ter or less
according to differences of air and place. Constantly, in truth, do we
see a particular country producing a particular kind of intellect fitted
for a particular kind of work, for which others are not fitted, nor can
they ever attain, whatever labours they may endure, to the goal of
supreme excellence. And if we marvel when we see growing in some
province a fruit that has not been wont to grow there, much more can we
rejoice in a man of fine intellect when we find him in a country where
men of the same bent are not usually born. Thus it was with the painter
Marco Calavrese, who, leaving his own country, chose for his habitation
the sweet and pleasant city of Naples. He had been minded, indeed, on
setting out, to make his way to Rome, and there to achieve the end that
rewards the student of painting; but the song of the Siren was so sweet
to him, and all the more because he delighted to play on the lute, and
the soft waters of Sebeto so melted his heart, that he remained a
prisoner in body of that land until he rendered up his spirit to Heaven
and his mortal flesh to earth.

Marco executed innumerable works in oils and in fresco, and he proved
himself more able than any other man who was practising the same art in
that country in his day. Of this we have proof in the work that he
executed at Aversa, ten miles distant from Naples; and, above all, in a
panel-picture in oils on the high-altar of the Church of S. Agostino,
with a large ornamental frame, and various pictures painted with scenes
and figures, in which he represented S. Augustine disputing with the
heretics, with stories of Christ and Saints in various attitudes both
above and at the sides. In this work, which shows a manner full of
harmony and drawing towards the good manner of our modern works, may
also be seen great beauty and facility of colouring; and it was one of
the many labours that he executed in that city and for various places in
the kingdom.

Marco always lived a gay life, enjoying every minute to the full, for
the reason that, having no rivalry to contend with in painting from
other craftsmen, he was always adored by the Neapolitan nobles, and
contrived to have himself rewarded for his works by ample payments. And
so, having come to the age of fifty-six, he ended his life after an
ordinary illness.

He left a disciple in Giovan Filippo Crescione, a painter of Naples, who
executed many pictures in company with his brother-in-law, Leona