He need fear no exile; every land is his home.

No foreign tongue can confuse him; his thoughts find a medium of expression intelligible to all.

Wars have no terror for him; he paints them, but takes no part in them.

Storms and tempests, by land or sea, speak to him not of danger, but are merely the symbols of nature's ever-varying moods.
Popular insurrections furnish his canvas with picturesque groupings of animated humanity.

Though all Rome surge with uproar about him, he sits under his sun-umbrella and paints.