Filippo also made the model for that curious church of the Angeli, which was commissioned by the noble Scolari family, and which remained unfinished as we see it today; this, it is said, was because the Florentines spent the money which had been put in the Monte for that purpose to meet some expenses involved in the war against the Lucchesi. (And they did the same with the money left by Niccolò da Uzzano to build the Sapienza, as I explain at length elsewhere.) Certainly, if Brunelleschi’s model had been used for the church of the Angeli it would have been one of the most outstanding buildings in Italy, seeing that the work which was done cannot be praised too highly. The drawings in Filippo’s hand for the ground-plan and the elevation of this octagonal church are in my book, along with other designs of his. Filippo also designed a rich and magnificent palace for Luca Pitti at a place called Ruciano, outside the San Niccolò gate at Florence; but this fell far short of the palace which was started inside Florence for the same man, and which was carried to the second storey with such grandeur and magnificence that nothing more imposing and outstanding has ever been seen in the Tuscan style. The doors of the palace are double, with the opening thirty-two feet high and sixteen feet wide; the windows on the first and second floors are exactly similar to the doors, and the vaulting is double. The entire structure is a masterpiece of design and it would be impossible to imagine more beautiful or magnificent architecture. The man who built the palace was a Florentine architect called Luca Fancelli; he completed many buildings for Filippo and constructed the principal chapel of the Annunziata at Florence for Leon Battista Alberti, who designed it for Ludovico Gonzaga. (Subsequently, Ludovico Gonzaga brought Luca to Milan where he erected many buildings; he married and spent the rest of his life there, leaving heirs who still bear the name of Luchi.)
Now not many years ago the palace was bought by the most illustrious Lady Leonora di Toledo, on the advice of her consort, the most illustrious Lord Duke Cosimo. She considerably extended the grounds, by having a very large garden laid out, partly on the plain, partly on the top of the hill, and partly on the slope; and she has filled it with all the different varieties of both garden and forest trees, beautifully arranged, and has laid out delightful little groves with every kind of evergreen, not to mention the waters, the fountains, the conduits, the fishponds, the fowling-places, the espaliers and countless other things worthy of a magnanimous ruler. I shall say nothing about these because no one who does not see them for himself can possibly imagine how magnificent and beautiful they are. And certainly Duke Cosimo could not have obtained anything more worthy of his great and generous spirit than this palace, which, it seems, might have been built expressly for his most illustrious Excellency by Luca Pitti (who used Brunelleschi’s plans). Luca left it unfinished because of his work for the State, and his heirs, not having the means to have it completed, were happy to save it from falling to ruin by making it over to the Duchess; and all her life the Duchess spent money on it, although still not enough to hold out any promise that it could soon be finished. It is, however, true, or so I have heard, that she intended to spend forty thousand ducats in one year alone, if she lived, to see it, if not finished, then well on the way to completion. And because Filippo’s model has disappeared his excellency has had a new one made by that excellent sculptor and architect, Bartolommeo Ammanati. The work is being continued using his model, and a considerable part of the courtyard is already completed in rustic work, similar to the exterior. Anvone considering this ambitious project cannot but be astonished at Filippo’s ability to conceive an edifice of such grandeur, one which is truly magnificent as regards not only the external façade but also the arrangement of all the apartments. I say nothing of the view, which is extremely beautiful, or of the kind of theatre formed by the lovely hills surrounding the palace in the direction of the walls, because, as I suggested earlier, it would take too long to give a full description, and anyhow, if he has not seen it no one can realize how greatly superior it is to every other royal edifice.
It is also said that the machinery for the Paradise of San Felice in Piazza, in the same city, was invented by Filippo for the miracle play and feast of the Annunciation, in the way that was customary in Florence in ancient times. This was truly marvellous and it demonstrated the ingenuity and skill of the man who devised it. There was a representation of a heaven, crowded with living figures moving on high, and countless lights, flashing on and off like lightning. I will not shirk the task of describing exactly how the apparatus worked, because it has all come to grief and the men who could have described it from their own knowledge are dead; moreover, there is no hope of its being reconstructed since the place is today occupied not by the Camaldolensian monks, who were there formerly, but by the nuns of St Peter Martyr, and what is more the monastery of the Carmine was ruined because the machinery pulled down the timbers supporting the roof.
For the purposes of the play Filippo suspended between two of the beams supporting the roof a half-globe like a bowl or a barber’s basin turned upside down. This hemisphere was made of thin laths secured to an iron star which passed round the circumference; the laths narrowed towards a great iron ring in the centre which held the apparatus in balance and around which revolved the iron star bounding the hemisphere. All this machinery was held up by a strong beam of pine-wood, well bound with iron, lying across the timbers of the roof; the ring which held the hemisphere suspended and balanced was fixed in this beam, and from below the hemisphere looked exactly like a heaven. Then inside the lower edge of the hemisphere there were a number of wooden brackets, just big enough to take a person standing; and two feet above these, also on the inside, was another iron clasp. On each of the brackets stood a child of about twelve years, so safely secured by the iron clasp two feet higher up that it could not fall even if it had wanted to. There were twelve of these putti, standing on the brackets and dressed as angels with gilded wings and golden skeins of hair; and when it was time they clasped hands, waved their arms and, especially as the ball itself was continually turning and swaying, they seemed to be dancing together. Inside the hemisphere above the heads of the angels were three circles or garlands of lights, composed of a number of tiny lanterns which could not be overturned; and from the ground these lights looked like stars, and the beams, which were covered with cotton wool, seemed like clouds.
From the ring descended a thick iron bar with a second ring, to which was attached, a slender cable falling to the ground, as I shall describe. This thick iron bar had eight arms or branches which revolved in an arc across the entire hemisphere, and at the end of each arm was a flat stand as large as a plate supporting a putto of about nine, well secured with an iron clasp soldered to the upper part of the branch, but with freedom of movement to turn in any direction. By means of a winch which was slowly let out these eight angels who were supported by the thick iron bar were lowered from the hemisphere to a distance of sixteen feet below the level of the woodwork holding up the roof, in such a way that they could be seen without obstructing one’s view of the angels who were around the inside.
In the middle of the garland of eight angels (as it was very appropriately called) was a copper mandorla or circle of lights, hollowed out and perforated with a number of holes which contained some small lamps attached to iron tubes; when a spring was pressed down they stayed concealed in the hollow of the copper mandorla, and when the spring was released they could all be seen shining through the holes. When the garland of angels had reached its place this mandorla, which was suspended by the slender cable, was lowered very, very gently by another winch to the platform on which the performance was staged; on the platform just where the mandorla was to come to rest was a raised part with four steps, like the throne over an altar, which was pierced through the centre to take the iron point of the mandorla when it descended. A man concealed inside the throne bolted the mandorla when it was in position, and it then rested securely in place.
Inside the mandorla, acting the part of an angel, was a youth of
about fifteen; he was bound by an iron clasp to the centre of the mandorla and also secured at the foot, so that he could kneel down without falling, because the iron clasp was in three sections which slid easily into each other as he did so. So when the garland had descended and the mandorla rested on the throne the man who bolted the mandorla also released the iron clasp which secured the angel, and the angel came forward, walked along the platform to where the Virgin stood, and then made the Annunciation. When he had returned to the mandorla and the lights which had gone out when he left reappeared, the iron clasp which held him securely was again bolted by the man concealed underneath; then the bolt holding the mandorla was released, and it was drawn upwards. Meanwhile, the garland of angels were singing and those in the heaven were moving about and they made it seem a veritable paradise, especially since, as well as the choir of angels and the garland, there was a God-the-Father (near the outer shell of the bowl surrounded by angels, like those already described, secured with iron clasps). And so Paradise was realistically depicted by the heaven, the garland, the God-the-Father, and the mandorla, accompanied by countless lights and the most harmonious music.
Moreover, so that the heaven could open and close Filippo had constructed two large doors on either side, each ten feet high, with iron or copper rollers running in grooves underneath; the grooves were well oiled, so that when a slender cable on each side was drawn by a little winch the doors opened or closed as was wanted. These doors achieved two effects: first, they were so heavy that when they moved they made a noise like thunder; and then when they were closed they served as a scaffold for arranging the angels and for seeing to the other things that had to be done offstage.
These and many other machines were made by Filippo, although there are some who assert that they were invented a long time before. However this may be, I thought it right to describe them because they have completely fallen into disuse.
But to return to Filippo: he had become so famous that those who needed to commission important buildings would send for him from great distances to provide his incomparable designs and models; people would make use of friends or bring strong influences to bear to secure his services. One of those who wanted his services was the marquis of Mantua, who wrote very insistently to the Signoria at Florence and had Filippo sent to Mantua. After he arrived there, Filippo prepared plans for the construction of dams on the Po and for various other projects as was ordered by the prince, who treated him very affectionately; and the marquis used to say that Florence deserved to have Filippo for one of its citizens just as he was worthy of having such a noble and beautiful city for his native land. Similarly in Pisa, when Niccolò da Pisa was surpassed by Filippo in the construction of certain fortifications, both he and Count Francesco Sforza praised him to his face and said that if every state had a man like Filippo in its service it would have no need of arms.
Filippo also designed, for Florence, the Barbadori Palace, near the tower of the Rossi in the suburb of San Jacopo, although the work was not carried out; and, in addition, he designed the palace of the Giuntini on the Piazza d’Ognissanti sopr’Arno. Subsequently, when the leaders of the Guelph Party in Florence decided to put up a building with a hall and an audience chamber for their headquarters they commissioned it from Francesco della Luna; but after the building had been raised about twenty feet from the ground the work was seen to be full of mistakes and it was given to Filippo, who completed it as the magnificent structure we can see today. In doing so he had to compete with Francesco, who had many supporters. Indeed, all his life Filippo had to face competition from different men at different times; his rivals often tried to make a name for themselves by using his designs, and in the end Filippo was reduced to keeping everything he did secret and trusting no one. Today the hall of that palace is no longer used by the leaders of the party, for when the papers of the Monte were badly damaged in the flood of 1557 the Lord Duke Cosimo decided for the sake of greater security to put there the papers (which are extremely important) along with the office of the Monte itself. The leaders went to transact their affairs to another part of the palace, away from the hall now being used for the Monte; but so that they could make use of the old palace his excellency commissioned from Giorgio Vasari the commodious stairway which now leads to the hall of the Monte. The same artist also designed a stone balcony which has now been executed and placed, according to Filippo’s plans, on fluted pilasters of macigno.1
One year the Lenten sermons in Santo Spirito at Florence were preached by Francesco Zoppo, who was then very popular and who pressed the claims of the convent, the school for young men, and especially the church itself, which had been burned down about that time. Following this the leading men of the district, namely, Lorenzo Ridolfi, Bartolomeo Corbinelli, Neri di Gino Capponi, and Goro di Stagio Dati, and countless other citizens, obtained an order from the Signoria for the church of Santo Spirito to be rebuilt, and they put Stoldo Frescobaldi in charge. And Stoldo, because of the interest he had in the old church (where the principal chapel and the high altar belonged to his family), devoted all his energies to the task. Indeed, at the very beginning, before the money from taxes levied on those who had tombs and chapels there had been collected, he spent many thousands of crowns, which he was later repaid, of his own money.
Now after everything had been discussed Filippo was sent for, and was asked to make a model incorporating all the useful and appropriate features he could devise worthy of a Christian church. He immediately urged that the ground-plan of the church should be turned right round, because he was extremely anxious that the piazza should extend to the bank of the Arno, so that everyone coming from Genoa, from the Riviera, from the Lunigiana, and from the districts of Pisa and Lucca, might be able to see what a magnificent building it was. However, several citizens were reluctant to have this done as it would have meant pulling down their houses; and so Filippo’s wishes were ignored.
He then made the model for the church, along with that for the monastic house, in the form in which it is today. The church was 322 feet long and 108 feet in width, and it was so well planned, in the ordering of the columns and the other decorations, that it would be impossible to construct a more ornate, more charming, or more graceful edifice. Certainly, if it had not been for the malevolence of those whose claims to superior understanding are always leading them to spoil the lovely works which have been begun by others, it would today rank as the most perfect church in the Christian world. As it is, it is more charming and better arranged than any other, although the model has not been followed in every detail. One can see this from some of the external features which do not accord with the order followed in the interior, as should have been the case, for example, with the doors and the frames of the windows. There are some errors, which I shall not describe, attributed to Filippo; but it cannot be believed that he would have tolerated them if he had been able to continue the building himself, because everything he did, with judgement, prudence, intelligence, and skill he brought to perfection. And this church proves him to have had a mind and soul which were truly inspired.
Filippo was a witty talker with great powers of repartee. For example, he once wanted to make a biting comment on Lorenzo Ghiberti, who had bought a farm at Monte Morello, called Lepriano, on which he spent double the money it earned him. Lorenzo became so disgusted by this that he sold the farm. So when Filippo was asked what was the best piece of work Lorenzo had ever done (perhaps being expected to make Lorenzo smart because of the enmity between them) he replied: ‘Sell Lepriano.’
At length, after he had grown very old (he was sixty-nine) on 16 April 1446 Filippo went to a better life, having toiled all his life on works which won him honour on earth and a place of rest in heaven. His death brought inexpressible grief to his country (which acknowledged and appreciated him far more after he was dead than when he was alive) and he was buried with great honour and dignity in Santa Maria del Fiore (although his family tomb was in San Marco) under the pulpit opposite the
door, where there is a coat-of-arms with two fig leaves and green waves on a field of gold, since his family came from the Ferrara region, namely, from the township of Ficaruolo on the Po, signified by the leaves, for the place, and the waves, for the river.
He was deeply mourned by countless artists, especially the poorer among them whom he had always helped. He lived like a Christian, and he left the world the memory of his goodness and his noble genius. In my opinion it can be claimed for him that from the time of the ancient Greeks and Romans until now no abler or more distinguished artist has ever lived. And he deserves all the more praise, seeing the unrivalled esteem in which throughout all Italy the German style of art had been held by the old artists, whose use of it may be seen in innumerable buildings. For he rediscovered the use of the antique cornices and restored the Tuscan, Corinthian, Doric, and Ionic orders to their original forms.
Il Buggiano, who came from Borgo a Buggiano, was one of his pupils; he made the font for the sacristy of Santa Reparata, carved with figures of children throwing water, and he also did from life a marble head of his master which was placed after Filippo’s death in Santa Maria del Fiore, to the right of the door at the church entrance. The following epitaph can still be found at this spot, where it was put by the people to honour Brunelleschi after his death as he had honoured his country during his life:
D. S.
Quantum Philippus architectus arte Daedalea valuerit, cum huius celeberrimi templi mira testudo, tum plures aliae divino ingenio ab eo adinventae machinae documento esse possunt. Quapropter ob eximias sui animi dotes, singularesque virtutes ejus xv Kal. Majas anno MCCCCXLVI ejus B. M. corpus in hac humo supposita grata patria sepeliri jussit.1
Lives of the Artists Page 18