MICHELANGELO A3 A 8CULFTOR. - i

MICHELANGELO

A3

A

8CULFTOR

MASTERS

IN

ART

A

SERIES

OF

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ISSUED

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16

_APRIL,

1901

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PLATEI. PLATEII. PLATE III. PLATE IV. PLATEV. PLATE VI. PLATE VII. DAVID PiETA

MADONNA

AND CHILD

BOUND

CAPTIVE

MADONNA

AND CHILD

TOMB

OFLORENZO DE' MEDICI

ACADEMY:

FLORENCE

ST. PETER'S:

ROME

NATIONAL

MUSEUM:

FLORENCE LOUVRE: PARIS

CHURCH

OF

NOTRE DAME:

BRUGES

SACRISTY OF SANLORENZO: FLORENCE

:_{!LPENSIEROSO'}

(TOMB

OFLORENZO DE' _MEDICI)

SACRISTY OF SAN LORENZO: FLORENCE PLATEVIII. MOSES

CHURCH

OFSAN PIETROIN VINCOLI:

ROME

PLATEIX.

TOMB

OF GIULIANO DE' MEDICI SACRISTY OF SANLORENZO: FLORENCE PLATEX. GIULIANODE' MEDICI

_(Tomb

of Giuliano de' _Medici)

SACRISTY OFSAN LORENZO: FLORENCE PORTRAITOF _{MICHELANGELO, FROM} A

MEDAL

BYLEONELEONI: SOUTH KENSINGTON

MU-SEUM:

LONDON

PAGE 20

THE

LIFE OFMICHELANGELO PAGE 21 J. A. SYMONDS

THE

ART

OF MICHELANGELO PAGE 28

CRITICISMSBY _PERKINS, GUILLAUME,REYMOND, LUBKE

THE WORKS

OFMICHELANGELO.IN SCULPTURE: DESCRIPTIONS OFTHE PLATESAND ALIST

OFSCULPTURES PAGE ₃₄

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MASTFRSIXAHT PLATEI

MICHELANGELO DAVID ACADEMY, FLOHENCE

MASTKKS I.V AUT PLATE II

MICHELANGELO

PIETA

ASTERS IXAKT PLATEIII PHOTOGRAPHBY ALINARI

MICHELANGELO

MADONNA AND

CHILD

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MICHELANGELO

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MICHELANGELO TOMBOF LOHEXZODE'MEDICI

IL JPEXSIF.KOSO, TWILIGHT,

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HASTEHS INART PLATEVII

PHOTOGRAPH BY AL.NARI

MICHELA3fGELO

IL PEJVSIEKOSO

TOMBOKX.OKENZODE? MEDICI SAGKISTY OP SAXLOKEJSTZO,FLORENCE

MASTKKS ixAHT PLATE viu

PHOTOGRAPH 8V ANDERSON

MJCHELAXGEL.O

MOSES

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MICHELAXGELO TOMBOFGIUUAirO DE'MELIIC1

GUTLIAXOIJE' MKDICI, NIGHT,

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MICHEr.AXGEL.O

GIULIAXOBE'MEDICI

TOMJ1OFGrtLLIAXO BE'MEDJCI SACRISTY OF SAXLOREXZO, FLOKEJJCE

MICHKf.AXUELiO MEDAL,IXSILVKK SOUTH KKXS1XGTOX

M

USEUM.LOXDOX

Probably themost genuine contemporaryportraitof Michelangelois_{the medal,showing}

his_profile,byhiswarmfriend,the sculptorLeoneLeoni. Itseemscertainthatthismedal

was cast in _1560, when _{Michelangelo waseighty-fiveyears}old,and therefore thatthe

inscription"yErs. ANN. 88

"

isan error. Condivi describes _Michelangeloat seventy-nine, asofmiddle height,withbroad shoulders, thinlegs, a facesmallin_proportionto his

head, a nose broken from a blow "from that beastly and proud man Torrigiano de'

Torrigiani," thin lips,small, evervarying grayeyes,black hair,and thinforked beard

M ASTERS

IN

ART

BORN

1475:

DIED

1564

FLORENTINE SCHOOL

In this issue_{only Michelangelo's} works in _{sculpture are} illustrated. His achievements in_paintingwillbe considered inthenextnumberofthisSERIES.

JOHN

ADDINGTON

SYMONDS

'RENAISSANCE IN ITALY'

MICHELANGELO

was

born in _1475, at _Caprese,

where

his father,

Lodovico,held theofficeof_podesta. His_ancestry

was

honorable; the

Buonarroti

even

claimed _{descent, but apparently} without due reason,

from

the

princelyhouse of Canossa. His

mother

gave

him

tobe nursed

_by

a

stone-cutter'swife at

Settignano, so that in after-days he used to say that he had

drawn

in the love ofchisels and mallets with his nurse's milk.

As

_{he grew,}the

_boy

_{developed an}invincible determinationtowardthearts.

Lodovico,

from

motives of_pride

and

_{prudence,opposed}his_wishes,but

with-out success,

and

at last _{Michelangelo induced} his father to _sign articles

apprenticing

him

to the painter

Domenico

Ghirlandajo. In Ghirlandajo's

workshop

he learned the rudiments of art, _helping in the execution of the

frescos at Santa

Maria

Novella, until such time as _{the pupil proved} his

su-periority as a draughtsman to his teacher.

After _{leaving Ghirlandajo's} bottega, at the age of sixteen, Michelangelo procured an introduction to the Medici, and frequented thosegardens of San

Marco

where Lorenzo

de'

Medici

had _placed his collection of _antiquities.

There

the_youthdiscovered his vocation.

_Having

_{begged a piece}of marble and a chisel,he struckouta P'aun'smask.

One

is still

shown

inthe_Bargello

as his work. It is

worth

noticing that Michelangelo

seems

to have

done no

merely prentice work.

Not

a fragment of his labor

from

the earliest to the

latest

was

_{insignificant.}

There was

_nothingtentative in his_genius. Intoart, asinto a rich land, he

came

and

_conquered. . . .

Lorenzo

de'

Medici

discernedin _Michelangeloa _{youth of}

eminent

_genius, and took the lad into his

own

household.

The

astonished father found

him-self _{suddenly provided} with a comfortable _post

and

courted for the sake of

the

_young

_sculptor. In Lorenzo's _{palace the}realeducation of_Michelangelo began.

He

sat atthe

same

table with Ficino, Pico,

and

Poliziano, _listening

to _dialogues on Plato and _drinking in the _golden

.

22

_4Ha3tcrrf

_in

art

2*i

H

** !

v

JP ill .-ex r i

vT >-^

same

time he heardthe _{preaching of}Savonarola.

Another

_portionofhis soul

was

_touched,

and

he _acquired that _deep

religioustone

which

givesits_majesty

and terror tothe Sistine.

While

_Michelangelo

was

thus _engaged in

studying antique sculpture

and

in

listening to Picoand Savonarola,he carved his first bas-relief, a'Battle of Hercules with the Centaurs.'

Meantime

Lorenzo

died. His successor, Piero, set the

_{young man,}

it is said, to

model

a

snow

statue,

and

then melted like a _{shape of}

snow

himself

down

from

his _pedestal of

_power

in Florence.

_Upon

_{the expulsion} of the tyrant

and

the proclamation ofthe

new

_republic it

was

dangerous for

house-friends of the

Medici

to be seen in the _{city. Michelangelo} therefore

made

his

_way

to _Bologna,

where

he _spent

some

months

in the _palace of

Gian

Francesco _{Aldovrandini,}

studying Dante,

and working

at an angel- for the

shrine ofSt.

Dominic.

As

_soon, however, as it

seemed

safe to do so, he

returned to Florence;

and

to this _{period belongs} the lost statue of the

'Sleeping Cupid,'

which was

sold as an _antique to the Cardinal RafFaello

Riario.

A

dispute about the price ofthis

'

Cupid

'

took Michelangelo,in _1496, to

Rome,

where

it

was

destined that the _{greater portion} ofhis life should be spent

and

hisnoblest

works

ofart should _{be produced. Here, while}the

Bor-gias

were

turning the Vatican into a den ofthieves

and

harlots,he executed

the purest of all his _statues, a 'Pieta' in marble. In

1501

he returned to

Florence,

where

he _stayed until the _{year 1505.}

This

_period

was

fruitful of

results

on which

his after-fame _depended.

The

_{great statue}of'

David,' the

two

unfinished medallions in reliefofthe

_Madonna,

the '

Holy Family

'

of

the Tribune,

and

the cartoon ofthe'_BathingSoldiers'

were

now

_produced;

and

_{no man's name,}

not even Leonardo's, stood higher in esteem

thence-forward.

Since_Michelangeloatthistime

_{was employed}

in the serviceofmasters

who

had superseded his old friends and _patrons,it

_may

be well to reviewhere his attitude in_generaltowardthehouse of Medici.

_Throughout

hislifetime there

continued a conflict

between

the artist

and

the_citizen,the artist

_owing

edu-cation and

_employment

to successive

members

ofthat _{house, the} citizen

re-senting theirdespotism

and

at times _doing allthat in

him

_layto _keep

them

out of Florence..

As

a

patriot, as the student of

Dante and

the disciple of

Savonarola, Michelangelo detested tyrants.

As

an artist,

_owing

his

advance-ment

to Lorenzo, he hacl _accepted favors _binding

him

_by tiesof_gratitude to

the _{Medici, and}

even

_involving

him

in the downfall of their house.

For

Leo

X.

he undertook to build the facade of San

Lorenzo

andthe Laurentian

Library.

For Clement

VII. he began the statues forthe

Medici

tombs. Yet, while _acceptingthese

commissions from

Medicean

popes, he could not keep

his_tongue

from

_{speaking openlyagainst}their_despotism.

_During

the

siege of

Florence,in 1529, hefortifiedSan Miniato, and allowed himselftobe

named

one ofthe Otto di Guerra chosen for_{the express purpose of defending}

Flor-ence _against the Medici; _yet after the fall ofthe city he

made

peace with

Clement

_{by consenting}to finish the

tombs

ofSan Lorenzo.

When

Clement

VII. died the last _{representativeof Michelangelo's old patrons perished,}and

jfticftclangelo

23

the sculptor

was

free _{to quit} Florence forever. It is thus clear that _the pa-triot, the artist,and the

man

of

honor were

atodds in him. _Loyaltyobliged

him

to_{serve the family} to

whom

he

owed

so

much

; he was, moreover,

de-pendent foropportunitiesof doing great

work

on

the very

men

whose

public policy he execrated.

Hence

arose a

compromise and

a confusion, hard to

accommodate

_{with our conception of} his _upright and _{unyielding temper.}

Only

by

voluntary exile, andafter age had

made

him

stubborn to resist

se-ductive offers, could Michelangelo declare himself a citizen

who

held

no

truce with

tyrants.

This

_{digression, though necessary} for the _{right understanding of} Michel-angelo's relation to the Medici, has carried

me

beyond

his Florentine

resi-dence in

15011505.

The

_great achievement of that _period

was

not the

'

David,' but thecartoonforthe '

BathingSoldiers.'

The

hallof_{the Consiglio}

Grande

had been _{opened, and} one wall had been _assigned to Leonardo. Michelangelo

was

now

invited bythe signory to prepare a design foranother

side ofthestatechamber.

When

he_displayedhis cartoonto the Florentines they

pronounced

that

Da

Vinci, hitherto the _{undisputed prince} of _painting,

was

_surpassed. It is _impossible for us to _{form an opinion} in this matter, since both cartoonsare lost

_beyond

_recovery.

We

_only

know

that, as Cellini says,

"while

they lasted, _they formed the school of the

whole

world," and

made

an

_epoch

in the

history ofart.

When

we

inquire

what was

the subject

of Michelangelo's

famous

_picture,

we

find that he had

aimed

at _representing

nothing of

more

moment

than a group of soldiers suddenly surprised

by

a

trumpet-call to battle while bathing in the

Arno,

a

crowd

of

naked

men

in _{every posture indicating haste,anxiety,} and

struggle.

Not

forits intellec-tual _{meaning, not} for its _color, not for its _sentiment,

was

this _design so highly prized. Its science

won

the admiration ofartists

and

the public.

Meanwhile,

a

new

_{pope had been} elected, and in

1505

_Michelangelo

was

once

more

called to

Rome.

_Throughout

his artist's life he oscillated thus

between

Rome

and Florence Florencethe _cityofhis

ancestry,and

Rome

the _city ofhis soul; Florence

where

helearned his art,and

Rome

where

he

displayed

what

art can do ofhighest. Julius

was

a patron ofdifferent

_stamp

from

Lorenzo

the _Magnificent.

Between

_Julius and _Michelangelo there existed the _strong

bond

of

_sympathy

due to

_community

_{of temperament.}

Both

aimed atcolossalachievementsintheir_respective fieldsofaction.

Both

were

uomini terribilly to use a phrase _denoting vigor of character

made

for-midable by an abrupt,

uncompromising

temper.

Both

worked

confur-ia,with

the impetuosity of daemonic natures, and both left _{the impress} oftheir indi-vidualitygraven indelibly

upon

their

age.

Julius ordered the sculptortoprepare his

mausoleum.

_Michelangeloasked,

"

_Where

_am

I to _place it?

"

Julius replied,

"

In St. Peter's."

But

the old

basilica

was

too small forthis_{ambitious pontifPs sepulchre} as _designedby the

audacious artist. It

was

therefore decreed that a

new

St. Peter's should be

built to hold it. In this

_way

the

two

_great labors of Buonarroti's life

were

mapped

out for

him

in a

moment.

But, _by a _{strange contrariety}of fate, to

Bramante

and San Gallo fell

24

4ftater0ttatt

St. Peter's. It

was

_only in extreme old _age that _Michelangelo

crowned

it

with that world's miracle, the

dome.

The

mausoleum,

to form a _canopy for

which

_{the building}

was

_designed, dwindled

down

at last to the statue of

*

Moses

'

thrust out ofthe

_way

in the church of San Pietro inVincoli.

"La

tragedia della Sepoltura"as

Condi

vi aptlyterms the historyofJulius'

monu-ment, began thusin

1505

and _dragged

on

till 1545.

Rarelydid Michelangelo undertake a

work

commensurate

with his creative

_power

but _something

came

to _interrupt its execution; while tasksoutside his sphere,for

which

he

never _bargained, the _painting of the Sistine _Chapel, the facade of San Lorenzo, the fortification _{of San Miniato,}

were

thrust

_{upon him}

in the

midst ofother

more

_congeniallabors.

What we

possessofhis achievements

is a torso ofhis

_huge

designs.

Julius' tomb, as Michelangelo conceived it,

would

have been the

most

stupendous

monument

ofsculpture in the world.

Of

this gigantic

scheme

only

one

imperfect drawing

now

remains.

The

'

Moses

' and the '

Bound

Captives '

are all that _{Michelangelo accomplished.}

For

_{forty years} the

'

Moses

'

remained in his _workshop.

For

_{forty years} he cherished a

_hope

that his _{plan might} still in _part be executed, _complaining the while that it

would

have been better for

him

to have

made

_sulphur matches all his life

than to have taken

_up

_{the desolating} artist's trade.

"

_Every

_{day," he cries,}

"

I

am

stoned as _though I had crucified Christ.

_My

_youth has been lost,

bound hand

and foot to this

tomb."

Michelangelo spenteight

months

at this period

among

the _{stone-quarries}

ofCarrara, selecting marble forthe pope's tomb. In

November,

1505, the

marble

was

_shipped,

and

the _{quays of}

Rome

were

soon

crowded

with blocks destined forthe

mausoleum.

But

when

the _{sculptor arrived} he found that

enemies had been poisoning the _pope's

mind

_against him, and that _Julius

had

abandoned

the

scheme

of the

mausoleum.

On

six successive _{days he}

was

denied entrance to the Vatican, and the last time with such rudeness

thathe determined to _quit

Rome.

He

_{hurried straightway} to his house, sold his effects,

mounted, and

rode without further

_ceremony

toward Florence,

sending to the

pope

a written _{message bidding}

him

to seek for Michel-angelo elsewhere in future than in

Rome.

It is related that _Julius, anxious

to recover

what

had been so _{lightly lost,} sent several.couriers to bring

him

back. _Michelangelo

announced

that he intended to _accept the

Sul-tan's

commission

for _building a _bridge at Pera, and refused to _{be persuaded}

to return to

Rome.

When

the _sculptor had reached Florence _Julius ad-dressed himself to Soderini,

who,

unwilling to displease the pope, induced

Michelangelo to seek the pardon ofthe master he had so abruptly quitted. It

was

at

_Bologna

that _they met.

"

You

have waited thus

long, it seems,"

said _{the pope, well} satisfiedbut _surly, "till

we

should

come

ourselves to seek

you."

The

prelate

who

had introduced the sculptor

now

began to

make

ex-cuses forhim,

whereupon

Juliusturned in a fury

upon

the officious courtier,

and had

him

beaten

from

his _presence.

A

few

_days after this encounter Michelangelo

was

ordered to cast abronze statue ofJulius (laterdestroyed)

jftic&ciangelo

25

Itseemsthat _{Michelangelo's flight}

from

Rome

in

1506 was

due not _only

to his _{disappointment about} the

tomb,

but also to his fearlest _{Julius should}

give

him

uncongenial

work

to do. Bramante, if

we may

believe the old

story,had whisperedthat it

was

ill-omened fora

man

to build his

own

sepul-chre, and that it

would

be well to

_employ

the _{sculptor's genius}

_upon

the

ceiling oftheSistine Chapel. Accordingly,

on

his return to

Rome

in 1508,

this

new

task

was

allottedhim. In vain did _Michelangelo

remind

his master ofthe

months

wastedin _{the quarries} of Carrara; in vain he pointed to his designs forthe

monument,

and

pleaded that he

was

nota painterby

profes-sion. _Julius had

made

_up his

mind

that he should _{paint the} Sistine.

What-ever the _{sculptor's original} reluctance

_may

have been, it

was

speedily

over-come

;

and

the cartoons fortheceiling, projected with the unitybelonging

to a _{single great conception,}

were

_{ready by} the

summer

of 1508.

The

_difficulty of his

new

task aroused the artist's _energy. If

we

could

accept thelegend

whereby

contemporariesexpressedtheiradmiration forthis

Titanic labor,

we

should haveto _{believe the impossible,} that _{only twenty}

months were

devoted to the execution of a series of _paintings almost

un-equalled in theirdelicacy,

and

surpassed by

few

singlemasterpieces in extent.

Though

some

uncertainty remains as to the exact dates of the

commence-ment

_{and completion of} the vault,

we now know

that _Michelangelo

con-tinued

painting it atintervals _during four successive _years;

and though

we

are not_accurately informed about _{his helpers,}

we

no

_longer can doubt that able craftsmen _yielded

him

assistance.

There

is

_good

reason to believe that

he began his _{painting during} the

autumn

of

1508

; and before the

end

of

the year

1512

the

whole was

_completed.

The

_conception

was

_entirely his

own.

The

execution,_exceptinsubordinate detailsand in matters _pertaining

tothe mason's craft,

was

also his.

The

rapidity with

which

he labored

was

astounding.

Nor

need

we

strip the

romance from

that time-honored tale of

the_{great master's}solitude.

_{Lying on}

his

back

beneaththe _drearyvault,

com-muning

with Dante, Savonarola, and the

Hebrew

_prophets in the intervals

oflabor, locking

up

the chapel doors in orderto elude the _{jealous curiosity}

ofrivals, eating but little and _scarcely

sleeping, he accomplished in sixteen

months

thefirst_part ofhis _gigantictask.

From

time to time _Julius climbed

the scaffold

and

inspected thepainter's progress. Dreading lest death should

come

before the

work

was

finished, he kept crying,

"When

will

you

make

an

end?"

"When

I _{can," answered} the _painter.

"You

seem

to want,"

rejoined the petulant old

man,

"that I should have

_{you thrown}

down

from

the scaffold."

Then

_{Michelangelo's} brush _stopped.

The

_machinery

was

removed, and the frescos

were

uncovered in their_{incompleteness} to _{the eyes}

of

Rome.

. . .

The

star_{of Raphael, meanwhile, had}arisenover

Rome.

It_{does not appear} that the

two

artists _engaged in _petty rivalries, or that they

came much

into personal contactwith each other.

While

_Michelangelo

was

so framedthat he

could learn

from

no man,

Raphael gladlylearnedof Michelangelo; and after

the _{uncovering of} the Sistine frescos, his

manner

showed

evident

signs of

26

jHaterin&rt

Afterthedeathof_Julius,

Leo

X.,in character the reverseofhis

fiery

prede-cessor,and by

temperament

unsympathetictothe austereMichelangelo, found nothingbetter forthesculptor'sgenius thanto set

him

at

work

_upon

the facade

of San

Lorenzo

atFlorence.

The

_{better part}ofthe_years

between 1516

and

1520

was

_spent in _{quarrying marble} atCarrara,PietraSanta,andSeravezza.

This

isthe

most

arid

and

unfruitful_{periodof Michelangelo's long}life,aperiod

of_delays

and

thwarted

schemes and

servile labors.

What

makes

the sense

of disappointment greater is that the facade of San

Lorenzo was

not even

finished.

We

_hurry over this wilderness _{of wasted months, and} arrive at

another

_epoch

ofartistic _production.

Already in

1520

the Cardinal Giulio de' Medici had conceivedthe notion of_{building a sacristy} in San

Lorenzo

to receive the

monuments

of Cosimo,

the founder of the house;

Lorenzo

the _Magnificent; Giuliano,

Duke

of

Nemours

;

Lorenzo,

Duke

of

Urbino

;

Leo

X.,

and

himself.

To

Michel-angelo

was committed

the design,

and

in 1521 he began to apply himselfto

the work.

This

new

_{undertaking occupied}

him

at intervals

between

1521 and 1_534,a spaceof timedecisive forthe fortunesoftheMediciin Florence.

Leo

died,

and

Giulio,aftera

few

_years,succeeded

him

as

Clement

VII.

Rome

was

_{sacked by the Imperial troops}; then Michelangelo _quitted the statues

and helpedto defend his native_{cityagainst the Prince of Orange. After}the

failureofthe_{Republicans he}

was

recalled to hislabors

_by

command

of Clement.

Sullenlyandsadlyhe quarried marbles forthe sacristy. Sadlyand sullenlyhe

used his chisel_{year byyear,}

_making

the _verystones _crythat

shame

and ruin

were

the

doom

ofhis_country.

At

last,in 1534,

Clement

died.

Then

Michel-angelo flung

down

hismallet.

The

monuments

remained forever unfinished,

and

the sculptor set foot in Florence

no

more.

Michelangelo had

now

reachedhisfifty-ninthyear.

Leonardo

and Raphael

had _{already passed away,}

and were

remembered

asthe_giantsofa

_bygone

_age

of_{gold. Correggio}

was

in hislast_year.

Andrea

delSarto

was

dead.

Nowhere

exceptat

Venice

didItalian artstillflourish;

and

the

mundane

styleofTitian

was

nottothe_sculptor'staste.

He

had_{overlived the greatness}ofhis_country,

and

saw

_Italy in ruins.

Yet

he

was

destined to survive another_thirtyyears,

and

to witness stillworse _days.

When

we

call_Michelangelo the

interpreter

ofthe burden and _{the pain} ofthe_Renaissance,

we

must

remember

this_long,

weary

old age, during

which

in solitude and silence he

watched

the

extinc-tion ofFlorence, the institution ofthe _Inquisition,and the abasement ofthe

Italian _spirit beneath the _tyranny of _Spain. His sonnets, written chiefly in this latter _period oflife,turn often

on

the thought ofdeath. His love ofart yields to religious

hope

andfear, and he

bemoans

ayouth and

manhood

spent

in

vanity.

In

1534

the Cardinal Alessandro Farnese

was

made

_pope

underthe

name

of Paul III. _{Michelangelo had shed} lustre

on

the _reigns of_{three popes,} his

predecessors. AfterJulius, Leo, and Clement, the time

was

now

come

for

the heroiccraftsmanto serve Paul.

The

pope found

him

at

work

_{in his bottega}

on

the

tomb

of_Julius; forthe

"

tragedyofthe

mausoleum

"

still_dragged on.

jtticfjclangelo

27

forone_pope.

Give

me

_yourcontractwiththe

Duke

of

Urbino

; I willtearit.

Have

Iwaited allthese _years,and

now

that I

am

_pope

at last,shallI not have

you

formyself? I

want you

intheSistine Chapel." Accordingly

Michelan-gelo,

who

had already

made

cartoonsforthe

'

Last

_Judgment

'

duringthe life

of Clement, once

more

laid aside thechisel

and

took

_up

thebrush.

For

_eight

years,

between 1534

and 1542, he labored at the fresco, devotinghis terrible

genius to a subject

worthy

ofthetimes in

which

he lived.

After the painting of the

'

Last Judgment,' one

more

_great labor

was

reserved for him.

_By

a briefof

_September

1535, Paul III. had

made

him

the chiefarchitect, aswell as sculptor and painter,ofthe

Holy

See.

He

was

now

called

_upon

to _{superintend the building} ofSt. _Peter's, and to this task,

undertaken for_{the repose} ofhis soulwithout

_emolument,

he devotedthelast

yearsofhislife,andthe

dome

ofSt. Peter's, asseen

from

Tivoli or the

Alban

hills, like a cloud

upon

the

_Campagna,

is Buonarroti's.

Michelangelo's thoughts

meanwhile were

turned

more

and more, as time advanced, to _piety; and

many

ofhis sonnets breathe an almostascetic _spirit

of_religion. It is _pleasant to

know

thattheselast _years

were

also_{the happiest}

and calmest.

_Though

his brothers had _passed

_away

before

him one

_by one,

his

_nephew

Leonardo

had married,

and

begotten a son called Michelangelo.

Thus

he hadthesatisfaction_{of hoping} that his

name

would

endure

and

flour-ish, asindeedithas

done

almosttothis _veryday in Florence.

What

consola-tion this _thought

must

_{have brought}

him

is clear to those

who

have studied

his_{correspondence and observed}the tender careandcontinual_anxiety he had

for his kinsmen.

Wealth

now

_belonged to

him

; but he had never cared for

money,

and he continued to live like a _poor

man,

-.dressingsoberly

and

eating

sparely, often taking but

one meal

in the day,

and

that of bread and wine.

He

slept little,

and

rose _by night to

work

upon

his statues, _wearing a _cap

with a candle stuck in frontofit that _{he might} see

where

todrive the chisel

home.

_During

his

whole

lifehehad been_solitary,

partlybypreference, partly

by devotion to his art,

and

_partly because he _kept

men

at a distance _by his

manner.

Not

that _Michelangelo

was

souror_haughty; but he spokehis

mind

out

very plainly,had

no

tolerance for fools, and

was

aptto fly into passions.

Time

had

now

softened his

_{temper and removed}

all causes of discourage-ment.

He

had survived _{every rival,}

and

the world

was

convinced of his

supremacy. Princes courted

him

; the

Count

of

Canossa

was

proud to claim

him

for a

kinsman

; _strangers,

when

_they visited

Rome,

were

_eagertobehold

in

him

its _{greatest living} wonder. His old _age

was

the serene and _splendid evening ofatoilsome day.

But

betterthan allthis, he

now

enjoyed both love and _friendship.

If _{Michelangelo could} ever have been

handsome

is

more

than doubtful. Early in his youth a quarrelsome fellow pupil broke his nose with a

blow

of

the fist. Henceforth the artist's soul looked forth

from

asadface,with small gray eyes, flat nostrils, and rugged weight of_jutting brows.

Good

care

was

thus taken that _light love should not triflewiththe

man

who

was

destinedto

be the _{prophet of}his_ageinart.

He

seemed

_incapableof_attachinghimselfto

28

_ftL&fitttft

in

<& r t

and amour,

we

hear _{of nothing} to _imply that _Michelangelo

was

a lover till

he reached the_{age ofsixty.}

How

he

_may

have loved in the earlier_periods

ofhis life,

whereof no

record

now

remains, can only be guessed from the tenderness

and

_{passion outpoured} in the

_poems

of his later

years.

That

his_morality

was

_{pure and}hisconverse withoutstainis _{emphatically witnessed}

by both Vasari and Condivi.

But

that his emotion

was

intense,

and

that to

beauty in all its

human

forms he

was

_throughouthis life a _slave,

we

havehis

own

sonnets to _prove.

In the_year

1534

he first

became

_{acquainted with} the noble _lady Vittoria,

daughter of Fabrizio Colonna,

and

widow

of the

Marquis

of Pescara. She

was

_{then aged forty-four. Living} in retirement in

_Rome,

she

_employed

her

leisure _{with philosophy}

and

_poetry. Artists and

men

of letters

were

admitted

to her

society.

Among

thesubjects she had

most

at heart

was

the reform of the

Church and

the restorationof

religiontoits evangelical purity.

Between

her _{and Michelangelo} a tender affection _{sprangup, based}

_upon

the

_sympathy

ofardent

and

_high-seekingnatures. Iflovebe the_right

name

forthis exalted

and

yet fervid attachment, Michelangelo

may

be said to have loved her with

all the _pent-up forces ofhis heart.

When

_they

were

_together in

Rome

they

met

_frequentlyfor conversation

on

the

themes

ofartand

pietytheyboth held

dear.

When

_they

were

_{separated they}

_{exchanged poems}

and wrote _letters,

some

of

which

remain.

On

the death ofVittoria, in 1547, the _light oflife

seemed

to be _extinguished forour_sculptor. It is said that _{he waited by} her bedside,

and

kissed her

hand

when

she

was

_dying.

The

sonnets heafterwards

composed

show

that his soul followed her to heaven.

At

last the

moment

came

when

this _{strong solitary spirit,}

much

_suffering

and

much

_loving, had to render its account.

On

_{the eighteenth} of

Febru-ary, 1564, having bequeathed his soul to

God,

his

body

tothe earth, and his

worldly goods to his kinsfolk, praying

them on

his death-bed to think

_upon

Christ's_passion,hebreathedhislast. His_corpse

was

_transportedtoFlorence,

andburied in the church of Santa

Croce

with _great

_pomp

and honor

_by the

Duke,

the _city,

and

the Florentine

_Academy.

C|)e

art

of

;jEtcf)elanseio

CHARLES

C.

PERKINS

'ITALIAN

SCULPTURE'

IN

greater

none

thanof thein sculpture.manifestations

For

sculptureof Michelangelo'shis preferencegenius

was

does he appearso

marked

that

he always turnedtoit

when

not

actually forced

by

some

one

ofhistaskmasters

to build orto _paint. In

one

ofhisletters he _says,

"

It is _only wellwith

me

when

Ihave a chisel in

_my

hand

;

"

and he tells us in one ofhis

most

jmicfjeiangelo

29

"

The

best ofartistshath no _thoughtto show

"

What

the _roughstone inits _superfluous shell

"

_Doth notinclude."

Teeming

with possibilities,thevirginblock

seemed

to his

mind

the prison

of_{a captive ideawaiting} tobe set free_by the actionofhis _stronghand, with

which

he dealt

blow

after _blow, until, possessed by a fresh thought, he left the half-revealed

_image

in a state _vague as music, and as _suggestive to the imagination.

An

_enemy

to tradition in art as well _{as to a positive} imitation ofnature, following neither the conventionalists, the realists, nor the worshippers of

the antique,he

was

a_greatdreamer,

who

developed

man

intosomething

more

than

man, and

by the novelty

and

strangeness ofhis creations placed

him-selfout of_{the pale}of_ordinarycriticism. His defects,

which

are _palpable to all, are surrounded, like _{the spots} in the sun, by a dazzling indistinctness

which

renders it

impossible to

examine them

closely.

Many

are the artists

who

suit our taste better,

move

our _feelings

more

deeply,

and

satisfy us a

thousand times

more

than this Titan ofa late time; but

we know

of none,

ancient ormodern,

who

leaves a strongerimpression of

power upon

themind, or

who

more

_{unmistakably imprinted} the

_stamp

_{of genius}

_upon

all that he

touched.

EUGENE

GUILLAUME

GAZETTE

DES

BEAUX-ARTS:

1876

SCULPTURE

is_{Michelangelo's}domain. Herein he has

no

rivals

_among

the moderns.

That

art

was

his

predilection,

and

yet it

was

in that art

that he found his

greatesttorments; for his

was no

facile genius,andtosuch a

man

_{sculpture could} be

no mere

distraction.

The

_{all-embracing thoughts}

which

stirred within him,

and

which

are echoed in the _{high poetry} of his

sonnets, could not be bodied forth within the restricted

domain

of material

form, and his

lifelong effort to broaden that

domain

made

the practice of

sculpture a continual struggle to him.

It hasbeen said thatthe sublime is_{distinguished}fromthebeautifulinthat,

while the latter_{expresses the} idea _{of something} exalted _{yet serene,} like the

fair azure ofthe _sky, the _{former always connotes} thesense of_struggle, a struggle against superiorforces, the travail of sentiment

and

_thought in the

iron

bonds

ofart. If

we

_{accept these}definitions, _{Michelangelo's}

works

are

sublime ratherthan beautiful.

Traces

ofa fierce _struggle with the material

is evident in all ofthem.

Power

is

more

_{strongly expressed} than order, and

awe

is

_commingled

with ouradmiration.

The

'

IIPensieroso'andthe *

Moses

'

represent the art of sculpture carried to its highest pitch of grandeur, of energy, and ofpassion.

Itisafalseand_{unjust point}of_view,however,to see in_{Michelangelo's}

work

only

what

his critics have _{so exclusively considered,} the force, the excess

ofviolence

which

_surprisesthe mind,the torrent

which

carries usout ofour accustomed

_commonplaces

of _thought.

There

is also a science in

them

which

we

must

_recognize, and admire without reserve. In all his

works

he

30

_{;Jttatergin&rt}

science ofexecution,

which

humiliates us.

The

_{grandeur of}his _figures, the

dignity of their outlines, the

monumental

character of

one and

all, is

un-matched

;

and

in the art of_{posing, constructing,} and _basing a _figure,

what-ever

_may

be the

subject orthe action, the student

must

_always

bow

before

Michelangeloasincomparable. His

supremacy

in the essential and

distinct-ive _qualities of_{sculpture (qualities}of

which

_{sculptors are} so _{justly jealous),} equilibrium, justness of

movement,

the exact balance ofmasses,order, in

a_word, those

which

_giveto _{Michelangelo'sfigures,}

even

the

most

tormented,,

an imposing stability

which

gives

them

the aspect of something eternal,

these architectonic _qualities have not been _sufficiently

remarked

or _brought

tothe attention ofstudentsofhiswork. _{Because of them,}

and

_{through them,} however, Michelangelo is _absolutely classic, the

most

classic of all

modern

artists.

And

yet, all this said and granted,

we

must

always

come

back

finally to

the

_supreme

and distinctive and

dominant

_qualityofall _power.

_Through

every one ofhisworks,

howsoever

incomplete, shines the underlying inspira-tion,andthe spectator

_may

follow the master's_{thought through}allthe_baffling obstacles_{and stormy}crises.

_Through

the materialveilthe ideais_always splen-didly apparent.

The

genius ofthe artist is _{ever superior} to his handiwork.

Such works

ofart as these are not

made

_only to be looked at, or to pro-duce

mere

sensual _{delight. Michelangelo'ssculptures}are to _{be thought over}

and brooded upon.

They

propound

new

questionings to us endlessly; _they

torment our _spirits; they evoke and germinate

new

thoughts.

FROM

THE

FRENCH.

MARCEL

REYMOND

'LA

SCULPTURE

FLORENTINE*

IT

is

most

difficult to _{speak of Michelangelo.}

How

is it

possible to find just

words

to tell of the extraordinary beauty of his art

and

yet to tell

also ofthat excess

which mars

even the

most

beautiful of

them;

to

show

how

the excellent

and

the detestable

elbow one

another?

His _typeisnot _{altogether unique} in art.

To

unitebadtaste and the

most

sublime beauties isthe lot of such ardent souls ashis, such violent tempera-ments, overflowing with activity,

and

it is also a trait proper to precocious

epochs in

which

too

much

science leads _{to exaggeration}

and

_{forgetfulness}

of

nature. In _{Michelangelo's} case, both the time in

which

he lived and the characterofhis_genius

jointlyconspiredtolead

him from

beautyofstyle,

and

to lure

him

into excesses.

There

is _nothing in his

work

which

can

justify

the _{comparison of}

him

to Phidias. If he is to be

_compared

to

_any

Greek

artists, it is to _{those sculptors} of the _decadence, the masters of the school of

_{Pergamos and}

Rhodes,

who

carved the*

Torso

'

and the 'Laocoon.'

It is a _{mistake through} admiration for _{great geniuses} to blinktheir faults

and

to _{speak only of}their

glories.

The

greater a

man

and

the

more

he

im-poses

upon

our _{imaginations, the}

more

_important it is to discern and to

dis-criminate

clearly the qualities in

which

his genius is

most

manifest,

and

in

Michelangelo's case such discrimination is the

more

_necessary because his

Micheangeo

31

In an_essay

_upon

thearchitectural

works

of_{Michelangelo,} Charles

Gamier

has

clearly touched the nature of his genius.

"

Michelangelo," he says,

"

even Michelangelo has failed.

Too

often in _seeking forthe _{grand he} has

found _onlythetormented,in _seekingthe

originalhehasfound onlythestrange

and even _{the ignoble."}

As

if

frightened by this _dictum,

Gamier

hastens to

add that he _{judges Michelangelo} thus _only in his architectural works, and attempts to point out

why

such reproaches are not

just

when

applied to his painting and his sculpture.

The

truth is, however, that

what

_Michelangelo

was

as an architect he

was

as a _painter

and

_sculptor.

"Tormented,"

"

strange,"

were

the

words

written by an architect studying Michelangelo

as an architect do _theynot

seem

at least as_just

when

we

_studythe

Med-ici _tombs, or, above all, the

'

Last Judgment,'

which

is

truly the strangest

and

most

tormented

work

thathaseverbeencreated? _{Yet, and}in _spiteofall his defects, Michelangelo remains

one

ofthegreatest,ifnot the very greatest,

ofall

modern

artists.

Let

us see

_why.

In the first _place,

from

the _point of

view

of technical

_knowledge

of his art he is unrivalled.

_Nobody

has ever

drawn

better than he

drew

;

nobody

has ever

known

the

human

_body

better.

He

abused his

knowledge

without

doubt, forin his Medici tombs, and aboveall in his '_{Last Judgment,' he} has represented attitudescontrary tonature; but he has represented

them

always

with _{such impeccable} science that it is _impossible not to admire

even

his

most

violent aberrations.

He

was,moreover,amarvellous

workman.

None

ever carved stone with

more

brio,

none

ever had such a _passion forthe

ma-terial sideofhis art; and for thisreason hewillalways be the idealofthose

ofhis

own

_calling.

These

abilities,however,

make

up

butasmall _partofhis _genius.

Michel-angelo'strue title to _glory lies in his _thoughtrather than in the

means

ofits

expression.

He

divorced himself

from

theRenaissancetojoinwith thegreat Christian schoolofa_{preceding time.}

He

is _great because in_{the vaulting} of

the Sistine _{Chapel he} recreated the _prophets

and

the

sibyls,

and

impressed

them

withallthe_nobilityofhis

own

soul.

He

is_great,aboveall,through his suffering. In the presence of those strange figures ofthe

Medici

tombs

we

hearthat_cry

which

man

would

everfain_{stophis ears against,}and_{yet perforce}

must

_alwayslisten _{to hear,} the _cryof_sufferingofthe

human

soul. . . .

If_{through Michelangelo's}varied

work

we

seekto_spellout the

mind which

conceived it, and seek therein the

dominant

note, it

seems

to

me

that

we

shall find it tobe an

immense

_pride.

From

such a _pride

would

flow the

ex-pression of power, the moral

and

physical sovereignty of his Virgins, his

'

David,' his '

Victory,' and all the figures of the Sistine;

and

as a

correla-tive _quality, the _rebellion, the revolt, the mighty resistance,

which

we

find in the '

Bound

Captive,' the

'

Day,'

and

the

'

Moses.'

To

sucha_{pride, also,}

we may

trace the sources of that _{great suffering (so deeply} are the souls of

men

of_{genius susceptible} to

_{wounds) which}

cries out of the_'Dawn,' the 'Twilight,' the

'Descent from

the Cross,'

and

the 'Last

Judgment'

suf-ferings of

which

the ultimate result is profound misanthropy, disgust with

Jtta^terg

in

&rt

Michelangelohas played tooimportanta part in the

historyofart foreven

theleast detailsofhis

work

tolack interest. It

would

be _{unjust, truly, tosay}

that he lacks invention, he

who

created so

new

a _style and

endowed

with

life so

_many

_figures, but nevertheless he _repeated himselfoften. Certain

formulas

seemed

to _impose

on

his _thought.

_Having

an idea to _express, he

demanded

_{nothing from} a _model, but _sought in his

own

mind

forthe form

which

he

was

to create,

and

the mirrorofhis

mind

seems _always to have

reflected that

form

_{with something of}its

own

idiosyncrasy.

Let

me

subjoin a list of

what

I

_may

call the "habits

"

of Michelangelo:

w D

For

the _{general outline} of a statue he

was

accustomed to _{adopt on}

one

sidea_long

straightline,

and

on

theotheracurved and brokenone.

He

liked to

_{hug one}

arm

close to the _body,or to

throw

it behind in sucha fashion as to

make

it

practically disappear,

and

in opposition,to raise theother,and so place it as to

form

a_{sharp angle}with the _body.

The

arm which

isadvanced is _{always of}the_{greatest beauty,} but the _gesture,too often violent, is not

al-ways

rational.

Of

the

two

_legs, he

makes one

_support all the _{weight of}the

body,

and

raises the other; andto

augment

this difference,

which seemed

to

please him, heoften, and for

no

logical reason, placed the foot oftheraised leg

on

a pedestal. In his seated figures

one

leg is advanced and the other

usually sharplybent beneaththebody.

One

shoulderis_alwayshigherthanthe

other, acharacteristic

which became more

_striking in each successive work.

Ifthe

_body

is seen _{three-quarters front,} the head is full front.

The

head is

almost always bent forward,

and

overthehairofhis

women

he _{throws heavy}

veils

which

_{have something the aspect} ofhelmets.

Too

often _Michelangelo did not seek toevolve

from

his _subject the ideas

which

should have led

him

to a choice offorms.

He

rather

_employed

the

forms

which

he

deemed

beautiful inthemselves; and theseformshave

some-times

no

linkwiththe idea

which

he wishedto

express.

FROM THE

FRENCH.

WILHELM

LUBKE

<GESCHICHTE

DER PLASTIK'

SINCE

the period

of classic

antiquity,

no

masterhas been

endowed

with

such

eminent

_{plastic talent asMichelangelo.}

However

_importanthis

works

inarchitectureand_sculpture

_may

_{be,sculpturewas,}

and

remained,his favorite art.

Even

_{the purest} and _greatest of his _{painted figures,} such as the _sibyls

and prophets ofthe Sistine _Chapel, are _{plastic in conception.}

In order to _{completely master} the

human

_{figure, Michelangelo gave up}

many

years ofhisyouth to a

more

thorough studyof

anatomy

than everhas been undertaken _{by any} other

modern

master.

_He,

first since the ancients, valued the

human

form in all its _{majesty and} for its

own

sake;

and

the

aim

ofhis endeavor

became

to exhibit it in all conceivable attitudes and

fore-shortenings, to delineate it

grandly, freely, and broadly, after the

manner

of the _antique.

But

_Michelangelo

was more

he

was

an idealist in the strictest sense of

the word. In his earliest

works

he strove after_{a perfect beauty,} such as is

expressed in the creations of_{antique sculpture. Seeking} thusfora universal

concep-jtticfjelangelo

33

tion

which

had occupied so _prominent a _{place throughout} the fifteenth

cen-tury.

What

could his ageafford to such a Titan ? Christian _{personages and} the _spiritual idea

which

animated

them were

_{ill-adapted to} an art of

which

the

aim

was

to _glorify the

human

_figure in its _{pure beauty}; _{yet antique}

mythology

had died out; and if, at times, a _mythological subject presented

itself,theoccasionsweretoorare,andthe_{subject,in spite}ofall_{the prevalent}

enthusiasm for

antiquity, too far

removed from

modern

subjective feeling. Still

more

alien to _{Michelangelo's genius}

was

the historical

subject, with its

exact

and

individual features. _Nothing, therefore, remained to

him

but the

realm of_allegory,the_{vague forms of}

which

offeredthemselvesas_readyvehicles

for_{the presentation}ofhis_subjectiveideas. _{Allegory, then, presented}the_only

means

of outlet,

and

a _dangerous one, to the capricious fancy ofthe artist.

Unfettered _{subjectivity prevailed} in the world of art for the first time. It

recognized

no

subjectivebondsinitsabsolute

sway

; ithadcast offthe

leading-strings oftradition and, absorbed in its

own

_{profound inspirations,} wrestled mightily toproduce

from

them

the grandesteffect. All _{Michelangelo's}

works

betray suchastruggle thestruggleof sublimeideasstrivingtosurge

up

into

being from the wonderful depths of his mind, and bearing

upon them

every

mark

ofthe _mighty throes

which

_gave

them

birth.

There

can be

_{no calm enjoyment}

of such works.

_They

_irresistiblyinvolve usintheir_{passion, and,}whether

we

willor no,

make

us sharersoftheir

tragedy.

This

isthe _impression

which

even his _{contemporaries} felt

when

_{they spoke}

ofthe "terrible

"

in _{Michelangelo's works.}

In orderto_{procure an adequateexpression}forthese_{mighty,profound,}and

yet scarcely definable ideas, Michelangelo soon began to

make

the

human

form

the manikin of his _sovereign will.

The

fundamental ideal, _laboriously

produced through aninternal conflict,could only

become

_externally available

by

making

the laws of_{physical organization}

yield to it.

_Thus,

then, _began

his

_sway

ofidea over form. It

became

a matter oflittle _importance to the

master whether an attitude

was

naturalor unconstrained if_only it

thrillingly

expressed

what was

surging within his

mind

; and sohe

moulded

the

human

form at will, _gave to certain parts exaggerated colossal _{might, increased the}

power

ofthe muscles, and _{neglected other parts}

(as, for example, almost

al-ways

the back ofthe head in his _statues),

and

_{thus prescribed}

new

laws to

the

human

frame.

In the

greatest masterpieces, even

among

the ancients, small intentional departures

from

truth are oftenjust the points on

which

the spiritual effect

ofthe

whole

_depends; but _{Michelangelo frequently indulges too} far in this

poetic license,and falls _{into exaggeration,}

and

therefore into

ugliness.

Thus

the

same

_Michelangelo

who

_{possessed the highest} idea of the_{beauty of}the

human

_body

at last arrived at a _{conception of}

form

which, as it _were, wil-fully avoided thebeautiful.

Bufrrude _{and unpleasing} as_they sometimes

_may

_{be, his figures} are never

petty or ordinary. In these bold forms, grandly outlined

and

executed with unsurpassable breadth and freedom, hesets before us a highertype ofbeing,