The Life of John RuskinCollingwood, W. G. (William Gershom)
Philosophy
The Life of John Ruskin
Collingwood, W. G. (William Gershom)
Authors, English -- 19th century -- Biography; Ruskin, John, 1819-1900
In the next year (1823) they quitted the town for a suburban home. The
spot they chose was in rural Dulwich, on Herne Hill, a long offshoot of
the Surrey downs; low, and yet commanding green fields and scattered
houses in the foreground, with rich undulating country to the south, and
looking across London toward Windsor and Harrow. It is all built up now;
but their house (later No. 28) must have been as secluded as any in a
country village. There were ample gardens front and rear, well stocked
with fruit and flowers--quite an Eden for a little boy, and all the more
that the fruit of it was forbidden. It was here that all his years of
youth were spent. Here, under his parents' roof, he wrote his earlier
works, as far as vol. i. of "Modern Painters." To the adjoining house,
as his own separate home, he returned for a period of his middle life;
and in the old home, handed over to his adopted daughter, he still used
to find his own rooms ready when he cared to visit London.
So he was brought up almost as a country boy, though near enough to town
to get the benefit of it, and far enough from the more exciting scenes
of landscape nature to find them ever fresh, when summer after summer he
revisited the river scenery of the West or the mountains of the North.
For by a neat arrangement, and one fortunate for his education, the
summer tours were continued yearly. Mr. John James Ruskin still
travelled for the business, then greatly extending. "Strange," he writes
on one occasion, "that Watson [his right-hand man] went this journey
without getting one order, and everyone gives me an order directly." In
return for these services to the firm, Mr. Telford, the capitalist
partner, took the vacant chair at the office, and even lent his carriage
for the journeys. There was room for two, so Mrs. Ruskin accompanied her
husband, whose indifferent health gave her and his friends constant
anxiety during long separations. And the boy could easily be packed in,
sitting on his little portmanteau, and playing horses with his father's
knees; the nurse riding on the dickey behind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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