Paul III. conferred the post of architect-in-chief at St. Peter's upon Michael Angelo on January 1, 1547, "commissary, prefect, surveyor of the works, and architect, with full authority to change the model, form, and structure of the church at pleasure, and to dismiss and remove the workmen and foremen employed upon the same." For all this work Michael Angelo refused payment, declaring that he meant to labour, without recompense, for the love of God and the reverence he felt for the Prince of the Apostles. Speaking broadly, the former architects had designed ground plans of St. Peter's on two lines, the Greek and the Latin crosses. Bramante, and Baldassare Peruzzi used the Greek cross; Raphael, the Basilica form, the addition of a long nave made the plan like a Latin cross; and Sangallo, by adding a huge portico to Peruzzi's design, made his ground plan a Latin cross. Michael Angelo followed the lines of Bramante, the Greek cross, designed so that the cupola should be the dominant note of the building and its principal feature, whether from within or without, and from whichever side the building was approached. Michael Angelo's intention may be realised at the back of the present building, and his work best judged as one walks round the great mass of masonry to the old entrance to the Sculpture Galleries of the Vatican. Those who approach Rome in the best way at present open to the newcomer, by the light railway line from Viterbo, get a magnificent view of the cupola, apparently rising out of a green hillside, just before they enter the Eternal City, and then, on their way to the Trastevere station, they pass behind the building and get their first impression of St. Peter's from Michael Angelo's own work.(160)

Michael Angelo began his work by pulling down much of Sangallo's construction, and by severely repressing all sorts of jobbery in connection with the supply of materials.

Michael Angelo states in a letter to Cardinal Ridolfo Pio of Carpi,(161) that the study of the nude human figure is necessary to an architect. If he had also stated that it was an essential to all art workers, many good judges would have agreed with him.

"MOST REVEREND MONSIGNOR,—When a plan has divers parts all those which are of one type in quality and quantity have to be decorated in the same fashion and in the same style, and similarly their counterparts. But when the plan changes form altogether it is not only allowable but necessary to change the said adornments and likewise their counterparts. The intermediate parts are always as free as you like, just as the nose, which stands in the middle of the face, is not obliged to correspond with either of the eyes; but one hand is obliged to be like the other, and one eye must be as its fellow, because they balance each other. Therefore it is very certain that the members of architecture depend upon the members of man. Who has not been, or is not a good master of the figure, and especially of anatomy, cannot understand it.

"MICHAEL ANGELO BUONARROTI."

Vasari tells us "that the Pope approved of Michael Angelo's model, which reduced the cathedral to smaller dimensions, but also to a more essential greatness. He discovered that four of the principal piers, erected by Bramante and left standing by Antonio da Sangallo, which had to bear the weight of the tribune, were feeble. These he fortified in part, constructing a winding staircase at the side with gently sloping steps, up which beasts of burden ascend with building material, and one can ride on horseback to the level above the arches. He carried the first cornice, made of travertine, round the arches—a wonderful piece of work, full of grace, and very different from the others. Nor could anything be better done in its kind. He began the two great apses of the transept; and whereas Bramante, Raffaello, and Peruzzi had designed eight tabernacles toward the Campo Santo, which arrangement Sangallo adhered to, he reduced them to three, with three chapels inside."

The sect of Sangallo, headed by Nanni di Baccio Bigio, continued to annoy and conspire against the aged architect, and though Michael Angelo brought their machinations to the notice of the Superintendent of the Fabric in 1547,(162) he could not get his chief enemy dismissed.

The master's good friend, Pope Paul III., died in 1549. Michael Angelo wrote of him to his nephew(163): "It is true that I have suffered great sorrow and not less loss by the Pope's death, because I have received benefits from his Holiness, and hoped for even more. God's will be done. We must have patience. His death was beautiful, fully conscious to the last word. God have mercy on his soul." His successor, Julius III., was also friendly to Michael Angelo, who spoke of him in a letter to his old friend, Giovan Francesco Fattucci, at Florence.(164)

"To MESSER GIOVAN FRANCESCO FATTUCCI, priest of Santa Maria del Fiore, My most dear friend at Florence.

"MESSER GIOVAN FRANCESCO,—Dear friend, although for many months we have not written to each other, yet I have not forgotten our long and faithful friendship, and wish you well, as I have always done, and love you with all my heart and more, for the endless kindnesses I have received. As regards old age, which is upon us both alike, I should much like to know how yours treats you, for mine does not content me greatly, so I beg you will write something to me. You know how that we have a new Pope, and who he is. All Rome rejoices, thanks be to God, and expects nothing but the greatest benefit to all, especially to the poor, on account of his liberality...."

Efforts were made to dislodge Michael Angelo from his post of architect to St. Peter's. A memorial of grievances(165) was drawn up by the Superintendent and set before the Pope, stating that Michael Angelo was "carrying on with a high hand, and letting them know nothing of the work, so that they do not like his ways, especially in what he keeps pulling down. The demolition has been, and to-day is, so great that all who witness it are moved to pity." Michael Angelo evidently satisfied the Pope, for he was confirmed in his office with even greater powers than before.



Another plot ripened in 1557, and is excellently described by Vasari:—

"It was some little while before the beginning of 1551, when Vasari, on his return from Florence to Rome, found the sect of Sangallo plotting against Michael Angelo. They induced the Pope to hold a meeting in Saint Peter's, where all the overseers and workmen connected with the building should attend, and his Holiness should be persuaded by false insinuations that Michael Angelo had spoiled the fabric. He had already walled in the apse of the King where the three chapels are, and carried out the three upper windows. But it was not known what he meant to do with the vault. They then, misled by their shallow judgment, made Cardinal Salviati, the elder, and Marcello Cervini, who was afterwards Pope, believe that Saint Peter's would be badly lighted. When all were assembled the Pope told Michael Angelo that the deputies were of opinion the apse would have but little light. He answered, 'I should like to hear these deputies speak.' The Cardinal Marcello rejoined: 'We are here.' Michael Angelo then remarked: 'My lord, above these three windows there will be other three in the vault, which is to be built of travertine.' 'You never told us anything about this,' said the Cardinal. Michael Angelo responded: 'I am not, nor do I mean to be, obliged to tell your lordships, or anybody else, what I ought or wish to do. It is your business to provide the money, and to see that it is not stolen. As regards the plans of the building, you have to leave them to me.' Then he turned to the Pope and said: 'Holy Father, behold what gains are mine! Unless the hardships I endure are beneficial to my soul, I lose my time and my labour.' The Pope, who loved him, laid his hands upon his shoulders and said: 'You are gaining both for soul and body; have no fear!' Michael Angelo's self-defence increased the Pope's love, and he ordered him to repair next day with Vasari to the Vigna Giulia, where they held long discourses upon matters of art."

Vasari also tells us of the transfer of a piece of engineering work from Michael Angelo to his enemy—if such a small man deserves to be called the enemy of Michael Angelo—Nanni di Baccio Bigio. The old bridge of Santa Maria had long shown signs of giving way, and it had to be rebuilt. Paul III. entrusted the work to Michael Angelo. Nanni got it transferred to him by the influence of his friends with the new Pope. The man laid his foundations badly. Michael Angelo, riding over the new bridge one day with Vasari, cried out: "Giorgio, the bridge shakes beneath us; let us spur on before it gives way with us upon it." Ultimately the prophecy was fulfilled, and the bridge fell during a great inundation. Its ruins are known as the Ponte Rotto to this day.



Julius III. died in 1555, and Cardinal Marcello Cervini was elected in his stead, under the title of Marcellus II. He had been Michael Angelo's adversary at the great conference, so the hopes of the Setti Sangalleschi revived, and Michael Angelo began to think of accepting the oft-repeated invitations of the Duke of Tuscany, who had long pressed him to come and reside again in Florence, and dignify his native city with his presence during his remaining years; but Marcellus died after a reign of only a few weeks, and Pius IV., the next Pope, persuaded Michael Angelo not to forsake his work at Saint Peter's. In a letter to Vasari, intended for the ears of the Duke, Michael Angelo states his mind.(166)

"To MESSER GIORGIO, Excellent Painter, in Florence.

"I was set to work upon Saint Peter's by force, and I have served now about eight years, not only for nothing, but with the utmost injury and discomfort to myself. Now that the work is getting forward, and there is money to spend, and I am about to turn the vault of the cupola, if I left Rome it would be the ruin of the edifice, and for me a great disgrace throughout all Christendom, and to my soul a grievous sin. Therefore, Messer Giorgio, my friend, I pray you that on my part you will thank the Duke for his most gracious offer, and that you will ask his Lordship to give me leave to continue here until such time as I can depart with fame and honour and without sin.

"The eleventh day of May, 1555.

"Your MICHAEL ANGELO BUONARROTI, in Rome."

Early in the year 1557 serious illness seized Michael Angelo, and his good friends the Cardinal of Carpi, Donato Giannotti, Tomaso Cavalieri, Francesco Bandini, and Lottino ultimately succeeded in persuading him to make a model of his cupola, that the work might not be impeded or altered in the event of his death. He mentions this in a letter to his nephew, Lionardo.(167) "I prayed his Lordship that he would concede me so much time that I could leave the works at St. Peter's at such a point that my plans could not be changed. As yet this point has not been reached; and more, I am now obliged to construct a large wooden model for the cupola and lantern, to secure its being finished as it was meant to be. All Rome, and especially the Cardinal of Carpi, prayed me to do this, so that I believe that I shall have to remain here not less than a year; and so much time I beg the Duke to allow me for the love of Christ and Saint Peter, so that I may come home to Florence without such a grief, but with a mind free from the necessity of returning to Rome." This model was constructed by a French master, named Jean, and took a year to make, as Michael Angelo expected.

Continuous intrigues caused Michael Angelo to send in his resignation in a haughty letter dated February 13, 1560, but Pius IV. confirmed the aged artist in his office, and forbade any alteration of his design for Saint Peter's after his death. Nanni di Baccio Bigio managed to influence the deputies so that they appointed him Clerk of the Works instead of Pier Luigi, surnamed Gaeta, who was recommended by Michael Angelo in a letter(168) to them.

Nanni then made a report, severely blaming Michael Angelo. The Pope had an interview with the artist, and sent his relative, Gabrio Serbelloni to report on the works. It was found that the irrepressible Nanni had again calumniated Michael Angelo, and he was therefore dismissed.

Notwithstanding the Pope's brief Michael Angelo's design was most seriously altered after his death by the erection of a long nave, making the ground plan a Latin instead of Greek Cross. His idea appears to have been that people should enter the church up a majestic flight of steps through a gigantic door, and the hollow recesses of the huge dome should be the dominant impression as soon as the portal was passed. To get his effect it is necessary to proceed half-way up the present nave with closed eyes, or merely looking at the pavement, the eyes religiously kept down. Any one who will make this simple experiment (it is necessary to have a friend as guide to tell you when you have arrived at the right point of view) will see that Michael Angelo intended his building to have the effect of a coherent geometrical whole. The sublime concave of the dome, with the four arms of the great cross of equal size, will be all at once grasped by the eye. The huge building is like a great naturally-formed crystal with mathematically proportioned limbs, beautiful in large things as in small. An old writer has well said: "The cross, which Michael Angelo made Greek, is now Latin; and if it be thus with the essential form, judge ye of the details!" The wooden model of the dome made under Michael Angelo's eyes is still in existence, and was followed fairly accurately by Giacomo della Porta, who completed that portion of the work.

Amongst the other schemes that occupied Michael Angelo was the plan of the improvements upon the Campidoglio, undertaken by a society of gentlemen and artists. Paul III. approved their design, and we may believe, as all Roman citizens will tell us, that Michael Angelo conceived, at least in its broad lines, the present effect of the Capitol. Vasari informs us that Michael Angelo's old friend, Tomaso dei Cavalieri, superintended the work after the great sculptor's death; we may trust him not to have departed from the master's plans. Another scheme that interested Michael Angelo considerably was the design for the church that the Florentine residents in Rome wished to erect to their patron saint, San Giovanni. A letter to his nephew Lionardo mentions it.(169) "The Florentines are minded to erect a great edifice, that is to say, their church, and all of them with one accord put pressure on me to attend to this. I have answered that I am here by the Duke's licence for the work at Saint Peter's, and that without his leave they will get nothing out of me." The Duke not only gave his permission but was enthusiastic about the scheme. Michael Angelo promised to send him his plan. "This I have had copied and drawn out more clearly than I have been able to do it, on account of old age, and will send it to your most Illustrious Lordship." Vasari tells us that Tiberio Calcagni, "of gentle manners and discreet behaviour," not only copied this design, but also made a model in clay under the master's supervision. Michael Angelo informed the building committee that "if they carried it out, neither the Romans or the Greeks ever erected so fine an edifice in any of their temples; words, the like of which neither before or afterwards issued from his lips, for he was exceedingly modest," says Vasari. Money was lacking and the scheme fell through; both model and drawing were allowed to perish. The present church of San Giovanni dei Fiorentini, in Strada Giulia, is the work of Giacomo della Porta; the west part is by Alessandro Galilei.

Tiberio Calcagni was appointed to finish the bust of Brutus, now in the Bargello at Florence. Michael Angelo began it for Cardinal Ridolfi at the request of his friend, Donato Giannotti. Tiberio had the sense and good feeling not to touch his master's own work, but only carved the base and the drapery; the face of the bust remains a magnificent specimen of the great sculptor's handiwork. This powerfully-conceived head is said to have been taken from a small intaglio cut in cornelian. It has been pointed out that the chisel marks are cut by both the right and left hand. The vigour of the workmanship indicates that the bust was begun soon after Michael Angelo left Florence in 1584, and may indicate Michael Angelo's feelings towards the tyrant Alessandro de' Medici. We may remember in this connection that the exiles nicknamed Lorenzino, his murderer, Brutus.

The Duke of Florence, through Vasari,(170) attempted to get at the ideas of Michael Angelo with regard to the Medici Chapel and the entrance to the Laurenziana, but the old man had lost and forgotten the plans, if he had ever made them. The difficulties that beset the Duke and the academicians in completing the designs, and the meagreness of Michael Angelo's instructions to them, must give us pause when we attempt to attribute the faults of these monuments to the master mind. "About the staircase of the Library, of which so much has been said to me, believe that if I could remember how I had arranged it I should not need to be begged for information. There comes into my mind, as in a dream, the image of a certain staircase, but I do not believe this can be the one I then thought of, for it seems so stupid. Nevertheless, I will write about it."

Leone Leoni erected the monument of Giangiacomo de' Medici in Milan Cathedral from a design supplied by Michael Angelo at the request of Pope Pius IV. It is a fine monument and the bronzes are excellent. In criticising the design we must remember that Michael Angelo had never seen the church where it was to be placed, and that Leone was not the man to hesitate in taking liberties with another's design, good sculptor as he was, and no doubt Michael Angelo would have approved of a good sculptor like him making the design fit the workmanship.

[Image #49]

BRUTUS

THE NATIONAL MUSEUM, THE BARGELLO, FLORENCE (By permission of the Fratelli Alinari, Florence)

The old master is supposed to have supplied designs for many other buildings in Rome, such as the Porta Pia and the Porta del Popolo, but there is nothing about them to tell us that his genius is in them; probably slight sketches were handed over to journeymen, who did pretty much as they liked with them. It was otherwise with the great restoration of the Baths of Diocletian. Michael Angelo was commissioned by Pius IV. to convert them into the Christian Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli. The design has been altered by Vansitelli in 1749, and horrible coloured imitations of clumsy marble altars have been painted on the walls. Churchwardens' whitewash would here be well applied. If the visitor will wait in this church until dusk, when all the tawdry paintings vanish into darkness, then the great columns will stand out in all their dignity, and the noble cornice cast a splendid shadow over the pillars of the huge hall. The roof and the pavement, with their expression of space and distance, will whisper "Michael Angelo!"

When Henry II. of France died, in 1559, his widow, Catherine de' Medici, wrote to Michael Angelo asking him to supply at least the design for the equestrian statue of the late King she desired to set up in the courtyard of the royal chateau at Blois. The sketch was prepared and the work given to Daniele da Volterra. Catherine wrote again in 1560,(171) telling the sculptor that she had deposited 6000 golden scudi with Gianbattista Gondi for the said work, "therefore, since on my side nothing remains to be done, I entreat you by the love you have always shown to my house, to our country,(172) and lastly to genius, that you will endeavour with all diligence and assiduity, so far as your years permit, to carry out this noble work, so that we may see and recognise my lord as in life by the accustomed excellence of your unique genius. Although you cannot add to your fame, yet you will at least augment your reputation for a most grateful and loving spirit toward myself and my ancestors, and will through centuries keep fresh the memory of my lawful and only love, for which I shall be ready and willing to reward you liberally." The Queen had seen Michael Angelo's sketch, and she adds in a postscript that "the king's head must be without curls, and the modern rich style of armour and trappings must be employed." She is very particular about the likeness and sends a portrait; evidently she did not want anything like the Roman generals in the Medici Chapel at Florence. When Michael Angelo died the work was left in the hands of Daniele, who was a slow workman, as Cellini tells us. In 1566 Daniele died also, and only the horse was cast; it now serves as part of Biard's statue of Louis XIII.

In 1560 Leone Leoni made the well-known medal of Michael Angelo, which is our best portrait of him. It represents him in old age. Vasari relates the incident: "At this time the Cavaliere Leone made a very lovely portrait of Michael Angelo upon a medal, and to meet his wishes modelled on the reverse a blind man led by a dog, with this legend round the rim:

DOCEBO INIQUOS VIAS TVAS, ET IMPII AD TE CONVERTENTUR

It pleased Michael Angelo so much that he gave Leone a wax model of a Hercules strangling Antaeus, by his own hand, together with some drawings. There exist no other portraits of Michael Angelo, except two in painting, one by Bugiardini, the other by Jacopo del Conte; and one in bronze, in full relief, made by Daniele da Volterra. These, and Leoni's medal, from which many copies have been made, and a great number of them have been seen by me in several parts of Italy and abroad." Francesco d'Olanda made a drawing of the old man in hat and mantle.(173) Another portrait of Michael Angelo is introduced into Marcello Venusti's copy of the Last Judgment, now in the Picture Gallery at Naples. The original study for it may be the portrait in the Casa Buonarroti, at Florence; it was frequently repeated by him. One replica may be the portrait, said to be by Michael Angelo's own hand, at the Capitol. The apostle in red on the spectator's right of the picture of the Assumption, by Daniele da Volterra, in the Church of the Trinita de' Monti, in Rome, is also said to be a portrait of Daniele's friend and master, who had supplied him with the design for his great Crucifixion in the same church. There is a life-size, full-face charcoal drawing of the master in the Teyler Museum at Haarlem which may be by the hand of Daniele, it has been pricked for tracing. Bonasoni engraved a profile portrait of Michael Angelo; it is dated 1546. It is a very faithful and beautiful piece of work, and tells us what he looked like at the age of seventy-two.(174) The bronze bust by Daniele da Volterra, of which there are several copies, looks as if it had been modelled from a mask taken after death; at least, it was finished from one. Battista Lorenzi executed the bronze bust on Michael Angelo's tomb at Santa Croce, in Florence, from a similar mask.(175)

During all these later years, Michael Angelo kept up a brisk correspondence with his dutiful nephew Lionardo about the purchase of land in Florence, and other family matters.

Giovan Simone, the elder of Michael Angelo's surviving brothers, died in 1548.(176)

"LIONARDO,—I hear from your last of Giovan Simone's death. It gives me the greatest sorrow, for I still hoped, although I am old, to have seen him before he died, and before I died. God has willed it so. Patience! I should like to hear particularly how he died, and if he confessed and communicated with all the ordinances of the Church. For if he did so, and I know it, I shall suffer less." All through his life Michael Angelo is most punctilious about the observances of the Church.

Lionardo was now the only hope of continuing the family, so his uncle reminds him that if he does not soon marry and get children, his property will all go to the Hospital of San Martino.(177) Old bachelor as he is, he gives his nephew advice, in another letter, as to the choice of a wife: "You ought not to look for a dower, but only to consider whether the girl is well brought up, healthy, of good character, and noble blood. You are not yourself of such parts and person as to be worthy of the first beauty of Florence. Let me tell you not to run after money, but only look for virtue and good name."

Lionardo married Cassandra Ridolfi in the year 1553, and the first child born of this marriage was a boy, by Michael Angelo's wish he was named Buonarroto. "I shall be very pleased if the name of Buonarroto does not die out of our family, it having lasted three hundred years with us."(178) Vasari wrote to Michael Angelo describing the festivities at the christening. Giorgio held the child at the font in the Baptistry, "Mio bel Giovanni," as Michael Angelo always called it.

The letters to Vasari are full of a courtly friendship and regard; they are very pleasant reading. One of them is the most beautiful and touching letter by his hand, referring to the death of his servant Francesco, called Urbino.(179)

"MESSER GIORGIO, DEAR FRIEND,—Although I write but badly, yet will I say a few words in reply to yours. You know that Urbino is dead, for which I owe the greatest thanks to God; at the same time my loss is heavy and sorrow infinite. The grace is this, that while Urbino living kept me alive, in dying he has taught me to die not unwillingly, but rather with a desire for death. I had him with me twenty-six years, and always found him faithful and true. Now that I had made him rich, and thought to keep him as the staff and rest of my old age, he has departed, and the only hope left to me is that of seeing him again in Paradise, and of this God has given a sign in his most happy death. Even more than dying, it grieved him to leave me alive in this treacherous world, with so many troubles; the better part of me went with him, nothing is left to me but endless sorrow. I commend myself to you, and beg you, if it is not a trouble to you, to make my excuses to Messer Benvenuto(180) for not answering his letter, for grief abounds in such thoughts as these, so that I cannot write. Commend me to him, and I commend myself to you.

"Your MICHAEL ANGELO BUONARROTA, in Rome.

"The 23 day of February, 1556."

Was ever servant loved after this fashion by his master?



Urbino appointed Michael Angelo as one of his executors, and the old man fulfilled his irksome duties with fidelity. Urbino's brother was Raphael's well-known pupil Il Fattore. Cornelia, Urbino's wife, corresponded about the children and other affairs. Michael Angelo had to approve her choice of a second husband, and interviewed him, and made him promise to be a second father to Urbino's children.



The unusual event of an excursion by Michael Angelo into the country took place in 1556, possibly with a view to avoiding the troubles feared in Rome from the Duke of Alva, Spanish Viceroy of Naples. Michael Angelo informed his nephew that he was making a pilgrimage to Loreto, but feeling tired stopped to rest at Spoleto. To Vasari he says: "I have in these days had a great pleasure, but with great discomfort and expense, among the mountains of Spoleto, visiting the hermits there. Less than half of me has come back to Rome, for truly there is no peace except among the woods."(181)



CHAPTER XI

THE END

Michael Angelo's little circle of devoted friends in Rome were very anxious about him during the winter of 1563-64. Although almost fourscore years and ten he would still walk abroad in all weathers, and took none of the precautions usual for a man of his age. Tiberio Calcagni, writing on February 14 to Lionardo, says in the letter published by Daelli:(182) "Walking through Rome to-day I heard from many persons that Messer Michael Angelo was ill, so I went at once to visit him, and although it was raining I found him out of doors on foot. When I saw him I said that I did not think it right and seemly for him to be going about in such weather. 'What do you want?' he answered; 'I am ill, and cannot find rest anywhere!' The uncertainty of his speech, with the look and colour of his face, made me extremely uneasy about his life. The end may not be just now, but I fear greatly that it cannot be far off." The gray colour and the uneasiness of an old man who has suffered a slight stroke are evidently indicated here. During the next four days he lived in his arm-chair. On the 15th, Diomede Leoni wrote to Lionardo, with a letter enclosed, signed by Michael Angelo but written by Daniele da Volterra.(183) After exhorting Lionardo to come to Rome, but to run no risks by travelling too fast, he adds, "as you may be certain Messer Tomaso dei Cavalieri, Messer Daniele, and I will not fail during your absence in every possible service in your place. Besides, Antonio, the old and faithful servant of the master, will give a good account of himself under any circumstances. ... If the illness of the master be dangerous, which God forbid, you could not be in time to find him alive, even if you could make more haste than is possible. But to give you a little account of the state of Messere up to this hour, which is the third of the night,(184) I inform you that just now I left him quite composed and fully conscious, but oppressed with continual drowsiness. In order to shake it off, between twenty-two and twenty-three,(185) this very day he tried to mount his horse and go for a ride, as he was wont to do every evening in good weather, but the coolness of the season and the weakness of his head and legs prevented him, so he went back to his seat a little way from the fire. He greatly prefers this chair to his bed. We all pray God to preserve him unto us still for some years and that He may bring you here in safety, to whom I earnestly commend myself."

Two days later, on the 17th, Tiberio Calcagni wrote:(186) "This is only to beg you to hasten your coming as much as possible, even though the weather be bad. For your Messer Michael Angelo is going to leave us indeed, and he would have this one satisfaction the more."

Michael Angelo died a little before five o'clock on the afternoon of February 18, 1564. His physicians, Federigo Donati and Gherardo Fidelissimi, were with him at the last. Giorgio Vasari tells us "he made his will in three words, committing his soul into the hands of God, his body to the earth, and his goods to his nearest relatives, telling them when their hour came to remember the Passion of Jesus Christ."

The Florentine envoy sent a despatch to inform the Duke of the event, and he tells him the arrangements made as to the inventory of property and the disposal for safe-keeping of seven or eight thousand crowns found in a sealed box, opened in the presence of Messer Tomaso dei Cavalieri and Maestro Daniele da Volterra. The people of the house are to be examined whether anything has been carried away from it. This is not supposed to have been the case. "As far as drawings are concerned they say that he burned what he had by him before he died. What there is shall be handed over to his nephew when he comes, and this your Excellency can inform him." The list of works of art found in the house is very small. They were:

A blocked-out statue of Saint Peter.

An unfinished Christ with another figure.

A statuette of Christ with the Cross, like the Risen Christ in Santa Maria Sopra Minerva; and

Ten original drawings, one, a Pieta, belonged to Tommaso dei Cavalieri.

A little design for the facade of a palace.

A design for a window in the Church of Saint Peters.

An old plan of the Church of Saint Peter's, said to be after the model of San Gallo, on several pieces of paper glued together.

A drawing of three small figures.

Architectural drawings for a window and other details.

A large cartoon for a Pieta, with nine figures, unfinished.

Another large cartoon, with three large figures and two putti.

Another large cartoon, with one large figure only.

Another large cartoon, with the figures of our Lord Jesus Christ and the glorious Virgin Mary, His mother.

Another, the Epiphany.

This last drawing was presented to the notary who drew up the will, and is supposed to be the cartoon now in the British Museum; all the others went to Lionardo Buonarroti. Lionardo arrived three days after the death. The body was deposited upon a catafalque in the Church of the Santissimi Apostoli, where the funeral was celebrated by all the artists and Florentines in Rome. In fulfilment of the wish of Michael Angelo, repeated two days before his death, Lionardo made arrangements for the removal of his uncle's remains to Florence. But the Romans, who regarded him as a fellow citizen, resented this, and Lionardo was obliged to send the body away disguised as a bale of merchandise, addressed to the custom-house at Florence. Vasari wrote, on March 10, duly informing him that the packing-case had arrived, and had been left under seals until Lionardo's arrival at the custom-house. Notwithstanding this letter from Vasari, it appears that the body was removed, on March 11, to the oratory of the Assunta, beneath the Church of San Pietro Maggiore. Next day the painters, sculptors, and architects of the newly-founded Academy, of which Michael Angelo had been elected Principal after the Duke, met at the church, intending to bring the body secretly to Santa Croce. They had with them only an embroidered pall of velvet and a crucifix to place upon the bier. At night the elder men lighted torches and the younger strove with one another to bear the coffin. Meantime the curious Florentines found out that something was going forward, and a great concourse assembled as the news spread that Michael Angelo was being carried to Santa Croce, and huge crowds followed the humble procession, lighted by the flaring torches such as the Misericordia carry to this day. The vast church of Santa Croce was so crowded that the pall-bearers had difficulty in reaching the sacristy with their burden. When they at last got there, Don Vincenzo Borghini, Lieutenant of the Academy, "thinking he would do what was pleasing to many, and also, as he afterwards confessed, desiring to behold in death one whom he had never seen in life, or, at any rate, at such an age that he did not remember it, ordered the coffin to be opened. When this was done, whereas he and all of us present expected to find the corpse already corrupted and defaced, inasmuch as Michael Angelo had been dead twenty-five days and twenty-two in his coffin, lo! we beheld him instead perfect in all his parts and without any evil odour; indeed, we might have believed that he was resting in a sweet and very tranquil slumber. Not only were the features of his face exactly the same as when he was in life (except that the colour was a little like that of death), none of his limbs were injured or repulsive; the head and cheeks to the touch felt as though he had passed away only a few hours before. When the eagerness of the multitude who crowded round had calmed down a little, the coffin was deposited in the church, behind the altar of the Cavalcanti."

Those who would read of the gorgeous catafalque of stucco, woodwork, and painting erected in the Church of San Lorenzo by the Academy, may do so in the pages of Vasari, and in the book called "Esequie del Divino Michel Angelo Buonarroti, celebrate in Firenze dall' Academia, &c., Firenze, i Giunti, 1564," and Varchi's "Orazione Funerali," published by the same house at the same date. The great artist is dead: let us leave him to his rest in Santa Croce, the Westminster Abbey of his city and the church of his ward.

Vasari received from Lionardo Buonarroti the commission to design the tomb for Santa Croce. He did his best to get the Pieta now in the Duomo to serve as the principal part of the monument, asserting that it had been intended by Michael Angelo for his monument. "Besides, there is an old man in the group who represents the sculptor." This plan did not succeed, and the ugly monument now in existence was designed instead. The Duke supplied the marbles, and the figures were carved by Giovanni dall' Opera, Lorenzi and Valerio Cioli. The bust portrait in bronze was modelled by Battista Lorenzi. It was erected in 1570, and bears the inscription:

MICHAELI ANGELO BONAROTIO E VETVSTA SIMONIORVM FAMILIA SCVLPTORI. PICTORI. ET ARCHITECTO FAMA OMNIBVS NOTISSIMO. LEONARDVS PATRVO AMANTIS. ET DE SE OPTIME MERITO TRANSLATIS ROMA EIVS OSSIBVS. ATQVE IN HOC TEMPLO MAIOR SVOR SEPVLCRO CONDITIS. COHORTANTE SERENISS. COSMO MED. MAGNO HETRVRIAE DVCE. P. C. ANN. SAL. CIC. IC. LXX VIXIT ANN. LXXXVIII. M. XI. D. XV.

The Romans also erected a monument in the church where they had hoped to keep the bones of the artist who did more for their Immortal City than any man who ever lived. Over this monument is the following epitaph:

MICHAEL ANGELUS BONARROTIUS SCULPTOR PICTOR ARCHITECTUS MAXIMA ARTIFICUM FREQUENTIA IN HAC BASILICA SS. XII APOST. F.M.C. XI CAL. MART. A. MDLXIV ELATUS EST CLAM INDE FLORENTIAM TRANSLATUS ET IN TEMPLO S. CRUCIS EORUMD. F. V. ID. MART. EJUSD. A. CONDITUS TANTO NOMINI NULLUM PAR ELOGIUM

Michael Angelo formed no school, his love of excellence would not permit him to leave any inferior work behind him, as Raphael did in certain portions of the Stanze and Loggia of the Vatican. Michael Angelo's disposition was not so genial nor were his manners so universally pleasing as those of the gentle Raphael, so he was unable to keep a body of workmen together in good temper; the result is, we have no Sala of Constantine, or Palazzo del Te, to remind us of the passing of the master of a school. At the same time, to his few assistants and workmen Michael Angelo was as kind as father to son, when once he became accustomed to them about him. He gave help to various other artists, and it may be noted that all those he influenced became men devoted to high finish and the utmost perfection possible. Decadence in Italian art began long before his death; but the imitators of Michael Angelo are by far the best and most interesting figures of that unfortunate period. They, at least, have great intentions, and strive to attain a style of dignity and distinction, and do not grudge any labour that may help them to their ideals. Vasari tells us of some of these men and their works: "He loved his workmen and was on friendly terms with them. Among them were Jacopo Sansovino, Il Pontormo, Daniele da Volterra, and Giorgio Vasari Aretino, to whom he showed infinite kindness...." He goes on to say that "he was unfortunate in those who lived with him, since he chanced upon natures unfit to follow him. For Pietro Urbano, of Pistoja, his pupil, was a man of talent, but would never work hard. Antonio Mini had the will but not the brain, and hard wax takes a bad impression. Ascanio della Ripa Transone (Condivi) worked very hard, but nothing came of it either in work or in designs." Jacopo l'Indaco and Mineghella were boon companions of the master. A stone-cutter Domenico Fancelli nicknamed Topolino, Pilote the goldsmith, Giuliano Bugiardini the painter, were of this company. The melancholy Michael Angelo is said to have burst his sides with laughing at Mineghella's stupidity. The very proper Vasari describes the latter as "a mean and stupid painter of Valdarno, but a very amusing person; and Michael Angelo, who could with difficulty be made to work for kings, would leave everything to make simple drawings for this fellow, San Rocco, San Antonio, or San Francesco, to be coloured for one of the man's many peasant patrons; among others Michael Angelo made him a very beautiful model of a Christ on the Cross, made a mould from it, and Mineghella cast it in papier-mache and went about selling it all over the country-side." It may be that the familiar and often-repeated Crucifix in common use is an adaptation or copy, far removed from this original; it has something of the style of Michael Angelo's later work, the figure is most beautifully disposed.

Sebastiano del Piombo lightened the old man's labour by his genial humour and jovial companionship; Sebastiano followed his teaching with great industry and skill, as all his later works show; such as the Scourging of Christ, in San Pietro in Montorio, and the Raising of Lazarus, in our own National Gallery: drawings by the hand of Michael Angelo still exist for the principal figures in both these pictures. There is a Pieta by Sebastiano, at Viterbo, evidently following the lines of one of Michael Angelo's religious drawings; it is so beautiful in the expression of its colour and the high finish of the nude, that we cannot but think that Michael Angelo's exacting eyes were peering over the shoulder of Sebastiano when he painted it.

Per ritornar la donde venne fora, L' immortal forma al tuo carcer terreno Venne com' angel di pieta si pieno Che sana ogn' intelletto, e'l mondo onora.

Questo sol m' arde, eqesto m' innamora; Non pur di fora il tuo volto sereno: Ch' amor non gia di cosa che vien meno Tien ferma speme, in cu' virtu dimora.

Ne altro avvien di cose altere e nuove In cui si preme la natura; e'l cielo E ch' a lor parto largo s' apparecchia.

Ne Dio, suo grazia, mi si mostra altrove, Piu che 'n alcun leggiadro e mortal velo; E quel sol amo, perche 'n quel si specchia.



APPENDIX

THREE DIALOGUES ON PAINTING COMPOSED BY FRANCISCO D'OLLANDA, A PORTUGUESE MINIATURE PAINTER WHO WAS IN ROME IN THE YEAR 1538. TRANSLATED FROM THE PORTUGUESE, WITH THE HELP OF MR. A.J. CLIFT, BY CHARLES HOLROYD. THE MANUSCRIPT WAS PUBLISHED FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THE RENASCENCA PORTUGUEZA NO. VII. PORTO, 1896



FIRST DIALOGUE

My intention in going to Italy was not to seek for advantage or honour, but to study. I was sent there by my King, and I had no other interest in view (such as having intercourse with the Pope or with the Cardinals of the Court; and this God knows and Rome knows, if I had wished to dwell there per-adventure I did not lack opportunities, both for myself and by the favour of the principal persons in the Pope's household), but all ideas of this kind were so subdued in me, that I did not even allow them to enter into my imagination; others I had, more noble and more to my taste, which had much more power over me than covetousness or expectation of benefits such as many people have who go to Rome. What alone was always present to me was how I, with my art, might serve the king our Lord, who had sent me there, communing always with myself how I could steal and convey away to Portugal the excellencies and beauties of Italy to please the King and the Infantas and the most serene Infante D. Luiz. I used to say to myself: What fortresses or foreign cities have I not yet in my book? What immortal buildings and what noble statues does this city still possess which I have not already stolen from it and carried away without carts or ships on thin paper? What painting, stucco, or grotesque has been discovered amongst these grottoes and antiquities of Rome, Puzol, and Baias, of which the most rare is not to be found in my sketch-books? Thus I beheld nothing either antique or modern in painting, sculpture or architecture of which I did not make some record of its best part, it appearing to me that these were the greatest benefits that I could carry away with me, more honourable and profitable to the service of my King and to my own taste. I do not think I have made a mistake (although some people tell me I have), for as these things alone were my care, my dispute and demand, no great Cardinal Fernes had to help me, nor had I a greater Dattario to obtain, in order to go one day to see D. Julio de Macedonia, a most famous illuminator, and another day Master Michael Angelo, now Baccio the noble sculptor; then Master Perino, or Bastiaeo Veneziano, and sometimes Valerio de Vicenca, or Jacopo Mellequino, architect, and Lactancio Tolomei, the acquaintance and friendship of these men I valued much more than others of more parade and pretension (as if there could be greater in the world, and so Rome values them); because from them, and from their works in my art, I obtained some fruit and knowledge. I amused myself in discussing with them many rare and noble works both of ancient and modern times. Master Michael especially I esteemed so much that if I met him either in the palace of the Pope or in the street, we could not part until the stars sent us to rest. D. Pedro Mascarenhas, the Ambassador, is my witness what a great thing this was and how difficult; and, too, of the tales M. Angelo, when coming out of vespers one day, told about me and about a book of mine in which I had drawn some things in Rome and Italy, to Cardinal Santtiquatro and to him. Now my habit was to go round the solemn temple of the Pantheon and note all its columns and proportions; the Mausoleum of Adrian and that of Augustus, the Coliseum, the Thermae of Antoninus and those of Diocletian, the Arch of Titus and that of Severus, the Capitol, the theatre of Marcellus and all the other notable things in that city, the names of which have already escaped me. At times, too, I was not turned out of the magnificent chambers of the Pope, I only went there because they were painted by the noble hand of Raphael of Urbino. I loved more those antique men of stone sculptured on the arches and columns of the old buildings, than those more inconstant which everywhere weary one with talking, I learned more from them and from their grave silence.

Now amongst the days which I thus passed in that Court there was a Sunday on which I went to see Messer Lactancio Tolomei, as others did; it was he, with the assistance of Messer Blosio, the Pope's secretary, who gave me the friendship of Michael Angelo. And this M. Lactancio was a very important personage, both on account of nobility of mind and of blood (he being a nephew of the Cardinal of Siena), as well as through his knowledge of Latin, Greek and Hebrew letters, and for the authority of his years. But finding in his house a message that he was at Monte Cavallo, in the church of St. Silvester, with the Lady Marchioness of Pescara, listening to a lecture from the Epistles of St. Paul, I went to Monte Cavallo and to St. Silvester. Now Senhora Vittoria Colonna, Marchioness of Pescara, and sister of Senhor Ascanio Colonna, is one of the most illustrious and famous ladies in Italy and in all Europe, which is the world, chaste yet beautiful, a Latin scholar, well-informed and with all the other parts of virtue and fairness to be praised in woman. She, after the death of her great husband, took to a private and simple life, contenting herself with the fact that she had already lived in her estate, and loving henceforward only Jesu Christ and good deeds, doing good to poor women and bearing the fruits of a true Catholic. For my friendship with this lady also I was indebted to M. Lactancio, who was the most intimate friend that she had.

Having commanded me to sit down, the lecture and its praises over, the Marchioness looking at me and at M. Lactancio, if I remember rightly, said:

"Francisco d'Ollanda will be better pleased to hear M. Angelo talk about painting, than Brother Ambrosio expound this lesson."

Then I, almost angry, answered her:

Why, madam, does it appear to your Excellency that I can attend to nothing but painting? Truly I shall always be pleased to hear M. Angelo, but when the Epistles of St. Paul are read, I prefer to hear Brother Ambrosio."

"Do not be angry, M. Francisco," M. Lactancio then said, "for the Marchioness does not think that the man who is a painter will not be everything. We esteem painting higher in Italy. But perchance she said that to you in order to give you, beyond what you already have, the further pleasure of hearing Michael."

I then replied:

"Her Excellency will be doing no more than she is in the habit of doing, giving always greater favours than one dares to ask."

The Marchioness, knowing my mind, called one of her servants, and said, smiling:

"To those who know how to express thanks one must study how to give, especially as I get as much in the giving as Francisco d'Ollanda does in receiving. Foao, go to the house of M. Angelo and tell him that I and M. Lactancio are here in this quiet chapel, and that the church is closed and very pleasant, if he cares to come and lose a little of the day with us, so that we may gain it with him. And do not tell him that Francisco d'Ollanda, the Spaniard, is here."

As I was whispering something about the discretion of the Marchioness in everything, in the ear of Lactancio, she desired to know what it was about.

"He was telling me," said Lactancio, "how well your Excellency knows how to preserve decorum in everything, even in a message. M. Michael is already more his friend than mine, for he tells me that when they meet, Michael Angelo does all he can to shun his company, seeing that when they once come together they never can part."

"I know that, for I know Master Michael Angelo," she returned; "but I do not know in what manner we shall treat him so that we may lead him on to talk of painting."

Brother Ambrosio of Siena (one of the appointed preachers to the Pope), who had not yet gone, said: "I do not believe that if Michael knows the Spaniard to be a painter, he will talk about painting at all, therefore let him hide himself that he may hear him."

"It is perhaps not so easy to hide this Portuguese," I replied with emphasis to the Friar, "from the eyes of Master Michael Angelo; he will know me better hidden than your reverence does here where I am, even if you put on spectacles; and you will see that, being here, he will see me very plainly if he comes."

Then the Marchioness and Lactancio laughed, but not I nor yet the Friar, who however heard the Marchioness say that he would find me to be something more than a painter.

After remaining but a short time silent, we heard a knocking at the door, and all began to fear that Michael would not come, as the messenger had returned so quickly. But Michael, who resides at the foot of Monte Cavallo, happened by good luck to be walking towards St. Silvester, on his way to the Thermae by the Esquiline road with his Orbino, philosophising by the way; being informed of the message, he could not run away from us, nor did he fail to be the person knocking at the door. The Marchioness rose to receive him, and remained standing awhile before causing him to take a seat between her and M. Lactancio. I sat a little way off, but the Marchioness, remaining awhile without speaking, not wishing to delay her practice of honouring those who conversed with her, and the place where she was, commenced, with an art that I could not describe, to say many things very well expressed, and with thoughts most graciously stated, without ever touching on painting, in order to ensure the great painter to us; and I saw her as one wishing to reduce a well armed city by discretion and guile; and we saw the painter, too, standing watchful and vigilant, as if he were besieged, placing sentries in one place and ordering bridges to be raised in another, making mines and defending all the walls and towers; but finally the Marchioness had to conquer, nor do I know who could defend himself against her.

She said: "It is known that whoever comes into conflict with M. Angelo in his own speciality, which is discretion, cannot but be vanquished. It is necessary, M. Lactancio, that we should talk with him about actions or briefs or painting to put him to silence and to obtain any advantage over him."

"Nay," I then said, "I know of no better way of wearying M. Angelo than by informing him that I am here, as he has not seen me hitherto. But I already know that the way not to see a person is to have him before one's eyes."

You should then have seen Michael turn himself towards me with astonishment, and say:

"Forgive me, M. Francisco, for not having seen you for had I not the Marchioness before my eyes, but as God has sent you here, assist and help me as a comrade."

"For that reason only will I forgive you; but it seems to me that the Marchioness causes with one light contrary effects, as the sun does, which with the same rays melts and hardens, because you were blinded by seeing her and I both hear and see you, because I see her; and also because I know how much a wise person will occupy himself with her Excellency, and how little time she leaves for others; and therefore at times I do not take the advice of some friars."

Here the Marchioness laughed again.

Then Friar Ambrosio rose and took leave of the Marchioness and of us, remaining thenceforward a great friend of mine, and he went away.

And now the Marchioness began to speak thus:

"His Holiness has done me the favour of allowing me to build a nunnery for ladies here at the foot of Monte Cavallo, by the broken portico, where it is said that Nero saw Rome burning, so that the wicked footprints of such a man may be trodden out by others more honest of holy women. I do not know, M. Angelo, what shape and proportions to give to the house, where the door should be placed, and whether some of the old work may be adapted to the new?"

"Yes, madam," said Michael, "the broken portico might be used as a campanile."

And this was so pleasant, and Michael said it so seriously and in such a manner that M. Lactancio could not help calling attention to it; and the great painter added these words:

"I quite think your Excellency may build the nunnery; and when we leave here, with your permission, we may very well go and look at the site, so as to give you some drawing for it."

"I did not dare to ask you for so much," she said, "but I already knew that in everything you follow the doctrine of the Lord: deposuit potentes, exaltavit humiles; and in that also you are excellent, for you acknowledge yourself at last as discreetly generous and not as an ignorant prodigal. And therefore in Rome those who know you esteem you even more than your works; and those who do not know you esteem only the least of you, which are the works of your hands. And certainly I do not give any less praise to your knowledge of how to retire within yourself and fly from our useless conversations, and to your wisdom in not painting for all the princes who ask you to do so, but confining yourself to the painting of a single work during all your life as you have done,"

"Madam," said Michael, "perchance you attribute to me more than I deserve; but in doing so you remind me that I wish to make a complaint against many persons, on my own behalf and on behalf of painters of my temperament, and also on behalf of M. Francisco here.

"There are many persons who maintain a thousand lies, and one is that eminent painters are eccentric and that their conversation is intolerable and harsh, they are only human all the while, and thus fools and unreasonable persons consider them fantastic and fanciful, allowing them with much difficulty the conditions necessary to a painter. It is quite true that such conditions are only necessary where there is a real painter, which is in very few places, as in Italy, where there is the perfection of all things; but foolish, idle persons are unreasonable in expecting so many compliments from a busy man: few mortals fulfil their duty well, one who does will not accuse another who is fulfilling his; painters are not in any way unsociable through pride, but either because they find few pursuits equal to painting, or in order not to corrupt themselves with the useless conversation of idle people, and debase the intellect from the lofty imaginations in which they are always absorbed. And I affirm to your Excellency that even his Holiness annoys and wearies me when at times he talks to me and asks me somewhat roughly why do I not come to see him, for I believe that I serve him better in not going when he asks me, little needing me, when I wish to work for him in my house; and I tell him that, as M. Angelo, I serve him more thus than by standing before him all day, as others do,"

"Oh, happy M. Angelo," said I at this stage, "my prince is not a Pope, can he forgive me such a sin?"

"Such sins, M. Francisco, are just those which kings pardon," said he, and added: "Sometimes, I may tell you, my important duties have given me so much licence that when, as I am talking to the Pope, I put this old felt hat non-chalantly on my head, and talk to him very frankly, but even for that he does not kill me; on the contrary, he has given me a livelihood.(187) And as I say, I have paid him more compliments in his service than unnecessary ones to his person. If perchance a man were so blind as to invent such an unprofitable exchange, as it is for a man to separate himself and content himself with himself whilst he loses his friends and makes enemies of all, would it not be very wrong if they bore him ill-will for that? But whoever has such a complexion both because the force of his duty demands it, and because of his having been born with a dislike of ceremony and dissimulation, it seems very foolish not to allow him to live. And if such a man is so moderate that he does not want anything of you, what do you want with him? And why should you wish to use him in those vanities for which his quietness is not fitted? Do you not know that there are sciences that require the whole man without ever leaving him free for your idle trivialities? When he has as little to do as you have, let him be killed if he does not observe your rules of etiquette and compliment even better than you. You only seek his company and praise him in order to obtain honour through him for yourselves, nor do you really mind what sort of man he is, so long as a pope or an emperor converse with him. And I dare affirm that he cannot be a great man who tries to satisfy idle persons rather than the men of his own craft, nor can one who is in nowise singular and reserved or whatever you may be pleased to call it, be better than the ordinary and vulgar talents which are to be found without a lantern in the market-places of the world...."

Here Michael ceased speaking, and a little while afterwards the Marchioness said:

"If those friends of whom you are speaking had the discretion of the friends of old, the evil would be smaller; when Arcesilaus went one day to see Apelles, who was ill and in need, this good friend raised his artist's head so as to arrange the pillow and put underneath a sum of money for his cure, which sum, having been found by the old woman attending him, who was frightened at the amount, Apelles, smiling, said: 'This money was stolen from Arcesilaus; do not be astonished.'"

Then Lactancio added, in this manner, his opinion: "Skilful artists would not exchange places with any other kind of men however great they may be, so satisfied are they with some special joyousness which they get from their art; but I would counsel them to exchange at least with the happy ones, if it seemed to me that they wished to do so, and were it not that they consider themselves the most happy of mortals. The mind which is capable of the very highest painting knows where the lives and pleasures of the pre-sumptuous lead them and what they are, and how they die nameless and without knowledge of the things which in the world are most worthy of being known and esteemed, and how we cannot even remember that such a man was born however much money he may have kept in his coffers. And thus he understands that good work and the good name of immortal virtue is the felicity of this life and all or almost all that is to be desired; and therefore he esteems himself more because he is on the road to attain that glory than one who does not know this and never even knew how to desire it. Many are content with much less power than that of imitating a work of God as in painting; and if one never attained to the distinction of governing a great province, it is but human to be satisfied with things which are more difficult and more uncertain than governing a country which stretched from the Columns of Hercules to the Indian River Ganges. Such an one never killed an enemy more difficult to conquer than is the conforming the work to the desire or idea of the great painter, and the one was never so satisfied drinking out of a golden cup as the other drinking out of an earthen pot. Nor was the Emperor Maximilian wrong in saying that he could indeed make a duke or a count, but as for an excellent painter God alone could make him when He so pleased, for which reason he abstained from putting to death a painter who deserved to die."

"What do you advise me to do, Master Lactancio," the Marchioness then said; "shall I put a question to M. Angelo about painting, as he now, in order to prove to me that great men are justified in their ways and not eccentric, may take measures like those he is accustomed to take?"

And Lactancio: "For your Excellency, Madam, M. Michael cannot help constraining himself and giving out here that which it is well that he keeps close elsewhere."

M. Angelo said: "I beg of your Excellency to tell me what I can give to her and it shall be given."

And she, smiling: "I very much wish to know, as we are dealing with this subject, what you think of the painting of Flanders and whom it will satisfy, because it appears to me more devout than the Italian style."

"The painting of Flanders, Madam," answered the artist slowly, "will generally satisfy any devout person more than the painting of Italy, which will never cause him to drop a single tear, but that of Flanders will cause him to shed many; this is not owing to the vigour and goodness of that painting, but to the goodness of such devout person; women will like it, especially very old ones, or very young ones. It will please likewise friars and nuns, and also some noble persons who have no ear for true harmony. They paint in Flanders, only to deceive the external eye, things that gladden you and of which you cannot speak ill, and saints and prophets. Their painting is of stuffs, bricks and mortar, the grass of the fields, the shadows of trees, and bridges and rivers, which they call landscapes, and little figures here and there; and all this, although it may appear good to some eyes, is in truth done without reasonableness or art, without symmetry or proportion, without care in selecting or rejecting, and finally without any substance or verve, and in spite of all this, painting in some other parts is worse than it is in Flanders. Neither do I speak so badly of Flemish painting because it is all bad, but because it tries to do so many things at once (each of which alone would suffice for a great work) so that it does not do anything really well.

"Only works which are done in Italy can be called true painting, and therefore we call good painting Italian, for if it were done so well in another country, we should give it the name of that country or province. As for the good painting of this country, there is nothing more noble or devout, for with wise persons nothing causes devotion to be remembered, or to arise, more than the difficulty of the perfection which unites itself with and joins God; because good painting is nothing else but a copy of the perfections of God and a reminder of His painting. Finally, good painting is a music and a melody which intellect only can appreciate, and with great difficulty. This painting is so rare that few are capable of doing or attaining to it. And I further say (which whoever notes it will consider important) that of all the climates or countries lighted by the sun and the moon, in no other can one paint well but in the kingdom of Italy; and it is a thing which is nearly impossible to do well except here, even though there were more talented men in the other provinces, if there could be such, and this for reasons which we will give you. Take a great man from another kingdom, and tell him to paint whatever he likes and can do best, and let him do it; and take a bad Italian apprentice and order him to make a drawing, or to paint whatever you like, and let him do it; you will find, if you understand it well, that the drawing of that apprentice, as regards art, has more substance than that of the other master, and what he attempted to do is worth more than everything that the other ever did. Order a great master, who is not an Italian, even though it be Alberto,(188) a man delicate in his manner, in order to deceive me, or Francisco d'Ollanda there, to counterfeit a work which shall be like an Italian work, and if it cannot be a very good one let it be an ordinary or a bad painting, and I assure you that it will be immediately recognised that the work was not done in Italy, nor by the hand of an Italian. I likewise affirm that no nation or people (I except one or two Spaniards) can perfectly satisfy or imitate the Italian manner of painting (which is the old Greek manner) without his being immediately recognised as a foreigner, whatever efforts he may make, and however hard he may work to do so. And if by some great miracle such a foreigner should succeed in painting well, then, although he may not have done it in order to imitate Italian work, it will be said that he painted like an Italian. Thus it is that all painting done in Italy is not called Italian painting, but all that is good and direct is, for in this country works of illustrious painting are done in a more masterly and more serious manner than in any other place. We call good painting Italian, which painting, even though it be done in Flanders or in Spain (which approaches us most) if it be good, will be Italian painting, for this most noble science does not belong to any country, as it came from heaven; but even from ancient times it remained in our Italy more than in any other kingdom in the world, and I think that it will end in it."

So he spoke. Seeing that Michael was now silent, I urged him on in this manner. "So, Master Michael Angelo, you assert that out of all the nations of the world it is only Italians who can paint? (Ollanda continues.)

"But what wonder in that? You must know that in Italy painting is done well for many reasons, and outside Italy painting is done badly for many reasons. Firstly, the nature of the Italians is studious in the extreme, and the talented already bring with them, when they are born, power of work, taste and love of that to which they are inclined, and of that which demands their genius; and if any one determines to make a profession, and to pursue some art or liberal science, he does not content himself with what is sufficient for him to become rich thereby, and one of the number of the craftsmen, but in order to be unique and distinguished he watches and works continuously, and keeps before his eyes the great hope of being a paragon of perfection (I speak where I know I am believed) and not a mere mediocrity in that art or science. This is because Italy does not esteem mediocrity, deeming it an exceedingly poor thing; and speaks only of those, and even praises them to the skies, who, like eagles, surpass all others, and penetrating the clouds approach the light of the sun. Then, again, you are born in a province (is not this an advantage?) which is the mother and protectress of all sciences and disciplines, amongst so many relics of your ancestors, which do not exist anywhere else, that already as children you find before your eyes in the streets a great part of whatever your inclination or genius may be inclined to; and from youth upwards you are accustomed to see those things which old men never saw in other kingdoms. Then, growing up, although you may have been rude and rough, by nature you are already so accustomed to have your eyes full of the forms of the many old things of renown, that you cannot fail to imitate them; and to all this are joined (as I say) distinguished talent and indefatigable study and taste. You have remarkable masters to imitate, and their works, and as regards new works the cities are full of the curious things and novelties which are discovered and found every day. And if all these things do not suffice, although I should consider them quite sufficient for the perfection of any science, at least this is quite enough; namely, that we, Portuguese, although some of us may be born with nice talent and minds—as many are born—have a contempt for and consider it fine to take little account of the arts, and we almost feel it a disgrace to know much about them, wherefore we always leave them imperfect and unfinished. You Italians alone, (I cannot even say Germans or Frenchmen), give the greatest honour, the greatest nobility and the power to be more, to a man who is a splendid painter or splendid in some faculty; and of all your noblemen, captains, wise men, satirists, cardinals and Popes, that man only who may attain the reputation of being perfect and rare in his profession is ever exalted or thought much of by you. And as great princes are not esteemed nor have any name in Italy, so it is a painter alone that they call the divine—Michael Angelo, as you will find in letters which Aretino, satirist of all Christian gentlemen, wrote you. Now, the payments and prices that in Italy are given for paintings also appear to me to have a great deal to do with the fact that painting cannot be done anywhere but here, because frequently for a head or face from nature one thousand 'cruzados' are paid, and many other works are paid for as you, gentlemen, know better than I, very differently from the way they are paid for in other kingdoms, seeing that mine is among the magnificent and wide. Now, your Excellency, please to judge whether these be hindrances or helps."

"It seems to me," answered the Marchioness, "that before these hindrances you must place talent and knowledge, which are not transalpine but belong to the good Italian; however, everywhere virtue is the same, good is the same, and evil is the same, although they may have a different civilisation from ours."

"If that," I answered, "were heard in my country, well, Madam, they would be astonished both at your Excellency praising me and in that manner, and by your making that difference between Italians and other men whom you call 'transalpine,' or from beyond the mountains:

'Non adeo obtusa gestamos pectora Poeni, Nec tam auersus equos, Lysia, sol iungit ab urbe.'

"We have, Madam, in Portugal, good and ancient cities, and principally my birthplace, Lisbon; we have good manners, and good courtiers and valiant cavaliers and courageous princes, both in war and in peace, and above all we have a very powerful and splendid king, who with great calmness tempers and governs us, and commands very distant provinces of barbarians, whom he has converted to the Faith; and he is feared by the whole East and by the whole of Mauritania and is a patron of the Fine Arts, so much so that, through making a mistake as to my talent, which in my youth promised some fruit, he sent me to see Italy and its civilisation, and Master Michael Angelo, whom I see here. It is quite true that we have not such buildings and pictures as you have, but they are already being made, and little by little they are losing that barbarian superfluity that the Goths and Moors sowed throughout Spain. I also hope that, on arriving in Portugal after leaving here, I may assist either in the elegance of building or in the nobility of painting, so that we may be able to compete with you. Our science is almost entirely lost, and without honour or renown in those kingdoms, and not through the fault of others, but through the fault of the place and disusage, to such extent that very few esteem it or understand it unless it be our most serene king, by supporting all virtue and patronising it; and likewise the most serene infante D. Luiz, his brother, a very valorous and wise prince, who has a very nice knowledge and discretion in every liberal art. All the others neither understand nor esteem painting."

"They do well," said M. Angelo.

But Master Lactancio Tolomei, who had not spoken for some time, proceeded in this manner:

"We Italians have this very great advantage over all other nations in this great world, in the knowledge and honour of all the illustrious and most worthy arts and sciences. But I would have you to know, M. Francisco d'Ollanda, that whoever does not understand and esteem the most noble art of painting does so because of his own defects and not because of the art, which is very noble and clear; and because he is a barbarian and without judgment, and has no honourable part in being a man. And this is proved by the example of the most powerful old and modern emperors and kings, and of the philosophers and wise persons who attained everything, and who so greatly esteemed and appreciated the knowledge of painting, and spoke of it with such high praises and examples, and in making use of it and paying for it so liberally and magnificently and, finally, by the great honour that the Mother Church does it, with the holy Pontiffs, cardinals, and great princes and prelates. And so you will find in all the past centuries, all the past valorous peoples and nations held this art in so much honour, that they admired nothing more nor considered anything as a greater wonder. And then we see Alexander the Great, Demetrius, and Ptolomy, famous kings, together with many other princes, who readily boast of understanding it; and amongst the Caesars, Augustus the divine Caesar, Octavian Augustus, M. Agrippa, Claudius, and Caligula and Nero, in this alone virtuous, likewise Vespasian and Titus, as was shown in the famous retable of the Temple of Peace, which he built after having vanquished the Jews and their Jerusalem. What shall I say of the great Emperor Trajan? What of Helius Adrianus, who with his own hand painted singularly well, as the Greek Dion writes in his life, and Spartianus? Then the divine Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, Julius Capitolinus, says how he learned to paint, Diognetus being his teacher; and even AElius Lampridius relates that the Emperor Severus Alexander, who was an exceedingly powerful prince, himself painted his genealogy to show that he descended from the lineage of the Metelos. Of the great Pompey, Plutarch says that in the city of Mitylene he drew with a style the plan and shape of the theatre, in order to have it afterwards built in Rome, which he did.

"And although, owing to its great effects and beauties, noble painting merits all veneration without seeking praise from other virtues, beside those proper to it, I still wished to show here, before one who knows it, by what sort of men it was esteemed. And if by chance, at any time or in any place, there should be found any one who, because of being highly placed and great, refuses to esteem this art, let him know that others still greater appreciated it greatly. Who can compare himself with Alexander the Greek? Who will exceed the prowess of Caesar the Roman? Who is of greater glory than Pompey? Who more a prince than Trajan? For these Alexanders and Caesars not only dearly loved the divine painting, and paid great prices for it, but with their own hands they occupied themselves with it and touched it. Or who, out of bravery and presumption, will despise it and be not rather very humble and very unworthy before painting, before her severe and grave face?"

Thus it seemed that Lactancio was finishing, when the Marchioness proceeded, saying:

"Or who will be the virtuous and serene man (if he despises it for its sanctity) who will not show great reverence and adore the spiritual contemplation and devotion of holy painting? I think that time would sooner be lacking than material for the praises of this virtue. It produces joy in the melancholy, it brings both the contented and the angry man to the knowledge of human misery; it moves the obstinate to compunction, the mundane to penitence, the contemplative to contemplation, and the fearful to shame. It shows us death and what we are, more gently than in any other way; the torments and dangers of hell; so far as is possible, it represents to us the glory and peace of the blessed, and the incomprehensible image of our Lord God. It represents to us the modesty of His saints, the constancy of the martyrs, the purity of the virgins, the beauty of the angels, and the love and ardour with which the seraphim burn, better than in any other way, and lifts up our spirit and plunges our mind into the depths beyond the stars, to imagine the empirean that there exists. What shall I say of how it brings before us the worthies who passed away so long ago, and whose bones even are not now upon this earth, to enable us to imitate them in their bright deeds? Or how it shows us their councils and battles by examples and delightful histories? Their great deeds, their piety and their manners? To captains it shows the manoeuvres of the old armies, the cohorts and their disposition, their discipline and their military order. It animates and creates daring, by emulation and an honest envy of the famous ones, as Scipio the African confessed.

"It leaves a memorial of the present times for those who come after. Painting shows us the garb of the pilgrim or of antiquity, the variety of foreign peoples and nations, buildings, animals, and monsters, which in writing it would be prolix to hear about, and even then it would be but badly understood. And not only these things does this noble art, but it places before our eyes the image of any great man who should be seen and known because of his deeds, and likewise the beauty of a woman who is separated from us by many leagues, a thing on which Pliny reflects much. To one who dies it gives many years of life, his own face remaining behind painted, and his wife is consoled, seeing daily before her the image of her deceased husband, and the sons who were left little children rejoice when men to know the presence and the aspect of their dear father, and fear to shame him."

As the Marchioness, almost weeping, made a pause here, M. Lactancio, in order to draw her out of her sorrowful imagination and memories, said:

"Besides all these things, which are great, what is there that more ennobles or makes other things more beautiful than painting, whether on arms, in temples, in palaces, or fortresses, or anywhere else where beauty and order may have a place? And so great minds assert that there is nothing a man can find to fight against his mortality or against the flight of time but painting only. Nor did Pithagoras depart from this view when he said that only in three things were men similar to the immortal God: in science, in painting, and in music."

Here Master Michael said:

"I am sure that if in your Portugal, M. Francisco, they were to see the beauty of the painting that is in some houses in Italy, they could not be so uncultured as not to esteem it greatly, and wish to attain to it; but it is not surprising that they do not know or appreciate what they have never seen and what they do not possess." Here M. Angelo rose, showing that it was already time for him to retire and go; and likewise the Marchioness rose; I asked her as a favour to invite all that distinguished company for the following day in that same place, and that M. Angelo should not fail to appear. She did so, and he promised that he would come. And the Marchioness going with the rest, M. Lactancio left with Michael, and I and Diogo Zapata, a Spaniard, went with the Marchioness from the monastery of St. Silvester at Monte Cavallo to the other monastery where there is the head of St. John the Baptist, and where the Marchioness resides, and we left her with the mothers and nuns, and I went to my residence.



SECOND DIALOGUE

All that night I thought of the past day, and was preparing myself for the one to come; but it frequently happens that our arrangements prove uncertain and vain, and very contrary to what we expect, as I then learnt. On the following day M. Lactancio sent me word that we could not meet as we had arranged, owing to certain business matters which had cropped up both for the Lady Marchioness and likewise for Michael Angelo himself, but he asked me to be at St. Silvester's in eight days' time, as that day had been agreed upon.

I found those eight days long, but finally, when Sunday came, the time appeared to me to have been but short, for I should have liked to have been better armed with knowledge for such a noble company. When I arrived at St. Silvester the lesson from the Epistles which Friar Ambrose read was finished and he was gone, and they were beginning to complain of my being late and about me.

After they had pardoned me, I having confessed to being a laggard, and after the Marchioness had bantered me a little, and I Messer Angelo in my turn, I obtained permission to proceed with the former conversation about painting; I commenced saying:

"I think, Senhor Michael Angelo, that last Sunday, when we were about to part, you told me that if in the kingdom of Portugal, which you here call Spain, they were to see the noble pictures of Italy, they would esteem them greatly, for which reason I beg as a favour (for I have come here for nothing else) that you will not disdain to inform me what famous works in painting there are in Italy, so that I may know how many I have already seen, and how many I still have to see."

"You ask me a question which would take long to answer, M. Francisco," said M. Angelo, "wide and difficult to put together, for we know that there is no prince or private person or nobleman in Italy, or any one of any pretension, however little curious he may be about painting (to say nothing of those excellent ones who adore it), who does not take steps to have some relic of divine painting, or who at least, in so far as he can, does not order many works to be executed. So that a good portion of the beauty of our art is spread over many noble cities, castles, country-seats, palaces and temples, and other private and public buildings; but as I have not seen them all in an orderly manner, I can only speak of some which are the principal ones.

"In Siena there is some singular painting in the Municipal Chamber and in other places; in Florence, my native place, in the Palaces of the Medici, there is a grotesque by Giovanni da Udine, and so throughout Tuscany. In Urbino, the Palace of the Duke, who was himself half a painter, has a great deal of praiseworthy work, and also in his country-seat called 'Imperial,' near Pesaro, erected by his wife, there is some very magnificent painting. So, too, the Palace of the Duke of Mantua, where Andrea painted the Triumph of Caius Caesar, is noble; but more so still is the work of the Stable, painted by Julius, a pupil of Raphael, who now flourishes in Mantua. In Ferrara we have the painting of Dosso in the Palace of Castello, and in Padua they also praise the loggia of M. Luis, and the Fortress of Lenhago. Now in Venice there are admirable works by Chevalier Titian, a valiant man in painting and in drawing from nature, in the Library of St. Mark, some in the House of the Germans, and others in churches and in other good hands; and the whole of that city is a good painting.

"So in Pisa, in Lucca, in Bologna, in Piacenza, in Parma, where there is the Parmesano,(189) in Milan, and in Naples. So in Genoa there is the house of Prince Doria, painted by Master Perino, with great judgment, especially the Storm of the Vessels of AEneas, in oils, and the ferocity of Neptune and his sea-horses; and likewise in another room there is a fresco, Jupiter fighting against the giants in Phlegra, overthrowing them with thunderbolts; and nearly the whole city is painted inside and out. And in many other castles and cities of Italy, such as Orvieto, Esi,(190) Ascoli, and Como, there are pictures nobly painted, and all of great price, for I only speak of such; and if we were to speak of the private paintings and pictures that every one holds dearer than life, it would be to speak of the innumerable, and there are to be found in Italy some cities which are nearly all painted with tolerable painting, inside and out."

It seemed that Michael was coming to a conclusion, when the Lady Marchioness, looking at me, said:

"Do you not remark, M. Francisco, that M. Michael abstained from speaking of Rome, the mother of painting, so as not to talk of his own works? Now what he would not do, let us not fail to do for the purpose of ensnaring him the more, for when one deals with famous paintings, no other has such value as the fount from which they are derived and proceed. And this work is in the head and fount of the Church, I mean in St. Peter's in Rome; a great vault, in fresco, with its circuit and curvatures of arches, and a facade, in which M. Angelo divinely made us understand and divided into histories how God first created the world, with many images of Sibyls and figures of exceedingly great artistic beauty and artifice. And what is singular is, that doing nothing more than this work, which as yet he has not completed, and having commenced it when a youth, there is therein comprised the work of twenty painters united in that vault alone. Raphael of Urbino painted in this city a second work of such art that it would have been the first if the other had not existed. It is a hall and two chambers and a loggia in fresco, in the palaces of the said St. Peter, a magnificent thing of many elegant stories of a very decorous description. And the story of Apollo playing his harp amongst the nine muses in the Parnasus is singular. In the house(191) of Augustimguis (Chigi) Raphael has painted very preciously a poetry, the story of Psyche, and very gracefully he surrounded Galatea by mermen in the middle of the waves and by cupids in the air. The picture in S. Pietro in Montorio of the Transfiguration of our Lord,(192) in oils, is very good, and another in Aracoeli, and in the Temple of Peace, in fresco.(193) The picture in S. Pietro in Montorio by the hand of Bastiaeo Veneziano(194) is famous; he did it in competition with Raphael. There are many facades of palaces in this city, in white and black,(195) by Baltesar(196) di Siena, architect, and by Marturino and by Polidoro, a man who in that manner of working magnificently enriched Rome. Further, there are here many palaces of Cardinals and other men painted in grotesque and in stucco and with many other varieties of art, for the city is more painted than any other in the whole world, apart from the private pictures that every one holds dearer than life itself. But of the things outside the city, the Vigna, begun by Pope Clement VII., at the foot of Monte Mario, is most worth seeing; it is ornamented by the fine painting and sculpture of Raphael and Julius, where the giant lies sleeping, whose feet the satyrs are measuring with shepherds' crooks. You now see whether these are works which would lead us to be silent about our city."

And she was already ceasing to speak, when I remembered me, and said:

"No doubt your Excellency also forgot the famous tomb or chapel of the Medici in San Lorenzo, at Florence, painted in marble by M. Angelo, with such a generous number of statues in full relief that it can certainly compete with any of the great works of antiquity; where the goddess or image of Night, sleeping above the nocturnal bird, and the melancholy Death in Life pleased me the most, although there are there many noble sculptures around the Dawn. But I cannot omit the mention of a painting which I saw, even though it was outside Italy, in France or Provence, in the City of Avignon, in a Franciscan monastery: it is that of a dead woman who had been very beautiful, she was called the Beautiful Anna; a king of France who liked painting and who painted (if I am not mistaken) called Reynel, came to Avignon and inquired whether the Beautiful Anna was there because he greatly desired to see her to paint her from life, and having been told that she had died shortly before, the king caused her to be disinterred to see whether still in her bones there were some traces of her beauty. He found her clothed, in the old style, as if she were alive, with her golden hair dressed on her head, but all the gay beauty of the face, which alone was uncovered, had changed into a skull; notwithstanding this, the painter king considered it so beautiful that he painted her from nature, surrounding his work with verses which mourn and are still mourning for her. Which work I saw in that place and I thought it very worthy."

All were pleased with my picture, and M. Angelo added that in Narbonne I would have also seen the picture St. Sebastian in the Cathedral, and he said:

"In France there is some good painting, and the King of France has many palaces and pleasure houses with innumerable paintings, both in Fontainebleau, where the king kept together two hundred painters, well paid, for a certain time; and in Madrid, the pleasure house which he built, where he voluntarily imprisons himself at times, in memory of Madrid in Spain where he was a prisoner."

"I think," said M. Lactancio, "that I heard a while ago Francisco d'Ollanda name amongst paintings the tomb that you, Senhor Michael, sculptured in marble; but I do not understand how sculpture can be called painting."

Then I began to laugh heartily, and begging permission of the Master, said:

"To save Senhor Michael trouble I will reply to Senhor Lactancio concerning this doubt of his, which has followed me here from my own country.

"As you will find that all the employments which have most art and reasonableness and grace are those which most nearly approach the drawing or painting, so those which most nearly approach it proceed from it and are a part or member of it, such as sculpture or statuary, which is nothing else but painting itself, although it may well appear to some to be a separate art; it is, however, condemned to serve painting, its mistress.

"And this I will give as a sufficient proof (as your Excellencies well know), that in the books we find Phidias and Praxiteles called painters, whilst it is certain that they were sculptors in marble, seeing that the statues from their hands in stone are here near us, on this hill, the horses which they made, which King Teridade sent to Nero as a present, for which reason in recent times this place is called Monte Cavallo. And should this not be enough, I will add how Donatello (who, with the permission of Master Michael, was one of the first modern ones who in sculpture merited fame and name in Italy) never said anything else to his pupils, when teaching them, but draw, telling them in a single word of doctrine: 'Pupils, I give you the whole art of sculpture when I tell you—draw!' And so Pomponio Gaurico, sculptor, also affirms in the book he wrote 'De Re Statuaria.' But why do I seek examples and proofs afar, when perchance they are near me? And so as not to speak of myself, I say the great draughtsman, M. Angelo, who is here, also sculptures in marble, which is not his art, and better even (if one may say it) than he paints with the brush on a panel, and he himself has told me sometimes that he finds the sculpture of stone less difficult than the using of colours, and that he deems it to be a very much greater thing to make a masterly stroke with the brush than with the chisel. And even a famous draughtsman, if he so desires, will by himself sculpture and carve in hard marble, in bronze and in silver, exceedingly large statues in full relief (which is a great thing), without ever having taken a chisel in his hand; and this is owing to the great virtue and power of drawing. It does not, therefore, follow that a sculptor will know how to paint or how to hold a brush, nor will he know how to paint and make a stroke like a master, as I learnt a few days ago on going to see Baccio Blandino,(197) the sculptor, whom I found trying to paint in oils and unable to do so. The draughtsman will be a master in building palaces or temples, and will carve statues and will paint pictures; for the said Master Michael and Raphael and Baltesar di Siena,(198) famous painters, taught architecture and sculpture, and Baltesar di Siena, after briefly studying that art, equalled Bramante, a most eminent architect, who passed all his life in its discipline, and yet he used to say that it gave him an advantage, for he appreciated the invention, fancy and freedom of drawing. I am speaking of true painters."

"But I say, Senhor Lactancio," said Michael, assisting M. Francisco, "that the painter of whom he speaks not only will be instructed in liberal arts and other sciences such as architecture and sculpture, which are his own province, but also in all other manual crafts which are practised throughout the world; should he wish, he will do them with more art than the actual masters of them. However that may be, I sometimes set myself thinking and imagining that I find amongst men but one single art or science, and that is drawing or painting, all others being members proceeding therefrom; for if you carefully consider all that is being done in this life you will find that each person is, without knowing it, painting this world, creating and producing new forms and figures here, in dress and the various garbs, in building and occupying spaces with painted buildings and houses, in cultivating the fields and ploughing the land into pictures and sketches, in navigating the seas with sails, in fighting and dividing the spoil, and finally in the 'firmamentos' and burials and in all other operations, movements and actions. I leave out all the handicrafts and arts, of which painting is the principal fount, of which some are rivers which spring from it, such as sculpture and architecture; some are brooks, such as mechanical trades; and some are stagnant ponds, which do not flow (such as useless handicrafts like cutting out with scissors and such like), formed from the waters of the flood when drawing overflowed its banks in old time and inundated everything under its dominion and empire, as one sees in the works of the Romans, all done in the manner of painting. In all their painted buildings and fabrics, in all works in gold, silver, or in metals, in all their vases and ornaments, and even in the elegance of their coins, and in their dress and armour, in their triumphs as well as in all their other operations and works, one easily recognises how, in the time when they held sway over all the earth, my lady painting was the universal sovereign and mistress of all their deeds and trades and sciences, extending herself even to writing, and composing or writing histories. So that whosoever well considers and understands human works, will find without doubt that they are all either painting itself or some part of painting; and although the painter be capable of inventing what has not as yet been found, and of doing all the handicrafts of the others with much more grace and elegance than their own professors, yet no one but he can be a true painter or draughtsman."