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THE LIFE
OP
MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI
VOLUME THE FIRST
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THE LIFE OF
Michelangelo Buonarroti
BASED ON STUDIES IH TBS ASCBIFSS OF TBS
BnOSABSOTI FAMILY AT FLORENCE
JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS
SECOND EDITION
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THE CAVALIERE GUIDO BIAGI,
DOCTOR IN LETTBRS,
PKEFECT OF THE MEDICEO-LAUKENTIAN LIBRARY, ETC, ETC.,
I DEDICATE
THIS WORK ON MICHELANGELO,
IN RESPECT FOR HIS SCHOLARSHIP AND LEARNING,
ADMIRATION OF HIS TUSCAN STYLE,
AND GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HIS GENEROUS ASSISTANCE.
373540
PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION.
The first edition of this work having been exhausted
in a space of little over three months, I take this
opportunity of saying that the critical notices which
have hitherto appeared do not render it necessary
to make any substantial changes in the text. A
few points of difference between my reviewers and
myself, concerning opinion rather than fact, are now
briefly discussed in a series of notes printed at the
end of VoL II.
J. A. S.
Dayob Platz, Jan. 9, 1893.
PREFACE.
The biographer of Michelangelo Buonarroti, who is
bold enough to attempt a new Life after the many
which have been already published, must introduce
his work by a critical survey of the sources he has
drawn from. These may be divided into five main
categories : original documents in manuscript or
edited ; contemporary Lives ; observations by con-
temporaries ; Lives written during the present cen-
tury ; criticisms. I do not intend to classify the
whole mass of Michelangelo literature. This would
imply a volume in itself, and to perform the task
exhaustively would entail a vast expenditure of time
and labour.* It is possible, however, to indicate the
leading features of the five grand divisions I have
mentioned in the order of their value.
I. By far the most important of these sources
is the large collection of manuscripts preserved
in the Casa Buonarroti at Florence. These con- ^
sist of authentic contracts, and of letters, poems,
and memoranda, mostly in Michelangelo's own
* A fairly sufficient baBis for tlie undertaking is supplied bj
Passerini's Bibliografia^ &c.
▼11
viii PREFACE.
autograph; copies made by his grand-nephew,
Michelangelo the younger, and autograph letters
addressed by persons of all qualities to the great
sculptor during his lifetime. The papers in ques-
tion were preserved among other family archives
until the middle of this century, rarely inspected
even by the curious, and used by no professed
biographers. Only a few specimens found their
way by special privilege into the collections of
Gaye, Piot, Bottari-Ticozzi, and others. In 1858
the Commendatore Cosimo Buonarroti bequeathed
them, together with the house and its art treasures,
to the city of Florence, placing them under the
trusteeship of the Syndic, the Director of the Gal-
leries, and the Prefect of the Laurentian Library.
This gentleman's wife, Rosina Vendramin, of Venice,
the widow of Thomas Grant, Esq., had devoted her-
self to classifying and arranging the precious docu-
ments, so that the whole collection passed over to the
town in a fair state of preservation. By the Commen-
datore's will, access to the Buonarroti archives, and
the right to divulge them, were strictly refused even
to the learned ; but this prohibition has in certain
cases been set aside, as I shall presently describe.
Next in importance to the Buonarroti archives is
a large collection of Michelangelo's letters, .pur-
chased by the British Museum in 1859 £»^o™ the
PREFACE. IX
painter Cavaliere Michelangelo Buonarroti, nephew
of the Commendatore Cosimo above mentioned.
The majority of these were first introduced to the
public by Hermann Grimm. It remains to mention
a set of personal memoranda in Michelangelo's
handwriting, with letters addressed to him or
written about him to his nephew Lionardo, pub-
lished in a semi-private manner by Daelli of Milan
in 1865. Finally, there exist in private libraries
and public museums scattered letters, most of which
have found their way into various printed works.
. On the occasion of Michelangelo's fourth cen-
tenary, in 1875, it was decided to give as complete
an edition as possible of his own letters to the public.
The Commendatore Gaetano Milanesi, Curator of the
Florentine State Archives, undertook the responsi-
bility of this work, and was allowed to throw open the
treasures of the Museo Buonarroti. The result is a
handsome volume, containing 495 documents, drawn
jfrom all sources, which, however it may be criticised,
remains a monument of respectable scholarship and
industry. It forms the principal existing basis for
exact studies in the illustrious artist's life-history.
Some years before the issue of this complete
epistolary — that is to say, in 1863 — similar license
had .been granted to Signor Cesare Guasti for the
publication of Michelangelo's poems from the texts
X PREFACE.
preserved in the Museo Buonarroti. These texts
he collated, but not completely, with a codex in
the Vatican Library. Guasti's volume, although
it also has been subjected to severe criticism,
remains the classical edition, to which every
student must have recourse.^ It did nothing less
than to revolutionise previous conceptions of
Michelangelo as poet and as man of feeling. Up
to the date 1863, his sonnets, madrigals, and longer
lyric compositions were only known to the world
in the falsified and garbled form which Michel-
angelo the younger chose to give them when he
published the first edition of the "Rime" in 1623.
The history of what may be called this pious fraud
by a grand-nephew, over-anxious for his illustrious
ancestor s literary and personal reputation, will be
found in the twelfth chapter of my book. Suffice
it here to say, that all earlier translations from the
poems, and all deductions drawn from them regarding
their author's psychology, were deprived of value
by Guasti's publication of the originals. Michel-
angelo's life had to be studied afresh and rewritten
upon new and truer data.
Milanesi, while preparing his edition of Michel-
angelo's letters, used the opportunities he enjoyed
* The most severe attacks upon Milanesi and Guasti have been made
by Hermann Qrimm in the later editions of his Lebm Michdangelo^i.
PREFACE. xi
in the Archivio Buonarroti to make a complete
copy of the voluminous correspondence addressed
by persons of different degrees and qualities to the
illustrious Florentine. Part of this valuable manu-
script he placed at the disposal of the Biblioth^que
Internationale des Beaux- Arts, and in 1 890 there ap-
peared an elegant small quarto volume entitled ^' Les
Correspondants de Michel- Ange. I. Sebastiano del
Piombo. Paris : Librairie de FArt/' It is, in fact,
the first instalment of Milanesi's transcript above
mentioned, containing the Italian text of Sebasti-
ano's letters, with a French translation by Dr. A.
Le Pileur. By what I must regard as an error of
judgment, the editors omitted from their collection
those letters of Sebastiano — one of them of great
importance — which had previously appeared in Gaye
and Gotti. In spite of this omission, the utility of
the publication cannot be called in question, and I
am grateful to it for important assistance in the com-
position of my present work. Still, there are many
reasons why this piecemeal and unauthoritative
divulgation of the Buonarroti Archives should be
regarded as unsatisfactory. Scholars are debarred
from collating the printed matter with the auto-
graphs ; and as long as documents appear without
the sanction of the Italian Government or that of
the trustees of the Museo Buonarroti, it is always
xii PREFACE.
open to critics to dispute their textual validity. I am,
therefore, glad to be able to announce the fact that
arrangements have recently been made between the
Government and the so-called "Ente Buonarroti"
for a complete official edition of the correspondence
in question. The value of these private letters for
Michelangelo's biography was proved in 1875, when
Aurelio Gotti produced the new Italian Life, of which
I shall make mention farther down. Nevertheless,
it is obvious that specimens selected from a huge
mass of documents by a few privileged students,
and used to support their own theories, can never
carry the same weight or inspire the same confidence
as an authorised edition of the whole. Without dis-
puting the accuracy of Milanesi, Guasti, and Gotti,
and without impugning their good faith, I am bound
to say that a personal inspection of the manuscripts
led me to conclusions upon some points very dif-
ferent from those which they have drawn. It is,
therefore, greatly to be hoped that the project of
the " Ente Buonarroti " will be carried out, and
that their edition of the correspondence will receive
the support it deserves from public libraries and
amateurs of art throughout the world.
This leads me to mention the fact that, by special
favour of the Italian Government, I was allowed to
examine the Archivio Buonarroti, and to make copies
PREFACE. xiii
of documents. The results of my researches will
appear in the notes to this work, and in a certain
number of hitherto inedited letters printed at its
close. Study of the original sources enabled me to
clear up some points of considerable interest regard-
ing Michelangelo's psychology, and to dispel some
erroneous theories which had been invented to ex-
plain the specific nature of his personal relations
with the Marchioness of Pescara and Messer Tom-
maso Cavalieri.^
Before concluding this section on original
documents, it is necessary to include the miscel-
laneous correspondence, Papal briefs, contracts,
minutes, and memoranda of all kinds, brought
together by Gaye in the **Carteggio d'Artisti," by
Bottari and Ticozzi in the " Lettere Pittoriche," and
by Milanesi in the "Prospetto Cronologico" appended
to Vasari's " Life of Michelangelo," ed. Le Monnier,
1855. Minor material of the same kind, collected
by Campori, Frediani, Zolfanelli, Fea, and others,
for the illustration of special episodes in Buonar-
roti's life, will be noticed in the proper places.
2. We possess two biographies composed by con-
temporaries, both of them friends, admirers, and pupils
of Michelangelo — Condivi and Vasari. The earliest
of these is a short Life included by Giorgio Vasari
^ See Chapter XII. of this book.
xiv PREFACE.
in his first edition of the " Lives of Italian Artists,"
1550. This brief sketch, though highly flattering,
was tainted with inaccuracies and hasty statements.
Ascanio Condivi, at that time an inmate of Buonar-
roti's house, felt impelled to produce a more exact
and truthful portrait of his revered master. This
task he executed while enjoying the privilege of
daily converse with Michelangelo ; and the little
book, pregnant with valuable information, saw the
light in 1553, while i^s subject was still living.
Written with obvious simplicity and candour,
it takes rank after original documents as our
most important authority, embalming, as it does,
the old artist's own memories of his past career.
Vasari, though he was not directly alluded to by
Condivi, seems to have bitterly resented the implied
censure of his own inaccuracy. Four years after
Michelangelo's death he published a second and
greatly enlarged edition of his Life, which incor-
porated all that was valuable in the memoir of his
Roman critic. The wide fame of Vasari's compre-
hensive work extinguished Condivi for the next
two centuries. With regard to the comparative
authority of these two biographies, I have already
pronounced a decided opinion. It must, however,
be remembered that Vasari's second Life is a source
of the highest importance on its own account. It
PREFACE. XT
supplies a large quantity of authentic information
which we do not find in Condivi, communicates
some interesting letters and poems, and abounds
in vivid anecdotes collected during a long and
intimate friendship with Buonarroti. In all that
relates to Michelangelo's later years it is invaluable
and indispensable.
3. Next in importance to contemporary bio-
graphies are the notes preserved to us by personal
friends who enjoyed Michelangelo's familiarity.
The Dialogues of Francesco d'Olanda and Donato
Giannotti oflFer a vivid picture of his habits and
opinions in old age. Varchi's commentary on one
of his sonnets and the panegyrics spoken at his
obsequies deserve consideration. Varchi's Floren-
tine history, and the letters addressed to him by
Busini, must also be mentioned here. Nor is
Cellini's autobiography without importance. Even
more valuable is the side-light thrown upon Michel-
angelo's habits and character by correspondents. In
this respect the letters of Sebastian© del Piombo,
Vittoria Colonna, Tommaso Cavalieri, Lionardo
Sellajo, Giovan Francesco Fattucci, Bartolommeo
Angelini, Cornelia degli Amadori, Pietro Aretino,
Daniele da Volterra, and Tiberio Calcagni, possess
peculiar interest, flashing, as it were, from divers
facets the reflection of one physiognomy. It would
xvl PREFACE.
be tedious to mention all the letter-writers who have
helped me to round the great man's portrait.
4. I come now to consider the Lives which have
been written during the last hundred years, and in
doing so I must omit several included in encyclo-
paedias and histories of art, as well as numerous
sketches which do not claim more than a literary
or appreciative merit. At the end of the last century
a purer taste for what is really great in Italian art
began to revive ; men of feeling and culture pro-
fessed a special devotion to the sublime. In England,
the lectures of Sir Joshua Rejmolds, of Fuseli, and of
Opie diffused an enthusiasm for Michelangelo which
became the special note of intellectual breeding.
Under these influences Richard Duppa published his
Life in 1 806, accompanied by a very useful atlas of
engravings selected from various portions of Buonar-
roti's works. The next Life of importance was Quatre-
mhie de Quincy's, in 1835. John Samuel Harford,
inspired by the study of Roscoe's books upon the
Renaissance, shot far ahead of these pioneers in his
two-volumed Life, which was published in the year
1857, together with an atlas of engravings by
Gruner. The latter portion of his work retains
its value to the present day, especially in what
concerns the architecture of S. Peter's. Hermann
Grimm, who had been engaged in the same field
PREFACE. xvii
simultaneously with Harford, produced the first
edition of his famous Life in i860. Though the
biography of the hero is so much embedded in
the history of Italian dynasties and wars and
revolutions as to be almost submerged, yet this
book marked a new departure in the treatment of
Michelangelo. It introduced a sound critical and
scientific method, and added large stores of docu-
mentary material The fifth edition, of 1875, will
remain as a standard authority upon the subject
Charles Clement's Life, which appeared in 1861,
does not need the same consideration, although
it is a refined specimen of French critical intel-
Ugence. Peculiar importance attaches to Aurelio
Gotti's "Vita di Michelangelo," published at Florence
in 1875. Here, for the first time, the treasures of
the Museo Buonarroti were used freely, letters
of Michelangelo's correspondents being copiously
employed to illustrate the events of his life and
social surroundings. As literature, it does not reach
a very high standard, nor yet can it be maintained
that Gotti added much of true or penetrative to
the study of his hero's temperament. Nevertheless,
Mr. Heath Wilson was well advised in partly trans-
lating this Life, the documentary importance of which
he fully realised, and in grafting his own original
observations upon its stock. Heath Wilson's Life,
VOL. L ^
xviii PREFACE.
printed in Florence, but published by Murray in
London, 1876, contains a great deal that is highly
valuable in the region of research into Michel-
angelo's technical methods and the present condi-
tions of his frescoes. It has not yet received the
public recognition which it amply deserves. The
book is distinguished by modesty of tone, simplicity
of style, and sterling contributions to our knowledge
of facts. In the same year, 1876, the editor of the
Gazette des Beaux-Arts issued a volume of seven
essays, composed by seven eminent French artists
and archaeologists, which must be rated among the
most happily conceived and admirably executed
studies which have yet appeared in Michelangelo
literature. "L'QEuvre et la Vie de Michel- Ange"
is a striking monument of the lively and incisive
Parisian spirit, presenting a many-sided view of its
complex subject. Without the unity of a biography,
it combines under one cover the appreciations of
several experts, all of them competent judges in
their own departments. Special mention must
finally be made of Anton Springer's second edition
of his "Raflfael und Michelangelo" (1883). For
fulness of learning, for concision, and for critical
acumen, this is a very noticeable performance. It
combines all that is needful of historical, biogra-
phical, archseological, and sesthetical information.
PREFACE. xix
Large masses of literature have been absorbed and
condensed by the author, who does not sacrifice his
own originality, and who presents the results of his
extensive studies with ingenuous modesty.
5. To speak of purely critical work in this field
would carry me beyond the scope of a preface.
Kugler, Burckhardt, De Stendhal, Charles Perkins,
and countless other writers on the fine arts, have
given excellent appreciations of the great man's
artistic genius. Ruskin has shown how far a
gifted writer can miss the mark through want of
sympathy.* Pater has touched upon the poems
with his usual delicacy; Niccolini, in his treatise
on the Sublime, has written fiery passages of im-
passioned eloquence ; Michelet has sought to con-
nect the prophecy of Michelangelo's art with the
political and moral death-throes of his age. I
mention only a few of the more distinguished
authors, in whose work penetrative acumen of one
sort or another is combined with a real literary
talent. Of late another school of critics has arisen,
who, passing lightly over Michelangelo as artist,
seek to explain his personal character by the
methods of morbid psychology. These will be
duly considered in the proper place; but, for ob-
vious reasons, it is impossible for me to render due
^ See the lecture on Michelangelo and Tintoretto.
XX PREFACE.
account here of all the fugitive essays and critical
expositions which have saturated my mind during
thirty years of sustained interest in Michelangelo.
My own previous work in this department will be
found in the third volume of the ''Renaissance
in Italy," and in the preface to my translation of
** Sonnets of Michael Angelo and Campanella-"
In writing the biography which follows, I have
striven to exclude extraneous matter, so far as this
was possible. I have not, therefore, digressed into
the region of Italian history and comparative artistic
criticism. My purpose was to give a fairly complete
account of the hero's life and works, and to con-
centrate attention on his personality. Wherever I
could, I made him tell his own tale by presenting
original letters and memoranda ; also, whenever the
exigencies of the narrative permitted, I used the
language of his earliest biographers, Condi vi and
Vasari. While adopting this method, I was aware
that my work would suflFer in regard to continuity
of style ; but the compensating advantages of vera-
city, and direct appeal to authoritative sources,
seemed to justify this sacrifice of form.
I must finally record my obligations to many
friends and scholars who have rendered me im-
portant assistance during the composition of this
book. First and foremost comes the Cavaliere
PREFACE. xxi
Professor Guido Biagi, Prefect of the Laurentian
Library at Florence, to whom I am in great measure
indebted for access to the manuscripts of the Museo
Buonarroti, who has spared no pains in furnishing
me with exact information upon several intricate
questions, and who copied documents for me with
his own hand. To Professor J. Henry Middleton,
of Cambridge, are due my sincere thanks, both for
placing his reconstruction of the Tomb of Julius
at my disposal, and also for reading a large portion
of the proof-sheets as they passed through the press,
and making many valuable suggestions. Lieut.-Col.
Alfred Pearson and Mrs. Ross of Poggio Gherardo
performed the same kind ofBce of reading proofs
and offering hints upon points of literary style. To
Dr. Fortnum I am indebted for permission to repro-
duce his wax model and Leone's medal of Michel-
angelo in old age. Professor Sidney Colvin, of the
British Museum, allowed me to photograph eight
original drawings existing in that national collection.
To Mr. Edward Prioleau Warren I owe much interest-
ing information, collected by him from old authors,
upon difficult points connected with the Cupola of
S. Peter's. Mr. Stillman of Rome helped me finally
to arrive at the truth about Michelangelo's model for
the Dome. To his untiring kindness, and to Dr.
Josef Durm, whose work is cited in my List of
xxii PREFACE.
Authorities, my gratitude is due for such accuracy
as my account of the model in Chapter XIV. may
possess. My friend Mr. Samuel Bichards, the dis-
tinguished American painter, assisted me with tech-
nical and critical observations upon several intricate
details of Michelangelo's work, and, furthermore,
enabled me to give the right solution of the action
intended in the colossal statue of David at Florence.
Finally, to Mr. Edward J. Poynter, R.A., thanks are
owed for valuable aid afforded in preparing the illus-
trations. Acknowledgments of courtesies extended
to me by other gentlemen, if here omitted, will be
found in the notes appended to the text.
Davos Platz, April 6, 1892.
LIST OF SOME OF THE PRINCIPAL BOOKS
REFERRED TO IN THESE VOLUMES.
Le Lettere di Michelangelo Buonarroiiy pablicate ooi Rioordi
ed i Contratti artisticu Per oura di Gaetano MilaneeL
Firenze: Le Monnier, 1875. Cited, latere.
Le Rime di Michelangelo Buonarroti, cavate dagli Autografi e
pubblicate da Gesare Ouasti. Firenze : Le Monnier, 1863.
Cited, Bime.
Carte Michelangiolesche inedite. Milano : Autografia, G. Daelli,
1865. Cited, Carte Mich,
Les Correspondants de Michel-Ange. No. i. Sebastiano del
Piombo. Texte italien public pour la premiere fois par
Gaetano Milanesi, aveo trad. fr. par A. Le Pileur. Pans :
Librairie de I'Art, 1890. Cited, Zjes Carrespondatds,
Carteggio d'Artisti Giovanni Gaye. 3 vols. Firenze : Molini,
1840. Cited, Oaye.
Lettere Pittoriche raccolte dal Bottari e Ticozzi. Milano:
Silvestri, 1832. Cited, Lett, Pitt
Les Arts en Portugal A. Raczynski. Paris : Renouard, 1846.
Cited, BaczytuM.
Yita di Michelangelo Buonarroti, Scritta da Ascanio Condivi
Pisa: N. Capurro, 1823. Cited, Condivi,
I/e Yite de' piu eocellenti Pittori Scultori e Architetti, di
Giorgio YasarL 14 vols. Firenze: Le Monnier, 1855.
Cited, VcuarL
The Life of Michel Angelo Buonarroti By John S. Harford.
2 vols. London: Longmans, 1857. Cited, Harford,
Illustrations of the Genius of Michael Angelo. Published for
John S. Harford. London: Colnaghi & Longmans, 1857.
Cited, Harford Ultutratione,
•••
XXUk
xxiv PRINCIPAL BOOKS REFERRED TO.
Leben Michelangelo's. Yon Hermann Grimm. 2 vols. 5 th edit.
Berlin : W. Hertz, 1879. Cited, Orimm.
Vita di Michelangelo Buonarroti, Narrata con Paiato di nuovi
Documenti da Aurelio €k>tti. Firenze : Tip. della Gazzetta
dltalia, 1875. 2 vols. Cited, Ootti.
life and Works of Michelangelo Buonarroti. By C. Heath
Wilson. London : John Murray, 1876. Cited, Heaih
Wilson,
RafPael und Michelangelo. Von Anton Springer. 2 vols.
Leipzig: Seemann, 1883. Cited, Springer.
L'CEuvre et la Vie de Michel- Ange. Paris : Gazette des Beaux-
Arts, 1876. Cited, VCEuvre et la Vie,
La Bibliografia di Michelangelo Buonarroti, e gli Incisori delle
sue Opere. Luigi Passerini. Firenze: Cellini, 1875. Cited,
La Bibliografia.
Le Rime di Yittoria Colonna, con la Vita della Medesima da
P. E. Visoonti. Roma : Salviucci, 1840. Cited, Viaeonti.
A Critical Account of the Drawings of Michelangelo and
Raffaello in the Univ. Gktll., Oxford. By J. C. Robinson.
Oxford : Clarendon Pi^ess, 1870. Cited, Robinson,
The Sonnets of M. A. Buonarroti and T. Campanella^ translated
by John Addington Sjrmonds. London : Smith, Elder, &
Co., 1878. Cited, English Version.
The Renaissance in Italy. By John Addington Symonds. 7 vols.
London : Smith, Elder, & Co. Cited, Renaissance in Italy.
Michelangelo's Entwurf zu dem Karton der Schlacht bei Cascina.
Yon Moriz Thausing. Leipzig: Seemann, 1878. Cited,
ThoAising,
Tuscan Sculptors : their Lives, Works, and Times. By C. C.
Perkins. 2 vols. London: Longmans, 1864. Cited,
Perkins.
Ragionamento Storioo su le diverse gite fatte a Carrara da
Michelangielo Buonarroti Massa, pei Fratelli Frediani,
1837. Cited, Frediani,
La Lunigiana e le Alpi Apuane. Studii del Professore Cesare
Zolfanelli. Firenze : Barbara, 1870. Cited, Zolfandli.
PRINCIPAL BOOKS REFERRED TO. xxy
Letters di M. A. Buonarroti, pabblicata ed illustrata dal Pro>
fesflore BebastiaDo Ciampi. Firenze: Passigli, 1834. Cited,
CiampL
Michelangelo Buonarroti (H Yeochio): Studio di Carlo Parla-
greoo. Napoli : Fratelli Orfeo, 1888. Cited, Parlagreco.
The life of Benvenuto Cellini. Translated by John Addington
Symonds. London: John C. Nimmo. Cited, CeUtnt.
Storia Fiorentina di Benedetto Yarchi. 3 vols. Firenze: Le
Monnier, 1857. Cited, VarcJii.
Lettere di Giambattifita Basin i a Benedetto Yarchi Firenze :
Le Monnier, 1861. Cited, BusinL
La Scrittura di Artisti ItaUani Firenze: Pini, 1869. Cited,
PinL
The Art of Michelangelo Buonarroti in the British Museum.
By Louis Fagan. London : Dulau, 1883. Cited, Fagatk
South Kensington Museum. Italian Sculpture of the Middle
Ages, &c. By J. C. Robinson. London : Chapman &
Hall, 1862. Cited, Sculpture, S.K.M.
Michelangelo: eine Benaissancestudie. Yon Ludwig von
Scheffler. Altenberg: S. Geibel, 1892. Cited, Vm Scheffler,
Carteggio di Yittoria Colonna Marchesa di Pescara. Raooolto
e pubblicato da Ermanno Ferrero e Giuseppe Miiller.
Torino : E. Loescher, [889. Cited, Ferrero and Miiller.
Die Domkuppei in Florenz, und die Kuppel der Petruskirche in
Bom. Yon Josef Durm. Berlin : Ernst & Kom, 1887.
Cited, Durm,
CONTENTS.
VOLUME THE FIRST.
CHAPTER L
PAom
BIRTH, BOTHOOD, TOUTH AT FLORSNCB, DOWN TO LORENZO
DE' MEOICI'S DEATH. 1475-I492 . . I -39
CHAPTER n.
FIRST VISITS TO BOLOGXA AND ROME — THE MADONNA
DELLA FE6BRE AND OTHER WORKS IN MARBLE.
1492-150 I ........ 40-85
CHAPTER m
RESIDENCE IN FLORENCE — THE DAVID. 150I-1505 . 86-1 23
CHAPTER IV.
JULIUS n. CALLS MICHELANGELO TO ROME — PROJECT FOR
THE pope's TOMB — THE REBUILDING OF S. PETEr's
— FLIGHT FROM ROME — CARTOON FOR THE BATTLE
OF PISA. 1505, 1506 124-174
CHAPTER V.
SECOND VISIT TO BOLOGNA — THE BRONZE STATUE OF
JUUUS II. — PAINTING OF THE SI8TINE VAULT. I506-
15" 175-235
xxviii CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VI.
PAon
ON HIOHELANGELO AS DRAUGHTSMAN, PAINTER, SCULP-
TOR 236-298
CHAPTER VII.
LEO Z. PLANS FOR THE CHURCH OF 8. LORENZO AT
FLORENCE — HICHELANQELO's UFE AT CARRARA.
15^3-^5^^ 299-364
CHAPTER VIIL
ADRIAN VL AND CLEMENT VIL — THE SACRISTY AND
LIBRARY OF S. LORENZO. I52I-I526 . . . 365-40I
CHAPTER IX.
SACK OF ROME AND SIEGE OF FLORENCE — MICHEIr
ANGELO'S FLIGHT TO VENICE — HIS RELATIONS TO THE
MEDIOL 1527-1534 402-469
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOLUME THE FIRST.
PAO«
1. PoBTRATT OF MiOHELANGELO BuoNABROTi. From an oil-
painting in the possession of the Earl of Wemyss. Pro-
bably one of the contemporary easel-pictures made of
the Artist FronHapiece,
2. Bas-relief of the Centaurs, one of Michelangelo's first
works in marble, now preserved in the CSasa Buonar-
roti, Florence To face 28
3. Studt of Akatomt. This pen-drawing is at the Taylor
Gkkllery, Oxford, and shows a corpse stretched upon a
plank and trestles, with two men bending over it with
knives in their hands, a candle in the body of the subject
serving as light 44
4. Statue of S. John. This statue, now in the Berlin Museum,
is probably the S. Oiovannino made for Lorenzo di
PiERFRANCBSOO, One of the Medici family. The statue
was rediscovered at Pisa in 1874 48
5. CuFiD. This fine piece of sculpture, which shows Michel-
angelo's originality of treatment, was discovered some
forty years ago in the cellars of the Bucellai Gardens
at Florence. The left arm was broken, the right hand
damaged, and the hair had never received the artist's final
touches. The distinguished Florentine sculptor Santarelli
restored the arm, and the Cupid passed by purchase into
the possession of the English nation, and is now at South
Kensington 64
xzlx
XXX LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAOB
6. Madonna and Child. This marble statae is in a chapel of
Notre Dame, at Bnigea It was made during Michel-
angelo's early manhood, for the Monscron family, mer-
chants of that city To face yt
7. Status of David. This masterpiece of Michelangelo,
wherein he first displayed that quality of spirit and awe-
inspiring force for which he afterwards became so famous,
stood uncovered for more than three centuries upon the
steps of the Palazzo Vecchio at Florence. In 1873 it was
removed to a hall of the Accademia delle Belle Arti in
V that city 88
8. Whole Figubb and Arm of thb David, from the original
wax models in South Kensington Museum ... 96
9. Right and Left Legs of thb David, from the original
wax models in South Kensington Museum 100
ra Right Hand of the David 104
1 1. Dbawing made fob the Second David, now in the Louvre,
Paris 108
12. Bas-belief of Holt Familt. A circular work in marble,
now in the Collection of the Royal Academy, London . 112
13. Picture of Holt Family, commonly known as the Doni
Madonna, now in the Tribune of the Uffizi, Florence 116
14. Design for the Tomb of Julius IL, made about 15 13.
The reconstruction from two drawings, one at Florence,
the other at Berlin, is due to Professor Middleton, of
Cambridge 138
15. Figure of a Bather, from the Cartoon of the Battle of
Pisa. A contemporary drawing from the originaL In
the British Museum 168
16. Outline Chart OF THE Sibtine Chapel . . 200
17. Plan showing the scheme for painting the Vault of the
Sistine Chapel 208
18. Study of Three Figures, for the ceiling of the Sistine
ChapeL In the British Museum 224
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. xxxi
PAOI
19. Study for Adam, for the Vault of the Sistine. In the
poesession of F. Locker, Esq To face 240
20. Head of the Pbophbt Isaiah. Drawn by £. J. Poynter,
R.A, from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel 244
21. Head of thb Delphic Sibtl. Drawn bj K J. Poynter,
R.A., from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel . . 248
22. One of the GEKn, from the Vault of the Sistine Chapel . 256
23. Study for the Resurrection. A drawing in the British '^
Museum 288
24. Drawing of a Male Figure, showing Michelangelo's marks
for proportions. In the Royal Collection at Windsor
Castle 264
25. Studt for the Male Nude, in the Albertina GaUezy,
Vienna 272
26. Studies from the Nude, in the Albertina Qalleiy,
Vienna 280
27. Study in Pen and Ink for the Madonna, in the Lomrre,
Paris 294
28. The Arcieri, or Bbrbaolio. This drawing in red chalk is
perhaps the most pleasing and most perfect of all Michel-
angelo's designs, and is now in the Royal Collection at
Windsor Castle 298
29. Carrara Mountains and Marble Quarries. This land-
scape, from a modern painting by Charles H. Poino-
destre, Esq., shows the method of transporting the blocks
of marble — a method which has changed but littie since
the days when Michelangelo worked in these quarries . 320
50. The Risen Christ of the Minerva. This is an original
drawing by Michelangelo, now in the possession of J. P.
Heseltine, Esq., and reproduced here for the first time . 360
xxxii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAOR
31. Abchiteotural DRAwn^a. No. i. Early sketch for the
tombs of the Medici at San Lorenzo, Florence, showing
two sarcophagi conjoined below a seated captain. In the
British Museum To face 380
32. Arohitsctural Drawing. No. 2. Late stage of one of
Michelangelo's sketches for the tomb at San Lorenzo,
Florence, showing a first idea for the Statue of the Dawn.
In the British Museum 384
33. Architectural Sketch. No. 3. If meant for the Medi-
cean Sacristy at San Lorenzo, Florence, it indicates ideas
for the treatment of spandrels and ceiling. In the
British Museum 384
34. Hercules Ain> Cacub. From the original wax model in
South Kensington Museum 438
\
LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
?
CHAPTEE I.
History of the Buonarroti Simoni family, tlieir anna and name. —
Birth of Michelangelo at Caprese. — 2. Description of Chiusi in
Casentino and Caprese. — 3. Michelangelo's brothers. — His chUdhood
at Settignano. — Sent to school in Florence. — Early passion for design.
— ^Francesco Qranacci. — 4. Apprenticed to the Qhirlandajo brothers.
— Stories of his youthful power as a draughtsman. — ^5. Enters the
Medicean Qardens at S. Marco. — Studies sculpture under Bertoldo.
— Story of the Faun's mask. — Lorenzo de' Medici takes him into
his own house, and appoints his fiither to an office. — Manner of
life in the Casa Medici. — 6. Michelangelo's first worka — The bas-
reliefB of the Centaurs, and a seated Madonna. — 7. Quarrel with
Piero Torrigiano. — 8. Florence under Lorenzo de' Medici. — Public
amusements. — Savonarola's preaching. — ^Death of Lorenzo.
I.
The Buonarroti Simoni, to whom Michelangelo
belonged, were a Florentine family of ancient burgher
nobility. Their arms appear to have been origin-
ally "azure two bends or." To this coat was
added " a label of four points gules enclosing three
fleur-de-lys or." That augmentation, adopted from
the shield of Charles of Anjou, occurs upon the
scutcheons of many Guelf houses and cities. In
the case of the Florentine Simoni, it may be ascribed
YOIik I. ▲
• • • •
• • • • •
• ••• . V : >•::..:
•*• t : •: •*: .-. •••
2 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
to the period when Buonarrota di Simone Simoni
held office as a captain of the Guelf party (1392).
Such, then, was the paternal coat borne by the
subject of this Memoir. His brother Buonarroto
received a further augmentation in 1515 from Leo
X., to wit: "upon a chief or, a pellet azure
charged with fleur-de-lys or, between the capital
letters L. and X." At the same time he was
created Count Palatine. The old and simple bear-
ing of the two bends was then crowded down into
the extreme base of the shield, while the Angevine
label found room beneath the chief.
According to a vague tradition, the Simoni drew
their blood from the high and puissant Counts of
Canossa. Michelangelo himself believed in this
pedigree, for which there is, however, no foundation
in fact, and no heraldic corroboration. According
to his friend and biographer Condivi, the sculptor's
first Florentine ancestor was a Messer Simone dei
Conti di Canossa, who came in 1250 as Podestk
to Florence.^ " The eminent qualities of this man
gained for him admission into the burghership of
the city, and he was appointed captain of a Sestiere ;
for Florence in those days was divided into Sestieri,
instead of Quartieri, as according to the present
usage." Michelangelo's contemporary, the Count
Alessandro da Canossa, acknowledged this rela-
tionship. Writing on the 9th of October 1520, he
addresses the then famous sculptor as "honoured
* Condivi, p. i.
THE BUONARROTI SIMONI. 3
kinsman/' and gives the following piece of informa-
tion : ^ ** Turning over my old papers, I have dis-
covered that a Messere Simone da Canossa was
Fodest^ of Florence, as I have already mentioned
to the above-named Giovanni da Reggio." Never-
theless, it appears now certain that no Simone da
Canossa held the office of Podestib at Florence in
the thirteenth century. The family can be traced
up to one Bernardo, who died before the year 1228.
His grandson was called Buonarrota, and the fourth
in descent was Simone.* These names recur fre-
quently in the next generations. Michelangelo
always addressed his father as '' Lodovico di Lionardo
di Buonarrota Simoni," or "Louis, the son of
Leonard, son of Buonarrota Simoni ; " and he used
the family surname of Simoni in writing to his
brothers and his nephew Lionardo. Yet he pre-
ferred to call himself Michelangelo Buonarroti ;
and after his lifetime Buonarroti became fixed
for the posterity of his younger brother. "The
reason," says Condivi, " why the family in Florence
changed its name from Canossa to Buonarroti was
this: Buonarroto continued for many generations
to be repeated in their house, down to the time of
Michelangelo, who had a brother of that name;
and inasmuch as several of these Buonarroti held
rank in the supreme magistracy of the republic,
* Qotti, i. 4.
* He died probably in 13 14, after playing a confliderable part in the
bistorj of bis natiye town. From him tbe family derived tbeir sur-
name of Simoni.
4 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
especially the brother I have just mentioned, who
filled the office of Prior during Pope Leo's visit
to Florence, as may be read in the annals of that
city, this baptismal name, by force of frequent repe-
tition, became the cognomen of the whole family;
the more easily, because it is the custom at Florence,
in elections and nominations of officers, to add the
christian names of the father, grandfather, great-
grandfather, and sometimes even of remoter ancestors,
to that of each citizen. Consequently, through the
many Buonarroti who followed one another, and
from the Simone who was the first founder of the
house in Florence, they gradually came to be called
Buonarroti Simoni, which is their present desig-
nation."^ Excluding the legend about Simone
da Canossa, this is a pretty accurate account of
what really happened. Italian patronymics were
formed indeed upon the same rule as those of
many Norman families in Great Britain. When
the use of Di and Fitz expired, Simoni survived
from Di Simone, as did my surname Symonds from
Fitz-Symond.
On the 6th of March 1475, according to
our present computation, Lodovico di Lionardo
Buonarroti Simoni wrote as follows in his private
notebook : " I record that on this day, March 6,
1474, a male child was born to me. I gave him
the name of Michelangelo, and he was bom on a
Monday morning four or five hours before daybreak^
* Condivi, p. 2.
BIRTH AT CAPRESE. 5
and he was bom while I was PodestA of Caprese,
and he was bom at Caprese; and the godfathers
were those I have named below. He was baptized
on the eighth of the same month in the Church
of San Giovanni at Caprese. These are the god-
fathers : —
Don Daniello di seb Buonaguida of Florence, Rector of
San Giovanni at Caprese ;
Don Andrea bi .... of Poppi, Rector of the Abbey of
DiaBiano {i,e, Dicciano) ;
Jacofo di Fbakcesco of Gasurio (t) ;
Marco di Giorgio of Caprese ;
Giovanni di Biagio of Caprese ;
Andrea di Biagio of Caprese ;
Francesco di Jacopo del Anduino (?) of Caprese ;
Ser Bartolommeo di Santi del Lanse (?), Notary.
Note that the date is March 6, 1474, according to
Florentine usage ah incarnatione, and according to
the Roman usage, a nativitate^ it is 1475."^
Vasari tells us that the planets were propitious
at the moment of Michelangelo's nativity: "Mer-
cury and Venus having entered with benign aspect
into the house of Jupiter, which indicated that
marvellous and extraordinary works, both of manual
art and intellect, were to be expected from him."*
* Qotti, vol. i. p. 3. * Vasari, xii. 158.
LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
II.
•
Caprese, from its beauty and remoteness, deserved
to be the birthplace of a great artist. It is not
improbable that Lodovico Buonarroti and his wife
Francesca approached it from Pontassieve in Vald-
amo, crossing the little pass of Consuma, descending
on the famous battle-field of Campaldino, and skirting
the ancient castle of the Conti Guidi at Poppi.
Every step in the romantic journey leads over
ground hallovred by old historic memories. From
Poppi the road descends the Amo to a richly
cultivated district, out of which emerges on its
hill the prosperous little town of Bibbiena. High
up to eastward springs the broken crest of La
Vemia, a mass of hard millstone rock {macigno)
jutting from desolate beds of lime and shale at
the height of some 3500 feet above the sea. It
was here, among the sombre groves of beech and
pine which wave along the ridge, that S. Francis
came to found his infant Order, composed the Hymn
to the Sun, and received the supreme honour of
the stigmata. To this point Dante retired when the
death of Henry VII. extinguished his last hopes
for Italy. At one extremity of the wedge-like
block which forms La Vemia, exactly on the water-
shed between Amo and Tiber, stands the ruined
castle of Chiusi in Casentino. This was one of the
CHIUSI AND CAPRESE. 7
two chief places of Lodovico Buonarroti's podes-
teria. It may be said to crown the valley of the
Amo ; for the waters gathered here flow downwards
toward Arezzo, and eventually wash the city walls
of Florence. A few steps farther, travelling south,
we pass into the valley of the Tiber, and, after
traversing a barren upland region for a couple of
hours, reach the verge of the descent upon Caprese.
Here the landscape assumes a softer character. Far
away stretch blue Apennines, ridge melting into
ridge above Perugia in the distance. Gigantic
oaks begin to clothe the stony hillsides, and little
by little a fertile mountain district of chesnut-woods
and vineyards expands before our eyes, equal in
charm to those aerial hills and vales above Pontre-
moli. Caprese has no central commune or head-
village. It is an aggregate of scattered hamlets and
farmhouses, deeply embosomed in a sea of greenery.
Where the vaUey contracts and the infant Tiber
breaks into a gorge, rises a wooded rock crowned
with the ruins of an ancient castle. It was here,
then, that Michelangelo first saw the light. When
we discover that he was a man of more than usually
nervous temperament, very different in quality from
any of his relatives, we must not forget what a
fatiguing journey had been performed by his mother,
who was then awaiting her delivery. Even suppos-
ing that Lodovico Buonarroti travelled from Florence
by Arezzo to Caprese, many miles of rough mountain-
roads must have been traversed by her on horseback.
8 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
m
Lodovico, who, as we have seen, was Fodestk of
Caprese and of Chiusi in the Casentino, had akeady
one son by his first wife, Francesca, the daughter
of Neri di Miniato del Sera and Bonda Rucellai.
This elder brother, Lionardo, grew to manhood,
and became a devoted follower of Savonarola.
Under the influence of the Ferrarese friar, he de-
termined to abjure the world, and entered the
Dominican Order in 1491. We know very little
about him, and he is only once mentioned in
Michelangelo's correspondence. Even this reference
cannot be considered certain. Writing to his father
from Rome, July i, 1497, Michelangelo says: "I
let you know that Fra Lionardo returned hither to
Rome. He says that he was forced to fly from
Viterbo, and that his frock had been taken from
him, wherefore he wished to go there (i.e. to
Florence). So I gave him a golden ducat, which he
asked for ; and I think you ought already to have
learned this, for he should be there by this time." *
When Lionardo died is uncertain. We only know
that he was in the convent of S. Mark at Florence
in the year 15 10. Owing to this brother's adoption
of the religious life, Michelangelo became, early in
his youth, the eldest son of Lodovico's family. It
1 Lettere, No. i. p. 3.
CHILDHOOD AT SETTIGNANO. 9
will be seen that during the whole course of his
long career he acted as the mainstay of his father,
and as father to his younger brothers. The strength
and the tenacity of his domestic affections are very
remarkable in a man who seems never to have
thought of marrying. " Art," he used to say, " is a
sufficiently exacting mistress/' Instead of seeking
to beget children for his own solace, he devoted
himself to the interests of his kinsmen.
The office of Podest^ lasted only six months,
and at the expiration of this term Lodovico re-
turned to Florence. He put the infant Michel-
angelo out to nurse in the village of Settignano,
where the Buonarroti Simoni owned a farm. Most
of the people of that district gained their liveli-
hood in the stone-quarries around Settignano and
Maiano on the hillside of Fiesole. Michelangelo's
foster-mother was the daughter and the wife of
stone-cutters. "George," said he in after-years to
his friend Vasari, "if I possess anything of good
in my mental constitution, it comes from my having
been bom in your keen climate of Arezzo ; just as
I drew the chisel and the mallet with which I carve
statues in together with my nurse's milk." ^
When Michelangelo was of age to go to school,
his father put him under a grammarian at Florence
named Francesco da Urbino. It does not appear,
however, that he learned more than reading and
writing in Italian, for later on in life we find him
1 Vasari, xii. p. T59.
lo LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
complaining that he knew no Latin.^ The hoy's
genius attracted him irresistibly to art. He spent
all his leisure time in drawing, and frequented the
society of youths who were apprenticed to masters
in painting and sculpture. Among these he con-
tracted an intimate friendship with Francesco
Granacci, at that time in the workshop of Domenico
Ghirlandajo. Granacci used to lend him drawings
by Ghirlandajo, and inspired him with the resolu-
tion to become a practical artist. Condivi says that
"Francesco's influence, combined with the continual
craving of his nature, made him at last abandon
literary studies. This brought the boy into dis-
favour with his father and uncles, who often used
to beat him severely; for being insensible to the
excellence and nobility of Art, they thought it
shameful to give her shelter in their house. Never-
theless, albeit their opposition caused him the
greatest sorrow, it was not sufficient to deter him
from his steady purpose. On the contrary, growing
even bolder, he determined to work in colours."*
Condivi, whose narrative preserves for us Michel-
angelo's own recollections of his youthful years,
refers to this period the painted copy made by the
young draughtsman from a copper-plate of Martin
Schongauer. We should probably be right in sup-
^ This we gather from Donato Giannotti's Dialogue B^ giomi che
DarUe eoTUumd, etc. Firenze, Tip. Gal., 1859. Also in 15 18, when
the memhers of the Florentine Academy sent a petition to Leo X. about
the bones of Dante, he alone signed in Italian.
> Condivi, p. 4.
EARLY ENTHUSIASM FOR ART. ii
posing that the anecdote is slightly antedated.
I give it, however, as nearly as possible in the
biographer's own words. " Granacci happened
to show him a print of S. Antonio tormented
by the devils. This was the work of Martino
d'Olanda, a good artist for the times in which he
lived; and Michelangelo transferred the composi-
tion to a panel.^ Assisted by the same friend with
colours and brushes, he treated his subject in so
masterly a way that it excited surprise in all who
saw it, and even envy, as some say, in Domenico,
the greatest painter of his age. In order to diminish
the extraordinary impression produced by this pic-
ture, Ghirlandajo went about saying that it came
out of his own workshop, as though he had some
part in the performance. While engaged on this
piece, which, beside the figure of the saint, contained
many strange forms and diabolical monstrosities,
Michelangelo coloured no particular without going
first to Nature and comparing her truth with his
fancies. Thus he used to frequent the fish-market,
and study the shape and hues of fishes' fins, the
colour of their eyes, and so forth in the case of every
part belonging to them ; all of which details he
reproduced with the utmost diligence in his paint-
ing."' Whether this transcript from Schongauer
was made as early as Condivi reports may, as I
^ See QrimiD, toL i. p. 542, for notes upon the pictures from Schon-
^ner's copper-plate, now in the possession of the Bianconi family at
Bologna uid Baron Triqueti in Paris.
> Condivi, p. 5.
12 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
have said, be reasonably doubted. The anecdote is
interesting, however, as showing in what a natural-
istic spirit Michelangelo began to work. The un-
limited mastery which he acquired over form, and
which certainly seduced him at the close of his
career into a stylistic mannerism, was based in the
first instance upon profound and patient interroga-
tion of reality.
IV.
Lodovico perceived at length that it was useless
to oppose his son's natuiul bent. Accordingly, he
sent him into Ghirlandajo's workshop. A minute
from Ghirlandajo's ledger, under the date 1488,
gives information regarding the terms of the ap-
prenticeship. **I record this first of April how I,
Lodovico di Lionardo di Buonarrota, bind my son
Michelangelo to Domenico and Datit di Tommaso
di Currado^ for the next three ensuing years,
under these conditions and contracts : to wit, that
the said Michelangelo shall stay with the above-
named masters during this time, to learn the art of
painting, and to practise the same, and to be at the
orders of the above-named ; and they, for their part,
shall give to him in the course of these three years
^ That was the family name of the famous Ghirlandajo, so called
because he made the garlands of golden leaves which Florentine
women wore.
GHIRLANDAJCS WORKSHOP. 13
twenty-four florins {fxyrini di suggeUo) : to wit, six
florins in the first year, eight in the second, ten in
the third ; making in all the sum of ninety- six
pounds (lire)" A postscript, dated April i6th of
the same year, 1488, records that two florins were
paid to Michelangelo upon that day.^
It seems that Michelangelo retained no very
pleasant memory of his sojourn with the Ghirlan-
dajo brothers. Condivi, in the passage translated
above, hints that Domenico was jealous of him. He
proceeds as follows : " This jealousy betrayed itself
still more when Michelangelo once begged the loan
of a certain sketch-book, wherein Domenico had
portrayed shepherds with their flocks and watch-
dogs, landscapes, buildings, ruins, and such-like
things. The master refused to lend it ; and indeed
he had the fame of being somewhat envious ; for
not only showed he thus scant courtesy toward
Michelangelo, but he also treated his brother like-
wise, sending him into France when he saw that
he was making progress and putting forth great
promise ; and doing this not so much for Etny profit
to David, as that he might himself remain the first
of Florentine painters. I have thought fit to men-
tion these things, because I have been told that
^ The Ricordo translated above was published by Vasari (xii 160).
He eays that it was shown him by Qhirlandajo's heirs, in order to
prove that the master was not envious or unhelpful to his pupil. Of
course it does not prove anything of the kind. It is only a common
record of apprenticeship. Qotti (p. 6, note) reckons the pay promised
at fr. 206.40 of present value.
14 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Domenico's son is wont to ascribe the genius and
divinity of Michelangelo in great part to his father's
teaching, whereas the truth is that he received no
assistance from that master. I ought, however, to
add that Michelangelo does not complain : on the
contrary, he praises Domenico both as artist and
as man."*
This passage irritated Vasari beyond measure.
He had written his first Life of Michelangelo in
1 550. Condivi published his own modest biography
in 1553, vrith the expressed intention of correcting
errors and supplying deficiencies made by " others,"
under which vague word he pointed probably at
Vasari. Michelangelo, who furnished Condivi with
materials, died in 1564 ; and Vasari, in 1568, issued
a second enlarged edition of the Life, into which he
cynically incorporated what he chose to steal from
Condivi's sources. The supreme Florentine sculptor
being dead and buried, Vasari felt that he was safe
in giving the lie direct to this humble rival bio-
grapher. Accordingly, he spoke as follows about
Michelangelo's relations with Domenico Ghirlandajo :
"He was fourteen years of age when he entered
that master's service,* and inasmuch as one (Con-
divi), who composed his biography after 1550, when
I had published these Lives for the first time, de-
clares that certain persons, from want of familiarity
^ Condivi, pp. 5, 6.
^ As Michelangelo was born March 6, 1475, and as the indenture
of apprenticeship proves that he went to Ghirlandajo, April i, 1488, he
must haye been rather less than thirteen years and one month old.
CONDIVI AND VASARI. 15
with Michelangelo, have recorded things that did
not happen, and have omitted others worthy of rela-
tion ; and in particular has touched upon the point
at issue, accusing Domenico of enyy, and saying that
he never rendered Michelangelo assistance/' — .—Here
Yasari, out of breath with indignation, appeals to
the record of Lodovico's contract with the Ghir-
landajo brothers. ** These minutes," he goes on to
say, ** I copied from the ledger, in order to show
that everything I formerly published, or which will
be published at the present time, is truth. Nor
am I acquainted with any one who had greater fami-
liarity with Michelangelo than I had, or who served
him more faithfully in friendly offices ; nor do I
believe that a single man could exhibit a larger
number of letters written with his own hand, or
evincing . greater personal affection, than I can."^
This contention between Condivi and Vasari, our
two contemporary authorities upon the facts • of
Michelangelo's life, may not seem to be a matter of
great moment for his biographer after the lapse of
four centuries. Yet the first steps in the art-career
of so exceptional a genius possess peculiar interest.
It is not insignificant to ascertain, so far as now is
possible, what Michelangelo owed to his teachers.
In equity, we acknowledge that Lodovico's record
on the ledger of the Ghirlandajo brothers proves
their willingness to take him as a prentice, and
their payment to him of two florins in advance;
* Vasari, xii. p. 160.
1 6 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
but the same record does not disprove Condivi's
statement, derived from his old master^s remini-
scencesy to the effect that Domenico Ghirlandajo
was in no way greatly serviceable to him as an
instructor. The fault, in all probability, did not
lie with Ghirlandajo alone. Michelangelo, as we
shall have occasions in plenty to observe, was
difficult to live with ; frank in speech to the point
of rudeness, ready with criticism, incapable of
governing his temper, and at no time apt to work
harmoniously with fellow-craftsmen. His extra-
ordinary force and originality of genius made them-
selves felt, undoubtedly, at the very outset of his
career; and Ghirlandajo may be excused if, with-
out being positively jealous of the young eagle
settled in his homely nest, he failed to do the
utmost for this gifted and rough-natured child of
promise. Beethoven's discontent with Haydn as a
teacher offers a parallel; and sympathetic students
of psychology will perceive that Ghirlandajo and
Haydn were almost superfluous in the training
of phenomenal natures like Michelangelo and
Beethoven.
Vasari, passing from controversy to the gossip
of the studio, has sketched a pleasant picture of
the young Buonarroti in his master's employ.
"The artistic and personal qualities of Michelangelo
developed so rapidly that Domenico was astounded
by signs of power in him beyond the ordinary
scope of youth. He perceived, in short, that he
WORK DONE UNDER GHIRLANDAJO. 17
not only surpassed the other students, of whom
Ghirlandajo had a large number under his tuition,
but also that he often competed on an equality
with the master. One of the lads who worked
there made a pen-drawing of some women, clothed,
from a design of Ghirlandajo. Michelangelo took
up the paper, and with a broader nib corrected the
outline of a female figure, so as to bring it into
perfect truth to life. Wonderful it was to see the
difference of the two styles, and to note the judg-
ment and ability of a mere boy, so spirited and
bold, who had the courage to chastise his master's
handiwork! This drawing I now preserve as a
precious relique, since it was given me by Oranacci,
that it might take a place in my Book of Original
Designs, together with others presented to me by
Michelangelo. In the year 1550, when I was in
Rome, I Giorgio showed it to Michelangelo, who
recognised it immediately, and was pleased to see
it again, observing modestly that he knew more
about the art when he was a child than now in
his old age.
" It happened then that Domenico was engaged
upon the great Chapel of S. Maria Novella ; ^ and
being absent one day, Michelangelo set himself to
draw from nature the whole scaffolding, with some
easels and all the appurtenances of the art, and
^ The frescoes in the choir. These excellent works of Florentine
design formed ^lichelangelo's earliest school in art, and what he after-
wards achieved in fresco must have mainly been learned there.
VOL. 1. li
i8 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
»
a few of the young men at work there. When
Domenico returned and saw the drawing, he ex-
claimed : * This fellow knows more about it than
I do/ and remained quite stupefied by the new
style and the new method of imitation, which a
boy of years so tender had received as a gift from
heaven." ^
Both Condivi and Vasari relate that, during his
apprenticeship to Ghirlandajo, Michelangelo demon-
strated his technical ability by producing perfect
copies of ancient drawings, executing the facsimile
with consummate truth of line, and then dirtying
the paper so as to pass it off as the original of
some old master.* " His only object," adds Vasari,
**was to keep the originals, by giving copies in
exchange; seeing that he admired them as speci-
mens of art, and sought to surpass them by his
own handling ; and in doing this he acquired great
renown." We may pause to doubt whether at the
present time — in the case, for instance, of Shelley
letters or Rossetti drawings — clever forgeries would
be accepted as so virtuous and laudable. But it
ought to be remembered that a Florentine workshop
at that period contained masses of accumulated
designs, all of which were more or less the common
property of the painting firm. No single specimen
possessed a high market value. It was, in fact,
only when art began to expire in Italy, when Vasari
published his extensive necrology and formed his
^ Vasuri, xii. p. i6i * Condivi, p. 6 ; Vuaari, p. 163.
THE MEDICEAN GARDENS. 19
famous collection of drawings, that property in a
sketch became a topic for moral casuistry.
Of Michelangelo's own work at this early period
we possess probably nothing except a rough scrawl
on the plaster of a wall at Settignano. Even this
does not exist in its original state. The Satyr which
is still shown there may, according to Mr. Heath
Wilson's suggestion, be a iHfacimento from the mas-
ter's hand at a subsequent period of his career.^
Condivi and Vasari differ considerably in their
accounts of Michelangelo's departure irom Ghir-
landajo's workshop. The former writes as follows :
"So then the boy, now drawing one thing and
now another, without fixed place or steady line of
study, happened one day to be taken by Granacci
into the garden of the Medici at San Marco, which
garden the magnificent Lorenzo, father of Pope Leo,
and a man of the first intellectual distinction, had
adorned with antique statues and other reliques of
plastic art. When Michelangelo saw these things
and felt their beauty, he no longer frequented
Domenico*s shop, nor did he go elsewhere, but,
judging the Medicean gardens to be the best school,
spent all his time* and faculties in working there." ^
^ Heath Wilson, p. la * Condivi, p. 7.
20 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Vasari reports that it was Lorenzo's wish to raise
the art of sculpture in Florence to the same level
as that of painting ; and for this reason he placed
Bertoldo, a pupil and follower of Donatello, over
his collections, with a special commission to aid and
instruct the young men who used them. With the
same intention of forming an academy or school of
art, Lorenzo went to Ghirlandajo, and begged him
to select from his pupils those whom he considered
the most promising. Ghirlandajo accordingly drafted
oflF Francesco Granacci and Michelangelo Buonarroti.^
Since Michelangelo had been formally articled by
his father to Ghirlandajo in 1488, he can hardly
have left that master in 1489 as unceremoniously as
Condivi asserts. Therefore we may, I think, assume
that Vasari upon this point has preserved the gen-
uine tradition.
Having first studied the art of design and learned
to work in colours under the supervision of Ghir-
landajo, Michelangelo now had his native genius
directed to sculpture. He began with the rudiments
of stone-hewing, blocking out marbles designed
for the Library of San Lorenzo,* and acquiring that
practical skill in the manipulation of the chisel
which he exercised all through his life. Condivi
and Vasari agree in relating that a copy he made
^ Vaflari, xii. 162.
* OoDdivi, p. 7. Lorenzo veiy likely intended to build a house for his
own and Ms father Cosimo's unrivalled collection of manuscripts. The
design Avas carried out in after-years by Pope Ciemenc YII., who selected
a spot at Sun Lorenzo for the purpose.
STORY OF THE FAUN'S MASK. ii
for his own amusement from an antique Faun first
brought him into favourable notice with Lorenzo.
The boy had begged a piece of refuse marble, and
caryed a grinning mask, which he was polishing
when the Medici passed by. The great man stopped
to examine the work, and recognised its merit. At the
same time he observed with characteristic geniality :
" Oh, you have made this Faun quite old, and yet
have left him all his teeth ! Do you not know that
men of that great age are always wanting in one or
two?" Michelangelo took the hint, and knocked
a tooth out from the upper jaw. When Lorenzo saw
how cleverly he had performed the task, he resolved
to provide for the boy's future and to take him into
his own household. So, having heard whose son
he was, " Go," he said, ** and tell your father that I
wish to speak with him."
A mask of a grinning Faun may still be seen in
the sculpture-gallery of the Bargello at Florence,
and the marble is traditionally assigned to Michel-
angelo. It does not exactly correspond to the account
given by Condivi and Vasari ; for the mouth shows
only two large tusk-like teeth, with the tip of the
tongue protruding between them. Still there is no
reason to feel certain that we may not have here
Michelangelo's first extant work in marble.
" Michelangelo accordingly went home, and deli-
vered the message of the Magnificent. His father,
guessing probably what he was wanted for, could
only be persuaded by the urgent prayers of Granacci
23 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
and other friends to obey the summons. Indeed,
he complained loudly that Lorenzo wanted to lead
his son astray, abiding firmly by the principle that he
would never permit a son of his to be a stone-cutter.
Vainly did Granacci explain the difference between
a sculptor and a stone-cutter : all his arguments
seemed thrown away. Nevertheless, when Lodovico
appeared before the Magnificent, and was asked if
he would consent to give his son up to the great
man's guardianship, he did not know how to refuse.
* In faith,' he added, * not Michelangelo alone, but
all of us, with our lives and all our abilities, are at
the pleasure of your Magnificence ! ' When Lorenzo
asked what he desired as a favour to himself, he
answered : * I have never practised any art or trade,
but have lived thus far upon my modest income,
attending to the little property in land which has
come down from my ancestors; and it has been
my care not only to preserve these estates, but to
increase them so far as I was able by my industry.*
The Magnificent then added : * Well, look about, and
see if there be anything in Florence which will suit
you. Make use of me, for I will do the utmost that
I can for you.' It so happened that a place in the
Customs, which could only be filled by a Florentine
citizen, fell vacant shortly afterwards. Upon this
Lodovico returned to the Magnificent, and begged
for it in these words : * Lorenzo, I am good for
nothing but reading and writing. Now, the mate of
Marco Pucci in the Customs having died, I should
LORENZO DE' MEDICI. 33
like to enter into this office, feeling myself able to
fulfil its duties decently/ The Magnificent laid his
hand upon his shoulder, and said with a smile:
* You will always be a poor man ; ' for he expected
him to ask for something far more valuable. Then
he added : * If you care to be the mate of Marco,
you can take the post, until such time as a better
becomes vacant.' It was worth eight crowns the
month, a little more or a little less." ^ A document
is extant which shows that Lodovico continued to
fill this office at the Customs till 1494, when the
heirs of Lorenzo were exiled ; for in the year 151 2,
after the Medici returned to Florence, he applied to
Giuliano, Duke of Nemours, to be reinstated in
the same.^
If it is true, as Vasari asserts, that Michelangelo
quitted Ghirlandajo in 1489, and if Condivi is right
in saying that he only lived in the Casa Medici for
about two years before the death of Lorenzo, April
1492, then he must have spent some twelve months
working in the gardens at San Marco before the
Faun's mask called attention to his talents. His
whole connection with Lorenzo, from the spring of
1489 to the spring of 1492, lasted three years; and,
since he was born in March 1475, ^^^ space of his
life covered by this patronage extended from the
commencement of his fifteenth to the commence*
ment of his eighteenth year.
^ Condivi, pp. 8-10.
' The original is given by Qotti, vol. ii. p. 31.
24 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
These three years were decisive for the develop-
ment of his mental faculties and special artistic
genius. It is not necessary to enlarge here upon
Lorenzo de' Medici's merits and demerits, either as
the ruler of Florence or as the central figure in
the history of the Italian Renaissance. These have
supplied stock topics for discussion by all writers
who have devoted their attention to that period of
culture. Still we must remember that Michelangelo
enjoyed singular privileges under the roof of one
who was not only great as diplomatist and politician,
and princely in his patronage, but was also a man of
original genius in literature, of fine taste in criticism,
and of civic urbanity in manners. The palace of
the Medici formed a museum, at that period unique,
considering the number and value of its art treasures
— bas-reliefs, vases, coins, engraved stones, paintings
by the best contemporary masters, statues in bronze
and marble by Verocchio and Donatello. Its library
contained the costliest manuscripts, collected from
all quarters of Europe and the Levant. The guests
who assembled in its halls were leaders in that
intellectual movement which was destined to spread
a new type of culture fex and wide over the globe.
The young sculptor sat at the same board as Marsilio
Ficino, interpreter of Plato; Pico della Mirandola,
the phoenix of Oriental erudition ; Angelo Poliziano,
the unrivalled humanist and melodious Italian poet ;
Luigi Pulci, the humorous inventor of burlesque
romance — with artists, scholars, students innumer-
THE MEDICEAN PALACE. as
able, all in their own departments capable of satisfy-
ing a youth's curiosity, by explaining to him the
particular virtues of books discussed, or of antique
works of art inspected. During those halcyon years,
before the invasion of Charles VIII., it seemed as
though the peace of Italy might last unbroken. No
one foresaw the apocalyptic vials of wrath which
were about to be poured forth upon her plains and
cities through the next half- century. Rarely, at
any period of the world's history, perhaps only in
Athens between the Persian and the Peloponnesian
wars, has culture, in the highest and best sense of
that word, prospered more intelligently and pacific-
ally than it did in the Florence of Lorenzo, through
the co-operation and mutual zeal of men of emin-
ence, inspired by common enthusiasms, and labour-
ing in diverse though cognate fields of study and
production.
Michelangelo's position in the house was that of
an honoured guest or adopted son. Lorenzo not
only allowed him five ducats a month by way of
pocket-money, together with clothes befitting his
station, but he also, says Condivi, " appointed him
a good room in the palace, together with all the
conveniences he desired, treating him in every re-
spect, as also at his table, precisely like one of his
own sons. It was the custom of this household,
where men of the noblest birth and highest public
rank assembled round the daily board, for the guests
to take their places next the master in the order
26 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
of their arrival; those who were present at the
beginning of the meal sat, each according to his
degree, next the Magnificent, not moving afterwards
for any one who might appear. So it happened
that Michelangelo found himself frequently seated
above Lorenzo's children and other persons of great
consequence, with whom that house continually
flourished and abounded. All these illustrious men
paid him particular attention, and encouraged him
in the honourable art which he had chosen. But
the chief to do so was the Magnificent himself, who
sent for him oftentimes in a day, in order that he
might show him jewels, cornelians, medals, and such-
like objects of great rarity, as knowing him to be
of excellent parts and judgment in these things." *
It does not appear that Michelangelo had any duties
to perform or services to render. Probably his
patron employed him upon some useful work of the
kind suggested by Condivi. But the main business
of his life in the Casa Medici was to make himself
a valiant sculptor, who in after-years should confer
lustre on the city of the lily and her Medicean
masters. What he produced during this period
seems to have become his own property, for two
pieces of statuary, presently to be described, re-
mained in the possession of his family, and now
form a part of the collection in the Casa Buonarroti.
* Condivi, p. g.
CENTAUR BAS-RELIEF. 37
VI.
Angelo Poliziano, who was certainly the chief
scholar of his age in the new learning, and no less
certainly one of its truest poets in the vulgar
language, lived as tutor to Lorenzo's children in the
palace of the Medici at Florence. Benozzo Gozzoli
introduced his portrait, together with the portraits
of his noble pupils, in a fresco of the Pisan Campo
Santo. This prince of humanists recommended
Michelangelo to treat in bas-relief an antique fable,
involving the strife of young heroes for some woman's
person.^ Probably he was also able to point out clas-
sical examples by which the boyish sculptor might
be guided in the undertaking. The subject made
enormous demands upon his knowledge of the nude.
Adult and youthful figures, in attitudes of vehement
attack and resistance, had to be modelled ; and the
conditions of the myth required that one at least of
^ Condivi tells ns that this composition represented ^Uhe rape of
Deianeira and the battle of the Centaura.** Critics have attempted to
find in* it the legend of the Centaurs and the Lapithse, also the stoiy of
Herakles and Eurytion.' The subject has been ably discossed by Josef
Strzygowski in JcMmck der K. Pr, KurutMrnmlungenf vol. xiL Heft 4,
1 891. It may be assumed, I think, that the central figure in the
group of combatants is meant for a woman. Obeying some deep instinct
of his nature, the youthful Michelangelo gave to this female form attri-
butes which render it scarcely distinguishable from the adolescent male^
The details of the bas-relief, however, are such as to make it uncertain
what particular episode of the Heraklean myth he chose to represent
28 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
them should be brought into harmony with equine
forms. Michelangelo wrestled vigorously with these
difficulties. He produced a work which, though it
is imperfect and immature, brings to light the specific
qualities of his inherent art-capacity. The bas-relief,
still preserved in the Casa Buonarroti at Florence,
is, so to speak, in fermentation with powerful half-
realised conceptions, audacities of foreshortening,
attempts at intricate grouping, violent dramatic
action and expression. No previous tradition, unless
it was the genius of Greek or Grseco-Roman an-
tiquity, supplied Michelangelo with the motive force
for this prentice-piece in sculpture. Donatello and
other Florentines worked under diflferent sympathies
for form, affecting angularity in their treatment of
the nude, adhering to literal transcripts from the
model or to conventional stylistic schemes. Michel-
angelo discarded these limitations, and showed him-
self an ardent student of reality in the service of
some lofty intellectual ideal. Following and closely
observing Nature, he was also sensitive to the light
and guidance of the classic genius. Yet, at the
same time, he violated the sesthetic laws obeyed
by that genius, displaying his Tuscan proclivities by
violent dramatic suggestions, and in loaded, over-
complicated composition. Thus, in this highly
interesting essay, the horoscope of the mightiest
Florentine artist was already cast. Nature leads
him, and he follows Nature as his own star bids.
But that star is double, blending classic influence
"^r.
MADONNA IN BAS-RELIEF. 29
with Tuscan instinct. The roof of the Sistine was
destined to exhibit to an awe-struck world what
wealths of originality lay in the artist thus gifted,
and thus swayed by rival forces. For the present, it
may be enough to remark that, in the geometrical
proportions of this bas-relief, which is too high for
its length, Michelangelo revealed imperfect feeling
for antique principles; while, in the grouping of
the figures, which is more pictorial than sculptur-
esque, he already betrayed, what remained with him
a defect through life, a certain want of organic or
symmetrical design in compositions which are not
rigidly subordinated to architectural framework or
limited to the sphere of an intaglio.^
Vasari mentions another bas-relief in marble as
belonging to this period, which, from its style, we
may, I think, believe to have been designed earlier
than the Centaurs. It is a seated Madonna with the
Infant Jesus, conceived in the manner of Donatello,
but without that master's force and power over the
lines of drapery. Except for the interest attaching to
it as an early work of Michelangelo, this piece would
not attract much attention. Vasari praises it for grace
and composition above the scope of Donatello ; and
certainly we may trace here the first germ of that
sweet and winning majesty which Buonarroti was
destined to develop in his Pietk of S. Peter, the
^ What I mean will be felt after a due consideratioii of the cartoon
for the Battle of Pisa in the extant copy of that work. It appears iu
the frescoes of the Pauline Chapel of the Vatican, as well as in a large
variety of original drawing
X"
UFE OF MICHELANGELO.
>. i?.\. r.r,si at Bruges, and the even more glorious
Vi>,l,:t-5i of S. Lorenzo. It is also interesting for
>vr r^\'i^:stic introduction of a Tuscan cottage stair-
^-dt$c :rio the background. This bas-relief was pre-
^►v,:<\i to Cosimo de' Medici, first Grand-Duke of
'sXi^'^uiy, by Michelangelo's nephew Lionardo. It
jt.Vnvnrds came back into the possession of the
i^unmrroti family, and forms at present an ornament
cjf thoir house at Florence.
VII.
We are accustomed to think of Michelangelo as a
stelf- withdrawn and solitary worker, living for his art,
avoiding the conflict of society, immersed in sublime
imaginings. On the whole, this is a correct concep-
tion of the man. Many passages of his biography
will show how little he actively shared the passions
and contentions of the stirring times through which
he moved. Yet his temperament exposed him to
sudden outbursts of scorn and anger, which brought
him now and then into violent collision with his
neighbours. An incident of this sort happened
while he was studying under the patronage of
Lorenzo de' Medici, and its consequences marked
him physically for life. The young artists whom
the Magnificent gathered round him used to
practise drawing in the Brancacci Chapel of the
QUARREL WITH TORRIGIANO. 31
Carmine. There Masaccio and his followers be-
queathed to us noble examples of the grand style upon
the frescoed panels of the chapel walls. It was the
custom of industrious lads to make transcripts from
those broad designs, some of which Kaphael deigned
in his latest years to repeat, with altered manner,
for the Stanze of the Vatican and the Cartoons.
Michelangelo went one day into the Carmine with
Piero Torrigiano and other comrades. What ensued
may best be reported in the narration which Torri-
giano at a later time made to Benvenuto Cellini.
"This Buonarroti and I used, when we were boys,
to go into the Church of the Carmine, to learn draw-
ing from the chapel of Masaccio. It was Buonarroti's
habit to banter all who were drawing there ; and one
day, when he was annoying me, I got more angry
than usual, and, clenching my fist, I gave him such
a blow on the nose that I felt bone and cartilage go
down like biscuit beneath my knuckles ; and this
mark of mine he will carry with him to the grave." ^
The portraits of Michelangelo prove that Torrigiano's
boast was not a vain one. They show a nose broken
in the bridge. But Torrigiano, for this act of
violence, came to be regarded by the youth of
Florence with aversion, as one who had laid sacri-
legious hands upon the sacred ark. Cellini himself
would have wiped out the insult with blood. Still
Cellini knew that personal violence was not in the
line of Michelangelo's character ; for Michelangelo,
* Memoirs of Cellini^ Book i. cLap. xiii.
^
32 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
according to his friend and best biographer, Condi vi,
was by nature, "as is usual with men of sedentary
and contemplative habits, rather timorous than other-
wise, except when he is roused by righteous anger
to resent unjust injuries or wrongs done to himself
or others, in which case he plucks up more spirit
than those who are esteemed brave; but, for the
rest, he is most patient and enduring."^ Cellini,
then, knowing the quality of Michelangelo's temper,
and respecting him as a deity of art, adds to his
report of Torrigiano's conversation: "These words
begat in me such hatred of the man, since I was
always gating at the masterpieces of the divine
Michelangelo, that, although I felt a wish to go
with him to England, 1 now could never bear the
sight of him."
VIII.
The years Michelangelo spent in the Casa Medici
were probably the blithest and most joyous of his
lifetime. The men of wit and learning who sur-
rounded the Magnificent were not remarkable for
piety or moral austerity. Lorenzo himself found it
politically useful "to occupy the Florentines with
shows and festivals, in order that they might think
of their own pastimes and not of his designs, and,
growing unused to the conduct of the common-
^ Oondivi, p. 83.
CARNIVALS AT FLORENCE. 33
wealth, might leave the reins of government in his
hands."* Accordingly he devised those Carnival
triumphs and processions which filled the sombre
streets of Florence with Bacchanalian revellers, and
the ears of her grave citizens with ill-disguised
obscenity. Lorenzo took part in them himself, and
composed several choruses of high literary merit to
be sung by the masqueraders. One of these carries
a refrain which might be chosen as a motto for the
spirit of that age upon the brink of ruin : —
Youths and maids, enjoy to-day :
Naught ye know about to-morrow 1
He caused the triumphs to be carefully prepared by
the best artists, the dresses of the masquers to be
accurately studied, and their chariots to be adorned
with illustrative paintings. Michelangelo's old friend
Granacci dedicated his talents to these shows, which
also employed the wayward fancy of Piero di Cosimo
and Pontormo's power as a colourist. "It was their
wont," says II Lasca, " to go forth after dinner ; and
often the processions paraded through the streets till
three or four hours into the night, with a multi-
tude of masked men on horseback following, richly
dressed, exceeding sometimes three hundred in
number, and as many on foot with lighted torches.
Thus they traversed the city, singing to the accom-
paniment of music arranged for four, eight, twelve,
1 Adapted from Savonarola's Trattato circa U Reggimento, &c,
Florence, 1847.
VOL. I, C
34 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
or even fifteen voices, and supported by various
instruments."^ Lorenzo represented the worst as
well as the best qualities of his age. If he knew
how to enslave Florence, it was because his own
temperament inclined him to share the amusements
of the. crowd, while his genius enabled him to in-
vest corruption with charm. His friend Poliziano
entered with the zest of a poet and a pleasure-
seeker into these diversions. He helped Lorenzo
to revive the Tuscan Mayday games, and wrote
exquisite lyrics to be sung by girls in summer even-
ings on the public squares. This giant of learn-
ing, who filled the lecture-rooms of Florence with
students of all nations, and whose critical and
rhetorical labours marked an epoch in the history
of scholarship, was by nature a versifier, and a ver-
sifier of the people. He found nothing easier than
to throw aside his professor's mantle and to im-
provise hallate for women to chant as they danced
their rounds upon the Piazza di S. Trinitk. The
frontispiece to an old edition of such lyrics repre-
sents Lorenzo surrounded with masquers in quaint
dresses, leading the revel beneath the walls of the
Palazzo. Another woodcut shows an angle of the
Casa Medici in Via Larga, girls dancing the carola
upon the street below, one with a wreath and
thyrsus kneeling, another presenting the Magni-
ficent with a book of love-ditties.* The burden
1 Preface to TuUi i Trionfi, Firenze, 1559.
* See mj Renaissance in lUdy^ vol. iv. p. 386^
POETRY AND MUSIC. 35
of all this poetry .was: "Grather ye roses while
ye may, cast prudence to the winds, obey your
instincts."
There is little doubt that Michelangelo took part \
in these pastimes ; for we know that he was de-
voted to poetry, not always of the gravest kind.
An anecdote related by Cellini may here be intro-
duced, since it illustrates the Florentine customs
I have been describing. '^ Luigi Pulci was a young
man, who possessed extraordinary gifts for poetry,
together with sound Latin scholarship. He wrote
well, was graceful in. manners, and of surpassing
personal beauty. While he was yet a lad and living
in Florence, it was the habit of folk in certain
places of the city to meet together during the nights
of summer on the open streets, and he, ranking
among the best of the improvisatori, sang there.
His recitations were so admirable, that the divine
Michelangelo, that prince of sculptors and of
painters, went, wherever he heard that he would be,
with the greatest eagerness and delight to listen to
him. There was a man called Piloto, a goldsmith,
very able in his art, who, together with myself,
joined Buonarroti upon these occasions."^ In like
manner, the young Michelangelo probably attended
those nocturnal gatherings upon the steps of the
Duomo which have been so graphically described
^ Cellini, Book i chap, xxxii. This Luigi Polci must not be con-
founded with the famous author of the MorganU. The period r^ferr^cl
to here hj Cellini may haye been about i j2o,
'36 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
by Doni : ^ " The Florentines seem to me to take
more pleasure in summer airings than any other folk ;
for they have, in the square of S. liberata, between
the antique temple of Mars, now the Baptistery,
and that marvellous work of modem architecture,
the Duomo : they have, I say, certain steps of
marble, rising to a broad flat space, upon which
the youth of the city come and lay themselves full-
length during the season of extreme heat. The
place is fitted for its purpose, because a fresh breeze
is always blowing, with the blandest of all air, and
the flags of white marble usually retain a certain
coolness. There then I seek my chiefest solace,
when, taking my aerial flights, I sail invisibly
above them; see and hear their doings and dis-
courses : and forasmuch as they are endowed with
keen and elevated understanding, they always have
a thousand charming things to relate ; as novels,
intrigues, fables ; they discuss duels, practical jokes,
old stories, tricks played off by men and women
on each other: things, each and all, rare, witty,
noble, decent and in proper taste. I can swear that
during all the hours I spent in listening to their
nightly dialogues, I never heard a word that was
not comely and of good repute. Indeed, it seemed
to me very remarkable, among such crowds of young
men, to overhear nothing but virtuous conversation."
At the same period, Michelangelo fell under very
different influences ; and these left a far more lasting
^ / Marmi, Firenze : Barbara, 1863, vol. L p. 8.
SAVONAROLA. 37
impression on his character than the gay festivals
and witty word-combats of the lords of Florence.
In 1 49 1 Savonarola, the terrible prophet of coming
woes, the searcher of men's hearts, and the remorse-
less denouncer of pleasant vices, began that Floren-
tine career which ended with his martyrdom in 1498.
He had preached in Florence eight years earlier,
but on that occasion he passed unnoticed through
the crowd. Now he took the whole city by storm.
Obeying the magic of his eloquence and the mag-
netism of his personality, her citizens accepted this
Dominican friar as their political leader and moral
reformer, when events brought about the expulsion
of the Medici in 1 494. Michelangelo was one of his
constant listeners at S. Marco and in the Duomo.
He witnessed those stormy scenes of religious revival
and passionate fanaticism which contemporaries have
impressively described. The shorthand-writer to
whom we owe the text of Savonarola's sermons at
times breaks off with words like these : " Here I was
so overcome with weeping that 1 could not go on."
Pico della Mirandola tells that the mere sound
of the monk's voice, startling the stillness of the
Duomo, thronged through all its space with people,
was like a clap of doom ; a cold shiver ran through
the marrow of his bones, the hairs of his head stood
on end while he listened. Another witness reports :
"Those sermons caused such terror, alarm, sobbing,
and tears, that every one passed through the streets
without speaking, more dead than alive."
38 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
One of the earliest extant letters of Michelangelo,
written from Rome in 1497 to his brother Buonarroto,
reveals a vivid interest in Savonarola.^ He relates
the evil rumours spread about the city regarding
his heretical opinions, and alludes to the hostility
of Fra Mariano da Genezzano ; adding this ironical
sentence : " Therefore he ought by all means to come
and prophesy a little in Rome, when afterwards he
will be canonised; and so let all his party be of
good cheer." In later years, it is said that the great
sculptor read and meditated Savonarola's writings
together with the Bible. The apocalyptic thunder-
ings and voices of the Sistine Chapel owe much of
their soul-thrilling impressiveness to those studies.
Michelet says, not without justice, that the spirit of
Savonarola lives again in the frescoes of that vault
On the 8th of April 1492, Michelangelo lost his
friend and patron. Lorenzo died in his villa at
Careggi, aged little more than forty-four years.
Guicciardini implies that his health and strength
had been prematurely broken by sensual indulgences.
About the circumstances of his last hours there are
some doubts and difficulties ; but it seems clear
that he expired as a Christian, after a final interview
with Savonarola. His death cast a gloom over Italy.
Princes and people were growing uneasy with the pre-
sentiment of impending disaster ; and now the only
man who by his diplomatical sagacity could main-
tain the balance of power, had been taken from
1 Lettere, xlvi. p. 59
DEATH OF LORENZO. 39
them. To his friends and dependants in Florence
the loss appeared irreparable. Poliziano poured forth
his sorrow in a Latin threnody of touching and
simple beauty.* Two years later both he and Pico
della Mirandola followed their master to the grave.
Marsilio Ficino passed away in 1 499 ; and a friend
of his asserted that the sage's ghost appeared to
him.' The atmosphere was full of rumours, portents,
strange premonitions of revolution and doom. The
true golden age of the Italian Renaissance may
almost be said to have ended with Lorenzo de'
Medici's life.
^ See Ckurmma QwinquelU: Podarum^ Bergomie, Lancellotos, 1753,
p. 283. Monodia in Laor. Med. Intonata per Arrighum Isaa
QuiB dabit capiti meo
Aqnam f qtds oculis meis
Fontem lacxymaruxn dabit t
Ut nocte fleam,
Ut Inoe fleam.
Compare {op, oU,y p. 38) Bembo's flue elegy on the almost contemporary
deaths of Lorenzo and Poliziano, which closes with these lines : —
Hen 810 tn raptos, rIc te mala fata tulemnt^
Arbiter Ausonise Politiane lyrsB.
^ Ficino and Michele Mercato had frequently discussed the immor-
tality of the soul together. They also agreed that whichever of the two
died first should, if possible, appear to the other, and inform him of
the life beyond the grave. Michele, then, was studying at an early
hour one morning, when a horseman stopped beneath his window, and
Marsilio's voice exclaimed: ''Michele, Michele, it is all true!" The
scholar rose and saw lus friend upon a white horse vanishing into the
distance. He afterwards discovered that Ficino died precisely at the
time when the apparition came to him. Harford, i 71.
CHAPTER n.
I. Michelangelo returns to his fathei's house. — ^The lost statue of a
Hercules. — Government of Piero de' Medici. — He takes Michel-
angelo back into the palace. — 2. Studies in anatomy at S. Spirita
— The story of Lorenzo's apparition to Cardiere. — Michelangelo
goes to Bologna. — Works on the tomb of S. Domenico. — 3.
Sudden flight from Bologna.— Carves the little S. John and the
Sleeping Oupid. — History of the latter statue. — Michelangelo's
first journey to Bome. — 4. His residence in the house of the
Cardinal di S. Giorgio. — Probable occupations. — Jacopo Gallo
buys his Bacchus. — Criticism of this statue. — The Oupid at South
Kensington. — Michelangelo's treatment of classical subjects. — 5.
The Madonna and Entombment in the National Gallery. — 6. The
Cardinal di S. Dionigi commissions him to make a Pietk — The
Madonna della Febbre at S. Peter's in Rome. — ^Alexander the
Sixth's death. — 7. The Bruges group of Madonna and Child. —
Contradictions in our reports concerning this marble. — 8. The
* Buonarroti family at Florence. — Michelangelo's relations to his
father and b];other8. — His personal habits and frugal life. — His
physical appearance and constitutional temperament
I.
Aftbb the death of Lorenzo de' Medici, Michel-
angelo returned to his father's home, and began to
work upon a statue of Hercules, which is now lost.
It used to stand in the Strozzi Palace until the siege
of Florence in 1530, when Giovanni Battista della
Palla bought it from the steward of Filippo Strozzi,
and sent it into France as a present to the king.
The Magnificent left seven children by his wife
40
PIERO DE' MEDICI. 41
Clarice, of the princely Roman house of the Orsini.
The eldest, Piero, was married to Alfonsina, of the
same illustrious family. Giovanni, the second, had
already received a cardinal's hat from his kinsman.
Innocent VIII. Giuliano, the third, was destined to
play a considerable part in Florentine history under
the title of Duke of Nemours. One daughter was
married to a Salviati, another to a Ridolfi, a third
to the Pope's son, Franceschetto Cybb. The fourth,
Luisa, had been betrothed to her distant cousin,
Giovanni de' Medici ; but the match was broken
off, and she remained unmairied.
Piero now occupied that position of eminence and
semi-despotic authority in Florence which his father
and grandfather had held ; but he was made of
different stuff, both mentally and physically. The
Orsini blood, which he inherited from his mother,
mixed but ill in his veins with that of Florentine
citizens and bankers. Following the proud and
insolent traditions of his maternal ancestors, he
began to discard the mask of civil urbanity with
which Cosimo and Lorenzo had concealed their
despotism. He treated the republic as though it
were his own property, and prepared for the coming
disasters of his race by the overbearing arrogance
of his behaviour. Physically, he was powerful, tall,
and active ; fond of field-sports, and one of the best
pallone-players of his time in Italy. Though he
had been a pupil of Poliziano, he displayed but
little of his father's interest in learning, art, and
42 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
literature. Chance brought Michelangelo into
personal relations with this man. On the 20th of
January 1494 there was a heavy fall of snow in
Florence, and Piero sent for the young sculptor to
model a colossal snow-man in the courtjrard of his
palace. Critics have treated this as an insult to the
great artist, and a sign of Piero's want of taste ; but
nothing was more natural than that a previous
inmate of the Medicean household should use his
talents for the recreation of the family who lived
there. Piero upon this occasion begged Michel-
angelo to return and occupy the room he used to
call his own during Lorenzo's lifetime. " And so,"
writes Condivi, " he remained for some months with
the Medici, and was treated by Piero with great
kindness ; for the latter used to extol two men of
his household as persons of rare ability, the one
being Michelangelo, the other a Spanish groom,
who, in addition to his personal beauty, which was
something wonderful, had so good a wind and such
agility, that when Piero was galloping on horseback
he could not outstrip him by a hand's-breadth." ^
II.
At this period of his life Michelangelo devoted
himself to anatomy. He had a friend, the Prior of
^ Condivi, p. 12.
ANATOMICAL STUDIES. 43
S. Spirito, for whom he carved a wooden crucifix
of nearly life-size. This liberal-minded churchman
put a room at his disposal, and allowed him to
dissect dead bodies. Condivi tells us that the
practice of anatomy was a passion with his master.
"His prolonged habits of dissection injured his
stomach to such an extent that he lost the power
of eating or drinking to any profit. It is true,
however, that he became so learned in this branch
of knowledge that he has often entertained the
idea of composing a work for sculptors and painters,
which should treat exhaustively of all the move-
ments of the human body, the external aspect of
the limbs, the bones, and so forth, adding an in-
genious discourse upon the truths discovered by
him through the investigations of many years. He
would have done this if he had not mistrusted
his own power of treating such a subject with the
dignity and style of a practised rhetorician. I know
well that when he reads Albert Diirer's book, it
seems to him of no great value ; his own concep-
tion being so far fuller and more useful. Truth to
tell, Diirer only treats of the measurements and
varied aspects of the human form, making his figures
straight as stakes ; and, what is more important, he
says nothing about the attitudes and gestures of
the body. Inasmuch as Michelangelo is now ad-
vanced in years, and does not count on bringing his
ideas to light through composition, he has disclosed
to me his theories in their minutest details. He
44 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
also began to discourse upon the same topic with
Messer Eealdo Colombo, an anatomist and surgeon
of the highest eminence. For the furtherance of
such studies this good friend of ours sent him the
corpse of a Moor, a young man of incomparable
beauty, and admirably adapted for our purpose. It
was placed at S. Agata, where I dwelt and still
dwell, as being a quarter removed from public
observation. On this corpse Michelangelo demon-
strated to me many rare and abstruse things, which
perhaps have never yet been fully understood, and
all of which I noted down, hoping one day, by
the help of some learned man, to give them to
the public."^ Of Michelangelo's studies in ana-
tomy we have one grim but interesting record in
a pen-drawing by his hand at Oxford. A corpse
is stretched upon a plank and trestles. Two men
are bending over it with knives in their hands;
and, for light to guide them in their labours, a
candle is stuck into the belly of the subject.
As it is not my intention to write the political
history of Michelangelo's period, I need not digress
here upon the invasion of Italy by Charles VIIL,
which caused the expulsion of the Medici from
Florence, and the establishment of a liberal govern-
ment under the leadership of Savonarola. Michel-
angelo appears to have anticipated the catastrophe
which was about to overwhelm his patron. He
was by nature timid, suspicious, and apt to foresee
^ Condivi, p. 73.
''>
LORENZO'S GHOST. 45
disaster. Possibly he may have judged that the
haughty citizens of Florence would not long put
up with Piero's aristocratical insolence. But Con-
divi tells a story on the subject which is too curious
to be omitted, and which he probably set down
from Michelangelo's own lips. "In the palace of
Piero a man called Cardiere was a frequent inmate.
The Magnificent took much pleasure in his society,
because he improvised verses to the guitar with
marvellous dexterity, and the Medici also practised
this art; so that nearly every evening after supper
there was music. This Cardiere, being a friend of
Michelangelo, confided to him a vision which pursued
him, to the following effect. Lorenzo de' Medici
appeared to him barely clad in one black tattered
robe, and bade him relate to his son Piero that he
would soon be expelled and never more return to
his home. Now Piero was arrogant and overbearing
to such an extent that neither the good-nature of
the Cardinal Giovanni his brother, nor the courtesy
and urbanity of Giuliano, was so strong to main-
tain him in Florence as his own faults to cause
his expulsion. Michelangelo encouraged the man
to obey Lorenzo and report the matter to his son ; but
Cardiere, fearing his new master's temper, kept it to
himself. On another morning, when Michelangelo
was in the courtyard of the palace, Cardiere came
with terror and pain written on his countenance.
Last night Lorenzo had again appeared to him in
the same garb of woe ; and while' he was awake and
46 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
gazing with his eyes, the spectre dealt him a blow
on the cheek, to punish him for omitting to report
his vision to Fiero. Michelangelo immediately gave
him such a thorough scolding that Cardiere plucked
up courage, and set forth on foot for Careggi, a
Medicean villa some three miles distant from the
city. He had travelled about halfway, when he
met Piero, who was riding home ; so he stopped the
cavalcade, and related all that he had seen and
heard. Fiero laughed him to scorn, and, beckoning
the running footmen, bade them mock the poor
fellow. His Chancellor, who was afterwards the
Cardinal of Bibbiena, cried out : ' You axe a mad-
man ! Which do you think Lorenzo loved best,
his son or you? If his son, would he not rather
have appeared to him than to some one else?'
Having thus jeered him, they let him go ; and he,
when he returned home and complained to Michel-
angelo, so convinced the latter of the truth of his
vision, that Michelangelo after two days left Florence
with a couple of comrades, dreading that if what
Cardiere had predicted should come true, he would
no longer be safe in Florence." ^
This ghost-story bears a remarkable resemblance
to what Clarendon relates concerning the appari-
tion of Sir George Villiers. Wishing to warn his
son, the Duke of Buckingham, of his coming mur-
der at the hand of Lieutenant Felton, he did not
appear to the Duke himself, but to an old man-
^ Condivi, p. 13.
FLIGHT TO BOLOGNA. 47
servant of the family ; upon which behaviour of Sir
George's ghost the same criticism has been passed
as on that of Lorenzo de' Medici.
Michelangelo and his two friends travelled across
the Apennines to Bologna, and thence to Venice,
where they stopped a few days. Want of money, or
perhaps of work there, drove them back upon the
road to Florence. When they reached Bologna on
the return journey, a curious accident happened to
the party. The master of the city, Giovanni Benti-
voglio, had recently decreed that every foreigner, on
entering the gates, should be marked with a seal of
red wax upon his thumb. The three Florentines
omitted to obey this regulation, and were taken to
the office of the Customs, where they were fined
in fifty Bolognese pounds. Michelangelo did not
possess enough to pay this fine ; but it so happened
that a Bolognese nobleman called Gianfrancesco
Aldovrandi was there, who, hearing that Buonarroti
was a sculptor, caused the men to be released. Upon
his urgent invitation, Michelangelo went to this
gentleman's house, after taking leave of his two
friends and giving them all the money in his pocket.
With Messer Aldovrandi he remained more than a
year, much honoured by his new patron, who took
great delight in his genius ; '* and every evening he
made Michelangelo read aloud to him out of Dante
or Petrarch, and sometimes Boccaccio, until he went
to sleep." ^ He also worked upon the tomb of San
* Condivi, p. 15.
48 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Domenico during this first residence at Bologna.^
Originally designed and carried forward by Nicola
Pisano, this elaborate specimen of mediseval sculp-
ture remained in some points imperfect. There
was a San Petronio whose drapery, begun by Nicolo
da Bari, was unfinished. To this statue Michel-
angelo put the last touches; and he also carved a
kneeling angel with a candelabrum, the workman-
ship of which surpasses in delicacy of execution all
the other figures on the tomb.
III.
Michelangelo left Bologna hastily. It is said that
a sculptor, who had expected to be employed upon
the area of S. Domenic, threatened to do him some
mischief if he stayed and took the bread out of
the mouths of native craftsmen.* He returned to
Florence some time in 1495. The city was now
quiet again, under the rule of Savonarola. Its
burghers, in obedience to the friar's preaching,
began to assume that air of pietistic sobriety which
contrasted strangely with the gay licentiousness en-
couraged by their former master. Though the
reigning branch of the Medici remained in exile,
^ It is an a/rca or sarcophagus of Gothic design, adorned with bas-
reliefs and a great number of detached statuettes. It stands in a chapel
on the south side of the nave of the Church of S. Domenico.
* Condi vi, p. 16.
;„/
i;
Statob or St. Johx.
THE S. GIOVANNINO. 49
their distant cousins, who were descended from
Lorenzo, the brother of Cosimo, Pater Patrice, kept
their place in the republic. They thought it prud-
ent, however, at this time, to exchange the hated
name of de' Medici for Popolano. With a member
of this section of the Medicean family, Lorenzo
di Pierfrancesco, Michelangelo soon found himself
on terms of intimacy. It was for him that he made
a statue of the young S John, which was perhaps
rediscovered at Pisa in 1874.^ ^or a long time this
S. Giovannino was attributed to Donatello ; and it
certainly bears decided marks of resemblance to
that master's manner, in the choice of attitude, the
close adherence to the model, and the treatment of
the hands and feet. Still it has notable affinities to
the style of Michelangelo, especially in the youth-
ful beauty of the features, the disposition of the
hair, and the sinuous lines which govern the whole
composition.* It may also be remarked that those
peculiarities in the hands and feet which I have
mentioned as reminding us of Donatello — a remark-
able length in both extremities, owing to the elonga-
tion of the metacarpal and metatarsal bones and of
the spaces dividing these from the forearm and tibia —
* It had been bought in 1817, and placed in the palace of the Counts
Gnalandi Boflselmini at Pisa. The Berlin Museum acquired it in 1880^
and Professor Bode strongly maintained its genuineness as a work of
Michelangelo.
' The face is fonned upon a type which Donatello used for his S.
George, and which Michelangelo adhered to afterwards in many of his
works. Not much can be based upon this detail. Botticelli's type of
face corresponds in the same way to that of Filippino LippL
VOL. L D
so LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
m
are precisely the points which Michelangelo retained
through life from his early study of Donatello's
work. We notice them particularly in the Dying
Slave of the Louvre, which is certainly one of his
most characteristic works. Good judges are therefore
perhaps justified in identifying this S. Giovannino,
which is now in the Berlin Museum, with the statue
made for Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de' Medici.*
The next piece which occupied Michelangelo's
chisel was a Sleeping Cupid. His patron thought
this so extremely beautiful that he remarked to the
sculptor : " If you were to treat it artificially, so as
to make it look as though it had been dug up, I
would send it to Rome; it would be accepted as
an antique, and you would be able to sell it at a
fax higher price."* Michelangelo took the hint.
His Cupid went to Rome, and was sold for thirty
ducats to a dealer called Messer Baldassare del
Milanese, who resold it to Raffaello Riario, the
Cardinal di S. Giorgio, for the advanced sum of
200 ducats. It appears from this transaction that
Michelangelo did not attempt to impose upon the
first purchaser, but that this man passed it off upon
the Cardinal as an antique. When the Cardinal
^ Grimm, vol. i. p. 546, hazards a conjectnre that both this statae and
the Adonis of the Bargello are works by some foUower of Michelangelo.
This suggestion does not seem to me probable. The reason for not
assigning the little S. John to Michelangelo is that it does not exhibit
his peculiar manner. But this peculiar quality a follower would have
certainly aimed at acquiring. The choice lies between Donatello him-
self, and Buonarroti refiniug on that sculptor's mannerism.
' Condivi, p. 16.
THE SLEEPING CUPID. 51
began to suspect that the Cupid was the work of a
modem Florentine, he sent one of his gentlemen
to Florence to inquire into the circumstances. The
rest of the story shall be told in Condivi's words.
'' This gentleman, pretending to be on the look-
out for a sculptor capable of executing certain works
in Rome, after visiting several, was addressed to
Michelangelo. When he saw the young artist, he
begged him to show some proof of his ability ;
whereupon Michelangelo took a pen (for at that
time the crayon [lapis] had not come into use), and
drew a hand with such grace that the gentleman
was stupefied. Afterwards, he asked if he had ever
worked in marble, and when Michelangelo said yes,
and mentioned among other things a Cupid of such
height and in such an attitude, the man knew that
he had found the right person. So he related how
the matter had gone, and promised Michelangelo,
if he would come with him to Rome, to get the
difference of price made up, and to introduce him
to his patron, feeling sure that the latter would
receive him very kindly. Michelangelo, then, partly
in anger at having been cheated, and partly moved
by the gentleman's account of Rome as the widest
field for an artist to display his talents, went with
him, and lodged in his house, near the palace
of the Cardinal."* S. Giorgio compelled Messer
Baldassare to refund the 200 ducats, and to take
the Cupid back. But Michelangelo got nothing
* Oondivi) p. 17.
52 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
beyond his original price; and both Condivi and
Vasari blame the Cardinal for having been a dull
and unsympathetic patron to the young artist of
genius he had brought from Florence. Still the
whole transaction was of vast importance, because
it launched him for the first time upon Rome, where
he was destined to spend the larger part of his long
life, and to serve a succession of Pontiffs in their
most ambitious undertakings.
Before passing to the events of his sojourn at
Rome, I will wind up the story of the Cupid.
It passed first into the hands of Cesare Borgia,
who presented it to Guidobaldo di Montefeltro,
Duke of Urbino. On the 30th of June 1502,
the Marchioness of Mantua wrote a letter to the
Cardinal of Este, saying that she should very
much like to place this piece, together with an
antique statuette of Venus, both of which had be-
longed to her brother-in-law, the Duke of Urbino,
in her own collection. Apparently they had just
become the property of Cesare Borgia, when he
took and sacked the town of Urbino upon the
20th of June in that year. Cesare Borgia seems
to have complied immediately with her wishes ; for
in a second letter, dated July 22, 1502, she de-
scribed the Cupid as " without a peer among the
works of modem times." ^
* See Gaye, vol. ii. pp. 53, 54. After writing the above paragraph, I
thought it worth while to go to Mantua expressly for the purpose of
tracing out the Cupid. At one end of the long gallery of the Liceo there
FIRST VISIT TO ROME. 53
IV.
Michelangelo arrived in Rome at the end of June
1496. This we know from the first of his extant
letters, which is dated July 2, and addressed to
Lorenzo di Fierfrancesco de' Medici. The super-
scription, however, hears the name of Sandro Botti-
celli, showing that some caution had still to he
observed in corresponding with the Medici, even
with those who latterly assumed the name of
Popolani. The young Buonarroti writes in excel-
lent spirits : " I only write to inform you that last
Ib a little marble figure, about four feet long, of a Oupid stretched upon
his back asleep, short wings spread out beneath his shoulders, arms laid
along his sides, the bow and quiver close to the left flank, the head
crowned with a wreath of leaves and conventional flowers. Two snake?,
their tails coiled loosely round each of the boy's wrists, are creeping with
open mouths as though they mean to come together above his naveL The
marble seems to be Carrara, and has stains of faint blue traceable upon the
surface. The finish of the statuette is exquisite where there has been no
injury. It shines like polished ivory. But deep scratches, livid dis-
colorations, and bruised extremities point to the action of violence and
time. The style is that of Grseco-Roman decadence, not differing in any
important respect from that of two marble Cupids in the Uffizi, one
of which, supposing it to have come down from Lorenzo de' Medici's
collection, may have supplied Michelangelo with his subject Neither
in type nor in handling would any one recognise a work of Buonarroti.
Yet this does not invalidate its genuineness, since we know that the lost
Cupid was sold as an antique. We are told that the sculptor added marks
of injury and earth-stains, ^ so that," as Condi vi says, '* it seemed to have
been fashioned many years before, there being no sleight of ingenuity
hidden from his talent" Before we reject this statuette on the score of
its classic style, we must remember that Michelangelo in his youth
54 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Saturday we arrived safely, and went at once to visit
the Cardinal di San Giorgio ; and I presented your
letter to him. It appeared to me that he was pleased
to see me, and he expressed a wish that I should go
immediately to inspect his collection of statues. I
spent the whole day there, and for that reason was
unable to deliver all your letters. Afterwards, on
Sunday, the Cardinal came into the new house, and
had me sent for. I went to him, and he asked what
I thought about the things which I had seen. I
replied by stating my opinion, and certainly I can
say with sincerity that there are many fine things in
the collection. Then he asked me whether I had
the courage to make some beautiful work of art
amnaed himself with making exact copies of old drawing8|: which he
passed off as origimils, while the mask of the Faun shows what he
could do in imitation of the antique. One notable peculiarity of the
statuette is the addition of the two snakes to the sleeping figure. Some
allegory, not wholly in the spirit of classic art, but very much in the
line of fifteenth-century thought, seems to have been intended. Condivi
says that Michelangelo's Cupid existed at his time in the Palazzo
Gk)nzaga at Mantua. Be Thou (quoted in the notes to Condivi, p. 179)
saw it there in 1 573. The sleeping Cupid now in the Liceo was brought
there from the palace of the Dukes of Mantua. At the same time we
should remember that several of the Mantuan marbles were transferred
to Venice after the sack of the town in 1630 ; and among the antique
statues in the Ducal Palace of S. Mark there are two Sleeping Cupids,
both obviously of the latest Roman decadence. It seems impossible,
therefore, to decide either affirmatively or negatively upon the question
of the genuineness of this work. The mere fact that Buonarroti planned
a mystification places it, in the absence of external evidence, beyond the
sphere of criticisra. I must add, finally, that Springer (vol. L p. 306)
regards the Mantuan Cupid as not to be identified with Michelangelo's,
on the ground that Kiccola d'Arca in an epigram mentions a torch at
the boy's side.
THE CARDINAL DI S. GIORGIO. 55
I answered that I should not be able to achieve
anything so great, but that he should see what I
could do. We have bought a piece of marble for
a life-size statue, and on Monday I shall begin to
work."^
After describing his reception, Michelangelo pro-
ceeds to relate the efforts he was making to regain
his Sleeping Cupid from Messer Baldassare : " After-
wards, I gave your letter to Baldassare, and asked
him for the child, saying I was ready to refund his
money. He answered very roughly, swearing he
would rather break it in a hundred pieces ; he had
bought the child, and it was his property ; he pos-
sessed writings which proved that he had satisfied
the person who sent it to him, and was under no
apprehension that he should have to give it up.
Then he complained bitterly of you, saying that you
had spoken ill of him. Certain of our Florentines
sought to accommodate matters, but failed in their
attempt. Now I look to coming to terms through
the Cardinal; for this is the advice of Baldassare
Balducci. What ensues I will report to you." It is
clear that Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco, being convinced
of the broker's sharp practice, was trying to recover
the Sleeping Cupid (the child) at the price originally
paid for it, either for himself or for Buonarroti.
The Cardinal is mentioned as being the most likely
person to secure the desired result.
Whether Condivi is right in saying that S. Giorgio
^ Letteie, No. cccxlii. p. 375.
56 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
neglected to employ Michelangelo may be doubted.
We have seen from this letter to Lorenzo that the
Cardinal bought a piece of marble and ordered a
life-size statue. But nothing more is heard about
the work. Professor Milanesi, however, has pointed
out that when the sculptor was thinking of leaving
Bome in 1497 he wrote to his father on the ist of
July as follows : " Most revered and beloved father,
do not be surprised that I am unable to return, for
I have not yet settled my affairs with the Cardinal,
and I do not wish to leave until I am properly paid
for my labour; and with these great patrons one
must go about quietly, since they cannot be com-
pelled. I hope, however, at any rate during the
course of next week, to have completed the trans-
action." ^
Michelangelo remained at Rome for more than
two years after the date of the letter just quoted.
We may conjecture, then, that he settled his accounts
with the Cardinal, whatever these were, and we
know that he obtained other orders. In a second
letter to his father, August 19, 1497, he writes thus :
*'Piero de' Medici gave me a commission for a
statue, and I bought the marble. But I did not
begin to work upon it, because he failed to perform
what he promised. Wherefore I am acting on my
own account, and am making a statue for my own
pleasure. I bought the marble for five ducats, and
it turned out bad. So I threw my money away.
1 Lettere, No. L p. 3, and editor's note.
FIRST YEAR IN ROMK 57
Now I have bought another at the same price, and
the work I am doing is for my amusement. You
will therefore understand that I too have large
expenses and many troubles/'^
During the first year of his residence in Rome
(between July 2, 1496, and August 19, 1497) Michel-
angelo must have made some money, else he could
not have bought marble and have worked upon his
own account Vasari asserts that he remained nearly
twelve months in the household of the Cardinal, and
that he only executed a drawing of S. Francis re-
ceiving the stigmata, which was coloured by a barber
in S. Giorgio's service, and placed in the Church of
S. Pietro a Montorio.* Benedetto Varchi describes
this picture as having been painted by Buonarroti's
own hand." We know nothing more for certain
about it How he earned his money is, therefore,
unexplained, except upon the supposition that S.
Giorgio, unintelligent as he may have been in his
patronage of art, paid him for work performed. I
may here add that the Piero de' Medici who gave
the commission mentioned in the last quotation was
the exiled head of the ruling family. Nothing had
to be expected from such a man. He came to Rome
in order to be near the Cardinal Giovanni, and to
share this brother's better fortunes ; but his days
and nights were spent in debauchery among the
companions and accomplices of shameful riot
» Lettere, No. ii. p. 4, * Vasari, p. 169,
> Onmane in MorU di M, A,, cap. 16.
s8 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
V.
Michelangelo, in short, like most young artists,
was struggling into fame and recognition. Both
came to him by the help of a Roman gentleman and
banker, Messer Jacopo Gallo. It so happened that
an intimate Florentine friend of Buonarroti, the
Baldassare Balducci mentioned at the end of his
letter to Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco, was employed in
Gallo's house of business.^ It is probable, there-
fore, that this man formed the link of connection
between the sculptor and his new patron. At all
events, Messer Gallo purchased a Bacchus, which
now adorns the sculpture-gallery of the Bargello,
and a Cupid, which may possibly be the statue at
South Kensington.
Condivi says that this gentleman, ** a man of fine
intelligence, employed him to execute in his own
house a marble Bacchus, ten palms in height, the
form and aspect of which correspond in all parts to
the meaning of ancient authors. The face of the
youth is jocund, the eyes wandering and wanton,
as is the wont with those who are too much addicted
to a taste for wine. In his right hand he holds a
cup, lifting it to drink, and gazing at it like one
^ There are two letten from Qiovanni Balducci to Michelangelo pre-
seryed in the Archivio Buonarroti, Cod. yi. Noa. 45, 46. Both belong
to the summer of 1506.
THE BACCHUS. 59
who takes delight in that liquor, of which he was the
first discoverer. For this reason, too, the sculptor
has wreathed his head with vine-tendrils. On his
left arm hangs a tiger- skin, the heast dedicated to
Bacchus, as heing very partial to the grape. Here
the artist chose rather to introduce the skin than
the animal itself, in order to hint that sensual in-
dulgence in the pleasure of the grape-juice leads at
last to loss of life. With the hand of this arm
he holds a bunch of grapes, which a little satyr,
crouched below liim, is eating on the sly with glad
and eager gestures. The child may seem to be
seven years, the Bacchus eighteen of age/' ^ This
description is comparatively correct, except that
Condivi is obviously mistaken when he supposes
that Michelangelo's young Bacchus faithfully em-
bodies the Greek spirit. The Greeks never forgot,
in all their representations of Dionysos, that he was
a mystic and enthusiastic deity. Joyous, volup-
tuous, androgynous, he yet remains the god who
brought strange gifts and orgiastic rites to men.
His followers, Silenus, Bacchantes, Fauns, exhibit,
in their self-abandonment to sensual joy, the opera-
tion of his genius. The deity descends to join their
revels from his cleax Olympian ether, but he is
not troubled by the fumes of intoxication. Michel-
angelo has altered this conception. Bacchus, with
him, is a terrestrial young man, upon the verge of
toppling over into drunkenness. The value of the
^ Condivi, p. iS.
6o LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
work is its realism. The attitude could not be
sustained in actual life for a moment without either
the goblet spilling its liquor or the body reeling
side-ways. Not only are the eyes wavering and
wanton, but the muscles of the mouth have relaxed
into a tipsy smile ; and, instead of the tiger-skin
being suspended from the left arm, it has slipped
down, and is only kept from falling by the loose
grasp of the trembling hand. Nothing, again, could
be less godlike than the face of Bacchus. It is the
face of a not remarkably good-looking model, and
the head is too small both for the body and the
heavy crown of leaves. As a study of incipient
intoxication, when the whole person is disturbed by
drink, but human dignity has not yet yielded to
a bestial impulse, this statue proves the energy of
Michelangelo's imagination. The physical beauty
of his adolescent model in the limbs and body
redeems the grossness of the motive by the inalien-
able charm of health and carnal comeliness. Finally,
the technical merits of the work cannot too strongly
be insisted on. The modelling of the thorax, the
exquisite roundness and fleshiness of the thighs and
arms and belly, the smooth skin-suiface expressed
throughout in marble, will excite admiration in all
who are capable of appreciating this aspect of the
statuary's art. Michelangelo produced nothing more
finished in execution, if we except the Piet^ at S.
Peter's. His Bacchus alone is sufficient to explode a
theory favoured by some critics, that, left to work
CRITICISM OF THE BACCHUS. 6i
unhindered, he would still have preferred a certain
vagueness, a certain want of polish in his marbles.
Nevertheless, the Bacchus leaves a disagreeable
impression on the mind — as disagreeable in its own
way as that produced by the Christ of the Minerva.
That must be because it is wrong in spiritual con-
ception— brutally materialistic where it ought to
have been noble or graceful. In my opinion, the
frank, joyous naturalism of Sansovino's Bacchus
(also in the Bargello) possesses more of true Greek
inspiration than Michelangelo's. If Michelangelo
meant to carve a Bacchus, he failed ; if he meant
to imitate a physically desirable young man in a
state of drunkenness, he succeeded.
What Shelley wrote upon this statue may here be
introduced,^ since it combines both points of view in
a criticism of much spontaneous vigour.
" The countenance of this figure is the most re-
volting mistake of the spirit and meaning of Bacchus.
It looks drunken, brutal, and narrow-minded, and
has an expression of dissoluteness the most revolting.
The lower part of the figure is stiff, and the manner
in which the shoulders are united to the breast, and
the neck to the head, abundantly inharmonious. It
is altogether without unity, as was the idea of the
deity of Bacchus in the conception of a Catholic.
On the other hand, considered merely as a piece of
workmanship, it has great merits. The arms are
executed in the most perfect and manly beauty ; the
1 Forman's edition of the Prose Works, vol. iii p. 71.
62 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
body is conceived with great energy, and the lines
which describe the sides and thighs, and the manner
in which they mingle into one another, axe of the
highest order of boldness and beauty. It wants, as
a work of art, unity and simplicity ; as a representa-
tion of the Greek deity of Bacchus, it wants every-
thing." '
Jacopo Gallo is said to have also purchased a
Cupid from Michelangelo. It has been suggested,
with great plausibility, that this Cupid was the
piece which Michelangelo began when Piero de'
Medici's commission fell through, and that it there-
fore preceded the Bacchus in date of execution. It
has also been suggested that the so-called Cupid at
South Kensington is the work in question. We
have no authentic information to guide us in the
matter.^ But the South Kensington Cupid is cer-
tainly a production of the master's early manhood.
It was discovered some forty years ago, hidden away
in the cellars of the Gualfonda (Rucellai) Gardens at
Florence, by Professor Miliarini and the famous Flo-
rentine sculptor Santarelli. On a cursory inspection
they both declared it to be a genuine Michelangelo.*
1 Springer (vol. L p. 22) points out that while Oondivi mentions a
Cupid, TJlisee Aldovrandi, who also saw the statue in Messer Qallo's
house at Rome, talks of an Apollo, quite naked, with a quiver at his
side and an um at his feet.
< Heath Wilson, p. 33. Oatalogue qf the Italian Sculpture at th$
Savih Keruington Museum, by J. C. Robinson, pp. 134, 135. The
want of finish in certain portions of the marble is the only sign which
makes me doubt its attribution to Michelangelo's first Roman visit.
THE SOUTH KENSINGTON CUPID. 63
The left arm was broken, the right hand damaged,
and the hair had never received the sculptor's final
touches. Santarelli restored the arm, and the Cupid
passed by purchase into the possession of the English
nation. This fine piece of sculpture is executed
in Michelangelo's proudest, most dramatic manner.
The muscular young man of eighteen, a model of
superb adolescence, kneels upon his right knee, while
the right hand is lowered to lift an arrow from the
ground. The left hand is raised above the head,
and holds the bow, while the left leg is so placed,
with the foot firmly pressed upon the ground, as to
indicate that in a moment the youth will rise, fit
the shaft to the string, and send it whistling at his
adversary. This choice of a momentary attitude is
eminently characteristic of Michelangelo's style ; and,
if we are really to believe that he intended to por-
tray the god of love, it offers another instance of
his independence of classical tradition. No Greek
would have thus represented Erds. The lyric poets,
indeed, Ibycus and Anacreon, imaged him as a fierce
invasive deity, descending like the whirlwind on an
oak, or striking at his victim with an axe. But these
romantic ideas did not find expression, so far as I am
aware, in antique plastic art. Michelangelo's Cupid is
therefore as original as his Bacchus. Much as critics
have written, and with justice, upon the classical ten-
dencies of the Italian Renaissance, they have failed
What else of certain he wrought there, showg a moet scrupulouB seeking
after completion.
64 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
to point out that the Paganism of the Cinque Cento
rarely involved a servile imitation of the antique or
a sympathetic intelligence of its spirit. Least of all
do we find either of these qualities in Michelangelo.
He drew inspiration from his own soul, and he went
straight to Nature for the means of expressing the
conception he had formed. Unlike the Greeks, he
invariably preferred the particular to the universal^
the critical moment of an action to suggestions of
the possibilities of action. He carved an individual
being, not an abstraction or a generalisation of per-
sonality. The Cupid supplies us with a splendid
illustration of this criticism. Being a product of
his early energy, before he had formed a certain
manneristic way of seeing Nature and of reproducing
what he saw, it not only casts light upon the spon-
taneous working of his genius, but it also shows how
the young artist had already come to regard the in-
most passion of the soul. When quite an old man,
rhyming those rough platonic sonnets, he always
spoke of love as masterful and awful. For his
austere and melancholy nature, Er6s was no tender
or light-winged youngling, but a masculine tyrant,
the tamer of male spirits. Therefore this Cupid,
adorable in the power and beauty of his vigorous
manhood, may well remain for us the myth or symbol
of love as Michelangelo imagined that emotion. In
composition, the figure is from all points of view
admirable, presenting a series of nobly varied line-
harmonies. All we have to regret is that time,
s
NATIONAL GAI.LERY MADONNA. 65
exposure to weather, and vulgar outrage should have
spoiled the surface of the marble.*
V.
It is natural to turn from the Cupid to another
work belonging to the English nation, which has
recently been ascribed to Michelangelo. I mean
the Madonna, with Christ, S. John, and four
attendant male figures, once in the possession of
Mr. H. Labouchere, and now in the National
Gallery. We have no authentic tradition regarding
this tempera painting, which in my judgment is
the most beautiful of the easel pictures attributed
to Michelangelo. Internal evidence from style ren-
ders its genuineness in the highest degree probable.
No one else upon the close of the fifteenth century
was capable of producing a composition at once
so complicated, so harmonious, and so clear as the
group formed by Madonna, Christ leaning on her
knee to point a finger at the book she holds, and
the young S. John turned round to combine these
figures with the exquisitely blended youths behind
him. Unfortunately the two angels or genii upon
the left hand are unfinished ; but had the picture
been completed, we should probably have been able
^ There is reason to tbiuk that it stood some two hundred years in
tlie open air, and that it was once used as a mark for pistol-shooiing.
VOL. I. K
66 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
to point out another magnificent episode in the
composition, determined by the transverse line car-
ried from the hand upon the last youth's shoulder,
through the open book and the upraised arm of
Christ, down to the feet of S. John and the last
genius on the right side. Florentine painters had
been wont to place attendant angels at both sides
of their enthroned Madonnas. Fine examples might
be chosen from the work of Filippino Lippi and
Botticelli. But their angels were winged and
clothed like acolytes; the Madonna was seated on
a rich throne or under a canopy, with altar-candles,
wreaths of roses, flowering lilies. It is characteristic
of Michelangelo to adopt a conventional motive, and
to treat it with brusque originality. In this picture
there jire no accessories to the figures, and the
attendant angels are Tuscan lads half draped in
succinct tunics. The style is rather that of a flat
relief in stone than of a painting ; and though we
may feel something of Ghirlandajo's influence, the
spirit of Donatello and Luca della Robbia are more
apparent. That it was the work of an inexperienced
painter is shown by the failure to indicate pictorial
planes. In spite of the marvellous and intricate
beauty of the line-composition, it lacks that eflfect
of graduated distances which might perhaps have
been secured by execution in bronze or marble.
The types have not been chosen with regard to ideal
loveliness or dignity, but accurately studied from
living models. This is very obvious in the heads
NATIONAL GALLERY ENTOMBMENT. 67
of Christ and S. John. The two adolescent genii
on the right hand possess a high degree of natural
grace. Yet even here what strikes one most is
the charm of their attitude, the lovely interlacing
of their arms and breasts, the lithe alertness of
the one lad contrasted with the thoughtful leaning
languor of his comrade. Only perhaps in some
drawings of combined male figures made by Ingres
for his picture of the Golden Age, have lines of
equal dignity and simple beauty been developed.
1 do not think that this Madonna, supposing it to
be a genuine piece by Michelangelo, belongs to the
period of his first residence in Rome. In spite of
its immense intellectual power, it has an air of
immaturity. Probably Heath Wilson was right in
assigning it to the time spent at Florence after
Lorenzo de' Medici's death, when the artist was
about twenty years of age.^
I may take this occasion for dealing summarily
with the Entombment in the National Gallery.
The picture, which is half finished, has no pedigree.
It was bought out of the collection of Cardinal
Fesch, and pronounced to be a Michelangelo by
^ I am indebted to Prof. Middleton for some observations on this pic-
ture. He points out the hesitating brush-work, timid use of hatched
line?, and so forth, in the technique. We know so little about Michel-
angelo^a first essays at painting, and he so strenuously asserted that
painting was not his trade, that I do not feel the indecision noticeable
in the workmanship of this panel to be stringent evidence against its
genuineness. At any rate, if we refuse to acknowledge it us a piece of
his own handiwork, we must accept it as a careful transcript from his
design by one who, like himself, was not by trade a painter.
68 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
the Munich painter Cornelius.^ Good judges have
adopted this attribution, and to differ from them
requires some hardihood. Still it is painful to
believe that at any period of his life Michelangelo
could have produced a composition so discordant,
so unsatisfactory in some anatomical details, so
feelingless and ugly. It bears indubitable traces
of his influence; that is apparent in the figure of
the dead Christ. But this colossal nude, with the
massive chest and attenuated legs, reminds us of
his manner in old age ; whereas the rest of the
picture shows no trace of that manner. I am
inclined to think that the Entombment was the
production of a second-rate citrftsman, working
upon some design made by Michelangelo at the
advanced period when the Passion of our Lord
occupied his thoughts in Rome. Even so, the spirit
of the drawing must have been imperfectly assimil-
ated; and, what is more puzzling, the composition
does not recall the style of Michelangelo's old age.
The colouring, so far as we can understand it, rather
suggests Pontormo.
^ Mr. Robert Macpherson found it in a dealer's shop at Rome in
1846) completely painted over. He had it cleaned, and the under sur-
t'acti was assigned to lilichelangelo.
CARDINAT. DI S. DIONIGI. 69
VI.
Michelangelo's good friend, Jacopo Gallo, was
again helpful to him in the last and greatest work
which he produced during this lloman residence.
The Cardinal Jean de la Groslaye de Villiers
Fran9ois, Abbot of S. Denys, and commonly called
by Italians the Cardinal di San Dionigi/ wished to
have a specimen of the young sculptor's handiwork.
Accordingly articles were drawn up to the following
eflFect on August 26, 1498: "Let it be known and
manifest to whoso shall read the ensuing document,
that the most ttev. Cardinal of S. Dionigi has thus
agreed with the master Michelangelo, sculptor of
Florence, to wit, that the said master shall make a
Pietk of marble at his own cost; that is to say,
a Virgin Mary clothed, with the dead Christ in
her arms, of the size of a proper man, for the price
of 450 golden ducats of the Papal mint, within
the term of one year from the day of the com-
mencement of the work." Next follow clauses
regarding the payment of the money, whereby the
Cardinal agrees to disburse sums in advance. The
contract concludes with a guarantee and surety
given by Jacopo Gallo. "And I, Jacopo Gallo,
pledge my word to his most Kev. Lordship that
^ He Ctiiiie in 1493 as ambassador from Charles VIII. to Alexiinder
VI., when the Borgia gave him the scarlet hat
70 LIFE OF MICHEIANGELO.
the said Michelangelo will finish the said work
within one year, and that it shall be the finest
work in marble which Home to-day can show, and
that no master of our days shall be able to produce
a better. A.nd, in like manner, on the other side,
I pledge my word to the said Michelangelo that
the most Rev. Card, will disburse the payments
according to the articles above engrossed. To
witness which, I, Jacopo Gallo, have made this
present writing with my own hand, according to
date of year, month, and day as above." ^
The Pietk raised Michelangelo at once to the
highest place among the artists of his time, and
it still remains unrivalled for the union of sublime
aesthetic beauty with profound religious feeling.
The mother of the dead Christ is seated on a stone
at the foot of the cross, supporting the body of her
son upon her knees, gazing sadly at his wounded
side, and gently lifting her left hand, as though
to say, " Behold and see ! " She has the small
head and heroic torso used by Michelangelo to
suggest immense physical force. We feel that such
a woman has no difficulty in holding a man's corpse
upon her ample lap and in her powerful arms.
Her face, which diflfers from the female type he
afterwards preferred, resembles that of a young
woman. For this he was rebuked by critics who
thought that her age should correspond more natur-
ally to that of her adult son. Condivi reports that
^ Gotti, ii. p. 33.
THE MADONNA DELLA FEBBRE. 71
Michelangelo explained his meaning in the follow-
ing words : " Do you not know that chaste women
maintain their freshness far longer than the un-
chaste? How much more would this he the case
with a virgin, into whose breast there never crept
the least lascivious desire which could affect the
body ? Nay, I will go further, and hazard the belief
that this unsullied bloom of youth, beside being
maintained in her by natural causes, may have been
miraculously wrought to convince the world of the
virginity and perpetual purity of the Mother. This
was not necessary for the Son. On the contrary,
in order to prove that the Son of God took upon
himself, as in very truth he did take, a human
body, and became subject to all that an ordinary
man is subject to, with the exception of sin ; the
human nature of Christ, instead of being superseded
by the divine, was left to the operation of natural
laws, so that his person revealed the exact age to
which he had attained. You need not, therefore,
marvel if, having regard to these considerations,
I made the most Holy Virgin, Mother of God,
much younger relatively to her Son than women of
her years usually appear, and left the Son such as
his time of life demanded."^ "This reasoning,"
adds Condivi, "was worthy of some learned theo-
logian, and would have been httle short of marvel-
lous in most men, but not in him, whom God and
Nature fashioned, not merely to be peerless in his
^ Condivi, p. 20.
72 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
handiwork, but also capable of the divinest con-
cepts, as innumerable discourses and writings which
we have of his make clearly manifest."
The Christ is also somewhat youthful, and
modelled with the utmost delicacy; suggesting no
lack of strength, but subordinating the idea of
physical power to that of a refined and spiritual
nature. Nothing can be more lovely than the
hands, the feet, the arms, relaxed in slumber.
Death becomes immortally beautiful in that re-
cumbent figure, from which the insults of the
scourge, the cross, the brutal lance have been
erased. Michelangelo did not seek to excite pity
or to stir devotion by having recourse to those
mediaeval ideas which were so passionately expressed
in S. Bernard's hymn to the Crucified. The aesthetic
tone of his dead Christ is rather that of some sweet
solemn strain of cathedral music, some motive from
a mass of Palestrina or a Passion of Sebastian Bach.
Almost involuntarily there rises to the memory that
line composed by Bion for the genius of earthly
loveliness bewailed by everlasting beauty —
E'en as a corpse he is fair, fair corpse as fallen aslumber.
It is said that certain Lombards passing by and
admiring the PietJi, ascribed it to Christoforo Solari
of Milan, surnamed 11 Gobbo. Michelangelo,
having happened to overhear them, shut himself
up in the chapel,' and engraved the belt upon
OBSEQUIES OF ALEXANDER VI. 73
Madonna's breast with his own Lame. This he
never did with any other of his works.*
This masterpiece of highest art combined with
pnre religious feeling was placed in the old Basilica
of S. Peter's, in a chapel dedicated to Our Lady
of the Fever, Madonna della Febbre. Here, on
the night of August 19, 1503, it witnessed one
of those horrid spectacles which in Italy at that
period so often intervened to interrupt the rhythm
of romance and beauty and artistic melody. The
dead body of Eoderigo Borgia, Alexander VT., lay
in state from noon onwards in front of the high
altar ; but since ** it was the most repulsive, mon-
strous, and deformed corpse which had ever yet
been seen, without any form or figure of humanity,
shame compelled them to partly cover it." **Late
in the evening it was transferred to the chapel of
Our Lady of the Fever, and deposited in a corner
by six hinds or porters and two carpenters, who
had made the coffin too narrow and too short.
Joking and jeering, they stripped the tiara and
the robes of office from the body, wrapped it up
in an old carpet, and then with force of fists and
feet rammed it down into the box, without torches,
without a ministering priest, without a single
person to attend and bear a consecrated candle." ^
Of such sort was the vigil kept by this solemn
1 Vasari, p. 171.
* Dispacd di Aiitonw GfiiLsttnian^ ed, P. Villaii, Firenze, Le Moiinier,
^876, voL ii. pp. 124, 458.
74 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
statue, so dignified in grief and sweet in death,
at the ignoble obsequies of him who, occupying the
loftiest throne of Christendom, incarnated the least
erected spirit of his age. The ivory-smooth white
corpse of Christ in marble, set over against that fester-
ing corpse of his Vicar on earth, " black as a piece
of cloth or the blackest mulberry," what a hideous
contrast ! ^
VII.
It may not be inappropriate to discuss the ques-
tion of the Bruges Madonna here. This is a marble
statue, well placed in a chapel of Notre Dame,
relieved against a black marble niche, with excel-
lent illumination from the side. The style is un-
doubtedly Michelangelesque, the execution care-
ful, the surface-finish exquisite, and the type of
the Madonna extremely similar to that of the Pieta
at S. Peter's. She is seated in an attitude of
almost haughty dignity, with the left foot raised
upon a block of stone. The expression of her
features is marked by something of sternness, which
seems inherent in the model. Between her knees
stands, half reclining, half as though wishing to
^ Industrious and unimaginative scholars may do what tbej choose
to whitewash Alexander YI., and excuse him on the score of his being
a child of the age ; but they cannot annul the fact that this man, in
all his appetites, acts, and ambitions, directly contradicted the principles
for which Christ lived and died.
THE BRUGES MADONNA. 75
step downwards from the throne, her infant Son.
One arm rests upon his mother's knee ; the right
hand is thrown round to clasp her left. This
attitude gives grace of rhythm to the lines of his
nude body. True to the realism which controlled
Michelangelo at the commencement of his art
career, the head of Christ, who is but a child,
slightly overloads his slender figure. Physically
he resembles the Infant Christ of our National
Gallery picture, but has more of charm and sweet-
ness. All these indications point to a genuine
product of Michelangelo's first Roman manner ; and
the position of the statue in a chapel ornamented
by the Bruges family of Mouscron renders the attri-
bution almost certain.^ However, we have only two
authentic records of the work among the documents
at our disposal. Condivi, describing the period
of Michelangelo's residence in Florence (1501-
1504), says: **He also cast in bronze a Madonna
with the Infant Christ, which certain Flemish
merchants of the house of Mouscron, a most noble
family in their own land, bought for two hundred
ducats, and sent to Flanders.'' ^ A letter addressed
1 The external evidence in favour of its genuinenens is also strong.
See L'CEuvre d la Vie, p. 253. Albert Dtirer in 1521, and Marcus von
Waernewyck in 1360, both ascribe a Madonna in Notre Dame to
Michelangelo. We have, moreover, an original drawing hj Michel-
angelo in the Taylor Gallery at Oxford, which was clearly made for it.
See Robinson's Critical Accounty &c., p. 18.
* Condivi, p. 23. Vasari, following and altering CondivPs text,
alludes negligently to **a Madonna of bronze in a round, cast for
certain Flemish merchants of the Mouscron family " (Vasari, p. 176).
76 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
under date August 4, 1506, by Giovanni Balducci
in Rome. to Michelangelo at Florence, proves that
some statue which was destined for Flanders re-
mained among the sculptor's property at Florence.
Balducci uses the feminine gender in writing about
this worky which justifies us in thinking that it
may have been a Madonna. He says that he has
found a trustworthy agent to convey it to Viareggio,
and to ship it thence to Bruges, where it will be
delivered into the hands of the heir of John and
Alexander Mouscron and Co., "as being their pro-
perty."^ This statue, in all probability, is the
** Madonna in marble" about which Michelangelo
wrote to his father from Rome on the 3rst of
January 1507, and which he begged his father to
keep hidden in their dwelling.^ It is difficult to
reconcile Condivi's statement with Balducci's letter.
The former says that the Madonna bought by the
Mouscron family was cast in bronze at Florence.
The Madonna in the Mouscron Chapel at Notre
Dame is a marble. I think we may assume that
the Bruges Madonna is the piece which Michel-
angelo executed for the Mouscron brothers, and
that Condivi was wrong in believing it to have
been cast in bronze. That the statue was sent
some time after the order had been given, appears
1 Gotti, ii. 51.
* Lettere, No. iii. Milanese conjeclures tbat the "Madonna in
marble '* wuB the little early bas-relief. But I do not see what I'easoii
Michelangelo had for wishing that not to be seen.
s;o.v.
UIDON'NA iVD Child at Bi:u
MICHELANGELO'S FAMILY. 77
from the fact that Balducci consigned it to the
heir of John and Alexander, ** as being their pro-
perty ; " but it cannot be certain at what exact date
it was begun and finished.
VIII.
While Michelangelo was acquiring immediate
celebrity and immortal fame by these three statues,
so different in kind and hitherto unrivalled in
artistic excellence, his family lived somewhat
wretchedly at Florence. Lodovico had lost his
small post at the Customs after the expulsion of the
Medici ; and three sons, younger than the sculptor,
were now growing up. Buonarroto, born in 1477,
had been put to the cloth-trade, and was serving
under the Strozzi in their warehouse at the Porta
Rossa.^ Giovan-Simone, two years younger (he was
bom in 1479), after leading a vagabond life for
some while, joined Buonarroto in a cloth-business
provided for them by Michelangelo. He was a
worthless fellow, and gave his eldest brother much
trouble. Sigismondo, born in 1481, took to soldier-
ing ; but at the age of forty he settled down upon
^ Tiiia actual engagement iu trade was not considered unwoithy of a
noble family at Florence. The mediseval ordinances of the Republic
even compelled burghers to enroll themselves under one or other of the
Guilds, to buy and sell, as a condition of their right to shai'u in the
govenunetit
78 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
the paternal farm at Settignano, and annoyed
his brother by sinking into the condition of a
common peasant.^ The constant aflFection felt for
these not very worthy relatives by Michelangelo is
one of the finest traits in his character. They were
continually writing begging letters, grumbling and
complaining. He supplied them with funds, stint-
ing himself in order to maintain them decently and
to satisfy their wishes. But the more he gave, the
more they demanded ; and on one or two occasions,
as we shall see in the course of this biography, their
rapacity and ingratitude roused his bitterest indig-
nation. Nevertheless, he did not swerve from the
path of filial and brotherly kindness which his
generous nature and steady will had traced. He
remained the guardian of their interests, the cus-
^ Up to the present date considerable uncertainty has rested upon
the circumstances of Lodovico Buonarroti's two marriages. It did
not seem dear whether Giovan-Simone and Sigismondo were not the
sons of the second wife. Litta, in the Famiglie CeUhrt, throws no light
oil the point Passerini, in the pedigree published by Qotti, vol, ii.,
represents the first wife, Francesco, as having died in 1497, while he
assigns the marriage of Lucrezia, the second wife, to the year 1485 — a
gross and obvious blunder. Heath Wilson fixes 1497 as the date of
Francesca's death, but is discreetly silent about the time of Lucrezia's
marriage. Springer (vol. i. p. 7) adheres to 1485 as the date of the
second marriage ; but in the pedigree (ibid. p. 303) he represents the
two younger sons, born in 1479 and 1 481, as the children of the second
wife, Lucrezia — also a gross and obvious blunder. I am now in a posi-
tion to state upon documentary evidence that Francesca was married in
1472, and was the mother of all the five sons. Lucrezia was married in
1485, had no children, died in 1497, and was buried on July 9 in the
Church of S. Croce. T)ie registration of this burial in the Libro dei
Morti (Archivio di Stato) was wrongly referred by Passerini to Fi-an-
cesca, iLu first wife. See documents in Appendix, No. I.
DOMESTIC CORRESPONDENCE. 79
todian of their honour, and the builder of their
fortunes to the end of his long life. The corre-
spondence with his father and these brothers and a
nephew, Lionardo, was published in full for the first
time in 1875. It enables us to comprehend the
true nature of the man better than any biographi-
cal notice ; and I mean to draw largely upon this
source, so as gradually, by successive stipplings, as
it were, to present a miniature portrait of one who
was both admirable in private life and incomparable
as an artist.
This correspondence opens in the year 1497.
From a letter addressed to Lodovico under the date
August 19, we learn that Buonarroto had just arrived
in Rome, and informed his brother of certain pecu-
niaiy difficulties under which the family was labour-
ing. Michelangelo gave advice, and promised to send
all the money he could bring together. "Although,
as I have told you, I am out of pocket myself, I will
do my best to get money, in order that you may not
have to borrow from the Monte, as Buonarroto says
is possible.' Do not wonder if I have sometimes
written irritable letters ; for I often suffer great dis-
tress of mind and temper, owing to matters which
must happen to one who is away from home. . . .
In spite of all this, I will send you what you ask for,
even should I have to sell myself into slavery."*
^ The Monte di Piet& wa^s established as a state institutiun to lend
money on aecurity.
- Lettere, No. ii. p. 4.
8o LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Buonan'oto must have paid a second visit to
Roipe ; for we possess a letter from Lodovico to
Michelangelo, under date December 19, 1500, which
throws important light upon the latters habits
and designs. The old man begins by saying how
happy he is to observe the love which Michel-
angelo bears his brothers. Then he speaks about the
cloth business which Michelangelo intends to pur-
chase for them. Afterwards, he proceeds as fol-
lows : " Buonarroto tells me that you live at Rome
with great economy, or rather penuriousness. Now
economy is good, but penuriousness is evil, seeing
that it is a vice displeasing to God and men, and
moreover injurious both to soul and body. So
long as you are young, you will be able for a time
to endure these hardships ; but when the vigour of
youth fails, then diseases and infirmities make their
appearance ; for these are caused by personal dis-
comforts, mean living, and penurious habits. As I
said, economy is good ; but, above all things, shun
stinginess. Live discreetly well, and see you have
what is needful. Whatever happens, do not expose
yourself to physical hardships; for in your pro-
fession, if yox^ • were once to fall ill (which God
forbid), you would be a ruined man. Above all
things, take care of your head, and keep it mode-
rately warm, and see that you never wash : have
yourself rubbed down, but do not wash."^ This
^ Qotti, p. 23. This adyice is so peculiar that I will copy the original :
'* E DOD ti lavare mai ; fatti stropicciare e non ti lavare."
PERSONAL HABITS. 8i
sordid way of life became habitual with Michel-
angelo. When he was dwelling at Bologna in 1 506,
he wrote home to his brother Buonarroto : " With
regard to Giovan-Simone's proposed visit, I do not
advise him to come yet awhile, for I am lodged here
in one wretched room, and have bought a single
bed, in which we all four of us (i.e., himself and his
three workmen) sleep." ^ And again : " I am impa-
tient to get away from this place, for my mode of
life here is so wretched, that if you only knew what
it is, you would be miserable." ^ The summer was
intensely hot at Bologna, and the plague broke out
In these circumstances it seems miraculous that the
four sculptors in one bed escaped contagion. Michel-
angelo's parsimonious habits were not occasioned by
poverty or avarice. He accumulated large sums of
money by his labour, spent it freely on his family,
and exercised bountiful charity for the welfare of his
soul. We ought rather to ascribe them to some
constitutional peculiarity, affecting his whole tem*
peramenty and tinging his experience with despond-
ency and gloom. An absolute insensibility to merely
decorative details, to the loveliness of jewels, stuffs,
and natural objects, to flowers and trees and pleasant
landscapes, to everything, in short, which delighted
the Italians of that period, is a main characteristic
of his art. This abstraction and aridity, this ascetic
devotion of his genius to pure ideal form, this almost
mathematical conception of beauty, may be ascribed,
1 Lettere, No. xlviii. p. 61. '•* Lcttere, No. Ixxiv. p. 90.
VOI. I. F
82 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
I think, to the same psychological qualities which
determined the dreary conditions of his home-life.
He was no niggard either of money or of ideas ; nay,
even profligate of both. But melancholy made him
miserly in all that concerned personal enjoyment ;
and he ought to have been bom under that leaden
planet Saturn rather than Mercury and Venus in the
house of Jove. Condivi sums up his daily habits
thus : " He has always been extremely temperate in
living, using food more because it was necessary
than for any pleasure he took in it ; especially when
he was engaged upon some great work ; for then he
usually confined himself to a piece of bread, which
he ate in the middle of his labour. However, for
some time past, he has been living with more regard
to health, his advanced age putting this constraint
upon his natural inclination. Often have I heard
him say : * Ascanio, rich as I may have been, I have
always lived like a poor man.' And this abstemi-
ousness in food he has practised in sleep also ; for
sleep, according to his own account, rarely suits
his constitution, since he continually suffers from
pains in the head during slumber, and any excessive
amount of sleep deranges his stomach. While he
was in full vigour, he generally went to bed with
his clothes on, even to the tall boots, which he has
always worn, because of a chronic tendency to cramp,
as well as for other reasons. At certain seasons he
has kept these boots on for such a length of time,
that when he drew them off the skin came away
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE. 83
together with the leather, like that of a sloughing
snake. He was never stingy of cash, nor did he
accumulate money, being content with just enough
to keep him decently ; wherefore, though innumer-
able lords and rich folk have made him splendid
offers for some specimen of his craft, he rarely com-
plied, and then, for the most part, more out of
kindness and friendship than with any expectation
of gain." ^ In spite of all this, or rather because
of his temperance in food and sleep and sexual
pleasure, together with his manned industry, he pre-
served excellent health into old age.
I have thought it worth while to introduce this
general review of Michelangelo's habits, without
omitting some details which may seem repulsive
to the modem reader, at an early period of his
biography, because we ought to carry with us
through the vicissitudes of his long career and
many labours an accurate conception of our hero's
personality. For this reason it may not be un-
profitable to repeat what Condivi says about his
physical appearance in the last years of his life.
'' Michelangelo is of a good complexion ; more
muscular and bony than fat or fleshy in his per-
son: healthy above all things, as well by reason
of his natural constitution as of the exercise he
takes, and habitual continence in food and sexual
indulgence. Nevertheless, he was a weakly child,
and has suffered two illnesses in manhood. His
* Condivi, p. 81.
84 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
countenance always showed a good and whole-
some colour. Of stature he is as follows : height
middling; broad in the shoulders; the rest of the
body somewhat slender in proportion. The shape
of his face is oval, the space above the ears being
one sixth higher than a semicircle. Consequently
the temples project beyond the ears, and the ears
beyond the cheeks, and these beyond the rest; so
that the skull, in relation to the whole head, must
be called large. The forehead, seen in front, is
square ; the nose, a little flattened — not by nature,
but because, when he was a young boy, Torrigiano
de' Torrigiani, a brutal and insolent fellow, smashed
in the cartilage with his fist. Michelangelo was
carried home half dead on this occasion ; and
Torrigiano, having been exiled from Florence for
his violence, came to a bad end. The nose, how-
ever, being what it is, bears a proper proportion
to the forehead and the rest of the face. The lips
are thin, but the lower is slightly thicker than the
upper; so that, seen in profile, it projects a little.
The chin is well in harmony with the features
I have described. The forehead, in a side-view,
almost hangs over the nose ; and this looks hardly
less than broken, were it not for a trifling pro-
tuberance in the middle. The eyebrows are not
thick with hair; the eyes may even be called
small, of a colour like horn, but speckled and
stained with spots of bluish yellow. The ears in
good proportion; hair of the head black, as also
EVEN TENOR OF LIFE. 85
the beard, except that both are now grizzled by
old age ; the beard double-forked, about five inches
long, and not very bushy, as may partly be observed
in his portrait."
We have no contemporary account of Michel-
angelo in early manhood; but the tenor of his
life was so even, and, unlike Cellini, he moved so
constantly upon the same lines and within the same
sphere of patient self-reserve, that it is not diflScult
to reconstruct the young and vigorous sculptor out
of this detailed description by his loving friend and
servant in old age. Few men, notably few artists,
have preserved that continuity of moral, intellectual,
and physical development in one unbroken course
which is the specific characterisation of Michel-
angelo. As years advanced, his pulses beat less
quickly and his body shrank. But the man did
not altei'. With the same lapse of years, his style
grew drier and more abstract, but it did not alter
in quality or depart from its ideal. He seems to
me in these respects to be like Milton : wholly
unlike the plastic and assimilative genius of a
Raphael.
CHAPTER III.
I. Michelangelo returns to Florence early in 1501. — His fame is now
estAblisbed. — Order for firteen statues of male saints to be placed in
the Cathedral of Siena.— Order for the David at Florence. — History
of the marble.— Agostino di Guccio. — 2. Michelangelo completes
the David in two years. — Tlie Council of Notables convened to
decide upon its place. — Removal of the statue to the Piazzn. —
Subsequent liistory of the David.— 3. Criticism of the David. — Its
realistic quality. — Michelangelo's metliod of working in marble. —
Cellini's and Vasari's accounts of the sculptor's art in their age. —
4. Soderini, Gonfalonier of Florence. — Story about him and the
David. — He commissions Michelangelo to cast another David, and
a copy of Donatello's David for France. — History of the second
David in bronze.- Order to make twelve marble Apostles for the
Duomo. — ^The S. Matteo. — Michelangelo worked with the left hand
as well as the right. — 5. The circular bas-reliefs of the Holy Family
at Florence and in London. — Their picturesque treatment — The
Doni Holy Family at the Uffizi. — 6. Lionardo da Vinci engaged to
paint one side of the Sala del Gran Consiglio. — Michelangelo com-
missioned to paint the other side. — ^The Cartoons for the Battle
of the Standard and the Battle of Pisa. — Michelangelo's literary
interests become prominent at this period.
I.
Michelangelo returned to Florence in the spring
of 1 501. Condivi says that domestic affairs com-
pelled him to leave Rome, and the correspondence
with his father makes this not improbable. He
brought a heightened reputation back to his native
city. The Bacchus and the Madonna, della Febbre had
^
COMMISSION FROM SIENA. 87
placed him in advance of any sculptor of his time.
Indeed, in these first years of the sixteenth century he
may he said to have heen the only Tuscan sculptor
of commanding eminence.^ Ghiberti, Delia Querela,
Brunelleschi, Donatello, all had joined the majority
before his birth. The second group of distinguished
craftsmen — Verocchio, Luca della Bobbia, Rossel-
lino, Da Maiano, Civitali, Desiderio da Settignano —
expired at the commencement of the century. It
seemed as though a gap in the ranks of plastic
artists had purposely been made for the entrance
of a predominant and tyrannous personaUty. Jacopo
Tatti, called Sansovino, was the only man who might
have disputed the place of pre-eminence with Michel-
angelo, and Sansovino chose Venice for the theatre
of his life-labours. In these circumstances, it is
not singular that commissions speedily began to
overtax the busy sculptor's power of execution. I
do not mean to assert that the Italians, in the year
1 50 1, were conscious of Michelangelo's unrivalled
qualities, or sensitive to the corresponding limita-
tions which rendered these qualities eventually
baneful to the evolution of the arts; but they
could not help feeling that in this young man of
twenty-six they possessed a first-rate craftsman, and
one who had no peer among contemporaries.
The first order of this year came from the Cardinal
^ What his contemporaries thought of him may be seen from a letter
of Piero Soderini to the Marchese Alberigo Malaspina of Massa (Gaye, iL
107) : ^^ Non easendo homo in Italia apto ad expedire una opera di coteata
qaaliU^ h neceasario che Ini solo, e non altro," ftc
88 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Francesco Piccolomini, who was afterwards elected
Pope in 1503, and who died after reigning three
weeks with the title of Pius III. He wished to
decorate the Piccolomini Chapel in the Duomo of
Siena with fifteen statues of male saints. A contract
was signed on June 5, by which Michelangelo agreed
to complete these figures within the space of three
years. One of them, a S. Francis, had been already
begun by Piero Torrigiano ; and this, we have some
reason to believe, was finished by the master's hand.
Accounts differ about his share in the remaining
fourteen statues ; but the matter is of no great
moment, seeing that the style of the work is con-
ventional, and the scale of the figures disagreeably
squat and dumpy. It seems almost impossible that
these ecclesiastical and tame pieces should have
been produced at the same time as the David and
by the same hand. Neither Vasari nor Condivi
speaks about them, although it is certain that Michel-
angelo was held bound to his contract during several
years. Upon the death of Pius III., he renewed it
with the Pope's heirs, Jacopo and Andrea Picco-
lomini, by a deed dated September 15, 1504 ; and in
1537 Anton Maria Piccolomini, to whom the inherit-
ance succeeded, considered himself Michelangelo's
creditor for the sum of a hundred crowns, which had
been paid beforehand for work not finished by the
sculptor.^
1 The documents upon which these transactions rest will be found in
G. Milanesi's DocuTnenti per la Storia delV Arte Senese. Siena : Porri,
•w
t
STATtR OK Davih.
COMMISSION FOR THE DAVID. 89
A far more important commission was intrusted
to Michelangelo in August of the same year, 1501.
Condivi, after mentioning his return to Florence, tells
the history of the colossal David in these words:
"Here he staved some time, and made the statue
which stands in front of the great door of the Palace
of the Signory, and is called the Giant by all people.
It came about in this way. The Board of Works
at S. Maria del Fiore owned a piece of marble nine
cubits in height, which had been brought from Carrara
some hundred years before by a sculptor insufficiently
acquainted with his art. This was evident, inasmuch
as, wishing to convey it more conveniently and with
less labour, he had it blocked out in the quarry, but
in such a manner that neither he nor any one else
was capable of extracting a statue from the block,
either of the same size, or even on a much smaller
scale. The marble being, then, useless for any good
purpose, Andrea del Monte San Savino thought
that he might get possession of it from the Board,
and begged them to make him a present of it, pro-
mising that he would add certain pieces of stone and
carve a statue from it. Before they made up their
minds to give it, they sent for Michelangelo ; then,
after explaining the wishes and the views of Andrea,
and considering his own opinion that it would be
1856, vol. iii. A drawing of a bearded saint, iieavily draped, cowled,
and holding' a book in Iiis left hand, now at the British Museum, u
ascribed to Michelangelo. It may have been made for one of the
Piccolomini statues.
90 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
possible to extract a good thing from the block, they
finally oflFered it to him. Michelangelo accepted,
added no pieces, and got the statue out so exactly,
that, as any one may see, in the top of the head and
at the base some vestiges of the rough surface of
the marble still remain. He did the same in other
works, as, for instance, in the Contemplative Life
upon the tomb of Julius ; indeed, it is a sign left by
masters on their work, proving them to be absolute
in their art. But in the David it was much more
remarkable, for this reason, that the difficulty of the
task was not overcome by adding pieces ; and also he
had to contend with an ill-shaped marble. As he
used to say himself, it is impossible, or at least
extraordinarily difficult, in statuary to set right the
faults of the blocking out. He received for this
work 400 ducats, and carried it out in eighteen
months."
The sculptor who had spoiled this block of
marble is called "Maestro Simone" by Vasari; but
the abundant documents in our possession, by aid of
which we are enabled to trace the whole history of
Michelangelo*s David with minuteness, show that
Vasari was misinformed.^ The real culprit was
Agostino di Antonio di Duccio, or Guccio, who had
succeeded with another colossal statue for the
Duomo.* He is honourably known in the history of
I'uscan sculpture by his reliefs upon the fa9ade of
^ These documents wiU be found in Gaye, vol. ii. pp. 454-464.
* See Gaye, vol. ii. pp. 465-468.
THE SPOILED BLOCK OF MARBLE. 91
the Daomo at Modena, describing episodes in the
life of S. Gemignano, by the romantically charming
reliefs in marble, with terracotta settings, on the Ora-
tory of S. Bernardino at Perugia, and by a large
amount of excellent surface- work in stone upon the
chapels of S. Francesco at Rimini.^ We gather from
one of the contracts with Agostino that the marble
was originally blocked out for some prophet.* But
Michelangelo resolved to make a David ; and two
wax models, now preserved in the Museo Buonarroti,
neither of which corresponds exactly with the statue
as it exists, show that he felt able to extract a
colossal figure in various attitudes from the damaged
block. In the first contract signed between the Con-
suls of the Arte della Lana, the Operai del Duomo,
and the sculptor, dated August 16, 1501, the terms
are thus settled : " That the worthy master Michel-
angelo, son of Lodovico Buonarroti, citizen of
Florence, has been chosen to fashion, complete, and
finish to perfection that male statue called the
1 Agostino was bom in 14 18. He worked at Modena in 1443, and in
1446 was banished on a charge of theft from Florence. Yriarte con-
jiicturea-tbat after this date he laboured at Rimini, ascribing to him the
bas-reliefs of the planets and the zodiac in the Ohapel of the S. Sacra-
ment, together with the tUaecicUo decorations of the Chapel of S. Sigis-
mond and those of the Ohapel of S. Gaudenzio, all in the Temple of
the Malatesta family. Between 1459 and 1461 he worked at Perugia.
The Operai del Duomo at Florence commissioned the Colossus in 1464,
and withdrew their order in 1466. He died after 148 1. See Yriarte,
Rimini, Paris : Rothschild, 1882, p. 407, &c.
' " Locaverunt Aghostino Qhucci, scultori, cit flor., unam figuram di
marmo biancho a chavare a Charara di braccia nove, a ghuisa di
gughante, in vece e nome di . • . profeta."
92 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Giant, of nine cubits in height,^ now existing in the
workshop of the cathedral, blocked out aforetime by
Master Agostino of Florence, and badly blocked ;
and that the work shall be completed within the
term of the next ensuing two years, dating from
September, at a salary of six golden jBorins per
month ; ^ and that what is needful for the accom-
plishment of this task, as workmen, timbers, &c.,
which he may require, shall be supplied him by the
Operai ; and when the statue is finished, the Consuls
and Operai who shall be in office shall estimate
whether he deserve a larger recompense, and this
shall be left to their consciences."
11.
Michelangelo began to work on a Monday morn-
ing, September 13, in a wooden shed erected for the
purpose, not far from the cathedral. On the 28th
of Febniaiy 1502, the statue, which is now called
for the first time " the Giant, or David," was brought
so far forward that the judges declared it to be half
finished, and decided that the sculptor should be
paid in all 4CX) golden florins, including the stipu-
lated salaiy. He seems to have laboured assidu-
^ The Florentine hraccio is said to Le fifty -nine centimetres. The
English cubit is eighteen inches.
* Qotti estimates* six florins at 57.60 in francs, or about ;^2, 6s.
A COUNCIL OF NOTABLES. 93
ously durlDg the next two yeaxs, for by a minute of
the 2Sth of January 1504 the David is said to be
almost entirely finished. On this date a solemn
council of the most important artists resident in
Florence was convened at the Opera del Duomo to
consider where it should be placed.
We possess full minutes of this meeting, and they
are so curious that I shall not hesitate to give a
somewhat detailed account of the proceedings.*
Messer Francesco Filarete, the chief herald of the
Signory, and himself an architect of some preten-
sions, opened the discussion in a short speech to
this effect : " I have turned over in my mind those
suggestions which my judgment could afford me.
You have two places where the statue may be set
up : the first, that where the Judith stands ; the
second, in the middle of the courtyard where the
David is.* The first might be selected, because the
Judith is an omen of evil, and no fit object where it
stands, we having the cross and lily for our ensign ;
besides, it is not proper that the woman should kill
the male ; and, above all, this statue was erected
under an evil constellation, since you have gone
continually from bad to worse since then. Pisa has
been lost too. The David of the courtyard is im-
perfect in the right leg ; and so I should counsel
you to put the Giant in one of these places, but I
* Gave, ii. 455.
* Donatello's Judith used to stand outside the great door of the
Palazzo Vecchio, where the David was eventually placed. A bronze
David by Donatello stood iir the court of the Palazzo.
94 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
give the preference myself to that of the Judith."
The herald, it will be perceived, took for granted
that Michelangelo's David would be erected in the
immediate neighbourhood of the Palazzo Vecchio.
The next speaker, Francesco Monciatto, a wood-
carver, advanced the view that it ought to be placed
in front of the Duomo, where the Colossus was
originally meant to be put up. He was immediately
followed, and his resolution was seconded, by no less
personages than the painters Cosimo Rosselli and
Sandro Botticelli. Then Giuliano da San Gallo, the
illustrious architect, submitted a third opinion to
the meeting. He began his speech by observing
that he agreed with those who wished to choose the
steps of the Duomo, but due consideration caused
him to alter his mind. "The imperfection of the
marble, which is softened by exposure to the air,
rendered the durability of the statue doubtful. He
therefore voted for the middle of the Loggia dei
Lanzi, where the David would be under cover."
Messer Angelo di Lorenzo Manfidi, second herald
of the Signory, rose to state a professional objection.
** The David, if erected under the middle arch of the
Loggia, would break the order of the ceremonies
practised there by the Signory and other magis-
trates. He therefore proposed that the arch facing
the Palazzo (where Donatello's Judith is now)
should be chosen." The three succeeding speakers,
people of no great importance, gave their votes in
favour of the chief herald's resolution. Others
SITE CHOSEN FOR THE DAVID. 95
followed San Gallo, among whom was the illustrious
Lionardo da Vinci. He thought the statue could
be placed under the middle arch of the Loggia
without hindrance to ceremonies of state. Salvestro,
a jeweller, and Filippino Lippi, the painter, were
of opinion that the neighbourhood of the Palazzo
should be adopted, but that the precise spot should
be left to the sculptor's choice. Gallieno, an em-
broiderer, and David Ghirlandajo, the painter, sug-
gested a new place — namely, where the lion or
Marzocco stood on the Piazza. Antonio da San
Gallo, the architect, and Michelangelo, the gold-
smith, father of Baccio Bandinelli, supported Giuli-
ano da San Gallo's motion. Then Giovanni PiflFero —
that is, the father of Benvenuto Cellini — brought the
discussion back to the courtyard of the palace. He
thought that in the Loggia the statue would be
only partly seen, and that it would run risks of
injury from scoundrels. Giovanni delle Corniole,
the incomparable gem-cutter, who has left us the
best portrait of Savonarola, voted with the two San
Galli, '* because he hears the stone is soft." Piero
di Cosimo, the painter, and teacher of Andrea del
Sarto, wound up the speeches with a strong recom-
mendation that the choice of the exact spot should
be left to Michelangelo Buonarroti. This was even-
tually decided on, and he elected to have his David
set up in the place preferred by the chief herald —
that is to say, upon the steps of the Palazzo Vecchio,
on the right side of the entrance.
96 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
U'he next thing was to get the mighty mass of
sculptured marble safely moved from the Duomo
to the Palazzo. On the ist of April, Simone del
PoUajuolo, called II Cronaca, was commissioned to
make the necessary preparations ; but later on, upon
the 30th, we find Antonio da San Gallo, Baccio
d'Agnolo, Bernardo della Ciecha, and Michelangelo
associated with him in the work of transportation.
An enclosure of stout beams and planks was made
and placed on movable rollers. In the middle of
this the statue hung suspended, with a certain
liberty of swaying to the shocks and lurches of the
vehicle. More than forty men were employed upon
the windlasses which drew it slowly forward. In
a contemporary record we possess a full account
of the transit:^ ** On the 14th of May 1504, the
marble Giant was taken from the Opera. It came
out at 24 o'clock, and they broke the wall above
the gateway enough to let it pass. That night some
stones were thrown at the Colossus with intent to
harm it Watch had to be kept at night; and it
made way very slowly, bound as it was upright,
suspended in the air with enormous beams and
intricate machinery of ropes. It took four days to
reach the Piazza, arriving on the i8th at the hour
of 1 2. Moi'e than forty men were employed to make
it go; and there were fourteen rollers joined be-
neath it, which were changed from hand to hand.
Afterwards, they worked until the 8th of June
* Gave, vol. ii. p. 464.
SUBSEQUENT HISTORY OF THE DAVID.. 97
1 504 to place it on the platform {Hnghiera) where
the Judith used to stand. The Judith was re-
moved and set upon the ground within the palace.
The said Giant was the work of Michelangelo
Buonarroti." ^
Where the masters of Florence placed it, under
the direction of its maker, Michelangelo's great
white David stood for more than three centuries
uncovered, open to all injuries of frost and rain,
and to the violence of citizens, until, for the better
preservation of this masterpiece of modern art, it
was removed in 1873 to a hall of the Accademia
delle Belle Arti.* On the whole, it has suffered
very little. Weather has slightly worn away the
extremities of the left foot; and in 1527, during a
popular tumult, the left arm was broken by a huge
stone cast by the assailants of the palace. Giorgio
Vasari tells us how, together with his friend Cec-
chino Salviati, he collected the scattered pieces, and
brought them to the house of Michelangelo Salviati,
the father of Cecchino.* They were subsequently
put together by the care of the Grand Duke Cosimo,
and restored to the statue in the year 1543.*
^ In a note to Gotti, vol. i. p. 29, there is another interesting account
of this traniiit of the David, from ijie MS. Stor, Fior, of Pietro Parenti.
^ For a full account of this transaction, see Gotti, vol. ii- pp« 35~5i*
' Vasari, vol. xii. p. 49. * Gotti, vol. L p. 31.
VOL. I. C5
98 • LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
IIL
In the David Michelangelo first displayed that
quality of terribilM, of spirit-quailing, awe-inspiring
force, for which he afterwards became so famous.
The statue imposes, not merely by its size and
majesty and might, but by something vehement in
the conception. He was, however, far from having
yet adopted those systematic proportions for the
human body which later on gave an air of mono-
tonous impressiveness to all his figures. On the
contrary, this young giant strongly recalls the model ;
still more strongly indeed than the Bacchus did.
Wishing perhaps to adhere strictly to the Biblical
story, Michelangelo studied a lad whose frame was
not developed. The David, to state the matter
frankly, is a colossal hobbledehoy. His body, in
breadth of the thorax, depth of the abdomen, and
general stoutness, has not grown up to the scale
of the enormous hands and feet and heavy head.
We feel that he wants at least two years to become
a fully developed man, passing from adolescence to
the maturity of strength and beauty. This close
observance of the imperfections of the model at a
certain stage of physical growth is very remarkable,
and not altogether pleasing in a statue more than
nine feet high. Both Donatello and Verocchio had
treated their Davids in the same realistic manner.
DESCRIPTION OF THE DAVID. 99
«
but they were working on a small scale and in
bronze. I insist upon this point, because students
of Michelangelo have been apt to overlook his ex-
treme sincerity and naturalism in the first stages of
his career.
Having acknowledged that the head of David is
too massive and the extremities too largely formed
for ideal beauty, hypercriticism can hardly find fault
with the modelling and execution of each part.
The attitude selected is one of great dignity and
vigour. The heroic boy, quite certain of victory,
is excited by the coming contest. His brows are
violently contracted, the nostrils tense and quivering,
the eyes fixed keenly on the distant Philistine. His
larynx rises visibly, and the sinews of his left thigh
tighten, as though the whole spirit of the man were
braced for a supreme endeavour. In his right hand,
kept at a just middle point between the hip and
knee, he holds the piece of wood on which his sling
is hung. The sling runs round his back, and the
centre of it, where the stone bulges, is held with the
left hand, poised upon the left shoulder, ready to
be loosed. We feel that the next movement will
involve the right hand straining to its full extent
the sling, dragging the stone away, and whirling it
into the air; when, after it has sped to strike
Goliath in the forehead, the whole lithe body of
the lad will have described a curve, and recovered
its perpendicular position on the two firm legs.
Michelangelo invariably chose some decisive moment
100 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
in the action he had to represent ; and though he
was working here under difficulties, owing to the
limitations of the damaged block at his disposal, he
contrived to suggest the* imminence of swift and
sudden energy which shall disturb the equilibrium
of his young giant's pose. Critics of this statue,
deceived by its superficial resemblance to some
Greek athletes at rest, have neglected the candid
realism of the momentary act foreshadowed. They
do not understand the meaning of the sling.
Even Heath Wilson, for instance, writes : " The
massive shoulders are thrown back, the right arm
is pendent, and the right hand grasps resolutely the
stone with which the adversary is to be slain." ^
This entirely falsifies the sculptor's motive, misses
the meaning of the sling, renders the broad strap
behind the back superfluous, and changes into mere
plastic symbolism what Michelangelo intended to be
a moment caught from palpitating life.
It has often been remarked that David's head is
modelled upon the type of Dotiatello's S. George
at Orsanmichele. The observation is just; and it
suggests a comment on the habit Michelangelo early
formed of treating the face idealistically, however
much he took from study of his models. Vasari,
for example, says that he avoided portraiture, and
composed his faces by combining several individuals.
We shall see a new ideal type of the male head
* Heath Wilson, p. 51. Springer, and indeed all critics, make the
6ame mistake.
1) Left Lerb or tbb David.
METHODS OF WORKING MARBLE. loi
emerge in a group of statues, among which the
most distinguished is Giuliano de' Medici at San
Lorenzo. We have already seen a female type
created in the Madonnas of S. Peter's and Notre
Dame at Bruges. But this is not the place to dis-
cuss Michelaogelo's theory of form in general. That
must be reserved until we enter the Sistine Chapel,
in order to survey the central and the crowning
product of his genius in its prime.
We have every reason to believe that Michel-
angelo carved his David with no guidance but
drawings and a small wax model of about eighteen
inches in heiglit. The inconvenience of this method,
which left the sculptor to wreak his fury on the
marble with mallet and chisel, can be readily con-
ceived. In a famous passage, disinterred by M.
Mariette from a French scholar of the sixteenth
century, we have this account of the fiery master's
system : ^ " I am able to affirm that I have seen
Michelangelo, at the age of more than sixty years,
and not the strongest for his time of life, knock off
more chips from an extremely hard marble in one
quarter of an hour than three young stone-cutters
could have done in three or four — a thing quite
incredible to one who has not seen it. He put
such impetuosity and fury into his work, that I
thought the whole must fly to pieces; hurling to
the ground at one blow great fragments three or
1 Condivi, p. i88. Mariette quotes from Blaise de Yigenere's annota- ^^
tiona to the Images of Philostratus. « V\ \- ^
•\.
• • • ^ • •
.*. : : .; .*: .*. •'•
I02 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
four inches thick, shaving the line so closely, that
if he had overpassed it hy a hair's-breadth, he ran
the risk of losing all, since one cannot mend a
marble afterwards or repair mistakes, as one does
with figures of clay and stucco." It is said that,
owing to this violent way of attacking his marble,
Michelangelo sometimes bit too deep into the stone,
and had to abandon a promising piece of sculp-
ture. This is one of the ways of accounting for his
numerous unfinished statues. Accordingly a myth
has sprung up representing the great master as
working in solitude upon huge blocks, with nothing
but a sketch in wax before him. Fact is always
more interesting than fiction ; and, while I am upon
the topic of his method, I will introduce what
Cellini has left written on this subject. In his
treatise on the Art of Sculpture, Cellini lays down
the rule that sculptors in stone ought first to make
a little model two palms high, and after this to
form another as large as the statue will have to be.^
He illustrates this by a critique of his illustrious
predecessors. " Albeit many able artists rush boldly
on the stone with the fierce force of mallet and
chisel, relying on the little model and a good
design, yet the result is never found by them to be
so satisfactory as when they fashion the model on
a large scale. This is proved by our Donatello,
who was a Titan in the art, and afterwards by
^ / TraUaii ddT Oreficeria^ etc., di Benvenuto CeUvn/L Fiienze : Lo
Monnier, 1857, p. 197.
CELLINFS AND VASARPS STATEMENTS. 103
the stupendous Michelangelo, who worked in both
ways. Discovering latterly that the small models fell
far short of what his excellent genius demanded,
he adopted the habit of making most careful models
exactly of the same size as the marble statue was
to be. This we have seen with our own eyes in the
Sacristy of S. Lorenzo. Next, when a man is satis-
fied with his full-sized model, he must take charcoal,
and sketch out the main view of his figure on the
marble in such wise that it shall be distinctly traced ;
for he who has not previously settled his design may
sometimes find himself deceived by the chiselling
irons. Michelangelo's method in this matter was
the best. He used first to sketch in the principal
aspect, and then to begin work by removing the
surface stone upon that side, just as if he intended
to fashion a figure in half-relief ; and thus he went
on gradually uncovering the rounded form."
Vasari, speaking of four rough-hewn Captives,
possibly the figures now in a grotto of the Boboli
Gardens, says : ^ " They are well adapted for teach-
ing a beginner how to extract statues from the
marble without injury to the stone. The safe
method which they illustrate may be described as
follows. You first take a model in wax or some
other hard material, and place it lying in a vessel
full of water. The water, by its nature, presents a
level surface ; so that, if you gradually lift the
model, the higher parts are first exposed, while the
* Vasari, xii. 273.
I04 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
lower parts remain submerged ; and proceeding thus,
the whole round shape at length appears above the
water. Precisely in the same way ought statues
to be hewn out from the marble with the chisel;
first uncovering the highest surfaces, and proceeding
to disclose the lowest. This method was followed
by Michelangelo while blocking out the Captives,
and therefore his Excellency the Duke was fain
to have them used as models by the students in
his Academy." It need hardly be remarked that
the ingenious process of " pointing the marble " by
means of the "pointing machine" and "scale-
stones," which is at present universally in use
Eimong sculptors, had not been invented in the six-
teenth century.
IV.
I cannot omit a rather childish story which
Vasari tells about the David.^ After it had been
placed upon its pedestal before the palace, and
while the scaflFolding was still there, Piero Soderini,
who loved and admired Michelangelo, told him
that he thought the nose too large. The sculptor
immediately ran up the ladder till he reached a
point upon the level of the giant's shoulder. He
then took his hammer and chisel, and, having con-
cealed some dust of marble in the hollow of his
1 Vasari, xii. 174.
Bight Hakd of thk Datis.
PIERO SODERINI. loi;
hand, pretended to work off a portion from the sur-
face of the nose. In reality he left it as he found it ;
but Soderini, seeing the marble dust fall scattering
through the air, thought that his hint had been
taken. When, therefore, Michelangelo called down
to him, " Look at it now ! " Soderini shouted up in
reply, " I am far more pleased with it ; you have
given life to the statue."
At this time Piero Soderini, a man of excellent
parts and sterling character, though not gifted with
that mixture of audacity and cunning which im-
pressed the Renaissance imagination, was Gon-
falonier of the Republic. He had been elected to
the supreme magistracy for life, and was practically
Doge of Florence. His friendship proved on more
than one occasion of some service to Michelangelo ;
and while the gigantic David was in progress he
gave the sculptor a new commission, the history of
which must now engage us.^ The Florentine envoys
to France had already written in June 1501 from
Lyons, saying that Pierre de Rohan, Mardchal de
Gi^, who stood high in favour at the court of Louis
XII., greatly desired a copy of the bronze David by
Donatello in the courtyard of the Palazzo Vecchio.
He appeared willing to pay for it, but the envoys
thought that he expected to have it as a present.
The French alliance was a matter of the highest
1 Tlie documenta relating to tliis bronze David will be found in Gaye,
vol. iL pp. 52, 55, 58-61, &c., do\\Ti to 109. The whole series of events
is well described in LCEuvre et la Fte, pp. 2d2 et teq.
io6 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
importance to Florence, and at this time the Re-
public was heavily indebted to the French crown.
Soderini, therefore, decided to comply with the
Marshal's request, and on the 12th of August 1502
Michelangelo undertook to model a David of two
cubits and a quarter within six months.^ In the
bronze-casting he was assisted by a special master,
Benedetto da Rovezzano.* During the next two
years a brisk correspondence was kept up between
the envoys and the Signory about the statue, show-
ing the Marshal's impatience. Meanwhile De Rohan
became Duke of Nemours in 1503 by his marriage
with a sister of Louis d'Armagnac, and shortly after-
wards he fell into disgrace. Nothing more was to be
expected from him at the court of Blois. But the
statue was i^ progress, and the question arose to
whom it should be given. The choice of the Signory
fell on Florimond Robertet, secretary of finance,
whose favour would be useful to the Florentines
in their pecuniary transactions with the King. A
long letter from the envoy, Francesco Pandolfini, in
September 1505, shows that Robertet's mind had
been sounded on the subject; and we gather from
a minute of the Signory, dated November 6, 1508,
1 There is eveiy reason to suppose tliat this David was an original
work ; but whether Donatello's bronze David was also copied does not
appear. Oondivi (p. 22) says : " At the request of his great friend Piero
Soderini he cast a life-size statue, which was sent to France, and also
a David with Goliath beneath his feet That which one sees in the
courtyard of the Palazzo de' Signori is by the hand of DonateUo.*
* See Vasari, xii. 350.
THE BRONZE DAVID. 107
that at last the bronze David, weighing about 800
pounds, had been " packed in the name of God "
and sent to Signa on its way to Leghorn. Robertet
received it in due course, and placed it in the court-
yard of his chateau of Bury, near Blois. Here it
remained for more than a century, when it was
removed to the chateau of Villeroy. There it dis-
appeared. We possess, however, a fine pen-and-
ink dravsdng by the hand of Michelangelo, which
may well have been a design for this second David.^
The muscular and naked youth, not a mere lad like
the colossal statue, stands firmly posed upon his
left leg with the trunk thrown boldly back. His
right foot rests on the gigantic head of Goliath, and
his left hand, twisted back upon the buttock, holds
what seems meant for the sling. We see here what
Michelangelo's conception of an ideal David would
have been when working under conditions more
favourable than the damaged block afforded. On
the margin of the page the following words may be
clearly traced: "Davicte choUa fromba e io chol-
larcho Michelagniolo," — David with the sling, and I
with the bow.*
Meanwhile Michelangelo received a still more
^ In the Lonyre. Part of the drawing is engraved on p. 243 of
VCSuvre et la Vie.
< What IB meant by the bow I cannot gness. It seems, however, that
Michelangelo was meditating verses, for lower down we read Bod * i
laUa cholonna (first words of Petrarch's sonnet, 2, In M. di M. L.) The
Italians saj Con Va/rco deUa aehiena when they wish to express "with
all one's might"
io8 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
important commission on the 24th of April 1503.
The Consuls of the Arte della Lana and the Operai of
the Duomo ordered twelve Apostles, each 4i cubits
high, to be carved out of Carrara marble and placed
inside the church. The sculptor undertook to fur-
nish one each year, the Board of Works defraying
all expenses, supplying the costs of Michelangelo's
living and his assistants, and paying him tviro golden
florins a month. Besides this, they had a house
built for him in the Borgo Pinti after II Cronaca's
design.^ He occupied this house free of charges
while he was in Florence, until it became manifest
that the contract of 1503 would never be carried
out. Later on, in March 1508, the tenement was
let on lease to him and his heirs. But he only
held it a few months ; for on the 1 5th of June the
lease was cancelled, and the house transferred to
Sigismondo Martelli.
The only trace surviving of these twelve Apostles
is the huge blocked-out S. Matteo, now in the court-
yard of the Accademia. Vasari writes of it as
follows: "He also began a statue in marble of
S. Matteo, which, though it is but roughly hewn,
shows perfection of design, and teaches sculptors
how to extract figures from the stone without ex-
posing them to injury, always gaining ground by
removing the superfluous material, and being able
to withdraw or change in case of need."* This
stupendous sketch or shadow of a mighty form is
1 Gaye, vol. ii pp. 92, 473-478. * Vasari, xii 177.
THE S. MATTEO. 109
indeed instructive for those who would understand
Michelangelo's method. It fully illustrates the pas-
sages quoted above from Cellini and Vasari, showing
how a design of the chief view of the statue must
have been chalked upon the marble, and how the un-
finished figure gradually emerged into relief. Were
tve to place it in a horizontal position on the ground,
that portion of the rounded form which has been
disengaged from the block would emerge just in
the same way as a model from a bath of water
not quite deep enough to cover it. At the same
time we learn to appreciate the observations of
Vigenere while we study the titanic chisel-marks,
grooved deeply in the body of the stone, and carried
to the length of three or four inches. The direction
of these strokes proves that Michelangelo worked
equally with both hands, and the way in which
they are hatched and crossed upon the marble
reminds one of the pen-drawing of a bold draughts-
man. The mere surface-handling of the stone has
remarkable affinity in linear effect to a pair of the
master's pen-designs for a naked man, now in the
Louvre. On paper he seems to hew with the pen,
on marble to sketch with the chisel. The saint ap-
pears literally to be growing out of his stone prison,
as though he were alive and enclosed there waiting
to be liberated. This recalls Michelangelo's fixed
opinion regarding sculpture, which he defined as
the art ** that works by force of taking away." ^ In
^ Lettere, No. cdlzii
;« UFE OF MICHELANGELO.
lits writings we often find the idea expressed that
ak scttue, instead of being a human thought invested
with external reahty by stone, is more truly to be
t%-^i:&rded as something which the sculptor seeks
;uid finds inside his marble — a kind of marvellous
discovery. Thus he says in one of his poems:'
"Lady, in hard and craggy stone the mere removal
of the surface gives being to a figure, which ever
grows the more the stone is hewn away." And
again* —
The beet of artiate hath no thought to show
Which the rough stone m its superfluous shell
Doth not include : to break the marble spell
Is all the hand that serves the brain can do.
S, Matthew seems to palpitate with life while we
scrutinise the amorphous block; and yet there is
little there more tangible than some such form as
fancy loves to image in the clouds.
To conclude what I have said in this section
about Michelangelo's method of working on the
marble, I must confirm what I have stated about
his using both left and right hand while chiselling.
Baffaello da Montelupo, who was well acquainted
with him personally, informs us of the fact:^
" Here I may mention that I am in the habit of
drawing with my left hand, and that once, at Rome,
> Madrigale lii., Ei'me, p. 37. ' Sonnet xv., Sime, p. 173.
bis pauage occurs in Montalupo'i autobiography, the original of
may be fouud in Barbara's diamond edition of Italian classica.
iografie, ed. A. D'Ancono, 1S59. I have borrowed the above
itioD firom Perkins's T^^lcan Seidpton, vol. ii. p. 74.
TWO CIRCULAR BAS-RELIEF MADONNAS, iii
while I was sketching the Arch of Trajan from the
Colosseum, Michelangelo and Sehastiano del Piombo,
both of whom were naturally left-handed (although
they did not work with the left hand excepting
when they wished to use great strength), stopped to
see me, and expressed great wonder, no sculptor or
painter ever having done so before me, as far as I
know,"
V.
If Yasari can be trusted, it was during this resid-
ence at Florence, when his hands were so folly
occupied, that Michelangelo found time to carve
the two tond% Madonnas in relief enclosed in
circular spaces, which we still possess. One of
them, made for Taddeo Taddei, is now at Burlington
House, having been acquired by the Royal Academy
through the medium of Sir George Beaumont. This
ranks among the best things belonging to that Cor-
poration.^ The other, made for Bartolommeo Pitti,
will be found in the Palazzo del Bargello at Florence.
Of the two, that of our Royal Academy is the more
ambitious in design, combining singular grace and
dignity in the Madonna with action playfully sug-
gested in the infant Christ and little S. John. That
of the Bargello is simpler, more tranquil, and more
1 The bas-ielief has been cast, and used to be on sale at Brucciani's,
but I know of no photographic reproduction from the original.
iia LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
stately. The one recalls the motive of the Bruges
Madonna, the other almost anticipates the Delphic
Sibyl. We might fancifully call them a pair of
native pearls or uncut gems, lovely by reason even
of their sketchiness. Whether by intention, as
some critics have supposed,^ or for want of time to
finish, as I am inclined to believe, these two reliefs
are left in a state of incompleteness which is highly
suggestive. Taking the Royal Academy group first ;
the absolute roughness of the groundwork supplies
an admirable background to the figures, which seem
to emerge from it as though the whole of them
were there, ready to be disentangled. The most
important portions of the composition — Madonna's
head and throat, the drapery of her powerful breast,
on which the child Christ reclines, and the naked
body of the boy — are wrought to a point which only
demands finish. Yet parts of these two figures
remain undetermined. Christ's feet are still im-
prisoned in the clinging marble ; his left arm and
hand are only indicated, and his right hand is resting
on a mass of broken stone, which hides a portion of
his mother s drapery, but leaves the position of her
hand uncertain. The infant S. John, upright upon
his feet, balancing the chief group, is hazily subordin-
ate. The whole of his form looms blurred through
the veil of stone, and what his two hands and arms are
doing with the hidden right arm and hand of the
^ Mr. Pater, Studies tn the History of the Renaisaamce^ aud M. Quillaume,
VCEuvre ei la Vie, for instance.
'<::>^:%
CRITICISM OF THESE MEDALLIONS. 113
Virgin may hardly be conjectured. It is clear that
on this side of the composition the marble was to
have been more deeply cut, and that we have the
highest surfaces of the relief brought into prominence
at those points where, as I have said, little is want-
ing but the finish of the graver and the file. The
Bargello group is simpler and more intelligible. Its
composition by masses being quite apparent, we
can easily construct the incomplete figure of S. John
in the background. What results from the study
of these two circular sketches in marble is, that
although Michelangelo believed all sculpture to be
imperfect in so far as it approached the style of
painting,^ yet he did not disdain to labour in stone
with various planes of relief which should produce
the eflFect of chiaroscuro. Furthermore, they illus-
trate what Cellini and Vasari have already taught
us about his method. He refused to work by piece-
meal, but began by disengaging the first, the second,
then the third surfaces, following a model and a
drawing which controlled the cutting. Whether
he preferred to leave off when his idea was suffi-
ciently indicated, or whether his numerous engage-
ments prevented him from excavating the lowest
surfaces, and lastly polishing the whole, is a ques-
tion which must for ever remain undecided. Con-
sidering the exquisite elaboration given to the Pieti
of the Vatican, the Madonna at Bruges, the Bacchus
and the David, the Moses and parts of the Medicean
* Let tore, No. cdUii.
VOL. I. ri
114 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
monuments, I incline to think that, with time enough
at his disposal, he would have carried out these
rounds in all their details. A criticism he made
on Donatello, recorded for us by Condivi, to the
effect that this great master's works lost their proper
effect on close inspection through a want of finish,
confirms my opinion.' StiU there is no doubt
that be must have been pleased, as all true lovers
of art are, with the picturesque effect — an effect
as of things half seen in dreams or emergent from
primeval substances — which the imperfection of the
craftsman's labour leaves upon the memory.
At this time Michelangelo's mind seems to have
been much occupied with circular compositions. He
painted a large Holy Family of this shape for his
friend Angelo Doni, which may, I think, be reckoned
the only easel-picture attributable with absolute cer-
tainty to his hand.* Condivi simply says that be
received seventy ducats for this fine work. Vasarl
adds one of his prattling stories to the effect that
Doni thought forty sufficient ; whereupon Michel-
angelo took the picture back, and said he would not
1 Condivi, p. 22.
* If the enigmatical Depoaition in the Nitionat QaUery be really
Miebelaiigelc^B work, it might perhaps be assigned to tikis period. The
head of tbe old man supporting Christ seems to be drawn from the some
model as the S. Joseph ; but I regard this as a feeble attempt to repro-
duce the Doni S. Joseph by a later craftsman. It can be stated here
that DOoe of the pictures attributed to Michelangelo, aa the Fatea of
the Pitii and his own portrait in the Capiiol, are by his hand. I lely
on Heath WiUou fur the Uoui Uadonna being an oil-painting. Ueatli
Wilsun, p. 60.
THE DONI HOLY FAMILY. 115
let it go for less than a hundred : Doni then offered
the original sum of seventy, but Michelangelo re-
plied that if he was bent on bargaining he should
not pay less than 140. Be this as it may, one of
the most characteristic products of the master's
genius came now into existence. The Madonna
is seated in a kneeling position on the ground;
she throws herself vigorously backward, lifting the
little Christ upon her right arm, and presenting
him to a bald-headed old man, S. Joseph, who
seems about to take him in his arms. This group,
which forms a tail pyramid, is balanced on both
sides by naked figures of young men reclining
against a wall at some distance, while a remarkably
ugly little S. John can be discerned in one comer.
There is something very powerful and original in
the composition of this sacred picture, which, as in
the case of all Michelangelo's early work, develops
the previous traditions of Tuscan art on lines which
no one but himself could have discovered. The cen-
tral figure of the Madonna, too, has always seemed
to me a thing of marvellous beauty, and of stupendous
power in the strained attitude and nobly modelled
arms. It has often been asked what the male nudes
have got to do with the subject. Probably Michel-
angelo intended in this episode to surpass a Ma-
donna by Luca Signorelli, with whose genius he
obviously was in sympathy, and who felt, like him,
the supreme beauty of the naked adolescent form.
Signorelli had painted a circular Madonna with two
ii6 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
nudes in the landscape distance for Lorenzo de' Me-
dici. The picture is hung now in the gallery of the
Uffizi. It is enough perhaps to remark that Michel-
angelo needed these figures for his scheme, and for
filling the space at his disposal. He was either un-
able or unwilling to compose a background of trees,
meadows, and pastoral folk in the manner of his
predecessors. Nothing but the infinite variety of
human forms upon a barren stage of stone or arid
earth would suit his haughty sense of beauty. The
nine persons who make up the picture are all care-
fully studied from the life, and bear a strong Tus-
can stamp. S. John is literally ignoble, and Christ
is a commonplace child. The Virgin Mother is a
magnificent contadina in the plenitude of adult
womanhood. Those, however, who follow Mr.
Ruskin in blaming Michelangelo for carelessness
about the human face and head, should not fail to
notice what sublime dignity and grace he has com-
municated to his model here. In technical execu-
tion the Doni Madonna is faithful to old Florentine
usage, but lifeless and unsympathetic. We are dis-
agreeably reminded by every portion of the surface
that Lionardo's subtle play of tones and modulated
shades, those sfumature, as Italians call them, which
transfer the mystic charm of nature to the canvas,
were as yet unknown to the great draughtsman.
There is more of atmosphere, of colour suggestion,
and of chiaroscuro in the marble tondi described
above. Moreover, in spite of very careful model-
DoKi Holt FAHiLV^UFriiL
CARTOONS FOR THE GREAT SALA. 117
ling, Michelangelo has failed to make us feel the
successive planes of his composition. The whole
seems flat, and each distance, instead of being gradu-
ated, starts forward to the eye. He required, at this
period of his career, the relief of sculpture in order
to express the roundness of the human form and the
relative depth of objects placed in a receding order.
If anything were needed to make us believe the
story of his saying to Pope Julius II. that sculpture
and not painting was his trade, this superb design,
so deficient in the essential qualities of painting
proper, would suffice. Men infinitely inferior to
himself in genius and sense of form, a Perugino,
a Francia, a Fra Bartolommeo, an Albertinelli, pos-
sessed more of the magic which evokes pictorial
beauty. Nevertheless, with all its aridity, rigidity, and
almost repulsive hardness of colour, the Doni Madonna
ranks among the great pictures of the world. Once
seen it will never be forgotten : it tyrannises and
dominates the imagination by its titanic power of
drawing. No one, except perhaps Lionardo, could
draw like that, and Lionardo would not have allowed
his linear scheme to impose itself so remorselessly
upon the mind.
VI.
Just at this point of his developmelit, Michel-
angelo was brought into competition with Lionardo
ii8 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
da Vinci, the only living rival worthy of his genius.
During the year 1503 Piero Soderini determined to
adorn the hall of the Great Council in the Palazzo
Vecchio with huge mural frescoes, which should
represent scenes in Florentine history. Documents
regarding the commencement of these works and
the contracts made with the respective artists are
unfortunately wanting. But it appears that Da
Vinci received a commission for one of the long
walls in the autumn of that year.^ We have items
of expenditure on record which show that the
Municipality of Florence assigned him the Sala
del Papa at S. Maria Novella before February
1504, and were preparing the necessary furniture
for the construction of his Cartoon.* It seems that
he was hard at work upon the i st of April, receiving
fifteen golden florins a month for his labour. The
subject which he chose to treat was the battle of
Anghiari in 1440, when the Florentine mercenaries
entirely routed the troops of Filippo Maria Visconti,
led by Niccolb Piccinino, one of the greatest generals
of his age.* In August 1504 Soderini commissioned
* Crowe and Cavalcaselle, Life ofRaphady vol. i. p. 213.
* Qaye, vol. ii. p. SS, When Martin V. took up his residence at
Florence in 1419, quarters were assigned to him at S. Maria Novella.
They came by custom to be regarded as the abode of Popes on a visit
to the city. In the days of Eugenius lY., 1439, ^^^^ the Qreek
Council was transferred from Ferrara to Florence, a large haU was
erected for its sittings. See VOnenxUore FiorenUno (Firenze : Ricci,
1 821), vol. iii. p. 135, for a description of the locality.
3 Capponi, Storia ddla Rep, di Firenze, vol. ii. p. 22. This was one
of the bloodless battles of Condottiere warfare. Machiavelli says that
only one man was killed ; yet it had important political results.
LIONARDO AND MICHELANGELO. 119
Michelangelo to prepare Cartoons for the opposite
wall of the great Sala, and assigned to him a work-
shop in the Hospital of the Dyers at S. Onofrio. A
minute of expenditure, under date October 31,1 504,
shows that the paper for the Cartoon had been
already provided; and Michelangelo continued to
work upon it until his call to Rome at the beginning
of 1505. Lionardo's battle-piece consisted of two
groups on horseback engaged in a fierce struggle
for a standard. Michelangelo determined to select
a subject which should enable him to display all
his power as the supreme draughtsman of the nude.
He chose an episode from the war with Pisa, when,
on the 28th of July 1364, a band of 400 Florentine
soldiers were surprised bathing by Sir John Hawk-
ivood and his English riders. It goes by the name
of the Battle of Pisa, though the event really took
place at Cascina on the Amo, some six miles above
that city.^
We have every reason to regard the composition
of this Cartoon as the central point in Michel-
angelo's life as an artist. It was the watershed,
so to speak, which divided his earlier from his
later manner; and if we attach any value to the
critical judgment of his enthusiastic admirer, Cellini,
even the roof of the Sistine fell short of its per-
fection. Important, however, as it certainly is in
the history of his development, I must defer speak-
^ See Moritz Thausing, MichdcmgMi Entwwrf zu dem Karkm, Leip-
zig: Seemann, 1878.
120 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
ing of it in detail until the end of the next chapter.
For some reason or other, unknown to us, he left
his work unfinished early in 1505, and went, at
the Pope's invitation, to Eome. When he returned,
in the ensuing year, to Florence, he resumed and
completed the design. Some notion of its size
may be derived from what we know about the
materials supplied for Lionardo's Cartoon. This,
say Crowe and Cavalcaselle, "was made up of oiie
ream and twenty-nine quires, or about 288 square
feet of royal folio paper, the mere pasting of which
necessitated a consumption of eighty-eight pounds of
flour, the mere lining of which required three pieces
of Florentine linen." ^
Condivi, summing up his notes of this period
spent by Michelangelo at Florence, says : * " He
stayed there some time without working to much
purpose in his craft, having taken to the study of
poets and rhetoricians in the vulgar tongue, and
to the composition of sonnets for his pleasure."
It is difiicult to imagine how Michelangelo, with
all his engagements, found the leisure to pursue
these literary amusements. But Condivi's bio-
graphy is the sole authentic source which we pos-
sess for the great master's own recollections of
his past life. It is, therefore, not improbable that
in the sentence I have quoted we may find some
explanation of the want of finish observable in his
productions at this point. Michelangelo was, to a
1 Life of Raphael, vol. i. p. 213. * Condivi, p. 23.
LITERARY RECREATIONS. 121
large extent, a dreamer; and this single phrase
throws light upon the expense of time, the barren
spaces, in his long laborious life. The poems we
now possess by his pen are clearly the wreck of
a vast multitude; and most of those accessible in
manuscript and print belong to a later stage of
his development. Still the fact remains that in
early manhood he formed the habit of conversing
with writers of Italian and of fashioning his own
thoughts into rhyme. His was a nature capable
indeed of vehement and fiery activity, but by con-
stitution somewhat saturnine and sluggish, only
energetic when powerfully stimulated; a medi-
tative man, glad enough to be inert when not
spurred forward on the path of strenuous achieve-
ment. And so, it seems, the literary bent took
hold upon him as a relief from labour, as an
excuse for temporary inaction. In his own art,
the art of design, whether this assumed the form
of sculpture or of painting or of architecture, he
did nothing except at the highest pressure. All
his accomplished work shows signs of the intensest
cerebration. But he tried at times to slumber, sunk
in a wise passiveness. Then he communed with
the poets, the prophets, and the prose-writers of
his country. We can well imagine, therefore, that,
tired with the labours of the chisel or the brush,
he gladly gave himself to composition, leaving half
finished on his easel things which had for him
their adequate accomplishment.
122 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
I think it necessary to make these suggestions,
because, in my opinion, Michelangelo's inner life
and his literary proclivities have been hitherto too
much neglected in the scheme of his psychology.
Dazzled by the splendour of his work, critics are
content to skip spaces of months and years, during
which the creative genius of the man smouldered.
It is, as I shall try to show, in those intervals, dimly
revealed to us by what remains of his poems and
his correspondence, that the secret of this man, at
once so tardy and so energetic, has to be discovered.
A great master of a diflferent temperament, less
solitary, less saturnine, less sluggish, would have
formed a school, as Eaffaello did. Michelangelo
formed no school, and was incapable of confiding the
execution of his designs to any subordinates. This
is also a point of the highest importance to insist
upon. Had he been other than he was — ^a gre-
garious man, contented with the d peu pris in art —
he might have sent out all those twelve Apostles for
the Duomo from his workshop. Baffaello would have
done so ; indeed, the work which bears his name in
Rome could not have existed except under these
conditions. Now nothing is left to us of the twelve
Apostles except a rough-hewn sketch of S. Matthew.
Michelangelo was unwilling or unable to organise a
band of craftsmen fairly interpretative of his man-
ner. When his own hand failed, or when he lost
the passion for his labour, he left the thing un-
finished. And much of this incompleteness in his
SOLITARY HABITS. 123
life-work seems to me due to his being what I called
a dreamer. He lacked the merely business faculty,
the power of utilising hands and brains. He could
not bring his genius into open market, and stamp
inferior productions with his countersign. Willingly
he retired into the solitude of his own self, to com-
mune with great poets and to meditate upon high
thoughts, while he indulged the emotions arising
from forms of strength and beauty presented to his
gaze upon the pathway of experience.
CHAPTER IV.
I. Qialiano della Rovere, Pope Julius 11. — His political and personal
character. — Calls Michelangelo to Home in 1505. — The affinity
between the two men. — 2. Julius decides to build a monument
for himself. — Sends Michelangelo to Carrara to quarry marble. —
3. The Tragedy of the Tomb. — Condivi's account of the first pro-
ject— Drawings in existence throw no certain light upon it —
History of changes in the design. — The contract of May 6, 15 13. —
Professor Middleton's reconstruction of this design.— Fragments
still existing from the marble sculptured. — ^The contract of July 8,
1 5 16. — Great reduction in the scale of the Tomb. — Contract of
April 29, 1532. — Further reduciion in the part assigned to Michel-
angelo.— ^Final contract of August 20, 1542. — Completion of the
monument now at S. Pietro in Vincoli. — 4. Betum to Michel-
angelo's life at Bome in 1505. — Julius decides to rebuild S. Peter's.
— History of the old Basilica. — Bramante designs a new church. —
Bramante^s untrustworthiness. — Julius lays the foundation of S.
Peter's on April 18, 1506. — 5. Differences between Julius and
Michelangelo. — The Pope grows cold about the Tomb. — Michel-
angelo leaves Bome in a rage. — Various accounts of what happened
on this occasion. — 6. Beaches Florence in April. — Stays there
about six months. — Begins to work again upon the Cartoon for the
Battle of Pisa. — Loss of Lionardo's fresco. — Destruction of Michel-
angelo's Cartoon. — ^Vasari's two accounts of how this happened. —
Cellini's description of the Cartoon. — 7. Vasari's description. —
What we know about it at the present time. — It was the turning-
point in Michelangelo's career as artist — Story about his meeting
with Liouai-do.
I.
Among the many nephews whom Sixtus IV. had
raised to eminence, the most distinguished was
Z84
POPE JULIUS II. 125
Giuliano della Rovere, Cardinal of S. Pietro in
Vincoli, and Bishop of Ostia. This man possessed
a fiery temper, indomitable energy, and the comba-
tive instinct which takes delight in fighting for its
own sake. Nature intended him for a warrior ; and,
though circumstances made him chief of the Church,
he discharged his duties as a PontiflF in the spirit of
a general and a conqueror. When Julius II. was
elected in November 1 503, it became at once appa-
rent that he intended to complete what his hated
predecessors, the Borgias, had begun, by reducing
to his sway all the provinces over which the See
of Rome had any claims, and creating a central
power in Italy. Unlike the Borgias, however, he
entertained no plan of raising his own family to
sovereignty at the expense of the Papal power. The
Della Roveres were to be contented with their
Duchy of TJrbino, which came to them by inherit-
ance from the Montefeltri. Julius dreamed of Italy
for the Italians, united under the hegemony of the
Supreme Pontiflf, who from Rome extended his
spiritual authority and political influence over the
whole of Western Europe. It does not enter into
the scheme of this book to relate the series of wars
and alliances in which this belligerent Pope involved
his country, and the final failure of his policy, so
far as the liberation of Italy from the barbarians
was concerned. Suffice it to say, that at the close
of his stormy reign he had reduced the States of
the Church to more or less complete obedience.
126 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
bequeathing to his successors an ecclesiastical king-
dom which the enfeebled condition of the peninsula
at large enabled them to keep intact
There was nothing petty or mean in Julius II. ;
his very faults borq a grandiose and heroic aspect.
Turbulent, impatient, inordinate in his ambition,
reckless in his choice of means, prolific of immense
projects, for which a lifetime would have been too
short, he filled the ten years of his pontificate with
a din of incoherent deeds and vast schemes half
accomplished. Such was the man who called Michel-
angelo to Rome at the commencement of 1505.
Why the sculptor was willing to leave his Cartoon
\ unfinished, and to break his engagement with the
Operai del Duomo, remains a mystery. It is said
that the illustrious architect, Giuliano da San Gallo,
who had worked for Julius while he was cardinal,
and was now his principal adviser upon matters of
art, suggested to the Pope that Buonarroti could
serve him admirably in his ambitious enterprises for
the embellishment of the Eternal City. We do not
know for certain whether Julius, when he summoned
Michelangelo from Florence, had formed the design
of engaging him upon a definite piece of work. The
first weeks of his residence in Rome are said to have
been spent in inactivity, until at last Julius proposed
to erect a huge monument of marble for his own
tomb.^
^ This is Condivi's statement Still the Pope may have made some
defiuite proposal before Michelangelo leit Florence. Condivi thought
SYMPATHY BETWEEN POPE AND ARTIST. 127
Thus began the second and longest period of
Michelangelo's art-industry. Henceforth he was
destined to labour for a series of Popes, following
their whims with distracted energies and a lament-
able waste of time. The incompleteness which
marks so much of his performance was due to the
rapid succession of these imperious masters, each in
turn careless about the schemes of his predecessor,
and bent on using the artist's genius for his own
profit. It is true that nowhere but in Rome could
Michelangelo have received commissions on so vast
a scale. Nevertheless we cannot but regret the fate
which drove him to consume years of hampered
industry upon what Condivi calls "the tragedy of
Julius's tomb," upon quarrying and road-making for
Leo X., upon the abortive plans at S. Lorenzo, and
upon architectural and engineering works, which
were not strictly within his province. At first it
seemed as though fortune was about to smile on
him. In Julius he found a patron who could
understand and appreciate his powers. Between
the two men there existed a strong bond of
sympathy due to community of temperament. Both
aimed at colossal achievements in their respective
fields of action. The imagination of both was fired
by large and simple rather than luxurious and
subtle thoughts. Both were lumiini terrihili, to use
he went there immediately after Julius's election (Noyember 1 503). He
knew that he did not begin to work till 1505 ; 80 he had a whole year
left unaccounted for.
128 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
a phrase denoting vigour of character and energy of
genius, made formidable by an abrupt, uncompro-
mising spirit. Both worked with what the Italians
call fury, with the impetuosity of dsemonic natures ;
and both left the impress of their individuality
stamped indelibly upon their age. Julius, in all
things grandiose, resolved to signalise his reign
by great buildings, great sculpture, great pictorial
schemes. There was nothing of the dilettante and
collector about him. He wanted creation at a
rapid rate and in enormous quantities. To indulge
this craving, he gathered round him a band of
demigods and Titans, led by Bramante, Ba£faello,
Michelangelo, and enjoyed the spectacle of a new
world of art arising at his bidding through their
industry of brain and hand.
II.
What followed upon Michelangelo's arrival in
Rome may be told in Condivi's words : ^ " Having
reached Rome, many months elapsed before Julius
^ Oondiyi, p. 23. He is wrong a)x)nt the many numihsy because he
thought that Michelangelo came to Rome at the end of 1503. He
really came early in 1505, perhaps after February 28, when a payment
was made to him for the Cartoon (Gaye, ii. p. 93). He went in April
of that year to quarry marbles at Cairara. The delay was, therefore, of
at most a few weeks, during which he may have designed the tomb of
Julius.
THE TOMB OF JULIUS. 129
decided on what great work he would employ him.
At last it occurred to him to use his genius in the
construction of his own tomb. The design furnished
by Michelangelo pleased the Pope so much that he
sent him off immediately to Carrara, with commis-
sion to quarry as much marble as was needful for
that undertaking. Two thousand ducats were put
to his credit with Alamanni Salviati at Florence for
expenses. He remained more than eight months
among those mountains, with two servants and a
horse, but without any salary except his keep. One
day, while inspecting the locality, the fancy took
him to convert a hill which commands the sea-shore
into a Colossus, visible by mariners afar. The shape
of the huge rock, which lent itself admirably to
such a purpose, attracted him ; and he was further
moved to emulate the ancients, who, sojourning in
the place peradventure with the same object as him-
self, in order to while away the time, or for some
other motive, have left certain unfinished and rough-
hewn monuments, which give a good specimen of
their craft. And assuredly he would have carried
out this scheme, if time enough had been at his
disposal, or if the special purpose of his visit to
Carrara had permitted. I one day heard him lament
bitterly that he had not done so. Well, then, after
quarrying and selecting the blocks which he deemed
sufficient, he had them brought to the sea, and left
a man of his to ship them off. He returned to
Home, and having stopped some days in Florence
you J. I
I30 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
on the way, when he arrived there, he found that
part of the marble had already reached the Bipa.^
There he had them disembarked, and carried to the
Piazza of S. Peter's behind S. Oaterina, where he
kept his lodging, close to the corridor connecting
the Palace with the Castle of S. Angelo. The
quantity of stone was enormous, so that, when it
was all spread out upon the square, it stirred amaze-
ment in the minds of most folk, but joy in the
Pope's. Julius indeed began to heap favours upon
Michelangelo ; for when he had begun to work, the
Pope used frequently to betake himself to his house,
conversing there with him about the tomb, and
about other works which he proposed to carry out
in concert with one of his brothers.* In order to
arrive more conveniently at Michelangelo's lodg-
ings, he had a drawbridge thrown across from the
corridor, by which he might gain privy access.'*
The date of Michelangelo's return to Rome is
fixed approximately by a contract signed at Carrara
between him and two shipowners of Lavagna. This
deed is dated November 12, 1505. It shows that
thirty-four cartloads of marble were then ready for
shipment, together with two figures weighing fifteen
cartloads more. We have a right to assume that
Michelangelo left Carrara soon after completing
^ That is, the Tiber shore below the Aventine. The right bank is
still called Porto di Ripa, and the left Marmorata.
' Probably Qiovanni, Prefect of Rome, and founder of the Delia Bovere
d^ast^ at Urbino,
FIRST PLAN FOR THE TOMB. 131
this transaction. Allowing, then, for the journey
and the halt at Florence, he probably reached Rome
in the last week of that month.^
m.
The first act in the tragedy of the sepulchre had
now begun, and Michelangelo was embarked upon
one of the mightiest undertakings which a sovereign
of the stamp of Julius ever intrusted to a sculptor
of his titanic energy. In order to form a concep-
tion of the magnitude of the enterprise, I am forced
to enter into a discussion regarding the real nature
of the monument. This oSers innumerable diffi-
culties, for we only possess imperfect notices regard-
ing the original design, and two doubtful drawings
belonging to an uncertain period. Still it is im-
possible to understand those changes in the Basilica
of S. Peter^s which were occasioned by the project
of Julius, or to comprehend the immense annoyances
to which the tomb exposed Michelangelo, without
grappling with its details. Condivi's text must
serve for guide. This, in fact, is the sole source
of any positive value. He describes the tomb, as
he believed it to have been first planned, in the
following paragraph : * —
"To give some notion of the monument, I will
* See Yasari, xii. p. 346W ■ Condivi, p. 26.
132 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
say that it was intended to have four faces : two of
eighteen cubits, serving for the sides, and two of
twelve for the ends, so that the whole formed one
great square and a half.^ Surrounding it externally
were niches to be filled with statues, and between
each pair of niches stood terminal figures, to the
front of which were attached on certain consoles pro-
jecting from the wall another set of statues bound
like prisoners. These represented the Liberal Arts,
and likewise Fainting, Sculpture, Architecture, each
with characteristic emblems, rendering their identi-
fication easy. The intention was to show that all
the talents had been taken captive by death, together
with Pope Julius, since never would they find
another patron to cherish and encourage them as
he had done. Above these figures ran a cornice,
giving unity to the whole work. Upon the flat
surface formed by this cornice were to be four large
statues, one of which, that is, the Moses, now exists
at S. Pietro ad Vincula. And so, arriving at the
summit, the tomb ended in a level space, whereon
were two angels who supported a sarcophagus.
One of them appeared to smile, rejoicing that the
soul of the Pope had been received among the
blessed spirits ; the other seemed to weep, as sorrow-
ing that the world had been robbed of such a man.^
From one of the ends, that is, by the one which was
1 According to Heath Wilson, 34^ feet English by 23 (p. 74).
' Yasari speaks of Heaven rejoicing, and Oybele, the goddesQ of eartb,
lamenting. Vol. xii. p. 181.
CONDIVrS AND VASARI'S STATEMENTS. 133
at the head of the monument, access was given to
a little chamber like a chapel, enclosed within the
monument, in the midst of which was a marble
chesty wherein the corpse of the Pope was meant
to be deposited. The whole would have been
executed with stupendous finish. In short, the
sepulchre included more than forty statues, not
counting the histories in half-reliefs, made of bronze,
all of them pertinent to the general scheme and
representative of the mighty Pontiff's actions."
Vasari's account differs in some minor details
from Condivi's, but it is of no authoritative value.
Not having appeared in the edition of 1550, we may
regard it as a rechauffie of Condivi, with the usual
sauce provided by the Aretine's imagination. The
only addition I can discover which throws light
upon Condivi's narrative is that the statues in the
niches were meant to represent provinces conquered
by Julius. This is important, because it leads us to
conjecture that Vasari knew a drawing now pre-
served in the UlBzi, and sought, by its means, to
add something to his predecessor's description. The
drawing will occupy our attention shortly ; but it
may here be remarked that in 1 505, the date of the
first project, Julius was only entering upon his con-
quests. It would have been a gross act of flattery
on the part of the sculptor, a flying in the face
of Nemesis on the part of his patron, to design a
sepulchre anticipating length of life and luck suffi-
cient for these triumphs.
134 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
What then Condivi tells us about the first scheme
is, that it was intended to stand isolated in the
tribune of S. Peter's ; that it formed a rectangle of
a square and half a square; that the podium was
adorned with statues in niches flanked by projecting
dadoes supporting captive arts, ten in number ; that
at each comer of the platform above the podium
a seated statue was placed, one of which we may
safely identify with the Moses ; and that above this,
surmounting the whole monument by tiers, arose a
second mass, culminating in a sarcophagus supported
by two angels. He further adds that the tomb was
entered at its extreme end by a door, which led to
a little chamber where lay the body of the Pope,
and that bronze bas-reliefs formed a prominent
feature of the total scheme. He reckons that more
than forty statues would have been required to com-
plete the whole design, although he has only men-
tioned twenty-two of the most prominent.*
More than this we do not know about the first
project. We have no contracts and no sketches
that can be referred to the date 1505. Much con-
fusion has been introduced into the matter under
consideration by the attempt to reconcile Condivi's
description with the drawing I have just alluded
to. Heath Wilson even used that drawing to im-
pugn Condivi's accuracy with regard to the number
of the captives and the seated figures on the plat-
' On the calcnlation of ten captives on consoles^ six in nicbea, four
seated figures on the platform, and two angels.
DEVELOPMENT OE THE PLAN. 135
form. The drawing in question, as we shall pre-
sently see, is of great importance for the subsequent
history of the monument; and I believe that it to
some extent preserves the general aspect which the
tomb, as first designed, was intended to present.
Two points about it, however, prevent our taking it
as a true guide to Michelangelo's original concep-
tion. One is that it is clearly only part of a larger
scheme of composition. The other is that it shows
a sarcophagus, not supported by angels, but posed
upon the platform. Moreover, it corresponds to the
declaration appended in 15 13 by Michelangelo to
the first extant document we possess about the
tomb.
Julius died in February 15 13, leaving, it is said,
to his executors directions that his sepulchre should
not be carried out upon the first colossal plan.^ If
he did so, they seem at the beginning of their trust
to have disregarded his intentions. Michelangelo
expressly states in one of his letters that the Car-
dinal of Agen wished to proceed with the tomb,
but on a larger scale.' A deed dated May 6, 15 13,
was signed, at the end of which Michelangelo speci-
fied the details of the new design. It differed from
the former in many important respects, but most of
all in the fact that now the structure was to be
^ Two of the executors — ^Lorenzo Pacci, afterwards Cardinal of Santi-
quattro, and Cardinal Leonardo Qrosso della Bovere, Bishop of Agen,
commonly called Aginensis — were specially commissioned to see the
tomb finished.
* Lettere, No. ccclxzxiii., to FattnccL
136 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
attached to the wall of the church. I cannot do
better than translate Michelangelo's specifications.*
They run as follows : " Let it be known to all
men that I, Michelangelo, sculptor of Florence,
undertake to execute the sepulchre of Pope Julius
in marble, on the commission of the Cardinal of
Agens and the Datary (Pucci), who, after his death,
have been appointed to complete this work, for the
sum of 16,500 golden ducats of the Camera; and
the composition of the said sepulchre is to be in
the form ensuing: A rectangle visible from three
of its sides, the fourth of which is attached to the
wall and cannot be seen. The front face, that is,
the head of this rectangle, shall be twenty palms
in breadth and fourteen in height, the other two,
running up against the wall, shall be thirty-five
palms long and likewise fourteen palms in height'
Each of these three sides shall contain two taber-
nacles, resting on a basement which shall run round
the said space, and shall be adorned with pilasters,
architrave, frieze, and cornice, as appears in the little
wooden model. In each of the said six tabernacles
will be placed two figures about one palm taller
than life {i.e. 6f feet), twelve in all; and in front
of each pilaster which flanks a tabernacle shall
stand a figure of similar size, twelve in all. On the
^ Lettere, Contralto xi. p. 636.
' The Italian pcdmo is eaid to be 9 inches. This makes the dimen*
sions work out as follows : 15 feet by 26 feet 3 inches, height 10 feet
6 inches.
CONTRACT OF 1513. 137
platform above the said rectangular structure stands
a sarcophagus with four feet, as may be seen in the
model, upon which will be Pope Julius sustained
by two angels at his head, with two at his feet;
making five figures on the sarcophagus, aU larger
than life, that is, about twice the size.^ Bound
about the said sarcophagus will be placed six dadoes
or pedestals, on which six figures of the same di-
mensions will sit. Furthermore, from the platform,
where it joins the wall, springs a little chapel about
thirty-five palms high (26 feet 3 inches), which shall
contain five figures larger than all the rest, as being
farther from the eye. Moreover, there shall be three
histories, either of bronze or of marble, as may
please the said executors, introduced on each face
of the tomb between one tabernacle and another."
All this Michelangelo undertook to execute in seven
years for the stipulated sum.
The new project involved thirty-eight colossal
statues ; and, fortunately for our understanding of
it, we may be said with almost absolute certainty
to possess a drawing intended to represent it. Part
of this is a pen-and-ink sketch at the UfSzi, which
has frequently been published, and part is a sketch
in the Berlin Collection. These have been put
together by Professor Middleton of Cambridge, who
^ The dimensions here specified seem quite extraordinarj. The
podium is only 10 feet 6 inches high ; bat the figures on its faces are
to be 6 feet 9 inches ; those upon its surface to be about 1 1 feet 8 inches
high ; and those upon the chapel still larger.
138 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
has also made out a key-plan of the tomb. With
regard to its proportions and dimensions as com-
pared with Michelangelo's specification, there re-
main some difficulties, with which I cannot see that
Professor Middleton has grappled.* It is perhaps
not improbable, as Heath Wilson suggested, that
the drawing had been thrown off as a picturesque
forecast of the monument without attention to scale.
Anyhow, there is no doubt that in this sketch, so
happily restored by Professor Middleton's sagacity
and tact, we are brought close to Michelangelo's
conception of the colossal work he never was
allowed to execute. It not only answers to the
description translated above from the sculptor's own
appendix to the contract, but it also throws light
upon the original plan of the tomb designed for the
tribune of S. Peter's. The basement of the podium
has been preserved, we may assume, in its more
salient features. There are the niches spoken of
by Condivi, with Vasari's conquered provinces pros-
trate at the feet of winged Victories. These are
flanked by the terminal figures, against which, upon
projecting consoles, stand the bound captives. At
the right hand facing us, upon the upper platform,
is seated Moses, with a different action of the hands,
it is true, from that which Michelangelo finally
1 See Heath Wilson, pp. 196, 197, for a statement of these discre-
pancies and a criticism of the specification. Professor Middleton
regards the drawings he has so ably brought together as only forming
one of many sketches famished by Michelangelo <^ after the death of
Pope Jnlius."
Turn Kecombtbuction ii
3 pBOVKaSOB MlDULEruN, uf Caubbidck.
SECOND CONTRACT OF 1516. 139
adopted. Near him is a female figure, and the two
figures grouped upon the left angle seem to be both
female. To some extent these statues bear out
Vasari's tradition that the platform in the first design
was meant to sustain figures of the contemplative and
active life of the soul — Dante's Leah and Bachel.
This great scheme was never carried out. The
fragments which may be safely assigned to it are
the Moses at S. Pietro in Vincoli and the two bound
captives of the Louvre ; the Madonna and Child,
Leah and Bachel, and two seated statues also at
S. Pietro in Vincoli, belong to the plan, though
these have undergone considerable alterations. Some
other scattered fragments of the sculptor's work
may possibly be connected with its execution. Four
male figures roughly hewn, which are now wrought
into the rock-work of a grotto in the Boboli Gar-
dens, together with the young athlete trampling
on a prostrate old man (called the Victory) and the
Adonis of the Museo Nazionale at Florence, have
all been ascribed to the sepulchre of Julius in one
or other of its stages. But these attributes are
doubtful, and will be criticised in their proper place
and time.* SuflBce it now to say that Vasari reports,
beside the Moses, Victory, and two Captives at the
Louvre, eight figures for the tomb blocked out by
Michelangelo at Rome, and five blocked out at
Florence.
^ Discrepancies in the scale and dimensions of these several statues
render the whole question very puzzling
I40 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Continuing the history of this tragic undertaking,
we come to the year 1516. On the 8th of July
in that year, Michelangelo signed a new contract,
whereby the previous deed of 15 13 was annulled.^
Both of the executors were alive and parties to this
second agreement.' ** A model was made, the width
of which is stated at twenty-one feet, after the
monument had been already sculptured of a width
of almost twenty-three feet. The architectural design
was adhered to with the same pedestals and niches
and the same crowning cornice of the first story.
There were to be six statues in front, but the
conquered provinces were now dispensed with.
There was also to be one niche only on each flank,
so that the projection of the monument from the
wall was reduced more than half, and there were
to be only twelve statues beneath the cornice and
one relief, instead of twenty-four statues and three
reliefs. On the summit of this basement a shrine
was to be erected, within which was placed the eflSgy
of the Pontiflf on his sarcophagus, with two heavenly
guardians. The whole of the statues described in
this third contract amount to nineteen." Heath
Wilson observes, with much propriety, that the
most singular fact about these successive contracts
is the departure from certain fixed proportions both
of the architectural parts and the statues, involving
a serious loss of outlay and of work. Thus the two
^ Lettere, Contratto xvi. pp. 644-651.
' I quote part of Heath Wilaon's description, pp. 232, 223.
THIRD CONTRACT OF 1532. 141
Captives of the Louvre became useless, and, as we
know, they were given away to Buberto Strozzi in
a moment of generosity by the sculptor.^ The
sitting figures detailed in the deed of 15 16 are
shorter than the Moses by one foot. The standing
figures, now at S. Pietro in Vincoli, correspond to
the specifications. What makes the matter still
more singular is, that after signing the contract
under date July 8, 15 16, Michelangelo in November
of the same year ordered blocks of marble from
Carrara with measurements corresponding to the
specifications of the deed of 15 13.*
The miserable tragedy of the sepulchre dragged
on for another sixteen years. During this period
the executors of Julius passed away, and the
Duke Francesco Maria della Rovere replaced them.
He complained that Michelangelo neglected the
tomb, which was true, although the fault lay not
with the sculptor, but with the Popes, his task-
masters. Legal proceedings were instituted to re-
cover a lai^e sum of money, which, it was alleged,
had been disbursed without due work delivered by
the master. Michelangelo had recourse to Clement
VII., who, being anxious to monopolise his labour,
undertook to arrange matters with the Duke. On
the 29th of April 1532 a third and solemn con-
^ In a petition addressed to Paul III. Michelangelo gives the reason
why these statues had to be abandoned, owing to a change of scale in
the tomb. Lettere, No. cdxxxiii.
' Contract with Francesco Pelliccia, November i, 1516 ; Yasari, xii
p. 352.
142 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
tract was signed at Rome in presence of the Pope,
witnessed by a number of illustrious personages.^
This third contract involved a fourth design for
the tomb, which Michelangelo undertook to furnish,
and at the same time to execute six statues with his
own hand. On this occasion the notion of erect-
ing it in S. Peter's was finally abandoned. The.
choice lay between two other Roman churches,
that of S. Maria del Popolo, where monuments to
several members of the Delia Rovere family existed,
and that of S. Pietro in Vincoli, from which Julius
II. had taken his cardinal's title. Michelangelo
decided for the latter, on account of its better
lighting. The six statues promised by Michelangelo
are stated in the contract to be "begun and not
completed, extant at the present date in Rome or
in Florence." Which of the several statues blocked
out for the monument were to be chosen is not
stated ; and as there are no specifications in the
document, we cannot identify them with exactness.
At any rate, the Moses must have been one; and
it is possible that the Leah and Rachel, Madonna,
and two seated statues, now at S. Pietro, were the
other five.
It might have been thought that at last the
tragedy had dragged on to its conclusion. But
no ; there was a fifth act, a fourth contract, a fifth
design. Paul III. succeeded to Clement VII., and,
having seen the Moses in Michelangelo's workshop,
1 Lettere, Contratto Iv. pp. 702-706.
FOURTH CONTRACT OF 1542. 143
declared that this one statue was enough for the
deceased Pope's tomb. The Duke Francesco Maria
della Sovere died in 1538, and was succeeded by his
son, Guidobaldo II. The new Duke's wife was a
granddaughter of Paul IIL, and this may have made
him amenable to the Pope's influence. At all events,
upon the 20th of August 1542 a final contract was
signed, stating that Michelangelo had been pre-
vented ''by just and legitimate impediments from
carrying out " his engagement under date April 29,
1532, releasing him from the terms of the third
deed, and establishing new conditions.^ The Moses,
finished by the hand of Michelangelo, takes the
central place in this new monument. Five other
statues are specified : '' to wit, a Madonna with the
child in her arms, which is already finished ; a Sibyl,
a Prophet, an Active Life and a Contemplative Life,
blocked out and nearly completed by the said
Michelangelo." These four were given to Raffaello
da Montelupo to finish. The reclining portrait-
statue of Julius, which was carved by Maso del
Bosco, is not even mentioned in this contract. But
a deed between the Duke's representative and the
craftsmen Montelupo and Urbino exists, in which
the latter undertakes to see that Michelangelo shall
retouch the Pope's face.*
1 Lettere, Contratto Ixiii p. 715. See also the contracts with
BaffaeUo da Montelupo, Qiovanni de' Maichesi, and Francesco rUibino,
Nos. liz., Iz., Ixi, Iziv., all of which relate to the tomb.
' Ijettere, Contratto Ixly. p. 718.
144 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Thus ended the tragedy of the tomb of Pope
Julius II. It is supposed to have been finally com-
pleted in 1545, and was set up where it still remains
uninjured at S. Pietro in Vincoli.^
IV.
I judged it needful to anticipate the course of
events by giving this brief history of a work begun
in 1505, and carried on with so many hindrances
and alterations through forty years of Michelangelo's
life. We shall often have to return to it, since the
matter cannot be lightly dismissed. The tomb of
Julius empoisoned Michelangelo's manhood, ham-
pered his energy, and brought but small if any profit
to his purse. In one way or another it is always
cropping up, and may be said to vex his biographers
and the students of his life as much as it annoyed
himself. We may now return to those early days in
Rome, when the project had still a fascination both
for the sculptor and his patron.
The old Basilica of S. Peter on the Vatican is
said to have been built during the reign of Constan-
tine, and to have been consecrated in 324 a.d. It
^ See Lettere, No. cdxliii, to the bankers Salvestro da Montauto
and Co., on January 25, 1545, ordering them to make the last payment
to Raffaello da Montelupo. It Is indorsed by the Duke of XJrbino's
envoy, Hieronimo Tiranno. Another letter of the same year to the
same bankers, No. cdlii, shows that Montelnpo's work was finished.
THE OLD BASILICA OF S. PETER'S. 145
was one of the largest of those Roman buildings,
measuring 435 feet in length from the great door
to the end of the tribune. A spacious open square
or atrium, surrounded by a cloister-portico, gave
access to the church. This, in the Middle Ages,
gained the name of the Paradise. A kind of taber-
nacle, in the centre of the square, protected the great
bronze fir-cone, which was formerly supposed to have
crowned the summit of Hadrian's Mausoleum, the
Castle of S. Angelo.* Dante, who saw it in the
courtyard of S. Feter^s, used it as a standard for
his giant Nimrod. He says —
La faocia sua mi parea lunga e grossa,
Gome la pina di San Pietro a Boma.
— (In/, xxxi. 58.)
This mother-church of Western Christendom was
adorned inside and out with mosaics in the style
of those which may still be seen at Bavenna.
Above the lofty row of columns which flanked the
central aisle ran processions of saints and sacred
histories. They led the eye onward to what was
called the Arch of Triumph, separating this portion
of the building from the transept and the tribune.
The concave roof of the tribune itself was decorated
with a colossal Christ, enthroned between S. Peter
and S. Paul, surveying the vast spaces of his house :
the lord and master, before whom pilgrims from all
parts of Europe came to pay tribute and to perform
acts of homage. The columns were of precious
^ It was really in antique, as in medieval, times a fountain.
VOL. L K
146 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
marbles, stripped from Pagan palaces and temples ;
and the roof was tiled with plates of gilded bronze,
torn in the age of Heraclius from the shrine of
Venus and of Roma on the Sacred Way.
During the eleven centuries which elapsed between
its consecration and the decree for its destruction,
S. Peter's had been gradually enriched with a series
of monuments, inscriptions, statues, frescoes, upon
which were written the annals of successive ages of
the Church. Giotto worked there under Benedict
II. in 1340. Pope after Pope was buried there.
In the early period of Renaissance sculpture, Mino
da Fiesole, PoUaiuolo, and Filarete added works
in bronze and marble, which blent the grace of
Florentine religious tradition with quaint neo-pagan
mythologies. These treasures, priceless for the
historian, the antiquary, and the artist, were now
going to be ruthlessly swept away at a pontiff's
bidding, in order to make room for his haughty
and self-laudatory monument. Whatever may have
been the artistic merits of Michelangelo's original
conception for the tomb, the spirit was in no sense
Christian. Those rows of captive Arts and Sciences,
those Victories exulting over prostrate cities, those
allegorical colossi symbolising the mundane virtues
of a mighty ruler s character, crowned by the portrait
of the Pope, over whom Heaven rejoiced while
Cybele deplored his loss — all this pomp of power
and parade of ingenuity harmonised but little with
the humility of a contrite soul returning to its
DECREE TO REBUILD THE CHURCH. 147
Maker and its Judge. The new temple, destined
to supersede the old basilica, embodied an aspect
of Latin Christianity which had very little indeed
in common with the piety of the primitive Church.
S. Peter's, as we see it now, represents the majesty
of Papal Rome, the spirit of a secular monarchy in
the hands of priests ; it is the visible symbol of that
schism between the Teutonic and the Latin portions
of the Western Church which broke out soon after
its foundation, and became irreconcilable before the
cross was placed upon its cupola. It seemed as
though in sweeping away the venerable traditions
of eleven hundred years, and replacing Home's time-
honoured Mother- Church with an edifice bearing the
brand-new stamp of hybrid neo-pagan architecture,
the Popes had wished to signalise that rupture with
the past and that atrophy of real religious life
which marked the counter-reformation.
Julius II. has been severely blamed for planning
the entire reconstruction of his cathedral. It must,
however, be urged in his defence that the structure
had already, in 1447, been pronounced insecure.
Nicholas V. ordered his architects, Bernardo Bossel-
lini and Leo Battista Alberti, to prepare plans for
its restoration. It is, of course, impossible for us
to say for certain whether the ancient fabric could
have been preserved, or whether its dilapidations
had gone so far as to involve destruction. Bearing
in mind the recklessness of the Renaissance and
the passion which the Popes had for engaging in
148 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
colossal undertakings, one is inclined to suspect
that the unsound state of the building was made
a pretext for beginning a work which flattered the
architectural tastes of Nicholas, but was not abso-
lutely necessary. However this may have been, foun-
dations for a new tribune were laid outside the old
apse, and the wall rose some feet above the ground
before the Pope's death. Paul II. carried on the
building; but during the pontificates of Sixtus,
Innocent, and Alexander it seems to have been
neglected. Meanwhile nothing had been done to
injure the original basilica; and when Julius an-
nounced his intention of levelling it to the ground,
his cardinals and bishops entreated him to refrain
from an act so sacrilegious. The Pope was not a
man to take advice or make concessions. Accord-
ingly, turning a deaf ear to these entreaties, he
had plans prepared by Giuliano da San Gallo and
Bramante. Those eventually chosen were furnished
by Bramante; and San Gallo, who had hitherto
enjoyed the fullest confidence of Julius, is said to
have left Rome in disgust. For reasons which will
afterwards appear, he could not have done so before
the summer months of 1 506.^
It is not yet the proper time to discuss the build-
ing of S. Peter's. Still, with regard to Bramante's
plan, this much may here be said. It was designed
in the form of a Greek cross, surmounted with a
^ From a letter of Pietro Bosselli, quoted by Gotti, L 46, we gather
tliat San Gallo may have left Borne as early as May la
BRAM ANTE'S DESIGN. 149
huge circular dome and flanked by two towers.
Bramante used to boast that he meant to raise the
Pantheon in the air ; and the plan, as preserved
for us by Serlio, shows that the cupola would have
been constructed after that type. Competent judges,
however, declare that insuperable difficulties must
have arisen in carrying out this design, while the
piers constructed by Bramante were found in
eflFect to be wholly insufficient for their purpose.
For the aesthetic beauty and the commodiousness
of his building we have the strongest evidence in
a letter written by Michelangelo, who was by no
means a partial witness.^ '*It cannot be denied,"
he says, '^that Bramante's talent as an architect
was equal to that of any one from the times of the
ancients until now. He laid the first plan of S.
Peter's, not confused, but clear and simple, full of
light and detached from surrounding buildings,
so that it interfered with no part of the palace.
It was considered a very fine design, and indeed
any one can see with his own eyes now that it is
so. All the architects who departed from Bra-
mante's scheme, as did Antonio da San Gallo, have
departed from the truth." Though Michelangelo
gave this unstinted praise to Bramante's genius as
a builder, he blamed him severely both for his want
of honesty as a man, and also for his vandalism in
dealing with the venerable church he had to replace.
** Bramante," says Oondivi, "was addicted, as every-
^ Lettere, No. cdlxziv.
I50 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
body knows, to every kind of pleasure. He spent
enormously, and, though the pension granted him
by the Pope was large, he found it insufficient for
his needs. Accordingly he made profit out of the
works committed to his charge, erecting the walls
of poor material, and without regard for the sub-
stantial and enduring qualities which fabrics on so
huge a scale demanded. This is apparent in the
buildings at S. Peter's, the Corridore of the Belve-
dere, the Convent of San Pietro ad Vincula, and
other of his edifices, which have had to be
strengthened and propped up with buttresses and
similar supports in order to prevent them tumbling
down." Bramante, during his residence in Lom-
bardy, developed a method of erecting piers with
rubble enclosed by hewn stone or plaster-covered
brickwork. This enabled an unconscientious builder
to furnish bulky architectural masses, which pre-
sented a specious aspect of solidity and looked
more costly than they really were. It had the
additional merit of being easy and rapid in exe-
cution. Bramante was thus able to gratify the
whims and caprices of his impatient patron, who
desired to see the works of art he ordered rise like
the fabric of Aladdin's lamp before his very eyes.
Michelangelo is said to have exposed the architect's
trickeries to the Pope ; what is more, he complained
with just and bitter indignation of the wanton ruth-
lessness with which Bramante set about his work
of destruction. I will again quote Condivi here.
FOUNDATIONS LAID IN 1506. 151
for the passage seems to have been inspired by
the great sculptor's verbal reminiscences : " The
worst was, that while he was pulling down the
old S. Peter's, he dashed those marvellous antique
columns to the ground, without paying the least
attention, or caring at all when they were broken
into fragments, although he might have lowered
them gently and preserved their shafts intact.
Michelangelo pointed out that it was an easy thing
enough to erect piers by placing brick on brick,
but that to fashion a column like one of these
taxed all the resources of art."
On the 1 8th of April 1506, Julius performed the
ceremony of laying the foundation-stone of the new
S. Peter's.^ The place chosen was the great sustain-
ing pier of the dome, near which the altar of S.
Veronica now stands. A deep pit had been ex-
cavated, into which the aged Pope descended fear-
lessly, only shouting to the crowd above that they
should stand back and not endanger the falling in
of the earth above him. Coins and medals were
duly deposited in a vase, over which a ponderous
block of marble was lowered, while Julius, bare-
headed, sprinkled the stone with holy water and
gave the pontifical benediction. On the same day
he wrote a letter to Henry VIL of England, inform-
ing the King that " by the guidance of our Lord and
Saviour Jesus Christ he had undertaken to restore
the old basilica, which was perishing through age."
^ See Crowe and Cavalcaselle, Lift ofBaphasI^ vol. i. p. 381.
152 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
V.
The terms of cordial intimacy which subsisted
between Julius and Michelangelo at the close of
1505 were destined to be disturbed. The Pope
intermitted his visits to the sculptors workshop,
and began to take but little interest in the monu-
ment. Condivi directly ascribes this coldness to
the intrigues of Bramante, who whispered into the
Pontiff's ear that it was ill-omened for a man to
construct his own tomb in his lifetime. It is not
at all improbable that he said something of the
sort, and Bramante was certainly no good friend to
Michelangelo. A manoeuvring and managing indi-
vidual, entirely unscrupulous in his choice of means,
condescending to flattery and lies, he strove to stand
as patron between the Pope and subordinate crafts-
men. Michelangelo had come to Rome under San
Gallo's influence, and Bramante had just succeeded
in winning the commission to rebuild S. Peter's
over his rival's head. It was important for him to
break up San Grallo's party, among whom the sincere
and uncompromising Michelangelo threatened to be
very formidable. The jealousy which he felt for the
man was envenomed by a fear lest he should speak
the truth about his own dishonesty. To discredit
Michelangelo with the Pope, and, if possible, to drive
him out of Rome, was therefore Bramante's interest :
BRAMANTE AND BUONARROTI. 153
more particularly as his own nephew, Raffaello da
UrbinOy had now made up his mind to join him
there. We shall see that he succeeded in expelling
both San Gallo and Buonarroti during the course of
1 506, and that in their absence he reigned, together
with Raffaello, almost alone in the art-circles of the
Eternal City.
I see no reason, therefore, to discredit the story
told by Condivi and Vasari regarding the Pope's
growing want of interest in his tomb. Michelangelo
himself, writing from Rome in 1542, thirty-six years
after these events, says that ''all the dissensions
between Pope Julius and me arose from the envy
of Bramante and Bafifaello da Urbino, and this was
the cause of my not finishing the tomb in his life-
time. They wanted to ruin me. Raffaello indeed had
good reason ; for all he had of art he owed to me." ^
But, while we are justified in attributing much to
Bramante's intrigues, it must be remembered that
the Pope at this time was absorbed in his plans for
conquering Bologna. Overwhelmed with business
and anxious about money, he could not have had
much leisure to converse with sculptors.
Michelangelo was still in Rome at the end of
January. On the 31st of that month he wrote to
his father, complaining that the marbles did not
arrive quickly enough, and that he had to keep
Julius in good humour with promises.' At the same
time he begged Lodovico to pack up all his drawings,
^ Lettere, No. cdxxxv. * Lettere, No. ilL
154 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
and to send them, well secured against bad weather,
by the hand of a carrier. It is obvious that he had
no thoughts of leaving Rome, and that the Pope
was still eager about the monument. Early in the
spring he assisted at the discovery of the Laocoon.
Francesco, the son of Giuliano da San Gallo,
describes how Michelangelo was almost always at
his father's house; and coming there one day, he
went, at the architect's invitation, down to the ruins
of the Palace of Titus.^ "We set off, all three
together; I on my father's shoulders. When we
descended into the place where the statue lay, my
father exclaimed at once, ' That is the Laocoon, of
which Pliny speaks/ The opening was enlarged, so
that it could be taken out ; and after we had suffi-
ciently admired it, we went home to breakfast."
Julius bought the marble for 500 crowns, and had
it placed in the Belvedere of the Vatican. Scholars
praised it in Latin lines of greater or lesser merit,
Sadoleto writing even a fine poem ; ^ and Michel-
angelo is said, but without trustworthy authority,
to have assisted in its restoration.
This is the last glimpse we have of Michelangelo
before his flight from Rome. Under what circum-
stances he suddenly departed may be related in the
words of a letter addressed by him to Giuliano da
^ Qrimm, yol. i. p. 276. The place where this antique marble was
discovered was really the ThermsB of Titus.
' Printed in PoemcUa Seleda Italorum^ Ozonii, 1808 ; also in a note
to Lessing's Zctokoon.
i
SUDDEN FLIGHT FROM ROME. 155
San Gallo in Borne upon the 2nd of May 1506, after
his return to Florence.^
" GiULiANO, — ^Your letter informs me that the Pope
was angry at my departure, as also that his Holiness is
inclined to proceed with the works agreed upon be-
tween us, and that I may return and not be anxious
about anything.
" About my leaving Rome, it is a fact that on Holy
Saturday I heard the Pope, in conversation with a
jeweller at table and with the Master of Ceremo-
nies, say that he did not mean to spend a farthing
more on stones, small or great. This caused me
no little astonishment. However, before I left his
presence, I asked for part of the money needed to
carry on the work. His Holiness told me to return
on Monday. I did so, and on Tuesday, and on
Wednesday, and on Thursday, as the Pope saw.
At last, on Friday morning, I was sent away, or
plainly turned out of doors. The man who did
this said he knew me, but that such were his
orders. I, who had heard the Pope's words on
Saturday, and now perceived their result in deeds,
was utterly cast down. This was not, however,
quite the only reason of my departure ; there was
something else, which I do not wish to com-
municate; enough that it made me think that, if
I stayed in Rome, that city would be my tomb
before it was the Pope's. And this was the cause
of my sudden departure.
^ Lettere, No. ccczliii.
156 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
'* Now you write to me fiCt the Pope's instance.
So I beg you to read him this letter, and inform
his Holiness that I am even more than ever dis-
posed to carry out the work."
Further details may be added from subsequent
letters of Michelangelo. Writing in January 1524
to his friend Giovanni Francesco Fattucci, he says : ^
** When I had finished paying for the transport of
these marbles, and all the money was spent, I
furnished the house I had upon the Piazza di S.
Pietro with beds and utensils at my own expense,
trusting to the commission of the tomb, and sent
for workmen from Florence, who are still alive,
and paid them in advance out of my own purse.
Meanwhile Pope Julius changed his mind about the
tomb, and would not have it made. Not knowing
this, I applied to him for money, and was expelled
from the chamber. Enraged at such an insult, I
left Rome on the moment. The things with which
my house was stocked went to the dogs. The
marbles I had brought to Rome lay till the date
of Leo*s creation on the Piazza, and both lots were
injured and pillaged." *
Again, a letter of October 1542, addressed to
some prelate, contains further particulars.* We
1 Lettere, No. ccclzxxiiL
* In the abbomo (ccclxxziv): ''Finding myaelf engaged in great
expenses, and seeing his Holiness indisposed to pay, I complained to
him ; this annoyed him so much that he had me torned out of the
antechamber. Upon which I became angry and left home suddenly."
* Lettere, No. cdxxxv.
DETAILS REGARDING THE FLIGHT. 157
learn he was so short of money that he had to
borrow about 200 ducats from his friend Baldassare
Balducci at the bank of Jacopo Gallo. The episode
at the Vatican and the flight to Foggibonsi are
related thus : —
" To continue my history of the tomb of Julius :
I say that when he changed his mind about build-
ing it in his lifetime, some ship-loads of marble
came to the Bipa, which I had ordered a short
while before from Carrara; and as I could not get
money from the Pope to pay the freightage, I had
to borrow 150 or 200 ducats from Baldassare
Balducci, that is, from the bank of Jacopo Gallo.
At the same time workmen came from Florence,
some of whom are still alive ; and I furnished the
house which Julius gave me behind S. Caterina
with beds and other furniture for the men, and
what was wanted for the work of the tomb. All
this being done without money, I was greatly
embarrassed. Accordingly, I urged the Fope with
all my power to go forward with the business,
and he had me turned away by a groom one morn-
ing when I came to speak upon the matter. A
Lucchese bishop, seeing this, said to the groom :
' Do you not know who that man is ? ' The groom
replied to me : ^ Excuse me, gentleman ; I have
orders to do this.' I went home, and wrote as
follows to the Fope : ' Most blessed Father, I
have been turned out of the palace to-day by your
orders ; wherefore I give you notice that from this
iS8 « LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
time forward, if you want me, you must look for
me elsewhere than at Rome/ I sent this letter
to Messer Agostino, the steward, to give it to the
Pope. Then I sent for Cosimo, a carpenter, who
lived with me and looked after household matters,
and a stone-heaver, who is still alive, and said to
them : * Go for a Jew, and sell everything in the
house, and come to Florence.' I went, took the
post, and travelled towards Florence. The Pope,
when he had read my letter, sent five horsemen
after me, who reached me at Poggibonsi about three
hours after nightfall, and gave me a letter from
the Pope to this eflFect: 'When you have seen
these present, come back at once to Rome, under
penalty of our displeasure.* The horsemen were
anxious I should answer, in order to prove that
they had overtaken me. I replied then to the
Pope, that if he would perform the conditions he
was under with regard to me, I would return ; but
otherwise he must not expect to have me again.
Later on, while I was at Florence, Julius sent
three briefs to the Signory. At last the latter sent
for me and said : * We do not want to go to war
with Pope Julius because of you. You must re-
turn ; and if you do so, we will write you letters of
such authority that, should he do you harm, he will
be doing it to this Signory.' Accordingly I took
the letters, and went back to the Pope, and what
followed would be long to tell. "
These passages from Michelangelo's correspondence
MICHELANGELO'S NERVOUSNESS. 159
confirm Condivi's narrative of the flight from !Rome,
showing that he had gathered his information from
the sculptor's lips. Condivi differs only in making
Michelangelo send a verbal message, and not a written
letter, to the Pope.^ "Enraged by this repulse, he ex-
claimed to the groom : ' Tell the Pope that if hence-
forth he wants me, he must look for me elsewhere.' "
It is worth observing that only the first of these
letters, written shortly after the event, and in-
tended for the Pope's ear, contains a hint of
Michelangelo's dread of personal violence if he
remained in Rome. His words seem to point at
poison or the dagger. Cellini's autobiography yields
suflScient proof that such fears were not unjustified
by practical experience; and Bramante, though he
preferred to work by treachery of tongue, may have
commanded the services of assassins, uomini arditi
efacinorosi, as they were somewhat euphemistically
called. At any rate, it is clear that Michelangelo's
precipitate departure and vehement refusal to return
were occasioned by more pungent motives than the
Pope's frigidity. This has to be noticed, because
we learn from several incidents of the same kind
in the master's life that he was constitutionally
subject to sudden fancies and fears of imminent
danger to his person from an enemy. He had
already quitted Bologna in haste (p. 48 above) from
dread of assassination or maltreatment at the hands
. of native sculptors.
* Condivi, p. 29.
i6o LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
VI.
The negotiations which passed between the Pope
and the Signory of Florence about what may be
called the extradition of Michelangelo form a
curious episode in his biography, throwing into
powerful relief the importance he had already
acquired among the princes of Italy. I propose
to leave these for the commencement of my next
chapter, and to conclude the present with an ac-
count of his occupations during the summer months
at Florence.
Signor Gotti says that he passed three months
away from Julius in his njitive city.^ Considering
that he arrived before the end of April, and reached
Bologna at the end of November 1506, we have the
right to estimate this residence at about seven
months.* A letter written to him from Rome on
the 4th of August shows that he had not then left
Florence upon any intermediate journey of import-
ance.* Therefore there is every reason to suppose
Qotti, i 47. He follows VasarL
* In a draft for his famous letter to Fattncci (No. ccclzxziy.), Michel-
angelo himself declares that he ''remained ahout seren or eight months
in hiding, as it were, hecauee of his fear of the Pope."
* Gk>tti, ii. 51. Curiouslj enough, he seems to have gone a second
time to Carrara, ahout May 20, to purchase luarhles for the tomh of
Julius. See Yasari, xii. p. 347. I am not sure that he may not have
gone there at Soderini's orders to order the famous hlock of marhle*
for the Cacus.
FATE OF LIONARDO'S FRESCO. i6i
that he enjoyed a period of half a year of leisure,
which lie devoted to finishing his Cartoon for the
Battle of Pisa.
It had been commenced, as we have seen, in a
workshop at the Spedale dei Tintori. When he
went to Bologna in the autumn, it was left, exposed
presumably to public view, in the Sala del Papa at
S. Maria Novella.^ It had therefore been com-
pleted; but it does not appear that Michelangelo
had commenced his fresco in the Sala del Gran
Consiglio.
Lionardo began to paint his Battle of the Standard
in March 1505. The work advanced rapidly; but
the method he adopted, which consisted in applying
oil colours to a fat composition laid thickly on the
wall, caused the ruin of his picture. He is said to
have wished to reproduce the encaustic process of
the ancients, and lighted fires to harden the surface
of the fresco.* This melted the wax in the lower
portions of the paste, and made the colours run.
At any rate, no traces of the painting now remain
in the Sala del Gran Consiglio, the walls of which
are covered by the mechanical and frigid brush-work
of Vasari. It has even been suggested that Vasari
^ Oondivi ib out authority for these facta.
^ The whole could not have been completed. Vasari says that
Lionardo left off in disgust ; and a letter from Soderini to his agent
at Milan, October 9, 1506, complains that ** Lionardo acted ill toward
the Bepublic, since he took a large sum of money, and made but a maU
beginning of a greai work he wu engaged to do/* Qaye, ii. 87. Professor
Middleton reminds me that in his experiment at encaustic painting
Lionardo foUowed the directions given by Vitruvius (vii. 9. 3).
VOL. L L
1 62 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
knew more about the disappearance of his prede-
cessor's masterpiece than he has chosen to relate.^
Lionardo's Cartoon has also disappeared, and we
know the Battle of Anghiari only by Edelinck's en-
graving from a drawing of Kubens, and by some
doubtful sketches.^
The same fate was in store for Michelangelo's
Cartoon. All that remains to us of that great work
is the chiaroscuro transcript at Holkham, a sketch
for the whole composition in the Albertina Gallery
at Vienna, which differs in some important details
from the Holkham group, several interesting pen-and-
chalk drawings by Michelangelo's own hand, also in
the Albertina Collection, and a line-engraving by
Marcantonio Raimondi, commonly known as ''Les
Grimpeurs." •
We do not know at what exact time Michelangelo
finished his Cartoon in 1506.* He left it, says
^ Heath Wilaon, p. 70.
* Crowe and Cavalcaselle attribute some pieces in BaphaePs sketch-
book to transcripts made at Florence from lionardo's fresco. lAfe
ofBaphad,!. 274.
' The whole subject is weU treated by M. Thausing, MichdangddB
Enlwmf, Leipzig : Seemann, 1878.
* Nearly all the critics wbo have entered into the details of this
question, Milanesi (in Yasari), Qotti, Crowe and Cavalcaselle (in Life of
Baphad), MUnz {UCEware et la V%e\ give the date August 1505. They
do this on the strength of two entries in GKiye, yoL ii. p. 93. These aie
minutes of payments, one on February 28, 1505, to Michelangelo for
work done ; the other, on August 30, 1 505, to a ropemaker for setting up
the Cartoon. Something is wrong here. Even supposing that Michel-
angelo did not leave Florence for Rome as early as January 1505,
he was almost certainly at Carrara in August 1505. The only way
to reconcile these dates is to suppose that Michelangelo was paid iu
FATE OF MICHELANGELO'S CARTOON. 163
Condivi, in the Sala del Papa. Afterwards it must
have been transferred to the Sala del Gran Consiglio ;
for Albertini, in his Memoriale, or Guide-Book to
Florence, printed in 15 10, speaks of both "the
works of Lionardo da Vinci and the designs of
Michelangelo " as then existing in that hall. Vasari
asserts that it was taken to the house of the Medici,
and placed in the great upper hall, but gives no
date. This may have taken place on the return of
the princely family in 15 12. Cellini confirms this
view, since he declares that when he was copying
the Cartoon, which could hardly have happened
before 1 5 1 3, the Battle of Pisa was at the Palace of
the Medici, and the Battle of Anghiari at the Sala del
Papa.^ The way in which it finally disappeared is in-
volved in some obscurity, owing to Vasari's spite and
mendacity. In the first, or 1 550, edition of the "Lives
Febmary 1505 for work done before he went to Borne, and that the Car-
toon in its nnQnifihed state was framed and hung daring his absence
in August 1505. It is quite clear, from Oondiyi, Yasari, and Soderini's
letter of November 27 (Qaye, ii. 92), that he was working on the Car-
toon in 1506. In the letter to Fattucci (No. ccclzxxiii.) Michelangelo
himself says that when he went to Bome the Cartoon was in progress :
he expected to be paid 3000 ducats, and thought the money was already
half gained. Like so much of his work, he probably left it in a stage
bordering upon completion. His subsequent labour in 1506 may have
brought it to that unexampled finish which Yasari praises.
^ Albertini, quoted by Milanesi, Yas. vii. 33, note ; Yasari, xii. 179 ;
Cellini, Vita^ L cap. 12. Albertini, I may obserre, does not use the
word cartoney but disegni. Yet I think it probable that he meant the
former, and that in 15 10 the Cartoon was in the Sala del Gran Con-
siglio. It appears from Michelangelo's correspondence (Letters, pp.
84, 92, 95) that in the year 1508 it must have still been in the Sida
del Papa.
i64 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
df the Painters," he wrote as follows : ^ " Having
become a regular object of study to artists, the Cartoon
was carried to the house of the Medici, into the great
upper hall; and this was the reason that it came
with too little safeguard into the hands of those said
artists : inasmuch as, during the illness of the Duke
Giuhano, when no one attended to such matters, it
was torn in pieces by them and scattered abroad, so
that fragments may be found in many places, as is
proved by those existing now in the house of Uberto
Strozzi, a gentleman of Mantua, who holds them in
great respect." When Vasari published his second
edition, in 1568, he repeated this story of the de-
struction of the Cartoon, but with a very significant
alteration.* Instead of saying " it was torn in pieces
hy them" he now printed " it was torn in pieces, as
hath been told elsewhere" Now Bandinelli, Vasari's
mortal enemy, and the scapegoat for all the sins of
his generation among artists, died in 1559, and
Vasari felt that he might safely defame his memory.
Accordingly he introduced a Life of Bandinelli into
the second edition . of his work, containing the
following passage:' "Baccio was in the habit of
frequenting the place where the Cartoon stood more
than any other artists, and had in his possession a
false key ; what follows happened at the time when
^ I quote from a manuscript copy of this edition, and cannot therefore
give tlie page. The illness of Gialiano, Duke of Nemours, is probably
the one which preceded his death in 15 16.
* Vasari, xiL p. 179. ' Vasari, x. p. 296.
VASARI AND BANDINELLI. 165
Piero Soderini was deposed in 1512, and the Medici
returned. Well, then, while the palace was in
tumult and confusion through this revolution, Baccio
went alone, and tore the Cartoon into a thousand
fragments. Why he did so was not known ; but
some surmised that he wanted to keep certain
pieces of it by him for his own use ; some, that he
wished to deprive young men of its advantages in
study; some, that he was moved by affection for
Lionardo da Vinci, who suffered much in reputation
by this design ; some, perhaps with sharper intui-
tion, believed that the hatred he bore to Michel-
angelo inspired him to commit the act. The loss
of the Cartoon to the city was no slight one, and
Baccio deserved the blame he got, for everybody
called him envious and spiteful." This second ver-
sion stands in glaring contradiction to the first, both
as regards the date and the place where the Car-
toon was destroyed. It does not, I think, deserve
credence, for Cellini, who was a boy of twelve in
1 5 1 2, could hardly have drawn from it before that
date ; and if Bandinelli was so notorious for his
malignant vandalism as Vasari asserts, it is most
improbable that Cellini, while speaking of the
Cartoon in connection with Torrigiano, should not
have taken the opportunity to cast a stone at the
man whom he detested more than any one in
Florence. Moreover, if Bandinelli had wanted to
destroy the Cartoon for any of the reasons above
assigned to him, he would not have dispersed frag-
1 66 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
ments to be treasured up with reverence. At the
close of this tedious summary I ought to add that
Condi vi expressly states :^ "I do not know by what
ill-fortune it subsequently came to ruin." He adds,
however, that many of the pieces were found about
in various places, and that all of them were pre-
served like sacred objects. We have, then, every
reason to believe that the story told in Vasari's first
edition is the literal truth. Copyists and engravers
used their opportunity, when the palace of the
Medici was thrown into disorder by the severe
illness of the Duke of Nemours, to take away por-
tions of Michelangelo's Cartoon for their own use
in 1 516.
Of the Cartoon and its great reputation Cellini
gives us this account : * " Michelangelo portrayed
a number of foot-soldiers, who, the season being
summer, had gone to bathe in the Amo. He drew
them at the very moment the alarm is sounded, and
the men all naked run to arms ; so splendid is their
action, that nothing survives of ancient or of modern
art which touches the same lofty point of excel-
lence ; and, as I have already said, the design of the
great Lionardo was itself most admirably beautiful.
These two Cartoons stood, one in the palace of the
Medici, the other in the hall of the Pope. So long
as they remained intact, they were the school of the
world. Though the divine Michelangelo in later
^ Condi vi, p. 31.
' Vita^ lib. i cap. 12, Englished by J. A. Symonds.
CELEBRITY OF THE CARTOON. 167
life finished that great chapel of Pope Julius (the
Sistine), he never rose halfway to the same pitch
of power; his genius never afterwards attained to
the force of those first studies." Allowing for some
exaggeration due to enthusiasm for things enjoyed
in early youth, this is a very remarkable statement.
Cellini knew the frescoes of the Sistine well, yet
he maintains that they were inferior in power and
beauty to the Battle of Pisa. It seems hardly
credible ; but, if we believe it, the legend of Michel-
angelo's being unable to execute his own designs for
the vault of that chapel falls to the ground.
VIL
The great Cartoon has become less even than a
memory, and so, perhaps, we ought to leave it in
the limbo of things inchoate and unaccomplished.
But this it was not, most emphatically. Decidedly
it had its day, lived and sowed seeds for good or
evil through its period of brief existence : so many
painters of the grand style took their note from it ;
it did so much to introduce the last phase of Italian
art, the phase of efflorescence, the phase deplored
by critics steeped in mediaeval feeling. To re-
capture something of its potency from the descrip-
tion of contemporaries is therefore our plain duty,
and for this we must have recourse to Vasari's text.
1 68 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
He says : ^ " Michelangelo filled his canvas with nude
men, who, bathing at the time of summer heat in
Amo, were suddenly called to arms, the enemy assail-
ing them. The soldiers swarmed up from the river
to resume their clothes ; and here you could behold
depicted by the master's godlike hands one hurrying
to clasp his limbs in steel and give assistance to his
comrades, another buckling on the cuirass, and many
seizing this or that weapon, with cavalry in squadrons
giving the attack. Among the multitude of figures,
there was an old man, who wore upon his head an
ivy wreath for shade. Seated on the ground, in
act to draw his hose up, he was hampered by the
wetness of his legs ; and while he heard the clamour
of the soldiers, the cries, the rumbling of the drums,
he pulled with all his might; all the muscles and
sinews of his body were seen in strain ; and what
was more, the contortion of his mouth showed what
agony of haste he suffered, and how his whole frame
laboured to the toe-tips. Then there were drummers
and men with flying garments, who ran stark
naked toward the fray. Strange postures too : this
fellow upright, that man kneeling, or bent down,
or on the point of rising ; all in the air foreshortened
with full conquest over every diflSiculty. In addi-
tion, you discovered groups of figures sketched in
various methods, some outlined with charcoal, some
etched with strokes, some shadowed with the stump,
^ Vasari, xii. 177 et seq. Condivi, a more faithful describer than
Vasari, is silent here.
r^rn.
FCGUIIK OF A HaTHEF.
'^:^
VASARrS DESCRIPTION. 169
some relieved in white-lead ; the master having
sought to prove his empire over all materials of
draughtsmanship. The craftsmen of design remained
therewith astonied and dumbfounded, recognising
the furthest reaches of their art revealed to them
by this unrivaUed masterpiece. Those who exa-
mined the forms I have described, painters who in-
spected and compared them with works hardly less
divine, affirm that never in the history of human
achievement was any product of a man's brain seen
like to them in mere supremacy. And certainly we
have the right to believe this ; for when the Cartoon
was finished, and carried to the Hall of the Pope,
amid the acclamation of all artists, and to the ex-
ceeding fame of Michelangelo, the students who
made drawings from it, as happened with foreigners
and natives through many years in Florence, became
men of mark in several branches. This is obvious,
for Aristotele da San Gallo worked there, as did
Ridolfo Ghirlandajo, Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino,
Francesco Granaccio, Baccio Bandinelli, and Alonso
Berugetta, the Spaniard; they were followed by
Andrea del Sarto, Franciabigio, Jacopo Sansovino,
Rosso, Maturino, Lorenzetto, Tribolo, then a boy,
Jacopo da Pontormo, and Pierin del Vaga: all of
them first-rate masters of the Florentine school."
It does not appear from this that Vasari pretended
to have seen the great Cartoon. Bom in 1 5 1 2, he
could not indeed have done so ; but there breathes
through his description a gust of enthusiasm, an
I70 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
•
afflatus of concurrent witnesses to its surpassing
grandeur. Some of the details raise a suspicion
that Vasari had before his eyes the transcript en
grisaille which he says was made by Aristotele da
San Gallo, and also the engraving by Marcantonio
Raimondi. The prominence given to the ivy-
crowned old soldier troubled by his hose confirms
the accuracy of the Holkham picture and the Alber-
tina drawing.^ But none of these partial transcripts
left to us convey that sense of multitude, space,
and varied action which Vasari's words impress on
the imagination. The fullest, that at Holkham, con-
tains nineteen figures, and these are schematically
arranged in three planes, with outlying subjects in
foreground and background. Reduced in scale, and
treated with the arid touch of a feeble craftsman, the
linear composition suggests no large esthetic charm.
It is simply a bas-relief of carefully selected attitudes
and vigorously studied movements — ^nineteen men,
more or less unclothed, put together with the scien-
tific view of illustrating possibilities and conquering
difficulties in postures of the adult male body. The
extraordinary eflfect, as of something superhuman,
produced by the Cartoon upon contemporaries, and
preserved for us in Cellini's and Vasari's narratives,
must then have been due to unexampled qualities
^ Pages 12 and 13 of Thansing's essay. The fine early sketch by
Michelangelo's own hand at Vienna, opposite page 8 of the same essay,
shows the old man in the foreground. He must hare been a main
feature in the composition.
MASTERY OF THE NUDE. 171
of strength in conception, draughtsmanship, and
' execution. It stung to the quick an age of artists
who had abandoned the representation of religious
sentiment and poetical feeling for technical triumphs
and masterly solutions of mechanical problems in
the treatment of the nude figure. We all know
how much more than this Michelangelo had in him
to give, and how unjust it would be to judge a
masterpiece from his hand by the miserable relics
now at our disposal. Still I cannot refrain from
thinking that the Cartoon for the Battle of Pisa,
taken up by him as a field for the display of
his ability, must, by its very brilliancy, have acce-
lerated the ruin of Italian art. Cellini, we saw,
placed it above the frescoes of the Sistine. In
force, veracity, and realism it may possibly have been
superior to those sublime productions. Everything
we know about the growth of Michelangelo's genius
leads us to suppose that he departed gradually but
surely from the path of Nature. He came, however,
to use what he had learned from Nature as means for
the expression of soul- stimulating thoughts. This,
the finest feature of his genius, no artist of the age was
capable of adequately comprehending. Accordingly,
they agreed in extolling a cartoon which displayed his
faculty of dealing with un hd corpo ignudo as the
climax of his powers.
As might be expected, there was no landscape in the
Cartoon. Michelangelo handled his subject wholly
from the point of view of sculpture. A broken
172 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
bank and a retreating platform, a few rocks in the
distance and a few waved lines in the foreground,
showed that the naked men were by a river. Michel-
angelo's unrelenting contempt for the many-formed
and many-coloured stage on which we live and
move — his steady determination to treat men and
women as nudities posed in the void, with just
enough of solid substance beneath their feet to make
their attitude? intelligible — is a point which must
over and over again be insisted on. In the psychol-
ogy of the master, regarded from any side one likes
to take, this constitutes his leading characteristic.
It gives the key, not only to his talent as an artist,
but also to his temperament as a man.
Marcantonio seems to have felt and resented the
aridity of composition, the isolation of plastic form,
the tyranny of anatomical science, which even the
most sympathetic of us feel in Michelangelo. This
master s engraving of three lovely nudes, the most
charming memento preserved to us from the Car-
toon, introduces a landscape of grove and farm, field
and distant hill, lending suavity to the muscular
male body and restoring it to its proper place among
the sinuous lines and broken curves of Nature.
That the landscape was adapted from a copper-plate
of Lucas van Leyden signifies nothing. It serves
the soothing purpose which sensitive nerves, irri-
tated by Michelangelo's aloofness from all else but
thought and naked flesh and posture, gratefully
acknowledge.
ANECDOTE OF LIONARDO. 173
While Michelangelo was finishing his Cartoon,
Lionardo da Vinci was painting his fresco. Circum-
stances may have brought the two chiefs of Italian
art frequently together in the streets of Florence.
There exists an anecdote of one encounter, which,
though it rests upon the credit of an anonymous
writer, and does not reflect a pleasing light upon
the hero of this biography, cannot be neglected.^
"Lionardo," writes our authority, "was a man of
fair presence, well-proportioned, gracefully endowed,
and of fine aspect. He wore a tunic of rose-colour,
falling to his knees; for at that time it was the
fashion to carry garments of some length ; and down
to the middle of his breast there flowed a beard
beautifully curled and well arranged.* Walking
with a friend near S. Trinitk, where a company of
honest folk were gathered, and talk was going on
about some passage from Dante, they called to
Lionardo, and begged him to explain its meaning.
It so happened that just at this moment Michel-
angelo went by, and, being hailed by one of them,
Lionardo answered : * There goes Michelangelo ; he
will interpret the verses you require.* Whereupon
Michelangelo, who thought he spoke in this way to
make fun of him, replied in anger : * Explain them
yourself, you who made the model of a horse to
cast in bronze, and could not cast it, and to your
1 Gotti, voL i. p. 48.
s This recalls Lionardo's chalk-drawings of his own head in old age,
and the oil-pictnre at the UffizL
174 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
shame left it in the lurch.' ^ With these words, he
turned his back to the group» and went his way.
Lionardo remained standing there, red in the face
for the reproach cast at him ; and Michelangelo,
not satisfied, but wanting to sting him to the quick,
added : * And those Milanese capons believed in your
ability to do it ! ' "
We can only take anecdotes for what they are
worth, and that may perhaps be considered slight
when they are anonymous. This anecdote, how-
ever, in the original Florentine diction, although it
betrays a partiality for Lionardo, bears the aspect
of truth to fact. Moreover, even Michelangelo's
admirers are bound to acknowledge that he had a
rasping tongue, and was not incapable of showing
his bad temper by rudeness. From the period of
his boyhood, when Torrigiano smashed his nose,
down to the last years of his life in Eome, when
he abused his nephew Lionardo and hurt the feel-
ings of his best and oldest friends, he discovered
signs of a highly nervous and fretful temperament.
It must be admitted that the dominant qualities of
nobility and generosity in his nature were alloyed
by suspicion bordering on littleness, and by petulant
yieldings to the irritation of the moment which are
incompatible with the calm of an Olympian genius.
1 The equefitrian statue of Francesco Sforza,
CHAPTER V.
Iramante's intrigues at Boiue against Michelangelo.— Friends entreat
him to return,— His fear of Julius. — The Pope corresponds with
the Signory about his extradition. — Julius is now at Bologna, —
Michelangelo decides to go and beg his pardon there.— Two
sonnets on the Pope. — ^Account of the campaign undertaken by
Julius.— 2. Michelangelo reaches Bologna in November 1506.— Is
received and pardoned. — Julius commissions him to cast his statue
in bronae, — His penurious life at Bologna.— Ill served by work-
men, The dagger designed for P. AldobrandinL — Meeting with
Francia. 3. Preparations for casting the statue of Julius. — Partial
failure of the first attempt.— The second completes the work. —
Chasing and finishing. — The statue placed above the door of S.
Petronio, February 21, 1508.— Its destruction in 1511. — Michel-
angelo returns to Florence in March. — 4, Michelangelo emancipated
by his father.— Joins Julius in Rome.— First project for the vault
of the Sistine.— Second and larger scheme. — The scaffolding. —
Michelangelo engages Florentine fresco-painters.- Begins to pre-
pare cartoons in May. — His method. — Finds that his assistants are
useless. — Practical difficulties with the fresco.— Julius visits him
upon the scaffolding. — 5. The first half of the vault uncovered,
November i, 1509. — Its immediate and immense success. —
Baffaello da Urbino.— Bramante's attempt to procure for him the
completion of the vault— The rivalry and quarrels of artists at
Bome. — 6. Michelangelo's profound silence with regard to his own
art- work. — 7. Fabulous tradition concerning the space of time em-
ployed upon the Sistine. — Unfinished state of the frescoes when
they were finally exposed to view, October 15, 15 12. — 8. Domestic
life in Rome.— The boy from Florence. — Angry letters to his
brothers. — Irritability combined with deep and lasting love for his
family.— Kind letters to his father.— The battle of Ravenna and
the sack of Prato. — Return of the Medici to Florence in September
1^12. Michelangelo's anxiety. — His attitude toward the Medici.
9. The sonnet to Giovanni da Pistoja about the frescoes of the
Sistine.
»75
176 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
While Michelangelo was living and working at
Florence, Bramante had full opportunity to poison
the Pope's mind in Rome. It is commonly believed,
on the faith of a sentence in Condivi, that Bramante,
when he dissuaded Julius from building the tomb in
his own lifetime, suggested the painting of the Sistine
Chapel. We are told that he proposed Michelangelo
for this work, hoping his genius would be hampered
by a task for which he was not fitted. There are
many improbabilities in this story ; not the least
being our certainty that the fame of the Cartoon must
have reached Bramante before Michelangelo's arrival
in the first months of 1505. But the Cartoon did not
prove that Buonarroti was a practical wall-painter or
colourist ; and we have reason to believe that Julius
had himself conceived the notion of intrusting the
Sistine to his sculptor. A good friend of Michel-
angelo, Pietro Rosselli, wrote this letter on the
subject, May 6, 1506:^ "Last Saturday evening,
when the Pope was at supper, I showed him some
designs which Bramante and I had to test; so,
after supper, when I had displayed them, he called
for Bramante, and said : ' San Gallo is going to
Florence to-morrow, and will bring Michelangelo
back with him/ Bramante answered: * Holy Father,
he will not be able to do anything of the kind. I
^ Gbttd, L p. 46.
BRAMANTE^S INTRIGUES. 177
have conversed much with Michelangelo, and he
has often told me that he would not undertake the
chapel, which you wanted to put upon him ; and
that, you notwithstanding, he meant only to apply
himself to sculpture, and would have nothing to
do with painting/ To this he added : * Holy Father,
I do not think he has the courage to attempt the
work, because he has small experience in painting
figures, and these will be raised high above the
line of vision, and in foreshortening (i.e., because
of the vault). That is something diflerent from
painting on the ground.' The Pope replied : ' If
he does not come, he will do me wrong ; and so I
think that he is sure to return/ Upon this I up,
and gave the man a sound rating in the Pope's
presence, and spoke as I believe you would have
spoken for me ; and for the time he was struck dumb,
as though he felt that he had made a mistake in
talking as he did. I proceeded as follows : ' Holy
Father, that man never exchanged a word with
Michelangelo, and if what he has just said is the
truth, I beg you to cut my head off, for he never
spoke to Michelangelo ; also I feel sure that he
is certain to return, if your Holiness requires
it' "
This altercation throws doubt on the statement
that Bramante originally suggested Michelangelo as
painter of the Sistine. He could hardly have turned
round against his own recommendation ; and, more-
over, it is likely that he would have wished to keep
VOL. I. M
178 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
SO great a work in the hands of his own set, Raffaello,
Peruzzi, Sodoma, and others.^
Meanwhile, Michelangelo's friends in Rome wrote
encouraging him to come back. They clearly thought
that he was hazarding both profit and honour if
he stayed away.* But Michelangelo, whether the
constitutional timidity of which I have spoken, or
other reasons damped his courage, felt that he could
not trust to the Pope's mercies. What effect San
Gallo may have had upon him, supposing this archi-
tect arrived in Florence at the middle of May, can
only be conjectured. The fact remains that he con-
tinued stubborn for a time. In the lengthy autobio-
graphical letter written to some prelate in 1542,
Michelangelo relates what followed : * " Later on,
while I was at Florence, Julius sent three briefs to
the Signory. At last the latter sent for me and said :
*We do not want to go to war with Pope Julius
because of you. You must return ; and if you do
so, we will write you letters of such authority that,
should he do you harm, he will be doing it to this
Signory. Accordingly I took the letters, and went
back to the Pope."
Condivi gives a graphic account of the transac-
tions which ensued.* ** During the months he
stayed in Florence three papal briefs were sent to
1 For tlie social gatherings of painters at Bramante's house in Rome,
see Vasari, xiii. 73.
* See Qiovanni Balducci's letter. May 8, 1506, in Qotti, vol. iL p. 52.
3 Leitere, No. cdxxxv, * Condivi, p. 30.
JULIUS SENDS FOR MICHELANGELO. 179
the Signory, full of threats, commanding that he
should he sent hack hy fair means or hy force.
Piero Soderini, who was Gonfalonier for life at that
time, had sent him against his own inclination to
Rome when Julius first asked for him. Accord-
ingly, when the first of these briefs arrived, he did
not compel Michelangelo to go, trusting that the
Pope's anger would calm down. But when the
second and the third were sent, he called Michel-
angelo and said : * You have tried a bout with the
Pope on which the King of France would not have
ventured ; therefore you must not go on letting
yourself be prayed for. We do not wish to go to
war on your account with him, and put our state
in peril. Make your mind up to return.' Michel-
angelo, seeing himself brought to this pass, and
still fearing the anger of the Pope, bethought him
of taking refuge in the East. The Sultan indeed
besought him with most liberal promises, through
the means of certain Franciscan friars, to come and
construct a bridge from Constantinople to Pera, and
to execute other great works. When the Gon-
falonier got wind of this intention he sent for
Michelangelo and used these arguments to dissuade
him : * It were better to choose death with the Pope
than to keep in life by going to the Turk. Never-
theless, there is no fear of such an ending ; for the
Pope is well disposed, and sends for you because
he loves you, not to do you harm. If you are
afraid, the Signory will send you with the title of
i8o LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
ambassador ; forasmuch as public personages are
never treated with violence, since this would be done
to those who send them.' "
We only possess one brief from Julias to the
Signory of Florence. It is dated Rome, July 8,
1506, and contains this passage:^ "Michelangelo
the sculptor, who left us without reason, and in
mere caprice, is afraid, as we are informed, of re-
turning, though we for our part are not angry with
him, knowing the humours of such men of genius.
In order, then, that he may lay aside all anxiety, we
rely on your loyalty to convince him in our name,
that if he returns to us, he shall be uninjured and
unhurt, retaining our apostolic favour in the same
measure as he formerly enjoyed it" The date,
July 8, is important in this episode of Michelangelo's
life. Soderini sent back an answer to the Pope's
brief within a few days, affirming that "Michel-
angelo the sculptor is so terrified* that, notwith-
standing the promise of his Holiness, it will be
necessary for the Cardinal of Pavia to write a letter
signed by his own hand to us, guaranteeing his
safety and immunity. We have done, and are doing,
all we can to make him go back; assuring your
Lordship that, unless he is gently handled, he will
quit Florence, as he has already twice wanted to
* Bottari, Lett. Pitt, iii. p. 472.
> MiclielaDgelo, in one draft of his letter to Fattucci (Lettere, No.
ccclxzxiY.)i writes : *' Dipoi circa sette o otto mesi che 10 atetti qucui
ascoao per paura, sendo crucciato meco el Papa."
SODERINFS CORRESPONDENCE. i8i
do." This letter is followed by another addressed
to the Cardinal of Volterra under date July 28.^
Soderini repeats that Michelangelo will not budge,
because he has as yet received no definite safe-con-
duct. It appears that in the course of August the
negotiations had advanced to a point at which
Michelangelo was willing to return. On the last
day of the month the Signory drafted a letter to the
Cardinal of Pavia in which they say that " Michel-
angelo Buonarroti, sculptor, citizen of Florence, and
greatly loved by us, will exhibit these letters present,
having at last been persuaded to repose confidence
in his Holiness." They add that he is coming in
good spirits and with good-will. Something may
have happened to renew his terror, for this despatch
was not delivered, and nothing more is heard of the
transaction till toward the close of November. It
is probable, however, that Soderini suddenly dis-
covered how little Michelangelo was likely to be
wanted ; Julius, on the 2 7th of August, having
started on what appeared to be his mad campaign
against Perugia and Bologna. On the 21st of
November following the Cardinal of Pavia sent an
autograph letter from Bologna to the Signory,
urgently requesting that they would despatch
Michelangelo immediately to that town, inasmuch
as the Pope was impatient for his arrival, and
wanted to employ him on important works. Six
1 See Qaye, vol. ii. pp. 83, 84, 85, 91, 93, for the whole corre-
spondence.
1 82 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
days later, November 27, Soderini writes two letters,
one to the Cardinal of Pavia and one to the Cardinal
of Volterra, which finally conclude the whole busi-
ness. The epistle to Volterra begins thus : " The
bearer of these present will- be Michelangelo, the
sculptor, whom we send to please and satisfy his
Holiness. We certify that he is an excellent young
man, and in his own art without peer in Italy, per-
haps also in the universe. We cannot recommend
him more emphatically. His nature is such, that
with good words and kindness, if these are given him,
he will do everything ; one has to show him love
and treat him kindly, and he will perform things
which will make the whole world wonder." The
letter to Pavia is written more familiarly, reading
like a private introduction. In both of them Soderini
enhances the service he is rendering the Pope by
alluding to the magnificent design for the Battle of
Pisa which Michelangelo must leave unfinished.^
Before describing his reception at Bologna, it
may be well to quote two sonnets here which throw
an interesting light upon Michelangelo's personal
feeling for Julius and his sense of the corruption
of the Roman Curia. ^ The first may well have
been written during this residence at Florence ; *
and the autograph of the second has these curious
^ He Bays that Michelangelo has prmcipiato una storia per U pubblico
che Bard cosa admiranda,
* Rime : Sonnets, Nos. ill. and iv.
' A drawing at Oxford for the battle of Pisa has this sonnet written
on the back. See Robinson, p. 21.
SONNETS ON THE POPE. 183
word»^ added at the foot of the page : *' Vostro Michel-
angnioh^ in Turchia" Rome itself, the Sacred City,
has hecome a land of infidels, and Michelangelo,
whose thoughts are turned to the Levant, implies
that he would find himself no worse oflF with the
Sultan than the Pope.
My Lord ! if ever ancient saw spake sooth.
Hear this which saith : Who can doth never will.
Lo, thou hast lent thine ear to fahles still,
Rewarding those who hate the name of truth.
I am thy drudge, and have been from my youth —
Thine^ like the rays which the sun's circle fill ;
Yet of my dear time's waste thou think'st no ill :
The more I toil, the less I move thy ruth.
Once 'twas my hope to raise me by thy height ;
But 'tis the balance and the powerful sword
Of Justice, not false Echo, that we need.
Heaven, as it seems, plants virtue in despite
Here on the earth, if this be our reward —
To seek for fruit on trees too dry to breed.
Here helms and swords are made of chalices :
The blood of Christ is sold so much the quart :
His cross and thorns are spears and shields ; and short
Must be the time ere even His patience cease.
Kay, let Him come no more to raise the fees
Of this foul sacrilege beyond report :
For Rome still flays and sells Him at the court,
Where paths are closed to virtue's fair increase.
Now were fit time for me to scrape a treasure^
Seeing that work and gain are gone ; while he
Who wears the robe, is my Medusa still.
God welcomes poverty perchance with pleasure :
But of that better life what hope have we.
When the blessed banner leads to nought but ill 1
1 84 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
While Michelangelo was planning frescoes and
venting his bile in sonnets, the fiery Pope had
started on his perilous career of conquest. He
called the Cardinals together, and informed them
that he meant to free the cities of Perugia and
Bologna from their tyrants. God, he said, would
protect His Church; he could rely on the support
of France and Florence. Other Popes had stirred
up wars and used the services of generals ; he meant
to take the field in person. Louis XIT. is reported to
have jeered among his courtiers at the notion of a
high-priest riding to the wars. A few days afterwards,
on the 27th of August, the Pope left Rome attended
by twenty-four cardinals and 500 men-at-arms.
He had previously secured the neutrality of Venice
and a promise t)f troops from the French court.
When Julius reached Orvieto, he was met by Gian-
paolo Baglioni, the bloody and licentious despot
of Perugia. Notwithstanding Baglioni knew that
Julius was coming to assert his supremacy, and
notwithstanding the Pope knew that this might
drive to desperation a man so violent and stained
with crime as Baglioni, they rode together to
Perugia, where Gianpaolo paid homage and sup-
plied his haughty guest with soldiers. The rash-
ness of this act of Julius sent a thrill of admiration
tliroughout Italy, stirring that sense of terrihilitd,
which fascinated the imagination of the Renaissance.
Machiavelli, commenting upon the action of the
Baglioni, remarks that the event proved how diffi-
JULIUS ENTERS BOLOGNA. 185
cult it is for a man to be perfectly and scientifically
wicked. Gianpaolo, he says, murdered his rela-
tions, oppressed his subjects, and boasted of being
a father by his sister; yet, when he got his worst
enemy into his clutches, he had not the spirit to
be magnificently criminal, and murder or imprison
Julius. From Perugia the Pope crossed the Apen-
nines, and found himself at Imola upon the 20th of
October. There he received news that the French
governor of Milan, at the order of his king, was
about to send him a reinforcement of 600 lances
and 3CXX) foot-soldiers. This announcement, while
it cheered the heart of Julius, struck terror into
the Bentivogli, masters of Bologna. They left
their city and took refuge in Milan, while the
people of Bologna sent envoys to the Pope's camp,
surrendering their town and themselves to his
apostolic clemency. On the nth of November, S.
Martin's day, Giuliano della Rovere made his
triumphal entry into Bologna, having restored two
wealthy provinces to the states of the Church by
a stroke of sheer audacity, unparalleled in the
history of any previous pontifi*. Ten days after-
wards we find him again renewing negotiations with
the Signory for the extradition of Michelangelo.
i86 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
*' Arriving then one morning at Bologna, and
going to hear Mass at S. Fetronio, there met him
the Pope's grooms of the stable, who immediately
recognised him, and brought him into the presence
of his Holiness, then at table in the Palace of the
Sixteen.^ When the Pope beheld him, his face
clouded with anger, and he cried : * It was your
duty to come to seek us, and you have waited till
we came to seek you ; ' meaning thereby that his
Holiness having travelled to Bologna, which is much
nearer to Florence than Rome, he had come to find
him out. Michelangelo knelt, and prayed for par-
don in a loud voice, pleading in his excuse that
he had not erred through frowardness, but through
great distress of mind, having been unable to endure
the expulsion he received. The Pope remained hold-
ing his head low and answering nothing, evidently
much agitated ; when a certain prelate, sent by Car-
dinal Soderini to put in a good word for Michelangelo,
came forward and said : * Your Holiness might over-
look his fault ; he did wrong through ignorance :
these painters, outside their art, are all like this.'
Thereupon the Pope answered in a fury : * It is you,
not I, who are insulting him. It is you, not he,
who are the ignoramus and the rascal. Get hence
out of my sight, and bad luck to you ! ' When
^ Gondivi, p. 31.
MICHELANGELO RETURNS TO THE POPE. 187
the fellow did not move, he was cast forth by the
servants, as Michelangelo used to relate, with good
round kicks and thumpings. So the Pope, having
spent the surplus of his bile upon the bishop, took
Michelangelo apart and pardoned him. Not long
afterwards he sent for him and said : * I wish you
to make my statue on a large scale in bronze. I
mean to place it on the fa9ade of San Petronio/
When he went to Rome in course of time, he left
loCMD ducats at the bank of Messer Antonmaria da
Lignano for this purpose. But before he did so
Michelangelo had made the clay model. Being in
some doubt how to manage the left hand, after
making the Pope give the benediction with the
right, he asked Julius, who had come to see the
statue, if he would like it to hold a book. * What
book ? ' replied he : 'a sword ! I know nothing
about letters, not I." Jesting then about the right
hand, which was vehement in action, he said with
a smile to Michelangelo : * That statue of yours, is
it blessing or cursing?' To which the sculptor:
* Holy Father, it is threatening this people of
Bologna if they are not prudent.' "
Michelangelo's letter to Fattucci confirms Con-
divi's narrative.^ "When Pope Julius went to
Bologna the first time, I was forced to go there with
a rope round my neck to beg his pardon. He
ordered me to make his portrait in bronze, sitting,
about seven cubits (14 feet) in height. When he
^ Lettere, No. ccclxxxiii
1 88 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
asked what it would cost, I answered that I thought
I could cast it for i ooo ducats ; but that this was
not my trade, and that I did not wish to undertake
it. He answered : ' Go to work ; you shall cast it
over and over again till it succeeds ; and I wiU give
you enough to satisfy your wishes/ To put it
briefly, I cast the statue twice ; and at the end of
two years, at Bologna, I found that I had four and
a half ducats left. I never received anything more
for this job ; and all the moneys I paid out during
the said two years were the looo ducats with which
I promised to cast it. These were disbursed to me
in instalments by Messer Antonio Maria da Legnano,
a Bolognese."
The statue must have been more than thrice life-
size, if it rose fourteen feet in a sitting posture.
Michelangelo worked at the model in a hall called
the Stanza del Pavaglione behind the Cathedral.
Three experienced workmen were sent, at his re-
quest, from Florence, and he began at once upon
the arduous labour. His domestic correspondence,
which at this period becomes more copious and in-
teresting, contains a good deal of information con-
cerning his residence at Bologna. His mode of life,
as usual, was miserable and penurious in the extreme.
This man, about whom popes and cardinals and gon-
faloniers had been corresponding, now hired a single
room with one bed in it, where, as we have seen,
he slept together with his three assistants. There
can be no doubt that such eccentric habits prevented
TROUBLE WITH WORKMEN. 189
Michelangelo from inspiring his subordinates with
due respect. The want of control over servants and
workmen, which is a noticeable feature of his
private life, may in part be attributed to this cause.
And now, at Bologna, he soon got into trouble with
the three craftsmen he had engaged to help him.
They were Lapo d' Antonio di Lapo, a sculptor at
the Opera del Duomo; Lodovico del Buono, sur-
named Lotti, a metal-caster and founder of cannon ;
and Pietro Urbanq, a craftsman who continued long
in his service. Lapo boasted that he was executing
the statue in partnership with Michelangelo and
upon equal terms, which did not seem incredible
considering their association in a single bedroom.
Beside this, he intrigued and cheated in money
matters. The master felt that he must get rid of
him, and send the fellow back to Florence. Lapo,
not choosing to go alone, lest the truth of the aflFair
should be apparent, persuaded Lodovico to join
him; and when they reached home, both began
to calumniate their master. Michelangelo, knowing
that they were likely to do so, wrote to his brother
Buonarroto on the ist of February 1507:^ "I in-
form you further how on Friday morning I sent
away Lapo and Lodovico, who were in my service.
Lapo, because he is good for nothing and a rogue,
and could not serve me. Lodovico is better, and I
should have been willing to keep him another two
months, but Lapo, in order to prevent blame falling
^ Lettere, No. 1.
I90 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
on himself alone, worked upon the other so that
both went away together. I write you this, not that
I regard them, for they are not worth three farthings,
the pair of them, but because if they come to talk
to Lodovico (Buonarroti) he must not be surprised
at what they say. Tell him by no means to lend
them his ears; and if you want to be informed
about them, go to Messer Angelo, the herald of
the Signory;^ for I have written the whole story
to him, and he will, out of his kindly feeling^ tell
you just what happened."
In spite of these precautions, Lapo seems to have
gained the ear of Michelangelo's father, who wrote
a scolding letter in his usual puzzle-headed way.
Michelangelo replied in a tone of real and ironical
humility, which is exceedingly characteristic:* "Most
revered father, I have received a letter from you
to-day, from which I learn that you have been in-
formed by Lapo and Lodovico. I am glad that you
should rebuke me, because 1 deserve to be rebuked
as a ne'er-do-well and sinner as much as any one, or
perhaps more. But you must know that I have not
been guilty in the affair for which you take me to
task now, neither as regards them nor any one else,
except it be in doing more than was my duty."
After this exordium he proceeds to give an elabo-
^ His Biiroame was ManMi. As second herald of the Signorj, he
took part in the debate upon the placing of the David. See above, p.
94. He was a good friend of Michelangelo's, and one of his letters is
preserved in the Archiv. Buon., Cod. ix. No. 506.
" Lettere, No. iv., date February 8, 1507.
LIFE AT BOLOGNA. 191
rate explanation of his dealings with Lapo^ and the
man's roguery.
The correspondence with Buonarroto turns to a
considerable extent upon a sword-hilt which Michel-
angelo designed for the Florentine, Pietro Aldo-
brandini.^ It was the custom then for gentlemen to
carry swords and daggers with hilt and scabbard won-
derfully wrought by first-rate artists. Some of these,
still extant, are among the most exquisite specimens
of sixteenth-century craft.* This little affair gave
Michelangelo considerable trouble. First of all, the
man who had to make the blade was long about it.
Prom the day when the Pope came to Bologna, he
had more custom than all the smiths in the city
were used in ordinary times to deal with. Then,
when the weapon reached Florence, it turned out
to be too short Michelangelo affirmed that he had
ordered it exactly to the measure sent, adding that
Aldobrandini was ** probably not born to wear a
dagger at his belt." He bade his brother present
it to Filippo Strozzi, as a compliment from the
Buonarroti family; but the matter was bungled.
Probably Buonarroto tried to get some valuable
equivalent ; for Michelangelo writes to say that he
is sorry " he behaved so scurvily toward Filippo in
so trifling an affair."
Nothing at all transpires in these letters regard-
^ Lettere, Nob, xlviii., xlix., liv., Iv., Ivii., IviiL
' See, for example, the illustrations to Yriarte's Autour des Borgia
Paris : Rothschild, 1891. Troisi^me Partie.
192 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
ing the company kept by Michelangelo at Bologna.
The few stories related by tradition which refer to
this period are not much to the sculptor's credit for
courtesy.^ The painter Francia, for instance, came
to see the statue, and made the commonplace remark
that he thought it very well cast and of excellent
bronze. Michelangelo took this as an insult to his
design, and replied : ** I owe the same thanks to
Pope Julius who supplied the metal, as you do to
the colourmen who sell you paints." Then, turning
to some gentlemen present there, he added that
Francia was " a blockhead." Francia had a son re-
markable for youthful beauty. When Michelangelo
first saw him he asked whose son he was, and, on
being informed, uttered this caustic compliment : ^
" Your father makes handsomer living figures than
he paints them." On some other occasion, a stupid
Bolognese gentleman asked whether he thought
his statue or a pair of oxen were the bigger.
Michelangelo replied:' "That is according to the
oxen. If Bolognese, oh ! then without a doubt
ours of Florence are smaller." Possibly Albrecht
Diirer may have met him in the artistic circles of
Bologna, since he came from Venice on a visit
* Vasari, xii. p. i86.
3 Compare this with Benv. da Imola's story about Qiutto. " When
Dante saw some of Giotto's children, very ugly and like their father,
he asked how it was that he painted such fair figures and begat such
foul ones. Giotto smiled and answered : ' It is because I point by day,
and make models of living men by night' ''
' The point seems to depend upon the fact that bue in Italy is the name
for a dullard or a cuckold.
THE STATUE OF JULIUS. 193
during these years ; ^ but nothing is known about
their intercourse.
IIL
Julius left Bologna on the 22nd of February 1507.
Michelangelo remained working diligently at his
model. In less than* three months it was nearly
ready to be cast. Accordingly, the sculptor, who
had no practical knowledge of bronze-founding, sent
to Florence for a man distinguished in that craft,
Maestro dal Fonte of Milan. During the last three
years he had been engaged as Master of the
Ordnance under the Republic. His leave of absence
was signed upon the 1 5th of May 1 507.
Meanwhile the people of Bologna were already
planning revolution. The Bentivogli retained a firm
hereditary hold on their affections, and the govern-
ment of priests is never popular, especially among
the nobles of a state. Michelangelo writes to his
brother Giovan Simone (May 2) describing the
bands of exiles who hovered round the city and
kept its burghers in alarm : ^ " The folk are stifling
in their coats of mail; for during four days past
the whole county is under arms, in great confusion
and peril, especially the party of the Church." The
Papal Legate, Francesco Alidosi, Cardinal of Pavia,
1 Grimm, vol. i. p. 319. * Lettcre, No. cxxvi.
VOL. I. N
194 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
took such prompt measures that the attacking troops
were driven back.^ He also executed some of the
citizens who had intrigued with the exiled family.
The summer was exceptionally hot, and plague
hung about ; all articles of food were dear and bad.*
Michelangelo felt miserable, and fretted to be free ;
but the statue kept him hard at work.
When the time drew nigh for the great operation,
he wrote in touching terms to Buonarroto : ' " Tell
Lodovico (their father) that in the middle of next
month I hope to cast my figure without fail There-
fore, if he wishes to oflFer prayers or aught else
for its good success, let him do so betimes, and
say that I beg this of him." Nearly the whole of
June elapsed, and the business still dragged on.
At last, upon the ist of July, he advised his brother
thus : * " We have cast my figure, and it has come
out 80 badly that I verily believe I shall have to
do it all over again. I reserve details, for I have
other things to think of. Enough that it has gone
wrong. Still I thank God, because I take every-
^ This man, of considerable ability but bad character, abused the
confidence of Juliua When Bologna broke loose from the Papal rule
in 15 1 1, the calamity was ascribed, apparently with justice, to his treason
and incompetence. The Duke Francesco Maria dedU Rovere, acting as
general for his uncle Julius, stabbed the Cardinal with his own hands
to death upon the open street of Ravenna. This happened on the
24tli of May— <me of the most memorable acts of violence in Italian
Benaiasance annals. A good account of the whole matter is given in
Dennistoun's ** Dukes of IJrbino," voL ii. p. 314 d seq.
* Lettere, Nos. Iv., IxviiL, Ixziv.
' Lettere, No. Iz., date May 26.
* Lettere, Nos. Ixii., Ixiii.
CASTING OF THE STATUE. 195
thing for the best." From the next letter we learn
that only the lower half of the statue, up to the
girdle, was properly cast The metal for the rest
remained in the furnace, probably in the state of
what Cellini called a cake/ The furnace had to
be pulled down and rebuilt, so as to cast the upper
hal£ Michelangelo adds that he does not know
whether Master Bernardino mismanaged the matter
from ignorance or bad luck. " I had such faith in
him that I thought he could have cast the statue
without fire. Nevertheless, there is no denying
that he is an able craftsman, and that he worked
with good-will. Well, he has failed, to my loss
and also to his own, seeing he gets so much blame
that he dares not lift his head up in Bologna."
The second casting must have taken place about
the 8th of July; for on the loth Michelangelo
writes that it is done, but the clay is too hot for
the result to be reported, and Bernardino left
yesterday.* When the statue was uncovered, he
was able to reassure his brother : * " My affair
might have turned out much better, and also much
worse. At all events, the whole is there, so far as
I can see ; for it is not yet quite disengaged. I
shall want, I think, some months to work it up
with file and hammer, because it has come out
rough. Well, well, there is much to thank God
for; as I said, it might have been worse." On
* Vita J lib. ii. 76. ' Lettere, No. Ixiv.
' Lettere, Nos. Ixv., Izvi.
196 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
making further discoveries, he finds that the cast is
far less bad than he expected ; but the labour of
cleaning it with the polishing tools proved longer
and more irksome than he expected : ^ "I am
exceedingly anxious to get away home, for here I
pass my life in huge discomfort and with extreme
fatigue. I work night and day, do nothing else ;
and the labour I am forced to undergo is such, that
if I had to begin the whole thing over again, I do
not think I could survive it. Indeed, the under-
taking has been one of enormous difficulty ; and
if it had been in the hand of another man, we
should have fared but ill with it. However, I be-
lieve that the prayers of some one have sustained
and kept me in health, because all Bologna thought
I should never bring it to a proper end." We can
see that Michelangelo was not unpleased with the
result ; and the statue must have been finished soon
after the New Year. However, he could not leave
Bologna. On the i8th of February 1508 he writes
to Buonarroto that he is kicking his heels, having
received orders from the Pope to stay until the
bronze was placed.* Three days later — that is, upon
the 2 1st of February — the Pope's portrait was
hoisted to its pedestal above the great central door
of S. Petronio.
It remained there rather less than three years.
When the Papal Legate fled from Bologna in 151 19
^ Lettere, No. Ixzii., date November 10, 1 507.
' Leiterci No. Ixxv.
FATE OF THE STATUE. 197
and the party of the Bentivogh gained the upper
hand, they threw the mighty mass of sculptured
bronze, which had cost its maker so much trouble,
to the ground. That happened on the 30th of
December. The Bentivogli sent it to the Duke
Alfonso d'Este of Ferrara, who was a famous engi-
neer and gunsmith. He kept the head intact, but
cast a huge cannon out of part of the material,
which took the name of La Giulia. What became
of the head is unknown. It is said to have weighed
600 pounds.^
So perished another of Michelangelo's master-
pieces ; and all we know for certain about the
statue is that Julius was seated, in full pontificals,
with the triple tiara on his head, raising the right
hand to bless, and holding the keys of S. Peter in
the left.*
Michelangelo reached Florence early in March.
On the 1 8th of that month he began again to occupy
his house at Borgo Pinti, taking it this time on
hire from the Operai del Duomo.* We may suppose,
therefore, that he intended to recommence work on
the Twelve Apostles. A new project seems also
to have been started by his friend Soderini — that
of making him erect a colossal statue of Hercules
subduing Cacus opposite the David. The Gonfalonier
was in correspondence with the Marquis of Carrara
^ See the notices collected by Gk)tti, vol. i. p. 66. .
* Or<maea BolognMe^ MS., quoted by Milanesi ; Vasari, xii. 348.
' Qaye, voL ii p. 477.
198 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
on the loth of May about a block of marble for
this giant ; ^ but Michelangelo at that time had re-
turned to Rome, and of the Cacus we shall hear
more hereafter.
IV.
When Julius received news that his statue had
been duly cast and set up in its place above the
great door of S. Petronio, he began to be anxious
to have Michelangelo once more near his person.
The date at which the sculptor left Florence again
for Rome is fixed approximately by the fact that
Lodovico Buonarroti emancipated his son from
parental control upon the 13th of March 1508.
According to Florentine law, Michelangelo was not
of age, nor master over his property and person,
until this deed had been executed.*
In the often-quoted letter to Fattucci he says : '
" The Pope was still unwilling that I should com-
plete the tomb, and ordered me to paint the vault
of the Sistine. We agreed for 3000 ducats. The
first design I made for this work had twelve apostles
in the lunettes, the remainder being a certain space
filled in with ornamental details, according to the
* Gaye, vol. ii. p. 97.
* It was registered in the State Archive on the 28th of March.
Qotti, vol i p. 7a
' Lettere, No. ccclxxxiii.
THE VAULT OF THE SISTINE. 199
usual manner. After I had begun, it seemed to
me that this would turn out rather meanly ; and
I told the Pope that the Apostles alone would yield
a poor effect, in my opinion. He asked me why.
I answered, 'Because they too were poor.' Then
he gave me commission to do what I liked best,
and promised to satisfy my claims for the work,
and told me to paint down to the pictured histories
upon the lower row.*' ^
There is little doubt that Michelangelo disliked
beginning this new work, and that he would have
greatly preferred to continue the sepulchral monu-
ment, for which he had made such vast and costly
preparations. He did not feel certain how he
should succeed in fresco on a large scale, not
having had any practice in that style of painting
since he was a prentice under Ghirlandajo. It
is true that the Cartoon for the Battle of Pisa had
been a splendid success ; still this, as we have seen,
was not coloured, but executed in various methods
of outline and chiaroscuro. Later on, while seriously
engaged upon the Sistine, he complains to his
father : * "I am still in great distress of mind,
because it is now a year since I had a farthing
from the Pope ; and I do not ask, because my work
is not going forward in a way that seems to me
to deserve it. That comes from its difficulty, and
^ Had this been done, he would have obliterated the double row of
Botticelli'R Popes.
* Lettere, No. z., date January 27, 1 509.
200 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
also from this not being my trade" ^ And so I
waste my time without results. God help me."
We may therefore believe Condivi when he asserts
that *^ Michelangelo, who had not yet practised
colouring, and knew that the painting of a vault
is very difficult, endeavoured by all means to get
himself excused, putting Raffaello forward as the
proper man, and pleading that this was not his
trade, and that he should not succeed." 2 Condivi
states in the same chapter that Julius had been
prompted to intrust him with the Sistine by Bra-
mante, who was jealous of his great abilities, and
hoped he might fail conspicuously when he left
the field of sculpture. I have given my reasons
above for doubting the accuracy of this tradition ;
and what we have just read of Michelangelo's own
hesitation confirms the statements made by Bra-
mante in the Pope's presence, as recorded by
Rosselli.* In fact, although we may assume the
truth of Bramajite's hostility, it is difficult to form
an exact conception of the intrigues he carried
on against Buonarroti.
Julius would not listen to any arguments. Ac-
cordingly, Michelangelo made up his mind to obey
the patron whom he nicknamed his Medusa. Bra-
mante was commissioned to erect the scaffolding,
which he did so clumsily, with beams suspended
1 Also in the Sonnet to Giovanni da Pistoja (Rimet v.) he says : ^ N^
io pittore.'*
* Condivi, p. 34. * See above, p. 176.
►
PAINTERS SUMMONED FROM FLORENCE. 201
from the vault by huge cables, that Michelangelo
asked how the holes in the roof would be stopped
up when his painting was finished. The Pope
allowed him to take down Bramante's machinery,
and to raise a scaffold after his own design. The
rope alone which had been used, and now was
wasted, enabled a poor carpenter to dower his
daughter.^ Michelangelo built his own scaffold free
from the walls, inventing a method which was after-
wards adopted by all architects for vault-building.
Perhaps he remembered the elaborate drawing he
once made of Ghirlandajo's assistants at work upon
the ladders and wooden platforms at S. Maria
Novella.
Knowing that he should need helpers in so great
an undertaking, and also mistrusting his own ability
to work in fresco, he now engaged several excel-
lent Florentine painters. Among these, says Vasari,
were his friends Francesco Granacci and Giuliano
Bugiardini, Bastiano da San Gallo sumamed Aris-
totele, Angelo di Donnino, Jacopo di Sandro, and
Jacopo sumamed I'lndaco. Vasari is probably ac-
curate in his statement here ; for we shall see that
Michelangelo, in his Ricordi, makes mention of five
assistants, two of whom are proved by other docu-
ments to have been Granacci and Indaco. We also
^ The above feusts abont the scaffold are related by Vasari, xii. 189.
A payment for rope nnder date October 13, 1508, has been recently
edited {Arch, Star.y Ser. terza, vi. 187) ; but its amount does not seem
to confirm the story of the dowry.
202 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
possess two letters from Granacci which show that
Bugiardini, San Gallo, Angelo di Donnino, and
Jacopo rindaco were engaged in July.^ The
second of Granacci's letters refers to certain dis-
putes and hagglings with the artists. This may
have brought Michelangelo to Florence, for he was
there upon the ii th of August 1 508, as appears
from the following deed of renunciation : ** In the
year of our Lord 1508, on the nth day of August,
Michelangelo, son of Lodovico di Lionardo di Buon-
arrota, repudiated the inheritance of his uncle Fran-
cesco by an instrument drawn up by the hand of
Ser Giovanni di Guasparre da Montevarchi, notary
of Florence, on the 27th of July 1508."* When
the assistants arrived at Rome is not certain. It
must, however, have been after the end of July.*
The extracts from Michelangelo's notebooks show
that he had already sketched an agreement as to
wages several weeks before.* " I record how on this
day, the loth of May 1508, 1, Michelangelo, sculptor,
have received from the Holiness of our Lord Pope
Julius II. 5CX) ducats of the Camera, the which were
paid me by Messer Carlino, chamberlain, and Messer
Carlo degli Albizzi, on account of the painting of
^ These letters, dated July 22 and 24, at Florence, are in the Arch.
Buon., and are translated by Heath Wilson, p. 125.
^ Gotti, i. 70, note. Heath Wilson, 127, note, says that he took
legal opinion as to whether Michelangelo must have been at Florence
for this protocol, and was informed that he must.
* See Letters from Qranacci, quoted above,
* Lettere, Ricordi^ p. 563.
COMMENCEMENT OF THE VAULT. 203
the vault of the Sistine Chapel, on which I begin to
work to-day, under the conditions and contracts set
forth in a document written by his Most Reverend
Lordship of Pavia, and signed by my hand.
" For the painter-assistants who are to come from
Florence, who will be five in number, twenty gold
ducats of the Camera apiece, on this condition ; that
is to say, that when they are here and are working
in harmony with me, the twenty ducats shall be
reckoned to each man's salary ; the said salary to
begin upon the day they leave Florence. And if
they do not agree with me, half of the said money
shall be paid them for their travelling expenses, and
for their time."
On the strength of this Ricordo, it has been
assumed that Michelangelo actually began to paint
the Sistine on the loth of May 1508. That would
have been physically and literally impossible. He
was still at Florence, agreeing to rent his house in
Borgo Pinti, upon the 1 8th of March. Therefore he
had no idea of going to Rome at that time. When
he aiTived there, negotiations went on, as we have
seen, between him and Pope Julius. One plan for
the decoration of the roof was abandoned, and
another on a grander scale had to be designed. To
produce working Cartoons for that immense scheme
in less than two months would have been beyond
the capacities of any human brain and hands. But
there are many indications that the vault was not
prepared for painting, and the materials for fresco
204 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
not accumulated, till a much later date. For in-
stance, we possess a series of receipts by Piero Ros-
selli, acknowledging several disbursements for the
plastering of the roof between May ii and July
27.* We learn from one of these that Granacci
was in Rome before June 3 ; and Michelangelo
writes for fine blue colours to a certain Fra Jacopo
Gesuato at Florence upon the 13th of May.* All is
clearly in the air as yet, and on the point of pre-
paration. Michelangelo's phrase, " on which I begin
to work to-day," will have to be interpreted, there-
fore, in the widest sense, as implying that he was
engaging assistants, getting the architectural foun-
dation ready, and procuring a stock of necessary
articles. The whole summer and autumn must have
been spent in taking measurements and expanding
the elaborate design to the proper scale of working
drawings; and if Michelangelo had toiled alone
without his Florentine helpers, it would have been
impossible for him to have got through with these
preliminary labours in so short a space of time.
Michelangelo's method in preparing his Cartoons
seems to have been the following. He first made a
small-scale sketch of the composition, sometimes in-
cluding a large variety of figures. Then he went to
the living models, and studied portions of the whole
design in careful transcripts from Nature, using
black and red chalk, pen, and sometimes bistre.
Among the most admirable of his drawings left to
* Lettere, p. 563. ■ Lettere, No. cccxliv.
PREPARATION OF CARTOONS, 205
US are several which were clearly executed with a
view to one or other of these great Cartoons. Finally,
returning to the first composition, he repeated that,
or so much of it as could be transferred to a single
sheet, on the exact scale of the intended fresco.
These enlarged drawings were applied to the wet
surface of the plaster, and their outlines pricked in
with dots to guide the painter in his brush-work.
When we reflect upon the extent of the Sistine vault
(it is estimated at more than io,cxDO square feet of
surface), and the dilEculties presented by its curves,
lunettes, spandrels, and pendentives ; when we re-
member that this enormous space is alive with 343
figures in every conceivable attitude, some of them
twelve feet in height, those seated as prophets and
sibyls measuring nearly eighteen feet when upright,
all animated with extraordinary vigour, presenting
types of the utmost variety and vivid beauty, imagi-
nation quails before the intellectual energy which
could first conceive a scheme so complex, and then
carry it out with mathematical precision in its
minutest details.^
The date on which Michelangelo actually began
^ A very full account of the measarements of the Sistine and of
Michelangelo's method is given by Heath Wilson, chap. vi. In some
respects it forms the most valuable part of that excellent and hitherto
by far too much neglected work. Heath Wilson enjoyed the singular
privilege of making a close examination of the roof ; and what he says
about the execution of the frescoes and their present state deserves to
be most attentively studied. He has dispelled many illusions ; as,
for instance, the old tradition that Michelangelo worked in absolute
isolation.
2o6 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
to paint the fresco is not certain. Supposing he
worked hard all the summer, he might have done
so when his Florentine assistants arrived in August ;
and, assuming that the letter to his father ahove
quoted (LetterCy x.) bears a right date, he must
have been in full swing before the end of January
1509. In that letter he mentions that Jacopo,
probably Tlndaco, "the painter whom I brought
from Florence, returned a few days ago ; and as he
complained about me here in Rome, it is likely
that he will do so there. Turn a deaf ear to him ;
he is a thousandfold in the wrong, and I could say
much about his bad behaviour toward me." Vasari
informs us that these assistants proved of no use;
whereupon, he destroyed all they had begun to do,
refused to see them, locked himself up in the chapel,
and determined to complete the work in solitude.^
It seems certain that the painters were sent back
to Florence. Michelangelo had already provided for
the possibility of their not being able to co-operate
with him ; * but what the cause of their failure was
we can only conjecture. Trained in the methods
of the old Florentine school of fresco-painting, in-
capable of entering into the spirit of a style so
supereminently noble and so astoundingly original
as Michelangelo's, it is probable that they spoiled
his designs in their attempts to colour them. Har-
ford pithily remarks:' "As none of the suitors of
1 Vasari, xii. 190. ' See Rieordo quoted above, p. 203.
' Uarlurd, voL i. p. 259.
TROUBLES WITH ASSISTANTS. 207
Penelope could bend the bow of Ulysses, so one
hand alone was capable of wielding the pencil of
Buonarroti." Still it must not be imagined that
Michelangelo ground his own colours, prepared his
daily measure of wet plaster, and executed the whole
series of frescoes with his own hand. Condivi and
Vasari imply, indeed, that this was the case ; but,
beside the physical impossibility, the fact remains
that certain portions are obviously executed by inferior
masters.^ Vasari's anecdotes, moreover, contradict his
own assertion regarding Michelangelo's single-handed
labour. He speaks about the caution which the
master exercised to guard himself against any treason
of his workmen in the chapel.* Nevertheless, far the
larger part, including all the most important figures,
and especially the nudes, belongs to Michelangelo.
These troubles with his assistants illustrate a
point upon which I shall have to offer some con-
siderations at a future time. I allude to Michel-
angelo's inaptitude for forming a school of intelli-
gent fellow-workers, for fashioning inferior natures
into at least a sympathy with his aims and methods,
and finally for living long on good terms with hired
subordinates. All those qualities which the facile
and genial Raffaello possessed in such abundance,
and which made it possible for that young favourite
of heaven and fortune to fill Kome with so much
work of mixed merit, were wanting to the stern,
exacting, and sensitive Buonarroti.
1 See Heath WiUon, p. 155. * Vasari, xii. 185.
2o8 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
But the assistants were not the only hindrance
to Michelangelo at the outset. Gondivi says that^
''he had hardly begun painting, and had finished
the picture of the Deluge, when the work began
to throw out mould to such an extent that the
figures could hardly be seen through it Michel-
angelo thought that this excuse might be sufficient
to get him relieved of the whole job. So he went
to the Pope and said : * 1 already told your Holiness
that painting is not my trade ; what I have done
is spoiled ; if you do not believe it, send to see.'
The Pope sent San Gallo, who, after inspecting the
fresco, pronounced that the lime-basis had been put
on too wet, and that water oozing out produced
this mouldy surface.* He told Michelangelo what
the cause was, and bade him proceed with the work.
So the excuse helped him nothing." About the
fresco of the Deluge Vasari relates that, having
begun to paint this compartment first, he noticed
that the figures were too crowded, and consequently
changed his scale in all the other portions of the
ceiling. This is a plausible explanation of what
is striking — namely, that the story of the Deluge
is quite differently planned from the other episodes
upon the vaulting. Yet I think it must be rejected,
because it implies a total change in all the working
cartoons, as well as a remarkable want of foresight.
1 Oondivi, p. 39.
> Heath Wilson (p. 141) says the plaster was made of Roman lime
and marble duBU
>
9
O
n
o
•n
(A
o
3.
Ancestors of Christ
Zachariah
Tlie Drunkenness
of Noah
Delphic
Sibvl
B
The Deluge
^
Erythraean
! Sibyl
m
Noah's Sacrifice
I
t
I
7^
Isaiah
The fall of Adam & Eve
their expulsion from Paradise
Ezechiel
The Creation of Eve
Cumaean
Sibyl
The Creation of Adam
Persian
Sibyl
The Spirit of God
upon the Waters
v,^.
Daniel
The Creation of Sun, Moon
vegetation on the Earth
; Jeremiah
Division of
Light from Darkness
Jonah
E
Libyan ;
Sibyl !
The Last Judgment
J2c5
It
U
o
X
o
'^
u
c
<
Plan 8H0wing the Scheme for Painting the Vault
OF THE SiSTINE ChAPEL.
FIRST HALF OF THE VAULT FINISHED. 209
Condivi continues : " While he was painting,
Pope Julius used oftentimes to go and see the
work, climbing by a ladder, while Michelangelo
gave him a hand to help him on to the platform.
His nature being eager and impatient of delay,
he decided to have the roof uncovered, although
Michelangelo had not given the last touches, and
had only completed the first half — that is, from the
door to the middle of the vault." Michelangelo's
letters show that the first part of his work was exe-
cuted in October. He writes thus to his brother
Buonarroto : ^ '* I am remaining here as usual, and
shall have finished my painting by the end of the
week after next — that is, the portion of it which I
began; and when it is uncovered, I expect to be
paid, and shall also try to get a month's leave to
visit Florence."
V.
The uncovering took place upon November i,
1 509. All Rome flocked to the chapel, feeling that
something stupendous was to be expected after the
long months of solitude and seclusion during which
the silent master had been working. Nor were
they disappointed. The eflFect produced by only
half of the enormous scheme was overwhelming.
* Lettere, No. lxx:ci.
VOL. I. ^^
2IO LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
As Vasari says/ "This chapel lighted up a lamp
for our art which casts abroad lustre enough to
illuminate the world, drowned for so many centuries
in darkness." Painters saw at a glance that the
genius which had revolutionised sculpture was now
destined to introduce a new style and spirit into
their art. This was the case even with Raffaello,
who, in the frescoes he executed at S. Maria della
Face, showed his immediate willingness to learn
from Michelangelo, and his determination to compete
with him, Condivi and Vasari are agreed upon
this point, and Michelangelo himself, in a moment
of hasty indignation, asserted many years afterwards
that what Kaffaello knew of art was derived &om
him.* That is, of course, an over-statement; for,
beside his own exquisite originality, Eaffaello
formed a composite style successively upon Perugino,
Fra Bartolommeo, and Lionardo. He was capable
not merely of imitating, but of absorbing and assimi-
lating to his lucid genius the excellent qualities of
all in whom he recognised superior talent. At the
same time, Michelangelo's influence was undeniable,
and we cannot ignore the testimony of those who
conversed with both great artists — of Julius himself,
for instance, when he said to Sebastian del Piombo : *
** Look at the work of Eaffaello, who, after seeing
the masterpieces of Michelangelo, immediately aban-
1 Vasari, xii. 193. * Letter©, No. cdxxxv.
' See Sebastiano del Piombo's letter of October 15, 1512, piinted in
Qaye, vol. ii. p. 487.
WHAT THE FIRST HALF WAS. 211
doned Perugino's manner, and did his utmost to
approach that of Buonarroti."
Condivi's assertion that the part uncovered in
November 1 509 was the first half of the whole vault,
beginning from the door and ending in the middle,
misled Vasari, and Vasari misled subsequent bio-
graphers. We now know for certain that what
Michelangelo meant by "the portion I began" was
the whole central space of the ceiling — that is to
say, the nine compositions from Genesis, with their
accompanying genii and architectural surroundings.
That is rendered clear by a statement in Albertini's
Boman Handbook, to the effect that the "upper
portion of the whole vaulted roof" had been un-
covered when he saw it in 1 509.^ Having established
this error in Condivi's narrative, what he proceeds
to relate may obtain some credence. '^Raffaello,
when he beheld the new and marvellous style of
Michelangelo's work, being extraordinarily apt at
imitation, sought, by Bramante's means, to obtain
a commission for the rest." Had Michelangelo
ended at a line drawn halfway across the breadth
of the vault, leaving the Prophets and Sibyls, the
lunettes and pendentives, all finished so far, it would
have been a piece of monstrous impudence even in
Bramante, and an impossible discourtesy in gentle
Baffaello, to have begged for leave to carry on a
scheme so marvellously planned. But the history
1 Albertini, Mirabilia UrbiSf qaoted by Qrimm, voL i p. 525.
Albertini's own words are pan Uttudinea superior.
i
212 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
of the Creation, Fall, and Deluge, when first exposed,
looked like a work complete in itsel£ Michelangelo,
who was notoriously secretive, had almost certainly
not explained his whole design to painters of Bra-
mante's following; and it is also improbable that
he had as yet prepared his working Cartoons for
the lower and larger portion of the vault.^ Accord-
ingly, there remained a large vacant space to cover
between the older frescoes by Signorelli, Perugino,
Botticelli, and other painters, round the walls below
the windows, and that new miracle suspended in the
air. There was no flagrant impropriety in Bramante's
thinking that his nephew might be allowed to
carry the work downward from that altitude. The
suggestion may have been that the Sistine Chapel
should become a Museum of Italian art, where all
painters of eminence could deposit proofs of their
ability, until each square foot of wall was covered
with competing masterpieces. But when Michel-
angelo heard of Bramante's intrigues, he was greatly
disturbed in spirit. Having begun his task unwill-
ingly, he now felt an equal or greater unwillingness
to leave the stupendous conception of his brain
unfinished. Against all expectation of himself and
others, he had achieved a decisive victory, and was
placed at one stroke, as Condi vi says, '' above the
reach of envy." His hand had found its cunning
^ It may be inferred, I think, from a passage in Lettere, No. ccclxzxiii.
that Michelangelo only began the Cartoons for the second portion of
the Sistine in 1510.
BRAM ANTE'S INTRIGUES. 213
for fresco as for marble. Why should he be inter-
rupted in the full swing of triumphant energy?
"Accordingly, he sought an audience with the
Pope, and openly laid bare all the persecutions he
had suflFered from Bramante, and discovered the
numerous misdoings of the man." It was on this
occasion, according to Condivi, that Michelangelo
exposed Bramante's scamped work and vandalism
at S. Peter's. Julius, who was perhaps the only
man in Rome acquainted with his sculptor's scheme
for the Sistine vault, brushed the cobwebs of these
petty intrigues aside, and left the execution of the
whole to Michelangelo.
There is something ignoble in the task of record-
ing rivalries and jealousies between artists and men
of letters. Genius, however, like all things that
are merely ours and mortal, shuffles along the path
of life, half flying on the wings of inspiration, half
hobbling on the feet of interest, the crutches of com-
missions. Michelangelo, although he made the David
and the Sistine, had also to make money. He was
entangled with shrewd men of business, and crafty
spendthrifts, ambitious intriguers, folk who used
undoubted talents, each in its kind excellent and
pure, for baser purposes of gain or getting on. The
art-life of Rome seethed with such blood-poison ;
and it would be sentimental to neglect what entered
so deeply and so painfully into the daily experience
of our hero. Raffaello, kneaded of softer and more
facile clay than Michelangelo, throve in this environ-
214 UFE OF MICHELANGELO.
ment, and was somehow able — so it seems — to turn
its venom to sweet uses. I like to think of the two
peers, moving like stars on widely separated orbits,
with radically diverse temperaments, proclivities, and
habits, through the turbid atmosphere enveloping
but not obscuring their lucidity. Each, in his own
way, as it seems to me, contrived to keep himself
unspotted by the world ; and if they did not under-
stand one another and make firiends, this was due to
the different conceptions they were framed to take
of life, the one being the exact antipodes to the
other.^
VI.
Postponing descriptive or aesthetic criticism of the
Sistine frescoes, I shall proceed with the narration
of their gradual completion.
We have few documents to guide us through
the period of time which elapsed between the first
^ RaffaeUo ardently loved women. Michelangelo, so fiar as we know,
was insensible to their attraction. Raifaello enjoyed society, and took
innocent pleasure in personal magnificence. Michelangelo preferred
solitude, and lived sordidly. Baffaello burned out in a few brilliant
years, dying at the age of Byron and Mozart Michelangelo grew to
be a tough old man of nearly ninety, preserving the fire of his tempera-
ment to the end. RaffaeUo sunned himself in the gladness of existence.
Michelangelo walked in the shade. The one was genial and Leheru
lustig; the other, melancholic and surcharged with InnigkeiL RaffaeUo
revelled in the facile and sensuous exterualisation of ideas. Michel-
angelo grappled with intensest problems both of thought and plastic
presentation.
THE SECOND HALF OF THE VAULT. 215
uncovering of Michelangelo's work on the roof of the
Sistine (November i, 1509) and its ultimate accom-
plishment (October 1 5 1 2 ). His domestic correspond-
ence is abundant, and will be used in its proper
place; but nothing transpires from those pitges of
affection, anger, and financial negotiation to throw
light upon the working of the master's mind while
he was busied in creating the sibyls and prophets,
the episodes and idyls, which carried his great Bible
of the Fate of Man downwards through the vaulting
to a point at which the Last Judgment had to be
presented as a crowning climax. For the anxious
student of his mind and life-work, nothing is more
desolating than the impassive silence he maintains
about his doings as an artist. He might have told
us all we want to know, and never shall know here
about them. But while he revealed his personal
temperament and his passions with singular frank-
ness, he locked up the secret of his art, and said
nothing.
Eventually we must endeavour to grasp Michel-
angelo's work in the Sistine as a whole, although it
was carried out at distant epochs of his life. For
this reason I have thrown these sentences forward,
in order to embrace a wide span of his artistic
energy (from May 10, 1508, to perhaps December
1 541). There is, to my mind, a unity of concep-
tion between the history depicted on the vault, the
prophets and forecomers on the pendentives, the
types selected for the spandrels, and the final spec-
2i6 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
tacle of the day of doom. Living, as he needs must
do, under the category of time, Michelangelo was
unable to execute his stupendous picture-book of
human destiny in one sustained manner. Years
passed over him of thwarted endeavour and dis-
tracted energies — ^years of quarrying and sculptur-
ing, of engineering and obeying the vagaries of
successive Popes. Therefore, when he came at last
to paint the Last Judgment, he was a worn man,
exhausted in services of many divers sorts. And,
what is most perplexing to the reconstructive critic,
nothing in his correspondence remains to indicate
the stages of his labour. The letters tell plenty
about domestic anxieties, annoyances in his poor
craftsman's household, purchases of farms, indignant
remonstrances with stupid brethren ; but we find in
them, as I have said, no clue to guide us through
that mental labyrinth in which the supreme artist
was continually walking, and at the end of which
he left to us the Sistine as it now is.
VIL .
The old reckoning of the time consumed by
Michelangelo in painting the roof of the Sistine,
and the traditions concerning his mode of work
there, are clearly fabulous. Condivi says : *' He
finished the whole in twenty months, without hav-
TIME SPENT ON THE VAULT. 217
ing any assistance whatsoever, not even of a man to
grind his colours." From a letter of September 7,
1 5 10, we learn that the scaflFolding was going to
be put up again, and that he was preparing to work
upon the lower portion of the vaulting.^ Nearly
, two years elapse before we hear of it again. He
' writes to Buonarroto on the 24th of July 1512:^ "I
am sufiFering greater hardships than ever man en-
dured, ill, and with overwhelming labour; still 1
put up with all in order to reach the desired end/'
Another letter on the 21st of August shows that
he expects to complete his work at the end of
September; and at last, in October, he writes to
his father:* "I have finished the chapel I was
painting. The Pope is very well satisfied." On
the calculation that he began the first part on May
10, 1508, and finished the whole in October 15 12,
four years and a half were employed upon the work.
A considerable part of this time was of course taken
up with the preparation of Cartoons ; and the nature
of fresco-painting rendered the winter months not
always fit for active labour. The climate of Eome
is not so mild but that wet plaster might often freeze
and crack during December, January, and February.
Besides, with all his superhuman energy, Michel-
angelo could not have painted straight on daily
without rest or stop. It seems, too, that the
* Lettere, No. xxi. * Lettere, Na Izxxvii.
^ Leitere, Nos. Ixuciz., xy. Milanesi dates the second in 1509, but
he is wrong, I think.
2i8 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
master was often in need of money, and that he
made two journeys to the Pope to beg for supplies.
In the letter to Fattucci he says:* "When the
vault, was nearly finished, the Pope was again at
Bologna;* whereupon, I went twice to get the
necessary funds, and obtained nothing, and lost all
that time until I came back to Rome. When I
reached Rome, I began to make Cartoons — that
is, for the ends and sides of the said chapel,
hoping to get money at last and to complete the
work. I never could extract a farthiiig ; and when I
complained one day to Messer Bernardo da Bibbiena
and to Atalante,' representing that I could not stop
longer in Rome, and that I should be forced to
go away with God's grace, Messer Bernardo told
Atalante he must bear this in mind, for that he
wished me to have money, whatever happened."
When we consider, then, the magnitude of the
undertaking, the arduous nature of the preparatory
^ Lettere, No. ccclzzxiii.
* The date of one of these visits, which may have taken Michelangelo
as far as the Pope's camp before Mirandola, is fixed by a letter of
January ii, 151 1, to Buonarroto (Lettere, No. Ixxziv.). The date of
the other is uncertain. See Qrimm, voL i. p. 389. Among the few
documents which throw light upon Michelangelo^s movements at this
period is an inedited letter from Agnolo Manfido, State-herald in
Florence, to the sculptor in Rome, dated November 3, 1510^ and ex-
pressing pleasure at hearing the news of his safe arrival. Arch. Buon.,
Ck>d. ix. No. 506.
' Bibbiena is the Cardinal Dovizi, and famous author of the
Calandra, Atalante was a natural son of Manetto Migliorotti, a
Florentine, who learned to play on the lute from Lionardo da Yinci.
He occupied a poet in the Fabric of S. Peter's between 15 13 and 1516^
See Milanesi, Lettere, p. 428, note.
THE FRESCOES LEFF UNFINISHED. 219
studies, and the waste of time in journeys and
through other hindrances, four and a half years are
not too long a period for a man working so much
alone as Michelangelo was wont to do.
We have reason to believe that, after all, the
frescoes of the Sistine were not finished in their
details. **It is true," continues Condivi, "that
I have heard him say he was not suffered to com-
plete the work according to his wish. The Pope,
in his impatience, asked him one day when he
would be ready with the Chapel, and he answered :
*When I shall be able.' To which his Holiness
replied in a rage : ' You want to make me hurl
you from that scaffold!' Michelangelo heard and
remembered, muttering : * That you shall not do
to me.' So he went straightway, and had the scaf-
folding taken down. The frescoes were exposed to
view on All Saints' day,^ to the great satisfaction
of the Pope, who went that day to service there,
while all Rome flocked together to admire them.
What Michelangelo felt forced to leave undone was
the retouching of certain parts with ultramarine
upon dry ground, and also some gilding, to give the
whole a richer effect. Giulio, when his heat cooled
down, wanted Michelangelo to make these last
additions ; but he, considering the trouble it
would be to build up all that scaffolding afresh,
observed that what was missing mattered little.
^ Condivi is here, as elsewhere, mixing up the first with the second
portion of the work.
220 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
*You ought at least to touch it up with gold/
replied the Pope ; and Michelangelo, with that
fieuniliarity he used toward his Holiness, said care-
lessly : * I have not observed that men wore gold.'
The Pope rejoined : * It will look poor/ Buonar-
roti added: 'Those who are painted there were
poor men/ ^ So the matter turned into pleasantry,
and the frescoes have remained in their present
state/' Condivi goes on to state that Michelangelo
received 3CXX) ducats for all his expenses, and that
he spent as much as twenty or twenty-five ducats
on colours alone. Upon the difficult question of
the moneys earned by the great artist in his life-
work, I shall have to speak hereafter, though I
doubt whether any really satisfactory account can
now be given of them.
VIII.
Michelangelo's letters to his family in Florence
throw a light at once vivid and painful over the
circumstances of his life during these years of
sustained creative energy. He was uncomfortable
in his bachelor's home, and always in difficulties
1 Michelangelo, in the letter to Fattucci (see Appendix), refers this
repartee to the first period of his work upon the Sistine. It was
characteristic of the man to leave the frescoes without ornament, and
perhapA without the final finish he had planned.
DOMESTIC DIFFICULTIES. 221
with his servants. '' I am living here in discontent,
not thoroughly well, and undergoing great fatigue,
without money, and with no one to look after me." *
Again, when one of his brothers proposed to visit
him in Rome, he writes : * " I hear that Gismondo
means to come hither on his affairs. Tell him
not to count on me for anything; not because I
do not love him as a brother, but because I am not
in the position to assist him. I am bound to care
for myself first, and I cannot provide myself with
necessaries. I live here in great distress and the
utmost bodily fatigue, have no friends, and seek
none. I have not even time enough to eat what I
require. Therefore let no additional burdens be
put upon me, for I could not bear another ounce."
In the autumn of 1509 he corresponded with his
father about the severe illness of an assistant work-
man whom he kept, and also about a boy he wanted
sent from Florence.' " I should be glad if you
could hear of some lad at Florence, the son of good
parents and poor, used to hardships, who would be
willing to come and live with me here, to do the
work of the house, buy what I want, and go around
on messages ; in his leisure time he could learn.
Should such a boy be found, please let me know ;
because there are only rogues here, and I am
^ Lettere, No. v., date June 1508.
• Lettere, No. Ixxx., October 17, 1509.
> Lettere, Noa. iz., xviii., zix. Milanesi dates No. iz. Noyem^jer 5,
1 508 ; but it is clearly in connection with the other two, dated
January 151a
222 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
in great need of some one." All through his life,
Michelangelo adopted the plan of keeping a young
fellow to act as general servant, and at the same
time to help in art-work. Three of these servants
are interwoven with the chief events of his later
years, Pietro Urbano, Antonio Mini, and Francesco
d'Amadore, called Urbino, the last of whom became
his fadthful and attached friend till death parted
them. Women about the house he could not bear.
Of the serving-maids at Rome he says : * " They are
aU strumpets and swine." Well, it seems that
Lodovico found a boy, and sent him off to Rome.
What followed is related in the next letter. ''As
regards the boy you sent me, that rascal of a mule-
teer cheated me out of a ducat for his journey.
He swore that the bargain had been made for two
broad golden ducats, whereas all the lads who come
here with the muleteers pay only ten carlins. I
was more angry at this than if I had lost twenty-
five ducats, because I saw that his father had re-
solved to send him on mule-back like a gentleman.
Oh, I had never such good luck, not I! Then
both the father and the lad promised that he would
do everything, attend to the mule, and sleep upon
the ground, if it was wanted. And now I am obliged
to look after him. As if I needed more worries
than the one I have had ever since I arrived here !
My apprentice, whom I left in Rome, has been ill
from the day on which I returned until now. It
* Lettere, No. ccxrxy.
THE BOY FROM FLORENCE. 223
is true that he is getting better; but he lay for
about a month in peril of his life, despaired of by
the doctors, and I never went to bed. There are
other annoyances of my own ; and now I have the
nuisance of this lad, who says that he does not
want to waste time, that he wants to study, and
so on. At Florence he said he would be satisfied
with two or three hours a day. Now the whole
day is not enough for him, but he must needs be
drawing all the night It is all the fault of what
his father tells him. If I complained, he would
say that I did not want him to learn. I really
require some one to take care of the house ; and if
the boy had no mind for this sort of work, they
ought not to have put me to expense. But they
are good-for-nothing, and are working toward a
certain end of their own. Enough, I beg you to
relieve me of the boy ; he has bored me so that I
cannot bear it any longer. The muleteer has been
so well paid that he can very well take him back
to Florence. Besides, he is a friend of the father.
TeU the father to send for him home. I shall not
pay another farthing. I have no money. I will
have patience till he sends; and if he does not
send, I will turn the boy out of doors. I did
so already on the second day of his arrival, and
other times also, and the father does not believe
it.
'' P.S. — If you talk to the father of the lad, put
the matter to him nicely : as that he is a good boy,
724 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
bat too refined, and not fit for my senrice, and say
that he had better send for him home."
The repentant postscript is eminently character-
istic of Michelangelo. He used to write in haste,
apparently just as the thoughts came. Afterwards
he read his letter over, and softened its contents
down, if he did not, as sometimes happened, feel that
his meaning required enforcement; in that case he
added a stinging tail to the epigram. How little he
could manage the people in his employ is. clear from
the last notice we possess about the unlucky lad from
Florence. ''I wrote about the boy, to say that his
father ought to send for him, and that I would not
disburse more money. This I now confirm. The
driver is paid to take him back. At Florence he
will do well enough, learning his trade and dwelling
with his parents. Here he is not worth a farthing,
and makes me toil like a beast of burden ; and my
other apprentice has not left his bed. It is true
that I have not got him in the house ; for when
I was so tired out that I could not bear it, I sent
him to the room of a brother of his. I have no
money."
These household difficulties were a trifle, how-
ever, compared with the annoyances caused by the
stupidity of his father and the greediness of his
brothers. While living like a poor man in Rome,
he kept continually thinking of their welfare. The
letters of this period are full of references to the
purchase of land, the transmission of cash when it
«^:-;/-.
Threi Studim— SisTiKE Ceiuvo.
■''■■v.
LETTER TO GIOVAN SIMONE. 215
was to be had, and the establishment -of Buonarroto
in a draper^s business. They, on their part, were
never satisfied, and repaid his kindness with in-
gratitude. The following letter to Giovan Simone
shows how terrible Michelangelo could be when he
detected baseness in a brother : ^ —
" Giovan Simone, — It is said that when one does
good to a good man, he makes him become better,
but that a bad man becomes worse. It is now
many years that I have been endeavouring with
words and deeds of kindness to bring you to live
honestly and in peace with your father and the
rest of us. You grow continually worse. I do
not say that you are a scoundrel; but you are of
such sort that you have ceased to give satisfac-
tion to me or anybody. I could read you a long
lesson on your ways of living; but they would
be idle words, like all the rest that I have wasted.
To cut the matter short, I will tell you as a fact
beyond all question that you have nothing in the
world : what you spend and your house-room, I give
you, and have given you these many years, for the
love of God, believing you to be my brother like
the rest. Now, I am sure that you are not my
brother, else you would not threaten my father.
Nay, you are a beast; and as a beast I mean to
treat you. Know that he who sees his father
threatened or roughly handled is bound to risk his
a
^ Lettere, No. cxxvii., date July 1508.
YOU \- ^
226 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
own life in this cause. Let that suffice. I repeat
that you have nothing in the world ; and if I hear
the least thing about your ways of going on, I will
come to Florence by the post, and show you how
far wrong you are, and teach you to waste your
substance, and set fire to houses and farms you have
not earned. Indeed you are not where you think
yourself to be. If I come, I will open your eyes
to what will make you weep hot tears, and recognise
on what false grounds you base your arrogance.
** I have something else to say to you, which I have
said before. If you will endeavour to live rightly,
and to honour and revere your father, I am willing
to help you like the rest, and will put it shortly
within your power to open a good . shop. If you
act otherwise, I shall come and settle your affairs
in such a way that you will recognise what you are
better than you ever did, and will know what you
have to call your own, and will have it shown to
you in every place where you may go. No more.
What I lack in words I will supply with deeds.
" Michelangelo in Rome.
" I cannot refrain from adding a couple of lines.
It is as follows. I have gone these twelve years
past drudging about through Italy, borne every
shame, suffered every hardship, worn my body out
in every toil, put my life to a thousand hazards, and
all with the sole purpose of helping the fortunes of
my family. Now that I have begun to raise it up
LETTER TO BUONARROTO. 227
a little, you only, you alone, choose to destroy and
bring 1;o ruin in one hour what it has cost me so
many years and such labour to build up. By Christ's
body this shall not be ; for I am the man to put to
the rout ten thousand of your sort, whenever it be
needed. Be wise in time, then, and do not try the
patience of one who has other things to vex him." ^
Even Buonarroto, who was the best of the brothers
and dearest to his heart, hurt him by his grasping-
ness and want of truth. He had been staying at
Rome on a visit, and when he returned to Florence
it appears that he bragged about his wealth, as if
the sums expended on the Buonarroti farms were
not part of Michelangelo's earnings. The conse-
quence was that he received a stinging rebuke
from his elder brother.* " The said Michele told me
you mentioned to him having spent about sixty
ducats at Settignano. I remember your saying here
too at table that you had disbursed a large sum out
of your own pocket. I pretended not to under-
stand, and did not feel the least surprise, because
I know you. I should like to hear from your in-
gratitude out of what money you gained them. If
^ Passermi (in Qotti, ii 19) thinkB that this letter drove Qiovan
Simone abroad. He went, it seems, to Lisbon, intending to take ship
for the Indies. However, he was back again in 15 12, and set up busi-
ness with Baonarroto.
* Lettere, No. zciL, date July 30^ 15 13. It must be said, in a spirit
of equity to Michelangelo's family, that suspiciousness formed a strong
element in his character. The letter quoted above seems to be an
instance of this failing. As usual there were faults upon both sides
in these domestic rubs.
aaS LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
you had enough sense to know the truth, you would
not say : ' I spent so and so much of my own ; ' also
you would not have come here to push your affairs
with me, seeing how I have always acted toward you
in the past, but would have rather said : ' Michel-
angelo remembers what he wrote to us, and if he
does not now do what he promised, he must be pre-
vented by something of which we are ignorant,' and
then have kept your peace ; because it is not well
to spur the horse that runs as fast as he is able, and
more than he is able. But you have never known
me, and do not know me. Qod pardon you ; for
it is He who granted me the grace to bear what
I do bear and have borne, in order that you might
be helped. Well, you will know me when you
have lost me."
Michelangelo's angry moods rapidly cooled down.
At the bottom of his heart lay a deep and abiding
love for his family. There is something caressing
in the tone with which he replies to grumbling
letters from his father.* " Do not vex yourself.
God did not make us to abandon us." ''If you
want me, I will take the post, and be with you
in two days. Men are worth more than money."
His warm affection transpires even more clearly in
the two following documents : * "I should like
you to be thoroughly convinced that all the
^ Lettere, Nos. zx., xxL, date September 151a
' Lettere, Nos. vii., xxii^ dates August 1508, September 15, 15 10,
both addressed to Jjodovico.
LETTERS TO LODOVICO. 329
I
labours I have ever undergone have not been
more for myself than for your sake. What I have
bought, I bought to be yours so long as you live.
If you had not been here, I should have bought
nothing. Therefore, if you wish to let the house
and farm, do so at your pleasure. This income,
together with what I shall give you, will enable
you to live like a lord." At a time when Lodovico
was much exercised in his mind and spirits by a
lawsuit, his son writes to comfort the old man.
'' Do not be discomfited, nor give yourself an ounce
of sadness. Remember that losing money is not
losing one's life. I will more than make up to
you what you must lose. Yet do not attach too
much value to worldly goods, for they are by nature
untrustworthy. Thank God that this trial, if it
was bound to come, came at a time when you have
more resources than you had in years past. Look
to preserving your life and health, but let your
fortunes go to ruin rather than suffer hardships ; for
I would sooner have you alive and poor ; if you
were dead, I should not care for all the gold in
the world. If those chatterboxes or any one else
reprove you, let them talk, for they are men vrithout
intelligence and without affection.''
References to public events are singularly scanty
in this correspondence. Much as Michelangelo felt
the woes of Italy — and we know he did so by his
poems — he talked but little, doing his work daily
like a wise man all through the dust and din stirred
230 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
up by Julius and the League of Cambrai. The
lights and shadows of Italian experience at that
time are intensely dramatic. We must not alto-
gether forget the vicissitudes of war, plague, and
foreign invasion, which exhausted the country,
while its greatest men continued to produce im-
mortal masterpieces. Aldo Manuzio was quietly
printing his complete edition of Plato, and Michel-
angelo was transferring the noble figure of a pro-
phet or a sibyl to the plaster of the Sistine, while
young Gaston de Foix was dying at the point of
victory upon the bloody shores of the Ronco. Some*
times, however, the disasters of his country touched
Michelangelo so nearly that he had to write or speak
about them. After the battle of Savenna, on the
II th of April 15 1 2, Kaimondo de Cardona and his
Spanish troops brought back the Medici to Florence.
On their way, the little town of Prato was sacked with
a barbarity which sent a shudder through the whole
peninsula. The Cardinal Giovanni de' Medici, who
entered Florence on the 1 4th of September, estab-
lished his nephews as despots in the city, and inti-
midated the burghers by what looked likely to be
a reign of terror. These facts account for the un-
easy tone of a letter written by Michelangelo to
Buonarroto.* Prato had been taken by assault upon
the 30th of August, and was now prostrate after
those hideous days of torment, massacre, and out-
rage indescribable which followed. In these circum-
^ Letteie, No. xc, date September 5, 15 12.
SACK OF PRATO AND THE MEDICI. 231
stances Michelangelo advises his family to '^ escape
into a place of safety, abandoning their household
gear and property ; for life is feur more worth than
money/' If they are in need of cash, they may draw
upon his credit with the Spedalingo of S. Maria
Novella.^ The constitutional liability to panic which
must be recognised in Michelangelo emerges at the
close of the letter. "As to public events, do not
meddle with them either by deed or word. Act as
though the plague were raging. Be the first to fly."
The Buonarroti did not take his advice, but re-
mained at Florence, enduring agonies of terror. It
was a time when disaffection toward the Medicean
princes exposed men to risking life and limb.
Rumours reached Lodovico that his son had talked
imprudently at Rome. He wrote to inquire what
truth there was in the report, and Michelangelo
replied : ' " With regard to the Medici, I have never
spoken a single word against them, except in the
way that everybody talks — as, for instance, about the
sack of Prato ; for if the stones could have cried out,
I think they would have spoken. There have been
many other things said since then, to which, when
I heard them, I have answered : ' If they are really
acting in this way, they are doing wrong ; ' not that
I believed the reports ; and God grant they are not
true. About a month ago, some one who makes a
^ This f imctionary acted as Michelangelo's banker, and helped him
with advice in the pnrchase of land.
* Lettere, No. xxxvi., date October 15 12.
'232 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
show of friendship for me spoke very evilly about
their deeds. I rebuked him, told him that it was
not well to talk so, and begged him not to do
so again to me. However, I should like. Buonarroto
quietly to find out how the rumour arose of my
having calumniated the Medici ; for if it is some one
who pretends to be my friend, I ought to be upon
my guard."
The Buonarroti family, though well affected
toward Savonarola, were connected by many ties of
interest and old association with the Medici, and
werQ not powerful enough to be the mark of
violent political persecution. Nevertheless, a fine
was laid upon them by the newly restored Govern-
ment. This drew forth the following epistle from
Michelangelo : * —
"Dbarbst Father, — ^Your last informs me how
things are going on at Florence, though I already
knew something. We must have patience, commit
ourselves to God, and repent of our sins ; for these
trials are solely due to them, and more particularly
to pride and ingratitude. I never conversed with
a people more ungrateful and puffed up than the
Florentines. Therefore, if judgment comes, it is
but right and reasonable. As for the sixty ducats
you tell me you are fined, I think this a scurvy
trick, and am exceedingly annoyed. However, we
must have patience as long as it pleases God. I
^ Lettere, Na xxxvii, date October 15 12.
THE BUONARROTI ARE FINED. 233
will write and enclose two lines to Giuliano de'
Medici. Read them, and if yon like to present
them to him, do so ; you will see whether they
are likely to be of any use. If not, consider whether
we can sell our property and go to live elsewhere.
. . . Look to your life and health ; and if you can-
not share the honours of the land like other burghers,
be contented that bread does not fail you, and live
well with Christ, and poorly, as I do here ; for I live
in a sordid way, regarding neither life nor honours —
that is, the world — and suffer the greatest hardships
and innumerable anxieties and dreads. It is now
about fifteen years since I had a single hour of well-
being, and all that I have done has been to help yon,
and you have never recognised this nor believed it.
God pardon us all ! I am ready to go on doing the
same so long as I live, if only I am able."
We have reason to believe that the petition to
Giuliano proved effectual, for in his next letter he
congratulates his father upon their being restored to
favour.^ In the same communication he mentions
a young Spanish painter whom he knew in Itome,
and whom he believes to be ill at Florence. This
was probably the Alonso Berughetta who made a
copy of the Cartoon for the Battle of Pisa. In July
1508 Michelangelo wrote twice about a Spaniard
who wanted leave to study the Cartoon ; first beg-
ging Buonarroto to procure the keys for him, and
^ Lettere, No. xxxviiL The pLrase is rihenedeUi.
234 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
afterwards saying that he is glad to hear that the
permission was refused.^ It does not appear certain
whether this was the same Alonso; but it is in-
teresting to find that Michelangelo disliked his
Cartoon being copied. We also learn from these
letters that the Battle of Pisa then remained in the
Sala del Papa.*
IX.
I will conclude this chapter by translating a
sonnet addressed to Giovanni da Pistoja, in which
Michelangelo humorously describes the discomforts
he endured while engaged upon the Sistine.' Con-
divi tells us that from painting so long in a strained
attitude, gazing up at the vault, he lost for some
time the power of reading except when he lifted the
paper above his head and raised his eyes. Vasari
corroborates the narrative from his own experience
in the vast halls of the Medicean palace/
I've grown a goitre by dwelling in this den —
As cats from stagnant streams in Lombard^,
Or in what other land they hap to be —
Which drives the beUy close beneath the chin :
^ Lettere, Nos. Ixxvi., Ixzviii.
* At least that is the inference of MilanesL Lettere, p. 95, note.
< Bime: Sonnet, No. v. The autograph has a funny little cari-
cature upon the margin, showing a man, with protruded stomach and
head bent back, using his brush upon a surface high above him.
* Ck)ndiyi, p. 41 ; Vasari, xii. 193.
SONNET ON THE SISTINE. 235
My beard turns up to heaven ; my nape falls in,
Fixed on my spine : my breast-bone visibly
Grows like a harp : a rich embroidery
Bedews my face from brush-drops thick and thin.
My loins into my paunch like levers grind :
My buttock like a crupper bears my weight ;
My feet unguided wander to and fro ;
In front my skin grows loose and long ; behind,
By bending it becomes more taut and strait ;
Crosswise I strain me like a Syrian bow :
Whence false and quaint, I know,
Must be the fruit of squinting brain and eye ;
For ill can aim the gun that bends awry.
Come then, Giovanni, try
To succour my dead pictures and my fame,
Since foul I fare and painting is my shama
CHAFfER VI.
I. The Sistine Chapel was built in 1475. — ^^ dimensions. — Stete of
the frescoes there before Michelangelo began to paint — 2.*oalient
differences between his manner and that of the fif teenth-centorj
masters. — His scheme for the Tault — ^The subjects of nine central
pictures. — Prophets and sibjls. — ^Four types of God's mercy to
mankind. — ^The ancestors of Christ — ^Gfeaiii and decoratiTe nude
figures. — 3. Michelangelo confined himself to an architectural
framework and a host of human figures. — ^Donatello and Signorelli.
— 4. Signorelli's frescoes in the Cappella di S. Brizio at Orvieto. —
The strong similarity of his temperament and artistic ideals to
those of Buonarroti. — Employment of the simple nude for decorative
purposes. — ^Violence. — In what sense Signorelli was the predecessor
of Michelangelo, and in what way he exerted a direct influence
over him. — 5. The colouring of the Sistine vault — 6. Qreek and
Italian ideals of form. — Greek and Italian religious emotion. —
yy, Michelangelo was essentially a Romantic, not a Classic — What
this means. — His treatment of the body and the face. — 8. His
feeling for the male and female figure. — His ideal of womanhood
is adult, verging on the masculine, rarely virginal. — He seems to
have understood the beauty of maternity. — AfQnity between him
and Lucretius. — Woman in his poems. — Her hazy indistinctness. —
His intense and wholesome feeling for male beauty and strength.
— 9. History of the evolution of his form-ideal through four
stages : — (a.) Influence of Donatello and Greek art — (5.) Realism
and sincerity to Nature. — Culmination in the Cartoon.— {c) Deter-
mination of a schematic ideaL — (cL) Gradual descent into formal
mannerism. — From the Last Judgment to the Paoline Chapel. —
In old age the tender and graceful after- blos^m of the designs for
our Lord's Passion and m3rthologies. — io.Vlmportance of original
drawings. — Michelangelo's theory on design. — His imaginative
vigour, fecundity, and strength of memory. — 11. The four greatest
draughtsmen of the age compared. — ^Vehicles used by Michelangelo ;
chiefly pen-and-ink and red and black chalk. — Circumstances under
which he preferred one or the other. — ^The Arcieri at Windsor.
836
THE SISTINE CHAPEL. 237
I.
The Sistine Chapel was built in 1473 ^7 Baccio
Pontelli, a Florentine architect, for Pope Sixtus IV.
It is a simple bam-like chamber, 132 feet in length,
44 in breadth, and 68 in height from the pavement
The ceiling consists of one expansive flattened vault,
the central portion of which offers a large plane sur-
face, well adapted to fresco decoration. The building
is lighted by twelve windows, six upon each side of
its length. These are placed high up, their rounded
arches running parallel with the first spring of the
vaulting. The ends of the chapel are closed by flat
walls, against the western of which is raised the
altar.
When Michelangelo was called to paint here, he
found both sides of the building, just below the
windows, decorated in fresco by Ferugino, Cosimo
Bosselli, Sandro Botticelli, Luca Signorelli, and
Domenico Ghirlandajo. These masters had depicted,
in a series of twelve subjects, the history of Moses
and the life of Jesus. Above the lines of fresco,
in the spaces between the windows and along the
eastern end at the same height, Botticelli painted
a row of twenty- eight Fopes. The spaces below
the frescoed histories, down to the seats which ran
along the pavement, were blank, waiting for the
tapestries which Eaffaello afterwards supplied from
cartoons now in possession of the English Crown.
238 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
At the west end, above the altar, shone three decora-
tive frescoes by Perugino, representing the Assump-
tion of the Virgin, between the finding of Moses
and the Nativity. The two last of these pictures
opened respectively the history of Moses and the
life of Christ, so that the Old and New Testaments
were equally illustrated upon the Chapel walls. At
the opposite, or eastern end, Ghirlandajo painted
the Resurrection, and there was a corresponding
picture of Michael contending with Satan for the
body of Moses.
Such was the aspect of the Sistine Chapel when
Michelangelo began his great work* Ferugino'a
three frescoes on the west wall were afterwards
demolished to make room for his Last Judgment.
The two frescoes on the east wall are now poor
pictures by very inferior masters ; but the twelve
Scripture histories and Botticelli's twenty-eight Popes
remain from the last years of the fifteenth century.^
Taken in their aggregate, the wall-paintings I have
described afforded a fair sample of Umbrian and
Tuscan art in its middle or quattrocento age of
evolution. It remained for Buonarroti to cover the
vault and the whole western end with masterpieces
displaying what Vasari called the " modem " style in
its most sublime and imposing manifestation. At
the same time he closed the cycle of the figurative
^ TMs quaJttrocenio work was carried out before 1484, immediately
after the building of the chapeL Yasari ascribes these Popes to
Botticelli
SCHEME OF DECORATION, 239
arts, and rendered any further progress on the same
lines impossible. The growth which began with
Niccolb of Pisa and with Cimabue, which advanced
through Giotto and his school, Perugino and Pin-
turicchio, Piero della Francesca and Signorelli, Fra
Angelico and Benozzo Gozzoli, the Ghirlandajo
brothers, the Lippi and Botticelli, eflBoresced in
Michelangelo, leaving nothing for after-comers but
manneristic imitation.
IL
Michelangelo, instinctively and on principle, re-
acted against the decorative methods of the fifteenth
century. If he had to paint a biblical or mytho-
logical subject, he avoided landscapes, trees, flowers,
birds, beasts, and subordinate groups of figures. He
eschewed the arabesques, the labyrinths of foliage
and fruit enclosing pictured panels, the candelabra
and gay bands of variegated patterns, which enabled
a quattrocento painter, like Gozzoli or Pinturicchio,
to produce brilliant and harmonious general effects
at a small expenditure of intellectual energy. Where
the human body struck the keynote of the music in
a work of art, he judged that such simple adjuncts
and naive concessions to the pleasure of the eye
should be avoided.^ An architectural foundation for
1 See Yasari, zii. p. 234.
240 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
the plastic forms to rest on, as plain in structure and
as grandiose in line as could be fashioned, must
suffice. These principles he put immediately to the
test in his first decorative undertaking. For the
vault of the Sistine he designed a mighty architec-
tural framework in the form of a hypsethral temple,
suspended in the air on jutting pilasters, with bold
cornices, projecting brackets, and ribbed arches flung
across the void of heaven. Since the whole of this
ideal building was painted upon plaster, its inconse-
quence, want of support, and disconnection from the
ground-plan of the chapel do not strike the mind.
It is felt to be a mere basis for the display of pictorial
art, the theatre for a thousand shapes of dignity and
beauty.
I have called this imaginary temple hypsBthral,
because the master left nine openings in the flattened
surface of the central vault. They are unequal in
size, flve being short parallelograms, and four being
spaces of the same shape but twice their length.
Through these the eye is supposed to pierce the roof
and discover the unfettered region of the heavens.
But here again Michelangelo betrayed the inconse-
quence of his invention. He filled the spaces in
question with nine dominant paintings, representing
the history of the Creation, the Fall, and the Deluge.
Taking our position at the west end of the chapel
and looking upwards, we see in the first compart-
ment God dividing light from darkness ; in the second,
creating the sun and the moon and the solid earth ;
ARCHITECTURAL SETTING. 241
in the third, animating the ocean with His brooding
influence ; in the fourth, creating Adam ; in the fifth,
creating Eve. The sixth represents the temptation
of our first parents and their expulsion from Paradise.
The seventh shows Noah's sacrifice before entering
the ark; the eighth depicts the Deluge, and the
ninth the drunkenness of Noah. It is clear that,
between the architectural conception of a roof open-
ing on the skies and these pictures of events which
happened upon earth, there is no logical connec-
tion. Indeed, Michelangelo's new system of decora-
tion bordered dangerously upon the barocco style,
and contained within itself the germs of a vicious
mannerism.
It would be captious and unjust to push this
criticism home. The architectural setting provided
for the figures and the pictures of the Sistine vault
is so obviously conventional, every point of vantage
has been so skilfully appropriated to plastic uses,
every square inch of the ideal building becomes so
naturally, and without confusion, a pedestal for the
human form, that we are lost in wonder at the
synthetic imagination which here for the first time
combined the arts of architecture, sculpture, and
painting in a single organism. Each part of the
immense composition, down to the smallest detail,
is necessary to the total effect We are in the pre-
sence of a most complicated yet mathematically
ordered scheme, which owes life and animation to
one master-thought. In spite of its complexity and
VOL. L q
242 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
scientific precision, the vault of the Sistine does not
strike the mind as being artificial or worked out by
calculation, but as being predestined to existence,
inevitable, a cosmos instinct with vitality.
On the pendentives between the spaces of the
windows, running up to the ends of each of the
five lesser pictures, Michelangelo placed alternate
prophets and sibyls upon firm projecting consoles.
Five sibyls and five prophets run along the side-
walls of the chapel. The end-walls sustain each
of them a prophet. These twelve figures are intro-
duced as heralds and pioneers of Christ the Saviour,
whose presence on the earth is demanded by the
fall of man and the renewal of sin after the Deluge.
In the lunettes above the windows and the arched
recesses or spandrels over them are depicted scenes
setting forth the genealogy of Christ and of his
Mother. At each of the four corner-spandrels of
the ceiling, Michelangelo painted, in spaces of a
very peculiar shape and on a surface of embarrassing
inequality, one magnificent subject symbolical of
man's redemption. The first is the raising of the
Brazen Serpent in the wilderness; the second, the
punishment of Haman ; the third, the victory of
David over Goliath; the fourth, Judith with the
head of Holofemes.
Thus, with a profound knowledge of the Bible,
and with an intense feeling for religious symbolism,
Michelangelo unrolled the history of the creation of
the world and man, the entrance of sin into the
BIBLICAL HISTORY. 243
human heart, the punishment of sin by water, and
the reappearance of sin in Noah's family. Having
done this, he intimated, by means of four special
mercies granted to the Jewish people — types and
symbols of God's indulgence — that a Saviour would
arise to redeem the erring human race. In confirma-
tion of this promise, he called twelve potent wit-
nesses, seven of the Hebrew prophets and five of
the Pagan sibyls. He made appeal to history, and
set around the thrones on which these witnesses
are seated scenes detached from the actual lives of
our Lord's human ancestors.
The intellectual power of this conception is at
least equal to the majesty and sublime strength of
its artistic presentation. An awful sense of coming
doom and merited damnation haA^gs in the thun-
derous canopy of the Sistine vault, tempered by a
solemn and sober expectation of the Saviour. It is
much to be regretted that Christ, the Desired of
all Nations, the Redeemer and Atoner, appears no-
where adequately represented in the Chapel. When
Michelangelo resumed his work there, it was to
portray him as an angered Hercules, hurling curses
upon helpless victims. The august rhetoric of the
ceiling loses its effective value when we can nowhere
point to Christ's life and work on earth ; when there
is no picture of the Nativity, none of the Cruci-
fixion, none of the Resurrection; and when the
feeble panels of a Perugino and a Cosimo Rosselli
are crushed into insignificance by the terrible Last
244 LII'E OF MICHELANGELO.
Judgment. In spite of Buonarroti's great creative
strength, and injuriously to his real feeling as a
Christian, the piecemeal production which governs
all large art undertakings results here in a maimed
and one-sided rendering of what theologians call the
Scheme of Salvation.
I
m.
So much has been written about the pictorial
beauty, the sublime imagination, the dramatic energy,
the profound significance, the exact science, the shy
graces, the terrible force, and finally the vivid powers
of characterisation displayed in these frescoes, that
I feel it would be impertinent to attempt a new
discourse upon a theme so time-worn. I must con-
tent myself with referring to what I have already
published, which will, I hope, be sufficient to demon-
strate that I do not avoid the task for want of
enthusiasm.^ The study of much rhetorical criti-
cism makes me feel strongly that, in front of certain
masterpieces, silence is best, or, in lieu of silence,
some simple pregnant sayings, capable of rousing
folk to independent observation.
These convictions need not prevent me, however,
from fixing attention upon a subordinate matter, but
one which has the most important bearing upon
^ Benaissance in Italy, '^The Fine Arts," pp. 342-346, 407-412.
('A.
Head oc Ihaiah,
THE HUMAN FIGURE. 245
Michelangelo's genius. After designing the architec-
tural theatre which I have attempted to describe,
and filling its main spaces with the vast religious
drama he unrolled symbolically in a series of primeval
scenes, statuesque figures, and countless minor groups
contributing to one intellectual conception ; he pro-
ceeded to charge the interspaces — ^all that is usually
left for facile decorative details — with an army of pas-
sionately felt and wonderfully executed nudes, forms
of youths and children, naked or half draped, in every
conceivable posture and with every possible variety of
facial type and expression. On pedestals, cornices,
medallions, tympanums, in the angles made by arches,
wherever a vacant plane or unused curve was found,
he set these vivid transcripts from humanity in ac-
tion. We need not stop to inquire what he intended
by that host of plastic shapes evoked from his ima-
gination. The triumphant leaders of the crew, the
twenty lads who sit upon their consoles, sustaining
medallions by ribands which they lift, have been
variously and inconclusively interpreted. In the long
row of Michelangelo's creations, those young men are
perhaps the most significant — athletic adolescents,
with faces of feminine delicacy and poignant fascina-
tion. But it serves no purpose to inquire what they
symbolise. If we did so, we should have to go further,
and ask. What do the bronze figures below them,
twisted into the boldest attitudes the human frame
can take, or the twinned children on the pedestals,
signify 1 In this region, the region of pure plastic
246 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
play, when art drops the wand of the interpreter
and allows physical heauty to be a law unto itself,
Michelangelo demonstrated that no decorative
element in the hand of a really supreme master
is equal to the nude.
Previous artists, with a strong instinct for plastic
as opposed to merely picturesque effect, had worked
upon the same line. Donatello revelled in the
rhythmic dance and stationary grace of children.
Luca Signorelli initiated the plan of treating com-
plex ornament by means of the mere human body ;
and for this reason, in order to define the position of
Michelangelo in Italian art-history, I shall devote
the next section of this chapter to Luca's work at
Orvieto. But Buonarroti in the Sistine carried
their suggestions to completion. The result is a
mapped-out chart of living figures — a vast pattern,
each detail of which is a masterpiece of modelling.
After we have grasped the intellectual content of
the whole, the message it was meant to inculcate,
the spiritual meaning present to the maker's mind,
we discover that, in the sphere of artistic accomplish-
ment, as distinct from intellectual suggestion, one
rhythm of purely figurative beauty has been carried
throughout — from God creating Adam to the boy
who waves his torch above the censer of the Eryth-
rean sibyl.
LUCA SIGNORELLI. 247
IV.
r
Of all previous painters, only Luca Signorelli de-
serves to be called the forerunner of Michelangelo,
and his Chapel of S. Brizio in the Cathedral at
Orvieto in some remarkable respects anticipates the
Sistine. This eminent master was commissioned in
1499 to finish its decoration, a small portion of
which had been begun by Fra Angelico. He com-
pleted the whole Chapel within the space of two
years ; so that the young Michelangelo, upon one of
his journeys to or from Rome, may probably have seen
the frescoes in their glory. Although no visit to
Orvieto is recorded by his biographers, the fame of
these masterpieces by a man whose work at Florence
had already influenced his youthful genius must cer-
tainly have attracted him to a city which lay on the
direct route from Tuscany to the Campagna.
The four walls of the Chapel of S. Brizio are
covered with paintings setting forth events imme-
diately preceding and following the day of judg-
ment. A succession of panels, differing in size and
shape, represent the preaching of Antichrist, the
destruction of the world by fire, the resurrection
of the body, the condemnation of the lost, the
reception of saved souls into bliss, and the final
states of heaven and hell. These main subjects
occupy the upper spaces of each wall, while below
them are placed portraits of poets, surrounded by
248 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
rich and fanciful arabesques, including various epi-
sodes from Dante and antique mythology. Obeying
the spirit of the fifteenth century, Signorelli did not
aim at what may be termed an architectural effect in
his decoration of this building. Each panel of the
whole is treated separately, and with very unequal
energy, the artist seeming to exert his strength
chiefly in those details which made demands on his
profound knowledge of the human form and his
enthusiasm for the nude. The men and women of
the Resurrection, the sublime angels of Heaven and
of the Judgment, the discoloured and degraded
fiends of Hell, the magnificently foreshortened
clothed figures of the Fulminati, the portraits in the
preaching of Antichrist, reveal Luca's specific quality
as a painter, at once impressively imaginative and
crudely realistic. There is something in his way of
regarding the world and of reproducing its aspects
which dominates our fancy, does violence to our
sense of harmony and beauty, leaves us broken and
bewildered, resentful and at the same moment en-
thralled. He is a power which has to be reckoned
with; and the reason for speaking about him at
length here is that, in this characteristic blending of
intense vision with impassioned realistic effort after
truth to fact, this fascination mingled with repulsion,
he anticipated Michelangelo. Deep at the root of
all Buonarroti's artistic qualities lie these contra-
dictions. Studying Signorelli, we study a parallel
psychological problem. The chief difference between
%fto^
/ff (-1,,.,.
'.V,
Head of DnLmic Sibyl.
tKESCOES AT ORVIETO. 349
the two masters lies in the command of esthetic
synthesis, the constructive sense of harmony, which
helonged to the younger, but which might, we feel,
have been granted in like measure to the elder,
had Luca been bom, as Michelangelo was, to com-
plete the evolution of Italian figurative art, instead
of marking one of its most important intermediate
moments.
The decorative methods and instincts of the two
men were closely similar. Both scorned any ele-
ment of interest or beauty which was not strictly
plastic — ^the human body supported by architecture
or by rough indications of the world we live in.
Signorelli invented an intricate design for ara-
besque pilasters, one on each side of the door lead-
ing from his chapel into the Cathedral. They are
painted en grisaille, and axe composed exclusively of
nudes, mostly male, perched or grouped in a marvel-
lous variety of attitudes upon an ascending series of
slender-stemmed vases, which build up gigantic can-
delabra by their aggregation. The naked form is
treated with audacious freedom. It appears to be
elastic in the hands of the modeller. Some dead
bodies carried on the backs of brawny porters are
even awful by the contrast of their wet-clay limpness
with the muscular energy of brutal life beneath them.
Satyrs giving drink to one another, fauns whisper-
ing in the ears of stalwart women, centaurs trotting
250 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
sunk in self-abandonment to sloth or sorrow — such
are the details of these incomparable columns, where
our sense of the grotesque and vehement is imme-
diately corrected by a perception of rare energy in
the artist who could play thus with his plastic
puppets.
We have here certainly the preludings to Michel-
angelo's serener, more monumental work in the Sis-
tine Chapel. The leading motive is the same in
both great masterpieces. It consists in the use of
the simple body, if possible the nude body, for the
expression of thought and emotion, the telling of a
tale, the delectation of the eye by ornamental details.
It consists also in the subordination of the female
to the male nude as the symbolic unit of artistic
utterance. Buonarroti is greater than Signorelli
chiefly through that larger and truer perception of
aesthetic unity which seems to be the final outcome
of a long series of artistic efforts. The arabesques,
for instance, with which Luca wreathed his portraits
of the poets, are monstrous, bizarre, in doubtful taste.
Michelangelo, with a finer instinct for harmony, a
deeper grasp on his own dominant ideal, excluded
this element of quattrocento decoration from his
scheme. Raffaello, with the graceful tact essential
to the style, developed its crude rudiments into the
choice forms of fanciful delightfulness which charm
us in the Loggie.
Signorelli loved violence. A large proportion of
the circular pictures painted en grisaille on these
SIGNORELLFS FORCE AND VIOLENCE. 251
walls represent scenes of massacre, assassination,
torture, ruthless outrage. One of them, extremely
spirited in design, shows a group of three execu-
tioners hurling men with millstones round their
necks into a raging river from the bridge which
spans it. The first victim flounders half merged
in the flood; a second plunges head foremost
through the air; the third stands bent upon the
parapet, his shoulders pressed down by the varlets
on each side, at the very point of being flung to
death by drowning. In another of these pictures
a man seated upon the ground is being tortured by
the breaking of his teeth, while a furious fellow
holds a club suspended over him, in act to shatter
his thigh-bones. Naked soldiers wrestle in mad
conflict, whirl staves above their heads, fling stones,
displaying their coarse muscles with a kind of frenzy.
Even the classical subjects suffer from extreme
dramatic energy of treatment. Ceres, seeking her
daughter through the plains of Sicily, dashes fran-
tically on a car of dragons, her hair dishevelled to
the winds, her cheeks gashed by her own crooked
fingers. Eurydice struggles in the clutch of bestial
devils ; Pluto, like a mediseval Satan, frowns above the
scene of fiendish riot ; the violin of Orpheus thrills
faintly through the infernal tumult. Gazing on the
spasms and convulsions of these grim subjects, we
are inclined to credit a legend preserved at Orvieto
to the effect that the painter depicted his own
unfaithful mistress in the naked woman who is
252 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
being borne on a demon's back through the air to
heU.
No one who has studied Michelangelo impartiaUy
will deny that in this preference for the violent he
came near to Signorelli, We feel it in his choice
of attitude, the strain he puts upon the lines of
plastic composition, the stormy energy of his con-
ception and expression. It is what we call his
terribilita. But here again that dominating sense
of harmony, that instinct for the necessity of sub-
ordinating each artistic element to one strain of
architectonic music, which I have already indicated
as the leading note of difference between him and
the painter of Cortona, intervened to elevate his
terribleness into the region of sublimity. The
violence of Michelangelo, unlike that of Luca, lay
not so much in the choice of savage subjects
(cruelty, ferocity, extreme physical and mental
torment) as in a forceful, passionate, tempestuous
way of handling all the themes he treated. The
angels of the Judgment, sustaining the symbols
of Christ's Passion, wrestle and bend their agita-
ted limbs like athletes. Christ emerges from the
sepulchre, not in victorious tranquillity, but with
the clash and clangour of an irresistible energy set
free. Even in the Crucifixion, one leg has been
wrenched away from the nail which pierced its foot,
and writhes round the knee of the other still left
riven to the cross. The loves of Leda and the Swan,
of Ixion and Juno, are spasms of voluptuous pain ;
SIGNORELLI AND MICHELANGELO. 253
the sleep of the Night is troubled with fantastic
dreams, and the Dawn starts into consciousness
with a shudder of prophetic anguish. There is not a
hand, a torso, a simple nude, sketched by this extra-
ordinary master, which does not vibrate with nervous
tension, as though the fingers that grasped the pen
were clenched and the eyes that viewed the model
glowed beneath knit brows. Michelangelo, in fact,
saw nothing, felt nothing, interpreted nothing, on
exactly the same lines as any one who had preceded
or who followed him. His imperious personality he
stamped upon the smallest trifle of his work.
Luca*s frescoes at Orvieto, when compared with
Michelangelo's in the Sistine, mark the transition
from the art of the fourteenth, through the art of
the fifteenth, to that of the sixteenth century, with
broad and trenchant force. They are what Mar-
lowe's dramas were to Shakespeare's. They retain
much of the mediaeval tradition both as regards form
and sentiment. We feel this distinctly in the treat-
ment of Dante, whose genius seems to have exerted af
least as strong an influence over Signorelli's imagi-
nation as over that of Michelangelo. The episodes
from the Divine Comedy are painted in a rude
Gothic spirit. The spirits of Hell seem borrowed
from grotesque bas-reliefs of the Pisan school. The
draped, winged, and armed angels of Heaven are
posed with a ceremonious research of suavity or gran-
deur. These and other features of his work carry
us back to the period of Giotto and Niccolb Pisanq.
254 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
But the true force of the man, what made him a
commanding master of the middle period, what dis-
tinguished him from all his fellows of the quattro-
cento, is the passionate delight he took in pure
humanity — the nude, the body studied under all its
aspects and with no repugnance for its coarseness —
man in his crudity made the sole sufficient object for
figurative art, anatomy regarded as the crowning and
supreme end of scientific exploration. It is this in
his work which carries us on toward the next age,
and justifies our calling Luca " the morning-star of
Michelangelo."
It would be wrong to ascribe too much to the
immediate influence of the elder over the younger
artist — at any rate in so far as the frescoes of the
Chapel of S. Brizio may have determined the creation
of the Sistine. Yet Vasari left on record that " even
Michelangelo followed the manner of Signorelli, as
any one may see." Undoubtedly, Buonarroti, while
an inmate of Lorenzo de' Medici's palace at Florence,
felt the power of Luca's Madonna with the naked
figures in the background ; the leading motive of
which he transcended in his Doni Holy Family.*
Probably at an early period he had before his eyes
the bold nudities, uncompromising designs, and
awkward composition of Luca's so-called School of
Pan." In like manner, we may be sure that during
^ Both of these pictures wiU be found in the Uffizi
' Now in the Berlin Mufleum. The picture can with some reason
be identified with a tempera-painting presented to Lorenzo the Mag-
nificent by Signorelli.
IMPORTANCE OF THE SISTINE FRESCOES. 255
bis first visit to Rome he was attracted by Signorelli's
solemn fresco of Moses in the Sistine. These things
were sufficient to establish a link of connection be-
tween the painter of Cortona and the Florentine
sculptor. And when Michelangelo visited the Chapel
of S. Brizio, after he had fixed and formed his style
(exhibiting his innate force of genius in the Pieti,
the Bacchus, the Cupid, the David, the statue of
Julius, the Cartoon for the Battle of Pisa), that early
bond of sympathy must have been renewed and
enforced. They were men of a like temperament,
and governed by kindred aesthetic instincts. Michel-
angelo brought to its perfection that system of work-
ing wholly through the human form which Signorelli
initiated. He shared his violence, his tenrihiUtd,^ his
almost brutal candour. In the fated evolution of
Italian art, describing its parabola of vital energy,
Michelangelo softened, sublimed, and harmonised his
predecessor's qualities. He did this by abandoning
Luca's naivetes and crudities ; exchanging his savage
transcripts from coarse life for profoundly studied
idealisations of form ; subordinating his rough and
casual design to schemes of balanced composition,
based on architectural relations ; penetrating the
whole accomplished work, as he intended it should
be, with a solemn and severe strain of unifying
intellectual melody.
Viewed in this light, the vault of the Sistine and
the later fresco of the Last Judgment may be taken
as the final outcome of all previous Italian art upon
256 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
a single line of creative energy, and that line the
one anticipated by Luca Signorelli. In like manner,
the Stanze and Loggie of the Vatican were the final
outcome of the same process upon another line,
suggested by Ferugino and Fra Bartolommeo.
Michelangelo adapted to his own uses and bent
to his own genius motives originated by the Pisani,
Giotto, Giacopo della Quercia, Donatello, Masaccio,
while working in the spirit of Signorelli. He fused
and recast the antecedent materials of design in sculp-
ture and painting, producing a quintessence of art
beyond which it was impossible to advance without
breaking the rhythm, so intensely strung, and with-
out contradicting too violently the parent inspiration.
He strained the chord of rhythm to its very utmost,
and made incalculable demands upon the religious
inspiration of its predecessors. His mighty talent
was equal to the task of transfusion and remodelling
which the exhibition of the supreme style demanded.
But after him there remained nothing for successors
left except mechanical imitation, soulless rehandling
of themes he had exhausted by reducing them to his
imperious imagination in a crucible of fiery intensity.
V.
No critic with a just sense of phraseology would
call Michelangelo a colourist in the same way as
Titian and Eubeus were colouriats. Still it cannot
be denied with justice that the painter of the Sistine
had a keen perception of what his art required in this
region, and of how to attain it. He planned a compre-
heusive architectural scheme, which served as setting
and support for multitudes of draped and undraped
human figures. The colouring is kept deliberately
low and subordinate to the two main features of the
design — architecture, and the plastic forms of men
and women. Fleah-tinta, varying from the strong
red tone of Jonah's athletic manhood, through the
glowing browns of the seated Genii, to the delicate
carnations of Adam and the paler hues of Eve ;
orange and bronze in draperies, medallions, deco-
rative nudes ; russets like the tints of dead leaves ;
lilacs, cold greens, blue used sparingly; all these
colours are dominated and brought into harmony by
the greys of the architectural setting. It may indeed
be said that the different qualities of flesh-tints, the
architectural greys, and a dull bronzed yellow strike
the chord of the composition. Beds are conspicuous
by their absence in any positive hue. There is no
vermilion, no pure scarlet or crimson, but a mixed
tint verging upon Jake. The yellows are brought
near to orange, tawny, bronze, except in the hair of
youthful personages, a large majority of whom are
blonde. The only colour which starts out staringly is
ultramarine, owing of course to this mineral material
resisting time and change more perfectly than the
pigments with which it is associated. The whole
TDI. L K
258 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
scheme leaves a grave harmonious impression on the
mind, thoroughly in keeping with the sublimity of
the thoughts expressed. No words can describe the
beauty of the flesh-painting, especially in the figures
of the Genii, or the technical delicacy with which
the modelling of limbs, the modulation from one
tone to another, have been carried from silvery
transparent shades up to the strongest accents.
VI.
Mr. Ruskin has said, and very justly said, that
" the highest art can do no more than rightly repre-
sent the human form."^ This is what the Italians
of the Renaissance meant when, through the mouths
of Ghiberti, Buonarroti, and Cellini, they proclaimed
that the perfect drawing of a fine nude, "un bel
corpo ignudo," was the final test of mastery in plastic
art. Mr. Ruskin develops his text in sentences which
have peculiar value from his lips. " This is the
simple test, then, of a perfect school — that it has
represented the human form so that it is impossible
to conceive of its being better done. And that, I
repeat, has been accomplished twice only : once in
Athens, once in Florence. And so narrow is the
excellence even of these two exclusive schools, that
it cannot be said of either of them that they repre-
1 Aratra Pentelicij ed. 1872, p. I'^o (Section 183 of the I-iectures).
GREEK AND TUSCAN IDEALS OF FORM. 259
sented the entire human form. The Greeks per-
fectly drew and perfectly moulded the body and
Umbs, but there is, so far as I am aware, no instance
of their representing the face as well as any great
Italian. On the other hand, the Italian painted and
carved the face insuperably; but I believe there is
no instance of his having perfectly represented the
body, which, by command of his religion, it became
his pride to despise and his safety to mortify."
We need not pause to consider whether the
Italian's inferiority to the Greek's in the plastic
modelling of human bodies was due to the artist's
own religious sentiment. That seems a far-fetched
explanation for the shortcomings of men so frankly
realistic and so scientifically earnest »«'*ffi!e masters
of the Cinque Cento were. Michelangelo's magnifi-
cent cartoon of Leda and the Swan, if it falls short
of some similar subject in some gabinetto segreto of
antique fresco, does assuredly not do so because
the draughtsman's hand faltered in pious dread or
pious aspiration. Nevertheless, Ruskin is right in
telling us that no Italian modelled a female nude
equal to the Aphrodite of Melos, or a male nude
equal to the Apoxyomenos of the Braccio Nuovo.
He is also right in pointing out that no Greek sculp-
tor approached the beauty of facial form and ex-
pression which we recognise in Rafiaello's Madonna
di San Sisto, in Sodoma's S. Sebastian, in Guercino's
Christ at the Corsini Palace, in scores of early
Florentine sepulchral monuments and pictures, in
26o LIFE OF MICHELAXC.ELO.
Umbrian saints and sweet strange portrait-fancies
by Da Vinci.
The fact seems to be that Greek and Italian plastic
art followed diflFerent lines of development, owing to
the difference of dominant ideas in the races, and
to the difference of social custom. Religion natur-
ally played a foremost part in the art-evolution of
both epochs. The anthropomorphic Greek mythology
encouraged sculptors to concentrate their attention
upon what Hegel called "thie sensuous manifesta-
tion of the idea," while Greek habits rendered them
familiar with the body frankly exhibited. Mediaeval
religion withdrew Italian sculptors and painters from
the problems of purely physical form, and obliged
them to study the expression of sentiments and
aspirations which could only be rendered by em-
phasising psychical qualities revealed through phy-
siognomy. At the same time, modern habits of life
removed the naked body from their ken.
We may go further, and observe that the condi-
tions under which Greek art flourished developed
what the Germans call " AUgemeinheit," a tendency
to generalise, which was inimical to strongly marked
facial expression or characterisation. The condi-
tions of Italian art, on the other hand, favoured an
opposite tendency — to particularise, to enforce detail,
to emphasise the artist's own ideal or the model's
quality. When the type of a Greek deity had been
fixed, each successive master varied this within the
closest limits possible. For centuries the type re-
GREEK AND MODERN RELIGIOUS IDEAS. 261
mained fundamentally unaltered, undergoing subtle
transformations, due partly to the artist's tempera-
ment, and partly to changes in the temper of society.
Consequently those aspects of the human form which
are capable of most successful generalisation, the body
and the limbs, exerted a kind of conventional tyranny
over Greek art. And Greek artists applied to the
face the same rules of generalisation which were
applicable to the body.
The Greek god or goddess was a sensuous mani-
festation of the idea, a particle of universal godhood
incarnate in a special fleshly form, corresponding to
the particular psychological attributes of the deity
whom the sculptor had to represent. No deviation
from the generalised type was possible. The Chris-
tian God, on the contrary, is a spirit ; and all the
emanations from this spirit, whether direct, as in the
person of Christ, or derived, as in the persons of the
saints, owe their sensuous form and substance to the
exigencies of mortal existence, which these persons
temporarily and phenomenally obeyed. Since, then,
the sensuous manifestation has now become merely
symbolic, and is no longer an indispensable investi-
ture of the idea, it may be altered at will in Chris-
tian art without irreverence. The utmost capacity
of the artist is now exerted, not in enforcing or
refining a generalised type, but in discovering
some new facial expression which shall reveal psy-
chological quality in a particular being. Doing so,
he inevitably insists upon the face; and having
262 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
formed a face expressive of some defined quality, he
can hardly give to the body that generalised beauty
which belongs to a Greek nymph or athlete.
What we mean by the differences between Classic
and Romantic art lies in the distinctions I am drawing.
Classicism sacrifices character to breadth. Roman-
ticism sacrifices breadth to character. Classic art
deals more triumphantly with the body, because the
body gains by being broadly treated. Romantic art
deals more triumphantly with the face, because the
features lose by being broadly treated.
This brings me back to Mr. Ruskin, who, in
another of his treatises, condemns Michelangelo
for a want of variety, beauty, feeling, in his heads
and faces. Were this the case, Michelangelo would
have little claim to rank as one of the world's chief
artists. We have admitted that the Italians did not
produce such perfectly beautiful bodies and limbs
as the Greeks did, and have agreed that the Greeks
produced less perfectly beautiful faces than the
Italians. Suppose, then, that Michelangelo failed in
his heads and faces, he, being an Italian, and there-
fore confessedly inferior to the Greeks in his bodies
and limbs, must, by the force of logic, emerge less
meritorious than we thought him.
MICHELANGELO'S ROMANTICISM. 263
VII.
To many of my readers the foregoing section will
appear superfluous, polemical, sophistic — three bad
things. I wrote it, and I let it stand, however, be-
cause it serves as preface to what I have to say in
general about Michelangelo's ideal of form. He was
essentially a Romantic as opposed to a Classic artist.
That is to say, he sought invariably for character —
character in type, character in attitude, character
in every action of each muscle, character in each
extravagance of pose. He applied the Bomantic
principle to the body and the limbs, exactly to that
region of the human form which the Greeks had
conquered as their province. He did so with con-
summate science and complete mastery of physiolo-
gical law. What is more, he compelled the body to
become expressive, not, as the Greeks had done, of
broad general conceptions, but of the most intimate
and poignant personal emotions. This was his main
originality. At the same time, being a Romantic, he
deliberately renounced the main tradition of that
manner. He refused to study portraiture, as Vasari
tells us, and as we see so plainly in the statues of the
Dukes at Florence. He generalised his faces, com-
posing an ideal cast of features out of several types.
In the rendering of the face and head, then, he chose
to be a Classic, while in the treatment of the body he
was vehemently modern. In all his work which is
264 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
not meant to be dramatic — that is, excluding the
damned souls in the Last Judgment, the bust of
Brutus, and some keen psychological designs — char-
acter is sacrificed to a studied ideal of form, so far
as the face is concerned. That he did this wilfully,
on principle, is certain. The proof remains in the
twenty heads of those incomparable genii of the
Sistine, each one of whom possesses a beauty and
a quality peculiar to himself alone. They show
that, if he had so chosen, he could have played
upon the human countenance with the same facility
as on the human body, varying its expressiveness
ad infinitum. •
Why Michelangelo preferred to generalise the
face and to particularise the body remains a secret
buried in the abysmal deeps of his personality. In
his studies from the model, unlike Lionardo, he
almost always left the features vague, while working
out the trunk and limbs with strenuous passion. He
never seems to have been caught and fascinated by
the problem offered by the eyes and features of a
male or female. He places masks or splendid com-
monplaces upon frames palpitant and vibrant with
vitality in pleasure or in anguish.
In order to guard against an apparent contra-
diction, I must submit that, when Michelangelo
particularised the body and the limbs, he strove to
make them the symbols of some definite passion or
emotion. He seems to have been more anxious
about the suggestions afforded by their pose and
^■"'iflfi^lTy
Male Ficukr, with PiiopoRnoKS.
HIS ARBITRARY CHOICE OF ATTITUDES. 265
muscular employment than he was about the expres-
sion of the features. But we shall presently discover
that, so far as pure physical type is concerned, he
early began to generalise the structure of the body,
passing finally into what may not unjustly be called
a mannerism of form.
These points may be still further illustrated by
what a competent critic has recently written upon
Michelangelo's treatment of form.^ ** No one," says
Professor Briicke, "ever knew so well as Michel-
angelo Buonarroti how to produce powerful and
strangely harmonious effects by means of figures in
themselves open to criticism, simply by his mode of
placing and ordering them, and of distributing their
. lines. For him a figure existed only in his particular
representation of it; how it would have looked in
any other position was a matter of no concern to
him." We may even go further, and maintain that
Michelangelo was sometimes wilfully indifferent to
the physical capacities of the human body in his
passionate research of attitudes which present pic-
turesque and novel beauty.* The ancients worked
on quite a different method. They created standard
types which, in every conceivable posture, would
1 The Hwnan Figwre; its Beauties amd Defeds, By Ernest Biiieke.
English translation. London : Grevel, 1891.
' I have tested several of the genii of the Sistine by placing an ex-
ceptionaUy supple and intelligent model exactly in their attitades. It
seemed to me clear that, however admirable as arrangements of lines
and suggestions of audacious posture they may be, some of these figures
strain the possibilities of nature beyond their limits.
266 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
exhibit the grace and symmetry belonging to well-
proportioned frames. Michelangelo looked to the
eflfect of a particular posture. He may have been
seduced by his habit of modelling figures in clay
instead of going invariably to the living subject,
and so may have handled nature with unwarrantable
freedom. Anyhow, we have here another demon-
stration of his romanticism.
VIII.
The true test of the highest art is that it should
rightly represent the human form. Agreed upon
this point, it remains for us to consider in what way
Michelangelo conceived and represented the human
form. If we can discover his ideal, hi& principles,
his leading instincts in this decisive matter, we shall
unlock, so far as that is possible, the secret of his
personality as man and artist. The psychological
quality of every great master must eventually be
determined by his mode of dealing with the pheno-
mena of sex.
In Pheidias we find a large impartiality. His
men and women are cast in the same mould of
grandeur, inspired with equal strength and sweet-
ness, antiphonal notes in dual harmony. Praxiteles
leans to the female, Lysippus to the male ; and so,
through all the gamut of the figurative craftsmen,
MALE AND FEMALE BEAUTY. 267
we discover more or less affinity for man or woman.
One is swayed by woman and her gracefulness, the
other by man and his vigour. Few have realised
the Pheidian perfection of doing equal justice.
Michelangelo emerges as a mighty master who
was dominated by the vision of male beauty, and
who saw the female mainly through the fascination
of the other sex. The defect of his art is due to a
certain constitutional callousness, a want of sensuous
or imaginative sensibility for what is specifically
feminine.
Not a single woman carved or painted by the
hand of Michelangelo has the charm of early youth
or the grace of virginity. The Eve of the Sistine,
the Madonna of S. Peter's, the Night and Dawn of
the Medicean Sacristy, are female in the anatomy of
their large and grandly modelled forms, but not femi-
nine in their sentiment. This proposition requires
no proof. It is only needful to recall a Madonna by
Raphael, a Diana by Correggio, a Leda by Lionardo,
a Venus by Titian, a S. Agnes by Tintoretto. We
find ourselves immediately in a different region —
the region of artists who loved, admired, and com-
prehended what is feminine in the beauty and the
temperament of women. Michelangelo neither loved,
nor admired, nor yielded to the female sex. There-
fore he could not deal plastically with what is best
and loveliest in the female form. His plastic ideal
of the woman is masculine. He builds a colossal
frame of muscle, bone, and flesh, studied with supreme
268 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
anatomical science. He gives to Eve the full pelvis
and enormous haunches of an adult matron. It
might here be urged that he chose to symbolise the
fecundity of her who was destined to be the mother
of the human race. But if this was his meaning,
why did he not make Adam a corresponding symbol
of fatherhood ? Adam is an adolescent man, colossal
in proportions, but beardless, hairless ; the attributes
of sex in him are developed, but not matured by use.
The Night, for whom no symbolism of maternity was
needed, is a woman who has passed through many
pregnancies. Those deeply delved wrinkles on the
vast and flaccid abdomen sufficiently indicate this.
Yet when we turn to Michelangelo's sonnets on
Night, we find that he habitually thought of her as
a mysterious and shadowy being, whose influence,
though potent for the soul, disappeared before the
frailest of all creatures bearing light.^ The Dawn,
again, in her deep lassitude, has nothing of vernal
freshness. Built upon the same type as the Night,
she looks like Messalina dragging herself from
heavy slumber, for once satiated as well as tired,
stricken for once with the conscience of disgust.
When he chose to depict the acts of passion or of
sensual pleasure, a similar want of sympathy with
what is feminine in womanhood leaves an even
more discordant impression on the mind. I would
^ Sonnets xlii.-xliv. It is possible that a line in the first of these
sonnets may throw some light upon the symbolism of La Notte : *' Ma
Tombra sol a piantar V uomo serve."
THE FEMALE TYPE IN MICHELANGELO. 269
base the proof of this remark upon the marble Leda
of the Bargello Museum, and an old engraving of
Ixion clasping the phantom of Juno under the form
of a cloud.^ In neither case do we possess Michel-
angelo's own handiwork ; he must not, therefore,
be credited with the revolting expression, as of a
drunken profligate, upon the face of Leda. Yet
in both cases he is indubitably responsible for the
general design, and for the brawny carnality of the
repulsive woman. I find it difficult to resist the
conclusion that Michelangelo felt himself compelled
to treat women as though they were another and
less graceful sort of males. The sentiment of woman,
what really distinguishes the sex, whether volup-
tuously or passionately or poetically apprehended,
emerges in no eminent instance of his work. There
^ The history of the Leda wiU be found in Chapter IX. of this work.
I shonld have preferred to cite the Cartoon at Burlington House, or
the picture in the National Gallery, were they not practicaUy unknown
to the public There are many repetitions of the Leda scattered
through Europe, agreeing in the general lines of composition. The
print of Ixion shows him in the act of embracing a herculean woman,
with fierce passion, in a contorted and suggestive attitude, among
the clouds. At the right of the composition above, Juno in her car
is seen modeUing a doud-form. Below is a landscape with rains,
a lion couchant on a marble plinth, a stone satyr without arms ; also
one naked man crossing a torrent on a withered tree-truuk, and another
clothed praying to the skies. The engraving is executed in the manner
of Jacopo Caraglio, and Perino del Yaga's name has been connected
with the design. Mr. Louis Fagan, of the British Museum, to whom I
wrote for information, referred me to Bartsch, voL xx. p. 99, No. i. It
is impossible, I think, that any one but Michelangelo should have been
the originator of the conception. We know from Yasari that Perino
del Yaga was a diligent student of Michelangelo's works, and that he
was an associate of his familiar friend Piloto. c V
2 70 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
is a Cartoon at Naples for a Bacchante, which
Bronzino transferred to canvas and coloured. This
design illustrates the point on which I am insisting.
An athletic circus-rider of mature years, with abnor-
mally developed muscles, might have posed as model
for this female votary of Dionysus. Before he made
this drawing, Michelangelo had not seen those
frescoes of the dancing Bacchantes from Pompeii;
nor had he perhaps seen the Maenads on Greek
bas-reliefs tossing wild tresses backwards, swaying
virginal lithe bodies to the music of the tambourine.
We must not, therefore, compare his concept with
those masterpieces of the later classical imagination.
Still, many of his contemporaries, vastly inferior to
him in penetrative insight, a Giovanni da Udine, a
Perino del Vaga, a Primaticcio, not to speak of
Ra£faello or of Lionardo, felt what the charm of
youthful womanhood upon the revel might be. He
remained insensible to the melody of purely feminine
lines ; and the only reason why his transcripts from
the female form are not gross like those of Flemish
painters, repulsive like Rembrandt's, fleshly like
Kubens's, disagreeable like the drawings made
by criminals in prisons, is that they have little
womanly about them.
Lest these assertions should appear too dogmatic,
I will indicate the series of works in which I recog-
nise Michelangelo's sympathy with genuine female
quality. All the domestic groups, composed of
women and children, which fill the lunettes and
HIS DEFECTS AND QUALITIES. 271
groinings between the windows in the Sistine Chapel,
have a channing twilight sentiment of family life or
maternal affection. They are among the loveliest and
most tranquil of his conceptions. The Madonna
above the tomb of Julius II. cannot be accused of
masculinity, nor the ecstatic figure of the Kachel
beneath it. Both of these statues represent what
Goethe called " das ewig Weibliche " under a truly
felt and natural aspect. The Delphian and Erythrean
Sibyls are superb in their majesty. Again, in those
numerous designs for Crucifixions, Depositions from
the Cross, and Pietks, which occupied so much of
Michelangelo's attention during his old age, we find
an intense and pathetic sympathy with the sorrows
of Mary, expressed with noble dignity and a pious
sense of godhead in the human mother. It will be
remarked that throughout the cases I have reserved
as exceptions, it is not woman in her plastic beauty
and her radiant charm that Michelangelo has ren-
dered, but woman in her tranquil or her saddened
and sorrow-stricken moods. What he did not com-
prehend and could not represent was woman in
her girlishness, her youthful joy, her physical attrac-
tiveness, her magic of seduction.
Michelangelo's women suggest demonic primitive
beings, composite and undetermined products of the
human race in evolution, before the specific qualities
of sex have been eliminated from a general predomi-
nating mass of masculinity. At their best, they carry
us into the realm of Lucretian imagination. He
272 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
could not have incarnated in plastic form Shake-
speare's Juliet and Imogen, Dante's Francesca da
Rimini, Tasso's Erminia and Clorinda ; but he
might have supplied a superb illustration to the
opening lines of the Lucretian epic, where Mars
lies in the bed of Venus, and the goddess spreads
her ample limbs above her Roman lover. He might
have evoked images tallying the vision of primal
passion in the fourth book of that poem.^ As I have
elsewhere said, writing about Lucretius : " There is
something almost tragic in these sighs and pantings
and pleasure-throes, these incomplete fruitions of
souls pent within their frames of flesh. We seem
to see a race of men and women such as never lived,
except perhaps in Rome or in the thought of Michel-
angelo, meeting in leonine embracements that yield
pain, whereof the climax is, at best, relief from
rage and respite for a moment from consuming fire.
There is a life elemental rather than human in those
mighty limbs ; and the passion that twists them on
the marriage-bed has in it the stress of storms, the
rampings and roarings of leopards at play. Take
this single line : —
et Venus in silvis jungebat corpora amantom.
What a picture of primeval breadth and vastness !
The forest is the world, and the bodies of the lovers
are things natural and unashamed, and Venus is
* De Rentm Natura^ iv. 1037- 1208.
THE MALE TYPE IN MICHELANGELO. 273
the tyrannous instinct that controls the blood in
*9 1
spnng.
What makes Michelangelo's crudity in his plastic
treatment of the female form the more remarkable
is that in his poetry he seems to feel the influence
of women mystically. I shall have to discuss this
topic in another place. It is enough here to say
that, with very few exceptions, we remain in doubt
whether he is addressing a woman at all. There are
none of those spontaneous utterances by which a
man involuntarily expresses the outgoings of his
heart to a beloved object, the throb of irresistible
emotion, the physical ache, the sense of wanting,
the joys and pains, the hopes and fears, the ecsta-
sies and disappointments, which belong to genuine
passion. The woman is, for him, an allegory, some-
thing he has not approached and handled. Of her
personality we learn nothing. Of her bodily pre-
sentment, the eyes alone are mentioned ; and the
eyes are treated as the path to Paradise for souls
which seek emancipation from the flesh. Raflaello's
few and far inferior sonnets vibrate with an intense
and potent sensibility to this woman or to that
Michelangelo's "donna" might just as well be a
man ; and indeed the poems he addressed to men,
though they have nothing sensual about them, reveal
a finer touch in the emotion of the writer. It is
difficult to connect this vaporous incorporeal "donna"
of the poems with those brawny colossal adult females
^ Sketches and Studies in Italy, Article on Lucretius.
VOL L 8
274 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
of the statues, unless we suppose that Michelangelo
remained callous both to the physical attractions
and the emotional distinction of woman as she
actually is.
I have tried to demonstrate that, plastically, he
did not understand women, and could not reproduce
their form in art with sympathetic feeling for its
values of grace, suavity, virginity, and frailty. He
imported masculine qualities into every female theme
he handled. The case is diflFerent when we turn to
his treatment of the male figure. It would be im-
possible to adduce a single instance, out of the
many hundreds of examples furnished by his work,
in which a note of femininity has been added to the
masculine type.^ He did not think enough of women
to reverse the process, and create hermaphroditic
beings like the ApoUino of Praxiteles or the S.
Sebastian of Sodoma. His boys and youths and
adult men remain, in the truest and the purest sense
of the word, virile. Yet with what infinite variety,
with what a deep intelligence of its resources, with
what inexhaustible riches of enthusiasm and science,
he played upon the lyre of the male nude! How
far more fit for purposes of art he felt the man to
be than the woman is demonstrated, not only by
his approaching woman from the masculine side,
but also by his close attention to none but male
qualities in men. I need not insist oi enlarge
upon this point. The fact is apparent to every one
^ Except occasionally in the face ; in the body and the limbs, never.
IDEAL OF FORM: FIRST PERIOD. 275
with eyes to see. It would be futile to expound
Michelangelo's fertility in dealing with the motives
of the male figure as minutely as I judged it neces-
sary to explain the poverty of his inspiration through
the female. But it ought to be repeated that, over the
whole gamut of the scale, from the grace of boyhood,
through the multiform delightfulness of adolescence
into the firm force of early manhood, and the sterner
virtues of adult age, one severe and virile spirit
controls his fashioning of plastic forms. He even
exaggerates what is masculine in the male, as he
caricatures the female by ascribing impossible virility
to her. But the exaggeration follows here a line of
mental and moral rectitude. It is the expression of
his peculiar sensibility to physical structure.
IX.
When we study the evolution of Michelangelo's
ideal of form, we find at the beginning of his life
a very short period in which he followed the tradi-
tions of Donatello and imitated Greek work. The
seated Madonna in bas-relief and the Giovannino
belong to this first stage. So does the bas-relief of
the Centaurs. It soon becomes evident, however, that
Michelangelo was not destined to remain a continu-
ator of Donatello's manner or a disciple of the classics.
The next period, which includes the Madonna
276 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
della Febbre, the Bruges Madonna, the Bacchus, the
Cupid, and the David, is marked by an intense
search after the truth of Nature. Both Madonnas
might be criticised for unreality, owing to the enor-
mous development of the thorax and something arti-
ficial in the type of face. But all the male figures
seem to have been studied from the model. There
is an individuality about the character of each, a
naturalism, an aiming after realistic expression,
which separate this group from previous and subse-
quent works by Buonarroti. Traces of Donatello's
influence survive in the treatment of the long large
hands of David, the cast of features selected for that
statue, and the working of the feet. Indeed it may
be said that Donatello continued through life to
affect the genius of Michelangelo by a kind of sym-
pathy, although the elder master's naivete was soon
discarded by the younger.
The second period culminated in the Cartoon
for the Battle of Pisa. This design appears to
have fixed the style now known to us as Michel-
angelesque, and the loss of it is therefore irrepar-
able. It exercised the consummate science which
he had * acquired, his complete mastery over the
male nude. It defined his firm resolve to treat
linear design from the point of view of sculpture
rather than of painting proper. It settled his deter-
mination to work exclusively through and by the
human figure, rejecting all subordinate elements of
decoration. Had we possessed this epoch-making
SECOND AND THIRD PERIODS. 277
masterpiece, we should probably have known Michel-
angelo's genius in its flower-period of early ripeness,
when anatomical learning was still combined with a
sustained dependence upon Nature. The transition
from the second to the third stage in this develop-
ment of form-ideal remains imperfectly explained,
because the bathers in the Amo were necessary to
account for the difference between the realistic
David and the methodically studied genii of the
Sistine.
The vault of the Sistine shows Michelangelo's third
manner in perfection. He has developed what may
be called a scheme of the human form. The appar-
ently small head, the enormous breadth of shoulder,
the thorax overweighing the whole figure, the finely
modelled legs, the large and powerful extremities,
which characterise his style henceforward, culminate
in Adam, repeat themselves throughout the genii,
govern the prophets. But Nature has not been
neglected. Nothing is more remarkable in that vast
decorative mass of figures than the variety of types
selected, the beauty and animation of the faces, the
extraordinary richness, elasticity, and freshness of
the attitudes presented to the eye. Every period
of life has been treated with impartial justice, and
both sexes are adequately handled. The Delphian,
Erythrean, and Libyan Sibyls display a sublime
sense of facial beauty. The Eve of the Temptation
has even something of positively feminine charm.
This is probably due to the fact that Michelangelo
278 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
here studied expression and felt the necessity of
dramatic characterisation in this part of his work.
He struck each chord of what may be called the
poetry of figurative art, from the epic cantos of
Creation, Fall, and Deluge, through the tragic odes
uttered by prophets and sibyls, down to the lyric
notes of the genii, and the sweet idyllic strains of
the groups in the lunettes and spandrels.
It cannot be said that even here Michelangelo
felt the female nude as sympathetically as he felt
the male. The women in the picture of the Deluge
are colossal creatures, scarcely distinguishable from
the men except by their huge bosoms. His personal
sense of beauty finds fullest expression in the genii.
The variations on one theme of youthful loveliness
and grace are inexhaustible ; the changes rung on
attitude, and face, and feature are endless. The
type, as I have said, has already become schematic.
It is adolescent, but the adolescence is neither
that of the Greek athlete nor that of the nude
model. Indeed, it is hardly natural; nor yet is it
ideal in the Greek sense of that term. The physical
gracefulness of a slim ephebus was never seized by
Michelangelo. His Ganymede displays a massive
trunk and brawny thighs. Compare this with the
Ganymede of Titian. Compare the Cupid at South
Kensington with the Praxitelean Genius of the
Vatican — the Adonis and the Bacchus of the
Bargello with Hellenic statues. The bulk and
force of maturity are combined with the smooth-
ABSTRACT IMAGINATION. a;.
ness of boyhood and with a delicacy of face thai
borders on the feminine.
It is an arid region, the region of this mightj
master's spirit. There are do heavens and no eartl
or sea in it; no living creatures, forests, flowers
no bright colours, brilliant lights, or cayemouj
darks. Id clear grey twilight appear a multitude
of naked forms, both male and female, yet neithei
male nor female of the actual world ; rather the
brood of an inventive intellect, teeming with pre-
occupations of abiding thoughts and moods oi
feeling, which become for it incarnate in these
stupendous figures. It is as though Michelangelo
worked from the image in his brain outwards to a
physical presentment supplied by his vast know-
ledge of life, creating forms proper to his own
specific concept. Nowhere else in plastic art
does the mental world peculiar to the master press
in so immediately, without modification and with-
out mitigation, upon oar sentient imagination. I
sometimes dream that the inhabitants of the moon
may be like Michelangelo's men and women, as I
feel sure its landscape resembles his conception of
the material universe.
What I have called Michelangelo's third manner,
the purest manifestation of which is to be found in
the vault of the Sistine, sustained itself for a period
of many years. The surviving fragments of sculp-
ture for the tomb of Julius, especially the Captives
of the Louvre and the statues in the i
28o LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
S. Lorenzo, belong to this stage. A close and inti-
mate rapport with Nature can be perceived in all the
work he designed and executed during the pontifi-
cates of Leo and Clement. The artist was at his
fullest both of mental energy and physical vigour.
What he wrought now bears witness to his pleni-
tude of manhood. Therefore, although the type
fixed for the Sistine prevailed — I mean that gene-
ralisation of the human form in certain wilfully
selected proportions, conceived to be ideally beau-
tiful or necessary for the grand style in vast archi-
tectonic schemes of decoration— still it is used with
an exquisite sensitiveness to the pose and structure
of the natural body, a delicate tact in the defini-
tion of muscle and articulation, an acute feeling for
the qualities of flesh and texture. None of the
creations of this period, moreover, are devoid of
intense animating emotions and ideas.
Unluckily, during all the years which intervened
between the Sistine vault and the Last Judgment,
Michelangelo was employed upon architectural pro-
blems and engineering projects, which occupied
his genius in regions far removed from that of figu-
rative art. It may, therefore, be asserted, that al-
though he did not retrograde from want of practice,
he had no opportunity of advancing further by the
concentration of his genius on design. This ac-
counts, I think, for the change in his manner which
we notice when he began to paint in Rome under
Pope Paul III. The fourth stage in his development
THE FOURTH PERIOD. 281
of form is reached now. He has lost nothing of his
vigour, nothing of his science. But he has drifted
away from Nature. All the innumerable figures of
the Last Judgment, in all their varied attitudes,
with divers moods of dramatic expression, are dia-
grams wrought out imaginatively from the stored-
up resources of a lifetime. It may be argued that
it was impossible to pose models, in other words, to
appeal to living men and women, for the foreshorten-
ings of falling or soaring shapes in that huge drift
of human beings. This is true ; and the strongest
testimony to the colossal powers of observation
possessed by Michelangelo is that none of all those
attitudes are wrong. We may verify them, if we
take particular pains to do so, by training the sense
of seeing to play the part of a detective camera.^
Michelangelo was gifted with a unique faculty for
seizing momentary movements, fixing them upon his
memory, and transferring them to fresco by means
of his supreme acquaintance with the bony structure
and the muscular capacities of the human frame.
Regarded from this point of view, the Last Judg-
ment was an unparalleled success. As such the
contemporaries of Buonarroti hailed it. Still, the
breath of life has exhaled from all those bodies, and
the tyranny of the schematic ideal of form is felt in
each of them. Without meaning to be irreverent,
^ I may refer here to an article I published on "Swiss Athletic
Sports" in the Fortnightly Review for September 1891, where I have
handled this topic more at length.
282 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
we might fancy that two elastic lay-figures, one
male, the other female, both singularly similar in
shape, supplied the materials for the total composi-
tion. Of the dramatic intentions and suggestions
underlying these plastic and elastic shapes I am
not now speaking. It is my present business to
establish the phases through which my master's
sense of form passed from its cradle to its grave.^
In the frescoes of the Cappella Paolina, so ruined
at this day that we can hardly value them, the
mechanic manner of the fourth stage seems to reach
its climax. Ghosts of their former selves, they still
reveal the poverty of creative and spontaneous inspi-
ration which presided over their nativity.
^ A passage from Yasari's introduction explains Michelangelo's way
of dealing with figures in relief and foreshortenings. He says that ^ it
was the divine master's habit to make little models of clay or wax ; and
from these, because they keep their position better than live beings, he
drew the outlines, lights, and shades of his figures'* (Yasari, vol. i.
p. 157). It is probable that he used this method while designing the
Last Judgment ; for many postures there are such as no living creature
could maintain for more than a few seconds. Thus he brought his
profound knowledge of anatomy and his power as a sculptor into the
service of painting, and forced the art of painting to the very extreme
verge of possibility. What strikes us as manneristic in his later fresco-
work may be attributed to this habit, implying the great man's wish to
seize and perpetuate movements of the body beyond the scope of a
sincere and thorough transcript from the living nude. It is said that
Correggio adopted the same method for his bold foreshortenings ; and
we are told that Tintoretto drew from plastic figures suspended
under artificial lighting. Enthusiastic study of the works produced in
this way by masters of indubitable genius enabled lesser folk to play
with the human form in every kind of hazardous attitude, and led
onward to that decadence with which we connect the names of the
Macchinesti.
DRAWINGS IN OLD AGE. 283
Michelangelo's fourth manner might be compared
with that of Milton in " Paradise Regained " and
" Samson Agonistes." Both of these great artists
in old age exaggerate the defects of their qualities.
Michelangelo's ideal of line and proportion in the
human form becomes stereotyped and strained, as
do Milton's rhythms and his Latinisms. The gener-
ous wine of the Bacchus and of " Comus," so intoxi-
cating in its newness, the same wine in the Sistine
and " Paradise Lost," so overwhelming in its mature
strength, has acquired an austere aridity. Yet,
strange to say, amid these autumn stubbles of de-
clining genius we light upon oases more sweet,
more tenderly suggestive, than aught the prime pro-
duced. It is not my business to speak of Milton
here. I need not recall his "Knights of Logres
and of Lyonesse," or resume his Euripidean gar-
lands showered on Samson's grave. But, for my
master Michelangelo, it will suflice to observe that
all the grace his genius held, refined, of earthly
grossness quit, appeared, under the dominance of
this fourth manner, in the mythological subjects he
composed for Tommaso Cavalieri, and, far more
nobly, in his countless studies for the celebration
of Christ's Passion. The designs bequeathed to us
from this period are very numerous. They were
never employed in the production of any monu-
mental work of sculpture or of painting. For this
very reason, because they were occasional improvisa-
tions, preludes, dreams of things to be, they preserve
284 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
the finest bloom, the Indian summer of his fancy.
Lovers of Michelangelo must dedicate their latest
and most loving studies to this phase of his fourth
manner.
X.
If we seek to penetrate the genius of an artist,
not merely forming a correct estimate of his tech-
nical ability and science, but also probing his per-
sonality to the core, as near as this is possible for us
to do, we ought to give our undivided study to his
drawings. It is there, and there alone, that we come
face to face with the real man, in his unguarded
moments, in his hours of inspiration, in the laborious
eflFort to solve a problem of composition, or in the
happy flow of genial improvisation. Michelangelo
was wont to maintain that all the arts are included in
the art of design. Sculpture, painting, architecture,
he said, are but subordinate branches of draughts-
manship. And he went so far as to assert that the
mechanical arts, with engineering and fortification,
nay, even the minor arts of decoration and costume,
owe their existence to design. The more we reflect
upon this apparent paradox, the more shall we feel
it to be true. At any rate, there are no products
of human thought and feeling capable of being
expressed by form which do not find their common
denominator in a linear drawing. The simplicity of
A^
VALUE OF ORIGINAL DRAWINGS. 285
a sketch, the comparative rapidity with which it is
produced, the concentration of meaning demanded
by its rigid economy of means, render it more sym-
bolical, more like the hieroglyph of its maker's mind,
than any finished work can be. We may discover
a greater mass of interesting objects in a painted
picture or a carved statue ; but we shall never find
exactly the same thing, never the involuntary reve-
lation of the artist's soul, the irrefutable witness to
his mental and moral qualities, to the mysteries of
his genius and to its limitations.
If this be true of all artists, it is in a peculiar
sense true of Michelangelo. Great as he was as
sculptor, painter, architect, he was only perfect
and impeccable as draughtsman. Inadequate realisa-
tion, unequal execution, fatigue, satiety, caprice of
mood, may sometimes be detected in his frescoes
and his statues; but in design we never find him
faulty, hasty, less than absolute master over the
selected realm of thought. His most interesting and
instructive work remains what he performed with
pen and chalk in hand. Deeply, therefore, must
we regret the false modesty which made him
destroy masses of his drawings, while we have
reason to be thankful for those marvellous photo-
graphic processes which nowadays have placed the
choicest of his masterpieces within the reach of
every one.
The following passages from Vasari's and Condivi's
Lives deserve attention by those who approach the
286 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
study of Buonarroti's drawings.^ Vasari says : *' His
powers of imagiuation were such, that he was fre-
quently compelled to abandon his purpose, because
he could not express by the hand those grand
and sublime ideas which he had conceived in his
mind ; nay, he has spoiled and destroyed many works
for this cause; and I know, too, that some short
time before his death he burnt a large number of his
designs, sketches, and cartoons, that none might see
the labours he had endured, and the trials to which
he had subjected his spirit, in his resolve not to fall
short of perfection.^ I have myself secured some
drawings by his hand, which were found in Florence,
and are now in my book of designs, and these,
although they give evidence of his great genius, yet
prove also that the hammer of Vulcan was necessary
to bring Minerva from the head of Jupiter. He
would construct an ideal shape out of nine, ten, and
even twelve different heads, for no other purpose
than to obtain a certain grace of harmony and com-
position which is not to be found in the natural
form, and would say that the artist must have his
measuring tools, not in the hand, but in the eye,
because the hands do but operate, it is the eye that
judges ; he pursued the same idea in architecture
also." Condivi adds some information regarding his
extraordinary fecundity and variety of invention :
* Vasari, xii. p. 271 ; Condivi, p. 85.
' Thifi is confirmed by ihe statement oi' the ambassador Averardo
Serristori, op. cit,^ P* 4' 5*
FOUR GREAT DRAUGHTSMEN. 287
" He was gifted with a most tenacious memory, the
power of which was such that, though he painted
so many thousands of figures, as any one can see,
he never made one exactly like another or posed in
the same attitude. Indeed, I have heard him say
that he never draws a line without remembering
whether he has drawn it before ; erasing any repe-
tition, when the design was meant to be exposed to
public view. His force of imagination is also most
extraordinary. This has been the chief reason why
he was never quite satisfied with his own work, and
always depreciated its quality, esteeming that his
hand failed to attain the idea which he had formed
within his brain.**
XI.
The four greatest draughtsmen of this epoch were
Lionardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Raffaello, and An-
drea del Sarto. They are not to be reckoned as equals ;
for Lionardo and Michelangelo outstrip the other
two almost as much as these surpass all lesser crafts-
men. Each of the four men expressed his own
peculiar vision of the world with pen, or chalk, or
metal point, finding the unique inevitable line, the
exact touch and quality of stroke, which should pre-
sent at once a lively transcript from real Nature,
and a revelation of the artist's particular way of feci-
288 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
ing Nature. In Lionardo it is a line of subtlety and
infinite suggestiveness ; in Michelangelo it compels
attention, and forcibly defines the essence of the
object ; in Eaffaello it carries melody, the charm of
an unerring rhythm ; in Andrea it seems to call for
tone, colour, atmosphere, and makes their presence
felt. Rafiaello was often faulty : even in the wonder-
ful pen-drawing of two nudes he sent to Albrecht
Dtirer as a sample of his skill, we blame the knees
and ankles of his models. Lionardo was sometimes
wilful, whimsical, seduced by dreamland, like a god-
bom amateur. Andrea allowed his facility to lead
him into languor, and lacked passion. Michel-
angelo's work shows none of these shortcomings ; it
is always technically faultless, instinct with passion,
supereminent in force. But we crave more of grace,
of sensuous delight, of sweetness, than he chose,
or perhaps was able, to communicate. We should
welcome a little more of human weakness if he
gave a little more of divine suavity.
Michelangelo's style of design is that of a sculptor,
Andrea's of a colourist, Lionardo's of a curious
student, Rafiaello's of a musician and improvisators
These distinctions are not merely fanciful, nor based
on what we know about the men in their careers.
We feel similar distinctions in the case of all great
draughtsmen. Titian's chalk-studies, Fra Bartolom-
meo's, so singularly akin to Andrea del Sarto's,
Giorgione's pen-and-ink sketch for a Lucretia, are
seen at once by their richness and blurred outlines
THE ARTIST IN HIS DRAWINGS. 289
to be the work of colourists.^ Signorelli's transcripts
from the nude, remarkably similar to those of
Michelangelo, reveal a sculptor rather than a painter.*
Botticelli, with all his Florentine precision, shows
that, like lionardo, he was a seeker and a visionary
in his anxious feeling after curve and attitude.
Mantegna seems to be graving steel or cutting into
marble. It is easy to apply this analysis in succes-
sion to any draughtsman who has style. To do so
would, however, be superfluous : we should only be
enforcing what is a truism to all intelligent students
of art — ^namely, that each individual stamps his own
specific quality upon his handiwork ; reveals even in
the neutral region of design his innate preference
for colour or pure form as a channel of expression ;
betrays the predominance of mental energy or sensu-
ous charm, of scientific curiosity or plastic force, of
passion or of tenderness, which controls his nature.
This inevitable and unconscious revelation of the
man in art-work strikes us as being singularly modem.
We do not apprehend it to at all the same extent
in the sculpture of the ancients, whether it be that
our sympathies are too remote from Greek and
Roman ways of feeling, or whether the ancients
really conceived art more collectively in masses, less
individually as persons.
^ Two heads of old men by Titian in the Lonvie ; Pia Bartolommeo's
cartoons in the Accademia, and his red-chalk drawings in the Uffizi at
Florence ; Qiorgione^s Lncretia in the Uffizi.
' Two studies of men in black chalk in the Louvre.
vou I. T
J90 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
No master exhibits this peculiarly modem quality
more decisively than Michelangelo, and nowhere is
the personality of his genius, what marks him off and
separates him from all fellow-men, displayed with
fuller emphasis than in his drawings. To use the
words of a penetrative critic/ from whom it is a
pleasure to quote : '' The thing about Michelangelo is
this ; he is not, so to say, at the head of a class, but
he stands apart by himself : he is not possessed of
a skill which renders him unapproached or imap-
proachable ; but rather, he is of so unique an order,
that no other artist whatever seems to suggest com-
parison with him." Mr. Selwyn Image goes on to
define in what a true sense the words " creator "
and "creative" may be applied to him: how the
shows and appearances of the world were for him
but hieroglyphs of underlying ideas, with which his
soul was familiar, and from which he worked again
outward; "his learning and skill in the arts sup-
plying to his hand such large and adequate symbols
of them as are otherwise beyond attainment." This,
in a very diflScult and impalpable region of aesthetic
criticism, is finely said, and accords with Michel-
angelo's own utterances upon art and beauty in his
poems. Dwelling like a star apart, communing
with the eternal ideas, the permanent relations of
the universe, uttering his inmost thoughts about
these mysteries through the vehicles of science and
^ Mr. Selwyn Image, " On the Distinctive Genius of J, F. Millet,"
Century OuUd Hobbif Honey October 1891.
VEHICLES EMPLOYED BY DRAUGHTSMEN. 291
of art, for which he was so singularly gifted, Michel-
angelo, in no loose or trivial sense of that phrase,
proved himself to be a creator. He introduces us to
a world seen by no eyes except his own, compels
us to become familiar with forms unapprehended by
our senses, accustoms us to breathe a rarer and more
fiery atmosphere than we were bom into.
The vehicles used by Michelangelo in his designs
were mostly pen and chalk. He employed both a
sharp-nibbed pen of some kind, and a broad flexible
reed, according to the exigencies of his subject or
the temper of his mood. The chalk was either red
or black, the former being softer than the latter. I
cannot remember any instances of those chiaroscuro
washes which Raffaello handled in so masterly a
manner, although Michelangelo frequently combined
bistre shading with pen outlines. In like manner he
does not seem to have favoured the metal point upon
prepared paper, with which Lionardo produced un-
rivalled masterpieces. Some drawings, where the
yellow outline bites into a parchment paper, blistering
at the edges, suggest a rusty metal in the instrument.
We must remember, however, that the inks of that
period were frequently corrosive, as is proved by the
state of many documents now made illegible through
the gradual attrition of the paper by mineral acids.
It is also not impossible that artists may have already
invented what we call steel pens. Sarpi, in the seven-
teenth century, thanks a correspondent for the gift of
one of these mechanical devices. Speaking broadly,
tpa LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
the reed and the quill, red and black chalk, or matita,
were the vehicles of Michelangelo's expression as
a draughtsman. I have seen very few examples of
studies heightened with white chalk, and none pro-
duced in the fine Florentine style of Ghirlandajo
by white chalk alone upon a dead-brown surface.
In this matter it is needful to speak with diffidence ;
for the sketches of dur master are so widely scat-
tered that few students can have examined the whole
of them ; and photographic reproductions, however
admirable in their fidelity to outline, do not always
give decisive evidence regarding the materials em-
ployed.^
One thing seems manifest. Michelangelo avoided
those mixed methods with which Lionardo, the
^ It 18 interesting to relate here what Yasari, in bis introdaction
(▼ol. i p. 154), says about the materials used by draughtsmen in his
lifetime. They aie as follows : i, charcoal ; 2, a red stone, brought
from G(erman quarries; 3, a black stone, of the same description,
brought from France ; 4, a x>en or metal point upon prepared ground
of different colours ; 5, washes of white lead, with a gummy medium
applied to dark paper, the modelling being produced by simple high
lights ; 6, pen and ink. He does not mention matita in this place by
name — that is an iron ore of red or brown hue, and is probably the
stone alluded to above under numbers 2 and 3. Our prepared chalks
do not appear to have been invented, and only faint approaches toward
the pattiUe polychrome of modem art can be found in some of Lionardo's
experiments. We cannot aflSrm that black-lead was a vehicle in use
under its present form of penciL Yet, if we may include it in the
general description of matita, this was perhaps known to draughtsmen
of the sixteenth century. Some written memoranda and rough jottings
of design by Michelangelo indicate it to the eye. In order to be fully
informed upon the subject^ it would be necessary to submit portions
of original drawings to chemical analysis. So far as I know, this has
.not yet been attempted.
PEN AND INK. 393
magician, wrought wonders. He preferred an in-
strument which could be freely, broadly handled,
inscribing form in strong plain strokes upon the
candid paper. The result attained, whether wrought
by bold lines, or subtly hatched, or finished with the
utmost delicacy of modulated shading, has always
been traced out conscientiously and firmly, with one
pointed stylus (pen, chalk, or matita), chosen for the
purpose. As I have said, it is the work of a sculptor,
accustomed to wield chisel and mallet upon marble,
rather than that of a painter, trained to secure effects
by shadowings and glazings.
It is possible, I think, to define, at least with some
approximation to precision, Michelangelo's employ-
ment of his favourite vehicles for several purposes and
at different periods of his life. A broad-nibbed pen
was used almost invariably in making architectural
designs of cornices, pilasters, win4ows, also in plans
for military engineering. Sketches of tombs and edi-
fices, intended to be shown to patrons, were partly
finished with the pen; and here we find a subor-
dinate and very limited use of the brush in shading.
Such performances may be regarded as products
of the workshop rather than as examples of the
artist's mastery. The style of them is often conven-
tional, suggesting the intrusion of a pupil or the
deliberate adoption of an office mannerism. The
pen plays a foremost part in all the greatest and
most genial creations of his fancy when it worked
energetically in preparation for sculpture or for
294 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
fresco. The Louvre is rich in masterpieces of this
kind — ^the fiery study of a Dayid ; the heroic figures
of two male nudes, hatched into stubborn salience
like pieces of carved wood ; the broad conception of
the Madonna at S. Lorenzo in her magnificent repose
and passionate cascade of fallen draperies ; the re-
pulsive but superabundantly powerful profile of a
goat-like faun. These, and the stupendous studies
of the Albertina Collection at Vienna, including
the supine man with thorax violently raised, are
worked with careful hatchings, stroke upon stroke,
effecting a suggestion of plastic roundness. But
we discover quite a different use of the pen in
some large simple outlines of seated female figures
at the Louvre ; in thick, almost muddy, studies at
Vienna, where the form emerges out of oft-repeated
sodden blotches ; in the grim light and shade, the
rapid suggestiveness of the dissection scene at
Oxford. The pen in the hand of Michelangelo was
the tool by means of which he realised his most
trenchant conceptions and his most picturesque im-
pressions. In youth and early manhood, when his
genius was still vehement, it seems to have been his
favourite vehicle.
The use of chalk grew upon him in later life,
possibly because he trusted more to his memory
now, and loved the dreamier softer medium for utter-
ing his fancies. Black chalk was employed for rapid
notes of composition, and also for the more elaborate
productions of his pencil. To this material we owe
l'/4
BLACK AND RED CHALK. 295
the head of Horror which he gave to Gherardo Perini
(in the Uffizi), the Phaethon, the Tityos, the Gany-
mede he gave to Tommaso Cavalieri (at Windsor). It
is impossible to describe the refinements of modu-
lated shading and the precision of predetermined
outlines by means of which these incomparable draw-
ings have been produced. They seem to melt and
to escape inspection, yet they remain fixed on the
memory as firmly as forms in carven basalt.
The whole series of designs for Christ's Crucifixion
and Deposition from the Cross are executed in chalk,
sometimes black, but mostly red. It is manifest,
upon examination, that they are not studies from
the model, but thoughts evoked and shadowed forth
on paper. Their perplexing multiplicity and subtle
variety — as though a mighty improvisatore were pre-
luding again and yet again upon the clavichord to
find his theme, abandoning the search, renewing it,
altering the key, changing the accent — prove that
this continued seeking with the crayon after form
and composition was carried on in solitude and ab-
stract moments. Incomplete as the designs may be,
they reveal Michelangelo's loftiest dreams and purest
visions. The nervous energy, the passionate grip
upon the subject, shown in the pen-drawings, are
absent here. These qualities are replaced by medi-
tation and an air of rapt devotion. The drawings
for the Passion might be called the prayers and pious
thoughts of the stern master.
Bed chalk he used for some of his most brilliant
196 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
conceptions. It is not necessary to dwell upon the
bending woman's head at Oxford, or the torso of the
lance-bearer at Vienna. Let us confine our atten-
tion to what is perhaps the rpost pleasing and most
perfect of all Michelangelo's designs — ^the "Bersa-
glio," or the "Arcieri," in the Queen's collection at
Windsor.
It is a group of eleven naked men and one woman,
fiercely footing the air, and driving shafts with all
their might to pierce a classical terminal figure,
whose face, like that of Pallas, and broad breast are
guarded by a spreading shield The draughtsman
has indicated only one bow, bent with fury by an
old man in the background. Yet all the actions
proper to archery are suggested by the violent ges-
tures and strained sinews of the crowd. At the foot
of the terminal statue, Cupid lies asleep upon his
wings, with idle bow and quiver. Two little genii
of love, in the background, are lighting up a fire,
puffing its flames, as though to drive the archers
onward. Energy and ardour, impetuous movement
and passionate desire, could not be expressed with
greater force, nor the tyranny of some blind impulse
be more imaginatively felt. The allegory seems to
imply that happiness is not to be attained, as human
beings mostly strive to seize it, by the fierce force of
the carnal passions. It is the contrast between celes-
tial love asleep in lustful souls, and vulgar love in-
flaming tyrannous appetites :^ —
^ Eims, Sonnet No. lii!.
THE BERSAGLIO AT WINDSOR. 297
The one love soars, the other downward tends ;
The soul lights this, while that the senses stir,
And still lust's arrow at base quarry flies.
This magnificent design was engraved during
Buonarroti's lifetime, or shortly afterwards, by Nic-
C0I6 Beatrizet Some follower of Raffaello used the
print for a fresco in the Palazzo Borghese at Bome.
It forms one of the series in which Baffaello's mar-
riage of Alexander and Roxana is painted. This
has led some critics to ascribe the drawing itself
to the Urbinate. Indeed, at first sight, one might
almost conjecture that the original chalk study was
a genuine work of Raffaello, aiming at rivalry with
Michelangelo's manner. The calm beauty of the
statue's classic profile, the refinement of all the faces,
the exquisite delicacy of the adolescent forms, and
the dominant veiling of strength with grace, are not
precisely Michelangelesque. The technical execu-
tion of the design, however, makes its attribution
certain. Well as Raffaello could draw, he could not
draw like this. He was incapable of rounding and
modelling the nude with those soft stipplings and
granulated "ladings which bring the whole sur-
face out like that of a bas-relief in polished marble.
His own drawing for Alexander and Roxana, in red
chalk, and therefore an excellent subject for com-
parison with the Arcieri, is hatched all over in
straight lines; a method adopted by Michelangelo
when working with the pen, but, so far as I am
aware, never, or very rarely, used when he was hand-
398 • LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
ling chalk. The style of this design and its exquisite
workmanship correspond exactly with the finish of
the Cavalieri series at Windsor. The paper, more-
aver, is indorsed in Michelangelo's handwriting with
a memorandum bearing the date April 12,15 30. We
have then in this masterpiece of draughtsmanship an
example, not of Raffaello in a Michelangelising mood,
but of Michelangelo for once condescending to sur-
pass Raffaello on his own ground of loveliness and
rhythmic grace.*
^ Morelli, in hie book upon the Borglieae and Doria Galleries, snggests
that the drawing of Alexander and Boxana in qnestion above was
reallj a work of Sodoma'a. If that be ao, it does not inTalidate the
argament
%,
CHAPTER VII.
I. Death of JnliuBi February 3i, 15 13. — ^Election of Leo X. — 2. Michel-
angelo works at the tomb. — ^His honae at the Macello de* Corvi. —
Yiflit of Signorelli to his workshop. — The RiBen Christ of S. Maria
8opra Minerva ordered. — Michelangelo^s dislike in later life to be
addreaeed as scolptor. — ^Hia eenae of pedigree and family dignity. —
3. Leo begins to employ him in 151 5. — ^The Pope^s visit to Florence
in November, and again at Christmas. — ^He conceives the idea of
finishing the Church of S. Lorenzo. — Flans for the facade are pre-
pared.— 4. The work was to be carried out by several artists under
Michelangelo's direction. — This scheme falls through. — ^Angry letter
of Jaoopo Sansovino. — ^Uncertainty about Michelangelo^s design for
the fa^e. — It would certainly have combined vast masses of sculp-
ture with the architecture. — 5. Michelangelo at Carrara quarrying
marble during 15 16. — Illness of Lodovioo. — Makes a model for the
fa^e. — ^Enthusiasm for his work. — At Carrara during 151 7. — Qoes
to Rome at the beginning of 15 18. — The Medici determine to work
the quarries of Pietra Santa. — ^Michelangelo is set to making roads
there. — Quarrel with the Marquis of Massa Carrara.^^ Project for
bringing Dante's bones to Florence and erecting him a monument.
— Michelangelo's profound study of Dante. — ^Two sonnets. — His
designs for the ^Divine Comedy." — ^Donato Giannotti's Dialogue. —
7. Michelangelo^s wasted time and energy in the marble quarries. —
Purchase of a house at Florence in the Via Mozza. — ^Moves between
Florence and Pietra Santa. — ^His workman Pietro Urbano. — The
correspondence with Sebastiano del Piombo begins. — Contemporary
opinion regarding Michelangelo's violence of temper and savage
manners. — 8. A record of March 10^ 1520, shows that Michel-
angelo's contracts for the fagade of S. Lorenzo were cancelled. —
He complained of having wasted three years, beside suffering con-
siderable money losses. — ^Death of Raffaello. — ^The Hall of Constan-
tine. — ^Michelangelo writes to Rome in favour of Sebastiano. —
Intrigues among the painters at the Vatican. — 9. Weakness and
dejection of Michelangelo. — Project for the new sacristy, March
1 52 1. — Cardinal Giulio de' Medici. — ^The Risen Christ sent to
•99
300 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Rome nnder Pietro Urbano's care in the autumn of 1521. — ^Urbano
mishandles it — History of the etatae. — The generoeity of Metello
Yaij. — Criticism of the work.
Julius died upon the 2i8t of February 15 13. "A
prince," says Guicciardini, "of inestimable courage
and tenacity, but headlong, and so extravagant in
the schemes he formed, that his own prudence and
moderation had less to do with shielding him from
ruin than the discord of sovereigns and the circum-
stances of the times in Europe : worthy, in all truth,
of the highest glory had he been a secular poten-
tate, or if the pains and anxious thought he em-
ployed in augmenting the temporal greatness of the
Church by war had been devoted to her spiritual
welfare in the arts of peace."
Italy rejoiced when Giovanni de' Medici was
selected to succeed him, with the title of Leo X,
" Venus ruled in Rome with Alexander, Mars with
Julius, now Pallas enters on her reign with Leo."
Such was the tenor of the epigrams which greeted
Leo upon his triumphal progress to the Lateran. It
was felt that a Pope of the house of Medici would be
a patron of arts and letters, and it was hoped that
the son of Lorenzo the Magnificent might restore
the equilibrium of power in Italy. Leo X. has en-
joyed a greater fame than he deserved. Extolled
as an Augustus in his lifetime, he left his name to
what is called the golden age of Italian culture.
LEO X. 301
Yet he cannot be said to have raised any first-rate
men of genius, or to have exercised a very wise
patronage over those whom Julius brought forward.
Michelangelo and Raffaello were in the full swing
of work when Leo claimed their services. We shall
see how he hampered the rare gifts of the former
by employing him on uncongenial labours; and it
was no great merit to give a free . rein to the inex-
haustible energy of Raffaello. The project of a new
S. Peter's belonged to Julius. Leo only continued
the scheme, using such assistants as the times
provided after Bramante's death in 15 14. Julius
instinctively selected men of soaring and audacious
genius, who were capable of planning on a colossal
scale. Leo delighted in the society of clever people,
poetasters, petty scholars, lutists, and buffoons.
Rome owes no monumental work to his inventive
brain, and literature no masterpiece to his discri-
mination. Ariosto, the most brilliant poet of the
Renaissance, returned in disappointment from the
Vatican. " When I went to Rome and kissed the
foot of Leo," writes the ironical satirist, "he bent
down from the holy chair, and took my hand and
saluted me on both cheeks. Besides, he made me
free of half the stamp-dues I was bound to pay ;
and then, breast full of hope, but smirched with
mud, I retired and took my supper at the Ram."
The words which Leo is reported to have spoken
to his brother Giuliano when he heard the news of
his election, express the character of the man and
302 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
mark the difference between his ambition and that
of Julias. ** Let us enjoy the Papacy, since God has
given it us." To enjoy life, to squander the treasures
of the Church on amusements, to feed a rabble of
flatterers, to contract enormous debts, and to disturb
the peace of Italy, not for some vast scheme of eccle-
siastical aggrandisement, but in order to place the
princes of his family on thrones, that was Leo's
conception of the Papal privileges and duties. The
portraits of the two Popes, both from the hand
of Raffaello, are eminently characteristic. Julius,
bent, white-haired, and emaciated, has the nervous
glance of a passionate and energetic temperament.
Leo, heavy-jawed, dull-eyed, with thick lips and a
brawny jowl, betrays the coarser fibre of a sensualist
II.
We have seen already that Julius, before his death,
provided for his monument being carried out upon
a reduced scale. Michelangelo entered into a new
contract with the executors, undertaking to finish
the work within the space of seven years from the
date of the deed, May 6, 1513.^ He received in
several payments, during that year and the years
1514, 15 15, 1 5 16, the total sum of 6100 golden
ducats.^ This proves that he must have pushed the
^ Lettere, Contratti, No. zi. p. 635. * Lettere, Ricordi, p. 564.
LETTER ABOUT SIGNORELLI. 303
various operations connected with the tomb vigor-
ously forward, employing numerous workpeople,
and ordering supplies of marble.^ In fact, the
greater part of what remains to us of the unfinished
monument may be ascribed to this period of com-
paratively uninterrupted labour. Michelangelo had
his workshop in the Macello de' Corvi, but we
know very little about the details of his life there.
His correspondence happens to be singularly scanty
between the years 15 13 and 15 16. One letter,
however, written in May 15 18, to the Capitano of
Cortona throws a ray of light upon this barren tract
of time, and introduces an artist of eminence, whose
intellectual affinity to Michelangelo will always re-
main a matter of interest.* ** While I was at Rome,
in the first year of Pope Leo, there came the Master
Luca Signorelli of Cortona, painter. I met him one
day near Monte Giordano, and he told me that he
was come to beg something from the Pope, I forget
what : he had run the risk of losing life and limb
for his devotion to the house of Medici, and now it
seemed they did not recognise him : and so forth,
saying many things I have forgotten." After these
discourses, he asked me for forty giulios [a coin
^ Condivi (p. 43) expreadj states that he '' engaged many masters
from Florence."
* Letteie, No. cccliv.
* This incident illustrates what Ariosto writes in the 4th Satire about
the people who persecuted Leo, when he was made Pope, with claims
for service rendered and devotion shown during the exile of the Medici,
Lines 154-168.
304 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
eqaal in valae to the more modem paolo, and worth
perhaps eight shillings of present money], and
told me where to send them to, at the honse of a
shoemaker, his lodgings. I not having the money
about me, promised to send it, and did so by the
hand of a young man in my service, called Silvio,
who is still alive and in Rome, I believe. After the
lapse of some days, perhaps because his business
with the Pope had failed, Messer Luca came to my
house in the Macello de' Corvi, the same where I
live now, and found me working on a marble statue,
four cubits in height, which has the hands bound
behind the back, and bewailed himself with me,
and begged another forty, saying that he wanted
to leave Bome. I went up to my bedroom, and
brought the money down in the presence of a
Bolognese maid I kept, and I think the Silvio
above mentioned was also there. When Luca got
the cash, he went away, and I have never seen
him since; but I remember complaining to him,
because I was out of health and could not work,
and he said : * Have no fear, for the angels from
heaven will come to take you in their arms and aid
you.' " This is in several ways an interesting docu-
ment. It brings vividly before our eyes magnificent
expensive Signorelli and his meanly living com-
rade, each of them mighty masters of a terrible
and noble style, passionate lovers of the nude, de-
voted to masculine types of beauty, but widely and
profoundly severed by differences in their personal
COMMISSION FOR A MARBLE CHRIST. 305
tastes and habits.^ It also gives us a glimpse into
Michelangelo's workshop at the moment when he
was blocking out one of the bound Captives at the
Louvre. It seems from what follows in the letter
that Michelangelo had attempted to recover the
money through his brother Buonarroto, but that
Signorelli refused to acknowledge his debt. The
Capitano wrote that he was sure it had been dis-
charged. **That," adds Michelangelo, "is the same
as calling me the biggest blackguard ; and so I
should be^ if I wanted to get back what had been
already paid. But let your Lordship think what
you like about it, I am bound to get the money, and
so I swear." The remainder of the autograph is torn
and illegible ; it seems to wind up with a threat.
The records of this period are so scanty that every
detail acquires a certain importance for Michelangelo's
biographer. By a deed executed on the 1 4th of June
1514, we find that he contracted to make a figure -of
Christ in marble, "life-sized, naked, erect, with a
cross in his arms, and in such attitude as shall seem
best to Michelangelo." ^ The persons who ordered
the statue were Bernardo Cencio (a Canon of S.
Peter^s), Mario Scappucci, and Metello Varj dei
Porcari, a Roman of ancient blood. They under-
took to pay 200 golden ducats for the work; and
^ See Yasari's Lif^ of Signorelli, who was a relative of his, foi the
grand train of life he led, and also for Michelangelo's addiction to his
manner. VoL vi pp. 147, 142.
' Lettere, Contratti, No. ziv.
VOL. L u
3o6 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Michelangelo promised to finish it within the space
of four years, when it was to be placed in the Church
of S. Maria sopra Minerva. Metello Varj, though
mentioned last in the contract, seems to have been
the man who practically gave the commission, and
to whom Michelangelo was finally responsible for its
performance. He began to hew it from a block, and
discovered black veins in the working. This, then,
was thrown aside, and a new marble had to be
attacked. The statue, now visible at the Minerva,
was not finished until the year 152 1, when we shall
have to return to it again.
There is a point of some interest in the wording
of this contract, on which, as facts to dwell upon are
few and far between at present, I may perhaps allow
myself to digress. The master is here described as
Michelangelo {di Lodornco) Simoni, Scvltore. Now
Michelangelo always signed his own letters Michel-
angelo Buonarroti, although he addressed the mem-
bers of his family by the surname of Simoni. This
proves that the patronymic usually given to the house
at large was still Simoni, and that Michelangelo him-
self acknowledged that name in a legal document
The adoption of Buonarroti by his brother's children
and descendants may therefore be ascribed to usage
ensuing from the illustration of their race by so re-
nowned a man. It should also be observed that at
this time Michelangelo is always described in deeds
as sculptor, and that he frequently signs with Michel-
angelo^ Scvltore. Later on in life he changed his
FAMILY PRIDE. 307
views. He wrote in 1548 to his nephew Lionardo : ^
** Tell the priest not to write to me again as Michel'
angeh the sculptor^ for I am not known here except
as Michelangelo Buonarroti. Say, too, that if a citi-
zen of Florence wants to have an altar-piece painted,
he must find some painter ; for I was never either
sculptor or painter in the way of one who keeps a
shop. I have always avoided that, for the honour
of my father and my brothers. True, I have served
three Popes ; but that was a matter of necessity."
Earlier, in 1543, he had written to the same effect :*
"When you correspond with me, do not use the
superscription Michelangelo Simoni, nor sculptor ; it
is enough to put Michelangelo Buonarroti^ for that
is how I am known here." On another occasion,
advising his nephew what surname the latter ought
to adopt, he says : * ** I should certainly use Simoniy
and if the whole (that is, the whole list of patrony-
mics in use at Florence) is too long, those who
cannot read it may leave it alone.*' These com-
munications prove that, though he had come to be
known as Buonarroti, he did not wish the family to
drop their old surname of Simoni. The reason was
that he believed in their legendary descent from the
Counts of Canossa through a Podestk of Florence,
traditionally known as Simone da Canossa. This
* Lettere, No. cxcix. • Lettere, No. cxlvii.
' Lettere, No. clzxxYiiL, date December 17, 1547. Compare No.
clxxii, December 1546, where he insists on Lionardo's using the fall
name. He wanted him to write Lionardo di Buoivarroto Buonarroti
SmowL
3o8 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
opinion had been confirmed in 1520, as we have
seen above, by a letter he received from the
Conte Alessandro da Canossa, addressing him as
"Honoured kinsman." In the correspondence with
Lionardo, Michelangelo alludes to this act of re-
cognition : ^ " You will find a letter from the Conte
Alessandro da Canossa in the book of contracts. He
came to visit me at Rome, and treated me like a
relative. Take care of it." The dislike expressed
by Michelangelo to be called sculptor ^ and addressed
upon the same terms as other artists, arose from a keen
sense of his nobility. The feeling emerges frequently
in his letters between 1540 and 1550. I will give
a specimen : * "As to the purchase of a house, I
repeat that you ought to buy one of honourable
condition, at 1500 or 2000 crowns; and it ought to
be in our quarter (Santa Croce), if possible, I say
this, because an honourable mansion in the city
does a family great credit. It makes more impres-
sion than farms in the country ; and we are truly
burghers, who claim a very noble ancestry. I always
strove my utmost to resuscitate our house, but I had
not brothers able to assist me. Try then to do what
I write you, and make Gismondo come back to live
in Florence, so that I may not endure the shame of
hearing it said here that I have a brother at Settig-
nano who trudges after oxen. One day, when I
find the time, I will tell you all about our origin,
and whence we sprang, and when we came to Flo-
* Lettere, Mo. czc. ^ Lettere, No. clxxi., date December 4, 1546.
MICHELANGELO'S SENSE OF DIGNITY. 309
rence. Perhaps you know nothing about it; still
we ought not to rob ourselves of what God gave us."
The same feeling runs through the letters he wrote
Lionardo about the choice of a wife. One example
will suffice : ^ "I believe that in Florence there are
many noble and poor families with whom it would
be a charity to form connections. If there were no
dower, there would also be no arrogance. Fay no
heed should people say you want to ennoble your-
self, since it is notorious that we are ancient citizens
of Florence, and as noble as any other house."
Michelangelo, as we know now, was mistaken in
accepting his supposed connection with the illus-
trious Counts of Canossa, whose castle played so
conspicuous a part in the struggle between Hilde-
brand and the Empire, and who were imperially allied
through the connections of the Countess Matilda.
Still he had tradition to support him, confirmed by
the assurance of the head of the Canossa family.
Nobody could accuse him of being a snob or par-
venu. He lived like a poor man, indifferent to
dress, establishment, and personal appearances. Yet
he prided himself upon his ancient birth ; and since
tbe Simoni had been indubitably noble for several
generations, there was nothing despicable in his
desire to raise his kinsfolk to their proper station.
Almost culpably careless in all things that concerned
his health and comfort, he spent his earnings for the
welfare of his brothers, in order that an honourable
^ Lettere, Na ccz., date February i, iS49*
3IO LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
posterity might carry on the name he bore, and which
he made illustrious. We may smile at his peevish-
ness in repudiating the title of sculptor after bear-
ing it through so many years of glorious labour ;
but when he penned the letter I have quoted, he
was the supreme artist of Italy, renowned as painter,
architect, military engineer; praised as poet; be-
friended with the best and greatest of his con-
temporaries ; recognised as unique, not only in the
art of sculpture. If he felt some pride of race, we
cannot blame the plain-liver and high-thinker, who,
robbing himself of luxuries and necessaries even,
enabled his kinsmen to maintain their rank among
folk gently bom and nobly nurtured.^
III.
In June 1 5 1 5 Michelangelo was still working at the
tomb of Julius. But a letter to Buonarroto shows
that he was already afraid of being absorbed for
other purposes by Leo : * "I am forced to put great
strain upon myself this summer in order to complete .
my undertaking; for I think that I shall soon be
obliged to enter the Pope's service. For this reason,
I have bought some twenty migliaia [measure of
^ A glance at the pedigree shows how the Simoni came to be im-
poverished after the death of Lodovico's grandfather.
* Lettere, No. xcvii., date June 16, 15 15.
LEO'S MISUSE OF MICHELANGELO. 311
weight] of brass to cast certain figures." The monu-
ment then was so far advanced that, beside having a
good number of the marble statues nearly finished,
he was on the point of executing the bronze reliefs
which filled their interspaces. We have also reason
to believe that the architectural basis forming the
foundation of the sepulchre had been brought well
forward, since it is mentioned in the next ensuing
contracts.
Just at this point, however, when two or three
years of steady labour would have sujQSced to termin-
ate this mount of sculptured marble, Leo diverted
Michelangelo's energies from the work, and wasted
them in schemes that came to nothing. When
Buonarroti penned that sonnet in which he called
the Pope his Medusa, he might well have been
thinking of Leo, though the poem ought probably
to be referred to the earlier pontificate of Julius.
Certainly the Medici did more than the Delia Rovere
to paralyse his power and turn the life •within him
into stone. Writing to Sebastiano del Piombo in
1 52 1, Michelangelo shows how fully he was aware
of this.^ He speaks of ''the three years I have
lost."
A meeting had been arranged for the late autumn
of 1515 between Leo X. and Francis L at Bologna.
The Pope left Rome early in November, and reached
Florence on the 30th. The whole city burst into a
tumult of jubilation, shouting the Medicean cry of
^ Lettere, No. ccdxxiv.
312 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
'*Palle" as Leo passed slowly through the streets,
raised in his pontifical chair upon the shoulders of
his running footmen. Buonarroto wrote a long and
interesting account of this triumphal entry to his
brother in Rome.^ He describes how a procession
was formed by the Pope's court and guard and the
gentlemen of Florence. " Among the rest, there
went a bevy of young men, the noblest in our
commonwealth, all dressed alike with doublets of
violet satin, holding gilded staves in their hands.
They paced before the Papal chair, a brave sight to
see. And first there marched his guard, and then
his grooms, who carried him aloft beneath a rich
canopy of brocade, which was sustained by members
of the College,* while round about the chair walked
the Signory." The procession moved onward to the
Church of S. Maria del Fiore, where the Pope stayed
to perform certain ceremonies at the high altar, after
which he was carried to his apartments at S. Maria
Novella.* Buonarroto was one of the Priors during
this month, and accordingly he took an official part
in all the entertainments and festivities, which con-
tinued for three days. On the 3rd of December Leo
left Florence for Bologna, where Francis arrived upon
1 Gk>tti, i p. 104.
* OoUegi, These were the sixteen banner-bearers of the Companies,
and twelve worthies chosen to represent the quarters of the town, who
were associated as colleagues with the Signorj. See Capponi's Storia,
vol. i p. 647. The Signory was formed by the eight Priors of the Arts
and the Ctonfalonier of Justice.
> See above, p. 118, note 2, for a description of the Papal lodgings.
LEO AT FLORENCE AND BOLOGNA. 313
the nth. Their conference lasted till the 15th,
when Francis returned to Milan. On the i8th Leo
began his journey back to Florence, which he re-
entered on the 22nd. On Christmas day (Buonarroto
writes Pdsqua) a grand Mass was celebrated at S.
Maria Novella, at which the Signory attended. The
Pope celebrated in person, and, according to custom
on high state occasions, the water with which he
washed his hands before and during the ceremony
had to be presented by personages of importance.
" This duty," says Buonarroto, " fell first to one of
the Signori, who was Giannozzo Salviati ; and as I
happened that morning to be Proposto,^ I went
the second time to offer water to his Holiness ; the
third time, this was done by the Duke of Camerino,
and the fourth time by the Gonfalonier of Justice/'
Buonarroto remarks that ** he feels pretty certain it
will be all the same to Michelangelo whether he
hears or does not hear about these matters. Yet,
from time to time, when I have leisure, I scribble a
few lines."
Buonarroto himself was interested in this event; for,
having been one of the Priors, he received from Leo
the title of Count Palatine, with reversion to all his
posterity. Moreover, for honourable addition to his
arms, he was allowed to bear a chief charged with
the Medicean ball and fleur-de-lys, between the capital
letters L. and X.
^ One of the Priors was chosen for three days to be the chairman of
the Signoiy. He walked before the rest, and so forth.
314 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Whether Leo conceived the plan of finishing
the facade of S. Lorenzo at Florence before he left
Rome, or whether it occurred to him daring this
visit, is not certain. The church had been erected by
the Medici and other magnates from Brunelleschi's
designs, and was perfect except for the fei^ade. In its
sacristy lay the mortal remains of Cosimo, Lorenzo the
Magnificent, and many other members of the Medi-
cean family. Here Leo came on the first Sunday
in Advent to offer up prayers, and the Pope is said
to have wept upon his father^s tomb. It may pos-
sibly have been on this occasion that he adopted
the scheme so fatal to the happiness of the great
sculptor. Condivi clearly did not know what led
to Michelangelo's employment on the fa9ade of S.
Lorenzo, and Vasari's account of the transaction is
involved. Both, however, assert that he was wounded,
even to tears, at having to abandon the monument
of Julius, and that he prayed in vain to be relieved
of the new and uncongenial task.
IV.
Leo at first intended to divide the work between
several masters, giving Buonarroti the general direc-
tion of the whole. He ordered Giuliano da San
Gallo, Eaffaello da Urbino, Baccio d'Agnolo, Andrea
and Jacopo Sansovino to prepare plans. While
PLANS FOR S. LORENZO. 315
these were in progress, Michelangelo also thought
that he would try his hand at a design. As ill-
luck ruled, Leo preferred his sketch to all the rest.
Vasari adds that his unwillingness to be associated
with any other artist in the undertaking, and his
refusal to follow the plans of an architect, prevented
the work from being executed, and caused the men
selected by Leo to return in desperation to their
ordinary pursuits.^ There may be truth in the re-
port ; for it is certain that, after Michelangelo had
been forced to leave the tomb of Julius and to take
part in the fa9ade, he must have claimed to be sole
master of the business. The one thing we know
about his mode of operation is, that he brooked no
rival near him, mistrusted collaborators, and found
it difficult to co-operate even with the drudges whom
he hired at monthly wages.
Light is thrown upon these dissensions between
Michelangelo and his proposed assistants by a
letter which Jacopo Sansovino wrote to him at
Carrara on the 30th of Jime 15 17.* He betrays his
animus at the commencement by praising Baccio
Bandinelli, to mention whom in the same breath
with Buonarroti was an insult. Then he proceeds :
"The Pope, the Cardinal, and Jacopo Salviati are
^ Vasari, voL zii. p. 201. A letter written by B. Bandinelli, Dec.
7, 1547, corroborates YasarL He accuses Michelangelo of having wil-
fully prevented the execution of the facade out of jealousy toward
yoilDger masters, and a grudge against the Medici. See LeU. Pitt,, L 70.
' Arch. Buon., Cod. xi No. 691. Part of it is printed by Gotti, vol. i.
p. 136.
3i6 UFE OF MICHELANGELO.
men who when they say yes, it is a written con-
tract, inasmuch as they are tme to their word, and
not what you pretend them to he. Ton measure
them with your own rod ; for neither contracts nor
plighted troth avail with you, who are always say-
ing nay and yea, according as you think it profitable.
I must inform you, too, that the Pope promised me
the sculptures, and so did Salviati ; and they are
men who will maintain me in my right to them.
In what concerns you, I have done all I could to
promote your interests and honour, not having
earlier perceived that you never conferred a benefit
on any one, and that, beginning with myself to
expect kindness from you, would be the same as
wanting water not to wet I have reason for what I
say, since we have often met together in familiar con-
verse, and may the day be cursed on which you ever
said any good about anybody on earth/' How Michel-
angelo answered this intemperate and unjust invective
is not known to us. In some way or other the quarrel
between the two sculptors must have been made up
— probably through a frank apology on Sansovino's
part. When Michelangelo, in 1524, supplied the
Duke of Sessa with a sketch for the sepulchral
monument to be erected for himself and his wife,
he suggested that Sansovino should execute the work,
proving thus by acts how undeserved the latter's hasty
words had been.^
The Church of S. Lorenzo exists now just as it
^ Gotti, L p. 177.
THE FAfADE OF S. LORENZO. 317
was before the scheme for its fa9ade occurred to
Leo. Not the smallest part of that scheme was
carried into effect, and large masses of the marbles
quarried for the edifice lay wasted on the Tyrrhene
sea-shore. We do not even know what design
Michelangelo adopted. A model may be seen in the
Accademia at Florence ascribed to Baccio d'Agnolo,
and there is a drawing of a fa9ade in the Uffizi at-
tributed to Michelangelo, both of which have been
supposed to have some connection with S. Lorenzo.
It is hardly possible, however, that Buonarroti's com-
petitors could have been beaten from the field by
things so spiritless and ugly. A pen-and-ink drawing
at the Museo Buonarroti possesses greater merit, and
may perhaps have been a first rough sketch for the
facade. It is not drawn to scale or worked out in
the manner of practical architects ; but the sketch
exhibits features which we know to have existed in
Buonarroti's plan — masses of sculpture, with exten-
sive bas-reliefs in bronze. In form the fa§ade would
not have corresponded to Brunelleschi's building.
That, however, signified nothing to Italian archi-
tects, who were satisfied when the frontispiece to a
church or palace agreeably masked what lay behind it.
As a frame for sculpture, the design might have served
its purpose, though there are large spaces diflScult
to account for ; and spiteful folk were surely jus-
tified in remarking to the Pope that no one life
sufficed for the performance of the whole.
Nothing testifies more plainly to the ascendancy
3i8 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
which this strange man acqaired over the imagination
of his contemporaries, while yet comparatively young,
than the fact that Michelangelo had to relinquish work
for which he was pre-eminently fitted (the tomb of
Julius) for work to which his previous studies and
his special inclinations in nowise called him. He
undertook the facade of S. Lorenzo reluctantly, with
tears in his eyes and dolour in his hosom, at the
Pope Medusa's bidding. He was compelled to re-
commence art at a point which hitherto possessed
for him no practical importance. The drawings of
the tomb, the sketch of the facade, prove that in
arphitecture he was still a novice. Hitherto, he
regarded building as the background to sculpture,
or the surface on which frescoes might be limned.
To achieve anything great in this new sphere implied
for him a severe course of preliminary studies. It
depends upon our final estimate of Michelangelo as
an architect whether we regard the three yeai's spent
in Leo's service for S. Lorenzo as wasted. Being
what he was, it is certJiin that, when the commis-
sion had been given, and he determined to attack
his task alone, the man set himself down to grasp
the principles of construction. There was leisure
enough for such studies in the years during which
we find him moodily employed among Tuscan quar-
ries. The question is whether this strain upon his
richly gifted genius did not come too late. When
called to paint the Sistine, he complained that paint-
) art of his. He painted, and produced a
ARCHITECTURAL STUDIES. 319
masterpiece ; but sculpture still remained the major
influence in all he wrought there. Now he was
bidden to quit both sculpture and painting for
another field, and, as Vasari hints, he would not
work under the guidance of men trained to architec-
ture. The result was that Michelangelo applied
himself to building with the full-formed spirit of
a figurative artist. The obvious defects and the
salient qualities of all he afterwards performed as
architect seem due to the forced diversion of his
talent at this period to a type of art he had not
properly assimilated. Architecture was not the
natural mistress of his spirit. He bent his talents
to her service at a Pontiff's word, and, with the
honest devotion to work which characterised the
man, he produced renowned monuments stamped by
his peculiar style. Nevertheless, in building, he re-
mains a sublime amateur, aiming at scenical effect,
subordinating construction to decoration, seeking
ever back toward opportunities for sculpture or for
fresco, and occasionally (as in the cupola of S.
Peter's) hitting upon a thought beyond the reach
of inferior minds.
The paradox implied in this diversion of our hero
from the path it ought to have pursued may be ex-
plained in three ways. First, he had already come
to be regarded as a man of unique ability, from
whom everything could be demanded. Next, it
was usual for the masters of the Renaissance, from
Leo Battista Alberti down to Raffaello da Urbino
\
320 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
and Lionardo da Vinci, to undertake all kinds of
technical work intrusted to their care by patrons.
Finally, Michelangelo, though he knew that sculpture
was his goddess, and never neglected her first claim
upon his genius, felt in him that burning ambition
for greatness, that desire to wrestle with all forms of
beauty and all depths of science, which tempted him
to transcend the limits of a single art and try his
powers in neighbour regions. He was a man bom
to aim at all, to dare all, to embrace all, to leave
his personality deep-trenched on all the provinces
of art he chose to traverse.
V.
The whole of 1516 and 151 7 elapsed before Leo's
plans regarding S. Lorenzo took a definite shape.
Yet we cannot help imagining that when Michel-
angelo cancelled his first contract with the executors
of Julius, and adopted a reduced plan for the monu-
ment, he was acting under Papal pressure. This was
done at Rome in July, and much against the will of
both parties. Still it does not appear that any one
contemplated the abandonment of the scheme ; for
Buonarroti bound himself to perform his new con-
tract within the space of nine years, and to engage
" in no work of great importance which should in-
terfere with its fulfilment." He spent a large part
%.
RESIDENCE AT CARRARA. 321
of the year 15 16 at Carrara, quarrying marbles, and
even hired the house of a certain Francesco Pelliccia
in that town. On the ist of November he signed
an agreement with the same Pelliccia involving the
purchase of a vast amount of marble, whereby the
said Pelliccia undertook to bring down four statues
of 4^ cubits each and fifteen of 4^ cubits from
the quarries where they were being rough-hewn.^
It was the custom to block out columns, statues, &c.,
on the spot where the stone had been excavated, in
order probably to save weight when hauling. Thus
the blocks arrived at the sea-shore with rudely adum-
brated outlines of the shape they were destined to
assume under the artist's chisel. It has generally
been assumed that the nineteen figures in question
were intended for the tomb. What makes this not
quite certain, however, is that the contract of July
specifies a greatly reduced quantity and scale of
statues. Therefore they may have been intended for
the fa9ade. Anyhow, the contract above-mentioned
with Francesco Pelliccia was cancelled on the 7th
of April following, for reasons which wiU presently
appear.*
During the month of November 15 16 Michel-
angelo received notice from the Pope that he was
wanted in Rome. About the same time news reached
him from Florence of his father's severe illness.
On the 23rd he wrote as follows to Buonarroto:'
"I gathered from your last that Lodovico was on
* Vasari, vol. xii. p. 352. ^ Yasari, xii. 353. ' Lettere, No. cxii.
VOL. I. X
322 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
the point of dying, and how the doctor finally pro-
nounced that if nothing new occurred he might be
considered out of danger. Since it is so, I shall not
prepare to come to Florence, for it would be very
inconvenient. Still, if there is danger, I should
desire to see him, come what might, before he died,
if even I had to die together with him. I have
good hope, however, that he will get well, and so
I do not come. And if he should have a relapse
— from which may God preserve him and us — see
that he lacks nothing for his spiritual welfare and
the sacraments of the Church, and find out from
him if he wishes us to do anything for his soul.
Also, for the necessaries of the body, take care that
he lacks nothing; for I have laboured only and
solely for him, to help him in his needs before he
dies. So bid your wife look with loving-kindness
to his household affairs. I will make everything
good to her and all of you, if it be necessary. Do
not have the least hesitation, even if you have to
expend all that we possess."
We may assume that the subsequent reports
regarding Lodovico's health were satisfactory ; for
on the 5th of December Michelangelo set out for
Rome. The executors of Julius had assigned him
free quarters in a house situated in the Trevi dis-
trict, opposite the public road which leads to S.
Maria del Loreto.^ Here, then, he probably took up
^ It mnst have been close to the Forum of Trajan, and not far from
his old dwelling at the Macello de' Oorvi, which lies below the Capitoline
TOMB OF JUIJUS AGAIN. 323
his abode. We have seen that he had bound him-
self to finish the monument of Julius within the
space of nine years, and to engage "in no work of
great moment which should interfere with its per-
formance." How this clause came to be inserted
in a deed inspired by Leo is one of the difficulties
with which the whole tragedy of the sepulchre
bristles. Perhaps we ought to conjecture that the
Pope's intentions with regard to the fa9ade of S.
Lorenzo only became settled in the late autumn.
At any rate, he had now to transact with the exe-
cutors of Julius, who were obliged to forego the
rights over Michelangelo's undivided energies which
they had acquired by the clause I have just cited.
They did so with extreme reluctance, and to the
bitter disappointment of the sculptor, who saw the
great scheme of his manhood melting into air,
dwindling in proportions, becoming with each change
less capable of satisfactory performance.
Having at last definitely entered the service of
Pope Leo, Michelangelo travelled to Florence, and
intrusted Baccio d'Agnolo with the construction of
the model of his fa9ade. It may have been upon
the occasion of this visit that one of his father's
whimsical fits of temper called out a passionate and
sorry letter from his son. It appears that Pietro
Hill, jost opposite the Column of Trajan. Letters are addressed to him
" dose by the Church of Loreto." Condi vi's only extant letter is super-
scribed : "A Roma vicino la piazza di S. Apostolo canto la chiesa di
Loreto e casa ZanbeccarL" Arch. Buon., Cod. vii. 49.
324 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Urbano, Michelangelo's trusty henchman at this
period, said something which angered Lodovico, and
made him set off in a rage to Settignano : ^ —
"Dearest Father, — I marvelled much at what
had happened to you the other day, when I did not
find you at home. And now, hearing that you com-
plain of me, and say that I have turned you out of
doors, I marvel much the more, inasmuch as I know
for certain that never once from the day that I was
bom till now had I a single thought of doing anything
or small or great which went against you ; and all
this time the labours I have undergone have been
for the love of you alone. Since I returned from
Rome to Florence, you know that I have always
cared for you, and you know that all that belongs
to me I have bestowed on you. Some days ago,
then, when you were ill, I promised solemnly never
to fail you in anything within the scope of my whole
faculties so long as my life lasts ; and this I again
aflSrm. Now I am amazed that you should have for-
gotten everything so soon. And yet you have learned
to know me by experience these thirty years, you
and your sons, and are well aware that I have
always thought and acted, so far as I was able, for
your good. How can you go about saying I have
turned you out of doors ? Do you not see what
a reputation you have given me by saying I have
turned you out ? Only this was wanting to complete
I Lettere, No. xxxix.
AT WORK ON THE FACADE. 325
my tale of troubles, all of which I suffer for your
love. You repay me well, forsooth. But let it be
as it must : I am willing to acknowledge that I have
always brought shame and loss on you, and on this
supposition I beg your pardon. Beckon that you
are pardoning a son who has lived a bad life and
done you all the harm which it is possible to do.
And so I once again implore you to pardon me,
scoundrel that I am, and not bring on me the re-
proach of having turned you out of doors ; for that
matters more than you imagine to me. After all, I
am your son."
From Florence Michelangelo proceeded again to
Carrara for the quarrying of marble. This was on the
last day of December. From his domestic correspond-
ence we find that he stayed there until at least the
13 th of March, 1517; but he seems to have gone to
Florence just about that date, in order to arrange
matters with Baccio d' Agnolo aboutthe model. A frag-
mentary letter to Buonarroto, dated March 13, shows
that he had begun a model of his own at Carrara, and
that he no longer needed Baccio's assistance.^ On his
arrival at Florence he wrote to Messer Buoninsegni,
who acted as intermediary at Brome between himself
and the Pope in all things that concerned the fagade : *
1 Lettere, No. cxiii
^ It seems to have been the custom to employ these go-betweens.
Michelangelo sometimes found them veiy troublesome, and expressed
his feelings frankly in a letter to Pope Clement YII. See Lettere,
No. ccclxxxi.
326 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
*' Messer Domenico, I have come to Florence to see
the model which Baccio has finished, and find it a
mere child's plaything. If you think it best to have
it sent, write to me. I leave again to-morrow for
Carrara, where I have begun to make a model in
clay with Grassa [a stone-hewer from Settignano]."
Then he adds that, in the long run, he believes that
he shall have to make the model himself, which
distresses him on account of the Pope and the Car-
dinal Giulio. Lastly, he informs his correspondent
that he has contracted with two separate companies
for two hundred cartloads of Carrara marble.^
An important letter to the same Domenico Buon-
insegni, dated Carrara, May 2, 15 17, proves that
Michelangelo had become enthusiastic about his
new design.* ** I have many things to say to you.
So I beg you to take some patience when you read
my words, because it is a matter of moment. Well,
then, I feel it in me to make this fa9ade of S.
Lorenzo such that it shall be a mirror of archi-
^ Lettere, No. cccxlvi. The numeroiis transactions of Michelangelo
with Btone-masoDS, owners of quarries, and so forth, at Gairara, between
January 3 and August 20, 1517, will be found in Lettere, pp. 655-67a
In February he entered into partnership with a certain Lionardo di
Cagione. They were to work together, sharing costs and profitsL In
March this partnership was dissolved *' per buon rispetto."
' Lettere, No. cccxlviii. One of the inedited letters in the Arch.
Buon. from Bernardo Niccolini to Michelangelo in Carrara (Cod. z.
No. 578, date May 18, 1517) throws a glimpse of light upon his daily
life. It is indorsed with a menu for some meal : '^ Pani dua, un bochal
di vino, una aringa, tortegli,'' &c. Each item is accompanied by a little
pen-drawing : two loaves of bread, a glass decanter, a herring, three
round tarts or buns, and so forth, in the master's autograph.
LEO X. AND GIULIO DE' MEDICI. 327
tectore and of sculpture to all Italy. But the Pope
and the Cardinal must decide at once whether they
want to have it done or not. If they desire it, then
they must come to some definite arrangement, either
intrusting the whole to me on contract, and leaving
me a free hand, or adopting some other plan which
may occur to them, and about which I can form
no idea." He proceeds at some length to inform
Buoninsegni of various transactions regarding the
purchase of marble, and the difficulties he encounters
in procuring perfect blocks. His estimate for the
costs of the whole fa9ade is 35,000 golden ducats,
and he offers to carry the work through for that sum
in six years. Meanwhile he peremptorily demai^ds an
immediate settlement of the business, stating that he
is anxious to leave Carrara. The vigorous tone of this
document is unmistakable. It seems to have impressed
his correspondents ; for Buoninsegni replies upon
the 8th of May that the Cardinal expressed the
highest satisfaction at '^the great heart he had for
conducting the work of the fa9ade." ^ At the same
time the Pope was anxious to inspect the model.
Leo, I fancy, was always more than half-hearted
about the fa9ade. He did not personally sympathise
with Michelangelo's character ; and, seeing what his
tastes were, it is impossible that he can have really
appreciated the quality of his genius. Giulio de'
Medici, afterwards Pope Clement VII., was more in
sympathy with Buonarroti both as artist and as man.
^ Qotti, L 112.
328 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
To him we may with probability ascribe the impulse
given at this moment to the project. After several
visits to Florence during the summer, and much cor-
respondence with the Medici through their Roman
agent, Michelangelo went finally, upon the 3i8t of
August, to have the model completed under his own
eyes by a workman in his native city. It was care-
fully constructed of wood, showing the statuary in
wax-relief. Nearly four months were expended on
this miniature. The labour was lost, for not a ves-
tige of it now remains. Near the end of December
he despatched his servant, Pietro Urbano, with the
finished work to Rome. On the 29th of that month,
Urbano writes that he exposed the model in Messer
Buoninsegni's apartment, and that the Pope and
Cardinal were very well pleased with it.^ Buoninsegni
wrote to the same effect, adding, however, that folk
said it could never be finished in the sculptor s life-
time, and suggesting that Michelangelo should hire
assistants from Milan, where he, Buoninsegni, had
seen excellent stonework in progress at the Duomo.
Some time in January 1 5 1 8, Michelangelo travelled
to Rome, conferred with Leo, and took the fajade of
S. Lorenzo on contract.* In February he returned
by way of Florence to Carrara, where the quarry-
masters were in open rebellion against him, and
^ Qotti, i. 112.
'The most authentic source of information about events between
December 5, 15 16, and February 25, 15 18, is Michelangelo's owa. Bicordiy
Lettere, p. 568. The contract is dated January 19, 15 18. Lettere,
Contr. xxxiii. p. 671.
QUARRIES AT PIETRA SANTA. 329
refused to carry out their contracts. This forced
him to go to Genoa, and hire ships there for the
transport of his blocks. Then the Carraresi cor-
rupted the captains of these boats, and drove Michel-
angelo to Pisa (April 7), where he finally made an
arrangement with a certain Francesco Peri to ship
the marbles lying on the sea-shore at Carrara.*
The reason of this revolt against him at Carrara
may be briefly stated. The Medici determined to
begin working the old marble quarries of Pietra
Santa, on the borders of the Florentine domain, and
this naturally aroused the commercial jealousy of
the folk at Carrara." ** Information," says Condivi,
" was sent to Pope Leo that marbles could be found
in the high-lands above Pietra Santa, fully equal
in quality and beauty to those of Carrara. Michel-
angelo, having been sounded on the subject, chose
to go on quarrjang at Carrara rather than to take
those belonging to the State of Florence. This he
did because he was befriended with the Marchese
Alberigo, and lived on a good understanding with
him. The Pope wrote to Michelangelo, ordering
him to repair to Pietra Santa, and see whether the
information he had received from Florence was cor-
rect. He did so, and ascertained that the marbles
were very hard to work, and ill-adapted to their pur-
1 liCttere, Noa. cccxliz., cxiv., cxv.
2 By a deed executed May 18, 15 15, the commune of Seravezza ceded
to Florence all its proper^ in quarries between the mountains of
Aliissimo and Ceresola. Lettere, Contr. xv. p. 643.
330 LIFE OF MICHEJJINGELO.
pose ; even had they been of the proper kind, it would
be difficult and costly to convey them to the sea.
A road of many miles would have to be made
through the mountains with pick and crowbar, and
along the plain on piles, since the ground there was
marshy.^ Michelangelo wrote all this to the Pope,
who preferred, however, tt) believe the persons who
had written to him from Florence. So he ordered
him to construct the road." The road, it may paren-
thetically be observed, was paid for by the wealthy
Wool Corporation of Florence, who vrished to revive
this branch of Florentine industry. "Michelangelo,
carrying out the Pope's commands, had the road laid
down, and transported large quantities of marbles to
the sea-shore. Among these were five columns of
the proper dimensions, one of which may be seen
upon the Piazza di S. Lorenzo. The other four,
forasmuch as the Pope changed his mind and turned
his thoughts elsewhere, are still lying on the sea-
beach. Now the Marquis of Carrara, deeming that
Michelangelo had developed the quarries at Pietra
Santa out of Florentine patriotism, became his enemy,
and would not suffer him to return to Carrara for cer-
tain blocks which had been excavated there : all which
proved the source of great loss to Michelangelo."*
^ The Arch. Buon. contains an inedited letter from Fra Massimiliano^
Abbot of Camaiore, about the conatmction of roads on the sea-ooast
between that place and the sea (date April 17, 15 18, Cod. yiii No. 373).
It has some biographical interest, since the exordinm hails Michel-
angelo as the equal of ApeUes, Praxiteles, and Ljsippua.
* Oondiyi, p. 44.
RESIDENCE AT SERRAVEZZA. 331
When the contract with Francesco Pelliccia was
cancelled, April 7, 15 17, the project for developing
the Florentine stone-quarries does not seem to have
taken shape.^ We must assume, therefore, that the
motive for this step was the abandonment of the
tomb. The Ricordi show that Michelangelo was
still buying marbles and visiting Carrara do\^ to
the end of February 1518.^ His correspondence from
Pietra Santa and Serravezza, where he lived when
he was opening the Florentine quarries of Monte
Altissimo, does not begin, with any certainty, until
March 1518. We have indeed one letter written
to Girolamo del Bardella of Porto Venere upon the
6th of August, without date of year. This was sent
from Serravezza, and Milanesi, when he first made
use of it, assigned it to 151 7.* Qotti, following that
indication, asserts that Michelangelo began his opera-
tions at Monte Altissimo in July 1517; but Milanesi
afterwards changed his opinion, and assigned it to
the year 1519.* I believe he was right, because the
first letter, bearing a certain date from Pietra Santa,
was written in March 15 18 to Pietro Urbano. It
contains the account of Michelangelo's difficulties
with the Carraresi, and his journey to Genoa and
Pisa.* We have, therefore, every reason to believe
^ We most bear in mind, however, that the Arte della Lana had
acquired property in them so fSar back as the year 151 5. See above,
p. 329, note 2. * Lettere, p. 568.
* Yasari, vol. xii. p. 354. * Lettere, No. ccclxvii.
* Lettere, No. ccczlix. Notioe that Michelangelo's Bicordo (Lettere, p.
589) gives no account of a visit to Pietra Santa, and winds up at Carrara
332 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
that he finally abandoned Carrara for Pietra Santa
at the end of February 1518.
Pietra Santa is a little city on the Tuscan seaboard ;
Serravezza is a still smaller fortress-town at the foot
of the Carrara mountains. Monte Altissimo rises
above it ; and on the flanks of that great hill lie
the quarries Delia Finocchiaja, which Michelangelo
opened at the command of Pope Leo. It was not
without reluctance that Michelangelo departed from
Carrara, offending the Marquis Malaspina, breaking
his contracts, and disappointing the folk with whom
he had lived on friendly terms ever since his first
visit in 1505. A letter from the Cardinal Giulio
de' Medici shows that great pressure was put
upon him.^ It runs thus : ** We have received yours,
and shown it to our Lord the Pope. Considering
that all your doings are in favour of Carrara, you
have caused his Holiness and us no small aston-
ishment. What we heard from Jacopo Salviati
contradicts your opinion. He went to examine the
marble-quarries at Pietra Santa, and informed us
that there are enormous quantities of stone, excellent
on tlie date February 25, 15 18. There is a letter from Donato Benti to
Michelangelo in Florence, dated from Pietra Santa, February 9, 15 18
(Arch. Buon., Cod. vi., No. 53). Another from Domenico Boninsegni to
Michelangelo vn, Pietra Santa, dated March 15 18 (t&u2., Cod. vi, No.
103). In the Archive I found no letter addressed to Michelangelo at
Pietra Santa earlier than this. I may here observe that careful ex-
amination of the business letters written to Michelangelo by Salviati,
Baccio d'Agnolo, Benti, Buoninsegni, Fattucci, Topolino, Niccolini,
Urbano, and others, may still throw fresh light on his movemenU^
1 Gotti, vol. i. p. 109.
DIFFICULTIES WITH CARRARA. 333
in quality, and easy to bring down. This being the
case, some suspicion has arisen in our minds that
you, for your own interests, are too partial to the
quarries of Carrara, and want to depreciate those of
Pietra Santa. This, of a truth, would be wrong in
you, considering the trust we have always reposed
in your honesty. Wherefore we inform you that,
regardless of any other consideration, his Holiness
wills that all the work to be done at S. Peter s or
S. Reparata, or on the fa9ade of S. Lorenzo, shall be
carried out with marbles supplied from Pietra Santa,
and no others, for the reasons above written. More-
over, we hear that they will cost less than those of
Carrara; but, even should they cost more, his Holiness
is firmly resolved to act as I have said, furthering
the business of Pietra Santa for the public benefit
of the city. Look to it, then, that you carry out in
detail all that we have ordered without fail ; for if
you do otherwise, it will be against the expressed
wishes of his Holiness and ourselves, and we shall
have good reason to be seriously wroth with you.
Our agent Domenico (Buoninsegni) is bidden to write
to the same effect. Reply to him how much money
you want, and quickly, banishing from your mind
every kind of obstinacy."
Michelangelo began to work with his usual energy
at roadmaking and quarrying. What he learned of
practical business as engineer, architect, master of
works, and paymaster during these years among
the Carrara mountains must have been of vast
334 LIFE OF MICHEIJ^NGELO.
importance for his future work. He was preparing
himself to organise the fortifications of Florence
and the Leonine City, and to crown S. Peter^s
with the cupola. Quarrying, as I have said, im-
plied cutting out and rough-hewing blocks exactly
of the right dimensions for certain portions of a
building or a piece of statuary. The master was
therefore obliged to have his whole plan perfect in
his head before he could venture to order marble.
Models, drawings made to scale, careful measure-
ments, were necessary at each successive step. Day
and night Buonarroti was at work ; in the saddle
early in the morning, among stone-cutters and road-
makers ; in the evening, studying, projecting, calcu-
lating, settling up accounts by lamplight.
VI.
The narrative of Michelangelo's personal life and
movements must here be interrupted in order to
notice an event in which he took no common in-
terest. The members of the Florentine Academy
addressed a memorial to Leo X., requesting him to
authorise the translation of Dante Alighieri's bones
from Ravenna to his native city. The document
was drawn up in Latin, and dated October 20, 1518.^
^ See Condivi, p. 139, or Qotti, ii. p. 82. The original is shown in
the rooms of the State Archives at the Uffizi.
SONNETS ON DANTE. 335
Among the names and signatures appended, Michel-
angelo's alone is written in Italian : " I, Michel-
angelo, the sculptor, pray the like of your Holiness,
oflFering my services to the divine poet for the erec-
tion of a befitting sepulchre to him in some honour-
able place in this city." Nothing resulted from this
petition, and the supreme poet's remains still rest
beneath " the little cupola, more neat than solemn,"
guarded by Pietro Lombardi's half-length portrait
Of Michelangelo's special devotion to Dante and
the " Divine Comedy " we have plenty of proof. In
the first place, there exist the two fine sonnets
to his memory, which were celebrated in their
author's lifetime, and still remain among the best of
his performances in verse.^ It does not appear when
they were composed. The first is probably earlier
than the second; for below the autograph of the
latter is written, " Messer Donato, you ask of me
what I do not possess." The Donato is undoubtedly
Donato Giannotti, with whom Michelangelo lived on
very familiar terms at Rome about 1 545. I will here
insert my English translation of these sonnets : —
From beaven his spirit came, and, robed in day,
Tbe realms of justice and of mercy trod :
Tben rose a living man to gaze on God,
Tbat be migbt make tbe trutb as dear as day.
For tbat pure star, tbat brigbtened witb bis ray
Tbe imdeserving nest wbere I was bom,
Tbe wbole wide world would be a prize to scorn ;
None but bis Maker can due guerdon pay.
^ Bime : Sonnets, Nos. i and u.
336 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
I speak of Dante, whose high work remains
Unknown, unhonoured by that thankless bi*oo<l,
Who only to jast men deny their wage.
Were I bat he ! Bom for like lingering pains,
Against his exile coupled with his good
I 'd gladly change the world's best heritage !
No tongue can teU of him what should be told,
For on blind eyes his splendour shines too strong ;
T were easier to blame those who wrought him wrong,
Than sound his least praise with a mouth of gold
He to explore the place of pain was bold,
Then soared to God, to teach our souls by song ;
The gates heaven oped to bear his feet along,
Against his just desire his country rolled.
Thankless I call her, and to her own pain
The nurse of fell mischance ; for sign take this,
That ever to the best she deals more scorn ;
Among a thousand proofs let one remain ;
Though ne'er was fortune more unjust than his.
His equal or his better ne'er was born.
The influence of Dante over Buonarroti's style of
composition impressed his contemporaries. Bene-
detto Varchi, in the proemium to d lecture upon
one of Michelangelo's poems, speaks of it as ''a
most sublime sonnet, full of that antique purity and
Dantesque gravity." ^ Dante's influence over the great
artist's pictorial imagination is strongly marked in
the fresco of the Last Judgment, where Charon's
boat, and Minos with his twisted tail, are borrowed
direct from the Inferno. Condivi, moreover, informs
us that the statues of the Lives Contemplative and
Active upon the tomb of Julius were suggested by
^ Rime, p. Ixxxvii
MICHELANGELO AND DANTE. 337
the Rachel and Leah of the Purgatorio. We also
know that he filled a book with drawings illustrative
of the ** Divine Comedy." By a miserable accident
this most precious volume, while in the possession of
Antonio Montauti, the sculptor, perished at sea on a
journey from Livorno to Rome.
But the strongest proof of Michelangelo's repu-
tation as a learned student of Dante is given in Don-
ato Giannotti's Dialogue upon the number of days
spent by the poet during his journey through Hell
and Purgatory.^ Luigi del Riccio, who was a great
friend of the sculptor's, is supposed to have been
walking one day toward the Lateran with Antonio
Petreo. Their conversation fell upon Cristoforo
Landino's theory that the time consumed by Dante
in this transit was the whole of the night of Good
Friday, together with the following day. While en-
gaged in this discussion, they met Donato Giannotti
taking the air with Michelangelo. The four friends
joined company, and Petreo observed that it was a
singular good fortune to have fallen that morning
upon two such eminent Dante scholars. Donato
replied : " With regard to Messer Michelangelo, you
have abundant reason to say that he is an eminent
Dantista, since I am acquainted with no one who
understands him better and has a fuller mastery over
his works." It is not needful to give a detailed
account of Buonarroti's Dantesque criticism, re-
^ D(^ giomi eke Dante comumdy &c. Firenxe : Tip. Galileiana,
1589. Sufficient excerpta will be found in Guasti'e Rime, pp. xxvi-
xxxiv.
VOL. 1. Y
338 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
ported in these dialogues, although there are good
grounds for supposing them in part to represent
exactly what Giannotti heard him say. This applies
particularly to his able interpretation of the reason
why Dante placed Brutus and Cassius in hell — ^not
as being the murderers of a tyrant, but as having
laid violent hands upon the sacred majesty of the
Empire in the person of Csesar. The narrative of
Dante's journey through Hell and Purgatory, which
is put into Michelangelo's mouth, if we are to believe
that he really made it extempore and without book,
shows a most minute knowledge of the Infeimo,
VII.
Michelangelo's doings at SeiTavezza can be traced
with some accuracy during the summers of 15 18 and
1519. An important letter to Buonarroto, dated
April 2, 1 5 18, proves that the execution of the road
had not yet been decided on.^ He is impatient to
hear whether the Wool Corporation has voted the
necessary funds and appointed him to engineer
it. "With regard to the construction of the road
here, please tell Jacopo Salviati that I shall carry out
his wishes, and he will not be betrayed by me. I do
not look after any interests of my own in this matter,
but seek to serve my patrons and my country. If I
* Lettere, No. cxiv.
PIETRA SANTA CONTRACT. 339
begged the Pope and Cardinal to give me full control
over the business, it was that I might be able to
conduct it to those places where the best marbles
are. Nobody here knows anything about them. I
did not ask for the commission in order to make
money ; nothing of the sort is in my head." This
proves conclusively that much which has been
written about the waste of Michelangelo's abilities
on things a lesser man might have accomplished is
merely sentimental. On the contrary, he was even
accused of begging for the contract from a desire
to profit by it. In another letter, of April 18, the
decision of the Wool Corporation was still anxiously
expected.^ Michelangelo gets impatient. " I shall
mount my horse, and go to find the Pope and
Cardinal, tell them how it is with me, leave the
business here, and return to Carrara. The folk there
pray for my return as one is wont to pray to Christ."
Then he complains of the worthlessness and dis-
loyalty of the stone-hewers he brought from Florence,
and winds up with an angry postscript : " Oh, cursed
a thousand times the day and hour when I left
Carrara ! This is the cause of my utter ruin. But
I shall go back there soon. Nowadays it is a sin to
do one's d\ity." On the 2 2nd of April the Wool Cor-
poration assigned to Michelangelo a contract for the
quarries, leaving him free to act as he thought best.^
^ Lettere, No. cxvi.
*^ Lettere, p. 137, note. The text of this charter ia given, ibid., Contr.
xxx.vii. p. 679. It appointed Michelangelo to life-iuaiiagement and a
monopoly.
340 LIFE OF MICHEI^VNGELO.
Complaints follow aboat his workmen/ One passage
is curious : *' Sandro, he too has gone away from
here. He stopped several months with a mole and
a little mule in grand style, doing nothing but fish
and make love. He cost me a hundred ducats
to no purpose ; has left a certain quantity of
marble, giving me the right to take the blocks
that suit my purpose. However, I cannot find
among them what is worth twenty-five ducats, the
whole being a jumble of rascally work. Either
maliciously or through ignorance, he has treated
me very ill."
Upon the 17th April 15 17, Michelangelo had
bought a piece of ground in Via Mozza, now Via S.
Zanobi, at Florence, from the Chapter of S. Maria
del Fiore, in order to build a workshop there. He
wished, about the time of the last letter quoted, to
get an additional lot of land, in order to have larger
space at his command for the finishing of marbles.
The negotiations went on through the summer of
1 5 1 8, and on the 24th of November he records that
the purchase was completed. Premises adapted to
the sculptor s purpose were erected, which remained
^ Lettere, Noe. cxviii., cxix. Sandro was a stone-liewer of Settignano,
the brother of MicheLmgelo's friend Topolino. By a deed, dated March
15, 1 5 18, it seems that he brought eight stone-cutterB from Settignano
and its neighbourhood, ibid., Contr. xxxiv. p. 673. Compare Nob. xzzix.,
zL, xliL On April 27, 1 5 1 8, he executed a power of attorney, constituting
Donato di Battista Benii, a Florentine, his agent-in-chief at Pietra Santa,
ibid.. No. xxxviiL p. 681. The Arch. Buon., Cod. vi. Noa. 53-81, con-
tains twenty-nine business letters from this Benti, between Februaiy
19, 1318, and July 7, 1521.
QUARRYING AND ROAD-MAKING. 341
in Michelangelo's possession until the close of his
life.^
In August 1 5 18 he writes to a friend at Florence
that the road is now as good as finished, and that
he is bringing down his columns.* The work is more
difficult than he expected. One man's life had been
already thrown away, and Michelangelo himself was
in great danger. " The place where we have to quarry
is exceedingly rough, and the workmen are very
stupid at their business. For some months I must
make demands upon my powers of patience until
the mountains are tamed and the men instructed.
Afterwards we shall proceed more quickly. Enough,
that I mean to do what I promised, and shall pro-
duce the finest thing that Italy has ever seen, if
God assists me."
There is no want of heart and spirit in these letters.
Irritable at moments, Michelangelo was at bottom
enthusiastic, and, like Napoleon Buonaparte, felt
capable of conquering the world with his sole arm.
In September we find him back again at Flor-
ence, where he seems to have spent the winter. His
friends wanted him to go to Kome; they thought
that his presence there was needed to restore the con-
fidence of the Medici and to overpower calumniating
rivals. In reply to a letter of admonition written
in this sense by his friend Lionardo di .Compagno,
^ Lettere, p. 141, note i ; p. 575. A letter from Daniele da Yolterra,
dated May 8, 1557, mentions a visit to ''la bottega in Via Mozza."
Arch. Baon., Cod. z. No. 646.
' Lettere, Na ccclvi.
342 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
the saddle-maker, he writes : * " Your urgent solici-
tations are to me so many stabs of the knife. I am
dying of annoyance at not being able to do what I
should like to do, through my ill-luck." At the
same time he adds that he has now arranged an
excellent workshop, where twenty statues can be set
up together. The drawback is that there are no
means of covering the whole space in and protecting
it against the weather. This yard, encumbered with
the marbles for S. Lorenzo, must have been in the
Via Mozza.
Early in the spring he removed to Serravezza, and
resumed the work of bringing down his blocked-out
columns from the quarries. One of these pillars, six
of which he says were finished, was of huge size,
intended probably for the flanks to the main door
at S. Lorenzo. It tumbled into the river, and was
smashed to pieces. Michelangelo attributed the
accident solely to the bad quality of iron which a
rascally fellow had put into the lewis-ring by means
of which the block was being raised.^ On this occasion
he again ran considerable risk of injury, and sufiered
great annoyance. The following letter of condolence,
written by Jacopo Salviati, proves how much he was
grieved, and also shows that he lived on excellent
terms with the Pope's right-hand man and coun-
sellor : ® ** Keep up your spirits and proceed gallantly
* Lettere, No. ccclix., date Dec. 21, 15 18.
* Lettere, No. ccclxiv., to Pietro Urbano, April 20, 15 19.
5 Qotti, i. 126.
DIFFICULTIES OF THE WORK. 343
with your great enterprise, for your honour requires
this, seeing you have commenced the work. Confide
in me; nothing will be amiss with you, and our
Lord is certain to compensate you for far greater
losses than this. Have no doubt upon this point,
and if you want one thing more than another, let
me know, and you shall be served immediately.
Remember that your undertaking a work of such
magnitude will lay our city under the deepest
obligation, not only to yourself, but also to your
family for ever. Great men, and of courageous
spirit, take heart under adversities, and become
more energetic."
A pleasant thread runs through Michelangelo's
correspondence during these years. It is the affection
he felt for his workman Pietro Urbano.* When he
leaves the young man behind him at Florence, he
writes frequently, giving him advice, bidding him
mind his studies, and also telling him to confess.
It happened that Urbano fell ill at Carrara toward
the end of August. Michelangelo, on hearing the
news, left Florence and travelled by post to Carrara.
Thence he had his friend transported on the backs of
men to Serravezza, and after his recovery sent him
to pick up strength in his native city of Pistoja. In
one of the Ricordi he reckons the cost of all this at
33^ ducats.^
^ Pietro, in a letter written from ^me, calls him ** charissimo qiianto
padre."
' Lettere, p. 579. During his convalescence at Pistoja, Urbano wrote
an affectionate letter to his master, which I shall use in Chapter XV.
344 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
While Michelangelo was residing at Pietra Santa
in 1518, his old friend and fellow- worker, Pietro
Rosselliy wrote to him from Rome, asking his advice
about a tabernacle of naarble which Pietro Sode-
rini had ordered. It was to contain the head of S.
John the Baptist, and to be placed in the Church of
the Convent of S. Silvestro.^ On the 7th of June
Soderini wrote upon the same topic, requesting a
design. This Michelangelo sent in October, the
execution of the shrine being intrusted to Federigo
Frizzi. The incident would hardly be worth mention-
ing, except for the fact that it brings to mind one
of Michelangelo's earliest patrons, the good-hearted
Gonfalonier of Justice, and anticipates the coming
of the only woman he is known to have cared for,
Vittoria Colonna. It was at S. Silvestro that she
dwelt, retired in widowhood, and here occurred those
Sunday morning conversations of which Francesco
d'Olanda has left us so interesting a record.
During the next year, 15 19, a certain Tommaso
di Dolfo invited him to visit Adrianople.* He
reminded him how, coming together in Florence,
when Michelangelo lay there in hiding from Pope
Julius, they had talked about the East, and he had
expressed a wish to travel into Turkey. Tommaso di
Dolfo dissuaded him on that occasion, because the
^ It does not seem to have been completed.
^ Arch. Buon., Cod. xL No. 724. I have followed Qotti's version
of this man's name. In the manuscript it seemed to me more like
Tommaso di Tolpo.
SEBASTIANO DEL PIOMBO. 345
ruler of the province was a man of no taste and
careless about the arts. Things had altered since,
and he thought there was a good opening for an
able sculptor. Things, however, had altered in Italy
also, and Buonarroti felt no need to quit the country
where his fame was growing daily.
Considerable animation is introduced into the
annals of Michelangelo's life at this point by his
correspondence with jovial Sebastiano del Piombo.
We possess one of this painter's letters, dating
as early as 15 10, when he thanks Buonarroti
for consenting to be godfather to his boy Luciano ;
a second, of 15 12, which contains the interesting
account of his conversation with Pope Julius about
Michelangelo and Baffaello; and a third, of 1518,
turning upon the rivalry between the two great
artists.^ But the bulk of Sebastiano's gossipy
and racy communications belongs to the period
of thirteen years between 1520 and 1S33;* then
it suddenly breaks off, owing to Michelangelo's
having taken up his residence at Rome during
the autumn of 1533. A definite rupture at some
subsequent period separated the old friends. These
letters are a mine of curious information respect-
ing artistic life at Rome. They prove, beyond the
possibility of doubt, that, whatever Buonarroti and
> Published respectively by Bottari, vol. viii. p. 42 ; Gaye, vol. ii.
p. 487 ; and Qotti, vol. IL p. 56.
' Publislied in one volume by Milanesi and Le Pileur, Le* Qorre-
spondanU de Miehd-Ange, I. S^. del Piombo, Paris: Librairie de
TArt, 189a
346 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
S<inzio may have felt, their flatterers, dependants,
and creatures cherished the liveliest hostility and
lived in continual rivalry. It is somewhat painfdl
to think that Michelangelo could have lent a
willing ear to the malignant babble of a man so
much inferior to himself in nobleness of nature —
have listened when Sebastiano taunted Baffaello as
*' Prince of the Synagogue/' or boasted that a picture
of his own was superior to '' the tapestries just come
from Flanders." ^ Yet Sebastiano was not the only
friend to whose idle gossip the great sculptor indul-
gently stooped. Lionardo, the saddle-maker, was
even more offensive. He writes, for instance, upon
New Year's Day, 15 19, to say that the Resurrection
of Lazarus, for which Michelangelo had contributed
some portion of the design, was nearly finished,' and
adds : " Those who understand art rank it fer above
Raffaello. The vault, too, of Agostino Chigi has
been exposed to view, and is a thing truly disgrace-
ful to a great artist, far worse than the last hall of
the Palace. Sebastiano has nothing to fear." •
We gladly turn from these quarrels to what Sebas-
tiano teaches us about Michelangelo's personal char-
acter. The general impression in the world was
that he was very difficult to live with. Julius, for
instance, after remarking that Raffaello changed his
^ Raffaello designed his famous CartooiiB for these tapestries.
• Gotti, voL i. p. 127.
' The vault is the story of Oupid and Psyche at the Villa Eamesina,
executed by Raffaello'a pupils. The last hall of the Vatican is that
containing the Incendio del Borga
MICHELANGELO'S TERRIBILITA. 347
style in imitation of Buonarroti, continued :* '* *But he
is terrible, as you see ; one cannot get on with him.'
I answered to his Holiness that your terribleness
hurt nobody, and that you only seem to be terrible
because of your passionate devotion to the great
works you have on hand." Again, he relates Leo's
estimate of his friend's character : * " I know in what
esteem the Pope holds you, and when he speaks of
you, it would seem that he were talking about a
brother, almost with tears in his eyes ; for he has
told me you were brought up together as boys"
(Giovanni de' Medici and the sculptor were exactly
of the same age), *'and shows that he knows and
loves you. But you frighten everybody, even
Popes!" Michelangelo must have complained of
this last remark, for Sebastiano, in a letter dated a
few days later, reverts to the subject:* "Touching
what you reply to me about your terribleness, I, for
my part, do not esteem you terrible ; and if I have
not written on this subject, do not be surprised,
seeing you do not strike me as terrible, except only
in art — ^that is to say, in being the greatest master
who ever lived : that is my opinion ; if I am in error,
the loss is mine." Later on, he tells us what
Clement VII. thought : * ** One letter to your friend
(the Pope) would be enough ; you would soon see
' Gkye, vol. ii. p. 489.
3 fje9 GorreapondarUSy op, cU., p. 20, date October 27, 1520.
3 Ibid., p. 24, November 9, 152a
* Ibid., p. 40, date April 29, 153 1.
34S LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
what frait it bore; because I know how he values
yon. He loves you, knows your nature, adores your
work, and tastes its quality as much as it is possible
for man to do. Indeed, his appreciation is miracu-
lous, and such as ought to give great satis&ction to
an artist He speaks of you so honourably, and with
such loving affection, that a fetther could not say of a
son what he does of you. It is true that he has been
grieved at times by buzzings in his ear about you at
the time of the siege of Florence. He shrugged his
shoulders and cried, ^ Michelangelo is in the wrong ;
I never did him any injury.' " It is interesting to
find Sebastiano, in the same letter, complaining of
Michelangelo's sensitiveness. ^' One favour I would
request of you, that is, that you should come to
learn your worth, and not stoop as you do to every
little thing, and remember that eagles do not prey
on flies. Enough ! I know that you will laugh at
my prattle ; but I do not care ; Nature has made me
so, and I am not Zuan da Bezzo.^' ^
VIII.
The year 1520 was one of much importance for
Michelangelo. A Ricordo dated March 10 gives a
^ Giovanni da Reggio, the man who went with a letter of introdnc-
tioii from Michelangelo to the Connt of Canoesa. Sebastiano writes his
name in Venetian.
FAgADE OF S. LORENZO ABANDONED. 349
brief account of the last four years, winding up
with the notice that^ ** Pope Leo, perhaps because
he wants to get the fa9ade at S. Lorenzo finished
quicker than according to the contract made with
me, and I also consenting thereto, sets me free . . .
and so he leaves me at liberty, under no obligation
of accounting to any one for anything which I have
had to do with him or others upon his account."
It appears from the draft of a letter without date
that some altercation between Michelangelo and
the Medici preceded this rupture.* He had been
withdrawn from Serravezza to Florence in order that
he might plan the new buildings at S. Lorenzo ; and
the workmen of the Opera del Duomo continued the
quarrying business in his absence. Marbles which
he had excavated for S. Lorenzo were granted by the
Cardinal de' Medici to the custodians of the cathedral,
and no attempt was made to settle accounts. Michel-
angelo's indignation was roused by this indifference
to his interests, and he complains in terms of ex-
treme bitterness. Then he sums up all that he has
lost, in addition to expected profits. " I do not
reckon the wooden model for the said fagade, which
I made and sent to Kome ; I do not reckon the
period of three years wasted in this work; I do
not reckon that I have been ruined (in health and
strength perhaps) by the undertaking; I do not
reckon the enormous insult put on me by being
brought here to do the work, and then seeing it
^ Lettere, p. 581. ' Lettere, No. ccckxiv.
350 LIFE OF l^IICHELANGELO.
taken away from me, and for what reason I have not
yet learned ; I do not reckon my house in Rome,
which I left, and where marbles, furniture, and
blocked-out statues have suffered to upwards of soo
ducats. Omitting all these matters, out of the 2300
ducats I received, only 500 remain in my hands."
When he was an old man, Michelangelo told
Condivi that Pope Leo changed his mind about S.
Lorenzo. In the often-quoted letter to the prelate
he said:^ "Leo, not wishing me to work at the tomb
of Julius, pretended that he wanted to complete the
fajade of S. Lorenzo at Florence." What was the
real state of the case can only be conjectured. It
does not seem that the Pope took very kindly to the
fa9ade ; so the project may merely have been dropped
through carelessness. Michelangelo neglected his
own interests by not going to Rome, where his ene-
mies kept pouring calumnies into the Pope's ears.
The Marquis of Carrara, as reported by Lionardo,
wrote to Leo that ** he had sought to do you honour,
and had done so to his best ability. It was your
fault if he had not done more — the fault of your
sordidness, your quarrelsomeness, your eccentric con-
duct."* When, then, a dispute arose between the
Cardinal and the sculptor about the marbles, Leo
may have felt that it was time to break off from
an artist so impetuous and irritable. Still, whatever
faults of temper Michelangelo may have had, and
however difficult he was to deal with, nothing can
* Lettere, No. cdxxxv., October 1542. ' Qotii, vol i. p. 135.
DEATH OF RAFFAELLO. 351
excuse the Medici for their wanton waste of his
physical and mental energies at the height of their
development.
On the 6th of April 1520 RaflFaello died, worn
out with labour and with love, in the flower of his
wonderful young manhood. It would be rash to
assert that he had already given the world the best
he had to offer, because nothing is so incalculable as
the evolution of genius. Still we perceive now that
his latest manner, both as regards style and feeling,
and also as regards the method of execution by
assistants, shows him to have been upon the verge
of intellectual decline. While deploring Michel-
angelo's impracticability — ^that solitary, self-reliant,
and exacting temperament which made him reject
collaboration, and which doomed so much of his best
work to incompleteness — we must remember that to
the very end of his long life he produced nothing
(except perhaps in architecture) which does not
bear the seal and superscription of his fervent self.
Raffaello, on the contrary, just before his death,
seemed to be exhaling into a nebulous mist of bril-
liant but unsatisfactory performances. Diffusing
the rich and facile treasures of his genius through
a host of lesser men, he had almost ceased to be a
personality. Even his own work, as proved by the
Transfiguration, was deteriorating. The blossom
was overblown, the bubble on the point of bursting ;
and all those pupils who had gathered round him,
drawing like planets from the sun their lustre, sank
352 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
at his death into frigidity and insignificance. Only
Giulio Romano burned with a torrid sensual splen-
dour all his own. Fortunately for the history of the
Renaissance, Giulio lived to evoke the wonder of
the Mantuan villa, that climax of associated crafts of
decoration, which remains for us the symbol of the
dream of art indulged by Raffaello in his Roman
period.
These pupils of the Urbinate claimed now, on
their master's death, and claimed with good reason,
the right to carry on his great work in the Borgian
apartments of the Vatican. The Sala de' Pontefici,
or the Hall of Constantine, as it is sometimes called,
remained to be painted. They possessed designs
bequeathed by Raffaello for its decoration, and Leo,
very rightly, decided to leave it in their hands.
Sebastiano del Piombo, however, made a vigorous
effort to obtain the work for himself. His Raising
of Lazarus, executed in avowed competition with
the Transfiguration, had brought him into the first
rank of Roman painters. It was seen what the
man, with Michelangelo to back him up, could do.
We cannot properly appreciate this picture in its
pref'ent state. The glory of the colouring has
passed away ; and it was precisely here that Sebas-
tiano may have surpassed Raffaello, as he was
certainly superior to the school. Sebastiano wrote
letter after letter to Michelangelo in Florence.^ He
^ Lu Correspondanti, op, cit., p. 6, April 20, 152a It appears from the
general tenour of the letters I shall quote that Sebastiano would have
FRESCOES IN THE HALL OF CONSTANTINE. 353
first mentions Raffaello's death, ''whom may God
forgive;" then says that the **grars8oni" of the
Urbinate are beginning to paint in oil upon the
walls of the Sala dei Pontefici.^ " I pray you to
remember me, and to recommend me to the Cardinal,
and if I am the man to undertake the job, I should
like you to set me to work at it ; for I shall not dis-
grace you, as indeed I think I have not done already.
I took my picture (the Lazarus) once more to the
Vatican, and placed it beside Baffaello's (the Trans-
figuration), and I came without shame out of the
comparison." In answer, apparently, to this first
letter on the subject, Michelangelo wrote a humo-
rous recommendation of his friend and gossip to
the Cardinal Bernardo Dovizi da Bibbiena. It runs
thus : * " I beg your most reverend Lordship, not
as a friend or servant, for I am not worthy to be
either, but as a low fellow, poor and brainless, that
you will cause Sebastian, the Venetian painter, now
that Bafael is dead, to have some share in the
works at the Palace. If it should seem to your
Lordship that kind ofiices are thrown away upon
a man like me, I might suggest that on some rare
occasions a certain sweetness may be found in being
kind even to fools, as onions taste well, for a change
liked Michelangelo to obtain the commifision for the Sala on his own
account, and to intrust himBelf (Sebastiano) with the execution.
^ There are two female figures painted in oil there, Comitas and
Justitia, The eifect is charming, making one dissatisfied with the
chalky dryness of the iresca
' Lettere, No. ccclxxiii
VOL. h jj
354 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
of food, to one who is tired of capons. Yon oblige
men of mark every day. I beg your Lordship to
try what obliging me is like. The obligation will
be a very great one, and Sebastian is a worthy man.
If, then, your kind offers are thrown away on me,
they will not be so on Sebastian, for I am certain he
will prove a credit to your Lordship."
In his following missives Sebastiano flatters
Michelangelo upon the excellent effect produced by
the letter.* •* The Cardinal informed me that the
Pope had given the Hall of the Pontiffs to
Raffaello's 'prentices, and they have begun with a
figure in oils upon the waU, a marvellous produc-
tion, which eclipses all the rooms painted by their
master, and proves that, when it is finished, this
hall will beat the record, and be the finest thing
done in painting since the ancients.^ Then he asked
if I had read your letter. I said. No. He laughed
loudly, as though at a good joke, and I quitted
him with compliments. Bandinelli, who is copying
the Laocoon, tells me that the Cardinal showed him
your letter, and also showed it to the Pope ; in fact,
nothing is talked about at the Vatican except your
letter, and it makes everybody laugh." He adds that
he does not think the hall ought to be committed to
young men. Having discovered what sort of things
they meant to paint there, battle-pieces and vast
1 Les CorreapondantSf pp. 6-16.
* The figure is a Caryatid, at the extreme end of the stanze. Fresco
was afterwards adopted hj Qiulio Boinano and II Fattore.
SEBASTIANO DEL PIOMBO INTRIGUES. 355
compositions, he judges the scheme beyond their
scope. Michelangelo alone is equal to the task.
Meanwhile, Leo, wishing to compromise matters,
offered Sebastiano the great hall in the lower
apartments of the Borgias, where Alexander VI.
used to live, and where Pinturicchio painted —
rooms shut up in pious horror by Julius when
he came to occupy the palace of his hated and
abominable predecessor.^ Sebastiano's reliance upon
Michelangelo, and his calculation that the way to
get possession of the coveted commission would
depend on the latter's consenting to supply him
with designs, emerge in the following passage:
"The Cardinal told me that he was ordered by
the Pope to offer me the lower hall. I replied that
I could accept nothing without your permission, or
until your answer came, which is not to hand at
the date of writing. I added that, unless I were
engaged to Michelangelo, even if the Pope com-
manded me to paint that hall, I would not do so,
because I do not think myself inferior to Raffaello's
'prentices, especially after the Pope, with his own
mouth, had offered me half of the upper hall ; and
anyhow, I do not regard it as creditable to myself
^ See Yriarte, Autour de$ Borgias, for an account of these apart-
ments, with plans and illostrations. Cesare Borgia inhabited the upper
set of rooms. The lower hall was severely damaged on June 20, 1500,
when lightning struck the Vatican, and nearly killed Pope Alexander,
who was throned upon the dais. The roof and great chimney crashed
in. Since that accident it remained unrepaired. The decoration was
eventually assigned to Perino del Vaga.
356 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
to paint the cellars, and they to have the gilded
chambers. I said they had better be allowed to go
on painting. He answered that the Pope had only
done this to avoid rivalries. The men possessed
designs ready for that hall, and I ought to remember
that the lower one was also a hall of the Pontiflfs.
My reply was that I would have nothing to do with
it ; so that now they are laughing at me, and I am
so worried that I am well-nigh mad." Later on he
adds: '*It has been my object, through you and
your authority, to execute vengeance for myself
and you too, letting malignant fellows know that
there are other demigods alive beside Raffael da
Urbino and his 'prentices." The vacillation of Leo
in this business, and his desire to make things
pleasant, are characteristic of the man, who acted
just in the same way while negotiating with princes.
IX.
When Michelangelo complained that he was
**rovinato per detta opera di San Lorenzo," he pro-
bably did not mean that he was ruined in purse,
but in health and energy.^ For some while after
Leo gave him his liberty, he seems to have remained
comparatively inactive. During this period the sac-
risty at S. Lorenzo and the Medicean tombs were
^ Lettere, ccclxziv. p. 414
SACRISTY OF S. LORENZO. 357
probably in contemplation.^ Giovanni Cambi says
that they were begun at the end of March 1520.*
But we first hear something definite about them in
a Ric(yi'do which extends from April 9 to August
19, 1 52 1.' Michelangelo says that on the former
of these dates he received money from the Cardinal
de' Medici for a journey to Carrara, whither he went
and stayed about three weeks, ordering marbles for
" the tombs which are to be placed in the new sacristy
at S. Lorenzo. And there I made out drawings to
scale, and measured models in clay for the said
tombs." He left his assistant Scipione of Settig-
nano at Carrara as overseer of the work, and returned
to Florence. On the 20th of July following he went
again to Carrara, and stayed nine days. On the
1 6th of August the contractors for the blocks, all of
which were excavated from the old Roman quarry
of Polvaccio, came to Florence, and were paid for on
account. Scipione returned on the 19th of August.
It may be added that the name of Stefano, the
miniaturist, who acted as Michelangelo's factotum
^ An obscure phrase in the document quoted above (No. ccclxxiv.) htis
been taken to indicate that the project had been conceived as early as
the spring of 15 19. *' At that eaiue time the Cardinal, by orders from
the Pope, removed me from my work of quarrying, because they said
tliey did not wish me to be bothered with excavating marbles, and they
would have them forwarded to me in Florence, and mad$ a new eon"
ventiorL^ The new convention, however, may have been a new arrange-
ment as to the manner of carrying on and paying the fa9ade.
> Vasari, xii. 358. If Cambi reckoned in Florentine style, his refer-
ence would be to March 1 52 1, which agrees with the Ricordo to be quoted
next above.
* Lettere, p. 582.
358 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
through Beveral years, is mentioned for the first time
in this minute and interesting record.
That the commission for the sacristy came from
the Cardinal Giulio, and not from the Pope, appears
in the document I have just cited. The fact is con-
firmed by a letter written to Fattucci in 1523:^
"About two years have elapsed since I returned
from Carrara, whither I had gone to purchase marbles
for the tombs of the Cardinal." The letter is curious
in several respects, because it shows how changeable
through many months Giulio remained about the
scheme ; at one time bidding Michelangelo prepare
plans and models, at another refusing to listen to
any proposals ; then warming up again, and saying
that, if he lived long enough, he meant to erect the
fagade as well. The final issue of the affair was, that
after Giulio became Pope Clement VII., the sacristy
went forward, and Michelangelo had to put the
sepulchre of Julius aside. During the pontificate
of Adrian, we must believe that he worked upon
his statues for that monument, since a Cardinal
was hardly powerful enough to command his ser-
vices ; but when the Cardinal became Pope, and
threatened to bring an actionagainst him for moneys
received, the case was altered. The letter to Fat-
tucci, when carefully studied, leads to these con-
clusions.
Very little is known to us regarding his private
life in the year 1 5 2 1 . We only possess one letter,
^ Lettere, No. ccclzxix.
THE CRISTO RISORTO. 359
relating to the purchase of a house.* In October he
stood godfather to the infant son of Niccolb Soderini,
nephew of his old patron, the Gonfalonier.*
This barren period is marked by only one con-
siderable event — that is, the termination of the
Cristo Risorto, or Christ Triumphant, which had been
ordered by Metello Varj dei Porcari in 15 14. The
statue seems to have been rough-hewn at the quarries,
packed up, and sent to Pisa on its way to Florence
as early as December 1518,' but it was not until
March 1521 that Michelangelo began to occupy
himself about it seriously. He then despatched
Pietro Urbano to Rome with orders to complete it
there,* and to arrange with the purchaser for placing
1 Lettere, No. ccclzxv., addressed to Giusto di Matteo in Pisa. The
house was in Via Mozza. Pietro Urbano refers to the transaction in a
letter written from Rome, which proves that he was then at work on the
Cristo Risorto. The month was March.
• Gotti, vol. i. p. 145.
^ &>ee Lettere, No. cclxix., addressed to Lionaido, the saddler, in
Rome. Milanesi gives the date, December 21, 15 18. It shows that
Michelangelo was then waiting for the marble, and hoping to begin work
upon it.
^ This appears from one of Michelangelo's letters, Lettere, No. ccclzxv.
Gotti (vol. L p. 140) says that the month was August, but gives no reason.
Since Sebastiano began to write about Urbano's doings on the 6th of
September, the young man must already have been some time in
Rome. We possess a Ricordo by Michelangelo (Garte MichelangioleKh^
No. 2} which proves that on the 2nd of May 1521 Michelangelo paid
Lionardo in Rome four ducats on account of Pietro ; also a letter from
Pietro to Michelangelo, without date, written from Rome. In it Pietro
says he has heard that his master had been to Carrara, and i& about to
buy the house " delLi Masina.** Now Michelangelo went to Carrara in
April, and in March he wrote a letter about this house (No. ccclzxv.).
Pietro informs him that the statue has not yet arrived, but he hopes for
it about the 19th. He also promises to avoid the company of dissolute
36o LIFE OF MICHEIJ^GELO.
it upon a pedestal. Sebastiano's letters contain some
references to this work, which enable ns to under-
stand how wrong it would be to accept it as a repre-
sentative piece of Buonarroti's own handicraft. On
the 9th of November 1520 he writes that his gossip,
Giovanni da Reggio, ''goes about saying that you
did not execute the figure, but that it is the work of
Pietro Urbano. Take good care that it should be seen
to be from your hand, so that poltroons and babblers
may burst." * On the 6th of September 1521 he re-
turns to the subject' TJrbano was at this time resident
in Bome, and behaving himself so badly, in Sebas-
tiano's opinion, that he feels bound to make a severe
report. ** In the first place, you sent him to Rome
with the statue to finish and erect it What he
did and left undone you know already. But I must
inform you that he has spoiled the marble wherever
he touched it. In particular, he shortened the right
foot and cut the toes off; the hands too, especially
the right hand, which holds the cross, have been
mutilated in the fingers. Frizzi says they seem to
have been worked by a biscuit-maker, not wrought
in marble, but kneaded by some one used to
dough. I am no judge, not being familiar with
Florentines more than he had previously done. This throws light on
what followed. Florentine society in Borne was notorious for yicions
conduct His letter must have been written early in ApriL It is pub-
lished by Daelli, GarU MichelangioUsche InedUe^ No. 7.
^ Les Correspondanti, p. 24. Urbano was then at Florence, working on
the statue under Michelangelo's directions.
* Ibid., p. 28.
^'■<'ll;>-T„
PIETRO URBANO IN ROME. 361
the method of stone-cutting ; but I can tell you
that the fingers look to me very stiff and dumpy.^
It is clear also that he has been peddling at the
beard ; and I believe my little boy would have done so
with more sense, for it looks as though he had used
a knife without a point to chisel the hair. This can
easily be remedied, however. He has also spoiled
one of the nostrils. A little more, and the whole
nose would have been ruined, and only God could
have restored it." Michelangelo apparently had
already taken measures to transfer the Christ from
Urbano's hands to those of the sculptor Federigo
Frizzi. This irritated his former friend and work-
man. ''Pietro shows a very ugly and malignant
spirit after finding himself cast off by you. He
does not seem to care for you or any one alive, but
thinks he is a great master. He will soon find out
his mistake, for the poor young man will never be
able to make statues. He has forgotten all he knew
of art, and the knees of your Christ are worth more
than all Rome together." It was Sebastiano*s wont
to run babbling on in this way. Once again he
returns to Pietro Urbano. ** I am informed that he
has left Rome; he has not been seen for several
days, has shunned the Court, and I certainly believe
that he will come to a bad end. He gambles, wants
all the women of the town, struts like a Ganymede
in velvet shoes through Rome, and flings his cash
^ There is no sign of this in the statue. A little siiff, perbape, but
not cut down in length.
.^62 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
about. Poor fellow ! I am sorry for him, since, after
all, he is but young."
Such was the end of Pietro Urbano. Michelangelo
was certainly unfortunate with his apprentices. One
cannot help fancying he may have spoiled them by
indulgence. Vasari, mentioning Pietro, calls him
''a person of talent, but one who never took the
pains to work." *
Frizzi brought the Christ Triumphant into its
present state, patching up what "the lither lad"
from Pistoja had boggled.^ Buonarroti, who was
sincerely attached to Varj, and felt his artistic
reputation now at stake, offered to make a new
statue. But the magnanimous Boman gentleman
replied that he was entirely satisfied with the one
he had received. He regarded and esteemed it " as
a thing of gold/' and, in refusing Michelangelo's
offer, added that "this proved his noble soul and
generosity, inasmuch as, when he had already made
what could not be surpassed and was incomparable,
he still wanted to serve his friend better."® The
price originally stipulated was paid, and Varj added
an autograph testimonial, strongly affirming his con-
tentment with the whole transaction.
These details prove that the Christ of the Minerva
must be regarded as a mutilated masterpiece. Michel-
^ Vol. xii. p. 274,
' Hardly anything is known aboat this Bcnlptor. See above, p. 344,
for a mention of Lis name.
• Gotti, i 143. There are twenty-three letters from Varj, chiefly
about these aflEiairs, in the Arch. Buon., Cod. xi.,Nos. 740-761.
THE CHRIST OF THE MINERVA. 363
angelo is certainly responsible for the general con-
ception, the pose, and a large portion of the finished
surface, details of which, especially in the knees,
so much admired by Sebastiano, and in the robust
arms, are magnificent. He designed the figure
wholly nude, so that the heavy bronze drapery
which now surrounds the loins, and bulges drooping
from the left hip, breaks the intended harmony of
lines. Yet, could this brawny man have ever sug-
gested any distinctly religious idea ? ^ Christ, victor
over Death and Hell, did not triumph by ponderosity
and sinews. The spiritual nature of his conquest,
the ideality of a divine soul distocumbered from
the flesh, to which it once had stooped in love for
sinful man, ought certainly to have been empha-
sised, if anywhere through art, in the statue of a
Risen Christ. Substitute a scaling-ladder for the
cross, and here we have a fine life -guardsman,
stripped and posing for some classic battle-piece.
We cannot quarrel with Michelangelo about the
face and head. Those vulgarly handsome features,
that beard, pomaded and curled by a barber's
'prentice, betray no signs of his inspiration. Only
in the arrangement of the hair, hyacinthiue locks
descending to the shoulders, do we recognise the
touch of the divine sculptor.
The Christ became very famous. Francis I. had
^ Heatli Wilson says : ^ This statue, considered as a work of expres-
rion and religious art, is in both respects without a parallel in its
irreverence " (p. 266).
364 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
it cast and sent to Paris, to be repeated in bronze.
What is more strange, it has long been the object
of a religious cult. The right foot, so mangled
by poor Fietro, wears a fine brass shoe, in order to
prevent its being kissed away. This almost makes
one think of Goethe's hexameter: " Wunderthatige
Bilder sind meist nur schlechte Oemalde/' Still
it must be remembered that excellent critics have
found the whole work admirable. Gsell-Fels says : ^
^' It is his second Moses ; in movement and physique
one of the greatest masterpieces ; as a Christ-ideal,
the heroic conception of a humanist." That last
observation is just. We may remember that Vida
was composing his Christiad while Frizzi was curl-
ing the beard of the Cristo Bisorto. Vida always
speaks of Jesus as HeroSy and of God the Father as
Superum Pater Nimbipotens or Regnator Olympi}
^ Rom und MiUd-Italuny voL iL p. 370. Burckbardt {Cicerone^
Sculftwr^ Leipzig, Seeman, 1869, p. 673) says : *'It is one of his most
amiable works. Tbe upper part of the body is one of the finest
motiyea of later modem art The sweet expression and formation of
the face may be as little suitable to the Highest as any Christ is ; and
yet,** &c Even Heath Wilson, who had a proper sense of the impro-
priety, artistic and religious, of this Christ, remarks that '' the hair of
the beard, which must be assumed to be Frizzi's work, does him great
credit" This beard consists of patches, like tigers' claws or foliage,
carved out to hide anatomical structure. None of the favourable critics
notice the indecent and unnatural bulk of the abdomen.
' See my Rena/Uaa/neA tn licdy^ voL ii. p. 399. I ought to add that,
since I wrote the above critique, working mainly by the help of Alinari's
photographs, I have studied the statue again in the church of the
Minerva. Under that dim lights it dififases a grace and sweetness which
no reproduction renders. Without retracting my opinion, I recognise a
kind of fascination in the figure.
CHAPTER VIII.
I. Death of Leo X., December i, 1521. — Estimate of hi8 character. —
Election of Adrian Y I. — ^Diflgnst in Rome. — Giulio dei Medici made
Pope upon liis death in September 1 523. — 2. Scanty details regard-
ing Michelangelo's life during the pontificate of Adrian. — ^Various
minor commissions from Bologna, Cardinal Griniani, Genoa. — An
irritable letter to Lodoyico. — 3. Clement VIL pushes on the
Sacristy, and projects the Library of S. Lorenzo. — Michelangelo's
dislike to be employed on architectural work. — Arrangements for
a pension from the Pope. — Stefano Miniatore. — ^The Sacristy roofed
in before May 1524. — Troubles with the heirs of Julius. — ^Michel-
angelo's wretcliedness about the tomb. — 4, History of successive
schemes for the decoration of the Sacristy. — ^The number of portrait-
statues originally contemplated. — ^Eventual adoption of a mural
plan. — ^Light thrown upon the matter by original drawings. — 5. The
Duke of Urbino begins a lawsuit against Michelangelo for non-
performance of contract. — ^Michelangelo appeals to Clement for
assistance in these difficultiea — Negotiation& — Work upon the
statues for S. Lorenzo goes forward. — ^He falls seriously ill. — 6.
Sebastiano's portrait of Anton Francesco degli Albizzi — Clement
urges on the Library. — Michelangelo employs collaborators. — The
sack of Bome and the siege of Florence (1527-1530) suspend
active operations. — A ciborium for S. Lorenzo. — Michelangelo's
letter upon a project for erecting a Colossus.
I.
Leo X. expired upon the ist day of December
1 5 2 1 . The vacillating game he played in European
politics had just been crowned with momentary suc-
cess. Some folk believed that the Pope died of joy
after hearing that his Imperial allies had entered
the town of Milan ; others thought that he succumbed
365
366 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
to poison. We do not know what caused his death.
But the unsoundness of his constitution, overtaxed
by dissipation and generous living, in the midst of
public cares for which the man had hardly nerve
enough, may suffice to account for a decease cer-
tainly sudden and premature. Michelangelo, bom
in the same year, was destined to survive him
through more than eight lustres of the life of man.
Leo was a personality whom it is impossible to
praise without reserve. The Pope at that time in
Italy had to perform three separate functions. His
first duty was to the Church. Leo left the See of
Rome worse off than he found it: financially bankrupt,
compromised by vague schemes set on foot for the
aggrandisement of his family, discredited by many
shameless means for raising money upon spiritual
securities. His second duty was to Italy. Leo left
the peninsula so involved in a mesh of meaningless
entanglements, diplomatic and aimless wars, that
anarchy and violence proved to be the only exit from
the situation. His third duty was to that higher cul-
ture which Italy dispensed to Europe, and of which
the Papacy had made itself the leading propagator.
Here Leo failed almost as conspicuously as in all
else he attempted. He debased the standard of art
and literature by his iU-placed liberalities, seeking
quick returns for careless expenditure, not selecting
the finest spirits of his age for timely patronage,
diffusing no lofty enthusiasm, but breeding round
him mushrooms of mediocrity.
J;
r
POPE ADRIAN VI. 367
Nothing casts stronger light upon the low tone of
Roman society created by Leo than the outburst of
frenzy and execration which exploded when a Fleming
was elected as his successor. Adrian Florent, belong-
ing to a feimily sumamed Dedel, emerged from the
scrutiny of the Conclave into the pontifical chair.
He had been the tutor of Charles V., and this may
suffice to account for his nomination. Cynical wits
ascribed that circumstance to the direct and un-
expected action of the Holy Ghost. He was the
one foreigner who occupied the seat of S. Peter
after the period when the metropolis of Western
Christendom became an Italian principality. Adrian,
by his virtues and his failings, proved that modem
Rome, in her social corruption and religious in-
difference, demanded an Italian Pontiff. Single*
minded and simple, raised unexpectedly by cir-
cumstances into his supreme position, he shut
his eyes resolutely to art and culture, abandoned
diplomacy, and determined to act only as the
chief of the Catholic Church. In ecclesiastical
matters Adrian was undoubtedly a worthy man.
He returned to the original conception of his duty
as the Primate of Occidental Christendom ; and what
might have happened had he lived to impress his
spirit upon Rome, remains beyond the reach of cal-
culation. Dare we conjecture that the sack of 1527
would have been averted ?
Adrian reigned only a year and eight months.
He had no time to do anything of permanent value,
368 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
and was hardly powerful enough to do it, even if
time and opportunity had been afforded. In the
thunderstorm gathering over Rome and the Papacy,
he represents that momentary lull during which
men hold their breath and murmur. All the place-
seekers, parasites, flatterers, second-rate artificers,
folk of facile talents, whom Leo gathered round
him, vented their rage against a Pope who lived
sparely, shut up the Belvedere, called statues *' idols
of the Pagans," and spent no farthing upon
twangling lutes and frescoed chambers. Truly
Adrian is one of the most grotesque and significant
figures upon the page of modem history. His per-
sonal worth, his inadequacy to the needs of the age,
and his incompetence to control the tempest loosed
by Delia Koveres, Borgias, and Medici around him,
give the man a tragic irony.
After his death, upon the 23rd of September 1523,
the Cardinal Giulio dei Medici was made Pope. He
assumed the title of Clement VII. upon the 9th of
November. The wits who saluted Adrian's doctor
with the title of " Saviour of the Fatherland," now
rejoiced at the election of an Italian and a Medici.
The golden years of Leo*s reign would certainly
return, they thought; having no foreknowledge of
the tragedy which was so soon to be enacted, first at
Rome, and afterwards at Florence. Michelangelo
wrote to his friend Topolino at Carrara :^ ** You will
have heard that Medici is made Pope ; all the world
1 Lettere, No. ccclzxx.
L
r
1:
VARIOUS COMMISSIONS. 369
seems to me to be delighted, and I think that here
at Florence great things will soon be set on foot
in our art. Therefore, serve well and faithfully."
II.
Our records are very scanty, both as regards
personal details and art-work, for the life of Michel-
angelo. during the pontificate of Adrian VI. The
high esteem in which he was held throughout Italy
is proved by three incidents which may shortly
be related. In 1522, the Board of Works for the
cathedral church of S. Petronio at Bologna de-
cided to complete the fa9ade. Various architects
sent in designs ; among them Feruzzi competed with
one in the Gothic style, and another in that of the
Classical revival. Great diflferences of opinion arose
in the city as to the merits of the rival plans, and
the Board in July invited Michelangelo, through
their secretary, to come and act as umpire. They
promised to reward him magnificently.^ It does not
appear that Michelangelo accepted the offer. In
1523. Cardinal Grimani. who was a famous coUector
of art-objects, wrote begging for some specimen of
his craft. Grimani left it open to him 'Ho choose
material and subject; painting, bronze, or marble,
according to his fancy.'' Michelangelo must have
^ See the letter of Ascanio de Novi, reported by Qotti, vol. i. p. 176.
VOL. I. 2 A
370 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
promised to fulfil the commission, for we have a
letter from Grimani thanking him eflfusively.' He
offers to pay fifty ducats at the commencement of the
work, and what Michelangelo thinks fit to demand
at its conclusion: ''for such is the excellence of
your ability, that we shall take no thought of money-
value." Grimani was Patriarch of Aquileja. In the
same year, 1523, the Genoese entered into negotia-
tions for a colossal statue of Andrea Doria, which
they desired to obtain from the hand of Michel-
angelo. Its execution must have been seriously
contemplated, for the Senate of Genoa banked 300
ducats for the purpose.* We regret that Michel-
angelo could not carry out a work so congenial to
his talent as this ideal portrait of the mighty Signor
Capitano would have been ; but we may console our-
selves by reflecting that even his energies were not
equal to all tasks imposed upon him. The real matter
for lamentation is that they suffered so much waste in
the service of vacillating Popes.
To the year 1523 belongs, in all probability, the last
extant letter which Michelangelo wrote to his father.
Lodovico was dissatisfied with a contract which had
been drawn up on the 1 6th of June in that year, and
by which a certain sum of money, belonging to the
dowry of his late wife, was settled in reversion upon
his eldest son.^ Michelangelo explains the tenor
^ Qotti, voL u. p. 61, date July 11, 1525.
* Gotti, i. 177.
* Lettere, No. xliv. See Milanesi's note.
ANGRY LETTER TO LODOVICO. 371
of the deedy and then breaks forth into the follow-
ing bitter and ironical invective: "If my life is
a nuisance to you, you have found the means of
protecting yourself, and will inherit the key of that
treasure which you say that I possess. And you will
be acting rightly; for all Florence knows how
mighty rich you were, and how I always robbed
you, and deserve to be chastised. Highly will men
think of you for this. Cry out and tell folk all you
choose about me, but do not write again, for you
prevent my working. What I have now to do is to
make good all you have had from me during the
past five-and-twenty years. I would rather not tell
you this, but I cannot help it Take care, and be
on your guard against those whom it concerns you.
A man dies but once, and does not come back again
to patch up things ill done. You have put oS till
the death to do this. May God assist you ! "
In another draft of this letter Lodovico is accused
of going about the town complaining that he was
once a rich man, and that Michelangelo had robbed
him. Still, we must not take this for proved ; one
of the great artist's main defects was an irritable
suspiciousness, which caused him often to exaggerate
slights and to fancy insults. He may have attached
too much weight to the grumblings of an old man,
whom at the bottom of his heart he loved dearly.
372 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
m.
Clement, immediately after his election^ resolved
on setting Michelangelo at work in earnest on the
Sacristy. At the very beginning of January he also
projected the building of the Laurentian Library,
and wrote, through his Roman agent, Giovanni
Francesco Fattucci, requesting to have two plans
furnished, one m the Greek, the other in the Latin
style.* Michelangelo replied as follows : * " I gather
from your last that his Holiness our Lord wishes
that I should furnish the design for the library. I
have received no information, and do not know
where it is to be erected. It is true that Stefano
talked to me about the scheme, but I paid no heed.
When he returns from Carrara I will inquire, and
will do all that is in my power, albeit architecture is
not my profession" There is something pathetic in
this reiterated assertion that his real art was sculp-
ture. At the same time Clement wished to provide
for him for life. He first proposed that Buonarroti
should promise not to marry, and should enter into
minor orders. This would have enabled him to
enjoy some ecclesiastical benefice, but it would also
have handed him over firmly bound to the service
of the Pope. Circumstances already hampered him
enough, and Michelangelo, who chose to remain
^ Correspondence in Gotti, voL L pp. 165, 166.
* Lettere, No. cccIxxxy.
THE LIBRARY OF S. LORENZO. 373
his own master, refused. As Bemi wrote : " Voleva
far da se, non comandato.'' As an alternative, a pen-
sion was suggested. It appears that he only asked
for fifteen ducats a month, and that his friend Pietro
Gondi had proposed twenty-five ducats. Fattucci,
on the 13th of January 1524, rebuked him in affec-
tionate terms for his want of pluck, informing him
that "Jacopo Salviati has given orders that Spina
should be instructed to pay you a monthly provision
of fifty ducats." Moreover, all the disbursements
made for the work at S. Lorenzo were to be pro-
vided by the same agent in Florence, and to pass
through Michelangelo's hands. ^ A house was as-
signed him, free of rent, at S. Lorenzo, in order
that he might be near his work. Henceforth he
was in almost weekly correspondence with Giovanni
Spina on affairs of business, sending in accounts
and drawing money by means of his then trusted
servant, Stefano, the miniaturist.'
That Stefano did not always behave himself
according to his master's wishes appears from the
following characteristic letter addressed by Michel-
angelo to his friend Pietro Gondi:* "The poor
man, who is ungrateful, has a nature of this sort,
that if you help him in his needs, he says that what
1 SeeQotti, i. 157.
^ Giovanni Spina, the Pope's Florentine agent, eeems to have been
in the bonk of the Salviati (Lettere, No. cccxcii.) Stefano di Tom-
moso Btaited in life as a miniatore, Michelangelo made him clerk of
the works at 8. Lorenzo, overseer at Carrara, &c., in the way he adopted
for the employment of his principal garzone,
' Lettere, No. ccclxxxvii., date January 26, 1524.
374 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
you gave him came out of superfluities ; if you put
him in the way of doing work for his own good, he
says you were obliged, and set him to do it because
you were incapable; and all the benefits which he
received he ascribes to the necessities of the bene-
{sLCtor. But when everybody can see that you acted
out of pure benevolence, the ingrate waits until you
make some public mistake, which gives him the
opportunity of maligning his benefactor and winning
credence, in order to free himself from the obligation
under which he lies. This has invariably happened
in my case. No one ever entered into relations with
me — I speak of workmen — to whom I did not do good
with all my heart. Afterwards, some trick of temper,
or some madness, which they say is in my nature,
which hurts nobody except myself, gives them an
excuse for speaking evil of me and calumniating
my character. Such is the reward of all honest
men."
These general remarks, he adds, apply to Stefano,
whom he placed in a position of trust and responsi-
bility, in order to assist him. " What I do is done
for his good, because I have undertaken to benefit
the man, and cannot abandon him ; but let him not
imagine or say that I am doing it because of my
necessities, for, God be praised, I do not stand in
need of men." He then begs Gondi to discover
what Stefano's real mind is. This is a matter of
great importance to him for several reasons, and
especially for this : " If I omitted to justify myself.
STEFANO MINIATORE. 375
and were to put another in his place, I should be
published among the Fiagnoni for the biggest traitor
who ever lived, even though I were in the right."
We conclude, then, that Michelangelo thought of
dismissing Stefano, but feared lest he should get
into trouble with the powerful political party, fol-
lowers of Savonarola, who bore the name of Fiagnoni
at Florence. Gondi must have patched the quarrel up,
for we still find Stefano's name in the Ricordi down
to April 4, 1524. Shortly after that date, Antonio
Mini seems to have taken his place as Michelangelo's
right-hand man of business.^ These details are not
so insignificant as they appear. They enable us to
infer that the Sacristy of S. Lorenzo may have been
walled and roofed in before the end of April 1524 ;
for, in an undated letter to Fope Clement, Michel-
angelo says that Stefano has finished the lantern,
and that it is universally admired.' With regard to
this lantern, folk told him that he would make it
better than Brunelleschi's. '' Different perhaps, but
better, no ! " he answered.
^ Lettere, pp. 592, 593. On an origiDal drawing in the BritiBh Museum
is written in Michelangelo^s autograph, '^Disegna Antonio, disegna
Antonio, disegna e non peider tempo." A pleasant record of his
interest in his pupila See Fagan, op. eil,^ p. 99.
> Lettere, No. ccclzxxi. The date of the roofing in of the Sacristy
is generaUy given as 1525 ; hut, if Stefano constructed the cupola,
we ought to suppose that he did it hefore the date of his disappearance
from the Eicordi, Also we have a note of Novemher 9, 1524, record-
ing a payment made for glazing the windows of the lantern with oiled
paper. See Lettere, p. 596. Indeed the Ricordi prove that the build-
ing was going briskly forward during the early months of 1524. Con-
sult Springer, voL ii. p. 214.
376 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
The letter to Clement just quoted is interesting
in several respects. The boldness of the beginning
makes one comprehend how Michelangelo was ter-
rible to even Popes : —
''Most Blessed Father, — Inasmuch as inter-
mediates are often the cause of grave misunder-
standings, I have summoned up courage to write
without their aid to your Holiness about the tombs
at S. Lorenzo. I repeat, I know not which is pre-
ferable, the evil that does good, or the good that
hurts. I am certain, mad and wicked as I may be,
that if I had been allowed to go on as I had begun,
all the marbles needed for the work would have
been in Florence to-day, and properly blocked out,
with less cost than has been expended on them up
to this date ; and they would have been superb, as
are the others I have brought here."
After this he entreats Clement to give him full
authority in carrying out the work, and not to put
superiors over him. Michelangelo, we know, was
extremely impatient of control and interference ; and
we shall see, within a short time, how excessively
the watching and spying of busybodies worried and
disturbed his spirits.^
But these were not his only sources of annoyance.
The heirs of Pope Julius, perceiving that Michel-
angelo's time and energy were wholly absorbed at
S. Lorenzo, began to threaten him with a lawsuit.
Clement, wanting apparently to mediate between
* Esi)ecially Lettere, No. cd.
TROUBLES ABOUT TOMB OF JULIUS. 377 ,
the litigants, ordered Fattucci to obtain a report
from the sculptor, with a full account of how matters
stood. This evoked the long and interesting docu-
ment which has been so often cited.^ There is no
doubt whatever that Michelangelo acutely felt the
justice of the Duke of Urbino's grievances against
him. He was broken-hearted at seeming to be want-
ing in his sense of honour and duty. People, he
says, accused him of putting the money which had
been paid for the tomb out at usury, " living mean-
while at Florence and amusing himself." It also
hurt him deeply to be distracted from the cherished
project of his early manhood in order to superintend
works for which he had no enthusiasm, and which
lay outside his sphere of operation.
It may, indeed, be said that during these years
Michelangelo lived in a perpetual state of uneasiness
and anxiety about the tomb of Julius. As far back
as 15 18 the Cardinal Leonardo Grosso, Bishop of
Agen, and one of Julius's executors, found it neces-
sary to hearten him with frequent letters of encour-
agement. In one of these, after commending his
zeal in extracting marbles and carrying on the monu-
ment, the Cardinal proceeds : * "Be then of good
1 Lettere, No. ccclxxxiii. I will place a translation of it in the
Appendix.
* Arch. Buon., Cod. vii. No. 136. The letter ia dated October 24,
1 5 18. ''State de bono animo el non prenderti passioDe alcnna che piii
crediamo a una minima vostra parola che a tutto el resto ne dicesse el
contrario. Oognoscemo la fede vostra et tanto li credemo devotissimo a
noi proprii, et se bisognerii cosa alcana de quanto noi possemo volemo
com altre volte ve havemo ditto nc piagliati ogni ampla siguret^ perch6
378 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
courage, and do not yield to any perturbations of the
spirit, for we put more faith in your smallest word
than if all the world should say the contrary. We
know your loyalty, and believe you to be wholly
devoted to our person ; and if there shall be need of
aught which we can supply, we are willing, as we
have told you on other occasions, to do so ; rest then
in all security of mind, because we love you from
the heart, and desire to do all that may be agreeable
to you.'* This good friend was dead at the time we
have now reached, and the violent Duke Francesco
Maria della Rovere acted as the principal heir of
Pope Julius.^
In a passion of disgust he refused to draw his
pension, and abandoned the house at S. Lorenzo.
This must have happened in March 1524, for his
friend Leonardo writes to him from Bome upon the
24th : ' *'I am also told that you have declined
your pension, which seems to me mere madness,
and that you have thrown the house up, and do not
work. Friend and gossip, let me tell you that
you have plenty of enemies, who speak their
ye amamo ex oorde et desideramo farvi ogni piacere.^ I doubt whether
I have got the words right of thia passage. The two following letters,
Nos. 136 and 137, dated December 29, 15 18, and May 19, 15 19 (IX are
to the same effect^ breathing a spirit of thorough confidence and warm
attachment
^ The Cardinal Aginensis died in the autumn of X52a Sebastiano
del Piombo, writing to Michelangelo, says that poison was suspected.
^ A dirti el vero si bisbiglia che '1 cardinale h stato avvelenato." Le$
Corregpondants, p. 2a
* Qotti, L 157.
DISGUST AND DESPERATION. 379
worst; also that the Pope and Pucci and Jacopo
Salviati are your friends, and have plighted their
troth to you. It is unworthy of you to break your
word to them, especially in an affair of honour.
Leave the matter of the tomb to those who wish
you well, and who are able to set you free without
the least encumbrance, and take care you do not
come short in the Pope's work. Die first. And
take the pension, for they give it with a willing
heart." How long he remained in contumacy is
not quite certain ; apparently until the 29th of
August. We have a letter written on that day to
Giovanni Spina :^ "After I left you yesterday, I
went back thinking over my affairs ; and, seeing
that the Pope has set his heart on S. Lorenzo, and
how he urgently requires my service, and has ap-
pointed me a good provision in order that I may
serve him with more convenience and speed ; seeing
also that not to accept it keeps me back, and that I
have no good excuse for not serving his Holiness ;
I have changed my mind, and whereas I hitherto
refused, I now demand it (i.e., the salary), consider-
ing this far wiser, and for more reasons than I care
to write ; and, more especially, I mean to return to
the house you took for me at S. Lorenzo, and settle
down there like an honest man : inasmuch as it sets
gossip going, and does me great damage not to go
^ Lettere, No. cccxcL There is, however, a letter (No. ccczc.) which
Milanesi dates Angust 8, 1524. In it Michelangelo writes to Spina for
money for the library, and signs ** at S. Lorenzo."
38o LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
back there/' From a Ricordo dated October 19,
15249 we learn in fact that he then drew his full
pay for eight months/
IV.
Since Michelangelo was now engaged upon the
Medicean tombs at S. Lorenzo, it will be well to give
some account of the several plans he made before
deciding on the final scheme, which he partially
executed. We may assume, I think, that the sac-
risty, as regards its general form and dimensions,
faithfully represents the first plan approved by
Clement. This follows from the rapidity and regu-
larity with which the structure was completed.
But then came the question of filling it with sarco-
phagi and statues. As early as November 28, 1520,
Giulio de' Medici, at that time Cardinal, wrote from
the Villa Magliana to Buonarroti, addressing him
thus: *' Spectahilis vivy amice noster charissime"^
He says that he is pleased with the design for the
chapel, and with the notion of placing the four
tombs in the middle. Then he proceeds to make
some sensible remarks upon the difficulty of getting
these huge masses of statuary into the space pro-
vided for them. Michelangelo, as Heath Wilson
has pointed out, very slowly acquired the sense of
Lettere, p. 596. See too p. 44a ' Gk>tti, i 150.
..:<
S'0«
ARCBtTECTURAL Dbawinq, Na I
EARLY PLANS FOR THE SACRISTY. 381
proportion on which technical architecture depends.
His early sketches only show a feeling for mass
and picturesque effect, and a strong inclination to
subordinate the building to sculpture.
It may be questioned who were the four Medici
for whom these tombs were intended. Cambi, in a
passage quoted above, writing at the end of March
1520 (?), says that two were raised for Giuliano,
Duke of Nemours, and Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino,
and that the Cardinal meant one to be for himself.
The fourth he does not speak about. It has been
conjectured that Lorenzo the Magnificent and his
brother Giuliano, fathers respectively of Leo and of
Clement, were to occupy two of the sarcophagi ; and
also, with greater probability, that the two Popes,
Leo and Clement, were associated with the Dukes.
Before 1524 the scheme expanded, and settled
into a more definite shape. The sarcophagi were to
support statue-portraits of the Dukes and Popes,
with Lorenzo the Magnificent and his brother
Giuliano. At their base, upon the ground, were
to repose six rivers, two for each tomb, showing that
each sepulchre would have held two figures. The
rivers were perhaps Amo, Tiber, Metauro, Po, Taro,
and Ticino. This we gather from a letter written
to Michelangelo on the 23rd of May in that year.*
Michelangelo made designs to meet this plan, but
whether the tombs were still detached from the wall
does not appear. Standing inside the sacristy, it
1 Qotti, L 158.
382 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
seems impossible that six statue-portraits and six
river gods on anything like a grand scale could
have been crowded into the space, especially when
we remember that there was to be an altar, with
other objects described as ornaments — " gli altri
omamenti." Probably the Madonna and Child,
with SS. Cosimo and Damiano, now extant in the
chapel, formed an integral part of the successive
schemes.
One thing is certain, that the notion of placing
the tombs in the middle of the sacristy was soon
abandoned. All the marble panelling, pilasters,
niches, and so forth, which at present clothe the
walls and dominate the architectural effect, are
clearly planned for mural monuments. A rude
sketch preserved in the Uffizi throws some light
upon the intermediate stages of the scheme.^ It is
incomplete, and was not finally adopted ; but we
see in it one of the four sides of the chapel, divided
vertically above into three compartments, the middle
being occupied by a Madonna, the two at the sides
filled in with bas-reliefs. At the base, on sarcophagi
or cassoniy recline two nude male figures. The space
between these and the upper compartments seems
to have been reserved for allegorical figures, since,
a colossal naked boy, ludicrously out of scale with
the architecture and the recumbent figures, has been
hastily sketched in. In architectural proportion
and sculpturesque conception this design is very
1 Published in UCEuvre et la Vie^ p. 269.
DRAWINGS FOR THE SACRISTY. 383
poor. It has the merit, however, of indicating a
moment in the evolution of the project when the
mural scheme had been adopted. The decorative
details which surmount the composition confirm the
feeling every one must have, that, in their present
state, the architecture of the Medicean monuments
remains imperfect
In this process of endeavouring to trace the
development of Michelangelo's ideas for the sacristy,
seven original drawings at the British Museum are
of the greatest importance,^ They may be divided
into three groups. One sketch seems to belong to
the period when the tombs were meant to be placed
in the centre of the chapel. It shows a single facet
of the monument, with two sarcophagi placed side
by side and seated figures at the angles. Five are
variations upon the mural scheme, which was even-
tually adopted. They difier considerably in details,
proving what trouble the designer took to combine
a large number of figures in a single plan. He
clearly intended at some time to range the Medicean
statues in pairs, and studied several types of curve
for their sepulchral urns. The feature common to
all of them is a niche, of door or window shape,
with a powerfully indented architrave. Reminis-
cences of the design for the tomb of Julius are not
infrequent ; and it may be remarked, as throwing a
^ Fonr are in cbalk, two in pen and ink. The Beventh, which shows
a different conception, but maj be assigned with probability to the
same series, is in chalk, worked over with the pen.
384 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
side-light upon that irrecoverable project of his earlier
manhood, that the figures posed upon the yarious
spaces of architecture diflfer in their scale. Two
belonging to this series are of especial interest, since
we learn from them how he thought of introducing
the rivers at the basement of the composition. It
seems that he hesitated long about the employment
of circular spaces in the framework of the marble
panelling. These were finally rejected. One of the
finest and most comprehensive of the drawings I am
now describing contains a rough draft of a curved sar-
cophagus, with an allegorical figure reclining upon
it, indicating the first conception of the Dawn.
Another, blurred and indistinct, with clumsy archi-
tectural environment, exhibits two of these allegories,
arranged much as we now see them at S. Lorenzo.
A river-god, recumbent beneath the feet of a female
statue, .carries the eye down to the ground, and
enables us to comprehend how these subordinate
figures were wrought into the complex harmony of
flowing lines he had imagined. The seventh study
differs in conception from the rest ; it stands alone.
There are four handlings of what begins like a huge
portal, and is gradually elaborated into an archi-
tectural scheme containing three great niches for
statuary. It is powerful and simple in design,
governed by semicircular arches-a feature which
is absent from the rest.
All these drawings are indubitably by the hand
of Michelangelo, and must be reckoned among his
11',:.
/T/ff
ARCHiTEcnriiAL Drawino, No. 2
^ii
\J^
"^
l#^'
Arcbitzctc&u. Dbawiho, No. B.
^'^^ „■,-■' ^n'^-
I
PROGRESS OF THE SACRISTY. 385
first free efforts to construct a working plan. The
Albertina Collection at Vienna yields us an elaborate
design for the sacristy, which appears to have been
worked up from some of the rougher sketches. It
is executed in pen, shaded with bistre, and belongs
to what I have ventured to describe as office work.*
It may have been prepared for the inspection of Leo
and the Cardinal. Here we have the sarcophagi in
pairs, recumbent figures stretched upon a shallow
curve inverted, colossal orders of a bastard Ionic
type, a great central niche framing a seated Madonna,
two male figures in side niches, suggestive of Giuli-
ano and Lorenzo as they were at last conceived, four
allegorical statues, and, to crown the whole structure,
candelabra of a peculiar shape, with a central round,
supported by two naked genii. It is difficult, as I
have before observed, to be sure how much of the
drawings executed in this way can be ascribed with
safety to Michelangelo himself. They are carefully
outlined, with the precision of a working architect ;
but the sculptural details bear the aspect of what
may be termed a generic Florentine style of draughts-
manship.
Two important letters from Michelangelo to Fat-
tucci, written in October 1525 and April 1526, show
that he had then abandoned the original scheme,
and adopted one which was all but carried into
effect.^ '' I am working as hard as I can, and in
fifteen days I shall begin the other captain. After-
^ See above, Chapter VI. Section 11. ^ Lettere, NO0. o<L and cdii
VOL. I.
2 B
386 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
wards the only important things left will be the four
rivers. The four statues on the sarcophagi, the four
figures on the ground which are the rivers, the two
captains, and Our Lady, who is to be placed upon
the tomb at the head of the chapel ; these are what
I mean to do with my own hand. Of these I have
begun six ; and I have good hope of finishing them
in due time, and carrying the others forward in part,
which do not signify so much." The six he had
begun are clearly the Dukes and their attendant
figures of Day, Night, Dawn, Evening. The Ma-
donna, one of his noblest works, came within a
short distance of completion. SS. Cosimo and
Damiano passed into the hands of Montelupo and
Montorsoli. Of the four rivers we have only frag-
ments in the shape of some exquisite little models.
Where they could have been conveniently placed is
difficult to imagine ; possibly they were abandoned
from a feeling that the chapel would be overcrowded
V.
According to the plan adopted in this book, 1
shall postpone such observations as I have to make
upon the Medicean monuments until the date when
Michelangelo laid down his chisel, and shall now
proceed with the events of his life during the y^ears
1525 and 1526.
t
t
LAWSUIT WITH DUKE OF URBINO. 387
He continued to be greatly troubled about the
tomb of Julius II. The lawsuit instituted by the
Duke of Urbino hung over his head; and though
he felt sure of the Pope's powerful support, it was
extremely important, both for his character and com-
fort, that affairs should be placed upon a satisfactory
basis. Fattucci in Rome acted not only as Clement's
agent in business connected with S. Lorenzo ; he
also was intrusted with negotiations for the settle-
ment of the Duke's claims. The correspondence
which passed between them forms, therefore, our
best source of information for this period. On
Christmas Eve in 1524 Michelangelo writes from
Florence to his friend, begging him not to postpone
a journey he had in view, if the only business which
detained him was the trouble about the tomb.^ A
pleasant air of manly affection breathes through this
document, showing Michelangelo to have been un-
selfish in a matter which weighed heavily and daily
on his spirits. How greatly he was affected can be
inferred from a letter written to Giovanni Spina on
the 19th of April 1525. While reading this, it must
be remembered that the Duke laid his action for the
recovery of a considerable balance, which he alleged
to be due to him upon disbursements made for the
monument. Michelangelo, on the contrary, asserted
that he was out of pocket, as we gather from the
lengthy report he forwarded in 1524 to Fattucci.^
^ Lettere, No. ccczciiL
' Lettere, No. ccclzzxiii See Appendix.
388 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
The difficulty in the accounts seems to hav^e arisen
from the fact that payments for the Sistine Chapel
and the tomb had been mixed up. The letter to Spina
runs as follows : ^ ^* There is no reason for sending a
power of attorney about the tomb of Pope Julius,
because I do not want to plead. They cannot bring
a suit if I admit that I am in the wrong ; so I assume
that I have sued and lost, and have to pay ; and this
I am disposed to do, if I am able. Therefore, if the
Pope will help me in the matter — and this would be
the greatest satisfaction to me, seeing I am too old
and ill to finish the work — he might, as intermediary,
express his pleasure that I should repay what I have
received for its performance, so as to release me £rom
this burden, and to enable the relatives of Pope Julius
to carry out the undertaking by any master whom they
may choose to employ. In this way his Holiness could
be of very great assistance to me. Of course I desire
to reimburse as little as possible, always consistently
with justice. His Holiness might employ some of
my arguments, as, for instance, the time spent for
the Pope at Bologna, and other times wasted with-
out any compensation, according to the statements I
have made in full to Ser Giovan Francesco (Fattucci).
Directly the terms of restitution have been settled,
I will engage my property, sell, and put myself in a
position to repay the money. I shall then be able to
think of the Pope's orders and to work ; as it is, I
can hardly be said to live, far less to work. There
^ Lettere, No. ccczciv.
CLEMENT NEGOTIATES. 389
is no other way of putting an end to the affair more
safe for myself, nor more agreeable, nor more certain
to ease my mind. It can be done amicably without
a lawsuit. I pray to God that the Pope may be
willing to accept the mediation, for I cannot see that
any one else is fit to do it."
Giorgio Vasari says that he came in the year
1525 for a short time as pupil to Michelangelo.^
In his own biography he gives the date, more cor-
rectly, 1524. At any rate, the period of Vasari's
brief apprenticeship was closed by a journey which
the master made to Bome, and Buonarroti placed
the lad in Andrea del Sarto's workshop. " He left
for Bome in haste. Francesco Maria, Duke of Ur-
bino, was again molesting him, asserting that he
had received 16,000 ducats to complete the tomb,
while he stayed idling at Florence for his own amuse-
ment. He threatened that, if he did not attend to
the work, he would make him suffer. So, when he
arrived there, Pope Clement, who wanted to com-
mand his services, advised him to reckon with the
Duke's agents, believing that, for what he had already
done, he was rather creditor than debtor. The matter
remained thus." We do not know when this journey
to Bome took place. From a hint in the letter of
December 24, 1524, to Fattucci, where Michelangelo
observes that only he in person would be able to
arrange matters, it is possible that we may refer it
to the beginning of 1525. Probably he was able
^ Vasari, xii. p. 204. See note 2,
390 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
to convince, not only the Pope, but also the Duke's
agents that he had acted with scrupulous honesty,
and that his neglect of the tomb was due to circum-
stances over which he had no control, and which he
regretted as acutely as anybody. There is no shadow
of doubt that this was really the case. Every word
written by Michelangelo upon the subject shows
that he was heart-broken at having to abandon the
long-cherished project.
Some sort of arrangement must have been arrived
at. Clement took the matter into his own hands,
and during the summer of 1525 amicable negotia-
tions were in progress. On the 4th of September
Michelangelo writes again to Fattucci, saying that he
is quite willing to complete the tomb upon the same
plan as that of the Pope Pius (now in the Church
of S. Andrea della Valle) — that is, to adopt a mural
system instead of the vast detached moniunent/
This would take less time. He again urges his
friend not to stay at Rome for the sake of these
affairs. He hears that the plague is breaking out
there. " And I would rather have you alive than
my business settled. If I die before the Pope, I
shall not have to settle any troublesome affairs. If
I live, I am sure the Pope will settle them, if not
now, at some other time. So come back. I was
with your inother yesterday, and advised her, in the
presence of Granacci and John the turner, to send
for you home."
^ Lettere, No. cccxoviii.
WORK ON THE MEDICEAN TOMBS. 391
While in Rome Michelangelo conferred with
Clement about the sacristy and library at S. Lorenzo.
For a year after his return to Florence he worked
steadily at the Medicean monuments, but not with-
out severe annoyances, as appears from the follow-
ing to Fattucci : ^ " The four statues I have in
hand are not yet finished, and much has still to
be done upon them. The four rivers are not begun,
because the marble is wanting, and yet it is here.
I do not think it opportune to tell you why. With
regard to the affairs of Julius, I am well disposed to
make the tomb like that of Pius in S. Peter's, and
will do so little by little, now one piece and now
another, and will pay for it out of my own pocket,
if I keep my pension and my house, as you promised
me. I mean, of course, the house at Rome, and the
marbles and other things I have there.* So that,
in fine, I should not have to restore to the heirs of
Julius, in order to be quit of the contract, anything
which I have hitherto received; the tomb itself,
completed after the pattern of that of Pius, sufficing
for my fuU discharge. Moreover, I undertake to
perform the work within a reasonable time, and to
finish the statues with my own hand.'' He then
turns to his present troubles at Florence. The
pension was in arrears, and busybodies annoyed
him with interferences of all sorts. " If my pension
were paid, as was arranged, I would never stop
^ Lettere, Ko. cd., date October 24, 1525.
' Near the Forum of Trajan. See above ^cyC-
#^tl^-^^^>-
392 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
working for Pope Clement with all the stren^h I
have, small though that be, since I am old. At the
same time I must not be slighted and afironted as
I am now, for such treatment weighs greatly on my
spirits. The petty spites I speak of have prevented me
from doing what I want to do these many months ;
one cannot work at one thing with the hands, an-
other with the brain, especially in marble. 'Tis
said here that these annoyances are meant to spur
me on ; but I maintain that those are scurvy spurs
which make a good steed jib. I have not touched
my pension during the past year, and struggle with
poverty. I am left in solitude to bear my troubles,
and have so many that they occupy me more than
does my art; I cannot keep a man to manage my
house through lack of means."
Michelangelo's dejection caused serious anxiety
to his friends. Jacopo Salviati, writing on the 30th
October from Bome, endeavoured to restore his
courage.* "I am greatly distressed to hear of
the fancies you have got into your head. What
hurts me most is that they should * prevent your
working, for that rejoices your ill-wishers, and
confirms them in what they have always gone on
preaching about your habits.*' He proceeds to tell
him how absurd it is to suppose that Baccio Ban-
dinelli is preferred before him. ** I cannot perceive
how Baccio could in any way whatever be compared
to you, or his work be set on the same level as your
1 Qotti, i. 173.
DISCOURAGEMENT AND LETHARGY. 393
own." The letter winds up with exhortations to
work. ** Brush these cobwebs of melancholy away ;
have confidence in his Holiness ; do not give occasion
to your enemies to blaspheme, and be sure that your
pension will be paid; I pledge my word for it."
Buonarroti, it is clear, wasted his time, not through
indolence, but through allowing the gloom of a
suspicious and downcast temperament — what the
Italians call accidia — to settle on his spirits.
Skipping a year, we find that these troublesome
negotiations about the tomb were still pending. He
still hung suspended between the devil and the deep
sea, the importunate Duke of Urbino and the vacil-
lating Pope. Spina, it seems, had been writing with
too much heat to Eome, probably urging Clement to
bring the difficulties about the tomb to a conclusion.
Michelangelo takes the correspondence up again
with Fattucci on November 6, 1526.^ What he
says at the beginning of the letter is significant.
He knows that the political difficulties in which
Clement had become involved were sufficient to dis-
tract his mind, as Julius once said, from any interest
in " stones small or big." Well, the letter starts
thus : "I know that Spina wrote in these days past
to Rome very hotly about my affairs with regard to
the tomb of Julius. If he blundered, seeing the
times in which we live, I am to blame, for I prayed
him urgently to write. It is possible that the trouble
of my soul made me say more than I ought. Infor-
^ Letters, No. cdiii.
394 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
mation reached me lately about that affair T>Fhich
alarmed me greatly. It seems that the relatives of
Julius are very ill-disposed towards me. And not
without reason.^ — The suit is going on, and they are
demanding capital and interest to such an amount
that a hundred of my sort could not meet the claims.
This has thrown me into terrible agitation, and
makes me reflect where I should be if the Pope
failed me. I could not live a moment It is that
which made me send the letter, alluded to above.
Now, I do not want anything but what the Pope
thinks right. I know that he does not desire my
ruin and my disgrace."
He proceeds to notice that the building work at
S. Lorenzo is being carried forward very slowly, and
money spent upon it with increasing parsimony.
Still he has his pension and his house ; and these
imply no small disbursements. He cannot make out
what the Pope's real wishes are. If he did but know
Clement's mind, he would sacrifice everything to
please him. ** Only if I could obtain permission to
begin something, either here or in Rome, for the
tomb of Julius, I should be extremely glad ; for,
indeed, I desire to free myself from that obligation
more than to live." The letter closes on a note of
sadness : " If I am unable to write what you will
understand, do not be surprised, for I have lost my
wits entirely."
* I tliink he means that his fright is not unreasonable. Or the '*not
without reason ^ may be ironical
POLITICAL EVENTS. 395
After this we hear nothing more about the tomb
in Michelangelo's correspondence till the year 1531.
During the intervening years Italy was convulsed
by the sack of Rome, the siege of Florence, and
the French campaigns in Lombardy and Naples.
Matters only began to mend when Charles V. met
Clement at Bologna in 1530, and established the
affairs of the peninsula upon a basis which proved
durable. That fatal lustre (i 526-1 530) divided the
Italy of the Renaissance from the Italy of modem
times with the abruptness of an Alpine watershed.
Yet Michelangelo, aged fifty-one in 1526, was des-
tined to live on another thirty-eight years, and, after
the death of Clement, to witness the election of five
successive Popes. The span of his life was not
only extraordinary in its length, but also in the
events it comprehended. Bom in the mediseval
pontificate of Sixtus IV., brought up in the golden
days of Lorenzo de Medici, he survived the Franco-
Spanish struggle for supremacy, watched the pro-
gress of the Reformation, and only died when a
new Church and a new Papacy had been established
by the Tridentine Council amid states sinking into
the repose of decrepitude.
396 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
VL
We must return from this digression, and resume
the events of Michelangelo's life in 1525.
The first letter to Sebastiano del Piombo is re-
ferred to April of that year.^ He says that a pic-
ture, probably the portrait of Anton Francesco degli
Albizzi, is eagerly expected at Florence. When it
arrived in May, he wrote again under the influence
of generous admiration for his friend's performance : «
"Last evening our friend the Captain Cuio and
certain other gentlemen were so kind as to invite
me to sup with them. This gave me exceeding
great pleasure, since it drew me forth a little from
my melancholy, or shall we call it my mad mood.
Not only did 1 enjoy the supper, which was most
agreeable, but far more the conversation. Among
the topics discussed, what gave me most delight was
to hear your name mentioned by the Captain ; nor
was this all, for he still added to my pleasure, nay,
to a superlative degree, by saying that, in the art of
painting he held you to be sole and without peer in
the whole world, and that so you were esteemed at
Rome. I could not have been better pleased. You
see that my judgment is confirmed; and so you must
not deny that you are peerless, when I write it, since I
have a crowd of witnesses to my opinion. Thero is
1 Lettere, No. cccxcvi.
' Letteie, No. cccxcyii Cuio Dini died in the sack of Borne.
LIBRARY OF S. LORENZO. 397
a picture too of yours here, God be praised, which
wins credence for me with every one who has eyes."
Correspondence was carried on during this year
regarding the library at S. Lorenzo ; and though I
do not mean to treat at length about that building
in this chapter, I cannot omit an autograph post-
script added by Clement to one of his secretary's
missives : * " Thou knowest that Popes have no long
lives ; and we cannot yearn more than we do to behold
the chapel with the tombs of our kinsmen, or at
any rate to hear that it is finished. Likewise, as
regards the library. Wherefore we recommend both
to thy diligence. Meantime we will betake us (as
thou saidst erewhile) to a wholesome patience,
praying God that He may put it into thy heart to
push the whole forward together. Fear not that
either work to do or rewards shall fail thee while
we live. Farewell, with the blessing of God and
ours. — ^Julius."
Michelangelo began the library in 1526, as appears
from his Ricordi. Still the work went on slowly,
not through his negligence, but, as we have seen,
from the Pope's preoccupation with graver matters.
He had a great many workmen in his service at
this period,^ and employed celebrated masters in
their crafts, as Tasso and Carota for wood-carving,
Battista del Cinque and Ciapino for carpentry, upon
the various fittings of the library. All these details
^ Gotti, i 166. The Pope signs with his haptismal name.
' See a list of stone-hewers in Aicordo, August 31, 1524, p. 5S4.
398 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
he is said to have designed ; and it is certain that hie
was considered responsible for their solidity and hand-
some appearance. Sebastiano, for instance^ wrote
to him about the benches : ^ " Our Lord wishes that
the whole work should be of carved walnut. He
does not mind spending three florins more ; for that
is a trifle, if they are Cosimesque in style, I mean
resemble the work done for the magnificent Cosimo."
Michelangelo could not have been the solitary worker
of legend and tradition. The nature of his present
occupations rendered this impossible. For the com-
pletion of his architectural works he needed a band
of able coadjutors. Thus in 1526 Giovanni da
Udine came from Rome to decorate the vault of the
sacristy with frescoed arabesques.' His work was
^ Lea Corretpondaats, p. 104.
^ This painter was one of Raffitello^s pnpils who enjoyed Michel-
angelo's intimacj. There is a letter addresBed by Giovanni to him as early
as the year 1 522, " I/otava di Pasqua di RiBurecione/' Arch. Buon., Cod.
ix. No. 729. The supposition that he came to Florence in 1 526 is founded
on a letter by Fattucci in that year (Gk>tti, i. 170) ; but I believe, from
one of his own letters which I shall proceed to quote, that he did
not begin to paint until 1531. We find him writing on the 25th of
December 1531 to Michelangelo (ibid., No. 730) saying that the Pope
wants him to execute the stv4xihi of his "Cappella hover Tribuna."
He adds, what is interesting, that all his workpeople have perished in
the sack of Rome, and that he is obliged to educate a new set : '^ in
queste frangenti di Roma, e bisogna fame de novi." Then he begs
Buonarroti to send him particulars regarding the shape and dimensions
of the chapel, which shows that when Clement thought of sending him
in 1526, he had been prevented by the troubles of the limes. He
worked entirely under Michelangelo's orders, and designed the beauti-
ful windows for the library. An inedited letter from Giovan Francesco
Bin! in Rome to Michelangelo in Florence, dated August 3, 1533
(Arch. Buou., Cod. vi. No. 92), indicate:) that he was still at work. Bini
FRESH WORK AT S. LORENZO. 399
nearly terminated in 1533, when some question
arose about painting the inside of the lantern.
Sebastiano, apparently in good faith, made the
following burlesque suggestion:^ "For myself, I
think that the Ganymede would go there very well ;
one could put an aureole about him, and turn him
into a S. John of the Apocalypse when he is being
caught up into the heavens." The whole of one
side of the Italian Renaissance, its so-called neo-
paganism, is contained in this remark.
While still occupied with thoughts about S.
Lorenzo, Clement ordered Michelangelo to make a
receptacle for the precious vessels and reliques
collected by Lorenzo the Magnificent It was first
intended to place this chest, in the form of a
ciborium, above the high altar, and to sustain it on
four columns. Eventually, the Pope resolved that
it should be a sacrarium, or cabinet for holy things,
and that this should stand above the middle entrance
door to the church. The chest was finished, and
its contents remained there until the reign of the
Grand-Duke Pietro Leopoldo, when they were re-
moved to the chapel next the old sacristy.
Another very singular idea occurred to his Holiness
in the autumn of 1525. He made Fattucci write
Rays the Pope ia willing to give Giovanni leave of absence, but that he
must return: ''che M. Giov. da Udine vadia ore deddera sua S^
h contenta ma che tomi," &c Michelangelo left Florence himself in
the autumn of that year.
^ Lei CorrespundantSf p. 104. Sebastiano probably alludes to some
design for a Ganymede made by Michelangelo.
400 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
that he wished to erect a colossal statue on the
piazza of S. Lorenzo, opposite the Stufa Palace. The
giant was to surmount the roof of the Medicean
Palace, with its face turned in that direction and
its back to the house of Luigi della Stufa. Being
so huge, it would have to be composed of sepa-
rate pieces fitted together.* Michelangelo speedily
knocked this absurd plan on the head in a letter
which gives a good conception of his dry and some-
what ponderous humour.'
** About the Colossus of forty cubits, which yon tell
me is to go or to be placed at the comer of the
loggia in the Medicean garden, opposite the comer
of Messer Luigi della Stufa, I have meditated not a
little, as you bade me. In my opinion that is not
the proper place for it, since it would take up too
much room on the roadway. I should prefer to put
it at the other, where the barber s shop is. Thiis
would be far better in my judgment, since it has the
square in front, and would not encumber the street.
There might be some diflSculty about pulling down
the shop, because of the rent. So it has occurred
to me that the statue might be carved in a sitting
position ; the Colossus would be so lofty that if we
made it hollow inside, as indeed is the proper
method for a thing which has to be put together
from pieces, the shop might be enclosed within it,
and the rent be saved. And inasmuch as the shop has
a chimney in its present state, I thought of placing
^ Qotti, i. i68. ' Lettere, No. cccxcix.
PROJECT FOR A COLOSSUS. 401
a cornucopia in the statue's hand, hollowed out for
the smoke to pass through. The head too would
be hollow, like all the other members of the figure.
This might be turned to a useful purpose, according
to the suggestion made me by a huckster on the
square, who is my good friend. He privily confided
to me that it would make an excellent dovecote.
Then another fancy came into my head, which is
still better, though the statue would have to be
considerably heightened. That, however, is quite
feasible, since towers are built up of blocks; and
then the head might serve as bell-tower to San
Lorenzo, which is much in need of one. Setting up
the bells inside, and the sound booming through the
mouth, it would seem as though the Colossus were
crying mercy, and mostly upon feast-days, when
peals are rung most often and with bigger bells."
Nothing more is heard of this fantastic project;
whence we may conclude that the irony of Michel-
angelo's epistle drove it out of the Pope's head.
VOL. I 2 c
CHAPTER IX.
I. Michelaugelo was at Florence during the sack of Rome. — ^Bf eagre
documents relating to 1528. — Death of Buonarroto. — Cellini and
Michelangelo. — Yalerio Belli. — 2. Florence expecta a aiege and
prepares to arm. — Michelangelo elected a member of the No^e
della Milizia in April 1529. — He begins to fortify S. Miniate. —
Inspects the fortress of Pisa. — Difficulties with the Gonfalonier
Capponi. — Sent to Ferrara in July. — 3. He was certainly in
Florence after the middle of September. — Sudden flight to Venice
at the end of this month. — Letter to Giovanni Battista della
Palla. — Various notices regarding the reason of this flight.— Ques-
tion whether he had already been in Venice during the summer
of this year. — The Ricordo, September 10.— 4. Residence on the
Giudecca in Venice. — A sentence of outlawry issued against him
at Florence. — The Signory grant him a safe-conduct home, if he
will return. — Palla'a letters. — Michelangelo in Florence again at
the end of November 1529. — Progress of the siege. — Malatesta
Baglioni betrays the city. — Capitulation, August 1530. — 5. Baccio
Valori and the return of the Medici. — Persecution of the Floren-
tine patriots. — Michelangelo goes into hiding, but is pardoned by
Clement, and set to work again at S. Lorenzo. — The Cacus and
Hercules. — The tempera picture of a Leda, and its history. —
Michelangelo's attitude toward subjects for art- work. — The Apollo
begun for Baccio ValorL — 6. Lodovico at Pisa during the siege. —
Young Lionardo Buonarroti. — Michelangelo works steadily at the
Medicean monuments. — Invitations to Rome. — Negotiations about
the tomb of Julius. — Michelangelo's health suffers from overwork
and worry. — Clement issues a brief enjoining him to spare his
strength. — Sebastiano's efforts with the Pope and Duke of Urbino
end ill a new contract for the tomb, April 29, 1532. — ^Further
troubles connected with this contract. — Condivi's general history
of the affair. — 7. Michelangelo iu disfavour with Duke Alessaudro
de' Medici. — His attitude toward the reigning family. — Clement,
on his way to France, meets him at S. Miniato al Tedeacow —
40a
THE SACK OF ROME. 403
LodoTico Buonarroti dies about this time. — Michelangelo leavee
Florence in the late autumn of 1534. — His poem on Lodoyico'B
death.
«
I.
It lies outside the scope of this work to describe
the series of events which led up to the sack of
Kome in 1527. Clement, by his tortuous policy,
and by the avarice of his administration, had alien-
ated every friend and exasperated all his foes. The
Eternal City was in a state of chronic discontent
and anarchy. The Colonna princes drove the Pope
to take refuge in the Castle of S. Angelo ; and when
the Lutheran rabble raised by Frundsberg poured
into Lombardy, the Duke of Ferrara assisted them
to cross the Po, and the Duke of Urbino made no
effort to bar the passes of the Apennines. Losing
one leader after the other, these ruffians, calling
themselves an Imperial army, but being in reality
the scum and offscourings of all nations, without
any aim but plunder and ignorant of policy, reached
Rome upon the 6th of May. They took the city by
assault, and for nine months Clement, leaning from
the battlements of Hadrian's Mausoleum, watched
smoke ascend from desolated palaces and desecrated
temples, heard the wailing of women and the groans
of tortured men, mingling with the ribald jests
of German drunkards and the curses of Castilian
bandits. Roaming those galleries and gazing from
those windows, he is said to have exclaimed in the
404 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
words of Job : " Why died I not from the womb ?
why did I not give up the ghost when I came out
of the beUy ? "
The immediate effect of this disaster was that
the Medici lost their hold on Florence. The Car-
dinal of Cortona, with the young princes Ippolito
and Alessandro de* Medici, fled from the city on the
1 7th of May, and a popular government was set up
under the presidency of Niccolb Capponi.
During this year and the next, Michelangelo wa^
at Florence; but we know very little respecting
the incidents of his life. A Ricordo bearing the
date April 29 shows the disturbed state of the
town.* "I record how, some days ago, Piero di
Filippo Gondi asked for permission to enter the
new sacristy at S. Lorenzo, in order to hide there
certain goods belonging to his family, by reason of
the perils in which we are now. To-day, upon the
29th of April 1527, he has begun to carry in some
bundles, which he says are linen of his sisters ; and
I, not wishing to witness what he does or to know
where he hides the gear away, hare given him the
key of the sacristy this evening."
There are only two letters belonging to the year
1527. Both refer to a small office which had been
awarded to Michelangelo with the right to dispose
of the patronage. He offered it to his favourite
brother, Buonarroto, who does not seem to have
thought it worth accepting.*
* Lettere, p. 59S. ' Lettere, Noa. cxxil, cxxiii., Angust
DEATH OF BUONARROTO. 405
The documents for 1528 are almost as meagre.
We do not possess a single letter, and the most
important Ricordi relate to Buonarroto's death and
the administration of his property. He died of the
plague upon the 2nd of July, to the very sincere
sorrow of his brother. It is said that Michelangelo
held him in his arms while he was dying, with-
out counting the risk to his own life.^ Among the
minutes of disbursements made for Buonarroto's
widow and children after his burial, we find that
their clothes had been destroyed because of the
infection. All the cares of the family now fell on
Michelangelo's shoulders. He placed his niece
Francesca in a convent till the time that she should
marry, repaid her dowry to the widow Bartolom-
mea, and provided for the expenses of his nephew
Lionardo.*
For the rest, there is little to relate which has
any bearing on the way in which he passed his time
before the siege of Florence began. One glimpse,
however, is afibrded of his daily life and conver-
sation by Benvenuto Cellini, who had settled in
Florence after the sack of Rome, and was working
in a shop he opened at the Mercato Nuovo.' The
episode is sufficiently interesting to be quoted. A
Sienese gentleman had commissioned Cellini to
make him a golden medal, to be worn in the hat.
^ The Senator Filippo Buonarroti, quoted by Gbtti, i. 207.
' Bicordi for 1528, in Lettere, pp. 599-601.
< Memorie, lib. L cap. 41.
4o6 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
"The subject was to be Hercules wrenching the
lion's mouth. While I was working at this piece,
Michel Agnolo Buonarroti came oftentimes to see
it I had spent infinite pains upon the design, so
that the attitude of the figure and the fierce pas-
sion of the beast were executed in quite a different
style from that of any craftsman who had hitherto
attempted such groups. This, together with the fiw?t
that the special branch of ai't was totally unknown
to Michel Agnolo, made the divine master give such
praises to my work that I felt incredibly inspired
for further efibrt.
" Just then I met with Federigo Ginori, a young
man of very lofty spirit. He had lived some years
in Naples, and being endowed with great charms
of person and presence, had been the lover of a
Neapolitan princess. He wanted to have a medal
made with Atlas bearing the world upon his
shoulders, and applied to Michel Agnolo for a
design. Michel Agnolo made this answer : * Go
and find out a young goldsmith named Benvenuto ;
he will serve you admirably, and certainly he does
not stand in need of sketches by me. However, to
prevent your thinking that I want to save myself
the trouble of so slight a matter, I will gladly
sketch you something; but meanwhile speak to
Benvenuto, and let him also make a model; he
can then execute the better of the two designs.'
Federigo Ginori came to me and told me what he
wanted, adding thereto how Michel Agnolo had
COURTESY TO CELLINI. 407
praised me, and how he had suggested I should
make a waxen model while he undertook to supply
a sketch. The words of that great man so heartened
me, that I set myself to work at once with eager-
ness upon the model ; and when I had finished it,
a painter who was intimate with Michel Agnolo,
called Giuliano Bugiardini, brought me the drawing
of Atlas. On the same occasion I showed Giuliano
my little model in wax, which was very different
from Michel Agnolo's drawing; and Federigo, in
concert with Bugiardini, agreed that I should work
upon my model. So I took it in hand, and when
Michel Agnolo saw it, he praised me to the skies."
The courtesy shown by Michelangelo on this occa-
sion to Cellini may be illustrated by an inedited
letter addressed to him from Vicenza.^ The writer
was Valerio Belli, who describes himself as a cor-
nelian-cutter. He reminds the sculptor of a promise
once made to him in Florence of a design for an
engraved gem. A remarkably fine stone has just
come into his hands, and he should much like to
begin to work upon it. These proofs of Buonarroti's
liberality to brother artists are not unimportant,
since he was unjustly accused during his lifetime of
stinginess and churlishness.
^ Date April 21, 152 1. "Valerio Belli che taglia le Corniole." Arch.
BuoD., Cod. vi. No. 52.
4o8 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
II.
At the end of the year 1528 it became clear to
the Florentines that they would have to reckon with
Clement VII. As early as August 18, 1527, France
and England leagued together, and brought pressure
upon Charles V., in whose name Rome had been
sacked. Negotiations were proceeding, which eventu-
ally ended in the peace of Barcelona (June 20, 1529),
whereby the Emperor engaged to sacrifice the Re-
public to the Pope's vengeance. It was expected
that the remnant of the Prince of Orange's army
would be marched up to besiege the town. Under
the anxiety caused by these events, the citizens raised
a strong body of militia, enlisted Malatesta Baglioni
and Stefano Colonna as generals, and began to take
measures for strengthening the defences. What
may be called the War Office of the Florentine Re-
public bore the title of Dieci della Guerra, or the
Ten. It was their duty to watch over and provide
for all the interests of the commonwealth in military
matters, and now at this juncture serious measures
had to be taken for putting the city in a state of
defence. Already in the year 1527, after the expul-
sion of the Medici, a subordinate board had been
created, to whom very considerable executive and
administrative faculties were delegated.^ This board,
^ The Republic, in fact, adopted Macliiavelli's Bcheme for a national
militia, as set forth in his treatise on the Art of War.
FORTIFICATION OF FLORENCE. 409
called the Nove della Milizia, or the Nine, were em-
powered to enrol all the burghers under arms, and to
take charge of the walls, towers, bastions, and other
fortifications. It was also within their competence
to cause the destruction of buildings, and to com*
pensate the evicted proprietors at a valuation which
they fixed themselves.^ In the spring of 1529 the
War Office decided to gain the services of Michel-
angelo, not only because he was the most eminent
architect of his age in Florence, but also because
the Buonarroti family had always been adherents
of the Medicean party, and the Ten judged that
his appointment to a place on the Nove di Milizia
would be popular with the democracy.^ The patent
conferring this office upon him, together with full
authority over the work of fortification, was issued
on the 6th of April.* Its terms were highly com-
plimentary. ** Considering the genius and practical
attainments of Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti,
our citizen, and knowing how excellent he is in
architecture, beside his other most singular talents
in the liberal arts, by virtue whereof the common
consent of men regards him as unsurpassed by any
masters of our times ; and, moreover, being assured
that in love and affection toward the country he
is the equal of any other good and loyal burgher ;
bearing in mind, too, the labour he has undergone
1 Varchi, Star. Ftor.^ voL i p. 184.
' See documest, quoted by Milanesi, Yaaari, xii 365.
' The original is given in Qotti, vol. ii. p. 62.
4IO LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
and the diligence he has displayed, gratis and of
his free will, in the said work (of fortification) up to
this day; and wishing to employ his industry and
energies to the like eflfect in future ; we, of our
motion and initiative, do appoint him to be governor
and procurator-general over the construction and
fortification of the city walls, as well as every other
sort of defensive operation and munition for the
town of Florence, for one year certain, beginning
with the present date; adding thereto full autho-
rity over all persons in respect to the said work
of reparation or pertaining to it." From this pre-
amble it appears that Michelangelo had been already
engaged in volunteer service connected with the de-
fence of Florence. A stipend of one golden florin
per diem was fixed by the same deed ; and upon the
22nd of April following a payment of thirty florins
was decreed, for one month's salary, dating from the
6th of April.^
If the Government thought to gain popular sym-
pathy by Michelangelo's appointment, they made
the mistake of alienating the aristocracy. It was
the weakness of Florence, at this momentous crisis
in her fate, to be divided into parties, political,
religious, social ; whose internal jealousies deprived
her of the strength which comes alone from unity.
When Giambattista Busini wrote that interesting
series of letters to Benedetto Varchi from which the
latter drew important materials for his annals of the
* Yosari, xii. 365.
CONTROLLER-GENERAL OF THE DEFENCES. 41 1
siege, he noted this fact.^ " Envy must always be
reckoned as of some account in republics, especially
when the nobles form a considerable element, as in
ours : for they were angry, among other matters, to
see a Carducci made Gonfalonier, Michelangelo a
member of the Nine, a Cei or a Giugni elected to
the Ten."
Michelangelo had scarcely been chosen to control
the general scheme for fortifying Florence, when
the Signory began to consider the advisability of
strengthening the citadels of Pisa and Livomo, and
erecting lines along the Amo.^ Their commissary
at Pisa wrote urging the necessity of Buonarroti's
presence on the spot. . In addition to other pressing
needs, the Amo, when in flood, threatened the
ancient fortress of the city. Accordingly we find
that Michelangelo went to Pisa on the 5th of June,
and that he stayed there over the 13th, returning
to Florence perhaps upon the 17th of the month.^
The commissary, who spent several days in con-
ferring with him and in visiting the banks of the
Amo, was perturbed in mind because Michelangelo
refused to exchange the inn where he alighted for
an apartment in the official residence. This is very
characteristic of the artist. We shall soon find
him, at Ferrara, refusing to quit his hostelry for
the Duke's palace, and, at Venice, hiring a remote
^ Lettere del Bnsiiii al Yarchi. Firenze : Le MoDuier, 1861, p. 133.
^ Oonespondence between the Signory and their commissary, 0
Tosinghi, at Pisa, between April 28 and May 6, Gaye, ii. 184-185.
' Documents in Gnye, iL 194 ; Vasari, xii. 367.
412 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
lodging on the Giudecca in order to avoid the hos-
pitality of S. Mark.
An important part of Michelangelo's plan for the
fortification of Florence was to erect bastions cover-
ing the hill of S. Miniato. Any one who stands
upon the ruined tower of the church there will see
at a glance that S. Miniato is the key to the position
for a beleaguering force; and ''if the enemy once
obtained possession of the hill, he would become
immediately master of the town." * It must, I think,
have been at this spot that Buonarroti was work-
ing before he received the appointment of controller-
general of the works. Yet he found some difficulty
in persuading the rulers of the state that his plan was
the right one. Busini, using information supplied
by Michelangelo himself at Rome in 1549, speaks
as follows : * ** Whatever the reason may have been,
Niccol6 Capponi, while he was Gonfalonier, would
not allow the hill of S. Miniato to be fortified, and
Michelangelo, who is a man of absolute veracity,
tells me that he had great trouble in convincing the
other members of the Government, but that he could
never convince Niccolb. However, he began the
work, in the way you know, with those fascines of
tow. But Niccol6 made him abandon it^ and sent
him to another post; and when he was elected to
the Nine, they despatched him twice or thrice out-
side the city. Each time, on his return, he found
^ Condivi, p. 47. Probably the words are Michelangelo's.
* Busini, p. 103.
STRENGTHENING OF S. MINIATO. 413
the hill neglected, whereupon he complained, feel-
ing this a blot upon his reputation and an insult
to his magistracy. Eventually, the works went on,
until, when the besieging army arrived, they were
tenable."
Michelangelo had hitherto acquired no practical
acquaintance with the art of fortification. That the
system of defence by bastions was an Italian in-
vention (although ' Albert Dtirer first reduced it to
written theory in his book of 1527, suggesting im-
provements which led up to Vauban's method) is a
fact acknowledged by military historians. But it does
not appear that Michelangelo did more than carry out
defensive operations in the manner familiar to his
predecessors. Indeed, we shall see that some critics
found reason to blame him for want of science in
the construction of his outworks. When, therefore,
a difference arose between the controller-general of
defences and the Gonfalonier upon this question of
strengthening S. Miniato, it was natural that the
War Office should have thought it prudent to send
their chief officer to the greatest authority upon
fortification then alive in Italy.^ This was the Duke
of Ferrara. Busini must serve as our text in the
first instance upon this point.' " Michelangelo says
that, when neither Niccolb Gapponi nor Baldas-
^ That the Florentine Qovemment was Berioosly anxioiu to get the
Duke's advice appears from a letter of Qiugni to the Ten, August ^
1 529, recommending them to send the Duke a ground-plan of the city
and its environs for his opinion. See Gktye, ii. 200.
* Busini, p. 115.
414 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
sare Carducci would agree to the outworks at S.
Miniato, he convmced all the leading men except
Niccolb of their necessity, showing that Florence
could not hold out a single day without them.
Accordingly he began to throw up bastions with
fascines of tow ; but the result was far from per-
fect, as he himself confessed. Upon this, the Ten
resolved to send him to Ferrara to inspect that
renowned work of defence. Thither accordingly he
went; nevertheless, he believes that Niccolb did
this in order to get him out of the way, and to pre-
vent the construction of the bastion. In proof
thereof he adduces the fact that, upon his return,
he found the whole work interrupted."
Furnished with letters to the Duke, and with
special missives from the Signory and the Ten
to their envoy, Galeotto Giugni, Michelangelo
left Florence for Ferrara after the 28th of July,
and reached it on the 2nd of August^ He re-
fused, as Giugni writes with some regret, to abandon
his inn, but was personally conducted with great
honour by the Duke all round the walls and
fortresses of Ferrara. On what day he quitted that
city, and whither he went immediately after his
departure, is uncertain. The Ten wrote to Giugni
on the 8th of August, saying that his presence was
urgently required at Florence, since the work of
fortification was going on apace, '* a multitude of
men being employed, and no respect being paid to
^ Qaye, ii. i97-2oa
JOURNEY TO FERRARA. 415
feast-days and holidays." It would also seem that,
toward the close of the month, he was expected at
Arezzo, in order to survey and make suggestions on
the defences of the city.^
These points are not insignificant, since we
possess a Ricordo by Michelangelo, written upon
an unfinished letter bearing the date " Venice, Sep-
tember I o," which has been taken to imply that he
had been resident in Venice fourteen days — that is,
from the 2 8th of August. None of his contemporaries
or biographers mention a visit to Venice at the end
of August 1529. It has, therefore, been conjectured
that he went there after leaving Ferrara, but that
his mission was one of a very secret nature. This
seems inconsistent with the impatient desire ex-
pressed by the War Office for his return to Florence
after the 8th of August. Allowing for exchange of
letters and rate of travelling, Michelangelo could
not have reached home much before the 1 5th. It is
also inconsistent with the fact that he was expected
in Arezzo at the beginning of September. I shaU
have to return later on to the Ricordo in question,
which has an important bearing on the next and
most dramatic episode in his biography.
^ Letter from Ant Fr. degli Albizzi to the Ten, September 8, 1529.
Qaye, ii. 206.
4i6 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
m.
Michelangelo must certainly have been at Flor-
ence soon after the middle of September. One of
those strange panics to which he was constitution-
ally subject, and which impelled him to act upon a
suddenly aroused instinct, came now to interrupt
his work at S. Miniato, and sent him forth into
outlawry. It was upon the 2 1 st of September that
he fled from Florence, under circumstances which
have given considerable difficulty to his biographers.
I am obliged to disentangle the motives and to set
forth the details of this escapade, so far as it is
possible for criticism to connect them into a cohe-
rent narrative. With this object in view, I will
begin by translating what Condivi says upon the
subject.^
" Michelangelo's sagacity with regard to the im-
portance of S. Miniato guaranteed the safety of the
town, and proved a source of great damage to the
enemy. Although he had taken care to secure the
position, he still remained at his post there, in case
of accidents; and after passing some six months,
rumours began to circulate among the soldiers about
expected treason. Buonarroti, then, noticing these
reports, and being also warned by certain officers
who were his friends, approached the Signory, and
laid before them what he had heard and seen. He
' Condivi, p. 47.
FLIGHT FROM FLORENCE. 417
explained the danger hanging over the city, and told
them there was still time to provide against it, if
they would. Instead of receiving thanks for this
service, he was abused, and rebuked as being
timorous and too suspicious. The man who made
him this answer would have done better had he
opened his ears to, good advice ; for when the
Medici returned, he was beheaded, whereas he
might have kept himself alive. When Michel-
angelo perceived how little his words were worth,
and in what certain peril the city stood, he caused
one of the gates to be opened, by the authority
which he possessed, and went forth with two of his
comrades, and took the road for Venice."
As usual with Condivi, this paragraph gives a
general and yet substantially accurate account of
what really took place. The decisive document,
however, which throws light upon Michelangelo's
mind in the transaction, is a letter vmtten by him
from Venice to his friend Battista della Falla on the
25 th of September. Palla, who was an agent for
Francis I. in works of Italian art, antiques, and bric-
k-brac, had long purposed a journey into France ;
and Michelangelo, considering the miserable state of
Italian politics, agreed to join him. These explana-
tions will suffice to make the import of Michel-
angelo's letter clear. ^
''Battista, dearest friend, I left Florence, as I
think you know, meaning to go to France. When
* Lettere, No. cdvL
VOL. L 2D
4i8 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
I reached Venice, I inquired about the road, ajid
they told me I should have to pass through German
territory, and that the journey is both perilous and
difficult. Therefore I thought it well to ask yon,
at your pleasure, whether you are still inclined to go,
and to beg you ; and so I entreat you, let me knoiT,
and say where you want me to wait for you, and
we will travel together. I left home without speak-
ing to any of my friends, and in great confusion.
You know that I wanted in any case to go to
France, and often asked for leave, but did not get
it. Nevertheless I was quite resolved, and without
any sort of fear, to see the end of the war out first.
But on Tuesday morning, September 21, a certain
person came out by the gate at S. Nicolb, where
I was attending to the bastions, and whispered in
my ear that, if I meant to save my life, I must not
stay at Florence. He accompanied me home, dined
there, brought me horses, and never left my side till
he got me outside the city, declaring that this was
my salvation. Whether God or the devil was the
man, I do not know.
** Pray answer the questions in this letter as soon
as possible, because I am burning with impatience
to set out. If you have changed your mind, and do
not care to go, still let me know, so that I may pro-
vide as best I can for my own journey."
What appears manifest from this document is
that Michelangelo was decoyed away from Florence
by some one, who, acting on his sensitive nervous
BAGLIONI'S TREASON. 419
temperament, persuaded him that his life was in
danger. Who the man was we do not know, but
he must have been a person delegated by those who
had a direct interest in removing Euonarroti from
the place. If the controller-general of the defences
already scented treason in the air, and was com-
municating his suspicions to the Signory, Malatesta
Baglioni, the arch-traitor, who afterwards delivered
Florence over for a price to Clement, could not but
have wished to frighten him away.
From another of Michelangelo's letters we learn
that he carried 3000 ducats in specie with him on
the journey.^ It is unlikely that he could have
disposed so much cash upon his person. He must
have had companions.
Talking with Michelangelo in 1 549— that is, twenty
years after the event — Busini heard from his lips this
account of the flight.* " I asked Michelangelo what
was the reason of his departure from Florence. He
spoke as follows: *I was one of the Nine when
the Florentine troops mustered within our lines
under Malatesta Baglioni and Mario Orsini and the
other generals: whereupon the Ten distributed the
men along the walls and bastions, assigning to each
captain his own post, with victuals and provisions ;
and among the rest, they gave eight pieces of
artillery to Malatesta for the defence of part of
the bastions at S. Miniato. He did not, however,
mount these guns within the bastions, but below
^ Lettere, No. cdyiL ' Busini, p. 104.
420 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
them, and set no guard.' Michelangelo, as archi-
tect and magistrate, having to inspect the lines at
S. Miniato, asked Mario Orsini how it was that
Malatesta treated his artillery so carelessly. The
latter answered : ' You must know that the men of
his house are all traitors, and in time he too will
betray this town.' These words inspired him with
such terror that he was obliged to fly, impelled by
dread lest the city should come to misfortune, and
he together with it. Having thus resolved, he
found Rinaldo Corsini, to whom he communicated
his thoughts, and Corsini replied lightly : * I wiU go
with you.' So they mounted horse with a sum of
money, and rode to the Gate of Justice, where the
guards would not let them pass. While waiting
there, some one sung .out : * Let him by, for he is
of the Nine, and it is Michelangelo.' So they went
forth, three on horseback, he, Einaldo, and that
man of his who never left him.^ They came to
Castelnuovo (in the Garfagnana), and heard that
Tommaso Soderini and Niccol6 Capponi were stay-
ing there.* Michelangelo refused to go and see
them, but Rinaldo went, and when he came back
to Florence, as I shall relate, he reported how
Niccolb had said to him: *0 Rinaldo, I dreamed
to-night that Lorenzo Zampalochi had been made
Gonfalonier ; ' alluding to Lorenzo Giacomini, who
had a swollen leg, and had been his adversary in
^ Probably Antonio Mini is meant.
* They had recently left Florence as exiles.
JOURNEY TO VENICE. 4"
the Ten. Well, they took the road for Venice;
but when they came to Polesella, Rinaldo proposed
to push on to Ferrara and have an interview with
Galeotto Giugni/ This he did, and Michelangelo
awaited him, for so he promised. Messer Galeotto,
who was spirited and sound of heart, wrought so
with Rinaldo that he persuaded him to turn back
to Florence. But Michelangelo pursued his journey
to Venice, where he took a house, intending in due
season to travel into France/'
Varchi follows this report pretty closely, except
that he represents Rinaldo Corsini as having strongly
urged him to take flight, '* affirming that the city in
a few hours, not to say days, would be in the hands
of the Medici." * Varchi adds that Antonio Mini
rode in company with Michelangelo, and, according
to his account of the matter, the three men came
together to Ferrara. There the Duke offered hospi-
tality to Michelangelo, who refused to exchange his
inn for the palace, but laid all the cash he carried
with him at the disposition of his Excellency.
Segni, alluding briefly to this flight of Michel-
angelo from Florence, says that he arrived at Castel-
nuovo with Rinaldo Corsini, and that what they
communicated to Niccolb Capponi concerning the
treachery of Malatesta and the state of the city, so
affected the ex-Gonfalonier that he died of a fever
after seven days^ Nardi, an excellent authority on
1 The Florentine envoy there. * Varchi, Stor. Fior,, vol. il p. 133.
3 idorie FiormtwL Firenze : Barbara, 1857, p. 137.
0
423 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
all that concerns Florence during the siege, con-
firms the account that Michelangelo left his post
together with Corsini under a panic ; " by common
agreement, or through fear of war, as man's fragility
is often wont to do." ^ Vasari, who in his account
of this episode seems to have had Varchi's narrative
under his eyes, adds a trifle of information, to the
e£fect that Michelangelo was accompanied upon his
flight, not only by Antonio Mini, but also by his
old friend Piloto.* It may be worth adding that
while reading in the Archivio Buonarroti, I dis-
covered two letters from a friend named Piero
Paesano addressed to Michelangelo on January i,
1530, and April 21, 1532, both of which speak of
his having " fled from Florence." The earlier plainly
says: ''I heard from Santi Quattro (the Cardinal,
probably) that you have left Florence in order to
escape from the annoyance and also from the evil
fortune of the war in which the country is engaged,"
These letters, which have not been edited, and the
first of which is important, since it was sent to
Michelangelo in Florence, help to prove that Michel-
angelo's friends believed he had run away from
Florence.*
^ Itiorie dsUa GiUd di FirenM. Firenze : Le Monnier, voL ii pu 159.
* YaBaii, xii. 209. He says the sum of monej carried was 12,000
crowns. Varclii calls them 12,000 florins. Michelangelo himself men-
tions 3000 ducats.
3 Arch. Buon., Ood. z. 587-588. Paesano writes his first letter from
Regentia, January i, 153a He addresses Michelangelo as "Caro Com-
pare," and after some preliminaries, in which he says that his affairs
have taken him to Bologna, he proceeds : ** Ho inteso da Stmti Quattro
THE RICORDO DATED SEPTEMBER lo. 423
It was necessary to enter into these particulars,
partly in order that the reader may form his own
judgment of the motives which prompted Michel-
angelo to desert his official post at Florence, and
partly because we have now to consider the Ricordo
above mentioned, with the puzzling date, September
10.^ This document is a note of expenses incurred
during a residence of fourteen days at Venice. It
runs as follows : —
"Honoured Sir. In Venice, this tenth day of
September. . . . Ten ducats to Rinaldo Corsini.
Five ducats to Messer Loredan for the rent of
the house. Seventeen lire for the stockings of
Antonio (Mini, perhaps). For two stools, a table
to eat on, and a cojffer, half a ducat Eight soldi
for straw. Forty soldi for the hire of the bed. Ten
lire to the man {/ante) who came from Florence.
Three ducats to Bondino for the journey to Venice
with boats. Twenty soldi to Piloto for a pair of
shoes. Fourteen days' board in Venice, twenty
lire."
It has been argued from the date of the unfinished
che yoi vi aiete partito da Fiorenza per fugire al fastido et ancora la
mala fortnna della gaena del paese." He then offers him free quarters
in his own house, wherever that was, so long as Michelangelo chose to
stay with him. It appears that this letter was not answered, for on
the 2ist of April 1532 Paesano writes again, this time from Argento,
to his '* Compare Carissimo," saying that he wishes to remind him that
his old friend is still alive. He then refers to the former letter:
''Essendo io a Bologna per visitare Santi Qnattro, et loi mi disse che
voi eravate fogito di fiorenza et andato a Yenezia et io scrissi una lettera
a Yenezia.''
* Lettere, p. 601.
424 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
letter below which these items are jotted down»
that Michelangelo must have been in Venice early
in September, before his flight from Florence at the
end of that month. But whatever weight we may-
attach to this single date, there is no corroborative
proof that he travelled twice to Venice, and every-
thing in the Ricordo indicates that it refers to the
period of his flight from Florence. The sum paid to
Corsini comes first, because it must have been dis-
bursed when that man broke the journey at Ferrara.
Antonio Mini and Filoto are both mentioned: a
house has been engaged, and furnished with Michel-
angelo's usual frugality, as though he contemplated
a residence of some duration. All this confirms
Busini, Varchi, Segni, Nardi, and Vasari in the
general outlines of their reports. I am of opinion
that, unassisted by further evidence, the Ricordo^ in
spite of its date, will not bear out Gotti's view that
Michelangelo sought Venice on a privy mission at
the end of August 1529.^ He was not likely to
^ See Gotti, voL i. p. 189. I have examined the original document
ill the Archivio Buonarroti. The date is certainly correctly given by
Qotti. The unfinished letter runs thus : ** Ho<*^ mio ma^ore in
Vinegia oggi questo di dieci di secte.'* Michelangelo sometimes spelt
the month September thus — Sectembre. I found an instance of it
in the Codex Yaticanus of the Eime. The date may possibly have
contained the error of September, when Michelangelo wished to write
October, and for this reason the word S&cU may not have been finished.
That the letter was begun and flung aside for some reason seems certain.
Perhaps he preferred to re-write the proper date, October lo, and kept
the discarded rough copy by him. His Bicordi are frequently jott<kl
upon backs of drawings, and any pieces of paper which came to hand.
1 ought to add that Signer Gotti has somewhat confused the evidence
SOJOURN AT VENICE. 425
have been employed as ambassador extraordinary;
the Signory, required his services at home ; and after
Ferrara, Venice had little of importance to show the
controller-general of defences in the way of earth-
works and bastions.
IV.
Varchi says that Michelangelo, when he reached
Venice, ** wishing to avoid visits and ceremonies,
of which he was the greatest enemy, and in order
to live alone, according to his custom, far away from
company, retired quietly to the Giudecca; but the
Signory, unable to ignore the advent of so eminent
a man, sent two of their first noblemen to visit him
of the Ricordo by inserting after the words "Dieci lire al fante che
veiine da Firenze " the following in brackets : " (Bastiano Scarpellino)."
Now there is nothing about BcLStiano Scarpellino in the autograph.
The main argument against the view I have expressed above is
Michelangelo's own statement in his letter to Palla, "lo parti' senza
far moito a messuno degli amici mia." Gotti and others think this in-
compatible with Corsini's and Piloto's participation in the flight from
Venice. But, in the troubled state of the city, it may have been prudent
to mention no names.. Besides, Corsinf s and Piloto's presence in Venice,
supposing Michelangelo went there on a secret mission in August, would
have been, to say the least, superfluous. Michelangelo's circumstantial
account of his flight was certainly given to Busini in 1549— tliat is,
twenty years after the event. But he is not likely to have forgotten
the secret mission of August^ if that really took place, or to have con-
fused this with the flight in September. It must furthermore be
remembered that Corsini and Piloto were prominent personages in
Fl orentine society. Things recorded of them by con temporaries — ^Varchi,
Segiii, Nardi, Vasari — cannot have rested upon wholly false evidence.
426 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
in the name of the Republic, and to offer kindly all
things which either he or any persons of his train
might stand in need of. This public compliment
set forth the greatness of his fame as artist, and
showed in what esteem the arts are held by their
magnificent and most illustrious lordships." ^ Vasari
adds that the Doge, whom he calls Gritti, gave him
commission to design a bridge for the Bialto, mar-
vellous alike in its construction and its ornament.*
Meanwhile the Signory of Florence issued a decree
of outlawry against thirteen citizens who had quitted
the territory without leave. It was promulgated on
the 30th of September, and threatened them with
extreme penalties if they failed to appear before the
8th of October.* On the 7th of October a second
decree was published, confiscating the property of
numerous exiles. But this document does not con-
tain the name of Michelangelo ; and by a third
decree, dated November 16, it appears that the
Government were satisfied with depriving him of
his ofidce and stopping his pay.^ We gather indeed,
from what Condivi and Varchi relate, that they
displayed great eagerness to get him back, and cor-
responded to this intent with their envoy at Ferrara.
Michelangelo's flight from Florence seemed a matter
of sufficient importance to be included in the des-
^ Varchi, ii 133.
* VaBari, xii. 211. Andrea Gritti died in 1528, and was succeeded
by Pietro Landa
■ Ootfci, ii 63. * Qotti, voL i. p. 193.
SENTENCE OF OUTLAWRY. 427
patches of the French ambassador resident at Venice.
Lazare de B^'f, knowing his master's desire to engage
the services of the great sculptor, and being pro-
bably informed of Buonarroti's own wish to retire
to France, wrote several letters in the month of
October, telling Francis that Michelangelo might
be easily persuaded to join his court.^ We do not
know, however, whether the King acted on this
hint.
His friends at home took the precaution of secur-
ing his effects, fearing that a decree for their con-
fiscation might be issued. We possess a schedule
of wine, wheat, and furniture found in his house,
and handed over by the servant Caterina to his old
friend Francesco Granacci for safe keeping.^ They
also did their best to persuade Michelangelo that he
ought to take measures for returning under a safe-
conduct. Galeotto Giugni wrote upon this subject
to the War Office, under date October 13, from
Ferrara.* He says that Michelangelo has begged
him to intercede in his favour, and that he is will-
ing to return and lay himself at the feet of their
lordships. In answer to this despatch, news was
sent to Giugni on the 20th that the Signory had
signed a safe-conduct for Buonarroti.* On the 22nd
Granacci paid Sebastiano di Francesco; a stone-
cutter, to whom Michelangelo was much attached,
1 UCEuvre et la Vie, p. 275.
« Qottd, ii. 7^. It bears date October 12.
» Qaye, ii. 209. * Ibid., p. 21a
428 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
money for his journey to Venice.^ It appears that
this man set out upon the 23rd, carrying letters
from Giovan Battista della Palla, who had now
renounced all intention of retiring to France, and
was enthusiastically engaged in the defence of
Florence. On the return of the Medici, Palla was
imprisoned in the castle of Pisa, and paid the
penalty of his patriotism by death.* A second
letter which he wrote to Michelangelo on this occa-
sion deserves to be translated, since it proves the
high spirit with which the citizens of Florence
were now awaiting the approach of the Prince of
Orange and his veteran army.* " Yesterday I sent
you a letter, together with ten from other friends,
and the safe-conduct granted by the Signory for the
whole month of November, and though I feel sure
that it will reach you safely, I take the precaution
of enclosing a copy under this cover. I need hardly
repeat what I wrote at great length in my last, nor
shall I have recourse to friends for the same purpose.
They all of them, I know, with one voice, without
the least disagreement or hesitation, have exhorted
you, immediately upon the receipt of their letters
and the safe-conduct, to return home, in order to
preserve your life, your country, your friends, your
1 Ricordo quoted above in Gotti, ii 73.
* Yarchi, ii 397. ^'TrovoBsi anch' egli una mattina morto nella
prigione, dubitandoei che non dovesse esser chiesto di francia."
' Gotti, L 195. The letter is in the Archiyio Buonarroti, Cod. vii
No. 199. It IB not quite accurately given by Gotti, the word fiaca
)iaving boen misread into pigra, and so forth.
BATTISTA DELLA PALLA. 429
honour, and your property, and also to enjoy those
times so earnestly desired and hoped for by you.*
If any one had foretold that I could listen without
the least affright to news of an invading army march-
ing on our walls, this would have seemed to me im*
possible. And yet I now assure you that I am not
only quite fearless, but also full of confidence in a
glorious victory. For many days past my soul has
been filled with such gladness, that if God, either
for our sins or for some other reason, according to
the mysteries of His just judgment, does not permit
that army to be broken in our hands, my sorrow will
be the same as when one loses, not a good thing
hoped for, but one gained and captured. To such
an extent am I convinced in my fixed imagination
of our success, and have put it to my capital account.
I already foresee our militia system, established
on a permanent basis, and combined with that of
the territory, carrying our city to the skies.' I con-
template a fortification of Florence, not temporary,
as it now is, but with walls and bastions to be built
hereafter. The principal and most difficult step has
been already taken ; the whole space round the
town swept clean, without regard for churches or
for monasteries, in accordance with the public need.
I contemplate in these our fellow-citizens a noble
spirit of disdain for all their losses and the bygone
1 Probably the freedom of the Republic
' This mUisria had been established on the lines suggested by
Machiavelli.
430 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
luxuries of villa-life ; an admirable unity and fervour
for the preservation of liberty ; fear of God alone ;
confidence in Him and in the justice of our cause ;
innumerable other good things, certain to bring a^in
the age of gold, and which I hope sincerely you
will enjoy in company with all of us who are your
friends. For all these reasons, I most earnestly
entreat you, from the depth of my heart, to come at
once and travel through Lucca, where I will meet
you, and attend you with due form and ceremony
until here : such is my intense desire that our
country should not lose you, nor you her. If, after
your arrival at Lucca, you should by some accident
fail to find me, and you should not care to come to
Florence without my company, write a word, I beg.
I will set out at once, for I feel sure that I shall get
permission. . . . God, by His goodness, keep you
in good health, and bring you back to us safe and
happy."
Michelangelo set forth upon his journey soon
after the receipt of this letter. He was in Ferrara
on the 9th of November, as appears from a des-
patch written by Galeotto Giugni, recommending
him to the Government of Florence.^ Letters patent
under the seal of the Duke secured him free pas-
sage through the city of Modena and the province of
Garfagnana.' In spite of these accommodations, he
^ Qaye, ii. 212.
^ Under date November la The safe-conduct lasted fifteen days.
See Gbtti, ii. 74.
RETURN TO FLORENCE. 431
seems to have met with difficulties on the way,
owing to the disturbed state of the country. His
friend Giovan Battista Palla was waiting for him at
Lucca, without information of his movements, up
to the 1 8th of the month. He had left Florence on
the nth, and spent the week at Fisa and Lucca,
expecting news in vain. Then, " with one foot in
the stirrup," as he says, "the license granted by
the Signory" having expired, he sends another mis-
sive to Venice, urging Michelangelo not to delay
a day longer.^ " As I cannot persuade myself that
you do not intend to come, I urgently request you to
reflect, if you have not already started, that the pro-
perty of those who incurred outlawry with you is
being sold, and if you do not arrive within the term
conceded by your safe-conduct — that is, during this
month — the same will happen to yourself, without
the possibility of any mitigation. If you do come,
as I still hope and firmly believe, speak with my
honoured friend Messer Filippo Calandrini here, to
whom I have given directions for your attendance
from this town vrithout trouble to yourself. God
keep you safe from harm, and grant we see you
shortly in our country, by His aid, victorious."
With this letter, Falla, who was certainly a good
friend to the wayward artist, and an amiable man to
boot, disappears out of this history. At some time
about the 20th of November, Michelangelo returned
1 Gotti, ii. 72 ; Arch. Bnon., Cod. Tii. 200. I shall print the original
in the Appendix.
432 I IFE OF MICHELANGELO.
to Florence. We do not know how he finished the
jonmey, and how he was received ; but the sentence
of outlawry was commuted, on the 23rd, into exclu-
sion from the Grand Council for three years.^ He
set to work immediately at S. Miniato, strengthen-
ing the bastions, and turning the church-tower into
a station for sharpshooters.^ Florence by this time
had lost all her territory except a few strong
places, Pisa, Livorno, Arezzo, Empoli, Volterra.* The
Emperor Charles V. signed her liberties away to
Clement by the peace of Barcelona (June 20, 1529),
and the Republic was now destined to be the appan-
age of his illegitimate daughter in marriage with the
bastard Alessandro de' Medici. It only remained
for the army of the Prince of Orange to reduce the
city. When Michelangelo arrived, the Imperial
troops were leaguered on the heights above the town.
The inevitable end of the unequal struggle could
be plainly foreseen by those who had not Palla's
enthusiasm to sustain their faith. In spite of
Ferrucci's genius and spirit, in spite of the good-will
of the citizens, Florence was bound to fall. While
admitting that Michelangelo abandoned his post in
a moment of panic, we must do him the justice
of remembering that he resumed it when all his
darkest prognostications were being slowly but surely
1 Gaye, ii. 214.
> This, at any rate, i£ the tradition of hie earlier biographers. We
have Bome reason, however, to doubt whether he was actively employed
to any very great extent after his return.
* Varchi, ii. 195.
DEFENCES AT S. MINIATO. 433
realised. The worst was that his old enemy, Mala-
testa Baglioni, had now opened a regular system of
intrigue with Clement and the Prince of Orange,
terminating in the treasonable cession of the city.
It was not until August 1530 that Florence finally
capitulated.^ Still the months which intervened
between that date and Michelangelo's return from
Venice were but a dying close, a slow agony inter-
rupted by spasms of ineffectual heroism.
In describing the works at S. Miniato, Condivi
lays great stress upon Michelangelo's plan for arm-
ing the bell-tower.^ "The incessant cannonade of
the enemy had broken it in many places, and there
was a serious risk that it might come crashing down,
to the great injury of the troops within the bastion.
He caused a large number of mattresses well stuffed
with wool to be brought, and lowered these by night
from the summit of the tower down to its founda-
tions, protecting those parts which were exposed to
fire. Inasmuch as the cornice projected, the mat-
tresses hung free in air, at the distance of six
cubits from the wall ; so that when the missiles of
the enemy arrived, they did little or no damage,
partly owing to the distance they had travelled, and
partly to the resistance offered by this swinging,
yielding panoply." An anonymous writer, quoted
by Milanesi, gives a fairly intelligible account of the
system adopted by Michelangelo.* " The outer walls
of the bastion were composed of unbaked bricks.
I
Varchi, ii. 365. -' Condivi, p. 48. ^ Vusari, xii. 365.
VOL. I. 2 2
434 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
the clay of which was mingled with chopped tow.
Its thickness he filled in with earth; and/' adds
this critic, *'of all the buildings which remained,
this alone survived the siege." ^ It was objected
that, in designing these bastions, he multiplied the
flanking lines and embrasures beyond what was
either necessary or safe. But, observes the anony-
mous writer, all that his duty as architect demanded
was that he should lay down a plan consistent with
the nature of the ground, leaving details to practical
engineers and military men.' *' If, then, he com-
mitted any eiTors in th^se matters, it was not so
much his fault as that of the Government, who
did not provide him vdth experienced coadjutors.
But how can mere merchants understand the art of
war, which needs as much science as any other of
the arts, nay more, inasmuch as it is obviously more
noble and more perilous?" The confidence now
reposed in him is further demonstrated by a license
granted on the 22 nd of February 1530, empowering
him to ascend the cupola of the Duomo on one
special occasion with two companions, in order to
obtain a general survey of the environs of Florence.'
^ Michelangelo's bastionB were afterwarda rebuilt upon a pennanent
plan. Vauban, when he came to Florence, is said to have surveyed
these works and measured them. I shall print in the Appendix a docu-
ment supplied me by Cav. Biagi, which refers to the wool used for theee
defences.
* Compare what Varchi, ii. 147, says upon this point.
* Oesaie Guasti, La Cupola d% 8, M, dd Ftrewe^ quoted by Gotti,
L 197. The fact that only a Bingle permission for a single day was
granted has induced Springer to believe that^ after his return from
Veiiice, Michelangelo took no prominent part in the defence of Florence.
1
FLORENCE CAPITULATES. 435
Michelangelo, in the midst of these serious duties,
could not have had much time to bestow upon his
art. Still there is no reason to doubt Yasari's em-
phatic statement that he went on working secretly
at the Medicean monuments.^ To have done so
openly while the city was in conflict to the death
with Clement, would have been dangerous; and
yet every one who understands the artist's tempera-
ment must feel that a man like Buonarroti was
likely to seek rest and distraction from painful
anxieties in the tranquillising labour of the chisel.
It is also certain that, during the last months of the
siege, he found leisure to paint a picture of Leda
for the Duke of Ferrara, which will be mentioned
in its proper place.
Florence surrendered in the month of August
1 5 30. The terms were drawn up by Don Ferrante
Gonzaga, who commanded the Imperial forces after
the death of Filiberto, Prince of Orange, in concert
with the Pope's commissary-general, Baccio Valori.
Malatesta Baglioni, albeit he went about muttering
that Florence ** was no stable for mules " (alluding
to the fact that all the Medici were bastards), ap-
proved of the articles, and showed by his conduct
that he had long been plotting treason. The act of
capitulation was completed on the 12 th, and accepted
unwillingly by the Signory. Valori, supported by
Baglioni's military force, reigned supreme in the
city, and prepared to reinstate the exiled family of
^ Vaaari, zii. 207.
436 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
princes.* It is said that Marco Dandolo of Venice,
when news reached the Pregadi of the fall of
Florence, exclaimed aloud : *' Baglioni has put upon
his head the cap of the biggest traitor upon record."
V.
The city was saved from wreckage by a lucky
quarrel between the Italian and Spanish troops in
the Imperial camp. But no sooner was Clement
aware that Florence lay at his mercy, than he dis-
regarded the articles of capitulation, and began to
act as an autocratic despot Before confiding the
government to his kinsmen, the Cardinal Ippolito
and Alessandro Duke of Penna, he made Valori in-
stitute a series of criminal prosecutions against the
patriots.* Battista della Palla and Raffaello Girolami
were sent to prison and poisoned. Five citizens
were tortured and decapitated in one day of October.
Those who had managed to escape from Florence
were sentenced to exile, outlawry, and confiscation
of goods by hundreds. Charles V. had finally to
interfere and put a stop to the fury of the Pope's
revenges. How cruel and exasperated the mind of
^ See Capponi, op. cit., lib. yl cap. la Compare Varchi, ii. pp.
373-393-
3 Yarchi, ii. 396-414. Whole pages are oocupied by lists of these
victims to Papal vengeance.
CLEMENT'S REVENGE. 437
Clement was, may be gathered from his treatment
of Fra Benedetto da Foiano, who sustained the spirit
of the burghers by his fiery preaching during the
privations of the siege. Foiano fell into the clutches
of Malatesta Bagliohi, who immediately sent him
down to Rome. By the Pope's orders the wretched
friar was flung into the worst dungeon in the Castle
of S. Angelo, and there slowly starved to death
by gradual diminution of his daily dole of bread
and water.^ Readers of Benvenuto Cellini's Memoirs
will remember the horror with which he speaks of
this dungeon and of its dreadful reminiscences, when
it fell to his lot to be imprisoned there.'
Such being the mood of Clement, it is not wonder-
ful that Michelangelo should have trembled for his
own life or liberty. As Varchi says, " He had been
a member of the Nine, had fortified the hill and
armed the bell-tower of S. Miniato. What was
more annoying, he was accused, though falsely, of
proposing to raze the palace of the Medici, where
in his boyhood Lorenzo and Piero dei Medici had
shown him honour as a guest at their own tables,
and to name the space on which it stood the Place
of Mules." ' For this reason he hid himself, as
Condivi and Varchi assert, in the house of a trusty
friend. The Senator Filippo Buonarroti, who dili-
gently collected traditions about his illustrious an-
cestor, believed that his real place of retreat was the
1 Varchi, ii. 387. ' Cellini, Book I. chap. cxx.
* Varchi, ii. 399.
438 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
bell-tower of S. Nicolb, beyond the Amo.* "When
Clement's fury abated," says Condivi, "he wrote to
Florence ordering that search should be made for
Michelangelo, and adding that when he was found,
if he agreed to go on working at the Medicean
monuments, he should be left at liberty and treated
with due courtesy. On hearing news of this, Michel-
angelo came forth from his hiding-place, and re-
sumed the statues in the sacristy of S. Lorenzo,
moved thereto more by fear of the Pope than by
love for the Medici/' * From correspondence carried
on between Rome and Florence during November
and December, we learn that his former pension of
fifty crowns a month was renewed, and that Giovan
Battista Figiovanni, a Prior of S. Lorenzo, was ap-
pointed the Pope's agent and paymaster.*
An incident of some interest in the art-history
of Florence is connected with this return of the
Medici, and probably also with Clement's desire to
concentrate Michelangelo's energies upon the sac-
risty. So far back as May lo, 1508, Piero Soderini
wrote to the Marquis of Massa-Carrara, begging him
to retain a large block of marble until Michelangelo
could come in person and superintend its rough-
hewing for a colossal statue to be placed on the
Piazza.* After the death of Leo, the stone was
assigned to Baccio Bandinelli ; but Michelangelo,
1 Gbtti, i. 199.
'3 Condivi, p. 49. He adds, what is clearly wrong, that it was about
fifteen years since Michelangelo had used the sculptot's tools.
3 Graye, ii 221. * Ibid., ii. 97-98.
'■■^^lo.y
Hekoules asd C^cira
THE HERCULES AND CACUS. 439
being in favour with the Government at the time of
the expulsion of the Medici, obtained the grant of
it. His first intention, in which Bandinelli foDowed
him, was to execute a Hercules trampling upon
Cacus, which should stand as pendant to his own
David. By a deliberation of the Signory, under
date August 22, 1528, we are informed that the
marble had been brought to Florence about three
years earlier, and that Michelangelo now received
instructions, couched in the highest terms of com-
pliment, to proceed with a group of two figures
until its accomplishment.^ If Vasari can be trusted,
Michelangelo made numerous designs and models
for the Cacus, but afterwards changed his mind, and
thought that he would extract from the block a
Samson triumphing over two prostrate Philistines.*
The evidence for this change of plan is not abso-
lutely conclusive. The deliberation of August 22,
1528, indeed left it open to his discretion whether
he should execute a Hercules and Cacus, or any
other group of two figures ; and the English nation
at South Kensington possesses one of his noble little
wax models for a Hercules." We may perhaps,
therefore, assume that while Bandinelli adhered to the
Hercules and Cacus, Michelangelo finally decided on
a Samson. At any rate, the block was restored in
* Gaye, ii. 97, 98.
* See Vasari, Life of BandintUi^ vol. x. pp. 305, 306, 311 ; Life of
Pierino da Vincij ibid., p. 289.
' See J. C. Robinson'^ CcUoUogue to ike Italian ScuVpture at S. K.,
pp. 141-144.
440 LIFE OF MICHELANGEIX!).
1530 to BandineUi, who produced the misbegbtteL
group which still deforms the Florentine Piazza.
Michelangelo had some reason to be jealoas of
Bandinelli, who exercised considerable influence at
the Medicean court, and was an unscrupulous enemy
both in word and deed. A man more widely and
worse hated than Bandinelli never lived. If any
piece of mischief happened which could be fixed
upon him with the least plausibility, he bore the
blame. Accordingly, when Buonarroti's workshop
happened to be broken open, people said that Bandi-
nelli was the culprit. Antonio Mini left the following
record of the event:* "Three months before the
siege, Michelangelo's studio in Via Mozza was burst
into with chisels ; about fifty drawings of figures were
stolen, and among them the designs for the Medicean
tombs, with others of great value ; also four models
in wax and clay. The young men who did it left
by accident a chisel marked with the letter M.,
which led to their discovery. When they knew
they were detected, they made off or hid themselves,
and sent to say they would return the stolen articles,
and begged for pardon." Now the chisel branded
with an M. was traced to Michelangelo, the father
of Baccio Bandinelli, and no one doubted that he
was the burglar.
The historj' of Michelangelo's Leda, which now
survives only in doubtful reproductions, may be in-
troduced by a passage from Condiyi's account of his
* Qotti, i. 203.
THE LEDA. 441
master's visit to Ferrara in 1529.^ '*The Duke re-
ceived him with great demonstrations of joy, no less
by reason of his eminent fame than because Don
Ercole, his son, was Captain of the Signory of
Florence. Riding forth with him in person, there
was nothing appertaining to the business of his
mission which the Duke did not bring beneath his
notice, whether fortifications or artillery. Beside
this, he opened his own private treasure-room, dis-
playing all its contents, and particularly some pic-
tures and portraits of his ancestors, executed by
masters in their time excellent. When the hour
approached for Michelangelo's departure, the Duke
jestingly said to him : * You are my prisoner now.
If you want me to let you go free, I require that you
shall promise to make me something with your own
hand, according to your will and fancy, be it sculp-
ture or painting.' Michelangelo agreed ; and when
he arrived at Florence, albeit he was overwhelmed
with work for the defences, he began a large piece
for a saloon, representing the congress of the swan
with Leda. The breaking of the egg was also intro-
duced, from which sprang Castor and Pollux, accord-
ing to the ancient fable. The Duke heard of this ;
and on the return of the Medici, he feared that he
might lose so great a treasure in the popular disturb-
ance which ensued. Accordingly he despatched one
of his gentlemen, who found Michelangelo at home,
and viewed the picture. After inspecting it, the man
* Condivi, p. 52.
442 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
exclaimed : * Oh ! this is a mere trifle/ Michel-
angelo inquired what his own art was, being aii^are
that men can only form a proper judgment in iJie
arts they exercise. The other sneered and answered :
* I am a merchant.' Perhaps he felt affronted at the
question, and at not being recognised in his quality
of nobleman ; he may also have meant to depreciate
the industry of the Florentines, who for the most
part are occupied with trade, as though to say :
'You ask me what my art is t Is it possible you
think a man like me could be a trader?' Michel-
angelo, perceiving his drift, growled out : * You are
doing bad business for your lord! Take yourself
away ! ' Having thus dismissed the ducal messenger,
he made a present of the picture, after a short while,
to one of his serving-men, who, having two sisters
to marry, begged for assistance. It was sent to
France, and there bought by King Francis, where it
still exists."
As a matter of fact, we know now that Antonio
Mini, for a long time Michelangelo's man of all
work, became part owner of this Leda, and took it
with him to France.^ A certain Francesco Tedaldi
acquired pecuniary interest in the picture, of which
one Benedetto Bene made a copy at Lyons in 1532.
The original and the copy were carried by Mini to
^ I do not concur with Heath Wilson's conclusions about the Leda.
Michelangelo probably gave it away to Mini in a fit of pique and gene-
rosity. The man raised money on it for his journey with Tedaldi, and
so the latter acquired an interest in it which has thrown some light
upon its fate.
HISTORY OF THE LEDA. 443
Paris in 1533, and deposited in the house of Giu-
liano Buonaccorsi, whence they were transferred in
some obscure way to the custody of Luigi Alamanni,
and finally passed into the possession of the King.
Meanwhile, Antonio Mini died, and Tedaldi wrote
a record of his losses and a confused account of
money matters and broker business, which he sent
to Michelangelo in 1540.^ The Leda remained at
Fontainebleau till the reign of Louis XIII., when
M. Desnoyers, Minister of State, ordered the picture
to be destroyed because of its indecency. Pierre
Mariette says that this order was not carried into
effect ; for the canvas, in a sadly mutilated state, re-
appeared some seven or eight years before his date
of writing, and was seen by him. In spite of in-
juries, he could trace the hand of a great master ;
''and I confess that nothing I had seen from the
brush of Michelangelo showed better painting." He
adds that it was restored by a second-rate artist and
sent to England.* What became of Mini's copy is
uncertain. We possess a painting in the Dresden
Gallery, a Cartoon in the collection of the Royal
Academy of England, and a large oil picture,
much injured, in the vaults of the National Gallery. '**
1 Qotti, i 201, 202. ' Condivi, p. 185.
^ It is to be regretted that these two great stadiea of Miehelangelo's
Leda are practically hidden from the public eye ; one of them may not
improbably be a contemporary replica. The style of the National
Gallery painting, so far as I remember it, is superb in breadth and
grandeur. The pose of the woman and the proportions of her adult
heroic form strongly resemble those of the '' Notte," on which marble
Michelangelo was working when he designed her«
444 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
In addition to these works, there is a small marble
statue in the Museo Nazionale at Florence. All of
them represent Michelangelo's design. If mere in-
decency could justify Desnoyers in his attempt to
destroy a masterpiece, this picture deserved its fette.
It represented the act of coition between a swan and
a woman ; and though we cannot hold Michelangelo
responsible for the repulsive expression on the face
of Leda, which relegates the marble of the Bargello
to a place among pornographic works of art, there is
no reason to suppose that the general scheme of his
conception was abandoned in the copies made of it.
Michelangelo, being a true artist, anxious only for
the presentation of his subject, seems to have re-
mained indifferent to its moral quality. Whether it
was a crucifixion, or a congress of the swan with
Leda, or a rape of Ganymede, or the murder of Holo-
femes in his tent, or the birth of Eve, he sought to
seize the central point in the situation, and to ac-
centuate its significance by the inexhaustible means
at his command for giving plastic form to an idea.
Those, however, who have paid attention to his work
will discover that he always found emotional quality
corresponding to the nature of the subject. His
ways of handling religious and mythological motives
differ in sentiment, and both are distinguished from
his treatment of dramatic episodes. The man's mind
made itself a mirror to reflect the vision floating over
it; he cared not what that vision was, so long as
he could render it in lines of plastic harmony, and
THE APOLLO FOR VALORI. 445
express the utmost of the feeling which the theme
contained.
Among the many statues left unfinished by Michel-
angelo is one belonging to this period of his life.
" In order to ingratiate himself with Baccio Valori,"
says Vasari, '* he began a statue of three cubits in
marble. It was an Apollo drawing a shaft from his
quiver. This he nearly finished. It stands now in
the chamber of the Prince of Florence ; a thing of
rarest beauty, though not quite completed." ^ This
noble piece of sculpture illustrates the certainty and
freedom of the master's hand. Though the last
touches of the chisel are lacking, every limb palpi-
tates and undulates with life. The marble seems to
be growing into flesh beneath the hatched lines
left upon its surface. The pose of the young god,
full of strength and sinewy, is no less admirable
for audacity than for ease and freedom. Whether
Vasari was right in his explanation of the action of
this figure may be considered more than doubtful.
Were we not accustomed to call it an Apollo, we
should rather be inclined to class it with the Slaves
of the Louvre, to whom in feeling and design it
bears a remarkable resemblance. Indeed, it might
be conjectured with some probability that, despair-
ing of bringing his great design for the tomb of
Julius to a conclusion, he utilised one of the projected
captives for his present to the all-powerful vizier of the
* Vasari, xii. 212. The Apollo is now in the Bargello. It remained
lor many yearo neglected iu the theatre of the Boboli Qardens.
446 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Medicean tyrants. It ought, in conclusion, to be
added, that there was nothing servile in Michel-
angelo's desire to make Valori his friend. He had
accepted the political situation ; and we have good
relason, from letters written at a later date by Valori
from Rome, to believe that this man took a sincere
interest in the great artist. Moreover, Varchi, who
is singularly severe in his judgment on the agents
of the Medici, expressly states that Baccio Valori
was ** less cruel than the other Falleschi, doing many
and notable services to some persons out of kindly
feeling, and to others for money (since he had little
and spent much) ; and this he was well able to per-
form, seeing he was then the lord of Florence, and
the first citizens of the land paid court to him and
swelled his train." ^
VI.
During the siege Lodovico Buonarroti passed his
time at Pisa. His little grandson, Lionardo, the
sole male heir of the family, was with him. Born
September 25, 15 19, the boy was now exactly
eleven years old, and by his father's death in 1528
he had been two years an orphan. Lionardo was
ailing, and the old man wearied to return. His two
sons, Gismondo and Giansimone, had promised to
' Varchi, ii. 397.
TROUBLES ABOUT TOMB OF JULIUS. 447
fetch him home when the country should be safe
for travelling. But they delayed ; and at last, upon
the 30th of September, Lodovico wrote as follows to
Michelangelo : ^ ** Some time since I directed a letter
to Gismondo, from whom you have probably learned
that I am staying here, and, indeed, too long ; for
the flight of Buonarroto's pure soul to heaven, and
my own need and earnest desire to come home,
and Nardo's state of health, all make me restless.
The boy has been for some days out of health and
pining, and I am anxious about him." It is pro-
bable that some means were found for escorting
them both safely to Settignano. We hear no more
about Lodovico till the period of his death, the date
of which has not been ascertained with certainty. .
From the autumn of 1530 on to the end of 1533
Michelangelo worked at the Medicean monuments.
His letters are singularly scanty during all this
period, but we possess sufficient information from
other sources to enable us to reconstruct a portion
of his life. What may be called the chronic malady
of his existence, that never-ending worry with the
tomb of Julius, assumed an acute form again in the
spring of 1 5 3 1 . The correspondence with Sebastiano
del Piombo, which had been interrupted since 1525,
now becomes plentiful, and enables us to follow some
of the steps which led to the new and solemn con-
tract of May 1532.
It is possible that Michelangelo thought he ought
* Gotti, i. 208.
448 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
to go to Rome in the beginning of the year. If we
are right in ascribing a letter written by Benvenuto
della Volpaia from Rome upon the 1 8th of January to
the year 1 53 1 , and not to 1532, he must have already
decided on this step. Ihe document is curious in
several respects.^ ** Yours of the 13th informs me
that you want a room. I shall be delighted if I can
be of service to you in this matter ; indeed, it is
nothing in respect to what I should like to do for
you. I can oflFer you a chamber or two without
the least inconvenience ; and you could not confer
on me a greater pleasure than by taking up your
abode with me in either of the two places which I
will now describe. His Holiness has placed me in
the Belvedere, and made me guardian there. To-
morrow my things will be carried thither, for a perma-
nent establishment ; and I can place at your disposal
a room with a bed and everything you want. You
can even enter by the gate outside the city, which
opens into the spiral staircase, and reach your npart-
ment and mine without passing through Rome.
From here I can let you into the palace, for I keep
a key at your service ; and what is better, the Pope
comes every day to visit us. If you decide on the
^ Gotti, ii. 75. Benvenuto was the son of Loreu2o della Volpaia, the
famous mechanician and clockmaker of Florence. Gotd regards this
letter as belonging to 1531 ; but I think it probable that Volpaia used
the Florentiue style, aud that it therefore belongs to 1532. At any rate,
Sebastiano del Pioiubo, writing on February 8, 1532, mentions that he
has met Volpaia, who sp»oke of having prepared rooms at the Belveduxe
fur Michelangelo. Les CbrrespondunU^ p. 80.
PROJECTED VISIT TO ROME. 449
Belvedere, you must let me know the day of your
departure, and about when you will arrive. In that
case I will take up my post at the spiral staircase
of Bramante, where you will be able to see me. If
you wish, nobody but my brother and Mona Lisabetta
and I shall know that you are here, and you shall
do just as you please ; and, in short, I beg you
earnestly to choose this plan. Otherwise, come to
the Borgo Nuovo, to the houses which Volterra built,
the fifth house toward S. Angelo. I have rented it
to live there, and my brother Fruosino is also going
to live and keep shop in it. There you will have a
room or two, if you like, at your disposal. Please
yourself, and give the letter to Tommaso di Stefano
Miniatore, who will address it to Messer Lorenzo de'
Medici, and I shall have it quickly."^
Nothing came of these proposals. But that
Michelangelo did not abandon the idea of going to
Kome appears from a letter of Sebastiano's written
on the 24th of February.* It was the first which
passed between the friends since the terrible events
of 1527 and 1530. For once, the joUity of the
epicurean friar has deserted him. He writes as
though those awful months of the sack of Rome
were still present to his memory. " After all those
trials, hardships, and perils, God Almighty has left
us alive and in health, by His mercy and piteous
^ Tommaso may have been the son of Michelangelo's old servant^
Stefano di Tommaso, the miniaturist
* Les CorrespondantSf p. 36.
VOL, I. 2F
4SO LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
kindness. A thing, in sooth, miraculons, when I
reflect upon it ; wherefore His Majesty be ever held
in gratitude. . . . Now, gossip mine, since we have
passed through fire and water, and have experienced
things we never dreamed of, let us thank God for
all ; and the little remnant left to us of life, may
we at least employ it in such peace as can be had.
For of a truth, what fortune does or does not do is
of slight importance, seeing how scurvy and how
dolorous she is. I am brought to this, that if the
universe should crumble round me, I should not
care, but laugh at all. Menighella will inform you
what my life is, how I am.^ I do not yet seem to
myself to be the same Bastiano I was before the
Sack. I cannot yet get back into my former frame
of mind." In a postscript to this letter, eloquent
by its very naivete, Sebastiano says that he sees no
reason for Michelangelo's coming to Bome, except
it be to look after his house, which is going to ruin,
and the workshop tumbling to pieces.
In another letter, of April 29, Sebastiano repeats
that there is no need for Michelangelo to come
to Rome, if it be only to put himself right with
the Pope. Clement is sincerely his friend, and has
forgiven the part he played during the siege of
Florence.* He then informs his gossip that, having
been lately at Pesaro, he met the painter Girolamo
1 Menighella was a painter from the Yaldamo, who amused Michel-
angelo, as Topolino ttsed to do, by his oddities and buffooneries. See
Yasari, zii. 281.
* lies Correspondants, p. 38. See above.
NEGOTIATIONS ABOUT THE TOMB. 451
Genga, who promised to be serviceable in the matter
of the tomb of Julius. The Duke of Urbino, accord-
ing to this man's account, was very eager to see
it finished. "I replied that the work was going
forward, but that 8000 ducats were needed for its
completion, and we did not know where to get this
money. He said that the Duke would provide, but
his Lordship was afraid of losing both the ducats and
the work, and was inclined to be angry. After a
good deal of talking, he asked whether it would not
be possible to execute the tomb upon a reduced
scale, so as to satisfy both parties. I answered that
you ought to be consulted." We have reason to
infer from this that the plan which was finally
adopted, of making a mural monument with only
a few figures from the hand of Michelangelo, had
already been suggested. In his next letter, Sebastiano
communicates the fact that he has been appointed
to the office of Piombatore ; " and if you could see
me in my quality of friar, I am sure you would
laugh. I am the finest friar loon in Rome." The
Duke of Urbino's agent, Hieronimo Staccoli, now
appears for the first time upon the stage. It was
through his negotiations that the former contracts
for the tomb of Julius were finally annulled and
a new design adopted. Michelangelo offered, with
the view of terminating all disputes, to complete the
monument on a reduced scale at his own cost, and
furthermore to disburse the sum of 2000 ducats in
discharge of any claims the Delia Eovere might
452 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
have against him.^ This seemed too liberal, and
when Clement was informed of the project, he pro-
mised to make better terms. Indeed, during the
course of these negotiations the Pope displayed the
greatest interest in Michelangelo's affairs.' Staccoli,
on the Duke's part, raised objections ; and Sebastiano
had to remind him that, unless some concessions
were made, the scheme of the tomb might fall
through : " for it does not rain Michelangelos, and
men could hardly be found to preserve the work, fer
less to finish it." In course of time the Duke's am-
bassador at Rome, Giovan Maria della Porta, inter-
vened, and throughout the whole business Clement
was consulted upon every detail.
Sebastiano kept up his correspondence through
the summer of 1531. Meanwhile the suspense and
anxiety were telling seriously on Michelangelo's
health. Already in June news must have reached
Rome that his health was breaking down; for
Clement sent word recommending him to work less,
and to relax his spirits by exercise.^ Toward the
autumn he became alarmingly ill. We have a letter
from Paolo Mini, the uncle of his servant Antonio,
written to Baccio Valori on the 29th of September.*
After describing the beauty of two statues for the
Medicean tombs, Mini says he fears that **' Michel-
angelo will not live long, unless some measures are
^ See Lettere, No. cdviL
3 See the letter of June 16 about Michelangelo's health and unre-
mitting industry, and that of July 22. Lea Correspondants^ pp. 50-56.
* Ibid., p. 5a * Gaye, ii. 229.
SERIOUS ILLNESS. 453
taken for his benefit. He works very hard, eats
little and poorly, and sleeps less. In fact, he is
afflicted with two kinds of disorder, the one in his
head, the other in his heart.^ Neither is incurable,
since he has a robust constitution; but for the
good of his head, he ought to be restrained by our
Lord the Pope from working through the winter
in the sacristy, the air of which is bad for him ;
and for his heart, the best remedy would be if his
Holiness could accommodate matters with the Duke
of Urbino." In a second letter, of October 8, Mini
insists again upon the necessity of freeing Michel-
angelo's mind from his anxieties. The upshot was
that Clement, on the 21st of November, addressed
a brief to his sculptor, whereby Buonarroti was
ordered, under pain of excommunication, to lay
aside all work except what was strictly necessary
for the Medicean monuments, and to take better
care of his health.* On the 26th of the same month
Benvenuto della Volpaia wrote, repeating what the
Pope had written in his brief, and adding that his
Holiness desired him to select some workshop more
convenient for his health than the cold and cheer-
less sacristy.*
In spite of Clement's orders that Michelangelo
should confine himself strictly to working on the
Medicean monuments, he continued to be solicited
with various commissions. Thus the Cardinal Cybo
^ Mini mentions in particular headache, chronic cold, and giddiness.
* Bottari, Lett. Fitt.^ vi. 54. » Qotti, i. p. 211.
454 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
wrote in December begging him to famish a design
for a tomb which he intended to erect. Whether
Michelangelo consented is not known.
Early in December Sebastiano resumed his com-
munications on the subject of the tomb of Julius,
saying that Michelangelo must not expect to satisfy
the Duke without executing the work, in part at
leasts himself.^ " There is no one but yourself that
harms you : I mean, your eminent fame and the
greatness of your works. I do not say this to flatter
you. Therefore, I am of opinion that, without some
shadow of yourself, we shall never induce those
parties to do what we want. It seems to me that
you might easily make designs and models, and
afterwards assign the completion to any master
whom you choose. But the shadow of yourself
there must be. If you take the matter in this way,
it will be a trifle ; you will do nothing, and seem
to do all ; but remember that the work must be
oaxried out under your shadow."
A series of despatches, forwarded between De-
cember 4, 1531, and April 29, 1532, by Giovan
Maria della Porta to the Duke of Urbino, con-
firm the particulars furnished by the letters which
Sebastiano still continued to write from Rome.* At
the end of 1531 Michelangelo expressed his anxiety
to visit Rome, now that the negotiations with the
Duke were nearly complete. Sebastiano, hearing
this, replies : ** You will eflfect more in half an
^ La OorrespondanU^ p. 74. * See Vasari, xii. 378-383.
^.
CONTRACT FOR THE TOMB, 1532. 455
hour than I can do in a whole year. I believe that
you will arrange everything after two words with
his Holiness ; for our Lord is anxious to meet your
wishes." ^ He wanted to be present at the drawing
up and signing of the contract Clement, however,
although he told Sebastiano that he should be glad
to see him, hesitated to send the necessary per-
mission, and it was not until the month of April
1532 that he set out. About the 6th, as appears from
the indorsement of a letter received in his absence,
he must have reached Rome. The new contract
was not ready for signature before the 29th, and
on that date Michelangelo left for Florence, having,
as he says, been sent o£f by the Pope in a hurry on
the very day appointed for its execution. In his
absence it was duly signed and witnessed before
Clement; the Cardinals Gonzaga and da Monte
and the Lady Felice della Rovere attesting, while
Giovan Maria della Porta and Girolamo Staccoli
acted for the Duke of Urbino. When Michelangelo
returned and saw the instrument, he found that
several clauses prejudicial to his interests had been
inserted by the notary.* " I discovered more than
lOCMD ducats charged unjustly to my debit, also the
house in which I live, and certain other hooks and
crooks to ruin me. The Pope would certainly not
have tolerated this knavery, as Fra Sebastiano can
1 Les CorrespondantSy p. 78.
' Lettere, No. cdxzxv. p. 489. Written in October 1542, when the
tragedy of the tomb was entering upon its final phase.
456 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
bear witness, since he wished me to complain to
Clement and have the notary hanged. I swear I
never received the moneys which Giovan Maria
della Porta wrote against me, and caused to be
engrossed upon the contract." ^
It is difficult to understand why Michelangelo
should not have immediately taken measures to
rectify these errors. He seems to have been well
aware that he was bound to refund 2000 ducats,
since the only letter from his pen belonging to
the year 1532 is one dated May, and addressed to
Andrea Quarantesi in Pisa. In this document he
consults Quarantesi about the possibility of raising
that sum, with 1000 ducats in addition. '' It was
in my mind, in order that I might not be left naked,
to sell houses and possessions, and to let the lira
go for ten soldi." * As the contract was never carried
out, the fraudulent passages inserted in the deed
did not prove of practical importance. Della Porta,
on his part, wrote in high spirits to his master : '
** Yesterday we executed the new contract with
Michelangelo, for the ratification of which by your
^ According to this contract, Michelangelo acknowledged to have
received 8000 ducats in various payments, and promised to finish the
tomb at his own expense, disbursing in addition 2000 ducats, in which
sum his house at the Macello de' Oorvi was included. Lettere, pp.
702, 703.
^ Lettere, No. cdz. It is possible that the words written upon the
back of a drawing at Oxford, Andrea (Mi patientia — A tne mV consolo'
tione cuBai, may have been drawn forth from him by the anxieties of
this year.
^ Yasari, xii. 380. The despatch is dated April 3a
DETAII^ OF THE CONTRACT. 457
Lordship we have fixed a limit of two months. It
is of a nature to satisfy all Rome, and reflects great
credit on your Lordship for the trouble you have
taken in concluding it Michelangelo, who shows a
very proper respect for your Lordship, has promised
to make and send you a design. Among other
items, I have bound him to furnish six statues by
his own hand, which will be a world in themselves,
because they are sure to be incomparable. The
rest he may have finished by some sculptor at his
own choice, provided the work is done under his
direction. The Pope allows him to come twice a
year to Rome, for periods of two months each, in
order to push the work forward. And he is to
execute the whole at his own costs." He proceeds
to say, that since the tomb cannot be put up in
S. Peter's, S. Pietro in Vincoli has been selected
as the most suitable church. It appears that the
Duke's ratification was sent upon the 5th of June,
and placed in the hands of Clement, so that Michel-
angelo probably did not see it for some months.
Delia Porta, writing to the Duke again upon the
19th of June, says that Clement promised to allow
Michelangelo to come to Rome in the winter, and
to reside there working at the tomb. But we have
no direct information concerning his doings after
the return to Florence at the end of April 1532.
It will be worth while to introduce Condivi's ac-
count of these transactions relating to the tomb
of Julius, since it throws some light upon the sculp-
458 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
tor's private feelings and motives, as well as iipon
the falsification of the contract as finally engrossed.^
"When Michelangelo had been called to Rome
by Pope Clement, he began to be harassed by the
agents of the Duke of Urbino about the sepulchre
of Julius. Clement, who wished to employ him in
Florence, did all he could to set him free, and gave
him for his attorney in this matter Messer Tommaso
da Prato, who was afterwards datary. Michelangelo,
however, knowing the evil disposition of Duke
Alessandro towards him, and being in great dread
on this account, also because he bore love and
reverence to the memory of Pope Julius and to the
illustrious house of Delia Rovere, strained every
nerve to remain in Rome and busy himself about
the tomb. What made him more anxious was that
every one accused him of having received from Pope
Julius at least 16,000 crowns, and of having spent
them on himself without fulfilling his engagements.
Being a man sensitive about his reputation, he
could not bear the dishonour of such reports, and
wanted the whole matter to be cleared up ; nor,
although he was now old, did he shrink from the
very onerous task of completing what he had begun
so long ago. Consequently they came to strife
together, and his antagonists were unable to prove
payments to anything like the amount which had
first been noised abroad; indeed, on the contrary,
more than two thirds of the whole sum first stipu-
* Ck>ndivi, pp. 54-57.
CONDIVrS SUMMARY. 459
lated by the two Cardinals was wanting. Clement
then thinking he had found an excellent opportu-
nity for setting him at liberty and making use of
his whole energies, called Michelangelo to him, and
said : * Come, now, confess that you want to make
this tomb, but wish to know who will pay you the
balance/ Michelangelo, knowing well that the
Pope was anxious to employ him on his own work,
answered : * Supposing some one is found to pay
me/ To which Pope Clement : * You are a great
fool if you let yourself believe that any one will
come forward to offer you a farthing/ Accordingly,
his attorney, Messer Tommaso, and the agents of the
Duke, after some negotiations, came to an agree-
ment that a tomb should at least be made for the
amount he had received. Michelangelo, thinking the
matter had arrived at a good conclusion, consented
with alacrity. He was much influenced by the elder
Cardinal di Monte, who owed his advancement to
Julius II., and was uncle of Julius III., our present
Pope by grace of God. The arrangement was as
follows : That he should make a tomb of one fa9ade
only ; should utilise those marbles which he had
already blocked out for the quadrangular monument,
adapting them as well as circumstances allowed;
and finally, that he should be bound to furnish six
statues by his own hand. In spite of this arrange-
ment. Pope Clement was allowed to employ Michel-
angelo in Florence or where he liked during four
months of the year, that being required by his
46o LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Holiness for his undertakings at S. Lorenzo. Such
then was the contract made between the Duke and
Michelangelo. But here it has to be observed, that
after all accounts had been made up, Michelangelo
secretly agreed with the agents of his Excellency
that it should be reported that he had received some
thousands of crowns above what had been paid to
him ; the object being to make his obligation to
the Duke of Urbino seem more considerable, and
to discourage Pope Clement from sending him to
Florence, whither he was extremely unwilling to go.
This acknowledgment was not only bruited about
in words, but, without his knowledge or consent,
was also inserted into the deed ; not when this was
drawn up, but when it was engrossed; a falsifica-
tion which caused Michelangelo the utmost vexation.
The ambassador, however, persuaded him that this
would do him no real harm : it did not signify, he
said, whether the contract speciGed a thousand or
twenty thousand crowns, seeing they were agreed
that the tomb should be reduced to suit the sums
actually received ; adding, that nobody was con-
cerned in the matter except himself, and that
Michelangelo might feel safe with him on account
of the understanding between them. Upon this
Michelangelo grew easy in his mind, partly because
be thought he might have confidence, and partly
because he wished the Pope to receive the impres-
sion I have described above. In this way the thing
was settled for the time, but it did not end there ;
ALESSANDRO DE' MEDICI. 461
for when he had worked his four months in Florence
and came back to Eome, the Pope set him to other
tasks, and ordered him to paint the wall above the
altar in the Sistine Chapel. He was a man of ex-
cellent judgment in such matters, and had meditated
many different subjects for this fresco. At last he
fixed upon the Last Judgment, considering that the
variety and greatness of the theme would enable
the illustrious artist to exhibit his powers in their
full extent Michelangelo, remembering the obliga-
tion he was under to the Duke of Urbino, did all
he could to evade this new engagement ; but when
this proved impossible, he began to procrastinate,
and, pretending to be fully occupied with the car-
toons for his huge picture, he worked in secret at
the statues intended for the monument/'
VII.
Michelangelo's position at Florence was insecure
and painful, owing to the undisguised animosity of
the Duke Alessandro. This man ruled like a tyrant
of the worst sort, scandalising good citizens by his
brutal immoralities, and terrorising them by his
cruelties. " He remained," says Condivi, " in con-
tinual alarm ; because the Duke, a young man, as
is known to every one, of ferocious and revengeful
temper, hated him exceedingly. There is no doubt
462 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
that, but for the Pope's protection, he would hav^e
been removed from this world. What added to
Alessandro's enmity was that when he was planning
the fortress which he afterwards erected, he sent
Messer Vitelli for Michelangelo, ordering him to
ride with them, and to select a proper position for
the building. Michelangelo refused, saying that he
had received no commission from the Pope. The
Duke waxed very wroth ; and so, through this new
grievance added to old grudges and the notorious
nature of the Duke, Michelangelo not unreasonably
lived in fear. It was certainly by God's aid that
he happened to be away from Florence when
Clement died."* Michelangelo was bound under
solemn obligations to execute no work but what
the Pope ordered for himself or permitted by the
contract with the heirs of Julius. Therefore he
acted in accordance with duty when he refused to
advise the tyrant in this scheme for keeping the
city under permanent subjection. The man who
had fortified Florence against the troops of Clement
could not assist another bastard Medici to build a
strong place for her ruin. It may be to this period
of his life that we owe the following madrigal,
written upon the loss of Florentine liberty and the
bad conscience of the despot : * —
1 Condi vi, p. 51. Compare Vaaari, xii. 215. SeeVarchi, ^or. Fwr.^
iiL 43, for the commencement of this fortress, the foundations of which
were laid upon the 27th of May 1533.
» Rime, p. 25.
RECOVERY OF A FORCED LOAN. 463
Lady, for joy of lovers numberless
Thou wast created fair as angels are.
Sure €rod hath fallen asleep in heaven afar
When one man calls the bliss of many his 1
Give back to streaming eyes
The daylight of thy face, that seems to shun
Those who must live defrauded of their bliss 1
Vex not your pure desire with tears and sighs :
For he who robs you of my light hath none.
Dwelling in fear, sin hath no happiness ;
Since, amid those who love, their joy is less.
Whose great desire great plenty still curtails,
Than theirs who, poor, have hope that never fails.
During the siege Michelangelo had been forced
to lend the Signory a sum of about 1500 ducats.^
In the summer of 1533 he corresponded with
Sebastiano about means for recovering this loan.
On the 1 6th of August Sebastiano writes that he
has referred the matter to the Pope.* "I repeat,
what I have already written, that I presented your
memorial to his Holiness. It was about eight in
the evening, and the Florentine ambassador was
present. The Pope then ordered the ambassador
to write immediately to the Duke ; and this he did
with such vehemence and passion as I do not think
he has displayed on four other occasions concerning
the affairs of Florence. His rage and fury were
tremendous, and the words he used to the am-
bassador would stupefy you, could you hear them.
^ Lettere, No. cdvii. Was this perhaps levied for his contumacy in
the flight to Venice ?
* Les CorrespondantSf p. 112.
464 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
Indeed, they are not fit to be written down, and I
must reserve them for viva voce. I bum to have
half an bourns conversation with yon, for now I
know our good and holy master to the ground.
Enough, I think you must have already seen some-
thing of the sort. In brief, he has resolved that
you are to be repaid the 400 ducats of the guardian-
ship and the 5cx> ducats lent to the old Govern-
ment"* It may be readily imagined that this
restitution of a debt incurred by Florence when
she was fighting for her liberties, to which act of
justice her victorious tyrant was compelled by his
Papal kinsman, did not soften Alessandro's bad feel-
ing for the creditor.
Several of Sebastiano's letters during the summer
and autumn of 1533 refer to an edition of some
madrigals by Michelangelo, which had been set to
music by Bartolommeo Tromboncino, Giacomo Archa-
delt, and Costanzo Festa.* We have every reason
to suppose that the period we have now reached was
the richest in poetical compositions. It was also
in 1532 or 1533 that he formed the most passionate
attachment of which we have any knowledge in his
life ; for he became acquainted about this time with
^ '^Li ducati 400 del pupillo.'' Perhaps this sum had heen lent to
the Ufficiali dei Papilli. See Capponi, voL i. p. 648. With regard to
the Pope's rages, we maj remember what Cellini says of him : ** Veduto
io il papa diventato cosi una pessima hestia." Lib. i cap. 58.
* Les Correspondants, pp. 108-112. Compare Lettere, No. cdxy., in
which Michelangelo acknowledges the receipt of them. Qotti, voL ii.
pp. 89-122, publishes an interesting essay on this music by Leto Puliti,
together with the score of three madrigals.
YEARS 1532-1534. 465
Tommaso Cavalieri. A few years later he was des-
tined to meet with Vittoria Colonna. The details
of these two celebrated firiendships will be discussed
in another chapter.
Clement VII. journeyed from Rome in September,
intending to take ship at Leghorn for Nice and after-
wards Marseilles, where his young cousin, Caterina
de' Medici, was married to the Dauphin. He had
to pass through 8. Miniato al Tedesco, and thither
Michelangelo went to wait upon him on the 22nd.^
This was the last, and not the least imposing,
public act of the old Pope, who, six years after his
imprisonment and outrage in the Castle of S. Angelo,
was now wedding a daughter of his plebeian family
to the heir of the French crown. What passed
between Michelangelo and his master on this occa-
sion is not certain.
The years 153 2- 1534 form a period of consider-
able chronological perplexity in Michelangelo's life.
This is in great measure due to the fact that he was
now residing regularly part of the year in Rome and
part in Florence. We have good reason to believe
that he went to Rome in September 1532, and stayed
there through the winter.' It is probable that he
then formed the friendship with Cavalieri, which
played so important a part in his personal history.
^ See Ricordo in Lettere, p. 604.
* Angeliui's letter indorsed '4e lettere de dugento ducati'' (see
Appendix), Norcbiato's about a translation of Vitravias (date Dec. 7,
1 532, Arch. Buon., Cod. z. 582X Stephano's about tbe lantern of tbe
Sacristy (Arch Buon., Cod. zi. 713), lead to this conclusion.
VOL. L ^ ^
466 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
A brisk correspondence carried on between him and
his two friends, Bartolommeo Angelini and Sebas-
tiano del Piombo, shows that he resided at Florence
during the summer and early autumn of 1533. From
a letter addressed to Figiovanni on the 15th of
Octqber, we learn that he was then impatient to
leave Florence for Rome. But a Ricordo^ bearing
date Oct. 29, 1533, renders it almost certain that he
had not then started.^ Angelini's letters, which had
been so frequent, stop suddenly in that month.*
This renders it almost certain that Michelangelo
must have soon returned to Rome. Strangely enough
there are no letters or Ricordi in his handwriting
which bear the date 1 534. When we come to deal
with this year, 1534, we learn from Michelangelo's
own statement to Vasari that he was in Florence
during the summer, and that he reached Rome two
days before the death of Clement VII., i.e., upon
September 23.® Condivi observes that it was lucky
for him that the Pope did not die while he was still
at Florence, else he would certainly have been
exposed to great peril, and probably been murdered
or imprisoned by Duke Alessandro.^
Nevertheless, Michelangelo was again in Florence
toward the close of 1534. An undated letter to a
certain Febo (di Poggio) confirms this supposition.
1 Lettere, pp. 470, 604,
> I shall print all Angelini's letters in the Appendix. Angelini's last
dated letter is Oct 18.
' Lettere, No. cdlxxxii, written in May 1557.
* Condivi, p. 51.
LODOVICO'S DEATH. 467
It may probably be referred to the month of Decem-
ber. In it he says that he means to leave Florence
next day for Pisa and Bome, and that he shall never
return.^ Febo's ansv^er, addressed to Rome, is dated
Jan. 14, 1534, which, according to Florentine reckon-
ing, means 1535.'
We may take it, then, as sufKciently well ascer-
tained that Michelangelo departed from Florence
before the end of 1 5 34, and that he never returned
during the remainder of his life. There is left,
however, another point of importance referring to
this period, which cannot be satisfactorily cleared
up. We do not know the exact date of his father,
Lodovico's, death. It must have happened either in
1533 or in 1534. In spite of careful researches, no
record of the event has yet been discovered, either
at Settignano or in the public offices of Florence.
The documents of the Buonarroti family yield no direct
information on the subject. We learn, however, from
the Libri delle Etk, preserved at the Archivio di
Stato, that Lodovico di Lionardo di Buonarrota
Simoni was bom upon the nth of June 1444.*
Now Michelangelo, in his poem on Lodovico's death,
says very decidedly that his father was ninety when
^ Lettere, No. cdxz. Milanesi awigns it to the year 1533. But the
date of Febo's answer makes this impossible. Besides, we have seen
above that he must have gone to Bome at the end of Oct 1533.
' This letter I shall print in the Appendix. It will be fully discoraed
in chapter xii«
' Libro 3 delle Et4, in the Arch, delle Tratte, fo]. 109, and libro 2,
p. 92, tergo. This information I owe to the Cav. Q. Biagi.
468 LIFE OF MICHELANGELO.
he breathed his last. If we take this literally, it
must be inferred that he died after the middle of
June 1534. There are many reasons for supposing
that Michelangelo was in Florence when this hap-
pened. The chief of these is that no correspondence
passed between the Buonarroti brothers on the occa-
sion, while Michelangelo's minutes regarding the ex-
penses of his father's burial seem to indicate that he
was personally responsible for their disbursement.^ I
may finally remark that the schedule of property
belonging to Michelangelo, recorded under the year
1 534 in the archives of the Decima at Florence, makes
no reference at all to Lodovico.* We conclude from
it that, at the time of its redaction, Michelangelo
must have succeeded to his father's estate.'
The death of Lodovico and Buonarroto, happening
within a space of little more than five years, pro-
foundly affected Michelangelo's mind, and left an
indelible mark of sadness on his life. One of his
best poems, a capitolo, or piece of verse in terza rinui
stanzas, was written on the occasion of his fa.ther's
decease.* In it he says that Ludovico had reached
^ See Qotti, ii p. 81.
* It is publislied by Qaye, iL 253. No other extant documentB throw
much light on the matter.
> It only remains to add that, conridering Michehmgelo left Florence
for good at the end of 1534, and that Lodovico mnst have died before
that date, two letters written to Qiovan Simone (which Milanesi assies
to 1 532, 1 533) were probably sent at the end of 1 534. They are Lettere,
N08. czviii., cxiz. Both refer to Mona Margherita, an old servant, who
had been left to Buonarroti's care by his father on his deathbed.
♦ Rime, pp. 297-301.
POEM ON LODOVICO'S DEATH. 469
the age of ninety. If this statement be literally
accurate, the old man must have died in 1534, since
he was bom upon the nth of June 1444. But up
to the present time, as I have observed above, the
exact date of his death has not been discovered.
One passage of singular and solemn beauty may be
translated from the original : —
Thou'rt dead of dying, and art made divine^
Nor fearest now to change or life or will ;
Scarce without envy can I call this thine.
Fortune and time heyond your temple-sill
Dare not advance, by whom is dealt for us
A doubtful gladness, and too certain iU.
Cloud is there none to dim you glorious :
The hours distinct compel you not to fade :
Nor chance nor fate o'er you are tyrannous.
Your splendour with the night sinks not in shade,
Nor grows with day, howe'er that sun ride high.
Which on our mortal hearts life's heat hath rayed.
Thus from thy dying I now learn to die.
Dear father mine 1 In thought I see thy place,
Where earth but rarely lets men climb the sky.
Not, as some deem, is death the worst disgrace
For one whose last day brings him to the first,
The next eternal throne to God's by grace.
There by God's grace I trust that thou art nursed.
And hope to find thee, if but my cold heart
High reason draw from earthly slime accursed.
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