Discussion
In
“On Skiddaw and Derwent Water”,
Ruskin
made his most ambitious effort to date to engage with the conventions of the picturesque, which first appears in the juvenilia of
1827,
when he gathered poems into a small anthology that he entitled
“Poetry Discriptive”.
That he was consciously writing the present poem in the same mode is implicit in his original title,
“description of skiddaw & lake derwent”.
It is less clear, however, whether he derived materials for the poem from the picturesque journeying. The poems in
“Poetry Discriptive”
originated from a family tour in
1827 to
Wales and
Scotland,
whereas the editors of the
Library Edition believed that
“On Skiddaw and Derwent Water” “must have been based on memories of the visit
to the
Lakes in
1826
(
Ruskin, Works, 2:265 n. 1;
and see
Ruskin, Works, 1:xxv, and
Burd, “Introduction” to Tour to the Lakes in Cumberland, 6–7,
for possible earlier journeys to the
Lake District). Evidence of such an
1826 visit is elusive.
Arguments for dating and mapping the early family journeys have tended to work in circles, with
Ruskinʼs dateable poems
about locales cited as evidence for the journeys that are used to contextualize those very poems. In the present instance, as argued in
Tours of 1826–27, while the
Lakes
was a possible destination in both
1826 and
1827, no direct evidence attests to a visit.
(As also argued, it is possible that an alleged
1826 northern journey might not have occurred at all, but may be a mistaken reference
to an
1827 journey that included
Wales and
Scotland
but not necessarily the
Lake District.)
Biographically, perhaps the most significant influence on
Ruskinʼs composition of his poem was a journey that definitely
failed to materialize. In
1828, the family embarked on a
“great tour”
destined for the
Lakes, but they cut the trip short when they had gotten only so far as
Cornwall,
owing to the death of
John James Ruskinʼs sister,
Jessie (1783–1828).
Ruskin
may have been moved to write about these scenes for
his fatherʼs
1829 birthday
as a compensation for the lost tour, and as an anticipation of the grand tour to come, the
Lake District
Tour of 1830, which the family was probably already planning in
1829.
“On Skiddaw and Derwent Water” is a distinctly joyous poem,
but its point was to dispel memories of grief rather than to record them. (For another topographical poem that may have been connected therapeutically with grief, see
“On Scotland”.)
In light of the association of
“On Skiddaw and Derwent Water” with the aborted
Tour of 1828 owing to the death of
Ruskinʼs
Aunt Jessie, the poemʼs publication in a religious journal, the
Spiritual Times,
owned and edited by the
Reverend Andrews, is understandable. Not that a secular poem was wholly out of place in
Andrewsʼs
periodical, which was only one among several testimonials of the Andrews familyʼs cultivated tastes and social ambition, such as the fine organ installed in
, a building that
Andrews also owned (see
Reverend Edward Andrews [1787–1841]). Like
Ruskin,
the Andrews children participated in these middle‐class ambitions, including making their own books by editing a family magazine, “The Beresford Spy”
(
Anstruther, Coventry Patmoreʼs Angel, 16–18).
In context of
MS II, the
“description of skiddaw & lake derwent” is linked to
Andrewsʼs laughter.
Ruskin did not write the poem for the clergyman, of course, but its composition was contemporaneous with the advent of
Andrewsʼs
tutelage, a “most important aera of my life,”
Ruskin felt
(
Ruskin Family Letters, 200); and the teaching was delightfully entertaining. As
Ruskin characterizes
Andrews in
MS II,
he “makes me laugh almost but not quite to use one of his own expressions . . . he is so funny comparing
Neptunes lifting up
the wrecked ships of
eenaes with his trident to my lifting up a potato with a fork or taking a piece of bread out of a bowl of milk with a spoon”
(
Letter to Mrs. Monro).
In
Ruskinʼs birthday letter to his father accompanying
“On Skiddaw and Derwent Water”,
he devotes a quarter of the space to celebrating the “coming of the tutor”—“What a nice face he has. . . .
I do think to use one of his own expressions he looks best when he frowns next when he laughs and next when he neither frowns nor laughs Every thing he does is nice”
(
Ruskin Family Letters, 200).
As both proprietor and editor of the
Spiritual Times,
Andrews
could do as he liked, including publish writing by his own children—so why not include verse by his merry and precocious new student, as well?
(Reciprocally,
John James Ruskin would later copy verses entitled
“The Brave Hussar”
by
Andrewsʼs daughter, Eliza, in
MS VI.)
However, the writing for the journal by
Andrewʼs eldest son, Edward, while not solemn, was religious
(
Anstruther, Coventry Patmoreʼs Angel, 17);
and it was appropriate, accordingly, that
Ruskinʼs contributions likewise be given a sober coloring, with the addition of conventional pieties
(see
Revision and First Publication). In the couplets added to
Ruskinʼs poem
that avert the gaze from earthʼs beauties, the poem was made consistent with a work by another juvenile writer,
“Lines by a Youth | Not Alone”,
which was published in the
Spiritual Times in the month following
Ruskinʼs
“Lines”. The poem by the anonymous youth holds out comfort to “favourʼd souls”
that “better know / The causes of terrestrial woe”:
When earth‐born toils perplex the soul,
And cares like a wild deluge roll;
When hopes all fail and friends are gone,
ʼTis sweet to feel we are not alone.
We are not alone for Jesus guides,
For all our wants his love provides;
To him each hour for life we come,
Till brought at last to heaven our home.
And while we count the sorrows past,
Ourselves beyond the stormy blast;
ʼTwill be a theme of wonder there
That favourʼd souls could eʼer despair;
Or rather say they better know
The causes of terrestrial woe;
Removʼd from sorrowʼs funeral reign
They recognize the source of pain.
ʼTis sin, ʼtis sin abhorred sprite,
That never haunts those walks of light.
Ah! when shall we to glories rise,—
And endless sabbath in the skies.
But while, O Lord, we dwell below,
While yet our hearts temptation know,
In love forgive our numerous fears,
Let mercyʼs hand remove our tears.
In troubles more than we can bear,
A refuge let us find in prayer;
When here before thy face we groan,
Convince us, Lord, we are not alone.
Thus, in wrapping Ruskinʼs playful topographical poem in a casing, as it were, of conventionally otherworldly piety, the revised
“Lines Written at the Lakes in Cumberland. | Derwentwater” and
“On Skiddaw and Derwent‐Water”, as published
in the Spiritual Times, only called to mind what a closely knit circle of suburban evangelical
households already knew about the deep mourning that had thwarted the Ruskinsʼ anticipated picturesque pleasures of Mount Skiddaw
and Derwent Water—a mournfulness that should not be lost even in the anticipation of recouping that pleasure.
This understanding nonetheless did not lighten Ruskinʼs struggle with revising the poem.
What was the status of
Andrewsʼs short‐lived
Spiritual Times?
In its first issue, the journal announced itself as a “sprightly and elegant” production that would “break out of the trammels in which other religious
periodicals seem proud to confine themselves, and show that even piety may be connected with high talent, and that vulgarity of style is not inseparable
with what are foolishly called high doctrines, and dulness from what more sober persons call Evangelical” (quoted in
Nicoll, “First Published Writings of Mr. Ruskin”).
The tone matches what
Ruskin remarked as
Andrewsʼs signature “expressions” of
“almost but not quite” and of appearing “best when he frowns next when he laughs and next when he neither frowns nor laughs.”
The characterization suggests the phenomenon of miscellaneity that
David Stewart has remarked in the
London magazine culture of the
1820s,
as a conviction of knowledge as “contained within a single intellectual structure” was relinquished for an idea of knowledge as
“divided between a large number of distinct divisions”
(
Stewart, Romantic Magazines and Metropolitan Literary Culture, 5).
It is possible that
Ruskin intended the handmade pamphlet,
MS II,
to reflect this eclectic magazine culture, combining, as it does, poems and sermons, an Edgeworthian lesson and a religious piece entitled "a theme", a start on a play,
and letters to family and friends as if corresponding with a subscribership.
In avoiding the pitfalls of sectarianism and the reputaton of Nonconformists for stiff‐necked resistence to the worldliness of learning and cultivation,
the journalʼs mission appears comparable to that of the more successful Congregational magazine, the
Eclectic Review
(1805–68), which likewise stood for a broad cultivation of literature combined with evangelical seriousness. In the
Eclecticʼs
first years, regular contributors included the essayist,
John Foster (1770–1843), and the poet,
James Montgomery (1771–1854). Theologically and politically, the
Eclectic
sought to bridge the gap between Dissent and Establishment—an “eclectic” stance that the journal itself proved unable to maintain,
driven eventually to promoting more decisively Nonconformist interests of civic and religious liberty
(
Hiller, “Eclectic Review”, 179–86).
David Stewart proposes that Romantic magazines, rather than becoming trapped in bunkered positions as culture fissured into
competing disciplines and positions, sought a heterogeneous audience who in turn positioned itself in relation to a magazine culture and not just a single organ of opinion
(
Stewart, Romantic Magazines and Metropolitan Literary Culture, 7–8).
The growing predicament of the
Eclectic illustrates how precarious an
“almost but not quite” demeanor could prove in the turbulent period of reform. The
Patriot (1832–66),
another heterogeneous periodical operated jointly by interests of Congregationalists and Baptists,
struggled to build adequate support on a nationwide subscriber base of Dissenters who upheld loyalty to voluntaryism on the question of Church Establishment,
but who shrank from identifying with radical Dissent. The newspaperʼs trustees turned to the experienced journalist,
Josiah Conder (1789–1855),
already editor of the
Eclectic Review, to increase subscription,
but the
Patriot nonetheless almost foundered along with its editor
because
Conder was perceived as too soft on the question of Establishment even in the view of moderates,
must less of the radical voluntaryists (
Cooper, “Dissenters and National Journalism”).
Given that the weekly
Patriot and monthly
Eclectic
survived only by virtue of deft political and theological positioning, not to mention the hugely energetic labors of professional journalists like
Conder,
no wonder that the modest
Spiritual Times failed to summon adequate support. Add to this
the scale of the competition, with four thousand journal titles estimated to have been founded in
Britain
between 1790 and 1832, and
Andrews was soon forced to shut down the costly venture
within the first year of his magazineʼs publication
(
Anstruther, Coventry Patmoreʼs Angel, 16;
Klancher, Making of English Reading Audiences, ix).
The ephemerality of
Andrewsʼs journal may account for the relative unimportance that the Ruskins appear to have attached to
Johnʼs first publication. Yet, while the Ruskins would seek loftier venues for
Johnʼs
subsequent boyhood publications, a feature of this first effort persisted in the familyʼs tendency to gravitate to publishers with whom they could establish
a personal connection such as a shared Scottish heritage. In about four years,
Ruskinʼs two poems in the
Spiritual Times would be almost forgotten, dimmed by the splendor surrounding the appearance of his poems,
“Fragments from a Metrical Journal” and
“Saltzburg”
(the latter complemented by a vedute of the city, engraved in steel), in the highly popular annual
Friendshipʼs Offering;
and the contribution of his prose piece,
“Enquiries on the Causes of the Colour of the Water of the Rhine”,
to
J. C. Loudonʼs
Magazine of Natural History.
Nonetheless, leading up to these publications, the Ruskins sought the mentorship of men of letters who, while more celebrated than
Andrews,
had like him visited the Ruskinsʼ suburban home,
Herne Hill—the poet and editor,
Thomas Pringle (1789–1834); the author,
James Hogg (ca. 1770–1835); and the publisher,
Alexander Elder (1790–1876). All were Scotsmen; and
Elderʼs publishing firm,
Smith, Elder, even employed
Ruskinʼs cousin,
Charles Thomas Richardson (1811–34), as a shop boy. These professional yet
also personal acquaintances would help to shape the literary persona known as , which had already gotten his start as
in the
Spiritual Times.
In
1829, not only could the Ruskins claim personal connections with
Andrews, but the
Walworth preacher could impress them with his own share of fame. He was a rising star in the metropolitan pulpit,
an eloquent and popular clergyman whose dashing appearance commanded no fewer than a dozen painted, engraved, and sculpted portraits in his lifetime
(
Anstruther, Coventry Patmoreʼs Angel, 123–24).
“What a nice face he has,“ commented the young
John Ruskin. Yet, unlike the distinguished Scotsmen who ushered
into the limelight in
1834–35,
Andrews fell from grace. Perhaps the main discouragement to giving
Ruskinʼs first
publication its full due was the pronouncement by the elder Ruskins in
1831 that, while “the Dr. has wonderful talents . . .
he is certainly fighty” and on his way to compromising “his respectability and fortune and prevent[ing] his filling that place in society his talents entitle him to”
(
Ruskin Family Letters, 200, 243; and see
Reverend Edward Andrews [1787–1841]).
It must have seemed intolerable that the literary birth of could have been attended by anything less than
the most solid assurances of success, much less the want of respectability.