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Charlotte Mason in Modern English
Charlotte Mason's ideas are too important not to be understood and implemented in the 21st century, but her Victorian style of writing sometimes prevents parents from attempting to read her books. This is an imperfect attempt to make Charlotte's words accessible to modern parents. You may read these, print them out, share them freely--but they are copyrighted to me, so please don't post or publish them without asking.
~L. N. Laurio
pg 194
Chapter
18 - We are Educated by Our Intimacies Part II: More Affinities
An
Affinity for Material Resources as Illustrated by John Ruskin's
Opportunities
Wordsworth doesn't say much about affinity for material
resources and the joy of handling and making things. But Ruskin seemed
to be possibly interested in that, which is first evident with 'two
boxes of smoothly cut wooden blocks,' and possibly resulted in his
road-making days while he was at Oxford. He writes:
'Afterwards, I was given a small two-arched bridge that
had impressive wedge-shaped stones and headstones, and level layers of
masonry with beveled edges that dovetailed the same way that the
Waterloo Bridge does. The centrings were well made and there were
inlaid
steps leading down to the water so that this bridge model was accurate
and instructive. I never got tired of constructing it, dismantling it
(it was too strong to be knocked down, so it had to be deconstructed
piece
by piece) and building it again.'
We know that he kept himself busy building a small dam and a reservoir
when he lived at Herne Hill and Denmark Hill. When he was still a
little boy, he scrubbed the steps of a hotel in the Alps with a broom
and a pail of water because they bothered his mother. I think this
shows that his nature was crying out for more opportunities.
Intimacy
with Natural Objects
We don't
pg 195
read that either boy had much intimacy with natural objects, like birds and
flowers. Here again, it seems like Ruskin just never had the chance
because he was deprived of opportunities. All of the flowers that he
knew
were cultivated garden varieties. Is there anything more pathetic than
this? 'My main prayer to the kindness of heaven during the season when
flowers bloom was that the frost wouldn't touch the almond blossoms.'
(Those who have read Love's Meinie
and Proserpine will know
that, later in Ruskin's life, he had compensations that made up for his
childhood disadvantages.)
Wordsworth seems not to have had any special intimacy with flowers
until he acquired it from his sister Dorothy. He writes, 'She gave me
eyes, she gave me ears.' We've already seen that his knowledge of birds
came from the horrid sport of robbing birds' nests. Yet, one day when
he and his wild friends rode to Furness Abbey, he wrote,
'That simple wren sang so sweetly
In the center of the old church
That I could have moved in and stayed there forever
Just to hear such beautiful music.'
Ruskin's
Flower Studies
Ruskin might not have had exposure to a wide variety of wildflowers,
but perhaps he made up for that by giving enormous attention to the few
that did come his way. In the same way that blocks and his model bridge
gave him his first exposure to the principles of architecture, maybe
his early flower studies were what gave him his ability to see and
express detail. He writes about flowers, 'I passed all of my time
staring at them, or staring into them. I pulled every flower to pieces,
not in morbid curiosity, but admiring wonder and fascination until I
knew everything that could be seen with a child's eyes. I used to hoard
pg 196
little treasures of seeds as if they were pearls and beads. I never had
any intention of planting them.' Yet he complains that books on Botany
were more difficult than his Latin Grammar.
Ruskin's
Pebble Studies
Ruskin writes, 'If there'd been somebody to teach me anything about
plants or pebbles, it would have been so good for me.' He loved the
pebbles of the Tay River, and followed up his acquaintance with these
by studying the pebbles at Matlock bath (from the River Derwent). 'I
was ecstatically happy to pursue my studies of minerals by looking at
fluor, calcite, and lead ore that were in the glittering white broken
rocks, speckled with blue-gray lead sulfite that made the walkways by
the hotel garden sparkle, and were also in the hills of the pretty
village and paths along its cliffs. I can't describe the joy I felt
when I was allowed to go into a cave.'
A
Life-Shaping Intimacy
Later, he went up Mount Snowdon in Wales. 'I remember, during the climb
up, that the most exciting part was finding a 'real' mineral for myself
for the first time, a piece of copper pyrite!' This eagerly
sought-after knowledge of pebbles resulted in his life-changing
intimacy with minerals, which led to him writing The Ethics of the Dust.
Ruskin's
Insatiable Delight in Books
As far as Books, we read that
John Ruskin grew up on the Waverley
novels, Pope's translation of The
Iliad, many of Shakespeare's plays, and a lot of other
delightful books. But he doesn't indicate that he ever had the
kind of experience we're looking for--a sudden, passionate, insatiable
delight
in a book that indicates a real connection. We don't see that until
he's
introduced to Lord Byron. He says he first read Byron 'about the
beginning of the teen years':
'Very certainly, by the end of 1834, I was pretty familiar with all of
Byron's works, all except Cain, Werner, the
pg 197
Deformed Transformation, and Vision of Judgment. I didn't understand
them, and my parents didn't think it would be a good idea for me to. I
rejoiced in the sarcasm of Don Juan that I could understand. As soon as
I got into the later cantos of it, I made a firm decision that Byron
would be my master of verse, in the same way that Turner was my master
in painting. I made that decision in the fledgling period of existence
without being conscious of the deeper instincts that prompted it. I
only recognized two things. First, his was the most exact truth of
observation. And, second, the way he chose to express himself was the
most concentrated that I had ever yet found in literature. But the
totally new and precious thing that I found in Byron was his measured
and living truth. His truth
was measured as compared to Homer, and living as compared to everybody
else. He taught me the meaning of Chillon and of Meillerie, and
encouraged me to seek first in Venice--the ruins of the homes of
Foscari and Falieri that Byron wrote about and made alive for me so
that I came to perceive them as real people whose very feet had worn
out the marble I walked on.'
Wordsworth's
Insatiable Delight in Books
Here's how Wordsworth took to his books:
'I had possessed a treasure for a long time--
A little yellow book covered in canvas,
A slender summary of the Arabian tales.
From friends I met when I lived in a new place,
I found out that this beloved book of mine
Was just the tip of the iceberg--
That the Arabian Nights had four whole volumes,
Full of similar content. Truly,
It was divinely promising!
And, from then on, when I returned home
During school vacations, I'd find
The glorious collection of books I'd left
And I'd be in heaven! Often
I've laid
Down beside the murmuring stream of the Derwent River
On the hot stones in the glaring sun,
Reading, devouring as I read,
Wasting the day's glory, I was so desperate!'
pg 198
'They
Must Have Their Nourishment' of Adventure
I can't leave out the advice that comes next:
'A gracious spirit presides over this earth,
And over the heart of man. It comes
Invisibly to works of unreproved delight,
And with a kind intent, it directs those
Who don't care, don't know, and don't think about what they do.
The tales that add charm to sleepless nights
In the Arabian Nights, legends written
For comfort by the dim light of monk's lamps;
Fiction for the ladies they loved were made up
By young squires; endless adventures told
By decrepit warriors in old age,
Out of the memories of the very plans
They had as young men.
These spread like daylight. And they will live
In some form until mankind ceases to exist.
We have unspoken yearnings and hidden desires,
And they must have their nourishment. Our childhood,
In all its simplicity, sits on a throne
That has more power than all of the elements.'
Children
Need to Roam Freely Among Books
And here's more advice:
'Every once in a while, with reluctance, I would stoop
To reading concise themes. yet I rejoice,
And, humbled by these thoughts, I pour out
Thanks with uplifted heart that I was raised
Safe from an evil that current times have put
Upon today's children. This pest
Might have dried me up, body and soul
Right where I was
If, instead of living in an environment of free choice
Where I was allowed to wander through libraries
Rich with mind food, like an open field
Of lush, happy pastures wherever I wanted,
I had been followed, watched constantly, and chained
To the depressing way chosen for me.'
pg 199
Words
Are 'A Passion and a Power'
Later we read about the first time he was captivated by poetry:
'I was ten
Or younger the first time my mind
Consciously enjoyed the charm
Of words in rhyming sequence, and found them to be sweet
For their own sakes, having a passion and a power.
And I enjoyed phrases chosen for their pleasure,
Or impressiveness, or love. Often, on public roads
That were nearly empty because the sun
Was just rising over the hills, I would go out
With a close friend, and for almost
Two delightful hours, we would stroll along
By the still banks of the misty lake
Repeating our favorite verses together as if we had one voice
Or talking together as happy as the birds
That were chirping around us.'
Ruskin's
Sense of Local History
Ruskin's awakening historic sense
seems to be a continual thing, and we can learn a lesson from that
about the importance of places. In his case, historic interest and the
delight of beauty seemed to be the same thing. We've already seen that
in his quote about how Byron's poetry affected him. And here, he writes
about the, 'three centers of thought in my own mind: Rouen, Geneva, and
Pisa. They taught me all I know, and were mistresses of everything I
did from the first moment I entered through their gates.' Before them,
there was Abbeville, which 'ushered me into immediate healthy work and
joy . . . Of course, my most intense periods of joy were when I was in
the mountains. But it was also a happy, unmatched pleasure that I never
got tired of to see Abbeville on a bright summer afternoon, when I'd
jump out into the courtyard of the Hotel de l'Europe and rush down the
street to see the Church
of St. Wulfran while the
pg 200
sun was still shining on its towers. These are reasons why we should
cherish the past--until the end.'
Being
In Touch With the Past is Necessary
But Ruskin's lack of living touch with the past, except when that kind
of touch came through some newly discovered history of a place he
happened to be in, is evident in his account of his first impressions
of Rome:
'The whole of my Latin learning that I had to help me begin my studies
of Rome, consisted of the first two books of Livy, which I hadn't
learned very well, and the names of places that I'd remembered but
never looked up on a map; a page or two of Tacitus, and the part in
Virgil's book about the burning of Troy, the story of Dido, the episode
about Euryalus, and the last battle. Of course, I had read the Aeneid
half-heartedly, but I considered most of it nonsense. As far as later
history, I had read some English summaries about the vices of their
rulers, and I thought that malaria in the Campagna was a consequence of
the Pope. I had never heard of a good Roman Emperor or a good Pope. I
wasn't sure whether Trajan had lived before or after Jesus. I would
have been satisfied and relieved if anybody had told me that Marcus
Antonius was a Roman philosopher who lived at the same time as Socrates
. . . Of course, we drove around Rome and the saw the Forum, Coliseum
and so on. I had no distinct idea what the Forum was, or what it had
ever been, or what the three pillars or the seven had to do with it, or
the Arch of Severus. Whatever the Forum might have been, I didn't care
in the least. As far as I could tell, the pillars on the Forum were too
small and their capitals weren't carved very well, and the houses above
them weren't nearly as interesting as the side of any alley in the old
part of Edinburgh.'
Wordsworth
and Ruskin were Aloof From the Past
Wordsworth was also aloof. He was vaguely aware of
'Old, unhappy, far-off things
And battles long ago,'
but the past histories of nations didn't interest him. According to
what he wrote
pg 201
in the Prelude, even the
anguish of the French Revolution hardly made an impression on him,
although he took a walking tour in Europe and experienced a moment
where,
'The nations hailed their great expectancy
As if they were awakened from sleep.'
But in his case,
'I looked upon all of these things
As if I were seeing them from a distance. I heard and saw and felt,
And I was impressed, but I had no real concern.'
The
Kind of Knowledge That's Learned in Schools
When it comes to the knowledge
that's learned in schools, Ruskin gives some pretty dry details
of his experience in learning Euclid, Latin grammar, and other
subjects. But neither Ruskin nor Wordsworth seems to have been 'pricked
with the rapture of a sudden inspiration' during any of his lessons,
unless Hawkshead Grammar School wants to claim this:
'We have so many joys
In youth! But life is so wonderful
When every hour brings tangible access
To learning--when learning is delightful,
And completely lacking any sorrow!'
But the praise of nature's unfolding season comes after this, and I'm
afraid
it's their lessons that the poet had in mind.
Friendship
Everyone's been interested in the illuminating will of the late Cecil
Rhodes, and I imagine that most mothers and teachers have thought about
the four
qualifications for scholarships [this
was the birth of the Rhodes Scholar.]
The third criteria is 'fellowship,' and the fourth is 'leadership
instincts and an interest and concern for his classmates.' It's good
that a talent for friendship
as an essential element is brought before us in such a prominent way.
That's the rock
pg 202
that Ruskin's education was split on, as he was sadly aware. He never
knew the joys of friendship. The main blessings of his childhood were,
'peace, obedience, and faith--these three were the main good, and,
after
these, the habit of focusing attention with both the mind and the
eyes.' He goes on to list the 'equally dominant disasters':
'First of all, I had nothing to love. My parents were rather like
visible forces of nature to me, no more loved than the sun or the moon,
although I would have been annoyed and bewildered if either of them had
disappeared (and more so now that both of them are gone!) I loved God
even
less. It's not that I had any quarrel with Him, or dread of Him. I
simply thought that what people told me about serving Him sounded
unpleasant, and what I heard about His book didn't sound very
entertaining. I had no friends to quarrel with, either--nobody I could
help, and nobody to thank. Servants were never allowed to do any more
for me than was part of their required duty. And why should I have been
grateful to the cook for cooking, or to the gardener for gardening? My
present conclusion about my general education of those days is that it
was both too formal and too luxurious. At the most crucial time of my
character development, it left me excessively cramped, yet
undisciplined, and that it only protected my innocence, without helping
me to practice doing the right thing.'
As we've seen, Wordsworth, by comparison, lived the life of his
schoolmates with entire abandon.
He was always either with a crowd of playmates, or he was with one
friend. He was only alone during those moments of deeper intimacy that
we'll discuss later. The simple life of his 'beloved Vale' took such
passionate hold of his strong northern nature that neither Cambridge
nor
London nor revolutionary Europe (as we just read) could displace his
earliest images, or give direction to his most profound thoughts. Sir
Walter Scott claimed to be 'intimate with all classes of my countrymen,
from Scottish noblemen to Scottish
pg 203
farmers.' And the result was the Waverly Novels. Wordsworth was happy
to be familiar with the good-natured peasants of his own valleys, and
poetic souls like his own. Maybe such limitations were what went into
making the poet of plain living and high thinking, but limitations are
dangerous [and shouldn't be deliberate].
Paraphrased by L. N. Laurio
Please direct any comments or questions to me by emailing me at cmseries-owner at yahoogroups dot com.
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