Michelangelo, often MICHAEL ANGELO. Michelangelo Buonarroti, the most distinguished sculptor of the modern world, was born on March 6, 1475. His father, Ludovico di Leonardo Buonarroti Simoni, was a poor gentleman of Florence, who, though bankrupt in fortune, did not lack the consideration which is paid to ancient lineage. When the sculptor was born, his father was podesta or mayor of Caprese and Chiusi, two townships in Tuscany. He returned to Florence when his term of office was expired, and the child was entrusted to the fostering care of a stonemason's wife at Settignano, where Ludovico owned a small property. The boy's enthusiasm for art revealed itself at an early age, and, though he was sent to the school of Messer Francesco di Urbino to learn the elements, his best energies were devoted to drawing. To his father's aristocratic prejudice sculpture seemed a calling unworthy of a gentleman. The lad, however, was resolute, and in 1488, while yet only thirteen years of age, he entered the bottega of Domenico Ghirlandajo, to whom he was bound apprentice for three years. None was ever more fortunate than Michelangelo in the time and place of his birth. From his boyhood he was familiar with the masterpieces of Donatello, and he joined his contemporaries in making a pilgrimage to the convent of the Carmine, where he studiously copied the supreme examples of Masaccio's art. By Ghirlandajo he was recommended to Lorenzo de' Medici, and entered the school which the 'Magnifico' had established in his garden on the Piazza. Here was gathered together, under the care of Bertoldo, a priceless collection of antiques, and here Michelangelo encountered what proved the most enduring influence of his life. His talent was not long in arresting the notice of Lorenzo, who henceforth gave him a room in his house and a seat at his table; and to the beneficence of his patron he owed the acquaintance of Poliziano and many of the most learned of the day. To this period belong two interesting reliefs. In the 'Battle of the Centaurs' (now in the Casa Buonarroti at Florence) the classical influence of Lorenzo's garden is strikingly apparent. In truth it has little of the dignified calm which distinguishes the work of Phidias and his contemporaries; the style of a later period was its inspiration; but it reveals the lasting characteristics of Michelangelo's genius. The inexhaustible variety of pose, the straining muscles, the contorted limbs, which mark the artist's mature work, are already visible. A marvellous contrast to the 'Centaurs' is the 'Madonna,' conceived and executed in the spirit of Donatello, which without a suggestion of movement is quiet and harmonious in composition, and though not consciously antique is far more classical.
In 1492, when Michelangelo had spent some three years in his house, Lorenzo died, and the school which had conferred so great benefits upon art was straightway dissolved. Piero, Lorenzo's son and successor, it is true, retained for a time the services of Michelangelo, but he is said to have treated him with scant courtesy; and Michelangelo fled to Bologna. Nor did he here wait long for a patron; Gianfrancesco Aldrovandi commissioned him to execute a statue. In Bologna the sculptor lingered for a year; then he once more (in 1495) returned to Florence. It was during this sojourn in his native city that he fashioned the marble 'Cupid' to which he owed his first introduction to Rome. Baldassare del Milanese persuaded him to give the work the air of an antique by burial, and despatch it to Rome. Here it was purchased by Cardinal San Giorgio, who, though he speedily discovered the fraud which had been put upon him, was quick to detect the talent of the sculptor who had tricked him. He therefore summoned him to Rome, and on June 25, 1496 Michelangelo arrived for the first time in the Eternal City. The influence of Rome and the antique is easily discernible in the 'Bacchus,' now in the National Museum at Florence; it is modelled with an elegance and restraint which are evidence of the hold which the classical tradition, as interpreted by the Greco-Roman sculptors, had upon Michelangelo. To the same period belongs the exquisite 'Cupid' of the South Kensington Museum. The 'Pietà,' which is now in St Peter's, was executed in 1497, but presents an amazing contrast. There is in it a touch of the middle ages, a suggestion of realism which is wholly at variance with the antique ideal. But it is beautifully composed, the drapery is handled with a masterly breadth, and the body of the dead Christ is an epitome of anatomical research.
For four years the sculptor remained in Rome, perpetually urged to return to Florence by his father, who, though he objected to his son's craft as unbefitting his station, was nothing loth to profit by the wealth which was the reward of artistic success. Michelangelo went back; and Soderini, who was then gonfaloniere, permitted him to convert into a statue the colossal block of marble upon which Agostino d'Antonio had been at work many years before, and out of the irregular block grew the celebrated 'David.' The sculptor was compelled to modify his composition on account of the shape and size of his material. Indeed, it is characteristic of this titan's impetuous genius that obstacles were ever an incentive. His 'David' is the Gothic treatment of a classic theme. The influence of the antique is obvious, but the personal touch of the sculptor is also apparent (especially in such details as the treatment of the hands). The figure is modelled with strength and simplicity; the surface is not furrowed by an endless series of lines; there is no parade of anatomical knowledge; in pose and composition there is a stately grandeur, a dignified solemnity, which do not for an instant suggest that the artist was hampered by material difficulties. Indeed, so far from being a tour de force, it is a complete, well-ordered achievement. In 1504 it was placed upon its pedestal in the Piazza de' Signori, whence it was removed in 1873 to the Academy of Arts. Michelangelo's sojourn in Florence was a period of great activity. A second 'David' (this time of bronze) was commissioned and sent to France, where all trace of it is lost. The sculptor also designed two marble reliefs, one of which passed into the possession of Sir George Beaumont, and is now at Burlington House. The 'Holy Family of the Tribune' and the 'Manchester Madonna' in the National Gallery belong to the same time, and prove that Michelangelo had not wholly neglected the art of painting. His genius, however, was essentially plastic. He had far more interest in form than in colour; indeed, in his hands pictorial art was but an opportunity for the vigorous modelling of the human form. The zeal of Soderini, the gonfaloniere, in the cause of art inspired the scheme of decorating the Great Hall of the Council. For one wall Leonardo da Vinci was commissioned to design a fresco; a second was entrusted to Michelangelo. The latter chose as his subject an incident in the war of Pisa, and executed a cartoon which Vasari with devout exaggeration proclaims to have been of divine rather than of human origin. A body of soldiers were represented bathing; their camp has been attacked by the enemy, and they are hastening to seize their arms and repulse the assault. The motive is admirable, and gave the artist scope for the variety of pose and the violent action in which he took peculiar delight. The fresco was never completed, and on the return of the Medici to Florence the cartoon was removed to the hall of their palace, to which painters were permitted unrestrained access. The result was that over-zealous admirers of Michelangelo cut the cartoon to pieces. The original is lost as irretrievably as the masterpieces of Zeus and Apelles; and our impression of it is obtained from literary sources, from the engravings of Marcantonio and Agostino Veneziano, who reproduced single groups, and from a suspicious copy at Holkham Hall.
In 1503 Julius II. succeeded to the pontificate, and, being not merely a warrior but a patron of the arts as well, he lost no time in summoning Michelangelo to Rome. In Michelangelo the sturdy pope met his match. The two men, indeed, were not unlike in temperament. Each was endowed with the extraordinary vigour of mind and body which was the best characteristic of the Renaissance. But both had the defects of their qualities; Michelangelo no less than Julius was violent and overbearing; the sculptor could as little brook opposition as the pope, and their dealings were continually interrupted by bitter quarrels and recriminations. It is impossible to accept Vasari's anecdotes as statements of the literal truth, but there is no doubt that they have solid foundation in fact. Had Michelangelo known the misery and disappoint- ment which were in store for him, he might well have hesitated before obeying the summons of Julius. The pope commissioned the sculptor to design his tomb, and thus began what Condivi aptly calls la tragedia della sepoltura. For forty years Michelangelo clung to the hope that he would yet complete the great monument in honour of Pope Julius and his own genius. But intrigue and spite were too strong for him. Other demands were continually made upon his energy, and the sublime statue of Moses is the best fragment that is left to us of the tomb of Julius. However, at the outset both pope and sculptor were full of enthusiasm. The plans were approved and the work would have at once proceeded had not the sculptor one day asked audience of the pope in vain. In a sudden fit of temper Michelangelo left Rome, and the entreaties of the pope availed not to procure his return. After much fruitless negotiation they met at Bologna, and, with the generosity that was characteristic of both, were instantly reconciled. Michelangelo, as a pledge of renewed friendship, commenced a statue of Julius II., which was cast in bronze and placed over the gate of San Petronio (afterwards melted down and converted into a cannon). Michelangelo followed the pope to Rome, eager to resume his work upon the monument. In the meantime, however, Bramante, if Vasari's account be true, had poisoned the pope's mind against the sculptor; instead of being allowed to devote himself to the monument, which he deemed the work of his life, he was ordered to decorate the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel with paintings. In vain he protested that sculpture was his profession, in vain he urged Raphael's higher qualifications for the task; the pope was obdurate, and in 1508 Michelangelo began the work for which his training had ill adapted him. However, he set himself resolutely to the toil, and in four years achieved a masterpiece of decorative design. The flat oblong space of the ceiling is divided into nine compartments, each of which contains an incident drawn from the Old Testament. The lunettes above the windows, the spandrels, as well as the resaults between the lunettes, are filled with heroic figures. The designs are admirably accommodated to the space they are intended to fill, and the broad effect is one of harmony and homogeneity. It is only when you analyse the composition and examine each compartment by itself that you realise the superhuman invention, the miraculous variety of attitude and gesture, which place this marvellous work among the greatest achievements of human energy. Michelangelo, however, had not forgotten the monument of Pope Julius, and no sooner had he finished his work in the Sistine Chapel than he returned with eagerness to the tomb. But once again his favourite project was interrupted. In 1513 Pope Julius II. died, and, though he had commanded the cardinals Santi Quattro and Aginense to see that his monument was completed in accordance with his expressed wishes, the cardinals were thrifty men, and demanded of Michelangelo another and a more modest design. This was furnished, but before the work could be undertaken Pope Leo X. had despatched Michelangelo on business of his own to Florence. Leo was of the Medici family, and professed no interest in the tomb of his predecessor; his whole anxiety was to do honour to his ancestors by the adornment of Florence. He therefore commissioned Michelangelo to rebuild the façade of the church of San Lorenzo and enrich it with sculptured figures. The master reluctantly complied, and set out for Carrara to quarry marble. Even here the pope would not permit Michelangelo to work his will, but urged him to leave Carrara and seek what material he needed at Serravezza, which lay in Leo's own territory. In vain the sculptor insisted that the marble was of inferior quality, and that to convey it to Florence roads must be cut through mountains and laid upon stakes over marshland and swamp. Leo X. was deaf to reason, and for eight years Michelangelo was forced to devote himself to toil as idle as that of Sisypbus; from 1514 to 1522 his artistic record is a blank. Nor were the next years fruitful of achievement. The sculptor remained in Florence still working on the tomb of Julius and building the Sacristy of San Lorenzo. In 1528 the unsettled state of his native city turned him again from the practice of his art. He devoted himself heart and soul to the science of fortification, and when in 1529 Florence was besieged Michelangelo was foremost in its defence. The city was forced to surrender in the following year, and for some time Michelangelo, fearing treachery, lay in concealment. His safety, however, being assured, he resumed his work upon the tombs of the Medici, and completed the monuments to Giuliano and Lorenzo de' Medici, which are among the greatest of his works. In 1533 yet another compact was entered into concerning Pope Julius's ill-fated sepulchre; it was at last determined to reduce it to a mere façade, and Michelangelo would doubtless have carried it to completion had he not been once again commissioned to adorn the Sistine Chapel with frescoes. After a delay of some years he began in 1537 to paint 'The Last Judgment.' The design was finished and displayed on the Christmas-day of 1541, and was the master's last pictorial achievement. In the following year he was appointed architect of St Peter's, and devoted himself to the work with loyalty and devotion until his death, which took place on the 18th February 1564.
Michelangelo is by far the most brilliant representative of the Italian Renaissance. He was not only supreme in the arts of sculpture and painting, but was learned in all the learning of his age, a poet of powerful individuality, an architect and military engineer. From an artistic point of view his was by far the greatest personality, his the most potent influence, the modern world had seen. His debt to the antique was immense, yet it must be remembered that he knew only the decadence of classical art; had he seen the masterpieces which have since been brought to light, it is possible that his style might have been largely modified. But, though in the finest examples of his art classical influence is conspicuous, he was rarely able to exclude his personality. As he was violent in his life, so there is ever a touch of violence in his art. He is making, as it were, an emphatic protest against the dark ages which lay behind him; he is discovering to the world the utmost possibilities of the reawakened arts. There is generally to be observed in his work a profound learning, an extraordinary knowledge of perspective and foreshortening, a firm conviction that there is nothing in heaven or on earth that art cannot express. At beauty Michelangelo does not aim. Grandeur, sublimity, power, these are his themes. And he recurs to them again and again with the persistence which characterises a man of transcendent genius. Both Donatello, who came before him, and Raphael among his contemporaries, were more richly endowed than he with the artistic temperament. Neither the one nor the other was wont to overstep the limits of art. Their ambition was to attain perfection; they did not chafe against the restraints imposed by beauty and simplicity. But Michelangelo, though their inferior in art, had a far greater, if less governable, genius. He was not content to model a perfect statue, to paint a perfect form; he was ever striving to throw himself and his intelligence into marble or on to canvas. And so, though his works will be ranked till the end of time among the masterpieces of the world, he is neither for sculptor nor for painter the most valuable model. As an influence he was more potent than any of his contemporaries, and it can hardly be said that his influence was wholesome. The Flemish and Dutch painters, who visited Italy in the 16th century, carried home with them his love of distorted limbs and twisted draperies, but failed to catch a breath of his invention and vigour. It is easy, even for the mediocre, to parody a strongly-marked talent.
The master's career is not without irony. His genius was plastic; by temperament and training he was a sculptor, and yet frescoes were the only works he was destined to bring to fulfillment. He has left behind him, it is true, not a few grandiose statues, such as the 'Moses,' but none of his elaborate designs for sculptural monuments was ever completed. His career, indeed, was, until he came for the last time to Rome, a prolonged struggle against fate and his patrons. Time after time his own projects were set aside at the pleasure of a pope. For this his own waywardness and excitability were in some measure to blame, and throughout his life he seems to have been unable to attack any enterprise except at fever-heat. His sonnets, the composition of which he, unlike the rest of mankind, reserved for his old age, possess the same qualities as his statues. Just as his 'David' was torn from the marble, so his verses are rough-hewn out of the language. In all of them it is meaning rather than form that is sought after. Dr Johnson's criticism of a production of Bentley's is precisely applicable to them. 'They are the forcible verses of a man of a strong mind, but not accustomed to write verse.' The best of them were inspired by his friendship for the accomplished Vittoria Colonna, the widow of the Marchese di Pescara. Michelangelo's life was untouched by the passion of love, and his one romance belongs to his old age. He is said to have met Vittoria for the first time in 1538, and until her death, which took place in 1547, the closest ties of friendship bound them. Her loss was the severest blow which ever fell upon him. He painted her portrait, and this honour he conferred on none other save Tommaso Cavalieri, for whom he cherished a romantic attachment and to whom also he addressed sonnets.
Michelangelo's character was a strange medley of conflicting qualities. Though kind and loyal to those who depended on his care—as is proved by his untiring interest in his nephew and his devotion to Urbino, his faithful servant—he showed himself resentful and even suspicious to his enemies. He could brook no opposition to his wishes, and he mercilessly attacked those who dared to withstand him. But he lived in an age of treachery and intrigue, and much may on this count be forgiven him. He loved solitude and a simple life. From his earliest youth he was an eager student of literature, and applied himself with peculiar devotion to Dante and Petrarch. Though feared and attacked by the envious among his contemporaries, he earned his full meed of praise during his lifetime, and at his death universal honour was paid to his memory.
See Lives by Vasari and Condivi. The best edition of the letters is Milanesi's Lettere di Michel Angelo (1873). The sonnets have been edited by Cesare Guasti, Rime di Michelangelo Buonarroti (1863), and translated into English by J. A. Symonds. Of modern and critical biographies there is no lack—those, for example, by Springer (in Raffael u. Michelangelo, 3d ed. 1895). Hermann Grimm (9th ed. 1894; trans. 1897), Von Scheffler (1892), Ollivier, Gabriel Thomas (Michel-Ange, Poète), and J. A. Symonds (2 vols. 1892).