farthing. At home his brothers were quarrelsome and wasteful, and treated their old father unkindly. On all sides people seemed to conspire to vex and thwart him.
"I am living here in discontent," he wrote in June, 1508, "never well and undergoing great fatigues; without money or friends."
And, the following January, in a letter to his father, he says:
"I am still all perplexed, for I have not received any money whatever from the Pope, and I do not ask him for any, as my work is not far enough advanced to receive payment. This is because of the difficulty of the work and because such painting is not my profession, so I waste my time in vain. God help me!"
On the Feast of All Saints, 1509, a portion of the vault was uncovered to satisfy the Pope's impatience, and excited general admiration. But the work was still far from being complete, and the great master had still many difficulties to overcome.
"I am suffering greater hardships than ever man endured," he wrote in a black fit of despondency in July, 1512. "I am ill and overwhelmed with labour. But I put up with all, if only I can reach the desired end."
A few weeks later he preached patience to his father, who was grumbling at the over-heavy taxes which the Florentines had to pay:
