'Benvenuto in the body.
'Afflicted regents of my soul!
Ah, cruel ye! have ye such hate of life?
'The Spirits of his soul.
'If Heaven against you roll,
Who stands for us? who saves us in the strife?
Let us, O let us go toward better life!
'Benvenuto.
'Nay, go not yet awhile!
Ye shall be happier and lighter far-
Heaven gives this hope-than ye were ever yet!
'The Spirits.
'We will remain some little while,
If only by great God you promised are
Such grace that no worse woes on us be set.
After this I recovered strength; and when I had heartened up myself, I
continued reading in the Bible, and my eyes became so used to that
darkness that I could now read for three hours instead of the bare hour
and a half I was able to employ before.
With profound astonishment I dwelt upon the force of God’s Spirit in
those men of great simplicity, who believed so fervently that He would
bring all their heart’s desire to pass. I then proceeded to reckon in my
own case too on God’s assistance, both because of His divine power and
mercy, and also because of my own innocence; and at all hours, sometimes
in prayer and sometimes in communion with God, I abode in those high
thoughts of Him. There flowed into my soul so powerful a delight from
these reflections upon God, that I took no further thought for all the
anguish I had suffered, but rather spent the day in singing psalms and
divers other compositions on the theme of His divinity.
I was greatly troubled, however, by one particular annoyance: my nails
had grown so long that I could not touch my body without wounding it; I
could not dress myself but what they turned inside or out, to my great
torment. Moreover, my teeth began to perish in my mouth. I became aware
of this because the dead teeth being pushed out by the living ones, my
gums were gradually perforated, and the points of the roots pierced
through the tops of their cases. When I was aware of this, I used to
pull one out, as though it were a weapon from a scabbard, without any
pain or loss of blood. Very many of them did I lose in this way.
Nevertheless, I accommodated myself to these new troubles also; at times
I sang, at times I prayed, and at times I wrote by means of the paste of
brick-dust I have described above. At this time I began composing a
Capitolo in praise of my prison, relating in it all the accidents which
had befallen me. [1] This poem I mean to insert in its proper place.
Note 1. Capitolo is the technical name for a copy of verses in 'terza
rima' on a chosen theme. Poems of this kind, mostly burlesque or
satirical, were very popular in Cellini’s age. They used to be written
on trifling or obscene subjects in a mock-heroic style. Berni stamped
the character of high art upon the species, which had long been in use
among the unlettered vulgar. See for further particulars Symonds’
'Renaissance in Italy,' vol. v. chap. xiv.
CXX
THE GOOD castellan used frequently to send messengers to find out
secretly what I was doing. So it happened on the last day of July that I
was rejoicing greatly by myself alone while I bethought me of the
festival they keep in Rome upon the 1st of August; and I was saying to
myself: “In former years I kept the feast among the pleasures and the
frailties of the world; this year I shall keep it in communion with God.
Oh, how far more happy am I thus than I was then!” The persons who heard
me speak these words reported them to the castellan. He was greatly
annoyed, and exclaimed: “Ah, God! that fellow lives and triumphs in his
infinite distress, while I lack all things in the midst of comfort, and
am dying only on account of him! Go quickly, and fling him into that
deepest of the subterranean dungeons where the preacher Foiano was
starved to death. [1] Perhaps when he finds himself in such ill plight
he will begin to droop his crest.”
Captain Sandrino Monaldi came at once into my prison with about twenty
of the castellan’s servants. They found me on my knees; and I did not
turn at their approach, but went on paying my orisons before a God the
Father, surrounded with angels, and a Christ arising victorious from the
grave, which I had sketched upon the wall with a little piece of
charcoal I had found covered up with earth. This was after I had lain
four months upon my back in bed with my leg broken, and had so often
dreamed that angels came and ministered to me, that at the end of those
four months the limb became as sound as though it never had been
fractured. So then these fellows entered, all in armour, as fearful of
me as though I were a poison-breathing dragon. The captain spoke as
follows: “You must be aware that there are many of us here, and our
entrance has made a tumult in this place, yet you do not turn round.”
When I heard these words, I was well able to conceive what greater harm
might happen to me, but being used and hardened to misfortune, I said to
them: “Unto this God who supports me, to Him in heaven I have turned my
soul, my contemplation, and all my vital spirits; to you I have turned
precisely what belongs to you. What there is of good in me, you are not
worthy to behold, nor can you touch it. Do then to that which is under
your control all the evil you are able.” The captain, in some alarm, and
not knowing what I might be on the point of doing, said to four of his
tallest fellows: “Put all your arms aside.” When they had done so, he
added: “Now upon the instant leap on him, and secure him well. Do you
think he is the devil, that so many of us should be afraid of him? Hold
him tight now, that he may not escape you.” Seized by them with force
and roughly handled, and anticipating something far worse than what
afterwards happened, I lifted my eyes to Christ and said: “Oh, just God,
Thou paidest all our debts upon that high-raised cross of Thine;
wherefore then must my innocence be made to pay the debts of whom I do
not even know? Nevertheless, Thy will be done.” Meanwhile the men were
carrying me away with a great lighted torch; and I thought that they
were about to throw me down the oubliette of Sammabo. This was the name
given to a fearful place which had swallowed many men alive; for when
they are cast into it, the fall to the bottom of a deep pit in the
foundation of the castle. This did not, however, happen to me; wherefore
I thought that I had made a very good bargain when they placed me in
that hideous dungeon I have spoken of, where Fra Foiano died of hunger,
and left me there without doing me further injury.
When I was alone, I began to sing a 'De profundis clamavi,' a
'Miserere,' and 'In te Domine speravi.' During the whole of that first
day of August I kept festival with God, my heart rejoicing ever in the
strength of hope and faith. On the second day they drew me from that
hole, and took me back again to the prison where I had drawn those
representations of God. On arriving there, the sight of them filled me
with such sweetness and such gladness that I wept abundantly. On every
day that followed, the castellan sent to know what I was doing and
saying. The Pope, who had heard the whole history (and I must add that
the doctors had already given the castellan over), spoke as follows:
“Before my castellan dies I will let him put that Benvenuto to death in
any way he likes, for he is the cause of his death, and so the good man
shall not die unrevenged.” On hearing these words from the mouth of Duke
Pier Luigi, the castellan replied: “So, then, the Pope has given me
Benvenuto, and wishes me to take my vengeance on him? Dismiss the matter
from your mind, and leave me to act.” If the heart of the Pope was
ill-disposed against me, that of the castellan was now at the
commencement savage and cruel in the extreme. At this juncture the
invisible being who had diverted me from my intention of suicide, came
to me, being still invisible, but with a clear voice, and shook me, and
made me rise, and said to me: “Ah me! my Benvenuto, quick, quick, betake
thyself to God with thy accustomed prayers, and cry out loudly, loudly!”
In a sudden consternation I fell upon my knees, and recited several of
my prayers in a loud voice; after this I said 'Qui habitat in
adjutorio;' then I communed a space with God; and in an instant the same
clear and open voice said to me: “Go to rest, and have no further fear!”
The meaning of this was, that the castellan, after giving the most cruel
orders for my death, suddenly countermanded them, and said: “Is not this
Benvenuto the man whom I have so warmly defended, whom I know of a
surety to be innocent, and who has been so greatly wronged? Oh, how will
God have mercy on me and my sins if I do not pardon those who have done
me the greatest injuries? Oh, why should I injure a man both worthy and
innocent, who has only done me services and honour? Go to! instead of
killing him, I give him life and liberty: and in my will I’ll have it
written that none shall demand of him the heavy debt for his expenses
here which he would elsewise have to pay.” This the Pope heard, and took
it very ill indeed.
Note 1. Fra Benedetto da Foiano had incurred the wrath of Pope Clement
VII. by preaching against the Medici in Florence. He was sent to Rome
and imprisoned in a noisome dungeon of S. Angelo in the year 1530, where
Clement made him perish miserably by diminishing his food and water
daily till he died. See Varchi’s 'Storia Fiorentina,' lib. xii. chap. 4.
CXXI
I MEANWHILE continued to pray as usual, and to write my Capitolo, and
every night I was visited with the gladdest and most pleasant dreams
that could be possibly imagined. It seemed to me while dreaming that I
was always in the visible company of that being whose voice and touch,
while he was still invisible, I had so often felt. To him I made but one
request, and this I urged most earnestly, namely, that he would bring me
where I could behold the sun. I told him that this was the sole desire I
had, and that if I could but see the sun once only, I should die
contented. All the disagreeable circumstances of my prison had become,
as it were, to me friendly and companionable; not one of them gave me
annoyance. Nevertheless, I ought to say that the castellan’s parasites,
who were waiting for him to hang me from the battlement whence I had
made my escape, when they saw that he had changed his mind to the exact
opposite of what he previously threatened, were unable to endure the
disappointment. Accordingly, they kept continually trying to inspire me
with the fear of imminent death by means of various terrifying hints.
But, as I have already said, I had become so well acquainted with
troubles of this sort that I was incapable of fear, and nothing any
longer could disturb me; only I had that one great longing to behold the
sphere of the sun, if only in a dream.
Thus then, while I spent many hours a day in prayer with deep emotion of
the spirit toward Christ, I used always to say: “Ah, very Son of God! I
pray Thee by Thy birth, by Thy death upon the cross, and by Thy glorious
resurrection, that Thou wilt deign to let me see the sun, if not
otherwise, at least in dreams. But if Thou wilt grant me to behold it
with these mortal eyes of mine, I engage myself to come and visit Thee
at Thy holy sepulchre.” This vow and these my greatest prayers to God I
made upon the 2nd of October in the year 1539. Upon the following
morning, which was the 3rd of October, I woke at daybreak, perhaps an
hour before the rising of the sun. Dragging myself from the miserable
lair in which I lay, I put some clothes on, for it had begun to be cold;
then I prayed more devoutly than ever I had done in the past, fervently
imploring Christ that He would at least grant me the favour of knowing
by divine inspiration what sin I was so sorely expiating; and since His
Divine Majesty had not deemed me worthy of beholding the sun even in a
dream I besought Him to let me know the cause of my punishment.
CXXII
I HAD barely uttered these words, when that invisible being, like a
whirlwind, caught me up and bore me away into a large room, where he
made himself visible to my eyes in human form, appearing like a young
man whose beard is just growing, with a face of indescribable beauty,
but austere, not wanton. He bade me look around the room, and said: “The
crowd of men thou seest in this place are all those who up to this day
have been born and afterwards have died upon the earth.” Thereupon I
asked him why he brought me hither, and he answered: “Come with me and
thou shalt soon behold.” In my hand I had a poniard, and upon my back a
coat of mail; and so he led me through that vast hall, pointing out the
people who were walking by innumerable thousands up and down, this way
and that. He led me onward, and went forth in front of me through a
little low door into a place which looked like a narrow street; and when
he drew me after him into the street, at the moment of leaving the hall,
behold I was disarmed and clothed in a white shirt, with nothing on my
head, and I was walking on the right hand of my companion. Finding
myself in this condition, I was seized with wonder, because I did not
recognise the street; and when I lifted my eyes, I discerned that the
splendour of the sun was striking on a wall, as it were a house-front,
just above my head. Then I said: “Oh, my friend! what must I do in order
to be able to ascend so high that I may gaze upon the sphere of the sun
himself?” He pointed out some huge stairs which were on my right hand,
and said to me: “Go up thither by thyself.” Quitting his side, I
ascended the stairs backwards, and gradually began to come within the
region of the sunlight. Then I hastened my steps, and went on, always
walking backwards as I have described, until I discovered the whole
sphere of the sun. The strength of his rays, as is their wont, first
made me close my eyes; but becoming aware of my misdoing, I opened them
wide, and gazing steadfastly at the sun, exclaimed: “Oh, my sun, for
whom I have passionately yearned! Albeit your rays may blind me, I do
not wish to look on anything again but this!” So I stayed awhile with my
eyes fixed steadily on him; and after a brief space I beheld in one
moment the whole might of those great burning rays fling themselves upon
the left side of the sun; so that the orb remained quite clear without
its rays, and I was able to contemplate it with vast delight. It seemed
to me something marvellous that the rays should be removed in that
manner. Then I reflected what divine grace it was which God had granted
me that morning, and cried aloud: “Oh, wonderful Thy power! oh, glorious
Thy virtue! How far greater is the grace which Thou art granting me than
that which I expected!” The sun without his rays appeared to me to be a
bath of the purest molten gold, neither more nor less. While I stood
contemplating this wondrous thing, I noticed that the middle of the
sphere began to swell, and the swollen surface grew, and suddenly a
Christ upon the cross formed itself out of the same substance as the
sun. He bore the aspect of divine benignity, with such fair grace that
the mind of man could not conceive the thousandth part of it; and while
I gazed in ecstasy, I shouted: “A miracle! a miracle! O God! O clemency
Divine! O immeasurable Goodness! what is it Thou hast deigned this day
to show me!” While I was gazing and exclaiming thus, the Christ moved
toward that part where his rays were settled, and the middle of the sun
once more bulged out as it had done before; the boss expanded, and
suddenly transformed itself into the shape of a most beautiful Madonna,
who appeared to be sitting enthroned on high, holding her child in her
arms with an attitude of the greatest charm and a smile upon her face.
On each side of her was an angel, whose beauty far surpasses man’s
imagination. I also saw within the rondure of the sun, upon the right
hand, a figure robed like a priest; this turned its back to me, and kept
its face directed to the Madonna and the Christ. All these things I
beheld, actual, clear, and vivid, and kept returning thanks to the glory
of God as loud as I was able. The marvellous apparition remained before
me little more than half a quarter of an hour: then it dissolved, and I
was carried back to my dark lair.
I began at once to shout aloud: “The virtue of God hath deigned to show
me all His glory, the which perchance no mortal eye hath ever seen
before. Therefore I know surely that I am free and fortunate and in the
grace of God; but you miscreants shall be miscreants still, accursed,
and in the wrath of God. Mark this, for I am certain of it, that on the
day of All Saints, the day upon which I was born in 1500, on the first
of November, at four hours after nightfall, on that day which is coming
you will be forced to lead me from this gloomy dungeon; less than this
you will not be able to do, because I have seen it with these eyes of
mine and in that throne of God. The priest who kept his face turned to
God and his back to me, that priest was S. Peter, pleading my cause, for
the shame he felt that such foul wrongs should be done to Christians in
his own house. You may go and tell it to whom you like; for none on
earth has the power to do me harm henceforward; and tell that lord who
keeps me here, that if he will give me wax or paper and the means of
portraying this glory of God which was revealed to me, most assuredly
shall I convince him of that which now perhaps he holds in doubt.”
CXXIII
THE PHYSICIANS gave the castellan no hope of his recovery, yet he
remained with a clear intellect, and the humours which used to afflict
him every year had passed away. He devoted himself entirely to the care
of his soul, and his conscience seemed to smite him, because he felt
that I had suffered and was suffering a grievous wrong. The Pope
received information from him of the extraordinary things which I
related; in answer to which his Holiness sent word-as one who had no
faith either in God or aught beside-that I was mad, and that he must do
his best to mend his health. When the castellan received this message,
he sent to cheer me up, and furnished me with writing materials and wax,
and certain little wooden instruments employed in working wax, adding
many words of courtesy, which were reported by one of his servants who
bore me good-will. This man was totally the opposite of that rascally
gang who had wished to see me hanged. I took the paper and the wax, and
began to work; and while I was working I wrote the following sonnet
addressed to the castellan:-
“If I, my lord, could show to you the truth,
Of that Eternal Light to me by Heaven
In this low life revealed, you sure had given
More heed to mine than to a monarch’s sooth.
Ah! could the Pastor of Christ’s flock in ruth
Believe how God this soul with sight hath shriven
Of glory unto which no wight hath striven
Ere he escaped earth’s cave of care uncouth;
The gates of Justice, holy and austere,
Would roll asunder, and rude impious Rage
Fall chained with shrieks that should assail the skies.
Had I but light, ah me! my art should rear
A monument of Heaven’s high equipage!
Nor should my misery bear so grim a guise.”
CXXIV
ON the following day, when the servant of the castellan who was my
friend brought me my food, I gave him this sonnet copied out in writing.
Without informing the other ill-disposed servants who were my enemies,
he handed it to the castellan. At that time this worthy man would gladly
have granted me my liberty, because he fancied that the great wrong done
to me was a main cause of his death. He took the sonnet, and having read
it more than once, exclaimed: “These are neither the words nor the
thoughts of a madman, but rather of a sound and worthy fellow.” Without
delay he ordered his secretary to take it to the Pope, and place it in
his own hands, adding a request for my deliverance.
While the secretary was on his way with my sonnet to the Pope, the
castellan sent me lights for day and night, together with all the
conveniences one could wish for in that place. The result of this was
that I began to recover from my physical depression, which had reached a
very serious degree.
The Pope read the sonnet several times. Then he sent word to the
castellan that he meant presently to do what would be pleasing to him.
Certainly the Pope had no unwillingness to release me then; but Signor
Pier Luigi, his son, as it were in the Pope’s despite, kept me there by
force.
The death of the castellan was drawing near; and while I was engaged in
drawing and modelling that miracle which I had seen, upon the morning of
All Saint’s day he sent his nephew, Piero Ugolini, to show me certain
jewels. No sooner had I set eyes on them than I exclaimed: “This is the
countersign of my deliverance!” Then the young man, who was not a person
of much intelligence, began to say: “Never think of that, Benvenuto!” I
replied: “Take your gems away, for I am so treated here that I have no
light to see by except what this murky cavern gives, and that is not
enough to test the quality of precious stones. But, as regards my
deliverance from this dungeon, the day will not end before you come to
fetch me out. It shall and must be so, and you will not be able to
prevent it.” The man departed, and had me locked in; but after he had
remained away two hours by the clock, he returned without armed men,
bringing only a couple of lads to assist my movements; so after this
fashion he conducted me to the spacious rooms which I had previously
occupied (that is to say, in 1538), where I obtained all the
conveniences I asked for.
CXXV
AFTER the lapse of a few days, the castellan, who now believed that I
was at large and free, succumbed to his disease and departed this life.
In his room remained his brother, Messer Antonio Ugolini, who had
informed the deceased governor that I was duly released. From what I
learned, this Messer Antonio received commission from the Pope to let me
occupy that commodious prison until he had decided what to do with me.
Messer Durante of Brescia, whom I have previously mentioned, engaged the
soldier (formerly druggist of Prato) to administer some deadly liquor in
my food; [1] the poison was to work slowly, producing its effect at the
end of four or five months. They resolved on mixing pounded diamond with
my victuals. Now the diamond is not a poison in any true sense of the
word, but its incomparable hardness enables it, unlike ordinary stones,
to retain very acute angles. When every other stone is pounded, that
extreme sharpness of edge is lost; their fragments becoming blunt and
rounded. The diamond alone preserves its trenchant qualities; wherefore,
if it chances to enter the stomach together with food, the peristaltic
motion [2] needful to digestion brings it into contact with the coats of
the stomach and the bowels, where it sticks, and by the action of fresh
food forcing it farther inwards, after some time perforates the organs.
This eventually causes death. Any other sort of stone or glass mingled
with the food has not the power to attach itself, but passes onward with
the victuals. Now Messer Durante entrusted a diamond of trifling value
to one of the guards; and it is said that a certain Lione, a goldsmith
of Arezzo, my great enemy, was commissioned to pound it. [3] The man
happened to be very poor, and the diamond was worth perhaps some scores
of crowns. He told the guard that the dust he gave him back was the
diamond in question properly ground down. The morning when I took it,
they mixed it with all I had to eat; it was a Friday, and I had it in
salad, sauce, and pottage. That morning I ate heartily, for I had fasted
on the previous evening; and this day was a festival. It is true that I
felt the victuals scrunch beneath my teeth; but I was not thinking about
knaveries of this sort. When I had finished, some scraps of salad
remained upon my plate, and certain very fine and glittering splinters
caught my eye among these remnants. I collected them, and took them to
the window, which let a flood of light into the room; and while I was
examining them, I remembered that the food I ate that morning had
scrunched more than usual. On applying my senses strictly to the matter,
the verdict of my eyesight was that they were certainly fragments of
pounded diamond. Upon this I gave myself up without doubt as dead, and
in my sorrow had recourse with pious heart to holy prayers. I had
resolved the question, and thought that I was doomed. For the space of a
whole hour I prayed fervently to God, returning thanks to Him for so
merciful a death. Since my stars had sentenced me to die, I thought it
no bad bargain to escape from life so easily. I was resigned, and
blessed the world and all the years which I had passed in it. Now I was
returning to a better kingdom with the grace of God, the which I thought
I had most certainly acquired.
While I stood revolving these thoughts in my mind, I held in my hand
some flimsy particles of the reputed diamond, which of a truth I firmly
believed to be such. Now hope is immortal in the human breast; therefore
I felt myself, as it were, lured onward by a gleam of idle expectation.
Accordingly, I took up a little knife and a few of those particles, and
placed them on an iron bar of my prison. Then I brought the knife’s
point with a slow strong grinding pressure to bear upon the stone, and
felt it crumble. Examining the substance with my eyes, I saw that it was
so. In a moment new hope took possession of my soul, and I exclaimed:
“Here I do not find my true foe, Messer Durante, but a piece of bad soft
stone, which cannot do me any harm whatever!” Previously I had been
resolved to remain quiet and to die in peace; now I revolved other
plans, but first I rendered thanks to God and blessed poverty; for
though poverty is oftentimes the cause of bringing men to death, on this
occasion it had been the very cause of my salvation. I mean in this way:
Messer Durante, my enemy, or whoever it was, gave a diamond to Lione to
pound for me of the worth of more than a hundred crowns; poverty induced
him to keep this for himself, and to pound for me a greenish beryl of
the value of two carlins, thinking perhaps, because it also was a stone,
that it would work the same effect as the diamond.
Note 1. For Messer Durante, see above, p. 180. For the druggist of Prato
employed as a warder in S. Angelo, see above, p. 216.
Note 2. 'In quel girare che e’ fanno e’ cibi.' I have for the sake of
clearness used the technical phrase above.
Note 3. The name of Leone Leoni is otherwise known as a goldsmith and
bronze-caster. He made the tomb for Giangiacomo de’ Medici, Il
Medighino, in the Cathedral of Milan.
CXXVI
AT this time the Bishop of Pavia, brother of the Count of San Secondo,
and commonly called Monsignor de’ Rossi of Parma, happened to be
imprisoned in the castle for some troublesome affairs at Pavia. [1]
Knowing him to be my friend, I thrust my head out of the hole in my
cell, and called him with a loud voice, crying that those thieves had
given me a pounded diamond with the intention of killing me. I also sent
some of the splinters which I had preserved, by the hand of one of his
servants, for him to see. I did not disclose my discovery that the stone
was not a diamond, but told him that they had most assuredly poisoned
me, after the death of that most worthy man the castellan. During the
short space of time I had to live, I begged him to allow me one loaf a
day from his own stores, seeing that I had resolved to eat nothing which
came from them. To this request he answered that he would supply me with
victuals.
Messer Antonio, who was certainly not cognisant of the plot against my
life, stirred up a great noise, and demanded to see the pounded stone,
being also persuaded that it was a diamond; but on reflection that the
Pope was probably at the bottom of the affair, he passed it over lightly
after giving his attention to the incident.
Henceforth I ate the victuals sent me by the Bishop, and continued
writing my Capitolo on the prison, into which I inserted daily all the
new events which happened to me, point by point. But Messer Antonio also
sent me food; and he did this by the hand of that Giovanni of Prato, the
druggist, then soldier in the castle, whom I have previously mentioned.
He was a deadly foe of mine, and was the man who had administered the
powdered diamond. So I told him that I would partake of nothing he
brought me unless he tasted it before my eyes. [2] The man replied that
Popes have their meat tasted. I answered: “Noblemen are bound to taste
the meat for Popes; in like measure, you, soldier, druggist, peasant
from Prato, are bound to taste the meat for a Florentine of my station.”
He retorted with coarse words, which I was not slow to pay back in kind.
Now Messer Antonio felt a certain shame for his behaviour; he had it
also in his mind to make me pay the costs which the late castellan, poor
man, remitted in my favour. So he hunted out another of his servants,
who was my friend, and sent me food by this man’s hands. The meat was
tasted for me now with good grace, and no need for altercation. The
servant in question told me that the Pope was being pestered every day
by Monsignor di Morluc, who kept asking for my extradition on the part
of the French King. The Pope, however, showed little disposition to give
me up; and Cardinal Farnese, formerly my friend and patron, had declared
that I ought not to reckon on issuing from that prison for some length
of time. [3] I replied that I should get out in spite of them all. The
excellent young fellow besought me to keep quiet, and not to let such
words of mine be heard, for they might do me some grave injury; having
firm confidence in God, it was my duty to await. His mercy, remaining in
the meanwhile tranquil. I answered that the power and goodness of God
are not bound to stand in awe before the malign forces of iniquity.
Note 1. Gio. Girolamo de’ Rossi, known in literature as a poet and
historian of secondary importance.
Note 2. 'Me ne faceva la credenza.'
Note 3. This was the Cardinal Alessandro, son of Pier Luigi Farnese.
CXXVII
A FEW days had passed when the Cardinal of Ferrara arrived in Rome. He
went to pay his respects to the Pope, and the Pope detained him up to
supper-time. Now the Pope was a man of great talent for affairs, and he
wanted to talk at his ease with the Cardinal about French politics.
Everybody knows that folk, when they are feasting together, say things
which they would otherwise retain. This therefore happened. The great
King Francis was most frank and liberal in all his dealings, and the
Cardinal was well acquainted with his temper. Therefore the latter could
indulge the Pope beyond his boldest expectations. This raised his
Holiness to a high pitch of merriment and gladness, all the more because
he was accustomed to drink freely once a week, and went indeed to vomit
after his indulgence. When, therefore, the Cardinal observed that the
Pope was well disposed, and ripe to grant favours, he begged for me at
the King’s demand, pressing the matter hotly, and proving that his
Majesty had it much at heart. Upon this the Pope laughed aloud; he felt
the moment for his vomit at hand; the excessive quantity of wine which
he had drunk was also operating; so he said: “On the spot, this instant,
you shall take him to your house.” Then, having given express orders to
this purpose, he rose from table. The Cardinal immediately sent for me,
before Signor Pier Luigi could get wind of the affair; for it was
certain that he would not have allowed me to be loosed from prison.
The Pope’s mandatary came together with two great gentlemen of the
Cardinal’s, and when four o’clock of the night was passed, they removed
me from my prison, and brought me into the presence of the Cardinal, who
received me with indescribable kindness. I was well lodged, and left to
enjoy the comforts of my situation.
Messer Antonio, the old castellan’s brother, and his successor in the
office, insisted on extracting from me the costs for food and other fees
and perquisites claimed by sheriffs and such fry, paying no heed to his
predecessor’s will in my behalf. This affair cost me several scores of
crowns; but I paid them, because the Cardinal told me to be well upon my
guard if I wanted to preserve my life, adding that had he not extracted
me that evening from the prison, I should never have got out. Indeed, he
had already been informed that the Pope greatly regretted having let me
go.
THIS CAPITOLO I WRITE TO LUCA MARTIN
ADDRESSING HIM IN IT AS WILL APPEAR [1]
WHOSO would know the power of God’s dominion,
And how a man resembles that high good,
Must lie in prison, is my firm opinion:
On grievous thoughts and cares of home must brood, '
' Oppressed with carking pains in flesh and bone,
Far from his native land full many a rood.
If you would fain by worthy deeds be known,
Seek to be prisoned without cause, lie long, '
' And find no friend to listen to your moan.
See that men rob you of your all by wrong;
Add perils to your life; be used with force,
Hopeless of help, by brutal foes and strong. '
'Be driven at length to some mad desperate course;
Burst from your dungeon, leap the castle wall;
Recaptured, find the prison ten times worse.
'
'Now listen, Luca, to the best of all!
Your leg’s been broken; you’ve been bought and sold;
Your dungeon’s dripping; you’ve no cloak or shawl.
Never one friendly word; your victuals cold '
' Are brought with sorry news by some base groom
Of Prato-soldier now-druggist of old.
Mark well how Glory steeps her sons in gloom!
You have no seat to sit on, save the stool: '
' Yet were you active from your mother’s womb.
The knave who serves hath orders strict and cool
To list no word you utter, give you naught,
Scarcely to ope the door; such is their rule. '
'These toys hath Glory for her nursling wrought!
No paper, pens, ink, fire, or tools of steel,
To exercise the quick brain’s teeming thought.
'
'Alack that I so little can reveal!
Fancy one hundred for each separate ill:
Full space and place I’ve left for prison weal!
But now my former purpose to fulfil, '
' And sing the dungeon’s praise with honour due-
For this angelic tongues were scant of skill.
Here never languish honest men and true,
Except by placemen’s fraud, misgovernment, '
' Jealousies, anger, or some spiteful crew.
To tell the truth whereon my mind is bent,
Here man knows God, nor ever stints to pray,
Feeling his soul with hell’s fierce anguish rent. '
'Let one be famed as bad as mortal may,
Send him in jail two sorry years to pine,
He’ll come forth holy, wise, beloved alway.'
'Here soul, flesh, clothes their substance gross refine;
Each bulky lout grows light like gossamere;
Celestial thrones before purged eyeballs shine.
I’ll tell thee a great marvel! Friend, give ear! '
' The fancy took me on one day to write:
Learn now what shifts one may be put to here.
My cell I search, prick brows and hair upright,
Then turn me toward a cranny in the door, '
' And with my teeth a splinter disunite;
Next find a piece of brick upon the floor,
Crumble a part thereof to powder small,
And form a paste by sprinkling water o’er. [2] '
'Then, then came Poesy with fiery call
Into my carcass, by the way methought
Whence bread goes forth-there was none else at all.
'
'Now to return unto my primal thought:
Who wills to know what weal awaits him, must
First learn the ill that God for him hath wrought.
The jail contains all arts in act and trust; '
' Should you but hanker after surgeon’s skill,
’Twill draw the spoiled blood from your veins adust.
Next there is something in itself that will
Make you right eloquent, a bold brave spark, '
' Big with high-soaring thoughts for good and ill.
Blessed is the man who lies in dungeon dark,
Languishing many a month, then takes his flight
Of war, truce, peace he knows, and tells the mark. '
'Needs be that all things turn to his delight;
The jail has crammed his brains so full of wit,
They’ll dance no morris to upset the wight.
Perchance thou’lt urge: “Think how thy life did flit;
Nor is it true the jail can teach thee lore,
To fill thy breast and heart with strength of it!”
Nay, for myself I’ll ever praise it more:
Yet would I like one law passed-that the man
Whose acts deserve it should not scape this score.
Whoso hath gotten the poor folk in ban,
I’d make him learn those lessons of the jail;
For then he’d know all a good ruler can:
He’d act like men who weigh by reason’s scale,
Nor dare to swerve from truth and right aside,
Nor would confusion in the realm prevail.
While I was bound in prison to abide,
Foison of priests, friars, soldiers I could see;
But those who best deserved it least I spied.
Ah! could you know what rage came over me,
When for such rogues the jail relaxed her hold!
This makes one weep that one was born to be!
I’ll add no more. Now I’m become fine gold,
Such gold as none flings lightly to the wind,
Fit for the best work eyes shall e’er behold.
Another point hath passed into my mind,
Which I’ve not told thee, Luca; where I wrote,
Was in the book of one our kith and kind. [3]
There down the margins I was wont to note
Each torment grim that crushed me like a vice:
The paste my hurrying thoughts could hardly float.
To make an O, I dipped the splinter thrice
In that thick mud; worse woe could scarcely grind
Spirits in hell debarred from Paradise.
Seeing I’m not the first by fraud confined,
This I’ll omit; and once more seek the cell
Wherein I rack for rage both heart and mind.
I praise it more than other tongues will tell;
And, for advice to such as do not know,
Swear that without it none can labour well.
Yet oh! for one like Him I learned but now,
Who’d cry to me as by Bethesda’s shore:
Take thy clothes, Benvenuto, rise and go!
Credo I’d sing, Salve reginas pour
And Paternosters; alms I’d then bestow
Morn after morn on blind folk, lame, and poor.
Ah me! how many a time my cheek must grow
Blanched by those lilies! Shall I then forswear
Florence and France through them for evermore? [4]
If to the hospital I come, and fair
Find the Annunziata limned. I’ll fly:
Else shall I show myself a brute beast there. [5]
These words flout not Her worshipped sanctity,
Nor those Her lilies, glorious, holy, pure,
The which illumine earth and heaven high!
But for I find at every coign obscure
Base lilies which spread hooks where flowers should blow
Needs must I fear lest these to ruin lure. [6]
To think how many walk like me in woe!
Born what, how slaved to serve that hateful sign!
Souls lively, graceful, like to gods below!
I saw that lethal heraldry decline
From heaven like lightning among people vain;
Then on the stone I saw strange lustre shine.
The castle’s bell must break ere I with strain
Thence issued; and these things Who speaketh true
In heaven on earth, to me made wondrous plain. [7]
Next I beheld a bier of sombre hue
Adorned with broken lilies; crosses, tears;
And on their beds a lost woe-stricken crew. [8]
I saw the Death who racks our souls with fears;
This man and that she menaced, while she cried:
“I clip the folk who harm thee with these shears!”
That worthy one then on my brow wrote wide
With Peter’s pen words which-for he bade shun
To speak them thrice-within my breast I hide. [9]
Him I beheld who drives and checks the sun,
Clad with its splendour ‘mid his court on high,
Seld-seen by mortal eyes, if e’er by one. [10]
Then did a solitary sparrow cry
Loud from the keep; hearing which note, I said:
“He tells that I shall live and you must die!”
I sang, and wrote my hard case, head by head,
Asking from god pardon and aid in need,
For now If felt mine eyes outworn and dead.
Ne’er lion, tiger, wolf, or bear knew greed
Hungrier than that man felt for human blood;
Nor viper with more venomous fang did feed. [11]
The cruel chief was he of robbers’ brood,
Worst of the worst among a gang of knaves;
Hist! I’ll speak soft lest I be understood!
Say, have ye seen catchpolls, the famished slaves,
In act a poor man’s homestead to distrain,
Smashing down Christs, Madonnas, with their staves?
So on the first of August did that train
Dislodge me to a tomb more foul, more cold:-
“November damns and dooms each rogue to pain!” [12]
I at mine ears a trumpet had which told
Truth; and each word to them I did repeat,
Reckless, if but grief’s load from me were rolled.
They, when they saw their final hope retreat,
Gave me a diamond, pounded, no fair ring,
Deeming that I must die if I should eat.
That villain churl whose office ‘twas to bring
My food, I bade taste first; but meanwhile thought:
“Not here I find my foe Durante’s sting!”
Yet erst my mind unto high God I brought
Beseeching Him to pardon all my sin,
And spoke a Miserere sorrow-fraught.
Then when I gained some respite from that din
Of troubles, and had given my soul to God,
Contented better realms and state to win,
I saw along the path which saints have trod,
From heaven descending, glad, with glorious palm,
An angel: clear he cried, “Upon earth’s sod
Live longer thou! Through Him who heard thy psalm,
Those foes shall perish, each and all, in strife,
While thou remainest happy, free, and calm,
Blessed by our Sire in heaven on earth for life!”
Note 1. Cellini’s Capitolo in Praise of the Prison is clearly made up of
pieces written, as escribed above, in the dungeon of S. Angelo, and of
passages which he afterwards composed to bring these pieces into a
coherent whole. He has not displayed much literary skill in the
redaction, and I have been at pains to preserve the roughness of the
original.
Note 2. The Italian is 'acqua morta;' probably a slang phrase for urine.
Note 3. 'Un nostro parente.' He says above that he wrote the Capitolo on
the leaves of his Bible.
Note 4. 'Un nostro parente.' He says above that he wrote the Capitolo on
the leaves of his Bible.
Note 5. Gabriel holds the lily in Italian paintings when he salutes the
Virgin Mary with 'Ave Virgo!'
Note 6. That is, he finds everywhere in Italy the arms of the Farnesi.
Note 7. Allusion to his prevision of the castellan’s death.
Note 8. Allusion to his prevision of Pier Luigi Farnese’s murder.
Note 9. Allusion to the angel who visited him in prison.
Note 10. Allusion to his vision of the sun in the dungeon.
Note 11. An invective against Pier Luigi Farnese.
Note 12. Allusion to the prophetic words he flung at the officers who
took him to Foiano’s dungeon.
End of Part One |
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