for it often happens that the root is wholesome when the leaves,
however fair, are useless or poisonous. In nine cases out of ten, the
first expression of an idea is the most valuable: the idea may
afterward be polished and softened, and made more attractive to the
general eye; but the first expression of it has a freshness and
brightness, like the flash of a native crystal compared to the lustre
of glass that has been melted and cut. And in the second place, we
ought to measure the value of art less by its executive than by its
moral power. Giotto was not indeed one of the most accomplished
painters, but he was one of the greatest men, who ever lived. He was
the first master of his time, in architecture as well as in painting;
he was the friend of Dante, and the undisputed interpreter of
religious truth, by means of painting, over the whole of Italy. The
works of such a man may not be the best to set before children in
order to teach them drawing; but they assuredly should be studied with
the greatest care by all who are interested in the history of the
human mind.

One point more remains to be noticed respecting him. As far as I am
aware, he never painted profane subjects. All his important existing
works are exclusively devoted to the illustration of Christianity.
This was not a result of his own peculiar feeling or determination; it
was a necessity of the period. Giotto appears to have considered
himself simply as a workman, at the command of any employer, for any
kind of work, however humble. "In the sixty-third novel of Franco
Sacchetti we read that a stranger, suddenly entering Giotto's study,
threw down a shield, and departed, saying, 'Paint me my arms on that
shield.' Giotto looking after him, exclaimed, 'Who is he? What is he?
He says, "Paint me my arms," as if he was one of the BARDI. What arms
does he bear?'"[7] But at the time of Giotto's eminence, art was never