star's about to shine, What will hap some day. We've a youngster here Comes to our convent, studies what I do,
275 Slouches and stares and lets no atom drop: His name is Guidi7?he'll not mind the monks? They call him Hulking Tom, he lets them talk? He picks my practice up?he'll paint apace, I hope so?though I never live so long,
280 I know what's sure to follow. You be judge! You speak no Latin more than I, belike; However, you're my man, you've seen the world ?The beauty and the wonder and the power, The shapes of things, their colors, lights and shades,
5. I.e., while horses are allowed to enjoy playing 7. Guidi or Masaccio (1401?1428), a painter who in the grass, human beings are taught by the may have been Lippi's master rather than his pupil, Church that physical experience is valuable only in although Browning, in a letter to the press in 1870, its relation to their future condition in the afterlife. argued that Lippi had been born earlier. Like The biblical text 'all flesh is as grass' (I Peter 1.24) Lippi. Masaccio was in revolt against the medieval lurks within Lippi's question. theory of art. His frescoes in the chapel of Santa 6. I.e., Eden. Maria del Carmine are considered his masterpiece.
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127 8 / ROBERT BROWNING
285 Changes, surprises?and God made it all! ?For what? Do you feel thankful, aye or no, For this fair town's face, yonder river's line, The mountain round it and the sky above, Much more the figures of man, woman, child,
290 These are the frame to? What's it all about? To be passed over, despised? or dwelt upon, Wondered at? oh, this last of course!?you say. But why not do as well as say?paint these Just as they are, careless what comes of it?
295 God's works?paint any one, and count it crime To let a truth slip. Don't object, 'His works Are here already; nature is complete: Suppose you reproduce her?(which you can't) There's no advantage! You must beat her, then.'
300 For, don't you mark?? we're made so that we love observe First when we see them painted, things we have passed Perhaps a hundred times nor cared to see; And so they are better, painted?better to us, Which is the same thing. Art was given for that; 305 God uses us to help each other so,
Lending our minds out. Have you noticed, now, Your cullion's? hanging face? A bit of chalk, rascal's And trust me but you should, though! How much more,
If I drew higher things with the same truth!
310 That were to take the Prior's pulpit-place, Interpret God to all of you! Oh, oh, It makes me mad to see what men shall do And we in our graves! This world's no blot for us, Nor blank; it means intensely, and means good:
315 To find its meaning is my meat and drink. 'Aye, but you don't so instigate to prayer!' Strikes in the Prior: 'when your meaning's plain It does not say to folk?remember matins, Or, mind you fast next Friday!' Why, for this
320 What need of art at all? A skull and bones, Two bits of stick nailed crosswise, or, what's best, A bell to chime the hour with, does as well. I painted a Saint Laurence8 six months since At Prato, splashed the fresco9 in fine style:
325 'How looks my painting, now the scaffold's down?' I ask a brother: 'Hugely,' he returns? 'Already not one phiz? of your three slaves face Who turn the Deacon off his toasted side,
But it's scratched and prodded to our heart's content,
330 The pious people have so eased their own With coming to say prayers there in a rage: We get on fast to see the bricks beneath. Expect another job this time next year,
8. A scene representing the fiery martyrdom of be painted quickly before the plaster dries. Prato Saint Laurence. is a town near Florence. 9. Painted on a freshly plastered surface. It must
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FRA LIPPO LIPPI / 1279
For pity and religion grow i' the crowd? 335 Your painting serves its purpose!' Hang the fools!
?That is?you'll not mistake an idle word Spoke in a huff by a poor monk, God wot,0 knmvs Tasting the air this spicy night which turns The unaccustomed head like Chianti wine!
340 Oh, the church knows! don't misreport me, now! It's natural a poor monk out of bounds Should have his apt word to excuse himself: And hearken how I plot to make amends. I have bethought me: I shall paint a piece
345 .. . There's for you! Give me six months, then go, see Something in Sant' Ambrogio's!' Bless the nuns! They want a cast o' my office.2 I shall paint God in the midst, Madonna and her babe, Ringed by a bowery flowery angel brood,
350 Lilies and vestments and white faces, sweet As puff on puff of grated orris-root3 When ladies crowd to Church at midsummer. And then i' the front, of course a saint or two? Saint John, because he saves the Florentines,
355 Saint Ambrose, who puts down in black and white The convent's friends and gives them a long day, And Job,4 I must have him there past mistake, The man of Uz (and Us without the z, Painters who need his patience). Well, all these
360 Secured at their devotion, up shall come Out of a corner when you least expect, As one by a dark stair into a great light, Music and talking, who but Lippo! I!?
Mazed,0 motionless and moonstruck?I'm the man! confused
365 Back I shrink?what is this I see and hear? I, caught up with my monk's things by mistake, My old serge gown and rope that goes all round, I, in this presence, this pure company! Where's a hole, where's a corner for escape?
