That was an idea misbeseeming her station in
life. By the rules of all households, `followers' were fended
ruthlessly away. Her state was sheer slavery? Well, she was not
technically a chattel. The Law allowed her to escape at any time,
after giving a month's notice; and she did not work for no wages at
all, remember. This was hard on her owners? Well, in ancient Rome and
elsewhere, her employers would have had to pay a large-ish sum of
money for her, down, to a merchant. Economically, her employers had no
genuine grievance. Her parents had handed her over to them, at a
tender age, for nothing. There she was; and if she was a good girl and
gave satisfaction, and if she had no gipsy strain, to make her
restless for the unknown, there she ended her days, not without honour
from the second or third generation of her owners. As in Ancient Rome
and elsewhere, the system was, in the long run, conducive to much good
feeling on either side. `Poor Anne remained very servile in soul all
her days; and was altogether occupied, from the age of fifteen to
seventy-two, in doing other people's wills, not her own.' Thus wrote
Ruskin, in Praeterita, of one who had been his nurse, and his
father's. Perhaps the passage is somewhat marred by its first word.
But Ruskin had queer views on many subjects.
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