ion left in the stony relics of the past. Greek Art
perished when its secret was translated into clearer language by Plato
and Aristotle; and Duccio and Cimabue and Giotto must go the same way as
soon as St. Francis of Assisi or Luther or Calvin puts into words what
they meant. It is its own success that is fatal to Art; for just in
proportion as the expressiveness it insists upon is shown to be
pervading, universal, and not the property of this or that shape, the
particular manifestation is degraded. Color and form are due to partial
opacity; the light must penetrate to a certain depth, but not
throughout.

The name of Giotto has come to stand for Devotional Art, for an
earnestness that subordinates all display to the sacredness of the
theme. But his fellow-citizens knew him for a man of quick worldly wit,
who despised asceticism, and was ready with the most audacious jokes,
even at sacred things. Ghiberti and Cennini do not praise him for piety,
but for having "brought Art back to Nature" and "translated it from
Greek into Latin,"--that is, from the language of clerks into the
vernacular. It is not anything special in the intention that gives
Giotto his fame, but the freedom, directness, and variety of the
language with which it is expressed. The effort to escape from
traditional formulas and conventional shapes often makes itself felt at
the expense even of beauty. Instead of the statuesque forms of the
earlier time, it is the dramatic interest that is now prominent,--the
composition, the convergent action of numerous figures, separately,
perhaps, insignificant, but pervaded by a common emotion that
subordinates all distinctions and leaves itself alone visible. Even in
the traditional groups, as, for instance, the Holy Families, etc., the
aim is more complete realization, in draperies, gestures, postures,
rather than beauty of form. We miss in Giotto much that had been
attained before him. What Madonna of his can rank with Giovanni
Pisano's? The Northern cathedral-sculptures, even some of the Byzantine
carvings, have a dignity that is at least uncommon in his pictures.
Especially the faces are generally wooden,--destitute alike of
individuality and of the loveliness of Duccio's and even of some of
Cimabue's. On the other hand, in the picture wherein the school
attained, perhaps, its highest success as to beauty of the faces,
Orcagna's "Paradise" at Santa Maria Novella, the blessed are ranged in
row above row, with m