Part 10 (1/2)

I suppose _I'm_ the grand Monarque! I don't know of any other going just now, but I don't feel quite the right thing without a wig.

Anyhow, I'm having everything my own way just now,--weather, dinner, news from Joanie and news from Susie, only I don't like her to be so very, very sad, though it _is_ nice to be missed so tenderly. But I do hope you will like to think of my getting some joy in old ways again, and once more exploring old streets and finding forgotten churches.

The suns.h.i.+ne is life and health to me, and I am gaining knowledge faster than ever I could when I was young.

This is just to say where I am, and that you might know where to write.

The cathedral here is the grandest in France, and I stay a week at least.

CHARTRES, _13th September_ (1880)

I must be back in England by the 1st October, and by the 10th shall be myself ready to start for Brantwood, but may perhaps stay, if Joanie is not ready, till she can come too. Anyway, I trust very earnestly to be safe in the shelter of my own woodside by the end of October. I wonder what you will say of my account of the Five Lovers of Nature[29]

and seclusion in the last _Nineteenth Century_?

I am a little ashamed to find that in spite of my sublimely savage temperament, I take a good deal more pleasure in Paris than of old, and am even going back there on Friday for three more days.

We find the people here very amiable, and the French old character unchanged. The perfect cleanliness and unruffledness of white cap, is always a marvel, and the market groups exquisite, but our enjoyment of the fair is subdued by pity for a dutiful dog, who turns a large wheel (by walking up it inside) the whole afternoon, producing awful sounds out of a huge grinding organ, of which his wheel and he are the unfortunate instruments. Him we love, his wheel we hate! and in general all French musical instruments. I have become quite sure of one thing on this journey, that the French of to-day have no sense of harmony, but only of more or less lively tune, and even, for a time, will be content with any kind of clash or din produced in time.

The Cathedral service is, however, still impressive.

[Footnote 29: Rousseau, Sh.e.l.ley, Byron, Turner, and John Ruskin.]

PARIS, _18th September_, 1880.

What a _very_ sad little letter, and how very naughty of my little Susie to be sad because there are still six weeks to the end of October! How thankful should we both be to have six weeks still before us of the blessed bright autumn days, with their quiet mildnesses in the midst of northern winds; and that these six weeks are of the year 1880--instead of '81 or '82--and that we both can read, and think, and see flowers and skies, and be happy in making each other happy. _What_ a naughty little Susie, to want to throw any of her six weeks away!

I've just sealed in its envelope for post the most important Fors I have yet written, addressed to the Trades Unions,[30] and their committees are to have as many copies as they like free, for distribution, free (dainty packets of Dynamite). I suspect I shall get into hot water with _some_ people for it. Also I've been afraid myself, to set it all down, for once! But down it is, and out it shall come! and there's a nice new bit of article for the _Nineteenth Century_, besides anyhow I keep you in reading, Susie--do you know it's a very bad compliment to me that you find time pa.s.s so slowly!

I wonder why you gave me that little lecture about being ”a city on a hill.” I don't want to be anything of the sort, and I'm going to-night to see the Fille du Tambour-Major at the Folies Dramatiques.

[Footnote 30: ”Fors,” vol. viii., Letter 5.]

BRANTWOOD, _16th February, 1881_.

I've much to tell you ”to-day”[31] of answer to those prayers you prayed for me. But you must be told it by our good angels, for your eyes must not be worn. G.o.d willing, you shall see men as trees walking in the garden of G.o.d, on this pretty Coniston earth of ours. Don't be afraid, and please be happy, for I can't be, if you are not. Love to Mary, to Miss Rigbye, and my own St. Ursula,[32] and mind you give the messages _to all three, heartily_.

[Footnote 31: The motto on Mr. Ruskin's seal. See ”Praeterita”, vol. ii.,]

[Footnote 32: Photograph of Carpaccio's.]