NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE.

A cutting was sent me the other day, from a provincial paper, apparently well meant and conducted, but which in its column of ‘aphorisms,’ having, unfortunately, ventured to lead off with one on political economy, enunciated itself as follows:—

“All capital comes back at last, though sometimes by a roundabout road, to the pocket of the labourer, in the shape of wages. Consumable produce, however, may be dissipated in a thousand ways, in none of which is either the capitalist or the prolétaire benefited at all.”

I don’t happen to know, at this moment, what a ‘prolétaire’ is, and can’t find it in my French dictionary; but will ascertain, by next month; and, meantime, I keep the ‘aphorism,’ being a very curious one, for future comment.

A letter from “a working woman” has given me much pleasure. She says she does not understand my plans; but can trust me. She may be pleased to know that I don’t yet understand some of my plans myself, for they are not, strictly speaking, mine at all, but Nature’s and Heaven’s, which are not always comprehensible, until one begins to act on them. Then they clear as one goes on, and, I hope, my expression of what I can see of them, for her, and all true workers, will, also.

I have an interesting letter from Glasgow, but have not been able to read it yet. A slip of the ‘Glasgow Chronicle’ was enclosed, containing the Editor’s opinions on my modes of selling my books. Not having any occasion for his opinions on the subject, I threw the slip into the fire. The letter, which I have just glanced at, says my comparison of the price of my books to a doctor’s fee is absurd, for the poor don’t pay guinea fees. I know that, and I don’t want any poor people to read my books. I said so long ago, in ‘Sesame.’ I want them to read these letters, which they can get, each for the price of two pots of beer; and not to read my large books, nor anybody else’s, till they are rich enough, at least, to pay for good printing and binding. Even oracular Mr. Grant Duff says they are all to be rich first, and only next to be intelligent, and I am happy in supposing it needs a great deal of intelligence to read ‘Modern Painters.’ But, by the way, if the Editor of the ‘Glasgow Chronicle’ will tell me, why, in these fine manufacturing counties of his, and mine, I can only, with the greatest possible difficulty, or by mere good luck, and help of the Third Fors, now get a quarter of a yard of honest leather to stitch my leaves into, I shall be greatly obliged to him, and will reprint his communication in my best type, instead of throwing it into the fire.

1 Cornutus, quoted by Ducange under the word ‘Baro.’ ↑

2 I am told in the north such pleasant fiction still holds in the Teesdale district; the wife calling her husband ‘my masterman.’ ↑

3 ‘The Book of a Hundred Ballads.’ You shall hear more of them, soon. ↑

4 This singular use of the word ‘free’ in baronial times, corresponding to our present singular use of it respecting trade, we will examine in due time. A soldier who fights only for his own hand, and a merchant who sells only for his own hand, are of course, in reality, equally the slaves of the persons who employ them. Only the soldier is truly free, and only the merchants, who fight and sell as their country needs, and bids them. ↑

5 I always give Mr. Rawdon Brown’s translation from his work, ‘The English in Italy,’ already quoted. ↑

6 Remember, briefly always, till I can tell you more about it, that the first Fors is Courage, the second, Patience, the third, Fortune. ↑

FORS CLAVIGERA.