ias, and
here again Ghirlandaio gives us contemporary Florentines, portraits
of distinguished Tornabuoni men and certain friends of eminence
among them. In the little group low down on the left, for example,
are Poliziano and Marsilio Ficino, the Platonist. Above--but seeing
is beginning to be difficult--the pair of frescoes represent, on the
right, the birth of the Baptist, and on the left, his naming. The birth
scene has much beauty, and is as well composed as any, and there is
a girl in it of superb grace and nobility; but the birth scene of the
Virgin, on the opposite wall, is perhaps the finer and certainly more
easily seen. In the naming of the child we find Medici portraits once
more, that family being related to the Tornabuoni; and Mr. Davies,
in his book on Ghirlandaio, offers the interesting suggestion, which
he supports very reasonably, that the painter has made the incident
refer to the naming of Lorenzo de' Medici's third son, Giovanni (or
John), who afterwards became Pope Leo X. In that case the man on the
left, in green, with his hand on his hip, would be Lorenzo himself,
whom he certainly resembles. Who the sponsor is is not known. The
landscape and architecture are alike charming.

Above these we faintly see that strange Baptism of Christ, so curiously
like the Verrocchio in the Accademia, and the Baptist preaching.

The left wall is perhaps the favourite. We begin with Joachim being
driven from the Temple, one of the lowest pair; and this has a peculiar
interest in giving us a portrait of the painter and his associates--the
figure on the extreme right being Benedetto Mainardi; then Domenico
Ghirlandaio; then his father; and lastly his brother David. On the
opposite side of the picture is the fated Lorenzo Tornabuoni, of whom
I have spoken above, the figure farthest from the edge, with his hand
on his hip. The companion picture is the most popular of all--the
Birth of the Virgin--certainly one of the most charming interiors in
Florence. Here again we have portraits--no doubt Tornabuoni ladies--and
much pleasant fancy on the part of the painter, who made everything as
beautiful as he could, totally unmindful of the probabilities. Ruskin
is angry with him for neglecting to show the splashing of the water
in the vessel, but it would be quite possible for no splashing to
be visible, especially if the pouring had only just begun; but for
Ruskin's strictures you must go to "Mornings in Florence," where poor