HE name of Michel Angelo has been written differently by different authors. Angelo is made Agnolo by the Tuscans, Angiolo by the Bolognese, and Anziolo by the Venetians. The Roman form Angelo is authorised by the academy della Crusca. Buonarroti he himself wrote four different ways.

Michel Angelo was descended from the famous countess Matilda, and had imperial blood in his veins; it could not, therefore, have been from that side that he derived his love of liberty, his genius and his virtue. His father was podesta, or governor of Chiusi, in old times the capital of Porsenna, and of Caprere, where Michel was born, on the 6th of March, 1474, under a benign aspect, when Mercury and Venus, according to Condivi, were in conjunction with Jupiter for the second time, plainly shewing that the child would be a very extraordinary genius, whose success would be universal, but particularly in the arts of painting, sculpture, and architecture. But as his nurse was both daughter and wife of a stonemason, the chisel was his plaything, and his nursing had more to do than his nativity in making him a sculp. tor. His father wished to educate

thinking that if he became an artist,. according to his own early discovered propensity, it would degrade the dignity of his family; this propen. sity, however, he was resolute in pursuing, and the father, at length wisely yielding to it, articled him, when he was fourteen, to Domenico Ghirlandaio and his brother David, for three years; they were to teach him the art and practice of painting, and to allow him six florins for the first, eight for the second, and ten for the third year. Domenico had a numerous school, and was the most eminent painter in Florence.

"Granacci was his constant friend and companion: they studied together, and probably helped each other in their pursuits. The first attempt Michel Angelo made in oil painting, was with his assistance: he lent him colours and pencils, and a print*, representing the story of St. Anthony beaten by devils, which he copied on a pannel with such success that it was much admired. In this little picture, besides the figure of the saint, there were many strange forms and monsters, which he was so intent on representing in the best manner he was capable, that he coloured no part without refer. ring to some natural object. He went to the fish-market to observe the form and colour of fins, and the

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eyes of fish; and whatever in nature constituted a part of his composition, he studied from its source. About this time he made a fac-simile of a picture, which his biographers have recorded to shew his skill in imitation. A head had been given him to copy, and he imitated it so well, that, to try his success, he returned his own copy instead of the original picture, to the person from whom it was borrowed, and the deceit was not immediately perceived, but having told one of his associates, who began to laugh, it was discovered. To add to the deception, he smoaked his copy, so as to make it appear of the same age as the original.

"Whatever might be the benefit of the instruction he derived from others, he rapidly surpassed his contemporary students, and adopted a style of drawing and design, more bold and daring than Ghirlandaio had been accustomed to see practised in his school; and, from an anecdote Vasari tells, it would seem Michel Angelo soon felt himself even superior to his master. One of the pupils copying a female portrait from a drawing by Ghirlandaio, he took a pen, and made a strong outline round it on the same paper, to show him its defects; and the superior style of the contour was as much admired as the act was considered confident and presumptuous*. His great facility in copying with accuracy whatever objects were before him, was exemplified in an instance that forced a compliment even from Ghirlandaïo

himself. His master being employed in S. Maria Novella, in Florence, Michel Angelo, taking advantage of his absence, drew the scaffolding, the desks, the painting utensils and apparatus, and some of the young men who were at work, with so much correctness and ability, says Vasari, that Ghirlandaio, when he returned, was quite astonished, and said it was rather the performance of an experienced artist than of a scholar."

But Ghirlandaio was envious of his pupil's talents, and when any work of his was praised, would insinuate that he himself had touched it. At this time Lorenzo de Medici had opened a garden at Florence, well supplied with antique statues, &c. as a school for sculpture. He desired Ghirlandaïo to let any of his scholars study there, who were de sirous of drawing from the antique. Michel Angelo, and his friend Gra nacci, availed themselves of this in. dulgence, and the Medici Garden became their favourite school. Emu. lation induced him to begin modelling in clay, and Lorenzo, who ob served his progress, encouraged him.

"He was, not long after, desirous to try his skill in marble, and being particularly interested with a mutilated old head, or rather a mask representing a laughing Faun, he chose it for his original. At that time there were many persons employed in the garden, making orna. ments for a library which Lorenzo was decorating from one of these workmen he begged a piece of mar

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ble sufficiently large for his purpose, and was also accommodated with chisels and whatever else was necessary to execute his undertaking. Although this was his first essay in sculpture, he in a few days brought his task to a conclusion; with his own invention supplied what was imperfect in the original, and made some other additions. Lorenzo visiting his garden as usual, found Michel Angelo polishing his mask, and thought it an extraordinary work for so young an artist; nevertheless, he jestingly remarked, You have restored to the old Faun all his teeth, but don't you know that a man of such an age has generally some wanting?" Upon this observation Michel Angelo was impatient for Lorenzo's absence, that he might be alone to avail himself of his criticism; and immediately, on his reti ring, broke a tooth from the upper jaw, and drilled a hole in the gum to represent its having fallen out.

"When Lorenzo made his next visit, he immediately saw the alter tion, and was delighted with the aptness and simplicity of his scholar; he laughed exceedingly, and related the incident to his friends as an instance of docility and quick. ness of parts."*

This circumstance made Lorenzo resolve to take him under his own immediate patronage, and accordingly he sent for the father. The father was greatly averse to this new degradation, as he supposed it; to be a painter was bad for a Buonarroti, to be a stone-mason still worse; and he lamented that Granacci had led his son astray, for it was from him that Michel Angelo

had first learnt his love for the arts. When, however, upon waiting on Lorenzo, he found that Michel was to live in the palace, and sit at the table of Lorenzo, he became soon sensible of the importance of the art which he had despised. Accordingly the young artist left Ghirlandaïo, to reside with Lorenzo, and for his sake, an office in the custom-house was given to his father, till something better should present itself.

Here he enjoyed every advantage that the best models, the best patronage, and the best society could afford. Unfortunately, after two

years, Lorenzo died. His son and successor Piero, considered the arts, says Mr. Duppa, without any reference to genius or to intellect, and encouraged them only to administer to his idle pleasures. Under the patronage of this man, Michel Angelo was called upon to make a statue of snow! Piero considered him with as much esteem as he had feeling to bestow," and the measure of this may be pretty well estimated from the boast he made, that he had two extraordinary men in his house, Michel Angelo, and a running footman who could keep up with a horseman when going full speed.

"In the house of Piero was a man of Cardiere, an improvisatorè of great ability, who, in the time of Lorenzo, sung improviso to the lyre in the evenings while he was at supper. Being a friend of Michel Angelo, he told him of a vision that disturbed his mind: Lorenzo de' Medici, he said, had appeared to him in a dream, with his body wrapped

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wrapped in a black tattered robe, and commanded him to tell his son, that shortly he would be driven from his house never again to return. Michel Angelo exhorted Cardiere to obey; but from his knowledge of Piero's disposition he was afraid, and kept it to himself. Another morning Michel Angelo being in the cortile of the palace, observed Cardiere terrified and sorrowful: he then told him Lorenzo had again appeared to him that night in the same habit as before, and suddenly awoke him by a slap in the face, demanding the reason why he had not told Piero what he had before seen. Michel Angelo then reproved him for not having made the communication, and said so much that he took courage, and, with that view, set out on foot for Ca. reggi, a villa belonging to the Medici family, about three miles from Florence; but before he was quite half way, he met Piero returning. He stopped him, and related what he had seen and heard. Piero laughed, and telling his attendants Cardiere's story, they made a thousand jokes at his expence; and his chancellor, who was afterward cardinal di Bibbiena, said to him, You are out of your mind. Whom do you think Lorenzo wills best, his son or you? If his son, would he not rather have appeared to him than to any other person, if it had been necessary to appear at all?' Cardiere, having thus discharged what he considered his duty, return ed home, and so feelingly deplored the consequences, that Michel Angelo became persuaded the prediction would take place, and in a few days, with two companions, left Florence, and went to Bologna.”

If there had been no other sign of coming calamity than Cardiere's dream, it is not very likely that Michel Angelo would have retir d from Florence in consequence of it. But the signs of the times jusuced his retreat. He remained som thing more than a year at Bologna, during which time the Medici were expelled, and then, when the m of Florence were tranquillized, returned to his father's house. At this time that passionate admiration of the remains of antiquity, was beginning to shew itself, which admires things because they are antique, and refuses all approbation to productions of equal or greater merit, if they are produced by a contemporary. Michel Angelo had produced the statue of a sleeping Cupid; it was sent to a proper person in Rome, who buried it in his vineyard, then dug it up, and reported the discovery. This man however carried the trick too far: he sold it to cardinal St. Giorgio, for two hundred ducats, like a rgue, and remitted thirty to the sculptor as the price of his statue. Te truth was soon discovered, and the money recovered from the sel ler; but Michel Angelo's merit was acknowledged, and he was invited to Rome, as the proper theatre for talents such as his. At Rome he met with some encouragement; it happened, however, that Soderini was now chosen Gonfaloniere of Florence, and he returned to his native city under the patronage of this good man, who loved the arts as well as Lorenzo had done, but with better motives, for he loved liberty also. For him he executed his colossal statue of David, and made that famous cartoon, which

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the Medici, when they finally subverted the liberties of their country, suffered to be mutilated and destroyed.

From Florence he was invited back to Rome by Julius II. on his accession to the papal seat. That pope, who patronized the arts better than his successor, because he understood them better, gave Michel Angelo an unlimited commission to make him a mausoleum.

"Having received full powers, Michel Angelo commenced a design worthy of himself and his patroa. The plan was a parallellogram, and the superstructure to consist of forty statues, many of which were to be colossal, interspersed with ornamental figures and bronze basso-relievos, besides the necessary architecture with appropriate decorations, to unite the composition in one stupendous whole.

"When this magnificent design

was

completed, it met with the pope's entire approbation, and Mi1chel Angelo was desired to go into St. Peter's to see where it could be conveniently placed. At the west end of the church, Nicolas V. had, half a century before, begún a new tribune, but the plan had not been continued by his successors; this situation Michel Angelo thought the most appropriate, and recommended it to the consideration of his holiness. He inquired what expence would be necessary to com

plete it; to which Michel Angelo answered, a hundred thousand crowns.' It may be twice that sum,' replied the pope; and immediately gave orders to Giuliano da Sangallo to consider of the best means to execute the work.

"Sangallo, impressed with the importance and grandeur of Michel Angelo's design, suggested to the pope that such a monument ought to have a chapel built on purpose for it, where situation and light and shadow might be so attended to, as to display every part to advantage; at the same time remarking, that St. Peter's was an old church, not at all adapted for so superb a mausoleum, and any alteration would only serve to destroy the character of the building. The pope listened to these observations, and to avail himself of them to their fullest extent, ordered several architects to make drawings for that purpose; but in considering and reconsidering the subject, he passed from one improvement to another, till he, at length determined to rebuild St. Peter's itself; and this is the origin of that edifice which took a hundred and fifty years to complete, and is now the grandest display of architectural splendour that orna ments the Christian world.”

The prosecution of this work was suspended by Michel Angelo's resentment at being refused admit. tance to the pope with marked and meant