There may be some elements common to both the Umbrian art and that of Angelico; this, however, does not depend so much on the teaching of the school, as on technical affinity; insomuch as Umbrian painting in its lucidity, charm and accuracy of colour, is in some measure derived from the art of illumination, and most probably Fra Angelico took his style from the same source, as even in his most perfect works, he always preserved a remembrance of it. In fact, his patient diligence and study of detail render his pictures so many miniatures, done in larger proportions; the lucidity of tint, the grace of the ornamental motives, the almost exaggerated minuteness of execution, are decided proofs of the artistic education of Fra Angelico. It is pleasant to imagine him, during his sojourn at Foligno and Cortona, making pilgrimages to Assisi, to draw inspiration from the works of the great masters in the splendid church of San Francesco. There he found his old friends, and might at a glance admire together Giotto, Simone Martini, and Lorenzetto. We should say he admired Simone and Lorenzetto more than Giotto, for the grace of their figures, refinement of execution, and greater richness of the accessories, robes and ornamentation, together with the pleasing brilliance of colouring, all approached more nearly to Fra Giovanni's own artistic sentiment than the style of Giotto. And even less than the Umbrian painters or miniaturists (if indeed there were any worthy to influence the artistic spirit of our artist) did the landscape of verdant Umbria stir his soul, which even the sweet slopes of Fiesole could not touch. Doubtless from the heights of the convent at Cortona, which dominates one of the finest views in Italy, the young monk admired the beautiful horizon, and enjoyed the splendour of the verdant plain, and the blue mountains, "enwrapt in mists of purple and gold", as he had often at sunrise and sunset, enjoyed from his Fiesole convent the gentle fields and dales "peopled with houses and olives"; but, after all, these beauties of nature so often displayed before him, were dumb to an artist who was wholly absorbed in visions beyond this world. The study of the verdant country never occupied his mind; in his paintings, landscape is either an insignificant accessory, or if it occupies a large space in the picture as in the "Deposition from the Cross" in the Florentine Gallery, it shows plainly that it is not the result of special study, of personal impressions, or of love of the place itself. In fact it does not attract or interest the observer at all.