Mornings in Florence by John Ruskin
page 109 of 149 (73%)
page 109 of 149 (73%)
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fully so understood here in commercial Florence.
Her hand lifted, with two fingers bent, two straight, solemnly enforcing on your attention her primal law--Two and two are--four, you observe,--not five, as those accursed usurers think. Under her, Pythagoras. Above, medallion of king, with sceptre and globe, counting money. Have you ever chanced to read carefully Carlyle's account of the foundation of the existing Prussian empire, in economy? You can, at all events, consider with yourself a little, what empire this queen of the terrestrial sciences must hold over the rest, if they are to be put to good use; or what depth and breadth of application there is in the brief parables of the counted cost of Power, and number of Armies. To give a very minor, but characteristic, instance. I have always felt that with my intense love of the Alps, I ought to have been able to make a drawing of Chamouni, or the vale of Cluse, which should give people more pleasure than a photograph; but I always wanted to do it as I saw it, and engrave pine for pine, and crag for crag, like Albert Durer. I broke my strength down for many a year, always tiring of my work, or finding the leaves drop off, or the snow come on, before I had well begun what I meant to do. If I had only _counted_ my pines first, and calculated the number of hours necessary to do them in the manner of Durer, I should have saved the available drawing time of some five years, spent in vain effort. |
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