Letter from John Ruskin, Venice, to Samuel Prout, 1846 May 17 : autograph manuscript signed.

Ruskin and his parents often think of Prout, and thank him for his kind inquiries after them. "And for a little bit of comfort to me in particular about Turner--received the day before yesterday in a letter from Mr. Watson." But here in Venice, and in all the last tours of Italy, he is too sad to say a word. Ruskin laments the loss of Italy's picturesque architecture, which is going away like last year's snow, and asks if Prout may come abroad again and discover some new field of the picturesque. "Are foursquare windows with clean sashes and pulley blinds 'a grace beyond the reach of art'?" Is there not in this new mode of decorating the venetian windows a source of some agreeable and novel effect? [Ruskin illustrates his question with a drawing of a window with pulley blinds.] May we not hope for some undiscovered sublimity that may yet be developed in the facades of coffee shops? If not, Ruskin does not see how the artists of the next century are to devise their ideas of the picturesque. The whole notion and conception of such a thing will vanish. There will be no such word in the dictionary. Already there is not a picture to be made in any large town of Italy or France without comparing. The new white houses are disastrously distributed and so placed as to kill three or four birds with one stone. But he ought to except the little square of the la Scala monuments at Verona, which has hitherto escaped all but a scaffolding under its gateway. There is, however, a school attached to the church, and as they let the boys play at ball against the sarcophagus of Cangrande, it is likely that a good many of the statues will find their way off the pedestals and then will be "restored." He excepts also the courtyard of a grocer in Dijon, which he does not recollect among Prout's sketches, and which he hopes to bring home. The sugar casks are very sweetly arranged in it, and there is a gothic stair with wooden carving alongside it, which is highly satisfactory. He hopes that by this time Prout has received his copy of the sections of MP [Modern Painters] which made him so stupid with correcting them that he forgot Miss Prout's book until the last evening before leaving house, when the books were locked up. He hopes that Prout will like these sections a little better than the old ones. Prout will be surprised at there being no mention of him, but will see from the form of these chapters that they did not admit of much particular criticism, and what he had to say is going into the new edition of the book, which he hopes will soon be in the printer's hands. He has only to prop up some disputed positions and add notice of men whom he had neglected like Constable, or treated with injustice like Prout himself. [James Duffield] Harding sent him a letter saying that Turner's academy pictures are nothing but the "shrivelled ghosts of his former talents." He ought to have at least said what the subjects were and what was wrong with them. Ruskin would be grateful if Prout could tell him anything about them, but he would be happy with a word about how they are and about the exhibitions. Ruskin has seen the Times but thinks the criticism worse this year than usual. "It is neat their beginning to haul their wind about Turner--just when Turner is beginning to fail." Ruskin has been sketching very hard as far as a he can get time. But he finds himself sadly weak and incapable. Tormented always because he cannot beat the Calotypes. All the good that he can do is in copying, and the daguerreotype does that a good deal better. It's a blessing that it's obliged to be very dark, as it would cut out hand work. And there is mighty little head work to be had. As for the Canaletto tribe, I think their occupation gone. Everybody's occupation will be gone if this nineteenth century is allowed to have its own way. For nobody seems to care about anything except ice and coffee, and we shall grind and freeze by steam. Not that ice and coffee are bad things, when one is tired and has worked for them. He has not seen which pictures Prout has sent to the Watercolour [Exhibition] and will hope for a little account of them. Harding has a view of the Alps there, which he sketched with Ruskin. It is a pity that Harding always wants to show his touch, for he has great power, if he knew how to conceal it. Any note Prout may send will be forwarded from Billiter Street [the offices of Ruskin, Telford, and Domecq]. [Several illegible sentences due to removed postmark.] They are hard at work on the Palazzo Farsetti, but the choice there was indeed whether to let it fall or not. Ruskin is happy to say that they have taken their scaffolding off St. Marks, and except in the north side have done little harm. They are now busy restoring the Paul Veroneses of the Doges Palace, which they perform very thoroughly--going over them with a palette knife and white paint as a house painter does over a cavernous wall. He does not know how long the heat will let them stay in Florence before going to the Alps. It is worth bearing much of the misery of Italy to get the fresh feeling of that escape, and much of the filth of Italy to get the purity and loneliness of the snow. Ruskin does not recollect from Prout's sketches any of Susa at Mount Cenis. It is full of material and the alpine forms around it peculiarly fair. He thinks it worth three of the Simplon [Pass]. Ruskin hopes that he shall receive a favorable report of Prout's health, or meet him somewhere in Normandy as Ruskin and his parents come back.