,,earthwork ,,out ,,of ,,tuscany  ,being
 ,impressions and ,translations of      
,maurice ,hewlett        ,for as it is  
hurtful to drink wine or water alone2   
and as wine mingled with water is       
pleasant and delighteth the taste3 even 
so speech1 finely framed1 delighteth the
 ears of them that read the story4--#c  
,,maccabees xv4 #ci4                    
,,to                                    
,,my ,,father                           
,,this ,,little ,,book                  
,,not ,,as ,,being ,,worthy ,,but ,,as  
,,all ,i ,,have                         
,,is ,,dedicated  ,i cannot add one     
tendril to your bays1 ,worn quietly     
where who love you sing your praise2    
,but ,i may stand ,among the household  
throng with lifted hand1 ,upholding for 
sweet honour of the land ,your crown of 
days4    ,,preface ,,to ,,the ,,third   
,,edition  ,i cannot be for ever        
explaining what ,i intended when ,i     
wrote this book4 ,upon this1 its third  
appearance1 even though it is to rank in

 that good company which wears the      
crimson of ,eversley1 it must take its  
chance1 undefended by its conscious     
parent4 ,he feels1 indeed1 with all the 
anxieties1 something of the pride of the
 hen1 who conducts her brood of         
ducklings to the water1 sees them embark
 upon the flood1 and must leave them to 
their buoyant performances1 dreadful1   
but aware also that they are doing a    
finer thing than her own merits could   
have hoped to win them4 ,so it is here4 
,i did not at the outset expect a third 
edition in any livery2 ,i may still fear
 a wreck for this cockboat of my early  
invention2 but ,i hope ,i am too        
respectful of myself to try throwing oil
 upon the waters4  ,i leave the former  
prefaces as they stand4 ,i felt them    
when ,i made them1 and feel them still2 
but ,i shall make no more4 ,if          
,earthwork has the confidence1 at this  
time of day1 to carry a red coat1 it    
shall carry it alone4  ,,london1 #aija4 
,,preface ,,to ,,the ,,second ,,edition 

,mr4 ,critics--to whom1 kind or unkind1 
,i confess obligations--and the ,public 
between them have produced1 it appears1 
some sort of demand for this ,second    
,edition4 ,while ,i do not think it     
either polite or politic to enquire too 
deeply into reasons1 ,i am not the man  
to disoblige them4 ,it is sufficient for
 me that in a world indifferent well    
peopled five hundred souls have bought  
or acquired my book1 and that other     
hundreds have signified their desire to 
do likewise4 ,nevertheless--the vanity  
of authors being notoriously            
hard-rooted--,i must own to my          
mortification in the discovery that not 
more than two in every hundred who have 
read me have known what ,i was at4 ,i   
have been told it is a good average1    
but1 with deference1 ,i don't think so4 
,no man has any right to take beautiful 
and simple things out of their places1  
wrap them up in a tissue of his own     
conceits1 and hand them about the       
universe for gods and men to wonder     

upon4 ,if he must convey simple things  
let him convey them simply4 ,if ,i1 for 
instance1 must steal a loaf of bread1   
would it not be better to walk out of   
the shop with it under my coat than to  
call for it in a hansom and hoodwink the
 baker with a forged cheque on ,coutts's
 bank8 ,surely4 ,if1 then1 ,i go to     
,italy1 and convey the hawthor-scent of 
,della ,robbia1 the straining of        
,botticelli to express the ineffable1   
the mellow autumn tones of the life of  
,florence2 if ,i do this1 and make a    
parade of my magnanimity in permitting  
the household to divide the spoil1 how  
on earth should ,i mar all my bravery by
 giving people what they don't want1 or 
turn double knave by fobbing them off   
with an empty box8  ,i had hoped to have
 done better than this4 ,i tried to     
express in the title of my book what ,i 
thought ,i had done2 more1 ,i was bold  
enough to assume that1 having weathered 
the title1 my readers would find a      
smooth channel with leading-lights      

enough to bring them sound to port4 ,mea
 culpa6 ,i believe that ,i was wrong4   
,the book has been read as a collection 
of essays and stories and dialogues only
 pulled together by the binder's tapes2 
as otherwise disjointed1 fragmentary1   
dcousue1 a piebald monstrous book1 a    
sort of kous-kous1 made out of the odds 
and ends of a scribbler's note-book4    
,some have liked some morsels1 others   
other morsels3 it has been a matter of  
the luck of the fork4 ,very few1 one    
only to my knowledge1 can have seen the 
thing as it presented itself to my      
flattering eye--not as a pudding1 not as
 a case of confectionery even1 but as a 
little sanctuary of images such as a    
pious heathen might make of his         
earthenware gods4 ,let us be serious3   
listen4 ,the thing is ,criticism2 but   
some of it is criticism by trope and    
figure4 ,i hope that is plain enough4   
,when the first man heard his first     
thunderstorm he said 7or ,human ,nature 
has bettered itself71 ,certainly a ,god 

is angry4 ,when after a night of doubt  
and heaviness the sun rose out of the   
sea1 the sea kindled1 and all its waves 
laughed innumerably1 again he said1 ,god
 is stirring4 ,joy cometh in the        
morning4 ,even in saying so much he was 
making images1 poor man1 for one's soul 
is as dumb as a fish and can only talk  
by signs4 ,but by degrees1 as his hand  
grew obedient to his heart1 he set to   
work to make more lasting images of     
these gods--,thunder ,gods1 ,gods of the
 ,sun and the ,morning4 ,and as these   
gods were the sum of the best feelings  
he had1 so the images of them were the  
best things he made4 ,and that goes on  
now whenever a young man sees something 
new or strange or beautiful4 ,he        
wonders1 he falls on his face1 he would 
say his prayers2 he rises up1 he would  
sing a pan4 ,but he is dumb1 the wretch6
 ,he must make images4 ,this he does    
because ,necessity drives him3 this ,i  
have done4 ,and part of the world calls 
the result ,criticism1 and another part 

says1 ,it may be ,art4 ,but ,i know that
 it is the struggling of a dumb man to  
find an outlet1 and ,i call it          
,religion4  ,god first made man1 and    
straightway man made ,god2 ,no wonder if
 a tang of that same sod1 ,whereout we  
issued at a breath1 should cling ,to all
 we fashion4 ,we can only plod ,lit by a
 starveling candle2 and we sing ,of what
 we can remember of the road4  ,the     
vague informed1 the lovely indefinite   
defined3 that is ,art4 ,as a sort of pte
 sur pte comes ,criticism1 to do for    
,art what ,art does for life4 ,i have   
tried in this book to be the artist at  
second-hand1 to make pictures of        
pictures1 images of images1 poems of    
poems4 ,you may call it ,criticism1 you 
may call it ,art3 ,i call it ,religion4 
,it is making the best thing ,i can out 
of the best things ,i feel4  ,,london1  
#ahih4   ,,advertisement ,,to ,,the     
,,first ,,edition  ,polite reader1 you  
who have travelled ,italy1 it will not  
be unknown to you that the humbler sort 

in that country have ever believed      
certain spots and recesses of their     
land--as wells1 mountain-paths1         
farmsteads1 groves of ilex or olive1    
quiet pine-woods1 creeks or bays of the 
sea1 and such like hidden ways--to be   
the chosen resort of familiar spirits1  
baleful or beneficent1 fate-ridden or   
amenable to prayer1 half divine1 wholly 
out of rule or ordering2 which rustic   
deities and genii locorum1 if it was not
 needful to propitiate1 it was          
fascination to observe4 ,it is believed 
of them in the hill-country round about 
,perugia and in the quieter parts of    
,tuscany1 that they are still present1  
tolerated of ,god by reason of their    
origin 7which is1 indeed1 that of the   
very soil whose effluence they are71    
chastened1 circumscribed and1 as it     
were1 combed or pared of evil desire and
 import4 ,to them or their avatars 7it  
matters little which7 the rude people   
still bow down2 they still humour them  
with gifts of flowers1 songs1 or artless

 customs 7as of ,mayday1 or the ,giorno 
de' ,grilli72 you may still see wayside 
shrines1 votive tablets1 humble         
offerings1 set in a farm-wall or country
 hedge1 starry and fresh as a patch of  
yellow flowers in a rye-field4 ,if you  
say that they have made gods in their   
own image1 you do not convince them of  
,sin1 for they do as their betters4 ,if 
you say their gods are earthy1 they     
reply by asking1 ,what then are we8 ,for
 they will admit1 and you cannot deny1  
earthiness to have at least a part in   
all of us4 ,and you are forbidden to    
call this unhappy1 since ,god made all4 
,out of the drenched earth whence these 
worshippers arose1 they made their      
rough-cast gods2 out of the same earth  
they still mould images to speak the    
presentment of them which they have4    
,out of that earth1 ,i1 a northern      
image-maker1 have set up my conceits of 
their informing spirits1 of the spirits 
of themselves1 their soil1 and the fair 
works they have accomplished4 ,so ,i    

have called this book ,earthwork out of 
,tuscany4 ,qui habet aures ad audiendum 
audiat4  ,,london1 #ahie4    ,,contents 
,,proem3 ,,apologia ,,pro ,,libello     
#a4 ,,eye ,,of ,,italy   #b4 ,,little   
,,flowers   #c4 ,a ,,sacrifice ,,at     
,,prato   #d4 ,,of ,,poets ,,and        
,,needlework   #e4 ,,of ,,boils ,,and   
,,the ,,ideal   #f4 ,,the ,,soul ,,of ,a
 ,,fact   #g4 ,,quattrocentisteria   #h4
 ,,the ,,burden ,,of ,,new ,,tyre   #i4 
,,ilaria1 ,,mariota1 ,,bettina  #aj4    
,,cats  #aa4 ,,the ,,soul ,,of ,a ,,city
  #ab4 ,,with ,,the ,,brown ,,bear  #ac4
 ,,dead ,,churches ,,at ,,foligno       
,,envoy3 ,,to ,,all ,,you ,,ladies      
,,proem   ,,apologia ,,pro ,,libello3   
,,in ,a ,,letter ,,to ,a ,,friend       
,although you know your ,italy well1 you
 ask me1 who see her now for the first  
time1 to tell you how ,i find her2 how  
she sinks into me2 wherein she fulfils1 
and wherein fails to fulfil1 certain    
dreams and fancies of mine 7old         
amusements of yours7 about her4 ,here1  

truly1 you show yourself the diligent   
collector of human documents your       
friends have always believed you2 for ,i
 think it can only be appetite for      
acquisition1 to see how a man           
recognisant of the claims of modernity  
in ,art bears the first brunt of the    
,old ,masters' assault1 that tempts you 
to risk a rechauffe of ,paul ,bourget   
and ,walter ,pater1 with ana lightly    
culled from ,symonds1 and1 perchance1   
the questionable support of ponderous   
references out of ,burckhardt4 ,in spite
 of my waiver of the title1 you relish  
the notion of a ,modern face to face    
with ,botticelli and ,mantegna and      
,perugino 7to say nothing of that       
,giotto who had so much to say671       
artists in whom1 you think and ,i agree1
 certain impressions strangely positive 
of many vanished aspects of life remain 
to be accounted for1 and 7it may be7    
reconciled with modern visions of ,art  
and ,beauty4 ,well6 ,i am flattered and 
touched by such confidence in my powers 

of expression and your own of endurance4
 ,i look upon you as a late-in-time     
,maecenas1 generously resolved to defray
 the uttermost charge of weariness that 
a young writer may be encouraged to     
unfold himself and splash in the        
pellucid ,tuscan air4 ,i cannot assert  
that you are performing an act of       
charity to mankind1 but ,i can at least 
assure you that you are doing more for  
me than if you had settled my accounts  
with ,messr4 ,cook and ,sons1 or        
,signora ,vedova ,paolini1 my esteemed  
landlady4 ,a writer who is worth        
anything accumulates more than he gives 
off1 and never lives up to his income4  
,his difficulty is the old one of       
digestion1 ,italian ,art being as       
crucial for the modern as ,italian      
cookery4 ,crucial indeed6 for diverse   
are the ways of the ,hyperboreans cheek 
by jowl with asciutta and ,tuscan       
tablewine1 as any osteria will convince 
you4 ,to one man the oil is a delight3  
he will soak himself in it till his     

thought swims viscid in his pate4 ,to   
another it is abhorrent3 straightway he 
calls for his ,german vinegar and drowns
 the native flavour in floods as bitter 
as polemics4 ,your wine too6 ,overweak  
for water1 says one1 who consumes a     
stout fiaschone and spends a stertorous 
afternoon in headache and cursing at the
 generous home-grown4 ,frizzante6 cries 
your next to all his gods2 and flushes  
the poison with infected water4 ,crucial
 enough4 ,so with art4 ,goethe went to  
,assisi4 ,i left on my left1 says he1   
the vast mass of churches1 piled        
,babel-wise one over another1 in one of 
which rest the remains of the ,holy     
,saint ,francis of ,assisi--with        
aversion1 for ,i thought to myself that 
the people who assembled in them were   
mostly of the same stamp with my captain
 and travelling companion4  ,truly an   
odd ground of aversion to a painted     
church that there might be a            
confessional-box in the nave6 ,but he   
had no eyes for ,gothic1 being set on   

the ,temple of ,minerva4 ,the ,right    
,honourable ,joseph ,addison's views of 
,siena will be familiar to you2 but an  
earlier still was our excellent ,mr4    
,john ,evelyn doing the grand tour2     
going to ,pisa1 but seeing no frescos in
 the ,campo ,santo2 going to ,florence1 
but seeing neither ,santa ,croce nor    
,santa ,maria ,novella2 in his whole    
journey he would seem to have found no  
earlier name than ,perugino's affixed to
 a picture4 ,goethe was urbane to       
,francia1 a very respectable artist2 he 
was astonished at ,mantegna1 one of the 
older painters1 but accepted him as     
leading up to ,titian3 and so-- thus was
 art developed after the barbarous      
period4 ,but ,goethe had the sweeping   
sublimity of youth with him4 ,i have now
 seen but two ,italian cities1 and for  
the first time2 and ,i have spoken with 
but few persons2 and yet ,i know my     
,italians pretty well6 ,seriously1 where
 in criticism do you learn of an earlier
 painter than ,perugino1 until you come 

to our day8 ,and where now do you get   
the raptures over the ,carracci and     
,domenichino and ,guercino and the rest 
of them which the last century expended 
upon their unthrifty soil8 ,ruskin found
 ,botticelli2 yes1 and ,giotto4 ,roscoe 
never so much as mentions either4 ,why  
should he1 honest man8 ,they couldn't   
draw6 ,cookery is very like ,art1 as    
,socrates told ,gorgias4 ,unfortunately1
 it is far easier to verify your        
impressions in the former case than in  
the latter4 ,yet that is the first and  
obvious duty of the critic--that is1 the
 writer whomsoever4 ,in my degree it has
 been mine4 ,wherefore1 if ,i unfold    
anything at all1 it shall not be the    
,cicerone nor the veiled ,anonymous1 nor
 the ,wiederbelebung1 nor 7,i hope7 the 
,mornings in ,florence1 but that thing  
in which you place such touching        
reliance --myself and my poor           
sensations1 ,ecco6 ,i have nothing else4
 ,you take a boy out of school2 you set 
him to book-reading1 give him           

,shakespere and a ,bible1 set him       
sailing in the air with the poets2      
drench him with painter's dreams1 via1  
,titian's carmine and orange1           
,veronese's rippling brocades1 ,umbrian 
morning skies1 and ,tuscan hues wrought 
of moonbeams and flowing water--anon you
 turn him adrift in ,italy1 a country   
where all poets' souls seem to be caged 
in crystal and set in the sun1 and      
say--,here1 dreamer of dreams1 what of  
the day8 ,madonna6 ,you ask and you     
shall obtain4 ,i proceed to expand under
 your benevolent eye4  ,to me1 ,italy is
 not so much a place where pictures have
 been painted 7some of which remain to  
testify71 as a place where pictures have
 been lived and built2 ,i fail to see   
how ,perugia is not a picture by1 say1  
,astorre ,baglione4 ,perhaps ,i should  
be nearer the mark if ,i said it was a  
frozen epic4 ,what ,i mean is1 that in  
,italy it is still impossible to        
separate the soul and body of the soil1 
to say1 as you may say in ,london or    

,paris1-- here behind this sordid grey  
mask of warehouses and suburban villas  
lurks the soul that once was ,shakespere
 or once was ,villon4 ,you will not say 
that of ,florence2 you will hardly say  
it 7though the time is at hand7 of      
,milan and ,rome4 ,do the gondoliers    
still sing snatches of ,ariosto8 ,i     
don't know ,venice4 ,m4 ,bourget assures
 me his vetturino quoted ,dante to him  
between ,monte ,pulciano and ,siena2 and
 ,i believe him4 ,at any rate1 in ,italy
 as ,i have found it1 the inner secret  
of ,italian life can be read1 not in    
painting alone1 nor poem alone1 but in  
the swift sun1 in the streets and       
shrouded lanes1 in the golden pastures1 
in the plains and blue mountains2 in    
flowery cloisters and carved church     
porches--out of doors as well as in4    
,the story of ,troy is immortal--why not
 because the ,trojans themselves live   
immortal in their fabled sons8 ,that    
being so1 ,i by no means promise you my 
sensations to be of the ear-measuring1  

nose-rubbing sort now so popular4 ,i am 
bad at dates and soon tire of symbols4  
,my theology may be to seek2 you may    
catch me as much for the world as for   
,athanase4 ,with world and doctor ,i    
shall1 indeed1 have little enough to do1
 for wherever ,i go ,i shall be only on 
the look-out for the soul of this       
bright-eyed people1 whom1 being no      
,goethe1 ,i do not profess to understand
 or approve4 ,must the lover do more    
than love his mistress1 and weave his   
sonnets about her white brows8 ,i may   
see my mistress ,italy embowered in a   
belfry1 a fresco1 the scope of a        
,piazza1 the lilt of a ,stornello1 the  
fragrance of a legend4 ,if ,i don't find
 a legend to hand ,i may1 as lief as    
not1 invent one4 ,it shall be a legend  
fitted close to the soul of a fact1 if  
,i succeed3 and if ,i fail1 put me      
behind you and take down your four      
volumes of ,rio1 or your four-and-twenty
 of ,rosini4 ,go to ,crowe and          
,cavalcaselle and be wise4              

,parables6--,i like the word--to go     
round about the thing1 whose heart ,i   
cannot hit with my small-arm1 marking   
the goodly masses and unobtrusive meek  
beauties of it1 and longing for them in 
vain4 ,no amount of dissecting shall    
reveal the core of ,sandro's ,venus4    
,for after you have pared off the husk  
of the restorer1 or bled in your alembic
 the very juices the craftsman conjured 
withal1 you come down to the seamy wood1
 and ,art is gone4 ,nay1 but your       
,morelli1 your ,crowe1 ciphering as they
 went for want of thought1 what did they
 do but screw ,art into test- tubes1 and
 serve you up the fruit of their        
litmus-paper assay with vivacity1 may   
be1--but with what kinship to the       
picture8 ,i maintain that the peeling   
and gutting of fact must be done in the 
kitchen3 the king's guests are not to   
know how many times the cook's finger   
went from cate to mouth before the      
seasoning was proper to the table4 ,the 
king is the artist1 you are the guest1  

,i am the abstractor of quintessences1  
the cook4 ,remember1 the cook had not   
the ordering of the feast3 that was the 
king's business--mine is to mingle the  
flavours to the liking of the guest that
 the dish be worthy the conception and  
the king's honour4  ,nor will ,i promise
 you that ,i shall not break into a more
 tripping stave than our prose can      
afford1 here and there4 ,the pilgrim1 if
 he is young and his shoes or his belly 
pinch him not1 sings as he goes1 the    
very stones at his heels 7so            
music-steeped is this land7 setting him 
the key4 ,jog the foot-path way through 
,tuscany in my company1 it's ,lombard   
,street to my hat ,i charm you out of   
your lassitude by my open humour4       
,things ,i say will have been said      
before1 and better2 my tunes may be     
stale and my phrasing rough3 ,i may be  
irrelevant1 irreverent1 what you please4
 ,eh1 well6 ,i am in ,italy1--the land  
of shrugs and laughing4 ,shrug me 7or my
 book7 away2 but1 pray ,heaven1 laugh6  

,and1 as the young are always very wise 
when they find their voice and have     
their confidence well put out to usury1 
laugh 7but in your cloak7 when ,i am    
sententious or apt to tears4 ,i have    
found lacrim rerum in ,italy as         
elsewhere2 and sometimes ,life has      
seemed to me to sail as near to tragedy 
as ,art can do4 ,i suppose ,i must be a 
very bad ,christian1 for ,i remain      
sturdily an optimist1 still convinced   
that it is good for us to be here1 while
 the sun is up4 ,men and pictures1      
poems1 cities1 churches1 comely deeds1  
grow like cabbages3 they are of the     
soil1 spring from it to the sun1 glow   
open-hearted while he is there2 and when
 he goes1 they go4 ,so grew ,florence1  
and ,shakespere1 and ,greek myth--the   
three most lovely flowers of ,nature's  
seeding ,i know of4 ,and with the       
flowers grow the weeds4 ,my first weed  
shall sprout by ,arno1 in a cranny of   
the ,ponte ,vecchio1 or cling like a    
,dryad of the wood to some gnarly old   

olive on the hill-side of ,arcetri4 ,if 
it bear no little gold-seeded flower1 or
 if its pert leaves don't blush under   
the sun's caress1 it shan't be my fault 
or the sun's4  ,take1 then1 my watered  
wine in the name of the ,second         
,maccaban1 for here1 as he says1 will ,i
 make an end4 ,and if ,i have done well1
 and as is fitting the story1 it is that
 which ,i desired3 but if slenderly and 
meanly1 it is that which ,i could attain
 unto4  ,i have killed you at the first 
cast4 ,i feel it4 ,has any city1 save1  
perhaps1 ,cairo1 been so written out as 
,florence8 ,i hear you querulous2 you   
raise your eyebrows2 you sigh as you    
watch the tottering ash of your second  
cigar4 ,mrs4 ,brown comes to tell you it
 is late4 ,i agree with you quickly4    
,florence has often been sketched       
before--putting ,browning aside with his
 astounding fresco-music--by ,ruskin and
 ,george ,eliot and ,mr4 ,henry ,james1 
to name only masters4 ,but that is no   
reason why ,i should not try my prentice

 hand4 ,florence alters not at all4 ,men
 do4 ,my picture1 poor as you like1     
shall be my own4 ,it is not their       
,florence or yours--and1 remember1 ,i   
would strike at ,tuscany through        
,florence1 and throughout ,tuscany keep 
my eye in her beam1--but my own mellow  
kingcup of a town1 the glowing heart of 
the whole ,arno basin1 whose suave and  
weather-warmed grace ,i shall try to    
catch and distil4 ,but ,mrs4 ,brown is  
right2 it ,is late3 the huntsmen are up 
in ,america1 as your good kinsman has   
it1 and ,i would never have you act your
 own ,antipodes4 ,addio4    ,i   ,,eye  
,,of ,,italy  ,footnote3 ,my thanks are 
due to the ,editor of ,black and ,white 
for permission to reprint the substance 
of this essay4  ,i have been here a few 
days only--perhaps a week3 if it's      
impressionism you're after1 the time is 
now or a year hence4 ,for1 in these     
things of three stages1 two may be      
tolerable1 the first clouding of the    
water with the wine's red fire1 or the  

final resolution of the two into one    
humane consistence3 the intermediate    
course is1 like all times of process1   
brumous and hesitant4 ,after a dinner in
 the white piazza1 shrinking slowly to  
blue under the keen young moon's eye1   
watched over jealously by the frowning  
bulk of ,brunelleschi's globe--after a  
dinner of pasta con brodo1 veal cutlets1
 olives1 and a bottle of right ,barbra1 
let me give you a pastel 7this is the   
medium for such evanescences7 of        
,florence herself4 ,at present ,i only  
feel4 ,no one should think--few people  
can--after dinner4 ,be patient          
therefore2 suffer me thus far4  ,i would
 spare you1 if ,i might1 the horrors of 
my night-long journey from ,milan4      
,there is little romance in a railway3  
the novelists have worked it dry4 ,that 
is1 however1 a part of my sum of        
perceptions which began1 you may put it1
 at the dawn which saw ,florence and me 
face to face4 ,so ,i must in no wise    
omit it4  ,i find1 then1 that ,italian  

railway-carriages are constructed for   
the convenience of luggage1 and that    
passengers are an afterthought1 as dogs 
or grooms are with us1 to be suffered   
only if there be room and on condition  
they look after the luggage4 ,in my case
 we had our full complement of the      
staple2 nevertheless every passenger    
assumed the god1 keeping watch on his   
traps1 and thinking to shake the spheres
 at every fresh arrival4 ,thoughtless   
behaviour6 for there were thus twelve   
people packed into a rocky landscape of 
cardboard portmanteaus and umbrella-    
peaks2 twenty-four legs1 and urgent need
 of stretching-room as the night wore   
on4 ,there was jostling1 there was      
asperity from those who could sleep and 
from those who would2 there was more    
when two shock-head drovers--like ,first
 and ,second ,murderers in a            
tragedy--insisted on taking off their   
boots4 ,it was not that there was little
 room for boots2 indeed ,i think they   
nursed them on their thin knees4 ,it was

 at any rate too much even for an       
,italian passenger2 for--well1 well6    
their way had been a hot and a dusty    
one1 poor fellows4 ,so the guard was    
summoned1 and came with all the implicit
 powers of an uniform and1 ,i believe1 a
 sword4 ,the boots were strained on     
sufficiently to preserve the amenities  
of the way3 they could not1 of course1  
be what they had been2 the carriage was 
by this a forcing- house4 ,and through  
the long night we ached away an         
intolerable span of time with1 for      
under-current1 for sinister             
accompaniment to the pitiful strain1 the
 muffled interminable plodding of the   
engine1 and the rack of the wheels      
pulsing through space to the rhythm of  
some music-hall jingle heard in snatches
 at home4 ,at intervals came shocks of  
contrast when we were brought suddenly  
face to face with a gaunt and bleached  
world4 ,then we stirred from our stupor1
 and sat looking at each other's stale  
faces4 ,we had shrieked and clanked our 

way into some great naked station1      
shivering raw and cold under the        
electric lights1 streaked with black    
shadows on its whitewash and patched    
with coarse advertisements4 ,the        
porters' voices echoed in the void1     
shouting ,piacensa1 ,parma1 ,reggio1    
,modena1 ,bologna1 with infinite relish 
for the varied hues of a final a4 ,one  
or two cowed travellers slippered up    
responsive to the call1 and we1 the     
veterans who endured1 set our teeth1    
shuddered1 and smoked feverish          
cigarettes on the platform among the    
carriage-wheels and points2 or1 if we   
were new hands1 watched awfully the     
advent of another sleeping train1 as    
dingy as our own--yet a hero of romance6
 ,for it bore the hieratic and          
tremendous words ,roma1 ,firenze1       
,milano ,it was privileged then2 it     
ministered in the sanctuary4 ,we glowed 
in our sordid skins1 and could have     
kissed the foot-boards that bore the    
dust of ,rome4 ,i will swear ,i shall   

never see those three words printed on a
 carriage without a thrill1 ,roma1      
,firenze1 ,milano1-- ,lord6 what a      
traverse4  ,or we held long purposeless 
rests at small wayside places where no  
station could be known1 and the shrouded
 land stretched away on either side1 not
 to be seen1 but rather felt1 in the    
cool airs that blew in1 and the rustling
 of secret trees near by4 ,no further   
sound was1 save the muttered talking of 
the guards without and the simmering of 
the engine1 on somewhere in front4 ,and 
then ,partenza6 rang out in the night1  
and ,pronti6 came as a faint echo on    
before4 ,we laboured on1 and the dreams 
began where they had broken off4 ,for we
 dreamed in these times1 fitful and     
lurid1 coloured dreams2 flashes of      
horrible crises in one's life2          
,interminable precipices2 a river skiff 
engulfed in a swirl of green sea-water2 
agonies of repentance2 shameful failure1
 defeat1 memories--and then the steady  
pulsing of the engine1 and thick1       

impermeable darkness choking up the     
windows again4 ,how ,i ached for the    
dawn6  ,i awoke from what ,i believe to 
have been a panic of snoring to hear the
 train clattering over the sleepers and 
points1 and to see--oh1 human1 brotherly
 sight6--the broad level light of       
morning stream out of the east4 ,we were
 stealing into a city asleep4 ,tall flat
 houses rose in the chill mist to our   
left and stared blankly down upon us    
with close-barred green eyelids4        
,gas-lamps in swept streets flickered   
dirty yellow in the garish light4 ,a    
great purple dome lay ahead1 flanked by 
the ruddy roofs and gables of a long    
church4 ,my heart leapt for ,florence4  
,pistoja6  ,and then1 at ,prato1 a      
nut-brown old woman with a placid face  
got into our carriage with a basket of  
green figs and some bottles of milk for 
the ,florentine market4 ,so we were     
nearing4 ,and soon we ran in between    
lines of white and pink villas edged    
with rows of planes drenched still with 

dews and the night mists1 among         
bullock-carts and queer shabby little   
vetture1 everything looking light and   
elfin in the brisk sunshine and autumn  
bite--into the barrel-like station1 and 
,i into the arms1 say rather the        
arm-chair1 of ,signora ,vedova ,paolini1
 chattiest and most motherly of         
landladies4  ,earth1 ,air1 ,fire1       
,water1 ,florence1 form the five        
elements of our planet according to the 
testimony of ,boniface ,,viii4 of       
clamant and not very ,catholic memory4  
,that is true if you take it this way4  
,you cannot resolve an element2 but you 
cannot resolve ,florence2 therefore     
,florence is an element4 ,ecco6 ,she is 
like nothing else ,in ,nature1 or 7which
 is much the same thing7 ,art4 ,you can 
have olives elsewhere1 and ,gothic      
elsewhere2 you can have both at ,aries1 
for instance4 ,you can have ,campanili  
printed white 7but not rose-and white1  
not rose-and-gold- and-white7 on blue   
anywhere along the ,mediterranean from  

,tripoli to ,tangier3 you will find     
,giotto at ,padua1 and statues growing  
in the open air at ,naples4 ,but for the
 silvery magic of olives and blue2 for a
 ,gothic which has the supernatural and 
always restless eagerness of the ,north1
 held in check1 reduced to our level by 
the blessedly human sanity of           
,romanesque2 for sculpture which sprouts
 from the crumbling church-sides like   
some frankly happy stone-crop1 or       
wall-flower1 just as wholesomely        
coloured and tenderly shaped1 you must  
come to ,florence4 ,come for choice in  
this golden afternoon of the year4      
,green figs are twelve-a-penny2 you can 
get peaches for the asking1 and grapes  
and melons without it2 brown men are    
treading the wine-fat in every little   
white hill-town1 and in ,florence itself
 you may stumble upon them1 as ,i once  
did1 plying their mystery in a battered 
old church--sight only to be seen in    
,italy1 where religions have been many1 
but religionists substantially the same4

 ,that is the ,italian way2 there was   
the practical evidence4 ,imagine the    
sight4 ,a gaunt and empty old basilica1 
the beams of the ,rood still left1 the  
dye of fresco still round the walls and 
tribune--here the dim figure of         
,sebastian roped to his tree1 there the 
cloudy forms of ,apostles or the        
,heavenly ,host shadowed in masses of   
crimson or green--and1 down below1 a    
slippery purple sea1 frothed sanguine at
 the edges1 and wild1 half-naked        
creatures treading out the juice1       
dancing in the oozy stuff rhythmically1 
to the music of some wailing air of     
their own4 ,saturnia regna indeed1 and  
in the haunt of ,sant' ,ambrogio1 or    
under the hungry eye of ,san            
,bernardino1 or other lean ascetic of   
the ,middle ,age4 ,but that1 after all1 
is ,italian1 not necessarily ,florentine
 or ,tuscan4 ,i must needs abstract the 
unique quintessential humours of this my
 ,eye of ,italy4 ,stendhal1 do you      
remember8 didn't like one of these4 ,he 

said that in ,florence people talked    
about huesta hasa when they would say   
questa casa1 and thus turned ,italian   
into a mad ,arabic4 ,so they do1        
especially the women3 why not8 ,the poor
 ,stendhal loved ,milan1 wrote himself  
down ,arrigo ,milanese--and what can you
 expect from a ,milanese8  ,they tell   
me1 who know ,florence well1 that she is
 growing unwieldy4 ,like a bulky old    
concierge they say1 she sits in the     
passage of her ,arno1 swollen1 fat1 and 
featureless1 a kind of ,chicago1 a city 
of tame conveniences ungraced by arts4  
,that means that there are suburbs and  
tramways2 it means that the gates will  
not hold her in2 it has a furtive stab  
at the ,railway ,station and the omnibus
 in the ,piazza del ,duorno3 it is      
,mornings in ,florence4 ,the suggestion 
is that ,art is some pale remote virgin 
who must needs shiver and withdraw at   
the touch of actual life3 the art-lover 
must maunder over his mistress's wrongs 
instead of manfully insisting upon her  

rights1 her everlasting triumphant      
justifications4 ,why this watery talk of
 an ,art that was and may not be again1 
because we go to bed by electricity and 
have our hair brushed by machinery8     
,pray1 has ,nature ceased8 or ,life8    
,art will endure with these fine things1
 which in ,florence1 let me say1 are    
very fine indeed4 ,but there's a        
practical answer to the indictment4 ,as 
a city she is a mere cupful4 ,you can   
walk from ,cantagalli's1 at the ,roman  
,gate1 to the ,porta ,san ,gallo1 at the
 end of the ,via ,cavour1 in half the   
time it would take you to go from       
,newgate to ,kensington ,gardens4 ,yet  
whereas in ,london such a walk would    
lead you through a slice of a section1  
in ,florence you would cut through the  
whole city from hill to hill4 ,you are  
never away from the velvet flanks of the
 ,tuscan hills4 ,every street-end smiles
 an enchanting vista upon you4 ,houses  
frowning1 machicolated and sombre1 or   
gay and golden-white with cool green    

jalousies and spreading eaves1 stretch  
before you through mellow air to a      
distance where they melt into hills1 and
 hills into sky2 into sky so clear and  
rarely blue1 so virgin pale at the      
horizon1 that the hills sleep brown upon
 it under the sun1 and the cypresses1   
nodding a-row1 seem funeral weeds beside
 that radiant purity4 ,some such        
adorable stretch of tilth and pasture1  
sky and cloud1 hangs like a god's crown 
beyond the city and her towers4 ,in the 
long autumn twilight ,fiesole and the   
hills lie soft and purple below a pale  
green sky4 ,there is a pause at this    
time when the air seems washed for      
sleep-every shrub1 every feature of the 
landscape is cut clean as with a blade4 
,the light dies1 the air deepens to wet 
violet1 and the glimpses of the         
hill-town gleam like snow4 ,at such     
times ,samminiato looms ghostly upon you
 and fades slowly out4 ,the flush in the
 ,east faints and fails and the evening 
star shines like a gem4 ,it is hot and  

still in the broad ,piazza ,santa       
,maria2 they are lighting the lamps2 the
 swarm grows of the eager1 shabby1      
spendthrift crowd of young ,italians1 so
 light-hearted and fluent1 and so       
prodigal of this old ,italy of          
theirs--and ours4 ,all this ,i have been
 watching as ,i might4 ,nature clings to
 the city1 playing her rhythmic dance at
 the end of every street4  ,nature      
clings4 ,yes2 but she is within as well 
as without4 ,what is that sentimental   
platitude of somebody's 7the worst kind 
of platitude1 is it not87 about the sun 
being to flowers what ,art is to ,life8 
,it has the further distinction of being
 untrue4 ,in ,florence you learn that   
what he is to flowers1 that he is to    
,art4 ,for ,i soberly believe that under
 his rays ,florence has grown open like 
some rare white water-lily2 that sun and
 sky have set the conditions1 struck1 as
 it were1 the chord4 ,i have wandered   
through and through her recessed ways   
the length of this bright and breezy    

,october week2 and have marked where ,i 
walked the sun's great hand laid upon   
palace and cloister and bell-tower4 ,he 
has summoned up these flat-topped       
houses1 these precipitous walls beneath 
which winds the darkened causeway4 ,one 
seems to be travelling in a mountain    
gorge with1 above1 a thin ribbon of sky1
 fluid blue1 flawless of cloud1 like the
 sea4 ,he1 that so masterful sun1 has   
given ,florence the apathetic1 beaten   
aspect of a southern town2 he and the   
temperate sky have fixed the tone for   
ever2 and the nimble air--nimbly and    
sweetly recommending itself-- has given 
the quaintness and the freaksomeness of 
the ,north4 ,this bursts out1 young and 
irresponsible1 in pinnacle1 crocket1 and
 gable1 in towers like spears1 and in   
the eager lancet windows which peer     
upwards out of ,orsammichele and the    
,dominican ,church4 ,this mixture is    
,florence and has made her art4 ,the    
blue of the sky gives the key to her    
palette1 the breath of the west wind1   

the salt wind from our own ,atlantic1   
tingles in her campanili2 and the       
,italian sun washes over all with his   
lazy gold4 ,habit and inclination both  
speak4 ,she rejects no wise thing and   
accepts every lovely thing4 ,nature and 
,art have worked hand in hand1 as they  
will when1 we let them4 ,for what is an 
art so inimitable1 so innocent1 so      
intimate as this of ,tuscany1 after all1
 but a high effort of creative          
,nature--,natura naturans1 as ,spinosa  
calls her8 ,here1 on the weather-fretted
 walls1 a ,delia ,robbia blossoms out in
 natural colours-- blue and white and   
green4 ,they are ,spring's colours4 ,you
 need not go into the ,bargello to      
understand ,luca and ,andrea at their   
happy task2 as well go to a botanical   
museum to read the secret of ,april4    
,see them on the dusty wall of          
,orsammichele4 ,they have wrought the   
blossom of the stone--clusters of       
bright-eyed flowers with the throats and
 eyes of angels1 singing1 you might say1

 a children's hymn to ,our ,lady1       
throned and pure in the midst of the    
bevy4 ,see the ,spedale degli           
,innocenti1 where a score of little     
flowery white children grow1 open-armed1
 out of their sky-blue medallions4      
,really1 are they lilies1 or children1  
or the embodied strophes of a psalter8  
you ask4 ,i mix my metaphors like an    
,irishman1 but you will see my meaning4 
,all the arts blend in art3 rien ne fait
 mieux entendre combien un faux sonnet  
est ridicule que de s'imaginer une femme
 ou une maison faite sur ce modle-l4    
,pascal knew2 and so did ,philip        
,sidney1 ,nature never set forth the    
earth in so rich tapestry as divers     
poets have done2 and the nearer truth   
seems to be that ,art is ,nature made   
articulate1 ,nature's soul inflamed with
 love and voicing her secrets through   
one man to many4 ,so there may be no    
difference between me and a cabbage-rose
 but this1 that ,i can consider my own  
flower1 how it grows1 or rather1 when it

 is grown4  ,it is very pleasant        
sometimes to think that wistful guess of
 ,plato's true in spite of              
everything--that the state is the man   
grown great1 as the universe is the     
state grown ,infinite4 ,it explains that
 ,florence has a soul1 the broader image
 of her sons'1 and that this soul speaks
 in ,art1 utters itself in flower of    
stone and starry stretches of fresco    
7like that serene blue and grey band in 
the ,sistine chapel which redeems so    
many of ,rome's waste places71 sings    
colour-songs 7there are such affairs7 on
 church and cloister walls4 ,seeing     
these good things1 we should rather hear
 the town's voice crying out her fancy  
to friendly hearts4 ,thus--let me run   
the figure to death--if ,luca's         
blue-eyed medallions are the crop of the
 wall1 they are also the soul of        
,florence1 singing a blithe secular song
 about gods whose abiding charm is the  
art that made them live4 ,and if the    
towers and domes are the statelier      

flowers of the garden1 lily1 hollyhock1 
tulip of the red globe1 so they are     
,florence again as she strains forward  
and up1 sternly defiant in the ,palazzo 
,vecchio1 bright and curious at ,santa  
,croce1 pure1 chaste as a seraph1 when1 
thrilling with the touch of ,giotto1 she
 gazes in the clarity of her golden and 
rosy marbles1 tinted like a pearl and   
shaped like an archangel1 towards the   
blue vault whose eye she is4            
,wandering1 therefore1 through this high
 city2 loitering on the bridge          
whereunder turbid ,arno glitters like   
brass2 standing by the yellow           
,baptistery2 or seeing in ,santa ,croce 
cloister--where ,i write these lines--  
seven centuries of enthusiasm mellowed  
down by sun and wind into a comely      
dotage of grey and green1 one is        
disposed to wonder whether we are only  
just beginning to understand ,art1 or to
 misunderstand it8 ,has the world slept 
for two thousand years8 ,is ,degas the  
first artist8 ,was ,aristotle the first 

critic1 and is ,mr4 ,george ,moore the  
second8 ,as a white pigeon cuts the     
blue1 and every opinion of him shines as
 burnished agate in the live air1 things
 shape themselves somewhat4 ,i begin to 
see that ,art is1 and that men have     
been1 and shall be1 but never are4      
,facts are an integral part of life1 but
 they are not life4 ,i heard a          
metaphysician say once that matter was  
the adjective of life1 and thought it a 
mighty pretty saying4 ,in a true sense1 
it would seem1 ,art is that adjective4  
,for so surely as there are honest men  
to insist how true things are or how    
proper to moralising1 there will be ,art
 to sing how lovely they are1 and what  
amiable dwellings for us4 ,thus         
fortified1 ,i think ,i can understand   
,magister ,joctus ,florenti4 ,he lies   
behind these crumbling walls4 ,traces of
 his crimson and blue still stain the   
cloister-walk4 ,what was he telling us  
in crimson and blue8 ,how dumb          
,zacharias spelt out the name of his son

 ,john in the roll of a book8 ,hardly   
that1 ,i think4    ,,ii   ,,little      
,,flowers  ,the ,via del ,monte alle    
,croce is a leafy way cut between       
hedgerows1 in the morning time heavy    
with dew and the smell of wet flowers4  
,where it strays out of the ,giro al    
,monte there is a crumbly brick wall1 a 
well1 and a little earthen shrine to    
,madonna--a daub1 it is true1 of glaring
 chromes and blues1 thick in glaze and  
tawdry devices of stout cupids and      
roses1 but somehow1 on this suggestive  
,autumn morning1 innocent and blue of   
eye as the carolling throngs of ,luca   
which it travesties4 ,and a pious       
inscription cut below testifieth how    
,saint ,francis1 in friendly talk with  
the ,blessed ,mariano di ,lugo1 paused  
here before it1 and then vanished4 ,it  
is not necessary to believe in ghosts2  
but ,i'll go bail that story is true4   
,we are but two stones' throw from the  
gaunt hulk of a ,franciscan ,church2 a  
file of dusty cypresses marks the ruins 

of a painful ,calvary cut in the waste  
and shale of the hill-side4 ,below1 as  
in a green pasture1 ,florence shines    
like a dove's egg in her nest of hills2 
,i can pick out among the sheaf of      
spears which hedge her about the        
daintiest of them all1 the crocketed    
pinnacle of ,santa ,croce1 grey on blue2
 and then the lean ridge of a shrine the
 barest1 simplest and most honest in all
 ,tuscany4 ,certainly ,saint ,francis1  
familiarmente discorrendo1 appeared in  
this place4 ,i need no reference to the 
,annals of the ,seraphic ,order--part1  
book and page--to convince me4 ,my stone
 gives them4 ,ann4 ,ord4 ,min4 ,tom4    
cclii4 fasc4 #c41 and so on4 ,that is   
but a sorry concession to our short-    
sightedness4 ,for if we believe not the 
shrine which we have seen1 how shall we 
believe ,giotto8 ,what of ,giotto8 ,that
 is my point4  ,something too much1 it  
may be1 of modern art-criticism1 which  
is ashamed of thinking1 snuffeth at     
pictures which tell you things1 at      

literature in books or music or church  
ornament4 ,is literature not good       
anywhere8 ,have we exhausted the        
,arabian ,nights or the ,acta           
,sanctorum8 ,at any rate1 if we must    
choose between ,giotto and the prophet  
of the ,yellow ,book1 my heart is fixed4
 ,i am for the teller of tales4         
,story-telling it is1 glorification of  
one whom ,mr4 ,george ,moore would call 
7has1 indeed1 called7 a squint-eyed     
,italian ,saint--and whether he objected
 to malformity1 nationality or calling1 
,i never could learn--this too it may   
be2 it may tend to edification and ,i   
know not what beside4 ,i will grant all 
that4 ,and though it is hard to prophesy
 what might have happened five hundred  
years ago2 though there might have been 
a ,giotto without a ,francis of whom to 
speak2 yet ,i never knew a case where a 
painter 7call him poet if you will2 he  
will be none the worse for that7 fell so
 directly into the gap awaiting him4    
,the ,gospel living and tangible again6 

,spirits1 apparitions1 as of three      
mysterious sisters1 met you in the open 
country1 and crying ,hail6 ,lady        
,poverty1 straightly vanished4 ,a legend
 was a-making round about the strange   
life not fifty years closed1 a life     
which seems1 extravagance apart1 to have
 been a lyrical outburst1 a strophe in  
the hymn of praise which certain happy  
people were singing just then4 ,it was a
 ,gloria in ,excelsis for a second time 
in ,christian ,annals which did not end 
in a wail of ,agnus ,dei qui tollis     
peccata1 miserere4 ,why should it8      
,should the children of the             
bride-chamber fast when the bridegroom  
was with them8 ,and of all the wreath'd 
singers at the marriage-door1 blithest  
and sanest was ,master ,joctus of       
,florence4 ,this being so1 ,i hope ,i   
shall not be accused of any mischief if 
,i say that in ,giotto ,i see one of the
 select company of immortals whose work 
can never be surpassed because it is    
entirely adequate to the facts and      

atmosphere he selected4 ,the standard of
 a work of art must always be--,is it   
well done8 rather than--,is it well     
intentioned8 ,wherefore1 if ,giotto or  
anybody else choose to spend himself    
upon a sermon or an essay or an article 
of the ,creed1 and do well thereby1 ,i  
may not blame him1 nor call him back to 
study the play of light across a marsh  
or the flight of pigeons in the         
westering sun4 ,ma1 basta1 basta cosi1  
you may say with the ,cavaliere of      
,goldoni4  ,santa ,croce church is of   
the barrack-room stamp1 dim and         
enormous1 grey with years and seamed    
with work4 ,its impressiveness 7for with
 ,orvieto and a fleet of churches at    
,ravenna it stands above all ,italy in  
that7 consists mainly1 ,i believe1 in   
its being built of exactly the moral    
bones of the religion it was intended to
 embody4 ,an ,italian religion1 namely2 
perfectly sane1 at bottom practical1    
with a base of plain1 everyday1         
ten-commandment morality4 ,that was the 

base of ,saint ,francis' good brown     
life3 therefore ,santa ,croce is        
admirably built1 squared1 mortised and  
compacted by skilled workmen to whom    
brick-laying was a fine art4 ,but1      
withal1 this religion had its lyric     
raptures1 its ,in fuoco ,amor mi mise1  
or its sobbing at the feet of the       
,crucified1 its ,corotto and ,seven     
,sorrowful ,mysteries3 accordingly      
,santa ,croce1 like a pollarded lime1   
reserves its buds1 harbours and garners 
them1 throws out no suckers or lateral  
adornments the length of its trunk1 but 
bursts into a flowery crown of them at  
the top--a whole row of chapels along   
the cross-beam of the tau2 and in the   
place of honour a shallow apse pierced  
with red lancets and aglow like an opal4
 ,never a chapel of them but is worth   
study and a stiff neck4 ,after the ,rule
 came the ,fioretti2 after ,francis and 
,bonaventure came ,celano and ,jacopone 
da ,todi2 after ,arnolfo del ,lapo and  
his attention to business came the hours

 of ease when he planned the airy plume 
on which the ,church leaps skyward2 and 
came also ,giotto to weave the crown of 
,santa ,croce4  ,i take the ,tuscan     
nature to be so constituted that it will
 play with any given subject of         
speculation in much the same way4 ,with 
one or two mighty exceptions to be      
sure--,dante1 of course1 ,buonarroti1 of
 course1 and1 for all his secularities4 
,boccace--it is not imagination you find
 in ,tuscany4 ,rather1 it is a sweet and
 delicate1 a wholesome1 home-grown      
fancy1 wantoning with thought which may 
be unpleasant1 unhealthy1 grave1        
frivolous--what you will2 yet playing in
 such a way1 and with such intuitive    
taste and breeding that no harm ensues  
nor any nausea4 ,they realise for me a  
fairy country2 ,i can think no evil of a
 ,tuscan4 ,so ,i can read ,boccace the  
infidel1 ,poggio the gross1 where       
,voltaire makes me a bigot and ,catulle 
,mendes ashamed4 ,the fresh breeze      
blowing through the ,decameron keeps the

 air sweet4 ,even ,lorenzo is a child   
for me1 and ,macchiavel1 the man without
 a soul1 ,i decline to take seriously4  
,consider1 then1 all ,tuscan art from   
this point of view1 the weaving of      
innocent fancies round some             
chance-caught theme1 ,christianity may  
have been the point d'appui4 ,no doubt  
it generally was4 ,what then8 ,have you 
never heard two children dreaming aloud 
of the ways of ,god1 or the troubles of 
,christ8 ,how they humanise1 how they   
realise the ,mystery6 ,just such a      
pretty babble ,i find in the ,spanish   
,chapel1 which to take in any other     
spirit would work a madness in the      
brain4 ,you remember the ,north wall1   
apotheosis of ,saint ,thomas and        
what-not1 for all the world like a      
paradigm of the irregular verb          
,aquinizo4 ,what are we to suppose      
,lippo ,memmi 7or whoever else it was7  
to have been about when he hung in      
mid-air on his swinging bridge and      
stained the wet square red and green8   

,to read ,ruskin you would think he was 
fulminating urbi et orbi with the ,summa
 or ,cur ,deus homo at his fingers'     
ends4 ,depend upon it he was doing quite
 other1 or the artistic temper 7phrase  
rendered loathsome by the halfpenny     
newspapers7 suffered a relapse between  
the days of ,king ,david and the days of
 his brother ,lippo ,lippi4 ,are we to  
suppose that a man who could live in    
intimate commerce with fourteen such    
gracious ladies as he has set there1    
ranged on their carved sedilia--his     
,britomart trim and debonnair2 his      
willowy ,carit2 his wimpled matron in   
clean white who masquerades as ,i know  
not what branch of theology2 his pretty 
girlish ,geometry of coiled and braided 
hair and the yet unloosed girdle of     
demure virginity2 his maid ,musica      
crowned with roses1 and ,logica1 the    
bold-eyed and open-throated wench1 hand 
to hip--is this the man for             
sententiousness8 ,out1 out6 ,could any  
one save a humourist of high order have 

given ,moses such a pair of horns1 or   
set1 under ,music1 such a shagged ,tubal
 to belabour an anvil8 ,the wall sings  
like an anthology1--a ,gothic anthology 
where ,bele ,aliz matin leva is         
versicle1 and ,in un boschetto trovai   
pastorella antiphon4 ,you might as well 
talk of ,christian ,mathematics as of   
,christian ,art1 or bind the sweet      
influences of ,pleiades as the volant   
sallies of a poet's wit4  ,once we get  
it into our heads that the ,tuscans were
 fanciful children1 always1 and the     
discrepancy of critics1 of ,ruskin and  
,mr4 ,george ,moore1 of ,rio and ,mr4   
,addington ,symonds1 may vanish4 ,for   
another thing1 we shall understand and  
allow for the standard of ,santa ,croce 
and the ,fioretti4 ,from the latter     
nosegay6 take this3  ,it happened one   
day as ,brother ,peter was standing to  
his prayer1 thinking earnestly about the
 ,passion of ,christ1 how the blessed   
,mother of him1 and ,john ,evangelist   
his best-beloved1 and ,saint ,francis   

too1 were painted at the foot of the    
,cross1 crucified indeed with him       
through anguish of the mind1 that there 
came upon him the longing to know which 
of these three had endured the bitterest
 pains of that anguish1 the ,mother who 
bore our ,lord1 or the ,disciple        
familiar to his bosom1 or ,saint        
,francis crucified also even as he was4 
,and as he stood thinking on these      
things1 lo6 there appeared before him   
the ,virgin ,mary with ,saint ,john     
,evangelist and ,saint ,francis1 robed  
in splendid apparel and of glory        
wonderful2 but ,saint ,francis' robe was
 more cunningly wrought than ,saint     
,john's4 ,now ,peter stood quite scared 
at the sight2 but ,saint ,john bade him 
take comfort1 saying1 ',be not afraid1  
dearest brother1 for we are come hither 
to dispel thy doubt4 ,you are to knows  
then1 that above all creatures the      
,mother of ,christ and ,i grieved over  
the ,passion of our ,lord4 ,but since   
that day ,saint ,francis has felt more  

anguish than any other4 ,therefore1 as  
you see1 he is in glory now4' ,then     
,brother ,peter asked him1 and said1    
',most holy ,apostle of ,christ1        
wherefore cometh it that the vesture of 
,saint ,francis is more glorious than   
thine8' ,answered him ,saint ,john1     
',the reason is this1 for that when he  
was in the world he wore a viler than   
ever ,i did4' ,so then ,saint ,john gave
 him a vestment which he carried on his 
arm1 and the holy company vanished4     
,this1 be sure1 is true2 and ,i have its
 ,english parallel ready to hand4 ,for  
,i once heard a father and his child    
talking of the goodness of ,god4 ,god1  
says the father1 gives thee the milk to 
thy porridge2 and the child thought it a
 good saying1 yet puzzled over it1      
doubting1 as it afterwards appeared1 the
 part to be assigned to a friend of his1
 the daily milkman4 ,and so he solved   
it4 ,god makes the milk and the milkman 
brings it1 he said4 ,the ,fioretti1 if  
you must needs break a butterfly on your

 dissecting-board1 was written1 as ,i   
judge1 by a bare-foot ,minorite of      
forty2 compiled1 that is1 from the      
wonderings1 the pretty adjustments and  
naive disquisitions of any such         
weatherworn brown men as you may see to-
 day toiling up the ,calvary to their   
,convent4 ,and in this same story-      
telling ,giotto is an adept4 ,he loves  
to gather his fellows round him and     
speak of ,saints and ,archangels1 where 
our youngsters talk of fairy godmothers 
and white rabbits4 ,to say this is not  
,art1 as the critics profanely teach1 is
 monstrous4 ,is not the ,fioretti       
literature1 or the ,gospel according to 
,saint ,luke literature8 ,and is not    
,religion the highest art of all1 the   
large elementary poetry in the core of  
the heart of man8 ,just so was the craft
 which disposed the rings of that       
wonderful ornament round about the      
,bardi chapel1 rings of clean arabesque 
wrought in line upon pale blue and pink 
and brown1 and which in so doing fitted 

the ,franciscan thaumaturgy with an     
exact garment tenderly adjusted to every
 wave of its abandonment--even so was   
this a great art indeed4 ,for you ask of
 an art no more than this1 that it shall
 be adequately representative3 there are
 no comparative degrees4  ,so when ,i   
learn from the works of ,ruskin that he 
can read a picture to you as1 if ,mr4   
,spurgeon knew anything about art1 ,mr4 
,spurgeon would read it1--that is to    
say1 from the plain1 common-sense       
,protestant side2 or when ,i learn from 
the works of ,mr4 ,george ,moore that   
,sir ,frederick ,burton made of the     
,national ,gallery a ,museum2 or when   
one complains of a picture that it is   
not didactic1 and another that it holds 
a thought1 ,i make haste to laugh lest  
,i should do wrong to ,tuscany1 that    
looked upon the world to love it3 for   
she saw that it was very good4    ,,iii 
,a ,,sacrifice ,,at ,,prato  7,an       
,old-fashioned ,narrative7  ,footnote3  
,perhaps ,i may be allowed to explain   

that this article was written from the  
standpoint of a cultivated ,pagan of the
 ,empire1 who should have journeyed in  
,time as well as ,space4  ,the rim of   
the sun was burning the hill tops1 and  
already the vanguard of his strength    
stemming the morning mists1 when ,i and 
my companion first trod the dust of a   
small town which stood in our path4 ,it 
still lay very hard and white1 however1 
and sharply edged to its girdle of      
olives and mulberry trees drenched in   
dews1 a compactly folded town1 well     
fortified by strong walls and many      
towers1 with the mist upon it and softly
 over it like a veil4 ,for it lay well  
under the shade of the hills awaiting   
the sun's coming4 ,in the streets1      
though they were by no means asleep1    
but1 contrariwise1 busy with the traffic
 of men and pack-mules1 there was a     
shrewd bite as of night air2 looking up 
we could perceive how faint the blue of 
the sky was1 and the cloud-flaw how rosy
 yet with the flush of ,aurora's        

beauty-sleep4 ,therefore we were glad to
 get into the market- place1 filled with
 people and set round with goodly brick 
buildings1 and to feel the light and    
warmth steal about our limbs4  ,it would
 seem fitting1 said ,i1 seeing that day 
is at hand and already we enjoy the     
first-fruits of his largess1 that we    
should seek some neighbouring shrine    
where we might praise the gods4 ,for    
never yet was land that had not1 as its 
fairest work1 gods3 and in a land so    
fair as this there must needs be gods   
yet fairer1 and shrines to case them in4
 ,this ,i said1 having observed pious   
offerings laid upon the shrines of      
divers gods by the road4 ,at the which1 
looking curiously1 it seemed to me that 
the inhabitants of this country were    
favoured above the common with devout   
thoughts and the objects of them--gods  
and goddesses4 ,you might not pass a    
farm without its tutelary altar to the  
genius of the place1 some holy shade1   
or--as she was figured as a matron--some

 great land-goddess1 perhaps ,cybele1 or
 the ,bona ,dea2 and pleasant it was to 
me to see that the tufts of common      
flowers set before her were for the most
 part smiling and fresh with the dew    
that assured an early gathering4 ,in the
 streets of the city1 moreover1 ,i had  
seen many more such1 slight affairs 7it 
is true7 of painted earthenware1 some   
gaudily adorned with green and yellow   
colour and of workmanship as raw1 some  
painted flat on the wall of a recess 7in
 which was more skill1 though the device
 was often gross enough--to dwell upon  
death and despair71 and some again of   
choice beauty1 both of form and colour1 
and a most rare blitheness1 as it might 
be the spirit of the contrivers breaking
 through the hard stone4 ,and all of    
these ,i knew to be gods1 but the       
devices upon them were hard to be read1 
or approved4 ,there was a naked youth   
pierced with arrows1 wherein the texture
 of smooth flesh accorded not well with 
the bitterness of his hurt2 a young man 

also1 bearded1 of spare and mournful    
habit and girt with a rope round his    
middle2 in his hands were wounds1 as    
again of arrows1 and there was a rent in
 his garment where a javelin had torn a 
way into his side4 ,such suffering of   
wounds and broken flesh stared sharply  
up against the young flowers and grasses
 which spoke of healthy wind and rain   
and a sun-kissed earth4 ,goddesses also 
,i saw--a virgin of comely red and white
 visage2 yellow-haired she was1 crowned 
like a king's daughter2 at her side a   
wheel1 cruelly spiked on the outer edge 
and not easily to be related to so      
heart-some a maid4 ,but before them all 
7with one grim exception1 to be sure7 ,i
 saw the ,earth-,mother who had been    
upon the farm and homestead- walls1 of  
the same high perfection of form1 and in
 raiment stately and adorned1 yet 7it   
would seem7 something sorrowful as she  
might mourn the loss of lover or young  
child4 ,now the darkest sight ,i saw was
 that exception before rehearsed2 and it

 was this4 ,a black cross stood ,in the 
most joyful places of the city1 and one 
suffered upon it to very death4 ,whereat
 ,i marvelled greatly1 saying1 ,who ,is 
the man thus tormented whom the people  
worship as a god8 ,and my companion     
answered1  ,a great god he is1 if the   
country report lie not1 and has many    
names1 which amount to this1 that he has
 freed this nation from bondage and died
 that he may live again1 and they too4  
,and of the truth of what they say ,i   
cannot speak2 but ,i think he is        
,bacchus the ,redeemer1 who1 as you1    
,balbus1 know1 was no wanton reveller in
 lasciviousness1 but a very god of great
 benevolence and of wisdom truly dark   
and awful4 ,who also took our mortal    
nature upon him and suffered in the     
shades3 rising whence 7for he was god   
and man7 like the dawn from the night's 
bosom1 or the flooding of spring weather
 from the iron gates of winter1 he sped 
over land and sea1 touching earth and   
the dwellers upon it4 ,and to those he  

touched tongues were given and          
soothsaying1 and to many the transports 
of inspiration and divine madness1 as of
 poets and rhapsodists4 ,and tragedy and
 choral odes are his1 and the furious   
splendour of dances4 ,but of the worship
 of ,dionysus you know something1 having
 been at ,eleusis and beheld the holy   
mysteries4  ,now the god of this people 
has the same gift of tongues and madness
 of possession4 ,to him are also sacred 
priests of the oracle1 and high         
tragedies1 and the wailing of music1 and
 streaming processions of virgins and   
young boys4 ,he too agonised and arose  
stronger and more shining than before1  
dying1 indeed1 and rising at the very   
vernal equinox we have mentioned4 ,he   
too is worshipped in certain ,mysteries 
whereat the confession of iniquity and  
the cleansing of hearts come first3 and 
the sacrifice is just that wheaten cake 
and fruit of the vine whereof1 at       
,eleusis1 you have praised to me the    
simplicity and ethic beauty4 ,and he can

 inspire his devotees with frenzy4 ,for 
,i have heard that certain men of the   
country1 on a day1 and urged by his     
dmon1 run naked from place to place in  
honour of him1 lashing their bare backs 
with ox-goads2 and will fast by the week
 together1 they and the women alike2 and
 that pious virgins1 under stress of    
these things1 swoon and are floated     
betwixt earth and heaven1 and afterwards
 relate their blissful encounters and   
prophesy strange matters2 receiving also
 dolorous wounds 7which nevertheless are
 very sweet to them7 like to the wounds 
which he himself received unto death2   
and all these things they endure because
 they are mystically fraught with the   
wisdom and efficacy of the god4 ,nay1 ,i
 have been told that in the parts over  
sea1 towards the ,north and ,west1 he is
 worshipped1 just as at ,eleusis1 with  
pipes and timbrels and brazen cymbals   
and all excess of music2 and there they 
dance in his service and suffer the     
ecstasies of the ,mnads and ,corybants  

in the ,dionysiac revel4 ,but this ,i   
find quaint to be believed4  ,now when  
,i had heard so much1 ,i was the more   
desirous to find some temple where ,i   
could observe the cult of this wounded  
gods and so sought counsel of my friend 
versed in the people's learning4 ,to my 
questioning he replied that it would be 
easy4 ,we were 7said he7 in the         
market-place among the buyers and       
chafferers of fruit1 vegetables1        
earthenware1 milk1 eggs1 and such       
country produce2 which honest folk1 it  
being the hour of the morning sacrifice 
and the temple facing us1 would soon    
abandon their brisk toil for religion's 
sake2 whereupon we too would go4 ,so ,i 
looked across the square and saw a very 
fair building1 lofty and many windowed1 
all of clean white marble1 banded over  
with bars of a smooth black stone1      
curiously carved1 moreover1 in          
sculptured work of gods and men and of  
flowers and fruits--all cut in the pure 
marble4 ,at one side was a noble        

rostrum1 of the like fine stone1 whereon
 young boys and girls1 as it were fauns 
and dryads and other woodland creatures1
 capered as they list3 and above the    
midmost door a semicircle of pale blue  
enamel1 whereon was the image of the    
,great ,goddess in gleaming white4 ,she 
was of smiling debonnair countenance and
 in the full pride of her               
blossom-time--being as a young woman    
whose girdle is new loosed to the will  
of her lord--and in her arms was a naked
 child1 finely wrought to the size of   
life4 ,on either side of her a beautiful
 youth 7in whom ,i must needs admire the
 smoothness of their chins and the      
bravery of their vesture shining in the 
clear light7 did reverence to the       
,goddess and the child3 and there were  
beings1 winged like birds1 with the     
faces of strong boys1 but no bodies at  
all that ,i could see1 who flew above   
them all4 ,this was brave work1 very    
wonderful to me in a people who1 thus   
excellently inspired and having such    

comely smiling divinities and so clear a
 vision of them before their eyes1 could
 yet be curious after suffering heroes  
and stabbed virgins and gods with       
mangled limbs4 ,but we went into the    
temple with the good people of the      
country- side to the sound of bells from
 a high tower hard by4 ,and ,i was      
something surprised that they brought no
 beasts with them for the sacrifice1 nor
 any of the fruits which were so        
abundant in the land2 but my companion  
reminded me again that the sacrifice was
 ready prepared within1 and was1 as it  
were1 emblematical of all fruits and    
every sort of meat1 being that wine and 
bread into which you may comprehend all 
bodily and 7by a figure7 ghostly        
sustenance4 ,by this we were within the 
temple1 which ,i now perceived was a    
pantheon1 having altars to all the gods1
 some only of whose shrines ,i had      
remarked on the way thither4 ,dark and  
lofty it was1 with piered arches that   
soared into the mist1 and jewelled      

windows painfully worked in histories   
and fables of old time3--all as far     
apart as conceivably might be from the  
holy places of my own country2 for      
whereas1 with us1 the level gaze of the 
sun is never absent1 and through the    
colonnades you would see stretches of   
the far blue country1 or1 perchance1 the
 shimmer of the restless sea1 here no   
light of day could penetrate1 and all   
the senses might apprehend must be of   
solemn darkness1 longing thoughts to    
cleave it1 and1 afar off and dim1 some  
flutter of even light as of blest       
abodes4 ,a strange people6 to despise   
the sure and fair1 for the taunting     
shadows of desire4 ,but1 growing more   
familiar in the middle of newness and   
the awe that comes of it1 ,i was again  
amazed at the number of the gods1 their 
nature and sort4 ,i saw again the       
arrow-stricken youth1 whom we call      
,asclepius 7but never knew thus         
tormented--as with his father's arrows67
 and again the ,maid of the ,wheel1     

,fortune as ,i suppose3 but with us the 
wheel is not so manifestly bitter4 ,then
 also the wounded hero1 cowled and      
corded1 ragged exceedingly1 the like of 
whom we have not1 unless it be some     
stripling loved by an immortal and      
wounded to death by grudging ,fate1 as  
,atys or ,adonis4 ,and if1 indeed1 this 
were one of them1 the image-maker did   
surely err in making him of so vile a   
presence--a thing against all likelihood
 that the gods1 being themselves of     
super- excellent shapeliness1 should    
stoop to anything of less favour4 ,yet  
he was of singular sweetness in his     
pains1 and high fortitude3 and he was   
much loved of the people1 as ,i         
afterwards learned4 ,and one was a young
 knight1 winged and with a sword in his 
hand2 at his feet a grievous worm of    
many folds4 ,this ,i must take for      
,perseus but that his radiancy did      
rather point him for ,phoebus1 the lord 
of days and the red sun4 ,but in the    
centre of the whole temple was an altar1

 high and broad1 fenced about with steps
 and a rail1 which ,i took to be made   
unto the god of gods or perhaps the king
 of that country1 until ,i saw the black
 cross and the ,agonist hanging from it 
as one dead4 ,then ,i knew that the     
chief god of this people was ,dionysus  
the ,redeemer1 if it were really he4    
,but ,i had reason to alter my opinion  
on that matter as you shall hear4  ,by  
this the temple was filled with the     
country folk who flocked ,in with the   
very reek of their toil upon them and   
hardly so much as their implements and  
marketable wares left behind4 ,they were
 of all ages and conditions1 both youths
 and maids1 arrowy1 tall and open-eyed2 
and aged ones there were1 bowed by      
labour and seamed with the stress of    
weather or the assaults of unstaying    
,fate3 whereof1 for the most part1 the  
women sat down against the wall and     
plied dextrously their fans2 but the men
 stood leaning against the pillars which
 held the timbers of the roof4 ,and they

 conversed easily together1 and some    
were merry1 and others1 as ,i could     
perceive1 beset with affairs of         
government or business--for they talked 
more vehemently of these matters than of
 others1 as men will1 even beneath the  
very eyelids of the god4 ,and so ,i     
could understand that this sacrifice was
 not the yearly celebrating of high     
mysteries1 but the common piety of every
 day with which it is rather seemly than
 essential we should begin our          
labouring4 ,there were1 indeed1 signs in
 the apparelling of the temple that more
 solemn festivals were sometimes held1  
as the delivery of oracles1 the         
calculation of auspices and such like3  
that1 at least1 ,i took to be the       
intention of small recesses along the   
walls1 that1 through a grating of fine  
brass1 a priest of the sanctuary uttered
 the wisdom of the god in sentences     
which the meaner sort should fit with   
what ease they might to their           
circumstances4 ,for1 ,i suppose1 it is  

still found good that the dark saying of
 the ,oracle shall be illumined by the  
subtlety of the initiate and not by the 
necessities of the simple4 ,and while ,i
 was thus musing ,i found the           
ministrants in shining white about the  
great altar1 busied with the preparation
 for the rite1 lighting the torches     
7very inconsiderable for so large a     
building1 but1 mayhap1 proportionate to 
the condition of the people73 and they  
placed a great book upon the altar1 and 
bowed themselves ere they left4 ,and    
soon afterwards1 to the ringing of a    
bell1 came the priest's boy carrying the
 offering of the altar1 and the priest  
himself in stiff garments of white and  
yellow4  ,now1 for the sacrifice1 ,i    
could not well understand it1 save that 
it was very shortly done and with a     
light heart accepted by the people1 who 
7,i thought7 held it as of the number of
 those services whose bare performance  
is efficacious and wholesome--on        
account1 partly of reverent antiquity   

and long usage1 and partly as having    
some hidden virtue best known to the god
 in whose honour it is done4 ,for in my 
own country1 ,i know well there were    
many such rites1 whose commission       
edified the people more than their      
omission would have dishonoured the god3
 wise men1 therefore 7as priests and    
philosophers71 who would live in peace1 
bow their bodies by rule1 knowing surely
 that their souls may be bolt upright   
notwithstanding4 ,so here were many     
solemn acts which1 doubtless1 once had  
some now unfathomable design and        
purport1 diligently rehearsed1 while the
 worshippers gazed about with dull      
unconcern1 or being young1 cast eyes of 
longing upon the country wenches set    
laughing and rosy by the wall1 or1 old1 
nursed their infirmities4 ,and1 on a    
sudden1 a bell rang2 and again rang2 and
 the packed body of men and women fell  
upon their faces1 and so remained in a  
horrific silence for a space where a man
 might count a score4 ,thereafter       

another bell1 as of release4 ,so the    
assembly rose to their feet and1 as ,i  
saw1 swept from their foreheads and     
breasts the dust of the temple floor4   
,but as soon as it was over1 a very old 
priest came through the press and       
offered the same sacrifice in a little  
guarded shrine at the lower end1 amid   
many lamps and wax torches and          
glittering ornaments4 ,here was more    
devotion among the people1 indeed a     
great struggling and elbowing just so as
 to touch the altar1 or the steps of it1
 or the priest's hem1 or even the rails 
which fenced the shrine4 ,and with some 
show of good reason was this hubbub1 as 
,i learned4 ,for here was indeed        
treasured the ,girdle of ,venus 7this   
being her very sanctuary7 and as much   
desired as ever it was by women great   
with child or wanting to conceive4 ,and 
,i looked very curiously upon it1 but   
the ,girdle ,i could never see2 only    
there was a painted image over the altar
 of the great queen-mother1 ,venus      

,genetrix herself1 depicted as a        
broad-browed1 placid matron giving of   
the fruits of her bounteous breasts to a
 male child4 ,then ,i knew that this was
 that same ,goddess who stood over the  
outer door of the place1 and was well   
pleased to find that the people1        
howsoever ignorantly1 adored the power  
that enwombs the world--,venus1 the     
life- bringer and quickener of things   
that breathe1--and could1 in this       
matter1 touch hearts with the wise4 ,so 
with this thought1 that truly ,god was  
one and men divers1 ,i came out of the  
temple well pleased1 into the level     
light of the day's beam4  ,in the tavern
 doorway1 under a bush of green ilex1 we
 sat down in company to eat bread and   
peaches sopped in the wine of the       
country1 and talked very briskly of all 
the things we had seen and heard4 ,and  
soon into the current of our discourse  
was drawn a dark-faced youth1 who had   
been observing us earnestly for some    
time from under his hanging brows1 and  

who1 growing mighty curious 7as ,i find 
the way of them is71 must know who and  
whence we were and of what belief and   
condition in the world4 ,so when ,i had 
satisfied him1 ,turn for turn1 said ,i1 
my honest friend3 being strangers1 as   
you have learned1 we have seen many     
things which touch us nearly1 and some  
which are hard of reading4 ,but this    
very reading is to us of high           
concernment1 for these matters relate to
 religion1 and religion1 of what sort   
soever it may be1 no man can venture to 
despise4 ,for certain ,i am1 that1 as a 
man hath never seen the gods1 so he may 
never be sure that he hath ever         
conceived them1 even darkly1 as in a    
mirror4 ,for we are dwellers in a cave1 
my friend1 with our backs to the light1 
and may not tell of a truth whether the 
shadows that flit and fade be indeed    
gods or no4 ,tell me1 therefore 7for ,i 
am puzzled by it71 is the goddess whose 
presentment ,i yet see over your        
temple-porch1 that ,mother of gods and  

men1 yea1 even ,mother of life itself1  
to whom we also bend the knee8  ,she is1
 sir1 as we believe1 ,mother of ,god2   
and therefore1 ,god being author of     
life4 ,mother of life and all things    
living4  ,it is as ,i had believed1 said
 ,i1 and you1 young sir1 and ,i1 may bow
 together in that temple of hers without
 offence4 ,for the temple is to her     
honour as ,i conceive8  ,why1 yes1 he   
answered1 it is raised to her most holy 
name and to that of our ,lord4  ,and    
your ,lord1 who is this8 and which altar
 is his8 ,for there were many4  ,the    
great altar is ,his1 and indeed ,he is  
to be worshipped in all1 said the young 
man4  ,he is then the tortured god1     
whose semblance hangs upon the black    
cross8  ,he is4  ,then ,i begged him to 
tell me why these mournful images were  
scattered over his goodly earth1 these  
maimed gods1 this blood and weeping2 but
 ,i may not set down all that he told   
me1 seeing that much of it was dark1 and
 much1 as ,i thought1 not pertinent to  

the issue4 ,much again was said with his
 hands1 which ,i cannot interpret here4 
,suffice it that ,i learned this        
concerning the ,agonist1 that he was the
 son of the goddess and greater than    
she1 though in a sense less4 ,mortal he 
was1 and immortal1 abject to look upon1 
being indeed accounted a malefactor and 
crucified like a thief2 and yet a king  
of men1 speaking wisdom whereof the like
 hath hardly been heard4 ,for of two    
things he taught there would seem to be 
no bottom to them1 so profound and      
unsearchable they are4 ,and one of them 
was this1-- ,the kingdom is within you  
7or some such words72 and the other was1
 ,who will lose his life shall save it4 
,whereof1 methinks1 the first           
comprehends all the teaching of the     
,academy and the second that of the     
,porch4 ,so this man must needs have    
been a god1 and whether the son or no of
 the ,soul of the ,world1 greater than  
she4 ,for what she did1 as it were by   
necessity and her blind inhering power1 

he knew4 ,therefore he must have been   
,wisdom itself4 ,and thus ,i knew that  
he could not be ,dionysus the ,saviour1 
though he might have many of his        
attributes2 nor simply that son of      
,venus whom ,ausonius alone of our poets
 saw fastened to a cross4 ,so at last1  
,i will tell you1 said ,i1 who this god 
really is1 as it seems to me4 ,being of 
vile estate and yet greatest of all2    
being mortal and yet immortal1 god and  
man2 being at once most wise and most   
simple1 and 7as such his condition      
imports7 intermediate between ,earth and
 ,heaven1 he must needs be the ,divine  
,eros1 concerning whom ,plato's words   
are yet with us4 ,so ,i can understand  
why he is so wise1 why he suffers       
always1 and yet cannot be driven by     
torment nor persuaded by sophisms to    
cease loving4 ,for the necessity of love
 is to crave ever2 and he is ,love      
himself4 ,wherefore ,i am very sure he  
can lead men1 if they will1 from the    
fair things of the world to those       

infinitely fairer things in themselves  
whereby what we now have are so very    
fair to see4 ,and he may well be son of 
this goddess and nourished by her milk2 
for it behoves us that a god should     
stand between ,earth and ,heaven and be 
compact of the elements of either1 so   
that he should condescend the wisdom of 
his head to instruct the clemency of his
 heart4 ,and we know1 you and ,i1 that  
the gods are but attributes of ,god1    
whose intellect 7as ,i say7 may well be 
in ,heaven1 but ,his heart is in the    
,earth1 and is the core of it4 ,for so  
we say of the poet that his heart is    
ever in his fair work4  ,thus we took   
our wine and were well content to sit in
 the sunshine4    ,,iv   ,,of ,,poets   
,,and ,,needlework  ,the man of our time
 to class poetry as a thing very        
pleasant and useful shall hardly be     
found4 ,at most the saying will suffer  
reprint as a quaintness1 a freak1 or a  
paradox2 and so it has proved4 ,from    
,prato1 dusty little city of            

mid-,tuscany1 and with the impress of   
its ,reale ,orfanotrofio 7nourisher1 it 
would thus appear1 of more ,humanities  
than one7 comes an ,opera ,nova1 nella  
quale si contengono bellissime historie1
 contrasti1 lamenti et frottole1 con    
alcune canzoni a ballo1 strambotti1     
geloghe1 farse1 capitoli e bazellette di
 pi eccellenti autori4 ,aggiuntevi assai
 tramutationi1 villanelle alla          
napolitana1 sonetti alla bergamasca et  
mariazi alla povana1 indovinelli1       
ritoboli e passerotti2 cosa1 this legend
 goes on to say1 molto piacevole et     
utile4 ,this is1 no doubt1 rococo1 and  
at best a pitiful1 catchfarthing bit of 
ancientry3 yet it looks back to a time  
when it was indeed the fact that no     
choice work could be but useful1 and    
when eyes and ears1 as conduits to the  
soul1 had that full of consideration we 
reserve for mouth and nose1 purveyors to
 the belly4  ,vasari1 ,giorgio1 he too1 
bourgeois though he were1 and in so far 
the best of testimony1 knew it when he  

found ,luca's blue and white to be molto
 utile per la state4 ,we should say that
 of a white umbrella or suit of         
flannels2 why of earthenware or an      
adroit strambotto8 ,that marks the      
cleft1 the incurable gulf of difference 
between a people like the ,tuscans with 
art in their marrow1 and our present    
selves with our touching reliance upon a
 most unseemly hunger after facts4 ,i   
suppose ,i should be stretching a point 
if ,i said that ,samson ,agonistes was  
cosa molto piacevole ed utile4 ,and yet 
,i name there a great poem and a        
weighty1 whence the general public suck1
 or claim to suck1 no small advantage4  
,is it more useful to them than         
,bradshaw8 ,i doubt4 ,but here1 in this 
,opera ,nova so furthered1 are          
sixty-three little snatches of ,luigi   
,pulci's1 eight lines to the stave1     
about the idlest of make-believe love   
affairs1 full of such ,petrarchisms as  
,gl' occhi tuoi belli son li crudel     
dardi1 or  ,tu m' ai trafitto il cor6   

donde io moro1  ,se tu1 iddea1 non mi   
dai aiutoro4--   the merest commonplaces
 of gallantry3 called on what account by
 their contrivers molto utile8  ,i have 
urged in my ,second ,essay that the     
,tuscans were inveterate weavers of     
fancy1 choosing what came easiest to    
hand to weave withal4 ,i dared to see   
such airy spinning in that ,spanish     
,chapel from which ,mr4 ,ruskin has     
nearly frightened the lovers of ,art2 ,i
 said that the ,summa was to the        
painters there as good vantage ground as
 any novel of ,sacchetti's4 ,i now say  
that ,luigi ,pulci and his kindred so   
treated the love-lore which was solemn  
mystery to ,guinicelli and ,lapo and    
,fazio1 or the young ,dante shuddering  
before his lord of terrible aspect4 ,i  
would add ,petrarch's name to this      
honourable roll if ,i believed it       
fitting such a niche2 but ,i find him   
the greatest equivocator of them all1   
and owe him a grudge for making a       
fifteenth-century ,dante impossible4 ,it

 is true1 had there been such a poet we 
should never have had our ,milton2 but  
that may not serve the ,swan of         
,vaucluse as justification for being    
miserable before a looking-glass1 that  
he starved his grandsons to serve ours4 
,take him then as a poser3 give him1 for
 the argument's sake1 ,boccace to his   
company1 ,cino2 give him our ,pulci1    
give him ,ariosto1 give him ,lorenzo1   
,politian2 give him ,tasso for aught ,i 
care2 you have no one left but the      
sugar-cured ,guarino4 ,dante stands     
alone upon the skyey peaks of his great 
argument1 steadied there and holding his
 breath1 as for the hush that precedes  
weighty endeavour2 and ,bojardo 7no     
,tuscan by birth7 stands squarely to the
 plains1 holding out one hand to        
,rabelais over-,alps and another to     
,boccace grinning in his grave4 ,the    
fellow is such a sturdy pagan we must   
e'en forgive him some of his quirks4    
,italian poesy1 poor lady1 stript to the
 smock1 can still look honestly out if  

she have but two such vestments whole   
and unclouted as the ,commedia and the  
,orlando4 ,let us look at some of her   
spoiled bravery4 ,take up my ,opera     
,nova and pick over ,pulci in his       
lightest mood4 ,i am minded to try my   
hand for your amusement4  ,let him      
rejoice who can2 for me1 ,i'd grieve4   
,peace be with all2 for me yet shall be 
war4 ,let him that hugs delight1 hug on1
 and leave ,to me sweet pain1 lest day  
my night shall mar4 ,i am struck hard2  
the world1 you may believe1 ,laughs     
out2--rejoice1 my world6 ,i'll pet my   
scar4 ,rogue love1 that puttest me to   
such a pass1 ,they cry thee1 ',it is    
well6' ,i sing1 ',alas6'  ,vers de      
socit8 ,no2 too rhetorical3 your        
antithesis gives headaches to fine      
ladies4 ,euphuist8 ,not in the applied  
sense3 read ,shakespere's sonnets in    
that manner2 or1 if you object that     
,shakespere is too high for such        
comparisons1 read ,drummond of          
,hawthornden4 ,poetry1 which has a soul1

 we cannot call it4 ,verse it assuredly 
is1 and of the most excellent4 ,just    
receive a quatrain of the pure spring1  
and judge for yourself3  ,chi gode goda1
 che pur io stento2 ,chi  in pace si    
sia1 ch' io son in guerra2 ,chi ha      
diletto l' habbi1 ch' io ho tormento2   
,chi vive lieto1 in me dolor afferra4   
,balance is there4 ,vocalisation1       
adjustment of sound1 discriminate use of
 long syllables and short1 of           
subjunctive and indicative moods4#a     
,unpremeditated art it is not3 indeed it
 is craft rather than art2 for ,art     
demands a larger share of               
soul-expenditure than ,pulci could      
afford4 ,and of such is the delicate    
ware which ,tuscany1 nothing doubting1  
took for lavoro molto utile4 ,for1      
believe it or not1 of that kind were    
,delia ,robbia's enrichments1           
,ghirlandajo's frescos1 ,raphael's      
,madonnas1 and ,alberti's broad marble  
churches3 of that kind and of no other2 
on a level with the painted lady smiling

 out of a painted window at ,airolo1    
whose frozen lips assure the traverser  
of the ,saint ,gothard that he has      
passed the ridge and may soon smell the 
olives4  ,footnote #a3 ,more than that3 
the piece is an excellent example of the
 skilful use of redundant syllables4 ,it
 is certain that a study of ,italian    
poetry would help our1 too often1 tame  
blank verse to be 7however bad          
otherwise7 at least not dull4 ,it might 
bring it nearer to ,milton1 as ,dante   
brought ,keats4 ,witness his revision of
 ,hyperion4 ,if the ,tuscans overrated  
the craft in ,poetry1 we assuredly      
underrate it4  ,wherein1 then1 is the   
use8 ,why1 it is in the art of it4 ,i   
will convict you out of ,alberti's own  
mouth1 or his biographer's1 for he spake
 it truly4 ,for he was wont to say1 thus
 runs the passage1 that whatever might  
be accomplished by the wit of man with a
 certain choiceness1 that indeed was    
next to the divine4 ,to image the       
divine1 you see1 you must accomplish    

somewhat1 scrupulously weigh1 select and
 refuse2 in short adapt exquisitely your
 means until they are adequate to your  
ends4 ,and1 keeping the eye steadily on 
that1 you might grow to discard solemn  
ends1 or momentous1 altogether1 until   
poetry and painting ceased to be arts at
 all1 and must be classed1 at best1 with
 needlework4 ,so indeed it proved in the
 case of poetry4 ,after ,politian 7who  
really did catch some echo of other     
times1 and of manners more primal than  
his own1 and did instil something of it 
in his ,orfeo7 no poet of ,italy had    
anything serious to say4 ,i doubt it    
even of ,tasso1 though ,tasso1 ,i know1 
has a vogue4 ,i except1 of course1      
,michael ,angelo1 as ,i have already    
said2 and ,i except ,boccace and        
,bojardo4 ,painting was drawn out of the
 pit laid privily for her by the sheer  
necessity of an outlet2 and painting1   
having much to say1 became the          
representative ,italian art4 ,poetry1   
the most ancient of them all1 as she is 

the most majestic2 the art which refuses
 to be taught1 and alone of her sisters 
must be acquired by self-spenditure 7so 
that before you can learn to string your
 words in music you must be shaken with 
a thought which1 to your torturing1 you 
must spoil72 poetry1 at once music and  
soothsay1 knitted to us as touching her 
common speech1 and to the spheres as    
touching on the same immortal harmonies2
 poetry such as ,dante's was1 was gone  
from ,tuscany1 and painting1 to her own 
ruining1 reigned instead1 drawing in    
sculpture and architecture to share her 
kingdom and attributes4 ,which indeed   
they did1 to their equal detriment and  
our discouragement that read4  ,when ,i 
want to see ,death in small-clothes     
bowing in the drawing-room ,i turn to my
 ,petrarch and open at ,sonnet          
cclxxxii41 where it is written how3--   
,it lies with ,death to take the beauty 
of ,laura but not the gracious memory of
 her2  ,as thus3  ,now hast them touch'd
 thy stretch of power1 ,o ,death2 ,thy  

brigandage hath beggar'd ,love's demesne
 ,and quench'd the lamp that lit it1 and
 the queen ,of all the flowers snapped  
with thy ragged teeth4 ,hollow and      
meagre stares our life beneath ,the     
querulous moon1 robb'd of its sovereign3
 ,yet the report of her1 her deathless  
mien-- ,not thine1 ,o churl6 ,not thine1
 thou greedy ,death6 ,they are with her 
in ,heaven1 the which her grace1 ,like  
some brave light1 gladdens exceedingly  
,and shoots chance beams to this our    
dwelling-place2 ,so art thou swallowed  
in her victory4 ,yet on me1             
beauty-whelmed in very sooth1 ,on me    
that last-born angel shall have ruth4   
,look in vain for the deep heart-cry    
that voiced ,dante's passion in the     
tremendous statements of this3--        
,beatrice is gone up into high ,heaven1 
,the kingdom where the angels are at    
peace2 ,and lives with them3 and to her 
friends is dead4 ,not by the frost of   
winter was she driven ,away1 like       
others2 nor by summer heats2 ,but       

through a perfect gentleness instead4   
,for from the lamp of her meek lowlihead
 ,such an exceeding glory went up hence 
,that it woke wonder in the ,eternal    
,sire1 ,until a sweet desire ,entered   
,him for that lovely excellence1 ,so    
that ,he bade her to ,himself aspire2   
,counting this weary and most evil place
 ,unworthy of a thing so full of grace4 
,footnote3 ,this translation is         
,rossetti's4  ,now and again it may     
happen that a poet1 ridden by the images
 of his thought1 can state the facts and
 leave the rhyme to chance4 ,the        
,greeks1 to whom facts were rarer and of
 more significance1 one supposes1 than  
they are to us1 did it habitually4 ,that
 is what gives such irresistible import 
to ,homer and to ,sophocles4 ,they knew 
that the adjective is the natural enemy 
of the verb4 ,the naked act1 the bare   
thought1 a sequence of stately- balanced
 rhythm and that ensuing harmony of     
sentences1 gave their poetry its        
distinction4 ,they did not wilfully     

colour their verse1 if they did1 as ,i  
suppose we must admit1 their statues4   
,now1 says ,sir ,thomas1 there is a     
musick wherever there is a harmony1     
order or proportion2 and thus far we may
 maintain the musick of the spheres2 for
 those well-ordered motions1 and regular
 paces1 though they give no sound unto  
the ear1 yet to the understanding they  
strike a note most full of harmony4     
,after the ,greeks1 ,dante1 who may have
 drawn lo bello stile from ,virgil1 but 
hardly his great notes1 as of a bell1   
carried on the tradition of directness  
and naked strength4 ,but ,petrarch1 and 
after him all ,tuscany1 dallied with    
light thinking1 and beat all the images 
of ,love's treasury into thin           
conventions4  ,per1 what gentlemen they 
were1 these ingegni fiorentini1 these   
,tuscan wits6 ,what innate breeding and 
reticence6 ,what punctilious loyalty to 
the little observances of literature1 of
 wall-decoration1 call it1 in the most  
licentiously minded of them6 ,lorenzo   

,magnifico was a rake and could write   
lewdly enough1 as we all know4 ,yet1    
when he chose1 that is when ,art bade   
him1 how unerringly he chose the right  
momentum4 ,his too was la mente che non 
erra4 ,i found this of his the other    
day1 and must needs close up my notes   
with it4 ,the very notion of it was1 in 
his time1 a convention2 a series of     
sonnets bound together by an argument2 a
 ,vita nova without its overmastering   
occasion4 ,simonetta was dead2 whereupon
 tutti i fiorentini ingegni1 come si    
conviene in si pubblica jattura1        
diversamente ed avversamente si dolsono1
 chi in versi1 chi in prosa4 ,the poor  
dead lady was1 in fact1 a butt for these
 sharpshooters4 ,yet hear ,lorenzo4     
,died1 as we have declared1 in our city 
a certain lady1 whereby all people alike
 in ,florence were moved to compassion4 
,and this is no marvel1 seeing that with
 all earthly beauty and courtesy she was
 adorned as1 before her day1 no other   
under heaven could have been4 ,among her

 other excellent parts1 she had a       
carriage so sweet and winsome that      
whosoever should have any commerce or   
friendly dealing with her1 straightway  
fell to believe himself enamoured of    
her4 ,ladies also1 and all youth of her 
degree1 not only suffered no harbourage 
to unkindly thought upon this her       
eminence over all the rest1 nor grudged 
it her at all1 but stoutly upheld and   
took pleasure in her loveliness and     
gracious bearing2 and this so honestly  
that you would have found it hard to be 
believed so many men without jealousy   
could have loved her1 or so many ladies 
without envy give her place4 ,so1 the   
more her life by its comely ordering had
 endeared her to mankind1 pity also for 
her death1 for the flower of her youth1 
and for a beauteousness which in death1 
it may be1 showed the more resplendently
 than in life1 did breed in the heart   
the smarting of great desire4 ,therefore
 she was carried uncovered on the bier  
from her dwelling to the place of       

burial1 and moved all men1 thronging    
there to see her1 to abundant shedding  
of tears4 ,and in some1 who before had  
not been aware of her1 after pity grew  
great marvel for that she1 in death1 had
 overcome that loveliness which had     
seemed insuperable while she yet lived4 
,among which people1 who before had not 
known her1 there grew a bitterness and1 
as it were1 ground of reproach1 that    
they had not been acquainted with so    
fair a thing before that hour when they 
must be shut off from it for ever2 to   
know her thus and have perpetual grief  
of her4 ,but truly in her was made      
manifest that which our ,petrarch had   
spoken when he said1  ',death showed him
 lovely in her lovely face4'  ,this is  
to write like a gentleman and an artist1
 with ear attuned to the subtlest fall  
and cadence1 with scrupulous weighing of
 words that their true outline shall    
hold clear and sharp4 ,it is            
intarsiatura1 skilful and clean at the  
edges4 ,he goes on to play with his     

hammered thought1 always as delicately  
and precisely as before4  ,falling1     
therefore1 such an one to death1 all the
 wits of ,florence1 as is seemly in so  
public a calamity1 lamented severally   
and mutually1 some in rhyme1 some in    
prose1 the ruefulness of it2 and bound  
themselves to exalt her excellence each 
after the contriving of his mind3 in    
which company ,i1 too1 must needs be2   
,i1 too1 mingle rhymes with tears4 ,so  
,i did in the sonnets below rehearsed2  
whereof the first began thus3  ',o      
limpid shining star that to thy beam4'  
,night had fallen3 together we walked1 a
 dear friend and ,i1 together talking of
 our common sorrow3 and so speaking1 the
 night being wondrous clear1 ,i lifted  
my eyes to a star of exceeding          
brilliancy1 which appeared in the ,west1
 of such assured splendour as not alone 
to excel other stars1 but so eagerly to 
shine that it threw in shadow all the   
lights of heaven about it4 ,whereof     
having great marvel1 ,i turned to my    

friend1 saying--',we ought not to wonder
 at this sight1 seeing that the soul of 
that most gentle lady is of a truth     
either re-informed in this1 a new star1 
or conjoined to shine with it4          
,wherefore there is no marvel in such   
exceeding brightness2 and we who took   
comfort in her living delights1 may even
 now be appeased by her appearance in a 
limpid star4 ,and if our vision for such
 a light is tender and fragile1 we      
should beseech her shade1 that is the   
god in her1 to make us bolder by        
withholding some part of her beam that  
we may sometimes look upon her1 nor sear
 our eyes4 ,but1 to say sooth1 this is  
no over-boldness in her1 endowed as she 
was with all the power of her beauty1   
that she should strive to shine more    
excellently than all the other stars1 or
 even yet more proudly with ,phoebus    
himself1 asking of him his very chariot1
 that she1 rather1 may rule our day4    
,which thing1 if you allow it without   
presumption in our star1 how vilely     

shows the impertinence of ,death to have
 laid hands upon such loveliness and    
authority as hers4' ,and since these my 
reasonings seemed of the stuff proper   
for a sonnet1 ,i took leave of my friend
 and composed that one which follows2   
speaking in it of the above-mentioned   
star4  ,the sonnet is in the right      
,petrarchian vein1 adroit and shallow as
 you please4 ,with such a preface it    
could hardly be otherwise--the          
invocation of the lady's shade1 the     
twitting of ,death 7making his          
,mastership jig to suit their occasions 
who had of late been in his presence7   
and the naive acceptance of all gifts as
 buona materia a an sonetto1 ,in the end
 he spins four to her memory2 then finds
 another lady and doubles all his       
superlatives for her4 ,for the star1 he 
remembers1 may have been ,lucifer2 and  
,lucifer is but herald of the day4 ,to  
it then6 with all the buona materia a un
 sonetto the dawn can give you4 ,thus   
flourished poetry in the ,tuscan        

quattrocento2 for ,politian was but     
little more poet than ,lorenzo1 while he
 was no less dextrous as a rhymer and   
fashioner of conceits4 ,not serious1 but
 piacevole1 with an elegantia qudam     
prope divinum2 therefore molto utile4   
,pen-work in fact1 and kin to           
needlework4 ,because ,tuscany saw       
choicely-wrought things pleasing1 and   
pleasant things useful1 we of to-day can
 see ,florence as an open-air ,museum4  
,but we wrap our own ,poets in heavy    
bindings and let them lie on            
drawing-room tables in company of       
,whitaker's ,almanack and an album of   
photographs4 ,well1 well6 ,we must teach
 them to say1 ,philistia1 be thou glad  
of me1 ,i suppose4    ,v   ,,of ,,boils 
,,and ,,the ,,ideal  ,footnote3 ,this   
appeared in the ,new ,review for        
,december #ahif1 and is reproduced by   
leave of the ,publisher4  7,a ,colloquy 
with ,perugino7  ,there1 said my ,roman 
escort1 as we forded the ,tiber near    
,torglano1 the haze is lifting3 behold  

august ,perugia1 ,i looked out over the 
misty plain1 and saw the spiked ridge of
 a hill1 serried with towers and        
belfries as a port with ships' masts2   
then the grey stone walls and           
escarpments warm in the sun2 finally a  
mouth to the city1 which seemed to      
engulph both the white road and the     
citizens walking to and fro upon it like
 flies4 ,but it was some time yet before
 ,i could decipher the image on the     
gonfalon streaming in the breeze above  
the ,signiory4 ,it was actually1 on a   
field vert1 a griffin rampant sable1    
langued gules4 ,so ho6 said the guide   
when6 had described it1 ,so ho6 the     
,mountain ,cat is at home again4444 ,and
 here comes scouring one of the whelps1 
he added in alarm4 ,a young man1        
black-avised1 bare-headed1 pressing a   
lathered horse1 bore down upon us4 ,he  
seemed to gain exultation with every new
 pulse of his strength3 the ,genius of  
,brute ,force1 handsome as he was evil4 
,and yet not evil1 unless a wild beast  

is evil2 which it probably is not4 ,he  
soon reached us1 pulled up short with a 
clatter of hoofs1 and hailed me in a raw
 dialect1 asking what ,i did1 whence and
 who ,i was1 whither ,i went1 what ,i   
would8 ,as he spake--looking at me with 
fierce eyes in which pride1 suspicion1  
and the shyness of youth struggled and  
rent each other--he fooled with a       
straight sword1 and seemed to put his   
demands rather to provoke a quarrel than
 to get an answer4 ,i wished no quarrel 
with a boy1 so1 as my custom is1 ,i     
answered deliberately that ,i travelled1
 and from ,rome2 that my name was       
,hewlett1 at his service2 that ,i was   
going to ,perugia2 that ,i would be rid 
of him4 ,i saw him grow loutish before  
my adroit impassivity2 his fencing was  
not with such tools4 ,he sulked1 and    
must know next what ,i wanted at        
,perugia4 ,i told him ,i had business   
with ,pietro ,vannucci1 called ,il      
,perugino by those who admired him from 
a distance2 and he seemed relieved1     

withal a something of contempt for my   
person fluttered on his pretty lip4 ,at 
any rate1 he left fingering his steel   
toy4 ,peter the ,pious6 he scoffed1 ,are
 you of his litter8 ,pots and ,pans8    
,off with you2 you'll find him hoarding 
his money or his wife4 ,to the wife you 
may send these from ,semonetto4 ,whereat
 my young gentleman fell to kissing his 
hand in the air4 ,i rose in my stirrups 
and bowed elaborately1 and1 taking off  
my hat in the act1 put him to some      
shame1 for he was without that          
equipment4 ,he pulled a wry face at me1 
like any schoolboy1 and cantered off on 
his spent horse1 arms akimbo1 and his   
irons rattling about him4 ,my guide     
marked a furtive cross on his breast and
 vowed1 ,i am pretty sure1 a score      
candles to ,santa ,maria in ,cosmedin if
 ever he reached home4 ,god is good1 he 
said1 ,god is very good4 ,that was      
,simon ,baglione4  ,he seemed a very    
unlicked cub1 was all my reply4 ,so we  
climbed the dusty steep1 winding twice  

or thrice round about the hill in a     
brown plain set with stubbed trees1 and 
entered the armed city by the ,porta    
,eburnea4 ,inside the walls1 threading  
our way up a spiral lane among          
bullock-carts1 cloaked cavaliers1 monks1
 fair-haired girls carrying pitchers and
 baskets1 bullies1 bravoes1 and         
well-to-do burgesses1 we passed from one
 ambush to another1 by dark gullies1    
stinking traps1 and twisted stairways1  
to the ,via ,deliziosa1 without ever a  
hint of the broad sunshine or whiff of  
the balmy air which we had left outside 
on the plain4 ,in a little mildewed     
court1 where one patch of light did     
indeed slope upon a lemon-tree loaded   
with fruit and flowers1 ,i found my man 
in a droll pass with his young wife4 ,he
 was1 in fact1 tiring her hair in the   
open3 nothing more2 nevertheless there  
was that air of mystery in the          
performance which made me at once       
squeamish of going further1 and afraid  
to withdraw4 ,i stood1 therefore1 in    

confusion while the sport went on4 ,it  
was of his seeking ,i could see1 for the
 poor girl looked shamefaced and weary  
enough4 ,she was a winsome child 7no    
more71 broad in the brows1 full in the  
eye1 yellow- haired1 like most of the   
women in this place1 with a fine-shaped 
mouth1 rather voluptuously underlipped1 
and1 as ,i then saw her1 sitting in a   
carven chair with her hands at a        
listless droop over the arms of it4 ,her
 hair1 which was loose about her and of 
great length and softness1 lay at the   
mercy of her master4 ,he1 a short1 pursy
 man1 well over middle age-- past the   
,grand ,climacteric1 as ,bulwer ,lytton 
used to say--red and anxiously lined1   
stood behind her1 barber fashion1 and   
ran her hair through his fingers1 all   
the while talking to himself very fast4 
,his eyes were half-shut3 he seemed     
ravished by the sight of so much gold   
7if common reports belie him not7 or the
 feel of so much silk 7the likelier     
opinion71 ,i know not which4 ,assuredly 

so odd a beginning to my adventure1 a   
hardier man would have stumbled6  ,the  
sport went on4 ,the girl1 as ,i         
considered her1 was of slight1 almost   
mean figure2 her good looks1 which as   
yet lay rather in promise1 resolved     
themselves into a small compass1 for    
they ended at her shoulders4 ,below them
 she was slender to stooping1 and with  
no shape to speak of4 ,allow her a fine 
little head1 the timid freshness natural
 to her age1 a blush-rose skin1 slim    
neck1 and that glorious weight of hair3 
there is ,perugino's wife6 ,add that she
 was vested in a milky green robe which 
was cut square and low at the neck and  
fitted her close1 and ,i have no more to
 say on her score than she had on any4  
,as for the ,maestro himself1 ,i got to 
know him better4 ,on mere sight ,i could
 guess something of him4 ,a master      
evidently1 unhappy when not ordering    
something2 fidgety by the same token2   
yet a fellow of humours1 and fertile of 
inventions whereon to feed them4 ,the   

more ,i considered him the more subtle  
ministry to his pleasures did ,i find   
this morning's work to be4 ,a man1      
finally1 happiest in dreams4 ,i looked  
at him now in that vein4 ,in and out1   
elbow-deep sometimes1 went his hands and
 arms1 plunging1 swimming in that       
luxurious mesh of hair4 ,he sprayed it  
out in a shower for ,dana2 he clutched  
it hard and drew it into thick burnished
 ropes of fine gold4 ,anon1 as the whim 
caught him1 he would pile it up and     
hedge it with great silver pins1        
fan-shape1 such as country girls use1   
till it took the semblance1 now of a    
tower1 now of a wheel1 now of some      
winged beast--sphinx or                 
basilisk--couching on the girl's head4  
,then1 stepping back a little1 he would 
clasp his hands over his eyes1 and with 
head in air sing some snatch of triumph1
 or laugh aloud for the very wildness of
 his power2 and so the game went on1    
that seemed a feast of delight to the   
man--a feast8 an orgy of sense4 ,but the

 woman might have been cut in stone4    
,had she not breathed1 or had not her   
fingers faintly stirred now and again1  
you would have sworn her a wax doll4  ,i
 know not how long the two might have   
stayed at their affairs1 for here ,i    
grew wearied and1 coughing discreetly1  
slid my foot on the flags4 ,the man     
looked up1 stopped his play at once2 the
 spell was broken4 ,the girl1 ,i        
noticed1 stirred not at all1 but sat on 
as she was with her hair about her      
clasping her shoulders and flooding her 
with gold4 ,but ,master ,peter was a    
little disconcerted1 ,i am pretty sure2 
certainly he was redder than usual about
 the gills and gullet4 ,he cleared his  
throat once or twice with an attempt at 
pomposity which he vainly tried to      
sustain as he came out to meet me4 ,when
 ,i handed him the ,prothonotary's      
letter1 and he saw the broad seal1 he   
bowed quite low2 the letter read1 he    
took me by the hand and led me to the   
loggia of his house4 ,we had to pass    

,madam on the way thither2 but by this  
,master ,peter carried off the affair as
 coolly as you choose4 ,imola1 child1 he
 said as we passed1 ,i have company4    
,put up thy hair and fetch me out a     
fiaschone of ,orvieto--that of the year 
before last4 ,be sure thou makest no    
mistake2 and break no bottles1 girl1 for
 the wine is good4 ,and hard enough to  
come by1 he added with a sigh4 ,the girl
 obeyed4 ,without raising her eyes she  
rose2 without raising them she put her  
hands to her head and deftly braided and
 coiled her hair into a single twist2   
still looking down to earth she passed  
into the house4  ,pietro began to talk  
briskly enough so soon as we were set4  
,the air was mild for mid-,march2       
between the ridged tiles of the cortile1
 which ran up to a great height1 ,i     
could see a square of pale blue sky2    
gnats were busy in the beam of dusty    
light which slanted across the shade2 ,i
 heard the bees about the lemon-bush    
droning of a quiet and opulent summer   

hovering near-by4 ,it was a very        
peaceful and well-disposed world just   
then4 ,pietro1 much at his ease1 was apt
 to take life as he found it--nor do ,i 
wonder4 ,yes1 he said1 the work goes2   
the work goes4 ,i have much to do2 you  
may call me just now quite a man of     
affairs4 ,this very morning1 now1 ,i    
received a little deputation from ,citt 
di ,castello--quite a company6 ,the     
,prior1 the ,sub-,prior1 two            
,vicars-,choral1 two ,wardens of        
,guilds1 and other gentlemen1 craving a 
piece by my own hand for the altar of   
,saint ,roch4 ,i thank our ,lord ,i can 
pick and choose in these days4 ,i told  
them ,i would think of it1 whereat they 
seemed to know relief1 but ,i added1    
,how did they wish the boil treated1 on 
the ,saint's left thigh8 ,for ,i told   
them1 and ,i was very firm1 that though 
,holy ,church might aver the boil to    
have been a grievous boil1 a boil       
indeed1 yet my art could have little to 
say to boils1 as boils4 ,the boil must  

be a great boil1 and a red1 said they2  
for the populace love best what they    
know best1 and cannot worship1 as you   
might say1 with maimed rites4 ,moreover1
 ,poggibonsi had a ,saint ,roch done by 
that luxurious ,sienese ,bazzi 7a man of
 scandalous living1 as ,i daresay you   
know71 where the boil was fiery to      
behold and as big as a man's ankle-     
bone4 ,this was a cause of new great    
devotion among the impious by reason of 
its plain relationship to our frail     
flesh4 ,citt was a poor city2 in fine1  
there must be a handsome boil1 ,i said4 
,let me refine upon the boil1 and ,saint
 ,roch is yours1 with ,madonna1 in      
addition1 caught up in clouds of pure   
light1 and two fiddling angels1 one at  
either hand4 ,finally1 with the petition
 that ,madonna should be rarely adorned 
with pearls ,flemish- fashion1 they let 
me have my way upon the boil4 ,so the   
work goes on6  ,but1 good ,master       
,peter1 ,i exclaimed here1 ,i could find
 some discrepancy in this4 ,on the one  

hand you boggle at boils1 on the other  
you suffer pearls to be thrust upon you4
 ,why1 if you cleave to the one1 should 
you despise the other8 ,for1 for aught  
,i see1 your thesis should exclude      
either4  ,and so it does1 he said1      
smiling1 ,but for one man in ,citt that 
knows a pearl there will be a hundred   
who can judge of a boil4 ,my ,madonna   
will be a pearl-faced ,umbrian maid1 and
 her other pearls just as ,flemish as ,i
 choose4 ,but ,i hear our glasses       
clinking4  ,i1 too1 heard ,imola's      
footfall on the flags1 and ventured to  
say1 ,and ,i know where your ,madonna   
is1 ,master ,peter1 ,but he affected not
 to hear4  ,she served us our amber cup 
with the same persistent1 almost sullen1
 self- continence4 ,but1 ,i thought1 ,i 
must see your eyes1 ,mistress1 for once2
 so called to mind my encounter with the
 wild young ,baglione of the morning4   
,smiling as easily as ,i could1 ,i      
accosted her with ,madonna1 ,i am the   
bearer of compliments to you1 if you    

choose to hear them4 ,then she looked me
 full for a second of time4 ,i saw by   
her dilating eyes1 wide as a hare's     
7though of a sea-grey colour71 that she 
was not always queen of herself1 and    
pitied her4 ,for it is ill to think of  
broken-in hearts1 or souls set in bars1 
and ,i could fancy ,master ,peter's hand
 not so light upon her as upon          
church-walls4 ,but ,i went on1 ,yes1    
,madonna1 even as ,i rode up hither1 ,i 
met a young knight-at-arms who wished   
you as well as you were fair1 and kissed
 your hands as best he might1           
considering the distance1 before he rode
 off4 ,imola blushed1 but said nothing4 
,who was this youth1 sir8 asked ,master 
,peter1 in a hurry4  ,it was plainly    
some young noble of your ,state1 said   
,i1 but for his name ,i know nothing1   
for he told me nothing4 ,i added this   
quickly1 because ,i could see our friend
 was keen enough for all his coat of    
unconcern1 and ,i feared the whip       
by-and-bye for ,imola's thin shoulders4 

,but ,i knew quite well who the boy was4
 ,imola went lightly away without any   
sign of twitter4 ,i turned to ,master   
,peter again4  ,in this matter of boils 
and pearls1 ,i began1 ,i would not deny 
but you are in the right1 and yet there 
is this to be said4 ,the ,greeks of     
whose painting1 truly1 we have next to  
nothing4 ,in all the work of theirs     
known to us did what lay before them as 
well as ever they could4 ,they stayed   
not to theorise over this axiom and     
that1 that formula and this4 ,they said 
rather1 ',you wish for the presentment  
of a man with a boil on his leg8 ,well4'
 ,and they produced both man and boil4  
,why yes1 yes1 broke in my friend1 that 
is plain enough4 ,but apart from this1  
that you are talking of sculpture to me 
who do but paint1 you should know very  
well that your ,greek copied no single  
boil1 no1 nor no probable boil1 but1 as 
it were1 the summary and perfect        
conclusion of ail possible boils4  ,to  
,pithanon8 ,yes2 ,i admit it4 ,for      

,aristotle says as much4  ,right so do  
,i1 in my degree and by my art1 said    
,perugino2 and without knowing anything 
of ,aristotle save that he was wise4    
,your pardon1 my brave ,vannucci1 ,i    
said1 but you have admitted the opposite
 of this4 ,did you not hint to the      
deputation that you would give ,saint   
,roch no boils8 ,and have you ever let  
creep into your pieces the semblance of 
so much as a pimple8 ,remember1 ,i know 
your ,sebastian2 and know also ,il      
,sodoma's1 which he made as a banner for
 the ,confraternity of that famous      
,saint ,in ,camollia4  ,i seek the      
essence of fact1 he replied2 which1     
believe me1 never lay in the            
displacement of an arrow-point2 no1 nor 
in the head of a boil4 ,bazzi is a      
sensualist3 as his palate grows stale he
 whets it by stronger meat2 thinks to   
provoke appetite by disgust2 would draw 
you on by a nasty inference1 as a dog by
 his hankering after fcal odours4 ,what 
nearness to ,art in his plumpy boy stuck

 with arrows like a skewered capon8     
,causes nuns to weep1 hey8 and to dream 
dreams1 hey8 ,nature would do that      
cleanlier2 and waxwork more powerfully6 
,form1 my good sir1 ,form is your       
safeguard4 ,lay hold on ,form2 you are  
as near to ,essence as may be here      
below4 ,art works for the rational      
enlargement of the fancy1 not the       
titillation of sense4 ,and ,invention is
 the more sacred the closer it apes the 
scope of the divine plan4 ,and this     
much1 at least1 of the ,grecian work ,i 
have learned1 that it will never lick   
vulgar shoes1 nor fawn to beastly eyes4 
,it is a stately order1 a high pageant1 
a solemn gradual1 wherein the beholder  
will behold just so much as he is       
prepared1 by litany and fasting and long
 vigil1 to receive4 ,no more and no     
less4  ,aristotle again1 said ,i1 with  
his 'continual slight novelty4' ,no fits
 and starts4  ,i have told you before ,i
 know nothing of the man1 said          
,perugino1 vexed1 it appeared1 at such  

wounding of his vanity to be new2 let me
 tell you this4 ,there are fellows      
abroad who dub me dunce and dull-head4  
,the young ,buonarroti1 forsooth1 who   
mistakes the large for the great1       
quantity for quality2 who in the        
indetermined pretends to see the        
mysterious4 ,mystery1 quotha6 ,mystery  
may be in an astrologer's horoscope1 in 
a diagram4 ,mystery needs no puckered   
virago1 nor bully in the sulks4 ,there  
is mystery in the morning calms1 mystery
 in a girl's melting mood1 mystery in   
the irresolution of a growing boy full  
of dreams4 ,but behold6 it is there1 not
 here4 ,if you see it not1 the fault is 
your own4 ,it may be broad as day1 cut  
clean as with a knife1 displayed at     
large before a brawling world too busy  
lapping or grudging to heed it4 ,the    
many shall pass it by as they run       
huddling to the dark4 ,yet the few shall
 adore therein the excellency of the    
mystery1 even as the few 7the very few7 
may discern in the flake of wafer-bread 

the shining wholeness of the ,divine    
,nature----  ',the few remain1 the many 
change and pass1' ,i interpolated in a  
murmur4 ,but ,perugino never heeded me4 
,he went on4  ,the ,greek1 young sir1   
took the fact and let it alone to breed4
 ,his act lay in the taking and setting4
 ,just so much import as it had borne it
 bore still2 just so much weight as     
separation from its fellows lent it was 
to his credit who first cut it free4    
,but nowadays glamour suits only with   
serried muscles1 frowns1 and writhen    
lips2 where darkness is we shudder1     
saying1 ,behold a great mystery6 ,let a 
painter declare his incompetence to     
utter1 it shall be enough to assure you 
he has walked with ,god2 for if he      
stammers1 look you1 that testifies he is
 overwhelmed4 ,amen1 ,i would answer4   
,let his head swim and be welcome2 but  
let him not set to painting till he can 
stand straight again4 ,for in one thing 
,i am no ,greek1 in that ,i cannot hold 
drunkenness divine4 ,here the good man  

stopped for want of breath and ,i       
whipped in4  ,your great ,crucifixion in
 ,santa ,maria ,maddalena1 ,i began4    
,look you1 sir1 he took me up1 ,i know  
what you would be at4 ,take that piece  
7which is of my very best7 or another   
equally good1 ,i mean the ,charge to    
,peter in ,pope ,sixtus his new ,chapel1
 and listen to me4 ,the first thing your
 painter must seek to do is to fill his 
wall4 ,let there be no mistake about    
this4 ,he is at first no prophet or man 
of ,god2 he is no juggler nor mountebank
 who shall be rewarded according to the 
enormity of his grins2 his calling1     
maybe1 is humbler1 for all he stands for
 is to wash a wall so that no eye be set
 smarting because of it4 ,now that seems
 a very simple matter2 it is just as    
simple as the eye itself-- so you may   
judge the validity of the arguments     
against me1 that a wholesome green or   
goodly red wash would suffice4 ,it would
 suffice indifferent well for a kennel  
of dogs4 ,but mark this4 ,although your 

painter may drop hints for the soul1 let
 him not strain above his pitch lest he 
crack his larynx4 ,to his colour he may 
add form in the flat2 but he cannot     
escape the flat1 however he may wriggle1
 any more than the sculptor can escape  
the round1 scrape he never so wisely4   
,buonarroti will scrape and shift2 the  
,fleming has scraped and shifted all his
 days to as little purpose4 ,his        
seed-pearls invite your touch4 ,touch   
them1 my friend1 you will smear your    
fingers4 ,ne sutor ultra crepidam4      
,leave miracles1 ,o painter1 to the     
,saint1 and stick to your brush-work4   
,colour and form in the flat2 there is  
his armour to win the citadel of a man's
 soul4  ,they call you mawkish1 ,i dared
 to say4  ,i am in good company1 said   
the little man with much pomposity4     
,you say boldly1 then1 if ,i catch the  
chain of your argument--thus ,i pursued 
him--that you present 7as by some       
formula which you have elaborated7 the  
facts of religion in colour and design8 

,for ,i suppose you will allow that your
 ,art is concerned at least as much with
 religion as with the washing of walls8 
,religion6 ,religion6 cried he4 ,what   
are you at8 ,concerned with religion6   
,man alive1 it is concerned with itself2
 it is religion4 ,i see you are very far
 indeed from the truth1 and as you have 
spoken of my ,crucifixion in ,florence1 
now you shall suffer me to speak of it4 
,i testify what ,i know1 not that which 
,i have not seen4 ,and as mine eyes have
 never filled with blood from ,golgotha1
 so ,i do not conjure with tools ,i have
 not learned to handle4 ,but ,i will    
tell you what ,i have seen4 ,the ,mass3 
whereof my piece is1 as it were1 the    
transfiguration or a parable4 ,for it   
grew out of a ,mass ,i once heard1      
stately-ordered1 solemnly and           
punctiliously served in a great church4 
,mayhap1 ,i dreamed of it2 we shall not 
quarrel over terms4 ,it was a strange   
,mass1 shorn of much ornament and       
circumstance2 ,i thought1 as ,i knelt   

and wondered3 ,here are no lamentations1
 no bruised breasts1 no outpoured       
hearts1 nor souls on flames4 ,the day   
for tears is past1 the fires are red1   
not flaming2 this is a day for steadfast
 regard1 for service1 patience1 and good
 hope2 this is a day for ,art to chant  
what the soul hath endured4 ,for ,art is
 a fruit sown in action and watered to  
utterance by tears4 ,two priests only1  
clothed in fine linen1 served the ,mass3
 ornaments of candles1 incense1         
prostration1 genuflection1 there were   
none4 ,yet1 step by step1 and with every
 step pondered reverently ere another   
was laid to ,its fellow's foundation2   
with full knowledge of the end ere yet  
was the beginning accomplished2 ,in     
every gesture1 every pause1 intonation1 
invocation1 stave of song1 phrase of    
prayer2 by painful degrees wrought in   
the soul's sweat and tears1 unadorned1  
cold as fine stone1 yet glittering none 
the less like fair marble set in the    
sun--was that solemn ,mass sung through 

in the bare ,church to the glory of ,god
 and ,his angels1 who must ever rejoice 
in a work done so that the master-mind  
is straining and on watch over heart and
 voice4 ,and ,i said1 ,calvary is done  
and the woe of it turned to triumph4    
,love is the fulfilling of the ,law4    
,henceforth1 for me ,law shall be the   
fulfilment of my ,love4  ,therefore ,i  
paint no terrors of death1 no flesh torn
 by iron1 no passion of an anguish      
greater than we can ever conceive1 no   
bittersweet ecstasy of ,self abandoned  
or ,love inflaming2 but instead1        
serenity1 a morning sky1 a meek victim1 
,love fulfilling ,law4 ,shorn of        
accidents1 for the essence is enough2   
not passionate1 for that were as gross  
an affront in face of such awful death  
as to be trivial4 ,nothing too much2    
,law fulfilling ,love2 reasonable       
service4  ,and because we are of the    
earth earthy1 and because what ,i work  
you must behold with bodily eyes1 ,i    
limn you angels and gods in your own    

image2 not of greater stature nor of    
more excellent beauty than many among   
you2 not of finer essence1 maybe1 than  
yourselves4 ,but as the priests about   
that naked altar1 so stand they1 that   
the love which transfigures them be     
absorbed in the fulfilling of law2 and  
the law they exquisitely follow be at   
once the pattern and glass of their     
love4  ,master ,peter drained a beaker  
of his ,orvieto4 ,i admired2 for indeed 
the little man spoke well4  ,now the    
,lord be good to you1 ,master ,peter1 ,i
 said2 men do you a great wrong4 ,for   
there are some who aver that you doubt4 
,who does not doubt8 replied my host4   
,we doubt whenever we cannot see4  ,i   
believe you are right1 said ,i4 ,your   
great ,saint is1 after all1 your great  
,seer4 ,for you1 then1 to question the  
soul's immortality is but to admit that 
you do not yet see your own life to     
come4  ,leave it so1 said ,perugino4    
,let us talk reasonably4  ,did all men  
love the law as you do1 ,i resumed after

 a painful pause--for ,i felt the force 
of the ,master's rebuke to my           
impertinence 7and could hope others will
 feel it also7--did all love the law as 
you do1 the world would be a cooler     
place and passion at a discount4 ,but ,i
 cannot conceive ,art without passion4  
,nor ,i1 said the painter1 and for the  
excellent reason that there is no such  
thing4 ,but remember this3 passion is   
like the ,alpheus4 ,hedge it about with 
dams1 you drive it deeper4 ,out of sight
 is not out of being4 ,and the issue    
must needs be the fairer4  ,happy the   
passion1 ,i said1 which hath an issue4  
,there is passion of the vexed sort1    
where the tears are frozen to ice as    
they start4 ,of the tortured thus1      
remember--  ,lo pianto stesso li planger
 non lascia1 ,e il duol1 che trova in su
 gli occhi rintoppo1 ,si volve in entro 
a far crescer l' ambascia4  ,you know   
our ,dante8 said ,master ,peter blandly 
7though ,i swear he knew what ,i was    
at74 ,there may be such people2         

doubtless there are such people4 ,for   
me1 ,i find a perpetual outlet in my    
art4 ,i could not forbear----  ,master  
,peter1 ,master ,peter1 ,i cried out1   
how can ,i believe you when ,i know that
 your ,madonna's eyes are brimming2 when
 ,i know why she turns them to a misty  
heaven or an earth seen blotted by      
reason of tears8 ,do these tears ever   
fall1 ,master ,peter8 or who freezes    
them as they start8  ,for ,i wondered   
where his patient ,imola found her      
outlet1 and whether young ,simone has   
shown her a way4 ,master ,peter drummed 
on the table and nursed one fat leg4    
,before ,i took leave of the urbane     
little painter1 in fact while ,i stood  
in the act of handshaking1 ,i saw her   
white face at an upper window1 looming  
behind rigid bars4 ,on a sudden impulse 
,i concluded my farewells rapidly and   
made to go4 ,vannucci turned back into  
the house and closed the door2 but ,i   
stayed in the cortile pretending a      
trouble with my spurs4 ,sure enough1 in 

a short time ,i heard a light footfall4 
,imola stood beside me4  ,wish me a safe
 journey1 ,i said smiling1 and no more  
bare-headed cavaliers on the road4 ,her 
lips hardly moved1 so still her voice   
was4 ,was he bare-headed8 she asked1 as 
if in awe4  ,love-locks floating free1  
,i answered her gaily enough4 ,shall ,i 
thank him for his courtesies to you1    
,madonna1 if we meet8  ,you will not    
meet3 he is gone to ,spello1 she began1 
and then stopped1 blushing painfully4   
,but ,i may stay in ,spello this night  
and could seek him out4  ,she was       
mistress of her lips1 and could now look
 steadily at me4 ,i wish him very well1 
said ,imola4    ,,vi   ,,the ,,soul ,,of
 ,a ,,fact  ,in the days when it was    
verging on a question whether a man     
could be at the same time a good        
,christian and an artist1 the chosen    
subjects of painting were significant of
 the approaching crisis--those glaring  
moral contrasts in history which1 for   
want of a happier term1 we call         

dramatic4 ,why this was so1 whether ,art
 took a hint from ,politics1 or had     
withdrawn her more intimate             
manifestations to await likelier times1 
is a question it were long to answer4   
,the subjects1 at any rate1 were such as
 the ,greeks1 with their surer instincts
 and saving grace of sanity in matters  
of this kind1 either forbore to meddle  
with or treated as decoratively as they 
treated acanthus-wreaths4 ,today we call
 them effective subjects2 we find they  
produce shocks and tremors2 we think it 
braces us to shudder1 and we think that 
,art is a kind of emotional pill2 we    
measure it quantitatively1 and say that 
we know what we like4 ,and doubtless    
there is something piquant in the       
quivering produced1 for example1 by the 
sight of white innocence fluttering     
helpless in a grey shadow of lust4 ,so  
long as the ,bible remained a god that  
piquancy was found in a ,massacre of the
 ,innocents2 in our own time we find it 
in a ,faust and ,gretchen1 in the ,dor  

,gallery1 or in the ,royal ,academy4 ,it
 was a like appreciation of the certain 
effect of vivid contrasts as powerful   
didactic agents 7coupled with1 or       
drowning1 a something purer and more    
devout7 which had inspired those most   
beautiful and distinctive of all the    
symbols of ,catholicism1 the ,adoration 
of the ,kings1 the ,christ-child cycle1 
and which raised the ,holy ,child and   
,maid-,mother to their place above the  
mystic tapers and the ,cross4 ,naturally
 the ,old ,testament1 that garner of    
grim tales1 proved a rich mine3 ,david  
and ,golias1 ,susanna and the ,elders1  
the ,sacrifice of ,isaac1 ,jethro's     
daughter4 ,but the story of ,judith did 
not come to be painted in ,tuscan       
sanctuaries until ,donatello of         
,florence had first cast her in bronze  
at the prayer of ,cosimo pater patria4  
,her entry was dramatic enough at least3
 ,dame ,fortune may well have sniggered 
as she spun round the city on her ball4 
,cosimo the patriot and his splendid    

grandson were no sooner dead and their  
brood sent flying1 than ,donatello's    
,judith was set up in the ,piazza as a  
fit emblem of rescue from tyranny1 with 
the vigorous motto1 to make assurance   
double1 ,,exemplvm ,,salvtis ,,pvblic   
,,cives ,,posvere4 ,savonarola1 who knew
 his ,bible1 saw here a keener          
application of ,judith's pious sin4 ,a  
few years later that same ,judith saw   
him burn4 ,thus1 as an incarnate        
cynicism1 she will pass2 as a work of   
art she is admittedly one of her great  
creator's failures4 ,her neighbour      
,perseus of the ,loggia makes this only 
too plain6 ,for ,cellini has seized the 
right moment in a deed of horror1 and   
,donatello1 with all his downrightness  
and grip of the fact1 has hit upon the  
wrong4 ,it is fatal to freeze a moment  
of time into an eternity of waiting4    
,his ,judith will never strike3 her arm 
is palsied where it swings4 ,the        
,damoclean sword is a fine incident for 
poetry2 but ,holofernes was no          

,damocles1 and1 if he had been1 it were 
intolerable to cast his experience in   
bronze4 ,donatello has essayed that     
thing impossible for sculpture1 to      
arrest a moment instead of denote a     
permanent attribute4 ,art is adjectival1
 is it not1 ,o ,donatello8 ,her business
 is to qualify facts1 to say what things
 are1 not to state them1 to affirm that 
they are4 ,a sculptured ,judith was done
 not long afterwards1 carved1 as we     
shall see1 with a burin on a plate2 and 
the man who so carved her was a painter4
  ,meantime1 pari passu1 almost1 a      
painter who was a poet was trying his   
hand2 a man who knew his ,bible and his 
mythology and was equally at home with  
either4 ,perhaps it is not extravagant  
to say that you cannot be an artist     
unless you are at home with mythology1  
unless mythology is the swiftest and    
most direct expression of your being1 so
 that you can be measured by it as a man
 is known by his books1 or a woman by   
her clothes1 her way of bowing1 her     

amusements1 or her charities4 ,for      
mythopoeia is just this1 the incarnating
 the spirit of natural fact2 and the    
generic name of that power is ,art4 ,a  
kind of creation1 a clothing of essence 
in matter1 an hypostatising 7if you will
 have it7 of an object of intuition     
within the folds of an object of sense4 
,lessing did not dig so deep as his     
,greek ,voltaire 7whose dazzling        
antithesis1 after all1 touches the root 
of the matter7 for he did not see that  
rhythmic extension in time or space1 as 
the case may be1 with all that that     
implies--colour1 value1 proportion1 all 
the convincing incidents of form--is    
simply the mode of all arts1 the thing  
with which ,art's substance must be     
interpenetrated1 until the two form a   
whole1 lovely1 golden1 irresistible1 and
 inevitable as ,nature's pieces are4    
,this substance1 ,i have said1 is the   
spirit of natural fact4 ,and so         
mythology is ,art at its simplest and   
barest 7where the bodily medium is      

neither word1 nor texture of stone1 nor 
dye71 the parent art from which all the 
others were1 so to speak1 begotten by   
man's need4 ,thus much of explanation1  
,i am sorry to say1 is necessary1 before
 we turn to our mytho-poet of ,florence1
 to see what he made out of the story of
 ,judith4  ,first of all1 though1 what  
has the story of ,judith to do with     
mythology8 ,it is a legend1 one of the  
finest of ,semitic legends2 and between 
legend and myth there is as great a gulf
 as between ,jew and ,greek4 ,i believe 
there are no myths proper to ,israel--,i
 do not see how such magnificent egoists
 could contract to the necessary state  
of awe--and ,i do not know that there   
are any legends proper to ,greece which 
are divorced from real myths4 ,for where
 a myth is the incarnation of the spirit
 of natural fact1 a legend is the       
embellishment of an historical event3 a 
very different thing4 ,a natural fact is
 permanent and elemental1 an historical 
event is transient and superficial4     

,take one instance out of a score4 ,the 
rainbow links heaven and earth4 ,iris   
then1 to the myth-making ,greek1 was    
,jove's messenger1 intermediary between 
,god and ,man4 ,that is to incarnate a  
constant1 natural fact4 ,plato          
afterwards1 making her daughter of      
,thaumas1 incarnated a fact1            
psychological1 but none the less        
constant1 none the less natural4 ,but to
 say1 as the legend-loving ,jew said1   
that ,noah floated his ark over a       
drowning world and secured for his      
posterity a standing covenant with ,god1
 ,who then and once for all set ,his bow
 in the heavens2 that is to indicate1   
somewhere1 in the dim backward and abysm
 of time1 an historical event4 ,the     
rainbow is suffered as the skirt of the 
robe of ,noah1 who was an ancestor of   
,israel4 ,so the ,judith poem may be a  
decorated event1 or it may be the barest
 history in a splendid epical setting3  
the point to remember is that it cannot 
be1 as legend1 a subject for creative   

art4 ,the artist1 in the language of    
,neo-,platonism1 is a demiurge2 he only 
of men can convert dead things into     
life4 ,and now we will go into the      
,uffizi4  ,mr4 ,ruskin1 in his          
petulant-playful way1 has touched upon  
the feeling of amaze most people have   
who look for the first time at          
,botticelli's ,judith tripping smoothly 
and lightly over the hill-country1 her  
steadfast maid dogging with intent      
patient eyes every step she takes4 ,you 
say it is flippant1 affected1 pedantic4 
,for answer1 ,i refer you to the sage   
himself1 who1 from his point of         
view--that painting may fairly deal with
 a chapter of history--is perfectly     
right4 ,the prevailing strain of the    
story is the strength of weakness--ex   
dulci fortitude1 to invert the old      
enigma4 ,o ,god1 ,o my ,god1 hear me    
also1 a widow4 ,break down their        
stateliness by the hand of a woman6 ,it 
is the refrain that runs through the    
whole history of ,israel1 that          

reasonable complacency of a little      
people in their ,god-fraught destiny4   
,and1 withal1 a streak of savage spite3 
that the audacious oppressor shall be   
done scornfully to death4 ,there is the 
motive of ,jael and ,sisera too4 ,so she
 smote twice upon his neck with all her 
might1 and she took away his head from  
him1 and tumbled his body down from the 
bed4 ,ho6 what a fate for the emissary  
of the ,great ,king4 ,wherefore1 once   
more1 the jubilant paradox1 ,the ,lord  
hath smitten him by the hand of a woman6
 ,that is it3 the amazing1 thrilling    
antithesis insisted on over and over    
again by the old ,hebrew bard4 ,her     
sandals ravished his eyes1 her beauty   
took his mind prisoner1 and the fauchion
 passed through his neck4 ,that is the  
leit-motif3 ,sandro the poet knew it    
perfectly well and taught it1 to the no 
small comfort of ,mr4 ,ruskin and his   
men4 ,giuditta1 dainty1 blue-eyed1 a    
girl still and three years a widow1     
flits homeward through a spring         

landscape of grey and green and the     
smile of a milky sky1 being herself the 
dominant of the chord1 with her bough of
 slipt olive and her jagged scimitar1   
with her pretty blue fal-lals smocked   
and puffed1 and her yellow curls        
floating over her shoulders4 ,on her    
slim feet are the sandals that ravished 
his eyes2 all her maiden bravery is     
dancing and fluttering like harebells in
 the wind4 ,behind her plods the        
slave-girl folded in an orange scarf1   
bearing that shapeless1 nameless burden 
of hers1 the head of the grim ,lord     
,holofernes4 ,oh1 for that1 it is the   
legend itself6 ,for look at the girl's  
eyes4 ,what does their dreamy solemnity 
mean if not1 the ,lord hath smitten him 
by the hand of a woman8 ,one other      
delicate bit of symbolising he has      
allowed himself1 which ,i may not omit4 
,you are to see by whom this deed was   
done3 by a woman who has unsexed        
herself4 ,judith is absorbed in her     
awful service2 her robe trails on the   

ground and clings about her knees2 she  
is unconscious of the hindrance4 ,the   
gates of ,bethulia are in sight1 the    
,chaldean horsemen are abroad1 but she  
has no anxiety to escape4 ,she is swift 
because her life just now courses       
swiftly2 but there is no haste4 ,the    
maid1 you shall mark1 picks up her      
skirts with careful hand1 and steps out 
the more lustily for it4  ,so far       
,botticelli the poet1 and so far also   
,mr4 ,ruskin1 reader of pictures4 ,what 
says ,botticelli the painter8 ,had he no
 instincts to tell him that his art     
could have little to say to a legend8   
,or that a legend might be the subject  
of an epic 7here1 indeed1 was an epic   
ready made71 might1 under conditions1 be
 the subject of a drama2 but could not1 
under any conditions1 be alone the      
subject of a picture8 ,i don't for a    
moment suggest that he had1 or that any 
artist ever goes to work in this double-
 entry1 methodical way2 but are we      
entitled to say that he was not         

influenced by his predilections1 his    
determinations as a draughtsman1 when he
 squared himself to illustrate the      
,bible8 ,we say that the subject of a   
picture is the spirit of natural fact4  
,if ,botticelli was a painter1 that is  
what he must have looked for1 and must  
have found1 in every picture he painted4
 ,where1 then1 was he to get his natural
 facts in the story of ,judith8 ,what   
is1 in that story1 the natural1         
essential 7as opposed to the historical1
 fleeting7 fact8 ,it is murder4         
,judith's deed was what the old ,scots  
law incisively calls slauchter4 ,it may 
be glossed over as assassination or even
 execution--in fact1 in ,florence1 where
 ,giuliano was soon to be taken off1 it 
did not fail to be so called3 it        
remains1 however1 just murder4          
,botticelli1 not shirking the position  
at all1 judged murder to be a natural   
fact1 and its spirit or essence         
swiftness and stealth4 ,chaucer1 let us 
note1 had been of the same mind3  ,the  

smyler with the kayf under his cloke1   
and so on1 in lines not to be matched   
for hasty and dreadful suggestion4      
,swiftness and stealth1 the ambush1 the 
averted face and the sudden stab1 are   
the standing elements of murder3 pare   
off all the rest1 you come down to that4
 ,your staring looks1 your blood1 your  
chirking1 are accidentals4 ,they may be 
there 7for each of us carries a         
carcase71 but the horror of sudden death
 is above them3 a man may strangle with 
his thoughts cleaner than with his pair 
of hands4 ,and as matter is but the     
stuff wherewith ,nature works1 and she  
is only insulted1 not defied1 when we   
flout or mangle it1 so it is against the
 high dignity of ,art to insist upon the
 carrion she must use4 ,she will press1 
here the terror1 there the radiance1 of 
essential fact2 she will leave to us1   
seeing it in her face1 to add mentally  
the poor stage properties we have grown 
to trust4 ,no blood1 if you please4     
,therefore1 in ,botticelli's ,judith1   

nothing but the essentials are insisted 
on2 the rest we instantly imagine1 but  
it is not there to be sensed4 ,the panel
 is in a tremor4 ,so swift and secret is
 ,judith1 so furtive the maid1 we need  
no hurrying horsemen to remind us of her
 oath1--,hear me1 and ,i will do a thing
 which shall go throughout all          
generations to the children of our      
nation4 ,sudden death is in the air2    
nature has been outraged4 ,but there is 
no drop of blood--the thin scarlet line 
along the sword-edge is a symbol if you 
will--the pale head in the cloth is a   
mere thing3 yet we all know what has    
been done4 ,mr4 ,ruskin is wrong to     
dwell here upon the heroism of the      
heroine1 the beneficence of the crime1  
the exhilaration of the patriot2 he is  
traducing the painter by so praising the
 poet ,all those things may be there2   
and why should they not8 ,but it is a   
pity to insist upon them until you have 
no space for the pictorial something    
which is there too1 and makes the       

picture4  ,other ,judiths there are2 two
 here1 one next door in the ,pitti1 any 
number scattered over the galleries of  
,europe4 ,there are ,jacopo ,palma of   
,venice and ,allori of ,florence who    
used the old story1 the one to          
perpetuate a fat blonde1 the other a    
handsome actress in a strong situation2 
there is ,sodoma2 there are ,horace     
,vernet and the moderns1 the ,wests and 
,haydons of our grandfathers4 ,it is a  
pet subject of the ,salon4 ,these men   
have vulgarised an epic1 and smirched   
poetry and painting alike for the sake  
of a tawdry sensation4 ,but enough3 let 
us look at one more4 ,mantegna's is     
worth looking at4 ,it is a pen drawing1 
often repeated1 best known by the fine  
engraving he finally made of it4 ,i     
think it ,is the best murder picture in 
the world4 ,to begin with1 the literary 
interest of the story is practically    
gone4 ,this wild1 terrible1 beautiful   
woman may be ,judith if you choose3 she 
might be ,medea or ,agave1 or ,salome1  

or the ,lucrezia ,borgia of popular     
fancy and ,donizetti4 ,the fact is she  
is part of a scheme whose object is the 
sthetic aspect of murder--murder        
considered by one of the fine arts4     
,andrea was able1 and ,i know not that  
anybody else of his day could have been 
able1 to contemplate murder purely      
objectively1 with no thought of its     
ethical relations4 ,botticelli had been 
fired by the heroism and the moral      
grandeur of the special circumstances of
 a given case3 down they went into his  
picture with what rightly belonged to   
it4 ,there is none of that here4 ,and   
,mantegna makes other distinctions in   
the field common to both of them4       
,murder1 for him1 did not essentially   
subsist in its shocking suddenness2 it  
held something more specific1 a witchery
 of its own1 a macabre fascination1 a   
mystery4 ,lionardo felt it when he drew 
his ,medusa2 ,shelley wrote it down the 
tempestuous loveliness of terror4 ,thus 
it had1 for ,mantegna1 an unique        

emotional habit which set it off from   
other vice and gave it a positive1      
appreciable1 sthetic value of its own4  
,with even more unerrancy than          
,botticelli1 he gripped the adjectival  
and qualifying function of his art4 ,he 
saw that crime1 too1 had its pictorial  
side4 ,when ,keats1 writing of the      
,lamia sloughing her snake- folds1 tells
 us how--  ,she writhed about1          
convulsed--with scarlet pain2  or when1 
of organ music1 he says--  ,up aloft    
,the silver1 snarling trumpets 'gan to  
chide1  he is simply1 in his own art and
 with his proper methods1 getting       
precisely the same kind of effect2 he is
 incarnating the soul of a fact4 ,and so
 ,mantegna1 with his ,roman kindness for
 whatever had breath and vigour and     
boldness of design1 carved his ,judith  
on the lines of a ,vestal ,virgin1 and  
gave her the rapt1 dmonic features of   
the ,tragic ,muse4 ,and1 with his full  
share of that unhealthy craving for the 
mere nastiness of crime1 that           

,aminatrait which distinguished the     
later ,empire and its correlate the     
,renaissance1 he drew together the      
elements of his picture to express an   
eminently characteristic conception of  
curious murder4 ,what amplitude of      
outline2 what severe grace of drapery6  
,and what mad affectation of attention  
to the ghastly baggage she is preparing 
for her flight6 ,i can only instance for
 a parallel the pitiful case of the     
young ,ophelia1 decked with flowers and 
weeds1 and faltering in her pretty      
treble songs about lechery and dead     
bodies4 ,it needs strong men to do these
 things2 men who have lived out all that
 the world can offer them of heaven and 
hell1 and1 with the tolerance of        
maturity1 are in the mind to see        
something worth a thought in either4    
,there is in murder something more      
horrible than blood1--the spirit that   
breeds blood and plays with it4 ,m4 ,jan
 van ,beers and his kindred of the      
dissecting-room and accidents'-ward are 

passed by ,mantegna1 who gives no vulgar
 illusion of gaping wounds and jetting  
blood2 but1 instead1 holds up to us a   
beautiful woman daintily fingering a    
corpse4    ,,vii   ,,quattrocentisteria 
7,how ,sandro ,botticelli saw ,simonetta
 in the ,spring7  ,up at ,fiesole1 among
 the olives and chestnuts which cloud   
the steeps1 the magnificent ,lorenzo was
 entertaining his guests on a morning in
 ,april4 ,the olives were just whitening
 to silver2 they stretched in a         
trembling sea down the slope4 ,beyond   
lay ,florence1 misty and golden2 and    
round about were the mossy hills1 cut   
sharp and definite against a grey-blue  
sky1 printed with starry buildings and  
sober ranks of cypress4 ,the sun        
catching the mosaics of ,san ,miniato   
and the brazen cross on the fagade1 made
 them shine like sword-blades in the    
quiver of the heat between4 ,for the    
valley was just a lake of hot air1 hot  
and murky--fever weather1 said the      
people in the streets--with a glaring   

summer sun let in between two long      
spells of fog4 ',twas unnatural at that 
season1 via2 but the blessed ,saints    
sent the weather and one could only be  
careful what one was about at sundown4  
,up at the villa1 with brisk morning    
airs rustling overhead1 in the cool     
shades of trees and lawns1 it was       
pleasant to lie still1 watching these   
things1 while a silky young exquisite   
sang to his lute a not too audacious    
ballad about ,selvaggia1 or ,becchina   
and the saucy ,prior of ,sant' ,onofrio4
 ,he sang well too1 that dark-eyed boy2 
the girl at whose feet he was crouched  
was laughing and blushing at once2 and1 
being very fair1 she blushed hotly4 ,she
 dared not raise her eyes to look into  
his1 and he knew it and was quietly     
measuring his strength--it was quite a  
comedy6 ,at each wanton refrain he      
lowered his voice to a whisper and bent 
a little forward4 ,and the girl's       
laughter became hysterical2 she was     
shaking with the effort to control      

herself4 ,at last she looked up with a  
sort of sob in her breath and saw his   
mocking smile and the gleam of the wild 
beast in his eyes4 ,she grew white1 rose
 hastily and turned away to join a group
 of ladies sitting apart4 ,a man with a 
heavy1 rather sullen face and a bush of 
yellow hair falling over his forehead in
 a wave1 was standing aside watching all
 this4 ,he folded his arms and scowled  
under his big brows2 and when the girl  
moved away his eyes followed her4  ,the 
lad ended his song in a broad sarcasm   
amid bursts of laughter and applause4   
,the ,magnificent1 sitting in his carved
 chair1 nursed his sallow face and      
smiled approval1 ,my brother boasts his 
invulnerability1 he said1 turning to his
 neighbour1 let him look to it1 ,messer 
,cupido will have him yet4 ,already1 we 
can see1 he has been let into some of   
the secrets of the bower1 ,the man bowed
 and smiled deferentially1 ,signer      
,giuliano has all the qualities to win  
the love of ladies1 and to retain it4   

,doubtless he awaits his destiny4 ,the  
,wise ,man has said that ,beauty444 ,the
 young poet enlarged on his text with   
some fire in his thin cheeks1 while the 
company kept very silent4 ,it was much  
to their liking2 even ,giuliano was     
absorbed2 he sat on the ground clasping 
one knee between his hands1 smiling     
upwards into vacancy1 as a man does     
whose imagination is touched4 ,lorenzo  
nursed his sallow face and beat time to 
the orator's cadences with his foot2 he1
 too1 was abstracted and smiling4 ,at   
the end he spoke3 ,our ,marsilio himself
 had never said nobler words1 my        
,agnolo4 ,the mantle of the ,attic      
prophet has descended indeed upon this  
,florence4 ,and ,beauty1 as thon sayest1
 is from heaven4 ,but where shall it be 
found here below1 and how discerned8    
,the man of the heavy jowl was standing 
with folded arms1 looking from under his
 brows at the group of girls4 ,lorenzo  
saw everything2 he noticed him4 ,our    
,sandro will tell us it is yonder4 ,the 

,star of ,genoa shines over ,florence   
and our poor little constellations are  
gone out4 ,ecco1 my ,sandro1 gravest and
 hardiest of painters1 go summon        
,madonna ,simonetta and her handmaidens 
to our ,symposium4 ,agnolo will speak   
further to us of this sovereignty of    
,beauty4  ,the painter bowed his head   
and moved away4  ,a green alley vaulted 
with thick ilex and myrtle formed a     
tapering vista where the shadows lay    
misty blue and pale shafts of light     
pierced through fitfully4 ,at the far   
end it ran out into an open space and a 
splash of sunshine4 ,a marble ,ganymede 
with lifted arms rose in the middle like
 a white flame4 ,the girls were there1  
intent upon some commerce of their own1 
flashing hither and thither over the    
grass in a flutter of saffron and green 
and crimson4 ,simonetta--,sandro could  
see--was a little apart1 a very tall1   
isolated figure1 clear and cold in a    
recess of shade1 standing easily1       
resting on one hip with her hands behind

 her4 ,a soft1 straight robe of white   
clipped her close from shoulder to heel2
 the lines of her figure were thrust    
forward by her poise4 ,his eye followed 
the swell of her bosom1 very gentle and 
girlish1 and the long folds of her dress
 falling thence to her knee4 ,while she 
stood there1 proud and remote1 a chance 
beam of the sun shone on her head so    
that it seemed to burn4 ,heaven salutes 
the ,queen of ,heaven1--,venus ,urania6 
,with an odd impulse he stopped1 crossed
 himself1 and then hurried on4  ,he told
 his errand to her1 having no eyes for  
the others4  ,signorina--,i am to       
acquaint her ,serenity that the divine  
poet ,messer ,agnolo is to speak of the 
sovereign power of beauty2 of the       
,heavenly ,beauty whereof ,plato taught1
 as it is believed4  ,simonetta arched a
 slim neck and looked down at the       
obsequious speaker1 or at least he      
thought so4 ,and he saw how fair she    
was1 a creature how delicate and        
gracious1 with grey eyes frank and wide1

 and full red lips where a smile        
7nervous and a little wistful1 he       
judged1 rather than defiant7 seemed     
always to hover4 ,such clear-cut1 high  
beauty made him ashamed2 but her        
colouring 7for he was a painter7 made   
his heart beat4 ,she was no ice-bound   
shadow of deity then6 but flesh and     
blood2 a girl--a child1 of timid1 soft  
contours1 of warm roses and blue veins  
laced in a pearly skin4 ,and she was    
crowned with a heavy wealth of red-gold 
hair1 twisted in great coils1 bound     
about with pearls1 and smouldering like 
molten metal where it fell rippling     
along her neck4 ,she dazzled him1 so    
that he could not face her or look      
further4 ,his eyes dropped4 ,he stood   
before her moody1 disconcerted4  ,the   
girls1 who had dissolved their company  
at his approach1 listened to what he had
 to say linked in knots of twos and     
threes4 ,they needed no excuses to      
return2 some were philosophers in their 
way1 philosophers and poetesses2 some   

had left their lovers in the ring round 
,lorenzo4 ,so they went down the green  
alley still locked by the arms1 by the  
waist or shoulders4 ,they did not wait  
for ,simonetta4 ,she was a ,genoese1 and
 proud as the snow4 ,why did ,giuliano  
love her8 ,did he love her1 indeed8 ,he 
was bewitched then1 for she was cold1   
and a brazen creature in spite of it4   
,how dare she bare her neck so6 ,oh6    
'twas ,genoese4 ,uomini senza fede e    
donne senza vergogna1 they quoted as    
they ran4  ,and ,simonetta walked alone 
down the way with her head high2 but    
,sandro stepped behind1 at the edge of  
her trailing white robe4444  444 ,the   
poet was leaning against an ancient     
alabaster vase1 soil-stained1 yellow    
with age and its long sojourn in the    
loam1 but with traces of its carved     
garlands clinging to it still4 ,he      
fingered it lovingly as he talked4 ,his 
oration was concluding1 and his voice   
rose high and tremulous2 there were     
sparks in his hollow eyes4444 ,and as   

this sovereign ,beauty is queen of      
herself1 so she is subject to none      
other1 owns to no constraining custom1  
fears no reproach of man4 ,what she     
wills1 that has the force of a law4     
,being ,beauty1 her deeds are lovely and
 worshipful4 ,therefore ,phryne1 whom   
men1 groping in darkness and the dull   
ways of earth1 dubbed courtesan1 shone  
in a ,court of ,law before the assembled
 nobles of ,athens1 naked and undismayed
 in the blaze of her fairness4 ,and     
,athens discerned the goddess and       
trembled4 ,yes1 and more2 even as       
,aphrodite1 whose darling she was1 arose
 pure from the foam1 so she too came up 
out of the sea in the presence of a     
host1 and the ,athenians1 seeing no     
shame1 thought none1 but1 rather1       
reverenced her the more4 ,for what shame
 is it that the body of one so radiant  
in clear perfections should be revealed8
 ,is then the garment of the soul1 her  
very mould and image1 so shameful8      
,shall we seek to know her essence by   

the garment of a garment1 or hope to    
behold that which really is in the      
shadows we cast upon shadows8 ,shame is 
of the brute dullard who thinks shame4  
,the evil ever sees ,evil glaring at    
him1 ,plato1 the golden-moutheds with   
the soul of pure fire1 has said the     
truth of this matter in his ,de         
,republic the fifth book1 where he      
speaks of young maids sharing the       
exercise of the ,palstra1 yea1 and the  
,olympic contests even6 ,for he says1   
',let the wives of our wardens bare     
themselves1 for their virtue will be a  
robe2 and let them share the toils of   
war and defend their country4 ,and for  
the man who laughs at naked women       
exercising their bodies for high        
reasons1 his laughter is a fruit of     
unripe wisdom1 and he himself knows not 
what he is about2 for that is ever the  
best of sayings that the useful is the  
noble and the hurtful the base'4444     
,there was a pause4 ,the name of ,plato 
had had a strange effect upon the       

company4 ,you would have said they had  
suddenly entered a church and had felt  
all lighter interests sink under the    
weight of the dim1 echoing nave4 ,after 
a few moments the poet spoke again in a 
quieter tone1 but his voice had lost    
none of the unction which had enriched  
it4444 ,beauty is queen3 by the virtue  
of ,deity1 whose image she is1 she      
reigns1 lifts up1 fires4 ,let us beware 
how we tempt ,deity lest we perish      
ourselves4 ,actseon died when he gazed  
unbidden upon the pure body of ,artemis2
 but ,artemis herself rayed her         
splendour upon ,endymion1 and ,endymion 
is among the immortals4 ,we fall when we
 rashly confront ,beauty1 but that      
,beauty who comes unawares may nerve our
 souls to wing to heaven4 ,he ended on a
 resonant note1 and then1 still looking 
out over the valley1 sank into his seat4
 ,lorenzo1 with a fine humility1 got up 
and kissed his thin hand4 ,giuliano     
looked at ,simonetta1 trying to recall  
her gaze1 but she remained standing in  

her place1 seeing nothing of her        
companions4 ,she was thinking of        
something1 frowning a little and biting 
her lip1 her hands were before her2 her 
slim fingers twisted and locked         
themselves nervously1 like a tangle of  
snakes4 ,then she tossed her head1 as a 
young horse might1 and looked at        
,giuliano suddenly1 full in the eyes4   
,he rose to meet her with a deprecating 
smile1 cap in hand--but she walked past 
him1 almost brushing him with her gown1 
but never flinching her full gaze1      
threaded her way through the group to   
the back1 behind the poet1 where ,sandro
 was4 ,he had seen her coming1 indeed he
 had watched her furtively throughout   
the oration1 but her near presence      
disconcerted him again--and he looked   
down4 ,she was strongly excited with her
 quick resolution2 her colour had risen 
and her voice faltered when she began to
 speak4 ,she spoke eagerly1 running her 
words together4  ,ecco1 ,messer ,sandro1
 she whispered blushing4 ,you have heard

 these sayings4444 ,who is there in     
,florence like me8  ,there is no one1   
said ,sandro simply4  ,i will be your   
,lady ,venus1 she went on breathlessly4 
,you shall paint me1 rising from the    
sea-foam4444 ,the ,genoese love the sea4
 ,she was still eager and defiant2 her  
bosom rose and fell unchecked4  ,the    
,signorina is mocking me2 it is         
impossible2 the ,signorina knows it4    
,eh1 ,madonna6 is it so shameful to be  
fair--,star of the ,sea as your poets   
sing at evening8 ,do you mean that ,i   
dare not do it8 ,listen then1 ,signer   
,pittore2 to-morrow morning at mass-time
 you will come to the ,villa ,vespucci  
with your brushes and pans and you will 
ask for ,monna ,simonetta4 ,then you    
will see4 ,leave it now2 it is settled4 
,and she walked away with her head high 
and the same superb smile on her red    
lips4 ,mockery6 ,she was in dead        
earnest2 all her child's feelings were  
in hot revolt4 ,these women who had     
whispered to each other1 sniggered at   

her dress1 her white neck and her free  
carriage2 ,giuliano who had presumed so 
upon her candour-- these prying1        
censorious ,florentines---she would     
strike them dumb with her amazing       
loveliness4 ,they sang her a goddess    
that she might be flattered and suffer  
their company3 she would show herself a 
goddess indeed--the star of her shining 
,genoa1 where men were brave and silent 
and maidens frank like the sea4 ,yes1   
and then she would withdraw herself     
suddenly and leave them forlorn and     
dismayed4  ,as for ,sandro1 he stood    
where she had left him1 peering after   
her with a mist in his eyes4 ,he seemed 
to be looking over the hill-side1 over  
the city glowing afar off gold and      
purple in the hot air1 to ,mont'        
,oliveto and the heights1 where a line  
of black cypresses stood about a low    
white building4 ,at one angle of the    
building was a little turret with a     
belvedere of round arches4 ,the tallest 
cypress just topped the windows1 ,there 

his eyes seemed to rest4   ,,ii  ,at    
mass-time ,sandro1 folded in his shabby 
green cloak1 stepped into the sun on the
 ,ponte ,vecchio4 ,the morning mists    
were rolling back under the heat2 you   
began to see the yellow line of houses  
stretching along the turbid river on the
 far side1 and frowning down upon it    
with blank1 mud- stained faces4 ,above1 
through streaming air1 the sky showed   
faintly blue1 and a campanile to the    
right loomed pale and uncertain like a  
ghost4 ,the sound of innumerable bells  
floated over the still city4 ,hardly a  
soul was abroad2 here and there a couple
 of dusty peasants were trudging in with
 baskets of eggs and jars of milk and   
oil2 a boat passed down to the fishing1 
and the oar knocked sleepily in the     
rowlock as she cleared the bridge4 ,and 
above1 on the heights of ,mont'         
,oliveto1 the tapering forms of         
cypresses were faintly                  
outlined--straight bars of shadow--and  
the level ridge of a roof ran lightly   

back into the soft shroud4  ,sandro     
could mark these things as he stepped   
resolutely on to the bridge1 crossed it1
 and went up a narrow street among the  
sleeping houses4 ,the day held golden   
promise2 it was the day of his life6    
,meantime the mist clung to him and     
nipped him2 what had fate in store8     
,what was to be the issue8 ,in the      
,piazza ,santo ,spirito1 grey and       
hollow-sounding in the chilly silences1 
his own footsteps echoed solemnly as he 
passed by the door of the great ragged  
church4 ,through the heavy darkness     
within lights flickered faintly and     
went2 service was not begun4 ,a drab    
crew of cripples lounged on the steps   
yawning and shivering1 and two country  
girls were strolling to mass with brown 
arms round each other's waists4 ,when   
,sandro's footfall clattered on the     
stones they stopped by the door looking 
after him and laughed to see his dull   
face and muffled figure4 ,in the street 
beyond he heard a bell jingling1 hasty1 

incessant2 soon a white-robed procession
 swept by him1 fluttering vestments1    
tapers1 and the ,host under a canopy1   
silk and gold4 ,sandro snatched at his  
cap and dropped on his knees in the     
road1 crouching low and muttering under 
his breath as the vision went past4 ,he 
remained kneeling for a moment after it 
had gone1 then crossed                  
himself--forehead1 breast1 lip--and     
hurried forward4444 ,he stepped under   
the archway into the ,court4 ,there was 
a youth with a cropped head and swarthy 
neck lounging there teasing a spaniel4  
,as the steps sounded on the flags he   
looked up2 the old green cloak and      
clumsy shoes of the visitor did not     
interest him2 he turned his back and    
went on with his game4 ,sandro accosted 
him--,was the ,signorina at the house8  
,the boy went on with his game4 ,eh1    
,diavolo6 ,i know nothing at all1 he    
said4  ,sandro raised his voice till it 
rang round the courtyard4 ,you will go  
at once and inquire4 ,you will say to   

the ,signorina that ,sandro di ,mariano 
,filipepi the ,florentine painter is    
here by her orders2 that he waits her   
pleasure below4  ,the boy had got up2 he
 and ,sandro eyed each other for a      
little space4 ,sandro was the taller and
 had the glance of a hawk4 ,so the      
porter went4444  444 ,presently with    
throbbing brows he stood on the         
threshold of ,simonetta's chamber4 ,it  
was the turret room of the villa and its
 four arched windows looked through a   
leafy tracery over towards ,florence4   
,sandro could see down below him in the 
haze the glitter of the ,arno and the   
dusky dome of ,brunelleschi cleave the  
sward of the hills like a great         
burnished bowl4 ,in the room itself     
there was tapestry1 the ,clemency of    
,scipio1 with courtiers in golden       
cuirasses and tall plumes1 and peacocks 
and huge ,flemish horses--a rich        
profusion of crimson and blue drapery   
and stout-limbed soldiery4 ,on a        
bracket1 above a green silk curtain1 was

 a silver statuette of ,madonna and the 
,bambino ,gesu1 with a red lamp         
flickering feebly before4 ,by the       
windows a low divan heaped with velvet  
cushions and skins4 ,but for a coffer   
and a prayer-desk and a curtained recess
 which enshrined ,simonetta's bed1 the  
room looked wind-swept and bare4  ,when 
he entered1 ,simonetta was standing by  
the window leaning her hand against the 
ledge for support4 ,she was draped from 
top to toe in a rose- coloured mantle   
which shrouded her head like a nun's    
wimple and then fell in heavy folds to  
the ground4 ,she flushed as he came in1 
but saluted him with a grave            
inclination4 ,neither spoke4 ,the silent
 greeting1 the full consciousness in    
each of their parts1 gave a curious     
religious solemnity to the scene--like  
some familiar but stately ,church       
mystery4 ,sandro busied himself         
mechanically with his preparations-he   
was a lover and his pulse chaotic1 but  
he had come to paint--and when these    

were done1 on tip-toe1 as it were1 he   
looked timidly about him round the room1
 seeking where to pose her4 ,then he    
motioned her with the same reverential1 
preoccupied air1 silent still1 to a     
place under the silver ,madonna4444  444
 ,there was a momentary quiver of       
withdrawal4 ,simonetta blushed vividly  
and drooped her eyes down to her little 
bare foot peeping out below the lines of
 the rosy cloak4 ,the cloak's warmth    
shone on her smooth skin and rayed over 
her cheeks4 ,in her flowery loveliness  
she looked diaphanous1 ethereal2 and yet
 you could see what a child she was1    
with her bright audacity1 her ardour and
 her wilfulness flushing and paling     
about her like the dawn4 ,there she     
stood trembling on the brink4444        
,suddenly all her waywardness shot into 
her eyes2 she lifted her arms and the   
cloak fell back like the shard of a     
young flower2 then1 delicate and        
palpitating as a silver reed1 she stood 
up in the soft light of the morning1 and

 the sun1 slanting in between the golden
 leaves and tendrils1 kissed her neck   
and shrinking shoulder4  ,sandro stood  
facing her1 moody and troubled1         
fingering his brushes and bits of       
charcoal2 his shaggy brows were knit1 he
 seemed to be breathing hard4 ,he       
collected himself with an effort and    
looked up at her as she stood before him
 shrinking1 awe-struck1 panting at the  
thing she had done4 ,their eyes met1 and
 the girl's distress increased2 she     
raised her hand to cover her bosom2 her 
breath came in short gasps from parted  
lips1 but her wide eyes still looked    
fixedly into his1 with such blank panic 
that a sudden movement might really have
 killed her4 ,he saw it all2 she6 there 
at his mercy4 ,tears swam and he        
trembled4 ,ah6 the gracious lady6 what  
divine condescension6 what ineffable    
courtesy6 ,but the artist in him was    
awakened almost at the same moment2 his 
looks wandered in spite of her piteous  
candour and his own nothingness4 ,sandro

 the poet would have fallen on his face 
with an ,exi a me1 nam peccator sum4    
,sandro the painter was different--no   
mercy there4 ,he made a snatch at a     
carbon and raised his other hand with a 
kind of command--,holy ,virgin6 what a  
line6 ,stay as you are1 ,i implore you3 
swerve not one hair's breadth and ,i    
have you for ever6 ,there was conquest  
in his voice4  ,so ,simonetta stood very
 still1 hiding her bosom with her hand1 
but never took her watch off the enemy4 
,as he ran blindly about doing a hundred
 urgent indispensable things--noting the
 lights1 the line she made1 how her arm 
cut across the folds of the curtain--she
 dogged him with staring1 fascinated    
eyes1 just as a hare1 crouching in her  
form1 watches a terrier hunting round   
her and waits for the end4  ,but the    
enemy was disarmed4 ,sandro the         
passionate1 the lover1 the brooding     
devotee1 was gone2 so was la bella      
,simonetta the beloved1 the be- hymned4 
,instead1 here was a fretful painter1   

dashing lines and broad smudges of shade
 on his paper1 while before him rose an 
exquisite1 slender1 swaying form1       
glistening carnation and silver1 and1   
over all1 the maddening glow of red-gold
 hair4 ,could he but catch those velvet 
shadows1 those delicate1 glossy1        
reflected-lights6 ,body of ,bacchus6    
,how could he put them in6 ,what a      
picture she was6 ,look at the sun on her
 shoulder6 and her hair--,christ6 how it
 burned6 ,it was a curious moment4 ,the 
girl who had never understood or cared  
to understand this humble lover1 guessed
 now that he was lost in the artist4    
,she felt that she was simply an effect 
and she resented it as a crowning       
insult4 ,her colour rose again1 her red 
lips gathered into a pout4 ,if ,sandro  
had but known1 she was his at that      
instant4 ,he had but to drop the        
painter1 throw down his brushes1 set his
 heart and hot eyes bare--to open his   
arms and she would have fled into them  
and nestled there2 so fierce was her    

instinct just then to be loved1 she1 who
 had always been loved6 ,but ,sandro    
knew nothing and cared nothing4 ,he was 
absorbed in the gracious lines of her   
body1 the lithe long neck1 the drooping 
shoulder1 the tenderness of her youth2  
and then the grand open curve of the hip
 and thigh on which she was poised4 ,he 
drew them in with a free hand in great  
sweeping lines1 eagerly1 almost angrily2
 once or twice he broke his carbon      
and--body of a dog6--he snatched at     
another4  ,this lasted a few minutes    
only3 even ,simonetta1 with all her     
maiden tremors still feverishly acute1  
hardly noticed the flight of time2 she  
was so hot with the feeling of her      
wrongs1 the slight upon her victorious  
fairness4 ,did she not know how fair she
 was8 ,she was getting very angry2 she  
had been made a fool of4 ,all ,florence 
would come and gape at the picture and  
mock her in the streets with bad names  
and coarse gestures as she rode by4 ,she
 looked at ,sandro4 ,santa ,maria6 how  

hot he was6 ,his hair was drooping over 
his eyes6 ,he tossed it back every      
second6 ,and his mouth was open1 one    
could see his tongue working6 ,why had  
she not noticed that great mouth before8
 ',twas the biggest in all ,florence4   
,o6 why had he come8 ,she was           
frightened1 remorseful1 a child again1  
with a trembling pathetic mouth and     
shrinking limbs4 ,and then her heart    
began to beat under her slim fingers4   
,she pressed them down into her flesh to
 stay those great masterful throbs4 ,a  
tear gathered in her eye2 larger and    
larger it grew1 and then fell4 ,a       
shining drop rested on the round of her 
cheek and rolled slowly down her chin to
 her protecting hand1 and lay there half
 hidden1 shining like a rain-drop       
between two curving petals of a rose4   
,it was just at that moment the painter 
looked up from his work and shook his   
bush of hair back4 ,something in his    
sketch had displeased him2 he looked up 
frowning1 with a brush between his      

teeth4 ,when he saw the tear- stained1  
distressful1 beautiful face it had a    
strange effect upon him4 ,he dropped    
nerveless1 like a wounded man1 to his   
knees1 and covered his eyes with his    
hands4 ,ah ,madonna6 for the pity of    
heaven forgive me6 forgive me6 ,i have  
sinned1 ,i have done thee fearful wrong2
 ,i1 who still dare to love thee4 ,he   
uncovered his face and looked up        
radiant3 his own words had inspired him1
 ,yes1 he went on1 with a steadfast     
smile1 ,i1 ,sandro1 the painter1 the    
poor devil of a painter1 have seen thee 
and ,i dare to love6 ,his triumph was   
short-lived4 ,simonetta had grown deadly
 white1 her eyes burned1 she had        
forgotten herself4 ,she was tall and    
slender as a lily1 and she rose1        
shaking1 to her height4  ,thou presumest
 strangely1 she said1 in a slow still   
voice1 ,go6 ,go in peace6  ,she was     
conqueror4 ,in her calm scorn she was   
like a young immortal1 some cold        
victorious ,cynthia whose chastity had  

been flouted4 ,sandro was pale too3 he  
said nothing and did not look at her    
again4 ,she stood quivering with        
excitement1 watching him with the same  
intent alertness as he rolled up his    
paper and crammed his brushes and       
pencils into the breast of his jacket4  
,she watched him still as he backed out 
of the room and disappeared through the 
curtains of the archway4 ,she listened  
to his footsteps along the corridor1    
down the stair4 ,she was alone in the   
silence of the sunny room4 ,her first   
thought was for her cloak2 she snatched 
it up and veiled herself shivering as   
she looked fearfully round the walls4   
,and then she flung herself on the piled
 cushions before the window and sobbed  
piteously1 like an abandoned child4     
,the sun slanted in between the golden  
leaves and tendrils and played in the   
tangle of her hair4444   ,,iii  ,at ten 
o'clock on the morning of ,april the    
twenty-sixth1 a great bell began to     
toll3 two beats heavy and slow1 and then

 silence1 while the air echoed the      
reverberation1 moaning4 ,sandro1 in     
shirt and breeches1 with bare feet      
spread broad1 was at work in his garret 
on the old bridge4 ,he stayed his hand  
as the strong tone struck1 bent his head
 and said a prayer3 ,miserere ei1       
,domine2 requiem eternam dona1 ,domine2 
the words came out of due order as if he
 was very conscious of their import4    
,then he went on4 ,and the great bell   
went on2 two beats together1 and then   
silence4 ,it seemed to gather solemnity 
and a heavier message as he painted4    
,through the open window a keen draught 
of air blew in with dust and a scrap of 
shaving from the ,lung' ,arno down      
below2 it circled round his workshop1   
fluttering the sketches and rags pinned 
to the walls4 ,he looked out on a bleak 
landscape--,san ,miniato in heavy shade1
 and the white houses by the river      
staring like dead faces4 ,a strong      
breeze was abroad2 it whipped the brown 
water and raised little curling billows1

 ragged and white at the edges1 and     
tossed about snaps of surf4 ,it was     
cold4 ,sandro shivered as he shut to his
 casement2 and the stiffening gale      
rattled at it fitfully4 ,once again it  
thrust it open1 bringing wild work among
 the litter in the room4 ,he made fast  
with the rain driving ,in his face4 ,and
 above the howling of the squall he     
heard the sound of the great bell1      
steady and unmoved as if too full of its
 message to be put aside4 ,yet it was   
coming to him athwart the wind4  ,sandro
 stood at his casement and looked at the
 weather-beating rain and yeasty water4 
,he counted1 rather nervously1 the      
pulses between each pair of the bell's  
deep tones4 ,he was impressionable to   
circumstances1 and the coincidence of   
storm and passing-bell awed him4444     
,either the ,god of ,nature suffers or  
the fabric of the world is breaking2--he
 remembered a scrap of talk wafted      
towards him 7as he stood in attendance7 
from some humanist at ,lorenzo's table  

only yesterday1 above the light laughter
 and snatches of song4 ,that breakfast  
party at the ,camaldoli yesterday6 ,what
 a contrast--the even spring weather    
with the sun in a cloudless sky1 and now
 this icy dead morning with its battle  
of wind and bell1 fighting1 he          
thought1--over the failing breath of    
some strong man4 ,man6 ,god1 more like4 
,the ,god of ,nature suffers1 he        
murmured as he turned to his work4444   
,simonetta had not been there yesterday4
 ,he had not seen her1 indeed1 since    
that nameless day when she had first    
transported him with the radiance of her
 bare beauty and then struck him down   
with a level gaze from steel-cold eyes4 
,and he had deserved it1 he had--she had
 said--presumed strangely4 ,three more  
words only had she uttered and he had   
slunk out from her presence like a dog4 
,what a ,goddess6 ,venus ,urania6 ,so   
she1 too1 might have ravished a         
worshipper as he prayed1 and1 after1    
slain him for a careless word4 ,cruel8  

,no1 but a ,goddess4 ,beauty had no     
laws2 she was above them1 ,agnolo       
himself had said it1 from ,plato4444    
,holy ,michael6 ,what a blast6 ,black   
and desperate weather4444 ,either the   
,god of ,nature suffers4444 ,god shield 
all ,christian souls on such a day64444 
,one came and told him ,simonetta       
,vespucci was dead4 ,some fever had torn
 at her and raced through all her limbs1
 licking up her life as it passed4 ,no  
one had known of it--it was so swift6   
,but there had just been time to fetch a
 priest2 ,fra ,matteo1 they said1 from  
the ,carmine1 had shrived her 7it was a 
bootless task1 ,god knew1 for the child 
had babbled so1 her wits wandered1 look 
you71 and then he had performed the last
 office4 ,one had fled to tell the      
,medici4 ,giuliano was wild with grief2 
'twas as if he had killed her instead of
 the ,spring-ague--but then1 people said
 he loved her well6 ,and our ,lorenzo   
had bid them swing the great bell of the
 ,duomo--,sandro had heard it           

perhaps8--and there was to be a public  
procession1 and a ,requiem sung at      
,santa ,croce before they took her back 
to ,genoa to lie with her fathers4 ,eh6 
,bacchus6 ,she was fair and ,giuliano   
had loved her well4 ,it was natural     
enough then4 ,so the gossip ran out to  
tell his news to more attentive ears1   
and ,sandro stood in his place1 intoning
 softly ,te ,deum ,laudamus4  ,he       
understood it all4 ,there had been a    
dark and awful strife--earth shuddering 
as the black shadow of death swept by4  
,through tears now the sun beamed broad 
over the gentle city where she lay      
lapped in her mossy hills4 ,lux eterna  
lucet ei1 he said with a steady smile2  
atque lucebit1 he added after a pause4  
,he had been painting that day an       
agonising ,christ1 red and languid1     
crowned with thorns4 ,some of his own   
torment seems to have entered it1 for1  
looking at it now1 we see1 first of all1
 wild eyeballs staring with the mad     
earnestness1 the purposeless intensity  

of one seized or possessed4 ,he put the 
panel away and looked about for         
something else1 the sketch he had made  
of ,simonetta on that last day4 ,when he
 had found it1 he rolled it straight and
 set it on his easel4 ,it was not the   
first charcoal study he had made from   
life1 but a brush drawing on dark paper1
 done in sepia-wash and the lights in   
white lead4 ,he stood looking into it   
with his hands clasped4 ,about half a   
braccia high1 faint and shadowy in the  
pale tint he had used1 he saw her there 
victim rather than ,goddess4 ,standing  
timidly and wistfully1 shrinking rather1
 veiling herself1 maiden-like1 with her 
hands and hair1 with lips trembling and 
dewy eyes1 she seemed to him now an     
immortal who must needs suffer for some 
great end2 live and suffer and die2 live
 again1 and suffer and die4 ,it was a   
doom perpetual like ,demeter's1 to bear1
 to nurture1 to lose and to find her    
,persephone4 ,she had stood there       
immaculate and apprehensive1 a wistful  

victim4 ,three days before he had seen  
her thus2 and now she was dead4 ,he     
would see her no more4  ,ah1 yes6 ,once 
more he would see her4444        99     
99       99       99       99  ,they    
carried dead ,simonetta through the     
streets of ,florence with her pale face 
uncovered and a crown of myrtle in her  
hair4 ,people thronging there held their
 breath1 or wept to see such still      
loveliness2 and her poor parted lips    
wore a patient little smile1 and her    
eyelids were pale violet and lay heavy  
to her cheek4 ,white1 like a bride1 with
 a nosegay of orange- blossom and       
syringa at her throat1 she lay there on 
her bed with lightly folded hands and   
the strange aloofness and preoccupation 
all the dead have4 ,only her hair burned
 about her like a molten copper2 and the
 wreath of myrtle leaves ran forward to 
her brows and leapt beyond them into a  
tongue4  ,the great procession swept    
forward2 black brothers of              
,misericordia1 shrouded and awful1 bore 

the bed or stalked before it with       
torches that guttered and flared sootily
 in the dancing light of day4 ,they held
 the pick of ,florence1 those scowling  
shrouds--,giuliano and ,lorenzo1 ,pazzi1
 ,tornabuoni1 ,soderini or ,pulci2 and  
behind1 old ,cattaneo1 battered with    
storms1 walked heavily1 swinging his    
long arms and looking into the day's    
face as if he would try another fall    
with ,death yet4 ,priests and acolytes1 
tapers1 banners1 vestments and a great  
silver ,crucifix1 they drifted by1      
chanting the dirge for ,simonetta2 and  
she1 as if for a sacrifice1 lifted up on
 her silken bed1 lay couched like a     
white flower edged colour of flame4444  
444 ,santa ,croce1 the great church1    
stretched forward beyond her into the   
distances of grey mist and cold spaces  
of light4 ,its bare vastness was damp   
like a vault4 ,and she lay in the midst 
listless1 heavy-lidded1 apart1 with the 
half-smile1 as it seemed1 of some secret
 mirth4 ,round her the great candles    

smoked and flickered1 and mass was sung 
at the ,high ,altar for her soul's      
repose4 ,sandro stood alone facing the  
shining altar but looking fixedly at    
,simonetta on her couch4 ,he was white  
and dry--parched lips and eyes that     
ached and smarted4 ,was this the end8   
,was it possible1 my ,god6 that the     
transparent1 unearthly thing lying there
 so prone and pale was dead8 ,had such  
loveliness aught to do with life or     
death8 ,ah6 sweet lady1 dear heart1 how 
tired she was1 how deadly tired6 ,from  
where he stood he could see with        
intolerable anguish the sombre rings    
round her eyes and the violet shadows on
 the lids1 her folded hands and the     
straight1 meek line to her feet4 ,and   
her poor wan face with its wistful1     
pitiful little smile was turned half    
aside on the delicate throat1 as if in a
 last appeal3--,leave me now1 ,o        
,florentines1 to my rest1 ,i have given 
you all ,i had3 ask no more4 ,i was a   
young girl1 a child2 too young for your 

eager strivings4 ,you have killed me    
with your play2 let me be now1 let me   
sleep6 ,poor child6 ,poor child6 ,sandro
 was on his knees with his face pressed 
against the pulpit and tears running    
through his fingers as he prayed4444    
,as he had seen her1 so he painted4 ,as 
at the beginning of life in a cold      
world1 passively meeting the long       
trouble of it1 he painted her a rapt    
,presence floating evenly to our earth4 
,a grey1 translucent sea laps silently  
upon a little creek1 and in the hush of 
a still dawn the myrtles and sedges on  
the water's brim are quiet4 ,it is a    
dream in half tones that he gives us1   
grey and green and steely blue2 and just
 that1 and some homely magic of his own1
 hint the commerce of another world with
 man's discarded domain4 ,men and women 
are asleep1 and as in an early walk you 
may startle the hares at their play1 or 
see the creatures of the darkness-- owls
 and night hawks and heavy moths--flit  
with fantastic purpose over the familiar

 scene1 so here it comes upon you       
suddenly that you have surprised        
,nature's self at her mysteries2 you are
 let into the secret2 you have caught   
the spirit of the ,april woodland as she
 glides over the pasture to the copse4  
,and that1 indeed1 was ,sandro's        
fortune4 ,he caught her in just such a  
propitious hour4 ,he saw the sweet wild 
thing1 pure and undefiled by touch of   
earth2 caught her in that pregnant pause
 of time ere she had lighted4 ,another  
moment and a buxom nymph of the grove   
would fold her in a rosy mantle1        
coloured as the earliest wood-anemones  
are4 ,she would vanish1 we know1 into   
the daffodils or a bank of violets4 ,and
 you might tell her presence there1 or  
in the rustle of the myrtles1 or coo of 
doves mating in the pines2 you might    
feel her genius in the scent of the     
earth or the kiss of the ,west wind2 but
 you could only see her in mid- ,april1 
and you should look for her over the    
sea4 ,she always comes with the first   

warmth of the year4  ,but daily1 before 
he painted1 ,sandro knelt in a dark     
chapel in ,santa ,croce1 while a        
blue-chinned priest said mass for the   
repose of ,simonetta's soul4    ,,viii  
,,the ,,burden ,,of ,,new ,,tyre  ,for a
 short time in her motley history1 an   
old-clothesman1 one ,domenico-- he and  
his ,compagnia del ,bruco1 his ,company 
of the ,worm#a-- reigned over ,siena and
 gave to her people a taste for blood4  
,it was bloodshed on easy terms they    
had2 for surely no small nation 7except 
that tiger-cat ,perugia7 has achieved so
 much massacre with so little fighting4 
,massacre considered as one of the ,fine
 ,arts8 ,no indeed2 but massacre as a   
viaticum1 as title clear to mansions in 
the skies2 for1 with more complacency   
than discrimination1 these sated        
citizens chose to dedicate their most   
fantastic blood-orgies by a ,missa de   
,spiritu ,sancto in the ,cathedral      
,church4 ,the old-clothesman1 who by    
some strange oversight died in his bed1 

was floated up on the incense of this   
devout service to show his hands1       
and--marvel6--,saint ,catherine1 the    
amorosa sposa of ,heaven1 reigned in his
 stead4 ,certainly1 for unction spiced  
with ferocity1 for a madness which      
alternately kissed the ,crucifix and    
trampled on it1 for mandragora and      
fleurs de lys1 saints and succubi1      
churches and lupanars--commend me to    
,siena the red4  ,footnote #a3 ,this was
 one of the ,contrade into which the    
,city was divided1 and of which each had
 its totem-sign4  ,you are not to       
suppose that she has not paid for all   
this1 the red ,siena4 ,none of it is    
absolved2 it is there floating vaguely  
in the atmosphere4 ,it chokes the       
gully-trap streets in ,august when the  
air is like a hot bath2 it wails round  
the corners on stormy nights and you    
hear it battling among the towers       
overhead1 buffeting the stained walls of
 criminal old palaces and churches grown
 hoary in iniquity--so many             

half-embodied centuries of deadly sin   
gnawing their spleens or shrieking their
 infamous carouse over again4 ,so at    
least ,i found it4 ,without baring      
myself to the charge of any sneaking    
kindness for bloodshedding1 ,i may own  
to the fascination of the precipitous   
fortress-town huddled red and grey on   
its three red crags1 and of its         
suggestion of all the old crimes of     
,italy from ,ezzelino's to ,borgia's1 of
 all unhappy deaths from ,pia de'       
,tolomei's to ,vittoria's1 the ,white   
,devil of ,italy4 ,its air seemed       
blood-boltered 7like the shade of the   
hunted ,banquho71 its stones1 curiously 
slippery for such dry weather1 cried    
,haro6 or ,out6 ,havoc6 ,and above it   
all shone a marble church1 white as a   
bride2 while now and again on a         
favourable waft of wind came the        
fragrant memory of ,saint ,catherine4   
,it is the peak of earth most charged   
with wayward emotions--pity and terror  
blent together into a poignant beauty1 a

 sorcery4 ,imagine yourself one of those
 old ,popes--,linus or ,anaclete or     
,damasius--whose heads spike the        
clerestory of the ,duomo1 you would look
 down upon a sea of pictures 7by the    
best pavement-artists in the world7--the
 ,massacre of the ,innocents like a     
patch of dry blood by the altar-steps1 a
 winking ,madonna in the ,capella del   
,voto thronged with worshippers1 ,hermes
 ,trismegistus1 a freaksome wizard1 by  
the ,west door1 and a gilded array of   
the great world smiling and debonnair in
 the sacristy4 ,not far off is ,sodoma's
 lovely ,catherine fainting under the   
sweet dolour of her spousals4 ,are you  
for the ,white or the ,black ,mass8     
,cybel or the ,holy ,ghost8 ,catherine  
or ,hermes ,trismegistus8 ,siena will   
give you any and yet more cunning       
confections4 ,it is very strange4  ,the 
approach to her three hills1 if you are 
not flattened by the intolerable        
pilgrimage from ,florence1 is fine4     
,hints of what is to come greet you in  

the frittered shale of the grey         
country-side broken abruptly by little  
threatening hill-towns4 ,the scar juts  
out of the earth's crust1 rising sheer1 
and there on a fretted peak hovers a    
fortress-village1 steep red roofs1 an   
ancient bell-tower or two with a lean   
barrel of a church beyond2 all the lines
 cut sharp to the clean sky2 a          
bullock-cart creaking up homewards2 the 
shiver and dust of olives round the     
walls4 ,you could swear you caught the  
glint of a long gun over the            
machicolations2 but it is only a        
casement fired by the westering sun4    
,such are ,san ,miniato1 ,castel        
,fiorentino1 ,poggibonsi 7where stayed  
,lorenzo's ,nencia--his ,nancy1 we      
should call her71 ,san ,gimignano and   
its ,fina1 a little girl-saint of       
fifteen springs2 such1 too1 is ,siena   
when you get there1 but redder1 her grey
 stones blushing for her sins4 ,and the 
country blushes for her as you draw     
near1 for all the vineyards are dotted  

with burning willows in the             
autumn--osier-bushes flaming at the     
heart4 ,let it be night when you        
arrive--the dead vast and middle of a   
still night4 ,then suffer yourself to be
 whirled through the inky streets1 over 
the flags1 from one hill to another4 ,it
 is deathly quiet3 no soul stirs4 ,the  
palaces rise on either hand like the    
ghosts of old reproaches2 a flickering  
lamp reveals a gully as black as a      
grave1 and shines on the edge of a lane 
which falls you know not whither4 ,you  
turn corners which should complicate a  
maze1 you scrape and clatter down       
steeps1 you groan up mountain-sides4    
,all in the dark1 mind4 ,and the great  
white houses slide down upon you to the 
very flags you are beating2 you could   
near touch either wall with a hand4 ,so 
you swerve round a column1 under a      
votive lamp1 and have left the stars and
 their violet bed4 ,you are in a        
cortile3 men say there is an inn here   
with reasonable entertainment4 ,if it is

 the ,aquila ,nera1 it will serve4      
,there is no sound beyond the labouring 
of our horses' wind and of some outland 
dog in the far distance baying for a    
moon4 ,this is ,siena at her black      
magic4  ,i maintain that the impression 
you thus receive holds you4 ,next       
morning there is a blare of sun4 ,it    
will blind you at first1 blister you4   
,rayed out from plaster-walls which have
 been soaking in it for five centuries1 
driven up in palpable waves of heat from
 the flags1 lying like a lake of white  
metal in the ,piazza1 however recklessly
 this truly royal sun may beam1 in      
,siena you will feel furtive and astare 
for sudden death4  ,there is nothing    
frank and open about ,siena2 none of    
your robust1 red- lunged1 open-air      
,paganism4 ,thophile ,gautier1          
,baudelaire1 ,poe--such supersensitive  
plants should have known it1 instead of 
the ingenuous ,m4 ,bourget and the      
deliberate ,mr4 ,henry ,james4 ,m4      
,bourget looked at the ,sodomas and ,mr4

 ,james admired the view3 what a romance
 we should have had from ,gautier of    
illicit joys and their requital by a    
knife1 what a strophe from ,baudelaire  
half-obscene1 half-mournful1 wholly     
melodious4 ,but ,thophile ,gautier      
tarried in ,venice1 and1 as for ,m4     
,charles1 the man of pronounced tastes  
and keen nose1 stuck in the main to     
,paris4 ,failing them as guides1 go you 
first to the ,piazza del ,campo where   
horses race in ,august--all roads lead  
thither4 ,contraries again6 ,a square8  
,it is a cup4 ,a field8 ,it is a        
,gabbatha3 a place of burning pavements4
 ,were red brick and ,gothic ever so    
superbly compounded before1 to be so    
strong and yet so lithe8 ,that is the   
,palazzo ,publico1 the shrine of        
,aristotle's ,politics and the ,miracles
 of the ,virgin4 ,what is that long     
spear which seems to shake as it glances
 skywards8 ,it isn't a spear2 it's the  
,torre del ,mangia--the loveliest tower 
in ,tuscany1 the filia pulchrior of a   

beautiful mother1 the ,torre della      
,vacca of ,florence4 ,that tower rises  
from the bottom of the cup and shoots   
straight upwards1 nor stays till it has 
out-topped the proudest belfry on the   
hills about it4 ,but what a square this 
is6 ,the backs of the houses 7whose     
front doors are high above on the       
hill-top7 stand like bald cliffs on     
every side4 ,you cannot see any outlets3
 most of them are winding stairways cut 
between the houses4 ,the lounging1      
shabby men and girls seem handsomer and 
lazier than you found them in ,florence4
 ,they seem to have room to stretch     
their fine limbs against these naked    
walls4 ,their maturity is almost        
tropical4 ,the girls wear flopping straw
 hats3 wide1 sorrowful eyes stare at you
 from the shady recesses1 and the       
rounding of their chins and beautiful   
proud necks are marked by glossy lights4
 ,morbida e bianca1 sang ,lorenzo4 ,i   
suppose they think of little more than  
the market price of spring onions3 but  

then1 why do their eyes speak like that8
 ,and what do they speak of8 ,dio mio1  
,i am an honest man6 ,so was not        
,lorenzo2 listen to him3--  ,two eyes   
hath she so roguish and demure ,that1   
lit they on a rock1 they'd make it feel2
 ,how shall poor melting man meet such a
 lure8  ,how indeed8 ,ah1 ,nenciozza    
mia6  ,my little ,nancy shows nor fleck 
nor pimple2 ,pliant and firm1 is she1 a 
reed for grace3 ,in her smooth chin     
there's just one pretty dimple2 ,that   
rounds the perfect measure of her face3 
,that dimple has been the destruction of
 many a heart3--  ,so wise1 withal1     
above us other simple ,plain folk--sure1
 ,nature set her in this place ,to bloom
 her tender whiteness all about us1 ,and
 break our hearts--and then bloom on    
without us4  ,yes indeed1 my ,lorenzo4  
,but enough6 ,let us take shelter in the
 ,duomo4  ,barred like a tiger1         
glistening snow and rose and gold1      
topped by a flaunting angel1 her door   
flanked by the lean ,roman wolf2 paved  

with pictures1 hemmed with the ,popes   
from ,peter to ,pius1 encrusted with    
marbles and gemmy frescoes1 it is a     
casket of delights this church1 and the 
quintessence of ,siena--molles ,sen as  
,beccadelli1 himself of this ,tyre1     
dubbed his native town4 ,voluptuous as  
she was1 tigerish ,siena was more       
consistent than you would think4 ,true1 
,saints ,catherine and ,bernardine      
consort oddly with the old-clothesman   
saying mass with wet hands1 and         
,beccadelli the soft singer of          
abominations1 just as the ,madones aux  
longs regards of the ,primitives--pious 
creatures of slim idle fingers and      
desirous eyes1 pining in brocade and    
jewels--seem in a different sphere 7as  
indeed they are7 from ,pinturricchio's  
well-found ,popes and ,princesses1 and  
,sodoma's languishing boys or half-ripe 
,catherines dying of love4 ,have ,i not 
said this was once a city of pleasure8  
,and whether the pleasure was a         
blood-feast or an ,agap1 or a ,platonic 

banquet where the flute-players and     
wine-cups and crowns crushed out the    
high disquisition and philosophic       
undercurrent--it was all one to soft    
,siena drowsing the days out on her     
hills4 ,her pleasures were fierce1 and  
beautiful as fierce4 ,but the burden of 
,tyre is always the same4 ,and so the   
memories of a thousand ancient wrongs   
unpurged howl over the red city1 as once
 howled the ships of ,tarshish4    ,,ix 
,,ilaria1 ,,mariota1 ,,bettina          
7,studies in ,translation from ,stone7  
,greatest of great ladies is ,ilaria1   
potens ,lucc1 sleeping easily1 with chin
 firmly rounded to the vault1 where she 
has slept for five hundred years1 and   
still a power in ,lucca of the silver   
planes4 ,it was a white-hot ,september  
day ,i went to pay my devotions to her  
shrine4 ,lucca drowsed in a haze1 her   
bleached arcades of trees lifeless in   
the glare of high noon2 all the valley  
was winking1 the very bells had no      
strength to chime3 and then ,i saw      

,ilaria lie in the deep shade waiting   
for the judgment4 ,ilaria was a tall    
,tuscan--the girls of ,lucca are out of 
the common tall1 and straight as        
larches--of fine birth and a life of    
minstrels and gardens4 ,pompous         
processions1 trapped horses1            
emblazonings1 were hers1 and all        
refinements of ,high ,masses and        
,cardinals4 ,so she lived once a life as
 stately-ordered as old dance-music1 in 
the airy corridors of a great marble    
palace1 swept hourly by the thin1 clear 
air of the ,lucchesan plain2 and her    
lord1 went out to war with ,pisa or     
,pescia1 or even further afield1        
following ,emperor or ,pope to that     
,monteaperti which made ,arbia run      
colour of wine1 or shrill ,benevento1 or
 ,altopasdo which cost the ,florentines 
so dear4#a ,but ,ilaria stayed at home  
to trifle with lap-dogs and jongleurs   
under the orange trees3 heard boys make 
stammering love1 and laughed lightly at 
their ,decameron travesty1 being too    

proud to be ashamed or angered2 and     
sometimes 7for she was not too proud but
 that love should be of the party71 she 
pulled a ring from one lithe finger1 and
 looked down while the lad kissed it for
 a holy relic and put it in his bosom   
reverently1--pretending not to see4     
,but1 ,ilaria1 you knew well what gave  
colour to the faint and worn old words  
about ,fior di spin giallo1 or ,o ,dea  
fatale1 or  ,o ,dio de' ,dei6 ,la pi    
bellina mi parete voi2 ,o quanto sete   
cara agli occhi miei6  ,footnote #a3    
,historically he could have done none of
 these things1 except1 perhaps1 fight at
 ,altopascio4  ,and so the days passed  
in your square corner palace1 until the 
plague came down with the ,north wind1  
and you bowed your proud neck before it 
like a mountain pine4 ,young to die1    
young to die and leave the pleasant ways
 of ,lucca1 the green ramparts1 the     
grassy walks in the pastures where the  
hawks fly and the shadows fleet over the
 green and gold of early ,may4 ,young   

enough1 ,ilaria4 ,scorner of love1 now  
,death is at hand1 with the bats' wings 
and wet scythe they give him in the     
,piazza1 when your lord comes triumphing
 or ,god's ,body takes the air3 what of 
him1 ,madonna8 ,let him come1 says      
,ilaria1 with raised eyebrows and a     
wintry smile4 ,yet she fought3 her thin 
hands held off the scythe at arms'      
length2 she set her teeth and battled   
with the winged beast4 ,whenas she knew 
it must be1 suddenly she relaxed her    
hold1 and ,death had his way with her4  
,then her women came about her and robed
 her in a long robe1 colour of olive    
leaves1 and soft to the touch4 ,and they
 covered soberly her feet and placed    
them on a crouching dog1 which was      
,lucca4 ,but her fine hands they folded 
peace-wise below her bosom1 to rest     
quietly there like the clasps of a      
girdle4 ,her gentle hair 7bright brown  
it was1 like a yearling chestnut7 they  
crowned also1 and closed down her ringed
 eyes4 ,so they let her lie till        

judgment come4 ,and when ,i saw her the 
close robe still folded her about and   
ran up her throat lovingly to her chin1 
till her head seemed to thrust from it  
as a flower from its calyx4 ,it would   
seem1 too1 as if her bosom rose and     
fell1 that her nostrils quivered when   
the wind blew in and touched them2 and  
the hem of her garment being near me1 ,i
 was fain to kiss it and say a prayer to
 the divinity haunting that place4 ,so  
,i left the presence well disposed in my
 heart to glorify ,god for so fair a    
sight4  ,whereafter ,i took the way to  
,florence among the vineyards and       
tangled hill-sides2 and1 anon1 in the   
broad plain ,i stayed at ,prato to      
honour the lady of the town4 ,madonna   
della ,cintola she is called now1 and   
one ,luca1 a worker in clay1 knew her   
mind most intimately and did all her    
will4 ,quiet days she had lived at      
,prato1 being wife to a decent          
metal-worker there and keeper of his    
house and stuff4 ,mariota she was then  

called for all her name1 but as to her  
parentage none knew it1 save that       
,marco's ,vanna had been both frail and 
fair1 and when she had been in flower   
the great ,lord ,ottoboni had flowered  
likewise--and often in her company4     
,giovanna ,i had never known2 she died  
before her lord married the lady        
,adhelidis of ,verona and the seven     
days' tilting were held in her honour in
 a field below the city wall4 ,but when 
,luca first knew ,mariota and saw how   
her mother's pride beaconed from her    
smooth brow1 the girl was standing in   
the ,piazza in a tattered green kirtle  
and bodice that gaped at the hooks1     
played upon by sun1 and fallow wind1 and
 longing looks driven at her eyes in    
vain4 ,the wench carried her head and   
light fardel of years like a ,princess2 
would laugh to show her fine teeth if   
your jest pleased her2 and then she     
would look straightly upon you and be   
glad of you4 ,if you pleased her not1   
she would look through you to the       

mountains or the church-tower4 ,she had 
as squarely a modelled chin as ever ,i  
saw1 and her lips firmly set and redder 
than strawberries in a wet ,may4 ,none  
taught her anything2 none1 that ,luca   
could learn1 gave her sup or bed4 ,he   
was a boy then and would have given her 
both4 ,i think she knew he favoured     
her--what girl does not8 ,everybody     
favoured ,mariota1 stayed as she passed1
 and followed her stealthily with       
troubled eyes4 ,but he was a moody boy  
then1 at the mercy of dreams1 and       
stammered when he was near her1         
blushing4 ,when he came back she was    
seventeen years old1 and the            
metal-worker's wife4 ,it was then ,luca 
saw her1 in the street called of the    
,eye1 where climbing plants top the     
convent wall and from the garden comes  
the scent of wall-flowers and sweet     
marjoram4  ,at her man's door she was   
standing1 barefooted1 fray-kirtled as of
 old2 but riper1 of more assured and    
triumphant beauty4 ,in her arms a       

boy-child1 lusty and half-naked1        
struggled to be fed1 seeking with both  
fat hands to forage for himself4        
,turning her grey eyes1 where pride     
slumbered and shame had never been1 she 
knew ,luca again1 made him welcome at   
the door1 with1 superb assurance set    
wine and olives and bread before him2   
and so stood at the table while he ate1 
gravely recovering one by one the       
features of his face1 smiling1          
preoccupied with her pleasure and       
unconscious of the cooing child4 ,for   
with matronly composure she had eased my
 gentleman as soon as she had provided  
for her guest4  ,in comes the           
metal-worker1 ,sor ,matteo1 burly but   
watchful in a greasy apron1 eyes the lad
 up and down with much burdensome       
pondering of hand to scrubby chin1 as to
 say to ,mariota ,i'm no fool4 ,with    
never a blush1 nor a quailing of the    
eyes' level beam1 ,mariota begs cousin  
,luca to become conscious of her master4
  ,there were the makings of a piece of 

right ,boccacesque in all this1 and the 
padrone showed manifest disinclination  
for his accustomed part3 but ,luca's    
candid face disclaimed all dark-entry   
work4 ,mariota hurried to her task4 ,a  
modeller in clay1 a statuary1 via1 an   
admirer of the choicer contrivings of   
,mother ,nature6 ,what and if he should 
find his cousin1 his scarce-remembered  
gossip ,mariota1 worth an artist's half-
 closed eye6 ,and the bambinaccio 7with 
a side-look and face averted as she     
spoke7--ecco6--many a ,gesulino showed a
 leaner thigh and cheeks less peachy    
than he4 ,had ,papa seen the new dimple 
in ,beppino's chin8 ,and more soft      
piping to the same tune4 ,master ,matteo
 was appeased2 but ,luca was far adrift 
with other matters4 ,love1 for him1 lay 
not in flesh and blood alone2 rather1 in
 what flesh and blood signified in      
another clay1 not ,messer ,domeneddio's1
 but his own chosen task-stuff4 ,he had 
come hither to ,prato on the commission 
of the ,opera1 to work a ,madonna col   

,bambino for the great door of the      
,duomo4 ,well6 he had his ,madonna to   
hand1 it would seem3--,mariota at the   
door of the smith's house1 confident1   
lissom and fresh1 and the lusty child   
groping for his breakfast4 ,the light   
had been upon her1 gleamed upon her     
skin1 her brimming eyes1 her glossy     
brown hair4 ,what a bravery was hers6   
,what a glorified presentment of young  
life1 new-budded1 was here6 ,the town   
gaped1 the husband admired2 but         
,mariota1 with her square chin and high 
carriage1 looked as straightly before   
her1 when in pale blue and silver-white1
 ,madonna with the ,babe and the holy   
deacons ,stephen and ,laurence stood1   
four months afterwards1 within the      
shadow of the great church1 and shone   
out to the day4  ,i pay silent respect  
to strapping ,mariota and her baby-boy  
,in the country of ,boccace4 ,then1 when
 ,i am in ,florence again1 under the    
spell of the city life1 ,i lounge in the
 ,borg' ,ognissanti1 or across ,arno in 

the quartiere ,san ,niccolo1 or out by  
,san ,frediano where ,botticelli in his 
green old age pruned his vines1 or in   
the pent streets between the ,via della 
,pergola and ,santa ,croce1 and watch   
the townsfolk lead their lives of       
patchwork and easy laughter1 ,i fear ,i 
have a taste for such company4 ,i am    
fond of verdure2 ,i like trees as well  
as men3 every oak for me has its        
hamadryad informing it1 ,i like flowers 
better than men2 and the most beautiful 
flower ,i know is a girl1 ,i have a     
sweetheart in the ,bargello1 as you     
shall hear4 ,i believe she is one of    
,donatello's sowing2 but the critics are
 divided1 ,i cannot trace ,verocchio's  
bluntened lineaments in her1 nor ,mino's
 peaksomeness1 nor anything of          
,desiderio4 ,she's not very pretty1 but 
she's like a summer flower1 say1 a      
campanula2 and that is why ,i love to   
watch her and talk to her in this       
grandfatherly fashion4 ,bettina1 ,i say 
to her1 are you1 ,i wonder1 twelve years

 old yet8 ,you cannot be much more ,i   
think1 for you have let your            
bodice-strap slip off one of your       
shoulders and betray you to the sun4    
,you are but a round rose-bud now and no
 one thinks any harm2 but some day the  
sun will look at you in an odd way1 and 
then1 suddenly1 you will be ashamed1 and
 draw your frock right up to your neck4 
,and your hair strays where it likes at 
present4 ,i know you have a golden      
fillet of box-leaves round your brow3   
that is because you are only a little   
girl still1 not more than twelve4 ,and  
you have tied the ends up in a sort of  
knot4 ,but you romp so much and laugh   
so--,i know you have two bright rows of 
little teeth--that you can never expect 
to keep tidy4 ,why1 even now1 while ,i  
am scolding you1 you are itching to     
laugh and run away4 ,i see a wavy lock  
trailing down your neck1 ragazza1 and   
those heavy tresses on your temples1    
instead of being drawn meekly back1     
droop down over your temples1 and cover 

up your little ears4 ,don't you know    
that ,florentine1 ladies are proud of   
their foreheads1 and when they have     
pretty ears1 always show them8 ,some    
day1 my dear1 you will go out into the  
world2 and your hair will be twisted up 
into coils with gold braid2 perhaps you 
will have on it a flowery garland of    
,messer ,domenico's making1 and a string
 of ,venice beads round your throat4    
,and when that time comes1 you won't let
 the sun play with your neck any more2  
he won't know his romp when he sees her 
in stiff velvet of ,genoa and a high    
collar edged with seed-pearls4  ,and you
 won't look me in the eyes as you are   
doing now1 saucy girl1 with your chin   
pushed forward and your mouth all in a  
pucker--who's to know whether you are   
going to pout or giggle8--and your pert 
green eyes wide open1 as if to say      
,who's this old thickhead staring at me 
so hard8 ,no1 ,bettina1 you will drop   
them instead2 you will blush all over   
your neck and cheeks1 and hang your     

round head4 ,you have chestnuts in your 
two fists now1 ,i know2 there's some of 
the flour sticking to the corners of    
your mouth1 little slut4 ,but then you  
will have a fan perhaps1 or a spyglass1 
or at least a mass-book in the mornings2
 and when ,i am looking at you1 your    
ringers will tie themselves in knots and
 be very interesting4 ,in two years'    
time1 ,bettina6  ,but though ,i shan't  
love you half as much as ,i do now1 ,i  
shall always come to see you1 ,i think2 
and1 as ,i shall be a very old man by   
that time1 perhaps you will still sit on
 a stool at my knee and give me a kiss  
now and then--oh1 a mere bird's peck1   
just for kindness4444 ,the ,via de'     
,bardi is grey1 and you are there in    
yellow4 ,you are like a young daffodil  
dancing in the winter grass4 ,but soon  
you will have strained to your full     
flower-time1 and ,i see you in your     
summering1 lithe and rather languid1    
with heavy-lidded eyes1 and a slow      
smile4  ,then you will not dance2 but1  

instead1 you will stoop gravely like a  
tall garden lily1 and give your white   
hand to the lover kneeling below4  ,and 
all in two years1 my little ,bettina6   
,x   ,,cats  ,there was once a man in   
,italy--so the story runs--who said that
 animals were sacred because ,god had   
made them4 ,people didn't believe him   
for a long time2 they came1 you see1 of 
a race which had found it amusing to    
kill such things1 and killed a great    
many of them too1 until it struck them  
one fine day that killing men was better
 sport still1 and watching men kill each
 other the best sport of all because it 
was the least trouble4 ,animals6 said   
they1 why1 how can they be sacred2      
things that you call beef and mutton    
when they have left off being oxen and  
sheep1 and sell for so much a pound8    
,they scoffed at this mad neighbour1    
looked at each other waggishly1 and     
shrugged their shoulders as he passed   
along the street4 ,well6 then1 all of a 
sudden1 as you may say1 one morning he  

walked into the town--,gubbio it        
was--with a wolf pacing at his heels--a 
certain wolf which had been the terror  
of the country-side and eaten ,i don't  
know how many children and goats4 ,he   
walked up the main street till he got to
 the open ,piazza in front of the great 
church4 ,and the long grey wolf padded  
beside him with a limp tongue lolling   
out between the ragged palings which    
stood him for teeth4 ,in the middle of  
the ,piazza was a fountain1 and above   
the fountain a tall stone crucifix4 ,our
 friend mounted the steps of the cross  
in the alert way he had 7like a little  
bird1 the story says71 and the wolf1    
after lapping apologetically in the     
basin1 followed him up three steps at a 
time4 ,then with one arm round the shaft
 to steady himself1 he made a fine      
sermon to the neighbours crowding in the
 ,square1 and the wolf stood with his   
forepaws on the edge of the fountain and
 helped him4 ,the sermon was all about  
wolves 7naturally7 and the best way of  

treating them4 ,i fancy the people came 
to agree with it in time2 anyhow when   
the man died they made a saint of him   
and built three churches1 one over      
another1 to contain his body4 ,and ,i   
believe it is entirely his fault that   
there are a hundred-and-three cats in   
the convent- garden of ,san ,lorenzo in 
,florence4 ,for what are you to do8     
,animals are sacred1 says ,saint        
,francis4 ,animals are sacred1 but cats 
have kittens2 and so it comes about that
 the people who agree with ,saint       
,francis have to suffer for the people  
who don't4  ,the ,canons of ,san        
,lorenzo agree with ,saint ,francis1 and
 it seems to me that they must suffer a 
good deal4 ,the convent is large2 it has
 a great mildewed cloister with a       
covered-in walk all round it built on   
arches4 ,in the middle is a green garth 
with cypresses and yews dotted about2   
and when you look up you see the blue   
sky cut square1 and the hot tiles of a  
huge dome staring up into it4 ,round the

 cloister walk are discreet brown doors1
 and by the side of each door a brass   
plate tells you the name and titles of  
the ,canon who lives behind it4 ,it is  
on the principle of ,dean's ,yard at    
,westminster2 only here there are more  
,canons--and more cats4  ,the ,canons   
live under the cloister2 the cats live  
on the green garth1 and sometimes die   
there1 ,i did not see much of the       
,canons2 but the cats seemed to me very 
sad-depressed1 nostalgic even1 ,i might 
describe them1 if there had not been    
something more languid1 something faded 
and spiritless about their habit4 ,it   
was not that they quarrelled4 ,i heard  
none of those long- drawn wails1 gloomy 
yet mellow soliloquies1 with which our  
cats usher in the crescent moon or hymn 
her when she swims at the full3 there   
lacked even that comely resignation we  
may see on any sunny window-ledge at    
home2--the rounded back and neatly      
ordered tail1 the immaculate fore-paws  
peering sedately below the snowy chest1 

the squeezed-up eyes which so resolutely
 shut off a bleak and 7so to say7       
unenlightened world4 ,that is           
pensiveness1 sedate chastened           
melancholy2 but it is soothing1 it      
speaks a philosophy1 and a certain      
balancing of pleasures and pains4 ,in   
,san ,lorenzo cloister1 when ,i looked  
in one hot noon seeking a refuge from   
the glare and white dust of the city1 ,i
 was conscious of a something sinister  
that forbade such an even existence for 
the smoothest tempered cat4 ,there were 
too many of them for companionship1 and 
perhaps too few for the humour of the   
thing to strike them3 in and out the    
chilly shades they stalked gloomily1    
hither and thither like lank and unquiet
 ghosts of starved cats4 ,they were of  
all colours--gay orange-tawny1          
tortoiseshell with the becoming white   
patch over one eye1 delicate tints of   
grey and fawn and lavender1 brindle1    
glossy sable2 and yet the gloom and     
dampness of the place seemed to mildew  

them all so that their brightness was   
glaring and their softest gradations    
took on a shade as of rusty mourning4   
,no cat could be expected to do herself 
justice4  ,to and fro they paced1       
balancing sometimes with hysterical     
precision on the ledge of the parapet1  
passing each other at whisker's length1 
but cutting each other dead6 ,not a cat 
had a look or a sniff for his fellow2   
not a cat so much as guessed at         
another's existence4 ,among those       
hundred-and-three restless spirits there
 was not a cat but did not affect to    
believe that a hundred-and-two were     
away6 ,it was horrible1 the inhumanity  
of it4 ,here were these shreds and      
waifs1 these unnecessary litters of     
,florentine households1 herded together 
in the only asylum 7short of the ,arno7 
open to them1 driven in like dead leaves
 in ,november1 flitting dismally round  
and round for a span1 and watching each 
other die without a mew or a lick6      
,saint ,francis was not the wise man ,i 

had thought him4  ,it was about two     
o'clock in the afternoon4 ,i had watched
 these beasts at their feverish         
exercises for nearly an hour before ,i  
perceived that they were gradually      
hemming me in4 ,they seemed to be       
forming up1 in ranks1 on the garth4     
,only a ditch separated us--,i was in   
the cloister-walk1 a hundred-and-three  
gaunt1 expectant1 desperate cats facing 
me4 ,their famished pale eyes pierced me
 through and through2 and               
two-hundred-and-two hungry eyes 7four   
cats supported life in one apiece7 is   
more than ,i can stand1 though ,i am a  
married man with a family4 ,these brutes
 thought ,i was going to feed them6 ,i  
was preparing weakly for flight when ,i 
heard steps in the gateway2 a woman came
 in with a black bag4 ,she must be going
 to deposit a cat on ,jean-,jacques'    
ingenious plan of avoiding domestic     
trouble2 it was surely impossible she   
wanted to borrow one6 ,neither3 she came
 confidently in1 beaming on our mad     

fellowship with a pleasant smile of     
preparation4 ,the cats knew her better  
than ,i did4 ,their suspense was really 
shocking to witness4 ,while she was     
rolling her sleeves up and tying on her 
apron--she was poor1 evidently1 but very
 neat and wholesome in her black dress  
and the decent cap which crowned her    
grey hair--while she unpacked the       
contents of the bag--two newspaper      
parcels full of rather distressing      
viands1 scissors1 and a pair of gloves  
which had done duty more than           
once--while all these preparations were 
soberly fulfilling1 the agitation of the
 hundred-and-three was desperate indeed4
 ,the air grew thick1 it quivered with  
the lashing of tails2 hoarse mews echoed
 along the stone walls1 paws were raised
 and let fall with the rhythmical patter
 of raindrops4 ,a furtive beast played  
the thief3 he was one of the one-eyed   
fraternity1 red with mange4 ,somehow he 
slipped in between us2 we discovered him
 crouched by the newspaper raking over  

the contents4 ,this was no time for     
ceremony2 he got a prompt cuff over the 
head and slunk away shivering and       
shaking his ears4 ,and then the         
distribution began4 ,now1 your cat1 at  
the best of times1 is squeamish about   
his food2 he stands no tricks4 ,he is a 
slow eater1 though he can secure his    
dinner with the best of us4 ,a vicious  
snatch1 like a snake1 and he has it4    
,then he spreads himself out to dispose 
of the prey-feet tucked well in1 head   
low1 tail laid close along1 eyes shut   
fast4 ,that is how a cat of breeding    
loves to dine1 ,alas6 many a day of     
intolerable prowling1 many a black      
vigil1 had taken the polish off the     
hundred-and-three4 ,as a matter of fact 
they behaved abominably3 they leaped at 
the scraps1 they clawed at them in the  
air1 they bolted them whole with        
starting eyes and portentous gulpings1  
they growled all the while with the     
smothered ferocity of thunder in the    
hills4 ,no waiting of turns1 no licking 

of lips and moustaches to get the       
lingering flavours1 no dalliance4 ,they 
were as restless and suspicious here as 
everywhere2 their feast was the horrid  
hasty orgy of ghouls in a churchyard4   
,but an even distribution was made3 ,i  
don't think any one got more than his   
share4 ,of course there were underhand  
attempts in plenty1 and1 at least once1 
open violence--a sudden rush from       
opposite sides1 a growling and spitting 
like sparks from a smithy2 and then1    
with ears laid flat1 two ill-favoured   
beasts clawed blindly at each other1 and
 a sly and tigerish brindle made away   
with the morsel4 ,my woman took the     
thing very coolly ,i thought1 served    
them all alike1 and didn't resent 7as ,i
 should have done7 the unfortunate want 
of delicacy there was about these       
vagrants4 ,a cat that takes your food   
and growls at you for the favour1 a cat 
that would eat you if he dared1 is a    
pretty revelation4 a donne furieusement 
penser4 ,it gives you a suspicion of    

just how far the polish we most of us   
smirk over will go4 ,my cats at ,san    
,lorenzo knew some few moments of peace 
between two and three in the afternoon4 
,that would have been the time to get up
 a testimonial to the kind soul who fed 
them4 ,try them at five and they would  
ignore you4 ,but try them next morning6 
,my knowledge of the ,italian tongue1 in
 those days1 was severely limited to the
 necessaries of existence2 to take me on
 a fancy subject1 like cats1 was to     
strike me dumb4 ,but at this stage of   
our intercourse 7hitherto confined to   
smiles and eye-service7 it became so    
evident my companion had something to   
say that ,i must perforce take my hat   
off and stand attentive4 ,she pointed to
 the middle of the garth1 and there1    
under the boughs of a shrub1 ,i saw the 
hundred-and-fourth cat1 sorriest of them
 all4 ,it was a new-comer1 she told me1 
and shy4 ,shy it certainly was1 poor    
wretch2 it glowered upon me from under  
the branches like a bad conscience4     

,shyness could not hide hunger--,i never
 saw hungrier eyes than hers--but it    
could hold it in check3 the silkiest    
speech could not tempt her out1 and when
 we threw pieces she only winced6 ,what 
was to be done next was my work4 ,plain 
duty called me to scale the ditch with  
some of those dripping1 slippery1       
nameless cates in my fingers and to     
approach the stranger where she lurked  
bodeful under her tree4 ,my passage     
towards her lay over the rank vegetation
 of the garth1 in whose coarse herbage  
here and there ,i stumbled upon a limp  
white form stretched out--a waif the    
less in the world6 ,i don't say it was a
 happy passage for me3 it was made to   
the visible consternation of her ,i wish
 to befriend4 ,her piteous yellow eyes  
searched mine for sympathy2 she wanted  
to tell me something and wouldn't       
understand6 ,as ,i neared her she       
shivered and mewed twice4 ,then she     
limped painfully off--poor soul1 she had
 but three feet6--to another tree1      

leaving behind her1 unwillingly enough1 
a much-licked dead kitten4 ,that was    
what she wanted to tell me then4 ,as ,i 
was there1 ,i deposited the garbage by  
the side of the little corpse1 knowing  
she would resume her watch1 and retired4
 ,my friend who had put up her parcels  
was prepared to go4 ,she thanked me with
 a smile as she went out1 looking       
carefully round lest she had missed out 
some other night-birds4 ,one of the     
,canons had come out of his door and was
 leaning against the lintel1            
thoughtfully rubbing his chin4 ,he was a
 spare dry man who seemed to have       
measured life and found it a childish   
business4 ,he jerked his head towards   
the gateway as he glanced at me4 ,that  
is a good woman1 he said in ,french1 she
 lendeth unto the ,lord4444 ,yes1 he    
went on1 nodding his head slowly        
backwards and forwards1 lends ,him      
something every day4 ,the cats were     
sitting in the shady cloister-garth     
licking their whiskers3 one was actually

 cleaning his paw4 ,i went out into the 
sun thinking of ,saint ,francis and his 
wolf4    ,,xi   ,,the ,,soul ,,of ,a    
,,city  ,he hated ,marco first of all   
because one day he undersold him in the 
,campo1 put him to shame in open market4
 ,figs were going cheap that ,october in
 spite of the waning year2 but there was
 no earthly reason why he should give   
the ,english ladies more than four for  
two soldi4 ,what were soldi to ,english 
people8 ,the scratch of a flea6 ,he     
would have given them a handful1 taken  
as they came1 for their piece of        
cinquanta1 and reaped a tidy little     
profit for himself4 ,who would have been
 the worse8 ,god knew he needed it4     
,mariola crumpled with the ague like a  
dried leaf1 and that long girl of his   
growing up so fast1 and still running   
wild with goat-herds and marble         
quarrymen4 ,how could he send her to the
 nuns for a place unless he bought her  
some shoes and a rosary8 ,and then that 
pig ,marco--thieving old miser--peered  

forward with his mock candour and       
silver-rimmed goggles and offered ten   
for two soldi--ten6 with the market     
price1 ,dio mio1 at twelve6 ,and fichi  
totati too6 ,do you wonder that the     
ladies in striped blankets gave the     
cheek to ,maso ,cecci and turned to     
,marco ,zoppa8  ,that wasn't all1 but it
 was an accentuation of a long series of
 spiteful injuries wrought him by the   
wrinkled old villain4 ,maso endured1    
hating the old man daily more and more2 
tried little tricks1 little revenges1   
upon him1 upset his baskets1 hid his    
pipe2 but they generally failed or      
recoiled with a nasty swiftness upon    
himself4 ,he only got deeper and deeper 
into the bad odour of the neighbours who
 traded in the ,piazza with fruit and   
indifferent photographs4 ,nothing went  
very well--thanks to that unspeakable   
old ,marco6 ,his girl grew longer and   
lazier and handsomer1 with a shapelier  
bust and a pair of arms like that snaky 
,bacchante in the ,opera4 ,maso had to  

quail more than he liked to admit before
 the proud stare of her eyes2 and when  
she dropped the heavy lids upon them and
 sauntered away1 arms akimbo under her  
shawl1 he could only swear4 ,and he     
always cursed ,marco ,zoppa who gave her
 chestnuts and sage counsel for nothing4
 ,god only knew what devilry he might be
 whispering to her in the shady corner  
where the sun never came and the grass  
sprouted between the flags--she leaning 
against the wall1 looking down at her   
toes1 and he peering keen-eyed into her 
face and muttering in his beard1        
sometimes laying an old brown hand on   
her shoulder--,lord6 he did hate the    
man4  ,then came the ,august races4     
,maso had brought his ,isotta into the  
city to see the fun and she had         
disappeared in the press just before the
 procession stayed by the ,palazzo and  
the trumpets sounded for the first race4
 ,maso shrugged his shoulders and cursed
 his luck1 but didn't budge4 ,the girl  
must look after herself4 ,he was on the 

upper rim of the great fountain craning 
his neck over the pack of people3 then  
he got a dig under the ribs enough to   
take the breath of an ox4 ,it was the   
spout of old ,marco's green umbrella4   
,hey6 silly fool1 spluttered the old    
liar1 dost want that loose-legged slut  
of thine in trouble8 ,i tell thee she's 
playing in a corner with ,carlo         
,formaggia4 ,already he's pinched her   
cheek twice1 and who knows what the end 
may be8 ,mud-coloured ass1 wilt thou let
 thy child slip to the devil while thou 
standest gaping at a horse-race8 ,and   
this before all the neighbours6 ,what to
 say to such a man8 ,maso babbled with  
rage2 but he had to go1 for ,carlo      
,formaggia was well known4 ,he had      
ruined more girls than enough2 he was in
 league with vile houses1 gambling dens1
 thieves' hells2 ,captain of an infamous
 secret society2 the police were only   
waiting for a pretext to get him shipped
 off to the hulks4 ,he must go of       
course4 ,no thanks to ,marco though3 in 

fact he hated him worse than ever1      
partly because he had drawn all eyes and
 a fair share of sniggering and tongues 
thrust in the cheek upon his account2   
but most because he knew he had been    
trapped into losing a good place4 ,for1 
as he mounted the narrow stair cut      
between old houses steep as rocks1 he   
turned and saw ,zoppa placidly smoking  
his pipe in the very spot he had held1  
squatted on the fountain-rim with his   
green umbrella between his knees4 ,he   
was beaming through his spectacles1 in a
 fatherly1 indulgent sort of way1 upon  
the shouting people2 following the race 
too1 like one who had paid for his box4 
,maso1 when he heard the shatter of     
hoofs and the wild roar from thousands  
of throats down below him in the ,campo1
 cursed old ,zoppa with a grey face1 and
 went muttering round the blinding sides
 of the ,duomo to find his daughter4    
,and when he did find her she was eating
 chestnuts at the open door of her      
aunt's shop in the ,via ,ghibellina6    

,bacchus6 she was sick of all those folk
 in their festa clothes1 was all the    
explanation she would give him from     
between fine white teeth all clogged    
with chestnut-meal4 ,if he chose to     
dress his daughter like a beggar's brat 
he had better not take her to the races4
 ,maso's feeling of relief at finding   
her alone and looking her usual sulky   
impassive self1 gave way very rapidly to
 a sort of righteous wrath against his  
triumphant enemy4 ,so1 by foul slanders 
of honest ,god-fearing people that old  
,jew had not scrupled to rob him of his 
place6 ,his place and his day's fun4 ,by
 ,heaven1 he was tricked1 duped by a    
scaly-eyed ,jew pedlar1 a vile old dog  
tottering down to ,hell with lies in his
 beard4 ,well6 he would put this        
morning's work down to his score2 some  
day there would be a choice little      
reckoning for ,ser ,marco4  ,maso1 green
 with impotent fury1 poured out his     
flood of gutturals upon his insouciante 
child4 ,general reproaches were always a

 failure in cases of this sort4 ,some   
were sure to be wild guess-work and to  
drown the real ones3 you could never    
tell when you had hit the mark4 ,had she
 not-- she fourteen1 too6--slid astride 
down the railing into the ,campo and    
been caught up in the arms of ,carlo    
,formaggia waiting and laughing at the  
bottom8 ,had she not lain a whole minute
 in his arms1 panting8 ,and then1 ,dio  
mio1 with the sweat still on her        
forehead1 she had slipped off to ,san   
,domenico and confessed to coughing at  
mass the ,sunday before6 ,pest6 he would
 give her the strap over her shoulders  
when he got her home4 ,the long1 brown  
girl leaned against the lintel kicking  
one heel idly against the other4 ,she   
was smiling at him1 smiling with her    
lazy1 languid eyes and with her         
glistening teeth4 ,every now and then   
she inspected a chestnut                
critically--like an amateur6--and       
slipped it between her jaws4 ,they split
 it like a banana4 ,and then she        

squeezed the half skins and dropped the 
flour down her throat4 ,she had a long  
sinewy throat1 glossy as velvet1 with   
its silvery lights and dusky brown      
shadows4 ,maso stood helpless before her
 as she drank down her flour2 he        
chattered like a little passionate ape4 
,at last he lifted up both hands in a   
sudden frenzy of despair and went away4 
,of course the races were over4 ,the    
sober streets swarmed with people in    
their holiday clothes4 ,they all seemed 
laughing and smoking1 and talking       
fluently of something ridiculous4 ,maso1
 egoist1 knew it must be about him-- or 
his daughter4 ,arms and heads went like 
mill-sails or tall trees in a gale of   
wind4 ,then1 with a rattle and the      
sudden sliding of four hoofs on the     
flags1 a cart would be in the thick of  
them1 and the people scoured to the     
curb1 still laughing1 or spitting       
between the spasms of the interrupted   
jest4 ,the boys tried to peep under the 
sagging hats of the girls1 and the girls

 turned pettish shoulders to them and1  
as they turned1 you caught the glint of 
fun in their great roes' eyes and saw   
the lips part before the quick breath4  
,the streets were mere gullies1 clefts  
hewn in zig-zag between grey houses that
 tottered up and up1 and lay over them  
like cliffs4 ,an ancient church with    
bleached stone saints under flowery     
canopies1 a guttering candle before a   
tinsel shrine1 and the hoarse babel of  
the streets--whips that cracked and     
spluttered like squibs1 a swarming      
coloured stream of men and maids1 once  
the twang of a chance mandoline4 ,siena 
was feasting1 and the waiters furtively 
swept their foreheads with their        
coat-sleeves as they ran in and out of  
the trattorie4  ,in the trattoria of the
 ,aquila ,rossa old ,marco ,zoppa smoked
 his pipe and talked1 between the spurts
 of smoke1 to his neighbours4 ,fate     
brought him face to face with two       
enemies at once4 ,maso was battling his 
way up the street1 white and strained as

 a grave-cloth2 and ,carlo ,formaggia1  
the approved bravo--oiled and jaunty1   
with his brown felt fantastically rolled
 and stuck over one ear1 with a long    
cigar which he alternately gnawed and   
sucked1 ,carlo the broad-chested1 of the
 seared1 evil face1 came down with the  
stream on the arms of two other gilded  
youths4 ,they met before the cafe1 the  
man of intolerable wrongs and the       
,pilia-,borsa of ,siena4 ,maso scowled  
till his thick eyebrows cut his face    
horizontally in two4 ,he stood          
ostentatiously still1 muttering with his
 lips as the trio went lightly by4 ,then
 he made to go on4 ,but old ,marco      
,zoppa stood up and made a speech4 ,he  
had the wooden stem of his pipe 'twixt  
finger and thumb1 and used it like a    
conductor's bton to emphasise his       
points4 ,as his voice shrilled and      
quavered1 ,carlo ,formaggia caught his  
own name and turned back to listen1     
prick-eared4 ,he stood out of sight     
resting one foot on a doorstep1 and     

leaned forward on to his leg4 ,he might 
have been dreaming of some night of     
love1 but he held every word as it      
dropped4  ,maso1 ,marco went on1 thou   
art but a thin fool4 ,i know what ,i    
know2 but thou must needs stick dirt in 
thine ears and pass me by4 ,well1 let   
be1 let be2 the end will come soon      
enough--this night even4 ,and ,i have   
warned thee4  ,spawn of a pig1 wilt     
never have done irking me8 ,see1 ,i     
scratch thee off me6 ,maso drove home   
his gibe with a dramatic performance4   
,the trattoria was agape4 ,every table  
held its three craning necks and six    
piercing1 twinkling eyes atop4  ,i grow 
old1 my ,maso1 ,i grow very old1 and thy
 monkey's tricks are nought4 ',tis thy  
slip of a girl and thy poor twisted     
,mariola ,i would save in spite of thee4
 ,listen then once more1 and for the    
last time4 ,ser ,carlo intends to snare 
thy pigeon4 ,he has limed his twigs2 the
 bird flutters free for this noon1 but  
by to-night she will be caged4 ,for me1 

,i have done my possible--but ,i am old4
 ,life tingles fiercer in the blood of a
 young man4 ,therefore beware4 ,wilt    
thou see that brawny assassin toying    
with thy girl2 leaning over her where   
she crouches1 poisoning her with fat    
words8 ,that's how the snake licks the  
turtle before he gulps her--'tis to make
 her sleek1 look you6 ,well1 go thy way1
 dolt and blunderhead4 ,for me--old as  
,i am--,i will shoot a last bolt for    
,mariola4 ,this very night after supper 
,i go to the ,sbirro3 and thy thanks    
will be a rounder oath and some more    
knave's tricks with my baskets4  ,no    
thanks are owing1 ,marco ,zoppa2 ,maso  
was ashy with shame and rage at the old 
man's placid benevolence4 ,marco ,zoppa1
 thou hast been my enemy ever1 and ,i   
have borne it--the ,caf roared with     
laughter2 a fat old ,capuchin nearly had
 a fit4 ,maso looked round with fright  
in his eyes4 ,he went on1 ,now thou hast
 gone too far--insulting me grossly     
before these citizens4 ,thou hast       

brought thine end upon thyself4 ,he ran 
away fighting through the delighted     
crowd4 ,everybody who could get at him  
slapped him on the back4 ,a big carter  
stove his hat in4  ,old ,marco shrugged 
his patient shoulders and sat down to   
read the ,secolo4 ,he balanced his      
silver-rimmed spectacles on his nose and
 held the journal at arm's length with  
hand a thought more shaky1 perhaps1 than
 usual4 ,presently he looked up3 ,mother
 of ,god6 what a white-faced rogue it   
is6 ,eh1 ,giuseppe8 ,by ,mars1 if looks 
could stab1 thou hadst been riddled by  
the knife before this1 said his friend4 
,marco shrugged and went on reading--he 
was an old man4  ,but when ,carlo       
,formaggia had heard the debate1 he     
turned a shade shinier1 and his eyes    
harder and brighter4 ,as he motioned his
 friends off with a look1 he swallowed  
something hard in his throat4 ,then he  
turned down the first side street1      
doubled round to the right1 turned to   
the left down a kind of black sewer-trap

 and let himself into a wine-shop1 where
 he sat down1 breathing short4 ,he drank
 brandy--but he drank like a machine4   
,the muscles of his jaw were working    
spasmodically as he sat rigid on a tub1 
leaning against the counter4 ,and he    
fingered something at his belt4 ,his    
eyes were in a cold stare3 he saw       
nothing and didn't move4 ,but he went on
 drinking brandy till late in the       
afternoon1 till the ,hail ,mary bells   
began to sound a tinkling chorus through
 the still air4  ,and ,maso ,cecci1 he  
too1 rushed away white and chattering4  
,rage had past definition with him1 he  
saw things red1 and they choked him4    
,the air felt thick to him1 full of     
flies4 ,he brushed his hands before his 
face1 struck out vaguely1 and swore as  
the dazzling black things settled round 
him again in a swarm4 ,irritated1       
maddened as he was1 he still heard the  
derisive yells of the crowd at the      
birreria and saw ,marco's calm wise old 
face smiling urbanely behind silver     

spectacles4 ,cristo amore6 how he       
loathed that old man4 ,siena could never
 hold the pair of them3 there must be an
 end--there should be an end4 ,his heart
 gave a jerk under his vest as he       
thought of it4 ,an end6--an end of his  
eternal fretting jealousy in the ,campo1
 his continued sense of being worsted1  
of galling inferiority to that          
methodical old villain4 ,an end of his  
worries about ,isotta2 an end--ah6 but  
there would be something rarer than     
that8 ,to a man like ,maso1 a small man1
 of immoderate self-esteem1 and that    
self- esteem always on the smart1 there 
is another satisfaction--that of seeing 
the better man totter and slip forward  
to his knees4 ,this insufferable old    
,marco who was always so right1 with his
 slow methods and accursed accuracy--to 
see him stumble and drop6 ,that was what
 made ,maso's heart flutter and thud    
against his skin4 ,and then1 as he      
thought of it1 it seemed inevitable4 ,it
 could be done in a minute1 via6 ,the   

old man was alone--it would be dusk--he 
would peer forward through the gloom to 
open the door and--,madre di ,dio6--and 
then6 ,maso was sweating2 the back of   
his palate itched intolerably2 something
 hot and sticky clogged his mouth and   
glued his tongue against the roof of it4
 ,his knees shook so that he could      
scarcely walk4 ,some little boys stood  
to stare at him as he lurched by1 and   
laughed stealthily to see the hated     
,maso tipsy4 ,but ,maso was unconscious 
of all this3 he staggered on homewards  
with scorching eyes4444  ,old ,marco    
lived down beyond the ,railway          
,station--a room in a crazy block of    
buildings that had been run up for the  
needs of the factory hands4 ,it was like
 a great smooth cliff1 this block1 and  
was washed over a raw pink1 but it      
glowed in the setting sun that evening1 
like the city herself and all the hills1
 the colour of bright blood4 ,as ,maso  
neared its blind face1 stepping warily  
with outstretched neck like some obscene

 bird1 and with one hand under his      
coat--the sun was going down into a     
purple bank of cloud4 ,he gilded the    
edges as he sank and shot broad rays of 
crimson light up into the green sky4    
,here and there a star twinkled faint2  
the city lay over him like a cloudy1    
silent company of rocks2 the tower of   
the ,palazzo ran up into the pallor of  
the sky1 a shaking spear4  ,there was   
but one glimmer of light in the whole   
ghostly wall of tenements and that1     
,maso knew1 was ,marco ,zoppa's4 ,every 
soul else was crowded in the ,campo     
waiting for the fireworks4 ,and1 as he  
thought1 he heard a dull thud behind    
him1 and turned2 and there1 far up1 a   
single shaft of flame shot aloft1 and   
stayed1 and burst into a fan of lights2 
and a puff told him it was the first    
rocket4 ,ecco6 ,madre di ,dio1 a sign6 a
 sign6 ,so will ,i go up2 and so shall  
my enemy come down4 ,and ,maso crept up 
the stairway breathing thick and        
short4444  ,with a hand still under his 

cloak he rapped his knuckles on the     
door4 ,no answer4 ,an echo1 only1       
fluttered and grew faint down the stone 
steps4 ,he hoisted his cloak from the   
shoulder and swung his right arm free4  
,then he knocked again4 ,nothing4 ,no   
sign4 ,heavy silence2 only a distant    
murmur of voices1 muffled and infinitely
 far1 from the ,campo on the hill4  ,the
 game has flown6 ,or the old dog sleeps4
 ,maso sighed1 for he wanted to see him 
drop gurgling to his knees4 ,still1 it  
made his affair easier4 ,he gave one    
fierce hoist to his cloak1 twitched his 
right arm once or twice1 and gently     
turned the handle4 ,then he stepped     
lightly and daintily into the room4  ,a 
candle guttered on a little table in the
 corner1 and the ,crucified showed white
 upon the black cross above4 ,marco     
,zoppa lay on his bed with his throat   
cut from ear to ear4 ,the cut was so    
resolute that his head stuck out at an  
angle from his body--almost a right     
angle2 and in some struggle he had got  

his nostril sliced4 ,that gave him an   
odd1 mesquin expression1 lying there    
with his mouth open and his yawning     
nostril1 as if he wanted to sneeze4 ,the
 room smelt stale and sour2 the thick   
air gathered in a misty halo round the  
candle1 and a fat shroud of tallow      
drooped over the edges of the           
candlestick4  ,maso dropped his long1   
clean knife2 dropped on to his knees and
 wailed like a chained dog4 ,he could   
not take his eyes from the horrible     
black pit between the dead man's chin   
and trunk4 ,out of that pit a thin      
scarlet stream was still slipping       
lazily1 and crawling down the white     
coverlet to the floor4 ,maso's wailing  
attracted a dog near by4 ,he too set off
 howling from behind his door3 and then 
another1 and another4 ,there was a      
chorus of howls1 long-drawn1 pitiful1   
desolate2 and ,maso1 the only man in    
that woeful company1 howled like any dog
 of the pack4  ,gradually his moaning   
sank and then stopped with a dry sob4   

,he crawled on his knees a little nearer
 to the bed and eyed fearfully a patch  
of blood on the counterpane4 ,just ,god6
 what was that patch8 ,a faint circle   
smeared with the finger1 and through the
 midst of it a ragged dart4 ,carlo      
,formaggia had been there6 ,he knew that
 mark6 ,and then the whole truth blazed 
before him like a sheet of fire4 ,he    
fell forward on his face4 ,the thin     
thread of scarlet from ,marco ,zoppa's  
gaping throat crawled drop by drop on to
 his shoulder4  ,carlo ,formaggia had   
limed his bird4    ,,xii   ,,with ,,the 
,,brown ,,bear  ,the secret of happy    
travelling is contrast4 ,suffer1 that   
you may drowse thereafter3 grill1 that  
you may have a heat on you worth        
assuagement4 ,wherefore1 to the ,italian
 wanderer1 it will be worth while to    
endure the fierceness of the ,lombard   
plain1 even the gilded modernisms of    
,milan 7blistering though they may be   
under the stroke of the naked sun7 and  
the dusty1 painful traverse of the      

,apennines1 to drop down at last into   
the broad green peace of the ,val       
,d',arno4 ,take1 however1 the first     
halting- place you can4 ,you will find  
yourself in a hollow of the hills1      
helping the brown bear of ,pistoja keep 
the ,northern gates of ,tuscany4 ,it is 
not unlikely that the ,apennine may walk
 abroad with the storm1 or hide his     
moss-brown slopes in great sheets of    
mist4 ,this1 while it means a fine      
sight1 means also rain for ,pistoja4 ,a 
quiet rain will accordingly fall upon   
the little city1 gently but             
persistently4 ,only in the gleams may   
you guess that you have the ,tuscan sky 
over you and the smiling ,tuscan ,art   
round about4 ,but the ways of the       
,pistolesi will confirm the feeble      
knees2 such at least was my case4  ,for 
the ,pistolesi were there beside foul   
weather1 and splashed about under green 
umbrellas with prodigious jokes to cut  
at each other's expense1 of a sort we   
reserve for ,spring or early ,june4 ,for

 them1 with a vintage none too good to  
be garnered1 it might have been the     
finest weather in the world3 but ,i am  
bound to add my belief that they would  
have laughed were it the worst4 ,with no
 money1 no weather1 and taxes           
intolerable1 ,pistoja laughed and looked
 handsome4 ,was not ,boccaccio a        
,pistolese8 ,i was reminded of his book 
at every turn of the road3 life is a    
wanton story there1 or1 say1 a ,masque  
of ,green ,things1 enacted by a splendid
 fairy rout4 ,they were still the       
well-favoured race ,dino ,compagni      
described them far back in the          
fourteenth century--formati di bella    
statura oltre a' ,toscani1 he says4 ,the
 words hold good of their grandsons--the
 men leaner and longer1 hardier and     
keener than you find them in ,lucca or  
,siena2 and the women carry their heads 
high1 and when they smile at you 7as    
they will7 you think the sun must be    
shining4 ,they are mountaineers1 a      
strong race4 ,at pallone one day1 ,i saw

 muscles all a-ripple down the back1    
arms and shoulders1 which would have    
intoxicated the great old amatore del   
persona himself4 ,for their vivacity1 it
 is racial2 ,i think all ,tuscans1 more 
or less1 retain the buoyant spirits1 the
 alertness as of birds1 which crowned   
,italy with ,florence instead of ,rome  
or ,milan4 ,tuscan ,art is a proof of   
that1 and ,tuscan ,art can be studied at
 its roots in ,pistoja3 you see there   
the naked thing itself with none of the 
wealth of ,florence to make the head    
swim4 ,if ,florence had stopped short at
 the death of ,giuliano de' ,medici1 you
 might say ,pistoja was ,florence seen  
through the diminishing-glass4 ,is not  
that ribbed dome1 with its purple mass  
domineering over the huddled roofs1     
,brunelleschi's8 ,it is a faithful copy 
of ,vasari's hatching2 but no matter4   
,so with the ,baptistery1 the towers1   
the grim old corniced palaces1 the      
sdruccioli and gloomy clefts which serve
 for streets4 ,but you would be wrong4  

,pisa is the real parent of ,pistoja1 as
 indeed she is of ,florence-,dante's    
,florence4 ,pisa's magnificent building 
repeats to itself here3 ,gothic with a  
touch of ,latin sanity1 a touch of the  
genuine ,paganism which loves the ddal  
earth and cannot bring itself to be out 
of touch with it4 ,san ,giovanni        
fuoricivitas1 what a rock-hewn church it
 is6 ,a rigid oblong1 dark as the       
twilight1 running with the street       
without belfry or window or faade4      
,three tiers of shallow arcades on      
spiral columns1 never a window to be    
seen1 and the whole of solemn black     
marble narrowly striped with white4 ,is 
there such a beast as a black tiger--a  
tiger where the tawny and black change  
places8 ,san ,giovanni is modelled after
 that fashion4 ,it is very old--twelfth 
century at latest--very shabby and      
weather-beaten1 dusty and deserted4 ,but
 it will outlive ,pistoja2 and that is  
probably what ,pistoja desired4  ,this  
black and white1 which is so reminiscent

 of early ,florence1 is carried out with
 more fidelity to the model in the      
,piazza4 ,the octagonal ,baptistery is1 
no doubt1 a copy of ,dante's beloved    
church2 but it is much better placed1   
does not shun to be admired like its    
beautiful yellowed sister4 ,the ,duomo  
is of ,pisa again1 and has a tower1 half
 belfry1 half fortress1 which once the  
,podest seized and held while the plucky
 little town endured a siege4 ,the      
,brown ,bear stood out long against the 
,lily4 ,but ,lorenzo showed his teeth3  
and the ,wolf prevailed at last4        
,sculpture apart1 the resemblance to    
,florence stops here4 ,none of her      
,cinque-cento bravery and little of her 
earlier and finer ,renaissance came this
 way4 ,but one thing came2 one clean    
breath from that solemn fifteenth       
century did blow to this verge of       
,tuscan soil1 a breath from ,luca della 
,robbia and his men4 ,they may flower   
more exuberantly in ,florence1 those    
broad1 blue-eyed platters of theirs2    

nowhere is their purpose more explicit1 
their charm more exquisitely appreciable
 than here4 ,there is a chance of       
considering the art on its own merits2  
better1 you can see it more truly as it 
was at home1 since ,florence has caught 
some little of ,haussmannism and is not 
as ,luca left it4 ,so here1 perhaps best
 of all1 you may try to plumb the depths
 of the ,della ,robbia soul1--through   
its purity and limpid candour1 through  
its shining1 sweetly wholesome          
homeliness1 down to the crystal         
sincerity burning recessed in the       
shrine4 ,it is the fashion to say of    
,angelico da ,fiesole that his was a    
navet which amounted to genius3 a thin  
phrase1 which may nevertheless pass to  
qualify the inspired miniaturist4 ,the  
religiosity of the ,della ,robbia1 while
 no less nave1 is really far other4 ,it 
is not ,gothic at all1 nor ascetic1 nor 
mystic4 ,it would be ,latin1 were it not
 blithe enough to be ,greek4 ,it speaks 
of what is and must be1 and is well     

content2 not of what should1 or might   
be1 if one could but tear off this      
crust4 ,it seems probable that it speaks
 as pure a ,paganism--just that very    
,paganism which ,pisan building         
represents-- as has been seen since the 
workmen of ,tanagra fashioned their     
little clay familiars for the tombs1    
slim ,greek girls in their reedy habit  
as they lived1 or chattering matrons    
like those you read of in ,theocritus4  
,much fine phrasing has been spent upon 
the effort to analyse the sthetics of   
,delia ,robbia ware4 ,its inexhaustible 
charm is unquestionable2 but just where 
does it catch one's breath8 ,not        
altogether in the clean colouring1 like 
nothing so much as that of a cool1      
glazed dairy at home1--milky- blue1     
cream-white1 butter-yellow1             
parsley-green1 all the dairy names come 
pat to pen--2 not necessarily in the    
sheer1 ,april loveliness of form and    
expression1 though that would count for 
much2 nor1 ,i believe1 as ,mr4 ,pater   

would have us acknowledge1 in the       
evanescent delicacy of each motive and  
sentiment1--the arresting of a single   
sigh1 a single wave of desire1 a single 
stave of the ,magnificat4 ,all this is  
true1 and true only of ,luca1 and yet   
the whole charm is not there4 ,rather1  
,i think1 you will find it in the fusing
 of humble material--the age-old clay of
 the potter 7of the ,master-,potter1 for
 that matter7--and fine art1 whereby the
 wayside shrine is linked to the high   
altar1 and contadino and ,vicar-        
,apostolic can hail a common ideal4     
,every lane1 every cottage1 has its     
,madonna-shrine here2 lumped in clay or 
daubed in raw colour1 nothing can       
obliterate the sweet sentiment of these 
poor weeds of art1 these tawdry little  
appeals to the better part of us4       
,madonna cries with a bared red heart2  
she supports a white ,christ2 suave she 
stoops to enfold a legion of children in
 her mantle4 ,she is as ,tuscan as the  
brownest of them2 but a ,tuscan of the  

rarest mould1 they would have you to    
see1 of a cleanliness quite             
unapproachable1 of a benignity wholly   
divine4 ,one learns the secret of       
devotional art best of all in such      
ephemeral sanctuaries4 ,and since ,fine 
,art is the flower of these shabby      
roots1 ,italy only1 where ,cincinnatus  
worked in his garden1 can furnish so    
wonderful a harmony of opposites4       
,surely it is the most democratic       
country in ,europe4 ,i saw a ,colonel   
the other day1 in ,bologna1 carrying a  
newspaper parcel4 ,he was in full       
uniform4 ,it was the secret of ,saint   
,francis that he knew how to bridge the 
gulf on either side of which we1        
prisoners in feudal holds1 have cried to
 each other in vain4 ,it was the secret 
of the ,delia ,robbia too4 ,the god     
shall sink that we may rise to meet him 
in the way4 ,why not8 ,here in ,pistoja 
are some precious pieces--a ,visitation 
in ,san ,giovanni1 a pearly ,madonna    
,incoronata on the big door of ,san     

,giacopo1 concerning which it would be  
difficult to account to one's self for  
the added zest given by the mantle of   
fine dust which has settled down on the 
pale folds of the drapery and outlined  
the square blue panels of the           
background4 ,after all1 is it not one   
more touch of the hedgerow1 a symbol of 
the hedgerow-faith not quite dead in the
 byeways of ,italy8  ,but ,i know ,i    
shall never convey the spontaneity with 
which ,fra ,paolino's ,visitation       
strikes quick for the heart4 ,the thing 
is so momentary1 a mere quiver of       
emotion passing from one woman to       
another4 ,the pair of them have looked  
in to the deeps4 ,then the older        
stumbles forward to her knees1 and the  
girl stoops down to raise her4 ,one     
guesses the rest4 ,they will be sobbing 
together in a minute1 the girl's face   
buried in the other's shoulder4 ,all you
 are to see is just the                 
wistfulness1--,my dear6 my dear6 ,and   
then the ,virgin1 full of ,grace1 but a 

shy girl in her teens for all that1     
hides her hot cheeks and cries her      
little wild heart to quietness4 ,some of
 it is in ,albertinelli's fine picture1 
but not all4 ,all of it--and here's the 
point--is to be seen in the street among
 these clear-eyed ,tuscan women1 just as
 ,fra ,paolino 7himself of ,pistoja7 saw
 it before our time1 and then fixed it  
for ever in blue and white4  ,and now   
cross the ,piazza and come down the     
steep incline by the ,palazzo ,commune1 
turn to the left1 and behold the crown  
of ,pistoja1 the ,spedale del ,ceppo4   
,everybody knows ,luca's masterpiece at 
,florence1 the ,foundling ,hospital on  
whose front are some twenty bambini in  
pure white on blue3 babies or flowers1  
one does not know which4 ,in #aead the  
,pistolesi remodelled their own         
hospital1 and called in the successors  
to ,luca's mystery to make it joyful4   
,andrea1 ,giovanni1 ,luca ,,ii4 and     
,girolamo came and conjured in turn1 and
 their wallflowers sprouted from the    

limewashed sides4 ,i fancy myself out in
 the patched ,piazzo del ,ceppo as ,i   
write1 looking again on the pleasant    
quietness of it all4 ,it is a grey day  
with thunder smouldering somewhere in   
the hills1 close and heavy4 ,the blind  
walls about me stare hard in the raw    
light1 but the wards of the hospital are
 open back and front to the air2 it is a
 rest for the eye to look into their    
cool depths within the loggia4 ,it is a 
square1 very plain1 yellow building1    
this hospital1 unrelieved save for its  
loggia1 its painted frieze of           
earthenware1 and a rickety cross to     
denote its pious uses4 ,through the     
wards ,i can see to the wet sky again   
and a gable-end of vivid red and yellow4
 ,a thin black ,christ on his cross     
stands up against this bright square of 
distance1 pathetic silhouette enough for
 me2 reminder something sinister1 you   
might think1 for the sick folk inside4  
,but not so2 this is a crucifix1 not a  
,crucifixion4 ,this poor wooden ,rood1  

bowing in the shade1 speaks not of high 
tragedy1 but of the simple annals of the
 poor again2 not of ,st4 ,john1 but of  
,st4 ,luke1 ,i shall be called          
sentimental2 but with the band of garden
 colours before me ,i can't get away    
from the streets and alleys1 ,i am not  
sure the craftsmen intended ,i should4  
,the hospital itself is low and square2 
it is limewashed all over1 and has the  
blind and beaten aspect of all ,italian 
houses3--red-purplish tiles running into
 deep eaves1 jalousied windows1 and the 
loggia4 ,it is on the face of this that 
the workers in baked clay--lavoro molto 
utile per la state1 so cool and fresh is
 it1 so redolent of green pastures and  
the winds of ,april--have moulded the   
,seven ,acts of ,pure ,mercy in colours 
as pure2 blue of morning sky1           
grass-green1 daffodil-yellow4 ,once     
more1 no heroics3 here is what the      
workmen knew and we see4 ,black and     
white frati1 not idealised at all1 but  
sleek and round in the jaw as a monk    

will get on oil and asciutta1 minister  
to sunburnt peasants1 and ruddy girls as
 massive in the waist and stout in the  
ankle as their sisters of to-day4 ,then1
 of course1 there is ,allegory4         
,allegory of your well-ordered1         
gravitated sort1 which takes us no whit 
further from wholesome earth and the men
 and women so plainly and happily made  
of it4 ,no soaring1 no                  
transcendentalism4 ,carit is a          
deep-breasted market-girl nursing two   
brown babies1 whom ,i have just seen    
sprawling over a gourd in the ,campo    
,marzio2 ,fortezza1 ,speranza1 ,fede1 ,i
 know them all1 bless their sober1 good 
eyes6 in the fruit-market1 or selling   
newspapers1 or plaiting straws in the   
,piazza4 ,after this we slide into      
religion pure and direct1 the beautiful 
ridiculous ,paganism which has never    
left the plain heathen- folk4 ,wreathed 
medallions in the spandrils give us     
,mary warned1 ,mary visited1 ,mary      
homing to her ,son1 ,mary crowned2 what 

would they do without their ,bona ,dea  
in ,tuscany8 ,she is of them1 and yet   
always a little beyond their grasp4 ,not
 too far1 however4 ,that means          
,gothicism4 ,the advantage of the       
,italian religious ideal is obvious4    
,art may never leave for long together  
the good brown earth2 and it can serve  
religion well when it plucks up a type  
to set1 clean as ,god made it1 just a   
little above our reach1 to show ,whose  
is the earth and the fulness thereof4   
,an example4 ,i leave the white and     
crumbling ,piazza1 its old marble well1 
its beggars1 its sick1 and its          
meadow-fresh border of ,delia ,robbia   
planting1 and stray up the ,via del     
,ceppo towards the ramparts4 ,high at a 
barred window a brown mother with a     
brown dependent baby smiles down upon my
 wayfaring4 ,she has fine broad brows   
and a patient face2 when she smiles1 out
 of mere kindness for my solitary       
goings1 it is pleasant to note the gleam
 of light on her teeth and lips4 ,i take

 off my hat1 as ,luca or ,lippo would   
have done1 to ma cousine la ,reine des  
cieux4  ,thus goes life ,in ,pistoja and
 the rest of the world4    ,,xiii       
,,dead ,,churches ,,at ,,foligno  ,from 
my roof-top1 whither ,i am fled to      
snatch what cooler airs may drift into  
this cup of earth1 ,i can see above the 
straggling tiles of gable and loggia the
 cupolas and belfries of many churches4 
,i know they are all dead2 for ,i have  
wound a devious way through the close   
inhospitable streets and met them or    
their ghosts at every corner4 ,the ghost
 of a dead church is the worst of all   
disembodied sighs3 he wails and chatters
 at you4 ,here ,i have seen churches    
whose towers were fallen and their      
tribunes laid bare to the insults of the
 work-a-day world4 ,there were churches 
with ugly gashes in them1 fresh and     
smarting still2 some had sightless eyes1
 as of skulls2 and there were churches  
piecemeal and scattered like the        
splinters of the ,true ,cross4 ,a great 

foliated arch of travertine would frame 
a patch of plaster and soiled casement  
just broad enough for some lolling pair 
of shoulders and shock-head atop2 a     
sacred emblem1 some ,agnus indefinably  
venerable1 some proud old cognisance of 
the ,see1 or frayed ,byzantine symbol   
7plaited with infinite art by its former
 contrivers71 such and other consecrated
 fragments would stuff a hole to keep   
the wind away from a donkey-stall or    
,fabbrica di pasta in a muddy lane4 ,i  
met dismantled walls still blushing with
 the stains of fresco--a saint's robe1  
the limp burden of the ,addolorata2--,i 
met texts innumerable1 shrines          
fly-ridden and1 often as not1 mocked    
with dead flowers4 ,and now1 as ,i see  
these grey towers and the grand purple  
line of the hills hemming in the ,tiber 
,valley1 ,i know ,i am come down to the 
sated ,south1 to the confines of        
,umbria1 the country of dead churches1  
and of ,rome the metropolis of such     
deplorable broken toys4 ,this appears to

 me the disagreeable truth concerning   
the harbourage of ,saint ,francis and   
,saint ,bernardine1 and of ,roberto da  
,lecce1 a man who1 if everybody had his 
rights1 would be known as great in his  
way as either4 ,you will remember that  
,luther found it out before me4 ,the    
religious enthusiasm we bring in may    
serve our turn while we are here3 it    
will be odd if any survive for the      
return2 impossible to go away as fervid 
as we come4 ,other enthusiasms will     
fatten2 but the wonderful ,gothic       
adumbration of ,christianity was born in
 the ,north and has never been healthy  
anywhere else4 ,gothicism1 driven       
southward1 runs speedily to seed2 an    
amazing luxuriance1 a riot1 strange     
flowers of heavy shapes and maddening   
savour2 and then that worse corruption  
to follow a perfection premature4 ,so   
medival ,christianity in ,umbria is a   
ruin1 but not for ,salvator ,rosa2 it   
has not been suffered a dignified death4
 ,that is the sharpest cut of all1 that 

the poor bleached skull must be decked  
with paper roses4  ,all this is forced  
upon me by my last days in ,tuscany     
where a lower mean has secured a serener
 reign4 ,i had hardly realised the      
comeliness of its intellectual vigour   
without this abrupt contrast4 ,pistoja1 
with its pleasant worship of the        
wholesome in common life2 ,lucca1       
girdled with the grey and green of her  
immemorial planes1 and adorned with the 
silvery gloss of old marble and         
stone-cutter's work exquisitely curious2
 then ,prato1 dusty little handful of   
old brick palaces and black and white   
towers1 where ,i heard a mass before the
 high altar but two ,sundays ago4 ,all  
,prato was in church that showery       
morning1 ,i think4 ,the air was close1  
even in the depths of the great nave3   
the fans all about me kept up a         
continual flicker1 like bats' wings1 and
 the men had to use their hats1 or      
handkerchiefs where they had them4 ,to  
hear the responses rolling about the    

chapels and echoing round the timbers of
 the roof you would have said the       
thunder had come4 ,it was too dark to   
see ,lippi's light-hearted secularities 
in the choir2 one saw them1 however1    
best in the congregation--the same      
appealing innocence in the grey-eyed    
women1 and the men with the same grave  
self-possession and the same respectful 
but deliberate concern with their own   
affairs which gives you the idea that   
they are lending themselves to divine   
service rather out of politeness than   
from any more intimate motive4 ,lippi   
saw this in ,prato four centuries ago1  
and ,i1 after him1 saw it all again in a
 rustic sacrifice which ,i should find  
it hard to distinguish from earlier     
sacrifices in the same spot4 ,and indeed
 it is informed with precisely the same 
spirit1 an inarticulate reverence for   
the ,dynamic in ,nature4 ,how many      
religions can be reduced to that6 ,in   
,florence again1 what a hardy slip of   
the old stock still survives6 ,you may  

see how the worship of ,venus ,genetrix 
and ,maria ,deipara merged in the work  
of ,botticelli and ,ghirlandajo1        
,michael ,angelo and ,andrea del ,sarto2
 you may see how1 if asceticism has     
never thriven there1 there was 7and     
still is7 an effort after selection of  
some sort and a scrupulous respect for  
the elegantia qudam which ,alberti held 
to be almost divine2 you may see1 at    
least1 a religion which still binds1 and
 which1 making no great professions1 has
 grown orderly and surely to respect4   
,thus from a ,tuscany1 pagan1 kindly1   
exuberant and desponding by turns1 but  
always ready with that long slow smile  
you first meet in the ,lorenzetti of    
,siena and afterwards find so tenderly  
expressed in its different              
manifestations in the ,delia ,robbia and
 ,botticelli--a smile where patience and
 wistfulness struggle together and      
finally kiss1--,i came down to ,umbria  
and a people dying of what ,m4 ,huysmans
 grandiosely calls our immense fatigue4 

,here is a people that has loved        
asceticism not wisely4 ,this asceticism1
 pushed to the limit where it becomes a 
kind of sensuality1 has bitten into     
,umbria's heart2 and ,umbria1 with a    
cloyed palate1 sees her frescos peel and
 lets her sanctuaries out to bats and   
green lizards4 ,surely the worst form of
 moral jaundice is where the sufferer   
watches his affections palsy1 but makes 
no stir4  ,from the ramp of the citadel 
at ,perugia you can guess what a        
hornet's nest that grey stronghold of   
the ,baglioni must have been4 ,it       
commands the great plain and bars the   
way to ,rome4 ,westward1 on a spur of   
rock1 stands ,magione and a lonely      
tower3 this was their outpost towards   
,siena4 ,eastward there is a white patch
 on the distant hills--,spello1 mountain
 built with quiet citadel1 quiet enough 
now4 ,there was always a ,baglione at   
,spello with his eyes set on chance     
comers from ,foligno and ,rome4 ,seen   
from thence1 ,augusta ,perusia hangs    

like a storm cloud over her cliffs1     
impregnable but by strategy1 as wicked  
and beautiful as ever her former        
masters1 the ,seven ,deadly ,sins1      
grandsons of ,fortebraccio4 ,the place  
is like its history1 of course1 having1 
in fact1 grown up with it3 you might say
 it was the incarnation of ,perugia's   
spirit2 it would only be to admit1 what 
is so obvious over here1 that a town is 
the work of art of that larger soul1 the
 body politic4 ,so to see the crazy     
streets cut in steps and crevasses      
across and through the rocks1 spanning a
 gorge with a stone ladder or boring a  
twisted tunnel under the sheer of the   
,etruscan walls1 to note the churches   
innumerable and the foundations of the  
thirty fortress-towers she once had--all
 this is to read the secret of          
,perugia's two love affairs4 ,of her    
towers ,julius ,,ii4 left but two       
standing1 blind pillars of masonry2 but 
there were thirty of them once1 and the 
,baglioni held them all1 for a season4  

,now it was these wild                  
,baglioni--filling the town with all    
manner of evil living1 says ,matarazzo1 
but nevertheless intensely beloved for  
their bold bearing and beauty1 as of    
young hawks2-- it was just these        
blood-stained striplings1 this          
,semonetto who rode shouting into the   
,piazza after an affray and swept his   
clogged hair clear of his eyes that he  
might see to kill1 this black ,astorre1 
of the few words1 who was murdered in   
his shirt on his marriage-eve by his    
cousin and best friend2 it was this very
 cousin ,grifone1 so beautiful that he  
seemed an angel of ,paradise1 who1 in   
his turn1 was cut down and laid out with
 his dead allies below ,san ,lorenzo    
that his widow might not fail of finding
 him and his marred fairness--it was    
just this stormy crew that fell weeping 
at ,suor ,brigida's meek feet1 confessed
 their sins and received the ,communion 
7encompassers and encompassed together1 
and all in a rapture7 on the very eve of

 the great slaughter of #aejj2 it was   
they who adorned the ,oratory of ,san   
,bernardino and made it the miracle of  
rose- colour and blue that it is2 who   
reared the enormous ,san ,domenico below
 the ,gate of ,mars1 and who1 in this   
hot-bed of enormity1 nurtured           
,perugino's dreamy ,madonnas4 ,what it  
meant ,i know not at all4 ,there are    
other riddles as hard in ,umbria4 ,renan
 saw the gentle cadence of the          
landscape--violet hills1 the silver     
gauze of water1 oliveyards all of a     
green mist2 read the ,fioretti and the  
dolorous ecstasies of ,perugino's       
,sebastian1 and straightway adapted the 
high-flown parallel worked out in detail
 by ,giotto4 ,umbria for him was the    
,galilee of ,italy1 and ,francis son of 
,bernard an avatar of ,christ4 ,but     
,renan was apt to allow his emotions to 
ride him4 ,another dazzling contrast1   
which has recently exercised another    
dextrous ,frenchman1 is ,siena with her 
,saint ,catherine and her ,sodoma who   

betrayed her--,saint ,catherine1 as     
great a force politically as she was    
spiritually1 and ,sodoma1 who painted   
her like a ,dana with love-glazed eyes  
fainting before the apparition of the   
,crucified ,seraph4  ,there is nothing  
like this in the history of ,tuscany1   
whose palaces not long were fortresses  
nor her monks at any time successful    
politicians4 ,cosimo had pulled down the
 ,florentine towers or ever the last    
,oddi had loosed hold of ,ridolfo's     
throat1 ,i know that ,siena is just     
within that province geographically2 in 
temperament1 in art and manner1 she has 
always shown herself intensely ,umbrian4
 ,take1 then1 the case of ,savonarola4  
,the ,florentines received him gladly   
enough and heard him with honest        
admiration1 even enthusiasm4 ,still1    
there is reason to believe they took    
him1 in the main1 spectacularly1 as they
 also took that portentous old          
monomaniac ,gemisthos ,pletho who made  
religions as we might make pills4 ,for1 

observe1 ,savonarola lost his head--and 
his life1 good soul6--where the         
,florentines did not4 ,the cobbler went 
beyond his last when the ,frate essayed 
politics4 ,he suffered accordingly4 ,but
 in ,perugia1 in ,siena1 in ,gubbio and 
,orvieto1 the great revivalists         
,bernardine1 ,catherine1 ,fra ,roberto1 
held absolute rule over body and soul4  
,for the moment ,baglione and ,oddi     
kissed each other2 all feuds were       
stayed2 a man might climb the black     
alleys of a night without any fear of a 
knife to yerk him 7the ,ancient's word7 
under the ribs or noose round his neck  
to swing him up to the archway withal4  
,so ,catherine brought back ,boniface   
7and much trouble7 from ,avignon1 and   
,da ,lecce wrote out a new constitution 
for some rock-bound hive of the hills1  
whose crowd wailing in the market-place 
knew the ecstasy of repentance1 and ran 
riot in religious orgies very much after
 the fashion of the ,greater ,dionysia  
or1 say1 the ,salvation ,army4 ,and how 

,niccol ,alunno would have painted the  
,salvation ,army6  ,so it does seem that
 the two great passions of ,umbria burnt
 themselves out together4 ,they were1   
indeed1 the two ends of the candle4     
,when the ,baglioni fell in the black   
work of two ,august nights1 only one    
escaped4 ,and with them died the love of
 the old lawless life and the infinite  
relish there was for some positive      
foretaste of the life of the world to   
come4 ,both lives had been lived too    
fast3 from that day ,perugia fell into a
 torpor1 as ,perugino1 the glass of his 
time and place1 also fell4 ,perugino1 we
 know1 had his doubts concerning the    
immortality of the soul1 but painted on 
his beautiful cloister-dreams1 and      
knocked down his saints to the highest  
bidder4#a ,vasari assures me that the   
chief solace of the old prodigal in his 
end of days was to dress his young      
wife's hair in fantastic coils and      
braids4 ,a prodigal he was--true        
,peruginese in that-- prodigal of the   

delicate meats his soul afforded4 ,his  
end may have been unedifying2 it must at
 least have been very pitiful4 ,nowadays
 his name stands upon the ,corso        
,vannucci of the town he uttered1 and in
 the court wall of a little recessed and
 colonnaded house in the ,via           
,deliziosa4 ,meantime his frescos drop  
mildewed from chapel walls or are borne 
away to a pauper funeral in the ,palazzo
 ,communale4  ,footnote #a3 ,see1       
however1 what he has to say for himself 
in ,chapter ,v4 ante4  ,in his finely   
studied ,sensations ,m4 ,paul ,bourget1 
it seems to me1 flogs the air and fails 
to climb it when he struggles to lay    
open the causes of poor ,vannucci's     
embittering4 ,if ever painting took up  
the office of literature it was in the  
fifteenth century4 ,the quattrocentisti 
stand to ,italy for our ,elizabethan    
dramatists4 ,this may have produced bad 
painting3 ,mr4 ,george ,moore will tell 
you that it did4 ,i am not sure that it 
very greatly matters1 for1 failing a    

literature which was really dramatic1   
really poetical1 really in any sense    
representative1 it was as well that     
there led an outlet somewhere4 ,at any  
rate ,lippi and ,botticelli1 to those   
who know them1 are expressive of the    
,florentine temper when ,pulci and      
,politian are distorted echoes of       
another2 ,perugino leads us into the    
recesses of ,perugia while ,graziani    
keeps us fumbling at the lock4 ,and     
,perugino's languorous boys and maids   
are the figments of a riotous erotic1 of
 a sensuous fancy without imagination or
 intelligence or humour4 ,his           
,alcibiades1 or ,michael ,archangel1    
seems green-sick with a love mainly     
physical2 his ,socrates has the combed  
resignation of his ,jeromes and         
,romualds--smoothly ordered old men set 
in the milky light of ,umbrian mornings 
and dreaming out placid lives by the    
side of a moonfaced ,umbrian beauty1 who
 is now ,mary and now ,luna as chance   
motions his hand4 ,how penetrating1 how 

distinctive by the side of them seems   
,sandro's slim and tearful ,anima ,mundi
 shivering in the chill dawn6 ,with what
 a strange magic does ,filippino usher  
in the pale apparition of the ,mater    
,dolorosa to his ,bernard1 or flush her 
up again to a heaven of blue-green and a
 glory of burning cherubim6 ,this he    
does1 you remember1 with rocket-like    
effect1 in a chapel of the ,minerva in  
,rome4 ,but it is the unquenchable      
thirst of the ,umbrians for some        
spiritual nutriment1 some outlet for    
their passion to be found only in       
bloodshed or fainting below the ,cross1 
some fierce and untameable animal       
quality such as you see to-day in the   
torn gables1 the towers and bastions of 
,perugia1 it is the spirit which        
informed and made these things you get  
in ,perugino's pictures--in the hot     
sensualism of their colour-scheme1 the  
ripeness and bloom of physical beauty   
encasing the vague longing of a         
too-rapid adolescence4 ,the desire could

 never be fed and the bloom wore off4   
,look at ,duccio's work on the facade of
 ,san ,bernardino1 ,duccio was a        
,florentine1 but where in ,florence     
would you see his like8 ,what a revel of
 disproportion in these long-legged     
nymphs1 full- lipped and narrow-eyed as 
any of ,rossetti's curious imaginings4  
,take the ,povert1 a weedy girl with the
 shrinking paps of a child4 ,here again 
7exquisite as she is in modelling and   
intensity of expression7 you get the    
enticement of a malformation which is   
absolutely un-,greek--unless you are to 
count ,phrygia within the magic         
ring-fence--and only to be equalled by  
the luxury of ,beccadelli4 ,you get that
 in ,sodoma too1 the handy ,lombard2 you
 have it in ,perugino and all the       
,umbrians 7in some form or other72 but  
never1 ,i think1 in the genuine         
,tuscan--not even in ,botticelli--and   
never1 of course1 in the ,venetians1    
,duccio modelled these things while the 
,delia ,robbia were at their ,hellenics2

 and a few years after he did them came 
the end of the ,baglioai and all such   
gear4 ,the end of real ,umbrian art was 
not long4 ,perugino awoke to have his   
doubts of the soul's immortality4 ,no   
great wonder there1 perhaps1 given he   
acknowledged a merciful heaven4444  ,i  
chanced to meet an old woman the other  
day in a country omnibus4 ,we journeyed 
together from ,prato to ,florence and   
became very friendly4 ,your dry old     
woman1 who hath had losses1 who has     
become1 in fact1 world-worn and very    
wise1 or like one of ,shakespeare's     
veterans--the ,grave-digger1 or the     
,countryman in ,antony and              
,cleopatra--has probed the ball and     
found it hollow2 such a battered and    
fortified soul in petticoats is peculiar
 to ,italy1 and countries where the     
women work and the men1 pocketing their 
hands1 keep sleek looks4 ,we had just   
passed a pleasant little procession4 ,it
 was ,sunday1 the hour ,benediction4 ,a 
staid nun was convoying a party of      

school-girls to church2 whereupon ,i    
remarked to my neighbour on their pretty
 bearing1 a sort of artless piety and of
 attention for unknown but not          
impossible blessings which they had     
about them4 ,but my old woman took small
 comfort from it4 ,she knew those       
cattle1 she said3 ,capuchins1 ,jacobins1
 ,black1 ,white and ,grey1--knew them   
all4 ,well6 ,everybody had his way of   
making a living3 hers was knitting      
stockings4 ,a hard life1 via1 but an    
honest4 ,here it became me to urge that 
the religious life might have its       
compensations1 without which it would   
perhaps be harder than knitting         
stockings2 that one needed relaxation   
and would do well to be sure that it was
 at least innocent4 ,relaxation of a    
kind1 said she1 a man must have4 ,snuff 
now6 ,she was inveterate at the sport4  
,the view was very dry2 but ,i think its
 reasoned limitations also very ,tuscan1
 and by no means exclusive of a         
tolerable amount of piety and honest    

dealing4 ,foligno1 by mere contrast     
reminds me of it--busy ,foligno huddled 
between the mighty knees of a chalk     
down1 city of fallen churches and       
handsome girls1 just now parading the   
streets with their fans a-flutter and a 
pretty turn to each veiled head of them4
  ,as ,i write the light dies down1 the 
wind drops1 huge inky clouds hang over  
the west2 the sun1 as he falls behind   
them1 sets them kindling at the edge4   
,the worn old bleached domes1 the       
bell-towers and turrets looming in the  
blue dusk1 seem to sigh that the century
 moves so slowly forward4 ,how many more
 must they endure of these8  ,it is the 
hour of ,ave ,maria4 ,but only two      
cracked bells ring it in4    ,,envoy3   
,,to ,,all ,,you ,,ladies   ,lovely and 
honourable ladies1 it is1 as ,i hold1 no
 mean favour you have accorded me1 to   
sit still and smiling while ,i have sung
 to your very faces a stave verging here
 and there on the familiar4 ,you have   
sat thus enduring me1 because1 being    

wrought for the most part out of stone  
or painter's stuff1 your necessities    
have indeed forbidden retirement4 ,yet  
my obligations should not on that       
account be lighter4 ,he would be a thin 
spirit who should gain a lady's friendly
 regard1 and then vilipend because she  
knew no better1 or could not choose4 ,i 
hope indeed that ,i have done you no    
wrong1 gentildonne1 ,i protest that ,i  
have meant none2 but have loved you all 
as a man may1 who has1 at most1 but a   
bowing acquaintance with your ladyships4
 ,as ,i recall your starry names1 no    
blush hinting unmannerliness suspect and
 unconfessed hits me on the cheek3--    
,simonetta1 ,ilaria1 ,nenciozza1        
,bettina2 you too1 candid ,mariota of   
,prato2 you1 flinching little ,imola2   
and you1 snuff-taking1 wool-carding     
ancient lady of the omnibus--scorner of 
monks1 ,i have kissed your hands1 ,i    
have at least given our whole commerce  
frankly to the world2 and ,i know not   
how any shall say we have been closer   

acquainted than we should4 ,you1 tall   
,ligurian ,simonetta1 loved of ,sandro1 
mourned by ,giuliano and1 for a seasons 
by his twisted brother and lord1 have   
done well to utter but one side of your 
wild humour8 ,the side a man would take1
 struck1 as your ,sandro was1 by a      
nympholepsy1 or1 as ,lorenzo was1 by the
 rhymer's appetite for wherewithal to   
sonnetteer8 ,if ,i understand you1 it   
was never pique or a young girl's       
petulance drove you to ,phryne's one    
justifiable act of self-assertion4 ,it  
was honesty4 ,madonna1 or ,i have read  
your grey eyes in vain2 it was          
enthusiasm--that flame of our fire so   
sacred that though it play the          
incendiary there shall be no crime--or  
where would be now the ,vas             
d'elezione8--nor though it reveal a     
bystander's grin1 any shame at all4 ,i  
shall live to tell that story of thine1 
,lady ,simonetta1 to thy honour and my  
own respect2 for1 as a poet says1       
,there is no holier flame ,than flatters

 torchwise in a stripling heart1 444 a  
fire from ,heaven ,to ash the clay of   
us1 and wing the ,god4  ,i have seen all
 memorials of you left behind to be     
pondered by him who played ,dante to    
your ,beatrice1 ,sandro the painting    
poet1--the proud clearness of you as at 
the marriage feast of ,nastagio degli   
,onesti2 the melting of the sorrow that 
wells from you in a tide1 where you hold
 the book of your overmastering honour  
and read ,magnificat ,anima ,mea with a 
sob in your throat2 your acquaintance1  
too1 with that grief which was your own 
hardening2 your sojourn1 wan and        
woebegone as would become the wife of   
,moses 7maker of jealous gods72 all     
these guises of you1 as well as the     
presentments of your innocent youth1 ,i 
have seen and adored4 ,but ,i have ever 
loved you most where you stand a wistful
 ,venus ,anadyomen-- ,una donzella non  
con uman volto1 as ,politian confessed2 
for ,i know your heart1 ,madonna1 and   
see on the sharp edge of your threatened

 life1 ,ardour look back to maiden      
,reclusion1 and on 7with a pang of      
foreboding7 to mockery and evil         
judgment4 ,never fear but ,i brave your 
story out to the world ere many days4   
,and if any1 with profane leer and      
tongue in the cheek1 take your sorrow   
for reproach or your pitifulness for a  
shame1 let them receive the lash of the 
whip from one who will trouble to wield 
it3 non ragioniam di lor4 ,for your     
honourable women ,i give you ,ilaria1   
the slim ,lucchesan1 and my little      
,bettincina1 a child yet with none of   
the vaguer surmises of adolescence when 
it flushes and dawns1 but likely enough1
 if all prosper1 to be no shame to your 
company4 ,as yet she is aptest to       
,donatello's fancy3 she will grow to be 
of a statelier bevy4 ,i see her in      
,ghirlandajo's garden1 pacing1          
still-eyed1 calm and cold1 with ,ginevra
 de' ,benci and ,giovanna of the        
,albizzi1 those quiet streets on a visit
 to the mother of ,john ,baptist4       

,mariota1 the hardy wife of the         
metal-smith1 is not for one of your     
quality1 though the wench is well enough
 now with her baby on her arm and the   
best of her seen by a poet and made     
enduring4 ,he1 like our ,bernardo1 had  
motherhood in such esteem that he held  
it would ransom a sin4 ,a sin8 ,i am no 
casust to discuss rewards and           
punishments2 but if ,socrates were      
rightly informed and sin indeed         
ignorance1 ,i have no whips for         
,mariota's square shoulders4 ,her baby1 
,i warrant1 plucked her from the        
burning4 ,i am not so sure but you might
 find in that girl a responsive spirit1 
and--is the saying too hard8--a teacher4
 ,contentment with a few things was     
never one of your virtues1 madam4       
,there is a lady whose name has been    
whispered through my pages1 a lady with 
whom ,i must make peace if ,i can4 ,had 
,i known her1 as ,dante did1 in the time
 of her nine-year excellence and        
followed her 7with an interlude1 to be  

sure1 for ,gentucca7 through the        
slippery ways of two lives with much    
eating of salt bread1 ,i might have     
grown into her favour4 ,but ,i never did
 know ,monna ,beatrice ,portinari2 and  
when ,i met her afterwards as my ,lady  
,theologia ,i thought her something     
imperious and case-hardened4 ,now here  
and there some words of mine 7for she   
has a high stomach7 may have given      
offence4 ,i have hinted that her court  
is a slender one in ,italy1 the service 
paid her lip-service2 the lowered eyes  
and bated breath reserved for her2 but  
for ,fede her sister1 tears and long    
kisses and the clinging4 ,well6 the     
,casa ,cattolica is a broad foundation3 
,i find ,francis of ,umbria at the same 
board with ,sicilian ,thomas4 ,if ,i    
cleave to the one must ,i despise the   
other8 ,lady ,fede has my heart and     
,lady ,dottrina must put aside the birch
 if she would share that little kingdom4
 ,religio habet1 said ,pico2 theologia  
autem invenit4 ,let her find4 ,but she  

must be speedy1 for ,i promise her the  
mood grows on me as ,i become           
italianato2 and ,i cannot predict when  
the other term of the proposition may be
 accomplished4 ,for one thing1 ,lady    
,theologia1 ,i praise you not4 ,sympathy
 seems to me of the essence1 the healing
 touch an excellent thing in woman4 ,but
 you told ,virgil1  ,io son fatta da    
,dio1 sua merc1 tale1 ,che la vostra    
miseria non mi tange4  ,sympathy1       
,madonna8 ,and ,virgil hopeless6 ,on    
these terms ,i had rather gloom with the
 good poet 7whose fault in your eyes was
 that he knew in what he had believed7  
than freeze with you and ,aquinas on    
your peak of hyaline4 ,and as ,i have   
found you1 ,donna ,beatrice1 so in the  
main have they of whom ,i pitch my pipe4
 ,here and there a man of them got      
exercise for his fingers in your web2   
here and there one1 as ,pico the young  
,doctor of yellow hair and nine hundred 
heresies1 touched upon the back of your 
ivory dais that he might jump from      

thence to the poets out beyond you in   
the ,sun4 ,your great ,dante1 too1 loved
 you through all4 ,but1 ,madonna1 he had
 loved you before when you were--       
,donna pietosa e di novella etade1  and1
 as became his lordly soul1 might never 
depart from the faith he had in you4    
,for me1 ,i protest ,i love ,religion   
your warm-bosomed mate too well to turn 
from her2 yet ,i would not on that      
account grieve her 7who treats you well 
out of the cup of her abounding charity7
 by aspersing you4 ,and if ,i may not   
kiss your foot as you would desire1 ,i  
may bow when ,i am in the way with you2 
not thanking ,god ,i am not as you are1 
but1 withal1 wishing you that degree of 
interest in a really excellent world    
with which ,he has blessed me and my    
like1 the humble fry4  ,lastly1 to the  
,spirits which are in the shrines of the
 cities of ,tuscany1 ,i lift up my hands
 with the offering of my thin book4 ,to 
,lucca dove-like and demure1 to ,prato1 
the brown country-girl1 to ,pisa1       

winsome maid-of- honour to the lady of  
the land1 to ,pistoja1 the ruddy-haired 
and ample1 and to ,siena1 the lovely    
wretch1 black-eyed and keen as a hawk2  
even to ,perugia1 the termagant1 with a 
scar on her throat2 but chiefest to the 
,lady ,firenze1 the pale ,queen crowned 
with olive--to all of you1 adored and   
adorable sisters1 ,i offer homage as    
becomes a postulant1 the repentance of  
him who has not earned his reward1      
thanksgiving1 and the praise ,i have not
 been able to utter4 ,and ,i send you1  
,book1 out to those ladies with the     
supplication of good ,master ,cino1     
schoolman and poet1 saying1  ,e se tu   
troverai donne gentile1 ,ivi girai2 ch l
 ti vo mandare2 ,e dono a lor d'        
audienza chiedi4  ,poi di a costor3     
,gittatevi a lor piedi1 ,e dite1 chi vi 
manda e per che fare1 ,udite donne1 esti
 valletti umili4