Then among the other statues there are the two captains in armour: one, the pensive Duke Lorenzo, the embodiment of wisdom, with legs so finely wrought that nothing could be better; the other, Duke Giuliano, a proud figure, with the head, the throat, the setting of the eyes, the profile of the nose, the opening of the mouth, and the hair made with such inspired craftsmanship, as are the hands, the arms, the knees, the feet, and indeed every detail, that one’s eyes can never be tired of gazing at it. One has only to study the beauty of the buskins and the cuirass to believe that the statue was made by other than human hands. But what shall I say of the Dawn, a nude woman who is such as to arouse melancholy in one’s soul and throw sculpture into confusion? In her attitude may be seen the anxiety with which, drowsy with sleep, she rises up from her downy bed; for on awakening she has found the eyes of the great duke closed in death, and her eternal beauty is contorted with bitter sorrow as she weeps in token of her desperate grief. And what can I say of the Night, a statue not only rare but unique? Who has ever seen a work of sculpture of any period, ancient or modern, to compare with this? For in her may be seen not only the stillness of one who is sleeping but also the grief and melancholy of one who has lost something great and noble. And she may well represent the Night that covers in darkness all those who for some time thought, I will not say to surpass, but even to equal Michelangelo in sculpture and design. In this statue Michelangelo expressed the very essence of sleep. And in its honour various erudite people wrote many Latin verses and rhymes in the vernacular, of which the following, by an unknown author, is an example:
The Night that you see sleeping in such loveliness was by an angel carved in this rock; and by her sleeping she has life; wake her, if you disbelieve, and she will speak to you.
To this, speaking in the person of Night, Michelangelo replied:
Dear to me is sleep, and dearer to be of stone while wrongdoing and shame prevail; not to see, not to hear, is a great blessing: so do not awaken me; speak softly.
To be sure, if the enmity that exists between fortune and genius, between the envy of the one and the skill of the other, had allowed this work to be completed, then art would have demonstrated that it surpassed nature in every way. However, in 1529, while Michelangelo was labouring with intense love and solicitude on these works, Florence was besieged, and this decisively frustrated their completion. Because of the siege Michelangelo did little or no more work on the statues, because he had been given by the Florentines the task of fortifying both the hill of San Miniato and, in addition, as I said, the city itself. After he had lent a thousand crowns to the Republic and found himself elected one of the Nine of the Militia (a council appointed for the war) Michelangelo turned all his thoughts and energies to the job of perfecting the fortifications. But in the end, when the enemy army had closed round the city, with all hope of relief gradually fading and the difficulties of resistance increased, realizing that he was in grave personal danger Michelangelo resolved to save himself by leaving Florence for Venice. So, in secret, he left quietly by way of the hill of San Miniato, taking with him his pupil Antonio Mini and his loyal friend, the goldsmith Piloto. Each of them carried a number of crowns, sewn into his quilted doublet, and having reached Ferrara they decided to stay there. It happened that because of the tumult caused by the war and the alliance between the emperor and the Pope, who were besieging Florence, Duke Alfonso d’Este was keeping close watch in Ferrara, wanting to know from those who gave lodgings to travellers the names of all arrivals from day to day; and every day he had brought to him a description of all foreign visitors and where they came from. So when Michelangelo dismounted with his companions, intending to stay in Ferrara without making himself known, his arrival was notified to the duke, who was delighted to hear the news since he already enjoyed his friendship. Alfonso (a magnanimous ruler, who all his life took great pleasure in the arts) at once sent some of the notables of his court with instructions to conduct Michelangelo in the name of his excellency to the palace, to move there his horses and all his baggage, and give him comfortable quarters. Finding himself in the power of another, Michelangelo had no other course but to submit with a good grace; and so he went with them to see the duke, although he left his belongings at the inn. The duke chided him for his aloofness, but then welcomed him very warmly and gave him a number of costly gifts; then he tried to persuade him to stay in his service in Ferrara, promising to pay him a generous salary. Michelangelo, however, who had other plans, was unwilling to remain; so the duke begged him to stay at least while the war continued and renewed the offer to give him anything in his power. Not wanting to be outdone in courtesy, Michelangelo thanked him warmly and then, turning towards his two companions, said that he had brought twelve thousand crowns to Ferrara and that if the duke needed them they were at his disposal, along with himself. After this the duke led him on a tour of the palace, as he had done on a previous occasion, showing him all the fine works of art in his possession, including his own portrait by Titian which Michelangelo enthusiastically praised. However, the duke could not persuade him to stay in the palace and Michelangelo insisted on going back to the inn; whereupon the innkeeper received through the duke any number of things with which to do Michelangelo honour and was told not to accept any payment when he left.
From Ferrara Michelangelo went to Venice, where he stayed on the island of Giudecca; he left again, however, after he had been much sought after by various people in society, as he always had a low opinion of their understanding of his art. While he was there, it is said, he made for the city, at the request of Doge Gritti, a design for the bridge of the Rialto which was outstanding for its invention and ornamentation.
Meanwhile, he was strongly urged to return home and begged not to abandon his work in Florence, and he was sent a safe-conduct. Finally, overcome by longing for his native land, he made up his mind to go back, at some risk to himself. It was then that he finished the Leda he was painting for Duke Alfonso; and it was subsequently taken to France by his assistant, Antonio Mini. At this time Michelangelo saved the campanile of San Miniato, a tower whose two pieces of artillery had inflicted such terrible damage on the enemy’s forces that the gunners in the enemy camp bombarded it with their heavy cannon. The tower was already half destroyed and would soon be a complete shambles. However, Michelangelo protected it so well with bales of wool and stout mattresses suspended by ropes that it is still standing.
They also say that during the siege of Florence Michelangelo was given the opportunity of satisfying an earlier ambition of his and obtaining a marble block from Carrara, eighteen feet high, that Pope Clement had given to Baccio Bandinelli who had also wanted it. As it was now public property Michelangelo asked the Gonfalonier for the marble, which he was given with instructions to put it to good use. Baccio had himself made a model and cut away a good part of the stone; and then when he was allocated the marble Michelangelo made a model of his own. However, after the Medici were restored to power the block was given back to Baccio. And after the treaty had been signed, Baccio Valori, the Pope’s emissary, received orders to arrest and imprison some of the citizens who had been politically active; and the tribunal also sent for Michelangelo. Suspecting that this would happen, he had secretly fled to the house of one of his friends where he stayed hidden for several days until the tumult had died down. Then Pope Clement, mindful of Michelangelo’s talent and ability, ordered that everything possible should be done to find him and that far from being charged he should be given back his former appointments and told to attend to the work at San Lorenzo, in charge of which Pope Clement placed as commissary Giovanbattista Figiovanni, prior of San Lorenzo, who was an old servant of the Medici family. Reassured by this, to win Baccio Valori’s goodwill Michelangelo then started work on a marble figure, six feet high, showing Apollo drawing an arrow from his quiver, and he carried it almost to completion. Today this statue is in the apartment of the prince of Florence, and it is a very precious work, even though it is not comple
tely finished.1
At that time Michelangelo was visited by a gentleman from the court of Duke Alfonso of Ferrara, who having heard that he had made for him an outstanding work was anxious not to lose such a gem. When the man arrived in Florence he sought Michelangelo out and presented his letters of introduction. Michelangelo made him welcome and showed him the picture of Leda embracing the swan, with Castor and Pollux coming forth from the egg, which he had painted very rapidly in tempera. The duke’s go-between, mindful of what he knew about Michelangelo’s great reputation and being unable to perceive the excellence and artistry of the picture, said to him: ‘Oh, but this is just a trifle.’
Michelangelo asked him what his own profession might be, knowing that no one can be a better judge than a man with experience of what he is criticizing. With a sneer, the courtier replied: ‘I’m a dealer.’ He said this believing that Michelangelo had failed to recognize him for what he was, and laughing at the idea of such a question as well as showing his scorn for the trading instincts of the Florentines. Michelangelo, who had understood what he was getting at perfectly well, retorted:
‘Well, you’ve just made a poor deal for your master. Now get out of my sight.’
About that time his assistant Antonio Mini, who had to find dowries for his two sisters, asked for the Leda, which Michelangelo readily gave him, along with most of the wonderful cartoons and drawings he had made for it, and also two chests full of models, as well as a great number of finished cartoons and some pictures that were already painted. When Antonio took it into his head to go to France he carried all these away with him. He sold the Leda to the king of France through some merchants, and it is now at Fontainebleau; but the cartoons and designs came to grief, since he died shortly afterwards and some of them were stolen. Thus Florence suffered the grievous loss of many of Michelangelo’s great works. Subsequently, the cartoon of the Leda was returned to Florence, and it is now in the possession of Bernardo Vecchietti; similarly, four pieces of the cartoons for the chapel, with nudes and prophets, were brought back by the sculptor Benvenuto Cellini, and these are in the hands of the heirs of Girolamo degli Albizzi.
It became necessary for Michelangelo to go to Rome to serve Pope Clement who, although angry with him, as a friend of talented men forgave him everything. The Pope gave him instructions to return to Florence and finish the library and sacristy of San Lorenzo; and to save time, a considerable number of statues that were to be included were allocated to various other sculptors. Michelangelo allocated two of them to Tribolo, one to Raffaello da Montelupo, and one to Fra Giovanni Angelo of the Servites; and he assisted these sculptors in the work, making for them the rough clay models. They all set to with a will, and meanwhile Michelangelo had the library itself attended to. Thus the ceiling was finished with carved woodwork, executed from Michelangelo’s models by the Florentines Carota and Tasso, who were excellent carpenters and masters of wood-carving; and similarly the bookshelves were designed by Michelangelo and executed by Battista del Cinque and his friend Ciappino, who were skilled in that kind of work. To enhance the work still more, there was brought to Florence the inspired artist Giovanni da Udine, who with some of his own assistants and various Florentine craftsmen decorated the tribune with stucco. So with great solicitude everyone worked hard to bring the project to completion.
Michelangelo was preparing to have the statues carried into execution; but at that very time the Pope took it into his head to have him near him in person, as he wanted to have painted the walls of the Sistine Chapel, where Michelangelo had painted the ceiling for Julius II, who was the nephew of Sixtus. On the principal wall behind the altar, Clement wanted him to paint the Last Judgement, and he was determined that it should be a masterpiece. On the opposite wall, over the main door, he had commanded that Michelangelo should depict a scene showing Lucifer driven from heaven as a punishment for his pride and hurled with all the angels who had sinned with him into the depths of hell. (It was found that many years before Michelangelo had made various drawings and sketches for these subjects, of which subsequently one was executed in the church of Santissima Trinità in Rome by a Sicilian painter who had spent many months working for him and grinding his colours. This work is in the transept of the church, in the chapel of St Gregory. It was painted in fresco, with very poor results. However, one can glimpse a certain diversity and awesomeness in the groups of nudes as they rain down from heaven to turn into demons of weird and frightening appearance on reaching the centre of the earth: certainly a strange flight of the imagination.)1
While Michelangelo was making preparations to execute the cartoons and drawings for the Last Judgement on the first wall, never a day passed without his being troubled by the agents of the duke of Urbino, who alleged that he had received sixteen thousand crowns from Pope Julius to execute his tomb. This accusation was more than he could bear, and, indeed, he was determined that one day he would finish the tomb, even though he was already an old man. He was more than willing to stay in Rome for this purpose (now that without seeking it he had been given a pretext for not going back to Florence) because he went in great fear of Duke Alessandro de’ Medici. Michelangelo was convinced that Alessandro was no friend of his; for one day when the duke had given him to understand through Alessandro Vitelli that he should select the best site for the castle and citadel of Florence, he had replied that he would only go there if he were ordered to do so by Pope Clement.
Eventually agreement was reached that the tomb should be finished in the following manner: the plan for a free-standing rectangular tomb was scrapped, and instead only one of the original façades was to be executed, in whatever way best suited Michelangelo, and he was to include six statues from his own hand. In this contract with the duke of Urbino, his excellency consented that Michelangelo should be at the disposal of Pope Clement for four months in the year, either at Florence or wherever the Pope wanted to employ him. However, although Michelangelo thought that he would get some peace at last, he was not to finish with the tomb so easily; for Pope Clement, anxious to see the final proof of his genius, made him devote his time to the cartoon for the Last Judgement. However, although he convinced the Pope that he was working on that, he also kept working in secret, as hard as he could, on the statues for the tomb.
Then in 1534 came the death of Pope Clement, and there upon work ceased on the sacristy and library at Florence which had remained unfinished despite the effort that had gone into them. Michelangelo was now fully convinced that he would be free to give all his time to finishing the tomb of Julius II. But after Paul III had been elected, before no time at all he had Michelangelo summoned before him and after paying him compliments and making him various offers tried to persuade him to enter his service and remain near him. Michelangelo refused, saying that he was bound under contract to the duke of Urbino until the tomb of Julius was finished. Then the Pope grew angry and said:
‘I have nursed this ambition for thirty years, and now that I’m Pope am I not to have it satisfied? I shall tear the contract up. I’m determined to have you in my service, no matter what.’
When he saw the Pope’s determination, Michelangelo was tempted to leave Rome and somehow or other find a way to finish the tomb. All the same, being a prudent man and fearing the power of the Pope, he resolved to say things to please him and spin matters out (seeing the Pope was an old man) until circumstances changed. Meanwhile, the Pope was anxious to have some notable work from Michelangelo’s hands, and one day, accompanied by ten cardinals, he sought him out at his home. When he arrived his holiness asked to see all the statues intended for the tomb of Julius, and he thought they were all marvellous, especially the Moses which, according to the cardinal of Mantua, was by itself enough to do honour to Pope Julius. Having seen the drawings and cartoons that Michelangelo was preparing for the chapel walls, which he thought stupendous, the Pope again begged him with great insistence to enter his service, promising that he would persuade the duke of Urbino to content himself with three
statues and to have the others made from Michelangelo’s models by other competent artists. This was then arranged by means of his holiness with the duke’s agents, a fresh contract being drawn up and confirmed by the duke. Michelangelo freely committed himself to paying for the other three statues and having the tomb erected, and for this purpose he deposited 1,580 ducats with the Strozzi bank. He need not have taken this step; and certainly he now considered that he had done enough to free himself of that tedious and worrisome project. And then he had the tomb erected in San Pietro in Vincoli, as follows:
Lives of the Artists Page 40