It happened that in 1546 Antonio da Sangallo died; and since there was now no one supervising the building of St Peter’s various suggestions were made by the superintendents to the Pope as to who should take over. At length (inspired I feel sure by God) his holiness resolved to send for Michelangelo; but when he was asked to take Sangallo’s place Michelangelo refused, saying, to excuse himself, that architecture was not his vocation. In the end, entreaties being of no avail, the Pope commanded him to accept. So to his intense dismay and completely against his will Michelangelo was compelled to embark on this enterprise. Then one day or other he made his way to St Peter’s to have a look at the model in wood that Sangallo had made and to study the building itself. When he arrived he found there all the Sangallo faction who, crowding before him, said as agreeably as they could that they were delighted that he had been given responsibility for the building, and that Sangallo’s model was certainly like a meadow where there would never be any lack of pasture.
‘That’s only too true,’ observed Michelangelo; and by this (as he told a friend) he meant to imply that it provided pasture for dumb oxen and silly sheep who knew nothing about art. And afterwards he used to say openly that Sangallo’s model was deficient in lights, that on the exterior Sangallo had made too many rows of columns one above another, and that with all its projections, spires, and subdivisions of members it derived more from the German manner than from either the sound method of the ancient world or the graceful and lovely style followed by modern artists. As well as this, he would add, fifty years of time and over three hundred thousand crowns of money could be saved on the building, which could also be executed with more majesty, grandeur, and facility, better ordered design, and greater beauty and convenience. Subsequently, Michelangelo convincingly demonstrated the truth of his words with a model he made himself, and which showed the building completed on the lines we can see today. This model cost him twenty-five crowns and it was made in a fortnight. In contrast, Sangallo’s (as I said earlier) cost four thousand and took many years. And from these and various other circumstances it became evident that the building had been turned into a shop organized for making money on behalf of those who were trying to monopolize the work, which they were dragging out indefinitely. These methods were more than repugnant to a man of Michelangelo’s rectitude; and, in order to get rid of the culprits, when the Pope was pressing him to accept the position of chief architect he said to them openly one day that they should enlist the help of their friends and do everything in their power to prevent his being put in charge. For if he were, he went on, he would refuse to allow any of them to enter the building. These words, spoken in public, were taken very badly, as may well be imagined; and they explain why they conceived for Michelangelo a bitter hatred which grew daily more intense (as they saw him change all the plans, inside and out) till they could scarcely bear to let him live. Every day, as will be described, they thought up various new ways to torment him.
Finally, the Pope issued a motu proprio putting Michelangelo in charge of the building, with full authority, and giving him power to do or undo whatever he chose, and to add, remove, or vary anything just as he wished; the Pope also commanded that all the officials employed there should take their orders from him.1 Then Michelangelo, seeing the great trust and confidence that the Pope reposed in him, wanted to demonstrate his own good will by having it declared in the papal decree that he was devoting his time to the fabric for the love of God, and without any other reward. (It is true that the Pope had previously granted him the toll for the river-crossing at Piacenza, which yielded about six hundred crowns; but he lost it when Pier Luigi died and was given instead a chancellery at Rimini, which was worth less and meant little to him. And though the Pope several times sent him money by way of a salary he would never take it; and the truth of this is witnessed by Alessendro Ruffini, who was then chamberlain to the Pope, and Pier Giovanni Aliotto, bishop of Forlì.)
The Pope eventually gave his approval to the model Michelangelo had made. This diminished the size of St Peter’s but increased its grandeur in a manner which pleases all those able to judge, although there are some who claim to be experts (without justification) and who do not approve. Michelangelo found that four principal piers, made by Bramante and retained by Antonio da Sangallo, which were to help support the weight of the cupola, were weak; so he partly filled them in, making on each side two spiral stairways up which the beasts of burden can climb with the materials, as can men on horseback, to the uppermost level of the arches. He made the first cornice above the travertine arches; this curves round gracefully and is a marvellous and distinctive piece of work, better than anything else of its kind. He also began the two great hemicycles of the crossing, and whereas previously, under the direction of Bramante, Baldassare Peruzzi, and Raphael, as was said, eight tabernacles were being built on the side of the church facing the Campo Santo (and the same plan was followed by Sangallo) Michelangelo reduced the number to three, with three chapels behind them. Above these he placed a travertine vault and a range of windows alive with light, of varied form and sublime grandeur. However, as these things are in existence and can also be studied in engravings (Sangallo’s as well as those of Michelangelo) there is no need to describe them. It is enough to record that Michelangelo as diligently as he could had the work pressed forward in those parts of the building where the design was to be changed, so that it would be impossible for anyone else to make further alterations. This was a shrewd and prudent precaution, for it is pointless doing good work without providing for what may happen later: the rash presumption of those who might be supposed to know something (if words were to be trusted more than deeds) can easily, with approval of the ignorant, have disastrous results.
The people of Rome, with the consent of Pope Paul, were anxious to give some useful, commodious, and beautiful form to the Capitol, and in order to embellish the district, to furnish it with colonnades, with ascents, with inclined approaches with and without steps, and also with the ancient and beautiful statues that were already there. For this purpose they sought advice from Michelangelo, who made for them a very rich and beautiful design in which on the side of the Senators’ Palace (on the east) he arranged a façade of travertine and a flight of steps ascending from the two sides to meet on a level space giving access to the centre of the palace hall, with ornate curving wings adorned with balusters serving as supports and parapets. Then to improve the effect he mounted on pedestals in front of the steps the two ancient marble figures of recumbent river gods, one representing the Tiber and the other the Nile. (Between these two rare statues, each eighteen feet long, it is intended to have a niche containing a statue of Jupiter.) On the southern side, to bring the Conservators’ Palace into line he designed for it a richly adorned façade, with a portico at the foot filled with columns and niches for many ancient statues; and all around are various adornments of doors and windows, some of which are already in place. Then on the opposite side, towards the north, below the Araceli, there is to be another similar façade; and in front of this, on the west, is to be an almost level ascent of shallow steps with a balustrade. And here will be the principal entrance to the piazza with a colonnade and various bases on which will be placed the collection of ancient statues with which the Capitol is now so richly furnished. In the middle of the piazza, on an oval base, has been erected the famous bronze horse bearing the figure of Marcus Aurelius, which Pope Paul had removed from the Piazza di Laterano, where it had been put by Sixtus IV. Today work on this whole enterprise is yielding such beautiful results that it is worthy of being numbered among Michelangelo’s finest achievements; and under the supervision of Tommaso de’ Cavalieri (a Roman gentleman, one of the greatest friends Michelangelo ever had) it is now being brought to completion.
Pope Paul III had told Sangallo, while he was alive, to carry forward the palace of the Farnese family, but the great upper cornice, completing the outer edge of the roof, had still to be constructed, and his holiness w
anted Michelangelo to undertake this and to use his own designs. Unable to refuse the Pope, who so greatly esteemed and favoured him, Michelangelo made a full-scale wood model, twelve feet long, and he caused this to be placed on one of the corners of the palace to show the effect of the finished work. His holiness and everyone else in Rome being pleased by the result, the part which can be seen now was carried to completion, producing the most beautiful and varied cornice that has ever been known in ancient or modern times. Consequently, after Sangallo died, the Pope wanted Michelangelo to take charge of the whole building as well; and so Michelangelo made the great marble window with the beautiful columns of variegated stone which is above the principal door of the palace, surmounted by a large marble coat-of-arms, of great beauty and originality, belonging to Pope Paul III, the founder of the palace. Within the palace over the first storey of the courtyard Michelangelo continued the two other storeys, with their incomparably beautiful, graceful, and varied windows, ornamentation and crowning cornice. Hence, through the labours and genius of that man, the courtyard has been transformed into the most beautiful in all Europe. He widened and enlarged the great hall and reconstructed the front corridor, making the vaulting with a new and ingenious kind of arch in the form of a half oval. Then that same year at the Baths of Antoninus was discovered a block of marble, measuring fourteen feet in every direction, in which there had been carved by the ancients a figure of Hercules standing on a mound and holding the bull by its horns, with another figure helping him, and with a surrounding group of shepherd, nymphs, and animals: a work of truly exceptional beauty, which was believed to have been meant for a fountain. Michelangelo advised that it should be taken to the second courtyard of the Farnese Palace and there restored to spout water as it did originally. This was agreed, and the work is still being carried on today with great diligence, by order of the Farnese family. At the same time Michelangelo made designs for a bridge crossing the Tiber in a straight line with the palace, so that it would be possible to go direct to another palace and gardens that they owned in the Trastevere, and also from the principal door facing the Campo di Fiore to be able to see at a glance the courtyard, the fountain, the Strada Julia, the bridge, and the beauties of the other garden, all in a straight line as far as the other door opening on to the Strada di Trastevere. This was a marvellous undertaking which was worthy of that pontiff and of Michelangelo’s talent, judgement, and powers of design.
Fra Sebastiano, Keeper of the Papal Seal, died in 1547; and at that time Pope Paul proposed that the ancient statues of his palace should be restored. Michelangelo was happy to favour the Milanese sculptor Guglielmo della Porta, whom Sebastiano had recommended to him as a young man of promise; and liking his work he presented him to Pope Paul for the restoration of the statues. Things went so well that Michelangelo obtained for him the office of Keeper of the Seal, and then a start was made on the statues, some of which can be seen in the palace today. However, forgetting the benefits he had received from Michelangelo, Guglielmo later became one of his enemies.
In 1549 there took place the death of Paul III, whereupon after the election of Pope Julius III Cardinal Farnese commissioned a great tomb to be made for Pope Paul (his kinsman) by Fra Guglielmo, who arranged to erect it in St Peter’s, under the first arch of the new church, beneath the tribune. This meant, however, that it would obstruct the floor of the church, and the position chosen was in fact quite wrong. So Michelangelo gave the sensible advice that it could not and should not stand there. Fra Guglielmo, thinking this was done out of envy, became filled with hatred against him. Later on, however, he came to realize that Michelangelo had spoken the truth and that he himself had been at fault because he had been given the opportunity to carry the work through and had not done so. I can testify to this myself, for in 1550 I had been ordered by Pope Julius III to go to Rome to serve him (and I went very willingly, because of my love for Michelangelo), and I took part in the discussion. Michelangelo wanted the tomb to be erected in one of the niches where the Column of the Possessed is today, which was the proper place; and I had so worked to arrange matters that Pope Julius was resolving to have his own tomb made in the other niche, with the same design as Pope Paul’s, in order to balance it. But Fra Guglielmo, who opposed this scheme, brought it about that the Pope’s own tomb was in the end never finished nor was that of the other pontiff; and all this was predicted by Michelangelo.
That same year Pope Julius made up his mind to have a marble chapel constructed in the church of San Pietro in Montorio with tombs for his uncle Cardinal Antonio de’ Monte and for his grandfather, Fabriano, who was the founder of the greatness of his illustrious family. The designs and models for these were made by Vasari; and then Pope Julius, who always admired Michelangelo’s genius and who loved Vasari, wanted Michelangelo to settle what the price should be. For his part, Vasari begged the Pope to persuade Michelangelo to take the work under his general supervision. Now Vasari had proposed that Simone Mosca should do the carvings for this work and Raffaello da Montelupo the statues. However, Michelangelo advised against having any carved foliage, even on the architectural parts, saying that where there were marble figures nothing else was needed. Because of this Vasari feared that the finished work would be impoverished; but subsequently, when he did see it completed, he had to admit that Michelangelo had shown no little judgement. Then Michelangelo refused to let Montelupo make the statues, because he had seen how badly he had acquitted himself in those he himself had designed for the tomb of Pope Julius II. He was far happier that they should be allocated to Bartolommeo Ammanati (whom Vasari had recommended) even though he himself was at odds both with Ammanati and with Nanni di Baccio Bigio. This, as a matter of fact, had been caused by a trivial incident: for when they were boys, prompted by their love of sculpture rather than by any wish to offend him, they had gone into Michelangelo’s house and stealthily filched from his servant Antonio Mini many of Michelangelo’s drawings; subsequently, through the intervention of the magistrates, these were returned, and Michelangelo himself with the help of Giovanni Norchiati, canon of San Lorenzo, had saved them from any further punishment.
Discussing this escapade with Michelangelo, Vasari told him laughingly that he did not think they deserved any blame, and that if he had had the chance himself he would not merely have taken a few drawings but would have stolen everything of his that he could lay hands on in order to learn the art. One should encourage and reward those who try to improve themselves, Vasari added, and not treat them as if they had stolen someone’s money or other important belongings. In this way the whole affair was turned into a joke.
So a start was made on the work for San Pietro in Montorio, and that same year Vasari and Ammanati went to bring the marbles from Carrara to Rome. Now at that time Vasari used to visit Michelangelo every day; and one morning (it being Holy Year) the Pope graciously gave them a dispensation to visit the seven churches on horseback and gain the indulgence together. While they were going from one church to another they discussed the arts very eagerly and fruitfully, and from their stimulating conversation Vasari composed a dialogue which will be published (with other material on art) at a favourable opportunity.1
That year also Pope Julius confirmed the decree issued by Pope Paul III regarding the building of St Peter’s; and although members of the Sangallo clique spoke evil of Michelangelo they found the Pope unwilling to listen to a word of it. For Vasari had convinced his holiness that in fact Michelangelo had succeeded in breathing life into the building and he persuaded him to plan nothing without asking Michelangelo’s advice. The Pope kept to this promise, for neither at the Villa Giulia did he do anything without finding out Michelangelo’s opinion, nor in the Belvedere, when they made the existing stairway in place of the original built earlier by Bramante. (Bramante’s stairway, for the principal niche in the centre of the Belvedere, consisted in two half circles with eight steps in each, a convex followed by a concave flight.) Michelangelo designed and had erected the very bea
utiful quadrangular staircase, with balusters of peperinostone, which is there now.
Vasari had that year seen completed in Florence the printing of his biographies of the painters, sculptors, and architects. He had not written the biography of any living master (although there were several old artists who were still alive) with the exception of Michelangelo. And so he presented the work to Michelangelo, who received it with great pleasure. In it, in fact, were details of many things that Vasari had heard from Michelangelo’s own lips, he being the oldest and wisest of all the craftsmen. Then not long after, having read the work, Michelangelo sent Vasari the following sonnet which he wrote himself and which I am happy to include here in memory of his loving kindness:
With pencil and with palette hitherto
You made your art high Nature’s paragon;
Nay more, from nature her own prize you won,
Making what she made fair more fair to view.
Now that your learned hand with labour new
Of pen and ink a worthier work hath done,
What erst you lacked, what still remained her own,
The power of giving life, is gained for you.
If men in any age with Nature vied
In beauteous workmanship, they had to yield
When to the fated end years brought their name.
You, re-illuming memories that died,
In spite of Time and Nature have revealed
For them and for yourself eternal fame.1
Lives of the Artists Page 42
