quest with the greatest pleasure; for you know, or rather are persuaded of the great affection I still feel for Urbino and what belongs to him, though he is dead. About my coming to see the children, or your sending Michael Angelo here, I must tell you in what situation I am. Your sending Michael Angelo here would not do, because I am without women and without housekeeping, and the child is still too tender, and something might happen which would grieve me much. Besides this, the Duke of Florence is so kind as to press me exceedingly to return to Florence; making me some very generous offers. I have asked him time to settle my affairs here, and to bring the building of St. Peter to a good conclusion; so that I think I shall remain here all this summer, and that, after having arranged my affairs and yours about the mountain of the faith, I shall go to Florence for good, next winter; for I am now old, and I shall have no longer time to return to Rome. I will pass by you; and if you will give me Michael Angelo, I will keep him in Florence with more affection than I have for the children of my nephew Leonard; teaching him what I know, and what his father wished him to know.

Yesterday, the 27th of March, I had
your last letter.
Rome.
M. A. BUONAROTI.

To Pietro Aretino. Magnificent M. Peter, my master and brother,-Your letter caused me pleasure and pain at the same time. It gave me great joy, because it came from you who, in point of merit, stand alone in the world; and it gave me great regret, because, having executed a great part of the subject. I cannot make use of your imagination, which is so powerful, that if the day of judgment had taken place, and you had been present at it, your words could not describe it better. Coming, then, to answer that part of your letter where you offer to write something about me, I beg to say that I shall not only be glad of it, but that I supplicate you to do so, since kings and emperors receive as the greatest favour that of being mentioned by your pen. Meanwhile, if I have anything in my power which may please you, I offer it to you with all my heart. And lastly, do not, for the sake of seeing the picture which I am now making, break your determination of not coming to Rome; for it would really be too much.

To the Divine Michael Angelo. In the same manner that not being mindful of God is a spot on one's reputation, and a sin of the soul, so not reverencing you, venerable man, who are a butt of wonders in which the propitious stars strove to dart all the arrows of their favours, would blemish the worth, and dishonour the judgment of those who have any worth or judgment at all. Hence it is the idea of a new nature dwells covertly in your hands, by which the difficulty of extreme lines (a very great science in the subtleties of painting) is so easy for you, who enclose in the extremities of bodies the limits of art; a thing which art itself avows to be impossible to carry to perfection; for extremities, as you well know, should enclose themselves, and then end in such a manner, that, by showing that which they do not show, they should promise things, which the figures of the chapel do promise to those who know how to judge and admire them. Now I, who, with praise and with infamy,

have dispatched the greatest portion of others' merits and demerits, not to turn the little I am into nothing, I salute you. I should not certainly dare to do so, if my name, by its being welcome to the ears of princes, had not lost a great deal of its unworthiness; and it is quite right that I should regard you with such reverence, for the world has many kings, but only one Michael Angelo. It is a great wonder that nature cannot hide anything so deeply that it be not found by your ingenuity, or impress in her works that majesty which characterizes the immense power of your style and of your chisel; on account of which, those who see you do not care for not having seen Phidias, Apelles, and Vitruvius, whose spirits were the shadow of your own. But I think it was very lucky for Parrhasius, and other ancient painters, that time has not allowed their productions to live until the present day; whence we still give credit to the doubtful assertions of old panegyrists, and hesitate to grant you that palm which

they themselves would give you, by calling you a unique sculptor, a unique painter, and a unique architect, if they were placed on the judicial seat on which we are. But since it is so, why are you not contented with the glory you have acquired? It seems to me that you ought to be satisfied with having surpassed all others by your former productions: but I hear that, with the End of the Universe, which you are now painting, you intend to surpass the Beginning of the World, which you formerly painted, in order that, by surpassing your former performances, you may obtain a triumph over yourself. Who would not tremble at undertaking a subject so terrible? I see, in the middle of the multitude, Antichrist, with an appearance only imagined by yourself: I see terror in the face of the living: I see the signs that the sun, the moon, and the stars give of being about to be extinguished: I see fire, air, earth, and water, as it were, exhaling their spirits: I see apart Nature astounded, and barren, crouching in her decrepitude: I see Time, lean and lingering, which, having arrived at its end, sits upon a dead trunk; and whilst I hear the trumpets of the angels shaking the hearts of every bosom, I see life and death oppressed by frightful confusion; because the former strives to raise up the dead, and the latter to batter down the living: I see Hope and Despair guiding the troops of the good, and the crowds of the wicked: I see the spectacle of the clouds, coloured with the rays proceeding from the pure flames of heaven, upon which Christ, surrounded with splendours and terrors, sits in the middle of his hosts: I see his face glittering with a serene and terrible light, which fills the good with joy, and the wicked with fear. Meanwhile I see the minister of the abyss, with glory of the martyrs, deriding, with horrible aspect, Cæsar and Alexander, it being much more difficult to conquer oneself than the world: I see Fame, with her crowns and her palms under her feet, thrown on the ground, under the wheels of her cart. Finally, I see the great sentence coming out of the mouth of the Son of God: I see it in the form of two arrows, one of salvation, and the other of damnation; and whilst I see them flying downwards, I hear its fury striking against the machine of the elements, and destroying and solving it with tremendous thun

ders: I see the lights of paradise and the furnaces of the abyss, dividing the darkness fallen on the surface of the air; so that the thought which represents to me the image of the new day, asks me, if we tremble and fear in contemplating the work of Buonaroti, how shall we tremble and fear when we see ourselves judged by Him who is to judge us? But do you think that my resolution of never seeing Rome again will not be broken by the wish of seeing your picture? I prefer giving the lie to my deliberation, rather than doing wrong to your merits; and I beg you to accept kindly my wish of celebrating them.

Venice, Sept. 15th, 1537.

To the Great Michael Angelo Buonaroti.

As I have no emerald vase like that in which Alexander the Great kept the works of Homer, when Messer Jacopo Nardi, a venerable man, both from age and from wisdom, delivered me your most precious letter, I sighed that your merit is so great, and my power so little : so that, having no nobler place, as soon as I had reverently read it, I placed it with ceremony in the sacred diploma, which I preserve in memory of the high goodness of the Emperor Charles V., in one of the golden cups which the courteous and immortal Antonio da Leyva once gave me. But as it is a pity that you spent such a precious time in answering me, I say that you had already done me too much favour in accepting my letter, which I wrote, not to give you advice in your picture of the Judgment, for it is impossible to imagine anything which is not inferior to your works, but only to encourage you to undertake it. You are certainly a divine person; and thus those who speak of you should make use of superhuman expressions; for, in using common words, they would either show their ignorance, or not say the truth. I receive as a particular favour the permission you give me to write a part of what you know, as I can; and, in order that you may see the beginning, I send you the volume, in which I have in several instances made use of your name, for the purpose of doing honour to myself with its glory. But should not my devotedness obtain from the prince of sculpture and painting a piece of those cartoons which you even give to the fire, that, whilst I live, I may enjoy it, and, when I die, I may carry it with

F

Letter to Luca Martini. (1.)-Luca Martini was a member of the Florentine Academy, a very lively burlesque poet, and a great friend of Michael Angelo.

(2.)-Bottari says that the Bartolommeo Bettini here mentioned is the same

who wrote the memoirs upon which Varchi compiled his history.

(3.)-The commentary was written by Varchi.

(4.) Domenico Giannotti was a very wise and intelligent Florentine, elected secretary of the Dieci di Libertà, in competition with the great Machiavelli, at the time when Florence was under her popular government. It was at his request that Michael Angelo made, for Cardinal Ridolfi, that head of Brutus mentioned by Vasari.

Letter to Vasari. (5.)-Julius III. wished to build in the church of St. Peter at Montorio, a marble chapel with two sepultures, one for Cardinal Antonio de' Monti, his uncle, the other for Messer Fabiano, his grandfather; and having ordered Vasari to make the plans of it, he afterwards requested Michael Angelo to fix its cost. When this was done, Vasari begged the Pope to induce Michael Angelo to take the superintendence of the works, and Michael Angelo willingly condescended to do so, from his great affection to Vasari; who soon afterwards left him also the care of laying the foundations, having been obliged to go to Florence. Whilst Michael Angelo was preparing the foundations at Montorio, the Pope changed his mind, which happened by the interposition of Messer Bindo Altoiti, who advised his holiness to have the sepultures and the chapel in the church of San Giovanni, in the hope that by these means that church would at last be brought to perfection. As Vasari says that Altoiti had informed him that he would have done so, and asserts besides that Michael Angelo had also been informed of it, one can hardly understand what he means by saying that the Pope would hear nothing about it. It would appear that Buonaroti had tried to keep the Pope in the same resolution, whilst Vasari also says, that Michael Angelo had promised to support the project of Messer Bindo, as he

actually writes he did, and for reasons which it was useless to write about, since, if they had settled the matter together, Vasari must have known them. It is most likely that Michael Angelo was not informed of anything, and that Altoiti conceived his plan of inducing the Pope to build the chapel in San Giovanni of the Florentines whilst Vasari was absent from Rome.

(6.) He calls Vasari resuscitator of his Lives of Painters, Sculptors, and the dead, because he had just published Architects, of which the first edition was made by Torrentino in 1550.

(7.)-Bartolommeo, see note 2.

(8.)-M. Angelo calls Tante cose-so many things (meaning a busy-body) — Messer Pietro Altoiti, Bishop of Forli; and he gives him that sneering title, because he was eager to have his hands in every thing.

Second Letter to Vasari.

(9.) Whilst the Florentines were endeavouring to collect money to finish the

church, some difficulties arose which

prevented Altoiti's project from being

executed.

After Vasari, together with Bartolommeo Ammanati, a Florentine sculptor and architect, had procured from Carconstruction of the chapel at Montorio, rara a large quantity of marble for the Bartolommeo went to Rome to work at instead of Raffaello, the sculptor from them. Buonaroti had proposed him Montelupo in Tuscany, whom he would of his unbecoming behaviour in the fornot allow Vasari to employ, on account mation of the statues for the sculptures of Julius II.

Third Letter to Vasari. (10.)-Michael Angelo sent this letter in answer to Vasari, who had informed him that his nephew, Leonard, had just had a son, whom an honourable train of noble ladies had accompanied to baptism. Leonard announced to him also the same news, and Michael Angelo wrote him another letter, of which the original is preserved in the Vatican manuscripts:

Leonard," says he, "I learn by your letter that Cassandra has made you a present of a beautiful son, whom you intend to call Buonaroto. This, as well as Cassandra's quick recovery, gave