He has not been successful in life—­few are who are uncompromising in their manner of life.  When I speak of life, I include art, which is life to him.  I should like you to see what a wonder of light and colour and space and breathable air, he put into his Venus rising from the sea—­refused on the ground of nudity at the Paris Exhibition this summer.  The loss will be great to him, I fear.

You will recognise in this name Page, the painter of Robert’s portrait which you praised for its Venetian colour, and criticised in other respects.  In fact, Mr. Page believes that he has discovered Titian’s secret—­and, what is more, he will tell it to you in love, and indeed to anybody else in charity.  So I don’t say that to bribe you.

Dear, dear Mr. Ruskin, we thank you and love you more than ever for your good word about our Italy.  Oh, if you knew how hard it is and has been to receive the low, selfish, ignoble words with which this great cause has been pelted from England, not from her Derby government only, but from her parliament, her statesmen, her reformers, her leaders of the Liberal party, her free press—­to receive such words full in our faces, nay, in the quick of our hearts, till we grow sick with loathing and hot with indignation—­if you knew what it was and is, you would feel how glad and grateful we must be to have a right word from John Ruskin.  Dear Mr. Ruskin, England has done terribly ill, ignobly ill, which is worse.  That men of all parties should have spoken as they have, proves a state of public morals lamentable to admit.  What—­not even our poets with clean hands?  Alfred Tennyson abetting Lord Derby?  That to me was the heaviest blow of all.

Meanwhile we shall have a free Italy at least, for everything goes well here.  Massimo d’ Azeglio came to see us in Rome, and he said then, ’It is ‘48 with matured actors.’  Indeed, there is a wonderful unanimity, calm, and resolution everywhere in Italy.  All parties are broken up into the one great national party.  The feeling of the people is magnificent.  The painful experience of ten years has borne fruit in their souls.  No more distrust, no more division, no more holding back, no more vacillation.  And Louis Napoleon—­well, I think he is doing me credit—­and you, dear Mr. Ruskin—­for you, too, held him in appreciation long ago.  A great man.

I beseech you to believe on my word (and we have our information from good and reliable sources), that the ‘Times’ newspaper built up its political ideas on the broadest foundation of lies.  I use the bare word.  You won’t expel it, in the manner of the Paris Exhibition, for its nudity—­lies—­not mistakes.  For instance, while the very peasants here are giving their crazie, the very labourers their day’s work (once in a week or so)—­while everyone gives, and every man almost (who can go) goes—­the ‘Times’ says that Piedmont had derived neither paul nor soldier from Tuscany.  Tell me what people get by lying so?  Faustus sold himself to the Devil.  Does Austria pay a higher price, I wonder?