Michelangelo modelled a very beautiful Christ for this humble friend, from which Menighella made a cast, and repeated it in papier-mache, selling these crucifixes through the country-side.  What would not the world give for one of them, even though Michelangelo is said to have burst his sides with laughing at the man’s stupidity!  Another familiar of the same sort was a certain stone-cutter called Domenico Fancelli, and nicknamed Topolino.  From a letter addressed to him by Buonarroti in 1523 it appears that he was regarded as a “very dear friend.”  According to Vasari, Topolino thought himself an able sculptor, but was in reality extremely feeble.  He blocked out a marble Mercury, and begged the great master to pronounce a candid opinion on its merits.  “You are a madman, Topolino,” replied Michelangelo, “to attempt this art of statuary.  Do you not see that your Mercury is too short by more than a third of a cubit from the knees to the feet?  You have made him a dwarf, and spoiled the whole figure.”  “Oh, that is nothing!  If there is no other fault, I can easily put that to rights.  Leave the matter to me.”  Michelangelo laughed at the man’s simplicity, and went upon his way.  Then Topolino took a piece of marble, and cut off the legs of his Mercury below the knees.  Next he fashioned a pair of buskins of the right height, and joined these on to the truncated limbs in such wise that the tops of the boots concealed the lines of juncture.  When Buonarroti saw the finished statue, he remarked that fools were gifted with the instinct for rectifying errors by expedients which a wise man would not have hit upon.

Another of Michelangelo’s buffoon friends was a Florentine celebrity, Piloto, the goldsmith.  We know that he took this man with him when he went to Venice in 1530; but Vasari tells no characteristic stories concerning their friendship.  It may be remarked that Il Lasca describes Piloto as a “most entertaining and facetious fellow,” assigning him the principal part in one of his indecent novels.  The painter Giuliano Bugiardini ought to be added to the same list.  Messer Ottaviano de’ Medici begged him to make a portrait of Michelangelo, who gave him a sitting without hesitation, being extremely partial to the man’s company.  At the end of two hours Giuliano exclaimed:  “Michelangelo, if you want to see yourself, stand up; I have caught the likeness.”  Michelangelo did as he was bidden, and when he had examined the portrait, he laughed and said:  “What the devil have you been about?  You have painted me with one of my eyes up in the temple.”  Giuliano stood some time comparing the drawing with his model’s face, and then remarked:  “I do not think so; but take your seat again, and I shall be able to judge better when I have you in the proper pose.”  Michelangelo, who knew well where the fault lay, and how little judgment belonged to his friend Bugiardini, resumed his seat, grinning.  After some time of careful contemplation, Giuliano rose to his feet and cried:  “It seems to me that I have drawn it right, and that the life compels me to do so.”  “So then,” replied Buonarroti, “the defect is nature’s, and see you spare neither the brush nor art.”