Earthwork out of Tuscany - Being Impressions and Translations of Maurice Hewlett by Maurice Hewlett
page 24 of 142 (16%)
page 24 of 142 (16%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
shall we believe Giotto? What of Giotto? That is my point.
Something too much, it may be, of modern art-criticism, which is ashamed of thinking, snuffeth at pictures which tell you things, at literature in books or music or church ornament. Is literature not good anywhere? Have we exhausted the _Arabian Nights_ or the _Acta Sanctorum_? At any rate, if we must choose between Giotto and the prophet of the _Yellow Book_, my heart is fixed. I am for the teller of tales. Story-telling it is, glorification of one whom Mr. George Moore would call (has, indeed, called) a "squint-eyed Italian Saint"--and whether he objected to malformity, nationality or calling, I never could learn--this too it may be; it may tend to edification and I know not what beside. I will grant all that. And though it is hard to prophesy what might have happened five hundred years ago; though there might have been a Giotto without a Francis of whom to speak; yet I never knew a case where a painter (call him poet if you will; he will be none the worse for that) fell so directly into the gap awaiting him. The Gospel living and tangible again! Spirits, apparitions, as of three mysterious sisters, met you in the open country, and crying "Hail! Lady Poverty," straightly vanished. A legend was a-making round about the strange life not fifty years closed, a life which seems, extravagance apart, to have been a lyrical outburst, a strophe in the hymn of praise which certain happy people were singing just then. 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 peccata, miserere." Why should it? Should the children of the bride-chamber fast when the bridegroom was with them? And of all the "wreath'd singers at the marriage-door," blithest and sanest was Master Joctus of Florence. This being so, 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 |
|