When Michelangelo had finished the Piet� he went back home to Florence. There had been a change of government there�his original patrons the Medici had been driven out and a republic had been brought back, a peculiar republic with a council of rich merchants and bankers, and a president or boss called a Gonfalonier who was appointed for life. Michelangelo had few contacts in this new government and he had to go out scrounging, just as he had done in Rome.
The Botched Block
Years before, he had heard about a big block of marble eighteen feet high that was sitting around in the yard of the Office of Works, a warehouse that belonged to the Wool Guild. Now he went to the city palace to ask what had become of it and was told that Piero Soderini, the Gonfalonier, had told somebody he was going to give it to a sculptor called Sansovino. Another official said he had heard it was meant for Leonardo da Vinci. In any case, the best thing would be for Michelangelo to forget about it because it was worthless.
�You must have heard the story,� said the official. �A fellow called Simone da Fiesole started to carve a statue years ago and began, the fool, by drilling a big hole right through the block. That pretty much ruined it, though if it had been a clean hole maybe something could still be done; but then da Fiesole went and chipped half the stone away from front and back of the hole too. A dozen sculptors have gone to look at it and they all come back here either angry or nearly crying. It was a beautiful block too, without any flaws. That da Fiesole ought to be hanged.�
Michelangelo knew the story and he had often wondered just how bad the botch was and whether he couldn�t cut a figure out of that block, hole and all. That a dozen other sculptors hadn�t been able to do that didn�t mean a thing to him. �Can I at least go and see it?� he asked.
In the yard of the Office of Works Michelangelo spent a long time at the stone. He walked around it, took measurements, stood in front of it in thought. �Now you see for yourself why everyone else rejected the darn thing,� said the old caretaker with all the keys; but he got no answer from Michelangelo.
As soon as he was home Michelangelo started drawing and making a little wax model of a David, which had been da Fiesole�s subject. When he was sure he could carve his figure out of the botched block, he asked the Gonfalonier to give it to him.
Piero Soderini has to be given above average points as an art patron because one, he allowed Michelangelo to have the stone which became the great David; and two, he ordered a smaller David from the master, as well as a few other things. He also allocated to Michelangelo a part of the wall of the Council Chamber in the city palace to paint with frescos. Michelangelo never did paint it but he produced the famous Battle of Cascina cartoon that amazed everyone at the time.
But for what reason was Soderini finally persuaded to give Michelangelo the block in the Office of Works? Because, says Vasari, he and the wardens considered it �something of little value�; and told themselves that since the stone was of no use to them for any of their building projects, whatever Michelangelo made of it would be worthwhile. This was not sticking his neck out very far.
There�s another story in the Vasari about Soderini�dared to be told only because the Medicis were back in Florence when Vasari wrote and Soderini was out of power. He had had to flee when they came blasting into the city with the help of a Spanish army. It is a story any artist will tell you about one or more of his patrons or customers: that they don�t understand what they pretend to; that they praise a work only to show their intelligence and sensitivity; but they don�t know good from bad. Believable? Sure�why not.
Big Nose
When Michelangelo was finishing the David, along came the Gonfalonier to have a look. Michelangelo had put a tarp around the scaffolding so no one could watch him work. He didn�t like gawkers and he didn�t like intruders, not even patron intruders. So when he saw that canvas flap open and the Gonfalonier come in, though he had to smile, he must have cursed to himself. Piero Soderini put on the show of the art connoisseur, walking around under the huge figure. �It�s coming along wonderfully,� said Piero Soderini. �But do you know what? The nose is too thick.�
Criticism like that must have made the irascible Master�s blood boil. He knew that from where Soderini was standing it was impossible to judge whether the nose or anything else was right. �Well, we�ll fix that right now,� he said; and quickly grabbing a hammer and chisel, climbed up the scaffold like a monkey. Clink, clink�Soderini heard the hammer against the chisel and saw marble dust fall. Clink some more. �How�s that?� Michelangelo called down from the scaffold. Of course he hadn�t touched the figure at all but only pretended to be altering the nose.
�Oh, that�s much better!� exclaimed the Gonfalonier. �Now you�ve really put life into it.�
Vasari says Michelangelo �climbed down, feeling sorry for those critics who talk nonsense in the hope of appearing well-informed.�
But Soderini was no more of a hypocrite than most; and it�s possible that he was no hypocrite at all when he criticized the nose. It looked too big to him and he said so. Perhaps after Michelangelo had done the hammering, it still looked too big but out of politeness (there are all kinds of hypocrisy) or simple deference towards the man who was supposed to be his superior in this art, he acquiesced. Culture profits from hypocrisy�art needs it very badly, since there are always so few who understand what it is about. In the Italian Renaissance there was an unusually large number of men and women�a mysteriously large number�with high artistic acumen; but at any time those constitute a mere fraction of the people engaged in the art world. Your hypocrite, though he hides his real intentions, really does promote the good by paying it lip service and pretending to do it. The philosopher Immanuel Kant thought of this �disingenuousness� we all practice as a necessary part of our civilization, a kind of school of the good. While we are not perceptive or wise enough to see through the falsity�and even when we have discovered it�it keeps before us the model of good conduct and right thinking. Of course in our time, when it is impossible to get a consensus on even the most basic principles of aesthetics, this hypocrisy has become more oppressive than ever before�and is likely to make fools of us all. But that is another question.
Back-biting
Piero Soderini might actually be seen to come off better than our hero Michelangelo in this story, who �felt sorry� for the Gonfalonier but didn�t say so: he wasn�t that dumb (wink, wink). Why didn�t he explain outright to the man that there at the foot of the scaffolding it was impossible to criticise a colossal figure like the David properly, that it had to be viewed from a distance, and that later when the figure was finished he, Soderini, would see that the nose was right? Michelangelo might have tried. Instead, he instantly conceived and carried out the cheating act to make a fool of him. Maybe Soderini�s airs were hard to take; maybe he deserved it. However it was, Michelangelo was �smart� enough to keep the story to himself while he took two more commissions from the Gonfalonier, who, by the way, paid him good money for the David when it was done and ordered it to be set up in the most prominent place of Florence. Later, after Soderini had fled to Rome and was no threat to anyone, the Master confided the mean story to Vasari and Condivi. As long as the Gonfalonier was handing out big marble blocks and awarding commissions, Michelangelo kept smiling and showing respect. Funny. Wasn�t our Michelangelo the man who didn�t let himself get kicked around; who spoke his mind frankly? Sometimes, depending. This Gonfalonier story is plain back-biting.
It�s a shame that in showing his thankfulness to Michelangelo for taking into account his opinion about David�s nose, the Gonfalonier should have slipped by adding that silly remark about putting life into the work. That is one of the standard remarks everyone carries around for similar occasions and it was the first that he drew out of his pocket, so to say, though it didn�t fit really. He probably realized this as soon as he heard it come out of his mouth, and squirmed a bit.
Comments like that, awarded like that, show the gulf between those who don�t take art seriously and those who do. This �putting life into� the nose (!) probably irritated Michelangelo more than the affront about the size of it. More than anyone, he knew exactly what it meant to put life into a work; he tried harder than anyone to do just that. You might say it was his main object. All the dynamism, all the twisting, all the tension over every inch of his figures were intended to make them come alive. To achieve that �effect� he was willing to work day and night without resting, without eating, without caring about anything else in the world. He was willing to live for that one goal alone�to die for it, in fact. Those who are not receptive to the power of art and who therefore equate it with some mere manual busywork and praise it with the same formulas, cannot even suspect the importance it has for those who love it, much less for those who have become its servants. The vision of beauty which shines before the artist as he works fills him entirely. Time stops while he pursues it and pursuing it becomes the only thing that matters.
So one shouldn�t be too hard on Piero Soderini. He behaved the same as all of us when we feel obliged to make a judgment about something we don�t know and don�t care about. He must, in spite of all, be considered a great patron of the arts because he recognized Michelangelo�s superiority over the other artists of the city and gave him the chance to create great works; and he showed public appreciation for them. Later, as we will see, he even protected Michelangelo against an angry pope at some risk to himself.