oicing over the "new style of
architecture" in glass and iron, and its purpose as a palace of art.
Ruskin who had declined, in the last chapter of the "Seven Lamps," to
join in the cry for a new style, was not at all ready to accept this as
any real artistic advance; and took the opportunity to plead again for
the great buildings of the past, which were being destroyed or
neglected, while the British public was glorifying its gigantic
greenhouse. The pamphlet practically suggested the establishment of the
Society for the preservation of ancient buildings, which has since come
into operation.

This summer of 1854 he projected a study of Swiss history: to tell the
tale of six chief towns--Geneva, Fribourg, Basle, Thun, Baden and
Schaffhausen, to which in 1858 he added Rheinfelden and Bellinzona. He
intended to illustrate the work with pictures of the places described.
He began with his drawing of Thun, a large bird's-eye view of the town
with its river and bridges, roofs and towers, all exquisitely defined
with the pen, and broadly coloured in fluctuating tints that seem to
melt always into the same aerial blue; the blue, high up the picture,
beyond the plain, deepening into distant mountains.

But his father wanted to see "Modern Painters" completed, and so he
began his third volume at Vevey, with the discussion of the grand style,
in which he at last broke loose from Reynolds, as was inevitable, after
his study of Pre-Raphaelitism, and all the varied experiences of the
last ten years. The lesson of the Tulse Hill ivy had been brought home
to him in many ways: he had found it to be more and more true that
Nature is, after all, the criterion of art, and that the greatest
painters were always those whose aim, so far as they were conscious of
an aim, was to take fact for their starting-point. Idealism, beauty,
imagination, and the rest, though necessary to art, could not, he felt,
be made the object of study; they were the gift of heredity, of
circumstances, of national aspirations and virtues; not to be produced
by the best of rules, or achieved by the best of intentions.

What his own view of his own work was can be gathered from a letter to
an Edinburgh student, written on August 6, 1854:

"I am sure I never said anything to dissuade you from trying to
excel or to do great things. I only wanted you to be sure that your
efforts were made with a substantial basis, so that just in the
moment of pus