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Updated: May 10, 2025
As we were entering Senhores, M. Angelo and M. Lactancio were coming out by way of the garden or court, in order to take their siesta under the trees by the running water. "Oh! welcome," said Senhor Lactancio, "both of you; you could not arrive at a better moment; you have been very wise to fly from the confusion in the city and take shelter in this quiet haven."
"I am satisfied," answered Lactancio, "and understand better the great power of painting, which, as you stated, is seen in all things of the ancients and even in writing and composing.
As the Marchioness, almost weeping, made a pause here, M. Lactancio, in order to draw her out of her sorrowful imagination and memories, said: "Besides all these things, which are great, what is there that more ennobles or makes other things more beautiful than painting, whether on arms, in temples, in palaces, or fortresses, or anywhere else where beauty and order may have a place?
On the following day M. Lactancio sent me word that we could not meet as we had arranged, owing to certain business matters which had cropped up both for the Lady Marchioness and likewise for Michael Angelo himself, but he asked me to be at St. Silvester’s in eight days’ time, as that day had been agreed upon.
Having commanded me to sit down, the lecture and its praises over, the Marchioness looking at me and at M. Lactancio, if I remember rightly, said: "Francisco d’Ollanda will be better pleased to hear M. Angelo talk about painting, than Brother Ambrosio expound this lesson." Then I, almost angry, answered her: Why, madam, does it appear to your Excellency that I can attend to nothing but painting?
As I was whispering something about the discretion of the Marchioness in everything, in the ear of Lactancio, she desired to know what it was about. "He was telling me," said Lactancio, "how well your Excellency knows how to preserve decorum in everything, even in a message.
I am speaking of true painters." "But I say, Senhor Lactancio," said Michael, assisting M. Francisco, "that the painter of whom he speaks not only will be instructed in liberal arts and other sciences such as architecture and sculpture, which are his own province, but also in all other manual crafts which are practised throughout the world; should he wish, he will do them with more art than the actual masters of them.
The Marchioness rose to receive him, and remained standing awhile before causing him to take a seat between her and M. Lactancio.
Then I ordered my servant to go without fail to St. Silvester and learn whether perchance the Marchioness or Senhor M. Angelo happened to be there. The servant was not long in returning, telling me that Senhor M. Angelo and Senhor Lactancio and Brother Ambrose were all together in the friar’s cell, which was itself in St. Silvester, but that no mention whatever had been made of the Marchioness.
At this point I said: "Senhor Lactancio, in calling painting dumb poetry it seems to me that the poets did not know how to paint well, because, if they understood how much more painting declares and speaks than poetry, her sister, they would not say it was dumb, and I will maintain rather that poetry is the more dumb."
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