hould make the figure and Andrea the horse. Having heard this, Andrea
broke the legs and head of his model and returned in great disdain to
Florence, without saying a word. The Signoria, receiving news of this,
gave him to understand that he should never be bold enough to return to
Venice, for they would cut his head off; to which he wrote in answer
that he would take good care not to, because, once they had cut a man's
head off, it was not in their power to put it on again, and certainly
not one like his own, whereas he could have replaced the head that he
had knocked off his horse with one even more beautiful. After this
answer, which did not displease those Signori, his payment was doubled
and he was persuaded to return to Venice, where he restored his first
model and cast it in bronze; but even then he did not finish it
entirely, for he caught a chill by overheating himself during the
casting, and died in that city within a few days; leaving unfinished
not only that work (although there was only a little polishing to be
done), which was set up in the place for which it was destined, but also
another which he was making in Pistoia, that is, the tomb of Cardinal
Forteguerra, with the three Theological Virtues, and a God the Father
above; which work was afterwards finished by Lorenzetto, a sculptor of
Florence.

[Illustration: STATUE OF BARTOLOMMEO COLLEONI

(_After the bronze by =Andrea Verrocchio=. Venice: Campo SS. Giovanni e
Paolo_)

_Anderson_]

Andrea was fifty-six years of age when he died. His death caused
infinite grief to his friends and to his disciples, who were not few;
above all to the sculptor Nanni Grosso, a most eccentric person both in
his art and in his life. This man, it is said, would not have worked
outside his shop, particularly for monks or friars, if he had not had
free access to the door of the vault, or rather, wine-cellar, so that he
might go and drink whenever he pleased, without having to ask leave. It
is also told of him that once, having returned from S. Maria Nuova
completely cured of some sickness, I know not what, he was visited by
his friends, who asked him how it went with him. "Ill," he answered.
"But thou art cured," they replied. "That is why it goes ill with me,"
said he, "for I would dearly love a little fever, so that I might lie
there in the hospital, well attended and at my ease." As he lay dying,
again in the hospital, there was placed before him a wooden Crucifix,
ver