Chapter Forty-Two

Florence, 1503

Michelangelo remembered the day well. It was August 22, and it was very hot and the humidity was oppressive. He had been toiling in his workshop when a messenger, sent from the town square by Botticelli, arrived to tell him that Pope Alexander had died four days earlier. The messenger also informed him that the pope had been sick for several days before he died. Cesare, too, had fallen ill, but he was expected to recover.

While the thought that they might have been poisoned immediately crossed his mind, he was more focused on how long it would take the convocation to elect Cardinal della Rovere to succeed Alexander.

Every day, after working on David, he would go to the Piazza della Signoria in search of news, and while many people speculated about the next pope, the days passed without any announcements. As days turned into weeks, he began to wonder if Cardinal della Rovere had miscalculated his influence among the other members of the Curia.

Finally, on the morning of September 27, a messenger arrived to spread the word that that Cardinal Francesco Todeschini Piccolomini had been elected pope and had taken the name Pius III, in honor of his uncle Pius II.

Michelangelo wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. He suspected that Pius III might have been a compromise candidate or a “caretaker” pope, but all he really knew about the new pontiff was that he had been born in Sarteano, that his uncle had been pope and that he had been present at Alexander’s infamous ball.

With his return to Rome seemingly delayed, Michelangelo pondered his immediate future. Although there was no shortage of commissions offered to him, allowing him the luxury of picking and choosing, none possessed the allure or the prestige of a papal assignment.

So while he worked on David, smoothing the imperfections, tinkering with the mouth ever so slightly and then the hands, and polishing the marble, he wondered what he might do next.

He had just about finished the statue of the boy warrior, and having worked on it for nearly two years from the time he had first begun, he had grown quite tired of it. In fact, the only real question that seemed to remain was where the statue would be placed.

The town - and its artistic community - were divided. One very vocal faction, supported by Leonardo, believed that the statue needed to be placed under a shelter of some sort because the marble had been badly weathered even before Michelangelo started the work. They had decided on the Loggia dei Lanzi on the Piazza della Signoria. Had he been asked, Michelangelo would have said he preferred that location because he was enamored of the wide arches. However, even though it was his work, no one had sought his opinion.

Another faction opined that David should be placed at the entrance to the Palazzo della Signoria, the city’s town hall. While it wasn’t ideal as far as he was concerned, the truth was that Michelangelo really didn’t give a damn where they put it as long as they took it out of his workshop.

No, he was just about done with David. Perhaps another few weeks and then he could move on to something else. He wanted to paint, and he had been offered the opportunity to execute a fresco.

If he wished, he could paint the Battle of Cascina for the Palazzo Vecchio. He knew that Leonardo had already painted the Battle of Angiari, which immortalized the struggle between the armies of Florence and Milan some 70 years earlier.

The more he thought about it, the more the prospect intrigued him. Surely that would quench his desire for something new - and the idea of matching wits with the Old Man once again excited him.

He had made up his mind to do it, when on the morning of October 18, a messenger arrived to ask for prayers for Pope Pius III, who had been called home to God. He also informed the townspeople that a convocation had been assembled to elect a new pontiff.

And so the waiting began again. The days of uncertainty once again grew into weeks, and finally on November 28, the messenger from Rome brought the news that the conclave had elected Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere to the Throne of St. Peter, and that he was now Pope Julius II.

Two days later, another messenger arrived at his workshop with a letter from the newly elected pope.

The note was brief and to the point. It said simply: “Come to Rome as soon as possible.” It was, Michelangelo thought, written in the same imperious style that he had come to expect from the man.

Michelangelo wrote back and said, “I have just about finished with David. As soon as it is completed, I shall be on my way.

Your humble servant,

Michelangelo Buonarotti”

Two weeks later, the statue of David was completed.

As he packed his bags that night for the next day’s journey, it suddenly occurred to Michelangelo to wonder about the fate of the cameos. Was he being summoned to Rome so that della Rovere could exact his vengeance in a very public way?

Although he tried mightily, he could not escape the fear that lurked in the back of his mind.

For the next five days, Michelangelo was in a foul mood. Each step of his horse brought him closer to Rome and caused the doubts and fears to grow and multiply. Finally, he arrived at the gates of the city.

He crossed the Tiber and made his way slowly to St. Peter’s.

As he climbed down from his horse, he saw Captain Bari approaching. “Signore artista,” the captain said, “His Holiness has been asking about you daily. He will be so pleased that you have finally arrived. Please wait here while I inform the pope.”

A few minutes later, the captain returned and said simply, “Follow me. His Holiness will see you now.”

A few minutes later, Michelangelo found himself standing in a rather large chapel.

The pope, who had been talking with two other cardinals, left them as he entered. As he approached Michelangelo, he extended his arm, Michelangelo genuflected and kissed the ring.

“I told you that someday I would be pope,” he laughed. “And now I am.”

“And may your reign be long and prosperous,” Michelangelo said.

“Do you know where we are, my son?”

“This is the old Cappella Magna, is it not?” Michelangelo asked.

“Indeed it is,” replied the Pope. “It was restored by my uncle Pope Sixtus IV in 1482. It is now the site where popes are elected. This is the building where I was chosen as the successor to St. Peter. Do you notice anything about it?”

Looking about, Michelangelo saw the frescoes that Botticelli, Ghirlandaio, Perugino and Rosselli had executed adorning the walls. “The artwork is inspired,” said Michelangelo.

“Yes, you can certainly see God’s hand guiding the artists’ brushes as they labored over the story of Moses and that of Our Lord, Jesus Christ.” The pope crossed himself as he uttered the savior’s name.

“But I think it is incomplete. Something is missing, don’t you agree?”

“I am not certain that I follow Your Holiness,” said Michelangelo.

“I am going to leave you now, Michelangelo. I would like you to join me for dinner this evening, but in the meantime, I should like you to look at this building. See if God touches you, as I believe he has touched me. Will you do that for me?”

“Of course, Your Holiness.”

“Splendid. Then I shall see you in an hour,” he said. The pope turned and began to walk away as Michelangelo studied the building and tried to divine what the pontiff had in mind.

Suddenly, the pope turned and began walking toward him. “Just one more thing, my son ...”

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

“Do you have any idea what became of those cameos that you executed for Pope Alexander? No one here seems to know a thing about them.”