rn, was forty-nine, and
in time he was to become the master of Leonardo: thus are the great
artists related. The history of Florentine art is practically the
history of a family; one artist leads to the other--the genealogy
of genius. The story goes that it was the excellence of the angel
contributed by Leonardo to his master's picture of the Baptism of
Christ (at the Accademia) which decided Verrocchio to paint no more,
just as Ghiberti's superiority in the relief of Abraham and Isaac
drove Brunelleschi from sculpture. If this be so, it accounts for the
extraordinarily small number of pictures by him. Like many artists
of his day Verrocchio was also a goldsmith, but he was versatile
above most, even when versatility was a habit, and excelled also as
a musician. Both Piero de' Medici and Lorenzo employed him to design
their tournament costumes; and it was for Lorenzo that he made this
charming David and the boy and the dolphin. His greatest work of all
is the bronze equestrian statue of Bartolommeo Colleoni in Venice, the
finest thing of its kind in the world, and so glorious and exciting
indeed that every city should have a cast of it in a conspicuous
position just for the good of the people. It was while at work upon
this that Verrocchio died, at the age of fifty-three. His body was
brought from Venice by his pupil Lorenzo di Credi, who adored him,
and was buried in S. Ambrogio in Florence. Lorenzo di Credi painted his
portrait, which is now in the Uffizi--a plump, undistinguished-looking
little man.

In the David room are also the extremely interesting rival bronze
reliefs of Abraham sacrificing Isaac, which were made by Ghiberti and
Brunelleschi as trials of skill to see which would win the commission
to design the new gates of the Baptistery, as I have told earlier in
this book. Six competitors entered for the contest; but Ghiberti's and
Brunelleschi's efforts were alone considered seriously. A comparison
of these two reliefs proves that Ghiberti, at any rate, had a finer
sense of grouping. He filled the space at his disposal more easily
and his hand was more fluent; but there is a very engaging vivacity
in the other work, the realistic details of which are so arresting
as to make one regret that Brunelleschi had for sculpture so little
time. In S. Maria Novella is that crucifix in wood which he carved for
his friend Donatello, but his only other sculptured work in Florence is
the door of his beautiful Pazzi chape