WHEN eight days had come and gone, my amendment was so slight that life
itself became almost a burden to me; indeed I had been more than fifty
days in that great suffering. So I made my mind up, and prepared to
travel. My dear Felice and I went toward Florence in a pair of baskets;
[1] and as I had not written, when I reached my sister’s house, she wept
and laughed over me all in one breath. That day many friends came to see
me; among others Pier Landi, who was the best and dearest friend I ever
had. Next day there came a certain Niccolo da Monte Aguto, who was also
a very great friend of mine. Now he had heard the Duke say: “Benvenuto
would have done much better to die, because he is come to put his head
into a noose, and I will never pardon him.” Accordingly when Niccolo
arrived, he said to me in desperation: “Alas! my dear Benvenuto, what
have you come to do here? Did you not know what you have done to
displease the Duke? I have heard him swear that you were thrusting your
head into a halter.” Then I replied: “Niccolo, remind his Excellency
that Pope Clement wanted to do as much to me before, and quite as
unjustly; tell him to keep his eye on me, and give me time to recover;
then I will show his Excellency that I have been the most faithful
servant he will ever have in all his life; and forasmuch as some enemy
must have served me this bad turn through envy, let him wait till I get
well; for I shall then be able to give such an account of myself as will
make him marvel.”
This bad turn had been done me by Giorgetto Vassellario of Arezzo, [2]
the painter; perchance in recompense for many benefits conferred on him.
I had harboured him in Rome and provided for his costs, while he had
turned my whole house upside down; for the man was subject to a species
of dry scab, which he was always in the habit of scratching with his
hands. It happened, then, that sleeping in the same bed as an excellent
workman, named Manno, who was in my service, when he meant to scratch
himself, he tore the skin from one of Manno’s legs with his filthy
claws, the nails of which he never used to cut. The said Manno left my
service, and was resolutely bent on killing him. I made the quarrel up,
and afterwards got Giorgio into Cardinal de’ Medici’s household, and
continually helped him. For these deserts, then, he told Duke Alessandro
that I had abused his Excellency, and had bragged I meant to be the
first to leap upon the walls of Florence with his foes the exiles. These
words, as I afterwards learned, had been put into Vasari’s lips by that
excellent fellow, [3] Ottaviano de’ Medici, who wanted to revenge
himself for the Duke’s irritation against him, on account of the coinage
and my departure from Florence. I, being innocent of the crime falsely
ascribed to me, felt no fear whatever. Meanwhile that able physician
Francesco da Monte Varchi attended to my cure with great skill. He had
been brought by my very dear friend Luca Martini, who passed the larger
portion of the day with me. 4
Note 1. 'Un paio di ceste,' a kind of litter, here described in the
plural, because two of them were perhaps put together. I have thought it
best to translate the phrase literally. From a letter of Varchi to
Bembo, we learn that Cellini reached Florence, November 9, 1535.
Note 2. This is the famous Giorgio Vasari, a bad painter and worse
architect, but dear to all lovers of the arts for his anecdotic work
upon Italian artists.
Note 3. 'Galantuomo,' used ironically,
Note 4. Luca Martini was a member of the best literary society in his
days, and the author of some famous burlesque pieces.
LXXXVII
DURING this while I had sent my devoted comrade Felice back to Rome, to
look after our business there. When I could raise my head a little from
the bolster, which was at the end of fifteen days, although I was unable
to walk upon my feet, I had myself carried to the palace of the Medici,
and placed upon the little upper terrace. There they seated me to wait
until the Duke went by. Many of my friends at court came up to greet me,
and expressed surprise that I had undergone the inconvenience of being
carried in that way, while so shattered by illness; they said that I
ought to have waited till I was well, and then to have visited the Duke.
A crowd of them collected, all looking at me as a sort of miracle; not
merely because they had heard that I was dead, but far more because I
had the look of a dead man. Then publicly, before them all, I said how
some wicked scoundrel had told my lord the Duke that I had bragged I
meant to be the first to scale his Excellency’s walls, and also that I
had abused him personally; wherefore I had not the heart to live or die
till I had purged myself of that infamy, and found out who the audacious
rascal was who had uttered such calumnies against me. At these words a
large number of those gentlemen came round, expressing great compassion
for me; one said one thing, one another, and I told them I would never
go thence before I knew who had accused me. At these words Maestro
Agostino, the Duke’s tailor, made his way through all those gentlemen,
and said: “If that is all you want to know, you shall know, it at this
very moment.”
Giorgio the painter, whom I have mentioned, happened just then to pass,
and Maestro Agostino exclaimed: “There is the man who accused you; now
you know yourself if it be true or not.” As fiercely as I could, not
being able to leave my seat, I asked Giorgio if it was true that he had
accused me. He denied that it was so, and that he had ever said anything
of the sort. Maestro Agostino retorted: “You gallows-bird! don’t you
know that I know it for most certain?” Giorgio made off as quickly as he
could, repeating that he had not accused me. Then, after a short while,
the Duke came by; whereupon I had myself raised up before his
Excellency, and he halted. I told him that I had come therein that way
solely in order to clear my character. The Duke gazed at me, and
marvelled I was still alive; afterwards he bade me take heed to be an
honest man and regain my health.
When I reached home, Niccolo da Monte Aguto came to visit me, and told
me that I had escaped one of the most dreadful perils in the world,
quite contrary to all his expectations, for he had seen my ruin written
with indelible ink; now I must make haste to get well, and afterwards
take French leave, because my jeopardy came from a quarter and a man who
was able to destroy me. He then said, “Beware,” and added: “What
displeasure have you given to that rascal Ottaviano de’ Medici?” I
answered that I had done nothing to displease him, but that he had
injured me; and told him all the affair about the Mint. He repeated:
“Get hence as quickly as you can, and be of good courage, for you will
see your vengeance executed sooner than you expect.” I the best
attention to my health, gave Pietro Pagolo advice about stamping the
coins, and then went off upon my way to Rome without saying a word to
the Duke or anybody else.
LXXXVIII
WHEN I reached Rome, and had enjoyed the company of my friends awhile, I
began the Duke’s medal. In a few days I finished the head in steel, and
it was the finest work of the kind which I had ever produced. At least
once every day there came to visit me a sort of blockhead named Messer
Francesco Soderini. [1] When he saw what I was doing, he used frequently
to exclaim: “Barbarous wretch! you want them to immortalise that
ferocious tyrant! You have never made anything so exquisite, which
proves you our inveterate foe and their devoted friend; and yet the Pope
and he have had it twice in mind to hang you without any fault of yours.
That was the Father and the Son; now beware of the Holy Ghost.” It was
firmly believed that Duke Alessandro was the son of Pope Clement. Messer
Francesco used also to say and swear by all his saints that, if he
could, he would have robbed me of the dies for that medal. I responded
that he had done well to tell me so, and that I would take such care of
them that he should never see them more.
I now sent to Florence to request Lorenzino that he would send me the
reverse of the medal. Niccolo da Monte Aguto, to whom I had written,
wrote back, saying that he had spoken to that mad melancholy philosopher
Lorenzino for it; he had replied that he was thinking night and day of
nothing else, and that he would finish it as soon as he was able.
Nevertheless, I was not to set my hopes upon his reverse, but I had
better invent one out of my own head, and when I had finished it, I
might bring it without hesitation to the Duke, for this would be to my
advantage.
I composed the design of a reverse which seemed to me appropriate, and
pressed the work forward to my best ability. Not being, however, yet
recovered from that terrible illness, I gave myself frequent relaxation
by going out on fowling expeditions with my friend Felice. This man had
no skill in my art; but since we were perpetually day and night
together, everybody thought he was a first-rate craftsman. This being
so, as he was a fellow of much humour, we used often to laugh together
about the great credit he had gained. His name was Felice Guadagni
(Gain), which made him say in jest: “I should be called Felice
Gain-little if you had not enabled me to acquire such credit that I can
call myself Gain-much.” I replied that there are two ways of gaining:
the first is that by which one gains for one’s self, the second that by
which one gains for others; so I praised him much more for the second
than the first, since he had gained for me my life.
We often held such conversations; but I remember one in particular on
the day of Epiphany, when we were together near La Magliana. It was
close upon nightfall, and during the day I had shot a good number of
ducks and geese; then, as I had almost made my mind up to shoot no more
that time, we were returning briskly toward Rome. Calling to my dog by
his name, Barucco, and not seeing him in front of me, I turned round and
noticed that the well-trained animal was pointing at some geese which
had settled in a ditch. I therefore dismounted at once, got my
fowling-piece ready, and at a very long range brought two of them down
with a single ball. I never used to shoot with more than one ball, and
was usually able to hit my mark at two hundred cubits, which cannot be
done by other ways of loading. Of the two geese, one was almost dead,
and the other, though badly wounded, was flying lamely. My dog retrieved
the one and brought it to me; but noticing that the other was diving
down into the ditch, I sprang forward to catch it. Trusting to my boots,
which came high up the leg, I put one foot forward; it sank in the oozy
ground; and so, although I got the goose, the boot of my right leg was
full of water. I lifted my foot and let the water run out; then, when I
had mounted, we made haste for Rome. The cold, however, was very great,
and I felt my leg freeze, so that I said to Felice: “We must do
something to help this leg, for I don’t know how to bear it longer.” The
good Felice, without a word, leapt from his horse, and gathering some
thistles and bits of stick, began to build a fire. I meanwhile was
waiting, and put my hands among the breast-feathers of the geese, and
felt them very warm. So I told him not to make the fire, but filled my
boot with the feathers of the goose, and was immediately so much
comforted that I regained vitality.
Note 1. He had been banished in 1530 as a foe to the Medicean house.
LXXXIX
WE mounted, and rode rapidly toward Rome; and when we had reached a
certain gently rising ground-night had already fallen-looking in the
direction of Florence, both with one breath exclaimed in the utmost
astonishment: “O God of heaven! what is that great thing one sees there
over Florence?” It resembled a huge beam of fire, which sparkled and
gave out extraordinary lustre.
I said to Felice: “Assuredly we shall hear to-morrow that something of
vast importance has happened in Florence.” As we rode into Rome, the
darkness was extreme; and when we came near the Banchi and our own
house, my little horse was going in an amble at a furious speed. Now
that day they had thrown a heap of plaster and broken tiles in the
middle of the road, which neither my horse nor myself perceived. In his
fiery pace the beast ran up it; but on coming down upon the other side
he turned a complete somersault. He had his head between his legs, and
it was only through the power of God himself that I escaped unhurt. The
noise we made brought the neighbours out with lights; but I had already
jumped to my feet; and so, without remounting, I ran home, laughing to
have come unhurt out of an accident enough to break my neck.
On entering the house, I found some friends of mine there, to whom,
while we were supping together, I related the adventures of the day’s
chase and the diabolical apparition of the fiery beam which we had seen.
They exclaimed: “What shall we hear to-morrow which this portent has
announced?” I answered: “Some revolution must certainly have occurred in
Florence.” So we supped agreeably; and late the next day there came the
news to Rome of Duke Alessandro’s death. [1] Upon this many of my
acquaintances came to me and said: “You were right in conjecturing that
something of great importance had happened at Florence.” Just then
Francesco Soderini appeared jogging along upon a wretched mule he had,
and laughing all the way like a madman. He said to me: “This is the
reverse of that vile tyrant’s medal which your Lorenzino de’ Medici
promised you.” Then he added: “You wanted to immortalise the dukes for
us; but we mean to have no more dukes;” and thereupon he jeered me, as
though I had been the captain of the factions which make dukes.
Meanwhile a certain Baccio Bettini, [2] who had an ugly big head like a
bushel, came up and began to banter me in the same way about dukes,
calling out: “We have dis-duked them, and won’t have any more of them;
and you were for making them immortal for us!” with many other tiresome
quips of the same kind. I lost my patience at this nonsense, and said to
them: “You blockheads! I am a poor goldsmith, who serve whoever pays me;
and you are jeering me as though I were a party-leader. However, this
shall not make me cast in your teeth the insatiable greediness, idiotcy,
and good-for-nothingness of your predecessors. But this one answer I
will make to all your silly railleries; that before two or three days at
the longest have passed by, you will have another duke, much worse
perhaps than he who now has left you.” [3]
The following day Bettini came to my shop and said: “There is no need to
spend money in couriers, for you know things before they happen. What
spirit tells them to you?” Then he informed me that Cosimo de’ Medici,
the son of Signor Giovanni, was made Duke; but that certain conditions
had been imposed at his election, which would hold him back from kicking
up his heels at his own pleasure. I now had my opportunity for laughing
at them, and saying: “Those men of Florence have set a young man upon a
mettlesome horse; next they have buckled spurs upon his heels, and put
the bridle freely in his hands, and turned him out upon a magnificent
field, full of flowers and fruits and all delightful things; next they
have bidden him not to cross certain indicated limits: now tell me, you,
who there is that can hold him back, whenever he has but the mind to
cross them? Laws cannot be imposed on him who is the master of the law.”
So they left me alone, and gave me no further annoyance. [4]
Note 1. Alessandro was murdered by his cousin Lorenzino at Florence on
the 5th of January 1537.
Note 2. Bettini was an intimate friend of Buonarroti and a considerable
patron of the arts.
Note 3. This exchange of ironical compliments testifies to Cellini’s
strong Medicean leanings, and also to the sagacity with which he judged
the political situation.
Note 4. Cellini only spoke the truth on this occasion; for Cosimo soon
kicked down the ladder which had lifted him to sovereignty, and showed
himself the absolute master of Florence. Cosimo was elected Duke upon
the 9th of January 1537.
XC
I NOW began to attend to my shop, and did some business, not however of
much moment, because I had still to think about my health, which was not
yet established after that grave illness I had undergone. About this
time the Emperor returned victorious from his expedition against Tunis,
and the Pope sent for me to take my advice concerning the present of
honour it was fit to give him. [1] I answered that it seemed to me most
appropriate to present his Imperial Majesty with a golden crucifix, for
which I had almost finished an ornament quite to the purpose, and which
would confer the highest honour upon his Holiness and me. I had already
made three little figures of gold in the round, about a palm high; they
were those which I had begun for the chalice of Pope Clement,
representing Faith, Hope, and Charity. To these I added in wax what was
wanting for the basement of the cross. I carried the whole to the Pope,
with the Christ in wax, and many other exquisite decorations which gave
him complete satisfaction. Before I took leave of his Holiness, we had
agreed on every detail, and calculated the price of the work.
This was one evening four hours after nightfall, and the Pope had
ordered Messer Latino Juvenale to see that I had money paid to me next
morning. This Messer Latino, who had a pretty big dash of the fool in
his composition, bethought him of furnishing the Pope with a new idea,
which was, however, wholly of his own invention. So he altered
everything which had been arranged; and next morning, when I went for
the money, he said with his usual brutal arrogance: “It is our part to
invent, and yours to execute; before I left the Pope last night we
thought of something far superior.” To these first words I answered,
without allowing him to proceed farther: “Neither you nor the Pope can
think of anything better than a piece of which Christ plays a part; so
you may go on with your courtier’s nonsense till you have no more to
say.”
Without uttering one word, he left me in a rage, and tried to get the
work given to another goldsmith. The Pope, however, refused, and sent
for me at once, and told me I had spoken well, but that they wanted to
make use of a Book of Hours of Our Lady, which was marvellously
illuminated, and had cost the Cardinal de’ Medici more than two thousand
crowns. They thought that this would be an appropriate present to the
Empress, and that for the Emperor they would afterwards make what I had
suggested, which was indeed a present worthy of him; but now there was
no time to lose, since the Emperor was expected in Rome in about a month
and a half. He wanted the book to be enclosed in a case of massive gold,
richly worked, and adorned with jewels valued at about six thousand
crowns. Accordingly, when the jewels and the gold were given me, I began
the work, and driving it briskly forward, in a few days brought it to
such beauty that the Pope was astonished, and showed me the most
distinguished signs of favour, conceding at the same time that that
beast Juvenale should have nothing more to do with me.
I had nearly brought my work to its completion when the Emperor arrived,
and numerous triumphal arches of great magnificence were erected in his
honour. He entered Rome with extraordinary pomp, the description of
which I leave to others, since I mean to treat of those things only
which concern myself. [2] Immediately after his arrival, he gave the
Pope a diamond which he had bought for twelve thousand crowns. This
diamond the Pope committed to my care, ordering me to make a ring to the
measure of his holiness’ finger; but first he wished me to bring the
book in the state to which I had advanced it. I took it accordingly, and
he was highly pleased with it; then he asked my advice concerning the
apology which could be reasonably made to the Emperor for the unfinished
condition of my work. I said that my indisposition would furnish a sound
excuse, since his Majesty, seeing how thin and pale I was, would very
readily believe and accept it. To this the Pope replied that he approved
of the suggestion, but that I should add on the part of his Holiness,
when I presented the book to the Emperor, that I made him the present of
myself. Then he told me in detail how I had to behave, and the words I
had to say. These words I repeated to the Pope, asking him if he wished
me to deliver them in that way. He replied: “You would acquit yourself
to admiration if you had the courage to address the Emperor as you are
addressing me.” Then I said that I had the courage to speak with far
greater ease and freedom to the Emperor, seeing that the Emperor was
clothed as I was, and that I should seem to be speaking to a man formed
like myself; this was not the case when I addressed his Holiness, in
whom I beheld a far superior deity, both by reason of his ecclesiastical
adornments, which shed a certain aureole about him, and at the same time
because of his holiness’ dignity of venerable age; all these things
inspired in me more awe than the Imperial Majesty. To these words the
Pope responded: “Go, my Benvenuto; you are a man of ability; do us
honour, and it will be well for you.”
Note 1. Cellini returns to the year 1535, when Charles V. arrived in
November from Tunis.
Note 2. The entry into Rome took place April 6, 1536.
XCI
THE POPE ordered out two Turkish horses, which had belonged to Pope
Clement, and were the most beautiful that ever came to Christendom.
Messer Durante, [1] his chamberlain, was bidden to bring them through
the lower galleries of the palace, and there to give them to the
Emperor, repeating certain words which his Holiness dictated to him. We
both went down together, and when we reached the presence of the
Emperor, the horses made their entrance through those halls with so much
spirit and such a noble carriage that the Emperor and every one were
struck with wonder. Thereupon, Messer Durante advanced in so graceless a
manner, and delivered his speech with so much of Brescian lingo,
mumbling his words over in his mouth, that one never saw or heard
anything worse; indeed the Emperor could not refrain from smiling at
him. I meanwhile had already uncovered my piece; and observing that the
Emperor had turned his eyes towards me with a very gracious look, I
advanced at once and said: “Sacred Majesty, our most holy Father, Pope
Paolo, sends this book of the Virgin as a present to your Majesty, the
which is written in a fair clerk’s hand, and illuminated by the greatest
master who ever professed that art; and this rich cover of gold and
jewels is unfinished, as you here behold it, by reason of my illness:
wherefore his Holiness, together with the book, presents me also, and
attaches me to your Majesty in order that I may complete the work; nor
this alone, but everything which you may have it in your mind to execute
so long as life is left me, will I perform at your service.” Thereto the
Emperor responded: “The book is acceptable to me, and so are you; but I
desire you to complete it for me in Rome; when it is finished, and you
are restored to health, bring it me and come to see me.” Afterwards, in
course of conversation, he called me by my name, which made me wonder,
because no words had been dropped in which my name occurred; and he said
that he had seen that fastening of Pope Clement’s cope, on which I had
wrought so many wonderful figures. We continued talking in this way a
whole half hour, touching on divers topics artistic and agreeable; then,
since it seemed to me that I had acquitted myself with more honour than
I had expected, I took the occasion of a slight lull in the conversation
to make my bow and to retire. The Emperor was heard to say: “Let five
hundred golden crowns be given at once to Benvenuto.” The person who
brought them up asked who the Pope’s man was who had spoken to the
Emperor. Messer Durante came forward and robbed me of my five hundred
crowns. I complained to the Pope, who told me not to be uneasy, for he
knew how everything had happened, and how well I had conducted myself in
addressing the Emperor, and of the money I should certainly obtain my
share.
Note 1. Messer Durante Duranti, Prefect of the Camera under Paul III,
who gave him the hat in 1544, and the Bishopric of Brescia afterwards.
XCII
WHEN I returned to my shop, I set my hand with diligence to finishing
the diamond ring, concerning which the four first jewellers of Rome were
sent to consult with me. This was because the Pope had been informed
that the diamond had been set by the first jeweller of the world in
Venice; he was called Maestro Miliano Targhetta; and the diamond being
somewhat thin, the job of setting it was too difficult to be attempted
without great deliberation. I was well pleased to receive these four
jewellers, among whom was a man of Milan called Gaio. He was the most
presumptuous donkey in the world, the one who knew least and who thought
he knew most; the others were very modest and able craftsmen. In the
presence of us all this Gaio began to talk, and said: “Miliano’s foil
should be preserved, and to do that, Benvenuto, you shall doff your cap;
[1] for just as giving diamonds a tint is the most delicate and
difficult thing in the jeweller’s art, so is Miliano the greatest
jeweller that ever lived, and this is the most difficult diamond to
tint.” I replied that it was all the greater glory for me to compete
with so able a master in such an excellent profession. Afterwards I
turned to the other jewellers and said: “Look here! I am keeping
Miliano’s foil, and I will see whether I can improve on it with some of
my own manufacture; if not, we will tint it with the same you see here.”
That ass Gaio exclaimed that if I made a foil like that he would gladly
doff his cap to it. To which I replied: “Supposing then I make it
better, it will deserve two bows.” “Certainly so,” said he; and I began
to compose my foils.
I took the very greatest pains in mixing the tints, the method of doing
which I will explain in the proper place. [2] It is certain that the
diamond in question offered more difficulties than any others which
before or afterwards have come into my hands, and Miliano’s foil was
made with true artistic skill. However, that did not dismay me; but
having sharpened my wits up, I succeeded not only in making something
quite as good, but in exceeding it by far. Then, when I saw that I had
surpassed him, I went about to surpass myself, and produced a foil by
new processes which was a long way better than what I had previously
made. Thereupon I sent for the jewellers; and first I tinted the diamond
with Miliano’s foil: then I cleaned it well and tinted it afresh with my
own. When I showed it to the jewellers, one of the best among them, who
was called Raffael del Moro, took the diamond in his hand and said to
Gaio: “Benvenuto has outdone the foil of Miliano.” Gaio, unwilling to
believe it, took the diamond and said: “Benvenuto, this diamond is worth
two thousand ducats more than with the foil of Miliano.” I rejoined:
“Now that I have surpassed Miliano, let us see if I can surpass myself.”
Then I begged them to wait for me a while, went up into a little
cabinet, and having tinted the diamond anew unseen by them, returned and
showed it to the jewellers. Gaio broke out at once: “This is the most
marvellous thing that I have ever seen in the course of my whole
lifetime. The stone is worth upwards of eighteen thousand crowns,
whereas we valued it at barely twelve thousand.” The others jewellers
turned to him and said: “Benvenuto is the glory of our art, and it is
only due that we should doff our caps to him and to his foils.” Then
Gaio said: “I shall go and tell the Pope, and I mean to procure for him
one thousand golden crowns for the setting of this diamond.” Accordingly
he hurried to the Pope and told him the whole story; whereupon his
Holiness sent three times on that day to see if the ring was finished.
At twenty-three o’clock I took the ring to the palace; and since the
doors were always open to me, I lifted the curtain gently, and saw the
Pope in private audience with the Marchese del Guasto. [3] The Marquis
must have been pressing something on the Pope which he was unwilling to
perform; for I heard him say: “I tell you, no; it is my business to
remain neutral, and nothing else.” I was retiring as quickly as I could,
when the Pope himself called me back; so I entered the room, and
presented the diamond ring, upon which he drew me aside, and the Marquis
retired to a distance. While looking at the diamond, the Pope whispered
to me: “Benvenuto, begin some conversation with me on a subject which
shall seem important, and do not stop talking so long as the Marquis
remains in this room.” Then he took to walking up and down, and the
occasion making for my advantage, I was very glad to discourse with him
upon the methods I had used to tint the stone. The Marquis remained
standing apart, leaning against a piece of tapestry; and now he balanced
himself about on one foot, now on the other. The subject I had chosen to
discourse upon was of such importance, if fully treated, that I could
have talked about it at least three hours. The Pope was entertained to
such a degree that he forgot the annoyance of the Marquis standing
there. I seasoned what I had to say with that part of natural philosophy
which belongs to our profession; and so having spoken for near upon an
hour, the Marquis grew tired of waiting, and went off fuming. Then the
Pope bestowed on me the most familiar caresses which can be imagined,
and exclaimed: “Have patience, my dear Benvenuto, for I will give you a
better reward for your virtues than the thousand crowns which Gaio tells
me your work is worth.”
On this I took my leave; and the Pope praised me in the presence of his
household, among whom was the fellow Latino Juvenale, whom I have
previously mentioned. This man, having become my enemy, assiduously
strove to do me hurt; and noticing that the Pope talked of me with so
much affection and warmth, he put in his word: “There is no doubt at all
that Benvenuto is a person of very remarkable genius; but while every
one is naturally bound to feel more goodwill for his own countrymen than
for others, still one ought to consider maturely what language it is
right and proper to use when speaking of a Pope. He has had the audacity
to say that Pope Clement indeed was the handsomest sovereign that ever
reigned, and no less gifted; only that luck was always against him: and
he says that your Holiness is quite the opposite; that the tiara seems
to weep for rage upon your head; that you look like a truss of straw
with clothes on, and that there is nothing in you except good luck.”
These words, reported by a man who knew most excellently how to say
them, had such force that they gained credit with the Pope. Far from
having uttered them, such things had never come into my head. If the
Pope could have done so without losing credit, he would certainly have
taken fierce revenge upon me; but being a man of great tact and talent,
he made a show of turning it off with a laugh. Nevertheless he harboured
in his heart a deep vindictive feeling against me, of which I was not
slow to be aware, since I had no longer the same easy access to his
apartments as formerly, but found the greatest difficulty in procuring
audience. As I had now for many years been familiar with the manners of
the Roman court, I conceived that some one had done me a bad turn; and
on making dexterous inquiries, I was told the whole, but not the name of
my calumniator. I could not imagine who the man was; had I but found him
out, my vengeance would not have been measured by troy weight. 4
Note 1. In the 'Oreficeria' Cellini gives an account of how these foils
were made and applied. They were composed of paste, and coloured so as
to enhance the effect of precious stones, particularly diamonds.
Note 2. 'Oreficeria,' cap. i.
Note 3. Alfonson d’Avalos, successor and heir to the famous Ferdinando
d’Avalos, Marquis of Pescara. He acted for many years as Spanish Viceroy
of Milan.
Note 4. 'Io ne arei fatte vendette a misura di carbone.'
XCIII
I WENT on working at my book, and when I had finished it I took it to
the Pope, who was in good truth unable to refrain from commending it
greatly. I begged him to send me with it to the Emperor, as he had
promised. He replied that he would do what he thought fit, and that I
had performed my part of the business. So he gave orders that I should
be well paid. These two pieces of work, on which I had spent upwards of
two months, brought me in five hundred crowns: for the diamond I was
paid one hundred and fifty crowns and no more; the rest was given me for
the cover of the book, which, however, was worth more than a thousand,
being enriched with multitudes of figures, arabesques, enamellings, and
jewels. I took what I could get and made my mind up to leave Rome
without permission. The Pope meanwhile sent my book to the Emperor by
the hand of his grandson Signor Sforza. [1] Upon accepting it, the
Emperor expressed great satisfaction, and immediately asked for me.
Young Signor Sforza, who had received his instructions, said that I had
been prevented by illness from coming. All this was reported to me.
My preparations for the journey into France were made; and I wished to
go alone, but was unable on account of a lad in my service called
Ascanio. He was of very tender age, and the most admirable servant in
the world. When I took him he had left a former master, named Francesco,
a Spaniard and a goldsmith. I did not much like to take him, lest I
should get into a quarrel with the Spaniard, and said to Ascanio: “I do
not want to have you, for fear of offending your master.” He contrived
that his master should write me a note informing me that I was free to
take him. So he had been with me some months; and since he came to us
both thin and pale of face, we called him “the little old man;” indeed I
almost thought he was one, partly because he was so good a servant, and
partly because he was so clever that it seemed unlikely he should have
such talent at thirteen years, which he affirmed his age to be. Now to
go back to the point from which I started, he improved in person during
those few months, and gaining in flesh, became the handsomest youth in
Rome. Being the excellent servant which I have described, and showing
marvellous aptitude for our art, I felt a warm and fatherly affection
for him, and kept him clothed as if he had been my own son. When the boy
perceived the improvement he had made, he esteemed it a good piece of
luck that he had come into my hands; and he used frequently to go and
thank his former master, who had been the cause of his prosperity. Now
this man had a handsome young woman to wife, who said to him: “Surgetto”
(that was what they called him when he lived with them), “what have you
been doing to become so handsome?” Ascanio answered: “Madonna Francesca,
it is my master who has made me so handsome, and far more good to boot.”
In her petty spiteful way she took it very ill that Ascanio should speak
so; and having no reputation for chastity, she contrived to caress the
lad more perhaps than was quite seemly, which made me notice that he
began to visit her more frequently than his wont had been.
One day Ascanio took to beating one of our little shopboys, who, when I
came home from out of doors, complained to me with tears that Ascanio
had knocked him about without any cause. Hearing this, I said to
Ascanio: “With cause or without cause, see you never strike any one of
my family, or else I’ll make you feel how I can strike myself.” He
bandied words with me, which made me jump on him and give him the
severest drubbing with both fists and feet that he had ever felt. As
soon as he escaped my clutches, he ran away without cape or cap, and for
two days I did not know where he was, and took no care to find him.
After that time a Spanish gentleman, called Don Diego, came to speak to
me. He was the most generous man in the world. I had made, and was
making, some things for him, which had brought us well acquainted. He
told me that Ascanio had gone back to his old master, and asked me, if I
thought it proper, to send him the cape and cap which I had given him.
Thereupon I said that Francesco had behaved badly, and like a low-bred
fellow; for if he had told me, when Ascanio first came back to him, that
he was in his house, I should very willingly have given him leave; but
now that he had kept him two days without informing me, I was resolved
he should not have him; and let him take care that I do not set eyes
upon the lad in his house. This message was reported by Don Diego, but
it only made Francesco laugh. The next morning I saw Ascanio working at
some trifles in wire at his master’s side. As I was passing he bowed to
me, and his master almost laughed me in the face. He sent again to ask
through Don Diego whether I would not give Ascanio back the clothes he
had received from me; but if not, he did not mind, and Ascanio should
not want for clothes. When I heard this, I turned to Don Diego and said:
“Don Diego, sir, in all your dealings you are the most liberal and
worthy man I ever knew, but that Francesco is quite the opposite of you;
he is nothing better than a worthless and dishonoured renegade. Tell him
from me that if he does not bring Ascanio here himself to my shop before
the bell for vespers, I will assuredly kill him; and tell Ascanio that
if he does not quit that house at the hour appointed for his master, I
will treat him much in the same way.” Don Diego made no answer, but went
and inspired such terror in Francesco that he knew not what to do with
himself. Ascanio meanwhile had gone to find his father, who had come to
Rome from Tagliacozzo, his birthplace; and this man also, when he heard
about the row, advised Francesco to bring Ascanio back to me. Francesco
said to Ascanio: “Go on your own account, and your father shall go with
you.” Don Diego put in: “Francesco, I foresee that something very
serious will happen; you know better than I do what a man Benvenuto is;
take the lad back courageously, and I will come with you.” I had
prepared myself, and was pacing up and down the shop waiting for the
bell to vespers; my mind was made up to do one of the bloodiest deeds
which I had ever attempted in my life. Just then arrived Don Diego,
Francesco, Ascanio, and his father, whom I did not know. When Ascanio
entered, I gazed at the whole company with eyes of rage, and Francesco,
pale as death, began as follows: “See here, I have brought back Ascanio,
whom I kept with me, not thinking that I should offend you.” Ascanio
added humbly: “Master, pardon me; I am at your disposal here, to do
whatever you shall order.” Then I said: “Have you come to work out the
time you promised me?” He answered yes, and that he meant never to leave
me. Then I turned and told the shopboy he had beaten to hand him the
bundle of clothes, and said to him: “Here are all the clothes I gave
you; take with them your discharge, and go where you like.” Don Diego
stood astonished at this, which was quite the contrary of what he had
expected; while Ascanio with his father besought me to pardon and take
him back. On my asking who it was who spoke for him, he said it was his
father; to whom, after many entreaties, I replied: “Because you are his
father, for your sake I will take him back.”
Note 1. Sforza Sforza, son of Bosio, Count of Santa Fiore, and of
Costanza Farnese, the Pope’s natural daughter. He was a youth of sixteen
at this epoch.
XCIV
I HAD formed the resolution, as I said a short while back, to go toward
France; partly because I saw that the Pope did not hold me in the same
esteem as formerly, my faithful service having been besmirched by lying
tongues; and also because I feared lest those who had the power might
play me some worse trick. So I was determined to seek better fortune in
a foreign land, and wished to leave Rome without company or license. On
the eve of my projected departure, I told my faithful friend Felice to
make free use of all my effects during my absence; and in the case of my
not returning; left him everything I possessed. Now there was a Perugian
workman in my employ, who had helped me on those commissions from the
Pope; and after paying his wages, I told him he must leave my service.
He begged me in reply to let him go with me, and said he would come at
his own charges; if I stopped to work for the King of France, it would
certainly be better for me to have Italians by me, and in particular
such persons as I knew to be capable of giving me assistance. His
entreaties and arguments persuaded me to take him on the journey in the
manner he proposed. Ascanio, who was present at this debate, said, half
in tears: “When you took me back, I said I wished to remain with you my
lifetime, and so I have it in my mind to do.” I told him that nothing in
the world would make me consent; but when I saw that the poor lad was
preparing to follow on foot, I engaged a horse for him too, put a small
valise upon the crupper, and loaded myself with far more useless baggage
than I should otherwise have taken. 1
From home I travelled to Florence, from Florence to Bologna, from
Bologna to Venice, and from Venice to Padua. There my dear friend
Albertaccio del Bene made me leave the inn for his house; and next day I
went to kiss the hand of Messer Pietro Bembo, who was not yet a
Cardinal. [2] He received me with marks of the warmest affection which
could be bestowed on any man; then turning to Albertaccio, he said: “I
want Benvenuto to stay here, with all his followers, even though they be
a hundred men; make then your mind up, if you want Benvenuto also, to
stay here with me, for I do not mean elsewise to let you have him.”
Accordingly I spent a very pleasant visit at the house of that most
accomplished gentleman. He had a room prepared for me which would have
been too grand for a cardinal, and always insisted on my taking my meals
beside him. Later on, he began to hint in very modest terms that he
should greatly like me to take his portrait. I, who desired nothing in
the world more, prepared some snow-white plaster in a little box, and
set to work at once. The first day I spent two hours on end at my
modelling, and blocked out the fine head of that eminent man with so
much grace of manner that his lordship was fairly astounded. Now, though
he was a man of profound erudition and without a rival in poetry, he
understood nothing at all about my art; this made him think that I had
finished when I had hardly begun, so that I could not make him
comprehend what a long time it took to execute a thing of that sort
thoroughly. At last I resolved to do it as well as I was able, and to
spend the requisite time upon it; but since he wore his beard short
after the Venetian fashion, I had great trouble in modelling a head to
my own satisfaction. However, I finished it, and judged it about the
finest specimen I had produced in all the points pertaining to my art.
Great was the astonishment of Messer Pietro, who conceived that I should
have completed the waxen model in two hours and the steel in ten, when
he found that I employed two hundred on the wax, and then was begging
for leave to pursue my journey toward France. This threw him into much
concern, and he implored me at least to design the reverse for his
medal, which was to be a Pegasus encircled with a wreath of myrtle. I
performed my task in the space of some three hours, and gave it a fine
air of elegance. He was exceedingly delighted, and said: “This horse
seems to me ten times more difficult to do than the little portrait on
which you have bestowed so much pains. I cannot understand what made it
such a labour.” All the same, he kept entreating me to execute the piece
in steel, exclaiming: “For Heaven’s sake, do it; I know that, if you
choose, you will get it quickly finished.” I told him that I was not
willing to make it there, but promised without fail to take it in hand
wherever I might stop to work.
While this debate was being carried on I went to bargain for three
horses which I wanted on my travels; and he took care that a secret
watch should be kept over my proceedings, for he had vast authority in
Padua; wherefore, when I proposed to pay for the horses, which were to
cost five hundred ducats, their owner answered: “Illustrious artist, I
make you a present of the three horses.” I replied: “It is not you who
give them me; and from the generous donor I cannot accept them, seeing I
have been unable to present him with any specimen of my craft.” The good
fellow said that, if I did not take them, I should get no other horses
in Padua, and should have to make my journey on foot. Upon that I
returned to the magnificent Messer Pietro, who affected to be ignorant
of the affair, and only begged me with marks of kindness to remain in
Padua. This was contrary to my intention, for I had quite resolved to
set out; therefore I had to accept the three horses, and with them we
began our journey.
Note 1. He left Rome, April 1, 1537.
Note 2. I need hardly say that this is the Bembo who ruled over Italian
literature like a dictator from the reign of Leo X. onwards. He was of a
noble Venetian house; Paul III. made him Cardinal in 1539. He died, aged
seventy-seven, in 1547.
XCV
I CHOSE the route through the Grisons, all other passes being unsafe on
account of war. We crossed the mountains of the Alba and Berlina; it was
the 8th of May, and the snow upon them lay in masses. [1] At the utmost
hazard of our lives we succeeded in surmounting those two Alpine ridges;
and when they had been traversed, we stopped at a place which, if I
remember rightly, is called Valdista. There we took up quarters, and at
nightfall there arrived a Florentine courier named Busbacca. I had heard
him mentioned as a man of character and able in his profession, but I
did not know that he had forfeited that reputation by his rogueries.
When he saw me in the hostelry, he addressed me by my name, said he was
going on business of importance to Lyons, and entreated met to lend him
money for the journey. I said I had no money to lend, but that if he
liked to join me, I would pay his expenses as far as Lyons. The rascal
wept, and wheedled me with a long story, saying: “If a poor courier
employed on affairs of national consequence has fallen short of money,
it is the duty of a man like you to assist him.” Then he added that he
was carrying things of the utmost importance from Messer Filippo
Strozzi; [2] and showing me a leather case for a cup he had with him,
whispered in my ear that it held a goblet of silver which contained
jewels to the value of many thousands of ducats, together with letters
of vast consequence, sent by Messer Filippo Strozzi. I told him that he
ought to let me conceal the jewels about his own person, which would be
much less dangerous than carrying them in the goblet; he might give that
up to me, and, its value being probably about ten crowns, I would supply
him with twenty-five on the security. To these words the courier replied
that he would go with me, since he could not do otherwise, for to give
up the goblet would not be to his honour.
Accordingly we struck the bargain so; and taking horse next morning,
came to a lake between Valdistate and Vessa; it is fifteen miles long
when one reaches Vessa. On beholding the boats upon that lake I took
fright; because they are of pine, of no great size and no great
thickness, loosely put together, and not even pitched. If I had not seen
four German gentlemen, with their four horses, embarking in one of the
same sort as ours, I should never have set my foot in it; indeed I
should far more likely have turned tail; but when I saw their
hare-brained recklessness, I took it into my head that those German
waters would not drown folk, as ours do in Italy. However, my two young
men kept saying to me: “Benvenuto, it is surely dangerous to embark in
this craft with four horses.” I replied: “You cowards, do you not
observe how those four gentlemen have taken boat before us, and are
going on their way with laughter? If this were wine, as indeed ‘tis
water, I should say that they were going gladly to drown themselves in
it; but as it is but water, I know well that they have no more pleasure
than we have in drowning there.” The lake was fifteen miles long and
about three broad; on one side rose a mountain very tall and cavernous,
on the other some flat land and grassy. When we had gone about four
miles, it began to storm upon the lake, and our oarsmen asked us to help
in rowing; this we did awhile. I made gestures and directed them to land
us on the farther shore; they said it was not possible, because there
was not depth of water for the boat, and there were shoals there, which
would make it go to pieces and drown us all; and still they kept on
urging us to help them. The boatmen shouted one to the other, calling
for assistance. When I saw them thus dismayed, my horse being an
intelligent animal, I arranged the bridle on his neck and took the end
of the halter with my left hand. The horse, like most of his kind, being
not devoid of reason, seemed to have an instinct of my intention; for
having turned his face towards the fresh grass, I meant that he should
swim and draw me after him. Just at that moment a great wave broke over
the boat. Ascanio shrieked out: “Mercy, my father; save me,” and wanted
to throw himself upon my neck. Accordingly, I laid hand to my little
dagger, and told them to do as I had shown them, seeing that the horses would save their lives as well as I too hoped to escape with mine by the same means; but that if he tried to jump on me, I should kill him. So we went forward several miles in this great peril of our lives. |
|
댓글 없음:
댓글 쓰기