Within the palace, up stairs, is the little chapel which Gozzoli made so gay and fascinating that it is probably the very gem among the private chapels of the world.  Here not only did the Medici perform their devotions—­Lorenzo’s corner seat is still shown, and anyone may sit in it—­but their splendour and taste are reflected on the walls.  Cosimo, as we shall see when we reach S. Marco, invited Fra Angelico to paint upon the walls of that convent sweet and simple frescoes to the glory of God.  Piero employed Fra Angelico’s pupil, Benozzo Gozzoli to decorate this chapel.

In the year 1439, as chapter II related, through the instrumentality of Cosimo a great episcopal Council was held at Florence, at which John Palaeologus, Emperor of the East, met Pope Eugenius IV.  In that year Cosimo’s son Piero was twenty-three, and Gozzoli nineteen, and probably upon both, but certainly on the young artist, such pomp and splendour and gorgeousness of costume as then were visible in Florence made a deep impression.  When therefore Piero, after becoming head of the family, decided to decorate the chapel with a procession of Magi, it is not surprising that the painter should recall this historic occasion.  We thus get the pageantry of the East with more than common realism, while the portraits, or at any rate representations, of the Patriarch of Constantinople (the first king) and the Emperor (the second king) are here, together with those of certain Medici, for the youthful third king is none other than Piero’s eldest son Lorenzo.  Among their followers are (the third on the left) Cosimo de’ Medici, who is included as among the living, although, like the Patriarch of Constantinople, he was dead, and his brother Lorenzo (the middle one of the three), whose existence is forgotten so completely until the accession of Cosimo I, in 1537, brings his branch of the family into power; while on the right is Piero de’ Medici himself.  Piero’s second son Giuliano is on the white horse, preceded by a negro carrying his bow.  The head immediately above Giuliano I do not know, but that one a little to the left above it is Gozzoli’s own.  Among the throng are men of learning who either came to Florence from the East or Florentines who assimilated their philosophy—­such as Georgius Gemisthos, Marsilio Ficino, and perhaps certain painters among them, all proteges of Cosimo and Piero, and all makers of the Renaissance.

The assemblage alone, apart altogether from any beauty and charm that the painting possesses, makes these frescoes valuable.  But the painting is a delight.  We have a pretty Gozzoli in our National Gallery—­No. 283—­but it gives no indication of the ripeness and richness and incident of this work; while the famous Biblical series in the Campo Santo of Pisa has so largely perished as to be scarcely evidence to his colour.  The first impression made by the Medici frescoes is their sumptuousness.  When Gozzoli painted—­if the story be true—­he had only candle light:  the window over the altar is new.  But think of candle light being all the illumination of these walls as the painter worked!  A new door and window have also been cut in the wall opposite the altar close to the three daughters of Piero, by vandal hands; and “Bruta, bruta!” says the guardian, very rightly.