CHAPTER IX

I

It lies outside the scope of this work to describe the series of

events which led up to the sack of Rome in 1527. Clement, by his

tortuous policy, and by the avarice of his administration, had

alienated every friend and exasperated all his foes. The Eternal City

was in a state of chronic discontent and anarchy. The Colonna princes

drove the Pope to take refuge in the Castle of S. Angelo; and when the

Lutheran rabble raised by Frundsberg poured into Lombardy, the Duke of

Ferrara assisted them to cross the Po, and the Duke of Urbino made no

effort to bar the passes of the Apennines. Losing one leader after the

other, these ruffians, calling themselves an Imperial army, but being

in reality the scum and offscourings of all nations, without any aim

but plunder and ignorant of policy, reached Rome upon the 6th of May.

They took the city by assault, and for nine months Clement, leaning

from the battlements of Hadrian's Mausoleum, watched smoke ascend from

desolated palaces and desecrated temples, heard the wailing of women

and the groans of tortured men, mingling with the ribald jests of

German drunkards and the curses of Castilian bandits. Roaming those

galleries and gazing from those windows, he is said to have exclaimed

in the words of Job: "Why died I not from the womb? why did I not give

up the ghost when I came out of the belly?"

The immediate effect of this disaster was that the Medici lost their

hold on Florence. The Cardinal of Cortona, with the young princes

Ippolito and Alessandro de' Medici, fled from the city on the 17th of

May, and a popular government was set up under the presidency of

Niccolò Capponi.

During this year and the next, Michelangelo was at Florence; but we

know very little respecting the incidents of his life. A _Ricordo_

bearing the date April 29 shows the disturbed state of the town. "I

record how, some days ago, Piero di Filippo Gondi asked for permission

to enter the new sacristy at S. Lorenzo, in order to hide there

certain goods belonging to his family, by reason of the perils in

which we are now. To-day, upon the 29th of April 1527, he has begun to

carry in some bundles, which he says are linen of his sisters; and I,

not wishing to witness what he does or to know where he hides the gear

away, have given him the key of the sacristy this evening."

There are only two letters belonging to the year 1527. Both refer to a

small office which had been awarded to Michelangelo with the right to

dispose of the patronage. He offered it to his favourite brother,

Buonarroto, who does not seem to have thought it worth accepting.

The documents for 1528 are almost as meagre. We do not possess a

single letter, and the most important _Ricordi_ relate to Buonarroto's

death and the administration of his property. He died of the plague

upon the 2nd of July, to the very sincere sorrow of his brother. It is

said that Michelangelo held him in his arms while he was dying,

without counting the risk to his own life. Among the minutes of

disbursements made for Buonarroto's widow and children after his

burial, we find that their clothes had been destroyed because of the

infection. All the cares of the family now fell on Michelangelo's

shoulders. He placed his niece Francesca in a convent till the time

that she should marry, repaid her dowry to the widow Bartolommea, and

provided for the expenses of his nephew Lionardo.

For the rest, there is little to relate which has any bearing on the

way in which he passed his time before the siege of Florence began.

One glimpse, however, is afforded of his daily life and conversation

by Benvenuto Cellini, who had settled in Florence after the sack of

Rome, and was working in a shop he opened at the Mercato Nuovo. The

episode is sufficiently interesting to be quoted. A Sienese gentleman

had commissioned Cellini to make him a golden medal, to be worn in the

hat. "The subject was to be Hercules wrenching the lion's mouth. While

I was working at this piece, Michel Agnolo Buonarroti came oftentimes

to see it. I had spent infinite pains upon the design, so that the

attitude of the figure and the fierce passion of the beast were

executed in quite a different style from that of any craftsman who had

hitherto attempted such groups. This, together with the fact that the

special branch of art was totally unknown to Michel Agnolo, made the

divine master give such praises to my work that I felt incredibly

inspired for further effort.

"Just then I met with Federigo Ginori, a young man of very lofty

spirit. He had lived some years in Naples and being endowed with great

charms of person and presence, had been the lover of a Neapolitan

princess. He wanted to have a medal made with Atlas bearing the world

upon his shoulders, and applied to Michel Agnolo for a design. Michel

Agnolo made this answer: 'Go and find out a young goldsmith named

Benvenuto; he will serve you admirably, and certainly he does not

stand in need of sketches by me. However, to prevent your thinking

that I want to save myself the trouble of so slight a matter, I will

gladly sketch you something; but meanwhile speak to Benvenuto, and let

him also make a model; he can then execute the better of the two

designs.' Federigo Ginori came to me and told me what he wanted,

adding thereto how Michel Agnolo had praised me, and how he had

suggested I should make a waxen model while he undertook to supply a

sketch. The words of that great man so heartened me, that I set myself

to work at once with eagerness upon the model; and when I had finished

it, a painter who was intimate with Michel Agnolo, called Giuliano

Bugiardini, brought me the drawing of Atlas. On the same occasion I

showed Giuliano my little model in wax, which was very different from

Michel Agnolo's drawing; and Federigo, in concert with Bugiardini,

agreed that I should work upon my model. So I took it in hand, and

when Michel Agnolo saw it, he praised me to the skies."

The courtesy shown by Michelangelo on this occasion to Cellini may be

illustrated by an inedited letter addressed to him from Vicenza. The

writer was Valerio Belli, who describes himself as a cornelian-cutter.

He reminds the sculptor of a promise once made to him in Florence of a

design for an engraved gem. A remarkably fine stone has just come into

his hands, and he should much like to begin to work upon it. These

proofs of Buonarroti's liberality to brother artists are not

unimportant, since he was unjustly accused during his lifetime of

stinginess and churlishness.

II

At the end of the year 1528 it became clear to the Florentines that

they would have to reckon with Clement VII. As early as August 18,

1527, France and England leagued together, and brought pressure upon

Charles V., in whose name Rome had been sacked. Negotiations were

proceeding, which eventually ended in the peace of Barcelona (June 20,

1529), whereby the Emperor engaged to sacrifice the Republic to the

Pope's vengeance. It was expected that the remnant of the Prince of

Orange's army would be marched up to besiege the town. Under the

anxiety caused by these events, the citizens raised a strong body of

militia, enlisted Malatesta Baglioni and Stefano Colonna as generals,

and began to take measures for strengthening the defences. What may be

called the War Office of the Florentine Republic bore the title of

Dieci della Guerra, or the Ten. It was their duty to watch over and

provide for all the interests of the commonwealth in military matters,

and now at this juncture serious measures had to be taken for putting

the city in a state of defence. Already in the year 1527, after the

expulsion of the Medici, a subordinate board had been created, to whom

very considerable executive and administrative faculties were

delegated. This board, called the Nove della Milizia, or the Nine,

were empowered to enrol all the burghers under arms, and to take

charge of the walls, towers, bastions, and other fortifications. It

was also within their competence to cause the destruction of

buildings, and to compensate the evicted proprietors at a valuation

which they fixed themselves. In the spring of 1529 the War Office

decided to gain the services of Michelangelo, not only because he was

the most eminent architect of his age in Florence, but also because

the Buonarroti family had always been adherents of the Medicean party,

and the Ten judged that his appointment to a place on the Nove di

Milizia would be popular with the democracy. The patent conferring

this office upon him, together with full authority over the work of

fortification, was issued on the 6th of April. Its terms were highly

complimentary. "Considering the genius and practical attainments of

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti, our citizen, and knowing how

excellent he is in architecture, beside his other most singular

talents in the liberal arts, by virtue whereof the common consent of

men regards him as unsurpassed by any masters of our times; and,

moreover, being assured that in love and affection toward the country

he is the equal of any other good and loyal burgher; bearing in mind,

too, the labour he has undergone and the diligence he has displayed,

gratis and of his free will, in the said work (of fortification) up to

this day; and wishing to employ his industry and energies to the like

effect in future; we, of our motion and initiative, do appoint him to

be governor and procurator-general over the construction and

fortification of the city walls, as well as every other sort of

defensive operation and munition for the town of Florence, for one

year certain, beginning with the present date; adding thereto full

authority over all persons in respect to the said work of reparation

or pertaining to it." From this preamble it appears that Michelangelo

had been already engaged in volunteer service connected with the

defence of Florence. A stipend of one golden florin per diem was fixed

by the same deed; and upon the 22nd of April following a payment of

thirty florins was decreed, for one month's salary, dating from the

6th of April.

If the Government thought to gain popular sympathy by Michelangelo's

appointment, they made the mistake of alienating the aristocracy. It

was the weakness of Florence at this momentous crisis in her fate, to

be divided into parties, political, religious, social; whose internal

jealousies deprived her of the strength which comes alone from unity.

When Giambattista Busini wrote that interesting series of letters to

Benedetto Varchi from which the latter drew important materials for

his annals of the siege, he noted this fact. "Envy must always be

reckoned as of some account in republics, especially when the nobles

form a considerable element, as in ours: for they were angry, among

other matters, to see a Carducci made Gonfalonier, Michelangelo a

member of the Nine, a Cei or a Giugni elected to the Ten."

Michelangelo had scarcely been chosen to control the general scheme

for fortifying Florence, when the Signory began to consider the

advisability of strengthening the citadels of Pisa and Livorno, and

erecting lines along the Arno. Their commissary at Pisa wrote urging

the necessity of Buonarroti's presence on the spot. In addition to

other pressing needs, the Arno, when in flood, threatened the ancient

fortress of the city. Accordingly we find that Michelangelo went to

Pisa on the 5th of June, and that he stayed there over the 13th,

returning to Florence perhaps upon the 17th of the month. The

commissary, who spent several days in conferring with him and in

visiting the banks of the Arno, was perturbed in mind because

Michelangelo refused to exchange the inn where he alighted for an

apartment in the official residence. This is very characteristic of

the artist. We shall soon find him, at Ferrara, refusing to quit his

hostelry for the Duke's palace, and, at Venice, hiring a remote

lodging on the Giudecca in order to avoid the hospitality of S. Mark.

An important part of Michelangelo's plan for the fortification of

Florence was to erect bastions covering the hill of S. Miniato. Any

one who stands upon the ruined tower of the church there will see at a

glance that S. Miniato is the key to the position for a beleaguering

force; and "if the enemy once obtained possession of the hill, he

would become immediately master of the town." It must, I think, have

been at this spot that Buonarroti was working before he received the

appointment of controller-general of the works. Yet he found some

difficulty in persuading the rulers of the state that his plan was the

right one. Busini, using information supplied by Michelangelo himself

at Rome in 1549, speaks as follows: "Whatever the reason may have

been, Niccolò Capponi, while he was Gonfalonier, would not allow the

hill of S. Miniato to be fortified, and Michelangelo, who is a man of

absolute veracity, tells me that he had great trouble in convincing

the other members of the Government, but that he could never convince

Niccolò. However, he began the work, in the way you know, with those

fascines of tow. But Niccolò made him abandon it, and sent him to

another post; and when he was elected to the Nine, they despatched him

twice or thrice outside the city. Each time, on his return, he found

the hill neglected, whereupon he complained, feeling this a blot upon

his reputation and an insult to his magistracy. Eventually, the works

went on, until, when the besieging army arrived, they were tenable."

Michelangelo had hitherto acquired no practical acquaintance with the

art of fortification. That the system of defence by bastions was an

Italian invention (although Albert Dürer first reduced it to written

theory in his book of 1527, suggesting improvements which led up to

Vauban's method) is a fact acknowledged by military historians. But it

does not appear that Michelangelo did more than carry out defensive

operations in the manner familiar to his predecessors. Indeed, we

shall see that some critics found reason to blame him for want of

science in the construction of his outworks. When, therefore, a

difference arose between the controller-general of defences and the

Gonfalonier upon this question of strengthening S. Miniato, it was

natural that the War Office should have thought it prudent to send

their chief officer to the greatest authority upon fortification then

alive in Italy. This was the Duke of Ferrara. Busini must serve as our

text in the first instance upon this point. "Michelangelo says that,

when neither Niccolò Capponi nor Baldassare Carducci would agree to

the outworks at S. Miniato, he convinced all the leading men except

Niccolò of their necessity, showing that Florence could not hold out a

single day without them. Accordingly he began to throw up bastions

with fascines of tow; but the result was far from perfect, as he

himself confessed. Upon this, the Ten resolved to send him to Ferrara

to inspect that renowned work of defence. Thither accordingly he went;

nevertheless, he believes that Niccolò did this in order to get him

out of the way, and to prevent the construction of the bastion. In

proof thereof he adduces the fact that, upon his return, he found the

whole work interrupted."

Furnished with letters to the Duke, and with special missives from the

Signory and the Ten to their envoy, Galeotto Giugni, Michelangelo left

Florence for Ferrara after the 28th of July, and reached it on the and

of August. He refused, as Giugni writes with some regret, to abandon

his inn, but was personally conducted with great honour by the Duke

all round the walls and fortresses of Ferrara. On what day he quitted

that city, and whither he went immediately after his departure, is

uncertain. The Ten wrote to Giugni on the 8th of August, saying that

his presence was urgently required at Florence, since the work of

fortification was going on apace, "a multitude of men being employed,

and no respect being paid to feast-days and holidays." It would also

seem that, toward the close of the month, he was expected at Arezzo,

in order to survey and make suggestions on the defences of the city.

These points are not insignificant, since we possess a _Ricordo_ by

Michelangelo, written upon an unfinished letter bearing the date

"Venice, September 10," which has been taken to imply that he had been

resident in Venice fourteen days--that is, from the 28th of August.

None of his contemporaries or biographers mention a visit to Venice at

the end of August 1529. It has, therefore, been conjectured that he

went there after leaving Ferrara, but that his mission was one of a

very secret nature. This seems inconsistent with the impatient desire

expressed by the War Office for his return to Florence after the 8th

of August. Allowing for exchange of letters and rate of travelling,

Michelangelo could not have reached home much before the 15th. It is

also inconsistent with the fact that he was expected in Arezzo at the

beginning of September. I shall have to return later on to the

_Ricordo_ in question, which has an important bearing on the next and

most dramatic episode in his biography.

III

Michelangelo must certainly have been at Florence soon after the

middle of September. One of those strange panics to which he was

constitutionally subject, and which impelled him to act upon a

suddenly aroused instinct, came now to interrupt his work at S.

Miniato, and sent him forth into outlawry. It was upon the 21st of

September that he fled from Florence, under circumstances which have

given considerable difficulty to his biographers. I am obliged to

disentangle the motives and to set forth the details of this escapade,

so far as it is possible for criticism to connect them into a coherent

narrative. With this object in view, I will begin by translating what

Condivi says upon the subject.

"Michelangelo's sagacity with regard to the importance of S. Miniato

guaranteed the safety of the town, and proved a source of great damage

to the enemy. Although he had taken care to secure the position, he

still remained at his post there, in case of accidents; and after

passing some six months, rumours began to circulate among the soldiers

about expected treason. Buonarroti, then, noticing these reports, and

being also warned by certain officers who were his friends, approached

the Signory, and laid before them what he had heard and seen. He

explained the danger hanging over the city, and told them there was

still time to provide against it, if they would. Instead of receiving

thanks for this service, he was abused, and rebuked as being timorous

and too suspicious. The man who made him this answer would have done

better had he opened his ears to good advice; for when the Medici

returned he was beheaded, whereas he might have kept himself alive.

When Michelangelo perceived how little his words were worth, and in

what certain peril the city stood, he caused one of the gates to be

opened, by the authority which he possessed, and went forth with two

of his comrades, and took the road for Venice."

As usual with Condivi, this paragraph gives a general and yet

substantially accurate account of what really took place. The decisive

document, however, which throws light upon Michelangelo's mind in the

transaction, is a letter written by him from Venice to his friend

Battista della Palla on the 25th of September. Palla, who was an agent

for Francis I. in works of Italian art, antiques, and bric-a-brac, had

long purposed a journey into France; and Michelangelo, considering the

miserable state of Italian politics, agreed to join him. These

explanations will suffice to make the import of Michelangelo's letter

clear.

"Battista, dearest friend, I left Florence, as I think you know,

meaning to go to France. When I reached Venice, I inquired about the

road, and they told me I should have to pass through German territory,

and that the journey is both perilous and difficult. Therefore I

thought it well to ask you, at your pleasure, whether you are still

inclined to go, and to beg you; and so I entreat you, let me know, and

say where you want me to wait for you, and we will travel together, I

left home without speaking to any of my friends, and in great

confusion. You know that I wanted in any case to go to France, and

often asked for leave, but did not get it. Nevertheless I was quite

resolved, and without any sort of fear, to see the end of the war out

first. But on Tuesday morning, September 21, a certain person came out

by the gate at S. Niccolò, where I was attending to the bastions, and

whispered in my ear that, if I meant to save my life, I must not stay

at Florence. He accompanied me home, dined there, brought me horses,

and never left my side till he got me outside the city, declaring that

this was my salvation. Whether God or the devil was the man, I do not

know.

"Pray answer the questions in this letter as soon as possible, because

I am burning with impatience to set out. If you have changed your

mind, and do not care to go, still let me know, so that I may provide

as best I can for my own journey."

What appears manifest from this document is that Michelangelo was

decoyed away from Florence by some one, who, acting on his sensitive

nervous temperament, persuaded him that his life was in danger. Who

the man was we do not know, but he must have been a person delegated

by those who had a direct interest in removing Buonarroti from the

place. If the controller-general of the defences already scented

treason in the air, and was communicating his suspicions to the

Signory, Malatesta Baglioni, the archtraitor, who afterwards delivered

Florence over for a price to Clement, could not but have wished to

frighten him away.

From another of Michelangelo's letters we learn that he carried 3000

ducats in specie with him on the journey. It is unlikely that he could

have disposed so much cash upon his person. He must have had

companions.

Talking with Michelangelo in 1549--that is, twenty years after the

event--Busini heard from his lips this account of the flight. "I asked

Michelangelo what was the reason of his departure from Florence. He

spoke as follows: 'I was one of the Nine when the Florentine troops

mustered within our lines under Malatesta Baglioni and Mario Orsini

and the other generals: whereupon the Ten distributed the men along

the walls and bastions, assigning to each captain his own post, with

victuals and provisions; and among the rest, they gave eight pieces of

artillery to Malatesta for the defence of part of the bastions at S.

Miniato. He did not, however, mount these guns within the bastions,

but below them, and set no guard.' Michelangelo, as architect and

magistrate, having to inspect the lines at S. Miniato, asked Mario

Orsini how it was that Malatesta treated his artillery so carelessly.

The latter answered: 'You must know that the men of his house are all

traitors, and in time he too will betray this town.' These words

inspired him with such terror that he was obliged to fly, impelled by

dread lest the city should come to misfortune, and he together with

it. Having thus resolved, he found Rinaldo Corsini, to whom he

communicated his thought, and Corsini replied lightly: 'I will go with

you.' So they mounted horse with a sum of money, and road to the Gate

of Justice, where the guards would not let them pass. While waiting

there, some one sung out: 'Let him by, for he is of the Nine, and it

is Michelangelo.' So they went forth, three on horseback, he, Rinaldo,

and that man of his who never left him. They came to Castelnuovo (in

the Garfagnana), and heard that Tommaso Soderini and Niccolò Capponi

were staying there. Michelangelo refused to go and see them, but

Rinaldo went, and when he came back to Florence, as I shall relate, he

reported how Niccolò had said to him: 'O Rinaldo, I dreamed to-night

that Lorenzo Zampalochi had been made Gonfalonier;' alluding to

Lorenzo Giacomini, who had a swollen leg, and had been his adversary

in the Ten. Well, they took the road for Venice; but when they came to

Polesella, Rinaldo proposed to push on to Ferrara and have an

interview with Galeotto Giugni. This he did, and Michelangelo awaited

him, for so he promised. Messer Galeotto, who was spirited and sound

of heart, wrought so with Rinaldo that he persuaded him to turn back

to Florence. But Michelangelo pursued his journey to Venice, where he

took a house, intending in due season to travel into France."

Varchi follows this report pretty closely, except that he represents

Rinaldo Corsini as having strongly urged him to take flight,

"affirming that the city in a few hours, not to say days, would be in

the hands of the Medici." Varchi adds that Antonio Mini rode in

company with Michelangelo, and, according to his account of the

matter, the three men came together to Ferrara. There the Duke offered

hospitality to Michelangelo, who refused to exchange his inn for the

palace, but laid all the cash he carried with him at the disposition

of his Excellency.

Segni, alluding briefly to this flight of Michelangelo from Florence,

says that he arrived at Castelnuovo with Rinaldo Corsini, and that

what they communicated to Niccolò Capponi concerning the treachery of

Malatesta and the state of the city, so affected the ex-Gonfalonier

that he died of a fever after seven days. Nardi, an excellent

authority on all that concerns Florence during the siege, confirms the

account that Michelangelo left his post together with Corsini under a

panic; "by common agreement, or through fear of war, as man's

fragility is often wont to do." Vasari, who in his account of this

episode seems to have had Varchi's narrative under his eyes, adds a

trifle of information, to the effect that Michelangelo was accompanied

upon his flight, not only by Antonio Mini, but also by his old friend

Piloto. It may be worth adding that while reading in the Archivio

Buonarroti, I discovered two letters from a friend named Piero Paesano

addressed to Michelangelo on January 1, 1530, and April 21, 1532, both

of which speak of his having "fled from Florence." The earlier plainly

says: "I heard from Santi Quattro (the Cardinal, probably) that you

have left Florence in order to escape from the annoyance and also from

the evil fortune of the war in which the country is engaged." These

letters, which have not been edited, and the first of which is

important, since it was sent to Michelangelo in Florence, help to

prove that Michelangelo's friends believed he had run away from

Florence.

It was necessary to enter into these particulars, partly in order that

the reader may form his own judgment of the motives which prompted

Michelangelo to desert his official post at Florence, and partly

because we have now to consider the _Ricordo_ above mentioned, with

the puzzling date, September 10. This document is a note of expenses

incurred during a residence of fourteen days at Venice. It runs as

follows:--

"Honoured Sir. In Venice, this tenth day of September.... Ten ducats

to Rinaldo Corsini. Five ducats to Messer Loredan for the rent of the

house. Seventeen lire for the stockings of Antonio (Mini, perhaps).

For two stools, a table to eat on, and a coffer, half a ducat. Eight

soldi for straw. Forty soldi for the hire of the bed. Ten lire to the

man (_fante_) who came from Florence. Three ducats to Bondino for the

journey to Venice with boats. Twenty soldi to Piloto for a pair of

shoes. Fourteen days' board in Venice, twenty lire."

It has been argued from the date of the unfinished letter below which

these items are jotted down, that Michelangelo must have been in

Venice early in September, before his flight from Florence at the end

of that month. But whatever weight we may attach to this single date,

there is no corroborative proof that he travelled twice to Venice, and

everything in the _Ricordo_ indicates that it refers to the period of

his flight from Florence. The sum paid to Corsini comes first, because

it must have been disbursed when that man broke the journey at

Ferrara. Antonio Mini and Piloto are both mentioned: a house has been

engaged, and furnished with Michelangelo's usual frugality, as though

he contemplated a residence of some duration. All this confirms

Busini, Varchi, Segni, Nardi, and Vasari in the general outlines of

their reports. I am of opinion that, unassisted by further evidence,

the _Ricordo_, in spite of its date, will not bear out Gotti's view

that Michelangelo sought Venice on a privy mission at the end of

August 1529. He was not likely to have been employed as ambassador

extraordinary; the Signory required his services at home; and after

Ferrara, Venice had little of importance to show the

controller-general of defences in the way of earthworks and bastions.

IV

Varchi says that Michelangelo, when he reached Venice, "wishing to

avoid visits and ceremonies, of which he was the greatest enemy, and

in order to live alone, according to his custom, far away from

company, retired quietly to the Giudecca; but the Signory, unable to

ignore the advent of so eminent a man, sent two of their first

noblemen to visit him in the name of the Republic, and to offer kindly

all things which either he or any persons of his train might stand in

need of. This public compliment set forth the greatness of his fame as

artist, and showed in what esteem the arts are held by their

magnificent and most illustrious lordships." Vasari adds that the

Doge, whom he calls Gritti, gave him commission to design a bridge for

the Rialto, marvellous alike in its construction and its ornament.

Meanwhile the Signory of Florence issued a decree of outlawry against

thirteen citizens who had quitted the territory without leave. It was

promulgated on the 30th of September, and threatened them with extreme

penalties if they failed to appear before the 8th of October. On the

7th of October a second decree was published, confiscating the

property of numerous exiles. But this document does not contain the

name of Michelangelo; and by a third decree, dated November 16, it

appears that the Government were satisfied with depriving him of his

office and stopping his pay. We gather indeed, from what Condivi and

Varchi relate, that they displayed great eagerness to get him back,

and corresponded to this intent with their envoy at Ferrara.

Michelangelo's flight from Florence seemed a matter of sufficient

importance to be included in the despatches of the French ambassador

resident at Venice. Lazare de Baïf, knowing his master's desire to

engage the services of the great sculptor, and being probably informed

of Buonarroti's own wish to retire to France, wrote several letters in

the month of October, telling Francis that Michelangelo might be

easily persuaded to join his court. We do not know, however, whether

the King acted on this hint.

His friends at home took the precaution of securing his effects,

fearing that a decree for their confiscation might be issued. We

possess a schedule of wine, wheat, and furniture found in his house,

and handed over by the servant Caterina to his old friend Francesco

Granacci for safe keeping. They also did their best to persuade

Michelangelo that he ought to take measures for returning under a

safe-conduct. Galeotto Giugni wrote upon this subject to the War

Office, under date October 13, from Ferrara. He says that Michelangelo

has begged him to intercede in his favour, and that he is willing to

return and lay himself at the feet of their lordships. In answer to

this despatch, news was sent to Giugni on the 20th that the Signory

had signed a safe-conduct for Buonarroti. On the 22nd Granacci paid

Sebastiano di Francesco, a stone-cutter, to whom Michelangelo was much

attached, money for his journey to Venice. It appears that this man

set out upon the 23rd, carrying letters from Giovan Battista della

Palla, who had now renounced all intention of retiring to France, and

was enthusiastically engaged in, the defence of Florence. On the

return of the Medici, Palla was imprisoned in the castle of Pisa, and

paid the penalty of his patriotism by death. A second letter which he

wrote to Michelangelo on this occasion deserves to be translated,

since it proves the high spirit with which the citizens of Florence

were now awaiting the approach of the Prince of Orange and his veteran

army. "Yesterday I sent you a letter, together with ten from other

friends, and the safe-conduct granted by the Signory for the whole

month of November and though I feel sure that it will reach you

safely, I take the precaution of enclosing a copy under this cover. I

need hardly repeat what I wrote at great length in my last, nor shall

I have recourse to friends for the same purpose. They all of them, I

know, with one voice, without the least disagreement or hesitation,

have exhorted you, immediately upon the receipt of their letters and

the safe-conduct, to return home, in order to preserve your life, your

country, your friends, your honour, and your property, and also to

enjoy those times so earnestly desired and hoped for by you. If any

one had foretold that I could listen without the least affright to

news of an invading army marching on our walls, this would have seemed

to me impossible. And yet I now assure you that I am not only quite

fearless, but also full of confidence in a glorious victory. For many

days past my soul has been filled with such gladness, that if God,

either for our sins or for some other reason, according to the

mysteries of His just judgment, does not permit that army to be broken

in our hands, my sorrow will be the same as when one loses, not a good

thing hoped for, but one gained and captured. To such an extent am I

convinced in my fixed imagination of our success, and have put it to

my capital account. I already foresee our militia system, established

on a permanent basis, and combined with that of the territory,

carrying our city to the skies. I contemplate a fortification of

Florence, not temporary, as it now is, but with walls and bastions to

be built hereafter. The principal and most difficult step has been

already taken; the whole space round the town swept clean, without

regard for churches or for monasteries, in accordance with the public

need. I contemplate in these our fellow-citizens a noble spirit of

disdain for all their losses and the bygone luxuries of villa-life; an

admirable unity and fervour for the preservation of liberty; fear of

God alone; confidence in Him and in the justice of our cause;

innumerable other good things, certain to bring again the age of gold,

and which I hope sincerely you will enjoy in company with all of us

who are your friends. For all these reasons, I most earnestly entreat

you, from the depth of my heart, to come at once and travel through

Lucca, where I will meet you, and attend you with due form and

ceremony until here: such is my intense desire that our country should

not lose you, nor you her. If, after your arrival at Lucca, you should

by some accident fail to find me, and you should not care to come to

Florence without my company, write a word, I beg. I will set out at

once, for I feel sure that I shall get permission.... God, by His

goodness, keep you in good health, and bring you back to us safe and

happy."

Michelangelo set forth upon his journey soon after the receipt of this

letter. He was in Ferrara on the 9th of November, as appears from a

despatch written by Galeotto Giugni, recommending him to the

Government of Florence. Letters patent under the seal of the Duke

secured him free passage through the city of Modena and the province

of Garfagnana. In spite of these accommodations, he seems to have met

with difficulties on the way, owing to the disturbed state of the

country. His friend Giovan Battista Palla was waiting for him at

Lucca, without information of his movements, up to the 18th of the

month. He had left Florence on the 11th, and spent the week at Pisa

and Lucca, expecting news in vain. Then, "with one foot in the

stirrup," as he says, "the license granted by the Signory" having

expired, he sends another missive to Venice, urging Michelangelo not

to delay a day longer. "As I cannot persuade myself that you do not

intend to come, I urgently request you to reflect, if you have not

already started, that the property of those who incurred outlawry with

you is being sold, and if you do not arrive within the term conceded

by your safe-conduct--that is, during this month--the same will happen

to yourself without the possibility of any mitigation. If you do come,

as I still hope and firmly believe, speak with my honoured friend

Messer Filippo Calandrini here, to whom I have given directions for

your attendance from this town without trouble to yourself. God keep

you safe from harm, and grant we see you shortly in our country, by

His aid, victorious."

With this letter, Palla, who was certainly a good friend to the

wayward artist, and an amiable man to boot, disappears out of this

history. At some time about the 20th of November, Michelangelo

returned to Florence. We do not know how he finished the journey, and

how he was received; but the sentence of outlawry was commuted, on the

23rd, into exclusion from the Grand Council for three years. He set to

work immediately at S. Miniato, strengthening the bastions, and

turning the church-tower into a station for sharpshooters. Florence by

this time had lost all her territory except a few strong places, Pisa,

Livorno, Arezzo, Empoli, Volterra. The Emperor Charles V. signed her

liberties away to Clement by the peace of Barcelona (June 20,1529),

and the Republic was now destined to be the appanage of his

illegitimate daughter in marriage with the bastard Alessandro de'

Medici. It only remained for the army of the Prince of Orange to

reduce the city. When Michelangelo arrived, the Imperial troops were

leaguered on the heights above the town. The inevitable end of the

unequal struggle could be plainly foreseen by those who had not

Palla's enthusiasm to sustain their faith. In spite of Ferrucci's

genius and spirit, in spite of the good-will of the citizens, Florence

was bound to fall. While admitting that Michelangelo abandoned his

post in a moment of panic, we must do him the justice of remembering

that he resumed it when all his darkest prognostications were being

slowly but surely realised. The worst was that his old enemy,

Malatesta Baglioni, had now opened a regular system of intrigue with

Clement and the Prince of Orange, terminating in the treasonable

cession of the city. It was not until August 1530 that Florence

finally capitulated. Still the months which intervened between that

date and Michelangelo's return from Venice were but a dying close, a

slow agony interrupted by spasms of ineffectual heroism.

In describing the works at S. Miniato, Condivi lays great stress upon

Michelangelo's plan for arming the bell-tower. "The incessant

cannonade of the enemy had broken it in many places, and there was a

serious risk that it might come crashing down, to the great injury of

the troops within the bastion. He caused a large number of mattresses

well stuffed with wool to be brought, and lowered these by night from

the summit of the tower down to its foundations, protecting those

parts which were exposed to fire. Inasmuch as the cornice projected,

the mattresses hung free in the air, at the distance of six cubits

from the wall; so that when the missiles of the enemy arrived, they

did little or no damage, partly owing to the distance they had

travelled, and partly to the resistance offered by this swinging,

yielding panoply." An anonymous writer, quoted by Milanesi, gives a

fairly intelligible account of the system adopted by Michelangelo.

"The outer walls of the bastion were composed of unbaked bricks, the

clay of which was mingled with chopped tow. Its thickness he filled in

with earth; and," adds this critic, "of all the buildings which

remained, this alone survived the siege." It was objected that, in

designing these bastions, he multiplied the flanking lines and

embrasures beyond what was either necessary or safe. But, observes the

anonymous writer, all that his duty as architect demanded was that he

should lay down a plan consistent with the nature of the ground,

leaving details to practical engineers and military men. "If, then, he

committed any errors in these matters, it was not so much his fault as

that of the Government, who did not provide him with experienced

coadjutors. But how can mere merchants understand the art of war,

which needs as much science as any other of the arts, nay more,

inasmuch as it is obviously more noble and more perilous?" The

confidence now reposed in him is further demonstrated by a license

granted on the 22nd of February 1530, empowering him to ascend the

cupola of the Duomo on one special occasion with two companions, in

order to obtain a general survey of the environs of Florence.

Michelangelo, in the midst of these serious duties, could not have had

much time to bestow upon his art. Still there is no reason to doubt

Vasari's emphatic statement that he went on working secretly at the

Medicean monuments. To have done so openly while the city was in

conflict to the death with Clement, would have been dangerous; and yet

every one who understands the artist's temperament must feel that a

man like Buonarroti was likely to seek rest and distraction from

painful anxieties in the tranquillising labour of the chisel. It is

also certain that, during the last months of the siege, he found

leisure to paint a picture of Leda for the Duke of Ferrara, which will

be mentioned in its proper place.

Florence surrendered in the month of August 1530. The terms were drawn

up by Don Ferrante Gonzaga, who commanded the Imperial forces after

the death of Filiberto, Prince of Orange, in concert with the Pope's

commissary-general, Baccio Valori. Malatesta Baglioni, albeit he went

about muttering that Florence "was no stable for mules" (alluding to

the fact that all the Medici were bastards), approved of the articles,

and showed by his conduct that he had long been plotting treason. The

act of capitulation was completed on the 12th, and accepted

unwillingly by the Signory. Valori, supported by Baglioni's military

force, reigned supreme in the city, and prepared to reinstate the

exiled family of princes. It said that Marco Dandolo of Venice, when

news reached the Pregadi of the fall of Florence, exclaimed aloud:

"Baglioni has put upon his head the cap of the biggest traitor upon

record."

V

The city was saved from wreckage by a lucky quarrel between the

Italian and Spanish troops in the Imperial camp. But no sooner was

Clement aware that Florence lay at his mercy, than he disregarded the

articles of capitulation, and began to act as an autocratic despot.

Before confiding the government to his kinsmen, the Cardinal Ippolito

and Alessandro Duke of Penna, he made Valori institute a series of

criminal prosecutions against the patriots. Battista della Palla and

Raffaello Girolami were sent to prison and poisoned. Five citizens

were tortured and decapitated in one day of October. Those who had

managed to escape from Florence were sentenced to exile, outlawry, and

confiscation of goods by hundreds. Charles V. had finally to interfere

and put a stop to the fury of the Pope's revenges. How cruel and

exasperated the mind of Clement was, may be gathered from his

treatment of Fra Benedetto da Foiano, who sustained the spirit of the

burghers by his fiery preaching during the privations of the siege.

Foiano fell into the clutches of Malatesta Baglioni, who immediately

sent him down to Rome. By the Pope's orders the wretched friar was

flung into the worst dungeon in the Castle of S. Angelo, and there

slowly starved to death by gradual diminution of his daily dole of

bread and water. Readers of Benvenuto Cellini's Memoirs will remember

the horror with which he speaks of this dungeon and of its dreadful

reminiscences, when it fell to his lot to be imprisoned there.

Such being the mood of Clement, it is not wonderful that Michelangelo

should have trembled for his own life and liberty. As Varchi says, "He

had been a member of the Nine, had fortified the hill and armed the

bell-tower of S. Miniato. What was more annoying, he was accused,

though falsely, of proposing to raze the palace of the Medici, where

in his boyhood Lorenzo and Piero de' Medici had shown him honour as a

guest at their own tables, and to name the space on which it stood the

Place of Mules." For this reason he hid himself, as Condivi and Varchi

assert, in the house of a trusty friend. The Senator Filippo

Buonarroti, who diligently collected traditions about his illustrious

ancestor, believed that his real place of retreat was the bell-tower

of S. Nicolò, beyond the Arno. "When Clement's fury abated," says

Condivi, "he wrote to Florence ordering that search should be made for

Michelangelo, and adding that when he was found, if he agreed to go on

working at the Medicean monuments, he should be left at liberty and

treated with due courtesy. On hearing news of this, Michelangelo came

forth from his hiding-place, and resumed the statues in the sacristy

of S. Lorenzo, moved thereto more by fear of the Pope than by love for

the Medici." From correspondence carried on between Rome and Florence

during November and December, we learn that his former pension of

fifty crowns a month was renewed, and that Giovan Battista Figiovanni,

a Prior of S. Lorenzo, was appointed the Pope's agent and paymaster.

An incident of some interest in the art-history of Florence is

connected with this return of the Medici, and probably also with

Clement's desire to concentrate Michelangelo's energies upon the

sacristy. So far back as May 10, 1508, Piero Soderini wrote to the

Marquis of Massa-Carrara, begging him to retain a large block of

marble until Michelangelo could come in person and superintend its

rough-hewing for a colossal statue to be placed on the Piazza. After

the death of Leo, the stone was assigned to Baccio Bandinelli; but

Michelangelo, being in favour with the Government at the time of the

expulsion of the Medici, obtained the grant of it. His first

intention, in which Bandinelli followed him, was to execute a Hercules

trampling upon Cacus, which should stand as pendant to his own David.

By a deliberation of the Signory, under date August 22, 1528, we are

informed that the marble had been brought to Florence about three

years earlier, and that Michelangelo now received instructions,

couched in the highest terms of compliment, to proceed with a group of

two figures until its accomplishment. If Vasari can be trusted,

Michelangelo made numerous designs and models for the Cacus, but

afterwards changed his mind, and thought that he would extract from

the block a Samson triumphing over two prostrate Philistines. The

evidence for this change of plan is not absolutely conclusive. The

deliberation of August 22, 1528, indeed left it open to his discretion

whether he should execute a Hercules and Cacus, or any other group of

two figures; and the English nation at South Kensington possesses one

of his noble little wax models for a Hercules. We may perhaps,

therefore, assume that while Bandinelli adhered to the Hercules and

Cacus, Michelangelo finally decided on a Samson. At any rate, the

block was restored in 1530 to Bandinelli, who produced the misbegotten

group which still deforms the Florentine Piazza.

Michelangelo had some reason to be jealous of Bandinelli, who

exercised considerable influence at the Medicean court, and was an

unscrupulous enemy both in word and deed. A man more widely and worse

hated than Bandinelli never lived. If any piece of mischief happened

which could be fixed upon him with the least plausibility, he bore the

blame. Accordingly, when Buonarroti's workshop happened to be broken

open, people said that Bandinelli was the culprit. Antonio Mini left

the following record of the event: "Three months before the siege,

Michelangelo's studio in Via Mozza was burst into with chisels, about

fifty drawings of figures were stolen, and among them the designs for

the Medicean tombs, with others of great value; also four models in

wax and clay. The young men who did it left by accident a chisel

marked with the letter M., which led to their discovery. When they

knew they were detected, they made off or hid themselves, and sent to

say they would return the stolen articles, and begged for pardon." Now

the chisel branded with an M. was traced to Michelangelo, the father

of Baccio Bandinelli, and no one doubted that he was the burglar.

The history of Michelangelo's Leda, which now survives only in

doubtful reproductions, may be introduced by a passage from Condivi's

account of his master's visit to Ferrara in 1529. "The Duke received

him with great demonstrations of joy, no less by reason of his eminent

fame than because Don Ercole, his son, was Captain of the Signory of

Florence. Riding forth with him in person, there was nothing

appertaining to the business of his mission which the Duke did not

bring beneath his notice, whether fortifications or artillery. Beside

this, he opened his own private treasure-room, displaying all its

contents, and particularly some pictures and portraits of his

ancestors, executed by masters in their time excellent. When the hour

approached for Michelangelo's departure, the Duke jestingly said to

him: 'You are my prisoner now. If you want me to let you go free, I

require that you shall promise to make me something with your own

hand, according to your will and fancy, be it sculpture or painting.'

Michelangelo agreed; and when he arrived at Florence, albeit he was

overwhelmed with work for the defences, he began a large piece for a

saloon, representing the congress of the swan with Leda. The breaking

of the egg was also introduced, from which sprang Castor and Pollux,

according to the ancient fable. The Duke heard of this; and on the

return of the Medici, he feared that he might lose so great a treasure

in the popular disturbance which ensued. Accordingly he despatched one

of his gentlemen, who found Michelangelo at home, and viewed the

picture. After inspecting it, the man exclaimed: 'Oh! this is a mere

trifle.' Michelangelo inquired what his own art was, being aware that

men can only form a proper judgment in the arts they exercise. The

other sneered and answered: 'I am a merchant.' Perhaps he felt

affronted at the question, and at not being recognised in his quality

of nobleman; he may also have meant to depreciate the industry of the

Florentines, who for the most part are occupied with trade, as though

to say: 'You ask me what my art is? Is it possible you think a man

like me could be a trader?' Michelangelo, perceiving his drift,

growled out: 'You are doing bad business for your lord! Take yourself

away!' Having thus dismissed the ducal messenger, he made a present of

the picture, after a short while, to one of his serving-men, who,

having two sisters to marry, begged for assistance. It was sent to

France, and there bought by King Francis, where it still exists."

As a matter of fact, we know now that Antonio Mini, for a long time

Michelangelo's man of all work, became part owner of this Leda, and

took it with him to France. A certain Francesco Tedaldi acquired

pecuniary interest in the picture, of which one Benedetto Bene made a

copy at Lyons in 1532. The original and the copy were carried by Mini

to Paris in 1533, and deposited in the house of Giuliano Buonaccorsi,

whence they were transferred in some obscure way to the custody of

Luigi Alamanni, and finally passed into the possession of the King.

Meanwhile, Antonio Mini died, and Tedaldi wrote a record of his losses

and a confused account of money matters and broker business, which he

sent to Michelangelo in 1540. The Leda remained at Fontainebleau till

the reign of Louis XIII., when M. Desnoyers, Minister of State,

ordered the picture to be destroyed because of its indecency. Pierre

Mariette says that this order was not carried into effect; for the

canvas, in a sadly mutilated state, reappeared some seven or eight

years before his date of writing, and was seen by him. In spite of

injuries, he could trace the hand of a great master; "and I confess

that nothing I had seen from the brush of Michelangelo showed better

painting." He adds that it was restored by a second-rate artist and

sent to England. What became of Mini's copy is uncertain. We possess a

painting in the Dresden Gallery, a Cartoon in the collection of the

Royal Academy of England, and a large oil picture, much injured, in

the vaults of the National Gallery. In addition to these works, there

is a small marble statue in the Museo Nazionale at Florence. All of

them represent Michelangelo's design. If mere indecency could justify

Desnoyers in his attempt to destroy a masterpiece, this picture

deserved its fate. It represented the act of coition between a swan

and a woman; and though we cannot hold Michelangelo responsible for

the repulsive expression on the face of Leda, which relegates the

marble of the Bargello to a place among pornographic works of art,

there is no reason to suppose that the general scheme of his

conception was abandoned in the copies made of it.

Michelangelo, being a true artist, anxious only for the presentation

of his subject, seems to have remained indifferent to its moral

quality. Whether it was a crucifixion, or a congress of the swan with

Leda, or a rape of Ganymede, or the murder of Holofernes in his tent,

or the birth of Eve, he sought to seize the central point in the

situation, and to accentuate its significance by the inexhaustible

means at his command for giving plastic form to an idea. Those,

however, who have paid attention to his work will discover that he

always found emotional quality corresponding to the nature of the

subject. His ways of handling religious and mythological motives

differ in sentiment, and both are distinguished from his treatment of

dramatic episodes. The man's mind made itself a mirror to reflect the

vision gloating over it; he cared not what that vision was, so long as

he could render it in lines of plastic harmony, and express the utmost

of the feeling which the theme contained.

Among the many statues left unfinished by Michelangelo is one

belonging to this period of his life. "In order to ingratiate himself

with Baccio Valori," says Vasari, "he began a statue of three cubits

in marble. It was an Apollo drawing a shaft from his quiver. This he

nearly finished. It stands now in the chamber of the Prince of

Florence; a thing of rarest beauty, though not quite completed." This

noble piece of sculpture illustrates the certainty and freedom of the

master's hand. Though the last touches of the chisel are lacking,

every limb palpitates and undulates with life. The marble seems to be

growing into flesh beneath the hatched lines left upon its surface.

The pose of the young god, full of strength and sinewy, is no less

admirable for audacity than for ease and freedom. Whether Vasari was

right in his explanation of the action of this figure may be

considered more than doubtful. Were we not accustomed to call it an

Apollo, we should rather be inclined to class it with the Slaves of

the Louvre, to whom in feeling and design it bears a remarkable

resemblance. Indeed, it might be conjectured with some probability

that, despairing of bringing his great design for the tomb of Julius

to a conclusion, he utilised one of the projected captives for his

present to the all-powerful vizier of the Medicean tyrants. It ought,

in conclusion, to be added, that there was nothing servile in

Michelangelo's desire to make Valori his friend. He had accepted the

political situation; and we have good reason, from letters written at

a later date by Valori from Rome, to believe that this man took a

sincere interest in the great artist. Moreover, Varchi, who is

singularly severe in his judgment on the agents of the Medici,

expressly states that Baccio Valori was "less cruel than the other

Palleschi, doing many and notable services to some persons out of

kindly feeling, and to others for money (since he had little and spent

much); and this he was well able to perform, seeing he was then the

lord of Florence, and the first citizens of the land paid court to him

and swelled his train."

VI

During the siege Lodovico Buonarroti passed his time at Pisa. His

little grandson, Lionardo, the sole male heir of the family, was with

him. Born September 25, 1519, the boy was now exactly eleven years

old, and by his father's death in 1528 he had been two years an

orphan. Lionardo was ailing, and the old man wearied to return. His

two sons, Gismondo and Giansimone, had promised to fetch him home when

the country should be safe for travelling. But they delayed; and at

last, upon the 30th of September, Lodovico wrote as follows to

Michelangelo: "Some time since I directed a letter to Gismondo, from

whom you have probably learned that I am staying here, and, indeed,

too long; for the flight of Buonarroto's pure soul to heaven, and my

own need and earnest desire to come home, and Nardo's state of health,

all makes me restless. The boy has been for some days out of health

and pining, and I am anxious about him." It is probable that some

means were found for escorting them both safely to Settignano. We hear

no more about Lodovico till the period of his death, the date of which

has not been ascertained with certainty.

From the autumn of 1530 on to the end of 1533 Michelangelo worked at

the Medicean monuments. His letters are singularly scanty during all

this period, but we possess sufficient information from other sources

to enable us to reconstruct a portion of his life. What may be called

the chronic malady of his existence, that never-ending worry with the

tomb of Julius, assumed an acute form again in the spring of 1531. The

correspondence with Sebastiano del Piombo, which had been interrupted

since 1525, now becomes plentiful, and enables us to follow some of

the steps which led to the new and solemn contract of May 1532.

It is possible that Michelangelo thought he ought to go to Rome in the

beginning of the year. If we are right in ascribing a letter written

by Benvenuto della Volpaia from Rome upon the 18th of January to the

year 1531, and not to 1532, he must have already decided on this step.

The document is curious in several respects. "Yours of the 13th

informs me that you want a room. I shall be delighted if I can be of

service to you in this matter; indeed, it is nothing in respect to

what I should like to do for you. I can offer you a chamber or two

without the least inconvenience; and you could not confer on me a

greater pleasure than by taking up your abode with me in either of the

two places which I will now describe. His Holiness has placed me in

the Belvedere, and made me guardian there. To-morrow my things will be

carried thither, for a permanent establishment; and I can place at

your disposal a room with a bed and everything you want. You can even

enter by the gate outside the city, which opens into the spiral

staircase, and reach your apartment and mine without passing through

Rome. From here I can let you into the palace, for I keep a key at

your service; and what is better, the Pope comes every day to visit

us. If you decide on the Belvedere, you must let me know the day of

your departure, and about when you will arrive. In that case I will

take up my post at the spiral staircase of Bramante, where you will be

able to see me. If you wish, nobody but my brother and Mona Lisabetta

and I shall know that you are here, and you shall do just as you

please; and, in short, I beg you earnestly to choose this plan.

Otherwise, come to the Borgo Nuovo, to the houses which Volterra

built, the fifth house toward S. Angelo. I have rented it to live

there, and my brother Fruosino is also going to live and keep shop in

it. There you will have a room or two, if you like, at your disposal.

Please yourself, and give the letter to Tommaso di Stefano Miniatore,

who will address it to Messer Lorenzo de' Medici, and I shall have it

quickly."

Nothing came of these proposals. But that Michelangelo did not abandon

the idea of going to Rome appears from a letter of Sebastiano's

written on the 24th of February. It was the first which passed between

the friends since the terrible events of 1527 and 1530. For once, the

jollity of the epicurean friar has deserted him. He writes as though

those awful months of the sack of Rome were still present to his

memory. "After all those trials, hardships, and perils, God Almighty

has left us alive and in health, by His mercy and piteous kindness. A

thing, in sooth, miraculous, when I reflect upon it; wherefore His

Majesty be ever held in gratitude.... Now, gossip mine, since we have

passed through fire and water, and have experienced things we never

dreamed of, let us thank God for all; and the little remnant left to

us of life, may we at least employ it in such peace as can be had. For

of a truth, what fortune does or does not do is of slight importance,

seeing how scurvy and how dolorous she is. I am brought to this, that

if the universe should crumble round me, I should not care, but laugh

at all. Menighella will inform you what my life is, how I am. I do not

yet seem to myself to be the same Bastiano I was before the Sack. I

cannot yet get back into my former frame of mind." In a postscript to

this letter, eloquent by its very naivete, Sebastiano says that he

sees no reason for Michelangelo's coming to Rome, except it be to look

after his house, which is going to ruin, and the workshop tumbling to

pieces. In another letter, of April 29, Sebastiano repeats that there

is no need for Michelangelo to come to Rome, if it be only to put

himself right with the Pope. Clement is sincerely his friend, and has

forgiven the part he played during the siege of Florence. He then

informs his gossip that, having been lately at Pesaro, he met the

painter Girolamo Genga, who promised to be serviceable in the matter

of the tomb of Julius. The Duke of Urbino, according to this man's

account, was very eager to see it finished. "I replied that the work

was going forward, but that 8000 ducats were needed for its

completion, and we did not know where to get this money. He said that

the Duke would provide, but his Lordship was afraid of losing both the

ducats and the work, and was inclined to be angry. After a good deal

of talking, he asked whether it would not be possible to execute the

tomb upon a reduced scale, so as to satisfy both parties. I answered

that you ought to be consulted." We have reason to infer from this

that the plan which was finally adopted, of making a mural monument

with only a few figures from the hand of Michelangelo, had already

been suggested. In his next letter, Sebastiano communicates the fact

that he has been appointed to the office of Piombatore; "and if you

could see me in my quality of friar, I am sure you would laugh. I am

the finest friar loon in Rome." The Duke of Urbino's agent, Hieronimo

Staccoli, now appears for the first time upon the stage. It was

through his negotiations that the former contracts for the tomb of

Julius were finally annulled and a new design adopted. Michelangelo

offered, with the view of terminating all disputes, to complete the

monument on a reduced scale at his own cost, and furthermore to

disburse the sum of 2000 ducats in discharge of any claims the Della

Rovere might have against him. This seemed too liberal, and when

Clement was informed of the project, he promised to make better terms.

Indeed, during the course of these negotiations the Pope displayed the

greatest interest in Michelangelo's affairs. Staccoli, on the Duke's

part, raised objections; and Sebastiano had to remind him that, unless

some concessions were made, the scheme of the tomb might fall through:

"for it does not rain Michelangelos, and men could hardly be found to

preserve the work, far less to finish it." In course of time the

Duke's ambassador at Rome, Giovan Maria della Porta, intervened, and

throughout the whole business Clement was consulted upon every detail.

Sebastiano kept up his correspondence through the summer of 1531.

Meanwhile the suspense and anxiety were telling seriously on

Michelangelo's health. Already in June news must have reached Rome

that his health was breaking down; for Clement sent word recommending

him to work less, and to relax his spirits by exercise. Toward the

autumn he became alarmingly ill. We have a letter from Paolo Mini, the

uncle of his servant Antonio, written to Baccio Valori on the 29th of

September. After describing the beauty of two statues for the Medicean

tombs, Mini says he fears that "Michelangelo will not live long,

unless some measures are taken for his benefit. He works very hard,

eats little and poorly, and sleeps less. In fact, he is afflicted with

two kinds of disorder, the one in his head, the other in his heart.

Neither is incurable, since he has a robust constitution; but for the

good of his head, he ought to be restrained by our Lord the Pope from

working through the winter in the sacristy, the air of which is bad

for him; and for his heart, the best remedy would be if his Holiness

could accommodate matters with the Duke of Urbino." In a second

letter, of October 8, Mini insists again upon the necessity of freeing

Michelangelo's mind from his anxieties. The upshot was that Clement,

on the 21st of November, addressed a brief to his sculptor, whereby

Buonarroti was ordered, under pain of excommunication, to lay aside

all work except what was strictly necessary for the Medicean

monuments, and to take better care of his health. On the 26th of the

same month Benvenuto della Volpaia wrote, repeating what the Pope had

written in his brief, and adding that his Holiness desired him to

select some workshop more convenient for his health than the cold and

cheerless sacristy.

In spite of Clement's orders that Michelangelo should confine himself

strictly to working on the Medicean monuments, he continued to be

solicited with various commissions. Thus the Cardinal Cybo wrote in

December begging him to furnish a design for a tomb which he intended

to erect. Whether Michelangelo consented is not known.

Early in December Sebastiano resumed his communications on the subject

of the tomb of Julius, saying that Michelangelo must not expect to

satisfy the Duke without executing the work, in part at least,

himself. "There is no one but yourself that harms you: I mean, your

eminent fame and the greatness of your works. I do not say this to

flatter you. Therefore, I am of opinion that, without some shadow of

yourself, we shall never induce those parties to do what we want. It

seems to me that you might easily make designs and models, and

afterwards assign the completion to any master whom you choose. But

the shadow of yourself there must be. If you take the matter in this

way, it will be a trifle; you will do nothing, and seem to do all; but

remember that the work must be carried out under your shadow." A

series of despatches, forwarded between December 4, 1531, and April

29, 1532, by Giovan Maria della Porta to the Duke of Urbino, confirm

the particulars furnished by the letters which Sebastiano still

continued to write from Rome. At the end of 1531 Michelangelo

expressed his anxiety to visit Rome, now that the negotiations with

the Duke were nearly complete. Sebastiano, hearing this, replies: "You

will effect more in half an hour than I can do in a whole year. I

believe that you will arrange everything after two words with his

Holiness; for our Lord is anxious to meet your wishes." He wanted to

be present at the drawing up and signing of the contract. Clement,

however, although he told Sebastiano that he should be glad to see

him, hesitated to send the necessary permission, and it was not until

the month of April 1532 that he set out. About the 6th, as appears

from the indorsement of a letter received in his absence, he must have

reached Rome. The new contract was not ready for signature before the

29th, and on that date Michelangelo left for Florence, having, as he

says, been sent off by the Pope in a hurry on the very day appointed

for its execution. In his absence it was duly signed and witnessed

before Clement; the Cardinals Gonzaga and da Monte and the Lady Felice

della Rovere attesting, while Giovan Maria della Porta and Girolamo

Staccoli acted for the Duke of Urbino. When Michelangelo returned and

saw the instrument, he found that several clauses prejudicial to his

interests had been inserted by the notary. "I discovered more than

1000 ducats charged unjustly to my debit, also the house in which I

live, and certain other hooks and crooks to ruin me. The Pope would

certainly not have tolerated this knavery, as Fra Sebastiano can bear

witness, since he wished me to complain to Clement and have the notary

hanged. I swear I never received the moneys which Giovan Maria della

Porta wrote against me, and caused to be engrossed upon the contract."

It is difficult to understand why Michelangelo should not have

immediately taken measures to rectify these errors. He seems to have

been well aware that he was bound to refund 2000 ducats, since the

only letter from his pen belonging to the year 1532 is one dated May,

and addressed to Andrea Quarantesi in Pisa. In this document he

consults Quarantesi about the possibility of raising that sum, with

1000 ducats in addition. "It was in my mind, in order that I might not

be left naked, to sell houses and possessions, and to let the lira go

for ten soldi." As the contract was never carried out, the fraudulent

passages inserted in the deed did not prove of practical importance.

Delia Porta, on his part, wrote in high spirits to his master:

"Yesterday we executed the new contract with Michelangelo, for the

ratification of which by your Lordship we have fixed a limit of two

months. It is of a nature to satisfy all Rome, and reflects great

credit on your Lordship for the trouble you have taken in concluding

it. Michelangelo, who shows a very proper respect for your Lordship,

has promised to make and send you a design. Among other items, I have

bound him to furnish six statues by his own hand, which will be a

world in themselves, because they are sure to be incomparable. The

rest he may have finished by some sculptor at his own choice, provided

the work is done under his direction. The Pope allows him to come

twice a year to Rome, for periods of two months each, in order to push

the work forward. And he is to execute the whole at his own costs." He

proceeds to say, that since the tomb cannot be put up in S. Peter's,

S. Pietro in Vincoli has been selected as the most suitable church. It

appears that the Duke's ratification was sent upon the 5th of June and

placed in the hands of Clement, so that Michelangelo probably did not

see it for some months. Della Porta, writing to the Duke again upon

the 19th of June, says that Clement promised to allow Michelangelo to

come to Rome in the winter, and to reside there working at the tomb.

But we have no direct information concerning his doings after the

return to Florence at the end of April 1532.

It will be worth while to introduce Condivi's account of these

transactions relating to the tomb of Julius, since it throws some

light upon the sculptor's private feelings and motives, as well as

upon the falsification of the contract as finally engrossed.

"When Michelangelo had been called to Rome by Pope Clement, he began

to be harassed by the agents of the Duke of Urbino about the sepulchre

of Julius. Clement, who wished to employ him in Florence, did all he

could to set him free, and gave him for his attorney in this matter

Messer Tommaso da Prato, who was afterwards datary. Michelangelo,

however, knowing the devil disposition of Duke Alessandro toward him,

and being in great dread on this account, also because he bore love

and reverence to the memory of Pope Julius and to the illustrious

house of Della Rovere, strained every nerve to remain in Rome and busy

himself about the tomb. What made him more anxious was that every one

accused him of having received from Pope Julius at least 16,000

crowns, and of having spent them on himself without fulfilling his

engagements. Being a man sensitive about his reputation, he could not

bear the dishonour of such reports, and wanted the whole matter to be

cleared up; nor, although he was now old, did he shrink from the very

onerous task of completing what he had begun so long ago. Consequently

they came to strife together, and his antagonists were unable to prove

payments to anything like the amount which had first been noised

abroad; indeed, on the contrary, more than two thirds of the whole sum

first stipulated by the two Cardinals was wanting. Clement then

thinking he had found an excellent opportunity for setting him at

liberty and making use of his whole energies, called Michelangelo to

him, and said: 'Come, now, confess that you want to make this tomb,

but wish to know who will pay you the balance.' Michelangelo, knowing

well that the Pope was anxious to employ him on his own work,

answered: 'Supposing some one is found to pay me.' To which Pope

Clement: 'You are a great fool if you let yourself believe that any

one will come forward to offer you a farthing.' Accordingly, his

attorney, Messer Tommaso, and the agents of the Duke, after some

negotiations, came to an agreement that a tomb should at least be made

for the amount he had received. Michelangelo, thinking the matter had

arrived at a good conclusion, consented with alacrity. He was much

influenced by the elder Cardinal di Monte, who owed his advancement to

Julius II., and was uncle of Julius III., our present Pope by grace of

God. The arrangement was as follows: That he should make a tomb of one

façade only; should utilise those marbles which he had already blocked

out for the quadrangular monument, adapting them as well as

circumstances allowed; and finally, that he should be bound to furnish

six statues by his own hand. In spite of this arrangement, Pope

Clement was allowed to employ Michelangelo in Florence or where he

liked during four months of the year, that being required by his

Holiness for his undertakings at S. Lorenzo. Such then was the

contract made between the Duke and Michelangelo. But here it has to be

observed, that after all accounts had been made up, Michelangelo

secretly agreed with the agents of his Excellency that it should be

reported that he had received some thousands of crowns above what had

been paid to him; the object being to make his obligation to the Duke

of Urbino seem more considerable, and to discourage Pope Clement from

sending him to Florence, whither he was extremely unwilling to go.

This acknowledgment was not only bruited about in words, but, without

his knowledge or consent, was also inserted into the deed; not when

this was drawn up, but when it was engrossed; a falsification which

caused Michelangelo the utmost vexation. The ambassador, however,

persuaded him that this would do him no real harm: it did not signify,

he said, whether the contract specified a thousand or twenty thousand

crowns, seeing they were agreed that the tomb should be reduced to

suit the sums actually received; adding, that nobody was concerned in

the matter except himself, and that Michelangelo might feel safe with

him on account of the understanding between them. Upon this

Michelangelo grew easy in his mind, partly because he thought he might

have confidence, and partly because he wished the Pope to receive the

impression I have described above. In this way the thing was settled

for the time, but it did not end there; for when he had worked his

four months in Florence and came back to Rome, the Pope set him to

other tasks, and ordered him to paint the wall above the altar in the

Sistine Chapel. He was a man of excellent judgment in such matters,

and had meditated many different subjects for this fresco. At last he

fixed upon the Last Judgment, considering that the variety and

greatness of the theme would enable the illustrious artist to exhibit

his powers in their full extent. Michelangelo, remembering the

obligation he was under to the Duke of Urbino, did all he could to

evade this new engagement; but when this proved impossible, he began

to procrastinate, and, pretending to be fully occupied with the

cartoons for his huge picture, he worked in secret at the statues

intended for the monument."

VII

Michelangelo's position at Florence was insecure and painful, owing to

the undisguised animosity of the Duke Alessandro. This man ruled like

a tyrant of the worst sort, scandalising good citizens by his brutal

immoralities, and terrorising them by his cruelties. "He remained,"

says Condivi, "in continual alarm; because the Duke, a young man, as

is known to every one, of ferocious and revengeful temper, hated him

exceedingly. There is no doubt that, but for the Pope's protection, he

would have been removed from this world. What added to Alessandro's

enmity was that when he was planning the fortress which he afterwards

erected, he sent Messer Vitelli for Michelangelo, ordering him to ride

with them, and to select a proper position for the building.

Michelangelo refused, saying that he had received no commission from

the Pope. The Duke waxed very wroth; and so, through this new

grievance added to old grudges and the notorious nature of the Duke,

Michelangelo not unreasonably lived in fear. It was certainly by God's

aid that he happened to be away from Florence when Clement died."

Michelangelo was bound under solemn obligations to execute no work but

what the Pope ordered for himself or permitted by the contract with

the heirs of Julius. Therefore he acted in accordance with duty when

he refused to advise the tyrant in this scheme for keeping the city

under permanent subjection. The man who had fortified Florence against

the troops of Clement could not assist another bastard Medici to build

a strong place for her ruin. It may be to this period of his life that

we owe the following madigral, written upon the loss of Florentine

liberty and the bad conscience of the despot:--

_Lady, for joy of lovers numberless

Thou wast created fair as angels are.

Sure God hath fallen asleep in heaven afar

When one man calls the bliss of many his!

Give back to streaming eyes

The daylight of thy face, that seems to shun

Those who must live defrauded of their bliss!

Vex not your pure desire with tears and sighs:

For he who robs you of my light hath none.

Dwelling in fear, sin hath no happiness;

Since, amid those who love, their joy is less,

Whose great desire great plenty still curtails,

Than theirs who, poor, have hope that never fails._

During the siege Michelangelo had been forced to lend the Signory a

sum of about 1500 ducats. In the summer of 1533 he corresponded with

Sebastiano about means for recovering this loan. On the 16th of August

Sebastiano writes that he has referred the matter to the Pope. "I

repeat, what I have already written, that I presented your memorial to

his Holiness. It was about eight in the evening, and the Florentine

ambassador was present. The Pope then ordered the ambassador to write

immediately to the Duke; and this he did with such vehemence and

passion as I do not think he has displayed on four other occasions

concerning the affairs of Florence. His rage and fury were tremendous,

and the words he used to the ambassador would stupefy you, could you

hear them. Indeed, they are not fit to be written down, and I must

reserve them for _viva voce_. I burn to have half an hour's

conversation with you, for now I know our good and holy master to the

ground. Enough, I think you must have already seen something of the

sort. In brief, he has resolved that you are to be repaid the 400

ducats of the guardianship and the 500 ducats lent to the old

Government." It may be readily imagined that this restitution of a

debt incurred by Florence when she was fighting for her liberties, to

which act of justice her victorious tyrant was compelled by his Papal

kinsman, did not soften Alessandro's bad feeling for the creditor.

Several of Sebastiano's letters during the summer and autumn of 1533

refer to an edition of some madrigals by Michelangelo, which had been

set to music by Bartolommeo Tromboncino, Giacomo Archadelt, and

Costanzo Festa. We have every reason to suppose that the period we

have now reached was the richest in poetical compositions. It was also

in 1532 or 1533 that he formed the most passionate attachment of which

we have any knowledge in his life; for he became acquainted about this

time with Tommaso Cavalieri. A few years later he was destined to meet

with Vittoria Colonna. The details of these two celebrated friendships

will be discussed in another chapter.

Clement VII. journeyed from Rome in September, intending to take ship

at Leghorn for Nice and afterwards Marseilles, where his young cousin,

Caterina de' Medici, was married to the Dauphin. He had to pass

through S. Miniato al Tedesco, and thither Michelangelo went to wait

upon him on the 22nd. This was the last, and not the least imposing,

public act of the old Pope, who, six years after his imprisonment and

outrage in the Castle of S. Angelo, was now wedding a daughter of his

plebeian family to the heir of the French crown. What passed between

Michelangelo and his master on this occasion is not certain.

The years 1532-1534 form a period of considerable chronological

perplexity in Michelangelo's life. This is in great measure due to the

fact that he was now residing regularly part of the year in Rome and

part in Florence. We have good reason to believe that he went to Rome

in September 1532, and stayed there through the winter. It is probable

that he then formed the friendship with Cavalieri, which played so

important a part in his personal history. A brisk correspondence

carried on between him and his two friends, Bartolommeo Angelini and

Sebastiano del Piombo, shows that he resided at Florence during the

summer and early autumn of 1533. From a letter addressed to Figiovanni

on the 15th of October, we learn that he was then impatient to leave

Florence for Rome. But a _Ricordo,_ bearing date October 29, 1533,

renders it almost certain that he had not then started. Angelini's

letters, which had been so frequent, stop suddenly in that month. This

renders it almost certain that Michelangelo must have soon returned to

Rome. Strangely enough there are no letters or _Ricordi_ in his

handwriting which bear the date 1534. When we come to deal with this

year, 1534, we learn from Michelangelo's own statement to Vasari that

he was in Florence during the summer, and that he reached Rome two

days before the death of Clement VII., _i.e._, upon September 23.

Condivi observes that it was lucky for him that the Pope did not die

while he was still at Florence, else he would certainly have been

exposed to great peril, and probably been murdered or imprisoned by

Duke Alessandro.

Nevertheless, Michelangelo was again in Florence toward the close of

1534. An undated letter to a certain Febo (di Poggio) confirms this

supposition. It may probably be referred to the month of December. In

it he says that he means to leave Florence next day for Pisa and Rome,

and that he shall never return. Febo's answer, addressed to Rome, is

dated January 14, 1534, which, according to Florentine reckoning,

means 1535.

We may take it, then, as sufficiently well ascertained that

Michelangelo departed from Florence before the end of 1534, and that

he never returned during the remainder of his life. There is left,

however, another point of importance referring to this period, which

cannot be satisfactorily cleared up. We do not know the exact date of

his father, Lodovico's, death. It must have happened either in 1533 or

in 1534. In spite of careful researches, no record of the event has

yet been discovered, either at Settignano or in the public offices of

Florence. The documents of the Buonarroti family yield no direct

information on the subject. We learn, however, from the Libri delle

Età, preserved at the Archivio di Stato, that Lodovico di Lionardo di

Buonarrota Simoni was born upon the 11th of June 1444. Now

Michelangelo, in his poem on Lodovico's death, says very decidedly

that his father was ninety when he breathed his last. If we take this

literally, it must be inferred that he died after the middle of June

1534. There are many reasons for supposing that Michelangelo was in

Florence when this happened. The chief of these is that no

correspondence passed between the Buonarroti brothers on the occasion,

while Michelangelo's minutes regarding the expenses of his father's

burial seem to indicate that he was personally responsible for their

disbursement. I may finally remark that the schedule of property

belonging to Michelangelo, recorded under the year 1534 in the

archives of the Decima at Florence, makes no reference at all to

Lodovico. We conclude from it that, at the time of its redaction,

Michelangelo must have succeeded to his father's estate.

The death of Lodovico and Buonarroto, happening within a space of

little more than five years, profoundly affected Michelangelo's mind,

and left an indelible mark of sadness on his life. One of his best

poems, a _capitolo_, or piece of verse in _terza rima_ stanzas, was

written on the occasion of his father's decease. In it he says that

Lodovico had reached the age of ninety. If this statement be literally

accurate, the old man must have died in 1534, since he was born upon

the 11th of June 1444. But up to the present time, as I have observed

above, the exact date of his death has not been discovered. One

passage of singular and solemn beauty may be translated from the

original:--

_Thou'rt dead of dying, and art made divine,

Nor fearest now to change or life or will;

Scarce without envy can I call this thine.

Fortune and time beyond your temple-sill

Dare not advance, by whom is dealt for us

A doubtful gladness, and too certain ill.

Cloud is there none to dim you glorious:

The hours distinct compel you not to fade:

Nor chance nor fate o'er you are tyrannous.

Your splendour with the night sinks not in shade,

Nor grows with day, howe'er that sun ride high

Which on our mortal hearts life's heat hath rayed.

Thus from thy dying I now learn to die,

Dear father mine! In thought I see thy place,

Where earth but rarely lets men climb the sky._

_Not, as some deem, is death the worst disgrace

For one whose last day brings him to the first,

The next eternal throne to God's by grace.

There by God's grace I trust that thou art nursed,

And hope to find thee, If but my cold heart

High reason draw from earthly slime accursed._