«#aTHE-LIFEOF /MCHAEL- ANGELO YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FORMED BY James Abraham Hillhouse, B.A. 1749 James Hillhouse, B.A. 1773 James Abraham Hillhouse, B.A. 1808 James Hillhouse, B.A. 1875 Removed 1942 from the Manor House iti Sachem's Wood GIFT OF GEORGE DUDLEY SEYMOUR LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. Michael Angelo. LI FE'OF MICHAEL ANG ELO- BY HERMAN-GRIMM- TRAN6 LATED-BY FAN MY- ELIZA BETH B V N N E T T VOLVM E-l- NEW-EDITION-WITH-AD- DITI ON SI LLV5TRATED WITH-PHOTOGRAVU RE PLATE5FROM-WORKS OF- ART* * * * B O S TON- L I TT L E- B R O W N • ANDCO MD CCCX C VI- Copyright, 1896, Bt Little, Beown, and Company. SHmtoersttj ^trss: John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. PUBLISHERS' NOTE. In selecting the illustrations for a holiday edition of this favorite work, the publishers have confined the choice entirely to works of art, and have in cluded reproductions of Michael Angelo's most famous statues and paintings, together with works by other celebrated Italian artists ; the great range of the biography — which embraces nearly a cen tury of Italian history — affording a wide field. The publishers desire to acknowledge the cour tesy of The William Hayes Fogg Art Museum, of Harvard University, in granting permission to copy from their collection of photographs of the originals made by Messrs. Braun, Clement, and Company, of Paris. The photogravure plates have been 'specially made for this edition by Messrs. A. W. Elson and Company. TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. The life of Michael Angelo can never be con sidered entirely satisfactory until the Florentine papers have become accessible. It is for this reason that the translation of this -work was for a time deferred. Occasionally the rumor spread that the Florentine papers would be thrown open to the public eye ; and, while this appeared probable, Herr Grimm withheld the life of the great sculptor from translation into English, considering it incomplete until these documents could be brought to light. On the other hand, the work contained so much information that had not before appeared; so many private letters of a domestic character were added to it ; so much of the Buonarotti bequest had, as Herr Grimm remarks in his introductory chapter, passed into the possession of the British Museum, — :that, with the cer tainty that the Florentme papers would not be viii translator's preface. published for a still longer period, Herr Grimm allowed me to undertake the translation of his work. As, however, with such a man as Michael Angelo, new matter is ever coming to light, and hence even a work of recent date may appear stale in its information, I applied to Herr Grimm, on the issuing of this new edi tion, to furnish me with any fresh particulars he may have obtained. I received in reply a letter, from which I will make the following extract, informing me of all that has trans pired, respecting Michael Angelo, up to this present time: — " It is to be regretted, that the papers in Florence, bequeathed by Count Buonarotti to the city, are still withheld. The report is constantly circulated, that they are soon to be made public ; and yet this seems never to be thought of seriously. The reason for this delay I know not ; for it has long been the general opinion, that the condition under which the Count bequeathed the papers — that is, ever lasting secrecy — is not entirely binding. The pres ent proceeding, therefore, is nothing but a simple withholding of the papers. And this corresponds with the ways and habits of the Italians generally. There is a tendency constantly manifested by them to conceal scientific matter, and this for no rational IX reason, but simply for the sake of withholding things. We may suppose, however, that the newly awakened political life in Italy will produce the same liberality in scientific efforts as we are accus tomed to meet with in Germany, England, and France. " On the other hand, a new edition has appeared, in Florence, of the poems of Michael Angelo ; and for this the Buonarotti papers were made use of. I gather this from the title of the book ; but I have not yet received it. This edition will be of real importance if it throws light upon the date of the separate poems. The uncertainty that has prevailed, in this respect, has been the reason why, hitherto, Michael Angelo's poems have not been available as historical material. " A new and interesting discovery to me has been a bas-relief, full of figures, about two feet high, and one and a half broad ; casts of which I found in Basle and Berlin, and which may be regarded with tolerable certainty as Michael Angelo's work. I have not been able to discover the original. The subject is curious. It is a group of sick, possibly dying, people, on the banks of a stream, which is characterized by the river-god lying on it. In the air above hovers a Megaera-like form ; the personifi cation, it seems to me, of the plague. If this con jecture be right, the work may belong to that sad period in Florence during which we know so little, comparatively, of Michael Angelo. " It must also' be interesting, especially to those acquainted with Rome, that we have now gained x translator's preface. accurate information as to the position of Michael Angelo's house in that city. A contract has come to light, by which, after Michael Angelo's death, Leonardo Buonarotti let his uncle's house to Daniele da Volterra. The situation is accurately described in this document. The house stood in what is now Trajan's Forum, opposite Santa Maria di Loreto, and probably was only pulled down in the last cen tury, on account of the enlargement of the square ; and, owing to the excavations in the Forum, we may even say that the very soil has disappeared on which the house stood. Lastly, some original re ceipts by Michael Angelo's hand, bearing the dates 1511 and 1513, have come to light. They refer to the paintings in the Sistine Chapel, and to the monument of Julius H. They were sent for my inspection by Major Kiihlen in Rome, who has them in his possession." In a periodical entitled, " On Artists and Works of Art," Herr Grimm has published the documents referred to in this extract ; and they appear to me too interesting, in the infor mation they afford, to be omitted here. I have therefore added them to the appendix of the second volume. F. E. BUNNETT CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. CHAPTER FIRST. Paoe Florence and Italy — The Earliest Ages of the City — The Strife of Parties — Dante — Cimabue — Giotto — The Medici — Ghiberti — Brunelleschi — Donatello — First Appearance of Leonardo da Vinci 1 CHAPTER SECOND. The Great Men of History — The Sources of Michael An gelo's Life — Vasari's Connection with Condivi — The Italian Historians — The Florentine and London Papers — The Buonarroti Family — Birth and Early Youth of Michael Angelo — Francesco Granacci — The Brothers Ghirlandajo — Lorenzo dei Medici — The Conspiracy of the Pazzi — The Gardens of the Medici — Life in Flor ence, and her Artists 59 CHAPTER THIRD. 1494—1496. Savonarola — Lorenzo's Death — Change of Things in Flor ence — Irruption of the French into Italy — Michael An gelo's Flight to Venice — Expulsion of the Medici — [xi] Xll CONTENTS. Page Michael Angelo in Bologna — The New Republic in Flor ence under Savonarola — Michael Angelo's Return — The Marble Cupid — Journey to Rome 109 CHAPTER FOURTH 1496—1500. Arrival in Rome — The City — Alexander Borgia and his Children — Pollajuolo — Melozzo da Forli — Mantegna — Cardinal Riario — The Madonna of Mr- Labouchere — The Bacchus — The Pieta — State of things in Florence — Savonarola's Power and Ruin — Return to Florence . 161 CHAPTER FIFTH. 1498—1504. Louis XII., King of France — Position of the Florentines in Italy — The Madonna at Bruges — The Madonna in the Tribune at Florence — Csesar Borgia before Florence — The David at the Gate of the Palace of the Govern ment — The Twelve Apostles — The Copy of the David of Donatello — The Erection of the David — Leonardo da Vinci — Perugino — Michael Angelo's Adversaries — Death of Alexander Borgia — Leonardo's Cartoon of the Battle of the Cavalry — Leonardo contrasted with Michael Angelo — Cartoon of the Bathing Soldier — Raphael in Florence 221 CHAPTER SIXTH. 1505—1508. Julius II. — Giuliano di San Gallo — Call to Rome — Bra- mante — The Pope's Mausoleum — Remodelling of the Old Basilica of St. Peter — Journey to Carrara — The CONTENTS. Xlll Page Pope's Change of Mind — Flight — Julius's Letter to the Signiory of Florence — Offer on the Part of the Sultan — Return to Rome as Ambassador of the Republic — Cam paign of the Pope against Bologna — Capture of the City — Cartoon of the Bathing Soldiers — Leonardo's Painting in the Hall of the Consiglio — Call to Bologna — Statue of the Pope — Difficulties in making the Cast — Disorders in Bologna — Erection of the Statue — Francesco Francia — Albrecht Diirer in Bologna — Return to Florence . . . 263 CHAPTER SEVENTH. 1508—1509. Call to Rome — The Painting for the' Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel — Difficulties of the Undertaking — Summoning of the Florentine Artists — Impatience of the Pope — Con clusion of the First Half of the Work — Raphael in Rome 314 . CHAPTER EIGHTH. 1510—1512. Raphael compared with Michael Angelo — Raphael's Son nets — Raphael's Portrait of his Beloved One in the Bar- berini Palace — Michael Angelo's Poems — Continuation of the Paintings in the Sistine Chapel — Melancholy State of Mind — Letters to his Brothers and Father — Journey to the Pope at Bologna — Siege and Fall of Mirandula — The War of Julius II. for Bologna — Loss of the City — Evil condition and Mind of the Pope — Raphael's Pic tures in the Vatican — Cardinal Giovanni dei Medici as Legate at Bologna — March against the City — Destruc tion of Julius's Statue — Taking of Bologna — The Me dici with the Spanish Army before Florence — Flight of Soderini — Restoration of the Medici 350 xiv CONTENTS. CHAPTER NINTH. 1512—1518. Page Vain Effort for Sebastian del Piombo — Julius's last Under takings, and Death — The Mausoleum — New Contract — The Moses — The Dying Youths — Destruction of the Cartoon of the Bathing Soldiers — Bandinelli — The Me dici at the Height of their Power — Leo X. in Florence — Fafade of San Lorenzo — Works in Carrara — Call to Rome — Undertaking of the Facade — Leonardo da Vinci — Sojourn in Rome — Raphael — Painting in the Farne- sina — Sebastian del Piombo's Scourging of Christ in San Pietro in Montorio, and the Raising of Lazarus . . . 410 Appendix 515 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Volume I. Portrait op Michael Angelo Frontispiece The Creation op Adam, Sis tine Chapel Michael Angelo . . Page 34 Statue or Saint George, Church op Or San Michele Donatello 44 Portrait op Simoneta . . . Botticelli 48 Statue op Lorenzo dei Medici Michael Angelo .... 90 Kneeling Angel Michael Angelo .... 142 Pope Sixtus IV. surrounded bt his Nephews .... Melozzo da Forli .... 174 Madonna and Child, with the Infant Saint John and Angels Michael Angelo .... 178 Statue of Bacchus .... Michael Angelo . . . . 182 Crowning op the Virgin. . Fra Angelica da Fiesole . 218 Christ giving the Keys to Saint Peter Perugino 246 Pope Julius II Raphael 264 The Cartoon of the Bathing Soldiers Michael Angelo .... 288 Figure, prom the Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel . . . Michael Angelo .... 330 The Temptation and the Ex pulsion prom Paradise, Ceiling op the Sistine Chapel Michael Angelo .... 336 XVI LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS. The Delphic Sibyl, Sistine Chapel Michael Angelo . . Page 342 The Dispute op the Sacra ment Raphael 350 The Fornarina, Barberini Palace Raphaet' 362 Statue, The Prisoner . . . Michael Angelo . . . 422 Cupid and the Three Graces, prom the Farnesina Paint- hjgs Raphael 454 The Sitting Madonna . . . Michael Angelo .... 490 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. CHAPTER FIRST. Florence and Italy — The Earliest Ages of the City — The Strife of Parties — Dante — Cimabue — Giotto — The Medici — Ghiberti — Brunelleschi — Donatello — First Appearance of Leonardo da Vinci. THERE are names which carry with them some thing of a charm. We utter them, and, like the prince in the " Arabian Nights," who mounted the marvellous horse, and spoke the magic words, we feel ourselves lifted from the earth into the clouds. We have but to say " Athens ! " and all the great deeds of antiquity break upon our hearts like a sudden gleam of sunshine. We perceive nothing definite ; we see no separate figures : but a cloudy train of glorious men passes over the heavens, and a breath touches us, which, like the first warm wind in the year, seems to give promise of the spring in the midst of snow and rain. " Florence ! " and the magnificence and passionate agitation of Italy's prime sends forth its fragrance towards us like blossom-laden boughs, from whose dusky shadow we catch whispers of the beautiful tongue. We will now, however, step nearer, and examine more clearly the things which, taken collectively at a glance, we call the history of Athens and Florence. 2 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. The glowing images now grow cold, and become dull and empty. Here, as everywhere, we see the strife of common passions, the martyrdom and ruin of the best citizens, the demon-like opposition of the multitude to all that is pure and elevated, and the energetic disinterestedness of the noblest patriots suspiciously misunderstood and arrogantly rejected. Vexation, sadness, and sorrow steal over us, instead of the admiration which at first moved us. And yet, what is it all ? Turning away, we cast back one glance from afar ; and the old glory lies again on the picture, and a light in the distance seems to reveal to us the paradise which attracts us afresh, as if we set foot on it for the first time. Athens was the first city of Greece. Rich, power ful, with a policy wliich extended almost over the entire world of that age, we can conceive that from here emanated all the great things that were done. Florence, however, in her fairest days, was never the first city of Italy, and in no respect pos sessed extraordinary advantages. She lies not on the sea, not even on a river at any time navigable ; for the Arno, on both sides of which the city rises, often affords in summer scarcely water sufficient to cover the soil of its broad bed, at that pomt of its course where it emerges from narrow valleys into the plain situated between the diverging arms of tlie mountain range. The situation of Naples is more beautiful, that of Genoa more royal, than Florence ; Rome is richer hi treasures of art ; Venice possessed a political power, in comparison with which the inliuenco of the Florentines appears small. Lastly, FLORENCE AND ITALY. o these cities and others, such as Pisa and Milan, have gone through an external history, compared with which that of Florence contains nothing extraordi nary ; and yet, notwithstanding, all that happened in Italy between 1250 and 1530 is colorless when placed side by side with the history of this one city. Her internal life surpasses in splendor the efforts of the others at home and abroad. The events, through the intricacies of which she worked her way with vigorous determination, and the men whom she produced, raise her fame above that of the whole of Italy, and place Florence as a younger sister by the side of Athens. The earlier history of the city, before the days ot her highest splendor, stands in the same relation to the subsequent events as the contests of the Homeric heroes to that which happened in the historic ages in Greece. The incessant strife between the hostile nobles, which lasted for centuries, and ended with the annihilation of all, presents to us, on the whole, as well as in detail, the course of an epic poem. These contests, in which the whole body of the citi zens became involved, began with the strife of two families, brought about by a woman, with murder and revenge in its train ; and it is ever the passion of the leaders which fans the dying flames into new life. From their ashes at length arose the true Florence. She had now no longer a warlike aris tocracy like Venice ; no popes nor nobles like Rome ; no fleet, no soldiers, — scarcely a territory. Within her walls was a fickle, avaricious, ungrateful people of parvenus, artisans, and merchants, who had been 4 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. subdued, now here and now there, by the energy or the intrigues of foreign and native tyranny, until, at length exhausted, they had actually given up their liberty. And it is the history of these very times wliich is surrounded with such glory, and the remembrance of which awakens such enthu siasm among her own people, at the present day, at the remembrance of their past. Whatever attracts us, in nature and in art, — that higher nature which man has created, — may be felt also of the deeds of individuals and of nations. A melody, incomprehensible and enticing, is breathed forth from the events, filling them with importance and animation. Thus we should like to live and to act, — to have joined in obtaining this, to have assisted in the contest there. It becomes evident to us, that this is true existence. Events follow each other like a work of art ; a marvellous thread unites them; there are no disjointed convulsive shocks, which startle us as at the fall of a rock, making the ground tremble, which for centuries had lain tran quil, and again, perhaps for centuries, sinks back into its old repose. For it is not repose, order, and a lawful progress on the smooth path of peace, which we desire ; nor the fearful breaking-up of long-established habits, and the chaos that succeeds : but we are struck by deeds and characters whose outset promises results, and allows us to augur an end where the powers of men and nations strive after perfection, and our feelings aspire towards an harmonious aim, which we hope for or dread, and which we see reached at length. FLORENCE AND ITALY. 0 Our pleasure in these events in no degree resem bles the satisfaction with which, perchance, a modern officer of police would express himself respecting the excellent condition of a country. There are so-called quiet times, within which, nevertheless, the best actions appear hollow, and inspire a secret mistrust; when peace, order, and impartial admin istration of justice, are words with no real meaning, and piety sounds even like blasphemy ; while, in other epochs, open depravity, errors, injustice, crime, and vice form only the shadows of a great and elevating picture, to which they impart the just truth. The blacker the dark places, the brighter the light ones. An indestructible power seems to necessitate both. We are at once convinced that we are not deceived. It is all so clear, so plain, so intelligible. We are struck with the strife of inevi table, dark necessity with the will, whose freedom nothing can conquer. On both sides, we see great powers rising, shaping events, and perishing in their course, or maintaining themselves above them. We see blood flowing ; the rage of parties flashes before us like the sheet-lightning of storms that have long ceased; we stand here and there, and fight once more in the old battles. But we want truth ; no concealing of aims, or the means with which they desired to obtain them. Thus we see the people in a state of agitation, just as the lava in the crater of a volcanic mountain rises in itself; and, from the fermenting mass, there sounds forth the magic melody which we call to mind when the names "Athens" or "Florence" are pronounced. LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. 2. Yet how poor seem the treasures of the Italian city, compared with the riches of the Greek! A succession of great Athenians appear, where only single Florentines could be pointed out. Athens surpassed Florence as far as the Greeks surpassed the Romans. But Florence touches us the more closely. We tread less certain ground in the his tory of Athens ; and the city herself has been swept away from her old rocky soil, leaving only insignifi cant ruins behind. Florence still lives. If, at the present day, we look down from the height of the old Fiesole, on the mountain-side north of the city, the cathedral of Florence, Santa Maria del Fiore, — or Santa Liparata, as it is called, — with its cupola and slender bell-tower, and the churches, palaces, and houses, and the walls that enclose them, still lie in the depth below, as they did in years gone by. All is standing, upright and undecayed. The city is like a flower, wliich, when fully blown, instead of withering on its stalk, turned as it were into stone. Thus she stands at the present day; and, to him who forgets the former ages, life and fragrance seem not to be lackmg. Many a time we could fancy it is still as once it was ; just as, when traversing the canals of Venice under the soft beams of the moon, we are delusively carried back to the times of her ancient splendor. But freedom has vanished ; and that succession of great men has long ceased, which, year by year, of old, sprung up afresh. Yet the remembrance of these men, and of the old FLORENCE AND ITALY. 7 freedom, still lives. Their remains are preserved with religious care. To live with consciousness in Florence, is, to a cultivated man, nothing else than the study of the beauty of a free people, in its very purest instincts. The city possesses something that penetrates and sways the mind. We lose ourselves in her riches. While we feel that every thing drew its life from that one freedom, the Past obtains an influence, even in its most insignificant relations, which almost blinds us to the rest of Italy. We become fanatical Florentines, in the old sense. The most beautiful pictures of Titian begin to be indif ferent to us, as we follow the progress of Florentine art, in its almost hourly advance, from the most clumsy beginnings up to perfection. The historians carry us into the intricacies of their age, as if we were initiated into the secrets of living persons. We walk along the streets where they walked ; we step over the thresholds which they trod ; we look down from the windows at which they have stood. Florence has never been taken by assault, nor des troyed, nor changed by some all-devastating fire. The buildings of whicli they tell, us stand there almost as if they had grown up, stone by stone, to charm and gratify our eyes. If I, a stranger, am attracted with such magnetic power, how strong must have been the feeling with which the free old citizens clung to their native city, which was the world to them ! It seemed to them impossible to live and die elsewhere. Hence the tragic and often frantic attempts of the exiled to return to their home. Unhappy was he who at eventide might 8 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. not meet his friends in her squares, — who was not baptized in the church of San Giovanni, and could not have his children baptized there. It is the oldest church in the town, and bears in its interior the proud inscription, that it will not be thrown down until the day of judgment, — a belief as strong as that of the Romans, to whom eternity was to be the duration of their Capitol. Horace sang that his songs would last as long as the priestess ascended the steps there. Athens and Florence owed their greatness to their freedom. We are free when our longing to do all that we do for the good of our country is satis fied ; but it must be independently and voluntarily. We must perceive ourselves to be a part of a whole ; and that, while we advance, we promote the advance of the whole at the same time. This feeling must be paramount to any other. With the Florentines, it rose above the bloodiest hostility of parties and families. Passions stooped before it. The city and her freedom lay nearest to every heart, and formed the end and aim of every dispute. No power without was to oppress them; none within the city herself was to have greater authority than another; every citizen desired to co-operate for the general good ; no third party was to come between to help forward their interests. So long as this jealousy of a personal right in the State ruled in the minds of the citizens, Florence was a free city. With the extinguishing of this passion, freedom perished ; and in vain was every energy exerted to maintain it. FLORENCE AND ITALY. 9 That which, however, exhibits Athens and Flor ence as raised above other States, which likewise flourished through their freedom, is a second gift of nature, by which freedom was either circum scribed or extended, — for both may be said of it, — namely, the capability in their citizens for an equal development of all human power. One-sided en ergy may do much, whether men or nations possess it. Egyptians, Romans, Englishmen, are grand examples of this; the one-sidedness of their char acter, however, discovers itself again in their under takings, and sometimes robs that which they achieve of the praise of beauty. In Athens and Florence, no passion for any time gained such ascendency over the individuality of the people as to prepon derate over others. If it happened at times for a short period, a speedy subversion of things brought back the equilibrium. The Florentine Constitution depended on the resolutions of the moment, made by an assembly of citizens entitled to vote. Any power could be legally annulled, and equally legally another could be raised up in its stead. Nothing was wanting but a decree of the great parliament of citizens. A counter-vote was all that was neces sary. So long as the great bell sounded which called all the citizens together to the square in front of the palace of the Government, any revenge borne by one towards another might be decided by open force in the public street. Parliament was the law fully appointed scene of revolution, in case the will of the people no longer accorded with that of the Government. The citizens, in that case, invested a 1* 10 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. committee with dictatorial authority. The offices were newly filled. All offices were accessible to all citizens. Any man was qualified and called upon for any position. What sort of men must these citi zens have been, who formed a stable and flourishing state with institutions so variable ? Sordid mer chants and manufacturers ? — yet how they fought for their freedom ! Selfish pohcy and commerce their sole interest? — yet were they the poets and historians of their country ! Avaricious shopkeep ers and money-changers ? — but dwelling in princely palaces, and these palaces built by their own masters, and adorned with paintings and sculptures, which had been likewise produced within the city! Every thing put forth blossom, every blossom bore fruit. The fate of the country is like a ball, wliich, in its eternal motion, still rests ever on the right point. Every Florentine work of art carries the whole of Florence within it. Dante's poems are the result of the wars, the negotiations, the religion, the philosophy, the gossip, the faults, the vice, the hatred, the love, and the revenge of the Florentines. All unconsciously assisted. Nothing might be lack ing. From such a soil alone could such a work spring forth. From the Athenian mind alone could the tragedies of Sophocles and ^Esehylus proceed. Tlie history of the city has as much share in them as the genius of the men in whose minds imagina tion and passion sought expression in words. It makes a difference whether an artist is the self- conscious citizen of a free land, or the richly re warded subject of a ruler in whose ears liberty FLORENCE AND ITALY. 11 sounds like sedition and treason. A people is free, not because it obeys no prince, but because of its own accord it loves and supports the highest author ity, whether this be a prince or an aristocracy who hold the Government in tlieir hands. A prince there always is; in the freest republics one man gives, after all, the casting vote. But he must be there because he is the first, and because all need him. It is only where each single man feels him self a part of the common basis upon whicli the commonwealth rests, that we can speak of freedom and art. What have the statues in the villa of Hadrian to do with Rome and the desires of Rome ? What the mighty columns of tlie baths of Caracalla with the ideal of the people in whose capital they arose ? In Athens and Florence, however, we could say that no stone was laid on another, — no picture, no poem, came forth ; but the entire population was its sponsor. Whether Santa Maria del Fiore was rebuilt; whether the Church of San Giovanni gained a couple of golden gates ; whether Pisa was besieged, peace concluded, or a mad carnival pro cession celebrated, — every one was concerned in it, the same general interest was evinced in it. The beautiful Simoneta, the most beautiful young maid en in the city, is buried ; the whole of Florence follows her with tears in their eyes, and Lorenzo Medici, the first man in the State, writes an elegiac sonnet on her loss, which is on the lips of all. A newly painted chapel is opened ; no one may be missing. A foot-race through the streets is ar ranged; carpets hang out from every window. 12 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. Contemplated from afar, the two cities stand before us like beautiful human figures, — like women with dark, sad glances, and yet laughing lips; we step nearer ; it seems one great united family : we pass into the midst of them ; it is like a bee-hive of human beings. Athens and her destiny is a symbol of the whole life of Greece ; Florence is a symbol of the prime of Roman Italy. Both, so long as their hberty lasted, are a reflection of the golden age of their land and people ; after liberty was lost, they are an image of the decline of both until their final ruin. 3. Nothing is known of how the ancient Florentia passed into the modern Fiorenza or Firenze, and whether it brought with it from the Romish ages the character of a manufacturing town. We do not even know, in the Hohenstauffen epoch, in what pro portion the population were divided into noble and manufacturing classes. The city at that time lay on the northern bank of the Arno, within low sur rounding walls, between wliich and the river there was a broad space. In that direction they soon extended themselves, made bridges across, and es tablished themselves on the other side. Tlie conquest of Fiesole was tlie first great deed of the Florentine citizens. The Fiesolans were obliged to settle in the valley below. Pisa, never theless, which lay towards the west, on the sea-coast, was greater and more powerful. Pisa possessed a fleet and harbors : the Florentine trade was depen dent on that of Pisa. Florence had nowhere free THE STRIFE OF PARTIES. 13 communication with the sea ; Lucca, Pistoia, Arezzo, Siena, — nothing but jealous and warlike cities, — encircled her with their territories. In them, how ever, as in Florence, there were houses of powerful nobles, in whose hands lay the sovereign authority. The disputes of these lords severally, and those of the parties into which they were divided, continued in Tuscany so long as the Hohenstauffens ruled the world. Florence belonged to the heritage of the Countess Matilda, to which the pope laid claim, because the land had been bequeathed to him ; and the emperor, because an imperial fief could not be so disposed of. This dispute furnished strong points of support for the party feeling in Tuscany. A part of the nobles stood up for the rights of tlie Church ; the other, to defend those of the emperor. The future of the city depended on the issue of the war, which burst forth immediately in deeds of violence to decide the exciting question. When the imperial party were victorious in Italy, their adherents in Florence triumphed also ; when the national party gained the upper hand, the party of the pope conquered in Tuscany also. When the Lombard cities were subdued by Barbarossa, the imperial faction in Florence broke forth, and endeav ored to drive away the public magistrates, who had been strengthened by their adversaries. When the fortune of the emperor afterwards suddenly changed, the power of his enemies in Tuscany also returned. Under the protection of the pope, the Tuscan cities formed themselves into a confederation, the capita] of which was Florence. 14 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. Such was the condition of things at the beginning of the thirteenth century, when the names Guelfs and Ghibellines sprang up, and what had been hith erto a spiritless opposition became a contest with well-matured principles. In the year 1215, the Guelfs and Ghibellines in Florence began to make war on each other. In the year 1321, Dante died. The century between the two dates forms the con tents of his poem, the verses of which just as natu rally suit the heroic epoch which they depict, as the pure language of Homer does the deeds of the Hel lenists before Ilion. Registers of the families, as they stood on this side or on that, are preserved. We know the position of their palaces, — little castles, constructed for defence from storm and siege. We follow, from year to year, the calamitous circumstances. Old and famous houses decline ; new ones rise from small beginnings to power and importance. Continually, in the midst of the internal discord, wars occur with the neighbors, — with Pisa first, who had command over the way to the sea ; with Siena and Pistoia ; soon with the entire neighborhood. In the moment of danger, reconciliation, armistice, or treaty unite the contending parties to common force against the enemies of the country. After the victory, however, the old dispute awakens to new evil witliin their own walls. For the most part, the cause for the state of things abroad lay in those at home. Tlie Guelfs of Flor ence, when they had the management of things in their hands, urged for war against the Ghibellines THE STRIFE OF PARTIES. 15 of Pisa or Pistoia. The Florentine Ghibellines re fused to take the field with them against their own party. Thus Tuscany stood in flames which were not to be extinguished. For, if one party succeeded in driving the other out of the city, the banished ones lay without in their castles, close at the very gates, awaiting the favorable moment for return. To be beaten was not to be overcome. In the worst emergency, supplies and money came from afar. Tlie emperor liimself sent German knights to the assistance of the oppressed Ghibellines. To the manufacturing citizens, however, this situ ation of the great nobles was of essential service. The prosperous merchants formed a third element, whicli exerted a powerful influence in the contests of the nobles, and forced them to concessions. The city authorities grew strong: in the midst of the calamitous disorders, Florence increased in extent and population. In the year 1252, Pisa was already not half so important. A commercial treaty with the Pisans was concluded ; they adopted the Floren tine weights and measures. It was about this time that Manfred, the last Hohenstauffen king of Naples, supported the Ghibellines alone in Tuscany. When, for the last time, he sent assistance, his eight hun dred knights — for the most part Germans — united with the Ghibellines of Florence, Siena, Pisa, Prato, Arezzo, and Pistoia, formed a body of three thou sand armed men. The Guelfs were defeated, and evacuated the land. Soon, however, after the fall of Manfred, they again attacked Florence, which was now abandoned 16 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. by the Ghibellines. Charles of Aujou, the new French king of Naples, undertook the protection of the city, and the citizens adopted a new constitution, the foundation of their subsequent independence. Whether the nobles concluded a peace or entered into dispute afresh, it was always a signal to the citi zens to make a new attempt to extend their rights. To make their rights, however, a still surer pos session, they endeavored to destroy and to purchase the castles of the nobles outside the town, and to drive them back by the prohibition of a wide circuit of the city. In Florence herself, the dangerous towers were pulled down which had once been their watch -posts, and from whence they had hurled their darts. Too late the great nobles perceived the consequences of their furious self-destruction. The Ghibellines were crushed ; but the victorious Guelfic nobility stood enfeebled before a body of proud citi zens, whose rich families maintained themselves as bravely as the nobles. New constitutions gave greater and greater scope to the guilds, wliich were beginning to form ; and at length the intention of admitting those alone to a share in the State who were members of these guilds stood forth as the aim of this powerful democracy. The old nobility were obliged to allow themselves to be admitted, or to be completely excluded. All this, however, proceeded slowly ; great com motions were brought about step by step. There were epochs of rest, — happier times, in which the parties joined for peaceful social life. Such a calm occured in the last decade of the thirteenth century. DANTE. 17 when, with the decline of the Hohenstauffens, the idea of the old empire began to dissolve, and the new basis of European political life filled all minds : the divided people were now from henceforth to follow their own way. The jurisdiction of the old Roman- Byzantine power was then for the first time broken through. National consciousness penetrated art and literature, and revealed itself in new forms. These are the times in which occurred Dante's birth and youth. Florence extended her walls for the third time. Arnolfo di Lapo, the famous architect, began to build the churches which yet stand there as the greatest and finest, and among them, most distinguished of all, Santa Maria del Fiore. He built in a new style, — the Gothic, or, as the Italians called it, the German, — the free upward-rising proportions of which took the place of the more heavy and wide-spreading dimensions in which they had built hitherto. As the rule of the Hohenstauffens may be regarded as the final development of the old Roman Empire, so art also appears up to their times as the last fruit of the ideas of the ancients. Dante speaks of the days of his youth as of his lost paradise. But he was not a poet who, absorbed in narrow fancies, had led a secluded life. He was a soldier, statesman, and scholar. He fought in bat tle, took part in important embassies, and wrote learned and political works. In his youth a Guelf, he became a furious GhibeUine, and wrote and sang for his party, which even still built extravagantly ideal hopes on the advent of a German emperor. 13 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. Henry of Luxemburg appeared in the year 1311. But to him the old party names had lost their mean ing. He saw that Guelfs and Ghibellines alike wished to use him for their own ends ; and, pursuing likewise the path which seemed to him the most advantageous for his own pohcy, he adhered to a middle course, which led him victoriously on, with out giving the advantage to either of the contending parties. Death soon put an end to his efforts ; and, after he was gone, scarcely a trace of his existence remained behind in the land. His progress through Italy was described by Dino Compagni, a Florentine and friend of Dante. The chronicle of this man, in its simple and beautiful prose, forms a counterpart to Dante's poems. Tlie symphony of two worlds — the ancient and the mod ern — fills both their works. They use the lan guage naturally, as the best old authors did theirs, and without abusing its flexibility. Dante speaks of things and feelings plainly, as he sees them and experiences them. When he describes the heaven, and the rising and setting of the stars, it is the heaven of Hesiod ; if he takes us to the sea-shore, it seems to be the same shore as that on which Thetis lamented her lost son, or on wliich the waves had rolled at the feet of Ulysses, when he looked out from the Island of Calypso, and tlie sweeping clouds reminded him of the rising smoke of his home. Dante ingenuously compares the scarcely opened, light- dreading eyes of the wandering band of spectres in the lower world with the screwed-up eyes of a tailoT who wants to thread his needle. DANTE — CIMABUE — GIOTTO . 1 9 His poem is the fruit of laborious study of the spirit of the Italian language. He must have toiled to catch and to manage its words, like a troop of wild horses which had never gone in harness before. His proud, weighty Italian is a strange contrast to the polished conventional Latin, in which he wrote more easily. In the latter, he is keen, cultivated, and elegant; while his Italian compositions sound as if he had written them half dreaming. In his light verses there lies something of the melancholy to which the sight of nature often disposes us, of that aimless sadness whicli a cool, glowing sunset in autumn calls forth in us. Dante's fate stands before us like the suffering of an exiled Hellenist, who enjoys hospitality at the court of a barbarian prince, whilst hatred and longing gnaw his heart. At times we see more than we have, perhaps, a right to see : while contemplating Dante's head, as Giotto has painted it, with a few wonderful strokes, on the wall of the chapel of Bargello, his whole life seems to lie in the soft, beautiful features, as if a presentiment of his future overshadowed his youthful brow. Dante died in exile ; none of his political ideas were realized. The nations were too deeply in volved in their own disorder, to have power and enthusiasm left for general European policy. The popes removed to Avignon. Rome stood empty. Italy was left to itself. The hundred years during wliich this state of things lasted are the second epoch in the development of Florentine liberty, and form at the same time the first era of that unfolding art which finds its first great workman in Giotto. 20 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. We are wont to call Cimabue the founder of modern painting. His productions belong to the time in which Dante was born. His works excited astonishment and admiration. Cimabue painted, in the manner of the Byzantine masters, stiff, bulky Madonnas. We would gladly, at the present day, consider this influence of Byzantine art upon the early Italian to have been of the most limited char acter, and assert rather a native development in direct connection with ancient art. It may have been so with Cimabue ; but Giotto, whom he met with on the open field, as a shepherd-boy, drawing his cattle on the large flat stones, — whom he de manded from his father, and took with him to Florence, and instructed, — can nevertheless be scarcely designated his disciple. From Cimabue to Giotto there is a steep ascent. Giotto seems alien to his master, and almost opposed to him. At the period in wliich he worked, the intellectual centre of Europe was not in Italy. Dante, who had pursued his studies in Paris, freed himself with difficulty from the power of the Latin tongue and the Provencal dialect. It was from France that the new Gothic style came into Italy. It was in France also that Giotto painted. His tender figures, which seem to spring from the most simple examination of nature, still carry with them too much of miniature- painting for us entirely to deny the school in which their master learned to draw. It is not easy to gain a clear idea of his work. It DANTE — CIMABUE — GIOTTO. 21 embraced the whole range of art. Much of techni cal rule must have interfered with it. Yet he was not devoid of individual power. Dante's portrait, now indeed Giotto's most famous work, retains, even in its present sad condition, something grand and characteristic in the sweep of the lines. The sketch seems to have been produced by a strong hand, which traced with bold strokes what the eye saw and the mind perceived. No artist would have been able to draw with more meaning the rare out line of such a countenance, which, although des troyed, restored, and partly entirely renovated, is imbued with the elevating dignity of him to whom it belonged. The Madonnas which are ascribed to Giotto have an expression of sad loveliness. Heavy, almond-shaped eyes, scarcely open, a repetition of the Byzantine type of Madonnas, a sorrowfully smil ing mouth, — these are their distinctive features. His principal works were not, however, his pictures with a few insignificant figures, but his fresco-paint ings, with which he supplied the whole of Italy. Called by the King of Naples to his capital, he painted the churches and palaces there ; he execu ted great works in Lombardy ; he was summoned to Rome and Avignon by the popes. Wherever he was required, he was at once ready for service. He worked as painter, sculptor, and architect. He stood on good terms with the nobles, but showed them little deference. His personal characteristics, as depicted by Boccaccio, are not over-idealized. Giotto was small, mean-looking even to ugliness, good-na tured, but endowed with a sharp tongue, like all 22 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. Florentines. Dante also could give biting replies. Villani, his contemporary, tells us that he knew how to cut short with severity all stupidity and pretension ; while, from the impression left by his verses and his sad fate, we should have thought he would have turned away in stately silence when natures so far below him put his pride to the test. Dante and Giotto remained friends to the end of their lives. When Giotto came through Ferrara on his return from Verona, and Dante heard in Ra venna that he was so near him, he succeeded in having him called to Ravenna. The paintings, how ever, which he executed in the cathedral there, have perished. Fate was not favorable to his works. In Dante's portrait, a nail has been driven exactly into the eye. Even in the past century, church walls in Naples, which had been painted by Giotto, were white washed. A Florentine picture, on which Vasari bestows the highest praise, was lost from the church to which it belonged, during the period that inter vened between the first and second editions of his book. It represented the death of Mary, with the apostles standing round, while Christ receives the rising spirit in his arms. Michael Angelo is said to have specially liked it. It has never again come to light. The most famous monument, however, which this master has erected to liimself, is tlie bell-tower, which rises by the side of Santa Maria del Fiore, — a slender, isolated column of colossal height, quad rangular, and from top to bottom inlaid with marble. GIOTTO. 23 As Arnolfo never lived to see the conclusion of hia vast cathedral structure, whicli even a century and a half after his death lacked completion, so was Giotto never permitted to finish his wonderful tower. Like Arnolfo, he left behind a model which they could follow; only that, at the close of the work, they discontinued the Gothic pyramidal spire, be cause the building was finished at a period when the German style had been long given up, and had fallen into contempt. As the church, next which it stands, was to exceed in magnitude any that had been ever built before, Giotto received instructions to erect a tower, which should surpass all that Greek and Roman art had produced. The outside, formed of slates of black and white marble, is covered with the most beautiful ornaments and sculpture, which are continued in marvellous abundance to the very top. The con struction of the different stories, the windows, the sculpture, — wherever the eye rests with attentive observation, — all form a matchless whole. Giotto deserved the honor and the remuneration which he obtained for it. The freedom of the city, which he received, was at that time a great matter ; and the yearly allowance of a hundred gold florins was no trifling sum. He died in 1336. To the end of the century, his style remained the model for Florentine art. The works of his pupils and imitators present nothing that surpasses him. The age was unproductive ; for no higher power asserted itself in Italy than gloomy, contentious selfishness. The land was the theatre 24 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. of endless disputes, the intricate nature of which acquired no nobler importance by the presence of distinguished men. In the north, the Visconti had established them selves as the lords of Milan, and the emperor Henry had confirmed them as such. Through them the GhibeUine north of Italy remained in connection with the emperor and with Germany. Their best soldiers were German knights and fighting-men. Towards the east, Venice was too strong for the Visconti ; they turned therefore to the south, and brought Genoa into their power ; by this, the whole Tuscan coast, Lucca and Pisa, once the aim of Genoese desires, became the object of the efforts of Lombardy. This, however, brought Milan into contact with Florence, to whom the possession of both cities was necessary. Besides this, there was the opposition of poUtical feeUng : MUan, the ceutral point of the German-imperial GhibeUine nobUity in Italy ; Florence, the nest of the popish-national citizens, in closest alliance with the French Naples, and with France itself, whose kings hoped to seize upon the Roman imperial dignity. Tuscany lay between the north and the south, as the natural theatre for the meeting of the hostile powers. Florence was a manufacturing city, inhabited by restless masses. It was soon evident that a strong, independent power must defend the city without. None of her own citizens had or might have the ability to do this : we find Florence, therefore, in CIVIL DISCORD. 25 the hands of powerful princes, for tlie most part NeapoUtan, who for weighty gold gave their services and their troops. The idea indeed occurred to them of constituting themselves her settled masters. Then, however, the power of the citizens displayed itself, — they would submit to no other yoke than that wliich they had voluntarily taken upon them. Florence maintained herself free by her democracy, as Venice did by her nobles. The other cities of Italy became subject, on ac count of their divisions, to separate families or to foreign rule. In such cases, things took their natu ral course. Two parties of nobles made war on each other, each with one family as head, which was the most powerful within their circle. If one of the parties conquered, those who had been its leaders endeavored to maintain themselves as masters at the head of the entire state. Relationship, murder, and the inheritance thus brought about, alliances with foreign houses who aimed at similar measures or had already carried them out, strengthened the new position. To convert this authority expressly into an hereditary one was scarcely necessary, as from the outset it concerned the whole famUy, whose duration was not interrupted by the death of its heads. In Florence, from the earliest times, such outrages on the people's love of liberty had been frustrated, even in those days when there was still a nobility within the city. The victorious party perceived that the aim in view was not merely the subjection of their adversaries, but the elevation of their own 26 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. chief to authority ; so they refused to render service. All hostUity vanished at such moments. The ex pulsion of the Duke of Athens, who in 1343 had been appointed lord of the city, and who thought it easy to bring her under his dominion, is one of the most brUliant deeds of the Florentines. Misled by the hostUity of parties, he believed he could maintain his high position with the help of the aristocrats. But he did so only for a short time. An insurrec tion broke out, in which every one, without dis tinction of party, took part ; and the duke fled before the excited people, whom he dared not defy. It was in that same year that the last fearful con test against the nobles was fought, when, immedi ately after the expulsion of the duke, they again opposed the people. Their number was no longer large: they were annihilated ; but they sold their ruin dearly enough. A great contest arose in the streets ; the people took by force the palaces of the nobles. Wondrously does MachiavelU depict the rage of the citizens, and the desperate resistance of the lords, as one famUy after another feU ; and, when the guUds had conquered, they began to divide among themselves for renewed contests. The high er guilds were now the " lords," the oppressors, against whom the lower guUds, " the people," took up arms. Again, there were powerful old famUies who formed the party of the nobles ; whUe others, striving to rise, excited to rebeUion the impatient desires of the lower classes. It was from these revolutions that the Medici at length emerged. They began to rise towards the THE MEDICI. 27 end of the fourteenth century. Their progress was natural, and therefore not to be stopped. It was the result of the co-operation of two unconquerable powers, — the peculiarities of the Florentine people, and their own family character ; and a power was thus formed which can be compared with that of no other princes. The Medici were princes, and yet private people. They ruled with absolute sway, whUe seeming never to give a command. They might be called heredi tary advisers of the Florentine people ; the hereditary Florentine guardians; possessors, interpreters, and executors of public opinion. The wealth of the family was only the outward instrument with which they worked; the true im pelling power which allowed them to rise, lay in the talent for gaining confidence without demanding it, in the wUl to enforce without commanding, and to conquer their enemies without attacking them. Their successes alone came to light, rarely the ways in which they attained them. They spared no means in doing so. In a written apology, in which the character of the first Cosmo is passionately, or rather furiously, defended, we read, in praise of this father of his country, that he poisoned the Roman empe ror to save Italy from his inroads. Treachery and violence were familiar to the Medici, as to every other princely famUy of their time ; but that which distinguished them from others was the national, genuine Florentine manner in which they knew how to use them. They were more refined than the most refined in Florence, more pliable than the craftiest ; 28 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. they seized their foes with unerring accuracy, for they understood how, with masterly power, to lull them into the feeUng of security that led to their capture. Composure in moments of greatest difficulty was of more service to them than the valor which was never lacking. Linked with both, however, a marveUous success went hand in hand ; and that whicli cast a true halo round them was the direction of their mind to objects of higher culture, — their deUght in the beautiful, and the noble manner in which they befriended those who were the first in art and science. Their merits, and again their successes, — for fate richly favored their noble inclinations, — are, in this direction, so vast, that, as a lesson to the whole world, the genius of history has beautifully taken care that the Medici should stand alone as the protectors of art and science. The first Medici, whose fate was thoroughly mixed up with the destinies of the city, was Salvestro, Gonfalonier of Florence in the year 1370. The Gon falonier, the supreme magistrate, was one year in office. The title may be simply and generaUy trans lated as that of the ruling mayor ; in its derivation it signifies standard-bearer ; the Gonfalonier carried the banner of justice as an emblem of the highest authority which lay in his hands. Salvestro, who was a leader of the democratic party, plunged the citizens into one of the most dangerous revolutions. Without openly compromis ing himself, he stirred up the people until sedition broke out. In the midst of the commotion, he stood forth as a loyal man apart from aU the dispute, and THE MEDICI. 29 manifested in hia manoeuvres that spirit of cunning and energy, wliich, in subsequent times, made his family so victorious, when they possessed power and boldness to use it unscrupulously. The aim of the democratic party, at whose head the Medici placed themselves, was to oppose those families who had, from their common wealth, as sumed the position of the ruling minority within the pure constitution. The Medici did not occupy the rank among them which they wished to occupy. Their family was not one of the most distinguished or the most ancient. Instead, however, of forming a party among those aristocrats with whom they wished to be on an equality, by the help of which they would have perhaps brought the great families and the entire people into subjection, they made the cause of the people their own ; united with them, they annihUated the nobles, and entered upon their inheritance. Much as the course they had adopted, and the expedient they made use of, tended to make the final result appear but as the successful execution of cold ly planned intrigues, it required the greatest vigor to come off victorious. Moments of the greatest danger occurred, in which the Medici behaved with princely tact. The rise of these royal citizens con sisted of a train of political events, which became increasingly comprehensive. Truth, however, turned the scale at last, and generosity and magnanimity triumphed over secret, calculating cunning. The Medici prevaUed, not merely because they possessed the evil quaUties of their feUow-citizens in their 30 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. greatest vigor, but also because in them might be perceived, more strongly than in any others, the counterbalancing exceUences of the national Floren tine character. The evU is everywhere more plainly recognized, because, in single instances, it is conspic uously evident; whUe the good, regarded from a more general point of view, is dimly perceived, and, taken as a matter of course, is scarcely acknowledged as an advantage. For this reason, in Salvestro's case, there is less evident weight given to the fact, that the cause which he served was good and just in itself. We fancy we perceive, to too great an extent, that he only avaUed himself of it for personal ends. He came forth from the storms which he had stirred up, with the fame of a democrat whom the people loved ; at the same time he remained the man whom the nobles could not dispense with. He died in 1388. After his death, Veri dei Medici became the head of the famUy. The disputes among the higher and lower guUds for a share in the Government stiU continued. There was no end to the insurrections. They murdered; they stormed the palaces of the obnoxious nobles, they plundered and set fire to them. Executions, banishments, confiscations, or declarations of infamy, by which suspicious person ages were for a certain time withdrawn from the exercise of political rights, were the order of the day. Throughout the whole of Italy at this time, here was a war without principle, of aU against aU. Emperor and pope interfered, but, like the rest, only cared for lower advantages. Noble thoughts had faUen into oblivion. In intellectual and poUtical things, a THE MEDICI. 31 court of appeal was lackmg, where arbitration might be sought for. The impulse to subdue and to gather together material possessions was the sole motive for action. If we compare our own days, which are con demned by many as disordered and unsettled, with the occurrences of those times, the present condition of things seems an harmonious juncture, in which truth, worth, and forbearance wield the sceptre ; in which every ignoble passion has lost its venom, and even gold its charm. We often imagine that every thing in the present day is to be had for money. How little, however, do we appear to be able to effect with this instrument, if we consider those bygone passages of history! What prince in the present day could so traffic with all within his power, as was the case at that time ? The force of public opinion, which at the present day looks gloomily down on the actions of princes and peoples, did not exist. The cogent sense of political moraUty, which has been aroused in men's minds, was a thing of which then they had not even the remotest suspicion. The rule of Cosmo dei Medici coincides with that rise which Ufted Italy from its state of decay. Like islands of safety in the universal deluge, the ideas of the great minds of antiquity emerged ; in the general confusion, they fled to them. The influence of Greek phUosophy was animated afresh. The Medici participated most heartily in its revival. Nothing can be said of the art of that day, without the mention of their names. The advantages be- 32 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. stowed by nature on Florence and her citizens were perceived and increased by Cosmo ; and thus the city became the central point of Italy, which now surpassed in culture the other lands of Europe. 6. Four important artists appear in Florence at the beginning of the fifteenth century, — Ghiberti, Bru- nelleschi, Donatello, and Masaccio. Speaking figu ratively, we might say that they were four brothers, who shared their father's glorious inheritance, and each of whom extended the limits of his portion into a great kingdom. These four are the founders of a new art, which became, after many years, the basis of that which is peerless in its perfection. Ghiberti began as apprentice to a goldsmith. He worked at first in Giotto's manner. The transition to his own peculiarities is best seen on the doors of San Giovanni, which, even at the present day, except a few traces of destroyed gUding, stand pure and untouched in their place. The church has three open gates ; the fourth, towards the west, being waUed up. The southern was supplied, by Andrea Pisano, with brazen wings, for which Giotto made the designs. At the begin ning of the fifteenth century, the guild of merchants, to whom the church belonged, determined to have the eastern gate finished, and appointed a competi tion of the artists, who wished to set up their claims to the honor and the gain. Ghiberti was at that time twenty years old. He had left Florence, where the plague prevaUed, and GHIBERTI. 33 had painted the apartments of a palace in Rimini for Pandolfo Malatesta. He now returned to his native city. Six artists shared the contest with him; among them BruneUeschi, who, three years older than Ghiberti, disputed precedency with him for the first time as an adversary. The task was so arranged that the one completed door was to serve as a model. Each wing is here divided into a series of compartments, one above another, each compartment containing a figure in bas-relief. The production of each separate bronze compartment was required, and the period of a year was allowed for it. Thirty-four foreign and native masters were appointed as deciding committee. Ghiberti enjoyed the help of his father, with whom he had studied, and who assisted him in the casting of the bronzo. In this competition, it was not of so much moment to prove himself the worthiest master by some device full of genius ; but it was intended to test who, in whatever manner, was able to pro duce the most perfect piece of bronze casting. It depended on experience and a skilful management of the material. Ghiberti's work was considered faultlessly executed ; and the task was conferred upon him, on the 23d November, 1403. A number of other artists were assigned to him as fellow-work ers. How much was to be ready every year was accurately settled in the contract. The work lasted for twenty-one years. On the 19th April, 1424, both folding-doors were hung on their hinges. Ghiberti's fame now spread throughout Italy ; his services were claimed on all sides : but in Florence it was 2* o 34 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. resolved that the third door should be consigned to him also. He was no longer bound to any model : the single condition stood in the contract, that, so long as he was working at the door, he was to undertake no other commission without the consent of the guild of merchants ; otherwise, so far as concerned time and cost, all was left to his wUl. It was, however, expected from him, that, as he had vanquished all other masters in the door already completed, he would, in this new one, surpass himself. On the 16th June, 1452, this work also was conveyed to its place. In the first, his father had helped him ; this time, his son Vittorio could assist him in the gUding, which was done afterwards. Not long after, Lorenzo Ghiberti died : his whole life, amounting to seventy- four years, had been devoted to these two principal works. The second door surpassed the first in every re spect. The master followed freely, as he was bidden, his own creative genius. His work is tasteful in the highest sense ; the most sublime whicli artistic work manship could produce. The compositions of the different compartments are brought out in an effec tive manner, which, without such a thorough knowl edge and appropriation of all the advantages so scantily afforded by the material, would have been impossible. We might call this door the colossal work of a goldsmith ; we might, however, also say, that the separate compartments were pictures in relief, such as only the most skilful painter could devise. The door is a work in itself, which subse- The Creation of Adam, Sistine Chapel. Michael Angelo. GHIBERTI. 35 quent imitation has never been able to arrive at. The border enclosing the compartments — the real framework of the two folding-doors — is unusually rich in figure-ornament, in reclining and standing statuettes, which are executed with great freedom, and are placed in niches, with projecting heads and other ornaments, all exhibiting the same care. This door is the first important creation of Florentine art, the influence of which appears evident upon Michael Angelo. The creation of Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, the drunkenness of Noah, and the death of Goliath, in the same place, owe their primary idea to the smaU figures of Ghiberti's com positions. Michael Angelo transformed them into gigantic size. In some figures of the framework, we find attitudes which Michael Angelo made use of by predilection. Thus, the recumbent position, in which the raised bust is supported sideways on the bent arm, so that the shoulder is a little pushed up, is a conception of the human form which is almost stereotyped among Michael Angelo's imita tors. Michael Angelo said of these doors, that they were worthy to be the gates of Paradise. What gave Ghiberti the first step in a new direc tion was the study of the antique. A sense of the value which dwelt within the remains of ancient art had never been utterly extinguished in Italy. Tlie nation, however, lacked reverence and understand ing. Petrarch laments that the degenerated Romans carry on a disgraceful traffic with the ruins of their ancient greatness, and impoverish the city. About the year 1430, there were, in the whole of Rome, six 36 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. ancient statues deserving mention. Ghiberti has left behind records of art : he speaks of the discovery of ancient works in marble as of rare events. He describes a hermaphrodite, which he saw in Rome in 1440, where a sculptor, who had to execute the monument of a cardinal, and was seeking for suit able pieces of marble, discovered it eight feet under the ground ; a recumbent figure, wliich, placed with the smooth side of its pedestal over a common sewer, served as a coping-stone. In Padua, he saw a sec ond statue, which was discovered in Florence, when they were digging out the foundation of a house. The third was in Siena: of this, however, he had only seen a drawing, which Ambrosio Lorenzetti (a pupU of Giotto's) had made of it, and which had been shown to him in Siena by its possessor, an old Carthusian monk, who was a goldsmith. The latter had also told him how, at the discovery of the statue, aU the scholars, painters, sculptors, and goldsmiths of the city had met together, examined it, and had consulted where it should be erected. The fountain in the market-place had been at length selected for this purpose. The statue was a wonderfuUy beau tiful work, with a dolphin at the one foot on which it stood, and on its pedestal was the name Lysip- pus.* A short time after the erection of the statue, the war which Siena was carrying on against Florence took a bad turn. It must have been about the year 1390, when Siena was leagued with Visconti against the Florentines. The senate of the city deliberated * See Appendix, Note I. BRUNELLESCHI. 37 how this sudden misfortune could have beeu in curred, and arrived at the opinion, that, by the erection of this idol, which was contrary to all Chris tian faith, they had called down the wrath of heaven. The unfortunate work of Lysippus was thrown down and broken into a thousand fragments ; and these, that advantage might even be reaped from the evil, they conveyed secretly to the Florentine territory, and buried in the earth there. Ghiberti knew weU how to appreciate the excellences of ancient art. He said of a torso found in Florence, that it was executed with such great nicety that its delicate workmanship was not to be perceived by the eye alone, either by full or subdued Ught; it must be felt out by the tips of the fingers to be thoroughly discovered. If in this way he learned the secrets of the old masters, and labored to apply them to the advantage of sculpture, Brunelleschi with equal success endeav ored to bring the beauty of ancient architecture into honor. As the prize in the competition had not been awarded to him, he set out for Rome with Donatello, his younger friend. He, too, had begun as goldsmith, but had soon devoted himself to the study of architecture. Yet, as Ghiberti was an architect as well as a painter, so was BruneUeschi a painter, a sculptor, and a worker in bronze. All these studies formed a whole, which was caUed art ; just as inteUectual work in aU its branches formed a whole, which was called science. This universality of talent is to be found also in Giotto, who, in addi tion to aU, knew how to write poems. 38 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. In Rome the two friends began to survey the remains of ancient architecture. This interest in the ruins of their city was utterly incomprehensible to the Romans ; they imagined the young Floren tines were digging for gold and sUver in the walls of the temples and imperial palaces, and they caUed them the treasure-diggers. At that time, much was 6tiU standing which Ues in ruins at the present day, or has entirely disappeared. It was not tiU long after that period — more than fifty years later — that the Cardinal of San Marco destroyed the CoU- seum, to buUd the Venetian palace out of its stone. BruneUeschi acquired in Rome those views with which he subsequently completely overthrew the Gothic style. His knowledge of the ancient dome, which he acquired by the most accurate examina tion of the Pantheon, enabled him to arch the dome of the cathedral in Florence, after the model of which Michael Angelo subsequently raised that of Saint Peter. Thus the course of Florentine art converges iu him who was unparaUeled among the greatest. Returning to Florence, he was found from time to time among those artists whose help Ghiberti required for his great work. DonateUo also worked here with him. They went a second time to Rome, where they renewed their study of the ancients; and now Brunellesclii came forward weU versed in his project for Santa Maria del Fiore. Opposed to him again stood Ghiberti, who had fame on his side, and was accustomed to take the lead in matters of art. BRUNELLESCHT. 39 Tlie cathedral had long been completed ; its centre alone was open and roofless. No one knew how to close the immense opening. A competition was invited. The Florentine commercial houses in Ger many, Burgundy, France, and England, received orders to induce all masters of importance to set out for Florence. The assembly was opened in 1420. Various opinions were set forth. One proposed the erection of detached piUars to support the dome. Another wished to wall up the dome with pumice- stone, on account of its lightness. Another proposed one single mighty supporting pillar in the centre of the dome. The most extravagant proposal of all was to fill the entire church with earth, in order to obtain a temporary firm support for the dome. In order that this earth should be removed all the more rapidly on the completion of the building, smaU sUver pieces were to be mixed with it: all hands would then most readily carry it away. BruneUeschi's project was a free dome. He wished to construct it with the aid of a scaffolding only. The enormous costs of the others he reduced to a small sum. Yet the more he promised, the more incredible seemed his words. Nobody listened to him ; and he was already on the point of return ing to Rome, and leaving his ungrateful native city, when it dawned at last upon the minds of the people that there might be something in his reason ing. He had wished not to exhibit his model to the company of architects : he allowed it to be seen secretly by those only upon whose votes the decision rested. A new assembly was caUed ; there was 40 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. reiterated dispute, reiterated refusal to show the model : the victory, however, was at length Brunel- leschi's, and his superior inteUigence was evidenced by a comparison. He asked the assembly to place an egg on its point, and the history of Columbus' egg followed ; aU the architects combined not being able to place it upright, and BruneUeschi, years before Columbus was thought of, making it stand according to his method. But once he had obtained the building, the jeal ousy of Ghiberti was awakened. Yasari's account of this affair seems mythical ; but stiU, aU that he brings forward affords an insight into the life and doings of Florentine artists, and shows not only how art rose against art, but also cunning against cun ning. Ghiberti stood in the zenith of his fame. He succeeded at last in having the buUding of the dome assigned to him and BruneUeschi together. Brunel- leschi, furious and beside liimself at this trick, was again on the point of giving it aU up. Donatello, however, and Luca deUa Robbia — the latter Ukewise an exceUent sculptor — induced him, instead of tear ing up Iris drawings and throwing them into the fire as he would have done, to come rather to an un derstanding with the directors of the buUding; in short, he allowed himself to be pacified, and the work was begun. His model, however, which he had constructed on a larger scale in wood, he kept carefully shut up from Ghiberti, who had on his side also prepared a model, wliich he computed at an expense of three hundred lire, while Brunei] eschi only demanded fifty. For seven years they con- BRUNELLESCHI. 41 tinued to build jointly tiU they reached the critical point, where Ghiberti's power failed. It was the beginning of the dome itself. Every thing depended on bringing into practice the right principle, accord ing to which the stones were to be placed. Bru neUeschi now feigned to be Ul. Ghiberti, at first embarrassed and then helpless, could go no further alone, and was compeUed to withdraw. At first, he retained his three golden florins montlily, which both he and BruneUeschi received; to the latter afterwards the salary was raised to eight, while Ghi berti's share ceased entirely. Equally wisely did BruneUeschi know how to treat the workmen, who were not always accommodating. His position in the city was an important one. In 1423 he appeared in the Signiory. Numerous other tasks occupied him, as weU as the great building of the dome. Nor was Ghiberti less employed, and other masters also, whose names and works have, however, importance only for those who are able to study them on the spot. BruneUeschi died in 1446. As an architect, he was not exactly the originator of the new style which supplanted the Gothic ; but he was certainly the master, who, by his great power, stamped its supe riority as a fact. Nevertheless, he, like Ghiberti, was rather a workman on a grand scale ; for the days still lay in the far distance in which men ap peared who carried their own nature into their art, and evidenced it in their works. This observation especially applies to painters, who soonest attained to this freedom. 42 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. The works of different masters are for the most part existing in abundance. We are able to distin guish their peculiarities, perhaps even their dispo sitions. One imitates here, another there ; one is a degree more tender, another coarser. It is a delight to look with a practised eye on the series of coUec- tions, and the paintings in churches, palaces, and public buildings, and to recognize, or on examina tion to ascertain, the different masters. A great number of historical evidences, the completion of wliich is still unremittingly carried on, of letters, contracts, and testaments, confirm or correct the aesthetic judgment, and invest with higher value the works of art, which by this means are brought, even historicaUy, into connection; yet, in spite of this, Florentine art, up to the middle of the fifteenth century, would have been in the highest sense Uttle worthy consideration, had no masters subsequently appeared to develop it into ultimate perfection. Even Masaccio's works — who, with Ghiberti and BruneUeschi, is reckoned the third great reviver of art — scarcely approach the higher stage of art, but keep ever within the limits of the noblest workman ship. These men worked for definite ends in a superior manner ; but in their productions there is that lacking which must belong to a work of art, before we can call its master a genius, and his man ner of working a style. Every work of a great artist must, in its perfect completion, open the mind, as it were, to perceive a still greater work, which hovers invisibly above it, and fiUs us, while we know not whence it comes, with that ever unsatisfied curi- DONATELLO. 43 osity, wliich, after fancying it has exhausted aU, feels, at the very moment we turn away, that it has only seen the smallest part. DonateUo appears to us a man who attempted to produce such works. He was not at peace with himself. He had no desire that his work should surpass aU others ; but he aspired after the expression of an idea, to pursue which seemed to him more than to exhibit technical perfection. That cheerful satisfaction in the exercise of higher skiU, which appears in Ghiberti's works, is lacking in Ms. For the most part, there is something unfinished and coarse in them ; but they are Ufe-Uke, and it is the spirit of their master which has breathed this life into them. To DonateUo, also, Ghiberti was a powerful rival, though they both took different paths. Whilst Ghi berti knew how to give a certain grace to his figures, and agreeable elegance to his ornaments, and, by equally finishing aU detail, aimed at working the separate parts into the most favorable complete effect, DonateUo gave himself vigorously to the re gardless imitation of nature as she appeared in his eyes. Respecting this endeavor, Vagari again brings forward one of those Uttle stories, — the authentici ty of which rests on a feeble foundation, — which, however, appears important and genuine in itself, characteristic as it is of the nature of the artist. In the early period of his work, he is said to have once asked BruneUeschi for a sincere opinion re specting a crucifix he had executed. " What you 44 LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO. have there done," said the other, " is no Christ, but a peasant nailed to the cross." — "To find fault is easier than to do better," answered DonateUo. BruneUeschi put up with it quietly, and secretly executed a crucifix for himself, which he one morn ing took with him into the atelier. DonateUo came straight from the market, bringing with him in his apron their mutual breakfast, — fruit, cheese, eggs, etc. BruneUeschi held out the crucifix ; and Dona teUo was so startled at the sight, that, raising his hands in astonishment, he let every thing which was in the apron faU on the ground. " How are we now to breakfast ? " cried BruneUeschi. " Pick up what you like," answered Donatello ; " I for my part have had my breakfast for to-day. I see truly that you are made for Christs, and my art is fit for nothing more than peasants." Vasari relates the anecdote twice at different places, and not quite in accord ance. BruneUeschi was not wrong. A touch of coarse reality marks the figures of his friend, not even the most dehcate excepted. What a man is the St. George in the niche of the Church of Or San Michele ! He stands there in complete armor, stur dily, with his legs somewhat striding apart, resting on both with equal weight, as U he meant to stand so that no power should move him from Ms post. Straight before him he holds up his high sMeld ; both hands touch its edge, partly for tlie sake of holding it, partly m order to rest on it ; the eyes and brow arc full of expectant boldness. Ghiberti, too, has furnished the niches of the outer walls of Or San Statue of Saint George, Church of Or San Michele. Donatello. S£S ¦ "&?m~i B<%'." 1 ? Pffi WFfy fit "Jkj m il w_ r II ^w Bk 1 1 'B • m^V KSk if' I . 1 '¦ V jw 9i tl ^¦^^5*^^. IV K . I ¦ ^i|r -^B ; 1 I -— ~ jI^HHrP^ w* ¦ m E fir HB^ t / '< 1 ft: 1 .1 ii^-Il ^ i J ^i ^ 1 1 If Y ! r 1 Mr-- . 1 I , ''"*TK*i ./ *^ 1 •, i , ;- . 1 • jl i,} 1 ¦ ¦f i¥* ;^' HI H fl i i , £ '.g* ' i il - '§¦' 1 ' il'' >l | '1 , j 1 1 A£ . ' 4 . |H I ¦* H~. - £fl K^ ,!¦ Jfij R ftwr^V' ,vi- I } A 1< E ;.- J&riM^i j Jj^^^^ ^3n H "'ilB^ il' 'Id 1= ^i f ~..-- «MJBteg-«g