Returning homewards by the Mont Cenis he stayed a while at Talloires, a favourite haunt, extremely content to be among romantic scenery, and able to work steadily at a new edition of his books in a much cheaper form, of which the first volumes were at this time in hand.  He had been making further studies also, in history and Alpine geology; but at last the snow drove him away from the mountains.  So he handed over the geology to his assistant, who compiled “The Limestone Alps of Savoy” (supplementary to “Deucalion”) “as he could, not as he would,” while Ruskin wrote out the new ideas suggested by his visit to Citeaux and St. Bernard’s birthplace.  These notes he completed on the journey home, and gave as a lecture on “Cistercian Architecture” (London Institution, December 4th, 1882), in place of the previously advertised lecture on crystallography.

He seemed now to have quite recovered his health, and to be ready for re-entry into public life.  What was more, he had many new things to say.  The attacks of brain fever had passed over him like passing storms, leaving a clear sky.

After his retirement from the Oxford Professorship, a subscription had been opened for a bust by Sir Edgar Boehm, in memorial of a University benefactor; and the model (now in the Sheffield Museum) was placed in the Drawing School pending the collection of the necessary L220. The Oxford University Herald, in its article of June 5th, 1880, no doubt expressed the general feeling in reciting his benefactions to the University with becoming appreciation.

It was natural, therefore, that on recovering his health he should resume his post.  Professor (now Sir) W.B.  Richmond, the son of his old friend Mr. George Richmond, gracefully retired, and the Oxford University Gazette of January 16th, 1883, announced the re-election.  On March 2nd he wrote that he was “up the Old Man yesterday”; as much as to say that he defied catechism, now, about his health; and a week later he gave his first lecture.  The St. James’s Budget of March 16th gave an account of it in these terms: 

“Mr. Ruskin’s first lecture at Oxford attracted so large an audience that, half-an-hour before the time fixed for its delivery, a greater number of persons were collected about the doors than the lecture-room could hold.  Immediately after the doors were opened the room was so densely packed that some undergraduates found it convenient to climb into the windows and on to the cupboards.  The audience was composed almost equally of undergraduates and ladies; with the exception of the vice-chancellor, heads of houses, fellows, and tutors were chiefly conspicuous by their absence.”

I omit an abstract of the lecture, which can be read in full in the “Art of England.”  The reporter continued: