Knights of the Art | Page 7

folk! They looked at the little Baby Jesus sitting on His mother's
knee, wrapped in swaddling bands, just like one of their own little ones,
and it made Him seem a very real baby. The wise men who talked
together and pointed to the shining star overhead looked just like any of
the great nobles of Florence. And there at the back were the two horses
looking on with wise interested eyes, just as any of their own horses
might have done.
It seemed to make the story of Christmas a thing which had really
happened, instead of a far-away tale which had little meaning for them.
Heaven and the Madonna were not so far off after all. And it comforted
them to think that the Madonna had been a real woman like themselves,
and that the Jesu Bambino would stoop to bless them still, just as He
leaned forward to bless the wise men in the picture.

How real too would seem the old story of the meeting of Anna and
Joachim at the Golden Gate, when they could gaze upon the two
homely figures under the narrow gateway. No visionary saints these,
but just a simple husband and wife, meeting each other with joy after a
sad separation, and yet with the touch of heavenly meaning shown by
the angel who hovers above and places a hand upon each head.
It was not only in Florence that Giotto did his work. His fame spread
far and wide, and he went from town to town eagerly welcomed by all.
We can trace his footsteps as he went, by those wonderful old pictures
which he spread with loving care over the bare walls of the churches,
lifting, as it were, the curtain that hides Heaven from our view and
bringing some of its joys to earth.
Then, at Assisi, he covered the walls and ceiling of the church with the
wonderful frescoes of the life of St. Francis; and the little round
commonplace Arena Chapel of Padua is made exquisite inside by his
pictures of the life of our Lord.
In the days when Giotto lived the towns of Italy were continually
quarrelling with one another, and there was always fighting going on
somewhere. The cities were built with a wall all round them, and the
gates were shut each night to keep out their enemies. But often the
fighting was between different families inside the city, and the grim old
palaces in the narrow streets were built tall and strong that they might
be the more easily defended.
In the midst of all this war and quarrelling Giotto lived his quiet,
peaceful life, the friend of every one and the enemy of none. Rival
towns sent for him to paint their churches with his heavenly pictures,
and the people who hated Florence forgot that he was a Florentine. He
was just Giotto, and he belonged to them all. His brush was the white
flag of truce which made men forget their strife and angry passions, and
turned their thoughts to holier things.
Even the great poet Dante did not scorn to be a friend of the peasant
painter, and we still have the portrait which Giotto painted of him in an
old fresco at Florence. Later on, when the great poet was a poor

unhappy exile, Giotto met him again at Padua and helped to cheer some
of those sad grey days, made so bitter by strife and injustice.
Now when Giotto was beginning to grow famous, it happened that the
Pope was anxious to have the walls of the great Cathedral of St. Peter
at Rome decorated. So he sent messengers all over Italy to find out who
were the best painters, that he might invite them to come and do the
work.
The messengers went from town to town and asked every artist for a
specimen of his painting. This was gladly given, for it was counted a
great honour to help to make St. Peter's beautiful.
By and by the messengers came to Giotto and told him their errand.
The Pope, they said, wished to see one of his drawings to judge if he
was fit for the great work. Giotto, who was always most courteous,
`took a sheet of paper and a pencil dipped in a red colour, then, resting
his elbow on his side, with one turn of the hand, he drew a circle so
perfect and exact that it was a marvel to behold.' `Here is your
drawing,' he said to the messenger, with a smile, handing him the
drawing.
`Am I to have nothing more than this?' asked the man, staring at the red
circle in astonishment and disgust.
`That is enough and to spare,' answered Giotto. `Send it with the rest.'
The messengers