“I first bethought me of Leonardo da Vinci as being the successful rival of Michael Angelo in this city, and against whom he could not for a moment contend. But da Vinci hath no drawings toward Rome. I have marked for a long time that he cutteth his doublet after the French fashion. Trust me, he is no man for us; he would rather trip it merrily with French dames than wear out his knees on the cold scagliola of the Vatican. I have bethought me also that Leonardo is too old and subtle for you; you need a man whom you can manage; who shall look up to you as a patron and as a superior. My eye hath lately fallen upon a youngster of surprising talent as a painter, a stranger in Florence, of no great influence, and utterly unknown to fame. He hath as yet no great opinion of himself; make haste to secure him before others shall enlighten him as to his merits. This youth is called Raphael Santi, and I make sure that the pope will greatly prefer this silken dove to that porcupine Angelo.
“I would the more willingly see him advanced in some foreign city in that my good friend Cardinal Bibbiena seems desirous with all expedition to get him forth from Florence, and yet it is not so much from a desire to pleasure Bibbiena, as from a conviction that I have found here a tool of proper service to thee, that I thus recommend him to thy good offices.
“To conclude, my Bramante, make all speed to inform his Holiness that the walls of the Vatican are cracked, smoky, filthy, and disgraceful, and above all things fetch thy Raphael quickly and gain for him a personal interview; for I trust more to the charm of his presence than to volumes of thy bungling speech.
“And when thou hast need of further counsel, or seest that the pope desireth an Ahithophel,—now the counsel of Ahithophel which he counselled in those days was as if a man had enquired at the oracle,—why send then and fetch thy ever loving and honest friend,
“Macchiavelli.
“Florence, October 12, 1504.
“Maria Bibbiena to the Lady Alfonsina Orsini Medici, wife of Piero dei Medici, at Urbino:
“Florence, October 15, 1504.
“Most magnificent, most beloved, and most sweet lady:
“Since I last made bold to write you of my small matters, others more weighty to me have transpired, which, as I have made a beginning, I will also make an end in the way of their narration. And first I have met with a small disquietness from your highness’s brother-in-law, the Cardinal, concerning whose presence in Florence I had not heard. For yestreen, when I was playing upon my lute in the garden of the palazzo of your daughter, Madonna Strozzi, he came upon me suddenly walking with your daughter. Whereat he seemed at first taken all aback, but the Lady Maddalena exclaimed, ‘A new Petrarch, and new Laura,’ and commanded him on his fame as a scholar to make some rhymes on that subject. Whereat he replied that if I would continue playing he would write, as his patron, St. Cupid, gave him utterance, and with that he improvised and wrote out the nonsense herewith following:
“In all Avignon’s gardens the nightingales were mute
As at her open casement she played upon her lute.
The lonely scholar Petrarch wandered all listlessly;
‘The old man with the hour-glass has sure some grudge ’gainst me.
The sands they fall so sluggishly that tell the flight of time;
My studies all are tedium, and weariness my rhyme.’
’Twas then the Lady Laura, with lips like ripened fruit,
And lily-petalled fingers, full sweetly touched the lute.
The lonely Petrarch listened, as she sang, so sweet and low,
A soft love-laden sonnet, writ by Boccaccio.
Till Cupid snatched the hour-glass from loitering Father Time,
And Petrarch’s life was all too short to tell his love in rhyme.
“After the reading, our lady daughter would have me crown the poet, but this I would in no manner consent unto. Nay, I even flung down my lute in vexation of spirit, and ran away to another part of the garden. But I gained nothing thereby, for Giovanni pursued after me and came up with me at the fountain, where he caught my hand and would in no wise restore my freedom till he had delivered his mind of what lay thereon, namely, that he sought me for his wife. Whereupon I told him very plainly that I knew that he had been bred up for the Church, and that it were disloyalty to his brother, your highness’s husband, and to his nephew, your son Lorenzo, for him to think of marriage and a worldly life, for by so doing the Medici interest would be divided. But he said that if I would but be his wife he would relinquish all claim to political power and Lorenzo should not fear for his succession, for he would go with me to dwell in foreign parts. And while I sought in the corners of my mind for some answer which should convince him of my utter lothness, and yet not offend so noble a gentleman, came suddenly your daughter to warn him that others were entering the garden; but ere he went he kissed a rose and tossed it to me saying, ‘This rose comes not from Giovanni the Cardinal, but Giovanni the soldier, for henceforth go I to fight the French and to win my bride.’