t forbidden ways, from the simple
thoughts of Angelico, the gay worldly laughter of Lippo Lippi. On that
strange adventurous journey of the soul he has discovered the modern
world, just our way of looking at things, as it were, with a sort of
gift for seeing in even the most simple things some new and subtle
meaning. And then, in that shadowy and yet so real kingdom in which, not
without a certain timidity, he has ventured so far, he has come upon the
very gods in exile, and for him Venus is born again from the foam of the
sea, and Mars sleeping in a valley will awake to find her beside him,
not as of old full of laughter, disdain, and joy; but half reconciled,
as it were, to sorrow, to that change which has come upon her so that
men now call her Mary, that name in which bitter and sweet are mingled
together. With how subtly pensive a mien she comes through the spring
woods here in the Primavera, her delicate hand lifted half in protest,
half in blessing of that gay and yet thoughtful company,--Flora, her
gown full of roses, Spring herself caught in the arms of Aeolus, the
Graces dancing a little wistfully together, where Mercurius touches
indifferently the unripe fruit with the tip of his caducaeus, and Amor
blindfold points his dart, yes almost like a prophecy of death.... What
is this scene that rises so strangely before our eyes, that are filled
with the paradise of Angelico, the heaven of Lippo Lippi. It is the new
heaven, the ancient and beloved earth, filled with spring and peopled
with those we have loved, beside whose altars long ago we have hushed
our voices. It is the dream of the Renaissance. The names we have given
these shadowy beautiful figures are but names, that Grace who looks so
longingly and sadly at Hermes is but the loveliest among the lovely,
though we call her Simonetta and him Giuliano. Here in the garden of the
world is Venus's pleasure-house, and there the gods in exile dream of
their holy thrones. Shall we forgive them, and forget that since our
hearts are changed they are changed also? They have looked from
Olympus upon Calvary; Dionysus, who has borne the youngest lamb on his
shoulders, has wandered alone in the wilderness and understood the
sorrow of the world; even that lovely, indifferent god has been
crucified, and she, Venus Aphrodite, has been born again, not from the
salt sea, but in the bitterness of her own tears, the tears of Madonna
Mary. It is thus Botticelli, with a rare and pers