practical or ethical aim, not only as the immediate motive and ultimate goal of his endeavor, but constantly interfilleted and interwoven with the theoretical tissue, and often interfering with and confusing its consistency, and diminishing or destroying its unity of structure and effective service. On the other hand, the manifestly practical works often suffer from an apparent and obtrusive predominance of preconceived general maxims, resting upon foundations the materials for which seem to be drawn out of the domain of pure theory, and thus have not upon them the impress of the sympathetic observation of practical life. In addition to these broader recognizable causes of complexity, there are, in each separate department and individual instance of his work, similar intricacies and often confusions in the detailed elaboration of tasks and problems, which at times make any attempt at a just appreciation of the work (not to speak of an estimate of its influence) appear almost hopeless. There is much that is good absolutely; still more that is good when severed from its general con

text; more still that is admirable when considered as an individual flash of inspiration or thought or description; and much that is bad, merely because of the false position in which it is put; even some things that are bad absolutely. And, throughout, the student or sympathetic reader (and the two ought to be synonymous) feels that he ought constantly to shift his position and alter his focus in viewing and considering the connected portions of any given work, looking upon a part as a piece of sober criticism and philosophy, while the apparent next link in the chain ought, if real justice were done it, to be considered a painting transcribed into words, or a poem, or a portion of a sermon, or a fairy tale. And one must feel that true justice would only be done to the works of Ruskin if, with infinite labor, some sympathetic and congenial spirit, possessed of much sobriety and system, were to rearrange the whole of the works, and to distribute passages taken from them all under new heads, with a simple, intelligible, and orderly classification.

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In attempting to estimate Ruskin's influence, we must needs be critical of his work. Nor do I in any way propose, even if I were fitted for it, to attempt the task of reorganization suggested above. But for our purpose it is necessary to view the man and his work under several heads.

First, then, I shall consider Ruskin as a writer on art; second, as the founder of the phænomenology of nature; third, as a writer and prose poet; fourth, as a writer on social, political, and economical questions; and finally, I shall endeavor to give a summary of the influence of his work and of the example of his life, as he has made them manifest to the public.

I

RUSKIN AS A WRITER ON ART

RUSKIN's strongest points and greatest achievements are not, I maintain, to be found in the domain of the theory and criticism of art. Though he has shown himself to be possessed of the most refined power of observation and appreciation of even hidden beauties, I believe that this appreciation and refinement of taste are directed, on the one hand, more to nature, on the other, more to the ethical world; and that art as such does not respond to the natural bent of his mind. He is primarily a lover and minute observer of nature and a moral preacher; and the predominance of these two attitudes of mind often stands in the way of the right understanding of art. Before we begin to consider Ruskin's general theory of art, I must point to two acci

dental impediments which would increase the difficulty of his constructing a sound theory of art. The one is to be found in the accepted common meaning or denotation of the term art in England; the other, in the accidental origin and restricted purpose of Ruskin's first general book on art, perhaps his greatest work, namely, Modern Painters.

Many people in England, when they speak of art, merely have in their minds paintings and painters, many include sculpture, many architecture; but few go beyond this. It is perhaps due to the concrete and inductive spirit of the English people, which has also manifested itself, I believe harmfully, in the restricted use of the term science in ordinary parlance, commonly used as synonymous and coextensive with natural science, including, perhaps, the so-called exact sciences. That art includes not only the formative arts, such as painting, sculpture, and architecture, but also all forms of music and poetry, down to the very novel-in fact all man's work so far as it is directly meant to produce æsthetic