n the nose with his fist,
using such terrible violence and crushing that feature in such a
manner that the proper form could never be restored to it, and
Michelangelo had his nose flattened by that blow all his life." So
Torregiano fled from the Medicean wrath which would have descended
upon him. After a short career as a soldier, impatient at not being
rapidly promoted, he returned to his old profession of a sculptor.
He went to England, where, says Vasari, "he executed many works in
marble, bronze, and wood, for the king." The chief of these was the
striking tomb of Henry VII. and the queen. Torregiano's agreement
was to make it for a thousand pounds: also there is a contract which
he signed with Henry VIII., agreeing to construct a similar tomb
also for that monarch, to be one quarter part larger than that of
Henry VII., but this was not carried out.

St. Anthony appears on a little sculptured medallion on the tomb
of Henry VII., with a small pig trotting beside him. This is St.
Anthony of Vienna, not of Padua. His legend is as follows. In an
old document, Newcourt's Repertorium, it is related that "the monks
of St. Anthony with their importunate begging, contrary to the
example of St. Anthony, are so troublesome, as, if men give them
nothing, they will presently threaten them with St. Anthony's
fire; so that many simple people, out of fear or blind zeal, every
year use to bestow on them a fat pig, or porker, which they have
ordinarily painted in their pictures of St. Anthony, whereby they
may procure their good will and their prayers, and be secure from
their menaces."

Torregiano's contract read that he should "make well, surely, cleanly,
and workmanlike, curiously, and substantially" the marble tomb
with "images, beasts, and other things, of copper, gilte." Another
craftsman who exercised his skill in this chapel was Lawrence Imber,
image maker, and in 1500 the names of John Hudd, sculptor, and
Nicolas Delphyn, occur. Some of the figures and statuettes on the
tomb were also made by Drawswerd of York.

On the outer ribs of Henry VII.'s chapel may be detected certain
little symmetrically disposed bosses, which at first glance one
would suppose to be inconspicuous crockets. But in an admirable
spirit of humour, the sculptor has here carved a series of griffins,
in procession, holding on for dear life, in the attitudes of children
sliding down the banisters. They are delightfully animated and
amusing.

The well