ritten by
him which bears the impress of strong emotion, and to suppress other
aspects of his sensibility, has been so deliberate, that I am forced
to embark upon a discussion which might otherwise have not been
brought so prominently forward. For the understanding of his
character, and for a proper estimate of his poetry, it has become
indispensable to do so.

V

Michelangelo's best friend in Rome was a young nobleman called Tommaso
Cavalieri. Speaking of his numerous allies and acquaintances, Vasari
writes: "Immeasurably more than all the rest, he loved Tommaso dei
Cavalieri, a Roman gentleman, for whom, as he was young and devoted to
the arts, Michelangelo made many stupendous drawings of superb heads
in black and red chalk, wishing him to learn the method of design.
Moreover, he drew for him a Ganymede carried up to heaven by Jove's
eagle, a Tityos with the vulture feeding on his heart, the fall of
Phaeton with the sun's chariot into the river Po, and a Bacchanal of
children; all of them things of the rarest quality, and drawings the
like of which were never seen. Michelangelo made a cartoon portrait of
Messer Tommaso, life-size, which was the only portrait that he ever
drew, since he detested to imitate the living person, unless it was
one of incomparable beauty." Several of Michelangelo's sonnets are
addressed to Tommaso Cavalieri. Benedetto Varchi, in his commentary,
introduces two of them with these words: "The first I shall present is
one addressed to M. Tommaso Cavalieri, a young Roman of very noble
birth, in whom I recognised, while I was sojourning at Rome, not only
incomparable physical beauty, but so much elegance of manners, such
excellent intelligence, and such graceful behaviour, that he well
deserved, and still deserves, to win the more love the better he is
known." Then Varchi recites the sonnet:--

Why should I seek to ease intense desire
With still more tears and windy words of grief,
When heaven, or late or soon, sends no relief
To souls whom love hath robed around with fire?

Why need my aching heart to death aspire,
When all must die? Nay, death beyond belief
Unto these eyes would be both sweet and brief,
Since in my sum of woes all joys expire!

Therefore, because I cannot shun the blow
I rather seek, say who must rule my breast,
Gliding between her gladness and her woe?

If only chains and bands can make me blest,
No marvel if alone and bare I go,
An ar