Fors Clavigera (Volume 5 of 8): Letters to the workmen and labourers of Great BritainRuskin, John
General
Fors Clavigera (Volume 5 of 8): Letters to the workmen and labourers of Great Britain
Ruskin, John
Aesthetics; Conduct of life; Great Britain -- Social conditions -- 19th century; Social problems; Working class -- Great Britain
And truly to all wholesome deed here in England, the chances of
prosperity are few, and the distinctness of adversity only conquerable
by fixed imagination and exhaustless patience—‘Adversis rerum
immersabilis undis.’ The wisest men join with the fools, and the best
men with the villains, to prevent, if they may, any good thing being
done permanently—nay, to provoke and applaud the doing of consistently
evil things permanently. To establish a national debt, and in the most
legal terms—how easy! To establish a national store, under any legal or
moral conditions of perpetuity—how difficult! Every one calls me mad
for so much as hoping to do so. ‘This looks like a charity, this
educating of peasants,’ said the good lawyer, who drew up the already
published conditional form of association. ‘You must not establish a
fund for charity; it is sure to lead to all sorts of abuses, and get
into wrong hands.’
Well, yes—it in merely human probability may. I do verily perceive and
admit, in convinced sorrow, that I live in the midst of a nation of
thieves and murderers; [62] that everybody around me is trying to rob
everybody else; and that, not bravely and strongly, but in the most
cowardly and loathsome ways of lying trade; that ‘Englishman’ is now
merely another word for black-leg and swindler; and English honour and
courtesy changed to the sneaking and the smiles of a whipped pedlar, an
inarticulate Autolycus, with a steam hurdy-gurdy instead of a voice. Be
this all so; be it so to the heart’s content—or liver and gall’s
content—of every modern economist and philosopher. I yet do verily
trust that out of this festering mass of scum of the earth, and
miserable coagulation of frog-spawn soaked in ditch-water, I can here
and there pluck up some drowned honour by the locks, and leave written
orders for wholesome deed, and collected monies for the doing thereof,
which will be obeyed and guarded after I am gone; and will by no means
fall into the power of the mendicant tribe who, too cowardly and
heartless to beg from the face of the living, steal the alms of the
dead, and unite the apparently inconsistent characters of beggar and
thief, seasoning the compound with sacrilege.
Little by little, if my life is spared to me, therefore, (and if I die,
there will I doubt not be raised up some one else in my room)—little by
little, I or they will get monies and lands together; handful gleaned
after handful; field joined to field, and landmarks set which no man
shall dare hereafter remove. And over those fields of ours the winds of
Heaven shall be pure; and upon them, the work of men shall be done in
honour and truth.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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