Chapter Forty

Florence, 1501

Word of the pope’s sudden and unexpected rift with Michelangelo spread quickly through the city. For days, it was the primary topic of discussion - both at the Vatican as well as in the marketplaces and the tavernas.

Those who claimed to be in the know stated with certainty that the pontiff had found Michelangelo’s works unworthy of a place at the Vatican. They said that Pope Alexander had been so incensed by Michelangelo’s creations that he had smashed them to bits with a hammer right in front of him. Though, of course, no one could say with any kind of certainty what it was that the pope had allegedly destroyed.

Some claimed it was an ornate chess set that His Holiness had requested while others believed it to be miniature statues of the pontiff and his children.

For his part, Michelangelo would only say was that he was terribly sorry that he had disappointed the pope, but that he had warned His Holiness prior to accepting the commission that he had never attempted anything like that before.

A few days later, Michelangelo suddenly left Rome. He returned to Florence, where he resumed work on the enormous statue of David that he had started just months before his brief sojourn in Rome.

Rumors abounded about the artist and his work, and some even made their way north to Florence. According to some reports, he had left the papal commission and returned only when the Florentine officials had demanded the return of the rather large advance they had given him for the David.

Others insisted that he had been persuaded to take up the hammer and chisel and finish the work by Leonardo da Vinci. And a small but vocal minority attributed Michelangelo’s change of heart to the influence of his old friend Sandro Botticelli.

At any rate, Michelangelo worked on the statue almost nonstop, seldom venturing from his workshop, and entertaining only a few visitors.

Perhaps a month after he had resumed work on David, there was a knock at the door late one morning. Michelangelo thought about ignoring it, but the caller persisted, banging incessantly.

Finally, he heard a familiar voice say, “Michelangelo! I know you are in there! Open the door!”

Realizing that he had no other option, Michelangelo decided to oblige his visitor, and when he did as he had been commanded, there standing before him in a cassock of brilliant red with a large saturno on his head was Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere.

Before Michelangelo could say anything, the cardinal began, “And must I journey from Rome to Florence every time I wish to see you?”

Genuflecting, Michelangelo kissed the proffered ring and said, “My deepest apologies, Your Eminence.”

“I am confused,” said the cardinal. “I thought we had an understanding. I thought we had become friends.”

“We are, Your Eminence.”

“Then why did you depart without stopping to say farewell?” asked the cardinal.

“I did write you a letter,” said Michelangelo, by way of explanation.

“I received it, and I read it many times, trying to comprehend it, but I must confess, its meaning eluded me.”

“There was no hidden meaning, Your Eminence.”

“Then why did you leave so quickly?” asked the cardinal.

“There were a number of factors that contributed to my sudden return to Florence,” said Michelangelo. “I was humiliated and embarrassed by the pope and his criticism of my work. Also, I had accepted a rather sizable advance on this commission and there was talk of revoking it and giving the task to someone else unless I returned.”

“You already know what I think of Pope Alexander,” said the cardinal. “And if you had followed my lead, you would still be in Rome, working for me.”

“You are too kind, your eminence.”

“No Michelangelo, I am a realist. Just because one cardinal is incapable of appreciating genius, do not ascribe that shortcoming to all us.”

The cardinal continued, “Alexander will be 71 on his next birthday. I will be 58 on mine. I told you in Rome that one day I would be pope. Do you still believe me?”

“I do, Your Eminence.”

“Excellent, because when I ascend to the Throne of Saint Peter, I am going to do things that Alexander dared not imagine. I have already spoken with Donato Bramante about designing a new St. Peter’s Basilica.”

“You can’t be serious!” exclaimed Michelangelo. “The basilica is more than 1,000 years old.”

“Yes, and for the past decade, it has been polluted by Pope Alexander and his demon offspring. The church will need a new start after the Spaniard is gone, and I cannot imagine a better way to bury the past than by destroying it.”

“I also have some very special projects in mind for you,” the cardinal added.

“Would Your Eminence care to elaborate?” asked Michelangelo.

“All in due time, my son. Right now, they are little more than hopes and dreams. After our present pope has gone to his judgment, I will be more than happy to elucidate my plans. However, I will tell you this: As much as I admire your works in stone, I know that your first love is painting.”

“That is true, Your Eminence. Even when I am sculpting, I try to find time every day to paint if I can.”

“And do you paint, as you sculpt, for the greater glory of God?” asked the cardinal.

“I do, your eminence.”

“Splendid. I assure you that we are going to have a long and beneficial relationship, my son. But it will require your returning to Rome.”

“First, I must finish my work here. After all, as I said, I have taken their money. Also, I think you would agree that sculpting David, God’s own warrior, is certainly a worthy undertaking.”

“I would think it more worthy were you executing it in Rome,” laughed the cardinal, “but I do admire your loyalty.”

“Thank you, your eminence.”

“How long do you think it will take before you are finished?”

“I was able to finish the Pieta in less than two years,” said Michelangelo. “This may take a bit longer because the marble is badly weathered and must be treated much more carefully. I cannot work as fast as I might.”

“I understand,” said the cardinal, “I suppose there is no need to rush. I am powerless while Alexander overshadows our present. All that I can do is plan for the future and wait for his demise.”

“Stay here,” the cardinal continued, “Take your time and let David be a monument to your skill and your love of Our Lord. All I ask is that when I become pope, you promise to carry out my commissions - even if it means letting another artist finish something that you may have begun.”

“You have my word, Your Eminence,” said Michelangelo.

“Splendid,” said the cardinal. Looking at Michelangelo, he said, “May I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course, Your Eminence.”

“You are not afraid of heights, are you?”

Although mystified by the question, Michelangelo answered, “No, your eminence. They do not frighten me.” “Just as I thought,” said the cardinal. “Be well, my son,” and with that the cardinal climbed into his carriage and drove off.

As he watched della Rovere depart, Michelangelo could only muse, “What an odd question.”