kes more impression than farms in the country; and we are
truly burghers, who claim a very noble ancestry. I always strove my
utmost to resuscitate our house, but I had not brothers able to assist
me. Try then to do what I write you, and make Gismondo come back to
live in Florence, so that I may not endure the shame of hearing it
said here that I have a brother at Settignano who trudges after oxen.
One day, when I find the time, I will tell you all about our origin,
and whence we sprang, and when we came to Florence. Perhaps you know
nothing about it; still we ought not to rob ourselves of what God gave
us." The same feeling runs through the letters he wrote Lionardo about
the choice of a wife. One example will suffice: "I believe that in
Florence there are many noble and poor families with whom it would be
a charity to form connections. If there were no dower, there would
also be no arrogance. Pay no heed should people say you want to
ennoble yourself, since it is notorious that we are ancient citizens
of Florence, and as noble as any other house."

Michelangelo, as we know now, was mistaken in accepting his supposed
connection with the illustrious Counts of Canossa, whose castle played
so conspicuous a part in the struggle between Hildebrand and the
Empire, and who were imperially allied through the connections of the
Countess Matilda. Still he had tradition to support him, confirmed by
the assurance of the head of the Canossa family. Nobody could accuse
him of being a snob or parvenu. He lived like a poor man, indifferent
to dress, establishment, and personal appearances. Yet he prided
himself upon his ancient birth; and since the Simoni had been
indubitably noble for several generations, there was nothing
despicable in his desire to raise his kinsfolk to their proper
station. Almost culpably careless in all things that concerned his
health and comfort, he spent his earnings for the welfare of his
brothers, in order that an honourable posterity might carry on the
name he bore, and which he made illustrious. We may smile at his
peevishness in repudiating the title of sculptor after bearing it
through so many years of glorious labour; but when he penned the
letters I have quoted, he was the supreme artist of Italy, renowned as
painter, architect, military engineer; praised as a poet; befriended
with the best and greatest of his contemporaries; recognised as
unique, not only in the art of sculpture. If he felt some prid