recommended by Mengs. He visited Florence, Bologna, Parma, and Venice,
and diligently examined everything worth studying. He everywhere
received marks of attention, and was elected a member of the Academies
of Florence, Bologna, and Parma. In the latter city, he painted and
presented to the Academy, a copy of the famous St. Jerome by Correggio,
“of such excellence,” says Galt, “that the reigning prince desired to
see the artist. He went to court, and to the utter astonishment of the
attendants, appeared with his hat on. The prince was familiar with the
tenets of the Quakers, and was a lover of William Penn; he received the
young artist with complacency, and dismissed him with many expressions
of regard.” West returned to Rome, where he painted two pictures which
were highly commended, one of Cimon and Iphigenia, and the other of
Angelica and Medora. At Venice, he particularly studied the works of
Titian, and Cunningham says, “he imagined he had discovered his
principles of coloring.”
A REMARKABLE PROPHECY.
As West was conversing one evening with Gavin Hamilton in the British
Coffee House, at Rome, an old man, with a long and flowing beard and a
harp in his hand, entered and offered his services as an improvisatore
bard. “Here is an American,” said the wily Scot, “come to study the Fine
Arts in Rome; take him for your theme, and, it is a magnificent one.”
The minstrel casting a glance at West, who never in his life could
perceive what a joke was, commenced his song. “I behold in this youth an
instrument chosen by heaven to create in his native country a taste for
those arts which have elevated the nature of man--an assurance that his
land will be the refuge of science and knowledge, when in the old age of
Europe they shall have forsaken her shores. All things of heavenly
origin move westward, and Truth, and Art, have their periods of light
and darkness. Rejoice, O Rome, for thy spirit immortal and undecayed now
spreads towards a new world, where, like the soul of man in Paradise, it
will be perfected more and more.” The prediction of Peckover, the fond
expressions of his beloved mother, and his solemn dedication to art,
rushed upon West’s memory, and he burst into tears; and even in his
riper years, he was willing to consider the poor mendicant’s song as
another prophecy.
WEST’S FONDNESS FOR SKATING.
There are other minor matters, says Cunningham, which help a man on to
fame and fortune. West was a skillful skater, and in America had formed
an acquaintance on the ice with Colonel Howe. One day, the painter
having tied on his skates at the Serpentine, was astonishing the timid
practitioners of London with the rapidity of his motions, and the
graceful figure which he cut. Some one shouted “West! West!” It was
Colonel Howe. “I am glad to see you,” said he, “and not less so that you
came in good time to vindicate my praises of American skating.” He
called to him Lord Spencer Hamilton, and some of the Cavendishes, to
whom he introduced West as one of the Philadelphia prodigies of skating,
and requested him to show them what was called “the Salute.” He
performed this feat so much to their satisfaction that they spread the
praises of the American skater all over London. West was exceedingly
fond of this invigorating amusement, and used frequently to gratify
large crowds by cutting the Philadelphia Salute. Cunningham says, “Many
to the praise of skating, added panegyrics on his professional skill,
and not a few to vindicate their applause, followed him to his easel,
and sat for their portraits.”
WEST’S DEATH OF WOLFE.
A change was now to be effected in the character of British art.
Hitherto, historical painting had appeared in a masking habit; the
actions of Englishmen, says Cunningham, had all been performed, if
costume were to be believed, by Greeks and Romans. West dismissed at
once this pedantry, and restored nature and propriety in his noble work
of “the Death of Wolfe.” The multitude acknowledged its excellence at
once, on its being exhibited at the Royal Academy; but the lovers of
old art, or of the compositions called _classical_, complained of the
barbarism of boots, buttons, and blunderbusses, and cried out for naked
warriors, with bows, bucklers, and battering rams. Lord Grosvenor was so
pleased with the picture, that, disregarding the frowns of amateurs, and
the cold approbation of the Academy, he purchased it. Galt says that the
king questioned West concerning this picture, and put him on his defense
of this new heresy in art. “When it was understood,” said the artist,
“that I intended to paint the characters as they had actually appeared
on the scene, the Archbishop of York called on Reynolds, and asked his
opinion; they both came to my house to dissuade me from running so great
a risk. Reynolds began a very ingenious and elegant dissertation on the
state of the public taste in this country, and the danger which every
innovator incurred of contempt and ridicule, and concluded by urging me
earnestly to adopt the costume of antiquity, as more becoming the
greatness of my subject than the modern garb of European warriors. I
answered that the event to be commemorated happened in the year 1758, in
a region of the world unknown to the Greeks and Romans, and at a period
of time when no warriors who wore such costume existed. The subject I
have to represent is a great battle fought and won, and the same truth
which gives law to the historian, should rule the painter. If instead of
the facts of the action, I introduce fiction, how shall I be understood
by posterity? The classic dress is certainly picturesque, but by using
it, I shall lose in sentiment what I gain in external grace. I want to
mark the place, the time, and the people, and to do this, I must abide
by truth. They went away, and returned again when I had finished the
painting. Reynolds seated himself before the picture, examined it with
deep and minute attention for half an hour; then rising, said to
Drummond, ‘West has conquered; he has treated his subject as it ought to
be treated; I retract my objections. I foresee that this picture will
not only become one of the most popular, but will occasion a revolution
in art.’ ‘I wish,’ said the king, ‘that I had known all this before, for
the objection has been the means of Lord Grosvenor’s getting the
picture; but you shall make a copy for me.’”
MICHAEL ANGELO.
Michael Angelo was descended from the noble family of Canosa. From his
earliest infancy, he discovered a passion for drawing and sculpture. It
is said that his nurse was the wife of a poor sculptor, or as some say,
a mason. His father, Lodovico Simone Buonarotti, intended him for one of
the learned professions, and placed him in a grammar school at Florence.
Here young Angelo soon manifested the greatest fondness for drawing, and
became quite intimate with the students in painting. The decided bent
of his genius induced his parents, against their wishes, to place him at
the age of fourteen under the instruction of Domenico Ghirlandaio. He
made such rapid progress, that he soon not only surpassed all his fellow
disciples, but even his instructor, so that he was able to correct
Domenico’s drawing.
While pursuing his studies under Ghirlandaio, he was accustomed to visit
the gardens of the Grand Duke, (Lorenzo the Magnificent) to study the
antique. One day, when he was about fifteen years of age, he found a
piece of marble in the garden, and carved it into the mask of a satyr,
borrowing the design from an antique fragment. Lorenzo, on seeing the
work, was struck with its excellence, and jestingly told the young
Angelo that he had made a mistake in giving a full set of teeth to an
old man. This hint was not lost; the next day it was found that the
artist had broken one of the teeth from the upper jaw, and drilled a
hole in the gum to represent the cavity left by the lost tooth. The
first work executed by Michael Angelo, on his return to Florence from
Bologna, where he had fled on account of the disturbances in the former
city, was a Sleeping Cupid, in marble, which considerably enhanced his
reputation; but so great was the prejudice in favor of the antique, that
by the advice of a friend, Michael Angelo sent his statue to Rome, to
undergo the process of burial, in order to give it the appearance of a
work of ancient art, before it should be submitted to public inspection.
This fraud, like many of a similar kind at this time practiced,
succeeded completely; and the Cupid was eagerly purchased by the
Cardinal St. Giorgio, for 200 ducats. It was not long before the
Cardinal was told that a trick had been played upon him, and he sent a
person to Florence, in order to ascertain, if possible the truth of the
charge. The latter repaired to the studios of the different artists in
that city, on the pretence of seeing their productions. On visiting the
_atelier_ of Michael Angelo, he requested to see a specimen of his work;
but not having anything finished at the time, he carelessly took up a
pen, and made a sketch of a hand. The Cardinal’s messenger, struck by
the freedom and grandeur of the style, inquired what was the last work
he had executed. The artist, without consideration, answered at the
moment, it was a Sleeping Cupid; and so minutely described the supposed
antique statue, that there remained no doubt whose work it was. The
messenger at once confessed the object of his journey, and so strongly
recommended Michael Angelo to visit Rome, that he soon after went to
that city, on the express invitation of the Cardinal St. Giorgio
himself. Here he executed several admirable works, among which the
Pietá, or dead Christ, has been highly extolled for the great knowledge
of anatomy displayed in the figure. He afterwards returned to Florence,
where he executed his celebrated marble statue of David.
MICHAEL ANGELO AND JULIUS THE SECOND.
Julius the Second, a patron of genius and learning, having ascended the
papal throne, Michael Angelo was among the first invited to Rome, and
was immediately employed by the pope in the execution of a magnificent
mausoleum. On the completion of the design, it was difficult to find a
site befitting its splendor; and it was finally determined to rebuild
St. Peter’s, in order that this monument might be contained in a
building of corresponding magnificence. Thus originated the design of
that edifice, which was one hundred and fifty years in completion, and
which is now the noblest triumph of architectural genius the world can
boast. The completion of this grand monument was delayed by various
causes during the pontificates of several succeeding popes, until the
time of Paul III. It was not placed in St. Peter’s, as originally
intended, but in the church of S. Pietro, in Vincoli. On this monument
is the celebrated colossal statue of Moses, which ranks Michael Angelo
among the first sculptors, and has contributed largely to his renown.
ST. PETER’S CHURCH.
Michael Angelo’s greatest architectural work was the cupola of St.
Peter’s church. Bramante, the original architect, had executed his
design only up to the springing of the four great arches of the central
intersection. Giuliano di Sangallo, Giocondo, Raffaelle, Peruzzi, and
Antonio Sangallo, had been successively engaged, after Bramante’s
decease, to carry on the work; but during the inert sway of Adrian VI.,
and amid the catastrophes of Clement VII., little had been accomplished.
At length Paul III. appointed Michael Angelo to the post of architect,
much against his will, as he was then seventy-two years of age. He
immediately laid aside all the drawings and models of his predecessors,
and taking the simple subject of the original idea, he carried it out
with remarkable purity, divesting it of all the intricacies and
puerilities of the previous successors of Bramante, and by its
unaffected dignity, and unity of conception, he rendered the interior of
the cupola superior to any similar work of modern times. He was engaged
upon it seventeen years, and at the age of eighty-seven he had a model
prepared of the dome, which he carried up to a considerable height; in
fact, to such a point as rendered it impossible to deviate from his
plan; and it was completed in conformity with his design, by Giacomo
della Porta, and Domenico Fontana. The work was greatly delayed in
consequence of the want of necessary funds, or else Michael Angelo would
have himself completed this great monument of his taste and skill. If we
are indebted to Bramante for the first simple plan of the Greek Cross of
St. Peter’s, and the idea of a cupola to crown the centre, still it must
be allowed that to Michael Angelo is due the merit of carrying out the
conception of the original architect, with a beauty of proportion, a
simplicity and unity of form, a combination of dignity and magnificence
of decoration, beyond what even the powers of Bramante could have
effected.
Such was the unparalleled eminence which this wonderful genius attained
in the three sister arts of sculpture, architecture, and painting. His
chief characteristics were grandeur and sublimity. His powers were
little adapted to represent the gentle and the beautiful; but whatever
in nature partook of the sublime and the terrible, were portrayed by him
with such fidelity and grandeur as intimidates the beholder. Never
before nor since has the world beheld so powerful a genius. The name of
Michael Angelo will be immortal as long as the peopled walls of the
Sistine chapel endure, or the mighty fabric of St. Peter’s rears its
proud dome above the spires of the Eternal city.
MICHAEL ANGELO’S FIRST PATRON.
Lanzi says that Lorenzo the Magnificent, desirous of encouraging the
statuary art, then on the decline in his country, had collected in his
gardens many antique marbles, which he committed to the care of
Bertoldo. He requested Ghirlandaio to send him a talented young man, to
be educated there, and he sent him Michael Angelo, then a youth of
sixteen. Lorenzo was so pleased with his genius that he took him into
his palace, rather as a relative than a dependent, placing him at the
same table with his own sons, with Poliziano and other learned men who
graced his residence. During the four years that he remained there, he
laid the foundation of all his acquirements.
THE CARTOON OF PISA.
According to Condivi, Michael Angelo devoted twelve years to the study
of anatomy, with great injury to his health, and this course “determined
his style, his practice, and his glory.” His perfect knowledge of the
human body was best shown in his famous Cartoon of the Battle of Pisa,
prepared in competition with Leonardo da Vinci, in the saloon of the
public palace at Florence. Angelo did not rest satisfied with
representing the Florentines, cased in armor, and mingling with their
enemies in deadly combat; but choosing the moment of the attack upon the
van, while bathing in the river Arno, he seized the opportunity of
representing many naked figures, as they rushed to arms from the water,
by which he was enabled to introduce a prodigious variety of
foreshortenings, and attitudes the most energetic--in a word, the
highest perfection of his peculiar excellence. Cellini observes of this
work, that “when Michael Angelo painted in the chapel of Julius II., he
did not reach half that dignity;” and Vasari says that “all the artists
who studied and designed after this cartoon, became eminent.”
This sublime production has perished, and report, though not
authenticated, accuses Baccio Bandinelli of having destroyed it, either
that others might not derive advantage from its study, or, because of
his partiality to Vinci and his hatred to Buonarotti he wished to remove
a subject of comparison that might exalt the reputation of the latter
above that of the former.
MICHAEL ANGELO’S LAST JUDGMENT.
Lanzi says, “In the succeeding pontificates (to that of Julius II.)
Michael Angelo, always occupied in sculpture and architecture, almost
wholly abandoned painting, till he was induced by Paul III. to resume
the pencil. Clement VII. had conceived the design of employing him in
the Sistine chapel, on two other grand historical pictures--the Fall of
the Angels, over the gate; and the Last Judgment, in the opposite
façade, over the altar. Michael Angelo had composed designs for the Last
Judgment, and Paul III. being aware of this, commanded, or rather
entreated, him to commence the work; for he went to his house,
accompanied by ten Cardinals,--an honor, except in this instance,
unknown in the annals of the art.” This sublime work was finished by
Michael Angelo in eight years, and was exhibited in 1541. Vasari says
that at the suggestion of Fra Sebastiano del Piombo, the Pope desired
that it should be painted in oil; but Michael Angelo positively declined
to undertake it, except in fresco, saying “that oil painting was an
employment only fit for women, or idlers of mean capacity.” Varchio in
his funeral oration says, “Such was the delicacy of his taste that no
artist could please him; and as in sculpture, every pincer, file, and
chisel which he used, was the work of his own hands, so in painting, he
prepared his own colors, and did not commit the mixing and other
necessary manipulations to mechanics and boys.”
Lanzi says that Michael Angelo must be acknowledged supreme in that
peculiar branch of the profession (the nude), at which he aimed in all
his works, especially in his Last Judgment. “The subject appeared rather
_created_ than selected by him. To a genius so comprehensive, and so
skilled in drawing the human figure, no subject could be better adapted
than the Resurrection; and to an artist who delighted in the awful, no
story more suitable than the day of supernal terrors. He saw Raffaelle
preëminent in every other department of the art; he foresaw that in this
alone could he expect to be triumphant; and perhaps he indulged the hope
that posterity would adjudge the palm to him who excelled all others in
the most arduous walk of art.”
“The Last Judgment,” says Lanzi, “was filled with such a profusion of
nudity that it was in great danger of being destroyed, from a regard to
the decency of the sanctuary. Paul IV. proposed to whitewash it, and was
hardly appeased with the correction of its most glaring indelicacies, by
some drapery introduced here and there by Daniello da Volterra, on whom
the facetious Romans, from this circumstance, conferred the nickname of
the _Breeches-maker_.” Other corrections were proposed by different
critics, and some alterations made. Angelo was censured for mixing
sacred with profane history; for introducing the angels of revelation
with the Stygian ferryman; Christ sitting in judgment, and Minos
assigning his proper station to each of the damned. To this profanity,
he added satire; in Minos, he portrayed the features of the Master of
Ceremonies, who in the hearing of the pope, had pronounced this picture
more suitable for a Bagnio than a church; and an officious Cardinal, he
placed among the damned, with a fiend dragging him by the testes down to
hell.
MICHAEL ANGELO’S COLORING.
The coloring of Michael Angelo has been generally criticised as being
too cold and inharmonious, but the best critics now consider that it was
admirably adapted to his design. His chief characteristics were grandeur
and sublimity, and whatever partook of the sublime and the terrible, he
portrayed with a fidelity that intimidates the beholder. It is an error
to suppose that he could not color delicately and brilliantly when he
chose. During his residence at Florence, he painted an exquisite Leda
for Alphonso, Duke of Ferrara. Michael Angelo was so much offended at
the manner of one of the courtiers of that prince, who was sent to bring
it to Ferrara, that he refused to let him have it, but made it a present
to his favorite pupil, Antonio Mini, who carried it to France. Vasari
describes it as “a grand picture, painted in distemper, that seemed as
if it breathed on the canvass”; and Mariette, in his notes on Condivi,
affirms that he saw the picture, and that “Michael Angelo appeared to
have forgot his usual style, and approached the tone of Titian.”
D’Argenville informs us that the picture was destroyed by fire in the
reign of Louis XIII. Lanzi says, “In chiaro-scuro, Michael Angelo had
not the skill and delicacy of Correggio; but his paintings in the
Vatican have a force and relief much commended by Renfesthein, an
eminent connoisseur, who, on passing from the Sistine chapel to the
Farnesian gallery, remarked how greatly in this respect the Caracci
themselves were eclipsed by Buonarotti.”
MICHAEL ANGELO’S GRACE.
“It is a vulgar error,” says Lanzi, “to suppose that Michael Angelo had
no idea of grace and beauty; the Eve in the Sistine chapel turns to
thank her Maker, on her creation, with an attitude so fine and lovely,
that it would do honor to the school of Raffaelle. Annibale Caracci
admired this, and many other naked figures in this grand ceiling, so
highly that he proposed them to himself as models in the art, and
according to Bellori, preferred them to the Last Judgment, which
appeared to him to be too anatomical.”
MICHAEL ANGELO’S OIL PAINTINGS.
It has long been a disputed point whether Michael Angelo ever painted in
oil; but it has been ascertained by Lanzi that the Holy Family in the
Florentine gallery, which is the only picture by him supposed to be
painted in oil, is in reality in distemper. Many of his designs,
however, were executed in oil by his cotemporaries, especially
Sebastiano del Piombo, Jacopo da Pontormo, and Marcello Venusti. Fresco
painting was better adapted to the elevated character of his
composition, which required a simple and solid system of coloring,
rather subdued than enlivened, and producing a grand and impressive
effect, which could not have been expressed by the glittering splendor
of oil painting. There are many oil paintings erroneously attributed to
him in the galleries at Rome, Florence, Milan, the Imperial gallery at
Vienna, and elsewhere. (See Spooner’s Dict. of Painters, Engravers,
Sculptors, and Architects; table of _Imitators_.)
MICHAEL ANGELO, HIS PROPHETS, AND JULIUS II.
When Michael Angelo had finished the works in the Sistine chapel which
Julius II. had commanded him to paint, the Pope, not appreciating their
native dignity and simplicity, told him that “the chapel appeared cold
and mean, and there wanted some brilliancy of coloring, and some gilding
to be added to it.” “Holy father,” replied the artist, “formerly men did
not dress as they do now, in gold and silver; those personages whom I
have represented in my pictures in the chapel, were not persons of
wealth, but saints, who were divinely inspired, and despised pomp and
riches.”
BON-MOTS OF MICHAEL ANGELO.
Michael Angelo was a true poet. He was endowed with a ready wit and
consummate eloquence. His bon-mots, recorded by Dati, rival those of the
Grecian painters, and he was esteemed one of the most witty and lively
men of his time.
When he had finished his statue of Julius II. for the Bolognese, the
Pope thought it too severe, and said to him, “Angelo, my statue appears
rather to curse than to bless the good people of Bologna.” “Holy
father,” replied the artist, “as they have not always been the most
obedient of your subjects, it will teach them to be afraid of you, and
to behave better in future.”
Under the pontificate of Julius III., the faction of San Gallo went so
far, as to prevail upon the Pope to appoint a committee to examine the
fabric. Angelo paid no attention to the cavils of his enemies. Finally
the Pope summoned him before him, and told him that a particular part of
the church was too dark. “Who told you that, holy father?” said Angelo.
“I did,” interrupted the Cardinal Marcello. “Your eminence should
consider, then,” said the artist, casting at the prelate a look of cool
contempt, “that besides the window there is at present, I have designed
three more in the ceiling of the church!” “You did not tell me that,”
replied the Cardinal. “No indeed, I did not, sir. I am not obliged to
tell you; nor would I ever consent to be obliged to tell your eminence,
or any person whomsoever, anything concerning it. Your business is to
take care that money is plenty at Rome; that there are no thieves there;
to let me alone; and to permit me to go on with my plan as I please.”