Michelangelo loved and enjoyed the company of his fellow craftsmen, such as Jacopo Sansovino, Rosso, Pontormo, Daniele de Volterra, and Giorgio Vasari of Arezzo, for whom he did countless acts of kindness. Intending to make use of him some day, Michelangelo caused Vasari to pay attention to architecture, and he was always ready to confer with him and discuss matters of art. Those who assert that Michelangelo would never teach anyone are wrong, because he was always willing to help his close friends and anyone else who asked for advice. (I myself was present on many occasions when this happened, but out of consideration for the deficiencies of others I shall say no more.) To be sure, he was unlucky with the people who went to live with him in his house, but this was because he chanced upon pupils who were hardly capable of following him. For example, his assistant Pietro Urbino of Pistoia was a talented person, but he would never exert himself; Antonio Mini was willing enough, but he was a slow thinker, and when the wax is hard it does not take a good impression; Ascanio dalla Ripa Transone1 worked very hard indeed, but never produced results, either in the form of designs or finished works. Ascanio spent years on a picture for which Michelangelo provided the cartoon, and all in all the high expectations he aroused have gone up in smoke. I remember that Michelangelo, taking pity on Ascanio for his lack of facility, used to help him personally, but it was of little use. If he had found someone suitable, old as he was he would (as he told me more than once) have then made anatomical studies and commentaries for the benefit of his disciples, for they were often misled. However, he hesitated because of his inability to convey his thoughts, for he was not practised in literary expression, although in his letters he said what he wanted very aptly and concisely and he loved reading the works of our Italian poets. He was especially fond of Dante, whom he greatly admired, and whom he followed in his ideas and inventions, and also of Petrarch, who inspired him to write madrigals and sonnets of great profundity, on which commentaries have been written. Benedetto Varchi, for example, has read before the Florentine Academy an admirable lecture on the sonnet that begins:
The best of artists hath no thought to show
Which the rough stone in its superfluous shell
Doth not include…2
Michelangelo sent any number of his verses to the Marchioness of Pescara, who replied to him in both verse and prose.3 She won his devotion because of her accomplishments, and she returned his love; and very often she went from Viterbo to Rome to visit him. For her, Michelangelo designed a Pietà showing Christ in the lap of Our Lady, with two little angels. As well as this admirable work he did an inspired Christ nailed to the cross, with his head uplifted and commening mending his spirit to the Father, as well as a Christ at the well with the woman of Samaria.
Being a devout Christian, Michelangelo loved reading the Holy Scriptures, and he held in great veneration the works written by Fra Girolamo Savonarola, whom he had heard preaching from the pulpit. He greatly loved human beauty for its use in art; only by copying the human form, and by selecting from what was beautiful the most beautiful, could he achieve perfection. This conviction he held without any lascivious or disgraceful thoughts, as is proved by his very austere way of life. For example, as a young man he would be so intent on his work that he used to make do with a little bread and wine, and he was still doing the same when he grew old, until the time he painted the Last Judgement in the chapel, when he used to take his refreshment in the evening after the day’s work was finished, but always very frugally. Although he became very rich he lived like a poor man, and he rarely if ever invited his friends to eat at his table; nor would he ever accept gifts from anyone, because he feared that this would place him under some kind of permanent obligation. This sober way of life kept him very alert and in want of very little sleep, and very often, being unable to rest, he would get up at night and set to work with his chisel, wearing a hat made of thick paper with a candle burning over the middle of his head so that he could see what he was doing and have his hands free. Vasari saw this hat several times, and seeing that Michelangelo used candles made not of wax but of pure goat’s tallow, which were first-rate, he once sent him four bundles of these, weighing forty pounds. With all courtesy, Vasari’s servant brought these candles to Michelangelo and presented them to him. (This was at the second hour of the night.) And when Michelangelo refused to accept them, the man said:
‘Sir, these candles have been breaking my arms between the bridge and here and I’ve no intention of taking them back. There’s a big mound of dirt in front of your door where they’ll stand beautifully, and I’ll set them all alight for you.’
At this Michelangelo said: ‘Just put them down here then. I’m not having you play tricks at my door.’
Michelangelo told me that often when he was young he used to sleep in his clothes, on occasions when he was tired out with work and did not want to take them off just to put them on again. There are some who have taxed him with being miserly, but they are mistaken, for both with works of art and his other property he proved the contrary. As was said, he gave various works to Tommaso de’ Cavalieri and Bindo, and drawings of considerable value to Fra Bastiano; and to Antonio Mini, his disciple, he gave drawings, cartoons, the picture of the Leda, and all the models in wax and clay that he ever made, which, as explained, have been left in France. To Gherardo Perini, a Florentine gentleman who was his great friend, Michelangelo gave three sheets containing drawings of various heads in black chalk, which were truly inspired; after Perini’s death these fell into the hands of the most illustrious Don Francesco, prince of Florence, who treasures them as the gems they certainly are. To Bartolommeo Bettini Michelangelo gave a cartoon showing Cupid kissing his mother, Venus, another inspired work which is now in the posession of his heirs at Florence. And for the Marquis del Vasto he made the cartoon of a Noli me tangere, another outstanding work. Both these cartoons were beautifully painted by Pontormo, as I have said. Then again Michelangelo gave the two captives to Ruberto Strozzi, and the broken marble Pietà to his servant Antonio and Francesco Bandini. I cannot imagine how anyone can accuse of miserliness a man who gave away so many things for which he could have obtained thousands of crowns. There is no more to be said, save that I know from personal experience that he made many designs and went to see many pictures and buildings without ever demanding payment for his services.
But let us come to the money he possessed. This came not from rents or trade but was earned by the sweat of his brow as a reward for his studies and labours. And can a man be called miserly who helped many poor people, as he did, and who secretly provided dowries for many young girls, and made the fortunes of those who helped and served him in his work? He enriched his assistant Urbino who had served him for so many years, for example, saying to him once: ‘If I die, what are you going to do?’
‘I’ll have to look after someone else,’ said Urbino.
‘Oh, you poor creature,’ Michelangelo replied. ‘I’ll save you from such misery.’
And then he gave him two thousand crowns in a lump sum, a gesture to be expected only from Caesars and Popes. As well as this, Michelangelo used to give his nephew three and four thousand crowns at a time; and at the end he left him ten thousand crowns, along with the property at Rome.
Michelangelo enjoyed so profound and retentive a memory that he could accurately recall the works of others after he had seen them and use them for his own purposes so skilfully that scarcely anyone ever remarked it. Nor has he ever repeated himself in his own work, because he remembered everything he did. Once when he was a young man he was with some friends of his, who were painters, and, for the price of a supper, they competed to see who could best draw one of those crude and clumsy figures like the match-stick men that ignorant people scratch on walls. Michelangelo made good use of his memory to recall one of those crude outlines he had seen on a wall, and he drew it as accurately as if he had it before his eyes, and did better than any of the painters. This was especially difficult for a draughtsman of his distinction,
accustomed as he was to producing sophisticated work.
Michelangelo rightly scorned those who injured him; but he was never known to harbour a grudge. On the contrary, he was a very patient man, modest in behaviour and prudent and judicious in all he said. His remarks were usually profound, but he was also capable of shrewd and witty pleasantries. Many of the things he said I made a note of, but to save time I shall quote just a few of them.
Once a friend of his started talking to him about death and remarked that it must sadden him to think of it, seeing that he had devoted all his time to art, without any respite. Michelangelo replied that this was not so, because if life was found to be agreeable then so should death, for it came from the hands of the same master. He was once standing by Orsanmichele, where he had stopped to gaze at Donatello’s statue of St Mark, and a passer-by asked him what he thought of it. Michelangelo replied that he had never seen a figure which had more the air of a good man than this one, and that if St Mark were such a man, one could believe what he had written. Again, he was once shown a drawing done by a novice whom it was hoped he would take an interest in, and seeking to make excuses for the boy his sponsors said that he had only just started to study the art. Michelangelo merely said: ‘That’s evident.’ He said the same kind of thing to a painter who had produced a mediocre Pietà, remarking that it was indeed a pity to see it.
When he was told that Sebastiano Veniziano was to paint a friar in the chapel of San Pietro in Montorio he commented that this would spoil the place; and when he was asked why, he added that seeing that the friars had ruined the world, which was so big, it was not surprising that they should spoil the chapel, which was so small. A painter once earned a great deal for a work which had cost him a considerable amount of time and effort. When he was asked what he thought of him as an artist, Michelangelo replied: ‘So long as he wants to be rich he’ll stay poor.’
Once a friend of Michelangelo, who was in holy orders and already saying Mass, came to Rome all decked out like a pilgrim and greeted Michelangelo, who pretended not to recognize him. He was forced to explain who he was; Michelangelo pretended to be astonished at seeing him robed the way he was, and as if congratulating him he exclaimed:
‘Oh, you do look fine! It would be good for your soul if you were as good within as you seem on the outside.’
This priest had recommended a friend of his to Michelangelo, who had given him a statue to execute; he then asked Michelangelo to give his friend more work and Michelangelo very good-naturedly did so. However, the friar had asked these favours only because he thought they would be refused, and when the contrary happened he showed his envy. Michelangelo was told about this, and he remarked that he never cared for these gutter-people, meaning that one should have nothing to do with people who have two mouths.
A friend asked Michelangelo his opinion of someone who had imitated in marble several of the most famous antique statues and boasted that his copies were far better than the originals. Michelangelo answered:
‘No one who follows others can ever get in front of them, and those who can’t do good work on their own account can hardly make good use of what others have done.’
Again, some painter or other had produced a picture in which the best thing was an ox. Michelangelo was asked why the artist had painted the ox more convincingly than the rest, and he replied: ‘Every painter does a good self-portrait.’
As he was passing by San Giovanni in Florence, Michelangelo was asked what he thought of Ghiberti’s doors; he replied: ‘They are so beautiful that they could stand at the entrance to Paradise.’
When he was working for a prince who changed his plans every day and could never make up his mind, Michelangelo said to a friend of his: ‘This lord has a mind like a weathercock; it turns with every wind that touches it.’
He went to see a piece of sculpture that was ready to be put on show, and the sculptor was taking great pains to see that it was in the right light so that it would look its best. Michelangelo said to him: ‘Don’t take so much trouble; the important thing will be the light on the public square.’
He meant that when an artist’s work is put on public view, the people decide whether it is good or bad.
Another time, a great nobleman in Rome took it into his head that he would like to be an architect. He had several niches constructed in which he intended to place various statues, and each niche had a ring at the top and was far too deep for its height. When the statues were put in place the effect was disappointing, and he asked Michelangelo what he should put in their place. Michelangelo replied: ‘Hang some bunches of eels on the rings.’
Once, when a gentleman who claimed to understand Vitruvius and to be a fine critic joined the commissioners of St Peter’s, Michelangelo was told: ‘You now have someone in charge of the building who has great genius.’
And he answered: ‘That is true, but he has no judgement.’
Another time, a painter had executed a scene in which many of the details were copied from other pictures and drawings, and indeed there was nothing original in it. The painting was shown to Michelangelo, and after he had looked at it a close friend of his asked for his opinion.
‘He has done well,’ Michelangelo commented, ‘but at the Day of Judgement when every body takes back its own members, I don’t know what that picture will do, because it will have nothing left.’
And this was a warning to artists to practise doing original work.
On his way through Modena, Michelangelo saw many beautiful terracotta figures, coloured to look like marble, which had been executed by the local sculptor, Antonio Begarelli. He thought they were excellent, and seeing that Begarelli did not know how to work in marble he said:
‘If that clay were to be changed into marble, so much the worse for the antiques.’
Told that he ought to resent the way Nanni di Baccio Bigio was always trying to compete with him, Michelangelo said: ‘Anyone who fights with a good-for-nothing gains nothing.’
A priest, a friend of his, once told him: ‘It’s a shame you haven’t taken a wife and had many sons to whom you could leave all your fine works.’
Michelangelo retorted: ‘I’ve always had only too harassing a wife in this demanding art of mine, and the works I leave behind will be my sons. Even if they are nothing, they will live for a while. It would have been a disaster for Lorenzo Ghiberti if he hadn’t made the doors of San Giovanni, seeing that they are still standing whereas his children and grandchildren sold and squandered all he left.’
Once Vasari was sent by Julius III at the first hour of the night to Michelangelo’s house to fetch a design, and he found Michelangelo working on the marble Pietà that he subsequendy broke. Recognizing who it was by the knock, Michelangelo left his work and met him with a lamp in his hand. After Vasari had explained what he was after, he sent Urbino upstairs for the drawing and they started to discuss other things. Then Vasari’s eyes fell on the leg of the Christ on which Michelangelo was working and making some alterations, and he started to look closer. But to stop Vasari seeing it, Michelangelo let the lamp fall from his hand, and they were left in darkness. Then he called Urbino to fetch a light, and meanwhile coming out from the enclosure where he had been working he said:
‘I am so old that death often tugs my cloak for me to go with him. One day my body will fall just like that lamp, and my light will be put out.’
Nevertheless, Michelangelo enjoyed the company of people like Menighelli, a crude and commonplace painter from Valdarno but a very agreeable sort of man. Menighelli used to visit Michelangelo, who once made for him a drawing of St Roche and St Anthony to paint for the country people. Indeed, Michelangelo, whom kings found difficult to handle, would often put other work aside to do simple things just as Menighelli wanted them; and among other things Menighelli got him to make the model of a crucifix, which was extremely beautiful. Menighelli then formed a mould from this and made copies in papier maché and other materials which he went about the countryside sel
ling. He used to make Michelangelo roar with laughter, especially when he told him some of his anecdotes, such as the story of a peasant who had asked him for a picture of St Francis and was disappointed when he found the robes painted grey since he would have liked something brighter; and when Menighelli put a pluvial of brocade on the saint’s back, the peasant was as happy as a lark.
Lives of the Artists Page 46
