holding the brush long. Such a feat as this is completely possible to
a well-disciplined painter's hand, but utterly impossible to any
other; and the circle so drawn, was the most convincing proof Giotto
could give of his decision of eye and perfectness of practice.

[Footnote 5: At least Lord Lindsay seems to consider the evidence
collected by Foerster on this subject conclusive. _Christian Art_, vol.
ii. p. 168.]

Still, even when thus understood, there is much in the anecdote very
curious. Here is a painter requested by the head of the Church to
execute certain religious paintings, and the only qualification for
the task of which he deigns to demonstrate his possession is executive
skill. Nothing is said, and nothing appears to be thought, of
expression, or invention, or devotional sentiment. Nothing is required
but firmness of hand. And here arises the important question: Did
Giotto know that this was all that was looked for by his religious
patrons? and is there occult satire in the example of his art which he
sends them?--or does the founder of sacred painting mean to tell us
that he holds his own power to consist merely in firmness of hand,
secured by long practice? I cannot satisfy myself on this point: but
yet it seems to me that we may safely gather two conclusions from the
words of the master, "It is enough, and more than enough." The first,
that Giotto had indeed a profound feeling of the value of _precision_
in all art; and that we may use the full force of his authority to
press the truth, of which it is so difficult to persuade the hasty
workmen of modern times, that the difference between right and wrong
lies within the breadth of a line; and that the most perfect power and
genius are shown by the accuracy which disdains error, and the
faithfulness which fears it.

And the second conclusion is, that whatever Giotto's imaginative
powers might be, he was proud to be a good _workman_, and willing to
be considered by others only as such. There might lurk, as has been
suggested, some satire in the message to the pope, and some
consciousness in his own mind of faculties higher than those of
draughtsmanship. I cannot tell how far these hidden feelings existed;
but the more I see of living artists, and learn of departed ones, the
more I am convinced that the highest strength of genius is generally
marked by strange unconsciousness of its own modes of operation, and
often by no small scorn of the best results