he surpassed the reputation of a mere amateur. Benozzo Gozzoli, another of his disciples, and an imitator of Masaccio, raised himself far above the majority of his contemporaries.
In a few points he even surpassed his model, as in the stupendous size of his edifices, in the amenity of his landscapes, and in the brilliancy of his fancy, truly lively, agreeable, and picturesque. In the Riccardi palace, once a royal residence, there is a chapel in good preservation, where he executed a Glory, a Nativity, and an Epiphany. He there painted with a profusion of gold and of drapery, unexampled, perhaps, in fresco; and with an adherence to nature that exhibits an image of that age in the portraits, the garments, the accoutrements of the horses, and in the most minute particulars. He long resided at Pisa, and died there, where he ought to be studied; for his compositions in that place are better than those at Florence, and he was there also more sparing in the use of gold. The portrait of S. Thomas Aquinas is highly spoken of by Vasari and Richardson; but they especially notice the pictures from scripture history, with which he ornamented a whole wing of the Campo Santo, "a most prodigious work, sufficient to appal a legion of painters;"[72] and he finished it within two years. Here he displayed a talent for composition, an imitation of nature, a variety in the countenances and attitudes, a colouring juicy, lively, and clear, and an expression of the passions that places him next to Masaccio. I can scarcely believe that he painted the whole. In the Ebriety of Noah, in the Tower of Babel, and in some other pictures, we discern an attempt at surprising, not to be seen in some others, where figures sometimes occur that seem dry and laboured; defects which I am disposed rather to attribute to his coadjutors. Near this great work a monument is erected to his memory by a grateful city, in the public name, with an epitaph that commends him as a painter. Time itself, as if conscious of his merit, has respected this work beyond any other in the Campo Santo.
The other monk was Filippo Lippi, a Carmelite, a genius of a different stamp from B. Giovanni. He received his instruction, not from Masaccio, as Vasari would have it, but from his works. His assiduity in copying him, makes him sometimes appear a second Masaccio, especially in small histories. Some of his choicest are in the sacristy of the church of S. Spirito. In that place, in the Church of S. Ambrose, and elsewhere, his pictures represent the Virgin surrounded by angels, with full and handsome countenances, distinguished by a colouring and a gracefulness peculiarly his own. He delighted in drapery like the neat folds of a surplice; his tints were very clear but delicate, and often subdued by a purple hue not common to other painters. He introduced gigantic proportions in his large frescos in the parish church of Prato; where his pictures of S. Stephen and the Baptist were, in the opinion of Vasari, his capital performances. His forsaking the convent, his slavery in Barbary, his works at Naples, at Padua, and elsewhere, his death, hastened by poison, administered by the relations of a young lady who had borne him a natural child, likewise named Filippo Lippi, are recorded by Vasari. P. della Valle is of opinion that he never professed any order, but in the register of Carmine, his death is noticed in the year 1469, and he is there denominated Fra Filippo. He died at Spoleti when he had nearly completed his large picture for the cathedral. Lorenzo the Magnificent requested his ashes from the townsmen, but was refused; on which he caused a handsome monument to be erected for him, with an inscription by Angelo Poliziano; a circumstance I mention, to demonstrate the respect paid to the art at that period. F. Diamante da Prato, the scholar of Lippi, and his assistant in his last work, imitated him well; as likewise did Francesco Pesello, a Florentine of the same school; his son Pesellino, a short lived artist, followed him with still greater success. The Epiphany of Francesco, described by Vasari, in which there is a portrait of Donato Acciaiuoli, is in the royal gallery. The grado, painted by his son for the apartments of the novices of S. Croce, is there still: on this last are the histories of S. Cosma and S. Damian, of S. Anthony, and S. Francis, denominated by the historian most wonderful productions, and, perhaps, this is not too much to say when we recollect the period.
About this time other able artists flourished at Florence, who were obscured by greater names. Of this number was Berto Linaiuolo, whose pictures in private houses were, for a long time, held in great repute. They were even ordered by the King of Hungary, and procured him great fame in that kingdom. Alessio Baldovinetti, of noble extraction, was a painter particularly diligent and minute, a good worker in mosaic, and the master of Ghirlandaio. In his picture of the Nativity in the porch of the Nunziata, and in his other works, the design, rather than the colouring, may now be said to remain; for the tints have vanished, from a defect in their composition. To them we may add Verrocchio, a celebrated statuary, a good designer, and a painter for amusement rather than by profession. While he painted the Baptism of Christ at S. Salvi, his scholar, L. da Vinci, then a youth, finished an angel, in a manner superior to the figures of his master, who, indignant at his own inferiority to a boy, never more handled the pencil.
Baldinucci imagines that Andrea del Castagno, a name infamous in history, was a scholar of Masaccio: he was rather his imitator, in attitude, relief, and casting of the drapery, than in grace and colouring. He lived at the time that the secret of painting in oil (discovered by John Van Eych, or John of Bruges, about 1410),[73] was known in Italy, not only by report, but by experience of the advantages of this method. Our artists, admiring the harmony, delicacy, and brilliance, which colours received from this discovery, sighed to possess the secret. For this purpose, one Antonello da Messina, who had studied at Rome, travelled to Flanders, and having learned the secret, according to Vasari, from the inventor, went to Venice, where he communicated it to a friend named Domenico. After having practised much in his own country, at Loreto,[74] and other parts of the ecclesiastical states, Domenico came to Florence. There he became the general favourite, and on that account was envied by Castagna, whose dissembled friendship won him to impart the secret, and rewarded him by an atrocious assassination, which he perpetrated, in order that there might be none living to rival him in the art. The assassin was sufficiently skilful to conceal his crime, owing to which a number of innocent persons soon fell under suspicion, which did not induce the real criminal to avow the atrocious deed, until he lay upon his death-bed, when he disclosed his guilt and did justice to the innocence of others. He had the reputation of being the first artist of his time, for vigour, for design, and for perspective, having perfected the art of foreshortening. His finest works have perished: one of his pictures remains at S. Lucia de' Magnuoli, and also some of his historic pieces, executed with great diligence. There is also a Crucifixion, painted on a wall in the monastery of the Angeli.
Many writers have appeared who deny the above mentioned statement of Vasari, and maintain that the art of painting in oil was known long before. It is pretended that it existed in the time of the Romans, an opinion that is adopted by Sig. Ranza, in regard to a picture said to be of S. Helena, consisting of a quilting of different pieces of silk stitched together, exhibiting a picture of the Virgin Saint with the Infant. The heads and hands are coloured in oils; the drapery is shaded with the needle, and in a great measure with the pencil. It is preserved in Vercelli, and from the tradition of its citizens reported by Mabillon (Diar. Ital. Cap. 28), it is said to be the work of S. Helena, mother of Constantine; that is, the patches of silk were sewed by her, and the gilding and painting added to it by her painter, as is conjectured by Ranza. He was not aware that the practice of drawing the Infant Christ in the lap of the Virgin (as we notice in the preface to the Roman school), was posterior to the fourth century; and that other particulars related by him of the picture cannot belong to the age of Constantine; for instance, the hooded mantle of our Lady. From such signs we ought rather to conclude that it is either not an oil painting, or that the figure, at whatever period executed, has been retouched in the same way as that of the Nunziata at Florence, or of the Santa Maria Primerana at Fiesole; the former of which in the drapery, and the latter in the lineaments, are not the same now as in their ancient state.
Others, without ascending to the first ages of the church, have asserted that oil painting was known out of Italy, at least as early as the eleventh century. As a proof of this, they adduce a manuscript of the Monk Teofilo or Ruggiero, no later back than that period, which bears title, "De omni scientiâ artis pingendi," where there is a receipt for the preparation
