lthough they have sadly dimmed and require the best morning light,
they should endure for centuries longer, a reminder not only of
the thoughtful sincere interesting art of Ghirlandaio and of the
pious generosity of the Tornabuoni family, who gave them, but also
of the costumes and carriage of the Florentine ladies at the end
of the fifteenth century when Lorenzo the Magnificent was in his
zenith. Domenico Ghirlandaio may not be quite of the highest rank
among the makers of Florence; but he comes very near it, and indeed,
by reason of being Michelangelo's first instructor, perhaps should
stand amid them. But one thing is certain--that without him Florence
would be the poorer by many beautiful works.

He was born in 1449, twenty-one years after the death of Masaccio and
three before Leonardo, twenty-six before Michelangelo, and thirty-four
before Raphael. His full name was Domenico or Tommaso di Currado di
Doffo Bigordi, but his father Tommaso Bigordi, a goldsmith, having
hit upon a peculiarly attractive way of making garlands for the hair,
was known as Ghirlandaio, the garland maker; and time has effaced
the Bigordi completely.

The portraits of both Tommaso and Domenico, side by side, occur in the
fresco representing Joachim driven from the Temple: Domenico, who is to
be seen second from the extreme right, a little resembles our Charles
II. Like his father, and, as we have seen, like most of the artists of
Florence, he too became a goldsmith, and his love of the jewels that
goldsmiths made may be traced in his pictures; but at an early age he
was sent to Alessio Baldovinetti to learn to be a painter. Alessio's
work we find all over Florence: a Last Judgment in the Accademia, for
example, but that is not a very pleasing thing; a Madonna Enthroned,
in the Uffizi; the S. Miniato frescoes; the S. Trinita frescoes;
and that extremely charming although faded work in the outer court of
SS. Annunziata. For the most delightful picture from his hand, however,
one has to go to the Louvre, where there is a Madonna and Child (1300
a), in the early Tuscan room, which has a charm not excelled by any
such group that I know. The photographers still call it a Piero della
Francesca, and the Louvre authorities omit to name it at all; but it
is Alessio beyond question. Next it hangs the best Ghirlandaio that
I know--the very beautiful Visitation, and, to add to the interest
of this room to the returning Florentine wanderer, on the same wa