Readers of “Fors” had traced for some years back the re-awakening of a religious tone, now culminating in a pronounced mysticism which they could not understand, and in a recantation of the sceptical judgments of his middle period.  He found, now, new excellences in the early Christian painting; he depreciated Turner and Tintoret, and denounced the frivolous art of the day.  He searched the Bible more diligently than ever for its hidden meanings; and in proportion as he felt its inspiration, he recoiled from the conclusions of modern science, and wrapped the prophet’s mantle more closely round him, as he denounced with growing fervour the crimes of our unbelieving age.

CHAPTER V

DEUCALION AND PROSERPINA (1877-1879)

In the summer of 1875, Ruskin had written: 

“I begin to ask myself, with somewhat pressing arithmetic, how much time is likely to be left me, at the age of fifty-six, to complete the various designs for which, until past fifty, I was merely collecting material.  Of these materials I have now enough by me for a most interesting (in my own opinion) history of fifteenth century Florentine Art, in six octavo volumes; an analysis of the Attic art of the fifth century B.C. in three volumes; an exhaustive history of northern thirteenth-century art, in ten volumes; a life of Sir Walter Scott, with analysis of modern epic art, in seven volumes; a life of Xenophon, with analysis of the general principles of education, in ten volumes; a commentary on Hesiod, with final analysis of the principles of Political Economy, in nine volumes; and a general description of the geology and botany of the Alps, in twenty-four volumes.”

The estimate of volumes was—­perhaps—­in jest; but the plans for harvesting his material were in earnest.

“Proserpina”—­so named from the Flora of the Greeks, the daughter of Demeter, Mother Earth—­grew out of notes already begun in 1866.  It was little like an ordinary botany book;—­that was to be expected.  It did not dissect plants; it did not give chemical or histological analysis:  but with bright and curious fancy, with the most ingenious diagrams and perfect drawings—­beautifully engraved by Burgess and Allen—­illustrated the mystery of growth in plants and the tender beauty of their form.  Though this was not science, in strict terms it was a field of work which no one but Ruskin had cultivated.  He was helped by a few scientific men like Professor Oliver, who saw a value in his line of thought, and showed a kindly interest in it.

“Deucalion”—­from the mythical creator of human life out of stones—­was begun as a companion work:  to be published in parts, as the repertory of Oxford lectures on Alpine form, and notes on all kinds of kindred subjects.  For instance, before that hasty journey to Sheffield he gave a lecture at the London Institution on “Precious Stones” (February 17th, repeated March 28th,