of
the word Dominican in the episode of the wolves (or heretics) being
attacked by black and white dogs, the Canes Domini, or hounds of the
Lord. The "Mornings in Florence" should here be consulted again, for
Ruskin made a very thorough and characteristically decisive analysis
of these paintings, which, whether one agrees with it or not, is
profoundly interesting. Poor old Vasari, who so patiently described
them too and named a number of the originals of the portraits, is now
shelved, and from both his artists, Simone Martini and Taddeo Gaddi,
has the authorship been taken by modern experts. Some one, however,
must have done the work. The Duomo as represented here is not the
Duomo of fact, which had not then its dome, but of anticipation.

Opposite, we see a representation of the triumph of the greatest of the
Dominicans, after its founder, S. Thomas Aquinas, the author of the
"Summa Theologiae," who died in 1274. The painter shows the Angelic
Doctor enthroned amid saints and patriarchs and heavenly attendants,
while three powerful heretics grovel at his feet, and beneath are the
Sciences and Moral Qualities and certain distinguished men who served
them conspicuously, such as Aristotle, the logician, whom S. Thomas
Aquinas edited, and Cicero, the rhetorician. In real life Aquinas was
so modest and retiring that he would accept no exalted post from the
Church, but remained closeted with his books and scholars; and we can
conceive what his horror would be could he view this apotheosis. On the
ceiling is a quaint rendering of the walking on the water, S. Peter's
failure being watched from the ship with the utmost closeness by the
other disciples, but attracting no notice whatever from an angler,
close by, on the shore. The chapel is desolate and unkempt, and those
of us who are not Dominicans are not sorry to leave it and look for
the simple sweetness of the Giottos.

These are to be found, with some difficulty, on the walls of the niche
where the tomb of the Marchese Ridolfo stands. They are certainly
very simple and telling, and I advise every one to open the "Mornings
in Florence" and learn how the wilful magical pen deals with them;
but it would be a pity to give up Ghirlandaio because Giotto was so
different, as Ruskin wished. Room for both. One scene represents
the meeting of S. Joachim and S. Anna outside a mediaeval city's
walls, and it has some pretty Giottesque touches, such as the man
carrying doves to the Tem