The assertion of Turner’s genius had been necessary in 1843, but Turner was long since dead; his fame was thoroughly vindicated; his bequest to the nation dealt with, so far as possible.  Early Christian Art was recognised—­almost beyond its claims.  The Pre-Raphaelites and naturalistic landscapists no longer needed the hand which “Modern Painters” had held out to them by the way.  Of the great triad of Venice, Tintoret had been expounded, Veronese and Titian were now taken up and treated with tardy, but ample recognition.

And now, after twenty years of labour, Ruskin had established himself as the recognised leader of criticism and the exponent of painting and architecture.  He had created a department of literature all his own.  He had enriched the art of England with examples of a new and beautiful draughtsmanship, and the language with passages of poetic description and eloquent declamation, quite, in their way, unrivalled.  He had built up a theory of art, so far uncontested; and thrown new light on the Middle Ages and Renaissance, illustrating, in a way then novel, their chronicles by their remains.  He had beaten down opposition, risen above detraction, and won the prize of honour—­only to realise, as he received it, that the fight had been but a pastime tournament, after all; and to hear, through the applause, the enemy’s trumpet sounding to battle.  For now, without the camp, there were realities to face; as to Art—­“the best in this kind are but shadows.”

BOOK III

HERMIT AND HERETIC

(1860-1870)

CHAPTER I

“UNTO THIS LAST” (1860-1861)

At forty years of age Ruskin finished “Modern Painters.”  From that time art was sometimes his text, rarely his theme.  He used it as the opportunity, the vehicle, so to say, for teachings of wider range and deeper import; teachings about life as a whole, conclusions in ethics and economics and religion, to which he sought to lead others, as he was led, by the way of art.

During the time when he was preaching his later doctrines, he wished to suppress the interfering evidences of the earlier.  He let his works on art run out of print, not for the benefit of second-hand booksellers, but in the hope that he could fix his audience upon the burden of his prophecy for the time being.  But the youthful works were still read; high prices were paid for them, or they were smuggled in from America.  And when the epoch of “Fors” had passed, he agreed to the reprinting of all that early material.  He called it obsolete and trivial; others find it interestingly biographical—­perhaps even classical.

This year, then, 1860, the year of the Italian Kingdom, of Garibaldi, and of the beginning of the American war, marks his turning point, from the early work, summed up in the old “Selections,” to the later work.