Dr Stuart Eagles, for many years Secretary of The Ruskin Society and the Guild of St George, has written eloquently on this website of the impact of Ruskin's work on his thinking and indeed his life ("How I came to Ruskin"). Dr Eagles is also the author of, among others, After Ruskin, published by Oxford University Press in 2011. This time he has turned his gaze on a married couple for whom Ruskin was still a living and doubtless even more inspirational presence, delving into the long correspondence (200 and more letters) between the "Master" and Henry and Emily Swan between 1855 and 1887. The couple became not only Ruskin's friends but also, as Eagles' title indicates, the "faithful stewards" of his legacy. The portrait that emerges gives a wide range of entries into a challenging subject.
Born in Devizes in Wiltshire, Henry Swan (1825-1889), the middle child of seven, was energetic, with many different interests, and capable of stout-hearted and selfless dedication to worthy causes. His character may be gauged by an incident in his boyhood when, perhaps for the second time in his young life, he saved another child from drowning. On this occasion he was awarded a medal by the Royal Humane Society. Apprenticed to a printer as a printing engraver, he spent his early adulthood in London, branching out into such areas as shorthand, spelling reform, and music notation. At least one of his interests, boomerang-throwing, now seems eccentric, but others, notably vegetarianism and cycling, would be widely shared in our own times.
With an obvious appetite and inclination for self-improvement, Swan first met Ruskin when attending his drawing classes at the Working Men's College in London, and it has been suggested that he was involved with others of his circle in the decoration of the Oxford Union Debating Hall and the Museum of Natural History in Oxford — although Eagles is sceptical about both theories. But, later on, Swan was definitely the ideal person to serve as the curator of Ruskin's various art-treasures. A selection of these treasures, ranging from paintings to hand-crafted furniture items and glittering mineralogical specimens, was on show in the capital at Two Temple Place in 2019 (John Ruskin: The Power of Seeing), allowing many of us to admire them at first hand. But their real home is further north. They were originally housed in a cottage in Walkley, on the outskirts of Sheffield. The idea was for working men of the area to have access to the rich cultural heritage that they represented.
The roots of the project lay in Ruskin's deeply held beliefs, summed up very usefully in Eagles' brief "Preliminary Note," and further condensed at the end of the note: "Above all, Ruskin's gospel taught that we have inherited the earth and that we must be careful to preserve Life upon it, with all its powers of love, joy and admiration. Our most sacred duty as human beings is to be model custodians and exemplary stewards who bequeath to future generations something even greater than we inherited" (3). However, fate also played a part at the beginning of the project: Henry, now a married man, had come to the area with his wife Emily (née Connell, 1835-1909) in about 1873, most probably to pursue his interest in metal-engraving; and this is where Ruskin came to visit his former student, and saw the potential for realising his own vision. He duly installed the couple in a cottage, high in the hills, which would hold a collection that would serve as a veritable "cultural beacon" to inspire impressionable artisans (72). Henry and Emily were officially appointed curators of "St George's Museum" in late 1875, moving in very soon afterwards and occupying the lower rooms. By the following spring the museum was open to the curious, free of charge, with Ruskin himself giving instructions on its displays, and Emily, in what was a close partnership, participating alongside her husband.
Left: Exterior of the St. George's Museum, Walkley. Source: Edward Tyas Cook's introduction to Ruskin's Works Vol. 30, in the Internet Archive.
The available space soon filled up and indeed proved inadequate. There were other problems: for instance, Henry soon found himself trying to liaise between Ruskin, with his paternalistic idealism, and local workmen who espoused more radical beliefs. Emily, bringing up her children alongside her work for the museum, was a sensitive soul who would suffer the kind of instability that plagued Ruskin in his last years. But, in general, the venture itself was a success. Henry prepared a list of the pictures in the collection in 1879; Henry and Emily became important figures in the spreading of Ruskin's ideas in Sheffield, taking active roles in the short-lived Ruskin Society of that time; and the Swans' son Howard eventually prepared at least a partial catalogue in 1887.
The earliest known photograph of the upper room at Walkley, hinting at the way the collection filled and then outran its space. Source: Robert Hewison's John Ruskin: The Argument of the Eye, Plate 50.
The museum's influence on those who visited is hard to quantify. But it is certain that the knowledgable and courteous Henry furthered this influence, and some examples have come down to us of individuals who clearly derived much benefit from it. One that we know of is Benjamin Creswick, described by Howard later as "a grinder-lad of genius, the spark blown into flame here" (qtd. p.79). So well-known did the museum become that even cultural icons like William Morris and Oscar Wilde, the latter still in his heyday, came to visit.
Naturally, in view of the variety of Henry Swan's interests, there is much more to the Swans' story than curatorship. The vegetable allotment in the museum's grounds bore witness to their continuing practice and support of vegetarianism (the subject of Eagles' fourth chapter), and, in line with their beliefs, their children were brought up as Quakers (Quakerism is the subject of the sixth chapter). Chapter Eight is devoted to Swan's innovatory work on stereoscopy, where he made important first steps towards the creation of what we now call virtual reality. In fact, there is something for every Victorianist in this account of the Swans' busy life.
Sadly, however, having lost their youngest son to suicide in late 1886, the Swans entered on a period of decline, with Henry dying in 1889, and Emily, after an unsettled and troubled widowhood, dying in 1909 in a Quaker institution called The Retreat. As for St George's Museum, its connection with Walkley was "effectively severed by Swan's death" (112). It closed its doors in 1890, the collection finding its present home in Sheffield's Millenium Gallery in 2001.
There is much here for Ruskin scholars and enthusiasts alike to enjoy. For the uninitiated, Eagles has provided a gentle, thoroughly readable and informative introduction not only to the Swans themselves, who are delineated with understanding and empathy, but to Ruskin's ideas, and how he hoped they might be propagated for the benefit of society at large. Later generations have been far from the "model custodians and exemplary stewards" that the Swans were, and that Ruskin had hoped many others would be, but a book like this might at least inspire us to appreciate what we still have, and try our best to preserve it.
Links to Related Material
- "How I came to Ruskin" (by Stuart Eagles)
- Chapter Seven: Action, in Robert Hewison's John Ruskin: The Argument of the Eye (A Victorian Web book)
- John Ruskin: The Power of Seeing (exhibition review)
- Benjamin Creswick (review of a book by Annie Creswick Dawson, with Paul Dawson)
Bibliography
Eagles, Stuart. Ruskin's Faithful Stewards, Henry and Emily Swan. Reading: Ruskin Research Blog (www.stuarteagles.co.uk/blog), 2024. Pbk. 168 pp., with 20 black and white illustrations, £20. ISBN 978-1-3999-9049-3
Created 6 September 2024