Botticelli's, Fra Angelico's--is absolutely pure Etruscan, merely changing
its subjects, and representing the Virgin instead of Athena, and Christ
instead of Jupiter. Every line of the Florentine chisel in the fifteenth
century is based on national principles of art which existed in the seventh
century before Christ; and Angelico, in his convent of St. Dominic, at
the foot of the hill of Fesole, is as true an Etruscan as the builder who
laid the rude stones of the wall along its crest--of which modern
civilization has used the only arch that remained for cheap building stone.
Luckily, I sketched it in 1845. but alas, too carelessly,--never conceiving
of the brutalities of modem Italy as possible.]

Accordingly, after the quatrefoil ornamentation of the top of the bell,
you get two spaces at the sides under arches, very difficult to cramp
one's picture into, if it is to be a picture only; but entirely
provocative of our old Etruscan instinct of ornament. And, spurred by
the difficulty, and pleased by the national character of it, we put our
best work into these arches, utterly neglectful of the public below,
--who will see the white and red and blue spaces, at any rate, which is
all they will want to see, thinks Giotto, if he ever looks down from
his scaffold.

Take the highest compartment, then, on the left, looking towards the
window. It was wholly impossible to get the arch filled with figures,
unless they stood on each other's heads; so Giotto ekes it out with a
piece of fine architecture. Raphael, in the Sposalizio, does the same,
for pleasure.

Then he puts two dainty little white figures, bending, on each flank,
to stop up his corners. But he puts the taller inside on the right, and
outside on the left. And he puts his Greek chorus of observant and