t what he wanted that he had curious
returns of monkish reasoning. The historian of his life says that he
would give all he possessed to secure the gratification of whatever
inclination chanced to be predominant at the moment; but if he could by
no means accomplish his wishes, he would then depict the object which
attracted his attention and he would try, by reasoning and talking with
himself, to diminish the violence of his inclination.

There was no lack of adventure in his life, either. Once, at Ancona, on
the Adriatic, he ventured too far out to sea in an open boat, and he
and his companions were picked up by a Barbary pirate and carried off to
Africa. But for his genius he might have ended his days there, instead
of spending only eighteen months in slavery. A clever drawing of the
pirate chief, made on a whitewashed wall with a bit of charcoal from a
brazier, saved him. The Moor saw it, was delighted, set him to paint a
number of portraits, in defiance of Moses, Mahomet and the Koran, and
then, by way of reward, brought him safe across the water to Naples and
gave him his liberty.

He painted more pictures, earned money, and worked his way back to
Florence. As long as he worked at all he did marvels, but a pretty face
was enough to make him forget his art, his work and the Princes and
Dukes who employed him. Cosimo de Medici once shut him up with his
picture, to keep him at it; he tore the sheets of his bed into strips,
knotted them together, escaped by the window--and was of course
forgiven. The nuns of Saint Margaret employed him to paint an
altar-piece for them; he persuaded them to let the most beautiful of
their novices sit as a model for one of the figures; he made love to
her, of course, and ran away with her, leaving the picture unfinished.
It is characteristic of him that though he never forsook her, he refused
the Pope's offer of a dispensation from his early vows which would have
enabled him to marry her--for he hated all ties and bonds alike, and a
regular marriage would have seemed to him almost as bad as slavery in
Africa.

Lippo represented one extreme of character, Beato Angelico the other.
Between them were many men of almost equal genius, but of more common
temper, such as Botticelli, who was Lippo's pupil, or Benozzo Gozzoli,
the pupil of Angelico. Of Sandro Botticelli we know at least that he
resembled his master in one respect--he positively refused to learn
anything from books, and it was i