And fine as the beak of a young beccaccia
The Campanile, the Duomo's fit ally,
Soars up in gold its full fifty braccia,
Completing Florence, as Florence, Italy.
How really deplorable is all this! On what theory of art can it possibly
be defended? In all the fine arts alike--poetry, painting, sculpture,
music--the master works have this in common, that they please in the
highest degree the most cultivated, and to the widest extent the less
cultivated. _Lear_ and the _Divine Comedy_ exhaust the thinking of the
profoundest student, yet subdue to hushed and breathless attention the
illiterate minds that know not what study means. The "Last Judgment,"
the "Transfiguration," the "Niobe," and the "Dying Gladiator" excite
alike the intelligent rapture of artists, and the unintelligent
admiration of those to whom art and its principles are a sealed book.
Handel's _Israel in Egypt_--the wonder of the scientific musician in his
closet--yet sways to and fro, like a mighty wind upon the waters, the
hearts of assembled thousands at an Exeter Hall oratorio.
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