The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1899-01-18
A RUSKIN LECTURE.
ONE THAT WAS HEARD IN A NOTED
LONDON DRAWING ROOM.

Since Passed Awny-Why Mrs. Bish-
op. the Hostess. Was Not Happy.
For years Mrs. O'Connor Morris Bish-
ops house in Prince of Wales terrace
was rendezvous Of authors and jour-
nalists, churchmen aud politicians, as
we'll as of French men and women Of
distinction. One habtue was Mrs. Au-
gustus Craven, member of the delight
fui De la Ferronnays family, whom one
knows go intimately through her Re
cit dune SGur," and after Mrs. Cra-
ven's death her Life was written by
Mrs. Bishop. In that drawing room in
Prince of Wales terrace great things
were DONE There one heard Coventry
Patmore read aloud his codes" and
MIR. Ruskin lecture to an audience of
guests on the occasion of one of his last
appearances in general society,"
That was in June of tho year 1883.
The professor, as Mr. Ruskin was then
commonly called-aDd the name suited
him who was and was proud to be
teacher-had had his first illness. and
his coming into the world again was
something in the nature of q resurrec-
tion; such at least it seemed to some.
and there was about the whole man
spiritual presence belonging only to
those who in one way or other are dead
to this world. During his illness he
had grown his brown beard. and his
thick brown hair was brushed close to
his head, which is abuormally fiat at
the top, so that at little distance he
looked like the picture of hooded Cap
uchin friar Nor would that descrip-
tion have been one he would wish to re-
pudiate, for the professor had been
dreaming many dreams during his ILL
ness and before it. and once he had
dreamed that he was friar of st. Fran
cis.
After that in actual waking life he
was i'll Rome, and each day on the steps
of tho Pincio. within sight of the win.
dow, which slowly grew "a glimmer
ing square" to the dying eyes of Keats,
he used to give aims to an old beggar
man. The beggar man once kissed his
hand, whererpon the benefactor-all
Englishman and professor though be
was-stooped down on an impulse and
kissed the beggar on the cheek. On the
next day the beggar came to his lodging
with tears Of gratitude and with an
offering-a shred of the brown robe
which had once been worn by ST. Fran
els. Then she professor remembered his
old dream. that be, too, was Francis
can, and he set off to Assist and to the
convent of ST. Francis, where he had
his reward in sight of the frescoes of
Giotto and much more besides.
But now he was back for the moment
in a London drawing room face to face
with an audience of friends. 1t is years
ago. yet what changes, what endings,
what tragedies come to mind as one re-
calls that interesting group! Mr. Lowell
was there, man of the world, man OF
two continents, and hence doubly num-
dane, yet also man of letters. Alas,
mundane now no moro! Matthew Ar
mold was there, mundane. too, by the
measure of the man he had come to
hear. Not of this world any more. Lord
Leighton came late. and came late pur-
poscly, nervc1s lest his sensitiveness
should be shattered by some sally of
that lecturer Of whom. as II critic. it
had once been said, "D-n him, why
doesn' t he back his frionds?" That sem
sitive presence is ours no more. Nor is
that of Sir Edward Burne-.Jones, who
summed himself that afternoon in Rus
kin's favor Miss Jean lngelow, true
woman and therefore cure of Ruskin,
was there, but she is not here. MIR.
Hutton of The Spectator sat beside Mr.
Knowles Of The Nineteenth Century,
contrast in editors. of whom one is tax
en- and the other left, and others Of the
then young generation are of she elder
now-Miss Gladstone, great then as
daughter. and Hallam Tennyson, great
then as son. He perhaps was little
bored by talk about "Francesca's
Book" and took notes Of that blue tie
of tho lecturer Of which he was to tell
us in his fathers future biography.
The lecture was good deal about
Miss Frances Alexander, that American
woman who had then spent half her
life among the peasants of Tuscany,
studying their manners, their songs,
their legends, their religion. Then the
lecturer spoke of children's books
their needed grace, their imagination,
their sweet mission in dealing with
peace, dutifulness and innocence. Kate
Greenaway, he said, he adored, and,
catching sight of coy Lord Leighton, he
congratulated him on having so much
of the Goth in him that he cared tc
show the world the childhood of a god
dess. Lord Leighton was not sure how
to take it, and the professor went on
quickly to say that it was only when
Christianity was fully interpreted to
tho nations that the woman and child
became the center of ali that WAS beau
tiful and pure in nature and in art.
Coming to modern authors, Ruskin -
with whom MIR. Henley would be one
for cnce-paid homage to Dickens ss
benefactor of the child, but no word
had be for George Eliot, an author be
had scorned And all this was gayly
interspersed with denEnciatioLs of rail
way bridges, steam printing presses,
moving machines and Tho Times news
paper.
Mrs. Bishop was a happy hostess that
afternoon or should have been, but
when you congratulated her she only ro-