attain a great vogue, and to find many of his ideas and suggestions pass into the accepted political currency. In the main his strength as an economic writer lies where also lies his strength as an aesthetic writer—namely, in his penetrating power of vision. To break down the walls which in a complicated social system hide from men's eyes the actual and ultimate facts was Ruskin's mission. Carlyle called Ruskin's economical essays 'fierce lightning bolts,' and in very truth 'his impeachments (of the existing order) flash on the perceptive sense as lightning on the eye.' His was one of the principal forces of the time in quickening the sympathies and elevating the moral standards of the community. In the field of economic theory the prominence given by Ruskin to some fallacies—such as his denial of the productivity of exchange and his condemnation of interest as distinguished from usury—interfered for some time with the acceptance of him as a serious authority. Moreover, his expositions, though often displaying the greatest logical dexterity, were not presented in a continuous and systematic form. He had a love of paradox and wilful mystification, and it requires some tact to disentangle serious propositions from playful fancies. But gradually Ruskin's work made itself felt especially for its insistence upon the importance of the biological factor in all economic questions; and his writings have powerfully contributed to that recasting of economic doctrine which is still in progress. He insisted (1) 'that political economy can furnish sound laws of national life and work only when it respects the dignity and moral destiny of man; (2) that the wise use of wealth, in developing a complete human life, is of incomparably greater moment to men and nations than its production or accumulation, and can alone give these any vital significance; (3) that honourable performance of duty is more truly just than rigid enforcement of right; and that not in competition but in helpfulness, not in self-assertion but in reverence, is to be found the power of life' (address presented to Ruskin in 1885). Of the political suggestions contained in his economic writings of this period, some have by this time been carried out, and all are now within the range of practical discussion. His principal points were: a system of national education, the organisation of labour, the establishment of government training schools, old-age pensions (for 'soldiers of the ploughshare as well as of the sword'), and the provision of decent homes for the working classes. It requires some effort to realise that this was the programme which forty years ago was howled out of the magazines.
Ruskin greatly extended his influence during the period 1855–70 by lectures in all parts of the country. A complete list is given in Wise and Smart's 'Bibliography.' Exclusive of lectures at Oxford, they number fifty. He lectured at Eton and Woolwich; at the Royal Institution and before various learned societies; at working men's clubs and institutes; in most of the principal towns of the country. Sometimes the lectures were announced to be on art, sometimes on politics, or science, or history, or economics. The titles mattered little. He apologised on one occasion for calling his lecture 'Crystallography,' when it turned out to be on 'Cistercian architecture.' With Ruskin the teaching of art was the teaching of everything. He used the platform as a pulpit. His eloquence was that of the writer rather than the orator. He once told a London audience, with a touch of his peculiar humour, that he had intended to deliver them an extempore lecture, but that the trouble of writing an extempore lecture and then learning it by heart was too much for him, and so he would simply read what he had to say. He was a magnificent reader. The quotations from Homer or from Chaucer or from some other favourite author were declaimed as no other public man, except Gladstone, could have declaimed them. He read his own works with such perfect attention to emphasis and rhythm that they vibrate, like a strain of music, in the memories of his hearers. His voice was not powerful, but had a peculiar timbre, which was at once penetrating and attractive. His old-fashioned pronunciation, with the peculiar roll of the r's, seemed to be in perfect harmony with the mediæval strain in his thought. Everywhere he had crowds hanging on his lips. Even the scientific men whom he loved to denounce came and said, 'Let him roar again.' It should be remembered that nearly all Ruskin's later books were written for oral delivery. He had no space to convince by a long train of argument. His aim was to impress, and often to startle. In a few emphatic sentences he sought to bring his hearers to what he considered the root of the matter. The style he adopted was often too curt and absolute. But it was simpler, less elaborate, less self-conscious than that of his earlier works. 'It is not a style of purple patches, but its whole substance is crimsoned with the passionate feeling that courses through the eager and animated words ' (Norton). An important series of lectures, delivered to various audi-
