oy, with
the complexion of a well-bred young lady, the almond eyes and golden
hair, standing up in his tunic of white cloth of silver, while one squire
unbuckled his spurs and another removed his cloak. The darling little
Prince Charming, between whom and the romantic bearded young king there
must for some time have been considerable rivalry, and alternating views
in the minds of men and the hearts of women (particularly when the
second king, the bearded one, became the John Palaeologus of Benozzo),
until it was victoriously borne in upon the public that this delicate,
beardless creature, so much younger and always the last, must evidently
be _the_ prince, the youngest of the king's sons in the fairy tales, the
one who always succeeds where the two elder have failed, who gets the
Water that Dances and the Apple Branch that Sings, who carries off the
enchanted oranges, slays the ogre, releases the princess, flies through
the air, the hero, the prince of Fairyland....

[Footnote 8: This quality, particularly in the Adoration of the Magi,
is already very marked in the very charming and little known frescoes
of Ottaviano Nelli, in the former Trinci Palace at Foligno. Nelli was
the master of Gentile, and through him greatly influenced Venice.]

The fairy business of the story of the Three Kings takes even greater
proportions in the delightful frescoes of Benozzo Gozzoli in the Riccardi
Chapel. Here the Holy Family are suppressed, so to speak, altogether,
tucked into the altar in a picture, and the act of adoration at Bethlehem
becomes the mere excuse for the romantic adventures of three people of
the highest quality. The journey itself, where Gentile da Fabriano sums
up in that procession twisting about the background of his picture, here
occupies a whole series of frescoes. And on this journey is concentrated
all that the Renaissance knew of splendour, delightfulness, and romance.
The green valleys, watered by twisting streams, with matted grasses,
which Botticelli puts behind his enthroned Madonna and victorious
Judith; Angelico's favourite hillsides with blossoming fruit trees and
pointing cypresses; the mysterious firwoods--more mysterious for their
remoteness on the high Apennines--which fascinate the fancy of Filippo
Lippi; all this is here, and through it all winds the procession of
the Three Kings. There are the splendid stuffs and Oriental jewels and
trappings, the hounds and monkeys, and jesters and negroes