Toward two hours after sunset, I walked along Pantasilea’s lodging, with
the intention, if Luigi Pulci were there, of doing something to the
discontent of both. When I heard and saw that no one but a poor
servant-girl called Canida was in the house, I went to put away my cloak
and the scabbard of my sword, and then returned to the house, which
stood behind the Banchi on the river Tiber. Just opposite stretched a
garden belonging to an innkeeper called Romolo. It was enclosed by a
thick hedge of thorns, in which I hid myself, standing upright, and
waiting till the woman came back with Luigi. After keeping watch awhile
there, my friend Bachiacca crept up to me; whether led by his own
suspicions or by the advice of others, I cannot say. In a low voice he
called out to me: “Gossip” (for so we used to name ourselves for fun);
and then he prayed me for God’s love, using the words which follow, with
tears in the tone of his voice: “Dear gossip, I entreat you not to
injure that poor girl; she at least has erred in no wise in this
matter-no, not at all.” When I heard what he was saying, I replied: “If
you don’t take yourself off now, at this first word I utter, I will
bring my sword here down upon your head.” Overwhelmed with fright, my
poor gossip was suddenly taken ill with the colic, and withdrew to ease
himself apart; indeed, he could not buy obey the call. There was a
glorious heaven of stars, which shed good light to see by. All of a
sudden I was aware of the noise of many horses; they were coming toward
me from the one side and the other. It turned out to be Luigi and
Pantasilea, attended by a certain Messer Benvegnato of Perugia, who was
chamberlain to Pope Clement, and followed by four doughty captains of
Perugia, with some other valiant soldiers in the flower of youth;
altogether reckoned, there were more than twelve swords. When I
understood the matter, and saw not how to fly, I did my best to crouch
into the hedge. But the thorns pricked and hurt me, goading me to
madness like a bull; and I had half resolved to take a leap and hazard
my escape. Just then Luigi, with his arm round Pantasilea’s neck, was
heard crying: “I must kiss you once again, if only to insult that
traitor Benvenuto.” At that moment, annoyed as I was by the prickles,
and irritated by the young man’s words, I sprang forth, lifted my sword
on high, and shouted at the top of my voice: “You are all dead folk!” My
blow descended on the shoulder of Luigi; but the satyrs who doted on
him, had steeled his person round with coasts of mail and such-like
villainous defences; still the stroke fell with crushing force. Swerving
aside, the sword hit Pantasilea full in nose and mouth. Both she and
Luigi grovelled on the ground, while Bachiacca, with his breeches down
to heels, screamed out and ran away. Then I turned upon the others
boldly with my sword; and those valiant fellows, hearing a sudden
commotion in the tavern, thought there was an army coming of a hundred
men; and though they drew their swords with spirit, yet two horses which
had taken fright in the tumult cast them into such disorder that a
couple of the best riders were thrown, and the remainder took to flight.
I, seeing that the affair was turning out well, for me, ran as quickly
as I could, and came off with honour from the engagement, not wishing to
tempt fortune more than was my duty. During this hurly-burly, some of
the soldiers and captains wounded themselves with their own arms; and
Messer Benvegnato, the Pope’s chamberlain, was kicked and trampled by
his mule. One of the servants also, who had drawn his sword, fell down
together with his master, and wounded him badly in the hand. Maddened by
the pain, he swore louder than all the rest in his Perugian jargon,
crying out: “By the body of God, I will take care that Benvegnato
teaches Benvenuto how to live.” He afterwards commissioned one of the
captains who were with him (braver perhaps than the others, but with
less aplomb, as being but a youth) to seek me out. The fellow came to
visit me in the place of by retirement; that was the palace of a great
Neapolitan nobleman, who had become acquainted with me in my art, and
had besides taken a fancy to me because of my physical and mental
aptitude for fighting, to which my lord himself was personally well
inclined. So, then, finding myself made much of, and being precisely in
my element, I gave such answer to the captain as I think must have made
him earnestly repent of having come to look me up. After a few days,
when the wounds of Luigi, and the strumpet, and the rest were healing,
this great Neapolitan nobleman received overtures from Messer
Benvegnato; for the prelate’s anger had cooled, and he proposed to
ratify a peace between me and Luigi and the soldiers, who had personally
no quarrel with me, and only wished to make my acquaintance. Accordingly
my friend the nobleman replied that he would bring me where they chose
to appoint, and that he was very willing to effect a reconciliation. He
stipulated that no words should be bandied about on either side, seeing
that would be little to their credit; it was enough to go through the
form of drinking together and exchanging kisses; he for his part
undertook to do the talking, and promised to settle the matter to their
honour. This arrangement was carried out. On Thursday evening my
protector took me to the house of Messer Benvegnato, where all the
soldiers who had been present at that discomfiture were assembled, and
already seated at table. My nobleman was attended by thirty brave
fellows, all well armed; a circumstance which Messer Benvegnato had not
anticipated. When we came into the hall, he walking first, I following,
he speak to this effect: “God save you, gentlemen; we have come to see
you, I and Benvenuto, whom I love like my own brother; and we are ready
to do whatever you propose.” Messer Benvegnato, seeing the hall filled
with such a crowd of men, called out: “It is only peace, and nothing
else, we ask of you.” Accordingly he promised that the governor of Rome
and his catchpoles should give me no trouble. Then we made peace, and I
returned to my shop, where I could not stay an hour without that
Neapolitan nobleman either coming to see me or sending for me.
Meanwhile Luigi Pulci, having recovered from his wound, rode every day
upon the black horse which was so well trained to heel and bridle. One
day, among others, after it had rained a little, and he was making his
horse curvet just before Pantasilea’s door, he slipped and fell, with
the horse upon him. His right leg was broken short off in the thigh; and
after a few days he died there in Pantisilea’s lodgings, discharging
thus the vow he registered so heartily to Heaven. Even so may it be seen
that God keeps account of the good and the bad, and gives to each one
what he merits.
Note 1. The Porta Castello was the gate called after the Castle of S.
Angelo. Prati, so far as I can make out, was an open space between the
Borgo and the Bridge of S. Angelo. In order to get inside Rome itself,
Cellini had to pass a second gate. His own lodging and Pantasilea’s
house were in the quarter of the Bianchi, where are now the Via Giulia
and Via de’ Banchi Vecchi.
XXXIV
THE WHOLE world was now in warfare. [1] Pope Clement had sent to get
some troops from Giovanni de’ Medici, and when they came, they made such
disturbances in Rome, that it was ill living in open shops. [2] On this
account I retired to a good snug house behind the Banchi, where I worked
for all the friends I had acquired. Since I produced few things of much
importance at that period, I need not waste time in talking about them.
I took much pleasure in music and amusements of the kind. On the death
of Giovanni de’ Medici in Lombardy, the Pope, at the advice of Messer
Jacopo Salviati, dismissed the five bands he had engaged; and when the
Constable of Bourbon knew there were no troops in Rome, he pushed his
army with the utmost energy up to the city. The whole of Rome upon this
flew to arms. I happened to be intimate with Alessandro, the son of
Piero del Bene, who, at the time when the Colonnesi entered Rome, had
requested me to guard his palace. [3] On this more serious occasion,
therefore, he prayed me to enlist fifty comrades for the protection of
the said house, appointing me their captain, as I had been when the
Colonnesi came. So I collected fifty young men of the highest courage,
and we took up our quarters in his palace, with good pay and excellent
appointments.
Bourbon’s army had now arrived before the walls of Rome, and Alessandro
begged me to go with him to reconnoitre. So we went with one of the
stoutest fellows in our Company; and on the way a youth called Cecchino
della Casa joined himself to us. On reaching the walls by the Campo
Santo, we could see that famous army, which was making every effort to
enter the town. Upon the ramparts where we took our station several
young men were lying killed by the besiegers; the battle raged there
desperately, and there was the densest fog imaginable. I turned to
Alessandro and said: “Let us go home as soon as we can, for there is
nothing to be done here; you see the enemies are mounting, and our men
are in flight.” Alessandro, in a panic, cried: “Would God that we had
never come here!” and turned in maddest haste to fly. I took him up
somewhat sharply with these words: “Since you have brought me here, I
must perform some action worthy of a man;” and directing my arquebuse
where I saw the thickest and most serried troop of fighting men, I aimed
exactly at one whom I remarked to be higher than the rest; the fog
prevented me from being certain whether he was on horseback or on foot.
Then I turned to Alessandro and Cecchino, and bade them discharge their
arquebuses, showing them how to avoid being hit by the besiegers. When
we had fired two rounds apiece, I crept cautiously up to the wall, and
observing among the enemy a most extraordinary confusion, I discovered
afterwards that one of our shots had killed the Constable of Bourbon;
and from what I subsequently learned, he was the man whom I had first
noticed above the heads of the rest. [4]
Quitting our position on the ramparts, we crossed the Campo Santo, and
entered the city by St. Peter’s; then coming out exactly at the church
of Santo Agnolo, we got with the greatest difficulty to the great gate
of the castle; for the generals Renzo di Ceri and Orazio Baglioni were
wounding and slaughtering everybody who abandoned the defence of the
walls. [5] By the time we had reached the great gate, part of the foemen
had already entered Rome, and we had them in our rear. The castellan had
ordered the portcullis to be lowered, in order to do which they cleared
a little space, and this enabled us four to get inside. On the instant
that I entered, the captain Pallone de’ Medici claimed me as being of
the Papal household, and forced me to abandon Alessandro, which I had to
do, much against my will. I ascended to the keep, and at the same
instant Pope Clement came in through the corridors into the castle; he
had refused to leave the palace of St. Peter earlier, being unable to
believe that his enemies would effect their entrance into Rome. [6]
Having got into the castle in this way, I attached myself to certain
pieces of artillery, which were under the command of a bombardier called
Giuliano Fiorentino. Leaning there against the battlements, the unhappy
man could see his poor house being sacked, and his wife and children
outraged; fearing to strike his own folk, he dared not discharge the
cannon, and flinging the burning fuse upon the ground, he wept as though
his heart would break, and tore his cheeks with both his hands. [7] Some
of the other bombardiers were behaving in like manner; seeing which, I
took one of the matches, and got the assistance of a few men who were
not overcome by their emotions. I aimed some swivels and falconets at
points where I saw it would be useful, and killed with them a good
number of the enemy. Had it not been for this, the troops who poured
into Rome that morning, and were marching straight upon the castle,
might possibly have entered it with ease, because the artillery was
doing them no damage. I went on firing under the eyes of several
cardinals and lords, who kept blessing me and giving me the heartiest
encouragement. In my enthusiasm I strove to achieve the impossible; let
it suffice that it was I who saved the castle that morning, and brought
the other bombardiers back to their duty. [8] I worked hard the whole of
that day; and when the evening came, while the army was marching into
Rome through the Trastevere, Pope Clement appointed a great Roman
nobleman named Antonio Santacroce to be captain of all the gunners. The
first thing this man did was to come to me, and having greeted me with
the utmost kindness, he stationed me with five fine pieces of artillery
on the highest point of the castle, to which the name of the Angel
specially belongs. This circular eminence goes round the castle, and
surveys both Prati and the town of Rome. The captain put under my orders
enough men to help in managing my guns, and having seen me paid in
advance, he gave me rations of bread and a little wine, and begged me to
go forward as I had begun. I was perhaps more inclined by nature to the
profession of arms than to the one I had adopted, and I took such
pleasure in its duties that I discharged them better than those of my
own art. Night came, the enemy had entered Rome, and we who were in the
castle (especially myself, who have always taken pleasure in
extraordinary sights) stayed gazing on the indescribable scene of tumult
and conflagration in the streets below. People who were anywhere else
but where we were, could not have formed the least imagination of what
it was. I will not, however, set myself to describe that tragedy, but
will content myself with continuing the history of my own life and the
circumstances which properly belong to it.
Note 1. War had broken out in 1521 between Charles V and Francis I,
which disturbed all Europe and involved the States of Italy in serious
complications. At the moment when this chapter opens, the Imperialist
army under the Constable of Bourbon was marching upon Rome in 1527.
Note 2. These troops entered Rome in October 1526. They were disbanded
in March, 1527.
Note 3. Cellini here refers to the attack made upon Rome by the great
Ghibelline house of Colonna, led by their chief captain, Pompeo, in
September 1526. They took possession of the city and drove Clement into
the Castle of S. Angelo, where they forced him to agree to terms
favouring the Imperial cause. It was customary for Roman gentlemen to
hire bravi for the defence of their palaces when any extraordinary
disturbance was expected, as, for example, upon the vacation of the
Papal Chair.
Note 4. All historians of the sack of Rome agree in saying that Bourbon
was shot dead while placing ladders against the outworks near the shop
Cellini mentions. But the honour of firing the arquebuse which brought
him down cannot be assigned to any one in particular. Very different
stories were current on the subject. See Gregorovius, 'Stadt Rom.,' vol.
viii. p. 522.
Note 5. For Renzo di Ceri see above. Orazio Baglioni, of the
semi-princely Perugian family, was a distinguished Condottiere. He
subsequently obtained the captaincy of the Bande Nere, and died fighting
near Naples in 1528. Orazio murdered several of his cousins in order to
acquire the lordship of Perugia. His brother Malatesta undertook to
defend Florence in the siege of 1530, and sold the city by treason to
Clement.
Note 6. Giovio, in his Life of the Cardinal Prospero Colonna, relates
how he accompanied Clement in his flight from the Vatican to the castle.
While passing some open portions of the gallery, he threw his violent
mantle and cap of a Monsignore over the white stole of the Pontiff, for
fear he might be shot at by the soldiers in the streets below.
Note 7. The short autobiography of Raffaello da Montelupo, a man in many
respects resembling Cellini, confirms this part of our author’s
narrative. It is one of the most interesting pieces of evidence
regarding what went on inside the castle during the sack of Rome.
Montelupo was also a gunner, and commanded two pieces.
Note 8. This is an instance of Cellini’s exaggeration. He did more than
yeoman’s service, no doubt. But we cannot believe that, without him, the
castle would have been taken.
XXXV
DURING the course of my artillery practice, which I never intermitted
through the whole month passed by us beleaguered in the castle, I met
with a great many very striking accidents, all of them worthy to be
related. But since I do not care to be too prolix, or to exhibit myself
outside the sphere of my profession, I will omit the larger part of
them, only touching upon those I cannot well neglect, which shall be the
fewest in number and the most remarkable. The first which comes to hand
is this: Messer Antonio Santacroce had made me come down from the Angel,
in order to fire on some houses in the neighbourhood, where certain of
our besiegers had been seen to enter. While I was firing, a cannon shot
reached me, which hit the angle of a battlement, and carried off enough
of it to be the cause why I sustained no injury. The whole mass struck
me in the chest and took my breath away. I lay stretched upon the ground
like a dead man, and could hear what the bystanders were saying. Among
them all, Messer Antonio Santacroce lamented greatly, exclaiming: “Alas,
alas! we have lost the best defender that we had.” Attracted by the
uproar, one of my comrades ran up; he was called Gianfrancesco, and was
a bandsman, but was far more naturally given to medicine than to music.
On the spot he flew off, crying for a stoop of the very best Greek wine.
Then he made a tile red-hot, and cast upon it a good handful of
wormwood; after which he sprinkled the Greek wine; and when the wormwood
was well soaked, he laid it on my breast, just where the bruise was
visible to all. Such was the virtue of the wormwood that I immediately
regained my scattered faculties. I wanted to begin to speak; but could
not; for some stupid soldiers had filled my mouth with earth, imagining
that by so doing they were giving me the sacrament; and indeed they were
more like to have excommunicated me, since I could with difficulty come
to myself again, the earth doing me more mischief than the blow.
However, I escaped that danger, and returned to the rage and fury of the
guns, pursuing my work there with all the ability and eagerness that I
could summon.
Pope Clement, by this, had sent to demand assistance from the Duke of
Urbino, who was with the troops of Venice; he commissioned the envoy to
tell his Excellency that the Castle of S. Angelo would send up every
evening three beacons from its summit accompanied by three discharges of
the cannon thrice repeated, and that so long as this signal was
continued, he might take for granted that the castle had not yielded. I
was charged with lighting the beacons and firing the guns for this
purpose; and all this while I pointed my artillery by day upon the
places where mischief could be done. The Pope, in consequence, began to
regard me with still greater favour, because he saw that I discharged my
functions as intelligently as the task demanded. Aid from the Duke of
Urbino [1] never came; on which, as it is not my business, I will make
no further comment.
Note 1. Francesco Maria della Rovere, Duke of Urbino, commanded a
considerable army as general of the Church, and was now acting for
Venice. Why he effected no diversion while the Imperial troops were
marching upon Rome, and why he delayed to relieve the city, was never
properly explained. Folk attributed his impotent conduct partly to a
natural sluggishness in warfare, and partly to his hatred for the house
of Medici. Leo X had deprived him of his dukedom, and given it to a
Medicean prince. It is to this that Cellini probably refers in the
cautious phrase which ends the chapter.
XXXVI
WHILE I was at work upon that diabolical task of mine, there came from
time to time to watch me some of the cardinals who were invested in the
castle; and most frequently the Cardinal of Ravenna and the Cardinal de’
Gaddi. [1] I often told them not to show themselves, since their nasty
red caps gave a fair mark to our enemies. From neighbouring buildings,
such as the Torre de’ Bini, we ran great peril when they were there; and
at last I had them locked off, and gained thereby their deep ill-will. I
frequently received visits also from the general, Orazio Baglioni, who
was very well affected toward me. One day while he was talking with me,
he noticed something going forward in a drinking-place outside the Porta
di Castello, which bore the name of Baccanello. This tavern had for sign
a sun painted between two windows, of a bright red colour. The windows
being closed, Signor Orazio concluded that a band of soldiers were
carousing at table just between them and behind the sun. So he said to
me “Benvenuto, if you think that you could hit that wall an ell’s
breadth from the sun with your demi-cannon here, I believe you would be
doing a good stroke of business, for there is a great commotion there,
and men of much importance must probably be inside the house.” I
answered that I felt quite capable of hitting the sun in its centre, but
that a barrel full of stones, which was standing close to the muzzle of
the gun, might be knocked down by the shock of the discharge and the
blast of the artillery. He rejoined: “Don’t waste time, Benvenuto. In
the first place, it is not possible, where it is standing, that the
cannon’s blast should bring it down; and even if it were to fall, and
the Pope himself was underneath, the mischief would not be so great as
you imagine. Fire, then, only fire!” Taking no more thought about it, I
struck the sun in the centre, exactly as I said I should. The cask was
dislodged, as I predicted, and fell precisely between Cardinal Farnese
and Messer Jacopo Salviati. [2] It might very well have dashed out the
brains of both of them, except that just at that very moment Farnese was
reproaching Salviati with having caused the sack of Rome, and while they
stood apart from one another to exchange opprobrious remarks, my gabion
fell without destroying them. When he heard the uproar in the court
below, good Signor Orazio dashed off in a hurry; and I, thrusting my
neck forward where the cask had fallen, heard some people saying; “It
would not be a bad job to kill that gunner!” Upon this I turned two
falconets toward the staircase, with mind resolved to let blaze on the
first man who attempted to come up. The household of Cardinal Farnese
must have received orders to go and do me some injury; accordingly I
prepared to receive them, with a lighted match in hand. Recognising some
who were approaching, I called out: “You lazy lubbers, if you don’t pack
off from there, and if but a man’s child among you dares to touch the
staircase, I have got two cannon loaded, which will blow you into
powder. Go and tell the Cardinal that I was acting at the order of
superior officers, and that what we have done and are doing is in
defence of them priests, [3] and not to hurt them.” They made away; and
then came Signor Orazio Baglioni, running. I bade him stand back, else
I’d murder him; for I knew very well who he was. He drew back a little,
not without a certain show of fear, and called out: “Benvenuto, I am
your friend!” To this I answered: “Sir, come up, but come alone, and
then come as you like.” The general, who was a man of mighty pride,
stood still a moment, and then said angrily: “I have a good mind not to
come up again, and to do quite the opposite of that which I intended
toward you.” I replied that just as I was put there to defend my
neighbours, I was equally well able to defend myself too. He said that
he was coming alone; and when he arrived at the top of the stairs, his
features were more discomposed that I thought reasonable. So I kept my
hand upon my sword, and stood eyeing him askance. Upon this he began to
laugh, and the colour coming back into his face, he said to me with the
most pleasant manner: “Friend Benvenuto, I bear you as great love as I
have it in my heart to give; and in God’s good time I will render you
proof of this. Would to God that you had killed those two rascals; for
one of them is the cause of all this trouble, and the day perchance will
come when the other will be found the cause of something even worse.” He
then begged me, if I should be asked, not to say that he was with me
when I fired the gun; and for the rest bade me be of good cheer. The
commotion which the affair made was enormous, and lasted a long while.
However, I will not enlarge upon it further, only adding that I was
within an inch of revenging my father on Messer Jacopo Salviati, who had
grievously injured him, according to my father’s complaints. As it was,
unwittingly I gave the fellow a great fright. Of Farnese I shall say
nothing here, because it will appear in its proper place how well it
would have been if I had killed him.
Note 1. Benedetto Accolti of Arezzo, Archbishop of Ravenna in 1524,
obtained the hat in 1527, three days before the sack of Rome. He was a
distinguished man of letters. Niccolo Gaddi was created Cardinal on the
same day as Accolti. We shall hear more of him in Cellini’s pages.
Note 2. Alessandro Farnese, Dean of the Sacred College, and afterwards
Pope Paul III. Of Giacopo Salviati we have already heard, p. 14.
Note 3. 'Loro preti.' Perhaps 'their priests.'
XXXVII
I PURSUED my business of artilleryman, and every day performed some
extraordinary feat, whereby the credit and the favour I acquired with
the Pope was something indescribable. There never passed a day but what
I killed one or another of our enemies in the besieging army. On one
occasion the Pope was walking round the circular keep, [1] when he
observed a Spanish Colonel in the Prati; he recognised the man by
certain indications, seeing that this officer had formerly been in his
service; and while he fixed his eyes on him, he kept talking about him.
I, above by the Angel, knew nothing of all this, but spied a fellow down
there, busying himself about the trenches with a javelin in his hand; he
was dressed entirely in rose-colour; and so, studying the worst that I
could do against him, I selected a gerfalcon which I had at hand; it is
a piece of ordnance larger and longer than a swivel, and about the size
of a demiculverin. This I emptied, and loaded it again with a good
charge of fine powder mixed with the coarser sort; then I aimed it
exactly at the man in red, elevating prodigiously, because a piece of
that calibre could hardly be expected to carry true at such a distance.
I fired, and hit my man exactly in the middle. He had trussed his sword
in front, [2] for swagger, after a way those Spaniards have; and my
ball, when it struck him, broke upon the blade, and one could see the
fellow cut in two fair halves. The Pope, who was expecting nothing of
this kind, derived great pleasure and amazement from the sight, both
because it seemed to him impossible that one should aim and hit the mark
at such a distance, and also because the man was cut in two, and he
could not comprehend how this should happen. He sent for me, and asked
about it. I explained all the devices I had used in firing; but told him
that why the man was cut in halves, neither he nor I could know. Upon my
bended knees I then besought him to give me the pardon of his blessing
for that homicide; and for all the others I had committed in the castle
in the service of the Church. Thereat the Pope, raising his hand, and
making a large open sign of the cross upon my face, told me that he
blessed me, and that he gave me pardon for all murders I had ever
perpetrated, or should ever perpetrate, in the service of the Apostolic
Church. When I felt him, I went aloft, and never stayed from firing to
the utmost of my power; and few were the shots of mine that missed their
mark. My drawing, and my fine studies in my craft, and my charming art
of music, all were swallowed up in the din of that artillery; and if I
were to relate in detail all the splendid things I did in that infernal
work of cruelty, I should make the world stand by and wonder. But, not
to be too prolix, I will pass them over. Only I must tell a few of the
most remarkable, which are, as it were, forced in upon me.
To begin then: pondering day and night what I could render for my own
part in defence of Holy Church, and having noticed that the enemy
changed guard and marched past through the great gate of Santo Spirito,
which was within a reasonable range, I thereupon directed my attention
to that spot; but, having to shoot sideways, I could not do the damage
that I wished, although I killed a fair percentage every day. This
induced our adversaries, when they saw their passage covered by my guns,
to load the roof of a certain house one night with thirty gabions, which
obstructed the view I formerly enjoyed. Taking better thought than I had
done of the whole situation, I now turned all my five pieces of
artillery directly on the gabions, and waited till the evening hour,
when they changed guard. Our enemies, thinking they were safe, came on
at greater ease and in a closer body than usual; whereupon I set fire to
my blow-pipes, [3] Not merely did I dash to pieces the gabions which
stood in my way; but, what was better, by that one blast I slaughtered
more than thirty men. In consequence of this manœuvre, which I
repeated twice, the soldiers were thrown into such disorder, that being,
moreover, encumbered with the spoils of that great sack, and some of
them desirous of enjoying the fruits of their labour, they oftentimes
showed a mind to mutiny and take themselves away from Rome. However,
after coming to terms with their valiant captain, Gian di Urbino, [4]
they were ultimately compelled, at their excessive inconvenience, to
take another road when they changed guard. It cost them three miles of
march, whereas before they had but half a mile. Having achieved this
feat, I was entreated with prodigious favours by all the men of quality
who were invested in the castle. This incident was so important that I
thought it well to relate it, before finishing the history of things
outside my art, the which is the real object of my writing: forsooth, if
I wanted to ornament my biography with such matters, I should have far
too much to tell. There is only one more circumstance which, now that
the occasion offers, I propose to record.
Note 1. The Mastio or main body of Hadrian’s Mausoleum, which was
converted into a fortress during the Middle Ages.
Note 2. 'S’aveva messo la spada dinanzi.' Perhaps 'was bearing his sword
in front of him.'
Note 3. 'Soffioni,' the cannon being like tubes to blow a fire up.
Note 4. This captain was a Spaniard, who played a very considerable
figure in the war, distinguishing himself at the capture of Genoa and
the battle of Lodi in 1522, and afterwards acting as Lieutenant-General
to the Prince of Orange. He held Naples against Orazio Baglioni in 1528,
and died before Spello in 1529.
XXXVIII
I SHALL skip over some intervening circumstances, and tell how Pope
Clement, wishing to save the tiaras and the whole collection of the
great jewels of the Apostolic Camera, had me called, and shut himself up
together with me and the Cavalierino in a room alone. [1] This
cavalierino had been a groom in the stable of Filippo Strozzi; he was
French, and a person of the lowest birth; but being a most faithful
servant, the Pope had made him very rich, and confided in him like
himself. So the Pope, the Cavaliere, and I, being shut up together, they
laid before me the tiaras and jewels of the regalia; and his Holiness
ordered me to take all the gems out of their gold settings. This I
accordingly did; afterwards I wrapt them separately up in bits of paper
and we sewed them into the linings of the Pope’s and the Cavaliere’s
clothes. Then they gave me all the gold, which weighed about two hundred
pounds, and bade me melt it down as secretly as I was able. I went up to
the Angel, where I had my lodging, and could lock the door so as to be
free from interruption. There I built a little draught-furnace of
bricks, with a largish pot, shaped like an open dish, at the bottom of
it; and throwing the gold upon the coals, it gradually sank through and
dropped into the pan. While the furnace was working I never left off
watching how to annoy our enemies; and as their trenches were less than
a stone’s-throw right below us, I was able to inflict considerable
damage on them with some useless missiles, [2] of which there were
several piles, forming the old munition of the castle. I chose a swivel
and a falconet, which were both a little damaged in the muzzle, and
filled them with the projectiles I have mentioned. When I fired my guns,
they hurtled down like mad, occasioning all sorts of unexpected mischief
in the trenches. Accordingly I kept these pieces always going at the
same time that the gold was being melted down; and a little before
vespers I noticed some one coming along the margin of the trench on
muleback. The mule was trotting very quickly, and the man was talking to
the soldiers in the trenches. I took the precaution of discharging my
artillery just before he came immediately opposite; and so, making a
good calculation, I hit my mark. One of the fragments struck him in the
face; the rest were scattered on the mule, which fell dead. A tremendous
uproar rose up from the trench; I opened fire with my other piece, doing
them great hurt. The man turned out to be the Prince of Orange, who was
carried through the trenches to a certain tavern in the neighbourhood,
whither in a short while all the chief folk of the army came together.
When Pope Clement heard what I had done, he sent at once to call for me,
and inquired into the circumstance. I related the whole, and added that
the man must have been of the greatest consequence, because the inn to
which they carried him had been immediately filled by all the chiefs of
the army, so far at least as I could judge. The Pope, with a shrewd
instinct, sent for Messer Antonio Santacroce, the nobleman who, as I
have said, was chief and commander of the gunners. He bade him order all
us bombardiers to point our pieces, which were very numerous, in one
mass upon the house, and to discharge them all together upon the signal
of an arquebuse being fired. He judged that if we killed the generals,
the army, which was already almost on the point of breaking up, would
take flight. God perhaps had heard the prayers they kept continually
making, and meant to rid them in this manner of those impious scoundrels.
We put our cannon in order at the command of Santacroce, and waited for
the signal. But when Cardinal Orsini [3] became aware of what was going
forward, he began to expostulate with the Pope, protesting that the
thing by no means ought to happen, seeing they were on the point of
concluding an accommodation, and that if the generals were killed, the
rabble of the troops without a leader would storm the castle and
complete their utter ruin. Consequently they could by no means allow the
Pope’s plan to be carried out. The poor Pope, in despair, seeing himself
assassinated both inside the castle and without, said that he left them
to arrange it. On this, our orders were countermanded; but I, who chafed
against the leash, [4] when I knew that they were coming round to bid me
stop from firing, let blaze one of my demi-cannons, and struck a pillar
in the courtyard of the house, around which I saw a crowd of people
clustering. This shot did such damage to the enemy that it was like to
have made them evacuate the house. Cardinal Orsini was absolutely for
having me hanged or put to death; but the Pope took up my cause with
spirit. The high words that passed between them, though I well know what
they were, I will not here relate, because I make no profession of
writing history. It is enough for me to occupy myself with my own
affairs.
Note 1. This personage cannot be identified. The Filippo Strozzi
mentioned as having been his master was the great opponent of the
Medicean despotism, who killed himself in prison after the defeat of
Montemurlo in 1539. He married in early life a daughter of Piero de’
Medici.
Note 2. 'Passatojacci.'
Note 3. Franciotto Orsini was educated in the household of his kinsman
Lorenzo de’ Medici. He followed the profession of arms, and married; but
after losing his wife took orders, and received the hat in 1517.
Note 4. 'Io che non potevo stare alle mosse.'
XXXIX
AFTER I had melted down the gold, I took it to the Pope, who thanked me
cordially for what I had done, and ordered the Cavalierino to give me
twenty-five crowns, apologising to me for his inability to give me more.
A few days afterwards the articles of peace were signed. I went with
three hundred comrades in the train of Signor Orazio Baglioni toward
Perugia; and there he wished to make me captain of the company, but I
was unwilling at the moment, saying that I wanted first to go and see my
father, and to redeem the ban which was still in force against me at
Florence. Signor Orazio told me that he had been appointed general of
the Florentines; and Sir Pier Maria del Lotto, the envoy from Florence,
was with him, to whom he specially recommended me as his man. 1
In course of time I came to Florence in the company of several comrades.
The plague was raging with indescribable fury. When I reached home, I
found my good father, who thought either that I must have been killed in
the sack of Rome, or else that I should come back to him a beggar.
However, I entirely defeated both these expectations; for I was alive,
with plenty of money, a fellow to wait on me, and a good horse. My joy
on greeting the old man was so intense, that, while he embraced and
kissed me, I thought that I must die upon the spot. After I had narrated
all the devilries of that dreadful sack, and had given him a good
quantity of crowns which I had gained by my soldiering, and when we had
exchanged our tokens of affection, he went off to the Eight to redeem my
ban. It so happened that one of those magistrates who sentenced me, was
now again a member of the board. It was the very man who had so
inconsiderately told my father he meant to march me out into the country
with the lances. My father took this opportunity of addressing him with
some meaning words, in order to mark his revenge, relying on the favour
which Orazio Baglioni showed me.
Matters standing thus, I told my father how Signor Orazio had appointed
me captain, and that I ought to begin to think of enlisting my company.
At these words the poor old man was greatly disturbed, and begged me for
God’s sake not to turn my thoughts to such an enterprise, although he
knew I should be fit for this or yet a greater business, adding that his
other son, my brother, was already a most valiant soldier, and that I
ought to pursue the noble art in which I had laboured so many years and
with such diligence of study. Although I promised to obey him, he
reflected, like a man of sense, that if Signor Orazio came to Florence,
I could not withdraw myself from military service, partly because I had
passed my word, as well as for other reasons; He therefore thought of a
good expedient for sending me away, and spoke to me as follows: “Oh, my
dear son, the plague in this town is raging with immitigable violence,
and I am always fancying you will come home infected with it. I
remember, when I was a young man, that I went to Mantua, where I was
very kindly received, and stayed there several years. I pray and command
you, for the love of me, to pack off and go thither; and I would have
you do this to-day rather than to-morrow.”
Note 1. Pier Maria di Lotto of S. Miniato was notary to the Florentine
Signoria. He collected the remnants of the Bandle Nere, and gave them
over to Orazio Baglioni, who contrived to escape from S. Angelo in
safety to Perugia.
XL
I HAD always taken pleasure in seeing the world; and having never been
in Mantua, I went there very willingly. Of the money I had brought to
Florence, I left the greater part with my good father, promising to help
him wherever I might be, and confiding him to the care of my elder
sister. Her name was Cosa; and since she never cared to marry, she was
admitted as a nun in Santa Orsola; but she put off taking the veil, in
order to keep house for our old father, and to look after my younger
sister, who was married to one Bartolommeo, a surgeon. So then, leaving
home with my father’s blessing, I mounted my good horse, and rode off on
it to Mantua.
It would take too long to describe that little journey in detail. The
whole world being darkened over with plague and war, I had the greatest
difficulty in reaching Mantua. However, in the end, I got there, and
looked about for work to do, which I obtained from a Maestro Niccolo of
Milan, goldsmith to the Duke of Mantua. Having thus settled down to
work, I went after two days to visit Messer Giulio Romano, that most
excellent painter, of whom I have already spoken, and my very good
friend. He received me with the tenderest caresses, and took it very ill
that I had not dismounted at his house. He was living like a lord, and
executing a great work for the Duke outside the city gates, in a place
called Del Te. It was a vast and prodigious undertaking, as may still, I
suppose, be seen by those who go there. [1]
Messer Giulio lost no time in speaking of me to the Duke in terms of the
warmest praise. [2] That Prince commissioned me to make a model for a
reliquary, to hold the blood of Christ, which they have there, and say
was brought them by Longinus. Then he turned to Giulio, bidding him
supply me with a design for it. To this Giulio replied: “My lord,
Benvenuto is a man who does not need other people’s sketches, as your
Excellency will be very well able to judge when you shall see his
model.” I set hand to the work, and made a drawing for the reliquary,
well adapted to contain the sacred phial. Then I made a little waxen
model of the cover. This was a seated Christ, supporting his great cross
aloft with the left hand, while he seemed to lean against it, and with
the fingers of his right hand he appeared to be opening the wound in his
side. When it was finished, it pleased the Duke so much that he heaped
favours on me, and gave me to understand that he would keep me in his
service with such appointments as should enable me to live in affluence.
Meanwhile, I had paid my duty to the Cardinal his brother, who begged
the Duke to allow me to make the pontifical seal of his most reverend
lordship. [3] This I began; but while I was working at it I caught a
quartan fever. During each access of this fever I was thrown into
delirium, when I cursed Mantua and its master and whoever stayed there
at his own liking. These words were reported to the Duke by the Milanese
goldsmith, who had not omitted to notice that the Duke wanted to employ
me. When the Prince heard the ravings of my sickness, he flew into a
passion against me; and I being out of temper with Mantua, our bad
feeling was reciprocal. The seal was finished after four months,
together with several other little pieces I made for the Duke under the
name of the Cardinal. His Reverence paid me well, and bade me return to
Rome, to that marvellous city where we had made acquaintance.
I quitted Mantua with a good sum of crowns, and reached Governo, where
the most valiant general Giovanni had been killed. [4] Here I had a
slight relapse of fever, which did not interrupt my journey, and coming
now to an end, it never returned on me again. When I arrived at
Florence, I hoped to find my dear father, and knocking at the door, a
hump-backed woman in a fury showed her face at the window; she drove me
off with a torrent of abuse, screaming that the sight of me was a
consumption to her. To this misshapen hag I shouted: “Ho! tell me,
cross-grained hunchback, is there no other face to see here but your
ugly visage?” “No, and bad luck to you.” Whereto I answered in a loud
voice: “In less than two hours may it [5] never vex us more!” Attracted
by this dispute, a neighbour put her head out, from whom I learned that
my father and all the people in the house had died of the plague. As I
had partly guessed it might be so, my grief was not so great as it would
otherwise have been. The woman afterwards told me that only my sister
Liperata had escaped, and that she had taken refuge with a pious lady
named Mona Andrea de’ Bellacci. 6
I took my way from thence to the inn, and met by accident a very dear
friend of mine, Giovanni Rigogli. Dismounting at his house, we proceeded
to the piazza, where I received intelligence that my brother was alive,
and went to find him at the house of a friend of his called Bertino
Aldobrandini. On meeting, we made demonstrations of the most passionate
affection; for he had heard that I was dead, and I had heard that he was
dead; and so our joy at embracing one another was extravagant. Then he
broke out into a loud fit of laughter, and said: “Come, brother, I will
take you where I’m sure you’d never guess! You must know that I have
given our sister Liperata away again in marriage, and she holds it for
absolutely certain that you are dead.” On our way we told each other all
the wonderful adventures we had met with; and when we reached the house
where our sister dwelt, the surprise of seeing me alive threw her into a
fainting fit, and she fell senseless in my arms. Had not my brother been
present, her speechlessness and sudden seizure must have made her
husband imagine I was some one different from a brother-as indeed at
first it did. Cecchino, however, explained matters, and busied himself
in helping the swooning woman, who soon come to. Then, after shedding
some tears for father, sister, husband, and a little son whom she had
lost, she began to get the supper ready; and during our merry meeting
all that evening we talked no more about dead folk, but rather
discoursed gaily about weddings. Thus, then, with gladness and great
enjoyment we brought our supper-party to an end.
Note 1. This is the famous Palazzo del Te, outside the walls of Mantua.
It still remains the chief monument of Giulio Romano’s versatile genius.
Note 2. Federigo Gonzago was at this time Marquis of Mantua. Charles V
erected his fief into a duchy in 1530.
Note 3. Ercole Gonzaga, created Cardinal in 1527. After the death of his
brother, Duke Federigo, he governed Mantua for sixteen years as regent
for his nephews, and became famous as a patron of arts and letters. He
died at Trento in 1563 while presiding over the Council there, in the
pontificate of Pius IV.
Note 4. Giovanni de’ Medici, surnamed Delle Bande Nere.
Note 5. 'I. e.,' your ugly visage.
Note 6. Carpani states that between May and November 1527 about 40,000
persons died of plague in Florence.
XLI
ON the entreaty of my brother and sister, I remained at Florence, though
my own inclination led me to return to Rome. The dear friend, also, who
had helped me in some of my earlier troubles, as I have narrated (I mean
Piero, son of Giovanni Landi)-he too advised me to make some stay in
Florence; for the Medici were in exile, that is to say, Signor Ippolito
and Signor Alessandro, who were afterwards respectively Cardinal and
Duke of Florence; and he judged it would be well for me to wait and see
what happened. [1]
At that time there arrived in Florence a Sienese, called Girolamo
Marretti, who had lived long in Turkey and was a man of lively
intellect. He came to my shop, and commissioned me to make a golden
medal to be worn in the hat. The subject was to be Hercules wrenching
the lion’s mouth. While I was working at this piece, Michel Agnolo
Buonarroti came oftentimes to see it. I had spent infinite pains upon
the design, so that the attitude of the figure and the fierce passion of
the beast were executed in quite a different style from that of any
craftsman who had hitherto attempted such groups. This, together with
the fact that the special branch of art was totally unknown to Michel
Agnolo, made the divine master give such praises to my work that I felt
incredibly inspired for further effort. However, I found little else to
do but jewel-setting; and though I gained more thus than in any other
way, yet I was dissatisfied, for I would fain have been employed upon
some higher task than that of setting precious stones.
Just then I met with Federigo Ginori, a young man of a very lofty
spirit. He had lived some years in Naples, and being endowed with great
charms of person and presence, had been the lover of a Neapolitan
princess. He wanted to have a medal made, with Atlas bearing the world
upon his shoulders, and applied to Michel Agnolo for a design. Michel
Agnolo made this answer: “Go and find out a young goldsmith named
Benvenuto; he will serve you admirably, and certainly he does not stand
in need of sketches by me. However, to prevent your thinking that I want
to save myself the trouble of so slight a matter, I will gladly sketch
you something; but meanwhile speak to Benvenuto, and let him also make a
model; he can then execute the better of the two designs.” Federigo
Ginori came to me, and told me what he wanted, adding thereto how Michel
Agnolo had praised me, and how he had suggested I should make a waxen
model while he undertook to supply a sketch. The words of that great man
so heartened me, that I set myself to work at once with eagerness upon
the model; and when I had finished it, a painter who was intimate with
Michel Agnolo, called Giuliano Bugiardini, brought me the drawing of
Atlas. [2] On the same occasion I showed Giuliano my little model in
wax, which was very different from Michel Agnolo’s drawing; and
Federigo, in concert with Bugiardini, agreed that I should work upon my
model. So I took it in hand, and when Michel Agnolo saw it, he praised
me to the skies. This was a figure, as I have said, chiselled on a plate
of gold; Atlas had the heaven upon his back, made out of a crystal ball,
engraved with the zodiac upon a field of lapis-lazuli. The whole
composition produced an indescribably fine effect; and under it ran the
legend 'Summa tulisse juvat!' [3] Federigo was so thoroughly well
pleased that he paid me very liberally. Aluigi Alamanni was at that time
in Florence. Federigo Ginori, who enjoyed his friendship, brought him
often to my workshop, and through this introduction we became very
intimate together. 4
Note 1. I may remind my readers that the three Medici of the ruling
house were now illegitimate. Clement VII was the bastard son of
Giuliano, brother of Lorenzo the Magnificent. Ippolito, the Cardinal,
was the bastard of Giuliano, Duke of Nemours, son of Lorenzo the
Magnificent. Alessandro was the reputed bastard of Lorenzo, Duke of
Urbino, grandson of Lorenzo the Magnificent. Alessandro became Duke of
Florence, and after poisoning his cousin, Cardinal Ippolito, was
murdered by a distant cousin, Lorenzino de’ Medici. In this way the male
line of Lorenzo the Magnificent was extinguished.
Note 2. This painter was the pupil of Bertoldo, a man of simple manners
and of some excellence in his art. The gallery at Bologna has a fine
specimen of his painting. Michel Agnolo delighted in his society.
Note 3. Cellini says 'Summam.' |
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