"Michael Angelo, in Bologna."[100]
[pg 140]After several letters describing his labours, he writes, ultimately, to the same:—
"Buonarroto,—I marvel you write to me so seldom. I am sure you have much more time to write to me than I to write to you, so let me hear often how things go. I understand by your last how, with good reason, you wish me to return soon. It made me anxious for several days; therefore, when you write to me, write strongly and clearly what the matter is so that I may understand it—and enough. Know that I desire to return soon even more than you desire it, for I pass my life here in the greatest discomfort and with the hardest labour, doing nothing but work day and night, and I have endured so much fatigue and hardship that if I should have to go through it again, I do not believe my life would hold out, for it has been an enormous undertaking, and if it had been in any one else's hands it would have come out very badly. But I believe the prayers of some one have sustained me and kept me in health, for all Bologna was of opinion that I should never finish it after it was cast, and before also, when no one would believe that I should ever cast it. Enough that I have brought it to a good end, but I shall not quite have finished it by the end of this month, as I hoped; but next month, at any rate, it will be done, and I will return. So be all of good cheer, for I will do as I promised whatever happens. Comfort Lodovico and Giovansimone for me and write to me how Giovansimone does. Mind and learn to keep shop, so that you will know how to do it when you need, which will be soon.
"The tenth day of November.
"Michael Angelo, in Bologna."[101]
[pg 141]He worked on until February, and wrote to the same:—
"Buonarroto,—It is now a fortnight since I expected to be with you, for I thought that directly my figure was finished they would place it. And now these people are dawdling and doing nothing; and I have orders from the Pope not to leave until it is placed, so that it seems to me I shall be prevented. I shall stay and look after it all this week too; if there are no further orders I will come away at all costs, without observing the command. With this will be a letter to go to the Cardinal of Pavia, in which I reply to him about it all, so that he cannot complain. So put it in a cover and direct it to Giuliano da San Gallo on my part, and desire him to deliver it with his own hand.
"Di Bologna (the 18th day of February, 1508)."[102]
On February 21, 1508, the statue of Pope Julius II. was hoisted on to its pedestal above the great central door of San Petronio. Alas! this work which cost Michael Angelo a year and three months of hard, unremitting labour only existed for about twice that period. It was destroyed by the worst enemy of art—war. The Papal Legate fled from Bologna in 1511 and the Bentivogli again entered the city. The people of their party dragged the heavy bronze to the ground and broke it into pieces on December 30. The broken fragments were sent to Alfonso d'Este, Duke of Ferrara, who cast a huge cannon with the metal, which the Italians, with their usual mocking spirit, immediately called La Giulia. The Duke kept the head only, and said he would not take its weight in gold for it; it weighed six hundred pounds. This head has disappeared too; [pg 142]there is no drawing, engraving, or any fragment to help us to reconstruct in our minds this mighty bronze; only, perhaps, we may imagine that we have an echo of this Pope by Michael Angelo when we turn our eyes from the bare front of San Petronio to the niche on the Palazzo Comunale to the right of the square, where a bronze Pope, Gregory XIII., stretches his hand to curse the iconoclastic people. In the Piazza Dante, at Perugia, is the bronze statue of Pope Julius III., by Vincenzio Dante, that makes us think of the master, and in Rimini a mighty bronze form stretches out his right hand with a threatening gesture. He, too, is a Pope—Paul V.