Honoured by the Pontiff and his brilliant court, idolised by a band of enthusiastic pupils, engrossed by distinguished commissions, Raffaele had few thoughts to bestow on his early home. His ties there had become few and feeble. His father's house had entirely failed; his only near relation was a maternal uncle, who retained his warm affection, and scarcely survived him. In writing to that uncle in 1514, to acquaint him with his signal success and augmenting wealth, he desires special commendations to the Duke and Duchess, modestly suggesting that they might be pleased to hear how one of their servants was doing himself honour. Gratifying as his extending reputation must have been to them, we find no trace of special exertions on their part to promote it. Indeed, they had ample occupation on their own concerns, in the revolution which soon after exiled them during the rest of Leo's pontificate. [Illustration: ISABELLA OF ARAGON _After the picture by Raphael in the Louvre_] One of Raffaele's best patrons was Agostino Chigi, a Sienese banker, who, after a most successful career at Rome, became in the prime of life the millionaire of his day, and who employed his great wealth, and the preponderating influence it gave him with the papal government, in a judicious promotion of art. His commissions to Raffaele include the mural paintings of his chapel in the Madonna della Pace, the architecture, sculpture, and mosaics of his other chapel in the Madonna del Popolo, and the architecture and internal decorations of his urban villa, now the Farnesina. The last has a melancholy interest, from being the latest work which exercised the cares of the illustrious artist. Whilst superintending its frescoes in March, 1520,[187] a summons from the Pope brought him with hurried steps to the Vatican, where, arriving overheated, he was detained in a large and chilly saloon until perspiration was checked. An attack of fever naturally followed, which, advancing to the stage called pernicious, proved too much for his delicate and over-excited frame, especially when still further exhausted by injudicious bleeding, in a belief that the attack was pleurisy. Aware of his danger, he sought support in his hour of need from the ministrations of religion and the rites of his Church. Such is the now received account. The most authentic particulars are contained in a letter, dated from Rome five days after his death. [Footnote 187: Yet this casino, begun in 1511, is by some said to have been completed several years before.]