DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.68073#0120
94
OLD WORLD MASTERS
and day, were heard sounds of such sweet singing and such delicious
harmonies of music that they seemed to descend from heaven itself.”
New churches and palaces arose in Milan, Pavia, Como, Cremona,
Piacenza, Lugano, and other places, and artists were necessary for
decorating them. In 1496, Leonardo having all he could do, Lodovico
wrote to Florence for a description of the best painters of the day.
This is what he received; and it is very interesting as showing the esti-
mation of the men mentioned while they were living:
“Sandro de Botticello—a most excellent master, both in panel and
wall-painting. His figures have a manly air and are admirable in
conception and proportion.
“Filippino di Frati Filippo—an excellent disciple of the above-
named and a son of the rarest master of our times. His heads have a
gentler and more suave air; but, we are inclined to think, less art.
“Il Perugino—a rare and singular artist, most excellent in wall-
painting. His faces have an air of the most angelic sweetness.
“Domenico de Girlandaio—a good master in panels and a better
one in wall-painting. His figures are good and he is an industrious
and active master who produces much work.
“All of these masters have given proof of their excellence m the
Chapel of Pope Sixtus, excepting Filippino, and also in the Spedaletto
of the Magnificent Laurentio, and their merit is almost equal.*
The glimpse Leonardo da Vinci has given us of his life charms us
across the long shadow of four centuries and more:
“The painter describes himself as living in a fine house, full of beau-
tiful paintings and choice objects surrounded by musicians and poets.
Here he sits at his work, handling a brush full of lovely color, never
so happy as when he can paint listening to the sound of sweet melodies.
The spacious atelier is full of scholars and apprentices employed in
carrying out their master’s ideas, or making chemical experiments,
but careless of the noise of tools and hammers, the fair-haired boy,
Angelo, sings his golden song, and, Serafino, the wondrous improvisa-
tore, chants his own verses to the sound of the lyre. Visitors come and
go freely—Messer Jacopo of Ferrara, the architect, who was so dear
* Julia Cartwright, Beatrice d’Este (London, 1908).
OLD WORLD MASTERS
and day, were heard sounds of such sweet singing and such delicious
harmonies of music that they seemed to descend from heaven itself.”
New churches and palaces arose in Milan, Pavia, Como, Cremona,
Piacenza, Lugano, and other places, and artists were necessary for
decorating them. In 1496, Leonardo having all he could do, Lodovico
wrote to Florence for a description of the best painters of the day.
This is what he received; and it is very interesting as showing the esti-
mation of the men mentioned while they were living:
“Sandro de Botticello—a most excellent master, both in panel and
wall-painting. His figures have a manly air and are admirable in
conception and proportion.
“Filippino di Frati Filippo—an excellent disciple of the above-
named and a son of the rarest master of our times. His heads have a
gentler and more suave air; but, we are inclined to think, less art.
“Il Perugino—a rare and singular artist, most excellent in wall-
painting. His faces have an air of the most angelic sweetness.
“Domenico de Girlandaio—a good master in panels and a better
one in wall-painting. His figures are good and he is an industrious
and active master who produces much work.
“All of these masters have given proof of their excellence m the
Chapel of Pope Sixtus, excepting Filippino, and also in the Spedaletto
of the Magnificent Laurentio, and their merit is almost equal.*
The glimpse Leonardo da Vinci has given us of his life charms us
across the long shadow of four centuries and more:
“The painter describes himself as living in a fine house, full of beau-
tiful paintings and choice objects surrounded by musicians and poets.
Here he sits at his work, handling a brush full of lovely color, never
so happy as when he can paint listening to the sound of sweet melodies.
The spacious atelier is full of scholars and apprentices employed in
carrying out their master’s ideas, or making chemical experiments,
but careless of the noise of tools and hammers, the fair-haired boy,
Angelo, sings his golden song, and, Serafino, the wondrous improvisa-
tore, chants his own verses to the sound of the lyre. Visitors come and
go freely—Messer Jacopo of Ferrara, the architect, who was so dear
* Julia Cartwright, Beatrice d’Este (London, 1908).