,,knights ,,of ,,art ,,stories ,,of ,,the ,,italian ,,painters ,,by ,,amy ,,steedman ,,author ,,of ',,in ,,god',s ,,garden' ,,to ,,francesca ,,about ,,this ,,book ,what would we do without our picture-books1 ,i wonder8 ,before we knew how to read1 before even we could speak1 we had learned to love them4 ,we shouted with pleasure when we turned the pages and saw the spotted cow standing in the daisy-sprinkled meadow1 the foolish-looking old sheep with her gambolling lambs1 the wise dog with his friendly eyes4 ,they were all real friends to us4 ,then a little later on1 when we began to ask for stories about the pictures1 how we loved them more and more4 ,there was the little girl in the red cloak talking to the great grey wolf with the wicked eyes2 the cottage with the bright pink roses climbing round the lattice-window1 out of which jumped a little maid with golden hair1 followed by the great big bear1 the middle-sized bear1 and the tiny bear4 ,truly those stories were a great joy to us1 but we would never have loved them quite so much if we had not known their pictured faces as well4 ,do you ever wonder how all these pictures came to be made8 ,they had a beginning1 just as everything else had1 but the beginning goes so far back that we can scarcely trace it4 ,children have not always had picture-books to look at4 ,in the long-ago days such things were not known4 ,thousands of years ago1 far away in ,assyria1 the ,assyrian people learned to make pictures and to carve them out in stone4 ,in ,egypt1 too1 the ,egyptians traced pictures upon the walls of their temples and upon the painted mummy-cases of the dead4 ,then the ,greeks made still more beautiful statues and pictures in marble1 and called them gods and goddesses1 for all this was at a time when the true ,god was forgotten4 ,afterwards1 when ,christ had come and the people had learned that the pictured gods were not real1 they began to think it wicked to make beautiful pictures or carve marble statues4 ,the few pictures that were made were stiff and ugly1 the figures were not like real men and women1 the animals and trees were very strange-looking things4 ,and instead of making the sky blue as it really was1 they made it a chequered pattern of gold4 ,after a time it seemed as if the art of making pictures was going to die out altogether4 ,then came the time which is called ',the ,renaissance1' a word which means being born again1 or a new awakening1 when men began to draw real pictures of real things and fill the world with images of beauty4 ,now it is the stories of the men of that time1 who put new life into ,art1 that ,i am going to tell you--men who learned1 step by step1 to paint the most beautiful pictures that the world possesses4 ,in telling these stories ,i have been helped by an old book called ,the ,lives of the ,painters1 by ,giorgio ,vasari1 who was himself a painter4 ,he took great delight in gathering together all the stories about these artists and writing them down with loving care1 so that he shows us real living men1 and not merely great names by which the famous pictures are known4 ,it did not make much difference to us when we were little children whether our pictures were good or bad1 as long as the colours were bright and we knew what they meant4 ,but as we grow older and wiser our eyes grow wiser too1 and we learn to know what is good and what is poor4 ,only1 just as our tongues must be trained to speak1 our hands to work1 and our ears to love good music1 so our eyes must be taught to see what is beautiful1 or we may perhaps pass it carelessly by1 and lose a great joy which might be ours4 ,so now if you learn something about these great artists and their wonderful pictures1 it will help your eyes to grow wise4 ,and some day should you visit sunny ,italy1 where these men lived and worked1 you will feel that they are quite old friends4 ,their pictures will not only be a delight to your eyes1 but will teach your heart something deeper and more wonderful than any words can explain4 ,,amy ,,steedman ,,contents ,,giotto1 4 4 4 ,,born #abgf1 ,,died #accg ,,fra ,,angelico1 4 4 #achg1 #adff ,,masaccio1 4 4 4 #adja1 #adbh ,,fra ,,filippo ,,lippi14 4 #adab1 #adfi ,,sandro ,,botticelli14 4 #addf1 #afaj ,,domenico ,,ghirlandaio1 #addi1 #adid ,,filippino ,,lip 4 4 #adfg1 #afjd ,,pietro ,,perugino1 4 #addf1 #afbd ,,leonardo ,,da ,,vinci14 4 #adfb1 #afai ,,raphael1 4 4 4 #adhc1 #afbj ,,michelangelo1 4 4 #adgf1 #affd ,,andrea ,,del ,,sarto1 4 #adhg1 #afca ,,giovanni ,,bellini1 4 #adbf1 #afaf ,,vittore ,,carpaccio14 4 #adgj8 #afai ,,giorgione1 4 4 #adgg8 #afaj ,,titian1 4 4 4 #adgg1 #afgf ,,tintoretto1 4 4 #affb1 #afcg ,,paul ,,veronese1 4 4 #afbh1 #afhh ,,list ,,of ,,pictures ,,in ,,colour ,,the ,,release ,,of ,,st4 ,,peter4 ,,by ,,filippo ,,lippi1 ',the tall angel in flowing white robes gently leads ,st4 ,peter out of prison1' ,church of the ,carmine1 ,florence4 ,,the ,,visit ,,of ,,the ,,magi4 ,,by ,,giotto1 ',the little ,baby ,jesus sitting on ,his ,mother's knee1' ,academia1 ,florence4 ,,the ,,meeting ,,of ,,anna ,,and ,,joachim4 ,,by ,,giotto1 ',two homely figures outside the narrow gateway1' ,sta4 ,maria ,novella1 ,florence4 ,,the ,,annunciation4 ,,by ,,fra ,,angelico1 ',the gentle ,virgin bending before the ,angel messenger1' ,s4 ,marco1 ,florence4 ,,the ,,flight ,,into ,,egypt4 ,,by ,,fra ,,angelico1 ',the ,madonna in her robe of purest blue holding the ,baby close in her arms1' ,academia1 ,florence4 ,,the ,,annunciation4 ,,by ,,filippo ,,lippi1 ',the ,madonna with the dove fluttering near1 and the ,angel messenger bearing the lily branch1' ,academia ,florence4 ,,the ,,nativity4 ,,by ,,filippo ,,lippi1 ',his ,madonnas grew ever more beautiful1' ,academia1 ,florence4 ,,the ,,angel4 ,,by ,,botticelli1 ,,tobias ,,and ,,the ,,angel4 ',his figures seemed to move as if to the rhythm of music1' ,academia1 ,florence4 ,,st4 ,,peter ,,in ,,prison4 ,,by ,,filippo ,,lippi1 ',the sad face of ,st4 ,peter looks out through the prison bars1' ,church of the ,carmine1 ,florence4 ,,two ,,saints4 ,,by ,,perugino1 ,,the ,,fresco ,,of ,,the ,,crucifixion4 ',beyond was the blue thread of river and the single trees pointing upwards1' ,sta4 ,maddalena de ,pazzi1 ,florence4 ,,two ,,saints4 ,,by ,,perugino1 ,,the ,,fresco ,,of ,,the ,,crucifixion4 ',quiet dignified saints and spacious landscapes1' ,sta4 ,maddalena de ,pazzi1 ,florence4 ,,st4 ,,james4 ,,by ,,andrea ,,del ,,sarto4 ',the kind strong hand of the saint is placed lovingly beneath the little chin1' ,uffizi ,gallery1 ,florence4 ,,cherub4 ,,by ,,giov4 ,,bellini1 ',giovanni's angels are little human boys with grave sweet faces1' ,church of the ,frari1 ,venice4 ,,st4 ,,tryphonius ,,and ,,the ,,basilisk4 ,,by ,,carpaccio1 ',the little boy saint has folded his hands together and looks upward in prayer1' ,s4 ,giorgio ,schiavari1 ,venice4 ,,the ,,little ,,virgin4 ,,by ,,titian1 ',the little maid is all alone1' ,academia1 ,venice4 ,,the ,,little ,,st4 ,,john4 ,,by ,,veronese1 ,,the ,,madonna ,,enthroned4 ',the little ,st4 ,john with the skin thrown over his bare shoulder and the cross in his hand1' ,academia1 ,florence4 ,,in ,,monochrome ,,relief ,,in ,,marble ,,by ,,giotto1 ',the shepherd sitting under his tent1 with the sheep in front1' ,campanile1 ,florence4 ,,drawing ,,by ,,masaccio1 ',his models were ordinary ,florentine youths1' ,uffizi ,gallery1 ,florence4 ,,drawing ,,by ,,ghirlandaio1 ',the men of the market-place1' ,uffizi ,gallery1 ,florence4 ,,drawing ,,by ,,leonardo ,,da ,,vinci1 ',he loved to draw strange monsters1' ,uffizi ,gallery1 ,florence4 ,,drawing ,,by ,,raphael1 ',round-limbed rosy children1 half human1 half divine1' ,uffizi ,gallery1 ,florence4 ,,drawing ,,by ,,michelangelo1 ',a terrible head of a furious old man1' ,uffizi ,gallery1 ,florence4 ,,drawing ,,by ,,giorgione1 ',a man in ,venetian dress helping two women to mount one of the niches of a marble palace1' ,uffizi ,gallery1 ,florence4 ,,drawing ,,by ,,tintoretto1 ',the head of a ,venetian boy1 such as ,tintoretto met daily among the fisher-folk of ,venice1' ,uffizi ,gallery1 ,florence4 ,,giotto ,it was more than six hundred years ago that a little peasant baby was born in the small village of ,vespignano1 not far from the beautiful city of ,florence1 in ,italy4 ,the baby's father1 an honest1 hard-working countryman1 was called ,bondone1 and the name he gave to his little son was ,giotto4 ,life was rough and hard in that country home1 but the peasant baby grew into a strong1 hardy boy1 learning early what cold and hunger meant4 ,the hills which surrounded the village were grey and bare1 save where the silver of the olive-trees shone in the sunlight1 or the tender green of the shooting corn made the valley beautiful in early spring4 ,in summer there was little shade from the blazing sun as it rode high in the blue sky1 and the grass which grew among the grey rocks was often burnt and brown4 ,but1 nevertheless1 it was here that the sheep of the village would be turned out to find what food they could1 tended and watched by one of the village boys4 ,so it happened that when ,giotto was ten years old his father sent him to take care of the sheep upon the hillside4 ,country boys had then no schools to go to or lessons to learn1 and ,giotto spent long happy days1 in sunshine and rain1 as he followed the sheep from place to place1 wherever they could find grass enough to feed on4 ,but ,giotto did something else besides watching his sheep4 ,indeed1 he sometimes forgot all about them1 and many a search he had to gather them all together again4 ,for there was one thing he loved doing better than all beside1 and that was to try to draw pictures of all the things he saw around him4 ,it was no easy matter for the little shepherd lad4 ,he had no pencils or paper1 and he had never1 perhaps1 seen a picture in all his life4 ,but all this mattered little to him4 ,out there1 under the blue sky1 his eyes made pictures for him out of the fleecy white clouds as they slowly changed from one form to another4 ,he learned to know exactly the shape of every flower and how it grew2 he noticed how the olive-trees laid their silver leaves against the blue background of the sky that peeped in between1 and how his sheep looked as they stooped to eat1 or lay down in the shadow of a rock4 ,nothing escaped his keen1 watchful eyes1 and then with eager hands he would sharpen a piece of stone1 choose out the smoothest rock1 and try to draw on its flat surface all those wonderful shapes which had filled his eyes with their beauty4 ,olive-trees1 flowers1 birds and beasts were there1 but especially his sheep1 for they were his friends and companions who were always near him1 and he could draw them in a different way each time they moved4 ,now it fell out that one day a great master painter from ,florence came riding through the valley and over the hills where ,giotto was feeding his sheep4 ,the name of the great master was ,cimabue1 and he was the most wonderful artist in the world1 so men said4 ,he had painted a picture which had made all ,florence rejoice4 ,the ,florentines had never seen anything like it before1 and yet it was but a strange-looking portrait of the ,madonna and ,child1 scarcely like a real woman or a real baby at all4 ,still1 it seemed to them a perfect wonder1 and ,cimabue was honoured as one of the city's greatest men4 ,the road was lonely as it wound along4 ,there was nothing to be seen but waves of grey hills on every side1 so the stranger rode on1 scarcely lifting his eyes as he went4 ,then suddenly he came upon a flock of sheep nibbling the scanty sunburnt grass1 and a little brown-faced shepherd-boy gave him a cheerful ',good-day1 master4' ,there was something so bright and merry in the boy's smile that the great man stopped and began to talk to him4 ,then his eye fell upon the smooth flat rock over which the boy had been bending1 and he started with surprise4 ',who did that8' he asked quickly1 and he pointed to the outline of a sheep scratched upon the stone4 ',it is the picture of one of my sheep there1' answered the boy1 hanging his head with a shame-faced look4 ',i drew it with this1' and he held out towards the stranger the sharp stone he had been using4 ',who taught you to do this8' asked the master as he looked more carefully at the lines drawn on the rock4 ,the boy opened his eyes wide with astonishment ',nobody taught me1 master1' he said4 ',i only try to draw the things that my eyes see4' ',how would you like to come with me to ,florence and learn to be a painter8' asked ,cimabue1 for he saw that the boy had a wonderful power in his little rough hands4 ,giotto's cheeks flushed1 and his eyes shone with joy4 ',indeed1 master1 ,i would come most willingly1' he cried1 'if only my father will allow it4' ,so back they went together to the village1 but not before ,giotto had carefully put his sheep into the fold1 for he was never one to leave his work half done4 ,bondone was amazed to see his boy in company with such a grand stranger1 but he was still more surprised when he heard of the stranger's offer4 ,it seemed a golden chance1 and he gladly gave his consent4 ,why1 of course1 the boy should go to ,florence if the gracious master would take him and teach him to become a painter4 ,the home would be lonely without the boy who was so full of fun and as bright as a sunbeam4 ,but such chances were not to be met with every day1 and he was more than willing to let him go4 ,so the master set out1 and the boy ,giotto went with him to ,florence to begin his training4 ,the studio where ,cimabue worked was not at all like those artists' rooms which we now call studios4 ,it was much more like a workshop1 and the boys who went there to learn how to draw and paint were taught first how to grind and prepare the colours and then to mix them4 ,they were not allowed to touch a brush or pencil for a long time1 but only to watch their master at work1 and learn all that they could from what they saw him do4 ,so there the boy ,giotto worked and watched1 but when his turn came to use the brush1 to the amazement of all1 his pictures were quite unlike anything which had ever been painted before in the workshop4 ,instead of copying the stiff1 unreal figures1 he drew real people1 real animals1 and all the things which he had learned to know so well on the grey hillside1 when he watched his father's sheep4 ,other artists had painted the ,madonna and ,infant ,christ1 but ,giotto painted a mother and a baby4 ,and before long this worked such a wonderful change that it seemed indeed as if the art of making pictures had been born again4 ,to us his work still looks stiff and strange1 but in it was the beginning of all the beautiful pictures that belong to us now4 ,giotto did not only paint pictures1 he worked in marble as well4 ,to-day1 if you walk through ,florence1 the ,city of ,flowers1 you will still see its fairest flower of all1 the tall white campanile or bell-tower1 ',giotto's tower' as it is called4 ,there it stands in all its grace and loveliness like a tall white lily against the blue sky1 pointing ever upward1 in the grand old faith of the shepherd-boy4 ,day after day it calls to prayer and to good works1 as it has done all these hundreds of years since ,giotto designed and helped to build it4 ,some people call his pictures stiff and ugly1 for not every one has wise eyes to see their beauty1 but the loveliness of this tower can easily be seen by all4 ',there the white doves circle round and round1 and rest in the sheltering niches of the delicately carved arches2 there at the call of its bell the black-robed ,brothers of ,pity hurry past to their works of mercy4 ,there too the little children play1 and sometimes stop to stare at the marble pictures1 set in the first story of the tower1 low enough to be seen from the street4 ,their special favourite is perhaps the picture of the shepherd sitting under his tent1 with the sheep in front1 and with the funniest little dog keeping watch at the side4 ,giotto always had a great love for animals1 and whenever it was possible he would squeeze one into a corner of his pictures4 ,he was sixty years old when he designed this wonderful tower and cut some of the marble pictures with his own hand1 but you can see that the memory of those old days when he ran barefoot about the hills and tended his sheep was with him still4 ,just such another little puppy must have often played with him in those long-ago days before he became a great painter and was still only a merry1 brown-faced boy1 making pictures with a sharp stone upon the smooth rocks4 ,up and down the narrow streets of ,florence now1 the great painter would walk and watch the faces of the people as they passed4 ,and his eyes would still make pictures of them and their busy life1 just as they used to do with the olive-trees1 the sheep1 and the clouds4 ,in those days nobody cared to have pictures in their houses1 and only the walls of the churches were painted4 ,so the pictures1 or frescoes1 as they were called1 were of course all about sacred subjects1 either stories out of the ,bible or of the lives of the saints4 ,and as there were few books1 and the poor people did not know how to read1 these frescoed walls were the only story-books they had4 ,what a joy those pictures of ,giotto's must have been1 then1 to those poor folk6 ,they looked at the little ,baby ,jesus sitting on ,his mother's knee1 wrapped in swaddling bands1 just like one of their own little ones1 and it made ,him seem a very real baby4 ,the wise men who talked together and pointed to the shining star overhead looked just like any of the great nobles of ,florence4 ,and there at the back were the two horses looking on with wise interested eyes1 just as any of their own horses might have done4 ,it seemed to make the story of ,christmas a thing which had really happened1 instead of a far-away tale which had little meaning for them4 ,heaven and the ,madonna were not so far off after all4 ,and it comforted them to think that the ,madonna had been a real woman like themselves1 and that the ,jesu ,bambino would stoop to bless them still1 just as ,he leaned forward to bless the wise men in the picture4 ,how real too would seem the old story of the meeting of ,anna and ,joachim at the ,golden ,gate1 when they could gaze upon the two homely figures under the narrow gateway4 ,no visionary saints these1 but just a simple husband and wife1 meeting each other with joy after a sad separation1 and yet with the touch of heavenly meaning shown by the angel who hovers above and places a hand upon each head4 ,it was not only in ,florence that ,giotto did his work4 ,his fame spread far and wide1 and he went from town to town eagerly welcomed by all4 ,we can trace his footsteps as he went1 by those wonderful old pictures which he spread with loving care over the bare walls of the churches1 lifting1 as it were1 the curtain that hides ,heaven from our view and bringing some of its joys to earth4 ,then1 at ,assisi1 he covered the walls and ceiling of the church with the wonderful frescoes of the life of ,st4 ,francis2 and the little round commonplace ,arena ,chapel of ,padua is made exquisite inside by his pictures of the life of our ,lord4 ,in the days when ,giotto lived the towns of ,italy were continually quarrelling with one another1 and there was always fighting going on somewhere4 ,the cities were built with a wall all round them1 and the gates were shut each night to keep out their enemies4 ,but often the fighting was between different families inside the city1 and the grim old palaces in the narrow streets were built tall and strong that they might be the more easily defended4 ,in the midst of all this war and quarrelling ,giotto lived his quiet1 peaceful life1 the friend of every one and the enemy of none4 ,rival towns sent for him to paint their churches with his heavenly pictures1 and the people who hated ,florence forgot that he was a ,florentine4 ,he was just ,giotto1 and he belonged to them all4 ,his brush was the white flag of truce which made men forget their strife and angry passions1 and turned their thoughts to holier things4 ,even the great poet ,dante did not scorn to be a friend of the peasant painter1 and we still have the portrait which ,giotto painted of him in an old fresco at ,florence4 ,later on1 when the great poet was a poor unhappy exile1 ,giotto met him again at ,padua and helped to cheer some of those sad grey days1 made so bitter by strife and injustice4 ,now when ,giotto was beginning to grow famous1 it happened that the ,pope was anxious to have the walls of the great ,cathedral of ,st4 ,peter at ,rome decorated4 ,so he sent messengers all over ,italy to find out who were the best painters1 that he might invite them to come and do the work4 ,the messengers went from town to town and asked every artist for a specimen of his painting4 ,this was gladly given1 for it was counted a great honour to help to make ,st4 ,peter's beautiful4 ,by and by the messengers came to ,giotto and told him their errand4 ,the ,pope1 they said1 wished to see one of his drawings to judge if he was fit for the great work4 ,giotto1 who was always most courteous1 'took a sheet of paper and a pencil dipped in a red colour1 then1 resting his elbow on his side1 with one turn of the hand1 he drew a circle so perfect and exact that it was a marvel to behold4' ',here is your drawing1' he said to the messenger1 with a smile1 handing him the drawing4 ',am ,i to have nothing more than this8' asked the man1 staring at the red circle in astonishment and disgust4 ',that is enough and to spare1' answered ,giotto4 ',send it with the rest4' ,the messengers thought this must all be a joke4 ',how foolish we shall look if we take only a round ,o to show his ,holiness1' they said4 ,but they could get nothing else from ,giotto1 so they were obliged to be content and to send it with the other drawings1 taking care to explain just how it was done4 ,the ,pope and his advisers looked carefully over all the drawings1 and1 when they came to that round ,o1 they knew that only a master-hand could have made such a perfect circle without the help of a compass4 ,without a moment's hesitation they decided that ,giotto was the man they wanted1 and they at once invited him to come to ,rome to decorate the cathedral walls4 ,so when the story was known the people became prouder than ever of their great painter1 and the round ,o of ,giotto has become a proverb to this day in ,tuscany4 ',round as the ,o of ,giotto1 d' ye see2 ,which means as well done as a thing can be4' ,later on1 when ,giotto was at ,naples1 he was painting in the palace chapel one very hot day1 when the king came in to watch him at his work4 ,it really was almost too hot to move1 and yet ,giotto painted away busily4 ',giotto1' said the king1 'if ,i were in thy place ,i would give up painting for a while and take my rest1 now that it is so hot4' ',and1 indeed1 so ,i would most certainly do1' answered ,giotto1 'if ,i were in your place1 your ,majesty4' ,it was these quick answers and his merry smile that charmed every one1 and made the painter a favourite with rich and poor alike4 ,there are a great many stories told of him1 and they all show what a sunny-tempered1 kindly man he was4 ,it is said that one day he was standing in one of the narrow streets of ,florence talking very earnestly to a friend1 when a pig came running down the road in a great hurry4 ,it did not stop to look where it was going1 but ran right between the painter's legs and knocked him flat on his back1 putting an end to his learned talk4 ,giotto scrambled to his feet with a rueful smile1 and shook his finger at the pig which was fast disappearing in the distance4 ',ah1 well6' he said1 ',i suppose thou hadst as much right to the road as ,i had4 ,besides1 how many gold pieces ,i have earned by the help of thy bristles1 and never have ,i given any of thy family even a drop of soup in payment4' ,another time he went riding with a very learned lawyer into the country to look after his property4 ,for when ,bondone died1 he left all his fields and his farm to his painter son4 ,very soon a storm came on1 and the rain poured down as if it never meant to stop4 ',let us seek shelter in this farmhouse and borrow a cloak1' suggested ,giotto4 ,so they went in and borrowed two old cloaks from the farmer1 and wrapped themselves up from head to foot4 ,then they mounted their horses and rode back together to ,florence4 ,presently the lawyer turned to look at ,giotto1 and immediately burst into a loud laugh4 ,the rain was running from the painter's cap1 he was splashed with mud1 and the old cloak made him look like a very forlorn beggar4 ',dost think if any one met thee now1 they would believe that thou art the best painter in the world8' laughed the lawyer4 ,giotto's eyes twinkled as he looked at the funny figure riding beside him1 for the lawyer was very small1 and had a crooked back1 and rolled up in the old cloak he looked like a bundle of rags4 ',yes6' he answered quickly1 'any one would certainly believe ,i was a great painter1 if he could but first persuade himself that thou dost know thy ,a ,b ,c4' ,in all these stories we catch glimpses of the good-natured kindly painter1 with his love of jokes1 and his own ready answers1 and all the time we must remember that he was filling the world with beauty1 which it still treasures to-day1 helping to sow the seeds of that great tree of ,art which was to blossom so gloriously in later years4 ,and when he had finished his earthly work it was in his own cathedral1 ',st4 ,mary of the ,flowers1' that they laid him to rest1 while the people mourned him as a good friend as well as a great painter4 ,there he lies in the shadow of his lily tower1 whose slender grace and delicate-tinted marbles keep his memory ever fresh in his beautiful city of ,florence4 ,,fra ,,angelico ,nearly a hundred years had passed by since ,giotto lived and worked in ,florence1 and in the same hilly country where he used to tend his sheep another great painter was born4 ,many other artists had come and gone1 and had added their golden links of beauty to the chain of ,art which bound these years together4 ,some day you will learn to know all their names and what they did4 ,but now we will only single out1 here and there1 a few of those names which are perhaps greater than the rest4 ,just as on a clear night1 when we look up into the starlit sky1 it would bewilder us to try and remember all the stars1 so we learn first to know those that are most easily recognised--the ,plough1 or the ,great ,bear1 as they shine with a clear steady light against the background of a thousand lesser stars4 ,the name by which this second great painter is known is ,fra ,angelico1 but that was only the name he earned in later years4 ,his baby name was ,guido1 and his home was in a village close to where ,giotto was born4 ,he was not a poor boy1 and did not need to work in the fields or tend the sheep on the hillside4 ,indeed1 he might have soon become rich and famous1 for his wonderful talent for painting would have quickly brought him honours and wealth if he had gone out into the world4 ,but instead of this1 when he was a young man of twenty he made up his mind to enter the convent at ,fiesole1 and to become a monk of the ,order of ,saint ,dominic4 ,every brother1 or frate1 as he is called1 who leaves the world and enters the life of the convent is given a new name1 and his old name is never used again4 ,so young ,guido was called ,fra ,giovanni1 or ,brother ,john4 ,but it is not by that name that he is known best1 but that of ,fra ,angelico1 or the angelic brother--a name which was given him afterwards because of his pure and beautiful life1 and the heavenly pictures which he painted4 ,with all his great gifts in his hands1 with all the years of youth and pleasure stretching out green and fair before him1 he said good-bye to earthly joys1 and chose rather to serve his ,master ,christ in the way he thought was right4 ,the monks of ,st4 ,dominic were the great preachers of those days--men who tried to make the world better by telling people what they ought to do1 and teaching them how to live honest and good lives4 ,but there are other ways of teaching people besides preaching1 and the young monk who spent his time bending over the illuminated prayer-book1 seeing with his dreamy eyes visions of saints and white-robed angels1 was preparing to be a greater teacher than them all4 ,the words of the preacher monks have passed away1 and the world pays little heed to them now1 but the teaching of ,fra ,angelico1 the silent lessons of his wonderful pictures1 are as fresh and clear to-day as they were in those far-off years4 ,great trouble was in store for the monks of the little convent at ,fiesole1 which ,fra ,angelico and his brother ,benedetto had entered4 ,fierce struggles were going on in ,italy between different religious parties1 and at one time the little band of preaching monks were obliged to leave their peaceful home at ,fiesole to seek shelter in other towns4 ,but1 as it turned out1 this was good fortune for the young painter-monk1 for in those hill towns of ,umbria where the brothers sought refuge there were pictures to be studied which delighted his eyes with their beauty1 and taught him many a lesson which he could never have learned on the quiet slopes of ,fiesole4 ,the hill towns of ,italy are very much the same to-day as they were in those days4 ,long winding roads lead upwards from the plain below to the city gates1 and there on the summit of the hill the little town is built4 ,the tall white houses cluster close together1 and the overhanging eaves seem almost to meet across the narrow paved streets1 and always there is the great square1 with the church the centre of all4 ,it would be almost a day's journey to follow the white road that leads down from ,perugia across the plain to the little hill town of ,assisi1 and many a spring morning saw the painter-monk setting out on the convent donkey before sunrise and returning when the sun had set4 ,he would thread his way up between the olive-trees until he reached the city gates1 and pass into the little town without hindrance4 ,for the followers of ,st4 ,francis in their brown robes would be glad to welcome a stranger monk1 though his black robe showed that he belonged to a different order4 ,any one who came to see the glory of their city1 the church where their saint lay1 which ,giotto had covered with his wonderful pictures1 was never refused admittance4 ,how often then must ,fra ,angelico have knelt in the dim light of that lower church of ,assisi1 learning his lesson on his knees1 as was ever his habit4 ,then home again he would wend his way1 his eyes filled with visions of those beautiful pictures1 and his hand longing for the pencil and brush1 that he might add new beauty to his own work from what he had learned4 ,several years passed by1 and at last the brothers were allowed to return to their convent home of ,san ,dominico at ,fiesole1 and there they lived peaceably for a long time4 ,we cannot tell exactly what pictures our painter-monk painted during those peaceful years1 but we know he must have been looking out with wise1 seeing eyes1 drinking in all the beauty that was spread around him4 ,at his feet lay ,florence1 with its towers and palaces1 the ,arno running through it like a silver thread1 and beyond1 the purple of the ,tuscan hills4 ,all around on the sheltered hillside were green vines and fruit-trees1 olives and cypresses1 fields flaming in spring with scarlet anemones or golden with great yellow tulips1 and hedges of rose-bushes covered with clusters of pink blossoms4 ,no wonder1 then1 such beauty sunk into his heart1 and we see in his pictures the pure fresh colour of the spring flowers1 with no shadow of dark or evil things4 ,soon the fame of the painter began to be whispered outside the convent walls1 and reached the ears of ,cosimo da ,medici1 one of the powerful rulers of ,florence4 ,he offered the monks a new home1 and1 when they were settled in the convent of ,san ,marco in ,florence1 he invited ,fra ,angelico to fresco the walls4 ,one by one the heavenly pictures were painted upon the walls of the cells and cloister of the new home4 ,how the brothers must have crowded round to see each new fresco as it was finished1 and how anxious they would be to see which picture was to be near their own particular bed4 ,in all the frescoes1 whether he painted the gentle ,virgin bending before the angel messenger1 or tried to show the glory of the ascended ,lord1 the artist-monk would always introduce one or more of the convent's special saints1 which made the brothers feel that the pictures were their very own4 ,fra ,angelico had a kind word and smile for all the brothers4 ,he was never impatient1 and no one ever saw him angry1 for he was as humble and gentle as the saints whose pictures he loved to paint4 ,it is told of him1 too1 that he never took a brush or pencil in his hand without a prayer that his work might be to the glory of ,god4 ,often when he painted the sufferings of our ,lord1 the tears would be seen running down his cheeks and almost blinding his eyes4 ,there is an old legend which tells of a certain monk who1 when he was busily illuminating a page of his missal1 was called away to do some service for the poor4 ,he went unwillingly1 the legend says1 for he longed to put the last touches to the holy picture he was painting2 but when he returned1 lo6 he found his work finished by angel hands4 ,often when we look at some of ,fra ,angelico's pictures we are reminded of this legend1 and feel that he too might have been helped by those same angel hands4 ,did they indeed touch his eyes that he might catch glimpses of a ,heaven where saints were swinging their golden censers1 and white-robed angels danced in the flowery meadows of ,paradise8 ,we cannot tell2 but this we know1 that no other painter has ever shown us such a glory of heavenly things4 ,best of all1 the angel-painter loved to paint pictures of the life of our ,lord2 and in the picture ,i have shown you1 you will see the tender care with which he has drawn the head of the ,infant ,jesus with ,his little golden halo1 the ,madonna in her robe of purest blue1 holding the ,baby close in her arms1 ,st4 ,joseph the guardian walking at the side1 and all around the flowers and trees which he loved so well in the quiet home of ,fiesole4 ,he did not care for fame or power1 this dreamy painter of angels1 and when the ,pope invited him to ,rome to paint the walls of a chapel there1 he thought no more of the glory and honour than if he was but called upon to paint another cell at ,san ,marco4 ,but when the ,pope had seen what this quiet monk could do1 he called the artist to him4 ',a man who can paint such pictures1' he said1 'must be a good man1 and one who will do well whatever he undertakes4 ,will you1 then1 do other work for me1 and become my ,archbishop at ,florence8' ,but the painter was startled and dismayed4 ',i cannot teach or preach or govern men1' he said1 ',i can but use my gift of painting for the glory of ,god4 ,let me rather be as ,i am1 for it is safer to obey than to rule4' ,but though he would not take this honour himself1 he told the ,pope of a friend of his1 a humble brother1 ,fra ,antonino1 at the convent of ,san ,marco1 who was well fitted to do the work4 ,so the ,pope took the painter's advice1 and the choice was so wise and good1 that to this day the ,florentine people talk lovingly of their good bishop ,antonino4 ,it was while he was at work in ,rome that ,fra ,angelico died1 so his body does not rest in his own beloved ,florence4 ,but if his body lies in ,rome1 his gentle spirit still seems to hover around the old convent of ,san ,marco1 and there we learn to know and love him best4 ,little wonder that in after ages they looked upon him almost as a saint1 and gave him the title of ',beato1' or the blessed angel-painter4 ,,masaccio ,it must have been about the same time when ,fra ,angelico was covering the walls of ,san ,marco with his angel pictures1 that a very different kind of painter was working in the ,carmine church in ,florence4 ,this was no gentle1 refined monk1 but just an ordinary man of the world--an awkward1 good-natured person1 who1 as long as he had pictures to paint1 cared for little else4 ,why1 he would even forget to ask for payment when his work was done2 and as to taking care of his clothes1 or trying to keep himself tidy1 that was a thing he never thought of6 ,what trouble his mother must have had with him when he was a boy6 ,it was no use sending him on an errand1 he would forget it before he had gone a hundred yards1 and he was so careless and untidy that it was enough to make any one lose patience with him4 ,but only let him have a pencil and a smooth surface on which to draw1 and he was a different boy4 ,it is said that even now1 in the little town of ,castello ,san ,giovanni1 some eighteen miles from ,florence1 where ,tommaso was born1 there are still some wonderfully good figures to be seen1 drawn by him when he was quite a little boy4 ,certainly there was no carelessness and nothing untidy about his work4 ,as the boy grew older all his longings would turn towards ,florence1 the beautiful city where there was everything to learn and to see1 and so he was sent to become a pupil in the studio of ,masolino1 a great ,florentine painter4 ,but though his drawings improved1 his careless habits continued the same4 ',there goes ,tommaso the painter1' the people would say1 watching the big awkward figure passing through the streets on his way to work4 ',truly he pays but little heed to his appearance4 ,look but at his untidy hair and the holes in his boots4' ',ay1 indeed6' another would answer2 'and yet it is said if only people paid him all they owed he would have gold enough and to spare4 ,but what cares he so long as he has his paints and brushes8 ,masaccio would be a fitter name for him than ,tommaso4' ,so the name ,masaccio1 or ,ugly ,tom1 came to be that by which the big awkward painter was known4 ,but no one thinks of the unkind meaning of the nickname now1 for ,masaccio is honoured as one of the great names in the history of ,art4 ,this painter1 careless of many things1 cared with all his heart and soul for the work he had chosen to do4 ,it seemed to him that painters had always failed to make their pictures like living things4 ,the pictures they painted were flat1 not round as a figure should be1 and very often the feet did not look as if they were standing on the ground at all1 but pointed downwards as if they were hanging in the air4 ,so he worked with light and shadow and careful drawing until the figures he drew looked rounded instead of flat1 and their feet were planted firmly on the ground4 ,his models were taken from the ordinary ,florentine youths whom he saw daily in the studio1 but he drew them as no one had drawn figures before4 ,the buildings1 too1 he made to look like real houses leading away into the distance1 and not just like a flat picture4 ,he painted many frescoes both in ,florence and ,rome1 this ,ugly ,tom1 but at the time the people did not pay him much honour1 for they thought him just a great awkward fellow with his head always in the clouds4 ,perhaps if he had lived longer fame and wealth would have come to him1 but he died when he was still a young man1 and only a few realised how great he was4 ,but in after years1 one by one1 all the great artists would come to that little chapel of the ,carmine there to learn their first lessons from those life-like figures4 ,especially they would stand before the fresco which shows ,st4 ,peter baptizing a crowd of people4 ,and in that fresco they would study more than all the figure of a boy who has just come out of the water1 shivering with cold1 the most natural figure that had ever been painted up to that time4 ,all things must be learnt little by little1 and each new thing we know is a step onwards4 ,so this figure of the shivering boy marks a higher step of the golden ladder of ,art than any that had been touched before4 ,and this alone would have made the name of ,masaccio worthy to be placed upon the list of world's great painters4 ,,fra ,,filippo ,,lippi ,it was winter time in ,florence4 ,the tramontana1 that keen wind which blows from over the snow mountains1 was sweeping down the narrow streets1 searching out every nook and corner with its icy breath4 ,men flung their cloaks closer round them1 and pulled their hats down over their eyes1 so that only the tips of their noses were left uncovered for the wind to freeze4 ,women held their scaldinoes1 little pots of hot charcoal1 closer under their shawls1 and even the dogs had a sad1 half-frozen look4 ,one and all longed for the warm winds of spring and the summer heat they loved4 ,it was bad enough for those who had warm clothes and plenty of polenta1 but for the poor life was very hard those cold wintry days4 ,in a doorway of a great house1 in one of the narrow streets1 a little boy of eight was crouching behind one of the stone pillars as he tried to keep out of the grip of the tramontana4 ,his little coat was folded closely round him1 but it was full of rents and holes so that the thin body inside was scarcely covered1 and the child's blue lips trembled with the cold1 and his black eyes filled with tears4 ,it was not often that ,filippo turned such a sad little face to meet the world4 ,usually those black eyes sparkled with fun and mischief1 and the mouth spread itself into a merry grin4 ,but to-day1 truly things were worse than he ever remembered them before1 and he could remember fairly bad times1 too1 if he tried4 ,other children had their fathers and mothers who gave them food and clothes1 but he seemed to be quite different1 and never had had any one to care for him4 ,true1 there was his aunt1 old ,mona ,lapaccia1 who said he had once had a father and mother like other boys1 but she always added with a mournful shake of her head that she alone had endured all the trouble and worry of bringing him up since he was two years old4 ',ah1' she would say1 turning her eyes upwards1 'the saints alone know what ,i have endured with a great hungry boy to feed and clothe4' ,it seemed to ,filippo that in that case the saints must also know how very little he had to eat1 and how cold he was on these wintry days4 ,but of course they would be too grand to care about a little boy4 ,in summer things were different4 ,one could roll merrily about in the sunshine all day long1 and at night sleep in some cool sheltering corner of the street4 ,and then1 too1 there was always a better chance of picking up something to eat4 ,plenty of fig skins and melon parings were flung carelessly out into the street when fruit was plentiful1 and people would often throw away the remains of a bunch of grapes4 ,it was wonderful how quickly ,filippo learned to know people's faces1 and to guess who would finish to the last grape and who would throw the smaller ones away4 ,some would even smile as they caught his anxious1 waiting eye fixed on the fruit1 and would cry ',catch' as they threw a goodly bunch into those small brown hands that never let anything slip through their fingers4 ,oh1 yes1 summer was all right1 but there was always winter to face4 ,to-day he was so very hungry1 and the lupin skins which he had collected for his breakfast were all eaten long ago4 ,he had hung about the little open shops1 sniffing up the delicious smell of fried polenta1 but no one had given him a morsel4 ,all he had got was a stern 'be off' when he ventured too close to the tempting food4 ,if only this day had been a festa1 he might have done well enough4 ,for in the great processions when the priests and people carried their lighted candles round the church1 he could always dart in and out with his little iron scraper1 lift the melted wax of the marble floor and sell it over again to the candlemakers4 ,but there were no processions to-day1 and there remained only one thing to be done4 ,he must go home and see if ,mona ,lapaccia had anything to spare4 ,perhaps the saints took notice when he was hungry4 ,down the street he ran1 keeping close to the wall1 just as the dogs do when it rains4 ,for the great overhanging eaves of the houses act as a sheltering umbrella4 ,then out into the broad street that runs beside the river1 where1 even in winter1 the sun shines warmly if it shines anywhere4 ,filippo paused at the corner of the ,ponte alla ,carraja to watch the struggles of a poor mule which was trying to pull a huge cartload of wood up the steep incline of the bridge4 ,it was so exciting that for a moment he forgot how cold and hungry he was1 as he shouted and screamed directions with the rest of the crowd1 darted in and out in his eagerness to help1 and only got into every one's way4 ,that excitement over1 ,filippo felt in better spirits and ran quickly across the bridge4 ,he soon threaded his way to a poor street that led towards one of the city gates1 where everything looked dirtier and more cheerless than ever4 ,he had not expected a welcome1 and he certainly did not get one1 as1 after climbing the steep stairs1 he cautiously pushed open the door and peeped in4 ,his aunt's thin face looked dark and angry4 ,poor soul1 she had had no breakfast either1 and there would be no food that day unless her work was finished4 ,and here was this troublesome boy back again1 when she thought she had got rid of him for the day4 ',away6' she shouted crossly4 ',what dost thou mean by coming back so soon8 ,away1 and seek thy living in the streets4' ',it is too cold1' said the boy1 creeping into the bare room1 'and ,i am hungry4' ',hungry6' and poor ,mona ,lapaccia cast her eyes upwards1 as if she would ask the saints if they too were not filled with surprise to hear this word4 ',and when art thou anything else8 ,it is ever the same story with thee3 eat1 eat1 eat4 ,now1 the saints help me1 ,i have borne this burden long enough4 ,i will see if ,i cannot shift it on to other shoulders4' ,she rose as she spoke1 tied her yellow handkerchief over her head and smoothed out her apron4 ,then she caught ,filippo by his shoulder and gave him a good shake1 just to teach him how wrong it was to talk of being hungry1 and pushing him in front of her they went downstairs together4 ',where art thou going8' gasped the boy as she dragged him swiftly along the street4 ',wait and thou shalt see1' she answered shortly2 'and do thou mind thy manners1 else will ,i mind them for thee4' ,filippo ran along a little quicker on hearing this advice4 ,he had but a dim notion of what minding his manners might mean1 but he guessed fairly well what would happen if his aunt minded them4 ,ah6 here they were at the great square of the ,carmine4 ,he had often crept into the church to get warm and to see those wonderful pictures on the walls4 ,could they be going there now8 ,but it was towards the convent door that ,mona ,lapaccia bent her steps1 and1 when she had rung the bell1 she gave ,filippo's shoulder a final shake1 and pulled his coat straight and smoothed his hair4 ,a fat1 good-natured brother let them in1 and led them through the many passages into a room where the prior sat finishing his midday meal4 ,filippo's hungry eyes were immediately fixed on a piece of bread which lay upon the table1 and the kindly prior smiled as he nodded his head towards it4 ,not another invitation did ,filippo need2 like a bird he darted forward and snatched the piece of good white bread1 and holding it in both hands he began to munch to his heart's content4 ,how long it was since he had tasted anything like this6 ,it was so delicious that for a few blissful moments he forgot where he was1 forgot his aunt and the great man who was looking at him with such kind eyes4 ,but presently he heard his own name spoken and then he looked up and remembered4 ',and so1 ,filippo1 thou wouldst become a monk8' the prior was saying4 ',let me see--how old art thou8' ',eight years old1 your reverence1' said ,mona ,lapaccia before ,filippo could answer4 ,which was just as well1 as his mouth was still very full4 ',and it is thy desire to leave the world1 and enter our convent8' continued the prior4 ',art thou willing to give up all1 that thou mayest become a servant of ,god8' ,the little dirty brown hands clutched the bread in dismay4 ,did the kind man mean that he was to give up his bread when he had scarcely eaten half of it8 ',no1 no2 eat thy bread1 child1' said the prior1 with an understanding nod4 ',thou art but a babe1 but we will make a good monk of thee yet4' ,then1 indeed1 began happy days for ,filippo4 ,no more threadbare coats1 but a warm little brown serge robe1 tied round the waist with a rope whose ends grew daily shorter as the way round his waist grew longer4 ,no more lupin skins and whiffs of fried polenta1 but food enough and to spare2 such food as he had not dreamt of before1 and always as much as he could eat4 ,filippo was as happy as the day was long4 ,he had always been a merry little soul even when life had been hard and food scarce1 and now he would not have changed his lot with the saints in ,paradise4 ,but the good brothers began to think it was time ,filippo should do something besides play and eat4 ',let us see what the child is fit for1' they said4 ,so ,filippo was called in to sit on the bench with the boys and learn his ,a ,b ,c4 ,that was dreadfully dull work4 ,he could never remember the names of those queer signs4 ,their shapes he knew quite well1 and he could draw them carefully in his copy-book1 but their names were too much for him4 ,and as to the ,latin which the good monks tried to teach him1 they might as well have tried to teach a monkey4 ,all the brightness faded from ,filippo's face the moment a book was put before him1 and he looked so dull and stupid that the brothers were in despair4 ,then for a little things seemed to improve4 ,filippo suddenly lost his stupid look as he bent over the pages1 and his eyes were bright with interest4 ',aha6' said one brother nudging the other1 'the boy has found his brains at last4' ,but great indeed was their wrath and disappointment when they looked over his shoulder4 ,instead of learning his lessons1 ,filippo had been making all sorts of queer drawings round the margin of the page4 ,the ,a's and ,b's had noses and eyes1 and looked out with little grinning faces4 ,the long music notes had legs and arms and were dancing about like little black imps4 ,everything was scribbled over with the naughty little figures4 ,this was really too much1 and ,filippo must be taken at once before the prior4 ',what1 in disgrace again8' asked the kindly old man4 ',what has the child done now8' ',we can teach him nothing1' said the brother1 shaking a severe finger at ,filippo1 who hung his head4 ',he cannot even learn his ,a ,b ,c4 ,and besides1 he spoils his books1 ay1 and even the walls and benches1 by drawing such things as these upon them4' ,and the indignant monk held out the book where all those naughty figures were dancing over the page4 ,the prior took the book and looked at it closely4 ',what makes thee do these things8' he asked the boy1 who stood first on one foot and then on the other1 twisting his rope in his fingers4 ,at the sound of the kind voice1 the boy looked up1 and his face broke into a smile4 ',indeed1 ,i cannot help it1 ,father1' he said4 ',it is the fault of these1' and he spread out his ten little brown fingers4 ,the prior laughed4 ',well1' he said1 'we will not turn thee out1 though they do say thou wilt never make a monk4 ,perhaps we may teach these ten little rascals to do good work1 even if we cannot put learning into that round head of thine4' ,so instead of books and ,latin lessons1 the good monks tried a different plan4 ,filippo was given as a pupil to good ,brother ,anselmo1 whose work it was to draw the delicate pictures and letters for the convent prayer-books4 ,this was a different kind of lesson1 indeed4 ,filippo's eyes shone with eagerness as he bent over his work and tried to copy the beautiful lines and curves which the master set for him4 ,there were other boys in the class as well1 and ,filippo looked at their work with great admiration4 ,one boy especially1 who was bigger than ,filippo1 and who had a kind merry face1 made such beautiful copies that ,filippo always tried to sit next him if possible4 ,very soon the boys became great friends4 ,diamante1 as the elder boy was called1 was pleased to be admired so much by the little new pupil2 but as time went on1 his pride in his own work grew less as he saw with amazement how quickly ,filippo's little brown fingers learned to draw straighter lines and more beautiful curves than any he could manage4 ,brother ,anselmo1 too1 would watch the boy at work1 and his saintly old face beamed with pleasure as he looked4 ',he will pass us all1 and leave us far behind1 this child who is too stupid to learn his ,a ,b ,c1' he would say1 and his face shone with unselfish joy4 ,then when the boys grew older1 they were allowed to go into the church and watch those wonderful frescoes1 which grew under the hand of the great awkward painter1 ',ugly ,tom1' as he was called4 ,together ,filippo and ,diamante stood and watched with awe1 learning lessons there which the good father had not been able to teach4 ,then they would begin to put into practice what they had learned1 and try to copy in their own pictures the work of the great master4 ',thou hast the knack of it1 ,filippo1' ,diamante would say as he looked with envy at the figures ,filippo drew so easily4 ',thy pictures are also good1' ,filippo would answer quickly1 'and thou thyself art better than any one else in the convent4' ,there was no complaint now of ,filippo's dullness4 ,he soon learned all that the painter-monks could teach him1 and as years passed on the prior would rub his hands in delight to think that here was an artist1 one of themselves1 who would soon be able to paint the walls of the church and convent1 and make them as famous as the convent of ,san ,marco had been made famous by its angelical painter4 ,then one day he called ,filippo to him4 ',my son1' he said1 'you have learned well1 and it is time now to turn your work to some account4 ,go into the cloister where the walls have been but newly whitewashed1 and let us see what kind of pictures thou canst paint4' ,with burning cheeks and shining eyes1 ,filippo began his work4 ,day after day he stood on the scaffolding1 with his brown robe pinned back and his bare arm moving swiftly as he drew figure after figure on the smooth white wall4 ,he did not pause to think what he would draw1 the figures seemed to grow like magic under his touch4 ,there were the monks in their brown and white robes1 fat and laughing1 or lean and anxious-minded4 ,there were the people who came to say their prayers in church1 little children clinging to their mothers' skirts1 beggars and rich folks1 even the stray dog that sometimes wandered in4 ,yes1 and the pretty girls who laughed and talked in whispers4 ,he drew them all1 just as he had often seen them4 ,then1 when the last piece of wall was covered1 he stopped his work4 ,the news soon spread through all the convent that ,brother ,filippo had finished his picture1 and all the monks came hurrying to see4 ,the scaffolding was taken down1 and then they all stood round1 gazing with round eyes and open mouths4 ,they had never seen anything like it before1 and at first there was silence except for one long drawn 'ah-h4' ,then one by one they began to laugh and talk1 and point with eager1 excited fingers4 ',look1' cried one1 'there is ,brother ,giovanni2 ,i would know his smile among a hundred4' ',there is that beggar who comes each day to ask for soup1' cried another4 ',and there is his dog1' shouted a third4 ',look at the maid who kneels in front1' said ,fra ,diamante in a hushed voice1 'is she not as fair as any saint8' ,then suddenly there was silence1 and the brothers looked ashamed of the noise they had been making1 as the prior himself looked down on them from the steps above4 ',what is all this8' he asked4 ,and his voice sounded grave and displeased as he looked from the wall to the crowd of eager monks4 ,then he turned to ,filippo4 ',are these the pictures ,i ordered thee to paint8' he asked4 ',is this the kind of painting to do honour to ,god and to our ,church8 ,will these mere human figures help men to remember the saints1 teach them to look up to heaven1 or help them with their prayers8 ,quick1 rub them out1 and paint your pictures for heaven and not for earth4' ,filippo hung his head1 the crowd of admiring monks swiftly disappeared1 and he was left to begin his work all over again4 ,it was so difficult for ,filippo to keep his thoughts fixed on heaven1 and not to think of earth4 ,he did so love the merry world1 and his fingers1 those same ten brown rascals which had got him into trouble when he was a child1 always longed to draw just the faces that he saw every day4 ,the pretty face of the little maid kneeling at her prayers was so real and so delightful1 and the ,madonna and angels seemed so solemn and far off4 ,still no one would have pictures which did not tell of saints and angels1 so he must paint the best he could4 ,after all1 it was easy to put on wings and golden haloes until the earthly things took on a heavenly look4 ,but the convent life grew daily more and more wearisome now to ,filippo4 ,the world1 which he had been so willing to give up for a piece of good white bread when he was eight years old1 now seemed full of all the things he loved best4 ,the more he thought of it1 the more he longed to see other places outside the convent walls1 and other faces besides the monks and the people who came to church4 ,and so one dark night1 when all the brothers were asleep and the bells had just rung the midnight hour1 ,fra ,filippo stole out of his cell1 unlocked the convent door1 and ran swiftly out into the quiet street4 ,how good it felt to be free6 ,the very street itself seemed like an old friend1 welcoming him with open arms4 ,on and on he ran until he came to the city gates of ,san ,frediano1 there to wait until he could slip through unnoticed when the gates were opened at the dawn of day4 ,then on again until ,florence and the convent were left behind and the whole world lay before him4 ,there was no difficulty about living1 for the people gave him food and money1 and good-natured countrymen would stop their carts and offer him a lift along the straight white dusty roads4 ,so by and by he reached ,ancona and saw for the first time the sea4 ,filippo gazed and gazed1 forgetting everything else as he drank in the beauty of that great stretch of quivering blue1 while in his ears sounded words which he had almost forgotten--words which had fallen on heedless ears at matins or vespers--and which never had held any meaning for him before3 ',and before the throne was a sea of glass1 like unto crystal4' ,he stood still for a few minutes and then the heavenly vision faded1 and like any other boy he forgot all about beauty and colour1 and only longed to be out in a boat enjoying the strange new delight4 ,very lucky he thought himself when he reached the shore to find a boat just putting of1 and to hear himself invited to jump in by the boys who were going for a sail4 ,away they went1 further and further from the shore1 laughing and talking4 ,the boys were so busy telling wonderful sea-tales to the young stranger that they did not notice how far they had gone4 ,then suddenly they looked ahead and sat speechless with fear4 ,a great ,moorish galley was bearing down upon them1 its rows of oars flashed in the sunlight1 and its great painted sails towered above their heads4 ,it was no use trying to escape4 ,those strong rowers easily overtook them1 and in a few minutes ,filippo and his companions were hoisted up on board the galley4 ,it was all so sudden that it seemed like a dream4 ,but the chains were very real that were fastened round their wrists and ankles1 and the dark cruel faces of the ,moors as they looked on smiling at their misery were certainly no dream4 ,then followed long days of misery when the new slaves toiled at the oars under the blazing sun1 and nights of cold and weariness4 ,many a time did ,filippo long for the quiet convent1 the kindly brothers1 and the long peaceful days4 ,many a time did he long to hear the bells calling him to prayer1 which had once only filled him with restless impatience4 ,but at last the galley reached the coast of ,barbary1 and the slaves were unchained from the oars and taken ashore4 ,in all his misery ,filippo's keen eyes still watched with interest the people around him1 and he was never tired of studying the swarthy faces and curious garments of the ,moorish pirates4 ,then one day when he happened to be near a smooth white wall1 he took a charred stick from a fire which was built close by1 and began to draw the figure of his master4 ,what a delight it was to draw those rapid strokes and feel the likeness grow beneath his fingers6 ,he was so much interested that he did not notice the crowd that gathered gradually round him1 but he worked steadily on until the figure was finished4 ,just as the band of monks had stood silent round his first picture in the cloister of the ,carmine1 so these dark ,moors stood still in wonder and amazement gazing upon the bold black figure sketched upon the smooth white wall4 ,no one had ever seen such a thing in that land before1 and it seemed to them that this man must be a dealer in magic4 ,they whispered together1 and one went off hurriedly to fetch the captain4 ,the master1 when he came1 was as astonished as the men4 ,he could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw a second self drawn upon the wall1 more like than his own shadow4 ,this indeed must be no common man2 and he ordered that ,filippo's chains should be immediately struck off1 and that he should be treated with respect and honour4 ,nothing now was too good for this man of magic1 and before long ,filippo was put on board a ship and carried safely back to ,italy4 ,they put him ashore at ,naples1 and for some little time ,filippo stayed there painting pictures for the king2 but his heart was in his own beloved town1 and very soon he returned to ,florence4 ,perhaps he did not deserve a welcome1 but every one was only too delighted to think that the runaway had really returned4 ,even the prior1 though he shook his head1 was glad to welcome back the brother whose painting had already brought fame and honour to the convent4 ,but in spite of all the troubles ,filippo had gone through1 he still dearly loved the merry world and all its pleasures4 ,for a long time he would paint his saints and angels with all due diligence1 and then he would dash down brushes and pencils1 leave his paints scattered around1 and of he would go for a holiday4 ,then the work would come to a stand-still1 and people must just wait until ,filippo should feel inclined to begin again4 ,the great ,cosimo de ,medici1 who was always the friend of painters1 desired above all things that ,fra ,filippo should paint a picture for him4 ,and what is more1 having heard so many tales about the idle ways of this same brother1 he was determined that the picture should be painted without any interruptions4 ',fra ,filippo shall take no holidays while at work for me1' he said1 as he talked the matter over with the prior4 ',that may not be so easy as thou thinkest1' said the prior1 for he knew ,filippo better than did this great ,cosimo4 ,but ,cosimo did not see any difficulty in the matter whatever4 ,high in his palace he prepared a room for the painter1 and placed there everything he could need4 ,no comfort was lacking1 and when ,filippo came he was treated as an honoured guest1 except for one thing4 ,whenever the heavy door of his room swung to1 there was a grating sound heard1 and the key in the lock was turned from outside4 ,so ,filippo was really a captive in his handsome prison4 ,that was all very well for a few days4 ,filippo laughed as he painted away1 and laid on the tender blue of the ,virgin's robe1 and painted into her eyes the solemn look which he had so often seen on the face of some poor peasant woman as she knelt at prayer4 ,but after a while he grew restless and weary of his work4 ',plague take this great man and his fine manners1' he cried4 ',does he think he can catch a lark and train it to sing in a cage at his bidding8 ,i am weary of saints and angels4 ,i must out to breathe the fresh sweet air of heaven4' ,but the key was always turned in the lock and the door was strong4 ,there was the window1 but it was high above the street1 and the grey walls1 built of huge square stones1 might well have been intended to enclose a prison rather than a palace4 ,it was a dark night1 and the air felt hot as ,filippo leaned out of the window4 ,scarce a breath stirred the still air1 and every sound could be heard distinctly4 ,far below in the street he could hear the tread of the people's feet1 and catch the words of a merry song as a company of boys and girls danced merrily along4 ',flower of the rose1 ,if ,i've been happy1 what matter who knows1' they sang4 ,it was all too tempting2 out he must get4 ,filippo looked round his room1 and his eye rested on the bed4 ,with a shout of triumphant delight he ran towards it4 ,first he seized the quilt and tore it into strips1 then the blankets1 then the sheets4 ',whoever saw a grander rope8' he chuckled to himself as he knotted the ends together4 ,quick as thought he tied it to the iron bar that ran across his window1 and1 squeezing out1 he began to climb down1 hand over hand1 dangling and swinging to and fro4 ,the rope was stout and good1 and now he could steady himself by catching his toes in the great iron rings fastened into the wall1 until at last he dropped breathless into the street below4 ,next day1 when ,cosimo came to see how the painting went on1 he saw indeed the pictures and the brushes1 but no painter was there4 ,quickly he stepped to the open window1 and there he saw the dangling rope of sheets1 and guessed at once how the bird had flown4 ,through the streets they searched for the missing painter1 and before long he was found and brought back4 ,filippo tried to look penitent1 but his eyes were dancing with merriment1 and ,cosimo must needs laugh too4 ',after all1' said ,filippo1 'my talent is not like a beast of burden1 to be driven and beaten into doing its work4 ,it is rather like one of those heavenly visitors whom we willingly entertain when they deign to visit us1 but whom we can never force either to come or go at will4' ',thou art right1 friend painter1' answered the great man4 ',and when ,i think how thou and thy talent might have taken wings together1 had not the rope held good1 ,i vow ,i will never seek to keep thee in against thy will again4' ',then will ,i work all the more willingly1' answered ,filippo4 ,so with doors open1 and freedom to come and go1 ,filippo no longer wished to escape1 but worked with all his heart4 ,the beautiful ,madonna and angel were soon finished1 and besides he painted a wonderful picture of seven saints with ,st4 ,john sitting in their midst4 ,from far and near came requests that ,fra ,filippo ,lippi should paint pictures for different churches and convents4 ,he would much rather have painted the scenes and the people he saw every day1 but he remembered the prior's lecture1 and still painted only the stories of saints and holy people--the gentle ,madonna with her scarlet book of prayers1 the dove fluttering near1 and the angel messenger with shining wings bearing the lily branch4 ,true1 the saints would sometimes look out of his pictures with the faces of some of his friends1 but no one seemed to notice that4 ,on the whole his was a happy life1 and he was always ready to paint for any one that should ask him4 ,many people now were proud to know the famous young painter1 but his old companion ,fra ,diamante was still the friend he loved best4 ,whenever it was possible they still would work together2 so1 great was their delight when one day an order came from ,prato that they should both go there to paint the walls of ,san ,stefano4 ',good-bye to old ,florence for a while1' cried ,filippo as they set out merrily together4 ,he looked back as he spoke at the spires and sunbaked roofs1 the white marble facade of ,san ,miniato1 and the dark cypresses standing clear against the pure warm sky of early spring4 ',i am weary of your great men and all your pomp and splendour4 ,something tells me we shall have a golden time among the good folk of ,prato4' ,perhaps it was the springtime that made ,filippo so joyous that morning as he rode along the dusty white road4 ,spring had come with a glad rush1 as she ever comes in ,italy1 scattering on every side her flowers and favours4 ,from under the dead brown leaves of autumn1 violets pushed their heads and perfumed all the air4 ,under the grey olives the sprouting corn spread its tender green1 and the scarlet and purple of the anemones waved spring's banner far and near4 ,it was good to be alive on such a day4 ,arrived at ,prato1 the two painters1 with a favourite pupil called ,botticelli1 worked together diligently1 and covered wall after wall with their frescoes4 ,it seemed as if they would never be done1 for each church and convent had work awaiting them4 ',truly1' said ,filippo one day when he was putting the last touches to a portrait of ,fra ,diamante1 whom he had painted into his picture of the death of ,st4 ,stephen1 ',i will undertake no more work for a while4 ,it is full time we had a holiday together4' ,but even as he spoke a message was brought to him from the good abbess of the convent of ,santa ,margherita1 begging him to come and paint an altarpiece for the sisters' chapel4 ',ah1 well1 what must be1 must be1' he said to ,fra ,diamante1 who stood smiling by4 ',i will do what ,i can to please these holy women1 but after that--no more4' ,the staid and sober abbess met him at the convent door1 and silently led him through the sunny garden1 bright with flowers1 where the lizards darted to right and left as they walked past the fountain and entered the dim1 cool chapel4 ,in a low1 sweet voice she told him what they would have him paint1 and showed him the space above the high altar where the picture was to be placed4 ',our great desire is that thou shouldst paint for us the ,holy ,virgin with the ,blessed ,child on the night of the ,nativity1' she said4 ,the painter seemed to listen1 but his attention wandered1 and all the time he wished himself back in the sunny garden1 where he had seen a fair young face looking through the pink sprays of almond blossoms1 while the music of the vesper hymn sounded sweet and clear in his ears4 ',i will begin to-morrow1' he said with a start when the low voice of the abbess stopped4 ',i will paint the ,madonna and ,babe as thou desirest4' ,so next day the work began4 ,and each time the abbess noiselessly entered the room where the painter was at work and watched the picture grow beneath his hand1 she felt more and more sure that she had done right in asking this painter to decorate their beloved chapel4 ,true1 it was said by many that the young artist was but a worldly minded man1 not like the blessed ,fra ,angelico1 the heavenly painter of ,san ,marco2 but his work was truly wonderful1 and his handsome face looked good1 even if a somewhat merry smile was ever wont to lurk about his mouth and in his eyes4 ,then came a morning when the abbess found ,filippo standing idle1 with a discontented look upon his face4 ,he was gazing at the unfinished picture1 and for a while he did not see that any one had entered the room4 ',is aught amiss8' asked the gentle voice at his side1 and ,filippo turned and saw the abbess4 ',something indeed seems amiss with my five fingers1' said ,filippo1 with his quick bright smile4 ',time after time have ,i tried to paint the face of the ,madonna1 and each time ,i must needs paint it out again4' ,then a happy thought came into his mind4 ',i have seen a face sometimes as ,i passed through the convent garden which is exactly what ,i want1' he cried4 ',if thou wouldst but let the maiden sit where ,i can see her for a few hours each day1 ,i can promise thee that the ,madonna will be finished as thou wouldst wish4' ,the abbess stood in deep thought for a few minutes1 for she was puzzled to know what she should do4 ',it is the child ,lucrezia1' she thought to herself4 ',she who was sent here by her father1 the noble ,buti of ,florence4 ,she is but a novice still1 and there can be no harm in allowing her to lend her fair face as a model for ,our ,lady4' ,so she told ,filippo it should be as he wished4 ,it was dull in the convent1 and ,lucrezia was only too pleased to spend some hours every morning1 idly sitting in the great chair1 while the young painter talked to her and told her stories while he painted4 ,she counted the hours until it was time to go back1 and grew happier each day as the ,madonna's face grew more and more beautiful4 ,surely there was no one so good or so handsome as this wonderful artist4 ,lucrezia could not bear to think how dull her life would be when he was gone4 ,then one day1 when it happened that the abbess was called away and they were alone1 ,filippo told ,lucrezia that he loved her and could not live without her2 and although she was frightened at first1 she soon grew happy1 and told him that she was ready to go with him wherever he wished4 ,but what would the good nuns think of it8 ,would they ever let her go8 ,no2 they must think of some other plan4 ,to-morrow was the great festa of ,prato1 when all the nuns walked in procession to see the holy centola1 or girdle1 which the ,madonna had given to ,st4 ,thomas4 ,lucrezia must take care to walk on the outside of the procession1 and to watch for a touch upon the arm as she passed4 ,the festa day dawned bright and clear1 and all ,prato was early astir4 ,procession after procession wound its way to the church where the relic was to be shown1 and the crowd grew denser every moment4 ,presently came the nuns of ,santa ,margherita4 ,a figure in the crowd pressed nearer4 ,lucrezia felt a touch upon her arm1 and a strong hand clasped hers4 ,the crowd swayed to and fro1 and in an instant the two figures disappeared4 ,no one noticed that the young novice was gone1 and before the nuns thought of looking for their charge ,lucrezia was on her way to ,florence1 her horse led by the painter whom she loved1 while his good friend ,fra ,diamante rode beside her4 ,then the storm burst4 ,lucrezia's father was furious1 the good nuns were dismayed1 and every one shook their heads over this last adventure of the ,florentine painter4 ,but luckily for ,filippo1 the great ,cosimo still stood his friend and helped him through it all4 ,he it was who begged the ,pope to allow ,fra ,filippo to marry ,lucrezia 7for monks1 of course1 were never allowed to marry71 and the ,pope1 too1 was kind and granted the request1 so that all went well4 ,now indeed was ,lucrezia as happy as the day was long1 and when the spring returned once more to ,florence1 a baby ,filippo came with the violets and lilies4 ',how wilt thou know us apart if thou callest him ,filippo8' asked the proud father4 ',ah1 he is such a little one1 dear heart1' ,lucrezia answered gaily4 ',we will call him ,filippino1 and then there can be no mistake4' ,there was no more need now to seek for pleasures out of doors4 ,filippo painted his pictures and lived his happy home life without seeking any more adventures4 ,his ,madonnas grew ever more beautiful1 for they were all touched with the beauty that shone from ,lucrezia's fair face1 and the ,infant ,christ had ever the smile and the curly golden hair of the baby ,filippino4 ,and by and by a little daughter came to gladden their hearts1 and then indeed their cup of joy was full4 ',what name shall we give the little maid8' said ,filippo4 ',methought thou wouldst have it ,lucrezia1' answered the mother4 ',there is but one ,lucrezia in all the world for me1' he said4 ',none other but thee shall bear that name4' ,as they talked a knock sounded at the door1 and presently the favourite pupil1 ,sandro1 looked in4 ,there was a shout of joy from little ,filippino1 and the young man lifted the child in his arms and smiled with the look of one who loves children4 ',come1 ,sandro1 and see the little new flower1' said ,filippo4 ',is she not as fair as the roses which thou dost so love to paint8' ,then1 as the young man looked with interest at the tiny face1 ,filippo clapped him on the shoulder4 ',i have it6' he cried4 ',she shall be called after thee1 ,alessandra4 ,some day she will be proud to think that she bears thy name4' ,for already ,filippo knew that this pupil of his would ere long wake the world to new wonder4 ,the only clouds that hid the sunshine of ,lucrezia's life was when ,filippo was obliged to leave her for a while and paint his pictures in other towns4 ,she always grew sad when his work in ,florence drew to a close1 for she never knew where his next work might lie4 ',well1' said ,filippo one night as he returned home and caught up little ,filippino in his arms1 'the picture for the nuns of ,san ,ambrogio is finished at last6 ,truly they have saints and angels enough this time--rows upon rows of sweet faces and white lilies4 ,and the sweetest face of all is thine1 ,saint ,lucy1 kneeling in front with thy hand beneath the chin of this young cherub4' ',is it indeed finished so soon8' asked ,lucrezia1 a wistful note creeping into her voice4 ',ay1 and to-morrow ,i must away to ,spoleto to begin my work at the ,chapel of ,our ,lady4 ,but look not so sad1 dear heart2 before three months are past1 by the time the grapes are gathered1 ,i will return4' ,but it was sad work parting1 though it might only be for three months1 and even her little son could not make his mother smile1 though he drew wonderful pictures for her of birds and beasts1 and told her he meant to be a great painter like his father when he grew up4 ,next day ,filippo started1 and with him went his good friend ,fra ,diamante4 ',fare thee well1 ,filippo4 ,take good care of him1 friend ,diamante1' cried ,lucrezia2 and she stood watching until their figures disappeared at the end of the long white road1 and then went inside to wait patiently for their return4 ,the summer days passed slowly by4 ,the cheeks of the peaches grew soft and pink under the kiss of the sun1 the figs showed ripe and purple beneath the green leaves1 and the grapes hung in great transparent clusters of purple and gold from the vines that swung between the poplar-trees4 ,then came the merry days of vintage1 and the juice was pressed out of the ripe grapes4 ',now he will come back1' said ,lucrezia1 'for he said by the time the grapes are gathered ,i will return4' ,the days went slowly by1 and every evening she stood in the loggia and gazed across the hills4 ,then she would point out the long white road to little ,filippino4 ',thy father will come along that road ere long1' she said1 and joy sang in her voice4 ,then one evening as she watched as usual her heart beat quickly4 ,surely that figure riding so slowly along was ,fra ,diamante8 ,but where was ,filippo1 and why did his friend ride so slowly8 ,when he came near and entered the house she looked into his face1 and all the joy faded from her eyes4 ',you need not tell me1' she cried2 ',i know that ,filippo is dead4' ,it was but too true4 ,the faithful friend had brought the sad news himself4 ,no one could tell how ,filippo had died4 ,a few short hours of pain and then all was over4 ,some talked of poison4 ,but who could tell8 ,there had just been time to send his farewell to ,lucrezia1 and to pray his friend to take charge of little ,filippino4 ,so1 as she listened1 joy died out of ,lucrezia's life4 ,spring might come again1 and summer sunshine make others glad1 but for her it would be ever cold1 bleak winter4 ,for never more should her heart grow warm in the sunshine of ,filippo's smile--that sunshine which had made every one love him1 in spite of his faults1 ever since he ran about the streets1 a little ragged boy1 in the old city of ,florence4 ,,sandro ,,botticelli ,we must now go back to the days when ,fra ,filippo ,lippi painted his pictures and so brought fame to the ,carmine ,convent4 ,there was at that time in ,florence a good citizen called ,mariano ,filipepi1 an honest1 well-to-do man1 who had several sons4 ,these sons were all taught carefully and well trained to do each the work he chose4 ,but the fourth son1 ,alessandro1 or ,sandro as he was called1 was a great trial to his father4 ,he would settle to no trade or calling4 ,restless and uncertain1 he turned from one thing to another4 ,at one time he would work with all his might1 and then again become as idle and fitful as the summer breeze4 ,he could learn well and quickly when he chose1 but then there were so few things that he did choose to learn4 ,music he loved1 and he knew every song of the birds1 and anything connected with flowers was a special joy to him4 ,no one knew better than he how the different kinds of roses grew1 and how the lilies hung upon their stalks4 ',and what1 ,i should like to know1 is going to be the use of all this1' the good father would say impatiently1 'as long as thou takest no pains to read and write and do thy sums8 ,what am ,i to do with such a boy1 ,i wonder8' ,then in despair the poor man decided to send ,sandro to a neighbour's workshop1 to see if perhaps his hands would work better than his head4 ,the name of this neighbour was ,botticelli1 and he was a goldsmith1 and a very excellent master of his art4 ,he agreed to receive ,sandro as his pupil1 so it happened that the boy was called by his master's name1 and was known ever after as ,sandro ,botticelli4 ,sandro worked for some time with his master1 and quickly learned to draw designs for the goldsmith's work4 ,in those days painters and goldsmiths worked a great deal together1 and ,sandro often saw designs for pictures and listened to the talk of the artists who came to his master's shop4 ,gradually1 as he looked and listened1 his mind was made up4 ,he would become a painter4 ,all his restless longings and day dreams turned to this4 ,all the music that floated in the air as he listened to the birds' song1 the gentle dancing motion of the wind among the trees1 all the colours of the flowers1 and the graceful twinings of the rose-stems--all these he would catch and weave into his pictures4 ,yes1 he would learn to paint music and motion1 and then he would be happy4 ',so now thou wilt become a painter1' said his father1 with a hopeless sigh4 ,truly this boy was more trouble than all the rest put together4 ,here he had just settled down to learn how to become a good goldsmith1 and now he wished to try his hand at something else4 ,well1 it was no use saying 'no4' ,the boy could never be made to do anything but what he wished4 ,there was the ,carmelite monk ,fra ,filippo ,lippi1 of whom all1 men were talking4 ,it was said he was the greatest painter in ,florence4 ,the boy should have the best teaching it was possible to give him1 and perhaps this time he would stick to his work4 ,so ,sandro was sent as a pupil to ,fra ,filippo1 and he soon became a great favourite with the happy1 sunny-tempered master4 ,the quick eye of the painter soon saw that this was no ordinary pupil4 ,there was something about ,sandro's drawing that was different to anything that ,filippo had ever seen before4 ,his figures seemed to move1 and one almost heard the wind rustling in their flowing drapery4 ,instead of walking1 they seemed to be dancing lightly along with a swaying motion as if to the rhythm of music4 ,the very rose-leaves the boy loved to paint1 seemed to flutter down to the sound of a fairy song4 ,filippo was proud of his pupil4 ',the world will one day hear more of my ,sandro ,botticelli1' he said2 and1 young though the boy was1 he often took him to different places to help him in his work4 ,so it happened that1 in that wonderful spring of ,filippo's life1 ,sandro too was at ,prato1 and worked there with ,fra ,diamante4 ,and in after years when the master's little daughter was born1 she was named ,alessandra1 after the favourite pupil1 to whom was also left the training of little ,filippino4 ,now1 indeed1 ,sandros good old father had no further cause to complain4 ,the boy had found the work he was most fitted for1 and his name soon became famous in ,florence4 ,it was the reign of gaiety and pleasure in the city of ,florence at that time4 ,lorenzo the ,magnificent1 the son of ,cosimo de ,medici1 was ruler now1 and his court was the centre of all that was most splendid and beautiful4 ,rich dresses1 dainty food1 music1 gay revels1 everything that could give pleasure1 whether good or bad1 was there4 ,lorenzo1 like his father1 was always glad to discover a new painter1 and ,botticelli soon became a great favourite at court4 ,but pictures of saints and angels were somewhat out of fashion at that time1 for people did not care to be reminded of anything but earthly pleasures4 ,so ,botticelli chose his subjects to please the court1 and for a while ceased to paint his sad-eyed ,madonnas4 ,what mattered to him what his subject was8 ,let him but paint his dancing figures1 tripping along in their light flowing garments1 keeping time to the music of his thoughts1 and the subject might be one of the old ,greek tales or any other story that served his purpose4 ,all the gay court dresses1 the rich quaint robes of the fair ladies1 helped to train the young painter's fancy for flowing draperies and wonderful veils of filmy transparent gauze4 ,there was one fair lady especially whom ,sandro loved to paint--the beautiful ,simonetta1 as she is still called4 ,first he painted her as ,venus1 who was born of the sea foam4 ,in his picture she floats to the shore standing in a shell1 her golden hair wrapped round her4 ,the winds behind blow her onward and scatter pink and red roses through the air4 ,on the shore stands ,spring1 who holds out a mantle1 flowers nestling in its folds1 ready to enwrap the goddess when the winds shall have wafted her to land4 ,then again we see her in his wonderful picture of ',spring1' and in another called ',mars and ,venus4' ,she was too great a lady to stoop to the humble painter1 and he perhaps only looked up to her as a star shining in heaven1 far out of the reach of his love4 ,but he never ceased to worship her from afar4 ,he never married or cared for any other fair face1 just as the great poet ,dante1 whom ,botticelli admired so much1 dreamed only of his one love1 ,beatrice4 ,but ,sandro did not go sadly through life sighing for what could never be his4 ,he was kindly and good-natured1 full of jokes1 and ready to make merry with his pupils in the workshop4 ,it once happened that one of these pupils1 ,biagio by name1 had made a copy of one of ,sandro's pictures1 a beautiful ,madonna surrounded by eight angels4 ,this he was very anxious to sell1 and the master kindly promised to help him1 and in the end arranged the matter with a citizen of ,florence1 who offered to buy it for six gold pieces4 ',well1 ,biagio1' said ,sandro1 when his pupil came into the studio next morning1 ',i have sold thy picture4 ,let us now hang it up in a good light that the man who wishes to buy it may see it at its best4 ,then will he pay thee the money4' ,biagio was overjoyed4 ',oh1 master1' he cried1 'how well thou hast done4' ,then with hands which trembled with excitement the pupil arranged the picture in the best light1 and went to fetch the purchaser4 ,now meanwhile ,botticelli and his other pupils had made eight caps of scarlet pasteboard such as the citizens of ,florence then wore1 and these they fastened with wax on to the heads of the eight angels in the picture4 ,presently ,biagio came back panting with joyful excitement1 and brought with him the citizen1 who knew already of the joke4 ,the poor boy looked at his picture and then rubbed his eyes4 ,what had happened8 ,where were his angels8 ,the picture must be bewitched1 for instead of his angels he saw only eight citizens in scarlet caps4 ,he looked wildly around1 and then at the face of the man who had promised to buy the picture4 ,of course he would refuse to take such a thing4 ,but1 to his surprise1 the citizen looked well pleased1 and even praised the work4 ',it is well worth the money1' he said2 'and if thou wilt return with me to my house1 ,i will pay thee the six gold pieces4' ,biagio scarcely knew what to do4 ,he was so puzzled and bewildered he felt as if this must be a bad dream4 ,as soon as he could1 he rushed back to the studio to look again at that picture1 and then he found that the red-capped citizens had disappeared1 and his eight angels were there instead4 ,this of course was not surprising1 as ,sandro and his pupils had quickly removed the wax and taken off the scarlet caps4 ',master1 master1' cried the astonished pupil1 'tell me if ,i am dreaming1 or if ,i have lost my wits8 ,when ,i came in just now1 these angels were ,florentine citizens with red caps on their heads1 and now they are angels once more4 ,what may this mean8' ',i think1 ,biagio1 that this money must have turned thy brain round1' said ,botticelli gravely4 ',if the angels had looked as thou sayest1 dost thou think the citizen would have bought the picture8' ',that is true1' said ,biagio1 shaking his head solemnly2 'and yet ,i swear ,i never saw anything more clearly4' ,and the poor boy1 for many a long day1 was afraid to trust his own eyes1 since they had so basely deceived him4 ,but the next thing that happened at the studio did not seem like a joke to the master1 for a weaver of cloth came to live close by1 and his looms made such a noise and such a shaking that ,sandro was deafened1 and the house shook so greatly that it was impossible to paint4 ,but though ,botticelli went to the weaver and explained all this most courteously1 the man answered roughly1 ',can ,i not do what ,i like with my own house8' ,so ,sandro was angry1 and went away and immediately ordered a great square of stone to be brought1 so big that it filled a waggon4 ,this he had placed on the top of his wall nearest to the weaver's house1 in such a way that the least shake would bring it crashing down into the enemy's workshop4 ,when the weaver saw this he was terrified1 and came round at once to the studio4 ',take down that great stone at once1' he shouted4 ',do you not see that it would crush me and my workshop if it fell8' ',not at all1' said ,botticelli4 ',why should ,i take it down8 ,can ,i not do as ,i like with my own house8' ,and this taught the weaver a lesson1 so that he made less noise and shaking1 and ,sandro had the best of the joke after all4 ,there were no idle days of dreaming now for ,sandro4 ,as soon as one picture was finished another was wanted4 ,money flowed in1 and his purse was always full of gold1 though he emptied it almost as fast as it was filled4 ,his work for the ,pope at ,rome alone was so well paid that the money should have lasted him for many a long day1 but in his usual careless way he spent it all before he returned to ,florence4 ,perhaps it was the gay life at ,lorenzo's splendid court that had taught him to spend money so carelessly1 and to have no thought but to eat1 drink1 and be merry4 ,but very soon a change began to steal over his life4 ,there was one man in ,florence who looked with sad condemning eyes on all the pleasure-loving crowd that thronged the court of ,lorenzo the ,magnificent4 ,in the peaceful convent of ,san ,marco1 whose walls the angel-painter had covered with pictures 'like windows into heaven1' the stern monk ,savonarola was grieving over the sin and vanity that went on around him4 ,he loved ,florence with all his heart1 and he could not bear the thought that she was forgetting1 in the whirl of pleasure1 all that was good and pure and worth the winning4 ,then1 like a battle-cry1 his voice sounded through the city1 and roused the people from their foolish dreams of ease and pleasure4 ,every one flocked to the great cathedral to hear ,savonarola preach1 and ,sandro ,botticelli left for a while his studio and his painting and became a follower of the great preacher4 ,never again did he paint those pictures of earthly subjects which had so delighted ,lorenzo4 ,when he once more returned to his work1 it was to paint his sad-eyed ,madonnas2 and the music which still floated through his visions was now like the song of angels4 ,the boys of ,florence especially had grown wild and rough during the reign of pleasure1 and they were the terror of the city during carnival time4 ,they would carry long poles1 or 'stili1' and bar the streets across1 demanding money before they would let the people pass4 ,this money they spent on drinking and feasting1 and at night they set up great trees in the squares or wider streets and lighted huge bonfires around them4 ,then would begin a terrible fight with stones1 and many of the boys were hurt1 and some even killed4 ,no one had been able to put a stop to this until ,savonarola made up his mind that it should cease4 ,then1 as if by magic1 all was changed4 ,instead of the rough game of 'stili1' there were altars put up at the corners of the streets1 and the boys begged money of the passers-by1 not for their feasts1 but for the poor4 ',you shall not miss your bonfire1' said ,savonarola2 'but instead of a tree you shall burn up vain and useless things1 and so purify the city4' ,so the children went round and collected all the 'vanities1' as they were called--wigs and masks and carnival dresses1 foolish songs1 bad books1 and evil pictures2 all were heaped high and then lighted to make one great bonfire4 ,some people think that perhaps ,sandro threw into the ,bonfire of ,vanities some of his own beautiful pictures1 but that we cannot tell4 ,then came the sad time when the people1 who at one time would have made ,savonarola their king1 turned against him1 in the same fickle way that crowds will ever turn4 ,and then the great preacher1 who had spent his life trying to help and teach them1 and to do them good1 was burned in the great square of that city which he had loved so dearly4 ,after this it was long before ,botticelli cared to paint again4 ,he was old and weary now1 poor and sad1 sick of that world which had treated with such cruelty the master whom he loved4 ,one last picture he painted to show the triumph of good over evil4 ,not with the sword or the might of great power is the triumph won1 says ,sandro to us by this picture1 but by the little hand of the ,christ ,child1 conquering by love and drawing all men to ,him4 ,this ,adoration of the ,magi is in our own ,national ,gallery in ,london1 and is the only painting which ,botticelli ever signed4 ',i1 ,alessandro1 painted this picture during the troubles of ,italy 444 when the devil was let loose for the space of three and a half years4 ,afterwards shall he be chained1 and we shall see him trodden down as in this picture4' ,it is evident that ,botticelli meant by this those sad years of struggle against evil which ended in the martyrdom of the great preacher1 and he has placed ,savonarola among the crowd of worshippers drawn to ,his feet by the ,infant ,christ4 ,it is sad to think of those last days when ,sandro was too old and too weary to paint4 ,he who had loved to make his figures move with dancing feet1 was now obliged to walk with crutches4 ,the roses and lilies of spring were faded now1 and instead of the music of his youth he heard only the sound of harsh1 ungrateful voices1 in the flowerless days of poverty and old age4 ,there is always something sad too about his pictures1 but through the sadness1 if we listen1 we may hear the angel-song1 and understand it better if we have in our minds the prayer which ,botticelli left for us4 ',oh1 ,king of ,wings and ,lord of ,lords1 who alone rulest always in eternity1 and who correctest all our wanderings1 giver of melody to the choir of angels1 listen ,thou a little to our bitter grief1 and come and rule us1 oh ,thou highest ,king1 with ,thy love which is so sweet4' ,,domenico ,,ghirlandaio ,ghirlandaio6 what a difficult name that sounds to our ,english ears4 ,but it has a very simple meaning1 and when you understand it the difficulty will vanish4 ,it all happened in this way4 ,domenico's father was a goldsmith1 one of the cleverest goldsmiths in ,florence1 and he was specially famous for making garlands or wreaths of gold and silver4 ,it was the fashion then for the young maidens of ,florence to wear these garlands1 or 'ghirlande' as they were called1 on their heads1 and because this goldsmith made them better than any one else they gave him the name of ,ghirlandaio1 which means 'maker of garlands1' and that became the family name4 ,when the time came for the boy ,domenico to learn a trade1 he was sent1 of course1 to his father's workshop4 ,he learned so quickly1 and worked with such strong1 clever fingers1 that his father was delighted4 ',the boy will make the finest goldsmith of his day1' he said proudly1 as he watched him twisting the delicate golden wire and working out his designs in beaten silver4 ,so he was set to make the garlands1 and for a while he was contented and happy4 ,it was such exquisite work to twine into shape the graceful golden leaves1 with here and there a silver lily or a jewelled rose1 and to dream of the fair head on which the garland would rest4 ,but the making of garlands did not satisfy ,domenico for long1 and like ,botticelli he soon began to dream of becoming a painter4 ,you must remember that in those days goldsmiths and painters had much in common1 and often worked together4 ,the goldsmith made his picture with gold and silver and jewels1 while the painter drew his with colours1 but they were both artists4 ,so as the young ,ghirlandaio watched these men draw their great designs and listened to their talk1 he began to feel that the goldsmith's work was cramped and narrow1 and he longed for a larger1 grander work4 ,day by day the garlands were more and more neglected1 and every spare moment was spent drawing the faces of those who came to the shop1 or even those of the passers-by4 ,but although1 ere long1 ,ghirlandaio left his father's shop and learned to make pictures with colours1 instead of with gold1 silver1 and jewels1 still the training he had received in his goldsmith's work showed to the end in all his pictures4 ,he painted the smallest things with extreme care1 and was never tired of spreading them over with delicate ornaments and decorations4 ,it is a great deal the outward show with ,ghirlandaio1 and not so much the inward soul1 that we find in his pictures1 though he had a wonderful gift of painting portraits4 ,these portraits painted by the young ,ghirlandaio seemed very wonderful to the admiring ,florentines4 ,from all his pictures looked out faces which they knew and recognised immediately4 ,there1 in a group of saints1 or in a crowd of figures around the ,infant ,christ1 they saw the well-known faces of ,florentine nobles1 the great ladies from the palaces1 ay1 and even the men of the market-place1 and the poor peasant women who sold eggs and vegetables in the streets4 ,once he painted an old bishop with a pair of spectacles resting on his nose4 ,it was the first time that spectacles had ever been put into a picture4 ,then off he must go to ,rome1 like every one else1 to add his share to the famous frescoes of the ,vatican4 ,but it was in ,florence that most of his work was done4 ,in the church of ,santa ,maria ,novella there was a great chapel which belonged to the ,ricci family4 ,it had once been covered by beautiful frescoes1 but now it was spoilt by damp and the rain that came through the leaking roof4 ,the noble family1 to whom the chapel belonged1 were poor and could not afford to have the chapel repainted1 but neither would they allow any one else to decorate it1 lest it should pass out of their hands4 ,now another noble family1 called the ,tournabuoni1 when they heard of the fame of the new painter1 greatly desired to have a chapel painted by him in order to do honour to their name and family4 ,accordingly they went to the ,ricci family and offered to have the whole chapel painted and to pay the artist themselves4 ,moreover1 they said that the arms or crest of the ,ricci family should be painted in the most honourable part of the chapel1 that all might see that the chapel still belonged to them4 ,to this the ,ricci family gladly agreed1 and ,ghirlandaio was set to work to cover the walls with his frescoes4 ',i will give thee twelve hundred gold pieces when it is done1' said ,giovanni ,tournabuoni1 'and if ,i like it well1 then shalt thou have two hundred more4' ,here was good pay indeed4 ,ghirlandaio set to work with all speed1 and day by day the frescoes grew4 ,for four years he worked hard1 from morning until night1 until at last the walls were covered4 ,one of the subjects which he chose for these frescoes was the story of the ,life of the ,virgin1 so often painted by ,florentine artists4 ,this story ,i will tell you now1 that your eyes may take greater pleasure in the pictures when you see them4 ,the ,bible story of the ,virgin ,mary begins when the ,angel ,gabriel came to tell her of the birth of the ,baby ,jesus1 but there are many stories or legends about her before that time1 and this is one which the ,italians specially loved to paint4 ,among the blue hills of ,galilee1 in the little town of ,nazareth1 there lived a man and his wife whose names were ,joachim and ,anna4 ,though they were rich and had many flocks of sheep which fed in the rich pastures around1 still there was one thing which ,god had not given them and which they longed for more than all beside4 ,they had no child4 ,they had hoped that ,god would send one1 but now they were both growing old1 and hope began to fade4 ,joachim was a very good man1 and gave a third of all that he had as an offering to the temple2 but one sad day when he took his gift1 the high priest at the altar refused to take it4 ',god has shown that ,he will have nought of thee1' said the priest1 'since thou hast no child to come after thee4' ,filled with shame and grief ,joachim would not go home to his wife1 but instead he wandered out into the far-of fields where his shepherds were feeding the flocks1 and there he stayed forty days4 ,with bowed head and sad eyes when he was alone1 he knelt and prayed that ,god would tell him what he had done to deserve this disgrace4 ,and as he prayed ,god sent an angel to comfort him4 ,the angel placed his hand upon the bowed head of the poor old man1 and told him to be of good cheer and to return home at once to his wife4 ',for ,god will even now send thee a child1' said the angel4 ,so with a thankful heart which never doubted the angel's word1 ,joachim turned his face homewards4 ,meanwhile1 at home1 ,anna had been sorrowing alone4 ,that same day she had gone into the garden1 and1 as she wandered among the flowers1 she wept bitterly and prayed that ,god would send her comfort4 ,then there appeared to her also an angel1 who told her that ,god had heard her prayer and would send her the child she longed for4 ',go now1' the angel added1 'and meet thy husband ,joachim1 who is even now returning to thee1 and thou shall find him at the entrance to the ,golden ,gate4' ,so the husband and wife did as the angel bade them1 and met together at the ,golden ,gate4 ,and the ,angel of ,promise hovered above them1 and laid a hand in blessing upon both their heads4 ,there was no need for speech4 ,as ,joachim and ,anna looked into each other's eyes and read there the solemn joy of the angel's message1 their hearts were filled with peace and comfort4 ,and before long the angel's promise was fulfilled1 and a little daughter was born to ,anna and ,joachim4 ,in their joy and thankfulness they said she should not be as other children1 but should serve in the temple as little ,samuel had done4 ,the name they gave the child was ,mary1 not knowing even then that she was to be the mother of our ,lord4 ,the little maid was but three years old when her parents took her to present her in the temple4 ,she was such a little child that they almost feared she might be frightened to go up the steps to the great temple and meet the high priest alone4 ,so they asked if she might go in company with the other children who were also on their way to the temple4 ,but when the little band arrived at the temple steps1 ,mary stepped forward and began to climb up1 step by step1 alone1 while the other children and her parents watched wondering from below4 ,straight up to the temple gates she climbed1 and stood with little head bent low to receive the blessing of the great high priest4 ,so the child was left there to be taught to serve ,god and to learn how to embroider the purple and fine linen for the priests' vestments4 ,never before had such exquisite embroidery been done as that which ,mary's fingers so delicately stitched1 for her work was aided by angel hands4 ,sleeping or waking1 the blessed angels never left her4 ,when it was time that the maiden should be married1 so many suitors came to seek her that it was difficult to know which to choose4 ,to decide the matter they were all told to bring their staves or wands and leave them in the temple all night1 that ,god might show by a sign who was the most worthy to be the guardian of the pure young maid4 ,now among the suitors was a poor carpenter of ,nazareth called ,joseph1 who was much older and much poorer than any of the other suitors4 ,they thought it was foolish of him to bring his staff1 nevertheless it was placed in the temple with the others4 ,but when the morning came and the priest went into the temple1 behold1 ,joseph's staff had budded into leaves and flowers1 and from among the blossoms there flew out a dove as white as snow4 ,so it was known that ,joseph was to take charge of the young maid1 and all the rest of the suitors seized their staves and broke them across their knees in rage and disappointment4 ,then the story goes on to the birth of our ,saviour as it is told to you in the ,bible4 ,it was this story which ,ghirlandaio painted on the walls of the chapel1 as well as the history of ,john the ,baptist4 ,then1 as ,giovanni directed1 he painted the arms of the ,tournabuoni on various shields all over the chapel1 and only in the tabernacle of the sacrament on the high altar he painted a tiny coat of arms of the ,ricci family4 ,the chapel was finished at last and every one flocked to see it1 but first of all came the ,ricci1 the owners of the chapel4 ,they looked high and low1 but nowhere could they see the arms of their family4 ,instead1 on all sides1 they saw the arms of the ,tournabuoni4 ,in a great rage they hurried to the ,council and demanded that ,giovanni ,tournabuoni should be punished4 ,but when the facts were explained1 and it was shown that the ,ricci arms had indeed been placed in the most honourable part1 they were obliged to be content1 though they vowed vengeance against the ,tournabuoni4 ,neither did ,ghirlandaio get his extra two hundred gold pieces1 for although ,giovanni was delighted with the frescoes he never paid the price he had promised4 ,to the end of his days ,ghirlandaio loved nothing so much as to work from morning till night4 ,nothing was too small or mean for him to do4 ,he would even paint the hoops for women's baskets rather than send any work away from his shop4 ',oh1' he cried1 one day1 'how ,i wish ,i could paint all the walls around ,florence with my stories4' ,but there was no time to do all that4 ,he was only forty-four years old when ,death came and bade him lay down his brushes and pencil1 for his work was done4 ,beneath his own frescoes they laid him to rest in the church of ,santa ,maria ,novella4 ,and although we sometimes miss the soul in his pictures and weary of the gay outward decoration of goldsmith's work1 yet there is something there which makes us love the grand show of fair ladies and strong men in the carefully finished work of this ,florentine ',maker of ,garlands4' ,,filippino ,,lippi ,the little curly-haired ,filippino1 left in the charge of good ,fra ,diamante1 soon showed that he meant to be a painter like his father4 ,when1 as a little boy1 he drew his pictures and showed them proudly to his mother1 he told her that he1 too1 would learn some day to be a great artist4 ,and she1 half smiling1 would pat his curly head and tell him that he could at least try his best4 ,then1 after that sad day when ,lucrezia heard of ,filippo's death1 and the happy little home was broken up1 ,fra ,diamante began in earnest to train the boy who had been left under his care4 ,he had plenty of money1 for ,filippo had been well paid for the work at ,spoleto1 and so it was decided that the boy should be placed in some studio where he could be taught all that was necessary4 ,there was no fear of ,filippino ever wandering about the ,florentine streets cold and hungry as his father had done4 ,and his training was very different too4 ,instead of the convent and the kind monks1 he was placed under the care of a great painter1 and worked in the master's studio with other boys as well off as himself4 ,the name of ,filippino's master was ,sandro ,botticelli1 a ,florentine artist1 who had been one of ,filippo's pupils and had worked with him in ,prato4 ,fra ,diamante knew that he was the greatest artist now in ,florence1 and that he would be able to teach the child better than any one else4 ,filippino was a good1 industrious boy1 and had none of the faults which had so often led his father into so much mischief and so many strange adventures4 ,his boyhood passed quietly by and he learned all that his master could teach him1 and then began to paint his own pictures4 ,strangely enough1 his first work was to paint the walls of the ,carmille ,chapel--that same chapel where ,filippo and ,diamante had learned their lessons1 and had gazed with such awe and reverence on ,masaccio's work4 ,the great painter1 ,ugly ,tom1 was dead1 and there were still parts of the chapel unfinished1 so ,filippino was invited to fill the empty spaces with his work4 ,no need for the new prior to warn this young painter against the sin of painting earthly pictures4 ,the frescoes which daily grew beneath ,filippino's hands were saintly and beautiful4 ,the tall angel in flowing white robes who so gently leads ,st4 ,peter out of the prison door1 shines with a pure fair light that speaks of ,heaven4 ,the sleeping soldier looks in contrast all the more dull and heavy1 while ,st4 ,peter turns his eyes towards his gentle guide and folds his hands in reverence1 wrapped in the soft reflected light of that fair face4 ,and on the opposite wall1 the sad face of ,st4 ,peter looks out through the prison bars1 while a brother saint stands outside1 and with uplifted hand speaks comforting words to the poor prisoner4 ,by slow degrees the chapel walls were finished1 and after that there was much work ready for the young painter's hand4 ,it is said that he was very fond of studying old ,roman ornaments and painted them into his pictures whenever it was possible1 and became very famous for this kind of work4 ,but it is the beauty of his ,madonnas and angels that makes us love his pictures1 and we like to think that the memory of his gentle mother taught him how to paint those lovely faces4 ,perhaps of all his pictures the most beautiful is one in the church of the ,badia in ,florence4 ,it tells the story of the blessed ,st4 ,bernard1 and shows the saint in his desert home1 as he sat among the rocks writing the history of the ,madonna4 ,he had not been able to write that day2 perhaps he felt dull1 and none of his books1 scattered around1 were of any help4 ,then1 as he sat lost in thought1 with his pen in his hand1 the ,virgin herself stood before him1 an angel on either side1 and little angel faces pressed close behind her4 ,laying a gentle hand upon his book1 she seems to tell ,st4 ,bernard all those golden words which his poor earthly pen had not been able yet to write4 ,it used to be the custom long ago in ,italy to place in the streets sacred pictures or figures1 that passers-by might be reminded of holy things and say a prayer in passing4 ,and still in many towns you will find in some old dusty corner a beautiful picture1 painted by a master hand4 ,a gleam of colour will catch your eye1 and looking up you see a picture or little shrine of exquisite blue-and-white glazed pottery1 where the ,madonna kneels and worships the ,infant ,christ lying amongst the lilies at her feet4 ,the old battered lamp which hangs in front of these shrines is still kept lighted by some faithful hand1 and in spring-time the children will often come and lay little bunches of wild-flowers on the ledge below4 ',it is for the ,jesu ,bambino1' they will say1 and their little faces grow solemn and reverent as they kneel and say a prayer4 ,then off again they go to their play4 ,in a little side-street of ,prato1 not far from the convent where ,filippino's father first saw ,lucrezia's lovely face in the sunny garden1 there is one of these wayside shrines4 ,it is painted by ,filippino1 and is one of his most beautiful pictures4 ,the sweet face of the ,madonna looks down upon the busy street below1 and the ,holy ,child lifts ,his little hand in blessing1 amid the saints which stand on either side4 ,the glass that covers the picture is thick with dust1 and few who pass ever stop to look up4 ,the world is all too busy nowadays4 ,the hurrying feet pass by1 the unseeing eyes grow more and more careless4 ,but ,filippino's beautiful ,madonna looks on with calm1 sad eyes1 and the ,christ ,child1 surrounded by the cloud of little angel faces1 still holds in ,his uplifted hand a blessing for those who seek it4 ,like all the great ,florentine artists1 ,filippino1 as soon as he grew famous1 was invited to ,rome1 and he painted many pictures there4 ,on his way he stopped for a while at ,spoleto1 and there he designed a beautiful marble monument for his father's tomb4 ,unlike that father1 ,filippino was never fond of travel or adventure1 and was always glad to return to ,florence and live his quiet life there4 ,not even an invitation from the ,king of ,hungary could tempt him to leave home4 ,it was in the great church of ,santa ,maria ,novella in ,florence that ,filippino painted his last frescoes4 ,they are very real and lifelike1 as one of the great painter's pupils once learned to his cost4 ,filippino had1 of course1 many pupils who worked under him4 ,they ground his colours and watched him work1 and would sometimes be allowed to prepare the less important parts of the picture4 ,now it happened that one day when the master had finished his work and had left the chapel1 that one of the pupils lingered behind4 ,his sharp eye had caught sight of a netted purse which lay in a dark corner1 dropped there by some careless visitor1 or perhaps by the master himself4 ,the boy darted back and caught up the treasure2 but at that moment the master turned back to fetch something he had forgotten4 ,the boy looked quickly round4 ,where could he hide his prize8 ,in a moment his eye fell on a hole in the wall1 underneath a step which ,filippino had been painting in the fresco4 ,that was the very place1 and he ran forward to thrust the purse inside4 ,but1 alas6 the hole was only a painted one1 and the boy was fairly caught1 and was obliged with shame and confusion to give up his prize4 ,scarcely were these frescoes finished when ,filippino was seized with a terrible fever1 and he died almost as suddenly as his father had done4 ,in those days when there was a funeral of a prince in ,florence1 the ,florentines used to shut their shops1 and this was considered a great mark of respect1 and was paid only to those of royal blood4 ,but on the day that ,filippino's funeral passed along the ,via dei ,servi1 every shop there was closed and all ,florence mourned for him4 ',some men1' they said1 'are born princes1 and some raise themselves by their talents to be kings among men4 ,our ,filippino was a prince in ,art1 and so do we do honour to his title4' ,,pietro ,,perugino ,it was early morning1 and the rays of the rising sun had scarcely yet caught the roofs of the city of ,perugia1 when along the winding road which led across the plain a man and a boy walked with steady1 purposelike steps towards the town which crowned the hill in front4 ,the man was poorly dressed in the common rough clothes of an ,umbrian peasant4 ,hard work and poverty had bent his shoulders and drawn stern lines upon his face1 but there was a dignity about him which marked him as something above the common working man4 ,the little boy who trotted barefoot along by the side of his father had a sweet1 serious little face1 but he looked tired and hungry1 and scarcely fit for such a long rough walk4 ,they had started from their home at ,castello delle ,pieve very early that morning1 and the piece of black bread which had served them for breakfast had been but small4 ,away in front stretched that long1 white1 never-ending road2 and the little dusty feet that pattered so bravely along had to take hurried runs now and again to keep up with the long strides of the man1 while the wistful eyes1 which were fixed on that distant town1 seemed to wonder if they would really ever reach their journey's end4 ',art tired already1 ,pietro8' asked the father at length1 hearing a panting little sigh at his side4 ',why1 we are not yet half-way there6 ,thou must step bravely out and be a man1 for to-day thou shalt begin to work for thy living1 and no longer live the life of an idle child4' ,the boy squared his shoulders1 and his eyes shone4 ',it is not ,i who am tired1 my father1' he said4 ',it is only that my legs cannot take such good long steps as thine2 and walk as we will the road ever seems to unwind itself further and further in front1 like the magic white thread which has no end4' ,the father laughed1 and patted the child's head kindly4 ',the end will come ere long1' he said4 ',see where the mist lies at the foot of the hill2 there we will begin to climb among the olive-trees and leave the dusty road4 ,i know a quicker way by which we may reach the city4 ,we will climb over the great stones that mark the track of the stream1 and before the sun grows too hot we will have reached the city gates4' ,it was a great relief to the little hot1 tired feet to feel the cool grass beneath them1 and to leave the dusty road4 ,the boy almost forgot his tiredness as he scrambled from stone to stone1 and filled his hands with the violets which grew thickly on the banks1 scenting the morning air with their sweetness4 ,and when at last they came out once more upon the great white road before the city gates1 there was so much to gaze upon and wonder at1 that there was no room for thoughts of weariness or hunger4 ,there stood the herds of great white oxen1 patiently waiting to pass in4 ,pietro wondered if their huge wide horns would not reach from side to side of the narrow street within the gates4 ,there the shepherd-boys played sweet airs upon their pipes as they walked before their flocks1 and led the silly frightened sheep out of the way of passing carts4 ,women with bright-coloured handkerchiefs tied over their heads crowded round1 carrying baskets of fruit and vegetables from the country round4 ,carts full of scarlet and yellow pumpkins were driven noisily along4 ,whips cracked1 people shouted and talked as much with their hands as with their lips1 and all were eager to pass through the great ,etruscan gateway1 which stood grim and tall against the blue of the summer sky4 ,much good service had that gateway seen1 and it was as strong as when it had been first built hundreds of years before1 and was still able to shut out an army of enemies1 if ,perugia had need to defend herself4 ,pietro and his father quickly threaded their way through the crowd1 and passed through the gateway into the steep narrow street beyond4 ,it was cool and quiet here4 ,the sun was shut out by the tall houses1 and the shadows lay so deep that one might have thought it was the hour of twilight1 but for the peep of bright blue sky which showed between the overhanging eaves above4 ,presently they reached the great square market-place1 where all again was sunshine and bustle1 with people shouting and selling their wares1 which they spread out on the ground up to the very steps of the cathedral and all along in front of the ,palazzo ,publico4 ,here the man stopped1 and asked one of the passers-by if he could direct him to the shop of ,niccolo the painter4 ',yonder he dwells1' answered the citizen1 and pointed to a humble shop at the corner of the market-place4 ',hast thou brought the child to be a model8' ,pietro held his head up proudly1 and answered quickly for himself4 ',i am no longer a child1' he said2 'and ,i have come to work and not to sit idle4' ,the man laughed and went his way1 while father and son hurried on towards the little shop and entered the door4 ,the old painter was busy1 and they had to wait a while until he could leave his work and come to see what they might want4 ',this is the boy of whom ,i spoke1' said the father as he pushed ,pietro forward by his shoulder4 ',he is not well grown1 but he is strong1 and has learnt to endure hardness4 ,i promise thee that he will serve thee well if thou wilt take him as thy servant4' ,the painter smiled down at the little eager face which was waiting so anxiously for his answer4 ',what canst thou do8' he asked the boy4 ',everything1' answered ,pietro promptly4 ',i can sweep out thy shop and cook thy dinner4 ,i will learn to grind thy colours and wash thy brushes1 and do a man's work4' ',in faith1' laughed the painter1 'if thou canst do everything1 being yet so young1 thou wilt soon be the greatest man in ,perugia1 and bring great fame to this fair city4 ,then will we call thee no longer ,pietro ,vanucci1 but thou shalt take the city's name1 and we will call thee ,perugino4' ,the master spoke in jest1 but as time went on and he watched the boy at work1 he marvelled at the quickness with which the child learned to perform his new duties1 and began to think the jest might one day turn to earnest4 ,from early morning until sundown ,pietro was never idle1 and when the rough work was done he would stand and watch the master as he painted1 and listen breathless to the tales which ,niccolo loved to tell4 ',there is nothing so great in all the world as the art of painting1' the master would say4 ',it is the ladder that leads up to heaven1 the window which lets light into the soul4 ,a painter need never be lonely or poor4 ,he can create the faces he loves1 while all the riches of light and colour and beauty are always his4 ,if thou hast it in thee to be a painter1 my little ,perugino1 ,i can wish thee no greater fortune4' ,then when the day's work was done and the short spell of twilight drew near1 the boy would leave the shop and run swiftly down the narrow street until he came to the grim old city gates4 ,once outside1 under the wide blue sky in the free open air of the country1 he drew a long1 long breath of pleasure1 and quickly found a hidden corner in the cleft of the hoary trunk of an olive-tree1 where no passer-by could see him4 ,there he sat1 his chin resting on his hands1 gazing and gazing out over the plain below1 drinking in the beauty with his hungry eyes4 ,how he loved that great open space of sweet fresh air1 in the calm pure light of the evening hour4 ,that white light1 which seemed to belong more to heaven than to earth1 shone on everything around4 ,away in the distance the purple hills faded into the sunset sky4 ,at his feet the plain stretched away1 away until it met the mountains1 here and there lifting itself in some little hill crowned by a lonely town whose roofs just caught the rays of the setting sun4 ,the evening mist lay like a gossamer veil upon the low-lying lands1 and between the little towns the long straight road could be seen1 winding like a white ribbon through the grey and silver1 and marked here and there by a dark cypress-tree or a tall poplar4 ,and always there would be a glint of blue1 where a stream or river caught the reflection of the sky and held it lovingly there1 like a mirror among the rocks4 ,but ,pietro did not have much time for idle dreaming4 ,his was not an easy life1 for ,niccolo made but little money with his painting1 and the boy had to do all the work of the house besides attending to the shop4 ,but all the time he was sweeping and dusting he looked forward to the happy days to come when he might paint pictures and become a famous artist4 ,whenever a visitor came to the shop1 ,pietro would listen eagerly to his talk and try to learn something of the great world of ,art4 ,sometimes he would even venture to ask questions1 if the stranger happened to be one who had travelled from afar4 ',where are the most beautiful pictures to be found8' he asked one day when a ,florentine painter had come to the little shop and had been describing the glories he had seen in other cities4 ',and where is it that the greatest painters dwell8' ',that is an easy question to answer1 my boy1' said the painter4 ',all that is fairest is to be found in ,florence1 the most beautiful city in all the world1 the ,city of ,flowers4 ,there one may find the best of everything1 but above all1 the most beautiful pictures and the greatest of painters4 ,for no one there can bear to do only the second best1 and a man must attain to the very highest before the ,florentines will call him great4 ,the walls of the churches and monasteries are covered with pictures of saints and angels1 and their beauty no words can describe4' ',i too will go to ,florence1 said ,pietro to himself1 and every day he longed more and more to see that wonderful city4 ,it was no use to wait until he should have saved enough money to take him there4 ,he scarcely earned enough to live on from day to day4 ,so at last1 poor as he was1 he started off early one morning and said good-bye to his old master and the hard work of the little shop in ,perugia4 ,on he went down the same long white road which had seemed so endless to him that day when1 as a little child1 he first came to ,perugia4 ,even now1 when he was a strong young man1 the way seemed long and weary across that great plain1 and he was often foot-sore and discouraged4 ,day after day he travelled on1 past the great lake which lay like a sapphire in the bosom of the plain1 past many towns and little villages1 until at last he came in sight of the ,city of ,flowers4 ,it was a wonderful moment to ,perugino1 and he held his breath as he looked4 ,he had passed the brow of the hill1 and stood beside a little stream bordered by a row of tall1 straight poplars which showed silvery white against the blue sky4 ,beyond1 nestling at the foot of the encircling hills1 lay the city of his dreams4 ,towers and palaces1 a crowding together of pale red sunbaked roofs1 with the great dome of the cathedral in the midst1 and the silver thread of the ,arno winding its way between--all this he saw1 but he saw more than this4 ,for it seemed to him that the ,spirit of ,beauty hovered above the fair city1 and he almost heard the rustle of her wings and caught a glimpse of her rainbow-tinted robe in the light of the evening sky4 ,poor ,pietro6 ,here was the world he longed to conquer1 but he was only a poor country boy1 and how was he to begin to climb that golden ladder of ,art which led men to fame and glory8 ,well1 he could work1 and that was always a beginning4 ,the struggle was hard1 and for many a month he often went hungry and had not even a bed to lie on at night1 but curled himself up on a hard wooden chest4 ,then good fortune began to smile upon him4 ,the ,florentine artists to whose studios he went began to notice the hardworking boy1 and when they looked at his work1 with all its faults and want of finish1 they saw in it that divine something called genius which no one can mistake4 ,then the doors of another world seemed to open to ,pietro4 ,all day long he could now work at his beloved painting and learn fresh wonders as he watched the great men use the brush and pencil4 ,in the studio of the painter ,verocchio he met the men of whose fame he had so often heard1 and whose work he looked upon with awe and reverence4 ,there was the good-tempered monk of the ,carmine1 ,fra ,filipo ,lippi1 the young ,botticelli1 and a youth just his own age whom they called ,leonardo da ,vinci1 of whom it was whispered already that he would some day be the greatest master of the age4 ,these were golden days for ,perugino1 as he was called1 for the name of the city where he had come from was always now given to him4 ,the pictures he had longed to paint grew beneath his hand1 and upon his canvas began to dawn the solemn dignity and open-air spaciousness of those evening visions he had seen when he gazed across the ,umbrian ,plain4 ,there was no noise of battle1 no human passion in his pictures4 ,his saints stood quiet and solemn1 single figures with just a thread of interest binding them together1 and always beyond was the great wide open world1 with the white light shining in the sky1 the blue thread of the river1 and the single trees pointing upwards--dark1 solemn cypress1 or feathery larch or poplar4 ,there was much for the young painter still to learn1 and perhaps he learned most from the silent teaching of that little dark chapel of the ,carmine1 where ,masaccio taught more wonderful lessons by his frescoes than any living artist could teach4 ,then came the crowning honour when ,perugino received an invitation from the ,pope to go to ,rome and paint the walls of the ,sistine ,chapel4 ,hence forth it was a different kind of life for the young painter4 ,no need to wonder where he would get his next meal1 no hard rough wooden chest on which to rest his weary limbs when the day's work was done4 ,now he was royally entertained and softly lodged1 and men counted it an honour to be in his company4 ,but though he loved ,florence and was proud to do his painting in ,rome1 his heart ever drew him back to the city on the hill whose name he bore4 ,again he travelled along the winding road1 and his heart beat fast as he drew nearer and saw the familiar towers and roofs of ,perugia4 ,how well he remembered that long-ago day when the cool touch of the grass was so grateful to his little tired dusty feet6 ,he stooped again to fill his hands with the sweet violets1 and thought them sweeter than all the fame and fair show of the gay cities4 ,and as he passed through the ancient gateway and threaded his way up the narrow street towards the little shop1 he seemed to see once more the kindly smile of his old master and to hear him say1 ',thou wilt soon be the greatest man in ,perugia1 and we will call thee no longer ,pietro ,vanucci1 but ,perugino4' ,so it had come to pass4 ,here he was4 ,no longer a little ragged1 hungry boy1 but a man whom all delighted to honour4 ,truly this was a world of changes6 ,a bigger studio was needed than the little old shop1 for now he had more pictures to paint than he well knew how to finish4 ,then1 too1 he had many pupils1 for all were eager to enter the studio of the great master4 ,there it was that one morning a new pupil was brought to him1 a boy of twelve1 whose guardians begged that ,perugino would teach and train him4 ,perugino looked with interest at the child4 ,seldom had he seen such a beautiful oval face1 framed by such soft brown curls--a face so pure and lovable that even at first sight it drew out love from the hearts of those who looked at him4 ',his father was also a painter1' said the guardian1 'and ,raphael1 here1 has caught the trick of using his pencil and brush1 so we would have him learn of the greatest master in the land4' ,after some talk1 the boy was left in the studio at ,perugia1 and day by day ,perugino grew to love him more4 ,it was not only that little ,raphael was clever and skilful1 though that alone often made the master marvel4 ',he is my pupil now1 but some day he will be my master1 and ,i shall learn of him1' ,perugino would often say as he watched the boy at work4 ,but more than all1 the pure sweet nature and the polished gentleness of his manners charmed the heart of the master1 and he loved to have the boy always near him1 and to teach him was his greatest pleasure4 ,those quiet days in the ,perugia studio never lasted very long4 ,from all quarters came calls to ,perugino1 and1 much as he loved work1 he could not finish all that was wanted4 ,it happened once when he was in ,florence that a certain prior begged him to come and fresco the walls of his convent4 ,this prior was very famous for making a most beautiful and expensive blue colour which he was anxious should be used in the painting of the convent walls4 ,he was a mean1 suspicious man1 and would not trust ,perugino with the precious blue colour1 but always held it in his own hands and grudgingly doled it out in small quantities1 torn between the desire to have the colour on his walls and his dislike to parting with anything so precious4 ,as ,perugino noted this1 he grew angry and determined to punish the prior's meanness4 ,the next time therefore that there was a blue sky to be painted1 he put at his side a large bowl of fresh water1 and then called on the prior to put out a small quantity of the blue colour in a little vase4 ,each time he dipped his brush into the vase1 ,perugino washed it out with a swirl in the bowl at his side1 so that most of the colour was left in the water1 and very little was put on to the picture4 ',i pray thee fill the vase again with blue1' he said carelessly when the colour was all gone4 ,the prior groaned aloud1 and turned grudgingly to his little bag4 ',oh what a quantity of blue is swallowed up by this plaster6' he said1 as he gazed at the white wall1 which scarcely showed a trace of the precious colour4 ',yes1' said ,perugino cheerfully1 'thou canst see thyself how it goes4' ,then afterwards1 when the prior had sadly gone off with his little empty bag1 ,perugino carefully poured the water from the bowl and gathered together the grains of colour which had sunk to the bottom4 ',here is something that belongs to thee1' he said sternly to the astonished prior4 ',i would have thee learn to trust honest men and not treat them as thieves4 ,for with all thy suspicious care1 it was easy to rob thee if ,i had had a mind4' ,during all these years in which ,perugino had worked so diligently1 the art of painting had been growing rapidly4 ,many of the new artists shook off the old rules and ideas1 and began to paint in quite a new way4 ,there was one man especially1 called ,michelangelo1 whose story you will hear later on1 who arose like a giant1 and with his new way and greater knowledge swept everything before him4 ,perugino was jealous of all these new ideas1 and clung more closely than ever to his old ideals1 his quiet1 dignified saints1 and spacious landscapes4 ,he talked openly of his dislike of the new style1 and once he had a serious quarrel with the great ,michelangelo4 ,there was a gathering of painters in ,perugino's studio that day4 ,filippino ,lippi1 ,botticelli1 ,ghirlandaio1 and ,leonardo were there1 and in the background the pupil ,raphael was listening to the talk4 ',what dost thou think of this new style of painting8' asked ,botticelli4 ',to me it seems but strange and unpleasing4 ,music and motion are delightful1 but this violent twisting of limbs to show the muscles offends my taste4' ',yet it is most marvellously skilful1' said the young ,leonardo thoughtfully4 ',but totally unfit for the proper picturing of saints and the blessed ,madonna1' said ,filippino1 shaking his curly head4 ',i never trouble myself about it1' said ,ghirlandaio4 ',life is too short to attend to other men's work4 ,it takes all my care and attention to look after mine own4 ,but see1 here comes the great ,michelangelo himself to listen to our criticism4' ,the curious1 rugged face of the great artist looked good-naturedly on the company1 but his strong knotted hands waved aside their greetings4 ',so you were busy as usual finding fault with my work1' he said4 ',come1 friend ,perugino1 tell me what thou hast found to grumble at4' ',i like not thy methods1 and that ,i tell thee frankly1' answered ,perugino1 an angry light shining in his eyes4 ',it is such work as thine that drags the art of painting down from the heights of heavenly things to the low taste of earth4 ,it robs it of all dignity and restfulness1 and destroys the precious traditions handed down to us since the days of ,giotto4' ,the face of ,michelangelo grew angry and scornful as he listened to this4 ',thou art but a dolt and a blockhead in ,art1' he said4 ',thou wilt soon see that the day of thy saints and ,madonnas is past1 and wilt cease to paint them over and over again in the same manner1 as a child doth his lesson in a copy book4' ,then he turned and went out of the studio before any one had time to answer him4 ,perugino was furiously angry and would not listen to reason1 but must needs go before the great ,council and demand that they should punish ,michelangelo for his hard words4 ,this of course the ,council refused to do1 and ,perugino left ,florence for ,perugia1 angry and sore at heart4 ,it seemed hard1 after all his struggles and great successes1 that as he grew old people should begin to tire of his work1 which they had once thought so perfect4 ,but if the outside world was sometimes disappointing1 he had always his home to turn to1 and his beautiful wife ,chiare4 ,he had married her in his beloved ,perugia1 and she meant all the joy of life to him4 ,he was so proud of her beauty that he would buy her the richest dresses and most costly jewels1 and with his own hands would deck her with them4 ,her brown eyes were like the depths of some quiet pool1 her fair face and the wonderful soul that shone there were to him the most perfect picture in the world4 ',i will paint thee once1 that the world may be the richer1' said ,perugino1 'but only once1 for thy beauty is too rare for common use4 ,and ,i will paint thee not as an earthly beauty1 but thou shalt be the angel in the story of ,tobias which thou knowest4' ,so he painted her as he said4 ,and in our own ,national ,gallery we still have the picture1 and we may see her there as the beautiful angel who leads the little boy ,tobias by the hand4 ,up to the very last years of his life1 ,perugino painted as diligently as he had ever done1 but the peaceful days of ,perugia had long since given place to war and tumult1 both within and without the city4 ,then too a terrible plague swept over the countryside1 and people died by thousands4 ,to the hospital of ,fartignano1 close to ,perugia1 they carried ,perugino when the deadly plague seized him1 and there he died4 ,there was no time to think of grand funerals2 the people were buried as quickly as possible1 in whatever place lay closest at hand4 ,so it came to pass that ,perugino was laid to rest in an open field under an oak-tree close by4 ,later on his sons wished to have him buried in holy ground1 and some say that this was done1 but nothing is known for certain4 ,perhaps if he could have chosen1 he would have been glad to think that his body should rest under the shelter of the trees he loved to paint1 in that waste openness of space which had always been his vision of beauty1 since1 as a little boy1 he gazed across the ,umbrian ,plain1 and the wonder of it sank into his soul4 ,,leonardo ,,da ,,vinci ,on the sunny slopes of ,monte ,albano1 between ,florence and ,pisa1 the little town of ,vinci lay high among the rocks that crowned the steep hillside4 ,it was but a little town4 ,only a few houses crowded together round an old castle in the midst1 and it looked from a distance like a swallow's nest clinging to the bare steep rocks4 ,here in the year #adeb ,leonardo1 son of ,ser ,piero da ,vinci1 was born4 ,it was in the age when people told fortunes by the stars1 and when a baby was born they would eagerly look up and decide whether it was a lucky or unlucky star which shone upon the child4 ,surely if it had been possible in this way to tell what fortune awaited the little ,leonardo1 a strange new star must have shone that night1 brighter than the others and unlike the rest in the dazzling light of its strength and beauty4 ,leonardo was always a strange child4 ,even his beauty was not like that of other children4 ,he had the most wonderful waving hair1 falling in regular ripples1 like the waters of a fountain1 the colour of bright gold1 and soft as spun silk4 ,his eyes were blue and clear1 with a mysterious light in them1 not the warm light of a sunny sky1 but rather the blue that glints in the iceberg4 ,they were merry eyes too1 when he laughed1 but underneath was always that strange cold look4 ,there was a charm about his smile which no one could resist1 and he was a favourite with all4 ,yet people shook their heads sometimes as they looked at him1 and they talked in whispers of the old witch who had lent her goat to nourish the little ,leonardo when he was a baby4 ,the woman was a dealer in black magic1 and who knew but that the child might be a changeling8 ,it was the old grandmother1 ,mona ,lena1 who brought ,leonardo up and spoilt him not a little4 ,his father1 ,ser ,piero1 was a lawyer1 and spent most of his time in ,florence1 but when he returned to the old castle of ,vinci1 he began to give ,leonardo lessons and tried to find out what the boy was fit for4 ,but ,leonardo hated those lessons and would not learn1 so when he was seven years old he was sent to school4 ,this did not answer any better4 ,the rough play of the boys was not to his liking4 ,when he saw them drag the wings off butterflies1 or torture any animal that fell into their hands1 his face grew white with pain1 and he would take no share in their games4 ,the ,latin grammar1 too1 was a terrible task1 while the many things he longed to know no one taught him4 ,so it happened that many a time1 instead of going to school1 he would slip away and escape up into the hills1 as happy as a little wild goat4 ,here was all the sweet fresh air of heaven1 instead of the stuffy schoolroom4 ,here were no cruel1 clumsy boys1 but all the wild creatures that he loved4 ,here he could learn the real things his heart was hungry to know1 not merely words which meant nothing and led to nowhere4 ,for hours he would lie perfectly still with his heels in the air and his chin resting in his hands1 as he watched a spider weaving its web1 breathless with interest to see how the delicate threads were turned in and out4 ,the gaily painted butterflies1 the fat buzzing bees1 the little sharp-tongued green lizards1 he loved to watch them all1 but above everything he loved the birds4 ,oh1 if only he too had wings to dart like the swallows1 and swoop and sail and dart again6 ,what was the secret power in their wings8 ,surely by watching he might learn it4 ,sometimes it seemed as if his heart would burst with the longing to learn that secret4 ,it was always the hidden reason of things that he desired to know4 ,much as he loved the flowers he must pull their petals of1 one by one1 to see how each was joined1 to wonder at the dusty pollen1 and touch the honey-covered stamens4 ,then when the sun began to sink he would turn sadly homewards1 very hungry1 with torn clothes and tired feet1 but with a store of sunshine in his heart4 ,his grandmother shook her head when ,leonardo appeared after one of his days of wandering4 ',i know thou shouldst be whipped for playing truant1' she said2 'and ,i should also punish thee for tearing thy clothes4' ',ah6 but thou wilt not whip me1' answered ,leonardo1 smiling at her with his curious quiet smile1 for he had full confidence in her love4 ',well1 ,i love to see thee happy1 and ,i will not punish thee this time1' said his grandmother2 'but if these tales reach thy father's ears1 he will not be so tender as ,i am towards thee4' ,and1 sure enough1 the very next time that a complaint was made from the school1 his father happened to be at home1 and then the storm burst4 ',next time ,i will flog thee1' said ,ser ,piero sternly1 with rising anger at the careless air of the boy4 ',meanwhile we will see what a little imprisonment will do towards making thee a better child4' ,then he took the boy by the shoulders and led him to a little dark cupboard under the stairs1 and there shut him up for three whole days4 ,there was no kicking or beating at the locked door4 ,leonardo sat quietly there in the dark1 thinking his own thoughts1 and wondering why there seemed so little justice in the world4 ,but soon even that wonder passed away1 and as usual when he was alone he began to dream dreams of the time when he should have learned the swallows' secrets and should have wings like theirs4 ,but if there were complaints about ,leonardo's dislike of the boys and the ,latin grammar1 there would be none about the lessons he chose to learn4 ,indeed1 some of the masters began to dread the boy's eager questions1 which were sometimes more than they could answer4 ,scarcely had he begun the study of arithmetic than he made such rapid progress1 and wanted to puzzle out so many problems1 that the masters were amazed4 ,his mind seemed always eagerly asking for more light1 and was never satisfied4 ,but it was out on the hillside that he spent his happiest hours4 ,he loved every crawling1 creeping1 or flying thing1 however ugly4 ,curious beasts which might have frightened another child were to him charming and interesting4 ,there as he listened to the carolling of the birds and bent his head to catch the murmured song of the mountain-streams1 the love of music began to steal into his heart4 ,he did not rest then until he managed to get a lute and learned how to play upon it4 ,and when he had mastered the notes and learned the rules of music1 he began to play airs which no one had ever heard before1 and to sing such strange sweet songs that the golden notes flowed out as fresh and clear as the song of a lark in the early morning of spring4 ',the child is a changeling1' said some1 as they saw ,leonardo tenderly lift a crushed lizard in his hand1 or watched him play with a spotted snake or great hairy spider4 ',a changeling perhaps1' said others1 'but one that hath the voice of an angel4' ,for every one stopped to listen when the boy's voice was heard singing through the streets of the little town4 ,he was a puzzle to every one1 and yet a delight to all1 even when they understood him least4 ,so time went on1 and when ,leonardo was thirteen his father took him away to ,florence that he might begin to be trained for some special work4 ,but what work8 ,ah6 that was the rub4 ,the boy could do so many things well that it was difficult to fix on one4 ,at that time there was living in ,florence an old man who knew a great deal about the stars1 and who made wonderful calculations about them4 ,he was a famous astronomer1 but he cared not at all for honour or fame1 but lived a simple quiet life by himself and would not mix with the gay world4 ,few visitors ever came to see him1 for it was known that he would receive no one1 and so it was a great surprise to old ,toscanelli when one night a gentle knock sounded at his door1 and a boy walked quietly in and stood before him4 ,hastily the old man looked up1 and his first thought was to ask the child how he dared enter without leave1 and then ask him to be gone1 but as he looked at the fair face he felt the charm of the curious smile1 and the light in the blue eyes1 and instead he laid his hand upon the boy's golden head and said3 ',what dost thou seek1 my son8' ',i would learn all that thou canst teach me1' said ,leonardo1 for it was he4 ,the old man smiled4 ',behold the boundless self-confidence of youth6' he said4 ,but as they talked together1 and the boy asked his many eager questions1 a great wonder awoke in the astronomer's mind1 and his eyes shone with interest4 ,this child-mind held depths of understanding such as he had never met with among his learned friends4 ,day after day the old man and the boy bent eagerly together over their problems1 and when night fell ,toscanelli would take the child up with him to his lonely tower above ,florence1 and teach him to know the stars and to understand many things4 ',this is all very well1' said ,ser ,piero1 'but the boy must do more than mere star-gazing4 ,he must earn a living for himself1 and methinks we might make a painter of him4' ,that very day1 therefore1 he gathered together some of ,leonardo's drawings which lay carelessly scattered about1 and took them to the studio of ,verocchio the painter1 who lived close by the ,ponte ,vecchio4 ',dost thou think thou canst make aught of the boy8' he asked1 spreading out the drawings before ,verocchio4 ,the painter's quick eyes examined the work with deep interest4 ',send him to me at once1' he said4 ',this is indeed marvellous talent4' ,so ,leonardo entered the studio as a pupil1 and learned all that could be taught him with the same quickness with which he learned anything that he cared to know4 ,every one who saw his work declared that he would be the wonder of the age1 but ,verocchio shook his head4 ',he is too wonderful1' he said4 ',he aims at too great perfection4 ,he wants to know everything and do everything1 and life is too short for that4 ,he finishes nothing1 because he is ever starting to do something else4' ,verocchio's words were true2 the boy seldom worked long at one thing4 ,his hands were never idle1 and often1 instead of painting1 he would carve out tiny windmills and curious toys which worked with pulleys and ropes1 or made exquisite little clay models of horses and all the other animals that he loved4 ,but he never forgot the longing that had filled his heart when he was a child--the desire to learn the secret of flying4 ,for days he would sit idle and think of nothing but soaring wings1 then he would rouse himself and begin to make some strange machine which he thought might hold the secret that he sought4 ',a waste of time1' growled ,verocchio4 ',see here1 thou wouldst be better employed if thou shouldst set to work and help me finish this picture of the ,baptism for the good monks of ,vallambrosa4 ,let me see how thou canst paint in the kneeling figure of the angel at the side4' ,for a while the boy stood motionless before the picture as if he was looking at something far away4 ,then he seized the brushes with his left hand and began to paint with quick certain sweep4 ,he never stopped to think1 but worked as if the angel were already there1 and he were but brushing away the veil that hid it from the light4 ,then1 when it was done1 the master came and looked silently on4 ,for a moment a quick stab of jealousy ran through his heart4 ,year after year had he worked and striven to reach his ideal4 ,long days of toil and weary nights had he spent1 winning each step upwards by sheer hard work4 ,and here was this boy without an effort able to rise far above him4 ,all the knowledge which the master had groped after1 had been grasped at once by the wonderful mind of the pupil4 ,but the envious feeling passed quickly away1 and ,verocchio laid his hand upon ,leonardo's shoulder4 ',i have found my master1' he said quietly1 'and ,i will paint no more4' ,leonardo scarcely seemed to hear2 he was thinking of something else now1 and he seldom noticed if people praised or blamed him4 ,his thoughts had fixed themselves upon something he had seen that morning which had troubled him4 ,on the way to the studio he had passed a tiny shop in a narrow street where a seller of birds was busy hanging his cages up on the nails fastened to the outside wall4 ,the thought of those poor little prisoners beating their wings against the cruel bars and breaking their hearts with longing for their wild free life1 had haunted him all day1 and now he could bear it no longer4 ,he seized his cap and hurried off1 all forgetful of his kneeling angel and the master's praise4 ,he reached the little shop and called to the man within4 ',how much wilt thou take for thy birds8' he cried1 and pointed to the little wooden cages that hung against the wall4 ',plague on them1' answered the man1 'they will often die before ,i can make a sale by them4 ,thou canst have them all for one silver piece4' ,in a moment ,leonardo had paid the money and had turned towards the row of little cages4 ,one by one he opened the doors and set the prisoners free1 and those that were too frightened or timid to fly away1 he gently drew out with his hand1 and sent them gaily whirling up above his head into the blue sky4 ,the man looked with blank astonishment at the empty cages1 and wondered if the handsome young man was mad4 ,but ,leonardo paid no heed to him1 but stood gazing up until every one of the birds had disappeared4 ',happy things1' he said1 with a sigh4 ',will you ever teach me the secret of your wings1 ,i wonder8' ,it was with great pleasure that ,ser ,piero heard of his son's success at ,verocchio's studio1 and he began to have hopes that the boy would make a name for himself after all4 ,it happened just then that he was on a visit to his castle at ,vinci1 and one morning a peasant who lived on the estate came to ask a great favour of him4 ,he had bought a rough wooden shield which he was very anxious should have a design painted on it in ,florence1 and he begged ,ser ,piero to see that it was done4 ,the peasant was a faithful servant1 and very useful in supplying the castle with fish and game1 so ,ser ,piero was pleased to grant him his request4 ',leonardo shall try his hand upon it4 ,it is time he became useful to me1' said ,ser ,piero to himself4 ,so on his return to ,florence he took the shield to his son4 ,it was a rough1 badly-shaped shield1 so ,leonardo held it to the fire and began to straighten it4 ,for though his hands looked delicate and beautifully formed1 they were as strong as steel1 and he could bend bars of iron without an effort4 ,then he sent the shield to a turner to be smoothed and rounded1 and when it was ready he sat down to think what he should paint upon it1 for he loved to draw strange monsters4 ',i will make it as terrifying as the head of ,medusa1' he said at last1 highly delighted with the plan that had come into his head4 ,then he went out and collected together all the strangest animals he could find--lizards1 hedgehogs1 newts1 snakes1 dragon-flies1 locusts1 bats1 and glow-worms4 ,these he took into his own room1 which no one was allowed to enter1 and began to paint from them a curious monster1 partly a lizard and partly a bat1 with something of each of the other animals added to it4 ,when it was ready ,leonardo hung the shield in a good light against a dark curtain1 so that the painted monster stood out in brilliant contrast1 and looked as if its twisted curling limbs were full of life4 ,a knock sounded at the door1 and ,ser ,piero's voice was heard outside asking if the shield was finished4 ',come in1' cried ,leonardo1 and ,ser ,piero entered4 ,he cast one look at the monster hanging there and then uttered a cry and turned to flee1 but ,leonardo caught hold of his cloak and laughingly told him to look closer4 ',if ,i have really succeeded in frightening thee1' he said1 ',i have indeed done all ,i could desire4' ,his father could scarcely believe that it was nothing but a painting1 and he was so proud of the work that he would not part with it1 but gave the peasant of ,vinci another shield instead4 ,leonardo then began a drawing for a curtain which was to be woven in silk and gold and given as a present from the ,florentines to the ,king of ,portugal1 and he also began a large picture of the ,adoration of the ,shepherds which was never finished4 ,the young painter grew restless after a while1 and felt the life of the studio narrow and cramped4 ,he longed to leave ,florence and find work in some new place4 ,he was not a favourite at the court of ,lorenzo the ,magnificent as ,filippino ,lippi and ,botticelli were4 ,lorenzo liked those who would flatter him and do as they were bid1 while ,leonardo took his own way in everything and never said what he did not mean4 ,but it happened that just then ,lorenzo wished to send a present to ,ludovico ,sforza1 the ,duke of ,milan1 and the gift he chose was a marvellous musical instrument which ,leonardo had just finished4 ,it was a silver lute1 made in the form of a horse's head1 the most curious and beautiful thing ever seen4 ,lorenzo was charmed with it4 ',thou shalt take it thyself1 as my messenger1' he said to ,leonardo4 ',i doubt if another can be found who can play upon it as thou dost4' ,so ,leonardo set out for ,milan1 and was glad to shake himself free from the narrow life of the ,florentine studio4 ,before starting1 however1 he had written a letter to the ,duke setting down in simple order all the things he could do1 and telling of what use he could be in times of war and in days of peace4 ,there seemed nothing that he could not do4 ,he could make bridges1 blow up castles1 dig canals1 invent a new kind of cannon1 build warships1 and make underground passages4 ,in days of peace he could design and build houses1 make beautiful statues and paint pictures 'as well as any man1 be he who he may4' ,the letter was written in curious writing from right to left like ,hebrew or ,arabic4 ,this was how ,leonardo always wrote1 using his left hand1 so that it could only be read by holding the writing up to a mirror4 ,the ,duke was half amazed and half amused when the letter reached him4 ',either these are the words of a fool1 or of a man of genius1' said the ,duke4 ,and when he had once seen and spoken to ,leonardo he saw at once which of the two he deserved to be called4 ,every one at the court was charmed with the artist's beautiful face and graceful manners4 ,his music alone1 as he swept the strings of the silver lute and sang to it his own songs1 would have brought him fame1 but the ,duke quickly saw that this was no mere minstrel4 ,it was soon arranged therefore that ,leonardo should take up his abode at the court of ,milan and receive a yearly pension from the ,duke4 ,sometimes the pension was paid1 and sometimes it was forgotten1 but ,leonardo never troubled about money matters4 ,somehow or other he must have all that he wanted1 and everything must be fair and dainty4 ,his clothes were always rich and costly1 but never bright-coloured or gaudy4 ,there was no plume or jewelled brooch in his black velvet beretto or cap1 and the only touch of colour was his golden hair1 and the mantle of dark red cloth which he wore in the fashion of the ,florentines1 thrown across his shoulder4 ,above all1 he must always have horses in his stables1 for he loved them more than human beings4 ,many were the plans and projects which the ,duke entrusted to ,leonardo's care1 but of all that he did1 two great works stand out as greater than all the rest4 ,one was the painting of the ,last ,supper on the walls of the refectory of ,santa ,maria delle ,grazie1 and the other the making of a model of a great equestrian statue1 a bronze horse with the figure of the ,duke upon its back4 ',year after year ,leonardo worked at that wonderful fresco of the ,last ,supper4 ,sometimes for weeks or months he never touched it1 but he always returned to it again4 ,then for days he would work from morning till night1 scarcely taking time to eat1 and able to think of nothing else1 until suddenly he would put down his brushes and stand silently for a long1 long time before the picture4 ,it seemed as if he was wasting the precious hours doing nothing1 but in truth he worked more diligently with his brain when his hands were idle4 ,often too when he worked at the model for the great bronze horse1 he would suddenly stop1 and walk quickly through the streets until he came to the refectory1 and there1 catching up his brushes1 he would paint in one or perhaps two strokes1 and then return to his modelling4 ,besides all this ,leonardo was busy with other plans for the ,duke's amusement1 and no court fete was counted successful without his help4 ,nothing seemed too difficult for him to contrive1 and what he did was always new and strange and wonderful4 ,once when the ,king of ,france came as a guest to ,milan1 ,leonardo prepared a curious model of a lion1 which by some inside machinery was able to walk forward several steps to meet the ,king1 and then open wide its huge jaws and display inside a bed of sweet-scented lilies1 the emblem of ,france1 to do honour to her ,king4 ,but while working at other things ,leonardo never forgot his longing to learn the secret art of flying4 ,every now and then a new idea would come into his head1 and he would lay aside all other work until he had made the new machine which might perhaps act as the wings of a bird4 ,each fresh disappointment only made him more keen to try again4 ',i know we shall some day have wings1' he said to his pupils1 who sometimes wondered at the strange work of the master's hands4 ',it is only a question of knowing how to make them4 ,i remember once when ,i was a baby lying in my cradle1 ,i fancied a bird flew to me1 opened my lips and rubbed its feathers over them4 ,so it seems to be my fate all my life to talk of wings4' ,very slowly the great fresco of the ,last ,supper grew under the master's hand until it was nearly finished4 ,the statue1 too1 was almost completed1 and then evil days fell upon ,milan4 ,the ,duke was obliged to flee before the ,french soldiers1 who forced their way into the town and took possession of it4 ,before any one could prevent it1 the soldiers began to shoot their arrows at the great statue1 which they used as a target1 and in a few hours the work of sixteen years was utterly destroyed4 ,it is sadder still to tell the fate of ,leonardo's fresco1 the greatest picture perhaps that ever was painted4 ,dampness lurked in the wall and began to dim and blur the colours4 ,the careless monks cut a door through the very centre of the picture1 and1 later on1 when ,napoleon's soldiers entered ,milan1 they used the refectory as a stable1 and amused themselves by throwing stones at what remained of it4 ,but though little of it is left now to be seen1 there is still enough to make us stand in awe and reverence before the genius of the great master4 ,not far from ,milan there lived a friend of ,leonardo's1 whom the master loved to visit4 ,this ,girolamo ,melzi had a son called ,francesco1 a little motherless boy1 who adored the great painter with all his heart4 ,together ,leonardo and the child used to wander out to search for curious animals and rare flowers1 and as they watched the spiders weave their webs and pulled the flowers to pieces to find out their secrets1 the boy listened with wide wondering eyes to all the tales which the painter told him4 ,and at night ,leonardo wrapped the little one close inside his warm cloak and carried him out to see the stars--those same stars which old ,toscanelli had taught him to love long ago in ,florence4 ,then when the day of parting came the child clung round the master's neck and would not let him go4 ',take me with thee1' he cried1 'do not leave me behind all alone4' ',i cannot take thee now1 little one1' said ,leonardo gently4 ',thou art still too small1 but later on thou shalt come to me and be my pupil4 ,this ,i promise thee4' ,it was but a weary wandering life that awaited ,leonardo after he was forced to leave his home in ,milan4 ,it seemed as if it was his fate to begin many things but to finish nothing4 ,for a while he lived in ,rome1 but he did little real work there4 ,for several years he lived in ,florence and began to paint a huge battle-picture4 ,there too he painted the famous portrait of ,mona ,lisa1 which is now in ,paris4 ,of all portraits that have ever been painted this is counted the most wonderful and perfect piece of work1 although ,leonardo himself called it unfinished4 ,by this time the master had fallen on evil days4 ,all his pupils were gone1 and his friends seemed to have forgotten him4 ,he was sitting before the fire one stormy night1 lonely and sad1 when the door opened and a tall handsome lad came in4 ',master6' he cried1 and kneeling down he kissed the old man's hands4 ',dost thou not know me8 ,i am thy little ,francesco1 come to claim thy promise that ,i should one day be thy servant and pupil4 ,leonardo laid his hand upon the boy's fair head and looked into his face4 ',i am growing old1' he said1 'and ,i can no longer do for thee what ,i might once have done4 ,i am but a poor wanderer now4 ,dost thou indeed wish to cast in thy lot with mine8' ',i care only to be near thee1' said the boy4 ',i will go with thee to the ends of the earth4' ,so when1 soon after1 ,leonardo received an invitation from the new ,king of ,france1 he took the boy with him1 and together they made their home in the little chateau of ,claux near the town of ,amboise4 ,the master's hair was silvered now1 and his long beard was as white as snow4 ,his keen blue eyes looked weary and tired of life1 and care had drawn many deep lines on his beautiful face4 ,sad thoughts were always his company4 ,the one word 'failure' seemed to be written across his life4 ,what had he done8 ,he had begun many things and had finished but few4 ,his great fresco was even now fading away and becoming dim and blurred4 ,his model for the marvellous horse was destroyed4 ,a few pictures remained1 but these had never quite reached his ideal4 ,the crowd who had once hailed him as the greatest of all artists1 could now only talk of ,michelangelo and the young ,raphael4 ,michelangelo himself had once scornfully told him he was a failure and could finish nothing4 ,he was glad to leave ,italy and all its memories behind1 and he hoped to begin work again in his quiet little ,french home4 ,but ,death was drawing near1 and before many years had passed he grew too weak to hold a brush or pencil4 ,it was in the springtime of the year that the end came4 ,francesco had opened the window and gently lifted the master in his strong young arms1 that he might look once more on the outside world which he loved so dearly4 ,the trees were putting on their dainty dress of tender green1 white clouds swept across the blue sky1 and ,april sunshine flooded the room4 ,as he looked out1 the master's tired eyes woke into life4 ',look6' he cried1 'the swallows have come back6 ,oh that they would lend me their wings that ,i might fly away and be at rest6' ,the swallows darted and circled about in the clear spring air1 busy with their building plans1 but ,francesco thought he heard the rustle of other wings1 as the master's soul1 freed from the tired body1 was at last borne upwards higher than any earthly wings could soar4 ,,raphael ,among the marvellous tales of the ,arabian ,nights1 there is a story told of a band of robbers who1 by whispering certain magic words1 were able to open the door of a secret cave where treasures of gold and silver and precious jewels lay hid4 ,now1 although the day of such delightful marvels is past and gone1 yet there still remains a certain magic in some names which is able to open the secret doors of the hidden haunts of beauty and delight4 ,for most people the very name of ',raphael' is like the ',open ,sesame' of the robber chief in the old story4 ,in a moment a door seems to open out of the commonplace everyday world1 and through it they see a stretch of fair sweet country4 ,there their eyes rest upon gentle1 dark-eyed ,madonnas1 who smile down lovingly upon the heavenly ,child1 playing at her side or resting in her arms4 ,the little ,st4 ,john is also there1 companion of the ,infant ,christ2 rosy1 round-limbed children both1 half human and half divine4 ,and standing in the background are a crowd of grave1 quiet figures1 each one alive with interest1 while over all there is a glow of intense vivid colour4 ,we know but little of the everyday life of this great artist4 ,when we hear his name1 it is of his different pictures that we think at once1 for they are world-famous4 ,we almost forget the man as we gaze at his work4 ,it was in the little village of ,urbino1 in ,umbria1 that ,raphael was born4 ,his father was a painter called ,giovanni ,santi1 and from him ,raphael inherited his love of ,art4 ,his mother1 ,magia1 was a sweet1 gracious woman1 and the little ,raphael was like her in character and beauty4 ,it seemed as if the boy had received every good gift that ,nature could bestow4 ,he had a lovely oval face1 and soft dark eyes that shone with a beauty that was more of heaven than earth1 and told of a soul which was as pure and lovely as his face4 ,above all1 he had the gift of making every one love him1 so that his should have been a happy sunshiny life4 ,but no one can ever escape trouble1 and when ,raphael was only eight years old1 the first cloud overspread his sky4 ,his mother died1 and soon after his father married again4 ,the new mother was very young1 and did not care much for children1 but ,raphael did not mind that as long as he could be with his father4 ,but three years later a blacker cloud arose and blotted out the sunshine from his life1 for his father too died1 and left him all alone4 ,the boy had loved his father dearly1 and it had been his great delight to be with him in the studio1 to learn to grind and mix the colours and watch those wonderful pictures grow from day to day4 ,but now all was changed4 ,the quiet studio rang with angry voices1 and the peaceful home was the scene of continual quarrelling4 ,who was to have the money1 and how were the ,santi estates to be divided8 ,stepmother and uncle wrangled from morning until night1 and no one gave a thought to the child ,raphael4 ,it was only the money that mattered4 ,then when it seemed that the boy's training was going to be totally neglected1 kindly help arrived4 ,simone di ,ciarla1 brother of ,raphael's own mother1 came to look after his little nephew1 and ere long carried him off from the noisy1 quarrelsome household1 and took him to ,perugia4 ',thou shalt have the best teaching in all ,italy1' said ,simone as they walked through the streets of the town4 ',the great master to whose studio we go1 can hold his own even among the artists of ,florence4 ,see that thou art diligent to learn all that he can teach thee1 so that thou mayest become as great a painter as thy father4' ',am ,i to be the pupil of the great ,perugino8' asked ,raphael1 his eyes shining with pleasure4 ',i have often heard my father speak of his marvellous pictures4' ',we will see if he can take thee1' answered his uncle4 ,the boy's heart sunk4 ,what if the master refused to take him as a pupil8 ,must he return to idleness and the place which was no longer home8 ,but soon his fears were set at rest4 ,perugino1 like every one else1 felt the charm of that beautiful face and gentle manner1 and when he had seen some drawings which the boy had done1 he agreed readily that ,raphael should enter the studio and become his pupil4 ,perugia had been passing through evil times just before this4 ,the two great parties of the ,oddi and ,baglioni families were always at war together4 ,whichever of them happened to be the stronger held the city and drove out the other party1 so that the fighting never ceased either inside or outside the gates4 ,the peaceful country round about had been laid waste and desolate4 ,the peasants did not dare go out to till their fields or prune their olive-trees4 ,mothers were afraid to let their little ones out of their sight1 for hungry wolves and other wild beasts prowled about the deserted countryside4 ,then came a day when the outside party managed to creep silently into the city1 and the most terrible fight of all began4 ,so long and fiercely did the battle rage that almost all the ,oddi were killed4 ,then for a time there was peace in ,perugia and all the country round4 ,so it happened that as soon as the people of ,perugia had time to think of other things besides fighting1 they began to wish that their town might be put in order1 and that the buildings which had been injured during the struggles might be restored4 ,this was a good opportunity for peaceful men like ,perugino1 for there was much work to be done1 and both he and his pupils were kept busy from morning till night4 ,of all his pupils1 ,perugino loved the young ,raphael best4 ,he saw at once that this was no ordinary boy4 ',he is my pupil now1 but soon he will be my master1' he used to say as he watched the boy at work4 ,so he taught him with all possible carefulness1 and was never tired of giving him good advice4 ',learn first of all to draw1' he would say1 when ,raphael looked with longing eyes at the colours and brushes of the master4 ',draw everything you see1 no matter what it is1 but always draw and draw again4 ,the rest will follow2 but if the knowledge of drawing be lacking1 nothing will afterwards succeed4 ,keep always at hand a sketch-book1 and draw therein carefully every manner of thing that meets thy eye4' ,raphael never forgot the good advice of his master4 ,he was never without a sketch-book1 and his drawings now are almost as interesting as his great pictures1 for they show the first thought that came into his mind1 before the picture was composed4 ,so the years passed on1 and ,raphael learned all that the master could teach him4 ,at first his pictures were so like ,perugino's1 that it was difficult to know whether they were the work of the master or the pupil4 ,but the quiet days at ,perugia soon came to an end1 and ,perugino went back to ,florence4 ,for some time ,raphael worked at different places near ,perugia1 and then followed his master to the ,city of ,flowers1 where every artist longed to go4 ,though he was still but a young man1 the world had already begun to notice his work1 and ,florence gladly welcomed a new artist4 ,it was just at that time that ,leonardo da ,vinci's fame was at its height1 and when ,raphael was shown some of the great man's work1 he was filled with awe and wonder4 ,the genius of ,leonardo held him spellbound4 ',it is what ,i have dreamed of in my dreams1' he said4 ',oh that ,i might learn his secret6' ,little by little the new ideas sunk into his heart1 and the pictures he began to paint were no longer like those of his old master ,perugino1 but seemed to breathe some new spirit4 ,it was always so with ,raphael4 ,he seemed to be able to gather the best from every one1 just as the bee goes from flower to flower and gathers its sweetness into one golden honeycomb4 ,only the genius of ,raphael made all that he touched his very own1 and the spirit of his pictures is unlike that of any other master4 ,for many years after this he lived in ,rome1 where now his greatest frescoes may be seen--frescoes so varied and wonderful that many books have been written about them4 ,there he first met ,margarita1 the young maiden whom he loved all his life4 ,it is her face which looks down upon us from the picture of the ,sistine ,madonna1 perhaps the most famous ,madonna that ever was painted4 ,the little room in the ,dresden ,gallery where this picture now hangs seems almost like a holy place1 for surely there is something divine in that fair face4 ,there she stands1 the ,queen of ,heaven1 holding in her arms the ,infant ,christ1 with such a strange look of majesty and sadness in her eyes as makes us realise that she was indeed fit to be the ,mother of our ,lord4 ,but the picture which all children love best is one in ,florence called ',the ,madonna of the ,goldfinch4' ,it is a picture of the ,holy ,family1 the ,infant ,jesus1 ,his mother1 and the little ,st4 ,john4 ,the ,christ ,child is a dear little curly-headed baby1 and ,he stands at ,his mother's knee with one little bare foot resting on hers4 ,his hand is stretched out protectingly over a yellow goldfinch which ,st4 ,john1 a sturdy little figure clad in goatskins1 has just brought to ,him4 ,the baby face is full of tender love and care for the little fluttering prisoner1 and ,his curved hand is held over its head to protect it4 ',do not hurt ,my bird1' ,he seems to say to the eager ,st4 ,john1 'for it belongs to ,me and to ,my ,father4' ,these are only two of the many pictures which ,raphael painted4 ,it is wonderful to think how much work he did in his short life1 for he died when he was only thirty-seven4 ,he had been at work at ,st4 ,peter's1 giving directions about some alterations1 and there he was seized by a severe chill1 and in a few days the news spread like wildfire through the country that ,raphael was dead4 ,it seemed almost as if it could not be true4 ,he had been so full of life and health1 so eager for work1 such a living power among men4 ,but there he lay1 beautiful in death as he had been in life1 and over his head was hung the picture of the ',transfiguration1' on which he had been at work1 its colours yet wet1 never to be finished by that still hand4 ,all ,rome flocked to his funeral1 and high and low mourned his loss4 ,but he left behind him a fame which can never die1 a name which through all these four hundred years has never lost the magic of its greatness4 ,,michelangelo ,sometimes in a crowd of people one sees a tall man1 who stands head and shoulders higher than any one else1 and who can look far over the heads of ordinary-sized mortals4 ',what a giant6' we exclaim1 as we gaze up and see him towering above us4 ,so among the crowd of painters travelling along the road to ,fame we see above the rest a giant1 a greater and more powerful genius than any that came before or after him4 ,when we hear the name of ,michelangelo we picture to ourselves a great rugged1 powerful giant1 a veritable son of thunder1 who1 like the ,titans of old1 bent every force of ,nature to his will4 ,this ,michelangelo was born at ,caprese among the mountains of ,casentino4 ,his father1 ,lodovico ,buonarroti1 was podesta or mayor of ,caprese1 and came of a very ancient and honourable family1 which had often distinguished itself in the service of ,florence4 ,now the day on which the baby was born happened to be not only a ,sunday1 but also a morning when the stars were especially favourable4 ,so the wise men declared that some heavenly virtue was sure to belong to a child born at that particular time1 and without hesitation ,lodovico determined to call his little son ,michael ,angelo1 after the archangel ,michael4 ,surely that was a name splendid enough to adorn any great career4 ,it happened just then that ,lodovico's year of office ended1 and so he returned with his wife and child to ,florence4 ,he had a property at ,settignano1 a little village just outside the city1 and there he settled down4 ,most of the people of the village were stone-cutters1 and it was to the wife of one of these labourers that little ,michelangelo was sent to be nursed4 ,so in after years the great master often said that if his mind was worth anything1 he owed it to the clear pure mountain air in which he was born1 just as he owed his love of carving stone to the unconscious influence of his nurse1 the stone-cutter's wife4 ,as the boy grew up he clearly showed in what direction his interest lay4 ,at school he was something of a dunce at his lessons1 but let him but have a pencil and paper and his mind was wide awake at once4 ,every spare moment he spent making sketches on the walls of his father's house4 ,but ,lodovico would not hear of the boy becoming an artist4 ,there were many children to provide for1 and the family was not rich4 ,it would be much more fitting that ,michelangelo should go into the silk and woollen business and learn to make money4 ,but it was all in vain to try to make the boy see the wisdom of all this4 ,scold as they might1 he cared for nothing but his pencil1 and even after he was severely beaten he would creep back to his beloved work4 ,how he envied his friend ,francesco who worked in the shop of ,master ,ghirlandaio6 ,it was a joy even to sit and listen to the tales of the studio1 and it was a happy day when ,francesco brought some of the master's drawings to show to his eager friend4 ,little by little ,lodovico began to see that there was nothing for it but to give way to the boy's wishes1 and so at last1 when he was fourteen years old1 ,michelangelo was sent to study as a pupil in the studio of ,master ,ghirlandaio4 ,it was just at the time when ,ghirlandaio was painting the frescoes of the chapel in ,santa ,maria ,novella1 and ,michelangelo learned many lessons as he watched the master at work1 or even helped with the less important parts4 ,but it was like placing an eagle in a hawk's nest4 ,the young eagle quickly learned to soar far higher than the hawk could do1 and ere long began to 'sweep the skies alone4' ,it was not pleasant for the great ,florentine master1 whose work all men admired1 to have his drawings corrected by a young lad1 and perhaps ,michelangelo was not as humble as he should have been4 ,in the strength of his great knowledge he would sometimes say sharp and scornful things1 and perhaps he forgot the respect due from pupil to master4 ,be that as it may1 he left ,ghirlandaio's studio when he was sixteen years old1 and never had another master4 ,thenceforward he worked out his own ideas in his giant strength1 and was the pupil of none4 ,the boy ,francesco was still his friend1 and together they went to study in the gardens of ,san ,marco1 where ,lorenzo the ,magnificent had collected many statues and works of art4 ,here was a new field for ,michelangelo4 ,without needing a lesson he began to copy the statues in terra-cotta1 and so clever was his work that ,lorenzo was delighted with it4 ',see1 now1 what thou canst do with marble1' he said4 ',terra-cotta is but poor stuff to work in4' ,michelangelo had never handled a chisel before1 but he chipped and cut away the marble so marvellously that life seemed to spring out of the stone4 ,there was a marble head of an old faun in the garden1 and this ,michelangelo set himself to copy4 ,such a wonderful copy did he make that ,lorenzo was amazed4 ,it was even better than the original1 for the boy had introduced ideas of his own and had made the laughing mouth a little open to show the teeth and the tongue of the faun4 ,lorenzo noticed this1 and turned with a smile to the young artist4 ',thou shouldst have remembered that old folks never keep all their teeth1 but that some of them are always wanting1' he said4 ,of course ,lorenzo meant this as a joke1 but ,michelangelo immediately took his hammer and struck out several of the teeth1 and this too pleased ,lorenzo greatly4 ,there was nothing that the ,magnificent ruler loved so much as genius1 so ,michelangelo was received into the palace and made the companion of ,lorenzo's sons4 ,not only did good fortune thus smile upon the young artist1 but to his great astonishment ,lodovico too found that benefits were showered upon him1 all for the sake of his famous young son4 ,these years of peace1 and calm1 steady work had the greatest effect on ,michelangelo's work1 and he learned much from the clever1 brilliant men who thronged ,lorenzo's court4 ,then1 too1 he first listened to that ringing voice which strove to raise ,florence to a sense of her sins1 when ,savonarola preached his great sermons in the ,duomo4 ,that teaching sank deep into the heart of ,michelangelo1 and years afterwards he left on the walls of the ,sistine ,chapel a living echo of those thundering words4 ,like all the other artists1 he would often go to study ,masaccio's frescoes in the little chapel of the ,carmine4 ,there was quite a band of young artists working there1 and very soon they began to look with envious feelings at ,michelangelo's drawings1 and their jealousy grew as his fame increased4 ,at last1 one day1 a youth called ,torriggiano could bear it no longer1 and began to make scornful remarks1 and worked himself up into such a rage that he aimed a blow at ,michelangelo with his fist1 which not only broke his nose but crushed it in such a way that he was marked for life4 ,he had had a rough1 rugged look before this1 but now the crooked nose gave him almost a savage expression which he never lost4 ,changes followed fast after this time of quiet4 ,lorenzo the ,magnificent died1 and his son1 the weak ,piero de ,medici1 tried to take his place as ruler of ,florence4 ,for a time ,michelangelo continued to live at the court of ,piero1 but it was not encouraging to work for a master whose foolish taste demanded statues to be made out of snow1 which1 of course1 melted at the first breath of spring4 ,michelangelo never forgot all that he owed to ,lorenzo1 and he loved the ,medici family1 but his sense of justice made him unable to take their part when trouble arose between them and the ,florentine people4 ,so when the struggle began he left ,florence and went first to ,venice and then to ,bologna4 ,from afar he heard how the weak ,piero had been driven out of the city1 but more bitter still was his grief when the news came that the solemn warning voice of the great preacher ,savonarola was silenced for ever4 ,then a great longing to see his beloved city again filled his heart1 and he returned to ,florence4 ,botticelli was a sad1 broken-down old man now1 and ,ghirlandaio was also growing old1 but ,florence was still rich in great artists4 ,leonardo da ,vinci1 ,perugino1 and ,filippino ,lippi were all there1 and men talked of the coming of an even greater genius1 the young ,raphael of ,urbino4 ,there happened just then to be at the works of the ,cathedral of ,st4 ,mary of the ,flowers a huge block of marble which no one knew how to use4 ,leonardo da ,vinci had been invited to carve a statue out of it1 but he had refused to try1 saying he could do nothing with it4 ,but when the marble was offered to ,michelangelo his eye kindled and he stood for a long time silent before the great white block4 ,through the outer walls of stone he seemed to see the figure imprisoned in the marble1 and his giant strength and giant mind longed to go to work to set that figure free4 ,and when the last covering of marble was chipped and cut away there stood out a magnificent figure of the young ,david4 ,perhaps he is too strong and powerful for our idea of the gentle shepherd-lad1 but he is a wonderful figure1 and ,goliath might well have trembled to meet such a young giant4 ,people flocked to see the great statue1 and many were the discussions as to where it should be placed4 ,artists were never tired of giving their opinion1 and even of criticising the work4 ',it seems to me1' said one1 'that the nose is surely much too large for the face4 ,could you not alter that8' ,michelangelo said nothing1 but he mounted the scaffolding and pretended to chip away at the nose with his chisel4 ,meanwhile he let drop some marble chips and dust upon the head of the critic beneath4 ,then he came down4 ',is that better8' he asked gravely4 ',admirable6' answered the artist4 ',you have given it life4' ,michelangelo smiled to himself4 ,how wise people thought themselves when they often knew nothing about what they were talking6 ,but the critic was satisfied1 and did not notice the smile4 ,it would fill a book to tell of all the work which ,michelangelo did2 but although he began so much1 a great deal of it was left unfinished4 ,if he had lived in quieter times1 his work would have been more complete2 but one after another his patrons died1 or changed their minds1 and set him to work at something else before he had finished what he was doing4 ,the great tomb which ,pope ,julius had ordered him to make was never finished1 although ,michelangelo drew out all the designs for it1 and for forty years was constantly trying to complete it4 ,the ,pope began to think it was an evil omen to build his own tomb1 so he made up his mind that ,michelangelo should instead set to work to fresco the ceiling of the ,sistine ,chapel4 ,in vain did the great sculptor repeat that he knew but little of the art of painting4 ',didst thou not learn to mix colours in the studio of ,master ,ghirlandaio8' said ,julius4 ',thou hast but to remember the lessons he taught thee4 ,and1 besides1 ,i have heard of a great drawing of a battle-scene which thou didst make for the ,florentines1 and have seen many drawings of thine1 one especially3 a terrible head of a furious old man1 shrieking in his rage1 such as no other hand than thine could have drawn4 ,is there aught that thou canst not do if thou hast but the will8' ,and the ,pope was right2 for as soon as ,michelangelo really made up his mind to do the work1 all difficulties seemed to vanish4 ,it was no easy task he had undertaken4 ,to stand upright and cover vast walls with painting is difficult enough1 but ,michelangelo was obliged to lie flat upon a scaffolding and paint the ceiling above him4 ,even to look up at that ceiling for ten minutes makes the head and neck ache with pain1 and we wonder how such a piece of work could ever have been done4 ,no help would the master accept1 and he had no pupils4 ,alone he worked1 and he could not bear to have any one near him looking on4 ,in silence and solitude he lay there painting those marvellous frescoes of the story of the ,creation to the time of ,noah4 ,only ,pope ,julius himself dared to disturb the master1 and he alone climbed the scaffolding and watched the work4 ',when wilt thou have finished8' was his constant cry4 ',i long to show thy work to the world4' ',patience1 patience1' said ,michelangelo4 ',nothing is ready yet4' ',but when wilt thou make an end8' asked the impatient old man4 ',when ,i can1' answered the painter4 ,then the ,pope lost his temper1 for he was not accustomed to be answered like this4 ',dost thou want to be thrown head first from the scaffold8' he asked angrily4 ',i tell thee that will happen if the work is not finished at once4' ,so1 incomplete as they were1 ,michelangelo was obliged to uncover the frescoes that all ,rome might see them4 ,it was many years before the ceiling was finished or the final fresco of the ,last ,judgment painted upon the end wall4 ,michelangelo lived to be a very old man1 and his life was lonely and solitary to the end4 ,the one woman he loved1 ,vittoria ,colonna1 had died1 and with her death all brightness for him had faded4 ,although he worked so much in ,rome1 it was always ,florence that he loved4 ,there it was that he began the statues for the ,chapel of the ,medici1 and there1 too1 he helped to build the defences of ,san ,miniato when the ,medici family made war upon the ,city of ,flowers4 ,so when the great man died in ,rome it seemed but fit that his body should be carried back to his beloved ,florence4 ,there it now rests in the ,church of ,santa ,croce1 while his giant works1 his great and terrible thoughts breathed out into marble or flashed upon the walls of the ,sistine ,chapel1 live on for ever1 filling the minds of men with a great awe and wonder as they gaze upon them4 ,,andrea ,,del ,,sarto ,nowhere in ,florence could a more honest man or a better worker be found than ,agnolo the tailor4 ,true1 there were once evil tales whispered about him when he first opened his shop in the little street4 ,it was said that he was no ,italian1 but a foreigner who had been obliged to flee from his own land because of a quarrel he had had with one of his customers4 ,people shook their heads and talked mysteriously of how the tailor's scissors had been used as a deadly weapon in the fight4 ,but ere long these stories died away1 and the tailor1 with his wife ,constanza1 lived a happy1 busy life1 and brought up their six children carefully and well4 ,now out of those six children five were just the ordinary commonplace little ones such as one would expect to meet in a tailor's household1 but the sixth was like the ugly duckling in the fairy tale--a little1 strange bird1 unlike all the rest1 who learned to swim far away and soon left the old commonplace home behind him4 ,the boy's name was ,andrea4 ,he was such a quick1 sharp little boy that he was sent very early to school1 and had learned to read and write before he was seven years old4 ,as that was considered quite enough education1 his father then took him away from school and put him to work with a goldsmith4 ,it is early days to begin work at seven years old1 but ,andrea thought it was quite as good as play4 ,he was always perfectly happy if he could have a pencil and paper1 and his drawings and designs were really so wonderfully good that his master grew to be quite proud of the child and showed the work to all his customers4 ,next door to the goldsmith's shop there lived an old artist called ,barile1 who began to take a great interest in little ,andrea4 ,barile was not a great painter1 but still there was much that he could teach the boy1 and he was anxious to have him as a pupil4 ,so it was arranged that ,andrea should enter the studio and learn to be an artist instead of a goldsmith4 ,for three years the boy worked steadily with his new master1 but by that time ,barile saw that better teaching was needed than he could give4 ,so after much thought the old man went to the great ,florentine artist ,piero di ,cosimo1 and asked him if he would agree to receive ,andrea as his pupil4 ',you will find the boy no trouble1' he urged4 ',he has wonderful talent1 and already he has learnt to mix his colours so marvellously that to my mind there is no artist in ,florence who knows more about colour than little ,andrea' ,cosimo shook his head in unbelief4 ,the boy was but a child1 and this praise seemed absurd4 ,however1 the drawings were certainly extraordinary1 and he was glad to receive so clever a pupil4 ,but little by little1 as ,cosimo watched the boy at work1 his unbelief vanished and his wonder grew1 until he was as fond and proud of his pupil as the old master had been4 ',he handles his colours as if he had had fifty years of experience1' he would say proudly1 as he showed off the boy's work to some new patron4 ,and truly the knowledge of drawing and colouring seemed to come to the boy without any effort4 ,not that he was idle or trusted to chance4 ,he was never tired of work1 and his greatest joy on holidays was to go of and study the drawings of the great ,michelangelo and ,leonardo da ,vinci4 ,often he would spend the whole day copying these drawings with the greatest care1 never tired of learning more and more4 ,as ,andrea grew older1 all ,florence began to take note of the young painter--',andrea del ,sarto1' as he was called1 or 'the tailor's ,andrew1' for sarto is the ,italian word for tailor4 ,what a splendid new star this was rising in the heaven of ,art6 ,who could tell how bright it would shine ere long8 ,perhaps the tailor's son would yet eclipse the magic name of ,raphael4 ,his colour was perfect1 his drawing absolutely correct4 ,they called him in their admiration 'the faultless painter4' ,but had he1 indeed1 the artist soul8 ,that was the question4 ,for1 perfect as his pictures were1 they still lacked something4 ,perhaps time would teach him to supply that want4 ,meanwhile there was plenty of work for the young artist1 and when he set up his own studio with another young painter1 he was at once invited to fresco the walls of the cloister of the ,scalzo1 or bare-footed friars4 ,this was the happiest time of all ,andrea's life4 ,the two friends worked happily together1 and spent many a merry day with their companions4 ,every day ,andrea learned to add more softness and delicacy to his colouring until his pictures seemed verily to glow with life4 ,every day he dreamed fresh dreams of the fame and honour that awaited him4 ,and when work was over1 the two young painters would go off to meet their friends and make merry over their supper as they told all the latest jokes and wittiest stories1 and forgot for a while the serious art of painting pictures4 ,there were twelve of these young men who met together1 and each of them was bound to bring some particular dish for the general supper4 ,every one tried to think of something especially nice and uncommon1 but no one managed such surprising delicacies as ,andrea4 ,there was one special dish which no one ever forgot4 ,it was in the shape of a temple1 with its pillars made of sausages4 ,the pavement was formed of little squares of different coloured jelly1 the tops of the pillars were cheese1 and the roof was of sugar1 with a frieze of sweets running round it4 ,inside the temple there was a choir of roast birds with their mouths wide open1 and the priests were two fat pigeons4 ,it was the most splendid supper-dish that ever was seen4 ,every one was fond of the clever young painter4 ,he was so kind and courteous to all1 and so simple-hearted that it was impossible for the others to feel jealous or to grudge him the fame and praise that was showered upon him more and more as each fresh picture was finished4 ,then just when all gave promise of sunshine and happiness1 a little cloud rose in his blue sky1 which grew and grew until it dimmed all the glory of his life4 ,in the ,via di ,san ,gallo1 not very far from the street where ,andrea and his friend lodged1 there lived a very beautiful woman called ,lucrezia4 ,she was not a highborn lady1 only the daughter of a working man1 but she was as proud and haughty as she was beautiful4 ,nought cared she for things high and noble1 she was only greedy of praise and filled with a desire to have her own way in everything4 ,yet her lovely face seemed as if it must be the mirror of a lovely soul1 and when the young painter ,andrea first saw her his heart went out towards her4 ,she was his long-dreamed-of ideal of beauty and grace1 the vision of loveliness which he had been trying to grasp all his life4 ',what hath bewitched thee8' asked his friend as he watched ,andrea restlessly pacing up and down the studio1 his brushes thrown aside and his work left unfinished4 ',thou hast done little work for many weeks4' ',i cannot paint1' answered ,andrea1 'for ,i see only one face ever before me1 and it comes between me and my work4' ',thou art ruining all thy chances1' said the friend sadly1 'and the face thou seest is not worth the sacrifice4' ,andrea turned on his heel with an angry look and went out4 ,all his friends were against him now4 ,no one had a good word for the beautiful ,lucrezia4 ,but she was worth all the world to him1 and he had made up his mind to marry her4 ,it was winter time1 and the ,christmas bells had but yesterday rung out the tidings of the ,holy ,birthday when ,andrea at last obtained his heart's desire and made ,lucrezia his wife4 ,the joyful ,christmastide seemed a fit season in which to set the seal upon his great happiness1 and he thought himself the most fortunate of men4 ,he had asked advice of none1 and had told no one what he meant to do1 but the news of his marriage was soon noised abroad4 ',hast thou heard the news of young ,andrea del ,sarto8' asked the people of ,florence of one another4 ',i fear he has dealt an evil blow at his own chances of success4' ,one by one his friends left him1 and many of his pupils deserted the studio4 ,lucrezia's sharp tongue was unbearable1 and she made mischief among them all4 ,only ,andrea remained blinded by her beauty1 and thought that now1 with such a model always near him1 he would paint as he had never painted before4 ,but little did ,lucrezia care to help him with his work4 ,his pictures meant nothing to her except so far as they sold well and brought in money for her to spend4 ,worst of all1 she began to grudge the help that he gave to his old father and mother1 who now were poor and needed his care4 ,and yet1 although ,andrea saw all this1 he still loved his beautiful wife and cared only how he might please her4 ,he scarcely painted a picture that had not her face in it1 for she was his ideal ,madonna1 ,queen of ,heaven4 ,but it was not so easy now to put his whole heart and soul into his work4 ,true1 his hand drew as correctly as ever1 and his colours were even more beautiful1 but often the soul seemed lacking4 ',thou dost work but slowly1' the proud beauty would say1 tired of sitting still as his model4 ',why canst thou not paint quicker and sell at higher prices8 ,i have need of more gold1 and the money seems to grow scarcer week by week4' ,andrea sighed4 ,truly the money vanished like magic1 as ,lucrezia's jewels and dresses increased4 ',dear heart1 have a little patience1' he said4 ',i can but do my best4' ,then1 as he looked at the angry discontented face of his wife1 he laid down his brushes and went to kneel beside her4 ',lucrezia1' he said1 'there needs something besides mere drawing and painting to make a picture4 ,they call me the faultless painter1 and it seemed once as if ,i might have reached as high or even higher than the great ,raphael4 ,it needed but the soul put into my work1 and if thou couldst have helped me to reach my ideal1 what would ,i not have shown the world6' ',i do not understand thee1' said ,lucrezia petulantly1 'and this is waste of time4 ,haste thee and get back to thy brushes and paints1 and see that thou drivest a better bargain with this last picture4' ,no1 it was no use2 she could never understand6 ,andrea knew that he must look for no help from her1 and that he must paint in spite of the hindrances she placed in his way4 ,well1 his work was still considered most beautiful1 and he must make the best of it4 ,orders for pictures came now from far and near1 and before long some of ,andrea's work found its way into ,france2 and when ,king ,francis saw it he was so anxious to have the painter at his court1 that he sent a royal invitation1 begging ,andrea to come at once to ,france and enter the king's service4 ,the invitation came when ,andrea was feeling hopeless and dispirited4 ,lucrezia gave him no peace1 the money was all spent1 and he was weary of work4 ,the thought of starting afresh in another country put new courage into him4 ,he made up his mind to go at once to the ,french court4 ,he would leave ,lucrezia in some safe place and send her all the money he could earn4 ,how good it was to leave all his troubles behind1 and to set off that glad ,may day when all the world breathed of new life and new hope4 ,perhaps the winter of his life was passed too1 and only sunshine and summer was in store4 ,andrea's welcome at the ,french court was most flattering4 ,nothing was thought too good for the famous ,florentine painter1 and he was treated like a prince4 ,the king loaded him with gifts1 and gave him costly clothes and money for all his needs4 ,a portrait of the infant ,dauphin was begun at once1 for which ,andrea received three hundred golden pieces4 ,month after month passed happily by4 ,andrea painted many pictures1 and each one was more admired than the last4 ,but his dream of happiness did not last long4 ,he was hard at work one day when a letter was brought to him1 sent by his wife ,lucrezia4 ,she could not live without him1 so she wrote4 ,he must come home at once4 ,if he delayed much longer he would not find her alive4 ,there could be1 of course1 but one answer to all this4 ,andrea loved his wife too well to think of refusing her request1 and the days of peace and plenty must come to an end4 ,even as he read her letter he began to long to see her again1 and the thought of showing her all his gay clothes and costly presents filled him with delight4 ,but the king was very loth to let the painter go1 and only at last consented when ,andrea promised most faithfully to return a few months hence4 ',i cannot spare thee for longer1' said ,francis2 'but ,i will let thee go on condition that thou wilt buy for me certain works of art in ,italy1 which ,i have long coveted1 and bring them back with thee4' ,then he entrusted to ,andrea a large sum of money and bade him buy the best pictures he could find1 and afterwards return without fail4 ,so ,andrea journeyed back to ,florence1 and when he was once again with his wife1 his joy and delight in her were so great that he forgot all his promises1 forgot even the king's trust1 and allowed ,lucrezia to squander all the money which was to have been spent on art treasures for ,king ,francis4 ,then returned the evil days of trouble and quarrelling4 ,added to that the terrible feeling that he had betrayed his trust and broken his word1 made ,andrea more unhappy than ever4 ,he dared not return to ,france1 but took up again his work in ,florence1 always with the hope that he might make enough money to repay the debt4 ,years went by and dark days fell upon the ,city of ,flowers4 ,she had made a great struggle for liberty and had driven out the ,medici1 but they were helped by enemies from without1 and ,florence was for many months in a state of siege4 ,there was constant fighting going on and little time for peaceful work4 ,yet through all those troubled days ,andrea worked steadily at his painting1 and paid but little heed to the fate of the city4 ,the stir of battle did not reach his quiet studio4 ,there was enough strife at home2 no need to seek it outside4 ,it was about this time that he painted a beautiful picture for the ,company of ,san ,jacopo1 which was used as a banner and carried in their processions4 ,bad weather1 wind1 rain1 and sunshine have spoiled some of its beauty1 but much of the loveliness still remains4 ,it is specially a children's picture1 for ,andrea painted the great saint bending over a little child in a white robe who kneels at his feet1 while another little figure kneels close by4 ,the boy has his hands folded together as if in prayer1 and the kind strong hand of the saint is placed lovingly beneath the little chin4 ,the other child is holding a book1 and both children press close against the robe of the protecting saint4 ,but although ,andrea could paint his pictures undisturbed while war was raging around1 there was one enemy waiting to enter ,florence who claimed attention and could not be ignored4 ,when the triumphant troops gained an entrance by treachery1 they brought with them that deadly scourge which was worse than any earthly enemy1 the dreadful illness called the plague4 ,perhaps ,andrea had suffered for want of good food during the siege1 perhaps he was overworked and tired2 but1 whatever was the cause1 he was one of the first to be seized by that terrible disease4 ,alone he fought the enemy1 and alone he died4 ,lucrezia had left him as soon as he fell ill1 for she feared the deadly plague1 and ,andrea gladly let her go1 for he loved her to the last with the same great unselfish love4 ,so passed away the faultless painter1 and his was the last great name engraved upon that golden record of ,florentine ,art which had made ,florence famous in the eyes of the world4 ,other artists came after him1 but ,art was on the wane in the ,city of ,flowers1 and her glory was slowly departing4 ,we can trace no other great name upon her pages and so we close the book1 and our eyes turn towards the shores of the blue ,adriatic1 where ,venice1 ,queen of the ,sea1 was writing1 year by year1 another volume filled with the names of her own ,knights of ,art4 ,,the ,,bellini ,almost all the stories of the lives of the painters which we have been listening to1 until now1 have clustered round ,florence1 the ,city of ,flowers4 ,she was their great mother1 and her sons loved her with a deep1 passionate love1 thinking nothing too fair with which to deck her beauty4 ,wherever they wandered she drew them back1 for their very heartstrings were wound around her1 and each and all strove to give her of their best4 ,but now we come to the stories of men whose lives gather round a different centre4 ,instead of the great mother-city beside the ,arno1 with her strong towers and warlike citizens1 the noise of battle ever sounding in her streets1 and her flowery fields encircling her on every side1 we have now ,venice1 ,queen of the ,sea4 ,no warlike tread or tramp of angry crowds disturbs her fair streets1 for here are no pavements1 only the cool green water which laps the walls of her marble palaces1 and gives back the sound of the dipping oar and the soft echo of passing voices1 as the gondolas glide along her watery ways4 ,here are no grim grey towers of defence1 but fairy palaces of white and coloured marbles1 which rise from the waters below as if they had been built by the sea nymphs1 who had fashioned them of their own sea-shells and mother-of-pearl4 ,there are no flowery meadows here1 but instead the vast waters of the lagoons1 which reach out until they meet the blue arc of the sky or touch the distant mountains which lie like a purple line upon the horizon4 ,here and there tiny islands lie upon its bosom1 so faint and fairylike that they scarcely seem like solid land1 reflected as they are in the transparent water4 ,but although ,venice has no meadows decked with flowers and no wealth of blossoming trees1 everywhere on every side she shines with colour1 this wonderful sea-girt city4 ,her white marble palaces glow with a soft amber light1 the cool green water that reflects her beauty glitters in rings of gold and blue1 changing from colour to colour as each ripple changes its form4 ,at sunset1 when the sun disappears over the edge of the lagoon and leaves behind its trail of shining clouds1 she is like a dream-city rising from a sea of molten gold--a double city1 for in the pure gold is reflected each tower and spire1 each palace and campanile1 in masses of pale yellow and quivering white light1 with here and there a burning touch of flame colour4 ,she seems to have no connection with the solid1 ordinary cities of the world4 ,there she lies in all her beauty1 silent and apart1 like a white sea-bird floating upon the bosom of the ocean4 ,venice had always seemed separate and distinct from the rest of the world4 ,her cathedral of ,san ,marco was never under the rule of ,rome1 and her rulers1 or doges1 as they were called1 governed the city as kings1 and did not trouble themselves with the affairs of other towns4 ,her merchant princes sailed to far countries and brought home precious spoils to add to her beauty4 ,everything was as rich and rare and splendid as it was possible to make it1 and she was unlike any other city on earth4 ,so the painters who lived and worked in this city of the sea had their own special way of painting1 which was different to that of the ,florentine school4 ,from their babyhood these men had looked upon all this beauty of colour1 and the love of it had grown with their growth4 ,the golden light on the water1 the pearly-grey and tinted marbles1 the gay sails of the galleys which swept the lagoons like painted butterflies1 the wide stretch of water ending in the mystery of the distant skyline--it all sank into their hearts1 and it was little wonder that they should strive to paint colour above all things1 and at last reach a perfection such as no other school of painters has equalled4 ,as with the ,florentine artists1 so with these ,venetian painters1 we must leave many names unnoticed just now1 and learn first to know those which shine out clearest among the many bright stars of fame4 ,in the beginning of the fifteenth century1 four hundred years ago1 when ,fra ,filippo ,lippi was painting in ,florence1 there lived in ,venice a certain ,jacopo ,bellini1 who was a painter1 and who had two sons called ,gentile and ,giovanni4 ,the father taught his boys with great care1 and gave them the best training he could1 for he was anxious that his sons should become great painters4 ,he saw that they were both clever and quick to learn1 and he hoped great things of them4 ',never do less than your very best1' he would say1 as he taught the boys how to draw and use their colours4 ',see how the ,tuscan artists strive with one another1 each desiring to do most honour to their city of ,florence4 ,so1 ,gentile1 ,i would have thee also strive to be great2 and thou1 ,giovanni1 endeavour to be even greater than thy brother4' ,but though the boys were thus taught to try and outdo each other1 still they were always the best of friends1 and there was never any unkind rivalry between them4 ,gentile1 the eldest1 was fond of painting story pictures1 which told the history of ,venice1 and showed the magnificent doges1 and nobles1 and people of the city1 dressed in their rich robes4 ,the ,venetians loved pictures which showed forth the glory of their city1 and very soon ,gentile was invited to paint the walls of the ,ducal ,palace with his historical pictures4 ,now ,venice carried on a great trade with her ships1 which sailed to many foreign lands4 ,these ships1 loaded with merchandise1 touched at different ports1 and the merchants sold their goods or took in exchange other things which they brought back to ,venice4 ,it happened that one of the ships which set sail for ,turkey had on board among other things several pictures painted by ,giovanni ,bellini4 ,these were shown to the ,sultan of ,turkey1 who had never seen a picture before1 and he was amazed and delighted beyond words4 ,his religion forbade the making of pictures1 but he paid no attention now to that law1 but sent a messenger to ,venice praying that the painter ,bellini might come to him at once4 ,the rulers of ,venice were unwilling to spare ,giovanni just then1 but they allowed ,gentile to go1 as his work at the ,ducal ,palace was finished4 ,so ,gentile took his canvases and paints1 and1 setting sail in one of the merchant ships1 soon arrived at the court of the ,grand ,turk4 ,he was received with every honour1 and nothing was thought too good for this wonderful painter1 who could make pictures which looked like living men4 ,the ,sultan loaded him with gifts and favours1 and he lived there like a royal prince4 ,each picture painted by ,gentile was thought more wonderful than the last4 ,he painted a portrait of the ,sultan1 and even one of himself1 which was considered little short of magic4 ,thus a whole year passed by1 and ,gentile had a most delightful time and was well contented1 until one day something happened which disturbed his peace4 ,he had painted a picture of the dancing daughter of ,herodias1 with the head of ,john the ,baptist in her hand1 and when it was finished he brought it and presented it to the ,sultan4 ,as usual1 the ,sultan was charmed with the new picture2 but he paused in his praises of its beauty1 and looked thoughtfully at the head of ,st4 ,john1 and then frowned4 ',it seems to me1' he said1 'that there is something not quite right about that head4 ,i do not think a head which had just been cut off would look exactly as that does in your picture4' ,gentile answered courteously that he did not wish to contradict his royal highness1 but it seemed to him that the head was right4 ',we shall see1' said the ,sultan calmly1 and he turned carelessly to a guard who stood close by and bade him cut of the head of one of the slaves1 that ,bellini might see if his picture was really correctly painted4 ,this was more than ,gentile could stand4 ',who knows1' he said to himself1 'that the ,sultan may not wish to see next how my head would look cut off from my body6' ,so while his precious head was still safe upon his shoulders he thought it wiser to slip quietly away and return to ,venice by the very first ship he could find4 ,meanwhile ,giovanni had worked steadily on1 and had far surpassed both his father and his brother4 ,indeed1 he had become the greatest painter in ,venice1 the first of that wonderful ,venetian school which learned to paint such marvellous colour4 ,with all the wealth of delicate shading spread out before his eyes1 with the ever-changing wonder of the opal-tinted sea meeting him on every side1 it was not strange that the love of colour sank into his very heart4 ,in his pictures we can see the golden glow which bathes the marble palaces1 the clear green of the water1 the pure blues and burning crimsons all as transparent as crystal1 not mere paint but living colour4 ,giovanni did not care to paint stories of ,venice1 with great crowds of figures1 as ,gentile did4 ,he loved best the ,madonna and saints1 single figures full of quiet dignity4 ,his saints are more human than those which ,fra ,angelico painted1 and yet they are not mere men and women1 but something higher and nobler4 ,instead of the angels swinging their censers which the painter of ,san ,marco so lovingly drew1 ,giovanni's angels are little human boys1 with grave sweet faces2 happy children with a look of heaven in their eyes1 as they play on their little lutes and mandolines4 ,but besides the pictures of saints and angels1 ,giovanni had a wonderful gift for painting portraits1 and most of the great people of ,venice came to be painted by him4 ,in our own ,national ,gallery we have the portrait of the ,doge ,loredan1 which is one of those pictures which can teach you many things when you have learned to look with seeing eyes4 ,so the brothers worked together1 but before long death carried off the elder1 and ,giovanni was left alone4 ,though he was now very old1 ,giovanni worked harder than ever1 and his hand1 instead of losing power1 seemed to grow stronger and more and more skilful4 ,he was ninety years old when he died1 and he worked almost up to the last4 ,the brothers were both buried in the church of ,,ss4 ,giovanni e ,paolo1 in the heart of ,venice4 ,there1 in the dim quietness of the old church1 they lie at rest together1 undisturbed by the voices of the passers-by in the square outside1 or the lapping of the water against the steps1 as the tides ebb and flow around their quiet resting-place4 ,,vittore ,,carpaccio ,like most of the other great painters1 ,giovanni ,bellini had many pupils working under him--boys who helped their master1 and learned their lessons by watching him work4 ,among these pupils was a boy called ,vittore ,carpaccio1 a sharp1 clever lad1 with keen bright eyes which noticed everything4 ,no one else learned so quickly or copied the master's work so faithfully1 and when in time he became himself a famous painter1 his work showed to the end traces of the master's influence4 ,he must have been a curious boy1 this ,vittore ,carpaccio1 for although we know but little of his life1 his pictures tell us many a tale about him4 ,in the olden days1 when ,venice was at the height of her glory1 splendid fetes were given in the city1 and the gorgeous shows were a wonder to behold4 ,early in the morning of these festa days1 ,carpaccio would steal away in the dim light from the studio1 before the others were astir4 ,work was left behind1 for who could work indoors on days like these8 ,there was a holiday feeling in the very air4 ,songs and laughter and the echo of merry voices were heard on every side1 and the city seemed one vast playground1 where all the grown-up children as well as the babies were ready to spend a happy holiday4 ,the little side-streets of ,venice1 cut up by canals1 seem like a veritable maze to those who do not know the city1 but ,carpaccio could quickly thread his way from bridge to bridge1 and by many a short cut arrive at last at the great central water street of ,venice1 the ,grand ,canal4 ,here it was easy to find a corner from which he could see the gay pageant1 and enjoy as good a view as any of those great people who would presently come out upon the balconies of their marble palaces4 ,the bridge of the ,rialto1 which throws its white span across the centre of the canal1 was ,carpaccio's favourite perch1 for from here he could see the markets and the long row of marble palaces on either side4 ,from every window hung gay-coloured tapestry1 ,turkey carpets1 silken draperies1 and delicate-tinted stuffs covered with ,eastern embroideries4 ,the market was crowded with a throng of holiday-makers1 a garden of bright colours and from the balconies above richly dressed ladies looked down1 themselves a pageant of beauty1 with their wonderful golden hair and gleaming jewels1 while green and crimson parrots1 fastened by golden chains to the marble balustrades1 screamed and flapped their wings1 and delighted ,carpaccio's keen eyes with their vivid beauty4 ,then the procession of boats swept up the great waterway1 and the blaze of colour made the boy hold his breath in sheer delight4 ,the painted galleys1 the rowers in their quaint dresses-half one colour and half another--with jaunty feathered caps upon their floating curls1 the nobles and rulers in their crimson robes1 the silken curtains of every hue trailing their golden fringes in the cool green water1 as the boats glided past1 all made up a picture which the boy never forgot4 ,then when it was all over1 ,carpaccio would climb down and make his way back to the master's studio1 and with the gay scene ever before his eyes would try1 day after day1 to paint every detail just as he had seen it4 ,there is another thing which we learn about ,carpaccio from his pictures1 and that is1 that he must have loved to listen to old legends and stories of the saints1 and that he stored them up in his mind1 just as he treasured the remembrance of the gay processions and the flapping wings of those crimson and green parrots4 ,so1 when he grew to be a man1 and his fame began to spread1 the first great pictures he painted were of the story of ,st4 ,ursula1 told in loving detail1 as only one who loved the story could do it4 ,but though ,carpaccio might paint pictures of these old stories1 it was always through the golden haze of ,venice that he saw them4 ,his ,st4 ,ursula is a dainty ,venetian lady1 and the bedroom in which she dreams her wonderful dream is just a room in one of the old marble palaces1 with a pot of pinks upon the window-sill1 and her little high-heeled ,venetian shoes by the bedside4 ,whenever it was possible1 ,carpaccio would paint in those scenes on which his eyes had rested since his childhood--the painted galleys with their sails reflected in the clear water1 the dainty dresses of the ,venetian ladies1 their gay-coloured parrots1 pet dogs1 and grinning monkeys4 ,in an old church of ,venice there are some pictures said to have been painted by ,carpaccio when he was a little boy only eight years old4 ,they are scenes taken from the ,bible stories1 and very funny scenes they are too4 ,but they show already what clever little hands and what a thinking head the boy had1 and how ,venice was the background in his mind for every story4 ,for here is the meeting of the ,queen of ,sheba and ,king ,solomon1 and instead of ,jerusalem with all its glory1 we see a little wooden bridge1 with ,king ,solomon on one side and the ,queen of ,sheba on the other1 walking towards each other1 as if they were both in ,venice crossing one of the little canals4 ,there were many foreign sailors in ,venice in those old days1 who came in the trading-ships from distant lands4 ,many of them were poor and unable to earn money to buy food1 and when they were ill there was no one to look after them or help them4 ,so some of the richer foreigners founded a ,brotherhood1 where the poor sailors might be helped in time of need4 ,this ,brotherhood chose ,st4 ,george as their patron saint1 and when they had built a little chapel they invited ,carpaccio to come and paint the walls with pictures from the life of ,st4 ,george and other saints4 ,nothing could have suited ,carpaccio better1 and he began his work with great delight1 for he had still his child's love of stories1 and he would make them as gay and wonderful as possible4 ,there we see ,st4 ,george thundering along on his war-horse1 with flying hair1 clad in beautiful armour1 the most perfect picture of a chivalrous knight4 ,then comes the dragon breathing out flames and smoke1 the most awesome dragon that ever was seen2 and there too is the picture of ,st4 ,tryphonius taming the terrible basilisk4 ,the little boy-saint has folded his hands together1 and looks upward in prayer1 paying little heed to the evil glare of the basilisk1 who prances at his feet4 ,a crowd of gaily dressed courtiers stand whispering and watching behind the marble steps1 and here again in the background we have the canals and bridges of ,venice1 the marble palaces and gay carpets hung from out the windows4 ,everything is of the very best of its kind1 and painted with the greatest care1 even to the design of the inlaid work on the marble steps4 ,as we pass from picture to picture1 we wish we had known this ,carpaccio1 for he must have been a splendid teller of stories2 and how he would have made us shiver with his dragons and his basilisks1 and laugh over the antics of his little boys and girls1 his scarlet parrots and green lizards4 ,but although we cannot hear him tell his stories1 he still speaks through those wonderful old pictures which you will some day see when you visit the fairyland of ,italy1 and pay your court to ,venice1 ,queen of the ,sea4 ,,giorgione ,as we look back upon the lives of the great painters we can see how each one added some new knowledge to the history of ,art1 and unfolded fresh beauties to the eyes of the world4 ,very gradually all this was done1 as a bud slowly unfolds its petals until the full-blown flower shows forth its perfect beauty4 ,but here and there among the painters we find a man who stands apart from the rest1 one who takes a new and almost startling way of his own4 ,he does not gradually add new truths to the old ones1 but makes an entirely new scheme of his own4 ,such a man was ,giorgione1 whose story we tell to-day4 ,it was at the same time as ,leonardo da ,vinci was the talk of the ,florentine world1 that another great genius was at work in ,venice1 setting his mark high above all who had gone before4 ,giorgio ,barbarelli was born at ,castel ,franco1 a small town not far from ,venice1 and it was to the great city of the sea that he was sent as soon as he was old enough1 there to be trained under the famous ,bellini4 ,he was a handsome boy1 tall and well-built1 and with such a royal bearing that his companions at once gave him the name of ,giorgione1 or ,george the ,great4 ,and1 as so often happened in those days1 the nickname clung to him1 so that while his family name is almost forgotten he is still known as ,giorgione4 ,there was much of the poet nature about ,giorgione1 and his love of music was intense4 ,he composed his own songs and sang them to his own music upon the lute1 and indeed it seemed as if there were few things which this ,great ,george could not do4 ,but it was his painting that was most wonderful1 for his painted men and women seemed alive and real1 and he caught the very spirit of music in his pictures and there held it fast4 ,giorgione early became known as a great artist1 and when he was quite a young man he was employed by the city of ,venice to fresco the outside walls of the new ,german ,exchange4 ,wind and rain and the salt sea air have entirely ruined these frescoes now1 and there are but few of ,giorgione's pictures left to us1 but that perhaps makes them all the more precious in our eyes4 ,even his drawings are rare1 and the one you see here is taken from a bigger sketch in the ,uffizi ,gallery of ,florence4 ,it shows a man in ,venetian dress helping two women to mount one of the niches of a marble palace in order to see some passing show1 and to be out of the way of the crowd4 ,there is a picture now in the ,venice ,academy said to have been painted by ,giorgione1 which would interest every boy and girl who loves old stories4 ,it tells the tale of an old ,venetian legend1 almost forgotten now1 but which used to be told with bated breath1 and was believed to be a matter of history4 ,the story is this3 ,on the #beth of ,february #acdj a terrible storm began to rage around ,venice1 more terrible than any that had ever been felt before4 ,for three days the wild winds swept her waters and shrieked around her palaces1 churning up the sea into great waves and shaking the city to her very foundations4 ,lightning and thunder never ceased1 and the rain poured down in a great sheet of grey water1 until it seemed as if a second flood had come to visit the world4 ,slowly but surely the waters rose higher and higher1 and ,venice sunk lower and lower1 and men said that unless the storm soon ceased the city would be overwhelmed4 ,no one ventured out on the canals1 and only an old fisherman who happened to be in his boat was swept along by the canal of ,san ,marco1 and managed with great difficulty to reach the steps4 ,very thankful to be safe on land he tied his boat securely1 and sat down to wait until the storm should cease4 ,as he sat there watching the lightning and hearing nothing but the shriek of the tempest1 some one touched his shoulder and a stranger's voice sounded in his ear4 ',good fisherman1' it said1 'wilt thou row me over to ,san ,giorgio ,maggiore8 ,i will pay thee well if thou wilt go4' ,the fisherman looked across the swirling waters to where the tall bell-tower upon the distant island could just be seen through the driving mist and rain4 ',how is it possible to row across to ,san ,giorgio8' he asked4 ',my little boat could not live for five minutes in those raging waters4' ,but the stranger only insisted the more1 and besought him to do his best4 ,so1 as the fisherman was a hardy old man and had a bold1 brave soul1 he loosed the boat and set off in all the storm4 ,but1 strangely enough1 it was not half so bad as he had feared1 and before long the little boat was moored safely by the steps of ,san ,giorgio ,maggiore4 ,here the stranger left the boat1 but bade the fisherman wait his return4 ,presently he came back1 and with him came a young man1 tall and strong1 bearing himself with a knightly grace4 ',row now to ,san ,niccolo da ,lido1' commanded the stranger4 ',how can ,i do that8' asked the fisherman in great fear4 ,for ,san ,niccolo was far distant1 and he was rowing with but one oar1 which is the custom in ,venice4 ',row boldly1 for it shall be possible for thee1 and thou shalt be well paid1' replied the stranger calmly4 ,so1 seeing it was the will of ,god1 the fisherman set out once more1 and1 as they went1 the waters spread themselves out smoothly before them1 until they reached the distant ,san ,niccolo da ,lido4 ,here an old man with a white beard was awaiting them1 and when he too had entered the boat1 the fisherman was commanded to row out towards the open sea4 ,now the tempest was raging more fiercely than ever1 and lo6 across the wild waste of foaming waters an enormous black galley came bearing down upon them4 ,so fast did it approach that it seemed almost to fly upon the wings of the wind1 and as it came near the fisherman saw that it was manned by fearful-looking black demons1 and knew that they were on their way to overwhelm the fair city of ,venice4 ,but as the galley came near the little boat1 the three men stood upright1 and with outstretched arms made high above them the sign of the cross1 and commanded the demons to depart to the place from whence they had come4 ,in an instant the sea became calm1 and with a horrible shriek the demons in their black galley disappeared from view4 ,then the three men ordered the fisherman to return as he had come4 ,so the old man was landed at ,san ,niccolo da ,lido1 the young knight at ,san ,giorgio ,maggiore1 and1 last of all1 the stranger landed at ,san ,marco4 ,now when the fisherman found that his work was done1 he thought it was time that he should receive his payment4 ,for1 although he had seen the great miracle1 he had no mind to forgo his proper fare4 ',thou art right1' said the stranger1 when the fisherman made his demand1 'and thou shalt indeed be well paid4 ,go now to the ,doge and tell him all thou hast seen2 how ,venice would have been destroyed by the demons of the tempest1 had it not been for me and my two companions4 ,i am ,st4 ,mark1 the protector of your city2 the brave young knight is ,st4 ,george1 and the old man whom we took in last is ,st4 ,nicholas4 ,tell the ,doge that ,i bade him pay thee well for thy brave service4' ',but1 and if ,i tell them this story1 how will they believe that ,i speak the truth8' asked the fisherman4 ,then ,st4 ,mark took a ring off his finger1 and placed it in the fisherman's rough palm4 ',thou shalt show them this ring as a proof1' he said2 'and when they look in the treasury of ,san ,marco1 they will find that it is missing from there4' ,and when he had finished saying this1 ,st4 ,mark disappeared4 ,then the next day1 as early as possible1 the fisherman went to the ,doge and told his marvellous tale and showed the saint's ring4 ,at first no one could believe the wild story1 but when they sent and searched in ,st4 ,mark's treasury1 lo6 the ring was missing4 ,then they knew that it must indeed have been ,st4 ,mark who had appeared to the old fisherman1 and had saved their beloved city from destruction4 ,so a solemn thanksgiving service was sung in the great church of ,san ,marco1 and the fisherman received his due reward4 ,he was no longer obliged to work for his living1 but received a pension from the rulers of the city1 so that he lived in comfort all the rest of his days4 ,in the picture we see the great black galley manned by the demons1 sweeping down upon the little boat1 in which the three saints stand upright4 ,and not only are the demons on board their ship1 but some are riding on dolphins and curious-looking fish1 and the little boat is entirely surrounded by the terrible crew4 ,we do not know much about ,giorgione's life1 but we do know that it was a short and sad one1 clouded over at the end by bitter sorrow4 ,he had loved a beautiful ,venetian girl1 and was just about to marry her when a friend1 whom he also loved1 carried her off and left him robbed of love and friendship4 ,nothing could comfort him for his loss1 the light seemed to have faded from his life1 and soon life itself began to wane4 ,a very little while after and he closed his eyes upon all the beauty and promise which had once filled his world4 ,but though we have so few of his pictures1 those few alone are enough to show that it was more than an idle jest which made his companions give him the nickname of ,george the ,great4 ,,titian ,we have seen how most of the great painters loved to paint into their pictures those scenes which they had known when they were boys1 and which to the end of their lives they remembered clearly and vividly4 ,a ,giotto never forgets the look of his sheep on the bare hillside of ,vespignano1 ,fra ,angelico paints his heavenly pictures with the colours of spring flowers found on the slopes of ,fiesole1 ,perugino delights in the wide spaciousness of the ,umbrian plains with the winding river and solitary cypresses4 ,so when we come to the great ,venetian painter ,titian we look first with interest to see in what manner of a country he was born1 and what were the pictures which ,nature mirrored in his mind when he was still a boy4' ,at the foot of the ,alps1 three days' journey from ,venice1 lies the little town of ,cadore on the ,pieve1 and here it was that ,titian was born4 ,on every side rise great masses of rugged mountains towering up to the sky1 with jagged peaks and curious fantastic shapes4 ,clouds float around their summits1 and the mist will often wrap them in gloom and give them a strange and awesome look4 ,at the foot of the craggy pass the mountain-torrent of the ,pieve roars and tumbles on its way4 ,far-reaching forests of trees1 with weather-beaten gnarled old trunks1 stand firm against the mountain storms4 ,beneath their wide-spreading boughs there is a gloom almost of twilight1 showing peeps here and there of deep purple distances beyond4 ,small wonder it was that ,titian should love to paint mountains1 and that he should be the first to paint a purely landscape picture4 ,he lived those strange solemn mountains and the wild country round1 the deep gloom of the woods and the purple of the distance beyond4 ,the boy's father1 ,gregorio ,vecelli1 was one of the nobles of ,cadore1 but the family was not rich1 and when ,titian was ten years old he was sent to an uncle in ,venice to be taught some trade4 ,he had always been fond of painting1 and it is said that when he was a very little boy he was found trying to paint a picture with the juices of flowers4 ,his uncle1 seeing that the boy had some talent1 placed him in the studio of ,giovanni ,bellini4 ,but though ,titian learned much from ,bellini1 it was not until he first saw ,giorgione's work that he dreamed of what it was possible to do with colour4 ,thenceforward he began to paint with that marvellous richness of colouring which has made his name famous all over the world4 ,at first young ,titian worked with ,giorgione1 and together they began to fresco the walls of the ,exchange above the ,rialto bridge4 ,but by and by ,giorgione grew jealous4 ,titian's work was praised too highly2 it was even thought to be the better of the two4 ,so they parted company1 for ,giorgione would work with him no more4 ,venice soon began to awake to the fact that in ,titian she had another great painter who was likely to bring fame and honour to the fair city4 ,he was invited to finish the frescoes in the ,grand ,council-chamber which ,bellini had begun1 and to paint the portraits of the ,doges1 her rulers4 ,these portraits which ,titian painted were so much admired that all the great princes and nobles desired to have themselves painted by the ,venetian artist4 ,the ,emperor ,charles ,v4 himself when he stopped at ,bologna sent to ,venice to fetch ,titian1 and so delighted was he with his work that he made the painter a knight with a pension of two hundred crowns4 ,fame and wealth awaited ,titian wherever he went1 and before long he was invited to ,rome that he might paint the portrait of the ,pope4 ,there it was that he met ,michelangelo1 and that great master looked with much interest at the work of the ,venetian artist and praised it highly1 for the colouring was such as he had never seen equalled before4 ',it is most beautiful1' he said afterwards to a friend2 'but it is a pity that in ,venice they do not teach men how to draw as well as how to colour4 ,if this ,titian drew as well as he painted1 it would be impossible to surpass him4' ,but ordinary eyes can find little fault with ,titian's drawing1 and his portraits are thought to be the most wonderful that ever were painted4 ,the golden glow of ,venice is cast like a magic spell over his pictures1 and in him the great ,venetian school of colouring reaches its height4 ,besides painting portraits1 ,titian painted many other pictures which are among the world's masterpieces4 ,he must have had a special love for children1 this famous old ,venetian painter4 ,we can tell by his pictures how well he understood them and how he loved to paint them4 ,he would learn much by watching his own little daughter ,lavinia as she played about the old house in ,venice4 ,his wife had died1 and his eldest son was only a grief and disappointment to his father1 but the little daughter was the light of his eyes4 ,we seem to catch a glimpse of her face in his famous picture of the little ,virgin going up the steps to the temple4 ,the little maid is all alone1 for she has left her companions behind1 and the crowd stands watching her from below1 while the high priest waits for her above4 ,one hand is stretched out1 and with the other she lifts her dress as she climbs up the marble steps4 ,she looks a very real child with her long plait of golden hair and serious little face1 and we cannot help thinking that the painter's own little daughter must have been in his mind when he painted the little ,virgin4 ,titian lived to be a very old man1 almost a hundred years old1 and up to the last he was always seen with the brush in his hand1 painting some new picture4 ,so1 when he passed away1 he left behind a rich store of beauty1 which not only decked the walls of his beloved ,venice1 but made the whole world richer and more beautiful4 ,,tintoretto ,it was between four and five hundred years ago that ,venice sat most proudly on her throne as ,queen of the ,sea4 ,she had the greatest fleet in all the ,mediterranean4 ,she bought and sold more than any other nation4 ,she had withstood the shock of battle and conquered all her foes1 and now she had time to deck herself with all the beauty which art and wealth could produce4 ,the merchants of ,venice sailed to every port and carried with them wonderful shiploads of goods1 for which their city was famous--silks1 velvets1 lace1 and rich brocades4 ,the secret of the marvellous ,tyrian dyes had been discovered by her people1 and there were many dyers in ,venice who were specially famous for the purple dye of ,tyre1 which was thought to be the most beautiful in all the world4 ,then too they had learned the art of blowing glass into fairy-like forms1 as delicate and light as a bubble1 catching in it every shade of colour1 and twisting it into a hundred exquisite shapes4 ,truly there had never been a richer or more beautiful city than this ,queen of the ,sea4 ,it was just when the glory of ,venice was at its highest that ,art too reached its height1 and ,giorgione and ,titian began to paint the walls of her palaces and the altarpieces of her churches4 ,in the very centre of the city where the poorer ,venetians had their houses1 there lived about this time a man called ,battista ,robusti who was a dyer1 or 'tintore1' as he is called in ,italy4 ,it was his little son ,jacopo who afterwards became such a famous artist4 ,his grand-sounding name ',tintoretto' means nothing but 'the little dyer1' and it was given to him because of his father's trade4 ,tintoretto must have been brought up in the midst of gorgeous colours4 ,not only did he see the wonderful changing tints of the outside world1 but in his father's workshop he must often have watched the rich ,venetian stuffs lifted from the dye vats1 heavy with the crimson and purple shades for which ,venice was famous4 ,perhaps all this glowing colour wearied his young eyes1 for when he grew to be a man his pictures show that he loved solemn and dark tones1 though he could also paint the most brilliant colours when he chose4 ,of course1 the boy ,tintoretto began by painting the walls of his father's house1 as soon as he was old enough to learn the use of dyes and paints4 ,even if he had not had in him the artist soul1 he could scarcely have resisted the temptation to spread those lovely colours on the smooth white walls4 ,any child would have done the same1 but ,tintoretto's mischievous fingers already showed signs of talent1 and his father1 instead of scolding him for wasting colours and spoiling the walls1 encouraged him to go on with his pictures4 ,as the boy grew older1 his great delight was to wander about the city and watch the men at work building new palaces4 ,but especially did he linger near those walls which ,titian and ,giorgione were covering with their wonderful frescoes4 ,high on the scaffolding he would see the painters at work1 and as he watched the boy would build castles in the air1 and dream dreams of a time when he too would be a master-painter1 and be bidden by ,venice to decorate her walls4 ,to ,tintoretto's mind ,titian was the greatest man in all the world1 and to be taught by him the greatest honour that heart could wish4 ,so it was perhaps the happiest day in all his life when his father decided to take him to ,titian's studio and ask the master to receive him as a pupil4 ,but the happiness lasted but a very short time4 ,titian did not approve of the boy's work1 and refused to keep him in the studio2 so poor1 disappointed ,tintoretto went home again1 and felt as if all sunshine and hope had gone for ever from his life4 ,it was a bitter disappointment to his father and mother too1 for they had set their hearts on the boy becoming an artist4 ,but in spite of all this1 ,tintoretto did not lose heart or give up his dreams4 ,he worked on by himself in his own way1 and ,titian's paintings taught him many things even though the master himself refused to help him4 ,then too he saw some work of the great ,michelangelo1 and learned many a lesson from that4 ,thenceforward his highest ideal was always 'the drawing of ,michelangelo and the colour of ,titian4 ,the young artist lived in a poor1 bare room1 and most of his money went in the buying of little pieces of old sculpture or casts4 ,he had a very curious way of working the designs for his pictures4 ,instead of drawing many sketches1 he made little wax models of figures and arranged them inside a cardboard or wooden box in which there was a hole to admit a lighted candle4 ,so1 besides the grouping of the figures1 he could also arrange the light and shade4 ,but1 though he worked hard1 fame was long in coming to ,tintoretto4 ,people did not understand his way of painting4 ,it was not after the manner of any of the great artists1 and they were rather afraid of his bold1 furious-looking work4 ,nevertheless ,tintoretto worked steadily on1 always hoping1 and whenever there was a chance of doing any work1 even without receiving payment for it1 he seized it eagerly4 ,it happened just then that the young ,venetian artists had agreed to have a show of their paintings1 and had hired a room for the exhibition in the ,merceria1 the busiest part of ,venice4 ,tintoretto was very glad of the chance of showing his work1 so he sent in a portrait of himself and also one of his brother4 ,as soon as these pictures were seen people began to take more notice of the clever young painter1 and even ,titian allowed that his work was good4 ,his portraits were always fresh and life-like1 and he drew with a bold strong touch1 as you will see if you look at the drawing ,i have shown you--the head of a ,venetian boy1 such as ,tintoretto met daily among the fisher-folk of ,venice4 ,from that time ,fortune began to smile on ,tintoretto4 ,little by little work began to come in4 ,he was asked to paint altarpieces for the churches1 and even at last1 when his name became famous1 he was invited to work upon the walls of the ,ducal ,palace1 the highest honour which a ,venetian painter could hope to win4 ,the days of the poor1 bare studio1 and lonely1 sad life were ended now4 ,tintoretto had no longer to struggle with poverty and neglect4 ,his house was a beautiful palace looking over the lagoon towards ,murano1 and he had married the daughter of a ,venetian noble1 and lived a happy1 contented life4 ,children's voices made gay music in his home1 and the pattering of little feet broke the silence of his studio4 ,fame had come to him too4 ,his work might be strange but it was very wonderful1 and ,venice was proud of her new painter4 ,his great stormy pictures had earned for him the name off 'the furious painter1' and the world began to acknowledge his greatness4 ,but the real sunshine of his life was his little daughter ,marietta4 ,as soon as she learned to walk she found her way to her father's studio1 and until she was fifteen years old she was always with him and helped him as if she had been one of his pupils4 ,she was dressed too as a boy1 and visitors to the studio never guessed that the clever1 handsome boy was really the painter's daughter4 ,there were many great schools in ,venice at that time1 and there was much work to be done in decorating their walls with paintings4 ,a school was not really a place of education1 but a society of people who joined themselves together in charity to nurse the sick1 bury the dead1 and release any prisoners who had been taken captive4 ,one of the greatest of the schools was the ',scuola de ,san ,rocco1' and this was given into the hands of ,tintoretto1 who covered the walls with his paintings1 leaving but little room for other artists4 ,but it is in the ,ducal ,palace that the master's most famous work is seen4 ,there1 covering the entire side of the great hall1 hangs his ',paradiso1' the largest oil painting in the world4 ,at first it seems but a gloomy picture of ,paradise4 ,it is so vast1 and such hundreds of figures are crowded together1 and the colour is dark and sombre4 ,there is none of that swinging of golden censers by white-robed angels1 none of the pure glad colouring of spring flowers which makes us love the ,paradise of ,fra ,angelico4 ,but if we stand long enough before it a great awe steals over us1 and we forget to look for bright colours and gentle angel faces1 for the figures surging upwards are very real and human1 and the ,paradise into which we gaze seems to reveal to our eyes the very place where we ourselves shall stand one day4 ,at the time when ,tintoretto was painting his ',paradiso1' his little daughter ,marietta had grown to be a woman1 and her painting too had become famous4 ,she was invited to the courts of ,germany and ,spain to paint the portraits of the ,king and ,emperor1 but she refused to leave ,venice and her beloved father4 ,even when she married ,mario1 the jeweller1 she did not go far from home1 and ,tintoretto grew every year fonder and prouder of his clever and beautiful daughter4 ,not only could she paint1 but she played and sang most wonderfully1 and became a great favourite among the music-loving ,venetians4 ,but this happiness soon came to an end1 for ,marietta died suddenly in the midst of her happy life4 ,nothing could comfort ,tintoretto for the loss of his daughter4 ,she was buried in the church of ,santa ,maria dell' ,orto1 and there he ordered another place to be prepared that he might be buried at her side4 ,it seemed1 indeed1 as if he could not live without her1 for it was not long before he passed away4 ,the last great stormy picture of 'the furious painter' was finished1 and all ,venice mourned as they laid him to rest beside the daughter he had loved so well4 ,,paul ,,veronese ,it was in the city of ,verona that ,paul ,cagliari1 the last of the great painters of the ,venetian school1 was born4 ,the name of that old city of the ,veneto makes us think at once of moonlight nights and fair ,juliet gazing from her balcony as she bids farewell to her dear ,romeo4 ,for it was here that the two lovers lived their short lives which ended so sadly4 ,but ,verona has other titles to fame besides being the scene of ,shakespeare's story1 and one of her proudest boasts is that she gave her name to the great ,venetian artist ,paolo ,veronese1 or ,paul of ,verona1 as we would say in ,english4 ,there were many artists in ,verona when ,paolo was a boy4 ,his own father was a sculptor and his uncle a famous painter1 so the child was encouraged to begin work early4 ,as soon as he showed that he had a talent for painting1 he was sent to his uncle's studio to be taught his first lessons in drawing4 ,verona was not very far off from ,venice1 and ,paolo was never tired of listening to the tales told of that beautiful ,queen of the ,sea4 ,he loved to try and picture her magnificence1 her marble palaces overlaid with gold1 her richly-dressed nobles1 and1 above all1 the wonder of those pictures which decked her walls4 ,the very names of ,giorgione and ,titian sounded like magic in his ears4 ,they seemed to open out before him a wonderful new ,paradise1 where stately men and women clad in the richest robes moved about in a world of glowing colour4 ,at last the day came when he was to see the city of his dreams1 and enter into that magic world of ,art4 ,what delight it was to study those pictures hour by hour1 and learn the secrets of the great masters4 ,it was the best teaching that heart could desire4 ,no one in ,venice took much notice of the quiet1 hard-working young painter1 and he worked on steadily by himself for some years4 ,but at last his chance came1 and he was commissioned to paint the ceiling of the church of ,st4 ,sebastian2 and when this was finished ,venice recognised his genius1 and saw that here was another of her sons whom she must delight to honour4 ,these great pictures of ,veronese were just the kind of work to charm the rich ,venetians1 those merchant princes who delighted in costly magnificence4 ,never before had any painter pictured such royal scenes of grandeur4 ,there were banqueting halls with marble balustrades just like their own ,venetian palaces4 ,the guests that thronged these halls were courtly gentlemen and high-born ladies arrayed in rich brocades and dazzling jewels4 ,men-servants and maidservants1 costly ornaments and golden dishes were there1 everything that heart could desire4 ,true1 there was not much room for religious feeling amid all this grandeur1 although the painter would call the pictures by some ,bible name and would paint in the figure of our ,lord1 or the ,blessed ,virgin1 among the gay crowd4 ,but no one stopped to think about religion1 and what cared they if the guests at the ',marriage ,feast of ,cana' were dressed in the rich robes of ,venetian nobles1 and all was as different as possible from the simple wedding-feast where ,christ worked his first miracle4 ,so the fame of ,paolo ,veronese grew greater and greater1 and he painted more and more gorgeous pictures4 ,but here and there we find a simpler and more charming piece of his work1 as when he painted the little ,st4 ,john with the skin thrown over his bare shoulder and the cross in his hand4 ,he is such a really childlike figure as he stands looking upward and rests his little hand confidingly on the worn and wounded palm of ,st4 ,francis1 who stands beside him4 ,although the ,venetian nobles found nothing wanting in the splendid pictures which ,veronese painted1 the ,church at last began to have doubts as to whether they were fit as religious subjects to adorn her walls4 ,the ,holy ,office considered the question1 and ,veronese was ordered to appear before the council4 ,was it1 indeed1 fit that court jesters1 little negro boys1 and even cats and pet dogs should appear in pictures which were to decorate the walls of a church8 ,veronese answered gravely that it was the effect of the picture that mattered1 and that the details need not be thought of4 ,so the complaint was dismissed4 ,these pictures of ,paolo ,veronese were really great pieces of decoration1 very wonderful in their way1 but showing already that ,art was sinking lower instead of rising higher4 ,if the spirits of the old masters could have returned to gaze upon this new work1 what would their feelings have been8 ,how the simple ,giotto would have shaken his head over this wealth of ornament which meant so little1 even while he marvelled at the clever work4 ,how sorrowfully would ,fra ,angelico have turned away from this perfection of worldly vanity1 and sighed to think that the art of painting was no longer a golden chain to link men's souls to ,heaven4 ,even the merry-hearted monk ,fra ,filippo ,lippi would scarce have approved of all this gorgeous company4 ,art had indeed shaken off the binding rules of old tradition1 and ,veronese was free to follow his own magnificent fancy4 ,but who can say if that freedom was indeed a gain8 ,and it is with a sigh that we close the record of ,italian ,art and turn our eyes1 wearied with all its splendour and the glare of the noonday sun1 back to the early dawn1 when the soul of the painter looked through his pictures1 and taught us the simple lesson that work done for the glory of ,god was greater than that done for the praise of men4