and who isn't, to play his part; that the parts are distributed by the
author, whose purpose will be explained in proper time; and that when
his brother has been cast for a fool's part, he is no sage who would
persuade him to give it up. He is now going back to his paint-pot, and
will mind his own business in future.

By an easy transition, Mr. Browning turns the laugh against his own
critics, whom he professes to recognize on this May morning, as flocking
into his garden in the guise of sweeps. He does not, he says, grudge
them their fun or their one holiday of the year, the less so that their
rattling and drumming may give him some inkling how music sounds; and he
flings them, by way of a gift, the story he has just told, bidding them
dance, and "dust" his "jacket" for a little while. But that done, he
bids them clear off, lest his housemaid should compel them to do so. He
has her authority for suspecting that in their professional character
they bring more dirt into the house than they remove from it[92].


"FILIPPO BALDINUCCI" was the author of a history of art ("Notizie dei
Professori del Disegno da Cimabue in qua"); and the incident which Mr.
Browning relates as "a reminiscence of A.D. 1670," appears there in a
notice of the life of the painter Buti. (Vol. iii. p. 422.)

The Jewish burial ground in Florence was a small field at the foot of
the Monte Oliveto. A path ascending the hill skirted its upper end, and
at an angle of this stood a shrine with one side blank, the other
adorned by a painting of the Virgin Mary. The painting was intended to
catch the eye of all believers who approached from the neighbouring
city-gate (Porta San Friano or Frediano); and was therefore so turned
that it overlooked the Jewish cemetery at the same time. The Jews,