Legend
< The British Association (continued from page 10-24) >
Mr. Ruskin strives to encourage natural talent, and holds the idea that nobody who has a special aptitude for any art study should have out of his reach the very best types and forms to lead him on. For instance, there was a young “grinder” in Sheffield, of the name of Benjamin Creswick, who found his way to the Museum, attracted by the drawings and paintings contained therein; he had a natural taste for sculpture, and had been in the habit of cutting heads and busts of his fellow workmen from pieces of grindstones. After making use of the Museum for a little time, he selected some photographs of Mr. Ruskin, and tried from them to carve a bust of the great Art critic. Mr. Ruskin saw that the result displayed so much real genius that he invited him to Coniston to cut a bust from life, and Mr. Creswick succeeded better than anybody else who had previously made an attempt upon the same subject, lie is now studying sculpture in Westmoreland, and is, no doubt, destined to excel in the art.
As regards the work of St. George's Guild, Mr. Ruskin does not expect or desire much immediate result; his first point is to supply each person on the estates with as much land as he can profitably use. He does not aim at any system of equality, but that the best men shall be in the best position, and the- more a man improves the estate the more his rent is reduced, because he supplies more food to the nation than his neighbour, so is entitled to be better rewarded. There is enough land in England to support the population, if there were free trade in land, and the people were not cut off from its possession by artificial and unnatural laws, making them mere lodgers in their native country. These laws keep Ireland in an incessant state of disaffection and agitation, and do infinite injury to the dwellers in the rest of the United Kingdom. If land were to be bought and sold freely, like other property, as in France and other civilised countries, the benefit to the nation would be incalculable. If the pale and sickly dwellers in cities could begin to spread themselves over the land, carrying with them an advanced culture, education, and art-taste, and if they could dwell in the midst of their own gardens, under their own vines and fig trees, national health, morals, and happiness would follow the abolition of the legislation which at present divorces the nation at large from its own soil. Land is as necessary to life as air or sunshine, and nobody dreams of making laws to keep nearly all the air and sunshine of the United Kingdom in the hands of a few hundred individuals.
There is a library in the St. George’s Museum, containing a limited number of well-selected books. Carlyle’s works are among those on the shelves.
I have had some wonderful seances in Sheffield with Mr. F. O. Matthews. Last Tuesday, for about two hours, he continued to narrate to Mrs. Makdougall Gregory and myself some fifteen or twenty of the events connected with our past lives, and without a single error. He gave names of persons, and places, and the details of almost forgotten conversations which had taken place in past years. His powers vary with the conditions. On some occasions only portions of his tests were verified.
On Sunday last week, at one of Mrs. Makdougall Gregory’s private seances at Blenheim House, he gave many tests to the somewhat large company assembled. Here are a few of them given whilst he was in a state of trance:—
I see an intelligence at your side who gives the name of John; he is a man of position and good birth; you were drawn together by a feeling of love and tenderness; he has passed over to the other side and is with you now.—Recognised.
I sec a lady near the head of the sofa; she is a relative of yours and gives her name as Elizabeth; she comes with tender affection and love, and throws over you the protection of a mother’s influence.— Recognised.
A man is present who gives his name as William; he looks real and substantial to us although he is a spirit; you have often wondered where the white winged angel men call Death has conveyed him. There is one with him who died of cancer on the breast, and who was connected with his life-history.—A visitor present said, “It’s my father and my wife.”
Turning to one of the sitters, Mr. Matthews said: “Have you not in your home a round deal table?” “Fes.”—“You get table-moving in all forms and fashions. James and William come to you there sometimes; the communications are sometimes truthful, and sometimes you are mystified.”—Recognised.
I see a spirit here who passed away from earth life in consequence of consumption: she has an intellectual forehead, brown hair, straight nose, and is very pale. She was very dear to you—as dear as a sister; no sister could be more kind or good. She gives her name as Eleanor.—A lady present said “ That is my cousin.”
Mr. Matthews turned to me, and said: “You have brought with you a very old friend, greyhaired, somewhat tall, grey whiskers, straiglitish nose, cheeks sunken, and cheek-bones prominent. He looks like a doctor, and gives his name as Newbould. He is so slightly tethered to the body that he looks like a spirit who has quitted it. He is thinking of you.”
Can you describe the room in which he is sitting, for I have never been in it, so a correct description of it cannot come from my past thoughts?
“He is sitting in a little library-place; there are marble fittings to the fireplace; there are books, and in one comer is some glass. A bust upon a pedestal stands in one corner. I see a small globe. The table is covered with a greenish, almost black, oilcloth, and the carpet is of a dark mixture of colours.”
Can you quote anything from papers on the table or in his pocket?
“No. He is now writing different extracts from books; he has a green and a dark red book; one is on Physiology, and the other on Electricity.”
I recognised Mr. Newbould and the description of him. At the time of writing this, I do not know whether the description of the room is accurate, for <... continues on page 10-26 >