ere daily brought into the #resence of the suffering $hich is not the less real because shut from her sight' She is to be taught some$hat to understand the nothingness of the #ro#ortion $hich that little $orld in $hich she li%es and lo%es, bears to the $orld in $hich God li%es and lo%esSDDand solemnly she is to be taught to stri%e that her thoughts of #iety may not be feeble in #ro#ortion to the number they embrace, nor her #rayer more languid than it is for the momentary relief from #ain of her husband or her child, $hen it is uttered for the multitudes of those $ho ha%e none to lo%e them,DDand is Jfor all $ho are desolate and o##ressed'J Thus far, 2 think, 2 ha%e had your concurrenceS #erha#s you $ill not be $ith me in $hat 2 belie%e is most needful for me to say' There 2S one dangerous science for $omenDDone $hich they must indeed be$are ho$ they #rofanely touchDDthat of theology' Strange, and miserably strange, that $hile they are modest enough to doubt their #o$ers, and #ause at the threshold of sciences $here e%ery ste# is demonstrable and sure, they $ill #lunge headlong, and $ithout one thought of incom#etency, into that science in $hich the greatest men ha%e trembled, and the $isest erred' Strange, that they $ill com#lacently and #ridefully bind u# $hate%er %ice or folly there is in them, $hate%er arrogance, #etulance, or blind incom#rehensi%eness, into one bitter bundle of consecrated myrrh' Strange, in creatures born to be Lo%e %isible, that $here they can kno$ least, they $ill condemn, first, and think to recommend themsel%es to their =aster, by cra$ling u# the ste#s of .is judgmentDthrone to di%ide it $ith .im' Strangest of all that they should think they $ere led by the S#irit of the "omforter into habits of mind $hich ha%e become in them the unmixed elements of home discomfortS and that they dare to turn the .ousehold Gods of "hristianity into ugly idols of their o$nSDDs#iritual dolls, for them to dress according to their ca#riceS and from $hich their husbands must turn a$ay in grie%ed contem#t, lest they should be shrieked at for breaking them' 2 belie%e, then, $ith this exce#tion, that a girlRs education should be nearly, in its course and material of study, the same as a boyRsS but Iuite differently directed' 3 $oman, in any rank of life, ought to kno$ $hate%er her husband is likely to kno$, but to kno$ it in a different $ay' .is command of it should be foundational and #rogressi%eS hers, general and accom#lished for daily and hel#ful use' ;ot but that it $ould often be $iser in men to learn things in a $omanly sort of $ay, for #resent use, and to seek for the disci#line and training of their mental #o$ers in such branches of study as $ill be after$ards fittest for social ser%iceS but, s#eaking broadly, a man ought to kno$ any language or science he

learns, thoroughlyDD$hile a $oman ought to kno$ the same language, or science, only so far as may enable her to sym#athise in her husbandRs #leasures, and in those of his best friends' Qet, obser%e, $ith exIuisite accuracy as far as she reaches' There is a $ide difference bet$een elementary kno$ledge and su#erficial kno$ledgeDDbet$een a firm beginning, and an infirm attem#t at com#assing' 3 $oman may al$ays hel# her husband by $hat she kno$s, ho$e%er littleS by $hat she halfDkno$s, or misDkno$s, she $ill only tease him' 3nd indeed, if there $ere to be any difference bet$een a girlRs education and a boyRs, 2 should say that of the t$o the girl should be earlier led, as her intellect ri#ens faster, into dee# and serious subjects@ and that her range of literature should be, not more, but less fri%olousS calculated to add the Iualities of #atience and seriousness to her natural #oignancy of thought and Iuickness of $itS and also to kee# her in a lofty and #ure element of thought' 2 enter not no$ into any Iuestion of choice of booksS only let us be sure that her books are not hea#ed u# in her la# as they fall out of the #ackage of the circulating library, $et $ith the last and lightest s#ray of the fountain of folly' :r e%en of the fountain of $itS for $ith res#ect to the sore tem#tation of no%el reading, it is not the badness of a no%el that $e should dread, so much as its o%erD$rought interest' The $eakest romance is not so stu#efying as the lo$er forms of religious exciting literature, and the $orst romance is not so corru#ting as false history, false #hiloso#hy, or false #olitical essays' -ut the best romance becomes dangerous, if, by its excitement, it renders the ordinary course of life uninteresting, and increases the morbid thirst for useless acIuaintance $ith scenes in $hich $e shall ne%er be called u#on to act' 2 s#eak therefore of good no%els onlyS and our modern literature is #articularly rich in ty#es of such' (ell read, indeed, these books ha%e serious use, being nothing less than treatises on moral anatomy and chemistryS studies of human nature in the elements of it' -ut 2 attach little $eight to this function@ they are hardly e%er read $ith earnestness enough to #ermit them to fulfil it' The utmost they usually do is to enlarge some$hat the charity of a kind reader, or the bitterness of a malicious oneS for each $ill gather, from the no%el, food for her o$n dis#osition' Those $ho are naturally #roud and en%ious $ill learn from Thackeray to des#ise humanityS those $ho are naturally gentle, to #ity itS those $ho are naturally shallo$, to laugh at it' So, also, there might be a ser%iceable #o$er in no%els to bring before us, in %i%idness, a human truth $hich $e had before dimly concei%edS but the tem#tation to #icturesIueness of statement is so great, that often the best $riters of fiction cannot resist itS and our %ie$s are rendered so %iolent and oneDsided, that their %itality is rather a harm than good' (ithout, ho$e%er, %enturing here on any attem#t at decision ho$ much no%el reading should be allo$ed, let me at least clearly assert this,DDthat $hether no%els, or #oetry, or history be read, they should be chosen, not for their freedom from e%il, but for their #ossession of good' The chance and scattered e%il that may here and

there haunt, or hide itself in, a #o$erful book, ne%er does any harm to a noble girlS but the em#tiness of an author o##resses her, and his amiable folly degrades her' 3nd if she can ha%e access to a good library of old and classical books, there need be no choosing at all' Uee# the modern maga9ine and no%el out of your girlRs $ay@ turn her loose into the old library e%ery $et day, and let her alone' She $ill find $hat is good for herS you cannot@ for there is just this difference bet$een the making of a girlRs character and a boyRsDDyou may chisel a boy into sha#e, as you $ould a rock, or hammer him into it, if he be of a better kind, as you $ould a #iece of bron9e' -ut you cannot hammer a girl into anything' She gro$s as a flo$er does,DDshe $ill $ither $ithout sunS she $ill decay in her sheath, as a narcissus $ill, if you do not gi%e her air enoughS she may fall, and defile her head in dust, if you lea%e her $ithout hel# at some moments of her lifeS but you cannot fetter herS she must take her o$n fair form and $ay, if she take any, and in mind as in body, must ha%e al$ays J.er household motions light and free 3nd ste#s of %irgin liberty'J Let her loose in the library, 2 say, as you do a fa$n in a field' 2t kno$s the bad $eeds t$enty times better than youS and the good ones too, and $ill eat some bitter and #rickly ones, good for it, $hich you had not the slightest thought $ould ha%e been so' Then, in art, kee# the finest models before her, and let her #ractice in all accom#lishments be accurate and thorough, so as to enable her to understand more than she accom#lishes' 2 say the finest modelsDDthat is to say, the truest, sim#lest, usefullest' ;ote those e#ithets@ they $ill range through all the arts' Try them in music, $here you might think them the least a##licable' 2 say the truest, that in $hich the notes most closely and faithfully ex#ress the meaning of the $ords, or the character of intended emotionS again, the sim#lest, that in $hich the meaning and melody are attained $ith the fe$est and most significant notes #ossibleS and, finally, the usefullest, that music $hich makes the best $ords most beautiful, $hich enchants them in our memories each $ith its o$n glory of sound, and $hich a##lies them closest to the heart at the moment $e need them' 3nd not only in the material and in the course, but yet more earnestly in the s#irit of it, let a girlRs education be as serious as a boyRs' Qou bring u# your girls as if they $ere meant for sideboard ornaments, and then com#lain of their fri%olity' Gi%e them the same ad%antages that you gi%e their brothersDDa##eal to the same grand instincts of %irtue in themS teach T.E=, also, that courage and truth are the #illars of their being@D do you think that they $ould not ans$er that a##eal, bra%e and true as they are e%en no$, $hen you kno$ that there is hardly a girlsR school in this "hristian kingdom $here the childrenRs courage or sincerity $ould be thought of half so much im#ortance as their $ay of coming in at a doorS and $hen the $hole system of society, as res#ects the mode of establishing them in life, is one rotten #lague of co$ardice and im#ostureDDco$ardice, in not daring to let them li%e, or lo%e,

exce#t as their neighbours chooseS and im#osture, in bringing, for the #ur#oses of our o$n #ride, the full glo$ of the $orldRs $orst %anity u#on a girlRs eyes, at the %ery #eriod $hen the $hole ha##iness of her future existence de#ends u#on her remaining unda99ledP 3nd gi%e them, lastly, not only noble teachings, but noble teachers' Qou consider some$hat before you send your boy to school, $hat kind of a man the master isSDD$hatsoe%er kind of a man he is, you at least gi%e him full authority o%er your son, and sho$ some res#ect to him yourselfSDDif he comes to dine $ith you, you do not #ut him at a side table@ you kno$ also that, at college, your childRs immediate tutor $ill be under the direction of some still higher tutor,DDfor $hom you ha%e absolute re%erence' Qou do not treat the )ean of "hrist "hurch or the =aster of Trinity as your inferiors' -ut $hat teachers do you gi%e your girls, and $hat re%erence do you sho$ to the teachers you ha%e chosenP 2s a girl likely to think her o$n conduct, or her o$n intellect, of much im#ortance, $hen you trust the entire formation of her character, moral and intellectual, to a #erson $hom you let your ser%ants treat $ith less res#ect than they do your housekee#er Aas if the soul of your child $ere a less charge than jams and groceriesB, and $hom you yourself think you confer an honour u#on by letting her sometimes sit in the dra$ingD room in the e%eningP Thus, then, of literature as her hel#, and thus of art' There is one more hel# $hich she cannot do $ithoutDDone $hich, alone, has sometimes done more than all other influences besides,DDthe hel# of $ild and fair nature' .ear this of the education of Joan of 3rc@D JThe education of this #oor girl $as mean, according to the #resent standardS $as ineffably grand, according to a #urer #hiloso#hic standardS and only not good for our age, because for us it $ould be unattainable' J ;ext after her s#iritual ad%antages, she o$ed most to the ad%antages of her situation' The fountain of )omremy $as on the brink of a boundless forestS and it $as haunted to that degree by fairies, that the #arish #riest AcureB $as obliged to read mass there once a year, in order to kee# them in decent bounds' J-ut the forests of )omremyDDthose $ere the glories of the landS for in them abode mysterious #o$ers and ancient secrets that to$ered into tragic strength' 3bbeys there $ere, and abbey $indo$s,DDRlike =oorish tem#les of the .indoos,R that exercised e%en #rincely #o$er both in Touraine and in the German )iets' These had their s$eet bells that #ierced the forests for many a league at matins or %es#ers, and each its o$n dreamy legend' +e$ enough, and scattered enough, $ere these abbeys, so as in no degree to disturb the dee# solitude of the regionS yet many enough to s#read a net$ork or a$ning of "hristian sanctity o%er $hat else might ha%e seemed a heathen $ilderness'J X!LY ;o$, you cannot, indeed, ha%e here in England, $oods eighteen miles dee# to the centreS but you can, #erha#s, kee# a fairy or t$o for

your children yet, if you $ish to kee# them' -ut ): you $ish itP Su##ose you had each, at the back of your houses, a garden, large enough for your children to #lay in, $ith just as much la$n as $ould gi%e them room to run,DDno moreDDand that you could not change your abodeS but that, if you chose, you could double your income, or Iuadru#le it, by digging a coal shaft in the middle of the la$n, and turning the flo$erDbeds into hea#s of coke' (ould you do itP 2 ho#e not' 2 can tell you, you $ould be $rong if you did, though it ga%e you income sixtyDfold instead of fourDfold' Qet this is $hat you are doing $ith all England' The $hole country is but a little garden, not more than enough for your children to run on the la$ns of, if you $ould let them all run there' 3nd this little garden you $ill turn into furnace ground, and fill $ith hea#s of cinders, if you canS and those children of yours, not you, $ill suffer for it' +or the fairies $ill not be all banishedS there are fairies of the furnace as of the $ood, and their first gifts seem to be Jshar# arro$s of the mightySJ but their last gifts are Jcoals of juni#er'J 3nd yet 2 cannotDDthough there is no #art of my subject that 2 feel moreDD#ress this u#on youS for $e made so little use of the #o$er of nature $hile $e had it that $e shall hardly feel $hat $e ha%e lost' Just on the other side of the =ersey you ha%e your Sno$don, and your =enai Straits, and that mighty granite rock beyond the moors of 3nglesea, s#lendid in its heathery crest, and foot #lanted in the dee# sea, once thought of as sacredDDa di%ine #romontory, looking $est$ardS the .oly .ead or .eadland, still not $ithout a$e $hen its red light glares first through storm' These are the hills, and these the bays and blue inlets, $hich, among the Greeks, $ould ha%e been al$ays lo%ed, al$ays fateful in influence on the national mind' That Sno$don is your ParnassusS but $here are its =usesP That .olyhead mountain is your 2sland of 3EginaS but $here is its Tem#le to =iner%aP Shall 2 read you $hat the "hristian =iner%a had achie%ed under the shado$ of our Parnassus u# to the year /4>4PDD.ere is a little account of a (elsh school, from #age !L/ of the Re#ort on (ales, #ublished by the "ommittee of "ouncil on Education' This is a school close to a to$n containing E,888 #ersons@D J2 then called u# a larger class, most of $hom had recently come to the school' Three girls re#eatedly declared they had ne%er heard of "hrist, and t$o that they had ne%er heard of God' T$o out of six thought "hrist $as on earth no$J Athey might ha%e had a $orse thought #erha#sB, Jthree kne$ nothing about the "rucifixion' +our out of se%en did not kno$ the names of the months nor the number of days in a year' They had no notion of addition beyond t$o and t$o, or three and threeS their minds $ere #erfect blanks'J :h, ye $omen of England& from the Princess of that (ales to the sim#lest of you, do not think your o$n children can be brought into their true fold of rest, $hile these are scattered on the hills, as shee# ha%ing no she#herd' 3nd do not think your daughters can be trained to the truth of their o$n human beauty, $hile the #leasant

#laces, $hich God made at once for their schoolroom and their #layground, lie desolate and defiled' Qou cannot ba#ti9e them rightly in those inchDdee# fonts of yours, unless you ba#ti9e them also in the s$eet $aters $hich the great La$gi%er strikes forth for e%er from the rocks of your nati%e landDD$aters $hich a Pagan $ould ha%e $orshi##ed in their #urity, and you $orshi# only $ith #ollution' Qou cannot lead your children faithfully to those narro$ axeDhe$n church altars of yours, $hile the dark a9ure altars in hea%enDDthe mountains that sustain your island throne,DDmountains on $hich a Pagan $ould ha%e seen the #o$ers of hea%en rest in e%ery $reathed cloudDDremain for you $ithout inscri#tionS altars built, not to, but by an <nkno$n God' A222'B Thus far, then, of the nature, thus far of the teaching, of $oman, and thus of her household office, and Iueenliness' (e no$ come to our last, our $idest Iuestion'DD(hat is her Iueenly office $ith res#ect to the stateP Generally, $e are under an im#ression that a manRs duties are #ublic, and a $omanRs #ri%ate' -ut this is not altogether so' 3 man has a #ersonal $ork or duty, relating to his o$n home, and a #ublic $ork or duty, $hich is the ex#ansion of the other, relating to the state' So a $oman has a #ersonal $ork or duty, relating to her o$n home, and a #ublic $ork or duty, $hich is also the ex#ansion of that' ;o$ the manRs $ork for his o$n home is, as has been said, to secure its maintenance, #rogress, and defenceS the $omanRs to secure its order, comfort, and lo%eliness' Ex#and both these functions' The manRs duty as a member of a common$ealth, is to assist in the maintenance, in the ad%ance, in the defence of the state' The $omanRs duty, as a member of the common$ealth, is to assist in the ordering, in the comforting, and in the beautiful adornment of the state' (hat the man is at his o$n gate, defending it, if need be, against insult and s#oil, that also, not in a less, but in a more de%oted measure, he is to be at the gate of his country, lea%ing his home, if need be, e%en to the s#oiler, to do his more incumbent $ork there' 3nd, in like manner, $hat the $oman is to be $ithin her gates, as the centre of order, the balm of distress, and the mirror of beauty@ that she is also to be $ithout her gates, $here order is more difficult, distress more imminent, lo%eliness more rare' 3nd as $ithin the human heart there is al$ays set an instinct for all its real duties,DDan instinct $hich you cannot Iuench, but only $ar# and corru#t if you $ithdra$ it from its true #ur#ose@D as there is the intense instinct of lo%e, $hich, rightly disci#lined, maintains all the sanctities of life, and, misdirected, undermines themS and =<ST do either the one or the otherSDDso there is in the human heart an inextinguishable instinct, the lo%e of #o$er, $hich, rightly directed, maintains all the majesty of la$ and life, and, misdirected, $recks them'

)ee# rooted in the innermost life of the heart of man, and of the heart of $oman, God set it there, and God kee#s it there'DD,ainly, as falsely, you blame or rebuke the desire of #o$er&DD+or .ea%enRs sake, and for =anRs sake, desire it all you can' -ut (.3T #o$erP That is all the Iuestion' Po$er to destroyP the lionRs limb, and the dragonRs breathP ;ot so' Po$er to heal, to redeem, to guide, and to guard' Po$er of the sce#tre and shieldS the #o$er of the royal hand that heals in touching,DDthat binds the fiend, and looses the ca#ti%eS the throne that is founded on the rock of Justice, and descended from only by ste#s of =ercy' (ill you not co%et such #o$er as this, and seek such throne as this, and be no more house$i%es, but IueensP 2t is no$ long since the $omen of England arrogated, uni%ersally, a title $hich once belonged to nobility onlyS and, ha%ing once been in the habit of acce#ting the sim#le title of gentle$oman as corres#ondent to that of gentleman, insisted on the #ri%ilege of assuming the title of JLady,J X!1Y $hich #ro#erly corres#onds only to the title of JLord'J 2 do not blame them for thisS but only for their narro$ moti%e in this' 2 $ould ha%e them desire and claim the title of Lady, #ro%ided they claim, not merely the title, but the office and duty signified by it' Lady means JbreadDgi%erJ or JloafDgi%er,J and Lord means Jmaintainer of la$s,J and both titles ha%e reference, not to the la$ $hich is maintained in the house, nor to the bread $hich is gi%en to the householdS but to la$ maintained for the multitude, and to bread broken among the multitude' So that a Lord has legal claim only to his title in so far as he is the maintainer of the justice of the Lord of lordsS and a Lady has legal claim to her title only so far as she communicates that hel# to the #oor re#resentati%es of her =aster, $hich $omen once, ministering to .im of their substance, $ere #ermitted to extend to that =aster .imselfS and $hen she is kno$n, as .e .imself once $as, in breaking of bread' 3nd this beneficent and legal dominion, this #o$er of the )ominus, or .ouseDLord, and of the )omina, or .ouseDLady, is great and %enerable, not in the number of those through $hom it has lineally descended, but in the number of those $hom it gras#s $ithin its s$ayS it is al$ays regarded $ith re%erent $orshi# $here%er its dynasty is founded on its duty, and its ambition correlati%e $ith its beneficence' Qour fancy is #leased $ith the thought of being noble ladies, $ith a train of %assals' -e it soS you cannot be too noble, and your train cannot be too greatS but see to it that your train is of %assals $hom you ser%e and feed, not merely of sla%es $ho ser%e and feed youS and that the multitude $hich obeys you is of those $hom you ha%e comforted, not o##ressed,DD$hom you ha%e redeemed, not led into ca#ti%ity' 3nd this, $hich is true of the lo$er or household dominion, is eIually true of the Iueenly dominionS that highest dignity is o#en to you, if you $ill also acce#t that highest duty' Rex et ReginaDD Roi et ReineDDJR2G.TDdoersSJ they differ but from the Lady and Lord, in that their #o$er is su#reme o%er the mind as o%er the #ersonDD that they not only feed and clothe, but direct and teach' 3nd $hether consciously or not, you must be, in many a heart, enthroned@ there is no #utting by that cro$nS Iueens you must al$ays be@

Iueens to your lo%ersS Iueens to your husbands and your sonsS Iueens of higher mystery to the $orld beyond, $hich bo$s itself, and $ill for e%er bo$, before the myrtle cro$n and the stainless sce#tre of $omanhood' -ut, alas& you are too often idle and careless Iueens, gras#ing at majesty in the least things, $hile you abdicate it in the greatestS and lea%ing misrule and %iolence to $ork their $ill among men, in defiance of the #o$er $hich, holding straight in gift from the Prince of all Peace, the $icked among you betray, and the good forget' JPrince of Peace'J ;ote that name' (hen kings rule in that name, and nobles, and the judges of the earth, they also, in their narro$ #lace, and mortal measure, recei%e the #o$er of it' There are no other rulers than theyS other rule than theirs is but =2SruleS they $ho go%ern %erily J)ei GratiaJ are all #rinces, yes, or #rincesses of Peace' There is not a $ar in the $orld, no, nor an injustice, but you $omen are ans$erable for itS not in that you ha%e #ro%oked, but in that you ha%e not hindered' =en, by their nature, are #rone to fightS they $ill fight for any cause, or for none' 2t is for you to choose their cause for them, and to forbid them $hen there is no cause' There is no suffering, no injustice, no misery, in the earth, but the guilt of it lies $ith you' =en can bear the sight of it, but you should not be able to bear it' =en may tread it do$n $ithout sym#athy in their o$n struggleS but men are feeble in sym#athy, and contracted in ho#eS it is you only $ho can feel the de#ths of #ain, and concei%e the $ay of its healing' 2nstead of trying to do this, you turn a$ay from itS you shut yoursel%es $ithin your #ark $alls and garden gatesS and you are content to kno$ that there is beyond them a $hole $orld in $ildernessDDa $orld of secrets $hich you dare not #enetrateS and of suffering $hich you dare not concei%e' 2 tell you that this is to me Iuite the most ama9ing among the #henomena of humanity' 2 am sur#rised at no de#ths to $hich, $hen once $ar#ed from its honour, that humanity can be degraded' 2 do not $onder at the miserRs death, $ith his hands, as they relax, dro##ing gold' 2 do not $onder at the sensualistRs life, $ith the shroud $ra##ed about his feet' 2 do not $onder at the singleDhanded murder of a single %ictim, done by the assassin in the darkness of the rail$ay, or reed shado$ of the marsh' 2 do not e%en $onder at the myriadDhanded murder of multitudes, done boastfully in the daylight, by the fren9y of nations, and the immeasurable, unimaginable guilt hea#ed u# from hell to hea%en, of their #riests, and kings' -ut this is $onderful to meDDoh, ho$ $onderful&DDto see the tender and delicate $oman among you, $ith her child at her breast, and a #o$er, if she $ould $ield it, o%er it, and o%er its father, #urer than the air of hea%en, and stronger than the seas of earthDDnay, a magnitude of blessing $hich her husband $ould not #art $ith for all that earth itself, though it $ere made of one entire and #erfect chrysolite@D to see her abdicate this majesty to #lay at #recedence $ith her nextDdoor neighbour& This is $onderfulDDoh, $onderful&DDto see her, $ith e%ery innocent feeling fresh $ithin her, go out in the morning into her garden to #lay $ith the fringes of its guarded flo$ers, and lift their heads $hen they are droo#ing, $ith her ha##y smile u#on her face, and no cloud u#on her bro$, because there is a little $all around her #lace of #eace@ and yet she kno$s, in her heart, if she $ould only look for its kno$ledge,

that, outside of that little roseDco%ered $all, the $ild grass, to the hori9on, is torn u# by the agony of men, and beat le%el by the drift of their lifeDblood' .a%e you e%er considered $hat a dee# under meaning there lies, or at least may be read, if $e choose, in our custom of stre$ing flo$ers before those $hom $e think most ha##yP )o you su##ose it is merely to decei%e them into the ho#e that ha##iness is al$ays to fall thus in sho$ers at their feetPDDthat $here%er they #ass they $ill tread on herbs of s$eet scent, and that the rough ground $ill be made smooth for them by de#ths of rosesP So surely as they belie%e that, they $ill ha%e, instead, to $alk on bitter herbs and thornsS and the only softness to their feet $ill be of sno$' -ut it is not thus intended they should belie%eS there is a better meaning in that old custom' The #ath of a good $oman is indeed stre$n $ith flo$ersS but they rise behind her ste#s, not before them' J.er feet ha%e touched the meado$s, and left the daisies rosy'J Qou think that only a lo%erRs fancySDDfalse and %ain& .o$ if it could be trueP Qou think this also, #erha#s, only a #oetRs fancy D JE%en the light harebell raised its head Elastic from her airy tread'J -ut it is little to say of a $oman, that she only does not destroy $here she #asses' She should re%i%eS the harebells should bloom, not stoo#, as she #asses' Qou think 2 am rushing into $ild hy#erbole& Pardon me, not a $hitDD2 mean $hat 2 say in calm English, s#oken in resolute truth' Qou ha%e heard it saidDDAand 2 belie%e there is more than fancy e%en in that saying, but let it #ass for a fanciful oneBDDthat flo$ers only flourish rightly in the garden of some one $ho lo%es them' 2 kno$ you $ould like that to be trueS you $ould think it a #leasant magic if you could flush your flo$ers into brighter bloom by a kind look u#on them@ nay, more, if your look had the #o$er, not only to cheer, but to guardSDDif you could bid the black blight turn a$ay, and the knotted cater#illar s#areDDif you could bid the de$ fall u#on them in the drought, and say to the south $ind, in frostDDJ"ome, thou south, and breathe u#on my garden, that the s#ices of it may flo$ out'J This you $ould think a great thingP 3nd do you think it not a greater thing, that all this, Aand ho$ much more than this&B you "3; do, for fairer flo$ers than theseDDflo$ers that could bless you for ha%ing blessed them, and $ill lo%e you for ha%ing lo%ed themS flo$ers that ha%e thoughts like yours, and li%es like yoursS and $hich, once sa%ed, you sa%e for e%erP 2s this only a little #o$erP +ar among the moorlands and the rocks,DDfar in the darkness of the terrible streets,DDthese feeble florets are lying, $ith all their fresh lea%es torn, and their stems broken@ $ill you ne%er go do$n to them, nor set them in order in their little fragrant beds, nor fence them in their trembling, from the fierce $indP Shall morning follo$ morning, for you, but not for themS and the da$n rise to $atch, far a$ay, those frantic )ances of )eathS X!4Y but no da$n rise to breathe u#on these li%ing banks of $ild %iolet, and $oodbine, and roseS nor call to you, through your casementDDcall Anot gi%ing you the name of the English #oetRs lady, but the name of )anteRs great

=atilda, $ho, on the edge of ha##y Lethe, stood, $reathing flo$ers $ith flo$ersB, saying@D J"ome into the garden, =aud, +or the black bat, night, has flo$n, 3nd the $oodbine s#ices are $afted abroad, 3nd the musk of the roses blo$nJP (ill you not go do$n among themPDDamong those s$eet li%ing things, $hose ne$ courage, s#rung from the earth $ith the dee# colour of hea%en u#on it, is starting u# in strength of goodly s#ireS and $hose #urity, $ashed from the dust, is o#ening, bud by bud, into the flo$er of #romiseSDDand still they turn to you, and for you, JThe Larks#ur listensDD2 hear, 2 hear& 3nd the Lily $his#ersDD2 $ait'J )id you notice that 2 missed t$o lines $hen 2 read you that first stan9aS and think that 2 had forgotten themP .ear them no$@D J"ome into the garden, =aud, +or the black bat, night, has flo$n, "ome into the garden, =aud, 2 am here at the gate, alone'J (ho is it, think you, $ho stands at the gate of this s$eeter garden alone, $aiting for youP )id you e%er hear, not of a =aud, but a =adeleine, $ho $ent do$n to her garden in the da$n, and found :ne $aiting at the gate, $hom she su##osed to be the gardenerP .a%e you not sought .im oftenSDDsought .im in %ain, all through the nightSDD sought .im in %ain at the gate of that old garden $here the fiery s$ord is setP .e is ne%er thereS but at the gate of T.2S garden .e is $aiting al$aysDD$aiting to take your handDDready to go do$n to see the fruits of the %alley, to see $hether the %ine has flourished, and the #omegranate budded' There you shall see $ith .im the little tendrils of the %ines that .is hand is guidingDDthere you shall see the #omegranate s#ringing $here .is hand cast the sanguine seedSDDmore@ you shall see the troo#s of the angel kee#ers that, $ith their $ings, $a%e a$ay the hungry birds from the #athD sides $here .e has so$n, and call to each other bet$een the %ineyard ro$s, JTake us the foxes, the little foxes, that s#oil the %ines, for our %ines ha%e tender gra#es'J :hDDyou IueensDDyou Iueens& among the hills and ha##y green$ood of this land of yours, shall the foxes ha%e holes, and the birds of the air ha%e nestsS and in your cities, shall the stones cry out against you, that they are the only #illo$s $here the Son of =an can lay .is headP

PRE+3"E T: T.E L3TER E)2T2:;S

-eing no$ fiftyDone years old, and little likely to change my mind hereafter on any im#ortant subject of thought Aunless through

$eakness of ageB, 2 $ish to #ublish a connected series of such #arts of my $orks as no$ seem to me right, and likely to be of #ermanent use' 2n doing so 2 shall omit much, but not attem#t to mend $hat 2 think $orth re#rinting' 3 young man necessarily $rites other$ise than an old one, and it $ould be $orse than $asted time to try to recast the ju%enile language@ nor is it to be thought that 2 am ashamed e%en of $hat 2 cancelS for great #art of my earlier $ork $as ra#idly $ritten for tem#orary #ur#oses, and is no$ unnecessary, though true, e%en to truism' (hat 2 $rote about religion, $as, on the contrary, #ainstaking, and, 2 think, forcible, as com#ared $ith most religious $ritingS es#ecially in its frankness and fearlessness@ but it $as $holly mistaken@ for 2 had been educated in the doctrines of a narro$ sect, and had read history as obliIuely as sectarians necessarily must' =ingled among these either unnecessary or erroneous statements, 2 find, indeed, some that might be still of %alueS but these, in my earlier books, disfigured by affected language, #artly through the desire to be thought a fine $riter, and #artly, as in the second %olume of R=odern Painters,R in the notion of returning as far as 2 could to $hat 2 thought the better style of old English literature, es#ecially to that of my then fa%ourite, in #rose, Richard .ooker' +or these reasons,DDthough, as res#ects either art, #olicy, or morality, as distinct from religion, 2 not only still hold, but $ould e%en $ish strongly to reDaffirm the substance of $hat 2 said in my earliest books,DD2 shall re#rint scarcely anything in this series out of the first and second %olumes of R=odern PaintersRS and shall omit much of the RSe%en Lam#sR and RStones of ,eniceRS but all my books $ritten $ithin the last fifteen years $ill be re#ublished $ithout change, as ne$ editions of them are called for, $ith here and there #erha#s an additional note, and ha%ing their text di%ided, for con%enient reference, into #aragra#hs, consecuti%e through each %olume' 2 shall also thro$ together the shorter fragments that bear on each other, and fill in $ith such un#rinted lectures or studies as seem to me $orth #reser%ing, so as to kee# the %olumes, on an a%erage, com#osed of about a hundred lea%es each' The first book of $hich a ne$ edition is reIuired chances to be RSesame and Lilies,R from $hich 2 no$ detach the $hole #reface, about the 3l#s, for use else$hereS and to 2 $hich 2 add a lecture gi%en in 2reland on a subject closely connected $ith that of the book itself' 2 am glad that it should be the first of the com#lete series, for many reasonsS though in no$ looking o%er these t$o lectures, 2 am #ainfully struck by the $aste of good $ork in them' They cost me much thought, and much strong emotionS but it $as foolish to su##ose that 2 could rouse my audiences in a little $hile to any sym#athy $ith the tem#er into $hich 2 had brought myself by years of thinking o%er subjects full of #ainS $hile, if 2 missed my #ur#ose at the time, it $as little to be ho#ed 2 could attain it after$ardsS since #hrases $ritten for oral deli%ery become ineffecti%e $hen Iuietly read' Qet 2 should only take a$ay $hat good is in them if 2 tried to translate them into the language of booksS nor, indeed, could 2 at all ha%e done so at the time of their deli%ery, my thoughts then habitually and im#atiently #utting themsel%es into forms fit only for em#hatic s#eechS and thus 2 am startled, in my re%ie$ of them, to find that, though there is much,

Aforgi%e me the im#ertinenceB $hich seems to me accurately and energetically said, there is scarcely anything #ut in a form to be generally con%incing, or e%en easily intelligible@ and 2 can $ell imagine a reader laying do$n the book $ithout being at all mo%ed by it, still less guided, to any definite course of action' 2 think, ho$e%er, if 2 no$ say briefly and clearly $hat 2 meant my hearers to understand, and $hat 2 $anted, and still $ould fain ha%e, them to do, there may after$ards be found some better ser%ice in the #assionately $ritten text' The first lecture says, or tries to say, that, life being %ery short, and the Iuiet hours of it fe$, $e ought to $aste none of them in reading %alueless booksS and that %aluable books should, in a ci%ili9ed country, be $ithin the reach of e%ery one, #rinted in excellent form, for a just #riceS but not in any %ile, %ulgar, or, by reason of smallness of ty#e, #hysically injurious form, at a %ile #rice' +or $e none of us need many books, and those $hich $e need ought to be clearly #rinted, on the best #a#er, and strongly bound' 3nd though $e are, indeed, no$, a $retched and #o%ertyDstruck nation, and hardly able to kee# soul and body together, still, as no #erson in decent circumstances $ould #ut on his table confessedly bad $ine, or bad meat, $ithout being ashamed, so he need not ha%e on his shel%es illD#rinted or loosely and $retchedlyDstitched booksS for though fe$ can be rich, yet e%ery man $ho honestly exerts himself may, 2 think, still #ro%ide, for himself and his family, good shoes, good glo%es, strong harness for his cart or carriage horses, and stout leather binding for his books' 3nd 2 $ould urge u#on e%ery young man, as the beginning of his due and $ise #ro%ision for his household, to obtain as soon as he can, by the se%erest economy, a restricted, ser%iceable, and steadilyDDho$e%er slo$lyDD increasing, series of books for use through lifeS making his little library, of all the furniture in his room, the most studied and decorati%e #ieceS e%ery %olume ha%ing its assigned #lace, like a little statue in its niche, and one of the earliest and strictest lessons to the children of the house being ho$ to turn the #ages of their o$n literary #ossessions lightly and deliberately, $ith no chance of tearing or dogRs ears' That is my notion of the founding of UingsR TreasuriesS and the first lecture is intended to sho$ some$hat the use and #reciousness of their treasures@ but the t$o follo$ing ones ha%e $ider sco#e, being $ritten in the ho#e of a$akening the youth of England, so far as my #oor $ords might ha%e any #o$er $ith them, to take some thought of the #ur#oses of the life into $hich they are entering, and the nature of the $orld they ha%e to conIuer' These t$o lectures are fragmentary and illDarranged, but not, 2 think, diffuse or much com#ressible' The entire gist and conclusion of them, ho$e%er, is in the last six #aragra#hs of the third lecture, $hich 2 $ould beg the reader to look o%er not once nor t$ice, Arather than any other #art of the book,B for they contain the best ex#ression 2 ha%e yet been able to #ut in $ords of $hat, so far as is $ithin my #o$er, 2 mean hencefor$ard both to do myself, and to #lead $ith all o%er $hom 2 ha%e any influence, to do also according to their means@ the letters begun on the first day of this year, to the $orkmen of England, ha%ing the object of

originating, if #ossible, this mo%ement among them, in true alliance $ith $hate%er trust$orthy element of hel# they can find in the higher classes' 3fter these #aragra#hs, let me ask you to read, by the fiery light of recent e%ents, the fable at #' /18 X/Y, and then #aragra#hs /!0D/6/ X!YS and obser%e, my statement res#ecting the famine at :rissa is not rhetorical, but certified by official documents as $ithin the truth' +i%e hundred thousand #ersons, 3T LE3ST, died by star%ation in our -ritish dominions, $holly in conseIuence of carelessness and $ant of forethought' Uee# that $ell in your memoryS and note it as the best #ossible illustration of modern #olitical economy in true #ractice, and of the relations it has accom#lished bet$een Su##ly and )emand' Then begin the second lecture, and all $ill read clear enough, 2 think, to the endS only, since that second lecture $as $ritten, Iuestions ha%e arisen res#ecting the education and claims of $omen $hich ha%e greatly troubled sim#le minds and excited restless ones' 2 am sometimes asked my thoughts on this matter, and 2 su##ose that some girl readers of the second lecture may at the end of it desire to be told summarily $hat 2 $ould ha%e them do and desire in the #resent state of things' This, then, is $hat 2 $ould say to any girl $ho had confidence enough in me to belie%e $hat 2 told her, or to do $hat 2 asked her' +irst, be Iuite sure of one thing, that, ho$e%er much you may kno$, and $hate%er ad%antages you may #ossess, and ho$e%er good you may be, you ha%e not been singled out, by the God $ho made you, from all the other girls in the $orld, to be es#ecially informed res#ecting .is o$n nature and character' Qou ha%e not been born in a luminous #oint u#on the surface of the globe, $here a #erfect theology might be ex#ounded to you from your youth u#, and $here e%erything you $ere taught $ould be true, and e%erything that $as enforced u#on you, right' :f all the insolent, all the foolish #ersuasions that by any chance could enter and hold your em#ty little heart, this is the #roudest and foolishest,DDthat you ha%e been so much the darling of the .ea%ens, and fa%ourite of the +ates, as to be born in the %ery nick of time, and in the #unctual #lace, $hen and $here #ure )i%ine truth had been sifted from the errors of the ;ationsS and that your #a#a had been #ro%identially dis#osed to buy a house in the con%enient neighbourhood of the stee#le under $hich that 2mmaculate and final %erity $ould be beautifully #roclaimed' )o not think it, childS it is not so' This, on the contrary, is the fact,D Dun#leasant you may think itS #leasant, it seems to =E,DDthat you, $ith all your #retty dresses, and dainty looks, and kindly thoughts, and saintly as#irations, are not one $hit more thought of or lo%ed by the great =aker and =aster than any #oor little red, black, or blue sa%age, running $ild in the #estilent $oods, or naked on the hot sands of the earth@ and that, of the t$o, you #robably kno$ less about God than she doesS the only difference being that she thinks little of .im that is right, and you much that is $rong' That, then, is the first thing to make sure ofSDDthat you are not yet #erfectly $ell informed on the most abstruse of all #ossible subjects, and that if you care to beha%e $ith modesty or #ro#riety, you had better be silent about it' The second thing $hich you may make sure of is, that ho$e%er good you may be, you ha%e faultsS that ho$e%er dull you may be, you can

find out $hat some of them areS and that ho$e%er slight they may be, you had better make someDDnot too #ainful, but #atientDDeffort to get Iuit of them' 3nd so far as you ha%e confidence in me at all, trust me for this, that ho$ many soe%er you may find or fancy your faults to be, there are only t$o that are of real conseIuence,DD 2dleness and "ruelty' Perha#s you may be #roud' (ell, $e can get much good out of #ride, if only it be not religious' Perha#s you may be %ainS it is highly #robableS and %ery #leasant for the #eo#le $ho like to #raise you' Perha#s you are a little en%ious@ that is really %ery shockingS but thenDDso is e%erybody else' Perha#s, also, you are a little malicious, $hich 2 am truly concerned to hear, but should #robably only the more, if 2 kne$ you, enjoy your con%ersation' -ut $hate%er else you may be, you must not be useless, and you must not be cruel' 2f there is any one #oint $hich, in six thousand years of thinking about right and $rong, $ise and good men ha%e agreed u#on, or successi%ely by ex#erience disco%ered, it is that God dislikes idle and cruel #eo#le more than any others@D that .is first order is, J(ork $hile you ha%e lightSJ and .is second, J-e merciful $hile you ha%e mercy'J J(ork $hile you ha%e light,J es#ecially $hile you ha%e the light of morning' There are fe$ things more $onderful to me than that old #eo#le ne%er tell young ones ho$ #recious their youth is' They sometimes sentimentally regret their o$n earlier daysS sometimes #rudently forget themS often foolishly rebuke the young, often more foolishly indulge, often most foolishly th$art and restrainS but scarcely e%er $arn or $atch them' Remember, then, that 2, at least, ha%e $arned Q:<, that the ha##iness of your life, and its #o$er, and its #art and rank in earth or in hea%en, de#end on the $ay you #ass your days no$' They are not to be sad days@ far from that, the first duty of young #eo#le is to be delighted and delightfulS but they are to be in the dee#est sense solemn days' There is no solemnity so dee#, to a rightlyDthinking creature, as that of da$n' -ut not only in that beautiful sense, but in all their character and method, they are to be solemn days' Take your Latin dictionary, and look out Jsolennis,J and fix the sense of the $ord $ell in your mind, and remember that e%ery day of your early life is ordaining irre%ocably, for good or e%il, the custom and #ractice of your soulS ordaining either sacred customs of dear and lo%ely recurrence, or trenching dee#er and dee#er the furro$s for seed of sorro$' ;o$, therefore, see that no day #asses in $hich you do not make yourself a some$hat better creature@ and in order to do that, find out, first, $hat you are no$' )o not think %aguely about itS take #en and #a#er, and $rite do$n as accurate a descri#tion of yourself as you can, $ith the date to it' 2f you dare not do so, find out $hy you dare not, and try to get strength of heart enough to look yourself fairly in the face in mind as $ell as body' 2 do not doubt but that the mind is a less #leasant thing to look at than the face, and for that %ery reason it needs more looking atS so al$ays ha%e t$o mirrors on your toilet table, and see that $ith #ro#er care you dress body and mind before them daily' 3fter the dressing is once o%er for the day, think no more about it@ as your hair $ill blo$ about your ears, so your tem#er and thoughts $ill get ruffled $ith the dayRs $ork, and may need, sometimes, t$ice dressingS but 2 donRt $ant you to carry about a mental #ocketDcombS only to be smooth braided al$ays in the morning'

(rite do$n then, frankly, $hat you are, or, at least, $hat you think yourself, not d$elling u#on those ine%itable faults $hich 2 ha%e just told you are of little conseIuence, and $hich the action of a right life $ill shake or smooth a$ayS but that you may determine to the best of your intelligence $hat you are good for and can be made into' Qou $ill find that the mere resol%e not to be useless, and the honest desire to hel# other #eo#le, $ill, in the Iuickest and delicatest $ays, im#ro%e yourself' Thus, from the beginning, consider all your accom#lishments as means of assistance to othersS read attenti%ely, in this %olume, #aragra#hs 1>, 1E, /0, and 10, X6Y and you $ill understand $hat 2 mean, $ith res#ect to languages and music' 2n music es#ecially you $ill soon find $hat #ersonal benefit there is in being ser%iceable@ it is #robable that, ho$e%er limited your #o$ers, you ha%e %oice and ear enough to sustain a note of moderate com#ass in a concerted #ieceSDDthat, then, is the first thing to make sure you can do' Get your %oice disci#lined and clear, and think only of accuracyS ne%er of effect or ex#ression@ if you ha%e any soul $orth ex#ressing, it $ill sho$ itself in your singingS but most likely there are %ery fe$ feelings in you, at #resent, needing any #articular ex#ressionS and the one thing you ha%e to do is to make a clearD%oiced little instrument of yourself, $hich other #eo#le can entirely de#end u#on for the note $anted' So, in dra$ing, as soon as you can set do$n the right sha#e of anything, and thereby ex#lain its character to another #erson, or make the look of it clear and interesting to a child, you $ill begin to enjoy the art %i%idly for its o$n sake, and all your habits of mind and #o$ers of memory $ill gain #recision@ but if you only try to make sho$y dra$ings for #raise, or #retty ones for amusement, your dra$ing $ill ha%e little of real interest for you, and no educational #o$er $hate%er' Then, besides this more delicate $ork, resol%e to do e%ery day some that is useful in the %ulgar sense' Learn first thoroughly the economy of the kitchenS the good and bad Iualities of e%ery common article of food, and the sim#lest and best modes of their #re#aration@ $hen you ha%e time, go and hel# in the cooking of #oorer families, and sho$ them ho$ to make as much of e%erything as #ossible, and ho$ to make little, niceS coaxing and tem#ting them into tidy and #retty $ays, and #leading for $ellDfolded tableD cloths, ho$e%er coarse, and for a flo$er or t$o out of the garden to stre$ on them' 2f you manage to get a clean tableDcloth, bright #lates on it, and a good dish in the middle, of your o$n cooking, you may ask lea%e to say a short graceS and let your religious ministries be confined to that much for the #resent' 3gain, let a certain #art of your day Aas little as you choose, but not to be broken in u#onB be set a#art for making strong and #retty dresses for the #oor' Learn the sound Iualities of all useful stuffs, and make e%erything of the best you can get, $hate%er its #rice' 2 ha%e many reasons for desiring you to do this,DDtoo many to be told just no$,DDtrust me, and be sure you get e%erything as good as can be@ and if, in the %illainous state of modern trade, you cannot get it good at any #rice, buy its ra$ material, and set some of the #oor $omen about you to s#in and $ea%e, till you ha%e got stuff that can be trusted@ and then, e%ery day, make some little #iece of useful clothing, se$n $ith your o$n fingers as strongly as it can be stitchedS and embroider it or other$ise

beautify it moderately $ith fine needle$ork, such as a girl may be #roud of ha%ing done' 3nd accumulate these things by you until you hear of some honest #ersons in need of clothing, $hich may often too sorro$fully beS and, e%en though you should be decei%ed, and gi%e them to the dishonest, and hear of their being at once taken to the #a$nbrokerRs, ne%er mind that, for the #a$nbroker must sell them to some one $ho has need of them' That is no business of yoursS $hat concerns you is only that $hen you see a halfDnaked child, you should ha%e good and fresh clothes to gi%e it, if its #arents $ill let it be taught to $ear them' 2f they $ill not, consider ho$ they came to be of such a mind, $hich it $ill be $holesome for you beyond most subjects of inIuiry to ascertain' 3nd after you ha%e gone on doing this a little $hile, you $ill begin to understand the meaning of at least one cha#ter of your -ible, Pro%erbs xxxi', $ithout need of any laboured comment, sermon, or meditation' 2n these, then Aand of course in all minor $ays besides, that you can disco%er in your o$n householdB, you must be to the best of your strength usefully em#loyed during the greater #art of the day, so that you may be able at the end of it to say, as #roudly as any #easant, that you ha%e not eaten the bread of idleness' Then, secondly, 2 said, you are not to be cruel' Perha#s you think there is no chance of your being soS and indeed 2 ho#e it is not likely that you should be deliberately unkind to any creatureS but unless you are deliberately kind to e%ery creature, you $ill often be cruel to many' "ruel, #artly through $ant of imagination, Aa far rarer and $eaker faculty in $omen than men,B and yet more, at the #resent day, through the subtle encouragement of your selfishness by the religious doctrine that all $hich $e no$ su##ose to be e%il $ill be brought to a good endS doctrine #ractically issuing, not in less earnest efforts that the immediate un#leasantness may be a%erted from oursel%es, but in our remaining satisfied in the contem#lation of its ultimate objects, $hen it is inflicted on others' 2t is not likely that the more accurate methods of recent mental education $ill no$ long #ermit young #eo#le to gro$ u# in the #ersuasion that, in any danger or distress, they may ex#ect to be themsel%es sa%ed by the Pro%idence of God, $hile those around them are lost by .is im#ro%idence@ but they may be yet long restrained from rightly kind action, and long accustomed to endure both their o$n #ain occasionally, and the #ain of others al$ays, $ith an un$ise #atience, by misconce#tion of the eternal and incurable nature of real e%il' :bser%e, therefore, carefully in this matterS there are degrees of #ain, as degrees of faultfulness, $hich are altogether conIuerable, and $hich seem to be merely forms of $holesome trial or disci#line' Qour fingers tingle $hen you go out on a frosty morning, and are all the $armer after$ardsS your limbs are $eary $ith $holesome $ork, and lie do$n in the #leasanter restS you are tried for a little $hile by ha%ing to $ait for some #romised good, and it is all the s$eeter $hen it comes' -ut you cannot carry the trial #ast a certain #oint' Let the cold fasten on your hand in an extreme degree, and your fingers $ill moulder from their sockets' +atigue yourself, but once, to utter exhaustion, and to the end of life you shall not reco%er the former %igour of your frame' Let heartDsickness #ass beyond a certain bitter #oint, and the heart loses its life for e%er'

;o$, the %ery definition of e%il is in this irremediableness' 2t means sorro$, or sin, $hich ends in deathS and assuredly, as far as $e kno$, or can concei%e, there are many conditions both of #ain and sin $hich cannot but so end' :f course $e are ignorant and blind creatures, and $e cannot kno$ $hat seeds of good may be in #resent suffering, or #resent crimeS but $ith $hat $e cannot kno$ $e are not concerned' 2t is concei%able that murderers and liars may in some distant $orld be exalted into a higher humanity than they could ha%e reached $ithout homicide or falsehoodS but the contingency is not one by $hich our actions should be guided' There is, indeed, a better ho#e that the beggar, $ho lies at our gates in misery, may, $ithin gates of #earl, be comfortedS but the =aster, $hose $ords are our only authority for thinking so, ne%er .imself inflicted disease as a blessing, nor sent a$ay the hungry unfed, or the $ounded unhealed' -elie%e me then, the only right #rinci#le of action here, is to consider good and e%il as defined by our natural sense of bothS and to stri%e to #romote the one, and to conIuer the other, $ith as hearty endea%our as if there $ere, indeed, no other $orld than this' 3bo%e all, get Iuit of the absurd idea that .ea%en $ill interfere to correct great errors, $hile allo$ing its la$s to take their course in #unishing small ones' 2f you #re#are a dish of food carelessly, you do not ex#ect Pro%idence to make it #alatableS neither if, through years of folly, you misguide your o$n life, need you ex#ect )i%ine interference to bring round e%erything at last for the best' 2 tell you, #ositi%ely, the $orld is not so constituted@ the conseIuences of great mistakes are just as sure as those of small ones, and the ha##iness of your $hole life, and of all the li%es o%er $hich you ha%e #o$er, de#end as literally on your o$n common sense and discretion as the excellence and order of the feast of a day' Think carefully and bra%ely o%er these things, and you $ill find them true@ ha%ing found them so, think also carefully o%er your o$n #osition in life' 2 assume that you belong to the middle or u##er classes, and that you $ould shrink from descending into a lo$er s#here' Qou may fancy you $ould not@ nay, if you are %ery good, strongDhearted, and romantic, #erha#s you really $ould notS but it is not $rong that you should' Qou ha%e, then, 2 su##ose, good food, #retty rooms to li%e in, #retty dresses to $ear, #o$er of obtaining e%ery rational and $holesome #leasureS you are, moreo%er, #robably gentle and grateful, and in the habit of e%ery day thanking God for these things' -ut $hy do you thank .imP 2s it because, in these matters, as $ell as in your religious kno$ledge, you think .e has made a fa%ourite of youP 2s the essential meaning of your thanksgi%ing, JLord, 2 thank Thee that 2 am not as other girls are, not in that 2 fast t$ice in the $eek $hile they feast, but in that 2 feast se%en times a $eek $hile they fast,J and are you Iuite sure this is a #leasing form of thanksgi%ing to your .ea%enly +atherP Su##ose you sa$ one of your o$n true earthly sisters, Lucy or Emily, cast out of your mortal fatherRs house, star%ing, hel#less, heartbrokenS and that e%ery morning $hen you $ent into your fatherRs room, you said to him, J.o$ good you are, father, to gi%e me $hat you donRt gi%e Lucy,J are you sure that, $hate%er anger your #arent might ha%e just cause for, against your sister, he $ould be #leased

by that thanksgi%ing, or flattered by that #raiseP ;ay, are you e%en sure that you 3RE so much the fa%ouritePDDsu##ose that, all this $hile, he lo%es #oor Lucy just as $ell as you, and is only trying you through her #ain, and #erha#s not angry $ith her in any$ise, but dee#ly angry $ith you, and all the more for your thanksgi%ingsP (ould it not be $ell that you should think, and earnestly too, o%er this standing of yoursS and all the more if you $ish to belie%e that text, $hich clergymen so much dislike #reaching on, J.o$ hardly shall they that ha%e riches enter into the Uingdom of GodJP Qou do not belie%e it no$, or you $ould be less com#lacent in your stateS and you cannot belie%e it at all, until you kno$ that the Uingdom of God means,DDJnot meat and drink, but justice, #eace, and joy in the .oly Ghost,J nor until you kno$ also that such joy is not by any means, necessarily, in going to church, or in singing hymnsS but may be joy in a dance, or joy in a jest, or joy in anything you ha%e deser%ed to #ossess, or that you are $illing to gi%eS but joy in nothing that se#arates you, as by any strange fa%our, from your fello$Dcreatures, that exalts you through their degradationDDexem#ts you from their toilDDor indulges you in time of their distress' Think, then, and some day, 2 belie%e, you $ill feel also,DDno morbid #assion of #ity such as $ould turn you into a black Sister of "harity, but the steady fire of #er#etual kindness $hich $ill make you a bright one' 2 s#eak in no dis#aragement of themS 2 kno$ $ell ho$ good the Sisters of "harity are, and ho$ much $e o$e to themS but all these #rofessional #ieties Aexce#t so far as distinction or association may be necessary for effecti%eness of $orkB are in their s#irit $rong, and in #ractice merely #laster the sores of disease that ought ne%er to ha%e been #ermitted to existS encouraging at the same time the herd of less excellent $omen in fri%olity, by leading them to think that they must either be good u# to the black standard, or cannot be good for anything' (ear a costume, by all means, if you likeS but let it be a cheerful and becoming oneS and be in your heart a Sister of "harity al$ays, $ithout either %eiled or %oluble declaration of it' 3s 2 #ause, before ending my #refaceDDthinking of one or t$o more #oints that are difficult to $rite ofDD2 find a letter in RThe Times,R from a +rench lady, $hich says all 2 $ant so beautifully, that 2 $ill #rint it just as it stands@D S2R,DD2t is often said that one exam#le is $orth many sermons' Shall 2 be judged #resum#tuous if 2 #oint out one, $hich seems to me so striking just no$, that, ho$e%er #ainful, 2 cannot hel# d$elling u#on itP 2t is the share, the sad and large share, that +rench society and its recent habits of luxury, of ex#enses, of dress, of indulgence in e%ery kind of extra%agant dissi#ation, has to lay to its o$n door in its actual crisis of ruin, misery, and humiliation' 2f our =E;3GERES can be cited as an exam#le to English house$i%es, so, alas& can other classes of our society be set u# as an exam#leDD;:T to be follo$ed' -itter must be the feelings of many a +rench $oman $hose days of

luxury and ex#ensi%e habits are at an end, and $hose bills of bygone s#lendour lie $ith a hea%y $eight on her conscience, if not on her #urse& (ith us the e%il has s#read high and lo$' E%ery$here ha%e the exam#les gi%en by the highest ladies in the land been follo$ed but too successfully' E%ery year did dress become more extra%agant, entertainments more costly, ex#enses of e%ery kind more considerable' Lo$er and lo$er became the tone of society, its good breeding, its delicacy' =ore and more $ere =:;)E and )E=2D=:;)E associated in ne$s#a#er accounts of fashionable doings, in scandalous gossi#, on racecourses, in PRE=2ERES REPRESE;T3T2:;S, in imitation of each otherRs costumes, =:-2L2ERS and slang' Li%ing beyond oneRs means became habitualDDalmost necessaryDDfor e%ery one to kee# u# $ith, if not to go beyond, e%ery one else' (hat the result of all this has been $e no$ see in the $reck of our #ros#erity, in the do$nfall of all that seemed brightest and highest' )ee#ly and fearfully im#ressed by $hat my o$n country has incurred and is suffering, 2 cannot hel# feeling sorro$ful $hen 2 see in England signs of our besetting sins a##earing also' Paint and chignons, slang and %aude%illes, kno$ing J3nonymasJ by name, and reading doubtfully moral no%els, are in themsel%es small offences, although not many years ago they $ould ha%e a##eared %ery heinous ones, yet they are Iuick and tem#ting con%eyances on a %ery dangerous highDroad' 2 $ould that all English$omen kne$ ho$ they are looked u# to from abroadDD$hat a high o#inion, $hat honour and re%erence $e foreigners ha%e for their #rinci#les, their truthfulness, the fresh and #ure innocence of their daughters, the healthy youthfulness of their lo%ely children' =ay 2 illustrate this by a short exam#le $hich ha##ened %ery near meP )uring the days of the E=E<TES of /4>4, all the houses in Paris $ere being searched for firearms by the mob' The one 2 $as li%ing in contained none, as the master of the house re#eatedly assured the furious and incredulous Re#ublicans' They $ere going to lay %iolent hands on him $hen his $ife, an English lady, hearing the loud discussion, came bra%ely for$ard and assured them that no arms $ere concealed' J,ous etes anglaise, nous %ous croyonsS les anglaises disent toujours la %erite,J $as the immediate ans$er, and the rioters Iuietly left' ;o$, Sir, shall 2 be accused of unjustified criticism if, lo%ing and admiring your country, as these lines $ill #ro%e, certain ne$ features strike me as #ainful discre#ancies in English lifeP +ar be it from me to #reach the contem#t of all that can make life lo%able and $holesomely #leasant' 2 lo%e nothing better than to see a $oman nice, neat, elegant, looking her best in the #rettiest dress that her taste and #urse can afford, or your bright, fresh young

girls fearlessly and #erfectly sitting their horses, or adorning their houses as #retty 5sicS it is not Iuite grammar, but it is better than if it $ereS7 as care, trouble, and refinement can make them' 2t is the degree -EQ:;) that $hich to us has #ro%ed so fatal, and that 2 $ould our exam#le could $arn you from as a small re#ayment for your hos#itality and friendliness to us in our days of trouble' =ay English$omen acce#t this in a kindly s#irit as a ;e$DyearRs $ish from 3 +RE;". L3)Q' )ec' !0' That, then, is the substance of $hat 2 $ould fain say con%incingly, if it might be, to my girl friendsS at all e%ents $ith certainty in my o$n mind that 2 $as thus far a safe guide to them' +or other and older readers it is needful 2 should $rite a fe$ $ords more, res#ecting $hat o##ortunity 2 ha%e had to judge, or right 2 ha%e to s#eak, of such thingsS for, indeed, too much of $hat 2 ha%e said about $omen has been said in faith only' 3 $ise and lo%ely English lady told me, $hen RSesame and LiliesR first a##eared, that she $as sure the RSesameR $ould be useful, but that in the RLiliesR 2 had been $riting of $hat 2 kne$ nothing about' (hich $as in a measure too true, and also that it is more #artial than my $ritings are usually@ for as Ellesmere s#oke his s#eech on theDD inter%ention, not, indeed, other$ise than he felt, but yet altogether for the sake of Gretchen, so 2 $rote the RLiliesR to #lease one girlS and $ere it not for $hat 2 remember of her, and of fe$ besides, should no$ #erha#s recast some of the sentences in the RLiliesR in a %ery different tone@ for as years ha%e gone by, it has chanced to me, unto$ardly in some res#ects, fortunately in others Abecause it enables me to read history more clearlyB, to see the utmost e%il that is in $omen, $hile 2 ha%e had but to belie%e the utmost good' The best $omen are indeed necessarily the most difficult to kno$S they are recogni9ed chiefly in the ha##iness of their husbands and the nobleness of their childrenS they are only to be di%ined, not discerned, by the strangerS and, sometimes, seem almost hel#less exce#t in their homesS yet $ithout the hel# of one of them, X>Y to $hom this book is dedicated, the day $ould #robably ha%e come before no$, $hen 2 should ha%e $ritten and thought no more' :n the other hand, the fashion of the time renders $hate%er is for$ard, coarse, or senseless, in feminine nature, too #al#able to all men@D the $eak #icturesIueness of my earlier $ritings brought me acIuainted $ith much of their em#tiest enthusiasmS and the chances of later life ga%e me o##ortunities of $atching $omen in states of degradation and %indicti%eness $hich o#ened to me the gloomiest secrets of Greek and Syrian tragedy' 2 ha%e seen them betray their household charities to lust, their #ledged lo%e to de%otionS 2 ha%e seen mothers dutiful to their children, as =edeaS and children dutiful to their #arents, as the daughter of .erodias@ but my trust is still unmo%ed in the #reciousness of the natures that are so fatal in their error, and 2 lea%e the $ords of the RLiliesR

unchangedS belie%ing, yet, that no man e%er li%ed a right life $ho had not been chastened by a $omanRs lo%e, strengthened by her courage, and guided by her discretion' (hat 2 might myself ha%e been, so hel#ed, 2 rarely indulge in the idleness of thinkingS but $hat 2 am, since 2 take on me the function of a teacher, it is $ell that the reader should kno$, as far as 2 can tell him' ;ot an unjust #ersonS not an unkind oneS not a false oneS a lo%er of order, labour, and #eace' That, it seems to me, is enough to gi%e me right to say all 2 care to say on ethical subjectsS more, 2 could only tell definitely through details of autobiogra#hy such as none but #ros#erous and Ain the sim#le sense of the $ordB faultless li%es could justifySDDand mine has been neither' Qet, if any one, skilled in reading the torn manuscri#ts of the human soul, cares for more intimate kno$ledge of me, he may ha%e it by kno$ing $ith $hat #ersons in #ast history 2 ha%e most sym#athy' 2 $ill name three' 2n all that is strongest and dee#est in me,DDthat fits me for my $ork, and gi%es light or shado$ to my being, 2 ha%e sym#athy $ith Guido Guinicelli' 2n my constant natural tem#er, and thoughts of things and of #eo#le, $ith =armontel' 2n my enforced and accidental tem#er, and thoughts of things and of #eo#le, $ith )ean S$ift' 3ny one $ho can understand the natures of those three men, can understand mineS and ha%ing said so much, 2 am content to lea%e both life and $ork to be remembered or forgotten, as their uses may deser%e' )E;=3RU .2LL, /st January, /41/'

LE"T<RE 222DDT.E =QSTERQ :+ L2+E 3;) 2TS 3RTS

Lecture deli%ered in the theatre of the Royal "ollege of Science, )ublin, /4L4' (hen 2 acce#ted the #ri%ilege of addressing you toDday, 2 $as not a$are of a restriction $ith res#ect to the to#ics of discussion $hich may be brought before this Society X!0YDDa restriction $hich, though entirely $ise and right under the circumstances contem#lated in its introduction, $ould necessarily ha%e disabled me, thinking as 2 think, from #re#aring any lecture for you on the subject of art in a form $hich might be #ermanently useful' Pardon me, therefore, in

so far as 2 must transgress such limitationS for indeed my infringement $ill be of the letterDDnot of the s#iritDDof your commands' 2n $hate%er 2 may say touching the religion $hich has been the foundation of art, or the #olicy $hich has contributed to its #o$er, if 2 offend one, 2 shall offend allS for 2 shall take no note of any se#arations in creeds, or antagonisms in #arties@ neither do 2 fear that ultimately 2 shall offend any, by #ro%ingDDor at least stating as ca#able of #ositi%e #roofDDthe connection of all that is best in the crafts and arts of man, $ith the sim#licity of his faith, and the sincerity of his #atriotism' -ut 2 s#eak to you under another disad%antage, by $hich 2 am checked in frankness of utterance, not here only, but e%ery$here@ namely, that 2 am ne%er fully a$are ho$ far my audiences are dis#osed to gi%e me credit for real kno$ledge of my subject, or ho$ far they grant me attention only because 2 ha%e been sometimes thought an ingenious or #leasant essayist u#on it' +or 2 ha%e had $hat, in many res#ects, 2 boldly call the misfortune, to set my $ords sometimes #rettily togetherS not $ithout a foolish %anity in the #oor knack that 2 had of doing so@ until 2 $as hea%ily #unished for this #ride, by finding that many #eo#le thought of the $ords only, and cared nothing for their meaning' .a##ily, therefore, the #o$er of using such #leasant languageDDif indeed it e%er $ere mineDDis #assing a$ay from meS and $hate%er 2 am no$ able to say at all, 2 find myself forced to say $ith great #lainness' +or my thoughts ha%e changed also, as my $ords ha%eS and $hereas in earlier life, $hat little influence 2 obtained $as due #erha#s chiefly to the enthusiasm $ith $hich 2 $as able to d$ell on the beauty of the #hysical clouds, and of their colours in the skyS so all the influence 2 no$ desire to retain must be due to the earnestness $ith $hich 2 am endea%ouring to trace the form and beauty of another kind of cloud than thoseS the bright cloud of $hich it is $rittenDDJ(hat is your lifeP 2t is e%en as a %a#our that a##eareth for a little time, and then %anisheth a$ay'J 2 su##ose fe$ #eo#le reach the middle or latter #eriod of their age, $ithout ha%ing, at some moment of change or disa##ointment, felt the truth of those bitter $ordsS and been startled by the fading of the sunshine from the cloud of their life into the sudden agony of the kno$ledge that the fabric of it $as as fragile as a dream, and the endurance of it as transient as the de$' -ut it is not al$ays that, e%en at such times of melancholy sur#rise, $e can enter into any true #erce#tion that this human life shares in the nature of it, not only the e%anescence, but the mystery of the cloudS that its a%enues are $reathed in darkness, and its forms and courses no less fantastic, than s#ectral and obscureS so that not only in the %anity $hich $e cannot gras#, but in the shado$ $hich $e cannot #ierce, it is true of this cloudy life of ours, that Jman $alketh in a %ain shado$, and disIuieteth himself in %ain'J 3nd least of all, $hate%er may ha%e been the eagerness of our #assions, or the height of our #ride, are $e able to understand in its de#th the third and most solemn character in $hich our life is like those clouds of hea%enS that to it belongs not only their transcience, not only their mystery, but also their #o$erS that in the cloud of the human soul there is a fire stronger than the lightning, and a grace more #recious than the rainS and that though

of the good and e%il it shall one day be said alike, that the #lace that kne$ them kno$s them no more, there is an infinite se#aration bet$een those $hose brief #resence had there been a blessing, like the mist of Eden that $ent u# from the earth to $ater the garden, and those $hose #lace kne$ them only as a drifting and changeful shade, of $hom the hea%enly sentence is, that they are J$ells $ithout $aterS clouds that are carried $ith a tem#est, to $hom the mist of darkness is reser%ed for e%er'J To those among us, ho$e%er, $ho ha%e li%ed long enough to form some just estimate of the rate of the changes $hich are, hour by hour in accelerating catastro#he, manifesting themsel%es in the la$s, the arts, and the creeds of men, it seems to me, that no$ at least, if ne%er at any former time, the thoughts of the true nature of our life, and of its #o$ers and res#onsibilities, should #resent themsel%es $ith absolute sadness and sternness' 3nd although 2 kno$ that this feeling is much dee#ened in my o$n mind by disa##ointment, $hich, by chance, has attended the greater number of my cherished #ur#oses, 2 do not for that reason distrust the feeling itself, though 2 am on my guard against an exaggerated degree of it@ nay, 2 rather belie%e that in #eriods of ne$ effort and %iolent change, disa##ointment is a $holesome medicineS and that in the secret of it, as in the t$ilight so belo%ed by Titian, $e may see the colours of things $ith dee#er truth than in the most da99ling sunshine' 3nd because these truths about the $orks of men, $hich 2 $ant to bring toDday before you, are most of them sad ones, though at the same time hel#fulS and because also 2 belie%e that your kind 2rish hearts $ill ans$er more gladly to the truthful ex#ression of a #ersonal feeling, than to the ex#osition of an abstract #rinci#le, 2 $ill #ermit myself so much unreser%ed s#eaking of my o$n causes of regret, as may enable you to make just allo$ance for $hat, according to your sym#athies, you $ill call either the bitterness, or the insight, of a mind $hich has surrendered its best ho#es, and been foiled in its fa%ourite aims' 2 s#ent the ten strongest years of my life, Afrom t$enty to thirty,B in endea%ouring to sho$ the excellence of the $ork of the man $hom 2 belie%ed, and rightly belie%ed, to be the greatest #ainter of the schools of England since Reynolds' 2 had then #erfect faith in the #o$er of e%ery great truth of beauty to #re%ail ultimately, and take its right #lace in usefulness and honourS and 2 stro%e to bring the #ainterRs $ork into this due #lace, $hile the #ainter $as yet ali%e' -ut he kne$, better than 2, the uselessness of talking about $hat #eo#le could not see for themsel%es' .e al$ays discouraged me scornfully, e%en $hen he thanked meDDand he died before e%en the su#erficial effect of my $ork $as %isible' 2 $ent on, ho$e%er, thinking 2 could at least be of use to the #ublic, if not to him, in #ro%ing his #o$er' =y books got talked about a little' The #rices of modern #ictures, generally, rose, and 2 $as beginning to take some #leasure in a sense of gradual %ictory, $hen, fortunately or unfortunately, an o##ortunity of #erfect trial undecei%ed me at once, and for e%er' The Trustees of the ;ational Gallery commissioned me to arrange the Turner dra$ings there, and #ermitted me to #re#are three hundred exam#les of his studies from nature, for exhibition at Uensington' 3t Uensington they $ere, and are, #laced for exhibitionS but they are not exhibited, for the room in $hich they hang is al$ays em#ty'

(ellDDthis sho$ed me at once, that those ten years of my life had been, in their chief #ur#ose, lost' +or that, 2 did not so much careS 2 had, at least, learned my o$n business thoroughly, and should be able, as 2 fondly su##osed, after such a lesson, no$ to use my kno$ledge $ith better effect' -ut $hat 2 did care for $as theDDto me frightfulDDdisco%ery, that the most s#lendid genius in the arts might be #ermitted by Pro%idence to labour and #erish uselesslyS that in the %ery fineness of it there might be something rendering it in%isible to ordinary eyesS but that, $ith this strange excellence, faults might be mingled $hich $ould be as deadly as its %irtues $ere %ainS that the glory of it $as #erishable, as $ell as in%isible, and the gift and grace of it might be to us as sno$ in summer and as rain in har%est' That $as the first mystery of life to me' -ut, $hile my best energy $as gi%en to the study of #ainting, 2 had #ut collateral effort, more #rudent if less enthusiastic, into that of architectureS and in this 2 could not com#lain of meeting $ith no sym#athy' 3mong se%eral #ersonal reasons $hich caused me to desire that 2 might gi%e this, my closing lecture on the subject of art here, in 2reland, one of the chief $as, that in reading it, 2 should stand near the beautiful building,DDthe engineerRs school of your college,DD$hich $as the first reali9ation 2 had the joy to see, of the #rinci#les 2 had, until then, been endea%ouring to teach& but $hich, alas, is no$, to me, no more than the richly cano#ied monument of one of the most earnest souls that e%er ga%e itself to the arts, and one of my truest and most lo%ing friends, -enjamin (ood$ard' ;or $as it here in 2reland only that 2 recei%ed the hel# of 2rish sym#athy and genius' (hen to another friend, Sir Thomas )eane, $ith =r' (ood$ard, $as entrusted the building of the museum at :xford, the best details of the $ork $ere executed by scul#tors $ho had been born and trained hereS and the first $indo$ of the facade of the building, in $hich $as inaugurated the study of natural science in England, in true fello$shi# $ith literature, $as car%ed from my design by an 2rish scul#tor' Qou may #erha#s think that no man ought to s#eak of disa##ointment, to $hom, e%en in one branch of labour, so much success $as granted' .ad =r' (ood$ard no$ been beside me, 2 had not so s#okenS but his gentle and #assionate s#irit $as cut off from the fulfilment of its #ur#oses, and the $ork $e did together is no$ become %ain' 2t may not be so in futureS but the architecture $e endea%oured to introduce is inconsistent alike $ith the reckless luxury, the deforming mechanism, and the sIualid misery of modern citiesS among the formati%e fashions of the day, aided, es#ecially in England, by ecclesiastical sentiment, it indeed obtained notorietyS and sometimes behind an engine furnace, or a railroad bank, you may detect the #athetic discord of its momentary grace, and, $ith toil, deci#her its floral car%ings choked $ith soot' 2 felt ans$erable to the schools 2 lo%ed, only for their injury' 2 #ercei%ed that this ne$ #ortion of my strength had also been s#ent in %ainS and from amidst streets of iron, and #alaces of crystal, shrank back at last to the car%ing of the mountain and colour of the flo$er' 3nd still 2 could tell of failure, and failure re#eated, as years $ent onS but 2 ha%e tres#assed enough on your #atience to sho$ you,

in #art, the causes of my discouragement' ;o$ let me more deliberately tell you its results' Qou kno$ there is a tendency in the minds of many men, $hen they are hea%ily disa##ointed in the main #ur#oses of their life, to feel, and #erha#s in $arning, #erha#s in mockery, to declare, that life itself is a %anity' -ecause it has disa##ointed them, they think its nature is of disa##ointment al$ays, or at best, of #leasure that can be gras#ed by imagination onlyS that the cloud of it has no strength nor fire $ithinS but is a #ainted cloud only, to be delighted in, yet des#ised' Qou kno$ ho$ beautifully Po#e has ex#ressed this #articular #hase of thought@D J=ean$hile o#inion gilds, $ith %arying rays, These #ainted clouds that beautify our daysS Each $ant of ha##iness by ho#e su##lied, 3nd each %acuity of sense, by #ride' .o#e builds as fast as Uno$ledge can destroyS 2n +ollyRs cu#, still laughs the bubble joy' :ne #leasure #ast, another still $e gain, 3nd not a %anity is gi%en in %ain'J -ut the effect of failure u#on my o$n mind has been just the re%erse of this' The more that my life disa##ointed me, the more solemn and $onderful it became to me' 2t seemed, contrarily to Po#eRs saying, that the %anity of it (3S indeed gi%en in %ainS but that there $as something behind the %eil of it, $hich $as not %anity' 2t became to me not a #ainted cloud, but a terrible and im#enetrable one@ not a mirage, $hich %anished as 2 dre$ near, but a #illar of darkness, to $hich 2 $as forbidden to dra$ near' +or 2 sa$ that both my o$n failure, and such success in #etty things as in its #oor trium#h seemed to me $orse than failure, came from the $ant of sufficiently earnest effort to understand the $hole la$ and meaning of existence, and to bring it to noble and due endS as, on the other hand, 2 sa$ more and more clearly that all enduring success in the arts, or in any other occu#ation, had come from the ruling of lo$er #ur#oses, not by a con%iction of their nothingness, but by a solemn faith in the ad%ancing #o$er of human nature, or in the #romise, ho$e%er dimly a##rehended, that the mortal #art of it $ould one day be s$allo$ed u# in immortalityS and that, indeed, the arts themsel%es ne%er had reached any %ital strength or honour, but in the effort to #roclaim this immortality, and in the ser%ice either of great and just religion, or of some unselfish #atriotism, and la$ of such national life as must be the foundation of religion' ;othing that 2 ha%e e%er said is more true or necessaryDDnothing has been more misunderstood or misa##liedDDthan my strong assertion that the arts can ne%er be right themsel%es, unless their moti%e is right' 2t is misunderstood this $ay@ $eak #ainters, $ho ha%e ne%er learned their business, and cannot lay a true line, continually come to me, crying outDDJLook at this #icture of mineS it =<ST be good, 2 had such a lo%ely moti%e' 2 ha%e #ut my $hole heart into it, and taken years to think o%er its treatment'J (ell, the only ans$er for these #eo#le isDDif one had the cruelty to make itDDJSir, you cannot think o%er 3;Qthing in any number of years,DDyou ha%enRt the head to do itS and though you had fine moti%es, strong enough to make you

burn yourself in a slo$ fire, if only first you could #aint a #icture, you canRt #aint one, nor half an inch of oneS you ha%enRt the hand to do it'J -ut, far more decisi%ely $e ha%e to say to the men $ho ): kno$ their business, or may kno$ it if they chooseDDJSir, you ha%e this gift, and a mighty oneS see that you ser%e your nation faithfully $ith it' 2t is a greater trust than shi#s and armies@ you might cast T.E= a$ay, if you $ere their ca#tain, $ith less treason to your #eo#le than in casting your o$n glorious #o$er a$ay, and ser%ing the de%il $ith it instead of men' Shi#s and armies you may re#lace if they are lost, but a great intellect, once abused, is a curse to the earth for e%er'J This, then, 2 meant by saying that the arts must ha%e noble moti%e' This also 2 said res#ecting them, that they ne%er had #ros#ered, nor could #ros#er, but $hen they had such true #ur#ose, and $ere de%oted to the #roclamation of di%ine truth or la$' 3nd yet 2 sa$ also that they had al$ays failed in this #roclamationDDthat #oetry, and scul#ture, and #ainting, though only great $hen they stro%e to teach us something about the gods, ne%er had taught us anything trust$orthy about the gods, but had al$ays betrayed their trust in the crisis of it, and, $ith their #o$ers at the full reach, became ministers to #ride and to lust' 3nd 2 felt also, $ith increasing ama9ement, the unconIuerable a#athy in oursel%es and hearers, no less than in these the teachersS and that $hile the $isdom and rightness of e%ery act and art of life could only be consistent $ith a right understanding of the ends of life, $e $ere all #lunged as in a languid dreamDDour hearts fat, and our eyes hea%y, and our ears closed, lest the ins#iration of hand or %oice should reach usDDlest $e should see $ith our eyes, and understand $ith our hearts, and be healed' This intense a#athy in all of us is the first great mystery of lifeS it stands in the $ay of e%ery #erce#tion, e%ery %irtue' There is no making oursel%es feel enough astonishment at it' That the occu#ations or #astimes of life should ha%e no moti%e, is understandableS butDDThat life itself should ha%e no moti%eDDthat $e neither care to find out $hat it may lead to, nor to guard against its being for e%er taken a$ay from usDDhere is a mystery indeed' +or just su##ose 2 $ere able to call at this moment to any one in this audience by name, and to tell him #ositi%ely that 2 kne$ a large estate had been lately left to him on some curious conditionsS but that though 2 kne$ it $as large, 2 did not kno$ ho$ large, nor e%en $here it $asDD$hether in the East 2ndies or the (est, or in England, or at the 3nti#odes' 2 only kne$ it $as a %ast estate, and that there $as a chance of his losing it altogether if he did not soon find out on $hat terms it had been left to him' Su##ose 2 $ere able to say this #ositi%ely to any single man in this audience, and he kne$ that 2 did not s#eak $ithout $arrant, do you think that he $ould rest content $ith that %ague kno$ledge, if it $ere any$ise #ossible to obtain moreP (ould he not gi%e e%ery energy to find some trace of the facts, and ne%er rest till he had ascertained $here this #lace $as, and $hat it $as likeP 3nd su##ose he $ere a young man, and all he could disco%er by his best endea%our $as that the estate $as ne%er to be his at all, unless he #erse%ered, during certain years of #robation, in an orderly and industrious lifeS but

that, according to the rightness of his conduct, the #ortion of the estate assigned to him $ould be greater or less, so that it literally de#ended on his beha%iour from day to day $hether he got ten thousand a year, or thirty thousand a year, or nothing $hate%erD D$ould you not think it strange if the youth ne%er troubled himself to satisfy the conditions in any $ay, nor e%en to kno$ $hat $as reIuired of him, but li%ed exactly as he chose, and ne%er inIuired $hether his chances of the estate $ere increasing or #assing a$ayP (ell, you kno$ that this is actually and literally so $ith the greater number of the educated #ersons no$ li%ing in "hristian countries' ;early e%ery man and $oman in any com#any such as this, out$ardly #rofesses to belie%eDDand a large number unIuestionably think they belie%eDDmuch more than thisS not only that a Iuite unlimited estate is in #ros#ect for them if they #lease the .older of it, but that the infinite contrary of such a #ossessionDDan estate of #er#etual miseryDDis in store for them if they dis#lease this great LandD.older, this great .ea%enD.older' 3nd yet there is not one in a thousand of these human souls that cares to think, for ten minutes of the day, $here this estate is or ho$ beautiful it is, or $hat kind of life they are to lead in it, or $hat kind of life they must lead to obtain it' Qou fancy that you care to kno$ this@ so little do you care that, #robably, at this moment many of you are dis#leased $ith me for talking of the matter& Qou came to hear about the 3rt of this $orld, not about the Life of the next, and you are #ro%oked $ith me for talking of $hat you can hear any Sunday in church' -ut do not be afraid' 2 $ill tell you something before you go about #ictures, and car%ings, and #ottery, and $hat else you $ould like better to hear of than the other $orld' ;ay, #erha#s you say, J(e $ant you to talk of #ictures and #ottery, because $e are sure that you kno$ something of them, and you kno$ nothing of the other $orld'J (ellDD 2 donRt' That is Iuite true' -ut the %ery strangeness and mystery of $hich 2 urge you to take notice, is in thisDDthat 2 do notSDDnor you either' "an you ans$er a single bold Iuestion unflinchingly about that other $orldPDD3re you sure there is a hea%enP Sure there is a hellP Sure that men are dro##ing before your faces through the #a%ements of these streets into eternal fire, or sure that they are notP Sure that at your o$n death you are going to be deli%ered from all sorro$, to be endo$ed $ith all %irtue, to be gifted $ith all felicity, and raised into #er#etual com#anionshi# $ith a Uing, com#ared to $hom the kings of the earth are as grassDho##ers, and the nations as the dust of .is feetP 3re you sure of thisP or, if not sure, do any of us so much as care to make it sureP and, if not, ho$ can anything that $e do be rightDDho$ can anything $e think be $iseP $hat honour can there be in the arts that amuse us, or $hat #rofit in the #ossessions that #leaseP 2s not this a mystery of lifeP -ut farther, you may, #erha#s, think it a beneficent ordinance for the generality of men that they do not, $ith earnestness or anxiety, d$ell on such Iuestions of the future because the business of the day could not be done if this kind of thought $ere taken by all of us for the morro$' -e it so@ but at least $e might antici#ate that the greatest and $isest of us, $ho $ere e%idently the a##ointed teachers of the rest, $ould set themsel%es a#art to seek out

$hate%er could be surely kno$n of the future destinies of their raceS and to teach this in no rhetorical or ambiguous manner, but in the #lainest and most se%erely earnest $ords' ;o$, the highest re#resentati%es of men $ho ha%e thus endea%oured, during the "hristian era, to search out these dee# things, and relate them, are )ante and =ilton' There are none $ho for earnestness of thought, for mastery of $ord, can be classed $ith these' 2 am not at #resent, mind you, s#eaking of #ersons set a#art in any #riestly or #astoral office, to deli%er creeds to us, or doctrinesS but of men $ho try to disco%er and set forth, as far as by human intellect is #ossible, the facts of the other $orld' )i%ines may #erha#s teach us ho$ to arri%e there, but only these t$o #oets ha%e in any #o$erful manner stri%en to disco%er, or in any definite $ords #rofessed to tell, $hat $e shall see and become thereS or ho$ those u##er and nether $orlds are, and ha%e been, inhabited' 3nd $hat ha%e they told usP =iltonRs account of the most im#ortant e%ent in his $hole system of the uni%erse, the fall of the angels, is e%idently unbelie%able to himselfS and the more so, that it is $holly founded on, and in a great #art s#oiled and degraded from, .esiodRs account of the decisi%e $ar of the younger gods $ith the Titans' The rest of his #oem is a #icturesIue drama, in $hich e%ery artifice of in%ention is %isibly and consciously em#loyedS not a single fact being, for an instant, concei%ed as tenable by any li%ing faith' )anteRs conce#tion is far more intense, and, by himself, for the time, not to be esca#ed fromS it is indeed a %ision, but a %ision only, and that one of the $ildest that e%er entranced a soulDDa dream in $hich e%ery grotesIue ty#e or #hantasy of heathen tradition is rene$ed, and adornedS and the destinies of the "hristian "hurch, under their most sacred symbols, become literally subordinate to the #raise, and are only to be understood by the aid, of one dear +lorentine maiden' 2 tell you truly that, as 2 stri%e more $ith this strange lethargy and trance in myself, and a$ake to the meaning and #o$er of life, it seems daily more ama9ing to me that men such as these should dare to #lay $ith the most #recious truths, Aor the most deadly untruths,B by $hich the $hole human race listening to them could be informed, or decei%edSDDall the $orld their audiences for e%er, $ith #leased ear, and #assionate heartSDDand yet, to this submissi%e infinitude of souls, and e%ermore succeeding and succeeding multitude, hungry for bread of life, they do but #lay u#on s$eetly modulated #i#esS $ith #om#ous nomenclature adorn the councils of hellS touch a troubadourRs guitar to the courses of the sunsS and fill the o#enings of eternity, before $hich #ro#hets ha%e %eiled their faces, and $hich angels desire to look into, $ith idle #u##ets of their scholastic imagination, and melancholy lights of frantic faith in their lost mortal lo%e' 2s not this a mystery of lifeP -ut more' (e ha%e to remember that these t$o great teachers $ere both of them $ar#ed in their tem#er, and th$arted in their search for truth' They $ere men of intellectual $ar, unable, through darkness of contro%ersy, or stress of #ersonal grief, to discern

$here their o$n ambition modified their utterances of the moral la$S or their o$n agony mingled $ith their anger at its %iolation' -ut greater men than these ha%e beenDDinnocentDheartedDDtoo great for contest' =en, like .omer and Shakes#eare, of so unrecognised #ersonality, that it disa##ears in future ages, and becomes ghostly, like the tradition of a lost heathen god' =en, therefore, to $hose unoffended, uncondemning sight, the $hole of human nature re%eals itself in a #athetic $eakness, $ith $hich they $ill not stri%eS or in mournful and transitory strength, $hich they dare not #raise' 3nd all Pagan and "hristian "i%ili9ation thus becomes subject to them' 2t does not matter ho$ little, or ho$ much, any of us ha%e read, either of .omer or Shakes#eareS e%erything round us, in substance, or in thought, has been moulded by them' 3ll Greek gentlemen $ere educated under .omer' 3ll Roman gentlemen, by Greek literature' 3ll 2talian, and +rench, and English gentlemen, by Roman literature, and by its #rinci#les' :f the sco#e of Shakes#eare, 2 $ill say only, that the intellectual measure of e%ery man since born, in the domains of creati%e thought, may be assigned to him, according to the degree in $hich he has been taught by Shakes#eare' (ell, $hat do these t$o men, centres of mortal intelligence, deli%er to us of con%iction res#ecting $hat it most beho%es that intelligence to gras#P (hat is their ho#eDDtheir cro$n of rejoicingP $hat manner of exhortation ha%e they for us, or of rebukeP $hat lies next their o$n hearts, and dictates their undying $ordsP .a%e they any #eace to #romise to our unrestDDany redem#tion to our miseryP Take .omer first, and think if there is any sadder image of human fate than the great .omeric story' The main features in the character of 3chilles are its intense desire of justice, and its tenderness of affection' 3nd in that bitter song of the 2liad, this man, though aided continually by the $isest of the gods, and burning $ith the desire of justice in his heart, becomes yet, through illD go%erned #assion, the most unjust of men@ and, full of the dee#est tenderness in his heart, becomes yet, through illDgo%erned #assion, the most cruel of men' 2ntense alike in lo%e and in friendshi#, he loses, first his mistress, and then his friendS for the sake of the one, he surrenders to death the armies of his o$n landS for the sake of the other, he surrenders all' (ill a man lay do$n his life for his friendP QeaDDe%en for his )E3) friend, this 3chilles, though goddessDborn, and goddessDtaught, gi%es u# his kingdom, his country, and his lifeDDcasts alike the innocent and guilty, $ith himself, into one gulf of slaughter, and dies at last by the hand of the basest of his ad%ersaries' 2s not this a mystery of lifeP -ut $hat, then, is the message to us of our o$n #oet, and searcher of hearts, after fifteen hundred years of "hristian faith ha%e been numbered o%er the gra%es of menP 3re his $ords more cheerful than the .eathenRsDDis his ho#e more nearDDhis trust more sureDDhis reading of fate more ha##yP 3h, no& .e differs from the .eathen #oet chiefly in thisDDthat he recogni9es, for deli%erance, no gods nigh at handS and that, by #etty chanceDDby momentary follyDDby broken messageDDby foolRs tyrannyDDor traitorRs snare, the strongest and most righteous are brought to their ruin, and #erish $ithout $ord of ho#e' .e indeed, as #art of his rendering of character,

ascribes the #o$er and modesty of habitual de%otion to the gentle and the just' The deathDbed of Uatharine is bright $ith %isions of angelsS and the great soldierDking, standing by his fe$ dead, ackno$ledges the #resence of the .and that can sa%e alike by many or by fe$' -ut obser%e that from those $ho $ith dee#est s#irit, meditate, and $ith dee#est #assion, mourn, there are no such $ords as theseS nor in their hearts are any such consolations' 2nstead of the #er#etual sense of the hel#ful #resence of the )eity, $hich, through all heathen tradition, is the source of heroic strength, in battle, in exile, and in the %alley of the shado$ of death, $e find only in the great "hristian #oet, the consciousness of a moral la$, through $hich Jthe gods are just, and of our #leasant %ices make instruments to scourge usSJ and of the resol%ed arbitration of the destinies, that conclude into #recision of doom $hat $e feebly and blindly beganS and force us, $hen our indiscretion ser%es us, and our dee#est #lots do #all, to the confession, that JthereRs a di%inity that sha#es our ends, rough he$ them ho$ $e $ill'J 2s not this a mystery of lifeP -e it so, then' 3bout this human life that is to be, or that is, the $ise religious men tell us nothing that $e can trustS and the $ise contem#lati%e men, nothing that can gi%e us #eace' -ut there is yet a third class, to $hom $e may turnDDthe $ise #ractical men' (e ha%e sat at the feet of the #oets $ho sang of hea%en, and they ha%e told us their dreams' (e ha%e listened to the #oets $ho sang of earth, and they ha%e chanted to us dirges and $ords of des#air' -ut there is one class of men more@D men, not ca#able of %ision, nor sensiti%e to sorro$, but firm of #ur#oseDD#ractised in businessS learned in all that can be, Aby handling,B kno$n' =en, $hose hearts and ho#es are $holly in this #resent $orld, from $hom, therefore, $e may surely learn, at least, ho$, at #resent, con%eniently to li%e in it' (hat $ill T.EQ say to us, or sho$ us by exam#leP These kingsDD these councillorsDDthese statesmen and builders of kingdomsDDthese ca#italists and men of business, $ho $eigh the earth, and the dust of it, in a balance' They kno$ the $orld, surelyS and $hat is the mystery of life to us, is none to them' They can surely sho$ us ho$ to li%e, $hile $e li%e, and to gather out of the #resent $orld $hat is best' 2 think 2 can best tell you their ans$er, by telling you a dream 2 had once' +or though 2 am no #oet, 2 ha%e dreams sometimes@D 2 dreamed 2 $as at a childRs =ayday #arty, in $hich e%ery means of entertainment had been #ro%ided for them, by a $ise and kind host' 2t $as in a stately house, $ith beautiful gardens attached to itS and the children had been set free in the rooms and gardens, $ith no care $hate%er but ho$ to #ass their afternoon rejoicingly' They did not, indeed, kno$ much about $hat $as to ha##en next dayS and some of them, 2 thought, $ere a little frightened, because there $as a chance of their being sent to a ne$ school $here there $ere examinationsS but they ke#t the thoughts of that out of their heads as $ell as they could, and resol%ed to enjoy themsel%es' The house, 2 said, $as in a beautiful garden, and in the garden $ere all kinds of flo$ersS s$eet, grassy banks for restS and smooth la$ns for #layS and #leasant streams and $oodsS and rocky #laces for climbing' 3nd the children $ere ha##y for a little $hile, but #resently they se#arated themsel%es into #artiesS and then each #arty declared it

$ould ha%e a #iece of the garden for its o$n, and that none of the others should ha%e anything to do $ith that #iece' ;ext, they Iuarrelled %iolently $hich #ieces they $ould ha%eS and at last the boys took u# the thing, as boys should do, J#ractically,J and fought in the flo$erDbeds till there $as hardly a flo$er left standingS then they tram#led do$n each otherRs bits of the garden out of s#iteS and the girls cried till they could cry no moreS and so they all lay do$n at last breathless in the ruin, and $aited for the time $hen they $ere to be taken home in the e%ening' X68Y =ean$hile, the children in the house had been making themsel%es ha##y also in their manner' +or them, there had been #ro%ided e%ery kind of indoor #leasure@ there $as music for them to dance toS and the library $as o#en, $ith all manner of amusing booksS and there $as a museum full of the most curious shells, and animals, and birdsS and there $as a $orksho#, $ith lathes and car#enterRs tools, for the ingenious boysS and there $ere #retty fantastic dresses, for the girls to dress inS and there $ere microsco#es, and kaleidosco#esS and $hate%er toys a child could fancyS and a table, in the diningDroom, loaded $ith e%erything nice to eat' -ut, in the midst of all this, it struck t$o or three of the more J#racticalJ children, that they $ould like some of the brassDheaded nails that studded the chairsS and so they set to $ork to #ull them out' Presently, the others, $ho $ere reading, or looking at shells, took a fancy to do the likeS and, in a little $hile, all the children, nearly, $ere s#raining their fingers, in #ulling out brassDheaded nails' (ith all that they could #ull out, they $ere not satisfiedS and then, e%erybody $anted some of somebody elseRs' 3nd at last, the really #ractical and sensible ones declared, that nothing $as of any real conseIuence, that afternoon, exce#t to get #lenty of brassDheaded nailsS and that the books, and the cakes, and the microsco#es $ere of no use at all in themsel%es, but only, if they could be exchanged for nailDheads' 3nd at last they began to fight for nailDheads, as the others fought for the bits of garden' :nly here and there, a des#ised one shrank a$ay into a corner, and tried to get a little Iuiet $ith a book, in the midst of the noiseS but all the #ractical ones thought of nothing else but counting nailDheads all the afternoonDDe%en though they kne$ they $ould not be allo$ed to carry so much as one brass knob a$ay $ith them' -ut noDDit $asDDJ(ho has most nailsP 2 ha%e a hundred, and you ha%e fiftyS or, 2 ha%e a thousand, and you ha%e t$o' 2 must ha%e as many as you before 2 lea%e the house, or 2 cannot #ossibly go home in #eace'J 3t last, they made so much noise that 2 a$oke, and thought to myself, J(hat a false dream that is, of ".2L)RE;&J The child is the father of the manS and $iser' "hildren ne%er do such foolish things' :nly men do' -ut there is yet one last class of #ersons to be interrogated' The $ise religious men $e ha%e asked in %ainS the $ise contem#lati%e men, in %ainS the $ise $orldly men, in %ain' -ut there is another grou# yet' 2n the midst of this %anity of em#ty religionDDof tragic contem#lationDDof $rathful and $retched ambition, and dis#ute for dust, there is yet one great grou# of #ersons, by $hom all these dis#uters li%eDDthe #ersons $ho ha%e determined, or ha%e had it by a beneficent Pro%idence determined for them, that they $ill do something usefulS that $hate%er may be #re#ared for them hereafter,

or ha##en to them here, they $ill, at least, deser%e the food that God gi%es them by $inning it honourably@ and that, ho$e%er fallen from the #urity, or far from the #eace, of Eden, they $ill carry out the duty of human dominion, though they ha%e lost its felicityS and dress and kee# the $ilderness, though they no more can dress or kee# the garden' These,DDhe$ers of $ood, and dra$ers of $ater,DDthese, bent under burdens, or torn of scourgesDDthese, that dig and $ea%eDDthat #lant and buildS $orkers in $ood, and in marble, and in ironDDby $hom all food, clothing, habitation, furniture, and means of delight are #roduced, for themsel%es, and for all men besideS men, $hose deeds are good, though their $ords may be fe$S men, $hose li%es are ser%iceable, be they ne%er so short, and $orthy of honour, be they ne%er so humbleSDDfrom these, surely, at least, $e may recei%e some clear message of teachingS and #ierce, for an instant, into the mystery of life, and of its arts' QesS from these, at last, $e do recei%e a lesson' -ut 2 grie%e to say, or ratherDDfor that is the dee#er truth of the matterDD2 rejoice to sayDDthis message of theirs can only be recei%ed by joining themDDnot by thinking about them' Qou sent for me to talk to you of artS and 2 ha%e obeyed you in coming' -ut the main thing 2 ha%e to tell you is,DDthat art must not be talked about' The fact that there is talk about it at all, signifies that it is ill done, or cannot be done' ;o true #ainter e%er s#eaks, or e%er has s#oken, much of his art' The greatest s#eak nothing' E%en Reynolds is no exce#tion, for he $rote of all that he could not himself do, and $as utterly silent res#ecting all that he himself did' The moment a man can really do his $ork he becomes s#eechless about it' 3ll $ords become idle to himDDall theories' )oes a bird need to theori9e about building its nest, or boast of it $hen builtP 3ll good $ork is essentially done that $ayDD$ithout hesitation, $ithout difficulty, $ithout boastingS and in the doers of the best, there is an inner and in%oluntary #o$er $hich a##roximates literally to the instinct of an animalDDnay, 2 am certain that in the most #erfect human artists, reason does ;:T su#ersede instinct, but is added to an instinct as much more di%ine than that of the lo$er animals as the human body is more beautiful than theirsS that a great singer sings not $ith less instinct than the nightingale, but $ith moreDDonly more %arious, a##licable, and go%ernableS that a great architect does not build $ith less instinct than the bea%er or the bee, but $ith moreDD$ith an innate cunning of #ro#ortion that embraces all beauty, and a di%ine ingenuity of skill that im#ro%ises all construction' -ut be that as it mayDDbe the instinct less or more than that of inferior animalsDDlike or unlike theirs, still the human art is de#endent on that first, and then u#on an amount of #ractice, of science,DDand of imagination disci#lined by thought, $hich the true #ossessor of it kno$s to be incommunicable, and the true critic of it, inex#licable, exce#t through long #rocess of laboriousR years' That journey of lifeRs conIuest, in $hich hills o%er hills, and 3l#s on 3l#s arose, and sank,DDdo you think you can make another trace it #ainlessly, by

talkingP (hy, you cannot e%en carry us u# an 3l#, by talking' Qou can guide us u# it, ste# by ste#, no other$iseDDe%en so, best silently' Qou girls, $ho ha%e been among the hills, kno$ ho$ the bad guide chatters and gesticulates, and it is JPut your foot hereSJ and J=ind ho$ you balance yourself thereSJ but the good guide $alks on Iuietly, $ithout a $ord, only $ith his eyes on you $hen need is, and his arm like an iron bar, if need be' 2n that slo$ $ay, also, art can be taughtDDif you ha%e faith in your guide, and $ill let his arm be to you as an iron bar $hen need is' -ut in $hat teacher of art ha%e you such faithP "ertainly not in meS for, as 2 told you at first, 2 kno$ $ell enough it is only because you think 2 can talk, not because you think 2 kno$ my business, that you let me s#eak to you at all' 2f 2 $ere to tell you anything that seemed to you strange you $ould not belie%e it, and yet it $ould only be in telling you strange things that 2 could be of use to you' 2 could be of great use to youDDinfinite useDD $ith brief saying, if you $ould belie%e itS but you $ould not, just because the thing that $ould be of real use $ould dis#lease you' Qou are all $ild, for instance, $ith admiration of Gusta%e )ore' (ell, su##ose 2 $ere to tell you, in the strongest terms 2 could use, that Gusta%e )oreRs art $as badDDbad, not in $eakness,DDnot in failure,DDbut bad $ith dreadful #o$erDDthe #o$er of the +uries and the .ar#ies mingled, enraging, and #ollutingS that so long as you looked at it, no #erce#tion of #ure or beautiful art $as #ossible for you' Su##ose 2 $ere to tell you that& (hat $ould be the useP (ould you look at Gusta%e )ore lessP Rather, more, 2 fancy' :n the other hand, 2 could soon #ut you into good humour $ith me, if 2 chose' 2 kno$ $ell enough $hat you like, and ho$ to #raise it to your better liking' 2 could talk to you about moonlight, and t$ilight, and s#ring flo$ers, and autumn lea%es, and the =adonnas of Ra#haelDDho$ motherly& and the Sibyls of =ichael 3ngeloDDho$ majestic& and the Saints of 3ngelicoDDho$ #ious& and the "herubs of "orreggioDDho$ delicious& :ld as 2 am, 2 could #lay you a tune on the har# yet, that you $ould dance to' -ut neither you nor 2 should be a bit the better or $iserS or, if $e $ere, our increased $isdom could be of no #ractical effect' +or, indeed, the arts, as regards teachableness, differ from the sciences also in this, that their #o$er is founded not merely on facts $hich can be communicated, but on dis#ositions $hich reIuire to be created' 3rt is neither to be achie%ed by effort of thinking, nor ex#lained by accuracy of s#eaking' 2t is the instincti%e and necessary result of #o$er, $hich can only be de%elo#ed through the mind of successi%e generations, and $hich finally burst into life under social conditions as slo$ of gro$th as the faculties they regulate' (hole aeras of mighty history are summed, and the #assions of dead myriads are concentrated, in the existence of a noble art, and if that noble art $ere among us, $e should feel it and rejoiceS not caring in the least to hear lectures on itS and since it is not among us, be assured $e ha%e to go back to the root of it, or, at least, to the #lace $here the stock of it is yet ali%e, and the branches began to die' 3nd no$, may 2 ha%e your #ardon for #ointing out, #artly $ith reference to matters $hich are at this time of greater moment than the artsDDthat if $e undertook such recession to the %ital germ of national arts that ha%e decayed, $e should find a more singular

arrest of their #o$er in 2reland than in any other Euro#ean countryP +or in the eighth century 2reland #ossessed a school of art in her manuscri#ts and scul#ture, $hich, in many of its IualitiesDD a##arently in all essential Iualities of decorati%e in%entionDD$as Iuite $ithout ri%alS seeming as if it might ha%e ad%anced to the highest trium#hs in architecture and in #ainting' -ut there $as one fatal fla$ in its nature, by $hich it $as stayed, and stayed $ith a cons#icuousness of #ause to $hich there is no #arallel@ so that, long ago, in tracing the #rogress of Euro#ean schools from infancy to strength, 2 chose for the students of Uensington, in a lecture since #ublished, t$o characteristic exam#les of early art, of eIual skillS but in the one case, skill $hich $as #rogressi%eDDin the other, skill $hich $as at #ause' 2n the one case, it $as $ork rece#ti%e of correctionDDhungry for correctionS and in the other, $ork $hich inherently rejected correction' 2 chose for them a corrigible E%e, and an incorrigible 3ngel, and 2 grie%e to say that the incorrigible 3ngel $as also an 2rish 3ngel& X6/Y 3nd the fatal difference lay $holly in this' 2n both #ieces of art there $as an eIual falling short of the needs of factS but the Lombardic E%e kne$ she $as in the $rong, and the 2rish 3ngel thought himself all right' The eager Lombardic scul#tor, though firmly insisting on his childish idea, yet sho$ed in the irregular broken touches of the features, and the im#erfect struggle for softer lines in the form, a #erce#tion of beauty and la$ that he could not renderS there $as the strain of effort, under conscious im#erfection, in e%ery line' -ut the 2rish missalD#ainter had dra$n his angel $ith no sense of failure, in ha##y com#lacency, and #ut red dots into the #alm of each hand, and rounded the eyes into #erfect circles, and, 2 regret to say, left the mouth out altogether, $ith #erfect satisfaction to himself' =ay 2 $ithout offence ask you to consider $hether this mode of arrest in ancient 2rish art may not be indicati%e of #oints of character $hich e%en yet, in some measure, arrest your national #o$erP 2 ha%e seen much of 2rish character, and ha%e $atched it closely, for 2 ha%e also much lo%ed it' 3nd 2 think the form of failure to $hich it is most liable is this,DDthat being generousD hearted, and $holly intending al$ays to do right, it does not attend to the external la$s of right, but thinks it must necessarily do right because it means to do so, and therefore does $rong $ithout finding it outS and then, $hen the conseIuences of its $rong come u#on it, or u#on others connected $ith it, it cannot concei%e that the $rong is in any$ise of its causing or of its doing, but flies into $rath, and a strange agony of desire for justice, as feeling itself $holly innocent, $hich leads it farther astray, until there is nothing that it is not ca#able of doing $ith a good conscience' -ut mind, 2 do not mean to say that, in #ast or #resent relations bet$een 2reland and England, you ha%e been $rong, and $e right' +ar from that, 2 belie%e that in all great Iuestions of #rinci#le, and in all details of administration of la$, you ha%e been usually right, and $e $rongS sometimes in misunderstanding you, sometimes in resolute iniIuity to you' ;e%ertheless, in all dis#utes bet$een states, though the stronger is nearly al$ays mainly in the $rong, the $eaker is often so in a minor degreeS and 2 think $e sometimes admit the #ossibility of our being in error, and you ne%er do'

3nd no$, returning to the broader Iuestion, $hat these arts and labours of life ha%e to teach us of its mystery, this is the first of their lessonsDDthat the more beautiful the art, the more it is essentially the $ork of #eo#le $ho +EEL T.E=SEL,ES (R:;GSDD$ho are stri%ing for the fulfilment of a la$, and the gras# of a lo%eliness, $hich they ha%e not yet attained, $hich they feel e%en farther and farther from attaining the more they stri%e for it' 3nd yet, in still dee#er sense, it is the $ork of #eo#le $ho kno$ also that they are right' The %ery sense of ine%itable error from their #ur#ose marks the #erfectness of that #ur#ose, and the continued sense of failure arises from the continued o#ening of the eyes more clearly to all the sacredest la$s of truth' This is one lesson' The second is a %ery #lain, and greatly #recious one@ namelyDDthat $hene%er the arts and labours of life are fulfilled in this s#irit of stri%ing against misrule, and doing $hate%er $e ha%e to do, honourably and #erfectly, they in%ariably bring ha##iness, as much as seems #ossible to the nature of man' 2n all other #aths by $hich that ha##iness is #ursued there is disa##ointment, or destruction@ for ambition and for #assion there is no restDDno fruitionS the fairest #leasures of youth #erish in a darkness greater than their #ast light@ and the loftiest and #urest lo%e too often does but inflame the cloud of life $ith endless fire of #ain' -ut, ascending from lo$est to highest, through e%ery scale of human industry, that industry $orthily follo$ed, gi%es #eace' 3sk the labourer in the field, at the forge, or in the mineS ask the #atient, delicateDfingered artisan, or the strongDarmed, fieryD hearted $orker in bron9e, and in marble, and $ith the colours of lightS and none of these, $ho are true $orkmen, $ill e%er tell you, that they ha%e found the la$ of hea%en an unkind oneDDthat in the s$eat of their face they should eat bread, till they return to the groundS nor that they e%er found it an unre$arded obedience, if, indeed, it $as rendered faithfully to the commandDDJ(hatsoe%er thy hand findeth to doDDdo it $ith thy might'J These are the t$o great and constant lessons $hich our labourers teach us of the mystery of life' -ut there is another, and a sadder one, $hich they cannot teach us, $hich $e must read on their tombstones' J)o it $ith thy might'J There ha%e been myriads u#on myriads of human creatures $ho ha%e obeyed this la$DD$ho ha%e #ut e%ery breath and ner%e of their being into its toilDD$ho ha%e de%oted e%ery hour, and exhausted e%ery facultyDD$ho ha%e beIueathed their unaccom#lished thoughts at deathDD$ho, being dead, ha%e yet s#oken, by majesty of memory, and strength of exam#le' 3nd, at last, $hat has all this J=ightJ of humanity accom#lished, in six thousand years of labour and sorro$P (hat has it ):;EP Take the three chief occu#ations and arts of men, one by one, and count their achie%ements' -egin $ith the firstDDthe lord of them allDD 3griculture' Six thousand years ha%e #assed since $e $ere set to till the ground, from $hich $e $ere taken' .o$ much of it is tilledP .o$ much of that $hich is, $isely or $ellP 2n the %ery centre and chief garden of Euro#eDD$here the t$o forms of #arent "hristianity ha%e had their fortressesDD$here the noble "atholics of the +orest "antons, and the noble Protestants of the ,audois

%alleys, ha%e maintained, for dateless ages, their faiths and libertiesDDthere the unchecked 3l#ine ri%ers yet run $ild in de%astationS and the marshes, $hich a fe$ hundred men could redeem $ith a yearRs labour, still blast their hel#less inhabitants into fe%ered idiotism' That is so, in the centre of Euro#e& (hile, on the near coast of 3frica, once the Garden of the .es#erides, an 3rab $oman, but a fe$ sunsets since, ate her child, for famine' 3nd, $ith all the treasures of the East at our feet, $e, in our o$n dominion, could not find a fe$ grains of rice, for a #eo#le that asked of us no moreS but stood by, and sa$ fi%e hundred thousand of them #erish of hunger' Then, after agriculture, the art of kings, take the next head of human artsDD(ea%ingS the art of Iueens, honoured of all noble .eathen $omen, in the #erson of their %irgin goddessDDhonoured of all .ebre$ $omen, by the $ord of their $isest kingDDJShe layeth her hands to the s#indle, and her hands hold the distaffS she stretcheth out her hand to the #oor' She is not afraid of the sno$ for her household, for all her household are clothed $ith scarlet' She maketh herself co%ering of ta#estryS her clothing is silk and #ur#le' She maketh fine linen, and selleth it, and deli%ereth girdles to the merchant'J (hat ha%e $e done in all these thousands of years $ith this bright art of Greek maid and "hristian matronP Six thousand years of $ea%ing, and ha%e $e learned to $ea%eP =ight not e%ery naked $all ha%e been #ur#le $ith ta#estry, and e%ery feeble breast fenced $ith s$eet colours from the coldP (hat ha%e $e doneP :ur fingers are too fe$, it seems, to t$ist together some #oor co%ering for our bodies' (e set our streams to $ork for us, and choke the air $ith fire, to turn our s#inningD$heelsDDand,DD3RE (E QET "L:T.E)P 3re not the streets of the ca#itals of Euro#e foul $ith sale of cast clouts and rotten ragsP 2s not the beauty of your s$eet children left in $retchedness of disgrace, $hile, $ith better honour, nature clothes the brood of the bird in its nest, and the suckling of the $olf in her denP 3nd does not e%ery $interRs sno$ robe $hat you ha%e not robed, and shroud $hat you ha%e not shroudedS and e%ery $interRs $ind bear u# to hea%en its $asted souls, to $itness against you hereafter, by the %oice of their "hrist,DDJ2 $as naked, and ye clothed me notJP LastlyDDtake the 3rt of -uildingDDthe strongestDD#roudestDDmost orderlyDDmost enduring of the arts of manS that of $hich the #roduce is in the surest manner accumulati%e, and need not #erish, or be re#lacedS but if once $ell done, $ill stand more strongly than the unbalanced rocksDDmore #re%alently than the crumbling hills' The art $hich is associated $ith all ci%ic #ride and sacred #rinci#leS $ith $hich men record their #o$erDDsatisfy their enthusiasmDDmake sure their defenceDDdefine and make dear their habitation' 3nd in six thousand years of building, $hat ha%e $e doneP :f the greater #art of all that skill and strength, ;: %estige is left, but fallen stones, that encumber the fields and im#ede the streams' -ut, from this $aste of disorder, and of time, and of rage, $hat 2S left to usP "onstructi%e and #rogressi%e creatures, that $e are, $ith ruling brains, and forming hands, ca#able of fello$shi#, and thirsting for fame, can $e not contend, in comfort, $ith the insects of the forest, or, in achie%ement, $ith the $orm of the seaP The $hite surf rages in %ain against the ram#arts built by #oor atoms of scarcely nascent lifeS but only ridges of formless ruin mark the

#laces $here once d$elt our noblest multitudes' The ant and the moth ha%e cells for each of their young, but our little ones lie in festering hea#s, in homes that consume them like gra%esS and night by night, from the corners of our streets, rises u# the cry of the homelessDDJ2 $as a stranger, and ye took me not in'J =ust it be al$ays thusP 2s our life for e%er to be $ithout #rofitDD $ithout #ossessionP Shall the strength of its generations be as barren as deathS or cast a$ay their labour, as the $ild figDtree casts her untimely figsP 2s it all a dream thenDDthe desire of the eyes and the #ride of lifeDDor, if it be, might $e not li%e in nobler dream than thisP The #oets and #ro#hets, the $ise men, and the scribes, though they ha%e told us nothing about a life to come, ha%e told us much about the life that is no$' They ha%e hadDDthey also,DDtheir dreams, and $e ha%e laughed at them' They ha%e dreamed of mercy, and of justiceS they ha%e dreamed of #eace and goodD$illS they ha%e dreamed of labour undisa##ointed, and of rest undisturbedS they ha%e dreamed of fulness in har%est, and o%erflo$ing in storeS they ha%e dreamed of $isdom in council, and of #ro%idence in la$S of gladness of #arents, and strength of children, and glory of grey hairs' 3nd at these %isions of theirs $e ha%e mocked, and held them for idle and %ain, unreal and unaccom#lishable' (hat ha%e $e accom#lished $ith our realitiesP 2s this $hat has come of our $orldly $isdom, tried against their follyP this, our mightiest #ossible, against their im#otent idealP or, ha%e $e only $andered among the s#ectra of a baser felicity, and chased #hantoms of the tombs, instead of %isions of the 3lmightyS and $alked after the imaginations of our e%il hearts, instead of after the counsels of Eternity, until our li%esDDnot in the likeness of the cloud of hea%en, but of the smoke of hellDDha%e become Jas a %a#our, that a##eareth for a little time, and then %anisheth a$ayJP ):ES it %anish thenP 3re you sure of thatPDDsure, that the nothingness of the gra%e $ill be a rest from this troubled nothingnessS and that the coiling shado$, $hich disIuiets itself in %ain, cannot change into the smoke of the torment that ascends for e%erP (ill any ans$er that they 3RE sure of it, and that there is no fear, nor ho#e, nor desire, nor labour, $hither they goP -e it so@ $ill you not, then, make as sure of the Life that no$ is, as you are of the )eath that is to comeP Qour hearts are $holly in this $orldDD$ill you not gi%e them to it $isely, as $ell as #erfectlyP 3nd see, first of all, that you .3,E hearts, and sound hearts, too, to gi%e' -ecause you ha%e no hea%en to look for, is that any reason that you should remain ignorant of this $onderful and infinite earth, $hich is firmly and instantly gi%en you in #ossessionP 3lthough your days are numbered, and the follo$ing darkness sure, is it necessary that you should share the degradation of the brute, because you are condemned to its mortalityS or li%e the life of the moth, and of the $orm, because you are to com#anion them in the dustP ;ot soS $e may ha%e but a fe$ thousands of days to s#end, #erha#s hundreds onlyDD#erha#s tensS nay, the longest of our time and best, looked back on, $ill be but as a moment, as the t$inkling of an eyeS still $e are men, not insectsS $e are li%ing s#irits, not #assing clouds' J.e maketh the $inds .is messengersS the momentary fire, .is ministerSJ and shall $e do less than T.ESEP Let us do the $ork of men $hile $e bear the form of themS and, as $e snatch our narro$ #ortion of time out of Eternity, snatch also our

narro$ inheritance of #assion out of 2mmortalityDDe%en though our li%es -E as a %a#our, that a##eareth for a little time, and then %anisheth a$ay' -ut there are some of you $ho belie%e not thisDD$ho think this cloud of life has no such closeDDthat it is to float, re%ealed and illumined, u#on the floor of hea%en, in the day $hen .e cometh $ith clouds, and e%ery eye shall see .im' Some day, you belie%e, $ithin these fi%e, or ten, or t$enty years, for e%ery one of us the judgment $ill be set, and the books o#ened' 2f that be true, far more than that must be true' 2s there but one day of judgmentP (hy, for us e%ery day is a day of judgmentDDe%ery day is a )ies 2rae, and $rites its irre%ocable %erdict in the flame of its (est' Think you that judgment $aits till the doors of the gra%e are o#enedP 2t $aits at the doors of your housesDDit $aits at the corners of your streetsS $e are in the midst of judgmentDDthe insects that $e crush are our judgesDDthe moments $e fret a$ay are our judgesDDthe elements that feed us, judge, as they ministerDDand the #leasures that decei%e us, judge, as they indulge' Let us, for our li%es, do the $ork of =en $hile $e bear the form of them, if indeed those li%es are ;:T as a %a#our, and do ;:T %anish a$ay' JThe $ork of menJDDand $hat is thatP (ell, $e may any of us kno$ %ery Iuickly, on the condition of being $holly ready to do it' -ut many of us are for the most #art thinking, not of $hat $e are to do, but of $hat $e are to getS and the best of us are sunk into the sin of 3nanias, and it is a mortal oneDD$e $ant to kee# back #art of the #riceS and $e continually talk of taking u# our cross, as if the only harm in a cross $as the (E2G.T of itDDas if it $as only a thing to be carried, instead of to beDDcrucified u#on' JThey that are .is ha%e crucified the flesh, $ith the affections and lusts'J )oes that mean, think you, that in time of national distress, of religious trial, of crisis for e%ery interest and ho#e of humanityDDnone of us $ill cease jesting, none cease idling, none #ut themsel%es to any $holesome $ork, none take so much as a tag of lace off their footmenRs coats, to sa%e the $orldP :r does it rather mean, that they are ready to lea%e houses, lands, and kindredsDDyes, and life, if need beP Life&DDsome of us are ready enough to thro$ that a$ay, joyless as $e ha%e made it' -ut JST3T2:; in LifeJDDho$ many of us are ready to Iuit T.3TP 2s it not al$ays the great objection, $here there is Iuestion of finding something useful to doDDJ(e cannot lea%e our stations in LifeJP Those of us $ho really cannotDDthat is to say, $ho can only maintain themsel%es by continuing in some business or salaried office, ha%e already something to doS and all that they ha%e to see to is, that they do it honestly and $ith all their might' -ut $ith most #eo#le $ho use that a#ology, Jremaining in the station of life to $hich Pro%idence has called themJ means kee#ing all the carriages, and all the footmen and large houses they can #ossibly #ay forS and, once for all, 2 say that if e%er Pro%idence )2) #ut them into stations of that sortDD$hich is not at all a matter of certaintyDDPro%idence is just no$ %ery distinctly calling them out again' Le%iRs station in life $as the recei#t of customS and PeterRs, the shore of GalileeS and PaulRs, the antechambers of the .igh Priest,DD$hich Jstation in lifeJ each had to lea%e, $ith brief notice'

3nd, $hate%er our station in life may be, at this crisis, those of us $ho mean to fulfil our duty ought first to li%e on as little as $e canS and, secondly, to do all the $holesome $ork for it $e can, and to s#end all $e can s#are in doing all the sure good $e can' 3nd sure good is, first in feeding #eo#le, then in dressing #eo#le, then in lodging #eo#le, and lastly in rightly #leasing #eo#le, $ith arts, or sciences, or any other subject of thought' 2 say first in feedingS and, once for all, do not let yoursel%es be decei%ed by any of the common talk of Jindiscriminate charity'J The order to us is not to feed the deser%ing hungry, nor the industrious hungry, nor the amiable and $ellDintentioned hungry, but sim#ly to feed the hungry' 2t is Iuite true, infallibly true, that if any man $ill not $ork, neither should he eatDDthink of that, and e%ery time you sit do$n to your dinner, ladies and gentlemen, say solemnly, before you ask a blessing, J.o$ much $ork ha%e 2 done toDday for my dinnerPJ -ut the #ro#er $ay to enforce that order on those belo$ you, as $ell as on yoursel%es, is not to lea%e %agabonds and honest #eo#le to star%e together, but %ery distinctly to discern and sei9e your %agabondS and shut your %agabond u# out of honest #eo#leRs $ay, and %ery sternly then see that, until he has $orked, he does ;:T eat' -ut the first thing is to be sure you ha%e the food to gi%eS and, therefore, to enforce the organi9ation of %ast acti%ities in agriculture and in commerce, for the #roduction of the $holesomest food, and #ro#er storing and distribution of it, so that no famine shall any more be #ossible among ci%ili9ed beings' There is #lenty of $ork in this business alone, and at once, for any number of #eo#le $ho like to engage in it' Secondly, dressing #eo#leDDthat is to say, urging e%ery one, $ithin reach of your influence to be al$ays neat and clean, and gi%ing them means of being so' 2n so far as they absolutely refuse, you must gi%e u# the effort $ith res#ect to them, only taking care that no children $ithin your s#here of influence shall any more be brought u# $ith such habitsS and that e%ery #erson $ho is $illing to dress $ith #ro#riety shall ha%e encouragement to do so' 3nd the first absolutely necessary ste# to$ards this is the gradual ado#tion of a consistent dress for different ranks of #ersons, so that their rank shall be kno$n by their dressS and the restriction of the changes of fashion $ithin certain limits' 3ll $hich a##ears for the #resent Iuite im#ossibleS but it is only so far e%en difficult as it is difficult to conIuer our %anity, fri%olity, and desire to a##ear $hat $e are not' 3nd it is not, nor e%er shall be, creed of mine, that these mean and shallo$ %ices are unconIuerable by "hristian $omen' 3nd then, thirdly, lodging #eo#le, $hich you may think should ha%e been #ut first, but 2 #ut it third, because $e must feed and clothe #eo#le $here $e find them, and lodge them after$ards' 3nd #ro%iding lodgment for them means a great deal of %igorous legislature, and cutting do$n of %ested interests that stand in the $ay, and after that, or before that, so far as $e can get it, thorough sanitary and remedial action in the houses that $e ha%eS and then the building of more, strongly, beautifully, and in grou#s of limited extent, ke#t in #ro#ortion to their streams, and $alled round, so that there may be no festering and $retched suburb any$here, but clean and busy

street $ithin, and the o#en country $ithout, $ith a belt of beautiful garden and orchard round the $alls, so that from any #art of the city #erfectly fresh air and grass, and sight of far hori9on, might be reachable in a fe$ minutesR $alk' This the final aimS but in immediate action e%ery minor and #ossible good to be instantly done, $hen, and as, $e canS roofs mended that ha%e holes in themDD fences #atched that ha%e ga#s in themDD$allsR buttressed that totterDDand floors #ro##ed that shakeS cleanliness and order enforced $ith our o$n hands and eyes, till $e are breathless, e%ery day' 3nd all the fine arts $ill healthily follo$' 2 myself ha%e $ashed a flight of stone stairs all do$n, $ith bucket and broom, in a Sa%oy inn, $here they hadnRt $ashed their stairs since they first $ent u# themS and 2 ne%er made a better sketch than that afternoon' These, then, are the three first needs of ci%ili9ed lifeS and the la$ for e%ery "hristian man and $oman is, that they shall be in direct ser%ice to$ards one of these three needs, as far as is consistent $ith their o$n s#ecial occu#ation, and if they ha%e no s#ecial business, then $holly in one of these ser%ices' 3nd out of such exertion in #lain duty all other good $ill comeS for in this direct contention $ith material e%il, you $ill find out the real nature of all e%ilS you $ill discern by the %arious kinds of resistance, $hat is really the fault and main antagonism to goodS also you $ill find the most unex#ected hel#s and #rofound lessons gi%en, and truths $ill come thus do$n to us $hich the s#eculation of all our li%es $ould ne%er ha%e raised us u# to' Qou $ill find nearly e%ery educational #roblem sol%ed, as soon as you truly $ant to do somethingS e%erybody $ill become of use in their o$n fittest $ay, and $ill learn $hat is best for them to kno$ in that use' "om#etiti%e examination $ill then, and not till then, be $holesome, because it $ill be daily, and calm, and in #racticeS and on these familiar arts, and minute, but certain and ser%iceable kno$ledges, $ill be surely edified and sustained the greater arts and s#lendid theoretical sciences' -ut much more than this' :n such holy and sim#le #ractice $ill be founded, indeed, at last, an infallible religion' The greatest of all the mysteries of life, and the most terrible, is the corru#tion of e%en the sincerest religion, $hich is not daily founded on rational, effecti%e, humble, and hel#ful action' .el#ful action, obser%e& for there is just one la$, $hich, obeyed, kee#s all religions #ureDDforgotten, makes them all false' (hene%er in any religious faith, dark or bright, $e allo$ our minds to d$ell u#on the #oints in $hich $e differ from other #eo#le, $e are $rong, and in the de%ilRs #o$er' That is the essence of the PhariseeRs thanksgi%ingDDJLord, 2 thank Thee that 2 am not as other men are'J 3t e%ery moment of our li%es $e should be trying to find out, not in $hat $e differ from other #eo#le, but in $hat $e agree $ith themS and the moment $e find $e can agree as to anything that should be done, kind or good, Aand $ho but fools couldnRtPB then do itS #ush at it together@ you canRt Iuarrel in a sideDbyDside #ushS but the moment that e%en the best men sto# #ushing, and begin talking, they mistake their #ugnacity for #iety, and itRs all o%er' 2 $ill not s#eak of the crimes $hich in #ast times ha%e been committed in the name of "hrist, nor of the follies $hich are at this hour held to be consistent $ith obedience to .imS but 2 (2LL s#eak of the morbid corru#tion and $aste of %ital #o$er in religious sentiment, by $hich

the #ure strength of that $hich should be the guiding soul of e%ery nation, the s#lendour of its youthful manhood, and s#otless light of its maidenhood, is a%erted or cast a$ay' Qou may see continually girls $ho ha%e ne%er been taught to do a single useful thing thoroughlyS $ho cannot se$, $ho cannot cook, $ho cannot cast an account, nor #re#are a medicine, $hose $hole life has been #assed either in #lay or in #rideS you $ill find girls like these, $hen they are earnestDhearted, cast all their innate #assion of religious s#irit, $hich $as meant by God to su##ort them through the irksomeness of daily toil, into grie%ous and %ain meditation o%er the meaning of the great -ook, of $hich no syllable $as e%er yet to be understood but through a deedS all the instincti%e $isdom and mercy of their $omanhood made %ain, and the glory of their #ure consciences $ar#ed into fruitless agony concerning Iuestions $hich the la$s of common ser%iceable life $ould ha%e either sol%ed for them in an instant, or ke#t out of their $ay' Gi%e such a girl any true $ork that $ill make her acti%e in the da$n, and $eary at night, $ith the consciousness that her fello$Dcreatures ha%e indeed been the better for her day, and the #o$erless sorro$ of her enthusiasm $ill transform itself into a majesty of radiant and beneficent #eace' So $ith our youths' (e once taught them to make Latin %erses, and called them educatedS no$ $e teach them to lea# and to ro$, to hit a ball $ith a bat, and call them educated' "an they #lough, can they so$, can they #lant at the right time, or build $ith a steady handP 2s it the effort of their li%es to be chaste, knightly, faithful, holy in thought, lo%ely in $ord and deedP 2ndeed it is, $ith some, nay, $ith many, and the strength of England is in them, and the ho#eS but $e ha%e to turn their courage from the toil of $ar to the toil of mercyS and their intellect from dis#ute of $ords to discernment of thingsS and their knighthood from the errantry of ad%enture to the state and fidelity of a kingly #o$er' 3nd then, indeed, shall abide, for them and for us, an incorru#tible felicity, and an infallible religionS shall abide for us +aith, no more to be assailed by tem#tation, no more to be defended by $rath and by fearSDDshall abide $ith us .o#e, no more to be Iuenched by the years that o%er$helm, or made ashamed by the shado$s that betray@D shall abide for us, and $ith us, the greatest of theseS the abiding $ill, the abiding name of our +ather' +or the greatest of these is "harity'

+ootnotes@ X/Y The #aragra#h that begins J2 think 2 can best tell you their ans$er'''J X!Y The #aragra#h that begins J)oes a bird'''J X6Y The #aragra#hs beginning@ 10DDJ2 belie%e, then, $ith this exce#tion'''J 1EDDJQet, obser%e, $ith exIuisite accuracy'''J /0DDJ;o$, in order to deal $ith $ords rightly,'''J 10DDJThen, in art, kee# the finest models'''J

X>Y 5Greek $ord $hich cannot be re#roduced7 XEY ;ote this sentence carefully, and com#are the RTueen of the 3ir,R #aragra#h J;othing that 2 e%er said is more '''J XLY ! Peter iii' ED1' X1Y "om#are the /6th Letter in RTime and Tide'R X4Y =odern JEducationJ for the most #art signifies gi%ing #eo#le the faculty of thinking $rong on e%ery concei%able subject of im#ortance to them' X0Y 2nf' xxiii' /!E, /!LS xix' >0' E8' X/8Y "om#are $ith #aragra#h JThis, then, is $hat you ha%e to do'''J X//Y See note at end of lecture' 2 ha%e #ut it in large ty#e, because the course of matters since it $as $ritten has made it #erha#s better $orth attention' X/!Y Res#ecting the increase of rent by the deaths of the #oor, for e%idence of $hich see the #reface to the =edical :fficerRs re#ort to the Pri%y "ouncil, just #ublished, there are suggestions in its #reface $hich $ill make some stir among us, 2 fancy, res#ecting $hich let me note these #oints follo$ing@D There are t$o theories on the subject of land no$ abroad, and in contentionS both false' The first is that, by .ea%enly la$, there ha%e al$ays existed, and must continue to exist, a certain number of hereditarily sacred #ersons to $hom the earth, air, and $ater of the $orld belong, as #ersonal #ro#ertyS of $hich earth, air, and $ater, these #ersons may, at their #leasure, #ermit, or forbid, the rest of the human race to eat, to breathe, or to drink' This theory is not for many years longer tenable' The ad%erse theory is that a di%ision of the land of the $orld among the mob of the $orld $ould immediately ele%ate the said mob into sacred #ersonagesS that houses $ould then build themsel%es, and corn gro$ of itselfS and that e%erybody $ould be able to li%e, $ithout doing any $ork for his li%ing' This theory $ould also be found highly untenable in #ractice' 2t $ill, ho$e%er, reIuire some rough ex#eriments and rougher catastro#hes, before the generality of #ersons $ill be con%inced that no la$ concerning anythingDDleast of all concerning land, for either holding or di%iding it, or renting it high, or renting it lo$DD$ould be of the smallest ultimate use to the #eo#le, so long as the general contest for life, and for the means of life, remains one of mere brutal com#etition' That contest, in an un#rinci#led nation, $ill take one deadly form or another, $hate%er la$s you make against it' +or instance, it $ould be an entirely $holesome la$ for England, if it could be carried, that maximum limits should be assigned to incomes according to classesS and that e%ery noblemanRs income should be #aid to him as a fixed salary or #ension by the nationS and not sIuee9ed by him in %ariable sums, at discretion, out

of the tenants of his land' -ut if you could get such a la$ #assed toDmorro$, and if, $hich $ould be farther necessary, you could fix the %alue of the assigned incomes by making a gi%en $eight of #ure bread for a gi%en sum, a t$el%emonth $ould not #ass before another currency $ould ha%e been tacitly established, and the #o$er of accumulated $ealth $ould ha%e reDasserted itself in some other article, or some other imaginary sign' There is only one cure for #ublic distressDDand that is #ublic education, directed to make men thoughtful, merciful, and just' There are, indeed, many la$s concei%able $hich $ould gradually better and strengthen the national tem#erS but, for the most #art, they are such as the national tem#er must be much bettered before it $ould bear' 3 nation in its youth may be hel#ed by la$s, as a $eak child by backboards, but $hen it is old it cannot that $ay strengthen its crooked s#ine' 3nd besidesS the #roblem of land, at its $orst, is a bye oneS distribute the earth as you $ill, the #rinci#al Iuestion remains inexorable,DD(ho is to dig itP (hich of us, in brief $ord, is to do the hard and dirty $ork for the rest, and for $hat #ayP (ho is to do the #leasant and clean $ork, and for $hat #ayP (ho is do no $ork, and for $hat #ayP 3nd there are curious moral and religious Iuestions connected $ith these' .o$ far is it la$ful to suck a #ortion of the soul out of a great many #ersons, in order to #ut the abstracted #sychical Iuantities together and make one %ery beautiful or ideal soulP 2f $e had to deal $ith mere blood instead of s#irit, Aand the thing might literally be doneDDas it has been done $ith infants before no$BDDso that it $ere #ossible, by taking a certain Iuantity of blood from the arms of a gi%en number of the mob, and #utting it all into one #erson, to make a more a9ureDblooded gentleman of him, the thing $ould of course be managedS but secretly, 2 should concei%e' -ut no$, because it is brain and soul that $e abstract, not %isible blood, it can be done Iuite o#enly, and $e li%e, $e gentlemen, on delicatest #rey, after the manner of $easelsS that is to say, $e kee# a certain number of clo$ns digging and ditching, and generally stu#efied, in order that $e, being fed gratis, may ha%e all the thinking and feeling to oursel%es' Qet there is a great deal to be said for this' 3 highlyDbred and trained English, +rench, 3ustrian, or 2talian gentleman Amuch more a ladyB, is a great #roduction,DDa better #roduction than most statuesS being beautifully coloured as $ell as sha#ed, and #lus all the brainsS a glorious thing to look at, a $onderful thing to talk toS and you cannot ha%e it, any more than a #yramid or a church, but by sacrifice of much contributed life' 3nd it is, #erha#s, better to build a beautiful human creature than a beautiful dome or stee#leDDand more delightful to look u# re%erently to a creature far abo%e us, than to a $allS only the beautiful human creature $ill ha%e some duties to do in returnDDduties of li%ing belfry and ram#artDDof $hich #resently' X/6Y Since this $as $ritten, the ans$er has become definitelyDD;oS $e ha%ing surrendered the field of 3rctic disco%ery to the "ontinental nations, as being oursel%es too #oor to #ay for shi#s' X/>Y 2 state this fact $ithout Professor :$enRs #ermission@ $hich of course he could not $ith #ro#riety ha%e granted, had 2 asked itS but 2 consider it so im#ortant that the #ublic should be a$are of the fact, that 2 do $hat seems to me right, though rude'

X/EY That $as our real idea of J+ree TradeJDDJ3ll the trade to myself'J Qou find no$ that by Jcom#etitionJ other #eo#le can manage to sell something as $ell as youDDand no$ $e call for Protection again' (retches& X/LY 2 meant that the beautiful #laces of the $orldDDS$it9erland, 2taly, South Germany, and so onDDare, indeed, the truest cathedralsD D#laces to be re%erent in, and to $orshi# inS and that $e only care to dri%e through them@ and to eat and drink at their most sacred #laces' X/1Y 2 $as singularly struck, some years ago, by finding all the ri%er shore at Richmond, in Qorkshire, black in its earth, from the mere drift of sootDladen air from #laces many miles a$ay' X/4Y :ne of the things $hich $e must %ery resolutely enforce, for the good of all classes, in our future arrangements, must be that they $ear no JtranslatedJ articles of dress' See the #reface' X/0Y This abbre%iation of the #enalty of useless labour is curiously coincident in %erbal form $ith a certain #assage $hich some of us may remember' 2t may #erha#s be $ell to #reser%e beside this #aragra#h another cutting out of my storeDdra$er, from the R=orning Post,R of about a #arallel date, +riday, =arch /8th, /4LE@D JThe S3L:;S of =me' "D, $ho did the honours $ith cle%er imitati%e grace and elegance, $ere cro$ded $ith #rinces, dukes, marIuises, and countsDDin fact, $ith the same =3LE com#any as one meets at the #arties of the Princess =etternich and =adame )rouyn de Lhuys' Some English #eers and members of Parliament $ere #resent, and a##eared to enjoy the animated and da99lingly im#ro#er scene' :n the second floor the su##er tables $ere loaded $ith e%ery delicacy of the season' That your readers may form some idea of the dainty fare of the Parisian demiDmonde, 2 co#y the menu of the su##er, $hich $as ser%ed to all the guests Aabout !88B seated at four oRclock' "hoice QIuem, Johannisberg, Laffitte, Tokay, and cham#agne of the finest %intages $ere ser%ed most la%ishly throughout the morning' 3fter su##er dancing $as resumed $ith increased animation, and the ball terminated $ith a ".32;E )23-:L2T<E and a "3;"3; )RE;+ER at se%en in the morning' A=orning ser%iceDDREre the fresh la$ns a##eared, under the o#ening eyelids of the =orn'DRB .ere is the menu@D R"onsomme de %olaille e la -agration@ /L horsDdRoeu%res %aries' -ouchees e la Talleyrand' Saumons froids, sauce Ra%igote' +ilets de boeuf en -elle%ue, timbales milanaises, chaudfroid de gibier' )indes truffees' Pates de foies gras, buissons dRecre%isses, salades %enetiennes, gelees blanches aux fruits, gateaux mancini, #arisiens et #arisiennes' +romages glaces' 3nanas' )essert'RJ X!8Y Please obser%e this statement, and think of it, and consider ho$ it ha##ens that a #oor old $oman $ill be ashamed to take a shilling a $eek from the countryDDbut no one is ashamed to take a #ension of a thousand a year' X!/Y 2 am heartily glad to see such a #a#er as the RPall =all Ga9etteR establishedS for the #o$er of the #ress in the hands of highly educated men, in inde#endent #osition, and of honest #ur#ose, may indeed become all that it has been hitherto %ainly %aunted to

be' 2ts editor $ill therefore, 2 doubt not, #ardon me, in that, by %ery reason of my res#ect for the journal, 2 do not let #ass unnoticed an article in its third number, #age E, $hich $as $rong in e%ery $ord of it, $ith the intense $rongness $hich only an honest man can achie%e $ho has taken a false turn of thought in the outset, and is follo$ing it, regardless of conseIuences' 2t contained at the end this notable #assage@D JThe bread of affliction, and the $ater of affliction,DDaye, and the bedsteads and blankets of affliction, are the %ery utmost that the la$ ought to gi%e to :<T"3STS =ERELQ 3S :<T"3STS'J 2 merely #ut beside this ex#ression of the gentlemanly mind of England in /4LE, a #art of the message $hich 2saiah $as ordered to Jlift u# his %oice like a trum#etJ in declaring to the gentlemen of his day@ JQe fast for strife, and to smite $ith the fist of $ickedness' 2s not this the fast that 2 ha%e chosen, to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the #oor T.3T 3RE "3ST :<T Amargin, RafflictedRB to T.Q housePJ The falsehood on $hich the $riter had mentally founded himself, as #re%iously stated by him, $as this@ JTo confound the functions of the dis#ensers of the #oorDrates $ith those of the dis#ensers of a charitable institution is a great and #ernicious error'J This sentence is so accurately and exIuisitely $rong, that its substance must be thus re%ersed in our minds before $e can deal $ith any existing #roblem of national distress' JTo understand that the dis#ensers of the #oorDrates are the almoners of the nation, and should distribute its alms $ith a gentleness and freedom of hand as much greater and franker than that #ossible to indi%idual charity, as the collecti%e national $isdom and #o$er may be su##osed greater than those of any single #erson, is the foundation of all la$ res#ecting #au#erism'J ASince this $as $ritten the RPall =all Ga9etteR has become a mere #arty #a#erDDlike the restS but it $rites $ell, and does more good than mischief on the $hole'B X!!Y 5Greek text $hich cannot be re#roduced7 X!6Y 2 ought, in order to make this assertion fully understood, to ha%e noted the %arious $eaknesses $hich lo$er the ideal of other great characters of men in the (a%erley no%elsDDthe selfishness and narro$ness of thought in Redgauntlet, the $eak religious enthusiasm in Ed$ard Glendinning, and the likeS and 2 ought to ha%e noticed that there are se%eral Iuite #erfect characters sketched sometimes in the backgroundsS threeDDlet us acce#t joyously this courtesy to England and her soldiersDDare English officers@ "olonel Gardiner, "olonel Talbot, and "olonel =annering' X!>Y "o%entry Patmore' Qou cannot read him too often or too carefullyS as far as 2 kno$ he is the only li%ing #oet $ho al$ays strengthens and #urifiesS the others sometimes darken, and nearly al$ays de#ress and discourage, the imagination they dee#ly sei9e' X!EY :bser%e, it is J;atureJ $ho is s#eaking throughout, and $ho says, J$hile she and 2 together li%e'J X!LY JJoan of 3rc@ in reference to =' =icheletRs R.istory of +rance'RJ )e TuinceyRs (orks' ,ol' iii' #' !/1' X!1Y 2 $ish there $ere a true order of chi%alry instituted for our

English youth of certain ranks, in $hich both boy and girl should recei%e, at a gi%en age, their knighthood and ladyhood by true titleS attainable only by certain #robation and trial both of character and accom#lishmentS and to be forfeited, on con%iction, by their #eers, of any dishonourable act' Such an institution $ould be entirely, and $ith all noble results, #ossible, in a nation $hich lo%ed honour' That it $ould not be #ossible among us, is not to the discredit of the scheme' X!4Y See note X/0Y X!0Y That no reference should be made to religious Iuestions' X68Y 2 ha%e sometimes been asked $hat this means' 2 intended it to set forth the $isdom of men in $ar contending for kingdoms, and $hat follo$s to set forth their $isdom in #eace, contending for $ealth' X6/Y See JThe T$o Paths,JDD#aragra#h beginning JQou kno$ 2 said of that great and #ure'''J

End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Sesame and Lilies, by John Ruskin