Part 18 (1/2)
The blue sky is so wonderful to-day and the woods after the rain so delicious for walking in that I must still delay any school talk one day more. Meantime I've sent you a book which is in a nice large print and may in some parts interest you. I got it that I might be able to see Scott's material for ”Peveril;” and it seems to me that he might have made more of the real attack on Latham House, than of the fict.i.tious one on Front de Boeuf's castle, had he been so minded, but perhaps he felt himself hampered by too much known fact.
But you gave my present before[47] a month ago, and I've been presenting myself with all sorts of things ever since; and now it's not half gone. I'm very thankful for this, however, just now, for St.
George, who is cramped in his career, and I'll accept it if you like for him. Meantime I've sent it to the bank, and hold him your debtor.
I've had the most delicious gift besides, I ever had in my life,--the Patriarch of Venice's blessing written with his own hand, with his portrait.
I'll bring you this to see to-morrow and a fresh Turner.
[Footnote 47: ”Frondes” money.]
The weather has grievously depressed me this last week, and I have not been fit to speak to anybody. I had much interruption in the early part of it though, from a pleasant visitor; and I have not been able to look rightly at your pretty little book. Nevertheless, I'm quite sure your strength is in private letter writing, and that a curious kind of shyness prevents your doing yourself justice in print. You might also surely have found a more pregnant motto about bird's nests!
Am not I cross? But these gray skies are mere poison to my thoughts, and I have been writing such letters, that I don't think many of my friends are likely to speak to me again.
SUSIE'S LETTERS.
The following Letters and the little Notes on Birds are inserted here by the express wish of Mr. Ruskin. I had it in my mind to pay Susie some extremely fine compliments about these Letters and Notes, and to compare her method of observation with Th.o.r.eau's, and above all, to tell some very pretty stories showing her St. Francis-like sympathy with, and gentle power over, all living creatures; but Susie says that she is already far too prominent, and we hope that the readers of ”Hortus” will see for themselves how she reverences and cherishes all n.o.ble life, with a special tenderness, I think, for furred and feathered creatures. To all outcast and hungry things the Thwaite is a veritable Bethlehem, or House of Bread, and to her, their sweet ”Madonna Nourrice,” no less than to her Teacher, the sparrows and linnets that crowd its thresholds are in a very particular sense ”Sons of G.o.d.”
A. F.
_April 14th, 1874._
I sent off such a long letter to you yesterday, my dear friend. Did you think of your own quotation from Homer, when you told me that field of yours was full of violets? But where are the four fountains of _white_ water?--through a meadow full of violets and parsley? How delicious Calypso's fire of finely chopped cedar! How shall I thank you for allowing _me_, Susie the little, to _distill_ your writings?
Such a joy and comfort to me--for I shall need much very soon now. I do so thank and love you for it; I am sure I may say so to _you_. I rejoice again and again that I have such a friend. May I never love him less, never prove unworthy of his friends.h.i.+p! How I wanted my letter, and now it has come, and I have told our Dr. John of your safe progress so far. I trust you will be kept safe from _everything_ that might injure you in any way.
The snow has melted away, and this is a really sweet April day and _ought_ to be enjoyed--if only Susie _could_. But both she and her dear friend must strive with their grief. When I was a girl--(I was once)--I used to delight in Pope's Homer. I do believe I rather enjoyed the killing and slaying, specially the splitting down the _chine_! But when I tried to read it again not _very_ long ago, I got tired of this kind of thing. If _you_ had only translated Homer! then I should have had a feast. When a school-girl, going each day with my bag of books into Manchester, I used to like Don Quixote and Sir Charles Grandison with my milk porridge. I must send you only this short letter to-day. I can see your violet field from this window. How sweetly the little limpid stream would _tinkle_ to-day; and how the primroses are sitting listening to it and the little birds sipping it!
I have come to the conclusion that bees go more by _sight_ than by scent. As I stand by my peac.o.c.k with his gloriously gorgeous tail all spread out, a bee comes _right at it_ (very vulgar, but expressive); and I have an Alpine Primula on this window stone brightly in flower, and a bee came and alighted, but went away again at once, not finding the expected honey. I wonder what you do the livelong day, for I know you and idleness are not acquaintances. I am so sorry your favorite places are spoiled. But dear Brantwood will grow prettier and prettier under your care.
_April 9th._
I have just been pleased by seeing a blackbird enjoying with school-boy appet.i.te, portions of a moistened crust of bread which I threw out for him and his fellow-creatures. How he dug with his orange bill!--even more orange than usual perhaps at this season of the year.
At length the robins have built a nest in the ivy in our yard--a very secure and sheltered place, and a very convenient distance from the crumb market. Like the old woman _he_ sings with a merry devotion, and _she_ thinks there never was such music, as she sits upon her eggs; he comes again and again, with every little dainty that his limited income allows, and _she_ thinks it all the sweeter because _he_ brings it to her. Now and then she leaves her nest to stretch her wings, and to shake off the dust of care, and to prevent her pretty _ankles_ being cramped. But she knows her duty too well to remain absent long from her precious eggs.
Now another little note from Dr. John, and he actually begins, ”My dear 'Susie,'”--and ends, ”Let me hear from you soon. Ever yours affectionately.” Also he says, ”It is very kind in you to let me get at once close to you.” The rest of his short letter (like you, he was busy) is nearly all about _you_, so of course it is interesting to _me_, and he hopes you are already getting good from the change, and I indulge the same hope.