household wisdom, labour of love, toil upon earth according to the law
of Heaven--these are reconcilable, in one code of glory, with
revelation in cave or island, with the endurance of desolate and
loveless days, with the repose of folded hands that wait Heaven's time.

Domestic and monastic. He was the first of Italians--the first of
Christians--who _equally_ knew the virtue of both lives; and who
was able to show it in the sight of men of all ranks,--from the prince
to the shepherd; and of all powers,--from the wisest philosopher to the
simplest child.

For, note the way in which the new gift of painting, bequeathed to him
by his great master, strengthened his hands. Before Cimabue, no
beautiful rendering of human form was possible; and the rude or formal
types of the Lombard and Byzantine, though they would serve in the
tumult of the chase, or as the recognized symbols of creed, could not
represent personal and domestic character. Faces with goggling eyes and
rigid lips might be endured with ready help of imagination, for gods,
angels, saints, or hunters--or for anybody else in scenes of recognized
legend, but would not serve for pleasant portraiture of one's own self
--or of the incidents of gentle, actual life. And even Cimabue did not
venture to leave the sphere of conventionally reverenced dignity. He
still painted--though beautifully--only the Madonna, and the St.
Joseph, and the Christ. These he made living,--Florence asked no more:
and "Credette Cimabue nella pintura tener lo campo."

But Giotto came from the field, and saw with his simple eyes a lowlier
worth. And he painted--the Madonna, and St. Joseph, and the Christ,--yes,
by all means if you choose to call them so, but essentially,--Mamma, Papa,
and the Baby. And all Italy threw up its cap,--"Ora ha Giotto il grido."