Part 5

While pursuing his studies under Ghirlandaio, he was accustomed to visit the gardens of the Grand Duke, (Lorenzo the Magnificent) to study the antique. One day, when he was about fifteen years of age, he found a piece of marble in the garden, and carved it into the mask of a satyr, borrowing the design from an antique fragment. Lorenzo, on seeing the work, was struck with its excellence, and jestingly told the young Angelo that he had made a mistake in giving a full set of teeth to an old man. This hint was not lost; the next day it was found that the artist had broken one of the teeth from the upper jaw, and drilled a hole in the gum to represent the cavity left by the lost tooth. The first work executed by Michael Angelo, on his return to Florence from Bologna, where he had fled on account of the disturbances in the former city, was a Sleeping Cupid, in marble, which considerably enhanced his reputation; but so great was the prejudice in favor of the antique, that by the advice of a friend, Michael Angelo sent his statue to Rome, to undergo the process of burial, in order to give it the appearance of a work of ancient art, before it should be submitted to public inspection. This fraud, like many of a similar kind at this time practiced, succeeded completely; and the Cupid was eagerly purchased by the Cardinal St. Giorgio, for 200 ducats. It was not long before the Cardinal was told that a trick had been played upon him, and he sent a person to Florence, in order to ascertain, if possible the truth of the charge. The latter repaired to the studios of the different artists in that city, on the pretence of seeing their productions. On visiting the _atelier_ of Michael Angelo, he requested to see a specimen of his work; but not having anything finished at the time, he carelessly took up a pen, and made a sketch of a hand. The Cardinal’s messenger, struck by the freedom and grandeur of the style, inquired what was the last work he had executed. The artist, without consideration, answered at the moment, it was a Sleeping Cupid; and so minutely described the supposed antique statue, that there remained no doubt whose work it was. The messenger at once confessed the object of his journey, and so strongly recommended Michael Angelo to visit Rome, that he soon after went to that city, on the express invitation of the Cardinal St. Giorgio himself. Here he executed several admirable works, among which the Pietá, or dead Christ, has been highly extolled for the great knowledge of anatomy displayed in the figure. He afterwards returned to Florence, where he executed his celebrated marble statue of David.

MICHAEL ANGELO AND JULIUS THE SECOND.

Julius the Second, a patron of genius and learning, having ascended the papal throne, Michael Angelo was among the first invited to Rome, and was immediately employed by the pope in the execution of a magnificent mausoleum. On the completion of the design, it was difficult to find a site befitting its splendor; and it was finally determined to rebuild St. Peter’s, in order that this monument might be contained in a building of corresponding magnificence. Thus originated the design of that edifice, which was one hundred and fifty years in completion, and which is now the noblest triumph of architectural genius the world can boast. The completion of this grand monument was delayed by various causes during the pontificates of several succeeding popes, until the time of Paul III. It was not placed in St. Peter’s, as originally intended, but in the church of S. Pietro, in Vincoli. On this monument is the celebrated colossal statue of Moses, which ranks Michael Angelo among the first sculptors, and has contributed largely to his renown.

ST. PETER’S CHURCH.

Michael Angelo’s greatest architectural work was the cupola of St. Peter’s church. Bramante, the original architect, had executed his design only up to the springing of the four great arches of the central intersection. Giuliano di Sangallo, Giocondo, Raffaelle, Peruzzi, and Antonio Sangallo, had been successively engaged, after Bramante’s decease, to carry on the work; but during the inert sway of Adrian VI., and amid the catastrophes of Clement VII., little had been accomplished. At length Paul III. appointed Michael Angelo to the post of architect, much against his will, as he was then seventy-two years of age. He immediately laid aside all the drawings and models of his predecessors, and taking the simple subject of the original idea, he carried it out with remarkable purity, divesting it of all the intricacies and puerilities of the previous successors of Bramante, and by its unaffected dignity, and unity of conception, he rendered the interior of the cupola superior to any similar work of modern times. He was engaged upon it seventeen years, and at the age of eighty-seven he had a model prepared of the dome, which he carried up to a considerable height; in fact, to such a point as rendered it impossible to deviate from his plan; and it was completed in conformity with his design, by Giacomo della Porta, and Domenico Fontana. The work was greatly delayed in consequence of the want of necessary funds, or else Michael Angelo would have himself completed this great monument of his taste and skill. If we are indebted to Bramante for the first simple plan of the Greek Cross of St. Peter’s, and the idea of a cupola to crown the centre, still it must be allowed that to Michael Angelo is due the merit of carrying out the conception of the original architect, with a beauty of proportion, a simplicity and unity of form, a combination of dignity and magnificence of decoration, beyond what even the powers of Bramante could have effected.

Such was the unparalleled eminence which this wonderful genius attained in the three sister arts of sculpture, architecture, and painting. His chief characteristics were grandeur and sublimity. His powers were little adapted to represent the gentle and the beautiful; but whatever in nature partook of the sublime and the terrible, were portrayed by him with such fidelity and grandeur as intimidates the beholder. Never before nor since has the world beheld so powerful a genius. The name of Michael Angelo will be immortal as long as the peopled walls of the Sistine chapel endure, or the mighty fabric of St. Peter’s rears its proud dome above the spires of the Eternal city.

MICHAEL ANGELO’S FIRST PATRON.

Lanzi says that Lorenzo the Magnificent, desirous of encouraging the statuary art, then on the decline in his country, had collected in his gardens many antique marbles, which he committed to the care of Bertoldo. He requested Ghirlandaio to send him a talented young man, to be educated there, and he sent him Michael Angelo, then a youth of sixteen. Lorenzo was so pleased with his genius that he took him into his palace, rather as a relative than a dependent, placing him at the same table with his own sons, with Poliziano and other learned men who graced his residence. During the four years that he remained there, he laid the foundation of all his acquirements.

THE CARTOON OF PISA.

According to Condivi, Michael Angelo devoted twelve years to the study of anatomy, with great injury to his health, and this course “determined his style, his practice, and his glory.” His perfect knowledge of the human body was best shown in his famous Cartoon of the Battle of Pisa, prepared in competition with Leonardo da Vinci, in the saloon of the public palace at Florence. Angelo did not rest satisfied with representing the Florentines, cased in armor, and mingling with their enemies in deadly combat; but choosing the moment of the attack upon the van, while bathing in the river Arno, he seized the opportunity of representing many naked figures, as they rushed to arms from the water, by which he was enabled to introduce a prodigious variety of foreshortenings, and attitudes the most energetic--in a word, the highest perfection of his peculiar excellence. Cellini observes of this work, that “when Michael Angelo painted in the chapel of Julius II., he did not reach half that dignity;” and Vasari says that “all the artists who studied and designed after this cartoon, became eminent.”

This sublime production has perished, and report, though not authenticated, accuses Baccio Bandinelli of having destroyed it, either that others might not derive advantage from its study, or, because of his partiality to Vinci and his hatred to Buonarotti he wished to remove a subject of comparison that might exalt the reputation of the latter above that of the former.

MICHAEL ANGELO’S LAST JUDGMENT.

Lanzi says, “In the succeeding pontificates (to that of Julius II.) Michael Angelo, always occupied in sculpture and architecture, almost wholly abandoned painting, till he was induced by Paul III. to resume the pencil. Clement VII. had conceived the design of employing him in the Sistine chapel, on two other grand historical pictures--the Fall of the Angels, over the gate; and the Last Judgment, in the opposite façade, over the altar. Michael Angelo had composed designs for the Last Judgment, and Paul III. being aware of this, commanded, or rather entreated, him to commence the work; for he went to his house, accompanied by ten Cardinals,--an honor, except in this instance, unknown in the annals of the art.” This sublime work was finished by Michael Angelo in eight years, and was exhibited in 1541. Vasari says that at the suggestion of Fra Sebastiano del Piombo, the Pope desired that it should be painted in oil; but Michael Angelo positively declined to undertake it, except in fresco, saying “that oil painting was an employment only fit for women, or idlers of mean capacity.” Varchio in his funeral oration says, “Such was the delicacy of his taste that no artist could please him; and as in sculpture, every pincer, file, and chisel which he used, was the work of his own hands, so in painting, he prepared his own colors, and did not commit the mixing and other necessary manipulations to mechanics and boys.”

Lanzi says that Michael Angelo must be acknowledged supreme in that peculiar branch of the profession (the nude), at which he aimed in all his works, especially in his Last Judgment. “The subject appeared rather _created_ than selected by him. To a genius so comprehensive, and so skilled in drawing the human figure, no subject could be better adapted than the Resurrection; and to an artist who delighted in the awful, no story more suitable than the day of supernal terrors. He saw Raffaelle preëminent in every other department of the art; he foresaw that in this alone could he expect to be triumphant; and perhaps he indulged the hope that posterity would adjudge the palm to him who excelled all others in the most arduous walk of art.”

“The Last Judgment,” says Lanzi, “was filled with such a profusion of nudity that it was in great danger of being destroyed, from a regard to the decency of the sanctuary. Paul IV. proposed to whitewash it, and was hardly appeased with the correction of its most glaring indelicacies, by some drapery introduced here and there by Daniello da Volterra, on whom the facetious Romans, from this circumstance, conferred the nickname of the _Breeches-maker_.” Other corrections were proposed by different critics, and some alterations made. Angelo was censured for mixing sacred with profane history; for introducing the angels of revelation with the Stygian ferryman; Christ sitting in judgment, and Minos assigning his proper station to each of the damned. To this profanity, he added satire; in Minos, he portrayed the features of the Master of Ceremonies, who in the hearing of the pope, had pronounced this picture more suitable for a Bagnio than a church; and an officious Cardinal, he placed among the damned, with a fiend dragging him by the testes down to hell.

MICHAEL ANGELO’S COLORING.

The coloring of Michael Angelo has been generally criticised as being too cold and inharmonious, but the best critics now consider that it was admirably adapted to his design. His chief characteristics were grandeur and sublimity, and whatever partook of the sublime and the terrible, he portrayed with a fidelity that intimidates the beholder. It is an error to suppose that he could not color delicately and brilliantly when he chose. During his residence at Florence, he painted an exquisite Leda for Alphonso, Duke of Ferrara. Michael Angelo was so much offended at the manner of one of the courtiers of that prince, who was sent to bring it to Ferrara, that he refused to let him have it, but made it a present to his favorite pupil, Antonio Mini, who carried it to France. Vasari describes it as “a grand picture, painted in distemper, that seemed as if it breathed on the canvass”; and Mariette, in his notes on Condivi, affirms that he saw the picture, and that “Michael Angelo appeared to have forgot his usual style, and approached the tone of Titian.” D’Argenville informs us that the picture was destroyed by fire in the reign of Louis XIII. Lanzi says, “In chiaro-scuro, Michael Angelo had not the skill and delicacy of Correggio; but his paintings in the Vatican have a force and relief much commended by Renfesthein, an eminent connoisseur, who, on passing from the Sistine chapel to the Farnesian gallery, remarked how greatly in this respect the Caracci themselves were eclipsed by Buonarotti.”

MICHAEL ANGELO’S GRACE.

“It is a vulgar error,” says Lanzi, “to suppose that Michael Angelo had no idea of grace and beauty; the Eve in the Sistine chapel turns to thank her Maker, on her creation, with an attitude so fine and lovely, that it would do honor to the school of Raffaelle. Annibale Caracci admired this, and many other naked figures in this grand ceiling, so highly that he proposed them to himself as models in the art, and according to Bellori, preferred them to the Last Judgment, which appeared to him to be too anatomical.”

MICHAEL ANGELO’S OIL PAINTINGS.

It has long been a disputed point whether Michael Angelo ever painted in oil; but it has been ascertained by Lanzi that the Holy Family in the Florentine gallery, which is the only picture by him supposed to be painted in oil, is in reality in distemper. Many of his designs, however, were executed in oil by his cotemporaries, especially Sebastiano del Piombo, Jacopo da Pontormo, and Marcello Venusti. Fresco painting was better adapted to the elevated character of his composition, which required a simple and solid system of coloring, rather subdued than enlivened, and producing a grand and impressive effect, which could not have been expressed by the glittering splendor of oil painting. There are many oil paintings erroneously attributed to him in the galleries at Rome, Florence, Milan, the Imperial gallery at Vienna, and elsewhere. (See Spooner’s Dict. of Painters, Engravers, Sculptors, and Architects; table of _Imitators_.)

MICHAEL ANGELO, HIS PROPHETS, AND JULIUS II.

When Michael Angelo had finished the works in the Sistine chapel which Julius II. had commanded him to paint, the Pope, not appreciating their native dignity and simplicity, told him that “the chapel appeared cold and mean, and there wanted some brilliancy of coloring, and some gilding to be added to it.” “Holy father,” replied the artist, “formerly men did not dress as they do now, in gold and silver; those personages whom I have represented in my pictures in the chapel, were not persons of wealth, but saints, who were divinely inspired, and despised pomp and riches.”

BON-MOTS OF MICHAEL ANGELO.

Michael Angelo was a true poet. He was endowed with a ready wit and consummate eloquence. His bon-mots, recorded by Dati, rival those of the Grecian painters, and he was esteemed one of the most witty and lively men of his time.

When he had finished his statue of Julius II. for the Bolognese, the Pope thought it too severe, and said to him, “Angelo, my statue appears rather to curse than to bless the good people of Bologna.” “Holy father,” replied the artist, “as they have not always been the most obedient of your subjects, it will teach them to be afraid of you, and to behave better in future.”

Under the pontificate of Julius III., the faction of San Gallo went so far, as to prevail upon the Pope to appoint a committee to examine the fabric. Angelo paid no attention to the cavils of his enemies. Finally the Pope summoned him before him, and told him that a particular part of the church was too dark. “Who told you that, holy father?” said Angelo. “I did,” interrupted the Cardinal Marcello. “Your eminence should consider, then,” said the artist, casting at the prelate a look of cool contempt, “that besides the window there is at present, I have designed three more in the ceiling of the church!” “You did not tell me that,” replied the Cardinal. “No indeed, I did not, sir. I am not obliged to tell you; nor would I ever consent to be obliged to tell your eminence, or any person whomsoever, anything concerning it. Your business is to take care that money is plenty at Rome; that there are no thieves there; to let me alone; and to permit me to go on with my plan as I please.”

When asked why he did not marry, he replied that “his art was his mistress, and gave him trouble enough.” Again, that “an artist should never cease to learn.” When told that some one had performed a remarkable feat in painting with his fingers, he said, “Why don’t the blockhead use his brush?” When shown Titian’s Danaë, he observed, “What a pity these Venetians do not study design.” Of the Gates of Ghiberti, he said, “they are fit to adorn the portals of Paradise.”

WASHINGTON ALLSTON.

“Soon after Allston’s marriage with his first wife, the sister of the late Dr. Channing, he made his second visit to Europe. After a residence there of a little more than a year, his pecuniary wants became very pressing and urgent--more so than at any other period of his life. On one of these occasions, as he himself used to narrate the event, he was in his studio, reflecting with a feeling of almost desperation upon his condition. His conscience seemed to tell him that he had deserved his afflictions, and drawn them upon himself, by his want of due gratitude for past favors from heaven. His heart, all at once, seemed filled with the hope that God would listen to his prayers, if he would offer up his direct expressions of penitence, and ask for divine aid. He accordingly locked his door, withdrew to a corner of the room, threw himself upon his knees, and prayed for a loaf of bread for himself and his wife. While thus employed, a knock was heard at the door. A feeling of momentary shame at being detected in this position, and a feeling of fear lest he might have been observed, induced him to hasten and open the door. A stranger inquired for Mr. Allston. He was anxious to learn who was the fortunate purchaser of the painting of “Angel Uriel,” regarded by the artist as one of his masterpieces, and which had won the prize at the exhibition of the Academy. He was told that it had not been sold. “Can it be possible? Not sold! Where is it to be had?” “In this very room. Here it is,” producing the painting from a corner, and wiping off the dust. “It is for sale--but its value has never yet, to my idea of its worth, been adequately appreciated--and I would not part with it.” “What is its price?” “I have done affixing any nominal sum. I have always, so far, exceeded my offers. I leave it for you to name the price.” “Will four hundred pounds be an adequate recompense?” “It is more than I have ever asked for it.” “Then the painting is mine.” The stranger introduced himself as the Marquis of Stafford; and he became, from that moment, one of the warmest friends of Mr. Allston. By him Mr. A. was introduced to the society of the nobility and gentry; and he became one of the most favored among the many gifted minds that adorned the circle, in which he was never fond of appearing often.

“The instantaneous relief thus afforded by the liberality of this noble visitor, was always regarded by Allston as a direct answer to his prayer, and it made a deep impression upon his mind. To this event he was ever after wont to attribute the increase of devotional feelings which became a prominent trait in his character.”--_Boston Atlas._

ALLSTON’S DEATH.

“Notwithstanding the general respect which is manifested to the memory of this distinguished artist, there are unsympathising, ice-hearted men of the world who yet reproach him for uncontrollable events in his career.

The actions of the painter, the poet, and the musician, are dictated often by other motives than those impelling the arm of the mechanic, or the tongue of the advocate. Men of genius are of a more delicate organization than those possessing inferior abilities, and are swayed by emotions the most lofty that can actuate humanity. The world’s neglect, the contempt of critics, depressed spirits induced by pecuniary embarrassments, blast their hopes, enervate their energies, and deprive them of the potency to cope with the heartless world.

Men there are who would visit the generous Allston with censure, because, while laboring under disappointments, ill health, and crushed anticipations, he failed to finish his painting of Belshazzar’s Feast, a theme that possibly became uncongenial to his pencil. May their ill feeling be forgotten, and, if the fountain of their sympathies be not wholly dried up, may it yield a little lenity towards one of America’s noblest sons.

It may not be inappropriate to insert a tribute to the memory of Allston, which will serve to vindicate his character from his aspersers, and exhibit it as traced by one for many years connected with him by the dearest ties of friendship:

‘PARIS, November, 1843.

The Duke de Luynes, a French nobleman, has lately given a commission to Monsieur Ingres, the painter, recently Director of the French Academy of Arts in Rome, to decorate his palace at Dampierre with a series of pictures, the subjects of which I have not heard. One hundred thousand francs are allowed to the artist for this work. M. Ingres was a student at Rome, pensioned by his government, at the time Mr. W. Allston and myself were there pursuing the same studies--not, however, aided by a government.

When the melancholy news of the death of my much regretted friend and fellow artist reached here, which was about the time the above favor was granted to M. Ingres, I could not but reflect on the less fortunate destiny of our highly accomplished countryman, whose muse, alas! was doomed to linger out a languid existence in a state of society unfavorable to the arts, or at least where there was little to encourage and sustain them, compared with the capitals in Europe where he had lived and studied. Such an indifference to the arts is not confined to one section of our country, but pervades the whole United States.