e connection and almost constant
intercourse between the goldsmiths and the painters, wherefore Sandro,
who possessed considerable ingenuity, and was strongly disposed to the
arts of design, became enamored of painting, and resolved to devote
himself entirely to that vocation. He acknowledged his purpose at once
to his father; and the latter, who knew the force of his inclination,
took him accordingly to the Carmelite monk, Fra Filippo, who was a most
excellent painter of that time, with whom he placed him to study the
art, as Sandro himself had desired. Devoting himself thereupon entirely
to the vocation he had chosen, Sandro so closely followed the
directions, and imitated the manner, of his master, that Fra Filippo
conceived a great love for him, and instructed him so effectually, that
Sandro rapidly attained to such a degree in art as none would have
predicted for him."

I have before pointed out to you the importance of training by the
goldsmith. Sandro got more good of it, however, than any of the other
painters so educated,--being enabled by it to use gold for light to
color, in a glowing harmony never reached with equal perfection, and
rarely attempted, in the later schools. To the last, his paintings are
partly treated as work in niello; and he names himself, in perpetual
gratitude, from this first artisan master. Nevertheless, the fortunate
fellow finds, at the right moment, another, even more to his mind, and
is obedient to him through his youth, as to the other through his
childhood. And this master loves him; and instructs him 'so
effectually,'--in grinding colors, do you suppose, only; or in laying of
lines only; or in anything more than these?

189. I will tell you what Lippi must have taught any boy whom he loved.
First, humility, and to live in joy and peace, injuring no man--if such
innocence might be. Nothing is so manifest in every face by him, as its
gentleness and rest. Secondly, to finish his work perfectly, and in such
temper that the angels might say of it--not he himself--'Iste perfecit
opus.' Do you remember what I told you in the Eagle's Nest (Sec. 53), that
true humility was in hoping that angels might sometimes admire _our_
work; not in hoping that we should ever be able to admire _theirs_?
Thirdly,--a little thing it seems, but was a great one,--love of
flowers. No one draws such lilies or such daisies as Lippi. Botticelli
beat him afterwards in roses, but never in lilies. Fourthly, due h