File:A history of painting (1911) (14596878300).jpg

Identifier: historyofpaintin01macf (find matches)
Title: A history of painting
Year: 1911 (1910s)
Authors: Macfall, Haldane, 1860-1928
Subjects: Painting Painters
Publisher: London and Edinburgh : T.C. and E.C. Jack
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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it of the age in consummatefashion. All the glamour of the new learning is there;the gods of antique days have come out of hiding and friskabroad. Piero di Cosimo was a very Florentine of Floren-tines, the republican blood in him, a live individual,frank of tongue, witty, arrogant, whimsical, odd, his quaintsoul sensitive to the subtlest delicacies of colour, grim ofcharacter, exquisitely sympathetic to sorrow and pain. Nomore perfect example of his skill of artistry has come downto us than the glowing harmonies of his Death of Procris atthe National Gallery in London. Here we have veryFlorence of the late fourteen-hundreds. Here are thepagan gods stepping out of their long hiding in the shadygroves, and careering abroad in Italian landscape. Withinthe space of the long narrow span of the painted surface,Piero di Cosimo has uttered his poem of love and jealousy,of death and remorse, in lyric fashion. The whispered122 XVI FRA BARTOLOMMEO1475 - 1517 (Louvre)VIRGIN AND CHILD, WITH SAINTS
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OF PAINTING slander that has sent the jealous Procris into her hiding- OF THEplace in the thicket to watch her lovers meeting with an DEEPS OF Unknown One, has also sent her to her death, when, leaping rOETRY • - THAT MAY from hiding to confess her false suspicion, she is slain by the arrow of her lover as he quickly lets fly, startled by the TN Tttt7 rustle of what he took to be a wild beast in the bush; and ROUGH as the life flows scarlet from her wounded throat, she tells OUTER her tale—and unseen Jupiter, bending his ear to hear the MAN piteous tragedy, did well to change her into a star. Tis a literary theme, its true enough, and the pictured sonnet needs a book of the words to explain it—therein the art is faulty enough, as indeed was much of the art of the Florentines—but, apart from this, what an exquisite thing it is ! the pity of it, shown in the bereaved satyr and mourning dog, the wondrous landscape bathed in the glamour of that strange unheeding Nature which hesit

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