The Life of Michelangelo Buonarroti | Page 9

proclivities
by violent dramatic suggestions, and in loaded, overcomplicated
composition. Thus, in this highly interesting essay, the horoscope of the
mightiest Florentine artist was already cast. Nature leads him, and he
follows Nature as his own star bids. But that star is double, blending
classic influence with Tuscan instinct. The roof of the Sistine was

destined to exhibit to an awe-struck world what wealths of originality
lay in the artist thus gifted, and thus swayed by rival forces. For the
present, it may be enough to remark that, in the geometrical proportions
of this bas-relief, which is too high for its length, Michelangelo
revealed imperfect feeling for antique principles; while, in the grouping
of the figures, which is more pictorial than sculpturesque, he already
betrayed, what remained with him a defect through life, a certain want
of organic or symmetrical design in compositions which are not rigidly
subordinated to architectural framework or limited to the sphere of an
intaglio.
Vasari mentions another bas-relief in marble as belonging to this period,
which, from its style, we may, I think, believe to have been designed
earlier than the Centaurs. It is a seated Madonna with the Infant Jesus,
conceived in the manner of Donatello, but without that master's force
and power over the lines of drapery. Except for the interest attaching to
it as an early work of Michelangelo, this piece would not attract much
attention. Vasari praises it for grace and composition above the scope
of Donatello; and certainly we may trace here the first germ of that
sweet and winning majesty which Buonarroti was destined to develop
in his Pietà of S. Peter, the Madonna at Bruges, and the even more
glorious Madonna of S. Lorenzo. It is also interesting for the realistic
introduction of a Tuscan cottage staircase into the background. This
bas-relief was presented to Cosimo de' Medici, first Grand Duke of
Tuscany, by Michelangelo's nephew Lionardo. It afterwards came back
into the possession of the Buonarroti family, and forms at present an
ornament of their house at Florence.
VII
We are accustomed to think of Michelangelo as a self-withdrawn and
solitary worker, living for his art, avoiding the conflict of society,
immersed in sublime imaginings. On the whole, this is a correct
conception of the man. Many passages of his biography will show how
little he actively shared the passions and contentions of the stirring
times through which he moved. Yet his temperament exposed him to
sudden outbursts of scorn and anger, which brought him now and then

into violent collision with his neighbours. An incident of this sort
happened while he was studying under the patronage of Lorenzo de'
Medici, and its consequences marked him physically for life. The
young artists whom the Magnificent gathered round him used to
practise drawing in the Brancacci Chapel of the Carmine. There
Masaccio and his followers bequeathed to us noble examples of the
grand style upon the frescoed panels of the chapel walls. It was the
custom of industrious lads to make transcripts from those broad designs,
some of which Raphael deigned in his latest years to repeat, with
altered manner, for the Stanze of the Vatican and the Cartoons.
Michelangelo went one day into the Carmine with Piero Torrigiano and
other comrades. What ensued may best be reported in the narration
which Torrigiano at a later time made to Benvenuto Cellini.
"This Buonarroti and I used, when we were boys, to go into the Church
of the Carmine to learn drawing from the chapel of Masaccio. It was
Buonarroti's habit to banter all who were drawing there; and one day,
when he was annoying me, I got more angry than usual, and, clenching
my fist, I gave him such a blow on the nose that I felt bone and
cartilage go down like biscuit beneath my knuckles; and this mark of
mine he will carry with him to the grave." The portraits of
Michelangelo prove that Torrigiano's boast was not a vain one. They
show a nose broken in the bridge. But Torrigiano, for this act of
violence, came to be regarded by the youth of Florence with aversion,
as one who had laid sacrilegious hands upon the sacred ark. Cellini
himself would have wiped out the insult with blood. Still Cellini knew
that personal violence was not in the line of Michelangelo's character;
for Michelangelo, according to his friend and best biographer, Condivi,
was by nature, "as is usual with men of sedentary and contemplative
habits, rather timorous than otherwise, except when he is roused by
righteous anger to resent unjust injuries or wrongs done to himself or
others, in which case he plucks up more spirit than those who are
esteemed brave; but, for the rest, he is most patient and enduring."
Cellini, then, knowing the quality of