Chapter Fourteen

Rome, 1501

Reflecting on the task given him by Pope Alexander, Michelangelo had to admire the pontiff’s ingenuity.

Thinking back to his school days, the artist recalled how often he had been threatened by Father Lawrence, perhaps the most sanctimonious man Michelangelo had ever met, with eternal damnation if he failed to memorize the mnemonic acronym SALIGIA. Anyone who could remember the word could easily recall its components:

Superbia, avaritia, luxuria, invidia, gulam, ira, and acedia. And if you could recall their names that was the first step in avoiding the pitfalls posed by the Seven Deadly Sins.

For perhaps the first time in his life, the artist found himself thinking of the good father in a kindly manner.

Working from the list provided by Pope Alexander, he had made a number of preliminary drawings, but they were all only half-complete.

On the sketch of Cardinal della Rovere, he had also added notes on the side to help him visualize the elements he would have to address before he could even begin working on the cameo.

Despite some serious misgivings about the power of della Rovere - after all, the man had boasted to him that he would be pope someday - he thought that depicting the prelate as the embodiment of pride seemed somehow appropriate.

After all, hadn’t theologians come to regard pride as the most serious sin and thus the source of all other forms of iniquity?

He recalled that Father Lawrence certainly had.

He considered della Rovere’s bitter accusations that Pope Alexander had secured his position by means of simony and decided that they smacked of both anger and jealousy, and his attempt years later to convene a conclave for the sole purpose of deposing the pope showed a man consumed by greed and ambition. Add in Cardinal della Rovere’s own illegitimate daughter, and suddenly lust made its presence known in his personality. In short, Michelangelo decided that just as Lucifer had been blinded by pride so too had della Rovere fallen victim to hubris or superbia.

After some careful consideration, Michelangelo knew exactly how he would incorporate the other elements to complete the portrait.

Next he looked at his drawing of Cardinal Ascanio Sforza.

Long before he had come to Rome, Michelangelo had heard of the cardinal’s reputation as a skilled diplomat, and he also knew that Sforza, when he saw that he could not win the papacy for himself, had thrown his support behind Cardinal Borgia. In return, the new pope had named him vice chancellor. To further strengthen that alliance, Sforza had subsequently arranged for his cousin, Giovanni, to marry the pope’s only daughter, Lucrezia.

Given that the marriage had been annulled a few years later on the grounds of non-consummation, Michelangelo suspected there was a degree of rancor that existed between the pope and his ever-envious prime minister.

In his depiction of Sforza, he could discern a certain canine-like quality in the shape of the head, and the cardinal’s bulging snout, perhaps his most prominent feature, only aided in the comparison. With just a little bit of work, Michelangelo decided that he could transform the cardinal into his bestial counterpart and set it against a background of brilliant green. So much for the sin of invidia, he thought.

Michelangelo continued working his way through the pope’s list. He was surprised to see that the pontiff had included Cardinal Bartolomeo Marti. After all, the pope had named him majordomo of the apostolic palace and then he had named him camerlengo - a post he had held for less than a year.

Certainly he had done little to distinguish himself, which made him a perfect candidate for acedia. The old goat probably deserves it, Michelangelo thought, chuckling at his own cleverness. For he realized that the goat was the animal most associated with sloth.

Cardinal Guillaume Briconnet was next. Having betrayed the pope, the people of Pisa and the city of Milan, all in attempts to advance his own career as well as those of his children, the good cardinal had always acted in the interest of self-preservation. He was, Michelangelo decided, an absolute swine, and depicting him as the personification of gluttony was something that the artist decided would bring him great pleasure.

He continued through the list, considering the various names and weighing the artistic possibilities of the possible associations. All things considered, the pope had been as good as his word. While there were some things the pontiff had insisted upon, he had still left Michelangelo with plenty of room to bring his own artistic vision to bear on the various creations. For the first time, Michelangelo thought this was a project that he might actually enjoy. He even allowed himself to consider that he might have entered a partnership that could last.

After carefully concealing the sketches in the special hiding place in his easel, Michelangelo prepared to go shopping. Since Paolo had the day off, the artist realized that he would have to fend for himself.

As he weighed what he might enjoy for dinner, he was surprised by a knock on the door. As he was deciding whether to answer, the tapping was suddenly repeated - this time with more urgency - and he heard a woman’s voice say, “Signore Buonarotti, are you in there?”

He replied, “Un momento, signora.”

Descending the stairs, he opened the door and was stunned to find Lucrezia Borgia standing there.

Before he could say anything, she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth. Ending the rather awkward embrace, she said, “I simply had to come and thank you. I have had my portrait painted by three different artists, but none has even come close to capturing me as you have signore.”

Stepping back, Michelangelo studied her. He was struck by the flawless complexion and the flowing blonde hair. Although she had turned 21 earlier that year, she exuded a confidence that belied her age - an attribute he believed he had captured in the cameo.

“If you are unhappy with your portraits, perhaps I can remedy that. I should love to have you sit for me,” said Michelangelo.

“That would be wonderful,” she said. “But I know that you have some work to do for my father, and I am afraid that his task trumps my vanity,” she said laughing.

“May I offer you something, signora?”

“Oh please, call me Lucrezia,” she said.

“Lucrezia,” he let the name roll off his lips, and he liked the sound of it. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“I should like that very much,” she replied.

Michelangelo showed her to his table, and said, “Please sit. I shall be back forthwith.”

As he walked into the kitchen to fetch cups and a wineskin, he wondered if gratitude were the only motivation for the visit. He knew that Lucrezia had been married twice. Her first marriage had been annulled, and her second husband had been murdered little more than a year before. Given her pleasant disposition, Michelangelo guessed that she had managed to come to terms with her grief.

Returning with the wine, Michelangelo handed her a cup and then fetched a tray with dates and cheese. As they sat there, he found himself taking full stock of her - the lustrous hazel eyes, the sparkling white teeth and the ample bosom.

Lost in thought, Michelangelo suddenly heard her say, “Signore, I hope my appearance does not displease you. I feel as though you are painting me in your mind.”

“I apologize Lucrezia, but you are truly a beautiful woman. And you are correct. I was envisioning how I might pose you, what I might try to capture, and which features to emphasize, were you ever to pose for me.”

“You flatter me, Michelangelo.”

“My humble home has never been graced by anyone as lovely as you,” he replied.

“I find that hard to believe,” she laughed. “Do not forget, I have had firsthand experience with three of Italy’s leading artists. Still, I must admit that it is quite nice to receive a compliment from a man not wearing clerical robes or seeking some sort of preferment.”

They both laughed at her remark.

“Is life at the papal palace so difficult?” he teased her.

“It can be,” she replied. “I love my father, and I would do anything for him, but I would also like to live my life. I have been twice married, you know, and I did not love either man.”

“Then why wed?” he asked.

“The marriages were arranged in order that my father might forge a new alliance or strengthen an existing one. Having said that, signore, I hope that I can depend upon you to be discreet.”

“Your secrets are safe with me,” he said.

“I like you Michelangelo. You are not like the men with whom I normally associate,” she said.

“And I like you as well,” he replied.

Their eyes met, and Michelangelo wasn’t certain what he saw there. Triumph? Relief? He found it impossible to discern the emotions she was feeling.

“Well then, since we are friends, there is something that I must tell you. Be very careful when you come to the palace. There are many there who wish my father ill.”

“I am well aware of that,” the artist replied.

“His enemies will become your enemies. And his allies will become your allies.”

She looked at him carefully, paused, and then in a very quiet voice, almost a whisper, she asked, “Are you loyal to my father, Michelangelo?”