passion0 of a thousand years) sufferings Till some poor girl, her apron o'er her head (Which the intense eyes looked through), came at eve
160 On tiptoe, said a word, dropped in a loaf, Her pair of earrings and a bunch of flowers (The brute took growling), prayed, and so was gone. I painted all, then cried ' 'Tis ask and have; Choose, for more's ready!'?laid the ladder flat,
165 And showed my covered bit of cloister wall. The monks closed in a circle and praised loud Till checked, taught what to see and not to see, Being simple bodies?'That's the very man! Look at the boy who stoops to pat the dog!
170 That woman's like the Prior's niece who comes To care about his asthma: it's the life!' But there my triumph's straw-fire flared and funked;9 Their betters took their turn to see and say: The Prior and the learned pulled a face
175 And stopped all that in no time. 'How? what's here? Quite from the mark of painting, bless us all! Faces, arms, legs and bodies like the true As much as pea and pea! it's devil's game! Your business is not to catch men with show,
iso With homage to the perishable clay, But lift them over it, ignore it all, Make them forget there's such a thing as flesh. Your business is to paint the souls of men? Man's soul, and it's a fire, smoke . . . no, it's not . . .
185 It's vapor done up like a newborn babe? (In that shape when you die it leaves your mouth) It's . . . well, what matters talking, it's the soul! Give us no more of body than shows soul! Here's Giotto,1 with his Saint a- praising God, 190 That sets us praising?why not stop with him?
Having claimed sanctuary in the church. stylized pictures of religious subjects were admired Went up in smoke. as models of pre-Renaissance art. Great Florentine painter (1276?1337), whose
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1276 / ROBERT BROWNING
Why put all thoughts of praise out of our head With wonder at lines, colors, and what not? Paint the soul, never mind the legs and arms! Rub all out, try at it a second time. 195 Oh, that white smallish female with the breasts, She's just? my niece . . . Herodias,2 I would say? exactly like Who went and danced and got men's heads cut off! Have it all out!' Now, is this sense, I ask? A fine way to paint soul, by painting body 200 So ill, the eye can't stop there, must go further And can't fare worse! Thus, yellow does for white When what you put for yellow's simply black, And any sort of meaning looks intense When all beside itself means and looks naught. 205 Why can't a painter lift each foot in turn, Left foot and right foot, go a double step, Make his flesh liker and his soul more like, Both in their order? Take the prettiest face, The Prior's niece . . . patron-saint?is it so pretty 210 You can't discover if it means hope, fear, Sorrow or joy? won't beauty go with these? Suppose I've made her eyes all right and blue, Can't I take breath and try to add life's flash, And then add soul and heighten them threefold? 215 Or say there's beauty with no soul at all?( I never saw it?put the case the same?) If you get simple beauty and naught else, You get about the best thing God invents:
That's somewhat: and you'll find the soul you have missed,
220 Within yourself, when you return him thanks. 'Rub all out!' Well, well, there's my life, in short, And so the thing has gone on ever since. I'm grown a man no doubt, I've broken bounds: You should not take a fellow eight years old
225 And make him swear to never kiss the girls. I'm my own master, paint now as I please? Having a friend, you see, in the Corner-house!3 Lord, it's fast holding by the rings in front? Those great rings serve more purposes than just
230 To plant a flag in, or tie up a horse! And yet the old schooling sticks, the old grave eyes Are peeping o'er my shoulder as I work, The heads shake still?'It's art's decline, my son! You're not of the true painters, great and old;
235 Brother Angelico's the man, you'll find; Brother Lorenzo4 stands his single peer: Fag on? at flesh, you'll never make the third!' work hard Flower o' the -pine,
2. i.e., Salome (her mother was Herodias, the 3. The Medici palace. sister-in-law oi King Herod). Because John the 4. Fra Angelico (1387?1455) and Lorenzo Mon- Baptist had aroused her mother's displeasure, Sal-aco (1370?1425), whose paintings were in the ome asked for his head on a platter after she approved traditional manner. danced (Matthew 14.6-11).
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FRA LIPPO LIPPI / 1277
You keep your mistr . . . manners, and I'll stick to mine!
240 Fm not the third, then: bless us, they must know! Don't you think they're the likeliest to know, They with their Latin? So, I swallow my rage, Clench my teeth, suck my lips in tight, and paint To please them?sometimes do and sometimes don't;
245 For, doing most, there's pretty sure to come A turn, some warm eve finds me at my saints? A laugh, a cry, the business of the world?
(Flower o' the peach, Death for us all, and his own life for each!)
250 And my whole soul revolves, the cup runs over, The world and life's too big to pass for a dream, And I do these wild things in sheer despite, And play the fooleries you catch me at, In pure rage! The old mill-horse, out at grass
255 After hard years, throws up his stiff heels so, Although the miller does not preach to him The only good of grass is to make chaff.0 straw What would men have? Do they like grass or no' ? iMay they or mayn't they? all I want's the thing
260 Settled forever one way. As it is, You tell too many lies and hurt yourself: You don't like what you only like too much, You do like what, if given you at your word, You find abundantly detestable.
265 For me, I think I speak as I was taught; I always see the garden6 and God there A-making man's wife: and, my lesson learned, The value and significance of flesh, I can't unlearn ten minutes afterwards.
270 You understand me: I'm a beast, I know. But see, now?why, I see as certainly As that the morning
