Note 4. This was the agreeable didactic poet Luigi Alamanni, who had to
fly from Florence after a conspiracy against Cardinal Giulio de’ Medici
in 1522. He could never reconcile himself to the Medicean tyranny, and
finally took refuge in France, where he was honoured by Francois I. He
died at Amboise in 1556.
XLII
POPE CLEMENT had now declared war upon the city of Florence, which
thereupon was put in a state of defence; and the militia being organised
in each quarter of the town, I too received orders to serve in my turn.
I provided myself with a rich outfit, and went about with the highest
nobility of Florence, who showed a unanimous desire to fight for the
defence of our liberties. Meanwhile the speeches which are usual upon
such occasions were made in every quarter; [1] the young men met
together more than was their wont, and everywhere we had but one topic
of conversation.
It happened one day, about noon, that a crowd of tall men and lusty
young fellows, the first in the city, were assembled in my workshop,
when a letter from Rome was put into my hands. It came from a man called
Maestro Giacopino della Barca. His real name was Giacopo della Sciorina,
but they called him della Barca in Rome, because he kept a ferry boat
upon the Tiber between Ponte Sisto and Ponte Santo Agnolo. He was a
person of considerable talent, distinguished by his pleasantries and
striking conversation, and he had formerly been a designer of patterns
for the cloth-weavers in Florence. This man was intimate with the Pope,
who took great pleasure in hearing him talk. Being one day engaged in
conversation, they touched upon the sack and the defence of the castle.
This brought me to the Pope’s mind, and he spoke of me in the very
highest terms, adding that if he knew where I was, he should be glad to
get me back. Maestro Giacopo said I was in Florence; whereupon the Pope
bade the man write and tell me to return to him. The letter I have
mentioned was to the effect that I should do well if I resumed the
service of Clement, and that this was sure to turn out to my advantage.
The young men who were present were curious to know what the letter
contained; wherefore I concealed it as well as I could. Afterwards I
wrote to Maestro Giacopo, begging him by no means, whether for good or
evil, to write to me again. He however grew more obstinate in his
officiousness, and wrote me another letter, so extravagantly worded,
that if it had been seen, I should have got into serious trouble. The
substance of it was that the Pope required me to come at once, wanting
to employ me on work of the greatest consequence; also that if I wished
to act aright, I ought to throw up everything, and not to stand against
a Pope in the party of those hare-brained Radicals. This letter, when I
read it, put me in such a fright, that I went to seek my dear friend
Piero Landi. Directly he set eyes on me, he asked what accident had
happened to upset me so. I told my friend that it was quite impossible
for me to explain what lay upon my mind, and what was causing me this
trouble; only I entreated him to take the keys I gave him, and to return
the gems and gold in my drawers to such and such persons, whose names he
would find inscribed upon my memorandum-book; next, I begged him to pack
up the furniture of my house, and keep account of it with his usual
loving-kindness; and in a few days he should hear where I was. The
prudent young man, guessing perhaps pretty nearly how the matter stood,
replied: “My brother, go your was quickly; then write to me, and have no
further care about your things.” I did as he advised. He was the most
loyal friend, the wisest, the most worthy, the most discreet, the most
affectionate that I have ever known. I left Florence and went to Rome,
and from there I wrote to him.
Note 1. 'Fecesi quelle orazioni.' It may mean “the prayers were offered
up.”
XLIII
UPON my arrival in Rome, [1] I found several of my former friends, by
whom I was very well received and kindly entertained. No time was lost
before I set myself to work at things which brought me profit, but were
not notable enough to be described. There was a fine old man, a
goldsmith, called Raffaello del Moro, who had considerable reputation in
the trade, and was to boot a very worthy fellow. He begged me to consent
to enter his workshop, saying he had some commissions of importance to
execute, on which high profits might be looked for; so I accepted his
proposal with goodwill.
More than ten days had elapsed, and I had not presented myself to
Maestro Giacopino della Barca. Meeting me one day by accident, he gave
me a hearty welcome, and asked me how long I had been in Rome. When I
told him I had been there about a fortnight, he took it very ill, and
said that I showed little esteem for a Pope who had urgently compelled
him to write three times for me. I, who had taken his persistence in the
matter still more ill, made no reply, but swallowed down my irritation.
The man, who suffered from a flux of words, began one of his long yarns,
and went on talking, till at the last, when I saw him tired out, I
merely said that he might bring me to the Pope when he saw fit. He
answered that any time would do for him, and I, that I was always ready.
So we took our way toward the palace. It was a Maundy Thursday; and when
we reached the apartments of the Pope, he being known there and I
expected, we were at once admitted.
The Pope was in bed, suffering from a slight indisposition, and he had
with him Messer Jacopo Salviati and the Archbishop of Capua. [2] When
the Pope set eyes on me, he was exceedingly glad. I kissed his feet, and
then, as humbly as I could, drew near to him, and let him understand
that I had things of consequence to utter. On this he waved his hand,
and the two prelates retired to a distance from us. I began at once to
speak: “Most blessed Father, from the time of the sack up to this hour,
I have never been able to confess or to communicate, because they refuse
me absolution. The case is this. When I melted down the gold and worked
at the unsetting of those jewels, your Holiness ordered the Cavalierino
to give me a modest reward for my labours, of which I received nothing,
but on the contrary he rather paid me with abuse. When then I ascended
to the chamber where I had melted down the gold, and washed the ashes, I
found about a pound and a half of gold in tiny grains like millet-seeds;
and inasmuch as I had not money enough to take me home respectably, I
thought I would avail myself of this, and give it back again when
opportunity should offer. Now I am here at the feet of your Holiness,
who is the only true confessor. I entreat you to do me the favour of
granting me indulgence, so that I may be able to confess and
communicate, and by the grace of your Holiness regain the grace of my
Lord God.” Upon this the Pope, with a scarcely perceptible sigh,
remembering perhaps his former trials, spoke as follows: “Benvenuto, I
thoroughly believe what you tell me; it is in my power to absolve you of
any unbecoming deed you may have done, and, what is more, I have the
will. So, then, speak out with frankness and perfect confidence; for if
you had taken the value of a whole tiara, I am quite ready to pardon
you.” Thereupon I answered: “I took nothing, most blessed Father, but
what I have confessed; and this did not amount to the value of 140
ducats, for that was the sum I received from the Mint in Perugia, and
with it I went home to comfort my poor old father.” The Pope said: “Your
father has been as virtuous, good, and worthy a man as was ever born,
and you have not degenerated from him. I am very sorry that the money
was so little; but such as you say it was, I make you a present of it,
and give you my full pardon. Assure your confessor of this, if there is
nothing else upon your conscience which concerns me. Afterwards, when
you have confessed and communicated, you shall present yourself to me
again, and it will be to your advantage.”
When I parted from the Pope, Messer Giacopo and the Archbishop
approached, and the Pope spoke to them in the highest terms imaginable
about me; he said that he had confessed and absolved me; then he
commissioned the Archbishop of Capua to send for me and ask if I had any
other need beyond this matter, giving him full leave to absolve me
amply, and bidding him, moreover, treat me with the utmost kindness.
While I was walking away with Maestro Giacopino, he asked me very
inquisitively what was the close and lengthy conversation I had had with
his Holiness. After he had repeated the question more than twice, I said
that I did not mean to tell him, because they were matters with which he
had nothing to do, and therefore he need not go on asking me. Then I
went to do what had been agreed on with the Pope; and after the two
festivals were over, I again presented myself before his Holiness. He
received me even better than before, and said: “If you had come a little
earlier to Rome, I should have commissioned you to restore my two
tiaras, which were pulled to pieces in the castle. These, however, with
the exception of the gems, are objects of little artistic interest; so I
will employ you on a piece of the very greatest consequence, where you
will be able to exhibit all your talents. It is a button for my priest’s
cope, which has to be made round like a trencher, and as big as a little
trencher, one-third of a cubit wide. Upon this I want you to represent a
God the Father in half-relief, and in the middle to set that magnificent
big diamond, which you remember, together with several other gems of the
greatest value. Caradosso began to make me one, but did not finish it; I
want yours to be finished quickly, so that I may enjoy the use of it a
little while. Go, then, and make me a fine model.” He had all the jewels
shown me, and then I went off like a shot [3] to set myself to work.
Note 1. Cellini has been severely taxed for leaving Florence at this
juncture and taking service under Pope Clement, the oppressor of her
liberties. His own narrative admits some sense of shame. Yet we should
remember that he never took any decided part in politics, and belonged
to a family of Medicean sympathies. His father served Lorenzo and Piero;
his brother was a soldier of Giovanni delle Bande Nere and Duke
Alessandro. Many most excellent Florentines were convinced that the
Medicean government was beneficial; and an artist had certainly more to
expect from it than from the Republic.
Note 2. Nicolas Schomberg, a learned Dominican and disciple of
Savonarola, made Archbishop of Capua in 1520. He was a faithful and able
minister of Clement. Paul III gave him the hat in 1535, and he died in
1537.
Note 3. 'Affusolato.' Lit., straight as a spindle.
XLIV
DURING the time when Florence was besieged, Federigo Ginori, for whom I
made that medal of Atlas, died of consumption, and the medal came into
the hands of Messer Luigi Alamanni, who, after a little while, took it
to present in person to Francis, king of France, accompanied by some of
his own finest compositions. The King was exceedingly delighted with the
gift; whereupon Messer Luigi told his Majesty so much about my personal
qualities, as well as my art, and spoke so favourably, that the King
expressed a wish to know me.
Meanwhile I pushed my model for the button forward with all the
diligence I could, constructing it exactly of the size which the jewel
itself was meant to have. In the trade of the goldsmiths it roused
considerable jealousy among those who thought that they were capable of
matching it. A certain Micheletto had just come to Rome; [1] he was very
clever at engraving cornelians, and was, moreover, a most intelligent
jeweller, an old man and of great celebrity. He had been employed upon
the Pope’s tiaras; and while I was working at my model, he wondered much
that I had not applied to him, being as he was a man of intelligence and
of large credit with the Pope. At last, when he saw that I was not
coming to him, he came to me, and asked me what I was about. “What the
Pope has ordered me,” I answered. Then he said: “The Pope has
commissioned me to superintend everything which is being made for his
Holiness.” I only replied that I would ask the Pope, and then should
know what answer I ought to give him. He told me that I should repent,
and departing in anger, had an interview with all the masters of the
art; they deliberated on the matter, and charged Michele with the
conduct of the whole affair. As was to be expected from a person of his
talents, he ordered more than thirty drawings to be made, all differing
in their details, for the piece the Pope had commissioned.
Having already access to his Holiness’ ear, he took into his counsel
another jeweller, named Pompeo, a Milanese, who was in favour with the
Pope, and related to Messer Traiano, the first chamberlain of the court;
[2] these two together, then, began to insinuate that they had seen my
model, and did not think me up to a work of such extraordinary import.
The Pope replied that he would also have to see it, and that if he then
found me unfit for the purpose, he should look around for one who was
fit. Both of them put in that they had several excellent designs ready;
to which the Pope made answer, that he was very pleased to hear it, but
that he did not care to look at them till I had completed my model;
afterwards, he would take them all into consideration at the same time.
After a few days I finished my model, and took it to the Pope one
morning, when Messer Traiano made me wait till he had sent for
Micheletto and Pompeo, bidding them make haste and bring their drawings.
On their arrival we were introduced, and Micheletto and Pompeo
immediately unrolled their papers, which the Pope inspected. The
draughtsmen who had been employed were not in the jeweller’s trade, and
therefore, knew nothing about giving their right place to precious
stones; and the jewellers, on their side, had not shown them how; for I
ought to say that a jeweller, when he has to work with figures, must of
necessity understand design, else he cannot produce anything worth
looking at: and so it turned out that all of them had stuck that famous
diamond in the middle of the breast of God the Father. The Pope, who was
an excellent connoisseur, observing this mistake, approved of none of
them; and when he had looked at about ten, he flung the rest down, and
said to me, who was standing at a distance: “Now show me your model,
Benvenuto, so that I may see if you have made the same mistake as those
fellows.” I came forward, and opened a little round box; whereupon one
would have thought that a light from heaven had struck the Pope’s eyes.
He cried aloud: “If you had been in my own body, you could not have done
it better, as this proves. Those men there have found the right way to
bring shame upon themselves!” A crowd of great lords pressing round, the
Pope pointed out the difference between my model and the drawings. When
he had sufficiently commended it, the others standing terrified and
stupid before him, he turned to me and said: “I am only afraid of one
thing, and that is of the utmost consequence. Friend Benvenuto, wax is
easy to work in; the real difficulty is to execute this in gold.” To
those words I answered without moment’s hesitation: “Most blessed
Father, if I do not work it ten times better than the model, let it be
agreed beforehand that you pay me nothing.” When they heard this, the
noblemen made a great stir, crying out that I was promising too much.
Among them was an eminent philosopher, who spoke out in my favour: “From
the fine physiognomy and bodily symmetry which I observed in this young
man, I predict that he will accomplish what he says, and think that he
will even go beyond it.” The Pope put in: “And this is my opinion also.”
Then he called his chamberlain, Messer Traiano, and bade him bring five
hundred golden ducats of the Camera.
While we were waiting for the money, the Pope turned once more to gaze
at leisure on the dexterous device I had employed for combining the
diamond with the figure of God the Father. I had put the diamond exactly
in the center of the piece; and above it God the Father was shown
seated, leaning nobly in a sideways attitude, [3] which made a perfect
composition, and did not interfere with the stone’s effect. Lifting his
right hand, he was in the act of giving the benediction. Below the
diamond I had place three children, who, with their arms upraised, were
supporting the jewel. One of them, in the middle, was in full relief,
the other two in half-relief. All around I set a crowd of cherubs, in
divers attitudes, adapted to the other gems. A mantle undulated to the
wind around the figure of the Father, from the folds of which cherubs
peeped out; and there were other ornaments besides which made a very
beautiful effect. The work was executed in white stucco on a black
stone. When the money came, the Pope gave it to me with his own hand,
and begged me in the most winning terms to let him have it finished in
his own days, adding that this should be to my advantage.
Note 1. Vasari calls this eminent engraver of gems Michelino.
Note 2. Messer Traiano Alicorno.
Note 3. 'In un certo bel modo svolto.' That means: turned aside, not
fronting the spectator.
XLV
I TOOK the money and the model home, and was in the utmost impatience to
begin my work. After I had laboured diligently for eight days, the Pope
sent word by one of his chamberlains, a very great gentleman of Bologna,
that I was to come to him and bring what I had got in hand. On the way,
the chamberlain, who was the most gentle-mannered person in the Roman
court, told me that the Pope not only wanted to see what I was doing,
but also intended to intrust me with another task of the highest
consequence, which was, in fact, to furnish dies for the money of the
Mint; and bade me arm myself beforehand with the answer I should give;
in short, he wished me to be prepared, and therefore he had spoken. When
we came into the presence, I lost no time in exhibiting the golden
plate, upon which I had as yet carved nothing but my figure of God the
Father; but this, though only in the rough, displayed a grander style
than that of the waxen model. The Pope regarded it with stupefaction,
and exclaimed: “From this moment forward I will believe everything you
say.” Then loading me with marks of favour, he added: “It is my
intention to give you another commission, which, if you feel competent
to execute it, I shall have no less at heart than this, or more.” He
proceeded to tell me that he wished to make dies for the coinage of his
realm, and asked me if I had ever tried my hand at such things, and if I
had the courage to attempt them. I answered that of courage for the task
I had no lack, and that I had seen how dies were made, but that I had
not ever made any. There was in the presence a certain Messer Tommaso,
of Prato, his Holiness’ Datary; [1] and this man, being a friend of my
enemies, put in: “Most blessed Father, the favours you are showering
upon this young man (and he by nature so extremely overbold) are enough
to make him promise you a new world. You have already given him one
great task, and now, by adding a greater, you are like to make them
clash together.” The Pope, in a rage, turned round on him, and told him
to mind his own business. Then he commanded me to make the model for a
broad doubloon of gold, upon which he wanted a naked Christ with his
hands tied, and the inscription 'Ecce Homo;' the reverse was to have a
Pope and Emperor in the act together of propping up a cross which seemed
to fall, and this legend: 'Unus spiritus et una fides erat in eis.'
After the Pope had ordered this handsome coin, Bandinello the sculptor
came up; he had not yet been made a knight; and, with his wonted
presumption muffled up in ignorance, said: “For these goldsmiths one
must make drawings for such fine things as that.” I turned round upon
him in a moment, and cried out that I did not want his drawings for my
art, but that I hoped before very long to give his art some trouble by
my drawings. The Pope expressed high satisfaction at these words, and
turning to me said: “Go then, my Benvenuto, and devote yourself with
spirit to my service, and do not lend an ear to the chattering of these
silly fellows.”
So I went off, and very quickly made two dies of steel; then I stamped a
coin in gold, and one Sunday after dinner took the coin and the dies to
the Pope, who, when he saw the piece, was astonished and greatly
gratified, not only because my work pleased him excessively, but also
because of the rapidity with which I had performed it. For the further
satisfaction and amazement of his holiness, I had brought with me all
the old coins which in former times had been made by those able men who
served Popes Giulio and Leo; and when I noticed that mine pleased him
far better, I drew forth from my bosom a patient, [2] in which I prayed
for the post of stamp-master [3] in the Mint. This place was worth six
golden crowns a month, in addition to the dies, which were paid at the
rate of a ducat for three by the Master of the Mint. The Pope took my
patent and handed it to the Datary, telling him to lose no time in
dispatching the business. The Datary began to put it in his pocket,
saying: “Most blessed Father, your Holiness ought not to go so fast;
these are matters which deserve some reflection.” To this the Pope
replied; “I have heard what you have got to say; give me here that
patent.” He took it, and signed it at once with his own hand; then,
giving it back, added: “Now, you have no answer left; see that you
dispatch it at once, for this is my pleasure; and Benvenuto’s shoes are
worth more than the eyes of all those other blockheads.” So, having
thanked his Holiness, I went back, rejoicing above measure, to my work.
Note 1. His full name was Tommaso Cortese. The Papal Datario was the
chief secretary of the office for requests, petitions and patents. His
title was derived from its being his duty to affix the 'Datum Romæ' to
documents. The fees of this office, which was also called Datario,
brought in a large revenue to the Papacy.
Note 2. 'Moto propio.' Cellini confuses his petition with the
instrument, which he had probably drawn up ready for signature.
Note 3. 'Maestro delle stampe della zecca, i. e.,' the artist who made
the dies.
XLVI
I WAS still working in the shop of Raffaello del Moro. This worthy man
had a very beautiful young daughter, with regard to whom he had designs
on me; and I, becoming partly aware of his intentions, was very willing;
but, while indulging such desires, I made no show of them: on the
contrary, I was so discreet in my behaviour that I made him wonder. It
so happened that the poor girl was attacked by a disorder in her right
hand, which ate into the two bones belonging to the little finger and
the next. [1] Owing to her father’s carelessness, she had been treated
by an ignorant quack-doctor, who predicted that the poor child would be
crippled in the whole of her right arm, if even nothing worse should
happen. When I noticed the dismay of her father, I begged him not to
believe all that this ignorant doctor had said. He replied that he had
no acquaintance with physicians or with surgeons, and entreated me, if I
knew of one, to bring him to the house. [2] I sent at once for a certain
Maestro Giacomo of Perugia, a man of great skill in surgery, who
examined the poor girl. [3] She was dreadfully frightened through having
gained some inkling of the quack’s predictions; whereas, my intelligent
doctor declared that she would suffer nothing of consequence, and would
be very well able to use her right hand; also that though the two last
fingers must remain somewhat weaker than the others, this would be of no
inconvenience at all to her. So he began his treatment; and after a few
days, when he was going to extract a portion of the diseased bones, her
father called for me, and begged me to be present at the operation.
Maestro Giacomo was using some coarse steel instruments; and when I
observed that he was making little way and at the same time was
inflicting severe pain on the patient, I begged him to stop and wait
half a quarter of an hour for me. I ran into the shop, and made a little
scalping-iron of steel, extremely thin and curved; it cut like a razor.
On my return, the surgeon used it, and began to work with so gentle a
hand that she felt no pain, and in a short while the operation was over.
In consequence of this service, and for other reasons, the worthy man
conceived for me as much love, or more, as he had for two male children;
and in the meanwhile he attended to the cure of his beautiful young
daughter.
I was on terms of the closest intimacy with one Messer Giovanni Gaddi,
who was a clerk of the Camera, and a great connoisseur of the arts,
although he had no practical acquaintance with any. [4] In his household
were a certain Messer Giovanni, a Greek of eminent learning, Messer
Lodovico of Fano, no less distinguished as a man of letters, Messer
Antonio Allegretti, and Messer Annibale Caro, [5] at that time in his
early manhood. Messer Bastiano of Venice, a most excellent painter, and
I were admitted to their society; and almost every day we met together
in Messer Giovanni’s company. [6]
Being aware of this intimacy, the worthy goldsmith Raffaello said to
Messer Giovanni: “Good sir, you know me; now I want to marry my daughter
to Benvenuto, and can think of no better intermediary than your worship.
So I am come to crave your assistance, and to beg you to name for her
such dowry from my estate as you may think suitable.” The light-headed
man hardly let my good friend finish what he had to say, before he put
in quite at random: “Talk no more about it, Raffaello; you are farther
from your object than January from mulberries.” The poor man, utterly
discouraged, looked about at once for another husband for his girl;
while she and the mother and all the family lived on in a bad humour
with me. Since I did not know the real cause of this-I imagined they
were paying me with bastard coin for the many kindnesses I had shown
them-I conceived the thought of opening a workshop of my own in their
neighbourhood. Messer Giovanni told me nothing till the girl was
married, which happened in a few months.
Meanwhile, I laboured assiduously at the work I was doing for the Pope,
and also in the service of the Mint; for his Holiness had ordered
another coin, of the value of two carlins, on which his own portrait was
stamped, while the reverse bore a figure of Christ upon the waters,
holding out his hand to S. Peter, with this inscription 'Quare
dubitasti?' My design won such applause that a certain secretary of the
Pope, a man of the greatest talent, called Il Sanga, [7] was moved to
this remark: “Your Holiness can boast of having a currency superior to
any of the ancients in all their glory.” The Pope replied: “Benvenuto,
for his part, can boast of serving an emperor like me, who is able to
discern his merit.” I went on at my great piece in gold, showing it
frequently to the Pope, who was very eager to see it, and each time
expressed greater admiration.
Note 1. 'Ossicina che seguitano il dito,' &c. Probably metacarpal bones.
Note 2. 'Che gnene avviasse.'
Note 3. Giacomo Rastelli was a native of Rimini, but was popularly known
as of Perugia, since he had resided long in that city. He was a famous
surgeon under several Popes until the year 1566, when he died at Rome,
age seventy-five.
Note 4. Giovanni Gaddi of the Florentine family was passionately
attached to men of art and letters. Yet he seems to have been somewhat
disagreeable in personal intercourse; for even Annibale Caro, who owed
much to his patronage, and lived for many years in his house, never
became attached to him. We shall see how he treated Cellini during a
fever.
Note 5. Some poems of Allegretti’s survive. He was a man of mark in the
literary society of the age. Giovanni Greco may have been a Giovanni
Vergezio, who presented Duke Cosimo with some Greek characters of
exquisite finish. Lodovico da Fano is mentioned as an excellent Latin
scholar. Annibale Caro was one of the most distinguished writers of
Italian prose and verse in the later Renaissance. He spent the latter
portion of his life in the service of the Farnesi.
Note 6. Messer Bastiano is the celebrated painter Sebastian del Piombo,
born 1485, died 1547.
Note 7. Battista Sanga, a Roman, secretary to Gianmatteo Giberti, the
good Archbishop of Verona, and afterwards to Clement VII. He was a great
Latinist, and one of those ecclesiastics who earnestly desired a reform
of the Church. He died, poisoned, at an early age.
XLVII
MY brother, at this period, was also in Rome, serving Duke Alessandro,
on whom the Pope had recently conferred the Duchy of Penna. This prince
kept in his service a multitude of soldiers, worthy fellows, brought up
to valour in the school of that famous general Giovanni de’ Medici; and
among these was my brother, whom the Duke esteemed as highly as the
bravest of them. One day my brother went after dinner to the shop of a
man called Baccino della Croce in the Banchi, which all those
men-at-arms frequented. He had flung himself upon a settee, and was
sleeping. Just then the guard of the Bargello passed by; [1] they were
taking to prison a certain Captain Cisti, a Lombard, who had also been a
member of Giovanni’s troop, but was not in the service of the Duke. The
captain, Cattivanza degli Strozzi, chanced to be in the same shop; [2]
and when Cisti caught sight of him, he whispered: “I was bringing you
those crowns I owed; if you want them, come for them before they go with
me to prison.” Now Cattivanza had a way of putting his neighbours to the
push, not caring to hazard his own person. So, finding there around him
several young fellows of the highest daring, more eager than apt for so
serious an enterprise, he bade them catch up Captain Cisti and get the
money from him, and if the guard resisted, overpower the men, provided
they had pluck enough to do so.
The young men were but four, and all four of them without a beard. The
first was called Bertino Aldobrandi, another Anguillotto of Lucca; I
cannot recall the names of the rest. Bertino had been trained like a
pupil by my brother; and my brother felt the most unbounded love for
him. So then, off dashed the four brave lads, and came up with the guard
of the Bargello-upwards of fifty constables, counting pikes, arquebuses,
and two-handed-swords. After a few words they drew their weapons, and
the four boys so harried the guard, that if Captain Cattivanza had but
shown his face, without so much as drawing, they would certainly have
put the whole pack to flight. But delay spoiled all; for Bertino
received some ugly wounds and fell; at the same time, Anguillotto was
also hit in the right arm, and being unable to use his sword, got out of
the fray as well as he was able. The others did the same. Bertino
Aldobrandi was lifted from the ground seriously injured.
Note 1. The Bargello was the chief constable or sheriff in Italian
towns. I shall call him Bargello always in my translation, since any
English equivalent would be misleading. He did the rough work of
policing the city, and was consequently a mark for all the men of spirit
who disliked being kept in order. Giovio, in his Life of Cardinal Pompeo
Colonna, quite gravely relates how it was the highest ambition of young
Romans of spirit to murder the Bargello. He mentions, in particular, a
certain Pietro Margano, who had acquired great fame and popularity by
killing the Bargello of his day, one Cencio, in the Campo di Fiore. This
man became an outlaw, and was favourably received by Cardinal Colonna,
then at war with Clement VII.
Note 2. His baptismal name was Bernardo. Cattivanza was a nickname. He
fought bravely for Florence in the siege.
XLVIII
WHILE these things were happening, we were all at table; for that
morning we had dined more than an hour later than usual. On hearing the
commotion, one of the old man’s sons, the elder, rose from table to go
and look at the scuffle. He was called Giovanni; and I said to him: “For
Heaven’s sake, don’t go! In such matters one is always certain to lose,
while there is nothing to be gained.” His father spoke to like purpose:
“Pray, my son, don’t go!” But the lad, without heeding any one, ran down
the stairs. Reaching the Banchi, where the great scrimmage was, and
seeing Bertino lifted from the ground, he ran towards home, and met my
brother Cecchino on the way, who asked what was the matter. Though some
of the bystanders signed to Giovanni not to tell Cecchino, he cried out
like a madman how it was that Bertino Aldobrandi had been killed by the
guard. My poor brother gave vent to a bellow which might have been heard
ten miles away. Then he turned to Giovanni: “Ah me! but could you tell
me which of those men killed him for me?” [1] Giovanni said, yes, that
it was a man who had a big two-handed sword, with a blue feather in his
bonnet. My poor brother rushed ahead, and having recognised the homicide
by those signs, he threw himself with all his dash and spirit into the
middle of the band, and before his man could turn on guard, ran him
right through the guts, and with the sword’s hilt thrust him to the
ground. Then he turned upon the rest with such energy and daring, that
his one arm was on the point of putting the whole band to flight, had it
not been that, while wheeling round to strike an arquebusier, this man
fired in self-defence, and hit the brave unfortunate young fellow above
the knee of his right leg. While he lay stretched upon the ground, the
constables scrambled off in disorder as fast as they were able, lest a
pair to my brother should arrive upon the scene.
Noticing that the tumult was not subsiding, I too rose from the table,
and girding on my sword-for everybody wore one then-I went to the bridge
of Sant’ Agnolo, where I saw a group of several men assembled. On my
coming up and being recognised by some of them, they gave way before me,
and showed me what I least of all things wished to see, albeit I made
mighty haste to view the sight. On the instant I did not know Cecchino,
since he was wearing a different suit of clothes from that in which I
had lately seen him. Accordingly, he recognised me first, and said:
“Dearest brother, do not be upset by my grave accident; it is only what
might be expected in my profession: get me removed from here at once,
for I have but few hours to live.” They had acquainted me with the whole
event while he was speaking, in brief words befitting such occasion. So
I answered: “Brother, this is the greatest sorrow and the greatest trial
that could happen to me in the whole course of my life. But be of good
cheer; for before you lose sight of him who did the mischief, you shall
see yourself revenged by my hand.’ Our words on both sides were to the
purport, but of the shortest.
Note 1. 'Oime, saprestimi tu dire che di quelli me I’ha morto?' The 'me'
is so emphatic, that, though it makes poor English, I have preserved it
in my version.
XLIX
THE GUARD was now about fifty paces from us; for Maffio, their officer,
had made some of them turn back to take up the corporal my brother
killed. Accordingly, I quickly traversed that short space, wrapped in my
cape, which I had tightened round me, and came up with Maffio, whom I
should most certainly have murdered, for there were plenty of people
round, and I had wound my way among them. With the rapidity of
lightning, I had half drawn my sword from the sheath, when Berlinghier
Berlinghieri, a young man of the greatest daring and my good friend,
threw himself from behind upon my arms; he had four other fellows of
like kidney with him, who cried out to Maffio: “Away with you, for this
man here alone was killing you!” He asked: “Who is he?” and they
answered: “Own brother to the man you see there.” Without waiting to
hear more, he made haste for Torre di Nona; [1] and they said:
“Benvenuto, we prevented you against your will, but did it for your
good; now let us go to succour him who must die shortly.” Accordingly,
we turned and went back to my brother, whom I had at once conveyed into
a house. The doctors who were called in consultation, treated him with
medicaments, but could not decide to amputate the leg, which might
perhaps have saved him.
As soon as his wound had been dressed, Duke Alessandro appeared and most
affectionately greeted him. My brother had not as yet lost
consciousness; so he said to the Duke: “My lord, this only grieves me,
that your Excellency is losing a servant than whom you may perchance
find men more valiant in the profession of arms, but none more lovingly
and loyally devoted to your service than I have been.” The Duke bade him
do all he could to keep alive; for the rest, he well knew him to be a
man of worth and courage, He then turned to his attendants, ordering
them to see that the brave young fellow wanted for nothing.
When he was gone, my brother lost blood so copiously, for nothing could
be done to stop it, that he went off his head, and kept raving all the
following night, with the exception that once, when they wanted to give
him the communion, he said: “You would have done well to confess me
before; now it is impossible that I should receive the divine sacrament
in this already ruined frame; it will be enough if I partake of it by
the divine virtue of the eyesight, whereby it shall be transmitted into
my immortal soul, which only prays to Him for mercy and forgiveness.”
Having spoken thus, the host was elevated; but he straightway relapsed
into the same delirious ravings as before, pouring forth a torrent of
the most terrible frenzies and horrible imprecations that the mind of
man could imagine; nor did he cease once all that night until the day
broke.
When the sun appeared above our horizon, he turned to me and said:
“Brother, I do not wish to stay here longer, for these fellows will end
by making me do something tremendous, which may cause them to repent of
the annoyance they have given me.” Then he kicked out both his legs-the
injured limb we had enclosed in a very heavy box-and made as though he
would fling it across a horse’s back. Turning his face round to me, he
called out thrice-”Farewell, farewell!” and with the last word that most
valiant spirit passed away.
At the proper hour, toward nightfall, I had him buried with due ceremony
in the church of the Florentines; and afterwards I erected to his memory
a very handsome monument of marble, upon which I caused trophies and
banners to be carved. I must not omit to mention that one of his friends
had asked him who the man was that had killed him, and if he could
recognise him; to which he answered that he could, and gave his
description. My brother, indeed, attempted to prevent this coming to my
ears; but I got it very well impressed upon my mind, as will appear in
the sequel. 2
Note 1. The Torre di Nona was one of the principal prisons in Rome, used
especially for criminals condemned to death.
Note 2. Varchi, in his 'Storia Florentina,' lib. xi., gives a short
account of Cecchino Cellini’s death in Rome, mentioning also Bertino
Aldobrandi, in the attempt to revenge whom he lost his life.
L
RETURNING to the monument, I should relate that certain famous men of
letters, who knew my brother, composed for me an epitaph, telling me
that the noble young man deserved it. The inscription ran thus:-
'“Francisco Cellino Florentino, qui quod in teneris annis ad Ioannem
Medicem ducem plures victorias retulit et signifer fuit, facile
documentum dedit quantæ fortitudinis et consilii vir futurus erat, ni
crudelis fati archibuso transfossus, quinto ætatis lustro jaceret,
Benvenutus frater posuit. Obiit die' xxvii 'Maii' MD.XXIX.”
He was twenty-five years of age; and since the soldiers called him
Cecchino del Piffero, [1] his real name being Giovanfrancesco Cellini, I
wanted to engrave the former, by which he was commonly known, under the
armorial bearings of our family. This name then I had cut in fine
antique characters, all of which were broken save the first and last. I
was asked by the learned men who had composed that beautiful epitaph,
wherefore I used these broken letters; and my answer was, because the
marvellous framework of his body was spoiled and dead; and the reason
why the first and last remained entire was, that the first should
symbolise the great gift God had given him, namely, of a human soul,
inflamed with his divinity, the which hath never broken, while the
second represented the glorious renown of his brave actions. The thought
gave satisfaction, and several persons have since availed themselves of
my device. Close to the name I had the coat of us Cellini carved upon
the stone, altering it in some particulars. In Ravenna, which is a most
ancient city, there exist Cellini of our name in the quality of very
honourable gentry, who bear a lion rampant or upon a field of azure,
holding a lily gules in his dexter paw, with a label in chief and three
little lilies or. [2] These are the true arms of the Cellini. My father
showed me a shield as ours which had the paw only, together with the
other bearings; but I should prefer to follow those of the Cellini of
Ravenna, which I have described above. Now to return to what I caused to
be engraved upon my brother’s tomb: it was the lion’s paw, but instead
of a lily, I made the lion hold an axe, with the field of the scutcheon
quartered; and I put the axe in solely that I might not be unmindful to
revenge him.
Note 1. That is, Frank, the Fifer’s son.
Note 2. I believe Cellini meant here to write “on a chief argent a label
of four points, and three lilies gules.” He has tricked the arms thus in
a MS. of the Palatine Library. See Leclanche, p. 103; see also Piatti,
vol. i. p. 233, and Plon, p. 2.
LI
I WENT on applying myself with the utmost diligence upon the gold-work
for Pope Clement’s button. He was very eager to have it, and used to
send for me two or three times a week, in order to inspect it; and his
delight in the work always increased. Often would he rebuke and scold
me, as it were, for the great grief in which my brother’s loss had
plunged me; and one day, observing me more downcast and out of trim than
was proper, he cried aloud: “Benvenuto, oh! I did not know that you were
mad. Have you only just learned that there is no remedy against death?
One would think that you were trying to run after him.” When I left the
presence, I continued working at the jewel and the dies [1] for the
Mint; but I also took to watching the arquebusier who shot my brother,
as though he had been a girl I was in love with. The man had formerly
been in the light cavalry, but afterwards had joined the arquebusiers as
one of the Bargello’s corporals; and what increased my rage was that he
had used these boastful words: “If it had not been for me, who killed
that brave young man, the least trifle of delay would have resulted in
his putting us all to flight with great disaster.” When I saw that the
fever caused by always seeing him about was depriving me of sleep and
appetite, and was bringing me by degrees to sorry plight, I overcame my
repugnance to so low and not quite praiseworthy an enterprise, and made
my mind up one evening to rid myself of the torment. The fellow lived in
a house near a place called Torre Sanguigua, next door to the lodging of
one of the most fashionable courtesans in Rome, named Signora Antea. It
had just struck twenty-four, and he was standing at the house-door, with
his sword in hand, having risen from supper. With great address I stole
up to him, holding a large Pistojan dagger, [2] and dealt him a
back-handed stroke, with which I meant to cut his head clean off; but as
he turned round very suddenly, the blow fell upon the point of his left
shoulder and broke the bone. He sprang up, dropped his sword,
half-stunned with the great pain, and took to flight. I followed after,
and in four steps caught him up, when I lifted my dagger above his head,
which he was holding very low, and hit him in the back exactly at the
juncture of the nape-bone and the neck. The poniard entered this point
so deep into the bone, that, though I used all my strength to pull it
out, I was not able. For just at that moment four soldiers with drawn
swords sprang out from Antea’s lodging, and obliged me to set hand to my
own sword to defend my life. Leaving the poniard then, I made off, and
fearing I might be recognised, took refuge in the palace of Duke
Alessandro, which was between Piazza Navona and the Rotunda. [3] On my
arrival, I asked to see the Duke; who told me that, if I was alone, I
need only keep quiet and have no further anxiety, but to go on working
at the jewel which the Pope had set his heart on, and stay eight days
indoors. He gave this advice the more securely, because the soldiers had
now arrived who interrupted the completion of my deed; they held the
dagger in their hand, and were relating how the matter happened, and the
great trouble they had to pull the weapon from the neck and head-bone of
the man, whose name they did not know. Just then Giovan Bandini came up,
and said to them. [4] “That poniard is mine, and I lent it to Benvenuto,
who was bent on revenging his brother.” The soldiers were profuse in
their expressions of regret at having interrupted me, although my
vengeance had been amply satisfied.
More than eight days elapsed, and the Pope did not send for me according
to his custom. Afterwards he summoned me through his chamberlain, the
Bolognese nobleman I have already mentioned, who let me, in his own
modest manner, understand that his Holiness knew all, but was very well
inclined toward me, and that I had only to mind my work and keep quiet.
When we reached the presence, the Pope cast so menacing a glance towards
me, that the mere look of his eyes made me tremble. Afterwards, upon
examining my work his countenance cleared, and he began to praise me
beyond measure, saying that I had done a vast amount in a short time.
Then, looking me straight in the face, he added: “Now that you are
cured, Benvenuto, take heed how you live.” [5] I, who understood his
meaning, promised that I would. Immediately upon this, I opened a very
fine shop in the Banchi, opposite Raffaello, and there I finished the
jewel after the lapse of a few months.
Note 1. 'Ferri.' I have translated this word 'dies;' but it seems to
mean all the coining instruments, 'stampe' or 'conii' being the dies
proper.
Note 2. 'Pugnal pistolese;' it came in time to mean a cutlass.
Note 3. That is, the Pantheon.
Note 4. Bandini bears a distinguished name in Florentine annals. He
served Duke Alessandro in affairs of much importance; but afterwards he
betrayed the interests of his master, Duke Cosimo, in an embassy to
Charles V in 1543. It seems that he had then been playing into the hands
of Filippo Strozzi, for which offence he passed fifteen years in a
dungeon. See Varchi and Segni; also Montazio’s 'Prigionieri del Mastio
di Volterra,' cap. vii.
Note 5. This was the Pope’s hint to Cellini that he was aware of the
murder he had just committed.
LII
THE POPE had sent me all those precious stones, except the diamond,
which was pawned to certain Genoese bankers for some pressing need he
had of money. The rest were in my custody, together with a model of the
diamond. I had five excellent journeymen, and in addition to the great
piece, I was engaged on several jobs; so that my shop contained property
of much value in jewels, gems, and gold and silver. I kept a shaggy dog,
very big and handsome, which Duke Alessandro gave me; the beast was
capital as a retriever, since he brought me every sort of birds and game
I shot, but he also served most admirably for a watchdog. It happened,
as was natural at the age of twenty-nine, that I had taken into my
service a girl of great beauty and grace, whom I used as a model in my
art, and who was also complaisant of her personal favours to me. Such
being the case, I occupied an apartment far away from my workmen’s
rooms, as well as from the shop; and this communicated by a little dark
passage with the maid’s bedroom. I used frequently to pass the night
with her; and though I sleep as lightly as ever yet did man upon this
earth, yet, after indulgence in sexual pleasure, my slumber is sometimes very deep and heavy. |
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