. Earthwork out of Tuscany. he first critic, and is Moore the second ? As a whitepigeon cuts the blue, and every pinion ofhim shines as burnished agate in the liveair, things shape themselves somewhat. Ibegin to see that Art is, and that men havebeen, and shall be, but never are. Factsare an integral part of life, but they are notlife. I heard a metaphysician say once thatmatter was the adjective of life, and thoughtit a mighty pretty saying. In a true sense,it would seem. Art is that adjective. Forso surely as there are honest men to insisthow true things are or how proper tomoralis
. Earthwork out of Tuscany. he first critic, and is Moore the second ? As a whitepigeon cuts the blue, and every pinion ofhim shines as burnished agate in the liveair, things shape themselves somewhat. Ibegin to see that Art is, and that men havebeen, and shall be, but never are. Factsare an integral part of life, but they are notlife. I heard a metaphysician say once thatmatter was the adjective of life, and thoughtit a mighty pretty saying. In a true sense,it would seem. Art is that adjective. Forso surely as there are honest men to insisthow true things are or how proper tomoralising, there will be Art to sing howlovely they are, and what amiable dwell-ings for us. Thus fortified, I think 1 can 27 EARTHWORK OUT OF TUSCANY: understand Magister Joctus Fiorentiae. Helies behind these crumbling walls. Tracesof his crimson and blue still stain the clois-ter-walk. What was he telling us in crim-son and blue ? How dumb Zacharias speltout the name of his son John in the roll ofa book ? Hardly that, I 38 11 LITTLE FLOWERS THE Via del Monte alle Croce is a leafyway cut between hedgerows, in themorning time heavy with dew and thesmell of wet flowers. Where it strays outof the Gira al Monte there is a crumblybrick wall, a well, and a little earthenshrine to Madonna—a daub, it is true, ofglaring chromes and blues, thick in glazeand tawdry devices of stout Cupids androses, but somehow, on this suggestiveAutumn morning, innocent and blue of eyeas the carolling throngs of Luca which ittravesties. And a pious inscription cut be-low testifieth how Saint Francis, infriendly talk with the Blessed Mariano diLugo, paused here before it, and thenvanished. It is not necessary to believe inghosts; but Ill go bail that story is are but two stones throw from thegaunt hulk of a Franciscan church; a fileof dusty cypresses marks the ruins of apainful Calvary cut in the waste and shale EARTHWORK OUT OF TUSCANY: of the hill-side. Below, as in a green pas-ture, Floren
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