The sun., 1918-12-29


down with him TO Hawarden diseoveret
that he had actually armed himself witt
a telegram of recall which he carried il
his pocket, and with the help Of which he
promised himself Ire would escape at any
moment if he found the situation unen-
durable" His apprehensions, however,
proved unfounded; for when the time of
departure came he had almost attained the
stone family.
Ruskin's Vanity.
At this period and throughout the re-
mainder of his life Ruskin was oppressed
by sorrOws and trouble which the friend
ship he then formed with Mary Gladstone
did much TO Tighten. His letters to her
are affectionate and full of emotion but
too desultery 10 furnish much matter ap-
propriate for quotation. In one to "My
darling little Madonna" he signs himself
st. C, which stands for st. Chry-
sostOm (the golden mouthed) a name
given to Ruskin by one of the large coterie
of Englishwomen who rendered themselves
land him) ridiculous by the extravaganza
Of their worship. His vanity in adopting
the name of a saint as a signature is only
surpassed by the vainglory of Victor
Hugo when be said, looking down Upon
Paris from height, The time Will come
and is not far distant when this great
Gty will bear my namer'
The artist is disclosed in some of the
observations concerning nature in these
letters of Ruskins; as where he writes: Il
don't think pretty tree is ever meant
to be drawn with all its leaves on, any
more than day when its sun Is at noon.
One draws the day in the morning or even
ing, the tree in its spring or autumn" And
again where he SAYS 1T is a great grace
of the olive, not enough thought on, that
it does not hurt the grass underneath; and
on the shady grass banks and terraces
beneath the gray and silver of the wild
branches, the purple cyclamens are all
out, not in showers merely but masses as
thick as violets in spring widest pale
red-purple, like light of evening" This
was written from Lucca, after a walk
over the marble hills which look toward
Pisa and the sea.
Burne-Jones and George Eliot.
Next to Ruskin comes the eminent
artist Sir Edward BuIne-Jones, one of
the most interesting of Mary GladstOne's
epistolary friends. His letters are full
of spirit and good sense In one of them he
describes a visit to George Eliot, shortly
after the death of Mr.. Lewes, whom be
speaks of as her husband She was NV
ing at lovely place in the country
near Godalming, in solitary loneliness,
from choice. There is no one living, do
You know, better TO talk to- writes the
visitor, 'fOr she speaks always carefully,
so that nothing has to be taken back or
qualified, in any way, and her knowledge
is really deep, and her heart one Of the
most sympathetic to me ever knew. But
it all looked 50 lonely and wondered she
cared to lie down or get up any more"
In the same letter, referring to Miss Glad
stones trip to Italy, the artist queries
whether ''like all the greatest things m
the world" Venice was painful surprise
to her at first, almost disappointment.
at is the second rate things that win at
first" he thinks, "and the greatest is
always a little painful"
The advice which Sir EdWapd Ruyna-
Jones gave Mary Gladstone in regard to
Venice is as wise to-day as it was forty
years ago. Don't be carried about to zee
things; Venice is the chief picture there
and dent weary your eyes with others;
but get men to row you in and out Of all
the byways and watch every corner you
turn. Windows and archvsys and gate
ways Of the utmost beauty are ready to
greet you at every turn; and don't go into
churches and See pictures this time He
tells her to be sure to row out to the island