So it chanced one night: for I must say that a thief, under the pretext
of being a goldsmith, had spied on me, and cast his eyes upon the
precious stones, and made a plan to steal them. Well, then, this fellow
broke into the shop, where he found a quantity of little things in gold
and silver. He was engaged in bursting open certain boxes to get at the
jewels he had noticed, when my dog jumped upon him, and put him to much
trouble to defend himself with his sword. The dog, unable to grapple
with an armed man, ran several times through the house, and rushed into
the rooms of the journeymen, which had been left open because of the
great heat. When he found they paid no heed to his loud barking, he
dragged their bed-clothes off; and when they still heard nothing, he
pulled first one and then another by the arm till he roused them, and,
barking furiously, ran before to show them where he wanted them to go.
At last it became clear that they refused to follow; for the traitors,
cross at being disturbed, threw stones and sticks at him; and this they
could well do, for I had ordered them to keep all night a lamp alight
there; and in the end they shut their rooms tight; so the dog,
abandoning all hope of aid from such rascals, set out alone again on his
adventure. He ran down, and not finding the thief in the shop, flew
after him. When he got at him, he tore the cape off his back. It would
have gone hard with the fellow had he not called for help to certain
tailors, praying them for God’s sake to save him from a mad dog; and
they, believing what he said, jumped out and drove the dog off with much
trouble.
After sunrise my workmen went into the shop, and saw that it had been
broken open and all the boxes smashed. They began to scream at the top
of their voices: “Ah, woe is me! Ah, woe is me!” The clamour woke me,
and I rushed out in a panic. Appearing thus before them, they cried out:
“Alas to us! for we have been robbed by some one, who has broken and
borne everything away!” These words wrought so forcibly upon my mind
that I dared not go to my big chest and look if it still held the jewels
of the Pope. So intense was the anxiety, that I seemed to lose my
eyesight, and told them they themselves must unlock the chest, and see
how many of the Pope’s gems were missing. The fellow were all of them in
their shirts; and when, on opening the chest, they saw the precious
stones and my work with them, they took heart of joy and shouted: “There
is no harm done; your piece and all the stones are here; but the thief
has left us naked to the shirt, because last night, by reason of the
burning heat, we took our clothes off in the shop and left them here.”
Recovering my senses, I thanked God, and said: “Go and get yourselves
new suits of clothes; I will pay when I hear at leisure how the whole
thing happened.” What caused me the most pain, and made me lose my
senses, and take fright-so contrary to my real nature-was the dread lest
peradventure folk should fancy I had trumped a story of the robber up to
steal the jewels. It had already been paid to Pope Clement by one of his
most trusted servants, and by others, that is, by Francesco del Nero,
Zana de’ Biliotti his accountant, the Bishop of Vasona, and several such
men: [1] “Why, most blessed Father, do you confide gems of that vast
value to a young fellow, who is all fire, more passionate for arms than
for his art, and not yet thirty years of age?” The Pope asked in answer
if any one of them knew that I had done aught to justify such
suspicions. Whereto Francesco del Nero, his treasurer, replied: [2] “No,
most blessed Father, because he has not as yet had an opportunity.
“Whereto the Pope rejoined: “I regard him as a thoroughly honest man;
and if I saw with my own eyes some crime he had committed, I should not
believe it.” This was the man who [3] caused me the greatest torment,
and who suddenly came up before my mind.
After telling the young men to provide themselves with fresh clothes, I
took my piece, together with the gems, setting them as well as I could
in their proper places, and went off at once with them to the Pope.
Francesco del Nero had already told him something of the trouble in my
shop, and had put suspicions in his head. So then, taking the thing
rather ill than otherwise, he shot a furious glance upon me, and cried
haughtily: “What have you come to do here? What is up?” “Here are all
your precious stones, and not one of them is missing.” At this the
Pope’s face cleared, and he said: “So then, you’re welcome.” I showed
him the piece, and while he was inspecting it, I related to him the
whole story of the thief and of my agony, and what had been my greatest
trouble in the matter. During this speech, he oftentimes turned round to
look me sharply in the eyes; and Francesco del Nero being also in the
presence, this seemed to make him half sorry that he had not guessed the
truth. At last, breaking into laughter at the long tale I was telling,
he sent me off with these words: “Go, and take heed to be an honest man,
as indeed I know that you are.”
Note 1. Of these people, we can trace the Bishop of Vasona. He was
Girolamo Schio or Schedo, a native of Vicenza, the confidential agent
and confessor of Clement VII., who obtained the See of Vaison in the
county of Avignon in 1523, and died at Rome in 1533. His successor in
the bishopric was Tomaso Cortesi, the Datary, mentioned above.
Note 2. Varchi gives a very ugly account of this man, Francesco del
Nero, who was nicknamed the 'Cra del Piccadiglio,' in his History of
Florence, book iii. “In the whole city of Florence there never was born,
in my belief, a man of such irreligion or of such sordid avarice.”
Giovio confirms the statement.
Note 3. 'Questo fu quello che.' This may be neuter: 'This was the
circumstance which.'
LIII
I WENT on working assiduously at the button, and at the same time
laboured for the Mint, when certain pieces of false money got abroad in
Rome, stamped with my own dies. They were brought at once to the Pope,
who, hearing things against me, said to Giacopo Balducci, the Master of
the Mint, “Take every means in your power to find the criminal; for we
are sure that Benvenuto is an honest fellow.” That traitor of a master,
being in fact my enemy, replied: “Would God, most blessed Father, that
it may turn out as you say; for we have some proofs against him.” Upon
this the Pope turned to the Governor of Rome, and bade him see he found
the malefactor. During those days the Pope sent for me, and leading
cautiously in conversation to the topic of the coins, asked me at the
fitting moment: “Benvenuto, should you have the heart to coin false
money?” To this I replied that I thought I could do so better than all
the rascals who gave their minds to such vile work; for fellows who
practice lewd trades of that sort are not capable of earning money, nor
are they men of much ability. I, on the contrary, with my poor wits
could gain enough to keep me comfortably; for when I set dies for the
Mint, each morning before dinner I put at least three crowns into my
pocket; this was the customary payment for the dies, and the Master of
the Mint bore me a grudge, because he would have liked to have them
cheaper; so then, what I earned with God’s grace and the world’s,
sufficed me, and by coining false money I should not have made so much.
The pope very well perceived my drift; and whereas he had formerly given
orders that they should see I did not fly from Rome, he now told them to
look well about and have no heed of me, seeing he was ill-disposed to
anger me, and in this way run the risk of losing me. The officials who
received these orders were certain clerks of the Camera, who made the
proper search, as was their duty, and soon found the rogue. He was a
stamper in the service of the Mint, named Cesare Macherone, and a Roman
citizen. Together with this man they detected a metal-founder of the
Mint. 1
Note 1. The word in Cellini is ovolatore di zecca.
LIV
ON that very day, as I was passing through the Piazza Navona, and had my
fine retriever with me, just when we came opposite the gate of the
Bargello, my dog flew barking loudly inside the door upon a youth, who
had been arrested at the suit of a man called Donnino (a goldsmith from
Parma, and a former pupil of Caradosso), on the charge of having robbed
him. The dog strove so violently to tear the fellow to pieces, that the
constables were moved to pity. It so happened that he was pleading his
own cause with boldness, and Donnino had not evidence enough to support
the accusation; and what was more, one of the corporals of the guard, a
Genoese, was a friend of the young man’s father. The upshot was that,
what with the dog and with those other circumstances, they were on the
point of releasing their prisoner. When I came up, the dog had lost all
fear of sword or staves, and was flying once more at the young man; so
they told me if I did not call the brute off they would kill him. I held
him back as well as I was able; but just then the fellow, in the act of
readjusting his cape, let fall some paper packets from the hood, which
Donnino recognised as his property. I too recognised a little ring;
whereupon I called out. “This is the thief who broke into my shop and
robbed it; and therefore my dog knows him;” then I loosed the dog, who
flew again upon the robber. On this the fellow craved for mercy,
promising to give back whatever he possessed of mine. When I had secured
the dog, he proceeded to restore the gold and silver and the rings which
he had stolen from me, and twenty-five crowns in addition. Then he cried
once more to me for pity. I told him to make his peace with God, for I
should do him neither good nor evil. So I returned to my business; and a
few days afterwards, Cesare Macherone, the false coiner, was hanged in
the Banchi opposite the Mint; his accomplice was sent to the galleys;
the Genoese thief was hanged in the Campo di Fiore, while I remained in
better repute as an honest man than I had enjoyed before.
LV
WHEN I had nearly finished my piece, there happened that terrible
inundation which flooded the whole of Rome. [1] I waited to see what
would happen; the day was well-nigh spent, for the clocks struck
twenty-two and the water went on rising formidably. Now the front of my
house and shop faced the Banchi, but the back was several yards higher,
because it turned toward Monte Giordano; accordingly, bethinking me
first of my own safety and in the next place of my honour, I filled my
pockets with the jewels, and gave the gold-piece into the custody of my
workmen, and then descended barefoot from the back-windows, and waded as
well as I could until I reached Monte Cavallo. There I sought out Messer
Giovanni Gaddi, clerk of the Camera, and Bastiano Veneziano, the
painter. To the former I confided the precious stones, to keep in
safety: he had the same regard for me as though I had been his brother.
A few days later, when the rage of the river was spent, I returned to my
workshop, and finished the piece with such good fortune, through God’s
grace and my own great industry, that it was held to be the finest
masterpiece which had been ever seen in Rome. [2]
When then I took it to the Pope, he was insatiable in praising me, and
said: “Were I but a wealthy emperor, I would give my Benvenuto as much
land as his eyes could survey; yet being nowadays but needy bankrupt
potentates, we will at any rate give him bread enough to satisfy his
modest wishes.” I let the Pope run on to the end of his rhodomontade,
[3] and then asked him for a mace-bearer’s place which happened to be
vacant. He replied that he would grant me something of far greater
consequence. I begged his Holiness to bestow this little thing on me
meanwhile by way of earnest. He began to laugh, and said he was willing,
but that he did not wish me to serve, and that I must make some
arrangement with the other mace-bearers to be exempted. He would allow
them through me a certain favour, for which they had already petitioned,
namely, the right of recovering their fees at law. This was accordingly
done, and that mace-bearer’s office brought me in little less than 200
crowns a year. 4
Note 1. This took place on the 8th and 9th October, 1530.
Note 2. This famous masterpiece was preserved in the Castle of S. Angelo
during the Papal Government of Rome. It was brought out on Christmas,
Easter, and S. Peter’s days.
Note 3. 'Quella sua smania di parole.'
Note 4. Cellini received this post among the Mazzieri (who walked like
beadles before the Pope) on April 14, 1531. He resigned it in favour of
Pietro Cornaro of Venice in 1535.
LVI
I CONTINUED to work for the Pope, executing now one trifle and now
another, when he commissioned me to design a chalice of exceeding
richness. So I made both drawing and model for the piece. The latter was
constructed of wood and wax. Instead of the usual top, I fashioned three
figures of a fair size in the round; they represented Faith, Hope, and
Charity. Corresponding to these, at the base of the cup, were three
circular histories in bas-relief. One was the Nativity of Christ, the
second the Resurrection, and the third S. Peter crucified head
downwards; for thus I had received commission. While I had this work in
hand, the Pope was often pleased to look at it; wherefore, observing
that his Holiness had never thought again of giving me anything, and
knowing that a post in the Piombo was vacant, I asked for this one
evening. The good Pope, quite oblivious of his extravagances at the
termination of the last piece, said to me: “That post in the Piombo is
worth more than 800 crowns a year, so that if I gave it you, you would
spend your time in scratching your paunch, [1] and your magnificent
handicraft would be lost, and I should bear the blame.” I replied at
once as thus: “Cats of a good breed mouse better when they are fat than
starving; and likewise honest men who possess some talent, exercise it
to far nobler purport when they have the wherewithal to live abundantly;
wherefore princes who provide such folk with competences, let your
Holiness take notice, are watering the roots of genius; for genius and
talent, at their birth, come into this world lean and scabby; and your
Holiness should also know that I never asked for the place with the hope
of getting it. Only too happy I to have that miserable post of
mace-bearer. On the other I built but castles in the air. Your Holiness
will do well, since you do not care to give it me, to bestow it on a man
of talent who deserves it, and not upon some fat ignoramus who will
spend his time scratching his paunch, if I may quote your holiness’ own
words. Follow the example of Pope Giulio’s illustrious memory, who
conferred an office of the same kind upon Bramante, that most admirable
architect.”
Immediately on finishing this speech, I made my bow, and went off in a
fury. Then Bastiano Veneziano the painter approached, and said: “Most
blessed Father, may your Holiness be willing to grant it to one who
works assiduously in the exercise of some talent; and as your Holiness
knows that I am diligent in my art, I beg that I may be thought worthy
of it.” The Pope replied: “That devil Benvenuto will not brook rebuke. I
was inclined to give it him, but it is not right to be so haughty with a
Pope. Therefore I do not well know what I am to do.” The Bishop of
Vasona then came up, and put in a word for Bastiano, saying: “Most
blessed Father, Benvenuto is but young; and a sword becomes him better
than a friar’s frock. Let your Holiness give the place to this ingenious
person Bastiano. Some time or other you will be able to bestow on
Benvenuto a good thing, perhaps more suitable to him than this would
be.” Then the Pope turning to Messer Bartolommeo Valori, told him: “When
next you meet Benvenuto, let him know from me that it was he who got
that office in the Piombo for Bastiano the painter, and add that he may
reckon on obtaining the next considerable place that falls; meanwhile
let him look to his behaviour, and finish my commissions.” [2]
The following evening, two hours after sundown, I met Messer Bartolommeo
Valori [3] at the corner of the Mint; he was preceded by two torches,
and was going in haste to the Pope, who had sent for him. On my taking
off my hat, he stopped and called me, and reported in the most friendly
manner all the messages the Pope had sent me. I replied that I should
complete my work with greater diligence and application than any I had
yet attempted, but without the least hope of having any reward whatever
from the Pope. Messer Bartolommeo reproved me, saying that this was not
the way in which one ought to reply to the advances of a Pope. I
answered that I should be mad to reply otherwise-mad if I based my hopes
on such promises, being certain to get nothing. So I departed, and went
off to my business.
Messer Bartolommeo must have reported my audacious speeches to the Pope,
and more perhaps than I had really said; for his Holiness waited above
two months before he sent to me, and during that while nothing would
have induced me to go uncalled for to the palace. Yet he was dying with
impatience to see the chalice, and commissioned Messer Ruberto Pucci to
give heed to what I was about. [4] That right worthy fellow came daily
to visit me, and always gave me some kindly word, which I returned. The
time was drawing nigh now for the Pope to travel toward Bologna; [5] so
at last, perceiving that I did not mean to come to him, he made Messer
Ruberto bid me bring my work, that he might see how I was getting on.
Accordingly, I took it; and having shown, as the piece itself proved,
that the most important part was finished, I begged him to advance me
five hundred crowns, partly on account, and partly because I wanted gold
to complete the chalice. The Pope said: “Go on, go on at work till it is
finished.” I answered, as I took my leave, that I would finish it if he
paid me the money. And so I went away.
Note 1. 'Grattare il corpo,' which I have translated scratch your
paunch, is equivalent to 'twirl your thumbs.'
Note 2. The office of the Piombo in Rome was a bureau in which leaden
seals were appended to Bulls and instruments of state. It remained for a
long time in the hands of the Cistercians; but it used also to be
conferred on laymen, among whom were Bremante and Sebastiano del Piombo.
When the latter obtained it, he neglected his art and gave himself up to
“scratching his paunch,” as Cellini predicted.
Note 3. Bartolommeo or Baccio Valori, a devoted adherent of the Medici,
played an important part in Florentine history. He was Clement’s
commissary to the Prince of Orange during the siege. Afterwards, feeling
himself ill repaid for his services, he joined Filippo Strozzi in his
opposition to the Medicean rule, and was beheaded in 1537, together with
his son and a nephew.
Note 4. Roberto Pucci was another of the devoted Medicean partisans who
remained true to his colours. He sat among the forty-eight senators of
Alessandro, and was made a Cardinal by Paul III. in 1534.
Note 5. On November 18, 1532, Clement went to meet Charles V. at
Bologna, where, in 1529, he had already given him the Imperial crown.
LVII
WHEN the Pope took his journey to Bologna, he left Cardinal Salviati as
Legate of Rome, and gave him commission to push the work that I was
doing forward, adding: “Benvenuto is a fellow who esteems his own great
talents but slightly, and us less; look to it then that you keep him
always going, so that I may find the chalice finished on my return.”
That beast of a Cardinal sent for me after eight days, bidding me bring
the piece up. On this I went to him without the piece. No sooner had I
shown my face, than he called out: “Where is that onion-stew of yours?
[1] Have you got it ready?” I answered: “O most reverend Monsignor, I
have not got my onion-stew ready, nor shall I make it ready, unless you
give me onions to concoct it with.” At these words the Cardinal, who
looked more like a donkey than a man, turned uglier by half than he was
naturally; and wanting at once to cut the matter short, cried out: “I’ll
send you to a galley, and then perhaps you’ll have the grace [2] to go
on with your labour.” The bestial manners of the man made me a beast
too; and I retorted: “Monsignor, send me to the galleys when I’ve done
deeds worthy of them; but for my present laches, I snap my fingers at
your galleys: and what is more, I tell you that, just because of you, I
will not set hand further to my piece. Don’t send for me again, for I
won’t appear, no, not if you summon me by the police.”
After this, the good Cardinal tried several times to let me know that I
ought to go on working, and to bring him what I was doing to look at. I
only told his messengers: “Say to Monsignor that he must send me onions,
if he wants me to get my stew ready.” Nor gave I ever any other answer;
so that he threw up the commission in despair.
Note 1. 'Cipollata.' Literally, a show of onions and pumpkins;
metaphorically, a mess, gallimaufry.
Note 2. 'Arai di grazia di.' I am not sure whether I have given the
right shade of meaning in the text above. It may mean: 'You will be
permitted.'
LVIII
THE POPE came back from Bologna, and sent at once for me, because the
Cardinal had written the worst he could of my affairs in his despatches.
He was in the hottest rage imaginable, and bade me come upon the instant
with my piece. I obeyed. Now, while the Pope was staying at Bologna, I
had suffered from an attack of inflammation in the eyes, so painful that
I scarce could go on living for the torment; and this was the chief
reason why I had not carried out my work. The trouble was so serious
that I expected for certain to be left without my eyesight; and I had
reckoned up the sum on which I could subsist, if I were blind for life.
Upon the way to the Pope, I turned over in my mind what I should put
forward to excuse myself for not having been able to advance his work. I
thought that while he was inspecting the chalice, I might tell him of my
personal embarrassments. However, I was unable to do so; for when I
arrived in the presence, he broke out coarsely at me: “Come here with
your work; is it finished?” I displayed it; and his temper rising, he
exclaimed: “In God’s truth I tell thee, thou that makest it thy business
to hold no man in regard, that, were it not for decency and order, I
would have thee chucked together with thy work there out of windows.”
Accordingly, when I perceived that the Pope had become no better than a
vicious beast, my chief anxiety was how I could manage to withdraw from
his presence. So, while he went on bullying, I tucked the piece beneath
my cape, and muttered under my breath: “The whole world could not compel
a blind man to execute such things as these.” Raising his voice still
higher, the Pope shouted: “Come here; what say’st thou?” I stayed in two
minds, whether or not to dash at full speed down the staircase; then I
took my decision and threw myself upon my knees, shouting as loudly as I
could, for he too had not ceased from shouting: “If an infirmidy has
blinded me, am I bound to go on working?” He retorted: “You saw well
enough to make your way hither, and I don’t believe one word of what you
say.” I answered, for I noticed he had dropped his voice a little: “Let
your Holiness inquire of your physician, and you will find the truth
out.” He said: “So ho! softly; at leisure we shall hear if what you say
is so.” Then, perceiving that he was willing to give me hearing, I
added: “I am convinced that the only cause of this great trouble which
has happened to me is Cardinal Salviati; for he sent to me immediately
after your holiness’ departure, and when I presented myself, he called
my work a stew of onions, and told me he would send me to complete it in
a galley; and such was the effect upon me of his knavish words, that in
my passion I felt my face in flame, and so intolerable a heat attacked
my eyes that I could not find my own way home. Two days afterwards,
cataracts fell on both my eyes; I quite lost my sight, and after your
holiness’ departure I have been unable to work at all.”
Rising from my knees, I left the presence without further license. It
was afterwards reported to me that the Pope has said: “One can give
commissions, but not the prudence to perform them. I did not tell the
Cardinal to go so brutally about this business. [1] If it is true that
he is suffering from his eyes, of which I shall get information through
my doctor, one ought to make allowance for him.” A great gentleman,
intimate with the Pope, and a man of very distinguished parts, happened
to be present. He asked who I was, using terms like these: “Most blessed
Father, pardon if I put a question. I have seen you yield at one and the
same time to the hottest anger I ever observed, and then to the warmest
compassion; so I beg your Holiness to tell me who the man is; for if he
is a person worthy to be helped, I can teach him a secret which may cure
him of that infirmity.” The Pope replied: “He is the greatest artist who
was ever born in his own craft; one day, when we are together, I will
show you some of his marvellous works, and the man himself to boot; and
I shall be pleased if we can see our way toward doing something to
assist him.” Three days after this, the Pope sent for me after
dinnertime, and I found that great noble in the presence. On my arrival,
the Pope had my cope-button brought, and I in the meantime drew forth my
chalice. The nobleman said, on looking at it, that he had never seen a
more stupendous piece of work. When the button came, he was still more
struck with wonder: and looking me straight in the face, he added: “The
man is young, I trow, to be so able in his art, and still apt enough to
learn much.” He then asked me what my name was. I answered: “My name is
Benvenuto.” He replied: “And Benvenuto shall I be this day to you. Take
flower-de-luces, stalk, blossom, root, together; then decoct them over a
slack fire; and with the liquid bathe your eyes several times a day; you
will most certainly be cured of that weakness; but see that you purge
first, and then go forward with the lotion.” The Pope gave me some kind
words, and so I went away half satisfied.
Note 1. 'Che mettessi tanta mazza.'
LIX
IT was true indeed that I had got the sickness; but I believe I caught
it from that fine young servant-girl whom I was keeping when my house
was robbed. The French disease, for it was that, remained in me more
than four months dormant before it showed itself, and then it broke out
over my whole body at one instant. It was not like what one commonly
observes, but covered my flesh with certain blisters, of the size of
six-pences, and rose-coloured. The doctors would not call it the French
disease, albeit I told them why I thought it was that. I went on
treating myself according to their methods, but derived no benefit. At
last, then, I resolved on taking the wood, against the advice of the
first physicians in Rome; [1] and I took it with the most scrupulous
discipline and rules of abstinence that could be thought of; and after a
few days, I perceived in me a great amendment. The result was that at
the end of fifty days I was cured and as sound as a fish in the water.
Some time afterwards I sought to mend my shattered health, and with this
view I betook myself to shooting when the winter came in. That
amusement, however, led me to expose myself to wind and water, and to
staying out in marsh-lands; so that, after a few days, I fell a hundred
times more ill than I had been before. I put myself once more under
doctors’ orders, and attended to their directions, but grew always
worse. When the fever fell upon me, I resolved on having recourse again
to the wood; but the doctors forbade it, saying that I took if it with
the fever on me, I should not have a week to live. However, I made my
mind up to disobey their orders, observed the same diet as I had
formerly adopted, and after drinking the decoction four days, was wholly
rid of fever. My health improved enormously; and while I was following
this cure, I went on always working at the models of the chalice. I may
add that, during the time of that strict abstinence, I produced finer
things and of more exquisite invention than at any other period of my
life. After fifty days my health was re-established, and I continued
with the utmost care to keep it and confirm it. When at last I ventured
to relax my rigid diet, I found myself as wholly free from those
infirmities as though I had been born again. Although I took pleasure in
fortifying the health I so much longed for, yet I never left off
working; both the chalice and the Mint had certainly as much of my
attention as was due to them and to myself.
Note 1. That is, Guiacum, called by the Italians 'legno santo.'
LX
IT happened that Cardinal Salviati, who, as I have related, entertained
an old hostility against me, had been appointed Legate to Parma. In that
city a certain Milanese goldsmith, named Tobbia, was taken up for false
coining, and condemned to the gallows and the stake. Representations in
his favour, as being a man of great ability, were made to the Cardinal,
who suspended the execution of the sentence, and wrote to the Pope,
saying the best goldsmith in the world had come into his hands,
sentenced to death for coining false money, but that he was a good
simple fellow, who could plead in his excuse that he had taken counsel
with his confessor, and had received, as he said, from him permission to
do this. Thereto he added: “If you send for this great artist to Rome,
your Holiness will bring down the overweening arrogance of your
favourite Benvenuto, and I am quite certain that Tobbia’s work will
please you far more than his.” The Pope accordingly sent for him at
once; and when the man arrived, he made us both appear before him, and
commissioned each of us to furnish a design for mounting an unicorn’s
horn, the finest which had ever been seen, and which had been sold for
17,000 ducats of the Camera. The Pope meant to give it to King Francis;
but first he wished it richly set in gold, and ordered us to make
sketches for this purpose. When they were finished, we took them to the
Pope. That of Tobbia was in the form of a candlestick, the horn being
stuck in it like a candle, and at the base of the piece he had
introduced four little unicorns’ heads of a very poor design. When I saw
the thing, I could not refrain from laughing gently in my sleeve. The
Pope noticed this, and cried: “Here, show me your sketch!” It was a
single unicorn’s head, proportioned in size to the horn. I had designed
the finest head imaginable; for I took it partly from the horse and
partly from the stag, enriching it with fantastic mane and other
ornaments. Accordingly, no sooner was it seen, than every one decided in
my favour. There were, however, present at the competition certain
Milanese gentlemen of the first consequence, who said: “Most blessed
Father, your Holiness is sending this magnificent present into France;
please to reflect that the French are people of no culture, and will not
understand the excellence of Benvenuto’s work; pyxes like this one of
Tobbia’s will suit their taste well, and these too can be finished
quicker. [1] Benvenuto will devote himself to completing your chalice,
and you will get two pieces done in the same time; moreover, this poor
man, whom you have brought to Rome, will have the chance to be
employed.” The Pope, who was anxious to obtain his chalice, very
willingly adopted the advice of the Milanese gentlefolk.
Next day, therefore, he commissioned Tobbia to mount the unicorn’s horn,
and sent his Master of the Wardrobe to bid me finish the chalice. [2] I
replied that I desired nothing in the world more than to complete the
beautiful work I had begun: and if the material had been anything but
gold, I could very easily have done so myself; but it being gold, his
Holiness must give me some of the metal if he wanted me to get through
with my work. To this the vulgar courtier answered: “Zounds! don’t ask
the Pope for gold, unless you mean to drive him into such a fury as will
ruin you.” I said: “Oh, my good lord, will your lordship please to tell
me how one can make bread without flour? Even so without gold this piece
of mine cannot be finished.” The Master of the Wardrobe, having an
inkling that I had made a fool of him, told me he should report all I
had spoken to his Holiness; and this he did. The Pope flew into a
bestial passion, and swore he would wait to see if I was so mad as not
to finish it. More than two months passed thus; and though I had
declared I would not give a stroke to the chalice, I did not do so, but
always went on working with the greatest interest. When he perceived I
was not going to bring it, he began to display real displeasure, and
protested he would punish me in one way or another.
A jeweller from Milan in the Papal service happened to be present when
these words were spoken. He was called Pompeo, and was closely related
to Messer Trajano, the most favoured servant of Pope Clement. The two
men came, upon a common understanding, to him and said: “If your
Holiness were to deprive Benvenuto of the Mint, perhaps he would take it
into his head to complete the chalice.” To this the Pope answered” “No;
two evil things would happen: first, I should be ill served in the Mint,
which concerns me greatly; and secondly, I should certainly not get the
chalice.” The two Milanese, observing the Pope indisposed towards me, at
last so far prevailed that he deprived me of the Mint, and gave it to a
young Perugian, commonly known as Fagiuolo. [3] Pompeo came to inform me
that his Holiness had taken my place in the Mint away, and that if I did
not finish the chalice, he would deprive me of other things besides. I
retorted: “Tell his Holiness that he has deprived himself and not me of
the Mint, and that he will be doing the same with regard to those other
things of which he speaks; and that if he wants to confer the post on me
again, nothing will induce me to accept it.” The graceless and unlucky
fellow went off like an arrow to find the Pope and report this
conversation; he added also something of his own invention. Eight days
later, the Pope sent the same man to tell me that he did not mean me to
finish the chalice, and wanted to have it back precisely at the point to
which I had already brought it. I told Pompeo: “This thing is not like
the Mint, which it was in his power to take away; but five hundred
crowns which I received belong to his Holiness, and I am ready to return
them; the piece itself is mine, and with it I shall do what I think
best.” Pompeo ran off to report my speech, together with some biting
words which in my righteous anger I had let fly at himself.
Note 1. The word I have translated 'pyxes' is 'ciborii,' vessels for
holding the Eucharist.
Note 2. The Master of the Wardrobe was at that time Giovanni Aleotti. I
need hardly remind my readers that 'Guardaroba' or wardrobe was the
apartment in a palace where arms, plate, furniture, and clothes were
stored. We shall find, when we come to Cellini’s service under Duke
Cosimo, that princes spent much of their time in this place.
Note 3. Vasari mentions a Girolamo Fagiuoli, who flourished at this
period but calls him a Bolognese.
LXI
AFTER the lapse of three days, on a Thursday, there came to me two
favourite Chamberlains of his Holiness; one of them is alive now, and a
bishop; he was called Messer Pier Giovanni, and was an officer of the
wardrobe; the other could claim nobler birth, but his name has escaped
me. On arriving they spoke as follows: The Pope hath sent us. Benvenuto;
and since you have not chosen to comply with his request on easy terms,
his commands now are that either you should give us up his piece, or
that we should take you to prison.” Thereupon I looked them very
cheerfully in the face, replying: “My lords, if I were to give the work
to his Holiness, I should be giving what is mine and not his, and at
present I have no intention to make him this gift. I have brought it far
forward with great labour, and do not want it to go into the hands of
some ignorant beast who will destroy it with no trouble.” While I spoke
thus, the goldsmith Tobbia was standing by, who even presumptuously
asked me for the models also of my work. What I retorted, in words
worthy of such a rascal, need not here be repeated. Then, when those
gentlemen, the Chamberlains, kept urging me to do quickly what I meant
to do, I told them I was ready. So I took my cape up, and before I left
the shop, I turned to an image of Christ, with solemn reverence and cap
in hand, praying as thus: “O gracious and undying, just and holy our
Lord, all the things thou doest are according to thy justice, which hath
no peer on earth. Thou knowest that I have exactly reached the age of
thirty, and that up to this hour I was never threatened with a prison
for any of my actions. Now that it is thy will that I should go to
prison, with all my heart I thank thee for this dispensation.” Thereat I
turned round to the two Chamberlains, and addressed them with a certain
lowering look I have: “A man of my quality deserved no meaner catchpoles
than your lordships: place me between you, and take me as your prisoner
where you like.” Those two gentlemen, with the most perfect manners,
burst out laughing, and put me between them; and so we went off, talking
pleasantly, until they brought me to the Governor of Rome, who was
called Il Magalotto. [1] When I reached him (and the Procurator-Fiscal
was with him both waiting for me), the Pope’s Chamberlains, still
laughing, said to the Governor: “We give up to you this prisoner; now
see you take good care of him. We are very glad to have acted in the
place of your agents; for Benvenuto has told us that this being his
first arrest, he deserved no catchpoles of inferior station than we
are.” Immediately on leaving us, they sought the Pope; and when they had
minutely related the whole matter, he made at first as though he would
give way to passion, but afterwards he put control upon himself and
laughed, because there were then in the presence certain lords and
cardinals, my friends, who had warmly espoused my cause.
Meanwhile, the Governor and the Fiscal were at me, partly bullying,
partly expostulating, partly giving advice, and saying it was only
reason that a man who ordered work from another should be able to
withdraw it at his choice, and in any way which he thought best. To this
I replied that such proceedings were not warranted by justice, neither
could a Pope act thus; for that a Pope is not of the same kind as
certain petty tyrant princes, who treat their folk as badly as they can,
without regard to law or justice; and so a Vicar of Christ may not
commit any of these acts of violence. Thereat the Governor, assuming his
police-court style of threatening and bullying, began to say:
“Benvenuto, Benvenuto, you are going about to make me treat you as you
deserve.” “You will treat me with honour and courtesy, if you wish to
act as I deserve.” Taking me up again, he cried: “Send for the work at
once, and don’t wait for a second order.” I responded: “My lords, grant
me the favour of being allowed to say four more words in my defence.”
The Fiscal, who was a far more reasonable agent of police than the
Governor, turned to him and said: “Monsignor, suppose we let him say a
hundred words, if he likes: so long as he gives up the work, that is
enough for us.” I spoke: “If any man you like to name had ordered a
palace or a house to be built, he could with justice tell the
master-mason:’I do not want you to go on working at my house or palace;’
and after paying him his labour, he would have the right to dismiss him.
Likewise, if a nobleman gave commission for a jewel of a thousand
crowns’ value to be set, when he saw that the jeweller was not serving
him according to his desire, he could say:’Give me back my stone, for I
do not want your work.’ But in a case of this kind none of those
considerations apply; there is neither house nor jewel here; nobody can
command me further than that I should return the five hundred crowns
which I have had. Therefore, monsignori, do everything you can do; for
you will get nothing from me beyond the five hundred crowns. Go and say
this to the Pope. Your threats do not frighten me at all; for I am an
honest man, and stand in no fear of my sins.” The Governor and Fiscal
rose, and said they were going to the Pope, and should return with
orders which I should soon learn to my cost. So I remained there under
guard. I walked up and down a large hall, and they were about three
hours away before they came back from the Pope. In that while the flower
of our nation among the merchants came to visit me, imploring me not to
persist in contending with a Pope, for this might be the ruin of me. I
answered them that I had made my mind up quite well what I wished to do.
Note 1. Gregorio Magalotti was a Roman. The Procurator-Fiscal was then
Benedetto Valenti. Magalotti is said to have discharged his office with
extreme severity, and to have run great risks of his life in consequence.
LXII
NO sooner had the Governor returned, together with the Procurator, from
the palace, than he sent for me, and spoke to this effect: “Benvenuto, I
am certainly sorry to come back from the Pope with such commands as I
have received; you must either produce the chalice on the instant, or
look to your affairs.” Then I replied that “inasmuch as I had never to
that hour believed a holy Vicar of Christ could commit an unjust act, so
I should like to see it before I did believe it; therefore do the utmost
that you can.” The Governor rejoined: “I have to report a couple of
words more from the Pope to you, and then I will execute the orders
given me. He says that you must bring your work to me here, and that
after I have seen it put into a box and sealed, I must take it to him.
He engages his word not to break the seal, and to return the piece to
you untouched. But this much he wants to have done, in order to preserve
his own honour in the affair.” In return to this speech, I answered,
laughing, that I would very willingly give up my work in the way he
mentioned, because I should be glad to know for certain what a Pope’s
word was really worth.
Accordingly, I sent for my piece, and having had it sealed as described,
gave it up to him. The Governor repaired again to the Pope, who took the
box, according to what the Governor himself told me, and turned it
several times about. Then he asked the Governor if he had seen the work;
and he replied that he had, and that it had been sealed up in his
presence, and added that it had struck him as a very admirable piece.
Thereupon the Pope said: “You shall tell Benvenuto that Popes have
authority to bind and loose things of far greater consequence than
this;” and while thus speaking he opened the box with some show of
anger, taking off the string and seals with which it was done up.
Afterwards he paid it prolonged attention; and, as I subsequently heard,
showed it to Tobbia the gold-smith, who bestowed much praise upon it.
Then the Pope asked him if he felt equal to producing a piece in that
style. On his saying yes, the Pope told him to follow it out exactly;
then turned to the Governor and said: “See whether Benvenuto will give
it up; for if he does, he shall be paid the value fixed on it by men of
knowledge in this art; but if he is really bent on finishing it himself,
let him name a certain time; and if you are convinced that he means to
do it, let him have all the reasonable accommodations he may ask for.”
The Governor replied: “Most blessed Father, I know the violent temper of
this young man; so let me have authority to give him a sound rating
after my own fashion.” The Pope told him to do what he liked with words,
though he was sure he would make matters worse; and if at last he could
do nothing else, he must order me to take the five hundred crowns to his
jeweller, Pompeo.
The Governor returned, sent for me into his cabinet, and casting one of
his catchpole’s glances, began to speak as follows: “Popes have
authority to loose and bind the whole world, and what they do is
immediately ratified in heaven. Behold your box, then, which has been
opened and inspected by his Holiness.” I lifted up my voice at once, and
said: “I thank God that now I have learned and can report what the faith
of Popes is made of.” Then the Governor launched out into brutal
bullying words and gestures; but perceiving that they came to nothing,
he gave up his attempt as desperate, and spoke in somewhat milder tones
after this wise: “Benvenuto, I am very sorry that you are so blind to
your own interest; but since it is so, go and take the five hundred
crowns, when you think fit, to Pompeo.” I took my piece up, went away,
and carried the crowns to Pompeo on the instant. It is most likely that
the Pope had counted on some want of money or other opportunity
preventing me from bringing so considerable a sum at once, and was
anxious in this way to repiece the broken thread of my obedience. When
then he saw Pompeo coming to him with a smile upon his lips and the
money in his hand, he soundly rated him, and lamented that the affair
had turned out so. Then he said: “Go find Benvenuto in his shop, and
treat him with all the courtesies of which your ignorant and brutal
nature is capable, and tell him that if he is willing to finish that
piece for a reliquary to hold the Corpus Domini when I walk in
procession, I will allow him the conveniences he wants in order to
complete it; provided only that he goes on working.” Pompeo came to me,
called me outside the shop, and heaped on me the most mawkish caresses
of a donkey, [1] reporting everything the Pope had ordered. I lost no
time in answering that “the greatest treasure I could wish for in the
world was to regain the favour of so great a Pope, which had been lost
to me, not indeed by my fault, but by the fault of my overwhelming
illness and the wickedness of those envious men who take pleasure in
making mischief; and since the Pope has plenty of servants, do not let
him send you round again, if you value your life... nay, look well to
your safety. I shall not fail, by night or day, to think and do
everything I can in the Pope’s service; and bear this well in mind, that
when you have reported these words to his Holiness, you never in any way
whatever meddle with the least of my affairs, for I will make you
recognise your errors by the punishment they merit.” The fellow related
everything to the Pope, but in far more brutal terms than I had used;
and thus the matter rested for a time while I again attended to my shop
and business.
Note 1. 'Le piu isvenevole carezze d’asino.'
LXIII
TOBBIA the goldsmith meanwhile worked at the setting and the decoration
of the unicorn’s horn. The Pope, moreover, commissioned him to begin the
chalice upon the model he had seen in mine. But when Tobbia came to show
him what he had done, he was very discontented, and greatly regretted
that he had broken with me, blaming all the other man’s works and the
people who had introduced them to him; and several times Baccino della
Croce came from him to tell me that I must not neglect the reliquary. I
answered that I begged his Holiness to let me breathe a little after the
great illness I had suffered, and from which I was not as yet wholly
free, adding that I would make it clear to him that all the hours in
which I could work should be spent in his service. I had indeed begun to
make his portrait, and was executing a medal in secret. I fashioned the
steel dies for stamping this medal in my own house; while I kept a
partner in my workshop, who had been my prentice and was called Felice.
At that time, as is the wont of young men, I had fallen in love with a
Sicilian girl, who was exceedingly beautiful. On it becoming clear that
she returned my affection, her mother perceived how the matter stood,
and grew suspicious of what might happen. The truth is that I had
arranged to elope with the girl for a year to Florence, unknown to her
mother; but she, getting wind of this, left Rome secretly one night, and
went off in the direction of Naples. She gave out that she was gone by
Civita Vecchia, but she really went by Ostia. I followed them to Civita
Vecchia, and did a multitude of mad things to discover her. It would be
too long to narrate them all in detail; enough that I was on the point
of losing my wits or dying. After two months she wrote to me that she
was in Sicily, extremely unhappy. I meanwhile was indulging myself in
all the pleasures man can think of, and had engaged in another love
affair, merely to drown the memory of my real passion.
LXIV
IT happened through a variety of singular accidents that I became
intimate with a Sicilian priest, who was a man of very elevated genius
and well instructed in both Latin and Greek letters. In the course of
conversation one day we were led to talk about the art of necromancy;
apropos of which I said: “Throughout my whole life I have had the most
intense desire to see or learn something of this art.” Thereto the
priest replied: “A stout soul and a steadfast must the man have who sets
himself to such an enterprise.” I answered that of strength and
steadfastness of soul I should have enough and to spare, provided I
found the opportunity. Then the priest said: “If you have the heart to
dare it, I will amply satisfy your curiosity.” Accordingly we agreed upon attempting the adventure. |
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