seeing the works of others only once, he remembered them perfectly,
and could avail himself of them in such a manner, that scarcely anyone
has ever noticed it; nor did he ever do anything that resembled
another thing by his hand, because he remembered everything that he
had done. In his youth, being once with his painter-friends, they
played for a supper for him who should make a figure most completely
wanting in design and clumsy, after the likeness of the puppet-figures
which those make who know nothing, scrawling upon walls; and in this
he availed himself of his memory, for he remembered having seen one
of those absurdities on a wall, and drew it exactly as if he had had
it before him, and thus surpassed all those painters--a thing
difficult for a man so steeped in design, and accustomed to choice
works, to come out of with credit. He was full of disdain, and
rightly, against anyone who did him an injury, but he was never seen
to run to take revenge; nay, rather, he was most patient, modest in
all his ways, very prudent and wise in his speech, with answers full
of weight, and at times sayings most ingenious, amusing, and acute. He
said many things that have been written down by me, of which I shall
include only a few, because it would take too long to give them all. A
friend having spoken to him of death, saying that it must grieve him
much, because he had lived in continual labour in matters of art, and
had never had any repose, he answered that all that was nothing,
because, if life is a pleasure to us, death, being likewise by the
hand of one and the same master, should not displease us. To a citizen
who found him by Orsanmichele in Florence, where he had stopped to
gaze at Donato's statue of S. Mark, and who asked him what he thought
of that figure, Michelagnolo answered that he had never seen a figure
that had more of the air of a good man than that one, and that, if S.
Mark was like that, one could give credence to what he had written.
Being shown the drawing of a boy then beginning to learn to draw, who
was recommended to him, some persons excusing him because it was not
long since he had applied himself to art, he replied: "That is
evident." He said a similar thing to a painter who had painted a
Pietà, and had not acquitted himself well: "It is indeed a pitiful
thing to see." Having heard that Sebastiano Viniziano had to paint a
friar in the chapel of S. Pietro a Montorio, he said that this would
spoil the work for him; and being asked why he said that, he answered:
"Since they have spoiled the world, which is so large, it would not be
surprising if they were to spoil such a small thing as that chapel." A
painter had executed a work with very great pains, toiling over it a
long time; but when it was given to view he had made a considerable
profit. Michelagnolo was asked what he thought of the craftsman, and
he answered: "As long as this man strives to be rich, he will always
remain a poor creature." One of his friends who was a churchman, and
used formerly to say Mass, having arrived in Rome all covered with
points and silk, saluted Michelagnolo; but he pretended not to see
him, so that the friend was forced to declare his name to him.
Michelagnolo expressed marvel that he should be in that habit, and
then added, as it were to congratulate him: "Oh, but you are
magnificent! If you were as fine within as I see you to be without, it
would be well with your soul." The same man had recommended a friend
to Michelagnolo (who had given him a statue to execute), praying him
that he should have something more given to him, which Michelagnolo
graciously did; but the envy of the friend, who had made the request
to Michelagnolo only in the belief that he would not grant it, brought
it about that, perceiving that the master had granted it after all, he
complained of it. This matter was reported to Michelagnolo, and he
answered that he did not like men made like sewers, using a metaphor
from architecture, and meaning that it is difficult to have dealings
with men who have two mouths. Being asked by a friend what he thought
of one who had counterfeited in marble some of the most celebrated
antique figures, and boasted that in his imitations he had surpassed
the antiques by a great measure, Michelagnolo replied: "He who goes
behind others can never go in front of them, and he who is not able to
work well for himself cannot make good use of the works of others." A
certain painter, I know not who, had executed a work wherein was an
ox, which looked better than any other part; and Michelagnolo, being
asked why the painter had made the ox more lifelike than the rest,
said: "Any painter can make a good portrait of himself." Passing by S.
Giovanni in Florence, he was asked his opinion of those doors, and he
answered: "They are so beautiful that they would do well at the gates
of Paradise." While serving a Prince who kept changing plans every
day, and would never stand firm, Michelagnolo said to a friend: "This
lord has a brain like a weather-cock, which turns round with every
wind that blows on it." He went to see a work of sculpture which was
about to be sent out because it was finished, and the sculptor was
taking much trouble to arrange the lights from the windows, to the end
that it might show up well; whereupon Michelagnolo said to him: "Do
not trouble yourself; the important thing will be the light of the
Piazza"; meaning to infer that when works are in public places, the
people must judge whether they are good or bad. There was a great
Prince in Rome who had a notion to play the architect, and he had
caused certain niches to be built in which to place figures, each
three squares high, with a ring at the top; and having tried to place
various statues within these niches, which did not turn out well, he
asked Michelagnolo what he should place in them, and he answered:
"Hang bunches of eels from those rings." There was appointed to the
government of the fabric of S. Pietro a gentleman who professed to
understand Vitruvius, and to be a critic of the work done.
Michelagnolo was told, "You have obtained for the fabric one who has a
great intelligence"; and he answered, "That is true, but he has a bad
judgment." A painter had executed a scene, and had copied many things
from various other works, both drawings and pictures, nor was there
anything in that work that was not copied. It was shown to
Michelagnolo, who, having seen it, was asked by a very dear friend
what he thought of it, and he replied: "He has done well, but I know
not what this scene will do on the day of Judgment, when all bodies
shall recover their members, for there will be nothing left of it"--a
warning to those who practise art, that they should make a habit of
working by themselves. Passing through Modena, he saw many beautiful
figures by the hand of Maestro Antonio Bigarino,[5] a sculptor of
Modena, made of terra-cotta and coloured in imitation of marble, which
appeared to him to be excellent works; and, since that sculptor did
not know how to work marble, Michelagnolo said: "If this clay were to
become marble, woe to the ancient statues." Michelagnolo was told that
he should show resentment against Nanni di Baccio Bigio, who was
seeking every day to compete with him; but he answered: "He who
contends with men of no account never gains a victory." A priest, his
friend, said to him: "It is a pity that you have not taken a wife, so
that you might have had many children and left them all your
honourable labours." And Michelagnolo replied: "I have only too much
of a wife in this art of mine, who has always kept me in tribulation,
and my children shall be the works that I may leave, which, even if
they are naught, will live a while. Woe to Lorenzo di Bartoluccio
Ghiberti, if he had not made the gates of S. Giovanni, for his
children and grandchildren sold or squandered all that he left, but
the gates are still standing." Vasari, sent by Julius III to
Michelagnolo's house for a design at the first hour of the night,
found him working at the Pietà in marble that he broke. Michelagnolo,
recognizing him by the knock at the door, left his work and took a
lamp with his hand by the handle; Vasari explained what he wanted,
whereupon Michelagnolo sent Urbino upstairs for the design, and then
they entered into another conversation. Meanwhile Vasari turned his
eyes to examine a leg of the Christ at which he was working, seeking
to change it; and, in order to prevent Vasari from seeing it, he let
the lamp fall from his hand, and they were left in darkness. He called
to Urbino to bring a light, and meanwhile came forth from the
enclosure where the work was, and said: "I am so old that death often
pulls me by the cloak, that I may go with him, and one day this body
of mine will fall like the lamp, and the light of my life will be
spent."
[Footnote 5: Begarelli.]
For all this, he took pleasure in certain kinds of men after his
taste, such as Menighella, a commonplace and clownish painter of
Valdarno, who was a most diverting person. He would come at times to
Michelagnolo, that he might make for him a design of S. Rocco or S.
Anthony, to be painted for peasants; and Michelagnolo, who was with
difficulty persuaded to work for Kings, would deign to set aside all
his other work and make him simple designs suited to his manner and
his wishes, as Menighella himself used to say. Among other things,
Menighella persuaded him to make a model of a Crucifix, which was very
beautiful; of this he made a mould, from which he formed copies in
pasteboard and other materials, and these he went about selling
throughout the countryside. Michelagnolo would burst out laughing at
him, particularly because he used to meet with fine adventures, as
with a countryman who commissioned him to paint a S. Francis, and was
displeased because Menighella had made the vestment grey, whereas he
would have liked it of a finer colour; whereupon Menighella painted
over the Saint's shoulders a pluvial of brocade, and so contented him.
He loved, likewise, the stone-cutter Topolino, who had a notion of
being an able sculptor, but was in truth very feeble. This man spent
many years in the mountains of Carrara, sending marble to
Michelagnolo; nor would he ever send a boatload without adding to it
three or four little figures blocked out with his own hand, at which
Michelagnolo would die of laughing. Finally Topolino returned, and,
having blocked out a Mercury from a piece of marble, he set himself to
finish it; and one day, when there was little left to do, he desired
that Michelagnolo should see it, and straitly besought him that he
should tell him his opinion. "You are a madman to try to make figures,
Topolino," said Michelagnolo. "Do you not see that your Mercury is
more than a third of a braccio too short between the knees and the
feet, and that you have made him a dwarf and all misshapen?" "Oh, that
is nothing! If there is nothing else wrong, I will put it right; leave
it to me." Michelagnolo laughed once more at his simplicity; and when
he was gone, Topolino took a piece of marble, and, having cut the
Mercury a quarter of a braccio below the knees, he let it into the new
piece of marble and joined it neatly together, making a pair of
buskins for the Mercury, the tops of which were above the joins; and
so he added the length required. Then he invited Michelagnolo to come,
and showed him his work once again; and the master laughed, marvelling
that such simpletons, when driven by necessity, form resolutions of
which able men are not capable.
While Michelagnolo was having the tomb of Julius II finished, he
caused a marble-hewer to execute a terminal figure for placing in the
tomb in S. Pietro in Vincola, saying to him, "Cut away this to-day,"
"Level that," "Polish here"; insomuch that, without the other noticing
it, he enabled him to make a figure. Wherefore, when it was finished,
the man gazed at it marvelling; and Michelagnolo said: "What do you
think of it?" "I think it fine," he answered, "and I am much obliged
to you." "Why so?" asked Michelagnolo. "Because by your means I have
discovered a talent that I did not know I possessed."
Now, to be brief, I must record that the master's constitution was
very sound, for he was lean and well knit together with nerves, and
although as a boy he was delicate, and as a man he had two serious
illnesses, he could always endure any fatigue and had no infirmity,
save that in his old age he suffered from dysuria and from gravel,
which in the end developed into the stone; wherefore for many years he
was syringed by the hand of Maestro Realdo Colombo, his very dear
friend, who treated him with great diligence. He was of middle
stature, broad in the shoulders, but well proportioned in all the rest
of the body. In his latter years he wore buskins of dogskin on the
legs, next to the skin, constantly for whole months together, so that
afterwards, when he sought to take them off, on drawing them off the
skin often came away with them. Over the stockings he wore boots of
cordwain fastened on the inside, as a protection against damp. His
face was round, the brow square and spacious, with seven straight
lines, and the temples projected considerably beyond the ears; which
ears were somewhat on the large side, and stood out from the cheeks.
The body was in proportion to the face, or rather on the large side;
the nose somewhat flattened, as was said in the Life of Torrigiano,
who broke it for him with his fist; the eyes rather on the small side,
of the colour of horn, spotted with blueish and yellowish gleams; the
eyebrows with few hairs, the lips thin, with the lower lip rather
thicker and projecting a little, the chin well shaped and in
proportion with the rest, the hair black, but mingled with white
hairs, like the beard, which was not very long, forked, and not very
thick.
Truly his coming was to the world, as I said at the beginning, an
exemplar sent by God to the men of our arts, to the end that they
might learn from his life the nature of noble character, and from his
works what true and excellent craftsmen ought to be. And I, who have
to praise God for infinite blessings, as is seldom wont to happen with
men of our profession, count it among the greatest blessings that I
was born at the time when Michelagnolo was alive, that I was thought
worthy to have him as my master, and that he was so much my friend and
intimate, as everyone knows, and as the letters written by him to me,
now in my possession, bear witness; and out of love for truth, and
also from the obligation that I feel to his loving kindness, I have
contrived to write many things of him, and all true, which many others
have not been able to do. Another blessing he used to point out to me
himself: "You should thank God, Giorgio, who has caused you to serve
Duke Cosimo, who, in his contentment that you should build and paint
and carry into execution his conceptions and designs, has grudged no
expense; and you will remember, if you consider it, that the others
whose Lives you have written did not have such advantages."
With most honourable obsequies, and with a concourse of all the
craftsmen, all his friends, and all the Florentine colony,
Michelagnolo was given burial in a sepulchre at S. Apostolo, in the
sight of all Rome; his Holiness having intended to make him some
particular memorial and tomb in S. Pietro at Rome. Leonardo, his
nephew, arrived when all was over, although he travelled post. When
Duke Cosimo was informed of the event, he confirmed his resolve that
since he had not been able to have him and honour him alive, he would
have him brought to Florence and not hesitate to honour him with all
manner of pomp after death; and the body was sent secretly in a bale,
under the title of merchandise, which method was adopted lest there
might be a tumult in Rome, and lest perchance the body of Michelagnolo
might be detained and prevented from leaving Rome for Florence. But
before the body arrived, the news of the death having been heard, the
principal painters, sculptors, and architects were assembled together
at the summons of the Lieutenant of their Academy, and they were
reminded by that Lieutenant, who at that time was the Reverend Don
Vincenzio Borghini, that they were obliged by virtue of their statutes
to pay due honour to the death of any of their brethren, and that,
they having done this so lovingly and with such universal satisfaction
in the obsequies of Fra Giovanni Agnolo Montorsoli, who had been the
first to die after the creation of the Academy, they should look well
to what it might be proper for them to do in honour of Buonarroti, who
had been elected by an unanimous vote of the whole body of the Company
as the first Academician and the head of them all. To which proposal
they all replied, as men most deeply indebted and affected to the
genius of so great a man, that at all costs pains should be taken to
do him honour in the best and finest ways available to them. This
done, in order not to have to assemble so many persons together every
day, to their great inconvenience, and to the end that matters might
proceed more quietly, four men were elected as heads of the obsequies
and the funeral pomp that were to be held; the painters Agnolo
Bronzino and Giorgio Vasari, and the sculptors Benvenuto Cellini and
Bartolommeo Ammanati, all men of illustrious name and eminent ability
in their arts; to the end, I say, that they might consult and
determine between themselves and the Lieutenant what was to be done in
each particular, and in what way, with authority and power to dispose
of the whole body of the Company and Academy. This charge they
accepted all the more willingly because all the members, young and
old, each in his own profession, offered their services for the
execution of such pictures and statues as had to be done for that
funeral pomp. They then ordained that the Lieutenant, in pursuance of
his office, and the Consuls, in the name of the Company and Academy,
should lay the whole matter before the Lord Duke, and beseech him for
all the aids and favours that might be necessary, and especially for
permission to have those obsequies held in S. Lorenzo, the church of
the most illustrious House of Medici; wherein are the greater part of
the works by the hand of Michelagnolo that there are to be seen in
Florence; and, in addition, that his Excellency should allow Messer
Benedetto Varchi to compose and deliver the funeral oration, to the
end that the excellent genius of Michelagnolo might be extolled by the
rare eloquence of a man so great as was Varchi, who, being in the
particular service of his Excellency, would not have undertaken such a
charge without a word from him, although they were very certain that,
as one most loving by nature and deeply affected to the memory of
Michelagnolo, of himself he would never have refused. This done, and
the Academicians dismissed, the above-named Lieutenant wrote to the
Lord Duke a letter of this precise tenor:
"The Academy and Company of Painters and Sculptors having resolved
among themselves, if it should please your most illustrious
Excellency, to do honour in some sort to the memory of Michelagnolo
Buonarroti, both from the general obligation due from their profession
to the extraordinary genius of one who was perhaps the greatest
craftsman who has ever lived, and from their particular obligation
through their belonging to a common country, and also because of the
great advantage that these professions have received from the
perfection of his works and inventions, insomuch that they hold
themselves obliged to prove their affection to his genius in whatever
way they are able, they have laid this their desire before your
illustrious Excellency in a letter, and have besought you, as their
peculiar refuge, for a certain measure of assistance. I, entreated by
them, and being, as I think, obliged because your most illustrious
Excellency has been content that I should be again this year in their
Company with the title of your Lieutenant, with the added reason that
the proposal is a generous one and worthy of virtuous and grateful
minds, and, above all, knowing how your most illustrious Excellency is
the patron of talent, and as it were a haven and unique protector for
ingenious persons in this age, even surpassing in this respect your
forefathers, who bestowed extraordinary favours on those excellent in
these professions, as, by order of the Magnificent Lorenzo, Giotto,
already so long dead, received a statue in the principal church, and
Fra Filippo a most beautiful tomb of marble at his expense, while many
others obtained the greatest benefits and honours on various
occasions; moved, I say, by all these reasons, I have taken it upon
myself to recommend to your most illustrious Excellency the petition
of this Academy, that they may be able to do honour to the genius of
Michelagnolo, the particular nursling and pupil of the school of the
Magnificent Lorenzo, which will be an extraordinary pleasure to them,
a vast satisfaction to men in general, no small incitement to the
professors of these arts, and to all Italy a proof of the lofty mind
and overflowing goodness of your most illustrious Excellency, whom may
God long preserve in happiness for the benefit of your people and the
support of every talent."
To which letter the above-named Lord Duke answered thus:
"REVEREND AND WELL-BELOVED FRIEND,
"The zeal that this Academy has displayed, and continues to display,
to honour the memory of Michelagnolo Buonarroti, who has passed from
this to a better life, has given us much consolation for the loss of a
man so extraordinary; and we wish not only to satisfy them in all
that they have demanded in their memorial, but also to have his
remains brought to Florence, which, according as we are informed, was
his own desire. All this we are writing to the aforesaid Academy, to
encourage them to celebrate by every possible means the genius of that
great man. May God content you in your desire."
Of the letter, or rather, memorial, of which mention has been made
above, addressed by the Academy to the Lord Duke, the tenor was as
follows:
"MOST ILLUSTRIOUS, ETC.
"The Academy and the Men of the Company of Design, created by the
grace and favour of your most illustrious Excellency, knowing with
what solicitude and affection you caused the body of Michelagnolo
Buonarroti to be brought to Florence by means of your representative
in Rome, have assembled together and have unanimously determined that
they shall celebrate his obsequies in the best manner in their power
and knowledge. Wherefore they, knowing that your most illustrious
Excellency was revered by him as much as you yourself loved him,
beseech you that you should deign in your infinite goodness and
liberality to grant to them, first, that they may be allowed to
celebrate the said obsequies in the Church of S. Lorenzo, a church
built by your ancestors, in which are so many beautiful works wrought
by his hand, both in architecture and in sculpture, and near which you
are minded to have erected a place that shall be as it were a nest and
an abiding school of architecture, sculpture, and painting, for the
above-named Academy and Company of Design. Secondly, they pray you
that you should consent to grant a commission to Messer Benedetto
Varchi that he shall not only compose the funeral oration, but also
deliver it with his own mouth, as he has promised most freely that he
would do, when besought by us, in the event of your most illustrious
Excellency consenting. In the third place, they entreat and pray you
that you should deign, in the same goodness and liberality of your
heart, to supply them with all that may be necessary for them in
celebrating the above-mentioned obsequies, over and above their own
resources, which are very small. All these matters, and each singly,
have been discussed and determined in the presence and with the
consent of the most Magnificent and Reverend Monsignor, Messer
Vincenzio Borghini, Prior of the Innocenti and Lieutenant of your most
illustrious Excellency in the aforesaid Academy and Company of Design,
which, etc."
To which letter of the Academy the Duke made this reply:
"WELL-BELOVED ACADEMICIANS,
"We are well content to give full satisfaction to your petitions, so
great is the affection that we have always borne to the rare genius of
Michelagnolo Buonarroti, and that we still bear to all your
profession; do not hesitate, therefore, to carry out all that you have
proposed to do in his obsequies, for we will not fail to supply
whatever you need. Meanwhile, we have written to Messer Benedetto
Varchi in the matter of the oration, and to the Director of the
Hospital with regard to anything more that may be necessary in this
undertaking. Fare you well.
"PISA."
The letter to Varchi was as follows:
"MESSER BENEDETTO, OUR WELL-BELOVED,
"The affection that we bear to the rare genius of Michelagnolo
Buonarroti makes us desire that his memory should be honoured and
celebrated in every possible way. It will be pleasing to us,
therefore, that you for love of us shall undertake the charge of
composing the oration that is to be delivered at his obsequies,
according to the arrangements made by the deputies of the Academy; and
still more pleasing that it should be delivered by your own lips. Fare
you well."
Messer Bernardino Grazzini, also, wrote to the above-named deputies
that they could not have expected in the Duke any desire in that
matter more ardent than that which he had shown, and that they might
be assured of every aid and favour from his most illustrious
Excellency.
While these matters were being discussed in Florence, Leonardo
Buonarroti, Michelagnolo's nephew (who, when informed of his uncle's
illness, had made his way to Rome by post, but had not found him
alive), having heard from Daniello da Volterra, who had been the very
familiar friend of Michelagnolo, and also from others who had been
about the person of that saintly old man, that he had requested and
prayed that his body should be carried to Florence, that most noble
city of his birth, of which he was always a most tender lover;
Leonardo, I say, with prompt and therefore good resolution, removed
the body cautiously from Rome and sent it off to Florence in a bale,
as if it had been a piece of merchandise. And here I must not omit to
say that this final resolution of Michelagnolo's proved a thing
against the opinion of certain persons, but nevertheless very true,
namely, that his absence for so many years from Florence had been
caused by no other thing but the nature of the air, for the reason
that experience had taught him that the air of Florence, being sharp
and subtle, was very injurious to his constitution, while that of
Rome, softer and more temperate, had kept him in perfect health up to
his ninetieth year, with all the senses as lively and sound as they
had ever been, and with such strength, for his age, that up to the
last day he had never ceased to work at something.
Since, then, the coming of the bale was so sudden and so unexpected
that for the time being it was not possible to do what was done
afterwards, the body of Michelagnolo, on arriving in Florence, was
placed with the coffin, at the desire of the deputies, on the same day
that it arrived in the city (namely, on the 11th of March, which was a
Saturday), in the Company of the Assumption, which is under the
high-altar of S. Pietro Maggiore, beneath the steps at the back; but
it was not touched in any way whatever. The next day, which was Sunday
of the second week in Lent, all the painters, sculptors, and
architects assembled as quietly as possible round S. Pietro, whither
they had brought nothing but a pall of velvet, all bordered and
embroidered in gold, which covered the coffin and the whole bier; upon
which coffin was an image of Christ Crucified. Then, about the middle
hour of the night, all having gathered around the body, all at once
the oldest and most eminent craftsmen laid their hands on a great
quantity of torches that had been carried there, and the younger men
took up the bier with such eagerness, that blessed was he who could
approach it and place his shoulders under it, believing as it were
that in the time to come they would be able to claim the glory of
having borne the remains of the greatest man that there had ever been
in their arts. The sight of a certain number of persons assembled
about S. Pietro had caused, as always happens in such cases, many
others to stop there, and the rather as it had been trumpeted abroad
that the body of Michelagnolo had arrived, and was to be carried to S.
Croce. And although, as I have said, every precaution had been taken
that the matter should not become known, lest the report might spread
through the city, and there might flock thither such a multitude that
it would not be possible to avoid a certain degree of tumult and
confusion, and also because they desired that the little which they
wished to do at that time should be done with more quiet than pomp,
reserving the rest for a more convenient time with greater leisure;
nevertheless, both the one thing and the other took a contrary course,
for with regard to the multitude, the news, as has been related,
passing from lip to lip, in the twinkling of an eye the church was so
filled, that in the end it was with the greatest difficulty that the
body was carried from the church to the sacristy, in order to take it
out of the bale and then place it in the sepulchre. With regard to the
question of honour, although it cannot be denied that to see in
funeral pomps a great show of priests, a large quantity of wax tapers,
and a great number of mourners dressed in black, is a thing of grand
and magnificent appearance, it does not follow that it was not also a
great thing to see thus assembled in a small company, without
preparation, all those eminent men who are now in such repute, and who
will be even more in the future, honouring that body with such loving
and affectionate offices. And, in truth, the number of such craftsmen
in Florence--and they were all there--has always been very great, for
the reason that these arts have always flourished in Florence in such
a manner, that I believe that it may be said without prejudice to
other cities that their principal and true nest and domicile is
Florence, not otherwise than Athens once was of the sciences. In
addition to that number of craftsmen, there were so many citizens
following them, and so many at the sides of the streets where the
procession passed, that there was no place for any more; and, what is
an even greater thing, there was nothing heard but praises in every
man's mouth of the merits of Michelagnolo, all saying that true
genius has such force that, after all expectation of such honour and
profit as can be obtained from a gifted man has failed, nevertheless,
by its own nature and peculiar merits, it remains honoured and
beloved. For these reasons that demonstration was more vivid in effect
and more precious than any pomp of gold and trappings that could have
been contrived.