In 1869, having been working too hard, he went abroad for a long
change. On his way back, at the Albergo La Luna, in Venice, he met
an elderly Russian lady in whose company he spent most of his time
there. She was no doubt impressed by his versatility and charmed, as
everyone always was, by his conversation and original views on the
many subjects that interested him. We may be sure he told her all
about himself and what he had done and was intending to do. At the
end of his stay, when he was taking leave of her, she said:

"Et maintenant, Monsieur, vous allez creer," meaning, as he
understood her, that he had been looking long enough at the work of
others and should now do something of his own.

This sank into him and pained him. He was nearly thirty-five, and
hitherto all had been admiration, vague aspiration and despair; he
had produced in painting nothing but a few sketches and studies, and
in literature only a few ephemeral articles, a collection of youthful
letters and a pamphlet on the Resurrection; moreover, to none of his
work had anyone paid the slightest attention. This was a poor return
for all the money which had been spent upon his education, as
Theobald would have said in 'The Way of All Flesh'. He returned home
dejected, but resolved that things should be different in the future.
While in this frame of mind he received a visit from one of his New
Zealand friends, the late Sir F. Napier Broome, afterwards Governor
of Western Australia, who incidentally suggested his rewriting his
New Zealand articles. The idea pleased him; it might not be
creating, but at least it would be doing something. So he set to
work on Sundays and in the evenings, as relaxation from his
profession of painting, and, taking his New Zealand article, "Darwin