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FRA FILIPPO DI THOMASAO LIPPI was born in Florence in a street
called Ardiglione, behind the convent of the Carmelite fathers.
By the death of Tommaso, his father, he was left an orphan when
a poor little boy of two years old, his mother having died at
his birth. He remained with his aunt until he was eight years
old, when, being no longer able to support him, she made him a
Carmelite friar. In the convent, although he was clever and dexterous
with his fingers, he showed himself stupid at his letters, and
would never apply his mind to learning. For the boy, who was still
called by the name of Filippo, instead of studying while he was
in his noviciate and under the disciyline of the grammar master,
did nothing.but cover his books with drawings of figures, until
at last the prior determined to give him every help in learning
to paint. The chapel in the Carmine had been recently painted
by Masaccio, and being most beautiful, pleased Fra Filippo greatly,
and he used to go there every day for his recreation. Working
there in company with the many other youths who were always drawing
there, he surpassed them greatly both in knowledge and skill,
so that it was considered certain that he would do something wonderful
in time. But even in his tender years he did something so good
that it was marvellous; for he painted a pope confirming the rule
of the Carmelites and other pictures so much in Masaccio's style
that many said that the spirit of Masaccio had entered into Fra
Filippo.
Finding himself thus praised by every one, at the age of seventeen
he threw off the cowl. And going to Ancona, he was disporting
himself one day with some of his friends in a boat in the sea,
when they were all captured by some Moorish ships that were scouring
the bay, and carried off to Barbary, where they were chained as
slaves. In this condition, in much suffering, he remained for
eighteen months, but being much with his master, it came into
his head one day to make his portrait, and taking a piece of charcoal
out of the fire, he drew him at full length on the white wall
in his Moorish dress. The other slaves told his master what he
had done, and he thought it was a mlracle, neither drawing nor
painting being known in those parts, and this was the cause of
his being set free from captivity. For having completed some works
in colour for his master, he was conducted in safety to Naples,
whence he soon returned to Florence. He was taken into great favour
by Cosimo de' Medici, but being devoted to pleasure, he neglected
his work for it. Cosimo therefore, when he was working for him
;n his house, caused him to be shut in, so that he could not go
out and waste his time; but he, cutting up the sheets of the bed
with a pair of scissors, made a rope and let himself down by the
window. When after many days he returned to his work, Cosimo gave
him his liberty, considering the peril he had run, and sought
to keep him for the future by many favours, and so he served him
more readily, saying that genius is a heavenly being, and not
a beast of burden.
While he was painting for the nuns of S. Margherita, he saw one
day the daughter of Francesco Buti, a Florentine citizen, who
was there either as a boarder or a novice. Fra Filippo, seeing
Lucrezia, who was very beautiful, persuaded the nuns to let him
paint her for the figure of our Lady. And falling in love with
her, he contrived, when she was going to see the girdle of our
Lady, the chief relic of the place, to carry her away. The nuns
were much distressed at it, and Francesco, her father, was never
happy again, and did all he could to recover her, but she would
not return.
Sandro Botticelli was a disciple of his, and his own son Filippo
was also a painter of fine genius. After his father's death, heing
then very young, he became Sandro Botticelli's pupil, though his
father in dying had commended him to Fra Diamante his friend,
almost his brother. He was a man of great talent, copious invention
in ornament, and introduced new methods of varying the dresses,
attiring many of his figures in antique garments. He made great
use of ancient Roman vases, trophies, armour, swords, togas, and
other such things. And when he died he was wept by all who had
known him, not onlv for his excellence in his art, but for his
good life and his courteous and amiable disposition.
It was in the time of the magnificent Lorenzo de' Medici, which
was indeed an age of gold for men of genius, that that Alessandro
flollrished who was nicknamed according to our custom Sandro di
Botticello. He was the son of a Florentine citizen, Mariano Filipepi,
and was carefully taught all that it was usual to teach children
in those times before they were apprenticed; but though he learnt
readily all he wished, he was restless and discontented, so that
his father, wearied with his fancies, placed him in despair with
one of his acquaintances, a goldsmith named Botticello. There
was at that time great intimacy and continual intercourse between
the goldsmiths and the painters, and Sandro, attracted by painting,
determined to take to it. His father, learning his wish, took
him therefore to Fra Filippo, and placed him with him to learn
his art. Giving himself to study, he followed his master so closely
that he won Fra Filippo's affection, and was so well instructed
by him as to rise rapidly to unexpected success. Having made himself
a reputation, he was employed to paint in S. Marco, and did many
things in the house of Lorenzo de' Medici, especially a Pallas
as large as life, and a Sebastian. He painted also in many houses
in the city, and among them are a bust of Venus, and another Venus
whom the Graces deck with flowers, denoting the spring.
In S. Pietro Maggiore he made a picture for Matteo Palmieri with
an infinite number of figures. This is the Assumption of our Lady,
with the Zones of the heavens, the Patriarchs, Prophets, Apostles,
Evangelists, Martyrs, Confessors, Doctors, and Hierarchies, according
to the design given him by Matteo Palmieri, and this work he painted
in a masterly manner and with infinite diligence. At the foot
of the picture are Matteo and his wife kneeling. But although
this work is most beautiful and ought to have overcome envy, some
evil-minded persons, not able to find any other fault, said that
Matteo and Sandro were guilty of grave heresy, which, whether
it be true or not, is not for me to judge. It is enough that Sandro
deserves praise for his labours and the skill with which he represents
the circles of the heavens, and for the foreshortening of the
figures of the angels and their various postures, all being well
carried out with good drawing.
About this time Sandro was charged with the painting of a little
picture to be placed in S. Maria Novella, between the two doors.
This is the Adoration of the Magi, and you may notice the first
old man kissing the feet of our Lord, and overcome with tender
emotion at the consummation of his long journey. The figure of
this king is the portrait of old Cosimo de' Medici, the most lifelike
and most natural to be found in our days. The second king is Giuliano
de' Medici, the father of Clement VII, who may be seen intent
on offering devout reverence to the Child, and presenting his
gift. The third, who is kneeling, and appears to be adoring Him
and confessing Him the true Messiah, is Giovanni, son of Cosimo.
Having made a name by such works, he was sent for by Pope Sixtus
IV, who had built the chapel in his palace at Rome, and desired
to have it adorned with paintings. He appointed Sandro master
of the works, and there he painted many things, by which he gained
among his fellowworkers, both from Florence and other cities,
fame and a great name. He received from the Pope a good sum of
money, but this being soon consumed by living improvidently, as
was his custom, and the work assigned him being finished, he returned
to Florence. Being fond of sophistry, he made a commentary on
Dante, and made illustrations for the "Inferno" and
engraved them, spending much time upon them. He also engraved
many of his designs, but in a bad manner, the best from his hand
being the triumph of the faith of Fra Girolamo Savonarola of Ferrara,
of whose sect he was such a strong partisan that he gave up painting.
As he had no means of his own, this threw him into great difficulties;
but adhering obstinately to that party, and becoming, as they
called it, a Piagnone, he gave up working, so that at last he
found himself old and poor; and if Lorenzo de' Medici while he
lived, and after him other of his friends, had not remembered
him, he would haPe died of hunger.
Sandro was a very amusing person, and fond of playing tricks on
his pupils and friends. There is a stQry that he had a pupil named
Biagio, who copied a round picture of his master's, representing
the Madonna with angels round her, for sale, and Sandro sold it
for him to a citizen for six gold florins. Meeting Biagio
afterwards he said to him, "I have sold your picture at last,
so tonight you must hang it where it will be better seen, and
tomorrow go and fetch the man and bring him here that he may see
it well, then he will pay the money." "Oh, how well
you have done, master!" said Biagio; and going to the workshop
he hung the picture up and went away. Then Sandro and Jacopo,
another of his pupils, made of paper eight red caps, such as the
citizens of Florence wear, and fixed them with some white wax
on the heads of the eight angels round the Madonna in the picture.
The next morning Biagio appears, bringmg with him the man who
had bought the picture, and who knew all about the trick. And
coming in, Biagio raised his eyes and saw his Madonna, not in
the midst of the angels, but sitting in the midst of the Signory
of Florence; and he was about to cry out and to begin to excuse
himself to the purchaser, when he perceived that he was silent
and only praised the picture, so he remained silent also. At last
Biagio, going with the man to his house, received his six florins
as his master had agreed, and returned to the workshop. Meanwhile
Sandro and Jacopo had taken off the caps, and he saw his angels
were angels, and not citizens in caps. Altogether stupefied, he
knew not what to say, but at last, turning to Sandro, he cried,
"Master, I do not know whether I am dreaming, or whether
it was true. These angels when I came in had red caps on their
heads, and now they have not; what does it mean?" "You
are out of your mind, Biagio," answered Sandro. "This
money has sent you mad. If it had been so do you think the man
would have bought it?" "That is true," answered
Biagio, "he said nothing about it; it seemed to me strange
all the time." And all the other boys came round him and
talked till they made him believc he had been off his head.
A cloth weaver came at one time to live next door to Sandro, and
set up eight looms, which when they were at work not only deafened
poor Sandro with the noise of the treadles, but also shook the
house, so that there was no wall strong enough to stand it, and
with one thing and another it was impossible to work or to stay
in the house. He asked his neighbour many times to put a stop
to this annoyance, but he only answered that in his own house
he could and would do what pleased him. Then Sandro, getting angry,
set up on his wall, which was higher than his neighbour's, and
not very strong, a huge stone, poised so that every time the wall
shook it seemed to be just about to fall and crush the roof and
beams and the looms of his neighbour. The man, alarmed at the
danger, came running to Sandro, but he gave him answer in his
own words, that in his own house he could and would do whatever
pleased him; and the weaver could get no other answer, until at
last he was forced to come to terms, and be a better neighbour
to Sandro.
It is said that he held in high honour those whom he knew to be
studious in art, and that he earned much himself, but from want
of management and carelessness things went wrong. When he was
old he became infirm, and used to go about with two sticks, not
being able to stand upright; and so he died at the age of seventyeight,
and was buried in Ogni Santi in Florence, in the year 1515.
