Fors Clavigera (Volume 6 of 8): $b Letters to the workmen and labourers of Great BritainRuskin, John
General
Fors Clavigera (Volume 6 of 8): $b 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
Assuming my shell to be Helix virgata, I take down my magnificent
French—(let me see if I can write its title without a mistake)—“Manuel
de Conchyliologie et de Paléontologie Conchyliologique,” or, in
English, “Manual of Shell-talking and Old-body-talking in a
Shell-talking manner.” Eight hundred largest octavo—more like
folio—pages of close print, with four thousand and odd (nearly five
thousand) exquisite engravings of shells; and among them I look for the
creatures elegantly, but inaccurately, called by modern naturalists
Gasteropods; in English, Belly-feet, (meaning, of course, to say
Belly-walkers, for they haven’t got any feet); and among these I find,
with much pains, one that is rather like mine, of which I am told that
it belongs to the sixteenth sort in the second tribe of the second
family of the first sub-order of the second order of the Belly-walkers,
and that it is called ‘Adeorbis subcarinatus,’—Adeorbis by Mr. Wood,
and subcarinatus by Mr. Montagu; but I am not told where it is found,
nor what sort of creature lives in it, nor any single thing whatever
about it, except that it is “sufficiently depressed” (“assez
déprimée”), and “deeply enough navelled” (assez profondement
ombiliquée,—but how on earth can I tell when a shell is navelled to a
depth, in the author’s opinion, satisfactory?) and that the turns
(taken by the family), are ‘little numerous’ (peu nombreux). On the
whole, I am not disposed to think my shell is here described, and put
my splendid book in its place again.
I next try my English Cuvier, in sixteen octavo volumes; in which I
find no notice whatever taken of these minor snails, except a list of
thirty-three species, finishing with an etc.; out of which I mark
‘Cretacea,’ ‘Terrestris,’ and ‘Nivea,’ as perhaps likely to fit mine;
and then I come, by order of Atropos, on this amazing account of the
domestic arrangements of a little French snail, “Helix decollata”
(Guillotined snail?) with references to “Cm. Chemn. cxxxvi. 1254–1257,”
a species which “has the singular habit of successively fracturing the
whorls at the top, (origin, that is,—snails building their houses from
heaven towards earth,) of the spire, so that at a particular epoch, of
all the whorls of the spire originally possessed by this bulimus, not a
single one remains.” Bulimus,—what’s a bulimus? Helix is certainly a
screw, and bulimus—in my Riddle’s dictionary—is said to be
“empty-bellied.” Then this French snail, revolutionary in the manner of
a screw, appears to be a belly-walker with an empty belly, and no
neck,—who literally “breaks up” his establishment every year!
Query—breaks? or melts? Contraction or confusion?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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