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MICHEL ANGELO

(1475-1564)

HE most famous of Florentine artists, whose literary fame rests on his sonnets and his letters, was born in Caprese, Italy, March 6th, 1475. His father was Ludovico Buonarotti, a poor gentleman of Florence, who loved to boast that he had never added to his impoverished estates by mercantile pursuits. The story of Michel Angelo's career as painter, sculptor, and architect, belongs to the history of art. Under the patronage of Lorenzo de' Medici, Angelo Doni, Pope Julius II., and Pope Paul III., his genius flowered. In the decoration of the Sistine Chapel he seems to have put forth his greatest energy both as poet and as painter. He described the discomforts of working on this ceiling in a humorous sonnet addressed to Giovanni da Pistoja; on the margin of which he drew a little caricature of himself, lying upon his back and using his brush. For a long time after these paintings were completed, he could read only by holding the page above his head and raising his eyes. His impaired sight occasioned a medical treatise on the eyes, which is preserved in the MSS. of the Vatican. The twelve years between 1522 and 1534 he spent in Florence, occupied with sculpture and architecture, under the capricious patronage of the Medici family.

His fine allegory of Night, sculptured upon the Medici tomb, was celebrated in verse by the poets of the day. To Strozzi this quatrain is attributed:

"La Notte, che tu vedi in si dolci atti,

Dormire, fu da un angelo scolpita

In questo sasso: e perche dorme, ha vita;
Destala, se no'l credi, e parleratti.»

[This Night, which you see sleeping in such sweet abandon, was sculptured by an angel. She is living, although she sleeps in marble. If you doubt, wake her: she then will speak.]

Michel Angelo replied thus:

"Grato mi e il sonno, e piu d'esser di sasso;

Mentre che il danno e la vergogna dura,
Non veder, non sentir m'e gran ventura;
Pero non mi destar; deh! parla basso."

[It is sweet to sleep, sweeter to be of marble. While evil and shame live, it is my happiness to hear nothing and to feel nothing. Ah! speak softly, and wake me not.]

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