impossible to express with words, for the
wickedness of the act overcomes all power and force of speech, however
eloquent. For this reason, without enlarging further on this subject, I
will only say that in such men there dwells a spirit not merely inhuman
and savage but wholly cruel and devilish, and so far removed from any
sort of virtue that they are no longer men or even animals, and do not
deserve to live. For even as emulation and rivalry, when men seek by
honest endeavour to vanquish and surpass those greater than themselves
in order to acquire glory and honour, are things worthy to be praised
and to be held in esteem as necessary and useful to the world, so, on
the contrary, the wickedness of envy deserves a proportionately greater
meed of blame and vituperation, when, being unable to endure the honour
and esteem of others, it sets to work to deprive of life those whom it
cannot despoil of glory; as did that miserable Andrea dal Castagno, who
was truly great and excellent in painting and design, but even more
notable for the rancour and envy that he bore towards other painters,
insomuch that with the blackness of his crime he concealed and obscured
the splendour of his talents.

This man, having been born at a small village called Castagno in
Mugello, in the territory of Florence, took that name as his own
surname when he came to live in Florence, which came about in the
following manner. Having been left without a father in his earliest
childhood, he was adopted by an uncle, who employed him for many years
in watching his herds, since he saw him to be very ready and alert, and
so masterful, that he could look after not only his cattle but the
pastures and everything else that touched his own interest. Now, while
he was following this calling, it came to pass one day that he chanced
to seek shelter from the rain in a place wherein one of those local
painters, who work for small prices, was painting a shrine for a
peasant. Whereupon Andrea, who had never seen anything of the kind
before, was seized by a sudden marvel and began to look most intently at
the work and to study its manner; and there came to him on the spot a
very great desire and so violent a love for that art, that without
losing time he began to scratch drawings of animals and figures on walls
and stones with pieces of charcoal or with the point of his knife, in so
masterly a manner that it caused no small marvel to all who saw them.
The fame of thi