“All the dissensions between Pope Julius and me arose from the envy of Bramante and Raffaello da Urbino; and this was the cause of my not finishing the tomb in his lifetime.  They wanted to ruin me.  Raffaello had indeed good reason, for all he had of art, he had from me.”

Twice again in October Michelangelo wrote to Luigi del Riccio about the ratification of his contract.  “I cannot live, far less paint.”  “I am resolved to stop at home and finish the three figures, as I agreed to do.  This would be better for me than to drag my limbs daily to the Vatican.  Let him who likes get angry.  If the Pope wants me to paint, he must send for the Duke’s ambassador and procure the ratification.”

What happened at this time about the tomb can be understood by help of a letter written to Salvestro da Montauto on the 3rd of February 1545.  Michelangelo refers to the last contract, and says that the Duke of Urbino ratified the deed.  Accordingly, five statues were assigned to Raffaello da Montelupo.  “But while I was painting the new chapel for Pope Paul III., his Holiness, at my earnest prayer, allowed me a little time, during which I finished two of them, namely, the Active and Contemplative Life, with my own hand.”

With all his good-will, however, Michelangelo did not wholly extricate himself from the anxieties of this miserable affair.  As late as the year 1553, Annibale Caro wrote to Antonio Gallo entreating him to plead for the illustrious old man with the Duke of Urbino.  “I assure you that the extreme distress caused him by being in disgrace with his Excellency is sufficient to bring his grey hairs to the grave before his time.”

VI

The Tomb of Julius, as it now appears in the Church of S. Pietro in Vincoli in Rome, is a monument composed of two discordant parts, by inspecting which a sympathetic critic is enabled to read the dreary history of its production.  As Condivi allows, it was a thing “rattoppata e rifatta,” patched together and hashed up.

The lower half represents what eventually survived from the grandiose original design for one facade of that vast mount of marble which was to have been erected in the Tribune of St. Peter’s.  The socles, upon which captive Arts and Sciences were meant to stand, remain; but instead of statues, inverted consoles take their places, and lead lamely up to the heads and busts of terminal old men.  The pilasters of these terms have been shortened.  There are four of them, enclosing two narrow niches, where beautiful female figures, the Active Life and the Contemplative Life, still testify to the enduring warmth and vigour of the mighty sculptor’s genius.  As single statues duly worked into a symmetrical scheme, these figures would be admirable, since grace of line and symbolical contrast of attitude render both charming.  In their present position they are reduced to comparative insignificance by heavy architectural surroundings.  The space left free between the niches and the terms is assigned to the seated statue of Moses, which forms the main attraction of the monument, and of which, as a masterpiece of Michelangelo’s best years, I shall have to speak later on.