Note 1. I have retained Cellini’s spelling of names upon this journey.
He passed the Bernina and Albula mountains, descended the valley of the
Rhine to Wallenstadt, travelled by Weesen and probably Glarus to Lachen
and Zurich, thence to Solothurn, Lausanne, Geneva, Lyons.
Note 2. Filippo Strozzi was leader of the anti-Medicean party, now in
exile. He fell into the hands of Duke Cosimo on the 1st of August in
this year, 1537.
XCVI
WHEN we had reached the middle of the lake, we found a little bit of
level ground where we could land, and I saw that those four German
gentlemen had already come to shore there; but on our wishing to
disembark, the boatmen would hear nothing of it. Then I said to my young
men: “Now is the time to show what stuff we are made of; so draw your
swords, and force these fellows to put us on shore.” This we did, not
however without difficulty, for they offered a stubborn resistance. When
at last we got to land, we had to climb that mountain for two miles, and
it was more troublesome than getting up a ladder. I was completely
clothed in mail, with big boots, and a gun in my hand; and it was
raining as though the fountains of the heavens were opened. Those
devils, the German gentlemen, leading their little horses by the bridle,
accomplished miracles of agility; but our animals were not up to the
business, and we burst with the fatigue of making them ascend that hill
of difficulty. We had climbed a little way, when Ascanio’s horse, an
excellent beast of Hungarian race, made a false step. He was going a few
paces before the courier Busbacca to whom Ascanio had given his lance to
carry for him. Well, the path was so bad that the horse stumbled, and
went on scrambling backwards, without being able to regain his footing,
till he stuck upon the point of the lance, which that rogue of a courier
had not the wit to keep out of his way. The weapon passed right through
his throat; and when my other workman went to help him, his horse also,
a black-coloured animal, slipped towards the lake, and held on by some
shrub which offered but a slight support. This horse was carrying a pair
of saddle-bags, which contained all my money and other valuables. I
cried out to the young man to save his own life, and let the horse go to
the devil. The fall was more than a mile of precipitous descent above
the waters of the lake. Just below the place our boatmen had taken up
their station; so that if the horse fell, he would have come precisely
on them. I was ahead of the whole company, and we waited to see the
horse plunge headlong; it seemed certain that he must go to perdition.
During this I said to my young men: “Be under no concern; let us save
our lives, and give thanks to God for all that happens. I am only
distressed for that poor fellow Busbacca, who tied his goblet and his
jewels to the value of several thousands of ducats on the horse’s
saddle-bow, thinking that the safest place. My things are but a few
hundred crowns, and I am in no fear whatever, if only I get God’s
protection.” Then Busbacca cried out: “I am not sorry for my own loss,
but for yours.” “Why,” said I to him, “are you sorry for my trifles, and
not for all that property of yours?” He answered: “I will tell you in
God’s name; in these circumstances and at the point of peril we have
reached, truth must be spoken. I know that yours are crowns, and are so
in good sooth; but that case in which I said I had so many jewels and
other lies, is all full of caviare.” On hearing this I could not hold
from laughing; my young men laughed too; and he began to cry. The horse
extricated itself by a great effort when we had given it up for lost. So
then, still laughing, we summoned our forces, and bent ourselves to
making the ascent. The four German gentlemen, having gained the top
before us, sent down some folk who gave us aid. Thus at length we
reached our lodging in the wilderness. Here, being wet to the skin,
tired out, and famished, we were most agreeably entertained; we dried
ourselves, took rest, and satisfied our hunger, while certain wild herbs
were applied to the wounded horse. They pointed out to us the plant in
question, of which the hedges were full; and we were told that if the
wound was kept continually plugged with its leaves, the beast would not
only recover, but would serve us just as if it had sustained no injury.
We proceeded to do as they advised. Then having thanked those gentlemen,
and feeling ourselves entirely refreshed, we quitted the place, and
travelled onwards, thanking God for saving us from such great perils.
XCVII
WE reached a town beyond Vessa, where we passed the night, and heard a
watchman through all the hours singing very agreeably; for all the
houses of that city being built of pine wood, it was the watchman’s only
business to warn folk against fire. Busbacca’s nerves had been quite
shaken by the day’s adventures; accordingly; each hour when the watchman
sang, he called out in his sleep: “Ah God, I am drowning!” That was
because of the fright he had had; and besides, he had got drunk in the
evening, because he would sit boozing with all the Germans who were
there’ and sometimes he cried: “I am burning,” and sometimes: “I am
drowning;” and at other times he thought he was in hell, and tortured
with that caviare suspended round his throat.
This night was so amusing that it turned all our troubles into laughter.
In the morning we rose with very fine weather, and went to dine in a
smiling little place called Lacca. Here we obtained excellent
entertainment, and then engaged guides, who were returning to a town
called Surich. The guide who attended us went along the dyked bank of a
lake; there was no other road; and the dyke itself was covered with
water, so that the reckless fellow slipped, and fell together with his
horse beneath the water. I, who was but a few steps behind him, stopped
my horse, and waited to see the donkey get out of the water. Just as if
nothing had happened, he began to sing again, and made signs to me to
follow. I broke away upon the right hand, and got through some hedges,
making my young men and Busbacca take that way. The guide shouted in
German that if the folk of those parts saw me they would put me to
death. However, we passed forward, and escaped that other storm.
So we arrived at Surich, a marvellous city, bright and polished like a
little gem. There we rested a whole day, then left betimes one morning,
and reached another fair city called Solutorno. Thence we came to
Usanna, from Usanna to Ginevra, from Ginevra to Lione, always singing
and laughing. At Lione I rested four days, and had much pleasant
intercourse with some of my friends there; I was also repaid what I had
spent upon Busbacca; afterwards I set out upon the road to Paris. This
was a delightful journey, except that when we reached Palissa [1] a band
of venturers tried to murder us, [2] and it was only by great courage
and address that we got free from them. From that point onward we
travelled to Paris without the least trouble in the world. Always
singing and laughing, we arrived safely at our destination.
Note 1. La Palice.
Note 2. Cellini, in the narrative of his second French journey, explains
that these 'venturieri' were a notable crew of very daring brigands in
the Lyonese province.
XCVIII
AFTER taking some repose in Paris, I went to visit the painter Rosso,
who was in the King’s service. I thought to find in him one of the
sincerest friends I had in the world, seeing that in Rome I had done him
the greatest benefits which one man can confer upon another. As these
may be described briefly, I will not here omit their mention, in order
to expose the shamelessness of such ingratitude. While he was in Rome,
then, being a man given to back-biting, he spoke so ill of Raffaello da
Urbino’s works, that the pupils of the latter were quite resolved to
murder him. From this peril I saved him by keeping a close watch upon
him day and night. Again, the evil things said by Rosso against San
Gallo, [1] that excellent architect, caused the latter to get work taken
from him which he had previously procured for him from Messer Agnolo da
Cesi; and after this San Gallo used his influence so strenuously against
him that he must have been brought to the verge of starvation, had not I
pitied his condition and lent him some scores of crowns to live upon. So
then, not having been repaid, and knowing that he held employment under
the King, I went, as I have said, to look him up. I did not merely
expect him to discharge his debt, but also to show me favour and assist
in placing me in that great monarch’s service.
When Rosso set eyes on me, his countenance changed suddenly, and he
exclaimed: “Benvenuto, you have taken this long journey at great charges
to your loss; especially at this present time, when all men’s thoughts
are occupied with war, and not with the bagatelles of our profession.” I
replied that I had brought money enough to take me back to Rome as I had
come to Paris, and that this was not the proper return for the pains I
had endured for him, and that now I began to believe what Maestro
Antonio da San Gallo said of him. When he tried to turn the matter into
jest on this exposure of his baseness, I showed him a letter of exchange
for five hundred crowns upon Ricciardo del Bene. Then the rascal was
ashamed, and wanted to detain me almost by force; but I laughed at him,
and took my leave in the company of a painter whom I found there. This
man was called Sguazzella: [2] he too was a Florentine; and I went to
lodge in his house, with three horses and three servants, at so much per
week. He treated me very well, and was even better paid by me in return.
Afterwards I sought audience of the King, through the introduction of
his treasurer, Messer Giuliano Buonaccorti. [3] I met, however, with
considerable delays, owing, as I did not then know, to the strenuous
exertions Rosso made against my admission to his Majesty. When Messer
Giuliano became aware of this, he took me down at once to Fontana Bilio,
[4] and brought me into the presence of the King, who granted me a whole
hour of very gracious audience. Since he was then on the point of
setting out for Lyons, he told Messer Giuliano to take me with him,
adding that on the journey we could discuss some works of art his
Majesty had it in his head to execute. Accordingly, I followed the
court; and on the way I entered into close relations with the Cardinal
of Ferrara, who had not at that period obtained the hat. [5] Every
evening I used to hold long conversations with the Cardinal, in the
course of which his lordship advised me to remain at an abbey of his in
Lyons, and there to abide at ease until the King returned from this
campaign, adding that he was going on to Grenoble, and that I should
enjoy every convenience in the abbey.
When we reached Lyons I was already ill, and my lad Ascanio had taken a
quartan fever. The French and their court were both grown irksome to me,
and I counted the hours till I could find myself again in Rome. On
seeing my anxiety to return home, the Cardinal gave me money sufficient
for making him a silver bason and jug. So we took good horses, and set
our faces in the direction of Rome, passing the Simplon, and travelling
for some while in the company of certain Frenchmen; Ascanio troubled by
his quartan, and I by a slow fever which I found it quite impossible to
throw off. I had, moreover, got my stomach out of order to such an
extent, that for the space of four months, as I verily believe, I hardly
ate one whole loaf of bread in the week; and great was my longing to
reach Italy, being desirous to die there rather than in France.
Note 1. Antonio da San Gallo, one of the best architects of the later
Renaissance.
Note 2. A pupil of Andrea del Sarto, who went with him to France and
settled there.
Note 3. A Florentine exile mentioned by Varchi.
Note 4. Fontainebleau. Cellini always writes it as above.
Note 5. Ippolito d’Este, son of Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara; Archbishop of
Milan at the age of fifteen; Cardinal in 1539; spent a large part of his
life in France.
XCIX
WHEN we had crossed the mountains of the Simplon, we came to a river
near a place called Indevedro. [1] It was broad and very deep, spanned
by a long narrow bridge without ramparts. That morning a thick white
frost had fallen; and when I reached the bridge, riding before the rest,
I recognised how dangerous it was, and bade my servants and young men
dismount and lead their horses. So I got across without accident, and
rode on talking with one of the Frenchmen, whose condition was that of a
gentleman. The other, who was a scrivener, lagged a little way behind,
jeering the French gentleman and me because we had been so frightened by
nothing at all as to give ourselves the trouble of walking. I turned
round, and seeing him upon the middle of the bridge, begged him to come
gently, since the place was very dangerous. The fellow, true to his
French nature, cried out in French that I was a man of poor spirit, and
that there was no danger whatsoever. While he spoke these words and
urged his horse forward, the animal suddenly slipped over the bridge,
and fell with legs in air close to a huge rock there was there. Now God
is very often merciful to madmen; so the two beasts, human and equine,
plunged together into a deep wide pool, where both of them went down
below the water. On seeing what had happened, I set off running at full
speed, scrambled with much difficulty on to the rock, and dangling over
from it, seized the skirt of the scrivener’s gown and pulled him up, for
he was still submerged beneath the surface. He had drunk his bellyful of
water, and was within an ace of being drowned. I then, beholding him out
of danger, congratulated the man upon my having been the means of
rescuing his life. The fellow to this answered me in French, that I had
done nothing; the important things to save were his writings, worth many
scores of crowns; and these words he seemed to say in anger, dripping
wet and spluttering the while. Thereupon, I turned round to our guides,
and ordered them to help the brute, adding that I would see them paid.
One of them with great address and trouble set himself to the business,
and picked up all the fellow’s writings, so that he lost not one of
them: the other guide refused to trouble himself by rendering any
assistance.
I ought here to say that we had made a purse up, and that I performed
the part of paymaster. So, when we reached the place I mentioned, and
had dined, I drew some coins from the common purse and gave them to the
guide who helped to draw him from the water. Thereupon the fellow called
out that I might pay them out of my own pocket; he had no intention of
giving the man more than what had been agreed on for his services as
guide. Upon this I retorted with insulting language. Then the other
guide, who had done nothing, came up and demanded to be rewarded also. I
told him that the one who had borne the cross deserved the recompense.
He cried out that he would presently show me a cross which should make
me repent. I replied that I would light a candle at that cross, which
should, I hoped, make him to be the first to weep his folly. The village
we were in lay on the frontier between Venice and the Germans. So the
guide ran off to bring the folk together, and came, followed by a crowd,
with a boar-spear in his hand. Mounted on my good steed, I lowered the
barrel of my arquebuse, and turning to my comrades, cried: “At the first
shot I shall bring that fellow down; do you likewise your duty, for
these are highway robbers, who have used this little incident to
contrive our murder.” The innkeeper at whose house we had dined called
one of the leaders, an imposing old man, and begged him to put a stop to
the disorder, saying: “This is a most courageous young man; you may cut
him to pieces, but he will certainly kill a lot of you, and perhaps will
escape your hands after doing all the mischief he is able.” So matters
calmed down: and the old man, their leader, said to me: “Go in peace;
you would not have much to boast of against us, even if you had a
hundred men to back you.” I recognised the truth of his words, and had
indeed made up my mind to die among them; therefore, when no further
insults were cast at me, I shook my head and exclaimed: “I should
certainly have done my utmost to prove I am no statue, but a man of
flesh and spirit.” Then we resumed our journey; and that evening, at the
first lodging we came to, settled our accounts together. There I parted
for ever from that beast of a Frenchman, remaining on very friendly
terms with the other, who was a gentleman. Afterwards I reached Ferrara,
with my three horses and no other company.
Having dismounted, I went to court in order to pay my reverence to the
Duke, and gain permission to depart next morning for Loreto. When I had
waited until two hours after nightfall, his Excellency appeared. I
kissed his hands; he received me with much courtesy, and ordered that
water should be brought for me to wash my hands before eating. To this
compliment I made a pleasant answer: “Most excellent lord, it is now
more than four months that I have eaten only just enough to keep life
together; knowing therefore that I could not enjoy the delicacies of
your royal table, I will stay and talk with you while your Excellency is
supping; in this way we shall both have more pleasure than if I were to
sup with you.” Accordingly, we entered into conversation, and prolonged
it for the next three hours. At that time I took my leave, and when I
got back to the inn, found a most excellent meal ready; for the Duke had
sent me the plates from his own banquet, together with some famous wine.
Having now fasted two full hours beyond my usual hour for supping, I
fell to with hearty appetite; and this was the first time since four
months that I felt the power or will to eat.
Note 1. Probably the Doveria in the Valdivedro.
C
LEAVING Ferrara in the morning, I went to Santa Maria at Loreto; and
thence, having performed my devotions, pursued the journey to Rome.
There I found my most faithful Felice, to whom I abandoned my old shop
with all its furniture and appurtenances, and opened another, much
larger and roomier, next to Sugherello, the perfumer. I thought for
certain that the great King Francis would not have remembered me.
Therefore I accepted commissions from several noblemen; and in the
meanwhile began the bason and jug ordered by the Cardinal Ferrara. I had
a crowd of workmen, and many large affairs on hand in gold and silver.
Now the arrangement I had made with that Perugian workman [1] was that
he should write down all the monies which had been disbursed on his
account, chiefly for clothes and divers other sundries; and these,
together with the costs of travelling, amounted to about seventy crowns.
We agreed that he should discharge the debt by monthly payments of three
crowns; and this he was well able to do, since he gained more than eight
through me. At the end of two months the rascal decamped from my shop,
leaving me in the lurch with a mass of business on my hands, and saying
that he did not mean to pay me a farthing more. I was resolved to seek
redress, but allowed myself to be persuaded to do so by the way of
justice. At first I thought of lopping off an arm of his; and assuredly
I should have done so, if my friends had not told me that it was a
mistake, seeing I should lose my money and perhaps Rome too a second
time, forasmuch as blows cannot be measured, and that with the agreement
I held of his I could at any moment have him taken up. I listened to
their advice, though I should have liked to conduct the affair more
freely. As a matter of fact, I sued him before the auditor of the
Camera, and gained by suit; in consequence of that decree, for which I
waited several months, I had him thrown into prison. At the same time I
was overwhelmed with large commissions; among others, I had to supply
all the ornaments of gold and jewels for the wife of Signor Gierolimo
Orsino, father of Signor Paolo, who is now the son-in-law of our Duke
Cosimo. [2] These things I had nearly finished; yet others of the
greatest consequence were always coming in. I employed eight
work-people, and worked day and night together with them, for the sake
alike of honour and of gain.
Note 1. In his 'Ricordi' Cellini calls the man Girolamo Pascucci.
Note 2. He was Duke of Bracciano, father of Duke Paolo, who married
Isabella de’ Medici, and murdered her before his second marriage with
Vittoria Accoramboni. See my 'Renaissance in Italy,' vol. vi.
CI
WHILE I was engaged in prosecuting my affairs with so much vigour, there
arrived a letter sent post-haste to me by the Cardinal of Ferrara, which
ran as follows:-
'“Benvenuto, our dear friend,-During these last days the most Christian
King here made mention of you, and said that he should like to have you
in his service. Whereto I answered that you had promised me, whenever I
sent for you to serve his Majesty, that you would come at once. His
Majesty then answered:’It is my will that provision for his journey,
according to his merits, should be sent him;’ and immediately ordered
his Admiral to make me out an order for one thousand golden crowns upon
the treasurer of the Exchequer. The Cardinal de’ Gaddi, who was present
at this conversation, advanced immediately, and told his Majesty that it
was not necessary to make these dispositions, seeing that he had sent
you money enough, and that you were already on the journey. If then, as
I think probable, the facts are quite contrary to those assertions of
Cardinal Gaddi, reply to me without delay upon the receipt of this
letter; for I will undertake to gather up the fallen thread, and have
the promised money given you by this magnanimous King.”'
Now let the world take notice, and all the folk that dwell on it, what
power malignant stars with adverse fortune exercise upon us human
beings! I had not spoken twice in my lifetime to that little simpleton
of a Cardinal de’ Gaddi; nor do I think that he meant by this
bumptiousness of his to do me any harm, but only, through
lightheadedness and senseless folly, to make it seem as though he also
held the affairs of artists, whom the King was wanting, under his own
personal supervision, just as the Cardinal of Ferrara did. But
afterwards he was so stupid as not to tell me anything at all about the
matter; elsewise, it is certain that my wish to shield a silly mannikin
from reproach, if only for our country’s sake, would have made me find
out some excuse to mend the bungling of his foolish self-conceit.
Immediately upon the receipt of Cardinal Ferrara’s letter, I answered
that about Cardinal de’ Gaddi I knew absolutely nothing, and that even
if he had made overtures of that kind to me, I should not have left
Italy without informing his most reverend lordship. I also said that I
had more to do in Rome than at any previous time; but that if his most
Christian Majesty made sign of wanting me, one word of his, communicated
by so great a prince as his most reverend lordship, would suffice to
make me set off upon the spot, leaving all other concerns to take their
chance.
After I had sent my letter, that traitor, the Perugian workman, devised
a piece of malice against me, which succeeded at once, owing to the
avarice of Pope Paolo da Farnese, but also far more to that of his
bastard, who was then called Duke of Castro. [1] The fellow in question
informed one of Signor Pier Luigi’s secretaries that, having been with
me as workman several years, he was acquainted with all my affairs, on
the strength of which he gave his word to Signor Pier Luigi that I was
worth more than eighty thousand ducats, and that the greater part of
this property consisted in jewels, which jewels belonged to the Church,
and that I had stolen them in Castel Sant’ Angelo during the sack of
Rome, and that all they had to do was to catch me on the spot with
secrecy.
It so happened that I had been at work one morning, more than three
hours before daybreak, upon the trousseau of the bride I mentioned;
then, while my shop was being opened and swept out, I put my cape on to
go abroad and take the air. Directing my steps along the Strada Giulia,
I turned into Chiavica, and at this corner Crespino, the Bargello, with
all his constables, made up to me, and said: “You are the Pope’s
prisoner.” I answered: “Crespino, you have mistaken your man.” “No,”
said Crespino, “you are the artist Benvenuto, and I know you well, and I
have to take you to the Castle of Sant’ Angelo, where lords go, and men
of accomplishments, your peers.” Upon that four of his under-officers
rushed on me, and would have seized by force a dagger which I wore, and
some rings I carried on my finger; but Crespino rebuked them: “Not a man
of you shall touch him: it is quite enough if you perform your duty, and
see that he does not escape me.” Then he came up, and begged me with
words of courtesy to surrender my arms. While I was engaged in doing
this, it crossed my mind that exactly on that very spot I had
assassinated Pompeo. They took me straightway to castle, and locked me
in an upper chamber in the keep. This was the first time that I ever
smelt a prison up to the age I then had of thirty-seven years.
Note 1. He had been invested with the Duchy of Castro in 1537.
CII
SIGNOR PIER LUIGI, the Pope’s son, had well considered the large sum for
which I stood accused; so he begged the reversion of it from his most
holy father, and asked that he might have the money made out to himself.
The Pope granted this willingly, adding that he would assist in its
recovery. Consequently, after having kept me eight whole days in prison,
they sent me up for examination, in order to put an end if possible to
the affair. I was summoned into one of the great halls of the papal
castle, a place of much dignity. My examiners were, first, the Governor
of Rome, called Messer Benedetto Conversini of Pistoja, [1] who
afterwards became Bishop of Jesi; secondly, the Procurator-Fiscal, whose
name I have forgotten; [2] and, thirdly, the judge in criminal cases,
Messer Benedetto da Cagli. These three men began at first to question me
in gentle terms, which afterwards they changed to words of considerable
harshness and menace, apparently because I said to them: “My lords, it
is more than half-an-hour now since you have been pestering me with
questions about fables and such things, so that one may truly say you
are chattering or prattling; by chattering I mean talking without
reason, by prattling I mean talking nonsense: therefore I beg you to
tell me what it really is you want of me, and to let me hear from your
lips reasonable speech, and not jabberings or nonsense.” In reply to
these words of mine, the Governor, who was a Pistojan, could no longer
disguise his furious temper, and began: “You talk very confidently, or
rather far too arrogantly; but let me tell you that I will bring your
pride down lower than a spaniel by the words of reason you shall hear
from me; these will be neither jabberings nor nonsense, as you have it,
but shall form a chain of arguments to answer which you will be forced
to tax the utmost of your wits. Then he began to speak as follows: “We
know for certain that you were in Rome at the time when this unhappy
city was subject to the calamity of the sack; at that time you were in
this Castle of Sant’ Angelo, and were employed as bombardier. Now since
you are a jeweller and goldsmith by trade, Pope Clement, being
previously acquainted with you, and having by him no one else of your
profession, called you into his secret counsels, and made you unset all
the jewels of his tiaras, mitres, and rings; afterwards, having
confidence in you, he ordered you to sew them into his clothes. While
thus engaged, you sequestered, unknown to his Holiness, a portion of
them, to the value of eighty thousand crowns. This has been told us by
one of your workmen, to whom you disclosed the matter in your
braggadocio way. Now, we tell you frankly that you must find the jewels,
or their value in money; after that we will release you.”
Note 1. Bishop of Forlimpopoli in 1537, and of Jesi in 1540.
Note 2. Benedetto Valenti.
CIII
WHEN I heard these words, I could not hold from bursting into a great
roar of laughter; then, having laughed a while, I said: “Thanks be to
that God on this first occasion, when it has pleased His Divine Majesty
to imprison me, I should not be imprisoned for some folly, as the wont
is usually with young men. If what you say were the truth, I run no risk
of having to submit to corporal punishment, since the authority of the
law was suspended during that season. Indeed, I could excuse myself by
saying that, like a faithful servant, I had kept back treasure to that
amount for the sacred and Holy Apostolic Church, waiting till I could
restore it to a good Pope, or else to those who might require it of me;
as, for instance, you might, if this were verily the case.” When I had
spoken so far, the furious Governor would not let me conclude my
argument, but exclaimed in a burst of rage: “Interpret the affair as you
like best, Benvenuto; it is enough for us to have found the property
which we had lost; be quick about it, if you do not want us to use other
measures than words.” Then they began to rise and leave the chamber; but
I stopped them, crying out: “My lords, my examination is not over; bring
that to an end, and go then where you choose.” They resumed their seats
in a very angry temper, making as though they did not mean to listen to
a word I said, and at the same time half relieved, [1] as though they
had discovered all they wanted to know. I then began my speech, to this
effect: “You are to know, my lords, that it is now some twenty years
since I first came to Rome, and I have never been sent to prison here or
elsewhere.” On this that catchpole of a Governor called out: “And yet
you have killed men enough here!” I replied: “It is you that say it, and
not I; but if some one came to kill you, priest as you are, you would
defend yourself, and if you killed him, the sanctity of law would hold
you justified. Therefore let me continue my defence, if you wish to
report the case to the Pope, and to judge me fairly. Once more I tell
you that I have been a sojourner in this marvellous city Rome for nigh
on twenty years, and here I have exercised my art in matters of vast
importance. Knowing that this is the seat of Christ, I entertained the
reasonable belief that when some temporal prince sought to inflict on me
a mortal injury, I might have recourse to this holy chair and to this
Vicar of Christ, in confidence that he would surely uphold my cause. Ah
me! whither am I now to go? What prince is there who will protect me
from this infamous assassination? Was it not your business, before you
took me up, to find out what I had done with those eighty thousand
ducats? Was it not your duty to inspect the record of the jewels, which
have been carefully inscribed by this Apostolic Camera through the last
five hundred years? If you had discovered anything missing on that
record, then you ought to have seized all my books together with myself.
I tell you for a certainty that the registers, on which are written all
the jewels of the Pope and the regalia, must be perfectly in order; you
will not find there missing a single article of value which belonged to
Pope Clement that has not been minutely noted. The one thing of the kind
which occurs to me is this: When that poor man Pope Clement wanted to
make terms with those thieves of the Imperial army, who had robbed Rome
and insulted the Church, a certain Cesare Iscatinaro, if I rightly
remember his name, came to negotiate with him; [2] and having nearly
concluded the agreement, the Pope in his extremity, to show the man some
mark of favour, let fall a diamond from his finger, which was worth
about four thousand crowns, and when Iscatinaro stooped to pick it up,
the Pope told him to keep it for his sake. I was present at these
transactions: and if the diamond of which I speak be missing, I have
told you where it went; but I have the firmest conviction that you will
find even this noted upon the register. After this you may blush at your
leisure for having done such cruel injustice to a man like me, who has
performed so many honourable services for the apostolic chair. I would
have you know that, but for me, the morning when the Imperial troops
entered the Borgo, they would without let or hindrance have forced their
way into the castle. It was I who, unrewarded for this act, betook
myself with vigour to the guns which had been abandoned by the
cannoneers and soldiers of the ordnance. I put spirit into my comrade
Raffaello da Montelupo, the sculptor, who had also left his post and hid
himself all frightened in a corner, without stirring foot or finger; I
woke his courage up, and he and I alone together slew so many of the
enemies that the soldiers took another road. I it was who shot at
Iscatinaro when I saw him talking to Pope Clement without the slightest
mark of reverence, nay, with the most revolting insolence, like the
Lutheran and infidel he was. Pope Clement upon this had the castle
searched to find and hang the man who did it. I it was who wounded the
Prince of Orange in the head down there below the trenches of the
castle. Then, too, how many ornaments of silver, gold, and jewels, how
many models and coins, so beautiful and so esteemed, have I not made for
Holy Church! Is this then the presumptuous priestly recompense you give
a man who has served and loved you with such loyalty, with such mastery
of art? Oh, go and report the whole that I have spoken to the Pope; go
and tell him that his jewels are all in his possession; that I never
received from the Church anything but wounds and stonings at that epoch
of the sack; that I never reckoned upon any gain beyond some small
remuneration from Pope Paolo, which he had promised me. Now at last I
know what to think of his Holiness and you his Ministers.”
While I was delivering this speech, they sat and listened in
astonishment. Then exchanging glances one with the other, and making
signs of much surprise, they left me. All three went together to report
what I had spoken to the Pope. The Pope felt some shame, and gave orders
that all the records of the jewels should be diligently searched. When
they had ascertained that none were missing, they left me in the castle
without saying a word more about it. Signor Pier Luigi felt also that he
had acted ill; and to end the affair, they set about to contrive my
death.
Note 1. 'Sollevati.' It may mean 'half-risen from their seats.'
Note 2. Gio. Bartolommeo di Gattinara. Raffaello da Montelupo, in his
Autobiography, calls him Cattinaro, and relates how “when he came one
day into the castle to negotiate a treaty, he was wounded in the arm by
one of our arquebusiers.” This confirms what follows above.
CIV
DURING the agitations of this time which I have just related, King
Francis received news of how the Pope was keeping me in prison, and with
what injustice. He had sent a certain gentleman of his, named Monsignor
di Morluc, as his ambassador to Rome; [1] to him therefore he now wrote,
claiming me from the Pope as the man of his Majesty. The Pope was a
person of extraordinary sense and ability, but in this affair of mine he
behaved weakly and unintelligently; for he made answer to the King’s
envoy that his Majesty need pay me no attention, since I was a fellow
who gave much trouble by fighting; therefore he advised his Majesty to
leave me alone, adding that he kept me in prison for homicides and other
deviltries which I had played. To this the King sent answer that justice
in his realm was excellently maintained; for even as his Majesty was
wont to shower rewards and favours upon men of parts and virtue, so did
he ever chastise the troublesome. His Holiness had let me go, not caring
for the service of the said Benvenuto, and the King, when he saw him in
his realm, most willingly adopted him; therefore he now asked for him in
the quality of his own man. Such a demand was certainly one of the most
honourable marks of favour which a man of my sort could desire; yet it
proved the source of infinite annoyance and hurt to me. The Pope was
roused to such fury by the jealous fear he had lest I should go and tell
the whole world how infamously I had been treated, that he kept
revolving ways in which I might be put to death without injury to his
own credit.
The castellan of Sant’ Angelo was one of our Florentines, called Messer
Giorgio, a knight of the Ugolini family. [2] This worthy man showed me
the greatest courtesy, and let me go free about the castle on parole. He
was well aware how greatly I had been wronged; and when I wanted to give
security for leave to walk about the castle, he replied that though he
could not take that, seeing the Pope set too much importance upon my
affair, yet he would frankly trust my word, because he was informed by
every one what a worthy man I was. So I passed my parole, and he granted
me conveniences for working at my trade. I then, reflecting that the
Pope’s anger against me must subside, as well because of my innocence as
because of the favour shown me by the King, kept my shop in Rome open,
while Ascanio, my prentice, came to the castle and brought me things to
work at. I could not indeed do much, feeling myself imprisoned so
unjustly; yet I made a virtue of necessity, and bore my adverse fortune
with as light a heart as I was able.
I had secured the attachment of all the guards and many soldiers of the
castle. Now the Pope used to come at times to sup there, and on those
occasions no watch was kept, but the place stood open like an ordinary
palace. Consequently, while the Pope was there, the prisoners used to be
shut up with great precautions; none such, however, were taken with me,
who had the license to go where I liked, even at those times, about it
precincts. Often then those soldiers told me that I ought to escape, and
that they would aid and abet me, knowing as they did how greatly I had
been wronged. I answered that I had given my parole to the castellan,
who was such a worthy man, and had done me such kind offices. One very
brave and clever soldier used to say to me: “My Benvenuto, you must know
that a prisoner is not obliged, and cannot be obliged, to keep faith,
any more than aught else which befits a free man. Do what I tell you;
escape from that rascal of a Pope and that bastard his son, for both are
bent on having your life by villainy.” I had, however, made my mind up
rather to lose my life than to break the promise I had given that good
man the castellan. So I bore the extreme discomforts of my situation,
and had for companion of misery a friar of the Palavisina house, who was
a very famous preacher. 3
Note 1. Jean de Montluc, brother of the celebrated Marshal, Bishop of
Valence, a friend of Margaret of Navarre, and, like her, a protector of
the Huguenots. He negotiated the election of the Duke of Anjou to the
throne of Poland.
Note 2. It is only known of this man that he was a Knight of Jerusalem,
and had been Commendatore of Prato in 1511.
Note 3. Cellini means Pallavicini. Nothing seems to be known about him,
except that his imprisonment is mentioned in a letter of Caro’s under
date 1540.
CV
THIS man had been arrested as a Lutheran. He was an excellent companion;
but, from the point of view of his religion, I found him the biggest
scoundrel in the world, to whom all kinds of vices were acceptable. His
fine intellectual qualities won my admiration; but I hated his dirty
vices, and frankly taxed him with them. This friar kept perpetually
reminding me that I was in no wise bound to observe faith with the
castellan, since I had become a prisoner. I replied to these arguments
that he might be speaking the truth as a friar, but that as a man he
spoke the contrary; for every one who called himself a man, and not a
monk, was bound to keep his word under all circumstances in which he
chanced to be. I therefore, being a man, and not a monk, was not going
to break the simple and loyal word which I had given. Seeing then that
he could not sap my honour by the subtle and ingenious sophistries he so
eloquently developed, the friar hit upon another way of tempting me. He
allowed some days to pass, during which he read me the sermons of Fra
Jerolimo Savonarola; and these he expounded with such lucidity and
learning that his comment was even finer than the text. I remained in
ecstasies of admiration; and there was nothing in the world I would not
have done for him, except, as I have said, to break my promised word.
When he saw the effect his talents had produced upon my mind, he thought
of yet another method. Cautiously he began to ask what means I should
have taken, supposing my jailers had locked me up, in order to set the
dungeon doors open and effect my flight. I then, who wanted to display
the sharpness of my own wits to so ingenious a man, replied that I was
quite sure of being able to open the most baffling locks and bars, far
more those of our prison, to do which would be the same to me as eating
a bit of new cheese. In order then to gain my secret, the friar now made
light of these assertions, averring that persons who have gained some
credit by their abilities, are wont to talk big of things which, if they
had to put their boasts in action, would speedily discredit them, and
much to their dishonour. Himself had heard me speak so far from the
truth, that he was inclined to think I should, when pushed to proof, end
in a dishonourable failure. Upon this, feeling myself stung to the quick
by that devil of a friar, I responded that I always made a practice of
promising in words less than I could perform in deeds; what I had said
about the keys was the merest trifle; in a few words I could make him
understand that the matter was as I had told it; then, all too
heedlessly, I demonstrated the facility with which my assertions could
be carried into act. He affected to pay little attention; but all the
same he learned my lesson well by heart with keen intelligence.
As I have said above, the worthy castellan let me roam at pleasure over
the whole fortress. Not even at night did he lock me in, as was the
custom with the other prisoners. Moreover, he allowed me to employ
myself as I liked best, with gold or silver or with wax according to my
whim. So then, I laboured several weeks at the bason ordered by Cardinal
Ferrara, but the irksomeness of my imprisonment bred in me a disgust for
such employment, and I took to modelling in wax some little figures of
my fancy, for mere recreation. Of the wax which I used, the friar stole
a piece; and with this he proceeded to get false keys made, upon the
method I had heedlessly revealed to him. He had chosen for his
accomplice a registrar named Luigi, a Paduan, who was in the castellan’s
service. When the keys were ordered, the locksmith revealed their plot;
and the castellan who came at times to see me in my chamber, noticing
the wax which I was using, recognised it at once and exclaimed: “It is
true that this poor fellow Benvenuto has suffered a most grievous wrong;
yet he ought not to have dealt thus with me, for I have ever strained my
sense of right to show him kindness. Now I shall keep him straitly under
lock and key, and shall take good care to do him no more service.”
Accordingly, he had me shut up with disagreeable circumstances, among
the worst of which were the words flung at me by some of his devoted
servants, who were indeed extremely fond of me, but now, on this
occasion, cast in my teeth all the kind offices the castellan had done
me; they came, in fact, to calling me ungrateful, light, and disloyal.
One of them in particular used those injurious terms more insolently
than was decent; whereupon I, being convinced of my innocence, retorted
hotly that I had never broken faith, and would maintain these words at
the peril of my life, and that if he or any of his fellows abused me so
unjustly, I would fling the lie back in his throat. The man, intolerant
of my rebuke, rushed to the castellan’s room, and brought me the wax
with the model of the keys. No sooner had I seen the wax than I told him
that both he and I were in the right; but I begged him to procure for me
an audience with the castellan, for I meant to explain frankly how the
matter stood, which was of far more consequence than they imagined. The
castellan sent for me at once, and I told him the whole course of
events. This made him arrest the friar, who betrayed the registrar, and
the alter ran a risk of being hanged. However, the castellan hushed the
affair up, although it had reached the Pope’s ears; he saved his
registrar from the gallows, and gave me the same freedom as I had before.
CVI
WHEN I saw how rigorously this affair was prosecuted, I began to think
of my own concerns, and said: “Supposing another of these storms should
rise, and the man should lose confidence in me, I should then be under
no obligation to him, and might wish to use my wits a little, which
would certainly work their end better than those of that rascally
friar.” So I began to have new sheets of a coarse fabric brought me, and
did not send the dirty ones away. When my servants asked for them, I
bade them hold their tongues, saying I had given the sheets to some of
those poor soldiers; and if the matter came to knowledge, the wretched
fellows ran risk of the galleys. This made my young men and attendants,
especially Felice, keep the secret of the sheets in all loyalty. I
meanwhile set myself to emptying a straw mattress, the stuffing of which
I burned, having a chimney in my prison. Out of the sheets I cut strips,
the third of a cubit in breadth; and when I had made enough in my
opinion to clear the great height of the central keep of Sant’ Angelo, I
told my servants that I had given away what I wanted; they must now
bring me others of a finer fabric, and I would always send back the
dirty ones. This affair was presently forgotten.
Now my workpeople and serving-men were obliged to close my shop at the
order of the Cardinals Santi Quattro [1] and Cornaro, who told me openly
that the Pope would not hear of setting me at large, and that the great
favours shown me by King Francis had done far more harm that good. It
seems that the last words spoken from the King by Monsignor di Morluc
had been to this effect, namely, that the Pope ought to hand me over to
the ordinary judges of the court; if I had done wrong, he could chastise
me; but otherwise, it was but reason that he should set me at liberty.
This message so irritated the Pope that he made his mind up to keep me a
prisoner for life. At the same time, the castellan most certainly did
his utmost to assist me.
When my enemies perceived that my shop was closed, they lost no
opportunity of taunting and reviling those servants and friends of mine
who came to visit me in prison. It happened on one occasion that
Ascanio, who came twice a day to visit me, asked to have a jacket cut
out for him from a blue silk vest of mine I never used. I had only worn
it once, on the occasion when I walked in procession. I replied that
these were not the times nor was I in the place to wear such clothes.
The young man took my refusal of this miserable vest so ill that he told
me he wanted to go home to Tagliacozzo. All in a rage, I answered that
he could not please me better than by taking himself off; and he swore
with passion that he would never show his face to me again. When these
words passed between us, we were walking round the keep of the castle.
It happened that the castellan was also taking the air there; so just
when we met his lordship Ascanio said: “I am going away; farewell for
ever!” I added: “For ever, is my wish too; and thus in sooth shall it
be. I shall tell the sentinels not to let you pass again!” Then, turning
to the castellan, I begged him with all my heart to order the guards to
keep Ascanio out, adding: “This little peasant comes here to add to my
great trouble; I entreat you, therefore, my lord, not to let him enter
any more.” The castellan was much grieved, because he knew him to be a
lad of marvellous talents; he was, moreover, so fair a person that every
one who once set eyes on him seemed bound to love him beyond measure.
The boy went away weeping. That day he had with him a small scimitar,
which it was at times his wont to carry hidden beneath his clothes.
Leaving the castle then, and having his face wet with tears, he chanced
to meet two of my chief enemies, Jeronimo the Perugian, [2] and a
certain Michele, goldsmiths both of them. Michele, being Jeronimo’s
friend and Ascanio’s enemy, called out: “What is Ascanio crying for?
Perhaps his father is dead; I mean that father in the castle!” Ascanio
answered on the instant: “He is alive, but you shall die this minute.”
Then, raising his hand, he struck two blows with the scimitar, both at
the fellow’s head; the first felled him to earth, the second lopped
three fingers off his right hand, though it was aimed at his head. He
lay there like a dead man. The matter was at once reported to the Pope,
who cried in a great fury: “Since the King wants him to be tried, go and
give him three days to prepare his defence!” So they came, and executed
the commission which the Pope had given them.
The excellent castellan went off upon the spot to his Holiness, and
informed him that I was no accomplice in the matter, and that I had sent
Ascanio about his business. So ably did he plead my cause that he saved
my life from this impending tempest. Ascanio meanwhile escaped to
Tagliacozzo, to his home there, whence he wrote begging a thousand times
my pardon, and acknowledging his wrong in adding troubles to my grave
disaster; but protesting that if through God’s grace I came out from the
prison, he meant never to abandon me. I let him understand that he must
mind his art, and that if God set me a large again I would certainly
recall him.
Note 1. Antonio Pucci, a Florentine, Cardinal de’ Quattro Santi Coronati.
Note 2. 'I. e.,' Girolamo Pascucci. |
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