This barren period is marked by only one considerable event—­that is, the termination of the Cristo Risorto, or Christ Triumphant, which had been ordered by Metello Varj de’ Porcari in 1514.  The statue seems to have been rough-hewn at the quarries, packed up, and sent to Pisa on its way to Florence as early as December 1518, but it was not until March 1521 that Michelangelo began to occupy himself about it seriously.  He then despatched Pietro Urbano to Rome with orders to complete it there, and to arrange with the purchaser for placing it upon a pedestal.  Sebastiano’s letters contain some references to this work, which enable us to understand how wrong it would be to accept it as a representative piece of Buonarroti’s own handicraft.  On the 9th of November 1520 he writes that his gossip, Giovanni da Reggio, “goes about saying that you did not execute the figure, but that it is the work of Pietro Urbano.  Take good care that it should be seen to be from your hand, so that poltroons and babblers may burst.”  On the 6th of September 1521 he returns to the subject.  Urbano was at this time resident in Rome, and behaving himself so badly, in Sebastiano’s opinion, that he feels bound to make a severe report.  “In the first place, you sent him to Rome with the statue to finish and erect it.  What he did and left undone you know already.  But I must inform you that he has spoiled the marble wherever he touched it.  In particular, he shortened the right foot and cut the toes off; the hands too, especially the right hand, which holds the cross, have been mutilated in the fingers.  Frizzi says they seem to have been worked by a biscuit-maker, not wrought in marble, but kneaded by some one used to dough.  I am no judge, not being familiar with the method of stone-cutting; but I can tell you that the fingers look to me very stiff and dumpy.  It is clear also that he has been peddling at the beard; and I believe my little boy would have done so with more sense, for it looks as though he had used a knife without a point to chisel the hair.  This can easily be remedied, however.  He has also spoiled one of the nostrils.  A little more, and the whole nose would have been ruined, and only God could have restored it.”  Michelangelo apparently had already taken measures to transfer the Christ from Urbano’s hands to those of the sculptor Federigo Frizzi.  This irritated his former friend and workman.  “Pietro shows a very ugly and malignant spirit after finding himself cast off by you.  He does not seem to care for you or any one alive, but thinks he is a great master.  He will soon find out his mistake, for the poor young man will never be able to make statues.  He has forgotten all he knew of art, and the knees of your Christ are worth more than all Rome together.”  It was Sebastiano’s wont to run babbling on this way.  Once again he returns to Pietro Urbano.  “I am informed that he has left Rome; he has not been seen for several days, has shunned the Court, and I certainly believe that he will come to a bad end.  He gambles, wants all the women of the town, struts like a Ganymede in velvet shoes through Rome, and flings his cash about.  Poor fellow!  I am sorry for him since, after all, he is but young.”