Beloved Father:

Your son greets you in Forlì.

I have already mentioned to you that the master I serve, the Duke of Valentino, has already obtained Pesaro and Rimini, both of which he has no effort, and then he is going to attack Faenza, between Forlì and Imola, a rich and united city, and above all, their master, Astor of the Manfredi family, is as good at ruling as he is in battle, and he himself is not greedy, because he is still young, so he maintains the purity and enterprising spirit characteristic of a young man.

The reason why I know so well is because I had the privilege of being one of the lobbyists sent by the Duke to persuade him to submit. Manfredi was not a man of great beauty, only of good countenance, but he was full of youth and determination, and though he would not bow to the Duke in any way, he received us politely, sat us down, and ordered the waiter to bring us wine and biscuits, and when he spoke to us, he spoke softly and elegantly, and showed extraordinary attainments in art and mathematics—I would rather he be cowardly, like this, It would be a pity if he was lost in the flames of war, and if the Duke of Valentino was able to fulfill his great wishes, the Lord could have taken a prominent place in his court.

Unfortunately, my poor eloquence was completely unable to convince him, and we returned in vain, and the Duke decided to attack Faenza in three days' time.

The Duke had no rebuke for our defeat, and I thought he was quite forgiving, while the other emissary, Paul of the House of Orsini, thought that he would rather lead an army to capture more cities and castles than to rule over these vast territories—and I seem to think so, for the Duke was like a child about to acquire a new toy, and was in high spirits and spirits.

This time the Duke brought and purchased as many as thirty cannons on the way, and when so many cannons roared together, they probably even cracked a crack in the ground, so he was quite complacent, thinking that he could take Faenza before St. Martin's Day (November 11), but to his disappointment, Faenza's walls were listed no less than his cannons, and the range was no less than the Duke's. On the ground, when the cannon on the city wall roared together, it was as if the end had come early, and there was dirty smoke everywhere, and the stone projectiles thrown by the artillery jumped and tumbled on the ground, and ploughed deep traces, which still failed to hit the target, and those who hit the target, touched the person, no, even if it was only a slight rub, the person was as if he had been bitten by an invisible beast, and a part of his body disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving only a wound like rotten porridge soup, You can't tell the bones, the muscles, the veins out of it, it's all shattered, blurred, mixed together, and such people can't live—or, instead of flesh and blood, they hit the metal cannon or base, which is often worse, the gunpowder explodes in the chamber, and the rubble, wood and twisted hoops are flying everywhere, and even men and horses hundreds of feet away can be hit, and the wounds are like being slashed by a sword, and only the thick plate gold armor can protect one or two.

The battle went on painfully for several days and nights, and the duke's face was ugly, and he wrote to the Pope to complain that the Spaniards were selling their artillery everywhere, the French there, he had it here, even Faenza, and the envoys of Ferrara, who were greeting him and looking for the Spanish artillery dealer. The Pope wrote to him that he had heard about it, because King Louis XII of France had been held back by the Sforza of Milan and had not been able to continue his plan to conquer Naples, and that the King of Naples had flagrantly refused to pay all the taxes paid to the Holy See this year, and that he was considering exterminating him......

Out of curiosity, I also went to observe those swarthy, ugly, and rough creations in my impression, and after comparison, I found that the Duke's previous artillery, that is, the French artillery, was far less light and delicate than the cannons he later purchased from the Spaniards, for example, the previous cannons, when you reach into the breech and touch the surface inside, you will find that they are uneven and have many small hollows, but the Spanish artillery does not have such a shortcoming, the barrel is fine and smooth, although not comparable to the skin of a baby or a maiden, is comparable to polished marble, and the gunners prefer to stay around such guns, which, according to them, are less likely to blow up unless they are hit by stone shells.

The Duke of Valentino thought the same, and while he scolded the Spaniards for being a cannon dealer, he bought more from him.

In this way, on the one hand, he had to wait for the Spaniards to bring the artillery, on the other hand, his old illness had relapsed, and he needed rest and healing, and the snow had fallen on our heads, and after it melted, it was cold and damp, and the soldiers began to slacken, and people kept leaving the barracks, and no one knew what they were going to do, and the Duke had to retreat to Forlì—and in contrast to the tyranny and ruthlessness of the last time, he summoned the people of Forlì this time, and told them earnestly, Their previous misfortune was entirely due to his inability to control the French army, and this time, the families in the city can rest assured that they will have a tolerant and strong ruler.

I don't know if they believed the Duke's words, but for them, the Duke's army still needed the gold florin they needed to pay for the supplies and stipends, and they hadn't even recovered from their last wounds, and everyone didn't talk much, and I think they might have been exhausted - I remember the last time I came to Forlì, there were people who made statues for me, even though the fighting was over, and this time, they didn't seem to see me.

But my classmate, Pietro, boasted to me that he had taken on several transactions to melt down and rebuild gold and silver statues and tableware, and asked me to say that he did it no better than a wild boar, but that they could no longer present the duke, but had to melt down and redo these precious metals engraved with heraldic coats of arms or family symbols. What makes me even more disdainful is that Petro even extorted nearly half a pound of silver from these people.

I did not dare to go to Imola, not even outside the centre of Forlì, and many merchants whom I did not know came from all over to do the duke's business, and in order to keep the mercenary soldiers, the duke bought them wine to drink, and they lay drunk every day in the streets and squares, fighting and fighting, and doing all kinds of evil.

I finished the two paintings that the Duke had told me, and the Duke brought marble, gold, silver, shells, etc., from somewhere else, and asked me to make a statue of him, and I sat in front of the marble, but without the slightest inspiration, and I felt miserable, Father, this was the first time, and I had no intention of working at all—I wanted to go back to Lucca (which was smeared with heavy ink), and I thought I needed to rest for a while.

And my passion for the Duke of Valentino seemed to have been frozen with the fall of the snow, and in my mind it became more vivid the girl who knelt at the duke's feet and prayed, and was shamelessly raped by his soldiers, and I drew her, and found a piece of cedar wood, and carved her in the form of the holy daughter Enos, for they were all thirteen years old, and they were both mercilessly humiliated by the soldiers.

This statue was inaugurated by Leonardo. When Leonardo da Vinci saw it, he said, "Burn this, the duke will be angry when he sees it." ”

I asked why, and he said that the unfortunate girl of Pesaro, who had returned to her home, threw herself into the sea and died because of her brother's death, which was undoubtedly an unforgivable crime, and that, as far as the Duke was concerned, it was an accusation of injustice and injustice, and he sent messengers to rebuke the young girl's parents viciously in the name of the Holy Father, so that they did not even dare to bury their daughter, whose body was tragically exposed by the sea, to be pecked by the seabirds.

I burned the wooden statue, but kept the portrait, and I still remember her beauty, which has died by God's will, and I will keep her in accordance with the will of the God of art.

The Duke came to urge me several times for the sake of his statue, but my hands became weaker and weaker, and Father, when I look at the stones, I can often see that the statues are finished, as I say to the people, I am not statues, but I release them from the stones, and I raise the hammer to worry whether I will release a devil from the stone this time.

The color of the Duke of Valentino had faded from my eyes, he no longer looked valiant and strong, and handsome, and when I looked at him, I felt only fear, I wanted to flee, but there was no way out, father, I began to get sick again, and this time no amount of medicine could cure me—but the Duke's messenger said that the Duke was already very dissatisfied with my neglect, and that the unfavorable attack against Faenza had aggravated his stubbornness and rage, and that if I continued to do so, I was afraid that something terrible would befall me.

I had to get up from my bed and try to imagine the Duke of Valentino that I had thought before, a young and loving ruler, a figure like Gabriel with a sword, but when I finished sketching it, I realized that I was depicting a different person altogether.

A man whom I once mistakenly thought could almost overlap with the Duke of Valentino, and, wishfully, that they would be friends again, but now as far as I can see, their ideas are in fact quite different, and they are destined to part ways.

But that one was also a cruel man, Father, and I thought he had sent me here to give me a glimpse of the beauty of heaven, but there was only purgatory.

I was tormented, and perhaps this was his punishment for my betrayal.

Well, I'll do what he commands, and I'll write down everything I see, even if it's the ugliness and evil I least want to see.

Enclosed is a hundred gold florins.

Michelangelo in Huverlì