Italian painters received their names in peculiar ways. This man's
father was a tailor; and the artist was named after his father's
profession. He was in fact "the Tailor's Andrea," and his father's
name was Angelo.

One story of this brilliant painter which reads from first to last
like a romance has been told by the poet, Browning, who dresses up
fact so as to smother it a little, but there is truth at the bottom.

Andrea married a wife whom he loved tenderly. She had a beautiful face
that seemed full of spirituality and feeling, and Andrea painted it
over and over again. The artist loved his work and dreamed always of
the great things that he should do; but he was so much in love with
his wife that he was dependent on her smile for all that he did which
was well done, and her frown plunged him into despair.

Andrea's wife cared nothing for his genius, painting did not interest
her, and she had no worthy ambition for her husband, but she loved
fine clothes and good living, and so encouraged him enough to keep him
earning these things for her. As soon as some money was made she would
persuade him to work no more till it was spent; and even when he had
made agreements to paint certain pictures for which he was paid in
advance she would torment him till he gave all of his time to her
whims, neglected his duty and spent the money for which he had
rendered no service. Thus in time he became actually dishonest, as we
shall see. It is a sad sort of story to tell of so brilliant a young
man.

Andrea was born in the Gualfonda quarter of Florence, and there is
some record of his ancestors for a hundred years before that, although