"
"What do you advise me to do, Master Lactancio," the Marchioness then
said; "shall I put a question to M. Angelo about painting, as he now, in
order to prove to me that great men are justified in their ways and not
eccentric, may take measures like those he is accustomed to take?"
And Lactancio: "For your Excellency, Madam, M. Michael cannot help
constraining himself and giving out here that which it is well that he
keeps close elsewhere."
M. Angelo said: "I beg of your Excellency to tell me what I can give to
her and it shall be given."
And she, smiling: "I very much wish to know, as we are dealing with this
subject, what you think of the painting of Flanders and whom it will
satisfy, because it appears to me more devout than the Italian style."
"The painting of Flanders, Madam," answered the artist slowly, "will
generally satisfy any devout person more than the painting of Italy, which
will never cause him to drop a single tear, but that of Flanders will
cause him to shed many; this is not owing to the vigour and goodness of
that painting, but to the goodness of such devout person; women will like
it, especially very old ones, or very young ones. It will please likewise
friars and nuns, and also some noble persons who have no ear for true
harmony. They paint in Flanders, only to deceive the external eye, things
that gladden you and of which you cannot speak ill, and saints and
prophets. Their painting is of stuffs, bricks and mortar, the grass of the
fields, the shadows of trees, and bridges and rivers, which they call
landscapes, and little figures here and there; and all this, although it
may appear good to some eyes, is in truth done without reasonableness or
art, without symmetry or proportion, without care in selecting or
rejecting, and finally without any substance or verve, and in spite of all
this, painting in some other parts is worse than it is in Flanders.
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