The wife of a genius sometimes takes his fits of abstraction for stupidity, and having the man’s interests at heart she endeavors to arouse him from his lethargy by chiding him.  Occasionally he arouses enough to chide back; and so it has become an axiom that genius is not domestic.

A short period of mismated life told the wife of Ruskin their mistake, and she told him.  But Mrs. Grundy was at the keyhole, ready to tell the world, and so Mr. and Mrs. Ruskin sought to deceive society by pretending to live together.  They kept up this appearance for six sorrowful years, and then the lady simplified the situation by packing her trunks and deliberately leaving her genius to his chimeras; her soul doubtless softened by the knowledge that she was bestowing a benefit on him by going away.  The lady afterwards became the happy wife and helpmeet of a great artist.

Ruskin’s father was a prosperous importer of wines.  He left his son a fortune equal to a little more than one million dollars.  But that vast fortune has gone—–­principal and interest—­gone in bequests, gifts and experiments; and today Mr. Ruskin has no income save that derived from the sale of his books.  Talk about “Distribution of Wealth”!  Here we have it.

The bread-and-butter question has never troubled John Ruskin except in his ever-ardent desire that others should be fed.  His days have been given to study and writing from his very boyhood; he has made money, but he has had no time to save it.

He has expressed himself on every theme that interests mankind, except perhaps “housemaid’s knee.”  He has written more letters to the newspapers than “Old Subscriber,” “Fiat Justitia,” “Indignant Reader” and “Veritas” combined.  His opinions have carried much weight and directed attention into necessary lines; but perhaps his success as an inspirer of thought lies in the fact that his sense of humor exists only as a trace, as the chemist might say.  Men who perceive the ridiculous would never have voiced many of the things which he has said.

Surely those Sioux Indians who stretched a hay lariat across the Union Pacific Railroad in order to stop the running of trains had small sense of the ridiculous.  But it looks as if they were apostles of Ruskin, every one.

Some one has said that no man can appreciate the beautiful who has not a keen sense of humor.  For the beautiful is the harmonious, and the laughable is the absence of fit adjustment.

Mr. Ruskin disproves the maxim.

But let no hasty soul imagine that John Ruskin’s opinions on practical themes are not useful.  He brings to bear an energy on every subject he touches (and what subject has he not touched?) that is sure to make the sparks of thought fly.  His independent and fearless attitude awakens from slumber a deal of dozing intellect, and out of this strife of opinion comes truth.