ice we possess about the unlucky lad from Florence. "I wrote about
the boy, to say that his father ought to send for him, and that I
would not disburse more money. This I now confirm. The driver is paid
to take him back. At Florence he will do well enough, learning his
trade and dwelling with his parents. Here he is not worth a farthing,
and makes me toil like a beast of burden; and my other apprentice has
not left his bed. It is true that I have not got him in the house; for
when I was so tired out that I could not bear it, I sent him to the
room of a brother of his. I have no money."

These household difficulties were a trifle, however, compared with the
annoyances caused by the stupidity of his father and the greediness of
his brothers. While living like a poor man in Rome, he kept
continually thinking of their welfare. The letters of this period are
full of references to the purchase of land, the transmission of cash
when it was to be had, and the establishment of Buonarroto in a
draper's business. They, on their part, were never satisfied, and
repaid his kindness with ingratitude. The following letter to Giovan
Simone shows how terrible Michelangelo could be when he detected
baseness in a brother:--

"Giovan Simone,--It is said that when one does good to a good man, he
makes him become better, but that a bad man becomes worse. It is now
many years that I have been endeavouring with words and deeds of
kindness to bring you to live honestly and in peace with your father
and the rest of us. You grow continually worse. I do not say that you
are a scoundrel; but you are of such sort that you have ceased to give
satisfaction to me or anybody. I could read you a long lesson on your
ways of living; but they would be idle words, like all the rest that I
have wasted. To cut the matter short, I will tell you as a fact beyond
all question that you have nothing in the world: what you spend and
your house-room, I give you, and have given you these many years, for
the love of God, believing you to be my brother like the rest. Now, I
am sure that you are not my brother, else you would not threaten my
father. Nay, you are a beast; and as a beast I mean to treat you. Know
that he who sees his father threatened or roughly handled is bound to
risk his own life in this cause. Let that suffice. I repeat that you
have nothing in the world; and if I hear the least thing about your
ways of going on, I will come to Florence by the post, an