On Researching Ruskinʼs Reading in His Youth
Regarding the Ruskin familyʼs ownership or consultation of a given title at a given time, a measure of uncertainty will always be attached to
documentable evidence of its presence in the family library—or for that matter, to the absence of such evidence.
For example, the fact that
John James purchased a book designed for youth does not necessarily mean it was intended for
John;
some purchases may have been intended as gifts for
Johnʼs cousins, especially for
Mary Richardson (1815–49),
who lived with the Ruskin family from
1828 to her marriage in
1848. While
James S. Dearden comments about the family library that
“the books owned by all three Ruskins must be considered to be part of ‘Ruskinʼs Library’ because he ultimately inherited his parentsʼ possessions,
as well as having the use of them during their lifetimes”, one wonders how far the availability, much less the inheritance,
extended in the case of
Maryʼs books.
Dearden is right to conclude with the caveat that,
“although
Ruskinʼs lifetimeʼs library was much greater than it was at any
one time,
we do not know its total extent” (
Library of John Ruskin, xv, xxiv). The most valuable evidence that
ERM can contribute to the question of
Ruskinʼs reading lies
in the edited texts, which can reveal lexical traces of readings that may have left no material trace in the family record.
As
Dearden remarks, in adulthood
Ruskin “was essentially . . . a book‐buyer rather than a book borrower or library user”
(
Library of John Ruskin, xix), a habit that appears to have been inherited from his father,
who was generous with purchases of books for his familyʼs education and entertainment. Still, there is no way of knowing
whether publications that left their influence in the early manuscripts were borrowed or owned,
if otherwise unrecorded as part of the family library in the
1820s–30s. For example,
Felicia Hemans was sufficiently admired for
Ruskin to have transcribed her poem,
“The Sound of the Sea” (
1826) in
MS IVB,
probably based on the text as published in the
New Monthly Magazine. He also adapted passages from
Hemansʼs long poem,
The Restoration of the Works of Art to Italy, published by Murray in
1816, for use in his own poem,
“Saltzburg”.
Yet
Mrs. Hemans is curiously absent from records of the Ruskinsʼ book ownership,
apart from poems included in literary annuals that the Ruskins are known to have owned.
How publications by
Hemans passed through their hands—whether by purchase, borrowing, or just casually encountering a periodical outside the house—will probably remain a mystery.
Borrowing could have provided a means for
Margaret Ruskin to control what books entered the house.
She appears to refer to borrowing, for example, when she writes to
John James about the novel,
The Fool of Quality (
1766–72) by
Henry Brooke (
1703–83). Since she “did not like” the novel,
she “got the first volume merely to read the History of the three little fishes to
John”.
In this instance,
Margaretʼs renewed encounter with the novel led to “the Almighty open[ing] the understanding”,
and she decided to “read it together” with
John James. Perhaps only then was the full work acquired for the household,
perhaps in the abridgement of the novel by
John Wesley
(
Margaret to John James Ruskin, 15 May 1826,
Ruskin Family Letters 145;
Dearden, The Library of John Ruskin, 51 [no. 336];
see
Peace, “Sentimentality in the Service of Methodism”).
On travels, the Ruskins supplemented books they brought with them by tapping resources along the way; for example,
during the tour of
Switzerland in
1833, when
John fell ill, his father and cousin
Mary cheered him up by finding
“some English books from a library” along with “2 or 3 volumes of
Gaglianiʼs Magazine”—that is,
one of the periodicals issued by Librairie Galignani, the Paris‐based English‐language publisher, bookseller, and circulating library,
which published two monthly journals, the
Repertory (ca.
1807–25), and
Galignaniʼs Monthly Review and Magazine (ca.
1822–25),
as well as a daily, the
Messenger (ca.
1814–1904).
Galignani also published a series,
Standard Modern Novels and Romances,
which supplied English travelers and expatriates with contemporary British poetry and prose.
The editions were issued in duodecimo, a size convenient for travel, but printed using excellent type and engravings,
and edited for correct and complete text—in some cases, text more complete and reliable than what could be found in
London editions.
As piracies, the volumes were priced significantly cheaper than corresponding
London editions,
and sold in paper‐covered boards—volumes that could be shared among travelers at a hotel and left behind for othersʼ enjoyment.
Ruskin did retain from boyhood one of Galignaniʼs outstanding volumes in the series
(possibly obtained from a
London seller rather than from abroad)—
The Complete Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats (
1829),
an edition that, at the time of publication, was superior to any British edition of
Percy Shelley,
and the only edition of
Keats available in collected form
(
Diary of Mary Richardson, 1833, 106;
Barber, “Galignaniʼs and the Publication of English Books in France”, 269, 284, 272–74;
Dearden, The Library of John Ruskin, 76 [no. 556]).
Besides the possibility that books were borrowed, another kind of caveat should be applied to
Ruskinʼs retrospective accounts of his boyhood reading.
The authors and titles he mentions in the opening chapters of
Praeterita are not untrue to his early reading,
but his account of how he both loved certain books and resisted others has charmed readers
into fixating on a short list of titles that is potentially misleading. First, the list is highly selective—contrasting,
for dramatic effect, the enforced Sunday reading of
John Bunyanʼs
Pilgrimʼs Progress and
Daniel Defoeʼs
Robinson Crusoe
with weekday “reading of my own election” of
Walter Scottʼs novels and
Homer (
Alexander Popeʼs translation of the
“Iliad”)—but, as shown in
Physical Descriptions of Some Books Used by Ruskin in Youth, these classics were mixed in
Ruskinʼs juvenile library
with works both secular and Sabbatarian that now seem much more ephemeral. Second,
Ruskinʼs retrospection
flattens these readings in time, suggesting that his study even of favored works was both simultaneous and compartmentalized. In fact, even if true that his reading was subject to this weekly division,
his reading was also regulated by competing programs. Moreover, the books themselves and
Ruskinʼs responses to them did not necessarily adhere to the categories assigned to them.
As shown in
ERM commentary and in the
Ruskin Family Letters, the Ruskins, no less than other middle‐class families, attempted to follow
the program of graduated, age‐appropriate reading for children as recommended by educationists like the Barbaulds and Edgeworths.
Yet
Ruskinʼs writings in
ERM also reflect his tendency to buck the program, by reading texts above his years
(e.g.,
Joyceʼs
Scientific Dialogues, which he copied verbatim in
“Harry and Lucy . . . Vol I”, but which are too advanced for that context).
Moreover,
Ruskin and his mother shared weekday reading, in which the religious influences were likely more powerful and memorable to him
(e.g., the
White Lady as a protector of Protestantism in
Walter Scottʼs
The Monastery) than the Sunday sermons he attempted to copy.